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how zb1 acts when their crush is a natural flirt without even noticing (for example small things like glancing at their lips, or winking in passing ect)

Zb1 W/ Naturally flirty S/O

Taglist:@zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120 @llunaticc13 @1daily2lele7 @etaernaluvv @hanninova

Jiwoong

Internally combusts. On the outside? Calm. Cool. Composed. But inside? Sirens. Red alerts. You glance at his lips while he's talking and murmur something like, "You’re cute when you concentrate," and his brain just malfunctions. He leans back slowly, squinting at you. “…You’re doing that on purpose, right?” You blink innocently. “Doing what?” That’s when he knows he’s done for. His ears go pink and he hides behind his hand with a breathy laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

Zhang Hao

He's so easily flustered by you. He'll be mid-sentence when you wink and he’ll physically glitch. “M-mmh… sorry, what was I saying?” When you say things like, “You’d look cute with a lip ring,” while glancing down at his mouth, he needs a moment. He’ll politely excuse himself with a soft “be right back,” then go scream into a pillow. He eventually starts suspecting you’re doing it on purpose—until you say something flirty and then walk away like nothing happened. That’s when it hits him. You don’t even know. Now he’s fighting for his life in silence. Constantly.

Hanbin

Blushes so fast it should be a world record. You ruffle his hair and call him “handsome,” all casual, and this man short-circuits. You could wink in passing and he’d need to sit down. He thinks you’re the biggest tease… until he realizes you’re not trying. That makes it worse. Like—how is he supposed to keep his composure when you’re effortlessly wrecking him?? He starts getting so soft around you. Tries to subtly flirt back, but ends up tripping over his words half the time. "You're… um. You’re good at existing. I mean. You look nice. Existing."

Matthew

At first he tries to out-flirt you. He thinks you are flirting and he’s like, “Bet. Two can play this game.” You wink at him → he throws in a flirty smirk You call him “baby” jokingly → he says “only for you” …but then he notices you doing the same thing to other people. And you’re not even trying. His whole brain: “wait… they’re just like that??” Now he’s not flirting anymore—he’s pining. He’ll just stand there like 🧍 trying to pretend he’s not affected while his heart’s doing parkour. “Yeah I’m fine,” he says, clearly NOT fine.

Taerae

So dramatic about it. You tilt your head slightly and give him a tiny smile and he’s like "…are you trying to kill me??" Legit gasps when you wink. Clutches his chest like a K-drama lead. He’ll ask you straight up one day, “Do you know what you do to people when you talk like that?” You’re confused. “Like what?” Now he’s spiraling. “Never mind. Just… just don’t do that when I’m holding something. I might drop it.” The boy is so whipped. Will never recover. Not even trying to hide it.

Ricky

You already live in his head rent-free, so every time you do something effortlessly flirty, he’s just… blinking in stunned silence. You lick your lips while thinking → he stares You call him “pretty boy” in passing → he replays it like a religious experience Unlike the others, though—he starts getting possessive. Not in a toxic way, just a quiet “I want them to look at me like that only.” He doesn’t say anything. Just starts moving a little closer. Giving you heart eyes back. And one day he catches you looking at his lips again and whispers, “Do you want me to kiss you, or do you just like staring?”

Gyuvin

Loud externally, melting internally. You touch his arm casually or lean in to whisper something near his ear and he screeches. “AHHHHH—DON’T DO THAT I’M DELICATE.” Then immediately follows it with, “Wait… do it again.” He thinks you’re being playful on purpose until he hears you say something equally flirty to a barista or friend and goes 🧍‍♂️ “Okay so… they just… exist like that???” From then on, he becomes hyper-aware of everything you do. Constantly looking like a lovesick puppy who doesn’t know where to put his hands.

Gunwook

Is so good at pretending he’s unaffected. But you glance at his lips while he talks, or say “You look cute when you're mad,” and he just… swallows hard. "Thanks," he says with a totally neutral face—but his ears are bright red. He’s usually so confident, but you throw him off his game. He’ll go home and just stare at the ceiling like “What is wrong with me.” Eventually, he builds up the courage to ask: “Do you flirt with everyone like that?” When you answer, “Like what?” with total sincerity, he dies on the spot. RIP Gunwook 2005–now.

Yujin

Doesn’t even try to hide how flustered he gets. You pat his cheek or wink as a joke and he instantly becomes quiet, eyes wide. You’ll ask if he’s okay and he just nods quickly, refusing to look you in the eye. Eventually he blurts out, “I think you’re flirting with me.” You blink. “Oh—was I?” He stands there blinking too. “…Were you not??” Poor boy is so confused. Doesn’t know if he’s delusional or in love. Or both.

[zeroseuniverse]

Hey! Not here to spare an idea I'm sorry😔 just wanted to say that I just love your works and the way that you write is just lovely

How My eyes sparkled while reading that Thank youuuuu it means so much!!

[zeroseuniverse]

hi can you do a reaction about wayv catching their s/o looking at them with heart eyes please

Wayv catching you looking at them with heart eyes

Taglist:@zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120

Kun

You’re curled up on the couch, legs tucked under a blanket as he moves around the kitchen—calm, careful, methodical. He’s humming an old ballad under his breath, hands gentle as he prepares your favorite drink. You’re supposed to be reading, but your eyes haven’t left him for the past ten minutes. When he turns around and catches you staring, his brows lift slightly. “…Something on my face?” You shake your head, smiling softly. “No. You just look… really peaceful.” Kun’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than usual. Then, with a warm chuckle, he walks over and hands you your drink. “You always look at me like I hung the moon,” he murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Makes me want to deserve that look every day.”

Ten

He’s mid-paint stroke, bent over his canvas, sleeves rolled up and brows furrowed in focus. You’re sitting a few feet away, watching him in complete silence, your head tilted just slightly. He’s so in his element—so vibrant, alive, glowing—that you can’t help but stare. Ten turns around to say something, and freezes when he sees your expression. “…What?” he says slowly, smirking. “You’re staring.” You blink. “You’re beautiful.” He lets out a low laugh, flustered but thrilled. He sets his brush down, saunters over, and straddles the chair in front of you, resting his chin on the backrest. “Dangerous words,” he teases, eyes playful. “Say it again. But slower.”

Winwin

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. He’s sitting on the floor beside your legs, back resting against the couch as he scrolls through something on his phone. His expression is neutral, relaxed—but your heart feels like it might combust. You lean forward slightly, just… watching him. The way his lashes flutter when he blinks, the soft curve of his nose, the way the sunlight kisses the side of his face. He notices after a minute. “…Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks quietly, glancing at you with the tiniest smile. You lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Because I love you.” His ears turn a light shade of red, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Just rests his hand on your knee and keeps it there, grounding himself. “…Okay,” he murmurs. “But next time give me a warning. My heart’s not ready.”

