A/n: wrote this in 10 minutes when i had feelings for hao </3
Read more Minghao AU | SVT AUs | Masterlist
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Itâs quiet in the gallery.Â
The usual buzzing of excitement and exclamations of epiphanies and wonder for the genius pieces of artwork decorating the white walls are nowhere to be heard today. Then again, the gallery isnât opened yet, and youâre pressed against said wall by the genius artist himself.
Itâs so quiet that you can hear his breath overlapping with the heartbeats in your ears, quickening your pace. Minghao leans so close with all this space around that youâre sure he has to be doing this on purpose, and your adrenaline picks up rapidly when his chuckles ghost your lips.Â
You can run. His hands are in his pockets, and all this open space provides you enough room to escape.
But youâre left standing underneath his gaze like youâre entranced, and when his fingers drum on the skin on your neck, you shiver visibly.
âNervous?â He drawls, and if you dare to look up, youâll catch his sweet smile, poison-like honey dripping from his eyes.
He loops a finger into your silver choker, playing with the material, before pulling on the string.
You let out a small sound, a whimper too small to hear if he isnât already inches from your lips.
He leans down in his low v-neck cardigan, the dip of his neck and his chest go into full view, and presses his mouth against your ears.
âI would fuck you right here,â he groans, your eyelashes fluttering shut, âbut there are cameras. Unless youâd like that?â
His hand makes its way to loop around your waist and you fight the urge to lean your cheek on his shoulder. You shake your head.
âThought so.âÂ
He laces your hands together and pulls you away into the back room, promising to be gentle.
When fear of the unknown, of love and desire, pulls him towards you.
300+ | drabble, Changkyun x female reader
Authorâs note:Â small drabble bc Night View really had me missing him so much :( i wanted to make this longer but,,, it is what it is. enjoy!
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âââââââââ
Changkyun sits on the shore just close enough so he can feel the night breeze. The sand blankets his feet as you dance around in your shawl, jumping and bouncing with no regards to the waves threatening to damp your clothes and pull you under. The little bit of light by the slowly dimming bonfire heâs made casts pretty shadows on your features, and Changkyun thinks this is what it must feel like to be at peace.
âJoin me,â you said after a while, kneeling down in front of him and pulling on his arm. âThe water is just a little cold.â
He grazes a finger to your cheek and speaks in a low voice, spotting hazy stars and twinkling of lights all around you. âAre you going to warm me up?â
You chuckle, pulling harder on his arm until he rises from the blanket youâve laid on the sand. Changkyun follows you to the ocean until water laps against his knees. The world of the unknown is before him in its vast and eerie ascendancy, and the small bonfire sits helpless against the darkness of the sea.Â
Yet you walk, and walk, and walk. He half expects the darkness to just swallow you up and pull you from the safety of his arms, or that youâll disappear the moment he becomes careless and loses sight of you. And even though your hands are firmly laced together, your eyes and attention are his to hold, the many memories of loss tell him to be careful otherwise.Â
The water is indeed just a little cold, and every part of him shivers except the hand that holds yours as he lets you drag him further and further into the ocean where your desire lies, all the while making sure to never stray too far from you along the way.
Hoshi is your lab partner whoâs always late, but he has a legit reason (with proofs) this time.
500+ | fluff, mentions of blood and wound
Authorâs note: a fluff because that photoshoot gose made me feel things.
Read more Hoshi AU | SVT AUs | Masterlist
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You never understood the point of having a lab partner in grad school. Don't all that collaboration activities to build teamwork end after you finish your bachelorâs? The point is to keep you both accountable for the assignment, and given that youâre both here, second year in grad school, you should be able to hold yourself accountable.
Except itâs never a peaceful day with Soonyoung as your lab partner. Last week, his cat ran away. The week before that, his tire flats out on the way to class. This week, youâre left waiting outside of the laboratory for a partner that never makes it on time. Again.
But when Soonyoung shows up half an hour later with stains of dirt and blood on his clothes, you forget about the lecture you had prepared to shower at him.Â
âWhat the heck happened?!âÂ
Soonyoung stops at the sound of your voice and faces you with a goofy grin. âSorry Iâm late again.â
âNever mind that! What happened to you?â
Soonyoung stands still as you fuss over the cut on his lips, gently turning his head with your hands to inspect his wound. Heâs got a bruise underneath his eyes, on his left brow, and another cut on his right jawline moving up his ear. He winces when you turn too much and the cut spills a bit of blood onto his collar.
