SLEEPY BUNNY

SLEEPY BUNNY

genre. fluff. warnings. petnames (bunny, pretty). reader has hair long enough to braid. pairing. seokmin x fem!reader. wc. 468. request. requested by @mirxzii: dokyeom who does your hair. idk he seems like the typa guy to brush thru ur hair so soft, when youre sleepy and woozy and all u can manage are hums, and he sings a little song to u a/n. finally wanted to complete a req and these were in my drafts <33 roxie ur headcanons are so fluffy and sooo accurate :( i'm def gonna write more of them when i can 💙

“Pretty.” Seokmin mumbled, a lovesick gaze in his eyes. You were teetering on the edge of consciousness, your eyelids slipping open and closed. You wanted to look at him, but you also wanted to sleep more than anything. The way he was gently running his hands through your hair wasn’t helping your drowsiness either.

“No, you’re the pretty one.” You whispered sleepily, a yawn escaping your mouth. Seokmin smiled at you, continuing to brush your hair away from your face. It was hard to do anything with the strands since you were laying your head in his lap, but your boyfriend knew how much you loved when he played with your hair, so he tried his best.

He was pretty good at braiding it after years of practice. Since it was already late, there was no need for it to look pretty. Seokmin didn’t focus too much on the shape of the braid, instead sectioning a bit of your hair and handling it gently, further lulling you to your dreams.

You sighed and hummed in content, burying your face further into his leg like a little kitten. He cooed at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead with love.

“My sleepy bunny.” He softly murmured, his finger tracing the lines of your face now.

This was your favourite way to fall asleep, you decided. You had the thought every time Seokmin helped you fall asleep, though in your sleepy state, you often forgot just how nice it had felt when you woke up the next day.

Seokmin starts singing quietly, one of your shared favourite Seventeen songs: smile flower. You couldn’t count how many times he had sung this to you as a lullaby, but it worked every time. Your brain seemed to associate it with sleep now, as you felt yourself slipping away quicker than ever. You couldn’t hold your eyes open anymore, so you just closed them, evening out your breath as you slipped into your dreams.

“Sleep well, pretty.” Seokmin whispered, kissing you one last time on the forehead. There was something he loved so much about being able to get you to fall asleep so easily.

Maybe it was the sense of trust he felt it showed. You felt safe around him— safe enough to want to fall asleep on him every night. 

You loved his voice enough that it could easily take your brain off the struggles of the day. It was Seokmin’s greatest gift, and you would never, ever get tired of it.

His voice seemed to travel into your dreams as well, providing the comfort and warmth and love that you cherished so much from him. Seokmin loved you wholeheartedly— with his whole being. In his actions and words; even silently with soft looks.

You loved him the exact same.

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it’s 11:58pm when seokmin knocks on your front door.

you don’t have to check to know it’s him. he has a certain pattern to his knocks; and besides, he’s the only person who’d show up to your place at this time of night. he’s done it every year, once a year, for the four years you’ve been best friends — for your birthday.

there’s a fondness that pulls up your lips, when you crawl out of bed to unlock the door — but his voice, muffled from the hallway, stops you from opening it. “wait! there’s still a minute left. don’t open.”

the problem with seokmin is that he doesn’t realise just how captivating — how enchanting — he is. and the problem with you is that you have realised. for about a year and a half, something you refuse to confront head-on has been dwelling inside you, tightening your ribs with every smile seokmin sends you, sending your stomach churning every time he grabs your hand.

in other words, you’re in love with your best friend.

“you don’t have to do this every year,” you say, through the crack in the door, but the smile on your face has seeped into your tone. “you know that, right?”

“i know,” he says simply. “i like doing things for you.” a pause. “you know that, right?”

you don’t have time to respond; seokmin’s pushing the door handle down himself, now that you’ve unlocked it, and he swings it open to reveal himself. armed with a candle-studded cake and one of those gorgeous smiles, and for the millionth time, you feel yourself falling that little bit deeper.