Xiaojun

He’s playing the guitar, softly singing under his breath—something he wrote for you, though he hasn’t admitted it yet. You’re sprawled across the bed, arms under your chin, just… gazing. He’s golden in the dim lighting, like something sacred. Halfway through the song, he catches your eyes and falters. “Are you even listening?” he teases, setting the guitar aside. “Every note,” you say. “And every part of you in between.” He exhales, then laughs, flopping backward on the bed beside you. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. “It makes me feel too soft to function.” But his fingers find yours, lacing them together. “…I like it, though. Don’t stop.”

Hendery

He’s doing something ridiculous. Maybe dancing like a maniac to a kid’s cartoon jingle or wearing your sunglasses upside-down while trying to make dinner. You’re laughing, but more than anything, you’re looking at him—like he’s your sunshine and your safety all in one. He pauses mid-shimmy and freezes. “Hold up,” he says, pointing at you dramatically. “You’re looking at me like I’m a full-course meal.” You burst into laughter. “Because you are!” He clutches his chest and staggers backward like he’s been struck. “That’s it. I’m yours. I give up. No more flirting—marry me.” He dives onto the couch beside you and wraps you up like a burrito, nose buried in your shoulder. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll never leave,” he whispers.

Yangyang

You’re working on something while he’s gaming, but your eyes keep drifting toward him—his animated reactions, the way his fingers move quickly on the controller, his soft cursing when he loses a round. He looks peaceful. Happy. When he feels your gaze, he pauses and gives you a sly look. “…You good?” he smirks. You nod, smile tugging at your lips. “Just admiring the view.” He sets the controller down and crawls across the couch until he’s right beside you. “You’re dangerously in love with me, huh?” he teases. Then softer, “It’s okay. I get it. I’m obsessed with you too.” He pulls your hand into his lap and keeps it there for the rest of the game.

[zeroseuniverse]

Anybody interest in being a beta reader....?

[zeroseuniverse]

They (DO)N'T Care

Word Count: 918 Summary:“You hate a lot of things,” you murmur. “I don’t hate you,” he says, suddenly. “I think I did. But now I just… can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s driving me insane.” Pairing:Yuta X Reader

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120

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Yuta always knew you were insufferable. Loud. Too quick-witted. Always saying the last word even when no one asked for it. Especially when he was the one talking.

Which is why it absolutely blew his mind that somehow—somehow—your entire friend group looked at the bickering, the sarcastic jabs, the constant petty one-upping and said: “They’re meant for each other.”

No, really. Meant for each other.

So when the group came up with a “totally rational” plan to get the two of you to stop fighting by forcing you into a fake relationship—just for a few weeks, just to test if all the tension could be “used for good”—Yuta was already laughing. Until he looked at you and saw that self-satisfied little smirk, like you already thought you’d win this whole thing.

And that? That made him say yes.

The very first “date” ends with you pushing fries into his mouth like a threat, hot sauce coating everything. Yuta, trying to look unaffected, ends up choking. Not a little cough—a full on wheeze. You pat his back with faux concern while he tries not to die.

“You good, babe?” you coo.

“I love it when you try to poison me,” he replies sweetly, tears streaming down his face. “Really brings us closer.”

Online, someone snaps a pic of you two mid-chaos, mid-laugh, and the comments are full of:

“They’re so in love omg” “Couple goals???” “The way he looks at them??? pls”

Yuta saves it. Ironically. Definitely not because you look good in it.

Definitely not.

The fake relationship goes on. You dig your nails into his hand whenever someone’s watching, turning romantic gestures into silent warfare. He sends you ugly selfies labeled “for the fans.” You prank each other daily. Rigging his shampoo bottle to explode in his face was your personal favorite.

But then—then there’s that day.

You walk into a group dinner with Jaehyun, laughing at something dumb he said. Nothing out of the ordinary, except Yuta sees the way Jaehyun leans just a little too close. Sees the way you touch his arm.

His blood runs hot.

When Jaehyun goes to grab your chair, Yuta swoops in and does it first.

“Thanks,” you say dryly, eyebrow raised.

“My pleasure, sweetheart,” he says with venom-laced honey. “Wouldn’t want anyone else doing it.”

That night, you call him out. “Were you jealous?”

“Of Jaehyun? Please.”

But the next day, your contact name is suddenly changed in his phone from “Menace” to “MINE <3” and he doesn’t offer an explanation. You change his to “Clingy.”

The petty battles continue, but something shifts.

He starts walking you home after rehearsals. You bring him extra snacks because “no one wants to deal with you when you’re hangry.” He tells you to take breaks when you’re working too hard. You pretend not to notice how his voice softens when he says your name. He pretends not to stare when you nap on the couch with your head on his shoulder.

Then comes the party.

It’s nothing special—just another night, another excuse for everyone to get together—but you show up in something casual that somehow makes his brain shut off for a second. Someone tries to flirt with you. Yuta’s eyes narrow instantly.

The guy’s funny. He’s tall. He compliments your laugh, says something about your eyes. You smile politely, not even interested—but Yuta’s on fire.

He doesn’t even know when he crosses the room. Doesn’t remember how his arm ended up draped over your shoulder.

“You’re being weird,” you whisper to him.

He shrugs. “Just playing the part, babe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Sure you’re not jealous?”

“Why would I be?” His smile is tight. “It’s not like I care.”

But he does. And you know it.

Later that night, you’re in the kitchen looking for water, and he corners you—no audience this time, no reason to keep pretending.

“What are we even doing?” he asks, voice low.

You blink. “What?”

“This—us.” He gestures vaguely. “I’m so tired of pretending this is just for show.”

You look at him carefully. “So stop pretending.”

He’s quiet. Then he says, “I don’t want anyone else looking at you like that. I hate it. I hate how easily you laugh at other people’s jokes. I hate how you look at them like they might matter.”

“You hate a lot of things,” you murmur.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, suddenly. “I think I did. But now I just… can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s driving me insane.”

Your breath catches.

“You really wanna do this?” you ask softly.

He closes the distance. “I’ve wanted to for weeks.”

And then he kisses you. Finally. It’s a little messy, a little angry, and a little desperate—because of course it is. But it’s also honest. Way too honest.

When you pull away, dazed, you whisper, “So we’re not faking it anymore?”

He huffs a laugh. “God, I hope not.”

The next morning, your friends greet you both with smug grins.

“Finally,” one says. “We were about to lock you in a closet.”

Yuta rolls his eyes and pulls you closer. “You’re all the worst.”

You lean against him. “But it worked.”

And even though you still bicker, still prank each other, still argue about who hogs the blankets—you also hold hands without trying to kill each other. You steal his hoodies. He kisses your forehead when he thinks no one’s looking.

It’s still chaos.

But it’s your chaos now.

