#wonbin oneshots

⟢ what is a mother to do—when her daughter has gone missing?

pairing any riize member x fem. reader word count 1.5k content warning kidnapping, missing person, financial issues mentioned, open ending

“excuse me—have you seen my daughter?!” 

your mother stops and tugs at a boy’s sleeve, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric as she’s afraid that he might disregard her like the others—thinking she’s crazy, with her messed up hair, tired face, and… raggedy old-fashioned outfit.

he startles, blinking down at her, and for a moment, she thinks he might ignore her like the rest. instead, he removes his earbuds. 

the city is like that—indifferent, moving at a pace too fast for a mother’s grief. 

she fumbles in her bag when she realises that he’s staying, panicking—trying not to waste too much of the young boy’s time and attention—pulling out a creased photograph. it’s a not-so-formal picture of you. a picture you took when you had to apply for your university’s application. it’s not really recent nor is it old, maybe a year or two younger. your hair was shorter then, eyes clearer, brighter smile. excited to be studying in the city.

the way your mother’s fingers shake as she holds it up makes it seem fragile, like the image itself might go missing too if she doesn’t hold it onto her dear life. 

“please,” she says, her voice wavering. “this is my daughter—yn, she’s been missing for days and she was last seen near here,” your mother continues, pointing at the place you were last seen—a japanese restaurant just tucked between the alley. 

“she was wearing, uh—” she swallows her panic, “a white blouse, a blue skirt, and, and she has a pink scarf wrapped around her neck. she—she has a birthmark here, just under her jaw.” your mother tilts her head up and taps her finger at where you have your birthmark. she gives more major details—your hair colour, eyes colour, specific features that you have. 

“have you seen her?”

the boy looks at your picture—then at your mother. there’s something unreadable flickering across his face. a flicker of recognition? pity? amusement? but it smooths over so quickly, she thinks she must have imagined it. 

“is she around this height?” he asks, moving his hand midair, just below his shoulder. 

your mother’s eyes flicker to the gesture, her breath hitching as she nods eagerly. “yes! about that tall—maybe a little shorter if she wasn’t wearing heels!” there’s a desperation in her voice, something fragile and clinging.

the boy hums, tilting his head as if trying to recall something just out of his reach. his gaze flickers back to the photograph. then, he reaches out his hand. “can i see it?” 

your mother hesitates, her fingers tightening around the edges of the picture. 

it’s a mother’s instinct—a mother’s reluctance to let go of her daughter on a piece of paper even for a moment. but she exhales, shakily, and places it in his waiting palm. 

he takes it carefully, as if he’s handling something delicate. his thumb brushes over the image, over your cheek, your hair like he’s tucking it, pressing his thumb faintly on your lips on the creased paper before smoothing over the fine lines of your face. his eyes linger, he tugs on his bottom lip—suppressing a smile.

“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself. he glances up to your mother. “she does look familiar.”

your mother’s breath catches—she swears she could’ve passed out right there and then. “you’ve seen her?” 

he nods, slow and deliberate. his brows knitting together in careful thought. “i think so. a few nights ago. near that bus stop.” he says, pointing at a bus stop. your mother immediately follows his index, looking at the worn out, obviously unmaintained bus stop. the cctv hangs on its last wire, broken. 

his eyes remain on her.

your mother turns to look at him, gasping. “the station? was she alone? was she okay? did you talk to her?”

he hesitates, just for a second before pursing his lips and offering her a small, almost apologetic smile. “ah… i don’t really know. it was dark. but i remember the pink scarf, and blue skirt. she’s a cute girl, right…?” he asks, arching an eyebrow as he looks down to your mother. 

he studies the way her lips part slightly, her eyes widen at the mention of the odd comment. yeah, you’ve been told you’re adorable before… 

stuttering, she nods. “yes—yes… she is.” she barely hears herself over the pounding in her ears. she taps on the photograph he’s holding. “you really saw her?” 