You donât hesitate to pull him to the infirmary, calling the TA to reschedule your lab session.Â
âIâm really fine,â Soonyoung mumbles as you press gauze on his wound, trying his best not to flinch at the pressure and the pain. âSorry, Iâm always late. Now we have to reschedule.â
You pause, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. You search his eyes for any sign of jest and find instead sincerity from a boy who keeps apologizing to you.
âNo lab project is worth overlooking your injuries for.â
âRight,â he mumbles, bashful at the sudden softness in your voice.Â
âWhat happened, Soonyoung?â you ask for the third time that day, determined to hear his story seriously this time.
âI got mugged.â
âYou what?!â
âYeah, I was getting you coffee to make up for the other times, but someone snatched my wallet so I chased him for ten minutes. Then when I finally got it back, I tripped over a railing and fell onto the pavement.â
Youâre speechless. The boy in front of you sits so close you can smell the stupidity radiating off him, but you also see the responsible side of him, the one that sprints to class instead of the hospital just so youâre not left outside the laboratory waiting for hours. Maybe you were too quick to judge. Maybe his tire really was flat; maybe he really did lose his cat. Either way, you think youâre ready to forgive him now.Â
âYou can still make it up to me, Soonyoung. Are you free tonight?â
Soonyoung pauses, eyes wavering at the sight of you. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, his hands trembling a little at what he knows might come out of your mouth, what he wants but never had the nerve to ask.
âAre you sure about this? Donât chicken out and cry to me later.â
Mingyu whines as he sways your hand back and forth at the counter, not daring to make eye contact with the man in front. Minghao had offered to accompany you to the tattoo parlor, but youâd decided itâs better to take someone whoâs as scared as you for your first tattoo, and Mingyu was the best choice. At least heâll do the whining and crying for you.
Your tattooist watches you both from the side, disinfecting his tools and waiting for his customer to give him their cue. He used to not enjoy the pain, or the sight of it. Even seeing the little pricks of a needle is enough to make him flinch, physically, and shudder his eyes closed. He thinks thereâs something so masochistic about an intentional wound, but heâs sure thatâs not why most people get them. Piercing or tattooing, he couldnât commit to either options despite the constant teasing from Joshua and Chan with the wounds they inflict on themselves.Â
Wounds. Thatâs what he used to call them.
He sees a bit of himself in both of you, maybe even more so now than back then. The way you calmly sit down as instructed, curious eyes roaming the cold back room where he does his work. The way Mingyu fidgets with the hem of his shirt and slouches in fear something would jump out and scare him. Some time within that interval of waiting, Mingyu has decided he couldnât watch you getting stabbed and settled in the little chair outside, occasionally peeking from the curtains to check if youâre still alive.Â
âSeems like your friend isnât getting one today.â
âNo,â you laugh as he takes your arm in his hand. âHeâs not good with needles.â
Your tattooist massages the spot you wanted on your forearm, slowly and gently, sending chills all over your body. He grips your upper arm and pulls you closer to inspect the spot as you catch a glimpse of his name tag--Jihoon.
âAre you scared?â
âN-no. Should I be?âÂ
You donât know what to expect from your tattooist, but certainly not the way heâs circling the spot on your arm with such tenderness. Maybe itâs the sudden rise in temperature of the room, or because heâs sitting closer to you now that itâs gotten hotter. You know he wonât hurt you, he seems too gentle for that, but something about the way heâs looking at you makes the blood rush right up to your ears.
And just like that, Jihoon chuckles and lets go of your arm. âHold on to my arms if itâs painful.â
You thought youâd be more scared, seeing the needle and all, but his voice is a strange and soothing melody that draws you in, and you donât notice heâs already started until you feel the sharp pain. Strange, you wonder why, despite his line of work, Jihoon doesnât have any visible tattoo or piercing while Seungcheol, the man in the front, is almost fully inked on both arms.
Jihoon does his best to be swift and precise. Heâs done this for years, yet it always leaves a sour taste in his mouth every time he starts the process. Only at the start, though, because the moment he sees the blood, his hand glides through mechanically, robotically. Heâs gotten so used to this that the needle or the scent of blood doesnât faze him anymore.
The scent of you and the mark youâre leaving on his arms do faze him, though, as you dig your fingernails into them. Youâre not screaming or crying like most first-timers, but he can see youâre trying your best to contain the sound escaping your throat. You take slow, deep breaths as the sweat pools on your forehead and temple, and Jihoon becomes nervous not for you but for himself.