And Yuta? He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[zeroseuniverse]

So i know this isn't my usual post but there has been a death in my family and we don't have the funds to put together a funeral

I want to share this go fund me so that hopefully he can get a proper burial, I'll also share the news link of the accident incase there were questions

Please help if you can it's really important to my family that he gets a proper burial, I'd appreciate any and all help I am sorry to have to ask for it

[zeroseuniverse]

Please Don't Fix Me

Word Count: 754 Summary: “I politely reminded him that breaking into my apartment would have consequences,” you corrected. “By implying you still have bodies hidden somewhere?” Pairing: Lee Know X Reader

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120 @0-ryolei-0 @torkorpse @emilywjinnie @stayvillecitizen

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Bang Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at you from across the table. The café was warm, cozy even, but nothing about this conversation felt comfortable.

��You can’t just go around—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “You can’t just do things like that anymore.”

You tilted your head, stirring your coffee. “I didn’t do anything.”

Chan scoffed. “You threatened a man.”

“I politely reminded him that breaking into my apartment would have consequences,” you corrected.

“By implying you still have bodies hidden somewhere?”

You took a sip of your drink, eyes flickering up to meet his. “I never said I hid bodies. That’s all interpretation.”

Chan looked like he aged ten years in the span of five seconds, rubbing at his temples. “You’re supposed to be retired. Out of the game. Living a normal life.”

“I am living a normal life,” you said, shrugging. “Normal people make threats sometimes.”

Chan opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Before he could formulate another argument, a new voice cut in.

“See, this is why I like them.”

Lee Know slid into the seat next to you, draping an arm across the back of your chair like he belonged there. His grin was sharp, eyes dancing with amusement.

“You’re enabling them,” Chan accused, pointing a finger.

“I’m supporting them,” Lee Know corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“You think it’s normal to tell someone you know how hard it is to dissolve a body in acid?”

Lee Know tilted his head, as if considering. “Well, I mean, they’re not wrong. It is hard.”

Chan made a strangled noise, burying his face in his hands. You patted his arm in what you thought was a reassuring manner, but it only made him groan louder.

“You need help,” he muttered.

“Maybe.” You leaned into Lee Know’s easy embrace. “But I think I’m doing just fine.”

Lee Know hummed in agreement. “I think they’re perfect.”

Chan groaned again. It was going to be a long day.

Later that night, Chan sat on your couch, watching as you meticulously sharpened a knife. His head throbbed.

“You don’t even need that,” he pointed out, voice flat. “You don’t do this stuff anymore.”

You tested the edge against your thumb, eyes gleaming under the dim light. “Old habits.”

“Yeah, well, old habits get people in trouble.”

Before you could respond, Lee Know entered the room, carrying two bowls of instant ramen. He plopped down next to you, placing one in front of you without a word.

Chan narrowed his eyes. “You’re seriously making them food?”

Lee Know shrugged. “They had a long day.”

“They made their day long by terrorizing people.”

“They didn’t terrorize anyone,” Lee Know said, picking up his chopsticks. “They just… reminded a guy of their past.”

Chan threw up his hands. “That’s the same thing!”

You finally set the knife down, picking up your ramen. “You know, Chan, I appreciate the concern, but I’m really okay. You don’t have to fix me.”

Chan’s face softened, but before he could say anything, Lee Know spoke up again.

“Exactly. And if they ever do need help, I’ll be there.” He smirked, leaning toward you. “Probably with a getaway car.”

You smiled. Chan groaned again. It really was going to be a long life.

Chan had known you for years. Back then, you were sharp, dangerous, a ghost that people feared crossing. You worked in the shadows, solving problems that most people didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t just about violence—it was the power you wielded, the way you handled things with an unsettling ease. Then one day, you disappeared, retreating into a quiet, normal life.

Or at least, that was what he thought.

You weren’t in the game anymore, true, but the game still lingered around you. Old enemies still whispered your name, and old habits never truly died. It frustrated him to no end that Lee Know seemed perfectly fine with this.

Chan watched as you and Lee Know exchanged glances over your ramen, some silent understanding passing between you two. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Lee Know wasn’t just accepting of your past—he liked it. He liked you, sharp edges and all.

Chan wasn’t sure if that was a disaster waiting to happen or the best thing for you.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

Lee Know chuckled, nudging you playfully. “That’s why we work so well.”

Chan groaned. He needed a drink.

[zeroseuniverse]

My goals when I started writing were that I wanted to touch on all sorts of things that are downplayed in fanfiction and to be able to bring people into my community where they feel seen and safe so you have no idea how much these words mean to me. Thank you so much

Hi ! Can i request (if you’re comfortable with it ofc) autistic reader with seventeen? :)

Ofc I'm totally down to write it but I'd also like to remind readers that Autism is a spectrum and not always the exact same for everyone, There are also varying types so please don't jump down my throat if you think I did badly portraying it it's based off of my psych research I had

Seventeen with an Autistic Partner

Taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

Navigation

S.COUPS

Headcanon: He’s protective without being overbearing. He learns your patterns fast—how your tone might not always match your feelings, how you stim when excited or anxious, and how eye contact isn’t everything. Scenario: When the room gets loud and overstimulating, you give him one look. That’s all it takes. He weaves through the crowd with you gently in tow, finds a quieter room, and wraps you in his hoodie. “You don’t have to talk. I’ll sit with you till it feels better.”

JEONGHAN

Headcanon: Teases you a lot, but always with that rare kind of affection that says I get you. He notices what makes you tick and loves it. Scenario: You infodump about your special interest for an hour. He pretends to be overwhelmed dramatically, flopping back on the couch, but the smile on his face is so genuine. “Okay, professor, tell me more. I’m learning so much. I’m your #1 student.”

JOSHUA

Headcanon: The kind who researches everything—he reads about autism, stimming, sensory overload, masking. He asks questions, not to fix anything, just to know you better. Scenario: When he gets you a weighted blanket and a pair of noise-reducing headphones “just in case,” your eyes widen. “I thought maybe they’d help on the bad days. But only if you want them.” He doesn’t expect a thank you—just curls up beside you, pinkies linked.

JUN

Headcanon: He doesn’t question your habits—he just adopts them. You flap your hands when happy? He starts doing it with you. You use scripts sometimes? He memorizes your favorite ones. Scenario: You’re pacing in a loop, nonverbal, after a hard day. He says nothing, just walks beside you, mimicking your pace. Eventually, you let out a breath, and he nudges your shoulder. “No rush. I like walking with you.”

HOSHI

Headcanon: Hyper attuned to your moods. His emotional intuition + your honesty = unmatched duo. He’ll always match your energy—chaotic when you need joy, soft when you need silence. Scenario: You stim by bouncing and tapping things, and he turns it into a game—matching rhythms with you on tables, fingers, legs. “Is this your new song?” he grins, joining in. “We’re making the next Seventeen hit.”

