#admin miely

// what was originally supposed to be a scenario turned into this instead? inspired and based off this video HERE. all credits for the video go to @hoon-seok

// warnings: fighting everywhere, murder, kind of cursing?, just lots of fighting and angst pls help

// sneak peek: “I love you so much, Coups. I love you and Gyu, and Minghao, and Hannie, and Seokmin, and Jun, and Josh, and Hansol, and Seungkwan, and Wonwoo, and Chan, and Soonyoung, and Jihoon.” You breathe a laugh, choking back a sob as you wipe your face with the back of your hand before licking your lips. “I’m not gonna hurt myself, Cheol.” You shake your head, leap forward again to cling to his shirt, burying your face against his chest once more. “I’m not gonna hurt myself, Seungcheol. You’re gonna hurt me.”

// poly!svt x reader

// word count: 3037

// PROLOGUE | ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR (FINAL) |

It feels like it’s been years—like it’s been an entire century since he’s felt your touch, since he’s felt your love. Looking around now at the twelve other boys he’s devoted his entire life to, he knows this is it. This is what it’s all come down to. And though there’s a tremble somewhere between his chest and stomach that warns him today is not the day, he can’t help himself. Even if he pulled back his orders, the others wouldn't follow. Because this is all everything’s led up to. It’s all led up to this—you.

The car ride’s been long and tedious, but Seungcheol opts to keeping silently to himself as he tries to hold his sanity. Today, all thirteen boys are travelling in the same bus; normally, they’d split between two or even three different vans, but with the poem he’s memorized by heart in mind, he’s trying his best to keep his team together and safe.

“S.Coups,” Cheol looks up at the voice, sees Mingyu peering at him from the driver’s seat. “We’re here.” The leader puffs a breath through his lips before standing; it seems as if all the noise has fallen still, his members’ eyes on him.

“Be… cautious today.” Seungcheol speaks aloud. His voice is piercing the air like a dagger at his very heart. “We’re here today for Y/N, and that’s the only objective. Get Y/N, and get out. Understand?” The twelve boys solemnly nod. “Put your hearts into it. Today, just like every other day, she’s all that matters.” And then, as if they’re playing some kind of cheesy storyline, Hansol rises from his seat as well and shouts,

“For Y/N!” The boys one by one rise after that, shouting the same words, and the whole bus is shaking with their excitement at getting back what is rightfully theirs—getting you back. The atmosphere is lively with shouts and cheers, and Seungcheol is laughing along, looking around at his family when he meets the eyes of Jihoon. He feels a lump rise in his throat.

The sky is gray and chilly when Seungcheol steps out of the bus, followed soon by his members, one by one, until they’re huddled together before the entrance of an old, creaking carnival. Everything is so gray and suspicious that Cheol doesn’t have a chance to voice his opinions before Jihoon speaks.

“This… is a little alarming, don’t you think, S.Coups?”

“We’ve been through worse,” Seokmin replies instead. “And if it means saving Y/N, then it’s worth it! Right, S.Coups?”

“Right,” He murmurs, and his breath billows out before him in white, ghostly swirls. “Keep on the lookout, boys.” Slowly, they all depart into separate groups, entering the creepy carnival and looking around for any sight that their treasure has been there. Seungcheol takes to leaning against an old booth that seems to have once promoted throwing baseballs at glass bottles. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, begins going through his notes for something important he’d written down before leaving.

“Looking for the number Y/N called you from?” It’s Jeonghan who’s approached Seungcheol so suddenly, leaning against the same booth so their shoulders are brushing. “News spreads fast in Seventeen. You know that, S.Coups.” He doesn’t quite know how to respond, so Seungcheol takes to chewing his lower lip instead, finding the number he’d traced back from your voice last night. He decides to call back.

Jeonghan is staring at him the entire time, waiting, just as the leader is, for a familiar, loving voice. But the line rings, and rings, and rings before going silent. He curses under his breath.

“No answer.” He mutters. Jeonghan is about to respond when the sudden sound of a loud gunshot rings in the dead silent carnival air, almost giving the place an even creepier vibe. All the members stop still at the sound, first staring at each other, and then at Seungcheol. “Head out!” He orders after a pause, leading the way to where the shot was heard from.

His heart is beating in his chest and the quietness from his members is putting him on edge. Nevertheless, Cheol keeps following a noise that is steadily growing louder as he keeps walking, something like movement… like shouting… like fighting.

And then there it is.

There’s a large field, expanding miles and miles from where the carnival originally sits on, and there, to all of Seventeen’s surprise, is absolute chaos.

“Is… is that Rap Monster? From Bangtan Boys?” Dino’s voice is barely audible even though he’s shouting over all the noise, and Seungcheol gulps, nodding.

“And there’s JinJin of Astro, too.” Joshua elaborates, not even the smallest of smirks on his face.

“And GOT7, and BLACKPINK, and Red Velvet, and AKMU, and VIXX, and NCT…” Vernon mumbles, and Seungcheol can’t find anything to say because everyone’s there, all of them.

It’s a giant crowd of people from different gangs all fighting each other in this empty lot, the gray sky overhead almost egging them on. There’s shouting and screaming and guns and knives and blood and… and there, in the middle of the crowd, is you.

It’s as if everyone’s been under put under a magic spell; either nobody has seen you yet or they’re choosing to ignore you, but there you’re standing there, tears streaming down your face. He hears another gunshot, flinches as he sees somebody drop dead out of the corner of his eyes.

“Try to stop them!” S.Coups loudly orders over the noise of the fighting. “Figure out what’s going on and stop them! Say the name!”

“Seventeen!” The boys shout before splitting off once more into groups. Seungcheol, however, has given himself a more important order. He walks straight through the fighting crowd to the only person who matters right now, the only person who’s worth saving—you.

“Y/N!” He loudly calls out, quickening his walk so now he’s sprinting towards you at full speed. “Y/N, it’s—” And he abruptly stops some feet from you, because there’s a gun in your hand.

“Coups?” Your voice is raw and vulnerable, so extremely different from the rough and tough atmosphere that it’s breaking his heart. “Coups, is that you?” He licks his full lips, nods as he approaches ever slowly, all too aware of the gun being gripped by your fingers. “Coups, you’re-you’re here!” You hiccup, and why does his heart hurt so much? “Where’s the rest of them? Where’s the rest of my boys?”

“They’re… out there.” He responds, now so close, he can see the tear stains all over your face, eyes wild and glazed. “They’re trying to stop this. Y/N… what’s going on? Why do you have a gun?” You bite your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut as you begin to wave around the gun.

“I can’t tell you, Seungcheol! I want to tell you, but I can’t! They told me not to!” He’s furrowing his brows, trying to avoid the wild waving of your gun in case you accidentally pull the trigger.

