#dalsofiles

he's not violent, just terrified of loosing you. he calls it love.

tags :: yandere, p1h, jongseob, love, hcs

wc :: 949

song :: one for me - shinee

► jongseobs fixation on you seems comforting at first. From a distance, he observes you from afar, eyes filled with admiration and a reassuring smile on his lips. He knows your routines. What coffee you like. The way you tap your pen when you're just thinking. You believe him to be perceptive. But Jongseob doesn't forget anything when it comes to you.

he gets addicted to learning you, just like a song he plays repeatedly. He becomes addicted to understanding you. He doesn't need to ask you what makes you smile; he's already composed 3 verses about them.

what begins as a focus becomes an obsession. He starts wearing vanilla scents after remembering how much you like it. bringing it around you, planting it in your space like a signature.

► it starts with tiny favors. he's always there when you need something. you lost your notebook? it's okay because its in your bag the next day. your favorite snack? thats in there too.

you never told him those were your favorite tho? youve never told anyone for that matter

seob doesn't consider it to be stalking. he thinks of this as preparation. of course, he looks through your socials. naturally, he remembers all your usernames. even the ones you forgot were connected to you. he knows your childhood friend's dog's name. that kind of detail. he memorizes it all. for "when we're closer," he tells himself.

he keeps notes. journals. just for when you're ready, he tells himself. not in a creepy way.

⸻

► seob never mentions how jealous he gets. however, his grip on your wrist is tighter when you talk to others. when he sees someone else makes you giggle, his smiles are too broad. his voice gets sharper, yet he constantly dismisses it as a joke:

"you talk to him a lot, huh?" "is he funny? funnier than me?" "you shouldn't trust people so easily."

the thing is, he makes you feel safe. when its just you two, he's so sweet. the lyrics he writes, the dreams he always mentions, and the talks about the stars, were all about you. you feel so special. until he snaps. and he always snaps in silence first. withdraws, eyes cold. but when he speaks again, it's desperate.

"don't make me feel like this.." "you're mine, right?"

when you reassure him, he melts like a child being held. but he never really lets go of the fear. more you assure him, the more he believes you owe him your loyalty.

⸻

► seob check your phone. but he doesn't ask. he waits for you to go to sleep. he reads through your messages with trembling fingers, heart hammering with every emoji someone sends you. he attempts to remain composed. he jots down names, he blocks numbers. you never notice. you just think people are ignoring you lately.

• he starts isolating you little by little. he is always there. always inviting you out. making plans. being the only person who truly gets it. when you cry, he wipes your tears so gently, whispering,

“see? no one else cares like I do. they don’t deserve you. but I do.”

⸻

► he talks about forever too soon. Too seriously. Not in a dreamy way—in a promise. a warning.

“even if you leave, I’ll find you.”

you laugh it off.

he doesn’t.

• seob writes songs for you. at first, they’re cute. then they get darker.

“you’re mine / even if you forget.”

you don’t realize the second verse is about hurting anyone who tries to steal you. the bridge sounds like a vow. A funeral vow.

• if you try to walk away—he breaks. quietly, at first. then he falls apart violently. he’ll cry, beg, scream, promise he’ll “be better.” but you know deep down he doesn’t think he’s wrong. he doesn’t want you to love him. he wants you to belong to him.

Nayeon discovers that her girlfriend, Y/N, has been hiding a serious illness, leading to a painful confrontation that threatens to break their relationship apart.

tags :: angst, illness, arguments

wc :: 1,571

cast :: nayeon, y/n

song :: waiting room - pheobe bridgers

Nayeon stands in the kitchen, her hands moving with practiced ease as she prepares dinner. The familiar sounds of sizzling vegetables and the rhythmic chop of the knife do little to calm the growing unease in her chest. You’re late—again. It’s been happening more frequently, and Nayeon can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

She glances at the clock, her worry deepening. Over an hour has passed since you were supposed to be home. Her phone sits silent on the counter, no response to the texts she’s sent. Anxiety gnaws at her, and she tries to push it down, telling herself that you’re just caught up at work, as usual. But a part of her knows that’s not the full truth.

Something has been off for months. She’s noticed it in the way you’ve been distant, the way your laughter doesn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. You’ve been coming home late, your face pale and tired, the dark circles under your eyes growing more prominent. Every time she tries to ask, you brush it off, claiming it’s just stress. But Nayeon knows you better than that.

The front door creaks open, and she feels a mix of relief and dread. She turns off the stove and moves to the entrance, forcing a smile as you step inside. You look exhausted, your shoulders slumped and your skin pale, as if all the life has been drained out of you.

“Hey, you’re home,” Nayeon says, trying to keep her voice light, though it trembles with worry. “I was starting to get worried.”

You offer a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sorry, got held up at work.”

Nayeon studies your face, her heart aching at how tired you look. She steps closer, reaching out to touch your cheek, hoping to offer some comfort, but you flinch away before she can make contact. The small movement stabs at her heart, a confirmation of the distance that’s grown between you.