“happy birthday,” he says softly, and there’s a moment, where he hovers uncertainly in the doorway and you lose yourself in your feelings, something intangible suspended in the space between you, and then —

“officially ancient,” he adds, and the moment is shattered with joint laughter, as he lets himself in. seokmin moves around your apartment with an easy familiarity; he knows the place as well as you, fishing spoons and plates out the drawers, telling you about the struggle of lighting the candles as he does.

you’re just about to blow the candles out when he joins you — but he claps a hand over your mouth before you can, voice tinged with distress. “make a wish first!” he demands, eyebrows furrowed. “don’t you have things to ask for?”

you feign a smile. if only he knew. and so you make a wish, the same wish you made last year — even as you think it, you figure it’s useless. but still, there’s always a tiny, warm spark of hope that lingers.

once the candles have been extinguished, and the cake is divided, seokmin speaks again. “so…” he waggles his eyebrows. “what did you wish for?”

your cheeks grow hot almost instantly, and you avoid his gaze, shovelling more of the cake in your mouth. it’s your favourite. you shouldn’t be surprised: he knows all your favourites. he has a note on his notes app dedicated to your go-to orders and favourite snacks.

“can’t tell you,” you mumble, around a mouthful of icing. “or it won’t come true.”

seokmin sighs, disappointedly. “you’ll tell me when it comes true, though, won’t you?”

you glance at him, noticing how his eyes are round, inviting pools of honey brown — you feel like you’re sinking into them. “yeah,” you breathe, voice quietening without your permission. “i’ll, uh, i’ll let you know.”

neither of you look away. it’s another of those moments, fraught with some sort of lingering tension: both of you are frozen. too far to go back, too nervous to go forward.

his gaze flicks to your lips.

you barely catch it — one tiny split-second of weakness, maybe. blink and you would have missed it. but you don’t.

maybe you’re emboldened by the sugar, or the high of being treated as well as he treats you, or maybe it’s the late hour dulling your rationality, but whatever it is, it means you’re darting forward, placing the most delicate, fleeting kiss on his icing-covered lips.

you pull away. the regret seeps in, dousing you in cold water, and you open your mouth to apologise, to explain, to tell him to forget it, but suddenly seokmin’s hands are cupping your jaw, he’s moving impossibly closer, and he’s kissing you. with a gentle intensity that warms you from the inside out, long and sweet, and better than you could ever have imagined.

seconds or minutes or hours later, you break apart. his cheeks are tinged with rose, your leg is bouncing, but both of you are smiling — positively beaming, even. and you cast a glance at him, tentative, shy, breathless, and tell him, as promised.

“my wish,” you break the silence softly. “it came true.”

an / requested by @glowunderthemoon !! hope u like it bb 🫶🫶🫶

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Oh Baby, You Part 38 - Messed Up, Stupid, and Jaded

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Wonwoo’s chest tightens as you take in a deep breath. Your arms are wrapped around yourself, almost like you’re blocking everyone out. “After that…” You shrug, then pretend you didn’t by rolling your shoulders back. “Word spread pretty fast.” Your voice is strained from trying to hold in tears, but a few managed to escape and run down your cheeks as you explained yourself. “A lot of people from school hated me but… I guess that didn’t matter too much since I dropped out to take care of Orion.

“I stayed offline for a long time. People were calling me some pretty—” You wipe your hand over your cheek. “—horrible things. I couldn’t defend myself because, well… I needed what they thought about me to be true.”

Wonwoo’s fists clench at his sides.

“It was…” You inhale again. Exhale. “…really lonely, for a while. But then—” Turning, you face the friends you must have come to the concert with. Wonwoo had practically forgotten about them. “—I met some really amazing people. People who had no idea who I was, or what I… did.” You send a watery, wan smile their way. “Who liked me again.”

There’s a quiet moment where your friends all smile back at you, but then your eyes land on Chan, and the tension in your shoulders returns. Your lips curl inwards, and you shift on your feet, then go back to facing Wonwoo and Jihoon.

“But it wasn’t all bad,” you say. “Orion may have been a surprise… but he’s the light of my life now. There are things about what happened that I regret, yes.” You meet Wonwoo’s eyes. “But not him.”

After that, it seems like you’re done; you look down at your shoes, and there’s an awkward silence. Wonwoo feels the ache of tears behind his eyes, recalling every shitty feeling that he went through three years ago. It’s silent until Jihoon breaks it with a hoarse whisper.