“Who did? Who told you, Y/N? Was it someone here? What’s going—” You suddenly burst into tears, sobbing relentlessly now, and Seungcheol’s so taken aback, he’s starting to worry for your own sanity.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Seungcheol! I’m so happy you guys came for me!” You suddenly leap forward and throw your arms around his neck, overwhelmed by all your emotions that you suddenly feel a pumping love in your chest for the thirteen boys who have travelled so far just for you. S.Coups, surprised, takes a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist, savoring the feeling of your hug as you sob into his chest, but it doesn’t take long before he’s reaching to take the gun from your hand.

You feel the weapon being wriggled from your grasp and immediately jump back, and there’s something so much like fury in your wild eyes that Seungcheol, for once, is kind of scared.

“Were you trying to take this from me?” You screech, pointing at the gun. “Cheol, why would you do that to me? How could you betray me like that?”

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N,” He immediately defends. “I just don’t want you to be holding something so dangerous; I don’t want you to hurt yourself!” You laugh, tears still streaming down your face as you back away, gun still wildly swinging.

“I love you so much, Coups. I love you and Gyu, and Minghao, and Hannie, and Seokmin, and Jun, and Josh, and Hansol, and Seungkwan, and Wonwoo, and Chan, and Soonyoung, and Jihoon.” You breathe a laugh, choking back a sob as you wipe your face with the back of your hand before licking your lips. “I’m not gonna hurt myself, Cheol.” You shake your head, leap forward again to cling to his shirt, burying your face against his chest once more. “I’m not gonna hurt myself, Seungcheol. You’re gonna hurt me.” Everything's happening so fast Seungcheol’s not sure what you mean, and he’s about to reply when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see Mingyu standing there, stony faced and panting with smears of blood all over his face and clothes.

“S.Coups, we need to move out now. Things are getting to be too much. If we don’t leave now, we’re gonna die.” His eyes find yours, and a whole new wave of tears flood your eyes as you move forward to grab Mingyu’s hand.

“Gyu, you’re here!” You gasp out, and his eyes glaze over as he stares at you with the first sign of emotion in months—love.

“Y/N…” He whispers, moving closer. “Y/N, you’re safe.” You nod, tears streaming down your face, but before you can say anything else, Mingyu’s face scrunches into something of pain as a stain of bright red blossoms over his white shirt. He falls over onto the ground before you or Seungcheol can do anything about it, and there, standing some feet away, is Wendy of Red Velvet.

Dino suddenly tackles her to the ground but you can’t pay much more attention, because Mingyu is there on the ground, dead. You fall to your knees before him, flip him over so you can hold his cold face in your hands.

“Oh, Mingyu,” You sob over his body. His eyes stare back up at you, lifeless. “Mingyu, you were first. I didn’t think it’d be you, baby.” You lean forward, cry against his face as you press useless kisses against the golden skin you loved so much. Your lips find his, but they don’t move—Mingyu is dead.

Seungcheol doesn’t know what to do; his hands are trembling at his sides as he’s staring down at the both of you: the only person he loves with his entire heart and soul and his best friend, his family, dead and bleeding on the ground. Realizing that Mingyu is actually dead and not coming back, Seungcheol runs both hands over his face before burying them in his hair, slightly tugging with the anxiety of not know what to do.

“S.Coups!” He turns on his heel at the voice, finds Jun waving at him from across the crowd to gain his attention. “We need to move out, now!” He’s about to say more when he’s suddenly stabbed by someone from Astro, Seungcheol can’t be too sure. His eyes go lifeless, like Cheol himself has caused so many times before, but his heart pangs this time.

“Jun!” Minghao shouts, and he’s running across to his friend before suddenly falling lifeless at the sound of a gunshot.

“Cheol!” You suddenly cry out, no longer on Mingyu, but you’ve got his blood all over you hands and clothes. You fling yourself against his body, grip his shirt as you try to capture his whole attention. “Seungcheol, please, please listen to me: Cheol, you have to kill me.”

“S.Coups, Joshua’s dead!” Jeonghan’s yelling at him from some yards away, desperation and sadness in his voice. “S.Coups, we have to end this!” There’s another gunshot and when he turns to focus on Jeonghan, he’s bleeding on the floor.

“You have to kill me, Coups!” You shout again, gripping his shirt even tighter. “You have to shoot me and kill me!” He looks back out at the field, finds that there are only ⅓ of the original people who were there are still alive. There’s bodies on the floor, so many bodies, it’s made an entirely new ground. He feels that he’s quickly panicking, and there’s so much happening that he doesn’t know who to pay attention to—what to do. “Seungcheol, kill me!” You shriek. He turns to you, sees the tears streaming down your face, the lunatic glaze in your eyes.

“Why… why would I kill you?” He murmurs, but you don’t explain any further, just hold the gun against your chest and take his hand to hold the handle. S.Coups looks over his shoulder, tries to find someone, anybody, to help him take care of the situation—to help him save you.

But out there, in the time span of just a few minutes, only three remain standing, the ground a battlefield of dead people. He’s in too much of a daze to recognize who it is that still stands, but Seungcheol thinks he can recognize Jihoon’s face in the tiny group.

“Seungcheol, please,” You murmur, capturing his attention once more, and Cheol turns to stare at you, your eyes glazed and wild. “Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please,” Your lips are moving quickly with your repeated words, and there’s suddenly the sound of somebody gurgling before two loud shots. He checks back over his shoulder, and nobody is standing anymore. They’re all gone.

“Everyone’s already dead,” You whisper to him, and you press the gun ever more firmly against your chest, your grip on Cheol’s hand tightening as you shove it against the handle, begging him to take it. “They’re all gone, Coups. There’s only one choice left. Just do it, Seungcheol. Pull that stupid trigger, and make sure the bullet pierces my heart just like you and twelve other boys did so long ago. Everyone else is dead, anyway. So, just do it. Do it. Kill me!” You’re shrieking at him again, shoving the barrel against your chest, and Cheol can’t take it anymore—there’s too much on his mind.

He pulls the trigger.

It’s the sound of the loud shot that finally clears his mind of all thoughts, and it’s like life is suddenly playing in slow motion as he watches the life drain from your eyes, watches as you tip back and fall to the ground. The echo of the gunshot seems to ring from all places as if humiliating Seungcheol, and he feels the tears come as he collapses to his knees, falling before you as the blood begins to blossom on your shirt, pools into a small puddle on your chest.