“What’s going on?” Nayeon asks softly, her voice filled with concern.

“Nothing,” you reply quickly, too quickly, as you move past her towards the bedroom. “I just need to change.”

She follows you, her worry growing with every step. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. You’re always tired, you’re late, and you never tell me where you’ve been. I’m worried about you.”

You pause in the doorway of the bedroom, your back to her. “I told you, I’m just stressed. Work’s been a lot.”

Nayeon hears the fatigue in your voice, but it doesn’t explain everything. “I know work is hard, but this feels different,” she says, her voice trembling. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”

You don’t respond, and the silence is deafening. Nayeon’s heart pounds in her chest as she waits, hoping for some kind of reassurance. But when you don’t say anything, the fear she’s been trying to suppress bubbles to the surface.

“Please, don’t shut me out,” she whispers, taking a step closer, her voice pleading.

Your shoulders tense, and for a moment, Nayeon thinks you might finally open up. But then you sigh, shaking your head.

“I’m not hiding anything,” you say, your voice flat. “I’m just tired, Nayeon. Can we drop it?”

Her heart sinks at your words. She wants to believe you, but the emptiness in your eyes tells her something else entirely. She nods slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Okay,” she murmurs, though it feels like a lie. “I’ll go finish dinner.”

You don’t say anything as you walk into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Nayeon stands there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you.

As she turns to head back to the kitchen, something catches her eye. Your bag is lying on the floor, half-open, with a small bottle of pills peeking out. Nayeon hesitates, guilt pricking at her conscience as she considers going through your things. But the worry in her chest pushes her forward.

She kneels down and gently pulls the bag open, her breath catching when she sees the bottle of pills. Her hands tremble as she picks it up, turning it over to read the label. It’s a prescription she’s never seen before, and the name of the medication sends a chill down her spine.

She’s not a doctor, but she recognizes the name. The drug is used to treat a serious, chronic illness—something much more than just stress or fatigue. Her heart races as she tries to process what she’s seeing. You’ve been taking these pills, hiding them from her, hiding your illness.

“Y/N?” Nayeon calls out, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.

The bedroom door opens, and you step out, your face going pale as you see the bottle in her hand.

“Nayeon, I can explain—”

“Explain?” Her voice shakes, tears welling up in her eyes. “Explain what? That you’ve been sick this whole time and didn’t tell me? That you’ve been hiding it from me?”

Your face crumples, guilt and regret etched in every line. “I didn’t want you to worry,” you say, your voice breaking. “I didn’t want to burden you with—”

“Burden me?” Nayeon’s voice rises, the anger taking over as she steps closer to you, her grip tightening on the pill bottle. “How could you think that? We’re supposed to be in this together. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle. You don’t get to shut me out like this.”

Tears begin to stream down your face as you shake your head, looking more broken than she’s ever seen you. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to feel trapped, like you had to take care of me. I thought I could handle it on my own.”

“Well, you can’t!” The words burst out of her, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “You’re not handling it, Y/N. You’re falling apart, and I’m watching you slip away from me, and I don’t even know why!”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice so small, so full of pain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough, Y/N.” Nayeon’s voice shakes, the hurt and betrayal cutting deep. “You lied to me. You made me feel like I was going crazy, like I was imagining things. And now... now I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

The room falls into a heavy silence, the air thick with the weight of her words. You look at her, your face crumpling as the reality of what you’ve done sinks in.

“Nayeon, please,” you beg, reaching out to her, desperate to bridge the gap between you. But she takes a step back, shaking her head, her heart breaking at the sight of you so vulnerable, so lost.

“No,” she says, her voice firm even as tears blur her vision. “You don’t get to ask me to forgive you right now. You don’t get to make this okay. Not after what you’ve done.”

Your hand falls back to your side, and you swallow hard, tears streaming down your face. “I... I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared.”

“We could have been scared together,” she whispers, her voice barely holding together. “But now... now I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you almost collapse under the weight of them. The room is suffocating, filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and the unbearable tension hanging between you.

“I think you should go,” Nayeon finally says, her voice hollow, devoid of the love that once filled it. The words feel foreign on her tongue, but she can’t see another way out of the spiral you’re both trapped in.

Your breath hitches, your eyes widening with a fresh wave of panic. “Nayeon, please...”

“Just go,” she repeats, turning her back on you, unable to bear the sight of your shattered expression. “I need some time to think.”

You don’t move at first, as if frozen in place by the realization that you’ve truly hurt her, that you might have lost her. But then you take a shaky breath, forcing your legs to carry you toward the door. Each step is heavy, filled with regret and sorrow that you both know will linger long after tonight.

You reach the door, your hand grasping the handle as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright. You turn back one last time, hoping—praying—that she’ll stop you, that she’ll say something, anything, to make this right. But Nayeon stands with her back to you, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

With a sob of your own, you open the door and step out into the cold night. The door closes behind you, the sound echoing in your heart like the finality of something precious slipping away.