Half way through the process, Jihoon sees the tears welling up in your eyes and the delicate movement of your throat as you gulp down the shakiness and fear youâve been trying to contain, keeping them safe inside so others wonât see.
âYou donât have to hold back,â Jihoon gives you a reassuring smile, peering at you through dark locks of hair. âCrying is expected.â
You tilt your head a little to the side and finally let your emotions out at his words. âYou must h-have dealt with this a lot.âÂ
Jihoon wants to say yes, of course he has, but the moment he sees the tear running down your cheek, he stops the needle, entranced at the sight of you trembling slightly underneath his touch. Something inside him snaps so loudly heâs sure you can definitely hear it.Â
âU-um,â you sniffs, your voice almost a whimper as you ask him to continue. âIâm fine now, you donât need to stop.â
Just like that, Jihoon snaps back to his work, and the last half goes by quickly. He barely looks at you as he works on your tattoo, and youâre left feeling a little bit lightheaded after having a good cry. Mingyu peeks in occasionally to make sure youâre alright, giving you thumbs up and covering his face when the needles get in his line of sight. By the end of it, when youâre almost used to the pain, Jihoon wraps up your new wound with gentleness you wouldn't expect from a tattoo artist, his pretty fingers gliding over your skin with such docility.
âJihoon doesn't offer his arm to just anyone, you know?â Seungcheol hands you the receipt from across the table along with a box of tissue for your sweat and tears. Mingyu looks horrified at your forearm, and even more so when Seungcheol winks at him.Â
âLeave the kid alone, Cheol.â The store owner, Jeonghan, chimes in as he slaps Seungcheolâs arm. âBut heâs right, thatâs some mark you left on him in there.â
Before you can apologize, Jihoon walks out and throws a towel at Jeonghan while making his way towards you. His face is a bit flushed and you chalk it up to the temperature of the room again. He reads you the instruction for aftercare and you watch as he fiddles with the aftercare kit, trying your best to listen to his mumbles as you envision yourself back at the small room again, his fingers rubbing circles on your skin.Â
âAre you listening to me?â
Youâre pretty sure either the pain or the way Jihoon looks with his hair now pushed back is making you a little woozy in the head. âYes. Of course. Rub it when it hurts.â
Jeonghan snorts at the same time Jihoon sighs. âDonât touch it even if it hurts.âÂ
âOh, right.â
âDo you need Jihoon to come and take care of you?â Seungcheol suggests, ducking behind the table just before the aftercare kit flies out of Jihoonâs hand and hits the cabinet behind Seungcheolâs head.
âCheol, stop teasing him and get back to work.âÂ
Seungcheol pouts and glares at Jeonghan. âBoss, youâre always on his side!âÂ
âAnyway,â Jihoon dismisses, turning away from the potential argument Seungcheol is bound to have with his boss. Just a typical day at the shop. âCome back if you need more antiseptic. You can call the number on the back if anything comes up.âÂ
You turn over the card in his hand and point at the number scribbled hastily next to the shopâs official line. Must be what Jihoon was writing after cleaning up his tools.Â
âC-can I call you just to talk?â
Mingyu gasps from beside you, covering his mouth with both hands as he looks excitedly from you to Jihoon to Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the back. The room has gone terribly still, and you regret not asking him out earlier in the back with just the two of you.
hi this is not an ask or request but i love your writing so much!!! your style of writing is just <333 AAA idk how to explain . hope u have a good day!
Your little plan to get Chan screaming on tape backfired, and Wonwoo gets you to himself.
600+ | fluff, Wonwoo x gender-neutral reader
cw// mentions of ghosts, cursing |Â tw// mention of blood
Authorâs note:Â blame Wonwooâs fit in Donât Lie II for the amount of compensational fluff in this orz
Read more Wonwoo AUs | SVT AUs | Masterlist
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It wasnât supposed to be like this.
Wonwoo walks beside you holding a flashlight, his round glasses sit low on his nose as he curiously looks about. You mentally kick yourself with the thought of having to make it to the end of the haunted mansion. It was something you did on a wimp, asking Chan and Wonwoo to explore the new carnival in town. You had wanted to scare Chan a little--you even brought a camcorder--but he had dipped with some lousy excuse about homework that it was just you and Wonwoo.Â
Even worse, Wonwoo showed up in slacks and gelled hair and little round glasses sitting on his nose. If anything is giving you a heart attack, itâs not just going to be the ghosts in the haunted mansion.