“i did talk to her,” he hums, rubbing the back of his neck. his voice casual and effortless.“she asked to borrow my phone to call someone… then, she asked if i could drop her off somewhere,” 

your mother stills. the air around her seems to thin. “she—she asked you to drop her off? where—?” she can hear her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. 

he nods. “yeah… she looked so nervous. she kept looking around like someone was following her.” his lips press together for a moment, then he glances at your photograph again, feigning thoughtfulness. “but she was so polite. really soft-spoken. really soft,” 

your mother’s finger twitches, she’s about to take back the picture from his hand when he lets out a soft hum, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head like he’s recalling what happened that night. her hand falls down to her side.

“did she say where she was going?” 

the boy exhales, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “no,” he shakes his head, looking at her with pity in his eyes. “she just asked me if i could take her back to her friend’s house.” 

her throat tightens. “why didn’t you drop her off at the police station?” 

for the second time, something flickers across his face. it’s quick—almost imperceptible. a crack in the kindness, but it’s gone before she can confirm it.

he lets out a small chuckle, almost embarrassed. “i asked her the same thing,” his thumb caresses your cheek in the photograph absentmindedly. your mother doesn’t notice it. “she was in panic and said she didn’t want to go there. said she was scared.”

your mother’s stomach twists. her breathing uneven but she tries to keep it under radar. he notices. “scared? scared like what—like how?”

“mmhm,” his voice dips, quieter like he’s letting her in on something secret. “she told me she got into some trouble—financially. people were looking for her. i thought maybe it was, like a… loan shark thing.” he glances at your mother, watching, waiting. 

her breath catches, and she’s quick to deny. “no, that’s not—” she stops herself, pressing a hand to her chest. the words feel wrong, so foreign, you would have told her—you would have told her if you’re short on money. you wouldn’t—no, you really wouldn’t borrow someone else’s. 

yes, your family is poor—your siblings don’t even have the privilege to pursue education but—

the boy tilts his head slightly, humming thoughtfully. “that’s what she told me,” he murmurs, almost apologetically. “this girl… yeah—she seemed really on edge. she kept looking over at my car’s door handle and the side mirrors.”

“what?” 

he shifts his weight like he doesn’t quite know how to put it in words. “i don’t know, she acted so weird that night,” he continues, sighing. “even i was having a hard time figuring her out. her hands kept twitching and every time i slowed down at a red light, she looked like she was going to jump out of the car.” 

something cold crawls up your mother’s spine. 

“she… she wanted to get out?”

his lips press together before shrugging slightly. “ i guess so…” his lips curve into an almost regretful smile. “she asked me to drop her off by the street but there was nothing, no houses, no stations… so i insisted that i drop her off at her friend’s house.”

your mother sways slightly on her feet. her head feels light. her breathing—heavy and uneven like she’s going to hyperventilate and break down at any moment if she doesn’t know what happened to her daughter. 

“why did you…?” her voice barely makes it past her lips. 

“it didn’t feel right to leave her in the middle of nowhere,” he looks down at her. his eyes narrow, emotionless. “i told her it wasn’t safe. she cried, then went quiet for a long time after that.”

a lump forms in your mother’s throat. she thinks she’s going to puke in the middle of the street. 

you cried? oh lord, what happened to you?

he sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “then i dropped her off at her friend’s house. ‘s all.”

her hands tremble as she clutches her bag tighter. “where—? where is her friend’s house?” 

his fingers drum against his hips, licking his lips to wet them, he then gestures down the street with his index. his smile doesn’t falter, it deepens just slightly that it seems thoughtful. 