You walk away, the cool night air biting at your skin as tears stream down your face. You thought you were protecting her, sparing her the pain of knowing, but all you’ve done is push her away. The love of your life, the one person you thought you could protect by keeping your illness a secret, is now out of reach.

You revisit the apartment you once shared with Jihyo after your breakup, only to be met with Jihyo’s cold indifference.

tags :: angst, breakup, post-breakup, cold jihyo

wc :: 1,239

cast :: y/n, jihyo

song :: can we talk again - purple kiss

The autumn chill hits you the moment you step out of the cab, the wind biting at your exposed skin. It’s late October, and the streets are littered with fallen leaves, their vibrant reds and oranges dulled by the gray overcast sky. The air smells of damp earth and woodsmoke, but you barely notice it. All you can focus on is the building in front of you, the place that was once your home.

You take a deep breath, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. The weight of it is nothing compared to the weight in your chest, that familiar, suffocating feeling of dread. You’re here to pick up the last of your things—just a few boxes Jihyo had texted you about earlier in the week. There’s no reason to feel nervous, you remind yourself. It’s just a quick trip in and out. But the thought of seeing her again, of standing in that apartment where everything fell apart, makes your stomach twist with anxiety.

Your fingers tremble as you buzz the door. The moments stretch out as you wait, the wind tugging at your jacket, the cold seeping through. Finally, the door clicks open, and you make your way inside, the warmth of the lobby doing nothing to thaw the ice in your veins.

The elevator ride feels endless, though it’s only a few floors. You’ve taken this ride countless times before, but now each floor that passes feels like a reminder of everything you’ve lost. When the doors slide open, you step out into the hallway, your feet carrying you automatically to the door at the end. Your old door.

You hesitate, standing in front of it for a moment too long. Your breath fogs in the cold air as you gather your thoughts. It shouldn’t feel this way—you shouldn’t feel this way. But then, this apartment, this life with Jihyo… it was supposed to be permanent.

With a shaking hand, you knock.

There’s a pause, and then the sound of the deadbolt sliding back. The door swings open, and there she is—Jihyo. Her eyes are hard, her expression unreadable. No soft smiles, no familiar warmth. Just cold.

“Come in,” she says, her voice clipped and detached. No warmth in her tone, no affection. Just an obligation.

You step inside, the air in the apartment colder than you remember. The smell of sandalwood still lingers, that familiar scent she always loved, but it no longer feels comforting. Everything feels different now. The walls seem bare, the furniture arranged too neatly. Even the silence feels strained.

“You can grab your stuff from the corner,” Jihyo says, her voice flat. She doesn’t look at you when she speaks, her eyes focused somewhere off to the side as if the sight of you is too much to bear. Or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore.

You nod, swallowing hard, and make your way to the pile of boxes stacked by the hallway. It’s just a few things—books, some clothes, a couple of framed photos you’d left behind during the breakup. You crouch down, opening one of the boxes to make sure everything’s there. You don’t say anything; the tension in the room makes it feel impossible to speak.

“Is that everything?” you ask, your voice sounding too small in the emptiness of the room. You don’t really expect a response, not a kind one at least.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she replies, her tone curt. She leans against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, watching you with a detached sort of interest. “Just take your stuff and go.”

Her words sting more than you’d like to admit. You knew this would be hard, but the coldness in her voice—the way she looks at you like you’re a stranger—hurts more than you expected. It’s like she’s erased everything, every good moment you shared, every memory you built together.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure as you close the box. “I didn’t think it would end up like this,” you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Jihyo scoffs, her laugh sharp and bitter. “What did you think would happen, Y/N? That we’d break up and still be friends? That you’d come back here, and everything would be fine?” Her eyes finally meet yours, and they’re cold—so cold it makes you shiver. “That’s not how this works.”

Her words are like knives, each one cutting deeper than the last. You can feel your throat tighten, your heart sinking as you look at her, really look at her, for the first time in months. The girl you loved, the girl who once held you when you were at your lowest, is gone. All that’s left is this cold, distant version of her, and it breaks your heart.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “I never wanted us to end up like this.”

She huffs out a breath, pushing herself off the counter. “Well, we did. It’s over. You made your choice, and now you’re here to pick up the pieces. Just take your stuff and leave.”

The harshness in her tone is unbearable, each word dripping with bitterness and anger. You wonder how things could have gone so wrong, how the love you shared could have turned into this.

“I didn’t choose this,” you say, your voice breaking. “I never wanted to hurt you, Jihyo.”

Her eyes flash with anger, and she takes a step closer. “But you did. And now we’re here.” She gestures around the room, as if to emphasize the distance between you. “So just go. We’re done.”

The finality in her voice leaves you breathless. There’s no more room for explanations, no chance for understanding. Jihyo has shut you out completely, and there’s nothing left to say.

You gather your things quickly, your hands trembling as you lift the boxes. You can feel her eyes on you, burning with anger and disappointment, and you can’t help but wonder when it all turned so sour. When did the love you shared become something so bitter, so cold?

