l2vedive

[l2vedive]

Vernon fic recs 2

Part 1

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(f,a) Quondam @flurrys-creativity

Synopsis: JurassicPark!Au, 90s!Au, Aquaintances to Lovers, DistantFriends to Lovers

(f) Taking pictures @emocheol

Synopsis: EstablishedRelationship

(f) Stay in character @idyllic-ghost

Synopsis: EstablishedRelationship, Babysitting!Au

(f) Sweetest thing @dokries

Synopsis: Strangers/UniClassmates to Lovers, BakeryWorker!Reader x WindowShopper!Vernon

(f) High & Dry @inkchwe

Synopsis: HogwartsAltior!Au, Dj!Vernon x Gardener!Reader

(h,f) Untitled @nonranghaes

Synopsis: Strangers-To-??

(a) From The Ashes @l2vedive

Synopsis: ChildhoodBestFriends-W-Trauma, 80s!Au

(f) Soulmates theory @seungcheorry

Synopsis: EstablishedRelationship

(f) Vernon likes to have his ears touched

(f) [11:24 AM] @sungbeam

(f) Friends to lovers @bbyobbyo

(m,f) Hit @smileysuh

Synopsis: Frat!Au, Stoner!Vernon, Friends to Lovers

(m) Favourite coworker @sescoups

Synopsis: Vernon is your favorite. he just gets you. of course you can't resist him - not that you would ever want to.

(m.a,f) Today of all days @the-boy-meets-evil

Synopsis: EstablishedRelationship

(m,f) Your loss @wongyuseokie ft.Seungkwan, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Scoups

Synopsis: Your ex-boyfriend and you broke up a few months ago, but you two remained friends, and of course, his nosy friends can’t help but pry and get as detailed as possible to find out what ended the relationship, and then, of course, offer to make only you feel better. However, they can. All while your ex-boyfriend watches.

(m) You’re so sweet, but… @seungkw1

Synopsis: EstablishedRelationship

(m) CollegeFling!Vernon @hoshifighting

Synopsis: Non-StabilishedRelationship, University!Au

(m) What friends are for @shadowkoo

Synopsis: BestFriends-To-Lovers, VirginFirstTime!Au

(f,m) A little bit of confidence & a bunch of carnations @brownsugarbaybee

Synopsis: OrthopaedicSurgeon!Vernon x GiftShopEmloyee!Reader, Doctors!Au, Idiots-To-Lovers

(m) They wanna @sluttywonwoo ft.Joshua

Synopsis: Your boyfriend Joshua wants to explore something new with you… and his best friend.

(m) Hypnos

Synopsis: Arranged Marriage

(m) Simp!Vernon @hannieehaee

(m) Lost in stereo

Synopsis: Friends 2 Enemies 2 Lovers, Band!Au, Drummer!Vernon x Guitarist!Reader

(m) Distracting him with your boobs

Synopsis: EstablishedRelationship

(m) Bf!Vernon and Bf!Chan Throuple ft.Dino

Synopsis: EstablishedRelationship

(f,m) Untitled-Vern @nonsign

(m) Late night practice room sex with Vernon @seventeenytiny

[l2vedive]

PLOT TWIST w. lee chan (dino)

celebrating new years, implied exes + fluff (800)

pairing: lee chan (dino) x fem!reader

note: i'm alive !!! i saw svt yesterday and i'm still reeling w the excitement AAAAAA but also , happy new year mooties and caratblr !!! i'm a little late so here's something before january ends <3

you’re wandering through times square on a crisp december evening, the air electric with the promise of a new year. neon lights paint the streets in a swirl of watercolours, and the distant murmur of excited voices fills the air. you tuck your hands into the pockets of your coat, your breath visible in the cold, when you spot a familiar figure standing just a few metres away.

it feels like time stops.

it’s chan.

you haven’t seen him in five years—not since the two of you broke up. back then, you were young, unsure, and overwhelmed by the weight of trying to make life work. but now, as your eyes meet across the bustling square, something shifts. he looks older, sharper somehow, but his smile—the one that always lit up your world—spreads across his face when he recognises you.

“oh my god,” he says, almost breathless, as he steps forward. “is it really you?”

your heart races. you smile, mirroring his disbelief. “chan! i—what are the odds?”

neither of you hesitates. you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around each other in a hug that feels both familiar and new. there’s no awkwardness, no hesitation—just warmth.

“you look...” he says when you pull back, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory. “wow. you look as good as the day i still had you.”

“so do you,” you reply, laughing softly. your heart blooms at his comment and you try to push that funny feeling down. “it’s been ages. how are you?”

“better now,” he admits, his cheeks reddening—not just from the cold. “are you, perhaps, busy ? or do you have time to catch up?”

“oh! not at all,” you say, surprising even yourself with how easily the words come. “i'd love to.”

soon, the two of you are walking through central park, the city’s noise fading into the background as the quiet beauty of the park surrounds you. snow dusts the ground, and the bare branches of the trees reach up towards the night sky.

“so, what’s new?” he asks, glancing at you with a soft smile.

you laugh. “that’s a loaded question. i finished university, started working. nothing too glamorous, but it’s good. what about you?”

“same, really. i’m in music production now,” he says. “it’s been kind of challenging, but worth it.”

there’s a pause, comfortable yet heavy with the elephant in the room waiting to be addressed.

it comes like whiplash.

“i’ve thought about you,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “over the years. more than i should’ve, probably.”

your chest tightens. “me too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “i always wondered how you were doing, if you were happy.”

he stops walking, turning to face you. “i am. but right now, being here with you... it feels like a piece of something i didn’t realise was missing just clicked back into place.”

the vulnerability in his voice takes you by surprise, but you don’t shy away from it. instead, you take his hand, your fingers cold against his warmth.

“i’ve missed you,” you say honestly.

the two of you continue talking, sharing stories of the past five years—mistakes, triumphs, and everything in between. as the hours slip by, the conversation feels effortless, as though no time has passed at all.

eventually, you find yourselves back in times square, where the energy is even more palpable. the countdown is minutes away, and the crowd surges around you, buzzing with anticipation.

chan turns to you, his face illuminated by the flashing lights. “this feels surreal,” he says, his voice barely audible over the noise.

“i know,” you reply. “but in the best way.”

the countdown begins.

“ten...”

he takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“nine...”

you glance up at him, your heart pounding.

“eight...”

his eyes search yours, soft and full of something unspoken.

“seven...”

“can i—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“six...”

“yes,” you whisper.