WONWOO

Headcanon: A quiet rock. You never have to perform with him. He’s calm, stable, and never makes you feel weird for needing things to be just so. Scenario: You’re meal prepping the same food for the third week in a row. “You never get tired of this?” he asks, curious. When you explain the routine comforts you, he just smiles, slicing vegetables like it’s the most natural answer in the world. “Then let’s make extra.”

WOOZI

Headcanon: Understands what it’s like to be in your head too much. He’s focused, sometimes blunt, and doesn’t expect you to fit into anyone’s mold. Scenario: You struggle to express your feelings aloud, so you send him playlists. He never questions it. “This one’s intense,” he says one day, listening with a soft expression. “Is that how your heart sounds when you think of me?” You nod. He covers his face, grinning. “Shit, I’m keeping this one forever.”

DK (SEOKMIN)

Headcanon: Pure sunshine, but he never forces you to be “on.” He’ll fill the space with laughter when needed—or sit in companionable silence when that’s what helps. Scenario: You tell him you don’t always understand jokes or sarcasm. His response? “Then I’ll make my jokes twice as funny—once with the joke, and once with the explanation.” Cue him doing a bit, pausing dramatically, and saying, “So that was a pun. Did it land?”

MINGYU

Headcanon: Clumsy, but so eager to learn and support. He worries sometimes he’s messing up, but he’s always trying. Scenario: You freeze in a crowd, overwhelmed. He instinctively steps in front of you, blocking out the chaos. “Hey. Just me now.” He kneels a little to meet your eyes gently—not pressuring eye contact, just letting you know he’s there. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”

THE8 (MINGHAO)

Headcanon: Deeply patient and spiritual. He respects your boundaries without needing explanations. Scenario: You mention a certain texture feels “wrong” and Minghao never buys clothes in that fabric again. Later, he gifts you a robe made of your favorite material. “Soft things for someone soft-hearted,” he murmurs. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

SEUNGKWAN

Headcanon: Expressive and attentive. He’ll advocate for you, even when you’re not there. If someone’s being rude or dismissive? He’s shutting it down immediately. Scenario: You go nonverbal at a dinner with friends. Seungkwan notices, smoothly takes over the conversation, and makes sure you’re never left out or made to feel strange. Later, he squeezes your hand. “You okay, love?” You nod. “Good. You did so well.”

VERNON

Headcanon: So chill that he makes you feel calm by proximity. He’s never pushy, never performative. He gets needing space. Scenario: When you struggle to express a meltdown coming on, he sits with you in your favorite dark room, backs to the wall, headphones on. You both listen to the same ambient track on loop. “No pressure to talk. Just vibe.” It becomes your go-to safe space.

DINO

Headcanon: Curious and open-minded. If you ever feel self-conscious about a stim or trait, he mirrors it so you feel less alone. Scenario: You bounce your leg during a movie night. Dino starts bouncing his, too. When you pause, he shrugs. “We’re in sync.” Later, he asks, “Wanna teach me more about how your brain works? I wanna know all the parts you think are weird. They’re my favorites.”

[zeroseuniverse]

Hi ! Can i request (if you’re comfortable with it ofc) autistic reader with seventeen? :)

Ofc I'm totally down to write it but I'd also like to remind readers that Autism is a spectrum and not always the exact same for everyone, There are also varying types so please don't jump down my throat if you think I did badly portraying it it's based off of my psych research I had

Seventeen with an Autistic Partner

Taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

Navigation

S.COUPS

Headcanon: He’s protective without being overbearing. He learns your patterns fast—how your tone might not always match your feelings, how you stim when excited or anxious, and how eye contact isn’t everything. Scenario: When the room gets loud and overstimulating, you give him one look. That’s all it takes. He weaves through the crowd with you gently in tow, finds a quieter room, and wraps you in his hoodie. “You don’t have to talk. I’ll sit with you till it feels better.”

JEONGHAN

Headcanon: Teases you a lot, but always with that rare kind of affection that says I get you. He notices what makes you tick and loves it. Scenario: You infodump about your special interest for an hour. He pretends to be overwhelmed dramatically, flopping back on the couch, but the smile on his face is so genuine. “Okay, professor, tell me more. I’m learning so much. I’m your #1 student.”

JOSHUA

Headcanon: The kind who researches everything—he reads about autism, stimming, sensory overload, masking. He asks questions, not to fix anything, just to know you better. Scenario: When he gets you a weighted blanket and a pair of noise-reducing headphones “just in case,” your eyes widen. “I thought maybe they’d help on the bad days. But only if you want them.” He doesn’t expect a thank you—just curls up beside you, pinkies linked.

JUN

Headcanon: He doesn’t question your habits—he just adopts them. You flap your hands when happy? He starts doing it with you. You use scripts sometimes? He memorizes your favorite ones. Scenario: You’re pacing in a loop, nonverbal, after a hard day. He says nothing, just walks beside you, mimicking your pace. Eventually, you let out a breath, and he nudges your shoulder. “No rush. I like walking with you.”

HOSHI

Headcanon: Hyper attuned to your moods. His emotional intuition + your honesty = unmatched duo. He’ll always match your energy—chaotic when you need joy, soft when you need silence. Scenario: You stim by bouncing and tapping things, and he turns it into a game—matching rhythms with you on tables, fingers, legs. “Is this your new song?” he grins, joining in. “We’re making the next Seventeen hit.”

WONWOO

Headcanon: A quiet rock. You never have to perform with him. He’s calm, stable, and never makes you feel weird for needing things to be just so. Scenario: You’re meal prepping the same food for the third week in a row. “You never get tired of this?” he asks, curious. When you explain the routine comforts you, he just smiles, slicing vegetables like it’s the most natural answer in the world. “Then let’s make extra.”

WOOZI

Headcanon: Understands what it’s like to be in your head too much. He’s focused, sometimes blunt, and doesn’t expect you to fit into anyone’s mold. Scenario: You struggle to express your feelings aloud, so you send him playlists. He never questions it. “This one’s intense,” he says one day, listening with a soft expression. “Is that how your heart sounds when you think of me?” You nod. He covers his face, grinning. “Shit, I’m keeping this one forever.”

DK (SEOKMIN)

Headcanon: Pure sunshine, but he never forces you to be “on.” He’ll fill the space with laughter when needed—or sit in companionable silence when that’s what helps. Scenario: You tell him you don’t always understand jokes or sarcasm. His response? “Then I’ll make my jokes twice as funny—once with the joke, and once with the explanation.” Cue him doing a bit, pausing dramatically, and saying, “So that was a pun. Did it land?”