âAre you alright?â He asks, seeing you so quiet all of a sudden.
âYeah, Iâm fine.â You lie.
âWe still have a bit more to go, do you want to hold on to the flashlight?â
You hesitate. Youâre scared shitless, but doing that would be a blatant admission that youâre scared, and Chan is never going to let you live it down once he hears about it. Plus, youâre not sure if youâre brave enough to hold it steady till the end.
âN-no,â you tremble a little bit. Itâs strangely cold in here and youâve only showed up in t-shirt and jeans. âUm, can I actually hold on to your arm as we go?â
You can hear Wonwoo chuckle at your request, but he doesnât say anything and holds out his arm. Those many trips with Soonyoung at the gym has definitely done something because the arm you hold is firm and reliable, and you feel kinda funny, almost comfortable in the face of imminent danger ahead of you (the ghosts). The rest of the way is stocked full of scary music and noises and hisses of the winds that make you want to curl into a ball and cry. You jump at the slightest of sound. The staff here must think youâre a total wuss, clinging onto Wonwoo and shutting your eyes every few seconds.Â
Wonwoo must think youâre a wuss.
âCan I say something?â Wonwoo suggests, hoping to distract you a bit from your trance. His low voice is a contrast to the howls of the darkness.
âHmm?â your voice is barely there, feeling something touching your ankle. You step closer to Wonwoo, almost burying your head in the crook of his neck.Â
âI told Chan not to come today.â
âW-what?â
âItâs summer, he doesnât have homework.â
You hiss as a bloody hand come to grab you from the side. What is he talking about when youâre this close to crying?Â
âBut w-why? It would be less scary with three people--ahhh!â
Darn it! You turn so fast Wonwoo had a hard time following, and you both crash onto the wall behind. Youâre basically pressed against him and he instinctively moves to hold you in case your legs give out. Youâre shaking a lot more than he thought, and Wonwoo canât help but worry. But before he can ask again, you look up. He can see tears streaming down your face from the bit of light he has. In just a few seconds, you grab a hold of his arm and the both of you sprint out of the haunted mansion.Â
Wonwoo is baffled at your grip, but he follows you regardless, lacing his fingers to yours as he lets you drag him out while screaming at the slightest of movement.Â
âHey, are you okay?â his hands hold steady on your shoulders as the staff look at you in worries. His voice is low, gentle, and he brings your chin up to face him, searching for any sign of fear from your eyes.Â
But he ceases all the questioning when you speak, barely regaining your composure and still clinging onto the material of his shirt.
âHave you ever wondered if your perfect subject even exists?â
As a film major, you have a tendency to be a little obsessed with finding the perfect subject, a topic youâre commonly teased about among your friends. Last year, you thought you had found someone but they ended up moving away. The year before that was a beautiful siamese owned by your neighbor, too bad she passed on before you can ask for permission to capture her existence in your little world.
âNo,â you reply calmly. âThey exist.â
Your friends arenât surprised to say the least. They ask you this once in a blue moon to see if you would ever change your mind, and you honestly wish they would stop after giving the same answer over and over.
Because youâve already found him.
Wen Junhui, a strange man who works at a metal craft workshop for those rich people in the rich neighborhood. Someone whoâs always so polished; jet black hair combed back, a kind smile greeting his customers as they come and go. He looks like someone who can never do wrong despite all the odd little things heâs done inside his shop by the large windows as you stare. Capture. Document his days with the finest of details. But you donât question it, all you see is him.
Heâs pretty. Angular face and jaws, taller than most people you know, and walks with a stride resembling that of a panther. Much too pretty and stealthy to reside in a neighborhood where nothing ever happens. But heâs different on Sundays. On Sundays, he puts on a black cap and leaves his home with a large bag just like you, and he walks and walks around the city, disappearing and reappearing to places you canât trace. Itâs this side of him that attracts you. This rough, mysterious side that stands as a stalk contrast to the friendly, almost unrealistic man you see during the week.
On such a day is when he found you, scuffling around the block where you usually stay, a coffee on the table to diffuse any suspicion that may befall you. You admit youâre not doing a very good job at staying incognito, but with so many people, who would pay attention to someone in jeans and t-shirt with a backpack? You look like any college student on the weekend, caffeinated with a long list of deadlines.