“five...”

he leans in, his breath warm against your cold skin.

“four...”

your eyes flutter shut.

“three...”

his lips brush yours, tentative and soft.

“two...”

the kiss deepens, and everything else fades away—the noise, the crowd, the cold.

“one...”

the crowd erupts into cheers, confetti raining down, but all you can focus on is him and the promise of a future you both dreamed of, something familiar, yet different.

when you pull back, he’s smiling, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “so,” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet hope. “where do we go from here?”

you smile, taking his hand. “wherever we want.”

you don’t say it aloud, but you both know: this is the start of something new. or perhaps, something familiar, rediscovered and revisited.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

CHRISTMAS WITH YOU w. jeon wonwoo

first christmas together + fluff (557)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

note: merry christmas eve !!! here's something to keep you warm and giddy before the year ends <3 i hope y'all are having a good one with ur friends n family 🫶🏻 please don't forget to give a like n a reblog w ur thoughts if you enjoyed !!

the soft crackle of the fireplace fills the living room, casting a warm glow that dances off the walls. the scent of pine mingles with the faint sweetness of cinnamon candles, creating an atmosphere that feels both festive and comforting. the christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its branches adorned with twinkling lights, baubles, and ribbons.

wonwoo is crouched by its base, untangling a wreath he picked up earlier because, as he put it, “it matches the theme perfectly.” your cat, ever curious, bats playfully at the ribbons dangling from the wreath, earning an exasperated but amused sigh from him.

“you’re not helping, you know,” he says, looking at the cat with mock sternness before turning his attention back to the task.

you’re by the record player, flipping through vinyl sleeves, trying to choose the perfect background song for the evening. it feels important to you—setting the tone, making it just right. your fingers pause on a jazz album, but then you hesitate and move to something else.

“(your name), my love,” wonwoo’s voice cuts through your deliberation, gentle and warm, “whatever you pick will be perfect. honestly, i’d rather hear you humming than anything else.”

you glance over your shoulder, catching his soft smile. “it has to be perfect, though. first christmas together and all that,” you say with a grin, though there’s a hint of seriousness in your tone.

wonwoo rises, the wreath now untangled and hanging neatly on a branch. “it already is,” he says as he crosses the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind. his chin rests lightly on your shoulder, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your temple before he presses a kiss there. “but we’ve got a cake to bake and dinner to prep. think you can multitask, or do i need to pick the song for you?”

you laugh, leaning back into his embrace. “fine, fine. i’ll leave it for now. but if the vibe is off, you’re to blame.”

“deal,” he says easily, his arms loosening as he takes your hand. “come on, let me show you how amazing this wreath looks on the tree. it’s like it was made for it.”

he leads you over, gesturing proudly at the wreath now nestled among the branches. it does look good—better than you’d expected when he’d first brought it home. your cat, meanwhile, has abandoned the ribbons and is now swatting at the shiny wrappers beneath the tree.

“well, she’s having the time of her life,” you say, watching the cat with a fond shake of your head.

“at least someone is,” he jokes. “come on, let’s get started on that cake before she decides the wrapping paper is a snack.”

just as you’re about to head to the kitchen, the doorbell rings, a cheerful chime that sends your cat scurrying under the sofa. “that’ll be our first guests,” you say, your excitement bubbling up.

wonwoo squeezes your hand. “i’ll get it. you start setting out the ingredients. don’t worry—i’ll make sure everyone knows the cat’s got dibs on the tree.”

you laugh, giving him a playful shove as you head towards the kitchen. the sound of your friends’ voices fills the room moments later, their laughter blending seamlessly with the warmth of the evening. it’s a scene of perfect chaos—exactly how christmas should be.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

hello !! sorry for not showing any signs of life , i'm currently just binging a bunch of shows. i hope everyone's having a good christmas break !!

[l2vedive]

i genuinely enjoyed writing from the ashes i hope u guys will enjoy reading it too !!!!

[l2vedive]

bitches that don't like kpop are so boring nobody wants to listen to shawn mendes bitch put Mansae on

[l2vedive]

FROM THE ASHES w. hansol vernon chwe

supernatural horror au + childhood best friends (5.8k)

SUMMARY: in which you and hansol reunite ten years later to face the horrors of the past that left you both scarred and haunted. (reader and hansol centric)

pairing: hansol vernon chwe x fem!reader

featuring: lee chan of seventeen & lee nakyung of fromis

genres: SLOWBURN, angst, kinda horror, supernatural, action, childhood best friends w trauma, set in the 80s

warning(s): crazy amounts of lore, so much slowburn, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence, character death

notes: wrote this purely for my own entertainment after replaying the game the other day. this is inspired by two games actually! it has elements of choices' book called it lives in the woods and romance club's shadows of saintfour. this has some heavy lore but i've done my best to break down most of it so you guys can understand it without playing ♡

if you liked this read, please don't forget to reblog with your thoughts and give it a like !

i. bravery.

it’s late in the evening, and the air feels heavy. you’re standing in front of the old house, the one that’s always felt both like a home and a prison. your small hands are trembling as you clutch the hem of your jacket, eyes scanning the darkened street outside, the distant sounds of the city muffled by the thick fog that has rolled in. you’ve been told not to go out past sunset, that the pisadeira—that thing from the nightmares—will get you. but your mother has been distant for weeks, locked in a room, her eyes wide with fear, always watching the shadows like they’re waiting for something to come.

you know you’re not supposed to be out here. you know the stories. everyone does. don’t go near the flowers. don’t look into the darkness. don’t listen to the whispers. but your feet move before you can think about it, the pull of the unknown stronger than any fear you’ve ever felt. you cross the threshold into the garden, the flowers there too large, too bright, almost alive. your heart races as the petals glisten like they’ve been touched by some forbidden magic, their beauty something both inviting and dangerous.

it’s then that you hear it—the soft voice, like the rustle of leaves in the wind, and you freeze. "come closer."

your breath catches in your throat. you don’t know why you don’t run.

ii. cowardice

hansol is young, barely a year older than you, but already carrying a weight in his chest that most kids his age wouldn’t understand. he doesn’t like to talk about it, the feeling—the one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he’s alone in the dark. it’s not fear, exactly, more like a sense that something should be there. a presence. a pressure. something pulling at him from the shadows.

his family has always moved around. never staying in one place too long. too many unanswered questions about his father’s work, too many late nights with hushed conversations. hansol never really thought it was strange, until that one night. the one when he was alone in his room, playing with his toy cars, and he felt the air change. the floorboards creaked under someone’s weight—someone who wasn’t there.

the whispers started soon after. he couldn’t remember when, but they were always there, following him like a second shadow, calling him to the dark corners of the house. come closer. i’m waiting.

he told no one. even when his mother came in to check on him that night, he lied, said everything was fine. but deep down, hansol knew something was wrong. there was something in the dark, something that waited for the right moment to pull him under.

iii. small

the bell rings, and you’re at the gates of the middle school, your heart thumping in your chest for reasons you can’t explain. hansol is standing at the edge of the crowd, his usual stoic expression softening when he sees you. he waves shyly, like he always does, and you can’t help but smile back.