MINGYU

Headcanon: Clumsy, but so eager to learn and support. He worries sometimes he’s messing up, but he’s always trying. Scenario: You freeze in a crowd, overwhelmed. He instinctively steps in front of you, blocking out the chaos. “Hey. Just me now.” He kneels a little to meet your eyes gently—not pressuring eye contact, just letting you know he’s there. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”

THE8 (MINGHAO)

Headcanon: Deeply patient and spiritual. He respects your boundaries without needing explanations. Scenario: You mention a certain texture feels “wrong” and Minghao never buys clothes in that fabric again. Later, he gifts you a robe made of your favorite material. “Soft things for someone soft-hearted,” he murmurs. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

SEUNGKWAN

Headcanon: Expressive and attentive. He’ll advocate for you, even when you’re not there. If someone’s being rude or dismissive? He’s shutting it down immediately. Scenario: You go nonverbal at a dinner with friends. Seungkwan notices, smoothly takes over the conversation, and makes sure you’re never left out or made to feel strange. Later, he squeezes your hand. “You okay, love?” You nod. “Good. You did so well.”

VERNON

Headcanon: So chill that he makes you feel calm by proximity. He’s never pushy, never performative. He gets needing space. Scenario: When you struggle to express a meltdown coming on, he sits with you in your favorite dark room, backs to the wall, headphones on. You both listen to the same ambient track on loop. “No pressure to talk. Just vibe.” It becomes your go-to safe space.

DINO

Headcanon: Curious and open-minded. If you ever feel self-conscious about a stim or trait, he mirrors it so you feel less alone. Scenario: You bounce your leg during a movie night. Dino starts bouncing his, too. When you pause, he shrugs. “We’re in sync.” Later, he asks, “Wanna teach me more about how your brain works? I wanna know all the parts you think are weird. They’re my favorites.”

[zeroseuniverse]

Operation: Tell NO ONE

Word Count: 813 Summary:cHe went full rogue. He stopped texting in group chats. He started talking in vague code. He even started using voice memos to himself because someone (Haechan) couldn’t be trusted near his Notes app. It became a full-blown operation. Pairing: Mark X Reader

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120

Navigation

Mark was a lot of things—talented, reliable, soft-spoken (until he wasn’t)—but what he wasn’t was secretive. The guy couldn’t lie to save his life. One accidental eyebrow twitch and his cover was blown. So when he decided he was finally going to confess to you—his best friend, his ride or die, the person he once accidentally called his “wife” during a group game and then choked on his water for ten minutes—he knew he had to take extreme measures. National security-level extreme. Because he loved his members, he really did, but they had zero chill.

It started with a notebook labeled: “DO NOT OPEN. NOT EVEN YOU, JENO.” He wrote down everything. The location (that coffee shop you loved with the cloud-shaped lights), the timing (right after your final exams), and the speech he might deliver if his nerves didn’t kill him first. The plan was simple: keep it quiet. No one needed to know.

So naturally, the first person he almost told was Haechan.

“Why are you acting weird, bro?” Haechan narrowed his eyes, slurping his smoothie with the intensity of a man ready to uncover a scandal.

“I’m not acting weird,” Mark said. Suspiciously fast. “You’re weird.”

“Ohoho~ it’s her, isn’t it? You finally gonna tell her?”

Mark blinked. “What? No—”

“DON’T LIE TO ME,” Haechan shouted, already whipping out his phone. “Group chat’s gonna eat this up—”

Mark launched across the couch like a man possessed and wrestled the phone out of his hands. “You can’t tell anyone. I mean it. If this leaks—”

Haechan pouted. “Fine. But you owe me bubble tea. With pearls. And rainbow jelly.”

He agreed. Bribery was a small price to pay for silence. But the damage was done. Mark was spiraling.

He went full rogue. He stopped texting in group chats. He started talking in vague code. He even started using voice memos to himself because someone (Haechan) couldn’t be trusted near his Notes app. It became a full-blown operation.

Operation: Don’t Tell a Soul.

He made a folder. Color-coded. Password protected. And then Jeno caught him muttering, “Phase three begins this Saturday…”

“You in the mafia or something?” Jeno asked, genuinely.

“…yes,” Mark said.

Jeno nodded, totally serious. “Stay safe, bro.”

But the walls were closing in. Jaemin cornered him in the kitchen two days later.

“Mark-hyung,” he said slowly, “why did Haechan say you’re planning a life-altering event?”

“I—he wasn’t supposed to—he promised—” Mark clutched the cereal box like it might protect him. “Okay. Look. I’m confessing. But don’t. Tell. Anyone.”

“Got it,” Jaemin nodded. “Mum’s the word.”

Five minutes later, Renjun passed him and casually went, “Congrats on finally growing a pair.”

Mark just groaned into his hoodie.

By the time D-day rolled around, Mark was unraveling like a cheap sweater. He’d triple-checked the café reservation. He ironed his shirt twice. He’d picked yellow tulips because Jaemin said they meant “cheerful thoughts,” which felt like the safest emotion to aim for when you were in love with your best friend and seconds away from blowing it all up.

He showed up thirty minutes early. Kept refreshing the menu, rereading the speech he’d written in his head a hundred times. When you walked in—five minutes early, of course—you spotted him instantly, hunched over his drink like it might whisper good advice.

You smiled, slid into the seat across from him, and said, “So. When are you going to tell me?”

Mark nearly knocked his drink over. “Wha—tell you what?”

“That you like me.”

His brain short-circuited. “Who—how—”

“Renjun,” you said smugly. “Haechan hinted. Jaemin basically winked it at me. And Jeno told me you were acting like a ‘shady Netflix protagonist,’ so I put it together.”

Mark slumped back in his seat, utterly betrayed.

“I had a folder,” he mumbled. “I had a plan.”

You leaned forward, smiling. “Well, I’m glad I found out. Saved you the nerves.”

He looked up at you, cheeks pink, voice small. “So… you’re not weirded out?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, Mark. I was hoping you’d finally say something.”

A beat passed. Then—

“Wait—you like me back?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Mark blinked. Then blinked again. Then smiled, the kind that started shy and turned stupidly bright. You reached across the table, lacing your fingers through his.

He grinned, finally relaxing. “I think I love you.”

“Maybe save that for phase four,” you teased.

Later that night, Mark opened the group chat.

Mark [11:03PM]: okay you guys SUCK at keeping secrets Haechan [11:04PM]: YOU SUCK AT HIDING THEM Jaemin [11:04PM]: you’re welcome Jeno [11:05PM]: proud of you bro Renjun [11:05PM]: don’t worry, we’ll keep the kiss details private Mark [11:06PM]: I’m blocking all of you.

And then he smiled into his pillow, kicking his feet like a teenager in love. Because he was. And finally, you knew.

[zeroseuniverse]

Final_Cut: You

Word Count: 1.6K Summary: But the camera wasn’t your webcam. It was handheld. Moving. Breathing. Someone had been there. Close enough to count your lashes. Close enough to brush hair from your forehead if they’d wanted to. Pairing: DK X Reader

Taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

Navigation

You never really knew your editor. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. You’d never shaken his hand or looked into his eyes. Never heard him laugh, or seen his name written down anywhere but in one sleek, unassuming corner of your shared folder. He went by DK. That was all he gave you, and in your line of work—where people overshared by default—that kind of anonymity almost felt charming. Clean. Professional.