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t— I…”

Something breaks, then. Wonwoo whips around on Jihoon and braces his forearm across his chest, bunching Jihoon’s collar in his fist. “You did this. You—”

Jihoon’s mouth opens, but Wonwoo sees the flash of resistance die in his eyes as fast as it flared up. He winces preemptively, anticipating a punch to the face. “I’m… I’m sorry, I…”

“You told me all that bullshit about protecting myself!” Wonwoo’s voice rises, apathetic of his volume now that everyone else has left the venue.

Your eyes widen, and you take a hesitant step forward. “Wonwoo.”

His grip on Jihoon’s shirt tightens. “You said I had to! You told me to cut them out of my life—”

“Wonwoo!” You shove yourself between them, forcing Wonwoo off Jihoon and pushing your hand on his chest to get him to back off. 

He feels a burning where you touched him.

You glance between the two of them, something hardened in your expression now. “Stop,” you say. “Yes, Jihoon went about everything in his—” You share a look with Jihoon, and Wonwoo sees a brief moment of understanding pass between you. “—messed up, stupid, jaded way, but…”

Wonwoo’s breath hitches when you meet his eyes.

“...you listened, Wonwoo.”

The hurt in your voice is unmistakable.

He thought, three years ago and until now, that he was the only one in pain. He was the one who got thrown to the side.

Your hands move around yourself again. “You didn’t trust me enough to even let me talk to you. And that… I think that’s what hurt me the most.”

Wonwoo’s ears are ringing. He did this to you. He wants to say something. Anything. But is there any word of apology worth enough to repent for what he’s done?

You don’t let him toil for long. Turning away, you return to your friends. “Can we go home, please?”

One of them glances at Wonwoo before going, “Oh, uh. Yeah, of course. The taxi meter’s been going this whole time anyway.” He puts his arm over your shoulders while a girl wraps herself around your waist and pats your back.

Then you’re gone. Again. It’s his fault that you’re gone.

And for the first time, Wonwoo realizes it was his fault three years ago, too.

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a poorly constructed metaphor

genres: future au, angst, grief pairing: android reader & inventor woozi words: 781 warnings: hatred towards reader, implied death of an unnamed character notes: the "reader character" is an artificial conscience with no gender or race inhabiting a robotic body that has a female human's physical attributes. I am back to my all-angst-no-plot roots 😎 also I usually don't have picture headers for fics under 1k but idk I felt like it was a little longer than a blurb...

After the accident, Lee Jihoon builds an android.

Active Period 17.01

"017. Wake up."

The voice commences your start-up system, and your sensors come to life. The human in front of you is your inventor. He shows plain human indicators of exhaustion: dark bags under his brown eyes and slumped shoulders. His hair is greasy and flat. Unwashed. He looks straight at your optical receptors.

He does not look happy.

"You look like her."

He smiles, but it is contradictory. You see a human indicator of sadness begin to pool in his eyes. Tears.

"Fuck," he whispers. You do not know that word.

"You look just like her."

He turns away.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period 17.03

"017. Wake up."

This voice is not your inventor's. You register a new human man in front of you. His hair is unnaturally blond, and he stares at you with what you decide is wonder.

Your inventor is not in the room.

"Wow. You really do look like her," he says. "Jihoon really went all out."

With no question posed, you do not respond.

The door opens. "Soonyoung, I told you not to snoop around--"

You inventor sees that you are on. His eyes narrow at the man whom you've registered as Soonyoung.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

Your sensors come online without the activation sequence.

No humans are in the room with you. Perhaps you are needed elsewhere.

The house you are in has colourful decor. An emerald green couch with saffron throw pillows. Brightly coloured candles halfway burned through. One wall is baby blue while another is cobalt.

It does not seem like your inventor, who wore all black and spoke flatly, would live here.

Upon the mantle is a row of picture frames. They are all face-down. You hold one up to view the image.

Your inventor stands in a park with his arm around a woman's waist. He is smiling. She is smiling.

The glass in the frame is broken.

You return to your station.

-

Active Period 17.04

"017. Wake up."

Your inventor looks at you for a moment before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you.

This is a hug.

Does he expect you to react? He has not ordered anything of you.

"Fuck." He steps back and looks down. "Never mind."

He sniffles.

"017. Go to sleep."

-

Active Period ;Unregistered;

You find a mirror in the house. Your make-up registers in nanoseconds.