“hey, hansol,” you say, walking up to him with a grin. “you know what’s worse than studying for a pop quiz?”

he raises an eyebrow, the faintest spark of interest in his eyes. “what?”

“studying for a pop quiz with the teacher standing over your shoulder,” you say, laughing at the face he makes. “you’d think they’d give us a break.”

he tries to keep it in, but the smile breaks out anyway, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. it’s small, but you notice. “you’re a terrible influence,” he says with a shake of his head, but you can see the fondness in his eyes. inside, his chest flutters, and it’s the kind of flutter he wants to squash. but he can’t, not when you’re standing so close, your laughter light in the air, something unspoken between you both.

iv. sleepover

the annual sleepover at your house is always the most anticipated event of the year. even now, with the haunted past of saintfour hanging over your shoulders, it feels like something that should bring comfort. something normal. but things feel different this time.

hansol is the first to arrive, as always, but this time, there’s an unease in his eyes, a look that doesn’t quite belong in a child his age. he brushes it off when you greet him with a teasing smile, ruffling his hair as he steps inside. a small girl follows behind him and you swoop her up in your arms.

"it's not funny, you know," he mutters, brushing off your hand, but the corners of his lips twitch.

“gyul thinks it is, right?” you giggle and so does she, mirroring every expression you make.

hansol rolls his eyes and takes her from you so you could go and get things settled for the others.

as the night wears on after putting the youngest attendee to bed, you and your friends, hansol included, settle into the living room. nakyung is the first to start whispering, chan and hansol are too wrapped up in their snacks and games to notice that the air around you all is growing thicker, heavier.

“hey, do you guys feel that?” you ask, glancing around the room. your voice is shaky, uncertain, but they all brush it off.

“it’s just the storm outside,” nakyung laughs, waving it off. “you’re imagining it.”

but you know what you feel. the chill in the air is different. unnatural. and then you hear it. the soft whispers again, curling around you like smoke. come closer. it’s time to wake up.

before you can react, you feel it—something cold, something sharp, dragging its claws down your neck.

“no!” you scream, stumbling back, but the pain is overwhelming. the petals of the flowers from your nightmares begin to fall, drifting like snowflakes, but the touch of them is suffocating. you gasp, trying to push them away, but it’s no use.

“help! someone help her—!”

your vision dims, everything turning dark as the pain intensifies. you feel yourself slipping, your body falling against the ground as your breath catches in your throat. and then, everything goes black.

when you wake, you find a scar on your neck—a mark of the night you almost didn’t survive. the petals, though, are gone. the whispers are silent. but you can still feel it. she’s still here.

v. whispers

it’s been ten years. a decade of silence. no phone calls, no texts, no letters. you’ve gone your separate ways, drifting through life without the familiar presence of hansol, nakyung, or the others. it’s as if the past—the horrors of saintfour—were a shared dream that none of you wanted to remember. and yet, here you are, standing in the same auditorium once again, the weight of that history pressing down on your chest.

you sit in the crowd of new and old faces, the orientation assembly unfolding in front of you like any typical college event. there’s laughter, excitement, and the usual pre-university buzz in the air. you know hansol is somewhere in the crowd, though you can’t bring yourself to search for him. you feel the pull of your past, that strange, unexplainable tug, but you push it down. this is your fresh start. you won’t let the pisadeira ruin it.

but then, the lights flicker.

it’s subtle at first, just a quick blink, a brief interruption in the otherwise seamless flow of the assembly. no one else seems to notice, but your heart skips a beat. something’s wrong.

the smell of wildflowers invades the air. not the delicate, sweet fragrance of a bouquet—no, this is sharp, invasive, almost suffocating.

not again.

your pulse spikes as the familiar voice drifts into your mind, soft, like a breath against your skin. come closer, (your name).

it’s her. she’s here.

you try to steady your breath, your hands trembling as the whispers grow louder, more insistent, more malicious. i’ve waited for you. don’t run away.

your vision blurs, the room spinning as you struggle to stay grounded in the present. you glance around quickly, desperate to find someone who isn’t caught in the same trap. but everyone else is oblivious, lost in the crowd, unaware of the danger lurking at the edge of your perception.

except hansol, who locks eyes with you. he knows.

you’re back in it. back in the nightmare you thought you escaped.

vi. reawakening

it’s the third week of college when he knocks on your door. hansol. standing in the hallway, looking exactly as you remember, but older, quieter. his eyes are darker now, shadowed by years of things unsaid, but they still hold the same familiarity. you’re caught off guard, unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this, not after ten years.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, trying to mask the shock that’s creeping up your throat.

he hesitates before answering, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “your parents blame me,” he says quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “and I’ve accepted it.”

the words hang heavy in the air, a confession of guilt, an admission of the years he’s spent with that weight on his shoulders. your stomach churns, a mix of anger and sadness rising up. how could they? how could they blame him for something neither of you could control?

you swallow, trying to process everything, but all you can think of is the way hansol looks so small now, so paralysed by the memories of things that shouldn’t be real. you’re reminded of the times when you both stood on the precipice of danger, and you couldn’t protect him. you couldn’t fight back against the monsters that seemed so real.

but you will now.

a fire stirs in your chest, something deep inside you that makes you want to protect him this time. this time, you’ll fight.

you find yourself tracking him, watching from the corners of campus, noting the places he frequents when the weekend comes. you never ask him where he’s going—never question it—but you always seem to find the empty seat next to him, always make sure to sit there when no one else does.

he doesn’t question it at first, but soon, he gives you a sideways glance, his gaze sharp but unreadable. “why didn’t you ask me first?”

you shrug, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “didn’t think I needed to.”

and he doesn’t question how you found him, either. perhaps he’s just relieved to have you there, even if he doesn’t admit it. but his silence is heavy, and you know there’s more to his avoidance than he’s letting on. there always is with hansol.

you’re back in each other’s lives now, and you can feel the weight of what’s coming. you both know it’s not over. it never was. but maybe, just maybe, this time, you won’t be alone.

vii. dive

the party hums with energy, laughter, and loud music, but hansol is nowhere near the centre of it. you find him by the garden, crouched by a patch of daisies, plucking their petals with deliberate precision. with each one, he tosses it lightly into the nearby pool, watching as they float and swirl on the water’s surface.