“it’s not that far,” he says, voice warm and kind. he looks down at your mother with the smile he had on when he studies your picture. “i can take you there, if you’d like.”

despite the cold sinking deep into her bones, despite the sick feeling curling in her gut, despite her mother’s instinct yelling and warning her no—she nods.

because what else can she do?

with practiced ease, he folds the photograph between his fingers, slipping it into the back pocket of his jeans. she doesn’t notice it.

oh, you’ll love this.

it’s a known fact that wonbin gets sulky easily. if the members are ordering something he doesn’t like, he simply refuses to eat. if sohee’s beating him at a game, he stops playing. and when it comes to you, he seems to sulk easily even more.

he walks into the apartment expecting you, lounging in the living room as you usually do on saturdays. except, wonbin is greeted by radio silence. “baby,” he calls out, dropping his bag onto the kitchen counter before checking each room. “baby, i’m home!” you’re not in the bedroom, nor are you showering. his lips twitch into that familiar frown, choosing to lay on the couch as he waits for you, phone already in hand to text you.

finally, after an eternity (2 hours), the door swings open. grocery bags rustle in your hands as you quickly walk towards the kitchen, not acknowledging wonbin yet in favour of unpacking and keeping the poultries in the freezer. you wash your hands before finally stepping into the living room.

your boyfriend is all cuddled up in one corner of the couch, knees tucked to his chest, blanket wrapped around him, you could only see his face. his eyes narrow upon finally meeting your gaze, lips tugging into a small pout. not exaggerated, yet apparent, and so fucking cute.

“this morning you said you’ll be waiting for me when i’m done with recording,” he starts, lips pouting at every syllable he mouths. “but you weren’t here and you didn’t text me, and you didn’t even look for me first thing!”

you couldn’t help the giggle that leaves your lips and it only makes him sulkier. you settle with sitting in front of him, knees brushing against his. you mirror his pout, earning a subtle roll of his eyes. “i had to get groceries and there was chicken in the bag! i didn’t want to forget!”

“excuses…” he huffs, looking at you like you have truly offended him. and to wonbin — you truly did. “it’s really unfair i couldn’t cuddle long this morning and…”

you cut him off with a kiss. you couldn’t help it, he looks absolutely irresistible when all sulky. wonbin glares at you, parting his lips to speak again only for you to kiss him more. “you’re so fucking cute when you’re all sulky, binnie…”

finally, his lips tug into a small smile. his cheeks redden, clearly flustered. he rolls his eyes at you before pulling you under the blanket, into his arms. the couch is a little too small for you two, but that’s the way wonbin likes it. ♡

✩⸝⸝ [THE TYPE OF BOYFRIEND TO...] a seven-part series! (vol.4) . . .

# ಇ. wonbin as your boyfriend; headcanons!    ⋆   fluff!   //   bf!wonbinx reader  ˖  ✧ no warnings! [m.list]

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

bf!wonbin who . . . adores you so much to an overwhelming point.

bf!wonbin who . . . always has an instant change in his mood the second he lays his eyes on you.

The Kfic-library is a computationally compiled archive - please report issues/mistakes in my asks

updated: 2026-02-09

11:30 Pm by @ywnzn

p.wb

Mask Off. by @ssoulstar

Just A Little Cold by @flaminhotlem0n

pairing: wonbin x gn!reader

word count: .5k

synopsis: wonbin teaches you how to play the guitar

you had been trying to learn the guitar for the past couple of weeks, but it was useless. your fingers just didn't have the coordination to make any good sounds come out.

your mom saw you struggling to learn the new skill, so she offered her friend's son to help you out with that problem.

"y/n! so nice to meet you!" what you assumed to be his mom greeted happily. "wonbin is up in his room."

you slowly walked up the stairs "do i really want to learn how to play the guitar?" you whispered to yourself.

you knocked on his door a couple times before he opened it. he looked like he'd only gotten out of the shower a couple minutes ago, hair still dripping wet. "come on in."

when your mom told you she could connect you with her friend's son for guitar lessons, she seemed to have left out just one minor detail:

he looked like he walked straight off the cover of vogue.

he sat on his bed and began using his phone while you awkwardly stood at the door, your arms stiff by your sides. "what are you doing? come sit over here." he patted the spot next to him.

you laughed off the awkwardness and sat on his bed. he threw his phone to the side and picked up his guitar. from the side of his bed "let me hear you play."

you began to strum the guitar to the best of your abilities, but you heard a stifled giggle from beside you.

"hey!" you were offended, but he was amused.