You not the woman in the picture with Jihoon.

Although, you do look exactly like her.

You have no access to the internet, so you are unable to find her name.

It is not written on the backs of those pictures in the frames.

-

Active Period ;Manually Registered; 17.05

"What the hell are you doing, 017."

You turn and see your inventor slam the door shut. Before now, you had not used your vocal capabilities. No one had asked anything of you.

The broken frame on the table has angered him.

"I am fixing it," you say.

Your voice is male. Choppy. Robotic.

It makes him inhale quickly. You pull the picture of Jihoon and the woman out from under the shattered glass.

He stomps up to the table. "You do not touch her things!" He snatches the picture from your hand.

It will likely be damaged with the way he clutches it.

"How are you even on?"

You whir through the possibilities. "Unclear. Would you like me to run a diagnostics check?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. "No... no. Just-- fuck, just stop talking."

Jihoon will damage the picture he cares about if he keeps holding it like that.

You reach for it.

"No!" He backs away, keeping the photo out of reach. "No! What is going on with you?"

You open your synthetic mouth.

"Don't answer that! I told you not to touch her things, and you don't listen. You act on your own. You're on when I'm not around. How many times have you activated without my knowledge?"

He huffs. Anger.

You open your mouth again.

"Don't answer that! You are not her. You will never be her. You may have her face, but you don't have her voice, or her smile, or-- or-- her warmth."

He trembles.

"You don't hug me like she did. You don't know how I'm feeling like she always did. You don't laugh."

Tears. He wraps his arms around himself.

"You don't love me."

He falls to his knees. Cries. You could label it as sobbing.

You have no feelings towards it.

"You built me, Lee Jihoon."

His head jerks up, and he glares at you.

"017. Shut down."

“Choi Seungcheol must die” Chapter 13 + [BONUS WRITTEN SCENE]

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📌chapter tags: SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, jicheolsoo bonding, bonfire dates, kissing lessons, French kissing, an adult man hiding in the back of someone’s jeep, WRITTEN PART UNDERNEATH SCREENSHOTS AND CUTOFF (1.1k wc)

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kissing scene undercut

You can’t help your shaking legs, trembling at the thought of your first kiss in—well, ever—literally seconds before it happens. Were you really gonna do it here? In Seungcheol’s Jeep while you wait for him to grab you can only assume a condom from a friend because what else’s could it be. And Mingyu, whose last name you don't even know.

On the bright side, it wouldn’t be wasted with the sleazy fuckboy Seungcheol. On the other hand, what did you know about Mingyu besides his taste for revenge?

The only conversations you ever had with him was regarding the ‘Choi Seungcheol must die’ schtick, but besides that fact that he’s petty, you don’t know much about him. And now he’s on his way to give you kissing lessons because you decided it was smart to join a scheme like this with no first hand experience.

Who knew the back of your knees could sweat like this?

You spot his dark waves pop from the driver seat window and he waves. Unlocking the doors, you allow him to hop right in the driver seat, making himself at him. He runs his hand through his messy hair and admittedly you stare back stunned. You’ve glimpsed at him the few in person meetings you’ve had—most of information residing group chats to avoid suspicion—but was he always that insanely good looking?

His hands meet in a clap, adjusting to the bizarre situation. “Okay. How much do you know?”

You blank. “Uhhh, movies.”

If you were both in a cartoon, there would be a question mark right above his head.

“Okay, so none.”

“Not everyone kisses and has sex in high school ok. Some of us clearly weren’t part of that crowd,” you stammer defensively.

The photogenic man rolls his eyes. “Okay. Fine, whatever. Just follow my lead, before he comes back.”

His hand comes against your cheek, his palm cool against your flustered skin. You eyes wide as saucers, his gaze meets yours, pericing with unwavering determination. “Look at him interested, but not too interested. Keeping him kind of guessing.

His chest draws nearer, inching closer, almost close enough to evoke the scent of that orange soda he partook from the cooler box by the bonfire and the musky cologne the compliments his natural scent.

“Your breath smells good,” he compliments casually, softly smiling. “That’s a great start.”

“I found some mentos in my purse,” you ramble nervously.

“Good habit. And relax, will you? it’s just a kiss.”