You watch as he disappears yet again into the sea of people across the street as you take your usual break. You know that in just an hour later, heâll reappear at the same spot and return home like he does every Sunday.
Except he appears next to you ten minutes later and drags you by the wrist, slamming you against the calloused graffiti wall behind the shop.
âWho hired you?â
His voice scratches the back of your ear and you canât help but feel⊠you donât know what you feel. Not fear, but a rush of something else more depraved. A craving, perhaps. Hunger. The sound of a delicate lock clicking open in your mind.
Heâs asking the right question. Youâre outside his shop, his workplace, his house. Youâre everywhere, asking questions about him, of course anyone would be suspicious of an unidentified entity basically stalking them. But is it to this extent? Does he feel this threatened by you to the point of nearly cutting off your airway?
All the excuses you packed at the back of your brain in case youâd be caught refuse to surface as he twists your arms tighter behind your back.
âWho hired you? Answer in three or Iâll slice your throat.â
Would this be the right time to say you have a crush on him?
Authorâs note: Light A Flame (ë§ìì ë¶ì ì§íŽ) inspired part 1. Hoshi strike me as someone who can be a great swindler ;)Â
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âFold.â
The man on the left spits in his mouth, jaw moving bitterly as he throws the remaining cards on the table. He glares at his opponent before walking out with coat in hand, cursing under his breath and making up excuses about how only lowlifes get lucky at this time of night.Â
But unfazed by the jabs, the winner smiles, eyes twinkling into crescents as he gathers his coat and winning chips before making an exit from the VIP lounge. Youâve seen him before. Thereâs a familiar boyish charm to him, a mischievous demeanor exuding as he skips a little in his steps, giddy with his win but still poise enough to mask his emotions, and you canât help but watch him as he carries himself with a mix of elegance and fortitude, taking long, steady strides out of sight.
You follow the winning man, Kwon Soonyoung as you come to know him that night, biding your time as you wait for him to exit the main lobby into a narrow corridor. Heâs already undone his tie by then, exposing skin as he undoes a few top buttons while pushing back his striking blond hair with a hasty hand. He seems to be in a hurry as he quickens his pace, wide shoulders stay firm and still as he quickly walks and takes a sharp turn as you nearly had to run to catch up.Â
âCan I help you?â
The man appears suddenly at the turn, cornering you as he leans against the wall. His shirt is opened just enough for you to see the muscle underneath, and heâs close, a little bit too close for comfort, but you donât let it get to you as you take a steady step closer. Smiling calmly and unfazed, your gaze slowly traverses the top of his body, looking back at him every second before settling them on his open collar.Â
Something about you makes the hair on his skin stand up, but not out of fear, and he feels the blood rushing to his ears and cheeks. Unconsciously, his hand starts to button the exposed area but not before you stop him.
âMr. Kwon,â you draw, a hand cuffing his wrist as you remove his hand from his shirt button. âJust a moment, please.â
You pause, noticing his frozen feature, and your mind runs wild with the idea of making him squirm a little in your hand. You scoffs softly, but not unfriendly, as you reach further into his collar, cold fingers making him shudder as you feel the toned muscle, and Soonyoung wonders mindlessly if you can feel his deafening heartbeat underneath your touch. In just seconds, you find the paper material as your fingers reach under the shirt and feel the band of his suspender as you pull out the hidden card.
âVery clever,â you said, turning over the missing card--the card you had seen him shuffle out during the game with such skills and precision--in your hand.
âHow did youââÂ
You hand him the card, patting the invisible dust off his chest as you lean in close, whispering. âYouâre good, but not fast enough.â
If Soonyoungâs eyes can get any wider, they would have as they watch you unveil the trick to his earlier win. The millions of dollars vibrate within the many poker chips heâs holding, and for the first time since his first games, years prior, he feels anxious and excited as he watches you.Â
âYouâve caught me.â He laughs, a slight nervousness and bashfulness in his tone. Strangely, he doesnât feel threatened at all. If anything, he feels a newfound admiration for you who managed to uncover his tricks when even his closest friends could not. A swindler is never as amazing as someone who discovers their trick, and heâd be a fool to let you go after you have essentially defeated him, and it definitely doesnât help his case that youâre quite beautiful.Â
Soonyoung figures if he doesnât ask you now, he wonât be able to meet someone else as brilliant. âDo you perhaps have time tonight?â
You can see the wirings in his brain dashing many miles a seconds, and you see it in the way he grins, a broadening and exhilarating grin that sends chills up your arms. You have no intention to take his win, or his money, you just had a terrible habit of spying and extremely keen eyes for talented individuals. But before you can express your reverence, his next words surprise you all the more.Â
The last thing you remembered was a casket in the farthest room of the castle. An iron casket so worn, partially draped with an old silk curtain, that you see the visible dust on top of it. Your colleagues have gone out to inspect the original site of the incident, but you have found yourself more drawn to the old castle. The expedition wasnât supposed to take this long, just a weekend trip, but your colleagues had uncovered a ruin in one of the caves nearby and wanted to check it out before the sun goes down in just a few minutes, so you were left alone of your own accord.