“you know, that’s supposed to be romantic,” you tease, crossing your arms as you approach. “daisies in a pool? what’s the occasion?”

he glances up at you, his expression unreadable but familiar. “just thought it was nice. peaceful, you know?”

“peaceful? at a party?” you ask, tilting your head. “didn’t think you’d even show up to something like this.”

“figured it’d be less lonely,” he replies, brushing a stray petal from his hand. “knowing the people I grew up with would be here, even if I’m not exactly a part of it.”

you blink, caught off guard by his honesty, but you quickly recover. “well, you’ve got company now,” you say lightly, sitting down on the edge of the pool beside him.

the conversation shifts to small talk, catching up on little details about classes, professors, and the mundane chaos of college life. hansol doesn’t say much, but when he does, his words are careful, thoughtful. he seems more at ease out here, away from the crowd.

then, david bowie’s modern love starts playing from the speakers, the familiar beat making your foot tap instinctively. you nudge his shoulder, a playful grin spreading across your face. “come on. dance with me.”

he leans back slightly, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “me? dancing out there? maybe you should ask chan. he’d love to dance with you.”

you roll your eyes, laughing, but you pause to search his face. there’s no hint of jealousy, no hard feelings—just a quiet acceptance, as if he’s fine watching from the sidelines. reassured, you rise and wave over chan, who doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand and spin you in a dramatic twirl that makes you laugh out loud.

soon, you’re in the middle of a lively group, dancing like you’ve known each other for years. you fit right in, your energy infectious, your smile bright.

from the edge of the garden, hansol watches you. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes.. you’re the same as you’ve always been. plucky, bold, unafraid to dive into life headfirst.

some things never change, he thinks, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

viii. reverse

study hall is quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers and the occasional tapping of pens against wooden desks. you’ve claimed a corner of the room, surrounded by textbooks and open tabs on your laptop—not for your upcoming pop quiz, but for something far more unsettling.

“pisadeira,” you mutter under your breath, scrolling through yet another article on the folklore.

“still on about that?”

you startle at the voice, looking up to see hansol standing there holding a takeout paper bag for iced americanos without waiting for an invitation, he sets the bag down and slides into the seat next to you.

“you’re supposed to be studying,” he says, nodding toward the pile of notes sprawled across your desk.

“and you’re supposed to avoid this topic,” you counter, narrowing your eyes. “why are you even here?”

he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “figured you’d need a distraction.”

you scoff, though the sight of him flipping through your notes catches you off guard. hansol hasn’t willingly spoken about the pisadeira since that night ten years ago, and seeing him this invested stirs something uneasy in you.

“you never wanted to talk about her before,” you say, your voice quieter now. “why the sudden interest?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on one of your highlighted sections. “because she’s not just in your head,” he finally says.

you grit your teeth, frustration bubbling up. “i had another nightmare about her,” you admit. “last week. it was—” you pause, shaking your head. “it felt so real.”

“it’s just a dream,” he says firmly, turning to face you. “you’ll be ready if it happens again. we both will.”

his words are meant to comfort you, but they only add to the weight you already feel. you let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples. “you know, sometimes I wish I could just live a normal college life. no nightmares, no supernatural shit, just classes, lazy and terror professors in between and stupid long exams that require all nighters.”

hansol chuckles softly, the sound breaking the tension between you. “if all else fails,” he says after a moment, “you can always swing by my place in the future and help me with boring work stuff.”

you smile faintly, glancing down at your notes. “i might just take you up on that,” you say softly.

for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

ix. time

the sorority house is alive with music and chatter, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting a soft glow over the room. it’s the first party of the semester you’ve hosted, and your sorority sisters flit around the space, greeting guests and pulling people onto the makeshift dance floor. the air smells faintly of sweet cocktails and the flowers you’d arranged on every table earlier, a hollow attempt to lighten your unease.

it’s been two months since you last dreamt of the pisadeira. the quiet should be a relief, but it isn’t. not when reports have started to trickle through campus about students collapsing, choking on petals of purple flowers and other strange remains. she’s here, you know it, even if she hasn’t come for you yet. but why?

your stomach tightens, not from the pisadeira’s absence but from the creeping feeling of not belonging. this isn’t your scene, no matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise. you’re smiling, laughing, blending in, but for the first time, you feel out of place.

you force the thoughts away, telling yourself this party is meant to be a distraction. another night to blend in, to laugh and pretend like you don’t have a target painted on your back. nakyung has been doing her best to keep you entertained, introducing you to some of the boys she brought along, but none of them hold your attention. they’re polite, but their smiles are shallow, their conversation uninteresting.

“come on, smile,” nakyung whispers, nudging you with her elbow as she gestures toward a small group of guys lingering by the makeshift bar. “they’re cute, right? you should at least try.”

you force a smile, but it feels brittle. “they’re not my type.”

“you don’t have a type,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “you’re just being stubborn.”

as nakyung drifts off to entertain someone else, you take a deep breath, your stomach knotting tighter with every passing second. the truth is, this isn’t your scene. it never has been. tonight, you feel the weight of that reality more than ever.

you glance around, catching sight of hansol by the snack table. he’s pouring himself a drink, looking more like a ghost than a guest.

he’s been here for five minutes, maybe less, and already he’s drifted to the edge of the room. across the hall, hansol is doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. chan had promised this party would be fun, nudging him along with a grin as they arrived. but as soon as they entered, chan was gone, disappearing into the crowd to charm strangers.

hansol doesn’t join him. he never does. instead, he hugs the corner of the party, his fingers curling nervously around the rim of his glass. his stomach churns, not from the punch but from the persistent tug of unease that’s been gnawing at him all evening. the music thrums against his chest like a second heartbeat, and yet he feels like he’s the only one moving in slow motion, the clock dragging its hands with agonising patience.

he’s by the snack table you meticulously laid out earlier, his shoulders hunched. hansol feels like an afterthought here, a placeholder for a party that doesn’t need him.

he glances at his watch, willing the minutes to pass faster, his chest tight with unease. it’s not the party that’s getting to him, though. it’s the clock. it feels like a countdown to something you can’t name, but every second that ticks by only makes him feel sicker.