You scoff, visibly offended he’d have to say that.“I know. Shut up.”

Mingyu softly chuckles. “Okay. Come closer.”

You comply, swallowing a lump in your throat. Expertly, Mingyu pulls foward and his nose gently nuzzles against yours, your skin kissing before your lips do. “He’ll like it when you lightly touch him like this. Letting him know you’re expecting it.”

You clear your throat, emptying your mind, and try to ease the tension between your clamped thighs. “Right.”

He soothes you warm cheek with his thumb, barely touching the corner of your mouth. “Maybe softly caress his face, like that. Looking at him of course.”

“I-I’m looking.”

He laughs again. That laugh that’s so light and soft. “Sure. And then…”

His lips meet yours for the first time in a soft and gentle union, molding the part of his lips to the shape of yours. Learning to breathe through your nose, you chase after lips with a ginger cadence. Attempting to replicate his unhurried strides even as your heartbeat quickens, caught in the ebb and flow of your conflicting tempos. Then all you feel is heat. How it festers all over your body. How dulls your surroundings. How it resides in every breath you inhale.

His hand adjust your face higher to meet his, deepening the pressure—longing stinging the surface of your lips—before releasing, pleasantly taken aback by your clumsy, yet fruitful, efforts. “That was good…now you know what comes next. Right…?”

“I-I think so?”

Mingyu’s face lights up with an unmistakable sense of pride, before reuniting your lips, brushing against your bottom lip with his tongue and prodding apart. Peering through a partially open gaze, Mingyu observes your response satisfied as you seamlessly melt into his touch. He immerses himself in the glow of this triumph until your hand lands against his chest, grabbing the fabric of his shirt on a kiss drunken whim. He’s unable to suppress the moans that escape him while he feels you work your jaw eagerly to match his pace, quickly surpassing the basics and evolves into a realm beyond mere educational purposes.

Intoxicated by the tension surged liplock, Mingyu leans over closer to your side of the car, craving closeness, and he gently draws you in by the waist. In the moment, he inhales the shampoo in your hair, the subtle hint of strawberry in your lip balm, and the soft whimpers uttered. It mesmerizingly—putting lightly—and his objective begins to fade in background, lost in the taste of your lips and he’s okay if he’s stuck lucid dreaming forever.

Then there was a tapping. Soon, he discerns it's your hand, subtly signaling him to withdraw. Reluctantly, he complies, visibly heated and puzzled by your sudden pause. "What's wrong?" he asks, confused.

Still dazed, you timidly point to to his pocket. “Your phone. It’s ringing.”

So that’s what this vibrating was.

He pulls it out, the trance fading as reality sets in, and irritation takes over as he deals with the unwelcome interruption. “What? What is it?”

“Dude! He’s literally a couple meters away. Get out!”

“Fuck!”

Mingyu hangs up immediately before turning to you with startled expression. “Seungcheol’s coming.”

Mirroring his expression, you shift your focus from the beach, confirming the claim as Seungcheol stands a considerable distance away. Swiftly redirecting your attention to Mingyu, you say to him pannicked, “What the fuck? Get out.”

“He’s literally right there! He’ll see his door open and me walk out!”

“Then hide! Back seat—Wait no! The trunk!”

“I’m 6’3, what makes you think I’ll fit in his truck?”

“TRY, MINGYU! Try, Okay?”

Skeptical, Mingyu with his long limbs endeavors to claim the backseat and reaches the trunk, impressed at the ample space barely accommodating his large frame. “Wow. Maybe I should get one of these.”

“Shush—Hey! You’re back.”

Mingyu freezes hearing the drivers door open and shut, nearly shitting his pants.

Seungcheol beams back at you, a deep dimple etched in his cheek, savoring your presence as if you were a well-earned prize. “Sorry for the wait. The guys kept insisting I stay longer.”

“All good,” you reassure. “Are you sure you’re okay with leaving early? I feel kind of bad now.”

Shaking his head gently, he takes your hand. "No, let's get you home. It wouldn't feel right to leave you to take an Uber. I want to make sure you're safe."

“Mmmh, okay.”

As the engine begins to rev, you steal a quick glance over the truck's view, a momentary concern flashing across your face before it transforms into a poised smile aimed at your date. "Let's go!"

he was just vibing man