You love the feelings of worn-out woods and the structures of gothic castles and interior. The arches of the doorway, the tall and sharp buttresses surrounding the structure, the way a familiar and comforting scent of homeliness calls out to you. It was like a whisper that draws you further into the castle, into the farthest room of the abandoned ward.
You didnât even know there was such a room. It wasnât in any of the blueprint you had seen--youâd never forget it if there was indeed such a hidden room. The casket calls out to you in waves of soft wind and setting sun. There was nothing beside it. Just a casket in the middle of the room draped by the finest of red silk.Â
You donât know where it began.
Suddenly, youâre lying flat inside the casket, and your eyes seem to have lost its function. It was way too dark to make out anything, and as you slowly returned to your senses, the cracking sound of firewoods echoed in the distance.Â
You sit up, fumbling around for your watch and your notes to find that the moon has risen. The strange sense of belonging fills you again. Movement distracts you from the corner of your eyes, and you look up to see a man.Â
âYouâre awake.â
His voice draws out like a whisper inside your mind, and youâre not sure if youâve even seen his lips move. He was dressed in a deep-cut white cotton shirt and black trousers, the zig-zag lacing details in the front of his shirt displayed prominent muscles that put all the men youâve met to shame. He walks towards you, kneeling beside the casket until his face was only inches from yours.Â
His hair is jet black, slicked back with a hand and blended into the darkness of the room, and his eyes a deep glistening red in the moonlight. His skin is clear, pale, and almost translucence as the purple veins line the bit of skin along his chin. Heâs beautiful, a timeless handsomeness that doesnât seem to belong in this world. You donât know who this man is--youâve never seen him before in your life, but something about the upturn of his lips, the shape of his face, and even the mole underneath his left eye is familiar. They evoke a certain feeling in you, something so sweet, tangy, and painful that youâre sure this is what yearning feels like.Â
âWho are you?â you ask, neck tilting slightly to study the man, yours eyes still not seeing as clear as youâd like.Â
He smiles, sharp canines catching your eyes, as he moves closer, taking in your scent. So close that his eyelash flutters on your temple.
âYou know who I am.âÂ
His breath tickles your ear as he begins carding your hair, moving the locks away from your neck. Youâre simply entranced, your mind is as foggy as the clouds that hide the moon. Your thoughts hazy, your eyes threatening to close as you let the man approach you. You donât feel a little of danger as he cups your face and leaves cold, sweet kisses on your skin.Â
Thereâs no voice in your head that screams about the danger youâll face. You know this man. You know him from a distant memory too far back to recover. You know it in your heart, in your soul, that he can never harm you.
You know that youâve awoken him from his slumber today, as you did many years ago.
âI do know you,â you reply, giving in to the familiarity of his hand as he plants yet another kiss on your collarbone. It sends fire up your skin though his lips are cold as ice.Â
âIâve missed you, so dearly.âÂ
The man undoes the first few buttons of your blouse and presses a kiss on the spot beneath your ear. There is utmost tenderness and affection in his actions, and his breathing draws out long and even as if heâs used to this in the same way your body relaxes in his arms as if youâre used to this.Â
He is parched, very much so for being locked in this castle for so long. You should have come the very first day you feel the castle call your name. You feel his tongue lapping on your neck, the sound of his breathing grows quicker, and you know whatâs coming. Itâs a sensation you remember in the dreams that haunted you since childhood. A certain craving, a desire to give what is yours and take what is his. His name comes to mind as he continues to wet the soft spot on your neck, your head tilting willingly to the side as you feel his hunger.Â
âIâve missed you, too.âÂ
You belong to him, and he belongs to you. You know youâll have your share when heâs done and you can hardly wait for it. You call out his name the moment he sinks his fangs into your body as the memories flood into your mind. He is your lover.Â
The empire has won the war, at long last, and if the celebration had not been required, you would have forgo tonight for another training session with your knights.