“No,” He whispers helplessly. “No, what have I… Y/N, no!” He grabs the hem of his shirt, rips it off in one swift movement before wadding it up and pressing it against your chest, desperately trying to stop the bleeding, trying to save your life. But it’s too late. He knows it’s too late, but he doesn’t quite want to believe it. Your breathing has already stopped, your eyes are an empty void, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the stupid bleeding.

“Y/N, please,” He’s begging, crying, and his tears are falling onto your face. “Dammit, Y/N please!” Suddenly, there’s a loud ringing, and Cheol looks up at the old rusty speakers he had previously thought no longer worked. They ring once, twice, three times to signal an announcement. And there’s your voice.

“A tale of boys that began as thirteen Will undoubtedly fall when another one comes A tale of boys and a girl as fourteen A prophecy in death and pain it sums”

It’s the exact same voice recording that was on the USB he’d burned on his desk, and the memory of listening to it with Jihoon only makes his heart pang ever more. As the poem continues, he silently whispers it to himself, already knowing it like a daily mantra.

“In the month of October blood will be spilled A revolution so carefully planned will burn All but one will not be killed A battle of love he will refuse to learn

“A tale of lovers who were once fourteen Will crumble apart when only one is seen”

Your voice echoes across the empty carnival, ringing in Seungcheol’s ears like white noise. He bursts into tears, feels his entire body rack with each sob that tears his voice raw. Nothing is left for him… he buries his face into the crook of your neck and smooths back your hair like he remembers you liked so much.

“Y/N, please,” He desperately murmurs, voice cracking and choking back sobs. “Please, Y/N, tell me what’s going on… please, what’s… what’s happening?” And then the speakers respond, ringing three times once more before suddenly echoing your voice except, this time, it’s steadier. This time, you sound serious.

“This concludes Project Shining Diamond.” Immediately, he rises to his feet, spins to face the speakers.

“What?” He shouts, voice louder than it’s ever been. “What does that mean? What’s going on?” He feels a sudden bubbling anger in his chest. And then, without thinking, he takes the gun he’s shot you with and begins shooting at the speakers, the metal sounds pinging in the gray sky. “Tell me what that means! Bring them back! Bring them all back! I want my family back, and Y/N too! Tell me what’s going on!” His voice is raw from shouting so passionately, but all that meets him is absolute silence.

Seungcheol breaks a sob, falls to his knees as he buries his face in his hands. Why does it hurt so much?

“Please… somebody… anybody tell me… what’s going on? Don’t abandon me. Just… please. Help me.”

This time, nobody responds.

// When Scorpio swings the bat, all Pisces can hear is the loud crack of a baseball against wood, and his eyes have to adjust to the bright blinding light of the sun before he sees the ball flying midair. The cheering of the others - Aquarius, Aries, Taurus, Leo - is loud in the warm Spring breeze. But before Scorpio can run, he turns over his shoulder to look at Pisces. A wide grin, unlike his wolfish smirk, plasters his face, and in that moment Pisces knows one thing: He’s in love.

// Chap. 01 |

// scorpio x pisces

// word count: 2130

Pisces is nothing short of the ordinary. He’s just a simple boy with too many freckles and too big glasses toppling over the bridge of his nose. He’s never tried anything outside of the perpetual box he can’t help but curl into, always too afraid - too stricken with the terrifying reality of life - to go outside of his imaginary safe space. So when he’s asked what’s the most exciting thing he’s ever witnessed, the only event he can feel on the tip of his tongue is watching a fight between a greaser and a soc two blocks away from him, tiny silhouettes in the shadow of the setting sun and their soon arrest.

But then Pisces meets him, and suddenly, everything he sees is exciting. Everything is suddenly drenched in a bright blue-based red color, shining through every crevice of his dull black and white box. He feels himself slowly energized by the color, and Pisces can’t help the temptation of slowly dipping his feet outside of the box, like testing the waters of a cold pool on a hot summer day. And it’s all him. It’s all because of him.

Because the first time he meets him, it’s in the middle of US History class, when Mr. Wellington is talking about the very first president of the United States of America. Pisces hardly knows the names of any students in that class, but after a wisecrack that comes from the back of the room in the middle of their ninety-minute lecture, Pisces is sure he’ll never forget that name.

Because while Mr. Wellington is talking about President George Washington, a deep voice that comes from a seat at the back of the classroom disrupts Pisces. And when he looks back, he sees it belongs to a boy dressed in a black leather jacket and worn jeans, his hair heavily greased, because that’s what he is - the boy is a greaser, and the tattoos peeking out from his sleeves and above the collar of his white t-shirt confirms it.

“Would you like to repeat that, young man?” Mr. Wellington challenges and Pisces completely forgets the boy at the back of the room said anything at all - he’s been staring at him too intently. The boy scoffs, rolling his eyes, and a smirk that makes Pisces’ chest tighten dares to take his lips.

“I said,” The boy repeats. His voice sends shivers up Pisces’ spine. “If a nut like George Washington can become president, then it can’t be so hard for Aquarius to do it.” The class erupts into laughter, and Aquarius, another greaser Pisces has only talked to a couple times, cracks a smile and quiet chuckling as well.  

“What’s your name?” Mr. Wellington asks sternly, but the leadership and power behind his voice doesn’t seem to affect the boy at all. In fact, he seems to find it funny, because the tattooed boy quietly chuckles as he leans forward in his seat, hands clasped together while he makes eye contact with the history teacher.

“Scorpio,” He begins. “But most girls call me an asshole.” Another round of laughter comes from the class. “Take it as you will, sir.” Pisces takes a long time to register the event before Mr. Wellington assigns him detention and goes back to teaching his lesson. He takes even longer to realize he’s still staring at Scorpio a few minutes after the ordeal, and when he catches the bad boy’s dark eyes, Pisces feels himself blushing furiously before turning back to learn. In that moment, he definitely learns one thing: He hates Scorpio with everything in his heart.

Because the second time he meets him, it’s at the malt shop he works at. Pisces is cleaning the counter with a damp rag and enjoying the silence that’s come with the Sunday afternoon. There are a few college students quietly studying for an upcoming exam along with some couples enjoying each other’s presence and some sundaes. But Pisces doesn’t mind - these are his type of people: quiet and mellow. Nothing short of muted beauty.

But then the sound of rowdy laughter and footsteps gets louder with every passing second, and a handful of greasers walk in through the door of the malt shop, playfully pushing each other around and shouting things that are too vulgar for public. The group gathers together at a booth near the front, their loud conversations, and laughter still lively as ever, and Pisces takes a moment to bottle up the stress he already feels in his fingertips as he quietly makes his way to the booth.