he looks in a hurry. like he’s chasing time, trying to outrun something.

and then, as if sensing your curiosity, his gaze finds yours across the room.

you’re across the room, framed by the warm glow of fairy lights, your expression distant. for a moment, he wonders if you’re as uncomfortable as he is. when your eyes meet, it’s like the noise of the crowd fades into the background.

you smile—a small, fleeting gesture, but genuine.

he wants to smile back, to walk over, to say something, anything. but the moment stretches too long.

he doesn’t move, and neither do you

instead, you turn away, letting the crowd swallow you back up. hansol stays rooted to the spot, watching as you slip back into the crowd, a forced laugh on your lips as nakyung waves you over to meet another new face. hansol watches as you disappear into the sea of faces, his grip tightening around the cup in his hand.

somewhere in the corner of your mind, you replay the brief encounter, wondering why your heart clenched in that strange, familiar way. for a second, you’d felt tethered, but now the party feels lonelier than ever.

maybe he could’ve walked over, said something, done anything, if he didn’t already know what was coming.

but he does.

he looks at his glass, his reflection faintly visible in the surface of the drink. for a moment, he swears he sees something ripple beneath it, a flicker of purple that disappears the second he blinks.

x. pisadeira

the ruins reek of blood and decay, the air thick with the copper tang of the pisadeira's end. your dress clings to your skin, sodden with sweat, dirt, and her blood—so dark it looks black under the moonlight. your breathing is laboured, each inhale a desperate attempt to find clarity, but there is none to be found.

"leave them," hansol says, voice sharp as a whip, pulling you away from the remains of her carnage. the “dogs”—summoned guardians nakyung had managed to control—snarl and lunge at the creatures spilling into the ruins, their teeth gleaming like moonlit steel. "we have to go."

"we can’t just—" you start, but he grips your arm, the pressure of his fingers like iron.

"there’s no time!"

the urgency in his tone silences you, but the unease in your gut only grows as he pulls you, nakyung, and chan into the woods. branches claw at your ruined dress as you stumble after him, feet numb from the cold. the shadows seem alive, writhing like snakes in your periphery. hansol moves with a singular purpose, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

you glance back at chan and nakyung. chan’s face is pale, his usual easygoing charm replaced with grim determination. nakyung looks shaken, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she follows without question.

"hansol," you say, your voice trembling. "what’s going on? where are we going?"

"somewhere safe," he says, but there’s a crack in his voice, a crack you don’t miss.

"safe?" nakyung repeats, her tone laced with suspicion. "what do you mean safe? safe from what?"

"just trust me," hansol says, not looking back.

you want to trust him. god, you want to trust him. but something about the way he moves, the way his hand keeps brushing the pocket of his jacket, makes your heart pound with something other than exertion.

the forest thickens, the trees closing in around you like skeletal fingers. the air grows colder, the smell of wildflowers creeping into your nostrils. your steps falter.

"hansol," you whisper, panic threading your voice. "she’s here, isn’t she? the pisadeira’s not—"

"it’s not her," he cuts you off, his voice low and haunted. "not anymore."

you stop in your tracks. "what do you mean?"

he turns to face you, and for the first time, you see it—the torment, the guilt, the unbearable weight he’s been carrying.

"hangyul," he says, his voice breaking. "it’s my sister."

the world tilts and you feel like the wind’s knocked you off of your feet. "what?" you breathe, stepping back.

"she’s the one," he says, his voice trembling with the effort to stay steady. "the one who’s been hunting us. the one who’s been killing them."

"no," you say, shaking your head. "no, that’s not—she’s dead, hansol. she’s been dead for ten years."

"because of you," he snaps, the venom in his tone slicing through you. "because you failed to save her. because you let pisadeira take her."

the accusation hits like a physical blow, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

"that’s not fair!" nakyung interjects, stepping forward. "you know it’s not her fault."

"isn’t it?" hansol says, his eyes locking onto yours, sharp and unyielding. "she was the one who insisted we stay in that house. the one who convinced us it wasn’t real. and now my sister—she was innocent ! ” hansol turns to you, exasperated and eyes blurred with anger. “you turned her into a monster."

"she wasn’t your sister anymore," you say, your voice trembling. "not after what the pisadeira did to her. you know that."

"and you think that makes it easier?" he shouts, his composure shattering. "you think that makes it any less my responsibility to save her now?"

"save her?" chan echoes, his voice sharp with disbelief. "by doing what, hansol? what are you planning?"

silence falls, heavy and suffocating. hansol’s hand moves to his pocket, and when it emerges, it holds a knife.

"no," you whisper, your blood turning to ice.

"i’m sorry," he says, his voice hollow. "but this is the only way."

"you’re not making any sense!" you scream, backing away. "hansol, stop ! "

but he doesn’t stop. he steps forward, his grip on the knife tightening.

"i can’t let her keep suffering," he says, his voice breaking. "and i can’t let her come for you again. if i have to end this—if i have to hurt you to save her—then so be it."

"you’re insane," nakyung spits, stepping between you. "you think killing her—killing us—is going to fix anything? you’re just as much a monster as she is!"

"hansol, please," you say, your voice cracking. "don’t do this. we can find another way."

but he shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. "there is no other way. i have to end this. i have to end her."

and then he lunges.

your survival instincts take over, your body moving before your mind can catch up. you grab a fallen branch, swinging it with all your strength. the knife slices through the air, grazing your arm before you manage to knock it from his grip.

"traitor," you hiss, your voice filled with betrayal and heartbreak. "you brought us here. you led us into this."

"because i had to," he says, his voice breaking. "you don’t understand—"

"then make me understand!" you scream, the weight of ten years of pain and regret crashing down on you.

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he stumbles back, his hand clutching his side where your makeshift weapon struck.

"hansol," nakyung says, her voice trembling. "don’t make us do this. please."

he doesn’t respond. instead, he looks at you, his eyes filled with an agony you can’t begin to comprehend.

when the knife finally finds your back, the betrayal hurts more than the sting of the blade.

xi. bravery

the room is a warzone of exhaustion and regret, every shadow crawling with the remnants of what had just unfolded. nakyung and chan lie unconscious but breathing, their bodies splayed across the cold stone floor like broken dolls. the silence that follows is heavier than the chaos it replaced. the spirit of the pisadeira looms ahead, a gnarled figure of fury and vengeance, her form almost too grotesque to look at directly. but your eyes are drawn instead to hangyul’s ghost—her face streaked with spectral tears, her cries thin and keening, a sound that seems to reverberate inside your chest.

your body is screaming at you to stop, to lay down and give in to the pain radiating from your back where hansol’s knife had found you earlier. you clutch the wound with trembling fingers, sticky with blood, but your legs stay steady beneath you. barely.

hansol moves towards you like a puppet with its strings cut, dragging his feet as though the weight of his guilt has made it impossible to walk properly. his face is pale, streaked with sweat and grime, his eyes hollow and faraway. when he finally stands in front of you, you see a boy unravelling, a man drowning in the consequences of his choices.

he whispers, “i’m sorry,” but the words fall into the abyss between you, too light to matter now.

you can feel the fury bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill over. “sorry?” your voice trembles with anger and anguish. “you think that fixes this? you think that fixes her?” you gesture to hangyul’s ghost, to the weeping figure of the sister he’s chased after for so long.

his head dips low, his shame radiating like heat. “everything I did… was for her,” he says, his voice cracking. “i thought—i thought if i gave her what she wanted, if i made it right—”

“you betrayed us,” you cut him off, your voice sharper than you mean it to be. “you betrayed me, hansol.”

the words land like blows, and he flinches visibly.

but then you see it—the way his hands shake, the way his lips press together as though holding back a sob. he doesn’t want to fight anymore. he doesn’t want to keep running.

and despite everything—despite the knife in your back, the blood on his hands—you see the boy you grew up with, the boy who once handed you the last piece of bread during a sleepover, who once told you your laugh was louder than the cicadas.

“you can’t fix this by throwing yourself into it,” you say, softer this time. “don’t you see? the pisadeira doesn’t want justice, hansol. she wants suffering. she’ll take you, and it’ll never end.”

he looks at you then, truly looks at you, and you can see the cracks in him deepening. “then what am i supposed to do?”

you glance at hangyul’s ghost, her ethereal form flickering, fading in and out like a candle struggling to stay lit. your mind is racing, calculating the options. the pisadeira’s form trembles, growing impatient, her sharp, distorted voice rasping through the air.

“one soul,” she hisses. “one soul to replace the one lost. a fair trade.”

hansol starts to step forward, his movements deliberate, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“no,” you say firmly.

“(your name), please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “this is my fault. let me fix it.”

“if you want to fix it, you stay alive,” you snap, your breath hitching from the sharp pain in your back. “you stay alive, and you remember this. you live with it. and you make it mean something.”

he stares at you, wide-eyed, as you step past him. your body feels like it’s made of lead, every movement torturing him, but you don’t stop. before he can stop you, you turn and step toward the pisadeira, the wound in your side burning like fire, your legs trembling but unyielding. the creature watches you with a twisted smile, her skeletal fingers outstretched. hangyul’s ghost weeps behind her, mouthing a silent plea for you to stop.

“no!” hansol lunges forward, grabbing your arm, but you wrench yourself free. you feel hansol’s scream more than you hear it, but you don’t turn back. bravery is all you have left.

"let her go," you say, your voice clear and strong. "take me instead.".

“don’t make me watch this again,” you hear hansol plead, his voice desperate, tears streaking his face. “please, (your name). don’t—”

“it has to end. you told me yourself. this happened because of me.” you say, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. “so it will end with me too.”

you step into the circle at the centre of the room, where the ritual had been poised to complete with hansol’s sacrifice. the pisadeira snarls, her twisted face splitting into something that might have been a grin.

you glance back at hansol one last time, your eyes meeting his. you see the devastation there, the love, the regret. and for a brief moment, you smile. “be brave and live well, hansol,” you tell him. a tear falls and you can’t bear the thought of looking back and seeing him broken.

you see hangyul’s ghost move closer, her lips forming the words "thank you." before she vanishes like a light. at the same time, the pisadeira’s grin widens as her claws pierce your chest, the pain white-hot and all-encompassing. as the darkness closes in.

and then, nothing.

xii. cowardice

when the silence falls, it is not the peaceful kind. it is the suffocating quiet of loss, the heavy weight of a world newly broken. hansol’s knees give out beneath him, and he crumples onto the cold, uneven ground. his head falls into his hands, shaking as sobs tear from his throat.

"no," he whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling and thin. "no, no, no…"

the ruins are bathed in an eerie stillness, illuminated only by the dim glow of the moon. nakyung and chan stir on the floor, groaning faintly as they start to come to, but they are not awake enough to witness the wreckage left behind. hansol feels the briefest flicker of relief that they’re alive—alive, because of you—but it is fleeting, swallowed by the sight of you lying motionless, your body crumpled on the stone floor, your skin pale and cold to the touch.

this is his doing.

"it wasn’t supposed to be this way," he rasps, his hands trembling as he cups your face, brushing his thumb against your clammy cheek. he pulls you close, his tears falling onto your lifeless skin. "you weren’t supposed to—" his voice breaks, and he clutches you tighter, as though holding you close might bring you back.

the sound of sirens pierces the distance, their wailing cry growing louder with each second. hansol freezes, his chest heaving as panic sets in. he can’t be seen here. not like this. not holding your body, your blood on his hands, his knife discarded somewhere in the wreckage.

they’ll blame him. they should blame him.

"no, not like this," he whispers, his hands shaking as he gently lowers your body back onto the ground. his fingers brush your hair away from your face, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in every detail of you—the softness of your features, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the faint traces of the bravery you wore so fiercely etched into your expression.

a daisy lies nearby, untouched amidst the chaos, and he picks it up with trembling fingers. carefully, he tucks it into your hair, his movements deliberate and tender, as though this small act might undo the horrors of the night.

"i’m sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking. "i’m so sorry."

the sirens are close now, too close. hansol’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you one last time, memorising every detail, every part of you that he couldn’t save.

and then he runs.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

just gonna talk to the void rn but would anyone be interested in a supernatural horror au fic with vernon? it's going to be loosely based on the first book of a choices-esque game in romance club called shadows of saintfour & ive alr written out a few chapters heh

[l2vedive]

Hong Jisoo fic recs

gentleman

not according to plan

smitten

acts of service

made with love

goodnight kiss??

home

towel argument

juno

"unreal"

double take

[l2vedive]

dino's danceology when

[l2vedive]

i've finally made a carrd for my blog !!

please give it a read here

[l2vedive]

"that's what love is."

[l2vedive]

xinganhao 🌟 shared a moment with you: "vernon x reader"

it's vernon's favorite holiday: spotify wrapped day. or, the one where vernon waits an entire year for the perfect hard launch.

[l2vedive]

TOXIC TILL THE END w. kim mingyu

fighting in the rain + angst (1,085)

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader

note: thank you rosie for giving me even more writing juice while it rained two nights ago 🎀 if you liked this , please rb with your thoughts and give it a heart. thank you !

the rain drenches both of you, icy and unrelenting, but the cold pales in comparison to the chill between you. mingyu stands there, soaked and trembling, his eyes pleading with you, but you don’t flinch. the exhaustion, the frustration—it all boils over, spilling out in waves you can’t control anymore.

"you don’t get it, do you, gyu?" you start, your voice sharp, cracking under the strain. "all these years—seven years—and you still don’t see it. everything i’ve done, everything i’ve given up, and for what? for you to chase something that’s tearing us apart? for me to feel like i’m always the one holding us together while you… you just get to dream?"

mingyu shakes his head, stepping closer, his voice shaking. "it’s not like that, i swear. i’m not just doing this for me! it’s for us—our future. don’t you see that, (your name)? if i give up now, i’ll regret it forever, and I don’t want that. i don’t want you to unlove me like that."

"unlove you?" you laugh bitterly, the sound hollow, cutting through the rain. "you think this is about unloving you? gyu, i’m falling apart. every day, i feel like i have nothing of myself to pick up and put back together anymore. do you know? what it feels like to come home after working and studying for hours, to be so drained you can’t even think straight, only to feel like you're fighting in this relationship alone? do you even know what it’s like to feel so unseen?"

he freezes, his face contorting in pain, but you don’t stop. you can’t stop. it’s been building for too long.

"you’re chasing a dream that might never happen, gyu. and i’m here, trying to build a life for us—a real one! i’ve been pouring everything into us, into this future we’re supposed to have—we dreamed about. but all i’ve got left is nothing. i’ve got nothing, gyu." your voice cracks, and the tears finally fall, mixing with the rain as you sob. "how many more sacrifices am i supposed to make for you? how much of myself do i have to lose before you finally understand?"

"i do understand!" mingyu shouts, his voice desperate, his hands clenching into fists. "but i’m trying so hard, too. please.. i can’t just let this go—it’s all i’ve ever wanted. please, just give me more time. i’ll make it work, i promise. i promise i'll make it."

"more time?" you repeat, your voice trembling. "seven years, gyu. i’ve given you seven years of my life. my life! and now you’re asking for more? what happens when another year passes? or two? or ten? what will be left of me by then?"

his breath catches, and for a moment, he looks like he might fall apart. "don’t say that," he whispers, stepping closer. "please don’t say that. i love you. i love you more than anything, (your name). and i’ll do whatever it takes to make you stay. just don’t go. don’t leave me."

you stare at him, the rain pounding against your skin, and your heart feels like it’s being ripped apart. you love him—of course you do—but love isn’t enough anymore. it hasn’t been enough for the longest time. a long time ago you had ripped your heart out to put it in his hands and hoped that you both would fight for it. and it's funny because all you can think about in this very moment is when will you both stop trying.

"what will happen to us then, gyu?" you ask, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’re feeling. "how many years of my life will be wasted if i stay? how many more nights will i cry myself to sleep, wondering if i’m ever going to be enough for you to choose me over your passion?"

he tries to respond, but the words fail him. all he can do is look at you, his eyes glossy, his chest heaving with unspoken loss. and in that silence, you realise it—the answer you’ve been seeing and living with.

"you already chose," you whisper, stepping back one final time. "you’ve been choosing, every single day. and now… now i have to choose, too."

mingyu's hand reaches out for you, but you turn away, your footsteps heavy, your heart shattering with each step you take. behind you, his voice breaks as he calls your name, begging, pleading, but you don’t stop.

because this time, you’re choosing yourself. and even though it feels like it’s killing you, you know you can’t keep drowning for someone who won’t reach for the surface with you.

[l2vedive]

BUTTERCUP w. kwon soonyoung (hoshi)

province boy x rich girl au (915)

pairing: kwon soonyoung (hoshi) x fem!reader

note: loosely based on the filipino romcom crazy beautiful you . please rb ur thoughts and give a like if you've enjoyed this read , thank you !

you’re trudging along the dusty road, fuming under the late afternoon sun, the straps of your heels biting into your feet. this place feels like the embodiment of everything your mother knows you hate. dirt, roads that lead to nowhere, endless fields, and the smell of livestock. your punishment couldn’t be more humiliating.

but you’re done playing her game. the bag over your shoulder holds just enough cash and a charger for your phone. you’d figured out the bus schedule last night; all you needed was to sneak out unnoticed. no more dealing with nosy neighbours or the suffocating boredom of country living.

but of course, nothing goes as planned.

"hey, miss," a voice calls from somewhere behind you. instinctively, you clutch your bag tighter and quicken your pace. it’s not the friendly sort of tone you'd expect from a stranger.

then, as if out of nowhere, someone grabs your arm. panic shoots through you as you try to yank yourself free, but the man is faster, rougher. your bag is ripped from your shoulder, and your heart lurches as you realise you can’t overpower him.

"get off me!" you scream, but the road is deserted, the fields stretching endlessly on either side. the man runs off, your bag slung over his shoulder.

before you can decide whether to chase after him or collapse in despair, someone else appears, jogging towards you.

"what the hell was that?" you demand as soonyoung stops in front of you, hands on his hips like he’s just finished a casual morning run.

“relaaaaxx,” he says, eyeing you like you’re some kind of puzzle. “you alright?”

"do i look alright?" you snap, but your voice wavers. you hate that you sound scared.

soonyoung doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks in the direction the thief ran off. then, without warning, he bends down, sweeping you off your feet and hoisting you over his shoulder like you’re some kind of sack of rice.

"put me down!" you shriek, pounding at his back with your fists. he doesn’t even flinch, the muscles under his worn shirt taut as he starts walking down the road.

"you’re welcome," he says, smirking.

"welcome for what? you didn’t do anything!"

"you were about to pass out from panic. i’m saving you."

"by carrying me like this?!"

he chuckles, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. "you’d rather stay here alone? the thief might come back, you know."

you stop struggling for a moment, because damn it, he’s right.

he brings you to a small, slightly dingy motel on the edge of town. the sign flickers in and out, and the smell of damp wood hits you as soon as he sets you down in the doorway.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter, brushing yourself off.

"what? not five-star enough for you, princess?"

you glare at him. "why are you even helping me?"

“let’s just say i’m… invested in your journey,” he says with a smirk that sets your nerves on edge.

you fold your arms, not buying his vague answer. "and what’s that supposed to mean?"

"well," he starts, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it means i know you’re trying to run off back to the city. and i also know you’re not going anywhere now."

"how do you know that?" you demand, your voice rising.

he gives you a sheepish smile that somehow manages to infuriate you more. "because the guy who stole your bag is a friend of mine. and, uh, your mom hired us."

for a second, you think you’ve misheard him. "what ?"

"it was her idea. she wanted to scare you into staying put." he shrugs, like this is all perfectly reasonable.

you stare at him, mouth open. "you’re joking."

"not really," he says, looking annoyingly unbothered.

"so you’re in on this?"

he raises a hand in mock surrender. "hey, i’m just doing my job."

“your job ? ” you step closer, glaring up at him. "so you’re what? some kind of low class actor now?"

"general helper," he corrects, flashing you a grin. "i do odd jobs. sometimes legal, sometimes… less so."

you groan, dragging a hand down your face. "this is insane. my mother is insane."

"maybe," he says, his tone annoyingly light. "but she’s got good taste in collaborators."

you want to slap that smug look off his face, but you also can’t help noticing how sharp his jawline looks in the dim motel lighting. you shake the thought away.

"you’re lucky i don’t call the cops," you mutter, turning away.

"on who? your mom? " he teases, following you into the room.

“you’re infuriating,” you snap, spinning to face him.

"and you’re spoiled," he fires back, leaning in closer. his smirk is still there, but his voice drops an octave, taking on a flirtatious edge. "but i guess that’s why i took on such a strange yet fun request."

"fun?" you echo, eyes narrowing. "you think this is fun?"

he steps closer, close enough that you can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. "admit it," he says, voice low. "you like the trouble."

you hate that your heart skips a beat at his tone, hate the way he’s looking at you like he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

"you’re delusional," you say, but it comes out weaker than you intend and you mentally slap yourself for it.

"hmm, maybe," he murmurs, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "but that's probably because you’re stuck with me now, buttercup."

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

© l2vedive on tumblr

[l2vedive]

so vernon coded </3

[l2vedive]

DOUBLE TAKE w. joshua hong

wedding au ; kinda meeting the family trope + fluff and crack (730)

pairing: hong jisoo (joshua) x fem!reader

featuring: kim mingyu as your cousin

note: thought about this on a whim during a car ride to a wedding anniversary party i attended. enjoy !! please rb and like <3

you’re standing in a sea of pastel-dressed guests, the soft hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the garden. it’s a beautiful evening—peach-coloured skies, fairy lights strung across trees, and the distant strains of a string quartet playing something vaguely familiar. you spot mingyu, your cousin and the groom of the lovely event, laughing with a few friends near the buffet table. he’s always been the golden boy of the family—charming, successful, and annoyingly smug about it.

and that’s when you see him.

joshua.

you’ve never personally met him before, only knowing about him during the wedding rehearsals as a former wedding singer about three years ago from one of the bride's band of bridesmaids. you thought to yourself about how with a face like that, how could anyone still be single. there’s no denial in that.

there was something about the way he carried himself while balancing a plate of hors d'oeuvres with an easy smile. he’s tall, lean, with a soft kind of confidence that doesn’t need to shout to be noticed. joshua looks up, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet.

your mind races. mingyu had spent the last week teasing you about being single, nudging you about how everyone in the family was settling down except you. “what’s taking so long? don’t you have anyone?” he’d asked with that insufferable grin.

and just like that, an idea blooms. a ridiculous one at that. a crazy idea that makes you hope would work despite not thinking about the logistics of it.

you make your way across the crowd, weaving through clusters of guests, until you’re standing right next to him. “hi,” you say, flashing your most disarming smile.

he glances at you, startled but polite. “uh, hi?”

“listen,” you lower your voice, leaning in slightly as you draw out the plan. “i know this is going to sound strange, but could you pretend to be my boyfriend? just for a moment. it’s complicated.”

joshua's brows shoot up in surprise, and you can see the gears turning in his head. “pretend ?” he echoes. “why?”

“i’ll explain later,” you promise, grabbing his arm before he can protest. “please, just trust me.”

before he can respond, you’re pulling him towards mingyu who is chatting up a few of the bride's own guests.

“gyu!” you call out in a tune, your voice bright and cheerful.

your cousin turns, grinning as always. “(your name), there you are!” he goes in for a hug before his eyes flicker to joshua, curiosity sparking. “and who’s this?”

you squeeze joshua’s arm lightly, as if urging him to play along. “this,” you announce with a casual confidence you don’t feel, “is joshua. my boyfriend .”

mingyu’s grin falters for a split second before he recovers. “boyfriend?” he repeats, a touch of disbelief colouring his tone.

“yes, boyfriend,” you reply smoothly, shooting mingyu a pointed look as if daring him to question you further.

joshua, to his credit, doesn’t miss a beat. the man next to you extends a hand, his expression friendly but calm. “nice to meet you, man. (your name) has told me a lot about you.”

mingyu shakes his hand, still looking slightly suspicious. “funny, she’s never mentioned you before.”

“oh, you know how she is,” joshua says with a laugh, playing along effortlessly. “always keeps me as her little secret.” you stand up a little bit straighter when you realise his hand has moved to rest on the small of your back.

you can’t help but feel a pang of gratitude for how natural he’s making this look.

but then mingyu’s eyes narrow, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “you must be serious if she’s introducing you now. what’s next? a wedding?”

you freeze, scrambling to think of an answer but joshua speaks up before you do. he chuckles, pulling you closer. “funny you should mention that,” he says, his tone light and teasing, “we’re actually engaged.”

“what ?! ” you and mingyu exclaim in unison, though for very different reasons.

you shoot joshua a wide-eyed look, but he just shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “you dragged me into this,” he whispers under his breath, lips barely moving, “might as well commit.”

mingyu looks utterly delighted. “engaged? well, this is news! congratulations, you two. shall i announce this during the toast? ooh, the family would be so glad to—,”

you cut him off before he could continue and eventually inform the rest of the guests about your endeavours. "everything's fine, thank you!"

“we’ll let you get back to hosting,” joshua says smoothly, steering you away from mingyu before the other man can protest.

once you’re safely out of earshot, you whirl around to face him. “engaged? really ? ”

joshua grins, entirely unapologetic. “what? you needed help, and it seemed like the logical next step.”

you stare at him, torn between annoyance and reluctant admiration. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, you’re still holding my arm,” he points out, his smile softening.

“so, what’s the plan now, fiancée? ”

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

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