But instead, your hair is pulled back into a half bun, soft waves falling on your shoulders as simple jewelry adorn your collarbones. Your dress feels stuffy and the corset hugs your waist a little too snug. But itâs the trend! Your fellow knight had said as she tightened the lace on the torture device, the grand magician will be pleased!
Except you are not here to please any man. The queen, a dear benefactor you adored and admired, had extended her invitation, and only for her will you be on your best behavior at the gala tonight.Â
Truly, you would rather go back to the armored uniform of your ranks. This is really⊠not you. You make a mental note to utilize this painful corset method the next time any of your troops fall out of line.
âThere you are, my lady.âÂ
You turn to the beaming face of the man you were hoping to avoid. Yoon Jeonghan.Â
The grand magician gleams at you, piercing fiery eyes flutter beneath his silver locks of hair. He was adorn in a white robe with gold trims to match his eyes, and he looks as stunning as usual, though youâd never dare say it out-loud--the vocabulary heâs used to hearing from you is frivolous at best. He approaches you with a smile beautiful enough to capture the entirety of the empire and all of its inhabitants.
âIâve been looking for you, my dear.â
âDo not jest me, magician.â You turn your back on the man and step towards the garden, âI have neither the time nor patient to entertain you today.â
You half expected him to follow, but you didn't hear footsteps until you were far away from the main ballroom. And suddenly, youâre floating, feet dangling in the air as your body glides across the daisy field, straight on to the bench in the middle of the extensive terrain.Â
The magician loves playing trick on you despite how regal he may seem. He loves pulling pranks, cheating his way out of his duty, and popping in and out of the palace as he pleases that not even the king can put a stop to his mischievous behaviors. At first, it irritated you to no end how irresponsible and carefree he seems, running around in the queenâs garden with his little subordinates as if he owns the place. What kind of frivolous man dares to visit the queen quarter without permission?
Eventually, youâve learned to just let it go per the queenâs request.Â
âHe doesnât mean any harm, my dear.â She had said on one of those days where you could no longer hide your annoyance. âThe grand magician is like a son to me. As someone who often has to deal with the darker side of humanity, sometimes he just wants to be a child.â
And a child he portrays. He had accompanied you to the war and had lived through many months of hardship with you. The blood of the enemy splattered on his face is far more than the amount on your hand as a knight. The cruelty of war has given you a new perspective on the grand magician, and you now know his true self is much deeper than the surface he paints.
âPlease stay,â he whispers before you manage to stand, âjust five minutes.â
âTwo.âÂ
âFour.â
âTwo minutes.â
âFine,â the magician concedes, âthree minutes is all Iâll ask.â
âFine.â
He leans against your shoulder in earnest and takes your hand in his, imbuing magic into your soul, and you watch as the blue and gold sparks glow like fireflies dancing up your arms. Youâve gotten used to this feeling, the aching warm that soothes your injuries as magic flows into your heart, but it doesnât make it any easier.Â
âYou should let me heal you more often, what will you do the moment I am away for more than a week?â
âI wonât die.â
His gentle laughter sends vibrations all over your arm as he joyously intertwined his fingers with yours.Â
âMy dear,â his voice is soft like the lullaby you dream of when you were younger, but the urgency and sincerity in his tone makes you tremble slightly. âPlease never say that you will leave this world, even as a joke.âÂ
You owe your life to the magician who put the fragmented pieces of your soul together on the battlefield, and youâre grateful to him. But sometimes you donât know if the feelings you have are just out of gratitude or genuine affections for him. You wonât die if heâs not with you, truth be told, there are plenty of capable magicians in the continent, yet heâs the only person you have ever allowed help. The magic sustains your life, but also depletes his, and one day this burden will be too much for you to shoulder.Â
âIf I die one day,â he starts.
âYou will not.â
âWell, all humans die, donât they? Someday you and I, too, will perish from this world.â
You donât want to imagine a world without Yoon Jeonghan. Your routines would simply be overturned. No one to annoy you at breakfast, nor before the sun sets over the mountain as you gaze out your window. No one to pick you up despite your protest whenever youâre needed in the magic tower. A life without Yoon Jeonghan would simply be⊠boring, not that you hold any sort of romantic affections for him. And not that he easily lowers your guard just by staying next to you.