He came recommended by another content creator you trusted. “Quiet. Fast. Reliable. Creepy good at catching your good side,” they’d said, half-laughing, not knowing how literal that would feel later.

So, you hired him. DK became the name behind the edits, the ghost in your machine. Every video you posted passed through his hands before the world ever saw it. He cleaned up the mess behind the illusion: removed your awkward pauses, trimmed your half-hearted brand plugs, warmed the lighting when your eyes looked too tired, softened your voice when it trembled.

You’d always found it eerie, in a way. How he seemed to know which frame made you look strongest. How he lingered just a moment longer on your real smile—the one you didn’t even know you gave. It was like he knew you better than you knew yourself.

At first, you chalked it up to talent. Intuition. Maybe a touch of luck.

But talent doesn’t explain how he caught the moment your expression faltered during a livestream, just before the screen glitched. It doesn’t explain how he managed to isolate your voice from a noisy café mic and leave only the breathy laugh you made when you spotted someone you liked. And it certainly doesn’t explain how, when you asked him for a behind-the-scenes edit—something raw, something real—he delivered something so intimate it made your skin crawl and your chest ache at the same time.

You watched that draft alone at midnight, curled into your blanket, half-expecting it to be a highlight reel of giggles and bloopers. But it wasn’t that. It was… you. Not the version you curated. Not the persona you wore like perfume.

No, this was you when the camera had slipped, when you forgot to mute, when your face settled into something hollow between takes. It was the moment you stared into your mirror, saying nothing. The way you brushed your fingers over a half-empty mug like you were waiting for it to fill. The sound of your breath after you ended a call and didn’t smile afterward.

And somehow, impossibly, he had footage you didn’t remember filming. A glimpse of you through a rain-streaked window. A shaky shot of you lit only by your laptop, eyes red but not crying. You blinked and replayed the segment four times, then stared at your drive.

You never recorded that.

But it was in your folder. Neatly named. Edited. Color-corrected. Yours.

You posted the video anyway. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because it felt real. Or maybe because the way he saw you was flattering in its honesty. Painful, yes—but gentle. Careful. Tender. Like someone memorizing the cracks of porcelain instead of fixing them.

The internet loved it. Flooded you with praise. “So raw.” “So real.” “So you.”

You messaged him afterward:

“That was beautiful. I felt like you saw the parts of me I never show anyone.”

He didn’t respond in words. Just a single file the next day, titled: “Final Cut_You”

You didn’t open it at first. Something about the name unsettled you, though you couldn’t explain why. It sat in your drive like a whisper behind a door you weren’t sure you wanted to open.

Meanwhile, you tried to think more about the DK you thought you knew. Tried to recall any calls, any photos, any trace of who he was beyond the edits. There were none. You hadn’t even spoken to him directly in months—just emails, maybe the occasional voice note on your end. He never replied in voice. His presence was always silent. Always watching.

You started to wonder if it had always been this way—if there had been clues you ignored. Your camera turning on by itself. Footage from a different angle. Files moved in your drive when you knew you hadn’t touched them.

Sometimes you felt him in your apartment, even when you were alone. That strange sixth sense, the weight of eyes in the walls. But when you turned, there was no one there. Just your webcam. Your blinking cursor. Your reflection, almost unfamiliar in the quiet.

Still, you didn’t stop sending him content. Maybe a part of you wanted to be seen like that. Honestly. Lovingly. Obsessively.

You opened the file one night. The “Final Cut.”

And there you were.

Not a montage. Not a highlight reel.

Just you, asleep.

The camera slowly panned closer. The room was dark, lit only by a streetlamp outside your window. You could see the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle shift of your hand against your pillow. The timestamp matched a night weeks ago. You’d fallen asleep editing late and hadn’t remembered hitting record.

But the camera wasn’t your webcam. It was handheld. Moving. Breathing.

Someone had been there. Close enough to count your lashes. Close enough to brush hair from your forehead if they’d wanted to.

The final frame held on your face for a full minute, unflinching. Then, softly, almost imperceptibly, the whisper of a voice you’d never heard before.

“You belong in every frame.”

That was the last thing on the video.

You didn’t report it. You didn’t fire him. You didn’t even change your passwords.

Instead, you stared at the screen, heart quiet in your chest, the room so still you could hear the silence breathe.

Because deep down, you already knew—

He’d been watching long before you ever hit record.

And maybe, just maybe, you were okay with that.

You didn’t speak of the video. Didn’t message him about it. Didn’t scream, didn’t cry, didn’t tell a soul.

You simply watched.

Once. Twice. Then five times more. Each viewing slower, more deliberate, like your silence was a ritual and this was your offering. You examined the shadows for a silhouette. Counted your breaths. Noted how steady the camera was—how intentional.

Someone had filmed you. Someone had been there.

He had been there.

But what unsettled you most wasn’t the invasion. It was how gentle it all was. The way the camera never violated. Never touched. Just witnessed. It wasn’t lewd. It wasn’t violent. It was reverent.

Like love, in its rawest, most unhinged form.

That was the first night you left your window open.

The second night, you wore the sweater you knew he liked—because he always lingered just a second longer in the edits when you wore it. You knew he noticed. DK noticed everything. It was in the way he paused on your fingertips brushing your jaw, or the way he let your inhale echo longer when you were talking about things you loved.

It was devotion. Warped, but careful. It made you feel chosen.

And when you left the camera running overnight, you didn’t label the file. You didn’t need to. By the next morning, it had already been moved. Already edited.

When you opened it, you found yourself sleeping again—same room, same soft rise and fall of your chest—but this time, something had changed.

The footage was warmer. Closer. Your hand had moved in the night, and the lens had followed. A shift in the light revealed the faintest blur of movement in the corner. Not a face. Just the impression of someone sitting near your bed. Waiting.

At the end of the video, he’d added music. A soft, looping instrumental you’d used once in an old vlog. You’d said it made you feel safe. He remembered.

And then—his voice.

“You see me now, don’t you?”

Not a question. A fact.

And you did. In the absence. In the edits. In the invisible fingerprints across your life. You felt him everywhere. You knew his rhythm, his restraint, his fascination with your solitude. And part of you—maybe the part you’d never dared to speak aloud—wanted it.

The next video you sent him was different.

You didn’t speak. You simply stood before the camera, holding eye contact. Still. Unmoving. Like you were letting him look. Really look.

You stayed like that for two minutes.

And when the final edit came back, it was exactly the same. No cuts. No filters. No manipulation.

Just you. Just him. Staring back.