As you reach the door, you turn back to her, one last time. There’s a part of you that still hopes, still believes that maybe, just maybe, there’s something left between you. But her eyes are hard, her expression blank, and you realize there’s nothing left to hold onto.

“Goodbye, Jihyo,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. She just watches you leave, her arms still crossed over her chest, her face an unreadable mask of indifference.

As you step out into the chilly fall air, the door closes behind you with a soft click. The wind rushes past, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and distant rain, but all you can feel is the cold emptiness inside you. You glance back at the apartment one last time, but it’s already fading into the background, just another piece of your life that’s been left behind.

You and Nayeon enjoy a romantic dinner at a quaint Italian restaurant, then continue the evening with playful homemade pasta-making and conversations at home.

tags :: romance, date night, candle lit dinner, cooking together

wc :: 1,859

cast :: y/n, nayeon

song :: someday i'll find my way home - carol & tuesday

You and Nayeon had been eagerly anticipating this dinner date night for weeks. The excitement had been building ever since you decided to spend a special evening together at a quaint, candle-lit Italian restaurant nestled away in a quiet corner of the city. You both wanted a setting that was intimate and romantic, a place where you could unwind and enjoy each other’s company without the distractions of everyday life.

As you approached the restaurant, the soft glow from the flickering candles in the window promised an inviting ambiance. The air was filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering pasta sauces, mingling with the subtle scent of herbs and spices. It felt like the restaurant was already setting the stage for a perfect evening.

The host greeted you warmly and led you to a cozy table near the window. The table was adorned with a delicate lace tablecloth and a single candle in a polished brass holder, its light dancing softly across the surface. Nayeon, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for you, and you smiled appreciatively as you took your seat.

“This place is even more charming than I imagined,” you said, looking around at the cozy, romantic setting.

Nayeon smiled, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted this night to be special for us.”

You both perused the menu with a sense of anticipation. After a brief but pleasant deliberation, you decided on a bottle of the finest red wine – a choice that seemed fitting for the occasion.

“To us,” Nayeon said, raising her glass in a toast.

“To us,” you echoed, clinking your glasses together. The deep ruby red of the wine caught the candlelight and cast a warm glow over your faces.

The night unfolded with a sense of ease and joy. You shared stories, your laughter intertwining with the soft strains of music playing in the background. Every now and then, your fingers brushed across the table, and you exchanged sweet, lingering kisses that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

“This is the perfect evening,” you said, gazing into Nayeon’s eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nayeon replied, a smile playing on her lips. “Everything about tonight feels right.”

The food arrived, and it was nothing short of divine. You began with a fresh Caprese salad, the tomatoes and mozzarella perfectly complemented by a drizzle of balsamic glaze. Each bite was a burst of flavor.

“This salad is amazing,” you said, savoring another bite. “It’s like a taste of summer.”

Nayeon nodded in agreement. “I’m glad you like it. The tomatoes are so fresh; I think that’s what makes it so delicious.”

For the main course, you decided to share a creamy risotto and a perfectly cooked steak. The risotto was rich and buttery, with just the right amount of seasoning, while the steak was tender and juicy, melting in your mouth with every bite.

“This steak is cooked to perfection,” Nayeon said, cutting a piece of the steak and offering it to you on her fork.

You took a bite and moaned in delight. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s like heaven.”

Dessert was a highlight of the meal – a decadent tiramisu that was as beautiful as it was delicious. The layers of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone cream created a symphony of flavors.

“This tiramisu is out of this world,” you said, your eyes widening in amazement.

Nayeon grinned. “I’m glad you think so. I was hoping it would be a perfect end to the meal.”

As you left the restaurant, the effects of the wine were beginning to make themselves known. Your steps were a bit wobbly, and your laughter rang out freely in the quiet streets. The city lights twinkled above, casting a magical glow over the surroundings.

“This night has been incredible,” Nayeon said, slipping her hand into yours.

“I know,” you replied, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ve had such a great time.”

When you arrived back at your cozy apartment, the night was still young, and the fun was far from over. Nayeon, with her cheeks flushed from the wine, suggested continuing the evening by cooking something together. The idea of making homemade pasta seemed both romantic and practical, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

“Homemade pasta sounds perfect,” you said, your eyes lighting up with excitement. “It’ll be fun.”

“I thought you might like that,” Nayeon replied with a wink. “Let’s get to it!”

You made your way to the kitchen, your movements slightly unsteady but filled with excitement. As you rummaged through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out ingredients with clumsy hands, it was clear that this would be no ordinary cooking session.

“Where did I put the rolling pin?” you wondered aloud, digging through a drawer.

“Here, let me help,” Nayeon said, reaching over and finding it for you. “I think we’ve got this, even if it gets a little messy.”

The kitchen soon filled with your laughter and playful banter. Nayeon, attempting to knead the pasta dough, ended up with flour on her nose and a bit of dough stuck to her hands.