He recognizes a few faces when he arrives at the booth - Aquarius, the greaser he’s managed to make acquaintances with, and Aries, the short tempered boy who will challenge anyone to a fight (he’s a lot shorter than what people make him out to be). But of course, Pisces catches the eyes of Scorpio, the bad boy he’s sworn to hate but makes his heart flutter with every stupid smirk of his. There are a couple other boys with them too, but Pisces tries not to pay attention to any of them for that matter.

“How’re you doin’, cutie?” Scorpio charms with a small smirk and Pisces feels his ears flush red. He hears Aquarius scoff.

“Shut it, Scorpio.” Aquarius scolds. “We come out for some fun tryin’ to look tough, and you gotta hit on some poor guy?” Scorpio only laughs in return.

“Isn’t pickin’ up some broads part of the fun, Aqua?” Scorpio runs his eyes up and down Pisces, and he bites his lower lip before meeting his blue eyes. “Besides, if I had to pick myself one, I think I’d choose this one right here.” Pisces feels his heart race faster in his chest, and he hopes to God nobody else can hear Scorpio saying this. The last thing he needs is to be accused of being a fag again. But his group holler and laugh and Pisces notices the rest of the customers get uneasy and bothered - it’s hard as it is being in a room full of greasers.

“If you want to stay,” Pisces begins, and the group calms down to hear his clear voice. “Then you’ll need to quiet down. I really wouldn’t want to call the cops because a group of greasers couldn’t keep it together… but I will if I have to.”

Pisces spends the rest of the day serving the somewhat calmed boys with obvious annoyance and stress.

Because the third time he meets him, it’s at the public library when Pisces is doing research for his physiology essay.

Pisces is searching up and down the aisles and shelves for the right books to include in his essay, and when he finds the perfect one that will guarantee him a perfect A at the back of the library, Pisces is upset that it’s on the highest shelf and he can’t reach it. He spends a few moments trying to desperately reach for the book, but a voice he’s heard too many times now startles him.

“And what’s a nice looking boy like you doing around here?” It’s Scorpio, and he’s leaning against the books with little to no care as he smirks at Pisces. For a second, Pisces takes the time to wonder why Scorpio’s the one at a library in the first place. He decides not to ask, and respectfully answers his question.

“I have a physiology essay due Monday.” Pisces curtly replies. He stares at the floor, and really notices Scorpio’s shoes for the first time. They’re black and scuffed around the edges, but they were brand new and nice once upon a time, maybe even expensive, too. Scorpio hums, tilting his head from side to side. He looks bored, and Pisces wonders again why Scorpio’s in a library of all places. As far as he can tell, this place is as good as a gravesite to him - maybe even more boring.

“I don’t know too many things about physiology,” Scorpio begins. “But I’m sure I can help you study.” A smirk follows after that, and Pisces isn’t too sure whether Scorpio means actually studying, or if he means ‘studying’.

“I’m okay, thank you.” Pisces retorts and his eyes involuntarily flick up to the book he was trying to reach earlier. It seems Scorpio’s noticed, and he moves over and grabs the book with ease. He holds the heavy novel out.

“This the thing you were looking for?” Pisces presses his lips tightly together. Of course, that’s the book he needs, but he doesn’t want to give Scorpio the satisfaction of knowing he’s helped Pisces and made him happy. But then again… he does need that book.

Pisces takes the book from Scorpio, murmurs a curt thank you, and walks away. He spends the rest of his study session shushing the bad boy who always seems to be a few feet behind him with too loud remarks and sighs.

Because the fourth time he meets him, it’s at the back of the school. Like previous times, Scorpio isn’t alone. In fact, this time, he’s with a pretty greaser broad - a short freshman girl with bleach blonde hair and bright red lipstick. She’s got heels higher than Pisces’ grades, and, by her heavy breathing and vulgar moans, she’s having a good time making out with Scorpio against the wall of their school.

Pisces coughs, and Scorpio pulls away to look for the culprit of the act. He smiles when he sees Pisces, and he’s got red lipstick smeared all over his lips. Scorpio runs a hand through his hair.

“For Christ’s sake, kid,” Scorpio begins, and Pisces isn’t sure whether it’s appropriate to use Christ’s name in the situation of making out with a young girl against a school. “Learn to take a hint and roll along when it looks like it, alright?” Pisces rolls his eyes.

“Learn to wear off her lipstick in more private places. You’ll get caught if you stay out here.” With that, he walks away, and he can hear Scorpio chuckle behind him before the heavy breathing and moaning of the girl continues.

Oddly enough, Pisces feels his heart almost break at what he’s witnessed. He feels his heart speed up, but not in the way that makes his chest tighten and tongue dry. It’s in the way that makes his throat tighten and his eyes watery. Pisces clutches his books tightly against his chest as he continues to walk, but he feels empty somehow. Almost like the box he’s lived in for so long has enveloped him - swallowed him whole.

Pisces begins to overthink the idea that maybe Scorpio only said all those things as a joke. As a way to humiliate him. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time. But as he walks away, he tries to make himself feel stronger with each step. But it doesn’t work - Pisces is still hurting inside. It’s not until the fifth time he meets Scorpio that he begins to feel better.

Because the fifth time he meets him, it’s at the ballpark on Pisces’ way home from school. He’s walking and counting the number of steps he takes as he watches his feet in front of him, and when he passes the baseball field he’s seen but ignored so many times before, Pisces is surprised when he hears someone call his name from that direction.

He turns, and Scorpio is standing there, leaning against the fence that separates the ballpark from the rest of the grass. This time, Scorpio doesn’t look like the bad boy he hates so much as just… a boy.

He’s wearing these blue denim jeans paired with old sneakers and a plain t-shirt. There isn’t a jacket to cover up his tattoos now, and Pisces is impressed at the permanent drawings crawling up his biceps and triceps and any other muscles in his arms. They snake around his skin and peek out so it’s barely visible against his neck. His hair isn’t greased as usual, and he’s got a smile on his face instead of that stupid smirk that makes Pisces think of Hollywood actors. But it’s the words that come out of his mouth that change Pisces’ life forever, and to this day, he’s sure he’d pick the same answer over and over again.

“Hey, Pisces!” Scorpio calls, and he’s not sure how he knows his name. “Wanna play ball with us?”

Now, if anybody asks Pisces what’s the most exciting thing he’s ever witnessed, he’s got more answers than a fight between a greaser and a soc two blocks away.

Now, he’s got more answers and stories that could fill up the entire box Scorpio’s managed to get him out of.

// a little drabble i wrote to make up for how long i’ve been gone;; i haven’t written in a very long time so please excuse if it’s not that great~~

// warnings: ANGST, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cigarettes, mention of couples fighting, kind of unrequited love??, cursing

// sneak peek: “Bullshit.” You call out. “How long have you been holding those words in your head, hoping to use them? You don’t love me.” You begin to turn, hoping to walk away, but a new surge of bitter angriness fills your mouth and you stop to look over your shoulder. “If this is reality, I’m not interested.” And then you actually walk away, watching your feet hit the sidewalk a few times before there’s a tight grip on your wrist, suddenly pulling you back.