"sorry its just um.. unique that's all. unique." he attempted to justify his suppressed laughter. "i mean that's what you're here for right?"

you nodded and handed the guitar back to him. he began to play it as if it was as easy as breathing. "okay maybe i'm just a little stupid."

he handed it back to you, but this time he guided your fingers. "yes, like that." he smiled at you. you could've sworn time had stopped. well, you did stop breathing for a second.

"that sounds better than what i was cooking up earlier." you gulped, feeling his cold minty breath on your shoulder.

you thought he couldn't get any closer, but he proved you wrong. he scooted closer to you, your thighs touching. he hovered his chin on your shoulder, skin touching only lightly. but, it felt like a thousand bricks. you almost forgot how to even breathe. 

“i think you can master this in a week. you’re a quick learner with guidance.” no, you wanted him to teach you forever.

“well, i think i could use more.” you shrugged hiding your disappointment.

“you know, we don’t only have to meet this way.” he returned the guitar to his bedside. you attempted to hide your smile, but it was no use. he returned the smile immediately. “yeah, i’d like that.”

⟢ finding a cheap place in seoul means making compromises.

pairing any riize member x fem. reader word count 2.6k content warning stalking, financial issues/mentioned, break-ins, murder, corrupted police

the video starts with a handheld camera shot, slightly shaky as the interviewer adjusts the focus. the backdrop is a bustling street, lined with small shops, and convenience stores with the neon signs glowing despite it being in the daytime. 

“hi everyone! welcome back to the channel. today, we will be exploring and taking a look at the reality of low-budget housing in korea! we usually check out luxury high-rises and trendy officetels, but not everyone is able to have the privilege.” 

the camera cuts to a wide shot of an older apartment complex—the concrete wall is aged with the paintings chipped off. moist and moldy from the rain from the past few years. the balcony railings rusted, laundry hanging outside the windows. 

“if you’ve ever looked into renting in korea, you probably know how expensive it can be. in fact, a single-room perfect for those who value limited space and low rent is called goshiwon!  if it has a nice layout but it’s cheap—it’s probably a scam! even a small studio in seoul can cost a fortune, and for a lot of people, finding a cheap place means making compromises.”

the interviewer looks around the area of the apartment—an elderly man sits just outside by the entrance, fanning himself with a newspaper. his shirt is unbuttoned halfway, exposing his big frame and beer belly. cigarette rest between his fingers, smoke curling into the air. he simply watches the camera and the interviewer. 

“uh—one thing people don’t always realise is that cheap rent often comes with… certain trade-offs. like safety, maintenance, location… there are some complexes that don’t even have a landlord or a smart lock.” 

the camera tilts up, capturing a cctv camera with its wires hanging loose. the other one is tilted at an odd angle, barely attached to its frame anymore. 

then, the camera moves past a pile of discarded furniture—an old mattress propped against a wall, a wooden chair missing a leg, and a dog urinating by a lamp pole before cutting back to the interviewer, now walking towards the entrance of one of the buildings. the sticker on the glass door is peeling, and there’s a broken intercom panel with faded buttons.

“today, we’ll be meeting with someone who lives in one of these apartments. she reached out and offered to show us what it’s really like living here—what you get for the price, and what you might have to deal with. so, let’s go meet her!”

——

the camera focuses on a worn-out wooden door as the interviewer knocks. a few moments later, the door swings open with a slight creak, revealing you—the guest of today. you open the door wide, smiling at the camera and waving slightly.