The next file you received wasn’t in the usual folder. It arrived on a flash drive, taped inside a nondescript envelope, no return address.

You found it in your mailbox.

Your name printed in block letters.

Your real name.

The video was darker than the others. Titled only “Home.”

It opened with your front door.

From outside.

Rain dripped down the lens. Your window glowed dimly. Shadows moved inside.

The camera lingered. Patient. Unhurried.

And then the footage changed.

It was your hallway. The inside of your home. The familiar creak of the floorboards, the low hum of your fridge. Footsteps—soft, deliberate, a lover’s cadence.

Then your bedroom.

Your silhouette in bed. Sleeping.

Closer now.

And then—

Your eyes opening.

Not in fear. Not in surprise.

Just… open. As if you’d been expecting this.

The video cut to black.

And in your lap—real, physical, not digital—a note had been tucked inside the envelope.

You unfolded it slowly. Handwriting careful, almost elegant.

I’ll come when you’re ready. But I’m already yours.

You could’ve run.

You could’ve blocked him. Called the police. Changed your locks. Burned your hard drives.

But instead, that night, you lit a candle on your windowsill and left the door unlocked.

And in the quiet that followed, you laid in bed and whispered into the dark—

“…I see you.”

[zeroseuniverse]

Love On Paper

Word Count: 759 Summary: It’s not that he doesn’t feel things—he does, deeply—but putting them into sentences, saying them out loud, has always felt like trying to fit the ocean into a teacup. Too much, too messy, impossible to contain. So, he’s learned to show rather than tell. He brings you your favorite snack without you asking. He lingers when you talk, even when there’s nothing for him to add. He memorizes the way you take your coffee and adjusts when you change it, without ever saying a word. Pairing: Jun X Reader

Taglist: @haaruki  @agaha127 @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120  @ltfirecracker

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Jun has never been great at words.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel things—he does, deeply—but putting them into sentences, saying them out loud, has always felt like trying to fit the ocean into a teacup. Too much, too messy, impossible to contain. So, he’s learned to show rather than tell. He brings you your favorite snack without you asking. He lingers when you talk, even when there’s nothing for him to add. He memorizes the way you take your coffee and adjusts when you change it, without ever saying a word.

And lately, he’s been leaving notes.

They start off simple. A reminder to bring an umbrella when the weather looks gloomy. A scrap of paper tucked into your book with a doodle of a sleepy cat, captioned: ‘this is you at 8 AM.’ A sticky note on your laptop reading ‘Don’t work too hard. (But if you must, stay hydrated.)’

They’re casual, easy to brush off as friendly gestures. But then, you start to keep them. And when you finally go through them all one evening, spreading them across your desk like puzzle pieces, something clicks.

The notes, seemingly unrelated, form a pattern.

One reads, ‘I hope today is kind to you.’ Another, ‘You look nice when you’re focused (not that you don’t always look nice).’ A third, ‘I like seeing you smile. It makes the day better.’

Your heartbeat stumbles when you rearrange them, realizing that these small, quiet messages weren’t just kindness. They were something more.

The last note you find is newer than the others, still stuck to your fridge. You peel it off with careful fingers, already knowing what it will say before you read it.

‘If you’ve figured it out by now… let me take you to dinner?’

You turn, only to find Jun lingering by the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with that careful kind of hope—the kind that means he’s holding his breath, waiting.

Smiling, you hold up the note. “I think I have.”

The relief on his face is immediate, the smallest, shyest grin tugging at his lips. “So… is that a yes?”

You nod, tucking the note into your pocket like something precious. “It’s a yes.”

Jun still isn’t great at words. But he doesn’t need to be.

Not when his actions have already said everything.

—

Dinner is at a quiet, cozy place tucked away in the city, the kind of restaurant that doesn’t try too hard to impress but somehow feels perfect. Jun pulls out your chair before sitting across from you, fidgeting with the corner of his napkin. His usual confidence is replaced by something softer, more uncertain.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually figure it out,” he admits, eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.

You tilt your head, resting your chin on your palm. “Were you planning to keep leaving notes until I did?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe. Or until you started thinking I was weird.”

“I don’t think you’re weird, Jun,” you say gently. “I think you’re sweet.”

The tips of his ears go pink, and he busies himself with his menu. The silence is comfortable, filled with the clinking of silverware and the hum of quiet conversations around you. When the waiter comes, Jun lets you order first, then orders for himself with a glance at you, like he’s making sure you approve.

As the meal goes on, you notice the little things. The way Jun listens intently, nodding along even when you’re just rambling about your day. The way his foot taps nervously under the table, like he’s holding back from saying something more. And when your food arrives, the way he pushes the side dish you like closer to you without thinking.

Halfway through dinner, he finally takes a deep breath and says, “I meant everything I wrote, you know.”

You set your fork down, looking at him fully. “I know.”

Jun swallows. “I’ve liked you for a long time. I just… I don’t always know how to say things right. But I wanted you to know.”

Your heart swells, warmth spreading through your chest. “You don’t have to say things right, Jun. You’ve been telling me all along.”

His shoulders relax, and for the first time that night, he lets out a small, breathless laugh. “I guess I have.”

You reach across the table, fingers brushing his. He hesitates for only a second before turning his hand over, letting your fingers intertwine.

No words are needed.

Not when the message has always been there.

[zeroseuniverse]

Just Another Tuesday

Word Count: 861 Summary: Soul hums in agreement, tilting his head to admire their work. “No one suspects a thing.” Across the room, Keeho chokes on his drink. Pairing: Soul X Reader

Taglist:@torkorpse @agaha127 @lcvejjoong @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120

Navigation

Soul leans back in his chair, stretching lazily as he watches the stock market crash in real-time on the giant monitor in front of them. The numbers plummet, red flashing across the screen in warning signs that should be sending major investors into full-blown panic mode.

You? You’re perched on the arm of his chair, sipping boba like this is just another Tuesday night.

“We are actual masterminds,” you muse, stabbing your straw through a tapioca pearl.

Soul hums in agreement, tilting his head to admire their work. “No one suspects a thing.”

Across the room, Keeho chokes on his drink.

Because, see, the thing is—everyone suspects a thing.

Or, more accurately, P1Harmony knows exactly what’s going on.

Keeho gives Theo a slow, pained look, but Theo is too busy scrolling through Twitter, watching a thread unravel in real-time about mysterious cybercriminals who keep taking down corrupt corporations. Every tweet is full of speculation, wild theories, and ominous warnings from so-called financial experts.

What none of them realize is that the 'criminal masterminds' are sitting on their couch, loudly debating whether or not to DoorDash milkshakes.

Jiung, who’s been quietly suffering for weeks, finally speaks up. “You guys do realize you’re the worst criminals ever, right?”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Jiung gestures vaguely at Soul’s laptop, where a Google Doc literally titled ‘Chaos Plans 101’ is open. Not even password protected.