“You look like a pastry chef from a cartoon,” you said, laughing as you saw Nayeon’s comical appearance.

“Hey, I’m just getting into character,” Nayeon replied with a playful grin. “At least the dough’s turning out well.”

As you prepared the pasta, Nayeon leaned in close to you, her breath warm against your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words slightly slurred but filled with genuine affection.

You blushed and turned to meet Nayeon’s gaze. “You’re making me blush,” you said with a smile. Your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, the warmth of your love mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

Your playful antics continued as you cooked. Nayeon accidentally dropped a bit of pasta dough on the counter, causing both of you to burst into fits of giggles.

“Oops! That was a bit of a mess,” Nayeon said, chuckling as she tried to clean up the dough.

“You’re doing great,” you reassured her, grabbing a cloth to help clean up. “And besides, the mess just means we’re having fun.”

You playfully floured Nayeon’s hair, and soon, you were both covered in a comical mix of flour and dough, your kitchen resembling a chaotic, joyful mess.

“Now we’re truly pasta chefs,” Nayeon said, grinning as she looked at your flour-covered faces.

Despite the disarray, you managed to prepare a delicious homemade pasta dish. You cooked the pasta to perfection, and Nayeon made a rich, savory tomato sauce with a touch of garlic and basil. The kitchen smelled amazing, and you couldn’t wait to taste the fruits of your labor.

“This pasta is incredible,” you said, taking a bite of the dish. “I think we’ve outdone ourselves.”

“I have to agree,” Nayeon said, savoring a forkful of the pasta. “It tastes even better because we made it together.”

You sat down at the kitchen table, your fingers sticky with sauce, and fed each other bites of the warm, comforting pasta. Each bite was accompanied by a kiss, a giggle, or a whispered sweet nothing, making the simple act of eating homemade pasta a cherished part of your evening.

“This is my favorite part of the night,” Nayeon said, looking into your eyes. “Just being here with you.”

“I feel the same way,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s perfect.”

As the night wore on, you found yourselves sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against each other, your hands intertwined. Nayeon looked at you, her eyes filled with love and contentment.

“This has been the best night ever,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.

You smiled and kissed her gently. “I couldn’t agree more,” you replied. You stayed there for a while, savoring the moment, knowing that no matter what, you had each other. The warmth of your connection was palpable, and the love you felt for each other was a comforting presence in your lives.

After some time, you got up to start cleaning the kitchen, still giggling as you glanced over at Nayeon, who was attempting to help but mostly just getting in the way.

“I’m trying to be useful,” Nayeon said with a mock-serious tone as she handed you a sponge. “But I think I’m just making more of a mess.”

“You’re doing great,” you said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to be cleaning up this mess without you.”

Nayeon, determined to be useful, decided to make some hot chocolate. She carefully heated the milk on the stove, adding cocoa powder and sugar, and stirred it slowly. The rich aroma of the hot chocolate filled the kitchen, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the evening.

“Hot chocolate should help us unwind after all this cooking,” Nayeon said, pouring the steaming drink into mugs.

“Perfect idea,” you said, taking a sip of the rich, comforting beverage. “This is just what we need.”

Once the hot chocolate was ready, you sat back down at the table, sipping the warm drink. Nayeon reached out and took your hand, your fingers intertwining. “I love you,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Nayeon. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice equally tender. You sat there in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the peacefulness of the moment.

Eventually, you decided to move to the living room, where you cuddled up on the couch under a soft blanket. Nayeon rested her head on your shoulder, feeling completely content.

“This has been the perfect end to a perfect night,” Nayeon said, her voice soft and content.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, wrapping your arms around her. “I’m so happy we had this time together.”

You talked about your dreams and plans for the future, your words filled with hope and love. Each conversation brought you closer, deepening your connection and reinforcing your commitment to each other.

As the night drew to a close, you found yourselves growing sleepy. You made your way to the bedroom, where you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle light over the room, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere.

Nayeon wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. “Goodnight, my love,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

You snuggled closer, your heart full of love. “Goodnight,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a promise of affection and devotion.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms, your breaths falling into a synchronized rhythm as you drifted off to dreamland. The night was filled with the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the blankets, a comforting reminder of the love you shared and the joy of spending such a perfect evening together.

In the face of your terminal degenerative illness, Jungkook steadfastly refuses to leave your side.

tags :: romance, terminal illness, grief, short imagine | pairing: jungkook x gender neutral reader | not proofread!!

wc :: 244

cast :: jungkook, y/n

song :: sign of the times - harry styles

Jungkook was perched on the edge of your bed, watching over your pitiful state. The room pulsed with the low hum of machinery used to keep their patients alive, a war never truly won even in times of peace. You were diagnosed with a degenerative disease in your body just over regretted years ago and your life turned.

You turned your head a little, to come face-to-face with Jungkook. You whispered, your voice barely audible: "kook... we need to talk..."

JUngkook blinked and shook his head wildly. "No, absolutely not. Im not going to leave you alone for this. Y/N, you are not a burden...You, Y/N are the love of my life and I promise to fight for us, however long it takes.”