“oh, hi! come in, come in,” you say, stepping aside to let them in. 

as the camera moves past the doorway, the first thing the viewers—and the cameraman and the interviewer—sees is the small kitchen directly at the side of the wall—a compact sink, a singler-burner stove, and a few neatly arranged dishes on a drying rack. there’s a mini fridge and a microwave on top. the shelves above are filled with bread, instant noodles, bottles of water, and some snacks.

to the right, there’s a narrow door leading to the bathroom—just enough for one person and space for a toilet and a shower, with no separation between the two. 

the cameraman steps in further into the house, filming the layout of the small apartment—beyond the kitchen, the main living space unfolds—or rather, your only living space. there’s no living room, just a single room that serves quite literally every purpose. 

your single bed sits against the far wall, a small tv resting on a low table in front of it. there are some plushies on your bed. to the left of the bed, there’s a wooden drawer, and next to it a study table with a chair tucked neatly underneath with some clutter on the table. you also have a small stand fan on it. above your study table is a shelf where you put all of your notebooks and studying materials. on the right side of the wall, there’s a small window.

there isn’t much else to film—no couch, no dining table. just your essentials, arranged with precision. 

despite the very minimal and almost claustrophobic space, you keep your room clean. making sure to have an automatic air freshener dispenser so your room can always smell fresh and sweet. 

the interviewer and the cameraman exchange a quick glance with a nod of amusement.

“wow it’s really really neat. it smells very nice here.” he says, smiling as he looks around the room.

the camera pans to you.

you nod, pointing at the window. “there’s a pork restaurant not far from this building so sometimes the odor comes in if i leave my window open for too long.” you smile, thanking the interviewer for the compliment. 

the three of you are now sitting on the (carpeted) floor, cross-legged in the small space. the camera is pointed at an angle that’s filming you and minwoo. the cameraman adjusts his tripod, making sure everything is steady and in-frame before stepping back behind it.

your back is leaned against the bed, hands resting on your lap as you glance between them with an easy, friendly smile. 

“alright, we’re all set? thanks again for having us, yn. before we get into it, could you please introduce yourself for the viewers?” 

you nod, facing the camera. “hi everyone, i’m yn. i’m a student at seoul national university and i’ve been living here for about… a year now?” you say, eyes looking up in subconscious behaviour of concentrating. mentally counting, you nod to yourself.

“yeah—a year now. wow,” you mumble, lips pursing in amusement—you’ve cooped up in this small room for that long.

minwoo nods and hums in acknowledgement, his hands rubbing absentmindedly over his knees. “do you mind telling us how—and why—you ended up choosing this place?”

you tilt your head slightly, thinking. there’s no hesitation and shame in the way you answer.

“ah… well, mostly because of the price. rent in korea is really high, especially in seoul—and i’m only a student so most of my expenses are spent on books,” you let out a small laugh, pointing at your books piling up like mountains on the table. the camera moves to where it is—then back to you. 

“it was really hard to find something within my budget. and this place is… really cheap.” 

minwoo offers a polite chuckle in return. the cameraman smiles too, behind the camera, although there’s a flicker of something—almost guilt and curiosity. 

“and how much is the rent for a place like this?”

“i pay 95,000₩ monthly which is cheaper than most complexes in seoul.” 

minwoo nods, the ceramic cup in his hand as he takes a small sip of the peach tea you prepared. “and what makes it cheap?” 

you hum, resting your chin on your folded arms as you hug your knees to your chest. “i think… it’s the lack of safety and comfortability that they offer.” 

the room falls into a brief pause. minwoo raises an eyebrow as he places the cup back on its little plate. the cameraman shifts and exchanges glances with minwoo. 

“lack of safety?” 

you nod. “as you can see, there’s no security guards in this building and police rarely patrol this area,” you reply, expression almost indifferent. “the people here too… mm yeah, it’s kind of just… you look out for yourself here,” you add with a small shrug.

it’s only then minwoo glances toward the door, noticing for the first time how flimsy the lock on your door looks. the cameraman subtly zooms in on it before panning back to you.

“have you ever had any issues because of that?”

smiling, you nod without hesitation. “yup. all the time.”

minwoo blinks. the cameraman stiffens slightly behind the airpod. there’s a pause long enough for the weight of your words to settle in the small room. 

you notice the shift in the atmosphere—the way they are momentarily caught off guard and the way their postures are a little stiffer. you quickly wave your hands, laughing a little—not wanting the awkward moment to stretch too long.