Keeho groans, rubbing his temples. “I mean, honestly, the hacking? Impressive. The execution? Messy. The subtlety? Negative ten.”

“But no one’s caught us,” Soul says with an infuriatingly confident smirk.

Intak snorts. “That’s because we keep covering for you.”

“…What?”

Theo, still scrolling Twitter, waves a hand. “Yeah, like, remember last week when you accidentally left your real name in that leaked email thread?”

Your stomach drops. “Wait, what?”

Jongseob sighs, so, so tired. “I had to backdoor into their servers and delete it before it went public.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Jongseob repeats, voice slightly higher-pitched. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”

Soul nudges you, muttering under his breath, “See? Told you we should’ve used code names.”

“Oh my God.” Keeho looks physically pained. “That is not the issue here!”

-

Things come to a head when the two of you—because you are agents of chaos—decide to take down a tech giant while sitting at a very public café during brunch.

A brunch, by the way, that all of P1Harmony is also attending.

“I bet you I can tank their stock by 20% before the check arrives,” you whisper, grinning as you tap away at your tablet.

Soul smirks, leaning over. “Make it 25%, and I’ll pay for your meal.”

Intak, sipping his coffee across from you, does not like the way this conversation is going.

Jiung looks at the waiter and, with deep exhaustion, says, “Can I get this to go?”

Keeho just pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, “I am going to die at 35 because of you two.”

Ten minutes later, the café television flashes with breaking news about said tech giant losing billions in market value. People start gasping, whispering, checking their phones.

And you? You just take a smug sip of your mimosa.

The entire table stares at you.

Jongseob, voice hollow, asks, “Did you seriously just commit financial terrorism over eggs benedict?”

Soul shrugs. “They overcharge for their streaming services.”

Keeho physically has to restrain himself.

-

Enough is enough.

Keeho, the ever-suffering leader, calls a meeting.

You and Soul are sat down in the living room like two misbehaving children. Jiung, Intak, and Theo are perched on the couch, arms crossed. Jongseob has a PowerPoint presentation ready.

Keeho clears his throat. “We are deeply concerned for a number of reasons.”

Jongseob clicks the first slide. It’s a screenshot of your hacked document, labeled 'Secret Plans - DO NOT OPEN (Unless You're Cool)'.

Theo coughs to hide his laughter. Jiung does not.

The next slide shows a list of your crimes with the header: ‘Ways in Which You Two Are Horrible at Hiding Your Villain Era.’

Some highlights include:

Using your own emails to register fake offshore accounts.

Nearly blowing your cover by laughing too hard at Twitter conspiracies.

Loudly whispering things like “Hey, what if we framed a CEO for fraud” in very public places.

Soul frowns. “That last one was a joke.”

Intak raises an eyebrow. “Was it?”

“…No.”

Keeho takes a deep breath. “Look. We’re not asking you to stop.”

You and Soul glance at each other. “Wait, really?”

Keeho sighs. “I mean, at this point, whatever. Just… try not to get arrested? Maybe? For our sake?”

Jongseob flips to his last slide, where bold red text reads: USE A VPN, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Soul tilts his head. “We could do that.”

You nod thoughtfully. “Yeah. Seems reasonable.”

Keeho visibly relaxes.

Then you grin. “Or we could—”

“NO.” Everyone shouts at the same time.

You and Soul laugh. Because, let’s be real—you’re definitely not stopping.

And P1Harmony? Well, they’re just going to have to keep cleaning up after you.

[zeroseuniverse]

Lets go again

TWISTED FAIRYTALES AU WONDERLAND POLL

Chaotic genius. The reader isn’t just navigating Wonderland—they’re shaping it. Are they trapped in their own madness, or is there a method to their madness? And who falls for them—someone who sees past the insanity, or someone who loves the madness itself? (The reader will be the mad hatter)

Jeongin

Way too amused by the reader’s madness. He’d play along, always one step ahead, forcing them to wonder who’s really in control.

Dino

Unhinged but charismatic. If anyone could out-mad the Mad Hatter, it’s him.

Woozi

Terrifyingly calm—he’d act like he’s indulging the reader, but secretly he’s dismantling their Wonderland piece by piece.

Jun

Completely unreadable. He’d feel like a dream within a dream—the reader would never be sure if they’re losing their mind or if he’s the only real thing left.

[zeroseuniverse]

I am very happy with the reults so far :))) All three of the svt boys were my focus but all of them could bring out a different story if I go with their character....

Alice in wonderland is my absolute favorite story of all time so this fic might become my new baby

I'm a little relieved bout Jeongin being the lowest so far....I always write him in these sorts of things so it'd seem redundant as much as I love him in these settings!!

TWISTED FAIRYTALES AU WONDERLAND POLL

Chaotic genius. The reader isn’t just navigating Wonderland—they’re shaping it. Are they trapped in their own madness, or is there a method to their madness? And who falls for them—someone who sees past the insanity, or someone who loves the madness itself? (The reader will be the mad hatter)

Jeongin

Way too amused by the reader’s madness. He’d play along, always one step ahead, forcing them to wonder who’s really in control.

Dino

Unhinged but charismatic. If anyone could out-mad the Mad Hatter, it’s him.

Woozi

Terrifyingly calm—he’d act like he’s indulging the reader, but secretly he’s dismantling their Wonderland piece by piece.

Jun

Completely unreadable. He’d feel like a dream within a dream—the reader would never be sure if they’re losing their mind or if he’s the only real thing left.

[zeroseuniverse]

TWISTED FAIRYTALES AU WONDERLAND POLL

Chaotic genius. The reader isn’t just navigating Wonderland—they’re shaping it. Are they trapped in their own madness, or is there a method to their madness? And who falls for them—someone who sees past the insanity, or someone who loves the madness itself? (The reader will be the mad hatter)

Jeongin

Way too amused by the reader’s madness. He’d play along, always one step ahead, forcing them to wonder who’s really in control.

Dino

Unhinged but charismatic. If anyone could out-mad the Mad Hatter, it’s him.

Woozi

Terrifyingly calm—he’d act like he’s indulging the reader, but secretly he’s dismantling their Wonderland piece by piece.

Jun

Completely unreadable. He’d feel like a dream within a dream—the reader would never be sure if they’re losing their mind or if he’s the only real thing left.

[zeroseuniverse]

TWIST FAIRY TALES AU: RUMPLE POLL Ooh, Jeonghan would absolutely thrive in a Rumpelstiltskin role—his cunning and charm would make him the perfect manipulator who toys with the queen, making her question if she ever truly had the upper hand.

Winwin has this quiet, enigmatic presence that would make him a far more eerie and unsettling version of the character. Instead of an openly cunning trickster, he’d be a more ethereal, detached force—someone who never raises his voice but whose words always come true, whether you want them to or not.