// wonwoo x reader

// word count: 1578

The air hits hard at your face, whipping your hair around into a wild, heaping mess and making your eyes burn and sting with each long stride of your running. You can barely breathe, and you’re gasping for oxygen, your lungs asking—begging—for just a little bit more breath. But you can’t allow that. You won’t allow it—not now that you’ve carried yourself so far out into the street.

This has, ultimately, become a routine. Ever since you left Wonwoo standing alone and in angry tears in what used to be your shared bedroom, you’ve gone running every evening to burn the memories of the happy times with gasping breath and tired, blotching nausea. It’s been two weeks since your big fight, and you still can’t get over the feeling of his lips against your neck, the sight of his skin underneath your fingertips.

But the thing is, you’ve turned into a statue, and it makes you feel depressed.

There’s no saving you from the memories that are Wonwoo—his vague scent of lavender laundry detergent and freshly baked goods. His grin of pearly white teeth that scrunch his nose into the cutest facial expression you’ve witnessed. The feel of his jackets around your body on cold winter days, and even moreso the feeling of Wonwoo himself around your body every day.

But you can’t get over it—you just can’t. You wish you could forgive Wonwoo, but there are no means in which what happened two weeks ago could ever be forgiven or forgotten. You realize that people hesitate, they change. Whether they be for the better or worse is a matter of circumstances. But how can you not tell someone you love them back?

You stop running; you can’t quite do it anymore. Your breath is ragged and loud in the orange of the setting sun, and you can see nothing but splotches of black everywhere, too tired—too exhausted—to keep on going. Leaning against a nearby building, you feel the brick crumble between your fingers as you support your whole being on it.

And for a long time, you just stay there. You listen to your heavy breathing and reminisce memories of Wonwoo, not being able, for the fourteenth day, to forget about the boy who’s broken you in like an expensive pair of shoes, knowing your every crevice and crack, holding you in his hands for events beyond nerve-wracking. But then there’s the sound of a voice—a boy’s voice. One you know too well, even in its condition right now of gravel and utterly ragged mess of octaves.

“Hey,” God, how you hate that voice. You lift your forehead from where you’ve been leaning it against the wall, and when you turn, you find Wonwoo in absolute ruins. And the only thing you can think is God, how you love that boy.

“How did you find me?” You find your breathing is still rough and heavy, your voice coming out in short breaths as your lungs crave to find oxygen. Perhaps, the voice in the back of your head thinks, we can find that oxygen in Wonwoo’s lips. But Wonwoo only breaths a short hum, a clipped laugh leaving his lips before he looks up as if he’s trying to stop himself from crying.

“It’s not hard to spot you in a crowd. Not when I’m so in love with you.” There’s a look of hope behind his eyes like he’s begging you to forgive him, but a sour tasting bitterness fills your mouth before you can stop to think of the sweet taste of Wonwoo’s lips.

“Bullshit.” You call out. “How long have you been holding those words in your head, hoping to use them? You don’t love me.” You begin to turn, hoping to walk away, but a new surge of bitter angriness fills your mouth and you stop to look over your shoulder. “If this is reality, I’m not interested.” And then you actually walk away, watching your feet hit the sidewalk a few times before there’s a tight grip on your wrist, suddenly pulling you back.

You don’t have to turn to know that it’s Wonwoo, and you roll your eyes as you willingly let the boy turn you around so you can face each other.

Wonwoo looks hurt. His entire expression is that of a wounded puppy, and he’s never looked so desperate before. As it is, his clothes are tattered and baggy around his shape—not the usual clean look he knows you like him to wear. And he reeks of alcohol with an accompanying fragrance of cigarette smoke surrounding his entire being.

“Y/N,” Wonwoo begins. You’ve never heard your name leave his mouth so sadly and desperately before. “Please. Heaven knows I’m miserable now.” You scoff, your gaze still burning with the same hatred you felt two weeks ago after your fight.

“Well, that makes two of us. Grow up, Wonwoo.” You wiggle your arm which is still grasped by Wonwoo, but the boy doesn’t budge.

“Do you think of me?” He asks instead, desperate and relentless to get answers out of you. You bite your lower lip, not wanting Wonwoo to see through you. Yes, you think of him, the voice says again in your head. You think of his lips, his jaw, his voice. You think of his body, and how great it would be to have him next to you again. You think of his laugh and voice, your name coming from his lips, quiet groans and whimpers in the middle of the night. You think of his flushed body above yours, and the sweat that trickles down his spine. You think of his arms and how comforting his hand feels on yours. You think of him all the time. You think of how you love him. Tell him.

“No.” You lie, and your heart shatters just a little bit more than it did two weeks ago. “I’m over you, Wonwoo. I don’t think of you.”

“Bullshit,” Wonwoo says now, his nose crinkling in disbelief. “You fuckin’ miss me.” You’re both quiet for the longest time, and you take the opportunity to savor the feeling of his fingers on your wrist. After all, you’re not sure when you’ll be able to feel that again. “Are you,” Wonwoo suddenly speaks. He decides to pause, licks his lips with the smallest expression of freight. “Are you… sad?” He pauses once more. “You can lie to me if it’s easier for you.” It’s your turn to lick your lips now, and you avoid Wonwoo’s gaze, staring at the ground, staring at his shoes.

“If I say I’m not sad, I am denying a whole universe inside of me.” It’s now that you realize you’re crying. You feel tears run down your face for the first time and taste salt as they slip past your lips. You choke back a sob and clear your throat, trying to stop yourself from crying any longer. It doesn’t work.

“Hey,” Wonwoo begins, and he grabs ahold of your chin, tilting your face upwards so your eyes finally meet. “Why are you sad? Don’t be sad, please.” You can’t help yourself anymore, and you let yourself loudly sob, your throat aching with each cry.

“Why don’t you love me back? You let the question that’s been burning holes in your mind for two weeks now finally slip, and Wonwoo looks guilty and ready to cry himself.

“But… But I do love you, Y/N.” You shake your head, taking a few shuddering breaths before speaking some more. 

“I told you I loved you two weeks ago for the first time, Wonwoo. I was so sure you would say it back, but… but you just stood there for a whole minute! You didn’t say anything back, and when I asked you why, all you could do was shake your fucking head. Don’t you understand, Wonwoo? I loved you! I gave you everything I ever had! I let you take my heart, and you never gave me yours. How could you do that to me?” Wonwoo swallows the lump in his throat, rubs his thumb underneath your eyes to rid of the tears.