You burst into tears and held onto Jungkook. “You're alive too, Jungkook, But you have a life. I don’t want you to see me decay.” 

JUngkook holds your hand, squeezing slightly. Y/n, You have been my joy... I cannot bear the thought of living without you. We will go through this together, all of it."

Your heart sank at the conviction you saw in Jungkook. "Are you sure? This isn't going to be easy."

the aftermath of a breakup

tags :: nostalgia, heartbreak, melancholy | pairing: jihyo x gender neutral reader | not proofread!!

wc :: 500

cast :: y/n, jihyo

song :: Kaleidoscope - Chappell Roan

Every night, the thought of Jihyo's touch ravaged you. It had been more than five months since your breakup, yet the pain in your hearts seemed as raw as the day you parted. You could still feel the warmth of her hand, and how her fingers would delicately trace patterns on your skin, leaving a trail of comfort and affection. Your nights were now chilly and empty, filled with a desire that you knew would never be realized. You often find yourself reaching out in the darkness, hoping to find her there beside you. But all you grasp is emptiness, a cruel reminder that she is no longer yours. The scent of her perfume still lingers in the air, a ghost of the past that refuses to fade. You close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fragments of your time together, but the memories slip through your fingers like sand, leaving you with nothing but the hollow echo of her absence.

The hardest part is knowing that you can never go back. Your love is a memory, locked away in a time that you can't revisit. You see her smile in your dreams, hear her laughter in the quiet moments, but when you wake, reality crashes down, and the pain is unbearable. You miss her touch, her presence, her everything. But most of all, you miss the way she made you feel whole. Now, you are just a shadow of who you used to be, longing for a love that is forever out of reach. You wander through your days in a daze, every corner of your life a reminder of what you have lost. The coffee shop where you used to meet, the park bench where you shared countless conversations, even the songs on the radio that once played in the background of your happiest moments—all of it is a constant reminder of Jihyo. Each memory is a dagger to your heart, twisting deeper with each recollection.

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks into months, the pain does not lessen. Instead, it becomes a part of you, a constant companion that you learn to live with. You know that Jihyo has moved on, probably found happiness elsewhere, and while you wish her nothing but the best, it doesn't stop the tears from falling when you are alone. The nights are the hardest, filled with dreams of what could have been and the stark reality of what is. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you will ever feel whole again.

Shattered

the future for you and wonyoung is abruptly torn apart when one partner must sacrifice everything to address a catastrophic crisis.

tags :: romance, angst, character death, tragedy

wc :: 1,250

cast :: y/n, wonyoung

song :: golden age - ethel cain

The city skyline shimmered beneath the dusky sky, the twilight painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold. You and Wonyoung were nestled together on the rooftop of her apartment building, your favorite escape from the clamor of everyday life. The cool evening breeze tousled your hair as you leaned into Wonyoung, the two of you savoring a rare moment of calm.

The rooftop had become your sanctuary—a place where you could escape the chaos of the world below and simply be with each other. It was here that you had first begun to explore the depths of your feelings, and it was here that you felt most at home. Wonyoung’s head rested lightly on your shoulder as you both watched the city lights flicker on one by one. She turned to you, her eyes reflecting the last rays of sunlight, and took your hand in hers. The warmth of her touch was a soothing comfort in the cool evening air.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Wonyoung said softly, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately.”

You squeezed her hand gently, urging her to continue. “What’s on your mind?”

Wonyoung took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. “I love you,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotional weight of her words. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

The confession hung in the air like a tender promise, and for a moment, you were overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings for her. Your heart raced as you looked into her eyes, seeing the love and sincerity that had grown between you over time.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “I’ve wanted to say it for so long, but I was afraid. Afraid that maybe you didn’t feel the same way.”

Wonyoung’s smile was a beacon of warmth as she leaned in to kiss you gently. The kiss was soft and tender, a reflection of the love that had blossomed between you. As you pulled away, you felt a profound sense of contentment and hope for the future.

But reality had a cruel way of upending dreams. The following day, news broke of a catastrophic chemical spill from a nearby industrial plant. The crisis was rapidly escalating, and the city was gripped with urgency. The authorities issued a call for all available hands to assist with the evacuation and containment efforts. Both you and Wonyoung found yourselves entangled in the whirlwind of emergency response.

Wonyoung’s phone buzzed with a series of urgent messages, her face growing increasingly pale as she scanned the details. “I have to go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They need me to lead the coordination on the ground. It’s a critical role.”

The gravity of the situation was clear. Lives were at stake, and Wonyoung’s expertise was needed. But as you both faced the reality of her impending departure, a heavy silence fell between you.

“What if you’re away for a long time?” you asked, your voice cracking. “What if something happens to you?”

Wonyoung’s eyes filled with tears as she took your hands in hers. “I don’t want to leave you, especially not now,” she said softly. “But if I don’t go, the consequences could be worse. People’s lives are at risk.”