âWhen I die,â he starts again, squeezing your hands to stop you from cutting him off once more, âwill you be by my side until I take my last breath?â
âI wonât let you die.â
âThat is not what I asked--â
âI wonât let you die,â you repeat plainly. âIâll kill you myself before you can leave me. And didnât you just tell me not to joke about that?â
He laughs, the vibration from his body makes you blush and you hope itâs too dark in the garden for him to see.Â
âHow reassuring that Iâll be able to see your face when that moment comes.â
The autumn breeze gets a bit chilly in a dress, and you snuggle closer to him, pretending to have forgotten the three minutes that have long expired.
We would like to thank all the applicants for supporting CWC! After reviewing the forms, we are happy to announce our newest members! Weâre looking forward to sharing everyoneâs different styles of writing and we hope you guys enjoy your experience as a CWC member! âĄ
Applications will open again in the future! Remember to reblog the acceptance post and to link the network somewhere on your blog by September 27th 3 PM EDT; we will be checking! (If we have incorrectly listed your writing blog, let us know).Â
@blizzardfluffykpopâ
@cheolliewrites
@cherrycheolliesc
@dvrlingrenjun
@fallinnflower
@glowonu
@haven-cove
@jungkooksbroski (canât be tagged)
@justhao
@samuelkimz
@shra-vasti
@svtxsoju
@virryth
@whattodowithkpop
Thank you for showing your interest and support! If there are any extra questions you have, please get in touch! Links to the Discord server will be sent after you reblog the post and link the network. Please let us know if you would like to rescind your membership + notify us of any changes.
We are a network which aims to provide SVT authors with an expanded platform to share and spread their work, as well as curating a vast collection of content for readers to easily navigate and enjoy.
While you do not need to be a member to use the tag, #caratwritersclub, members will have priority.
Before Applying
Must be semi-active (hiatuses are allowed)
Must have a writing masterlist
Must have at least one SVT work (multifandom blogs are allowed)
Blogs with multiple admins are allowed, but you must specify which admin is applying in your application
Requirements for Becoming a Network Member
You must be following this networkÂ
(Optional) Check out the admins: @chocosvt + @leftandright.
Read the rules
Reblog this post
Fill out the application form
After You Are Accepted
Reblog the acceptance post
Link the network somewhere on your blog
Use the tag #caratwritersclub in the first five tags to have your work reblogged.
Please notify one of the admins for any changes (ie. hiatus, url changes, etc.)
We are a network which aims to provide SVT authors with an expanded platform to share and spread their work, as well as curating a vast collection of content for readers to easily navigate and enjoy.
While you do not need to be a member to use the tag, #caratwritersclub, members will have priority.
Before Applying
Must be semi-active (hiatuses are allowed)
Must have a writing masterlist
Must have at least one SVT work (multifandom blogs are allowed)
Blogs with multiple admins are allowed, but you must specify which admin is applying in your application
Requirements for Becoming a Network Member
You must be following this networkÂ
(Optional) Check out the admins: @chocosvt + @leftandright.
Read the rules
Reblog this post
Fill out the application form
After You Are Accepted
Reblog the acceptance post
Link the network somewhere on your blog
Use the tag #caratwritersclub in the first five tags to have your work reblogged.
Please notify one of the admins for any changes (ie. hiatus, url changes, etc.)
HERE ARE SOME SEVENTEEN WRITERS NO ONE SHOULD SLEEP/MISS OUT ON.
Putting out your work out there for the world to see is hard enough. But the silence that you get when the world doesnât seem to see the gems you have put out. is. harder.
Hello, loves! This is a very sleepy Leanne disturbing your dashboards loool! Please reblog this not-so-complete list of SVT writers that no one should be sleeping on! I originally thought of making this list so I would have an easier way of finding which blogs to read fics from, but when I visited some blogs and saw the talent that werenât getting the feedback they deserved (because some are really good but would only have 1 note; imagine: 1 note for a fic that you wrote so painstakingly?), my heart truly broke into pieces.
So please, if you are a writer, reblog this so your followers could see these people; and if you are a reader, then you and I are the same: we have a lot to read up on!Â
Iâm segregating this list into four groups, to show you guys how I got to know them. And if you know more writers that are not included on this list, please tag them as well!