“I love you, Y/N. Okay? I was… I was shocked. Nobody’s ever loved me before, and that’s all I ever wanted you to do. I think… I think I try too hard. How I look, what I do, what I’m saying. And no matter how much I tell myself to ease up around you, I feel like if I do, you might leave… I don’t want you to leave Y/N. Not today, not two weeks ago, not ever. I love you with everything I have in my entire being. But when you said it first, I couldn’t help but think you were lying to me, denying a whole century of words and feelings I could never say out loud to you. Don’t you ever think for a one moment that I don’t love you? I will always love you. Always, until the day the universe denies us the right to fucking live. Do you understand?”

And, somehow, you do. Wonwoo’s always been a mess of words—lost between being sentimental and confused. He doesn’t know how to separate his sentences into loving and coherent. But this finally makes sense to you, and you do. You do understand.

You nod and taste salty tears in your mouth, Wonwoo’s sweet words, and your shared bitter love.

Hello, Happy New Year’s Eve! Cora, Mariah, and I are really excited to spend a new year with you guys and make 2018 a better year. Obviously, 2017 was pretty rough on all of us, so we’ve all agreed together that at midnight, starting 2018, we’d clear our inbox of all old messages + requests and delete some unimportant posts on our blog as a way to start fresh for the new year.

I can’t speak on the behalf of everyone, but I’d still like to finish some of the old series I started some time ago instead of abandoning them with everything else in 2017. I’m sure we’ll open requests for a short time after clearing our inbox, but we haven’t yet agreed when to do that, so we’ll keep you guys posted!

To a fresh year, and a fresh start! Happy New Year’s, everyone!

// a quick drabble inspired by late conversations in cheap diners with dark haired boys. i just wanted to write wonwoo ok im sorry

// warnings: heartache??? it’s just after a breakup so, a little bit of fluff, lots of roasting wonwoo

// sneak peek: “You’re testing my emotional bounds here, baby blue.” He pauses, takes a moment to drink the suspicious beverage in his white mug. After a moment, he speaks again. “I stopped caring a long, long time ago.”

// wonwoo x reader

// word count: 1,140

   The car ride is silent, the night out even more so, and you have a hard time breathing as your grip on the steering wheel tightens, vision blurry as you keep your eyes on the road.

   You’re crying.

   At first, you can’t really tell, but then you’re almost blinded by the tears, and they’re spilling down your face like a damn waterfall. A lump in your throat is choking you, and your heart and stomach wrench at the same time, a familiar sense of sadness hurting you with painful stabs.

   For the fourth time, you know your current relationship is unhealthy and you decide to end it, but this time - this fourth, final time - it’s real.

   Your current boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend?) is by far the worst you have ever had. Maintains himself like a classic alcoholic slob and treats you no better. But he’s cruel to you, says things that shouldn’t be said to any human being alive, and as you drive down the dark road, you know there’s no way you’re turning back.

   You can hear your things in the back seat toppling over each other after you swerve around a bird you didn’t catch sight of on the street, and you’re thankful you didn’t take anything breakable or fragile from the shared apartment. But the painful pulse of your heart is affecting your throat, and your mouth feels dry and eyes too puffy. You know you can’t drive any longer - if you do, you might end up killing yourself (whether it be accidental or not is a matter of your own wellbeing).

   You blink away the tears in your eyes and take a shuddering breath before catching sight of an old beat up diner on the street. You decide to pull over for a break.

   You park the car and turn on the light inside, staring at your own puffy red eyes in the rearview mirror. With a choking gasp, you bring up the sleeve of your sweater and wipe harshly at your face to rid of any more tears. Without glancing at yourself in the mirror again, you turn off the light and the car, stepping out into the cold night before entering the too-hot-and-stuffy diner. You immediately make way for an empty stool at the bar.

   A waitress comes by and you can barely hear her voice asking for your order - it’s almost like you’re listening from the bottom of the ocean. You blindly ask for a cup of black coffee before going back to staring absentmindedly at the bar, not being able to think or do anything else.

   “What’s a pretty person like yourself doing at a diner so late at night?” It takes you almost a whole minute to realize the question is being directed at you, and you look up to find a boy with dark hair and a lazy smile sitting a few stools away from you.

   You attempt a friendly smile before saying, “Avoiding people like you.” The boy grimaces with feigned hurt, and he scoots closer so he’s now sitting on the stool next to yours.

   “That hurt, baby blue. Hit close to home.” The waitress comes back and sets your coffee on the bar without a word before leaving again. You ignore the boy next to you, and take a drink of the coffee, grimacing at the bitterness. “I’m guessing you don’t do coffee too often?” He asks, chuckling. You roll your eyes.

   “I prefer mint tea.” You’re both quiet for a long time, and then the boy holds out one of the napkins from the bar, nonchalantly waiting for you to take it. “You’ve got tear stains on that pretty face.” You hesitate, then take the napkin, trying to ignore the compliment as you wipe at your face. “I don’t know what the problem is, but by the looks of it, we’re in the same boat, baby blue.” You snort.

   “I highly doubt it.” Your mind wanders back to the painful things your ex-boyfriend had said only earlier today, and you grind your teeth together as you try to bury the memories.

   “You could always be hurting more than you are now.” When you turn at the voice, you realize the boy has been staring at you all along, a gentle smile on his face. He’s got dark eyes, but they look kind nevertheless. “Besides, trust me, whatever it is, it’s not worth it.” You breath out a bitter laugh, gripping your mug tight.

   “That’s easy for you to say. I bet you’ve given up every opportunity to have a stable life.” The boy mouths, ‘wow’, and shakes his head as he stares at his hands on the bar.

   “You’re testing my emotional bounds here, baby blue.” He pauses, takes a moment to drink the suspicious beverage in his white mug. After a moment, he speaks again. “I stopped caring a long, long time ago.”

   “If you stopped caring, then why do you care about me?” The boy doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and you think the conversation is as good as over. But then he turns to stare at you, and he’s gently smiling again, the ends of his dark eyes crinkling the slightest bit.

   “Because you’re attractive.” He licks his lips. “And judging by that hideous outfit and unusual manners, I can tell there’s someone behind your icy personality right now. Someone who’s kind and got something going for them, but is too blinded by other’s stupidity and harshness to say anything else. Besides, why should somebody else have to hurt just because you’re hurting too?” He lets it sit in the air for a while, all those different words. Then, he says, “And I’m flirting with you. If you haven’t noticed already.” There’s a slight teasing tone behind his voice.

   “Well...” You begin, but, frankly, you don’t know where to end. “I’m not available.” The boy raises an eyebrow at you.