“ah—! i don’t mean anything that serious!” you say, expression lighthearted like it’s a normal conversation. the contrast between your casual demeanour and the topic makes the air feel heavy. “i just mean, you know, things happen—but it’s fine!” 

minwoo doesn’t look entirely convinced… but he offers a small chuckle to match your tone. “things… like what?” 

“hmmm,” you hum, tilting your head slightly. “the thing about cheap rents here in korea is, like i said, the lack of safety and also people—they don’t… really care about you, you know?” you nod as if expecting them to agree—to be able to relate to you. minwoo and the cameraman exchange a brief glance before nodding along, even though they don’t fully grasp it.

“i think stalking here is quite common in the area.”

minwoo’s polite nod falters slightly—the cameraman doesn’t move.

“stalking…?” 

you nod again, still smiling. “mmhm, i mean, it’s not really a big deal now.”

minwoo feels his lungs heavy in something indescribable. “can you tell us what happened?” 

“yeah, of course!” you say, sipping on your tea to wet your throat. “i don’t really remember when it started—maybe a few weeks after i moved in?” you shrug, the memory feeling distant and almost insignificant in the way you recount it. “i noticed that the lock on my door was broken, and so was the lock on my window. but nothing was gone so i… didn’t really do anything back then.” 

minwoo nods, silently prompting you to continue. 

“i did change both locks but the next day, it happened again, so i informed my landlord, but nothing was done. she said that nothing happened so i shouldn’t be so worried,” you continue. “but of course, when you’re all by yourself in the city, it kinda gets to you, you know? the creeps.” 

minwoo and the cameraman slowly nods.

“so i filed a report but just like my landlord said—nothing happened. nothing missing, no threats, i wasn’t hurt or anything, so there was nothing the police could do. and i think i’ve changed the locks like, five times? to a point where most of my allowances were on changing locks and keys.” you let out a small laugh.

the cameraman zooms in at your window—the handle missing.

 “...and then?” 

“then slowly i noticed that my things would go missing. my perfume, some of my clothes, and notebooks. socks, toothbrush, yeah,” you lean back slightly, resting your arms on your knees as you continue. 

the camera pans to minwoo—his eyebrows raise slightly. the cameraman exhales, almost imperceptibly, but the sound is caught on the mic. 

“toothbrush?” minwoo asks.

you nod. “mmhm, it was really weird and creepy, but i just bought a new one. then that one disappeared too.” you let out a soft chuckle, recalling the timeline of events. 

“i think that’s when i truly, truly realised—oh someone’s coming in. like someone really came into my room.” 

“and you… didn’t move out?”

you shake your head, your gaze drifting around your small room. “no, of course not,” you reply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

minwoo’s lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but he hesitates. he figures he’d let you explain first. 

“moving is so expensive and complicated. plus… rent is cheap here. where else am i gonna find a place like this?” you frown slightly, gesturing vaguely around the room, as if the answer should be clear. the camera pans at your bed, the small tv, the little wind chime hanging on your window, the drawer, the study table with your little sister’s family drawing stick on the board, your top student certificate you framed on the wall—everything in its place where they should be.

“... and to be very honest, after almost a year… i don’t think what he’s doing is that bad. he doesn’t take anything important. just little things…  i should even consider myself lucky.” 

minwoo frowns deeper, tilting his head slightly. there’s a subtle but noticeable shifting in how he’s sitting. “he?” 

you blink, as if only now realising what you just said. but instead of correcting yourself, you just smile. “yeah. the stalker is a he. i knew it when he left his hoodie one night, his cap, and watch.” 

the interviewer’s expression tightens, his fingers curling slightly against his knee. the cameraman too, he doesn’t say anything, but his fingers around the tripod tightens. 

“so he comes inside while you’re sleeping?” 

you nod, smiling. “yeah. i think he does… sometimes i wake up and there’s breakfast on my study table—and he does laundry for me too sometimes. this building doesn’t have a washing machine or a dryer so it’s a hassle to do your laundry outside.” the way you talk about it—so casually like it’s a small perk of your situation. 