Wonyoung hugged you tightly, her warmth a bittersweet comfort. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to come back,” she said, her voice resolute but tinged with sorrow. “But I need to do this. It’s part of who I am.”

The reality of her words hit hard. As the hours ticked by, you found yourself saying goodbye, the weight of impending separation heavy on your shoulders. You watched as she walked away, her figure growing smaller against the backdrop of the city lights. The promise of a future together now felt like a distant hope rather than an assured certainty.

Days turned into a blur of worry and heartache. You followed the news closely, each update a reminder of the crisis that continued to unfold. The reports were filled with harrowing details and the toll it was taking on those involved. Every day that passed without word from Wonyoung felt like an eternity.

The day finally came when the crisis was declared under control. You were filled with a mix of relief and dread as you awaited news of Wonyoung’s return. When the message arrived that she was coming back, you clung to the hope that you would be reunited.

But the message that followed was not the one you had hoped for. Wonyoung had been injured during the crisis. The chemical spill had caused severe damage, and despite her efforts to help, she had sustained life-threatening injuries. The reality of her situation was stark and brutal.

You rushed to the hospital, your heart pounding with fear. When you finally saw her, the sight of her in a hospital bed, bruised and unconscious, was almost too much to bear. Her injuries were severe, and the doctors’ faces were grave.

Hours turned into a blur of waiting and hoping, but the prognosis was not favorable. The damage was extensive, and despite the best efforts of the medical team, Wonyoung’s condition was critical. The reality that she might not recover was a crushing blow.

As you sat by her bedside, holding her hand, the tears flowed freely. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice choked with sorrow. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I wanted us to have a future together, to build a life. Please, just come back to me.”

Wonyoung’s fingers twitched slightly, and her eyes opened for a brief moment. She looked at you with a mixture of pain and love. “I’m sorry too,” she managed to say, her voice barely audible. “I tried so hard to come back..”

Her words were a piercing reminder of the dreams that had been so suddenly dashed. As the hours passed, her condition worsened. The hope that had once seemed so tangible now felt like a cruel mirage.

In the quiet solitude of the hospital room, with the machines beeping softly in the background, Wonyoung’s hand grew colder. The reality of her loss settled over you like a heavy shroud. The future you had imagined together, the life you had just begun to embrace, was slipping away.

Wonyoung’s final moments were filled with a profound sadness, but also a bittersweet sense of closure. As she took her last breath, you clung to the memory of her love and the promise of what might have been. The city lights you had once admired now seemed distant and indifferent to the profound loss you felt.

As you left the hospital, the weight of her absence was a physical ache. The future had been stolen away, and the dreams of a shared life lay in ruins. The love you had shared was a bright flame that had been extinguished far too soon, leaving behind a darkness that felt both overwhelming and final.

San, tormented by the shadow of his own actions, overwhelmed by regret for driving away his closest friend, Wooyoung. He pleads for divine forgiveness, realizing too late the extent of his loss and the irreplaceable light Wooyoung brought into his life, leaving him determined to seek redemption.

tags :: angst, regret, woosan au, guilt, redemption

wc :: 1,584

cast :: wooyoung, san

song :: mis - alex g

The sun was setting over the small coastal town of Jeju, casting long, golden shadows across the water. The air was cool, carrying the scent of the ocean and the distant calls of seagulls. It was a peaceful place, where the sky met the earth in a seamless embrace, and for anyone who came here, it felt as though time stood still.

For Choi San, this town had always been his haven, a place where he could escape the weight of his responsibilities and the burdens of his own making. But today, it felt different. The air was heavier, and the sky, usually painted in calming hues of pink and orange, seemed more distant, as though it was pulling away from him. He walked along the shoreline, his hands in his pockets, his thoughts far from the beauty surrounding him.

San wasn’t a demon, not in the traditional sense, but he carried darkness within him, a shadow that had clung to him for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t born with it, but over time, through his actions and choices, it had grown, enveloping him like a second skin. And now, that shadow felt heavier than ever.

His thoughts wandered to Wooyoung, the boy with the angelic smile and a heart that seemed too pure for this world. Wooyoung was everything San wasn’t. He was light where San was dark, joy where San was pain, and innocence where San was guilt. They had been friends for as long as San could remember, but somewhere along the way, their paths had diverged, with San sinking deeper into his darkness, while Wooyoung remained a beacon of light.

San had always known Wooyoung was special, different from everyone else. He had this aura, a glow that seemed to radiate from within, drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But it wasn’t just his appearance; it was something deeper, something that made San’s chest tighten with emotions he couldn’t quite understand.

There was a time when San had felt like he was drowning, consumed by his own anger, bitterness, and regret. It was during one of those dark moments that Wooyoung had appeared, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. Wooyoung had reached out to him, his hand warm and reassuring, his smile so bright that it hurt to look at. And for a moment, just a moment, San had felt like he could breathe again.