   “Why? Got a boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You shake your head, and you feel your face flush. Tears prickle harshly at your eyes once more.

   “I just ended it with a boyfriend. For good. And I’m not sure if I can take any more of it.” The boy nods.

   “Well, I’m not asking for marriage. Not yet, anyway. But I’ll wait.” He sighs. “I’ll wait for you.”

   A silence passes again, this time longer than before. It’s been forty-five minutes before the boy finishes his drink and leaves a twenty on the bar. He rises from his seat, runs a hand through his dark hair.

   “The name’s Wonwoo, by the way.” He gestures at the bill on the bar. “Your drink’s on me. I’ll see you here next Tuesday. Same time, baby blue.”

   He leaves the diner before you even have the time to tell him your proper name.

// what was originally supposed to be a scenario turned into this instead? inspired and based off this video HERE. all credits for the video go to @hoon-seok

// warnings: fighting everywhere omg how many times do i have to warn this, mentions of drugs, mentions of murder, is prison a warning??, holding people hostage?

// sneak peek: “Seungcheol?” And it all goes to Hell. It’s Y/N. It’s Y/N’s voice. She’s crying, sobbing on the phone, heavy breathing and choked cries as loud as the heart pounding fast in S.Coups’ chest. He knows it’s Y/N - he’s only fallen in love with that voice too many times. “Seungcheol? Are… are you there? Please. Please, Cheol… help me.”

// seungcheol x reader

// word count: 2445

// PROLOGUE | ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR (FINAL) |

   After the occurrence of meeting Bangtan Boys and being handed the USB in which S.Coups later listened to with Woozi, he’d decided two things.

  The first thing he’d decided was that nobody was to know of what was on that USB.

  S.Coups had listened to the single audio file on it again, and again, and again. He’d listened to it until he memorized the poem, until he could pinpoint the exact moments in which Y/N let out a choked sob, breathed heavily in, made her voice crack. He’d listened to it until it was burned into his memory like an annoying song on the radio that looped on for infinity. He’d listened to it until it’d become his worst nightmare, and tinged every single part of his brain in a dark soulless color that could resonate only the sound of his deepest love’s sorrow and fear.

  And after Seungcheol had memorized the downright sound wave of that heart aching audio file, he’d thrown the entire USB into a burning flame he’d lit on his very desk. The action had been in fear and dread, and Seungcheol could still feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks as Jeonghan’s loud scolding filled his ears, trying to put out the fire that had already eaten away at his desk and the only remnants of the person he loved so dearly.

  Jihoon had sworn he wouldn’t tell anyone about the audio file, albeit in hesitance, and Seungcheol felt a pang of guilt in his chest every time they accidentally shared eye contact.

  The others were, of course, curious about the sudden change in attitude from both of them as well as the desk fire once they’d heard about it, but Seungcheol had done his best to assure them that nothing was wrong. The last thing he needed was for the rest of the gang to be in the same constant state of depression and paranoia that he himself was experiencing at this moment. Besides, wasn’t it S.Coups’ job as a leader to take the burden?

  The second thing he’d decided was that it was time to stay low.

  Everybody in Seventeen was instructed to fall off the grid. Attracting attention to the gang was forbidden, picking fights with others found punishable. And while some were annoyed and disappointed of the new rules (Joshua, Dino, and DK to only name a few), others were glad for the break granted after the stress and initial gloom of no longer having Y/N around with them.

  Of course, this second decision didn’t go exactly as planned, if even at all.

  The first day these new rules had been established, Seungcheol had received a rather anxious phone call from Seungkwan, who was asking for backup after they’d indulged themselves in a fight with a rival gang, BLACKPINK. S.Coups could still remember the nerves in Seungkwan’s voice as he spoke.

  “S.Coups,” He’d breathed out at the time. Seungcheol could hear shouting and muttering in the background. “I… we… we need a favor. I know you said we had to stay low and lay off the fighting but… well, we’re kind of stuck here.” S.Coups had gritted his teeth.

  “If you’re gonna say something, Seungkwan, you better say it quick. I’m not about to let you waste my time after you disobeyed my rules.” There’d been a pause on the other end.

  “Vernon, Dino, and I… we’re in a fight with BLACKPINK. Three against four, S.Coups. These girls don’t play nice either. We need backup, we’re really getting our asses kicked.” The faint sound of police sirens and shouts for help from his own members in the background had startled Seungcheol. In fact, it had startled him enough to momentarily forget his anger and fury towards the three boys.

  “I’m sending Joshua and Mingyu. Let this happen again, Seungkwan, and I’ll kick your ass.” The second time somebody disobeyed Seungcheol’s rules, it’d only a few days after the previous incident with BLACKPINK.

  The news was delivered to him in an ill tempered tone from Mingyu on a late night when he said, “Attempted murder and massive bank robbery. Jeonghan and Joshua are in prison right now. Our sources say we need to get them out fast before they uncover the entirety of Seventeen.” In a span of two and a half hours, Seungcheol had come up with a foolproof plan to get both of his members out of prison the next morning that involved bringing the whole gang together - a risk, but one S.Coups was willing to take to save his family.

  When the event of the actual escape came along, the gang was divided into three different groups: S.Coups, Jun, Woozi, Mingyu, and THE8 in Team A, Hoshi, DK, and Seungkwan in Team B, and Wonwoo, Vernon, and Dino in Team C. With that, each team was assigned a truck as they headed to the prison in an anxious and excited bunch.

  Wonwoo, whose team was currently ahead of everyone else’s, got excited when he saw the gates of the prison drawing nearer and nearer, and he could only barely make out the sight of people in the courtyard, lumbering around in their enclosed, miserable state.

  “Floor it.” Dino’s voice is just barely audible over the anticipation of getting Jeonghan and Joshua out of prison, but there’s no mistaking the smile in his voice. Wonwoo takes a steady breath, licks his lips, and then presses hard on the gas, the truck lurching forward at a heart racing pace. Team B, who’s right behind them, doesn’t take the time to watch the truck’s sudden speed before they’re racing forward as well. It’s Team A who takes precaution in the territory of the prison.

  Vernon, who’s sitting in the passenger seat of Team C, feels his heart creeping increasingly faster up his chest and throat, his teeth grinding harder together as the gate comes closer, and closer, and - it crashes open as the truck hits it at full speed.

  There’s a moment’s hesitation in the prison, a moment when all the inmates and guards are stunned at what’s happened, but Team C takes no time to waste as they open their doors and start firing with guns and other dangerous weapons. It’s almost like a knock-off James Bond movie in slow motion before everyone else seems to have come back to life in a few seconds. And then it’s chaotic.