“and… you’re okay with that?” minwoo blinks slowly, he doesn’t even realise that he’s leaning towards you in paying full attention to your story.

“i mean, i don’t really have a choice?” you let out a soft chuckle, like it’s silly to think otherwise. “i went to the police three times and they said that there’s nothing they can do except informing my landlord to install a cctv outside. besides… he’s doing me a favour and it kinda helps me save money too…” you shrug, although feeling a bit ashamed of your current life. 

the video cuts back to a shaky shot of the building’s exterior. the camera zooms in on the broken cctv with its lens cracked and useless. the footage lingers for a few seconds before cutting back to you.

“sometimes… when you are put in a situation where there’s not much to be done… you kinda just have to accept and see the brighter side of it, you know?” you purse your lips, tilting your head slightly. “like for me, as long as i’m alive—and the laundry’s warm and fresh, and he stocks up my fridge… i think i’m doing fine…” you pause, rubbing the back of your neck. 

your smile falters just a little—just for a second—but you quickly recover. “i think it’ll be fine.” 

minwoo doesn’t say anything. the cameraman swallows audibly. the silence stretches just enough before the video fades to black.

——

white text appears, centred on the screen with no music or background noise playing behind. 

while editing this video, a few weeks after it was recorded, yn ln was found dead in her apartment.

she was found lifeless in the bathroom—her laundry was neatly folded on her bed. breakfast was left of her study table—though by then, it had rotten and the stench overpowering the scent of her air freshener. 

the case was classified as a murder—break in and violation. despite multiple police reports detailing precious break-ins and missing items, no arrests have been made. with no cctv footage and no strong leads, the case remains under investigation as of now. 

her classmate had found her a week after the incident due to her continued absence from classes. 

stalking is NOT a joke. if you or someone you know is experiencing similar situations, please seek help and take necessary precautions. no one should have to ‘accept’ living in fear. 

act now—speak up before silence becomes your only voice. 

we, seoul life, pay our respects to yn ln. may her soul rest in peace.

the screen stays black for a few more seconds before the video ends.

𖤐 this is a series of different, unrelated fics with cannibalistic elements, bodyhorror, gore, etc. genre ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ i will take my time writing these because i'll have to study the elements :x i will make some changes here and there.

𖤐 will contain dark contents such as noncon, dubcon, stalking, body gore, body horror, murder, disgusting elements etc. !! (i will put a warning in each fic!)

⭑ devouring devotion ⁞ anton lee

love, after all is hunger. when one is overwhelmingly consumed by their feelings, they believe that the only way to truly possess their beloved is to make them a part of themselves—literally.

⭑ lover's pact ⁞ sungchan jung

separation as fate is worse than death itself. desperate to keep his dying lover with him, he commits the ultimate act of fidelity—one that only he understands. 

⭑ hunger & his beloved ⁞ eunseok song

when love becomes grotesque, hunger grows beyond control—when love is not enough, they crave, and in their hunger, they consume.

⭑ ritual ⁞ wonbin park

a woman marries into a cult where the husband sees the ritual as something sacred, but she sees it as a nightmare.

⭑ misery ⁞ seunghan hong & sohee lee

blinded by jealousy, a man commits homicide and savors his final course—them.

⭑ rotten girl ⁞ shotaro osaki

dead or alive; he digs her up—not to mourn, but because love doesn’t end where the body rots.

🪷 part of my reddit series

pairing p. wonbin x fem. reader content warning cheating, victim-blaming, profanity

[r/Unsent_Unread_Unheard] i will never tell you this, but she looked too much like you that night. posted by u/park1 • 19h ago

i wish i could undo everything that happened that night. i wish i could go back, make a different choice, a choice that wouldn't change trajectory of my life, be a better man, be the man you want, be the man you need. be the man you and your mother think i am. but i'm not, and i can't anymore, and it's fucking me up alive.

i can't and i will never, ever, ever tell you this, but i have to let it out somehow, someway. i'm scared that if i don't, i'll come to hate myself, and then you. i'm so fucking sorry, oh my god, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry.