Paring: wonwoo x f!reader. Genre | tags: drabble, fake texts, angst, fluff, oneshot. Warnings: This is pure angst and fluff at the very end, random face claim again. Requested: YES/no. Word count: 1080.
A/N: This request was super interesting to me. I really liked it and was so excited to work on it, even though I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right 😅 In the end, it turned out more like a drabble than a smau (which is a first for this mostly smau/fake texts blog lol). Anyway, thank you to whoever requested it! I loved doing it and I hope it turned out the way you imagined 💛
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You put your phone down, heart sinking in your chest. This wasn’t like Wonwoo at all—he always remembered. Always called. Always sent a dozen texts, even if he couldn’t be there in person. He’d show up with cake and his crooked smile, acting like it was nothing, even though you both knew it meant everything.
You try to brush it off, tell yourself it doesn’t matter. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s just tired from his busy schedule.
But it does matter.
Because it’s him.
The love of your life.
And he was supposed to care.
Hours pass, and your phone stays silent. No calls. No texts. Nothing.
You won’t text him first—pride, fear, maybe both—but that doesn’t make things any easier. You keep glancing at your screen anyway, like maybe he’ll remember at the last second, like maybe it was all just a mistake.
You don’t want to cry over this. You tell yourself you’re being dramatic, that it’s not a big deal, that people forget things all the time.
But the ache in your chest is stubborn. Loud.
Why would he forget?
Of all people, why him?
You go to brunch with your female friends to celebrate, but it's very obvious to them that you're not as present as you'd like, even after spending weeks planning this moment just for them.
They notice it in the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, in how you keep glancing at your phone when you think no one’s looking. You laugh when they laugh, raise your glass when they toast, but it’s all automatic—like your body is there, but the rest of you is somewhere else entirely.
“You okay?” one of them finally asks when there’s a lull in the conversation, her voice gentle, laced with concern.
You nod too quickly, blinking. “Yeah. Just tired.”
But they know you. They know this isn’t just tired.
When you get home, the copious amounts of mimosas you’ve had finally go to your head and you do something completely reckless—something you wouldn’t do in a million years, something completely out of character: you block Wonwoo.
Your fingers hover over the screen for a long moment, heart pounding louder than the buzz in your head. Then you do it. Just like that. A tap, a swipe, and he’s done. No more texts. No more calls. No more him.
Could you talk? Maybe.
Should you? Probably.
But not today.
Not after your day has been so terrible. Not after you had to smile your way through clinking glasses and opening gifts while pretending the hurt wasn’t still lodged somewhere in your chest. Not after your mind replayed everything over and over—the silence, the doubt, the heartbreak of thinking he had forgotten a date so important to you.
When your phone finally buzzes again, you almost don’t want to look. Hope and resentment battle in your chest like storm clouds colliding.
But it’s not Wonwoo; it’s Mingyu.
You swing open the door, fully prepared to snap at Mingyu and send him away, because you're definitely not in the mood to see people tonight.
Only to see Wonwoo standing there. With an overnight bag slung over his shoulder. And a small, wrapped box in one hand and a bouquet of red tulips on the other.
And the most devastated expression you’ve ever seen on his face.
“I didn’t forget,” he says quietly. “I was trying to surprise you.”
Your breath catches, as you try to assimilate what he is saying. “What?”
“I didn’t forget, baby,” he explains, pulling something out of his back pocket. “I booked something for us. For you. Didn't you say you wanted to visit Greece?”
When he holds out his hand to you, you see: two plane tickets.
“Wonwoo, I—” you trailed off.
“And I made you something.” He looks down at the box, fingers tightening around the edges. “I just—I thought it’d be more special if I didn’t mention it until I showed up here. But I should’ve said something, because now you look so sad.”
You swallow, your brain almost going into overdrive with the amount of information being dumped on you. Wonwoo looked so nervous as he spoke that your heart sank.
“You really didn’t forget?”
“Of course not,” he breathes out, shaking head. “I could never.”
The anger in your chest deflates. Wonwoo looked so nervous as he spoke that your heart sank.
Shame creeps in you, curling into the corners of your mind as you stare at him—at the overnight bag, the slightly wrinkled bouquet of tulips, the two tickets to Greece, the soft box wrapped with uneven edges, and the look on his face that says he thought this would be enough. That he wanted this to be perfect. For you.
“I blocked your number,” you admit in a small voice.
He huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah. I know. I kind of freaked out when I noticed. Mingyu actually yelled at me for pacing around the dorm like a mad man.”
You glance at the box in his hands. “What… what is that?”
He hesitates, then lifts toward you. You take it carefully, unwrapping it with slow fingers. And your heart stops.
It’s a scrapbook.
Filled with pictures of you—of you and him—throughout your entire relationship. Some photos you recognize. Others, you’ve never seen before. Candid moments, stolen smiles meant just for him. A collection of memories, captured in time by him.
Your vision blurs.
“Wonwoo,” you whisper, pressing a hand over your mouth.
He shifts on his feet. “I know it’s not a fancy gift, but—”
“Shut up,” you choke out, flipping through the pages. “Shut up, you idiot.”
He does for a second. Then, softly he asks, “Are you still mad at me?”
You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. “No. I’m mad at myself.”
Wonwoo exhales, relief flooding his expression. He steps forward, curling his arm around you, pulling you against his chest.
“I know I don’t always say it the right way, but…” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love you. And I remember everything about you. Always.”
You bury your face in his sweater, clutching the scrapbook between you.
“I really hate you, you know that?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Because now I’m ugly crying and I have to kiss you to make up for it.”
His arms around you tighten a little bit. “Guess I planned that part right, then.”
2025 carat revival : dynamics week
'this road is beautiful, because I have you walking beside me'
no one loves seventeen more than seventeen loves each other🤍
"I'm not scared of anything when we're together. I feel invincible. Like I can accomplish anything in confidence, good fun, and trust. Of course when we work, there'll be times when we feel stressed and sensitive and we fight. But we move forward by protecting what we have to. We may stumble as life goes on, but as long as I'm with my hyungs, even failing together wouldn't be so bad."
— DOWOON, TOP CLASS MAGAZINE INTERVIEW, 2024
happy 9th anniversary to our talented musicians and sitcom stars day6! 🎉 to our beloved superband and fellow mydays, here's to many more years of good music and inside jokes. 🍀
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