But that moment didn’t last. San’s darkness was too strong, too consuming. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard he tried. And in his desperation, in his fear of being consumed by the very thing he had become, he did something unforgivable.

He pushed Wooyoung away.

It wasn’t just a physical push, though there had been moments when San’s frustration had boiled over, and he’d lashed out. It was a push that came from deep within, a rejection of the light that Wooyoung brought into his life. San couldn’t bear to see his own reflection in Wooyoung’s eyes, couldn’t stand the way Wooyoung looked at him like he was worth saving, like he was still the boy Wooyoung had known all those years ago.

So San had done the only thing he knew how to do. He hurt Wooyoung. With words, with actions, with cold indifference. He had driven him away, thinking that if Wooyoung wasn’t around, the light wouldn’t be either. He thought that maybe, just maybe, the darkness would be easier to bear without that blinding brightness beside him.

But he was wrong.

The moment Wooyoung left, San felt the weight of his own choices crush him. The darkness didn’t recede; it grew, filling the void Wooyoung had left behind. San realized, too late, that Wooyoung wasn’t just a friend; he was the only thing keeping San from completely losing himself.

And now, as San stood on the shoreline, watching the waves crash against the rocks, he felt the full force of his regret. He hadn’t seen Wooyoung in months, not since that last argument, not since San had said things he couldn’t take back. The guilt was overwhelming, a constant ache in his chest that no amount of time or distance could dull.

San’s mind drifted to the last time he had seen Wooyoung. It had been a rainy day, the kind that made the world seem small and gray. They had met at their usual spot, a small café near the water’s edge. Wooyoung had looked tired, his usual spark dimmed, and San had known, deep down, that it was his fault.

“I can’t do this anymore, San,” Wooyoung had said, his voice trembling. “I’ve tried to be there for you, but you keep pushing me away. I don’t know what else to do.”

San had said nothing, just stared at the table, unable to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. He had wanted to say something, anything, to make it better, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could think about was the pain in Wooyoung’s voice, the way his hands trembled as he tried to hold back tears.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung had whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

And with that, Wooyoung had left, his footsteps echoing in the empty café, leaving San alone with his thoughts and his guilt.

That was the last time San had seen him, and it was the memory that haunted him every day since.

San walked further along the shore, his thoughts heavy, his heart heavier. The sun was dipping below the horizon now, painting the sky in shades of red and gold. He stopped, looking out at the water, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“For what felt like the first time in forever, I clasped my hands together,” San whispered to the empty beach, his voice shaking. “I looked up at the sky, and I apologized to God for what I did to His angel.”

The words hung in the air, carried away by the wind. San’s eyes filled with tears, his chest tight with the weight of his confession. He had never been religious, had never believed in a higher power, but in that moment, he felt a desperate need to believe that someone, something, was listening.

“I’m sorry, Wooyoung,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

The sky darkened, the first stars appearing in the twilight. San stood there, his heart heavy, his mind filled with memories of the boy he had once called his best friend. He knew that an apology, no matter how sincere, wouldn’t erase the pain he had caused. It wouldn’t bring Wooyoung back, wouldn’t undo the damage he had done.

But it was all he had left to give.

San stayed there until the last light of day had faded, until the stars were the only light in the sky. He watched the waves, listened to the sound of the ocean, and let himself feel the full weight of his regret. It was a painful, agonizing feeling, but it was one he knew he deserved.

Finally, when the cold night air began to seep into his bones, San turned and walked back toward the town. The streets were quiet, the shops closed, and the only sound was the distant hum of the ocean. San’s steps were slow, his mind still lost in memories of Wooyoung.

As he walked, he thought about all the times Wooyoung had been there for him, all the times he had reached out, only to be pushed away. San had been so consumed by his own darkness that he hadn’t seen the pain he was causing, hadn’t realized how much Wooyoung was hurting until it was too late.

He thought about the look in Wooyoung’s eyes that last day, the way his hands had trembled as he tried to keep himself together. San had never seen Wooyoung so broken, so defeated, and it had been like a knife to his heart. He had wanted to reach out, to take Wooyoung’s hand and tell him that everything would be okay, that they would find a way through the darkness together.

But he hadn’t. And now, that chance was gone.

San stopped in front of a small, unassuming house on the edge of town. The lights were off, the windows dark. It was Wooyoung’s house, the place where they had spent countless hours together, talking, laughing, dreaming about the future. It was a place filled with memories, both good and bad, and standing there now, San felt like he was drowning in them.

He reached out, his hand hovering over the door handle. He wanted to knock, to see Wooyoung’s face, to say all the things he hadn’t been able to say before. But his hand dropped to his side, and he stepped back, unable to bring himself to do it.

He wasn’t ready. He didn’t deserve Wooyoung’s forgiveness, not yet. Maybe not ever.

With a heavy heart, San turned away from the house and began to walk back toward the shore. The night was still, the only sound the soft crunch of sand beneath his feet. He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t know what he would do next. All he knew was that he needed to find a way to atone for what he had done, to make amends for the pain he had caused.