  Team B has pulled up behind Team C, firing anything they can at the guards as well to keep them distracted. There’s inmates everywhere - some fleeing through the open spaces of the gate, some trying to get inside the trucks, others fighting against the trucks, and even some running back to the prison itself.

  Dino catches the sight of Jeonghan in the crowd - the only male with long black hair that’s strolling casually through the chaotic scene with a charming smile on his face. Joshua is not far behind him, laughing in joy as if he’s witnessing a comedic theater act.

  “Hurry the hell up!” Dino shouts loudly. They don’t have time to act this out like it’s some kind of made up story. “We can’t wait up on a couple of pretty boys!” Jeonghan tsks loud enough so Dino can hear, and Joshua laughs.

  “Is that anyway to speak to your elders?” Joshua chastises. Jeonghan laughs as they walk past Team C’s truck, heading for Team A. Jeonghan frowns at the annoyed expression on Chan’s face.

  “Oh, come on, Dino. You look so much more handsome with a smile. Come on, who’s baby are you?” Dino rolls his eyes and goes back to firing at the guards. They drive back after they’ve gotten the signal from S.Coups, and both Jeonghan and Joshua alternate from changing trucks at least six times on the way back to base.

  And despite all the trouble they’d gone through as a team to save Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seventeen as a whole, it seems like it’s almost done for nothing. Because just the next day, Seungcheol receives a tip from the same source as last time that Woozi is being suspected of some gang related crimes that could earn him an entire life sentence in prison. S.Coups is forced to have Jihoon fall off the grid for a couple weeks to clear everything up.

  And a couple days after that, S.Coups gets word of an old gang murder and finds out Jun and THE8 are the top suspects, which, as it turns out, S.Coups himself can remember giving them the order for the murders just some months ago. It’s almost as if somebody is purposely trying to get the entirety of Seventeen in trouble.

  Seungcheol is almost sure of the fact when he has to pull a favor from a crooked cop after Hoshi, Wonwoo, and DK are caught smuggling drugs across the border to Russia, Japan, and China. It would’ve been one of their biggest sales, had it not been for the mysterious snitch.

  But S.Coups is grateful, because it’s at this moment that everything begins to calm down. There’s been no trouble from authorities, other gangs, and the like, and all the members have managed to stay at base together for the past four days.

  The clock in Seungcheol’s office strikes 12:02 in the morning when he receives a phone call for the first time in four days. He’s tired, exasperated at the assumption that somebody’s gotten in trouble again, and S.Coups doesn’t answer at first as he picks at the burnt pieces of material on his desk, insomnia eating away at him like the dark melody of the poem that won’t stop repeating itself in his mind. The phone stops ringing, and there’s a faint echo of the sound still lingering in the room. But before it’s gone, his phone is ringing again, and Seungcheol can hear it louder than before, can feel the annoyance panging at his mind’s eye.

  Something of a growl and a grunt come rasping from his throat at the same time as S.Coups picks up the phone with tremendous frustration, a knot in his chest winding up all the stress and anxiety he’s felt these past weeks.

  “What is it this time?” Seungcheol all but shouts into the phone, anger gnawing away at the annoyance in his mind. But it all soon fades away as fast as its crept upon him, because S.Coups can hear choked crying and quiet sobbing on the other line. His eyebrows fall from their angered knit and he’s suddenly worried about the person on the other end.

  “Seungcheol?” And it all goes to Hell. It’s Y/N. It’s Y/N’s voice. She’s crying, sobbing on the phone, heavy breathing and choked cries as loud as the heart pounding fast in S.Coups’ chest. He knows it’s Y/N - he’s only fallen in love with that voice too many times. “Seungcheol? Are… are you there? Please. Please, Cheol… help me.”

  “Y/N?” Seungcheol can’t help but let his tone of voice fall into something desperate and worried, and he’s clutching the phone with both hands, almost like he’s afraid somebody will take it away from him any moment now. “Y/N, what’s going on? Where are you? Are you okay?” A loud sob comes from the reception, and it’s nothing like S.Coups has ever heard before. He finds his heart aching at the sound, can feel his entire being deteriorate at the sound of the person he’s loved so much… in so much pain.

  “Seungcheol, please.” The sobbing is getting progressively louder and more desperate. “I need help! Help me! I’m - I’m alone. Nobody can help me. I just want to go home!” Then there’s the sound of hyperventilating, and Seungcheol quickly sits back in his chair.

  “Y/N, calm down. It’s okay, alright? You know I’ll always help you. Just tell me where you are. Tell me where you are, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.” There’s a long pause, one that almost frightens him that the call’s been ended, but then the voice is there again.

  “It’s - It’s a carnival! Some miles away from Bangtan Boys’ base. AKMU knows where it’s at. Just please, Cheol! Come help me! Some gang - they’ve got me hostage! I need help!” There’s a strange pause before Y/N repeats her last sentence in the same exact manner and tone before it cuts altogether and a long beep follows afterwards. Seungcheol slams the phone back down before he finds his heart is racing faster than it’s ever done before.

  In an anxious manner, S.Coups runs both hands through his hair, holds his face as he finds he’s hyperventilating just as Y/N was before, and he’s confused and reeling with a thousand emotions clogging his rational mind all at the same time. Seungcheol slams open the door of his office faster than his mind can tell him not to, and he finds a few of the boys are sitting around a table, a game of poker momentarily forgotten as they stared at their frantic leader.

  “Supplies, weapons, we need it all! It all goes in the vans! Wake up everyone! We’re leaving now!” They sit there in shock for a couple seconds. “Did you hear me? I said we’re leaving now! Get the hell up, and get everyone and everything to the vans! We need to save Y/N!” At once, they’re up from their seats, some rushing to the dorms to awaken those sleeping, and others scurrying to the weapon and supply rooms.

  It’s not ‘til almost everyone is outside waiting in the vans that Seungcheol realizes he’s been too lost in his anxious and frantic manner to see that Woozi was the only one left inside the base besides him. The boy is staring at him, arms crossed with an expression of worry on his face.

  “Should we really leave today, S.Coups?” Seungcheol’s at a loss for words, sentences reeling in his mouth with ideas and thoughts of what Y/N might be tomorrow if they don’t arrive today.

  “Of course we’re leaving today! We have to save her! She’s our family.” A look of hurt falls over Woozi’s face. He steps closer, pulls his coat tighter around his body.

  “S.Coups… it’s the first of October.” An entire poem that Seungcheol has been muttering like a torturous mantra suddenly comes rushing back to him with an impact like a train hitting his entire body.

  S.Coups feels his heart drop to his stomach.

AAAHH I CANT REMEMBER WHICH ONE IT WAS;;

You can find Jun’s kinks HERE!! The other members should also be linked within the post^^