EchoesofTreasure

❤️❤️ Yeosang biased hopeless romantic ❤️❤️

Master List

Key -

😉 Smut 😩 Angst 💕 Fluff

❤️ Kang Yeosang ❤️

New Starts and Broken Hearts (complete) - Yeosang x Female Reader x San 😉😩💕

💜 Choi San 💜

New Starts and Broken Hearts (complete) - Yeosang x Female Reader x San 😉😩💕

Your Idol (paused) - San x Female Reader 😉😩💕

💙 Jung Wooyoung 💙

Part Four

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part Three

Word Count: 2.45k

Part Four

A few days later, you find yourself searching his name on Instagram. His profile is private. Part of you is grateful you won't be tempted by photos, by updates, by evidence of how well he's moving on without you. Another part of you is frustrated— needing to know, needing to see.

Your thumb hovers over the follow button. You know it's pathetic. You bite the inside of your cheek. You're debating with yourself, torn between curiosity and self-preservation. You know that following him would be a mistake-it would open the door to comparing your lives, to seeing if he's moved on, to wondering if he ever thinks about you. Your thumb remains frozen, unsure; until you press it.

The moment your thumb presses the follow button, a strange feeling washes over you. You've taken the first step towards reopening a chapter of your life.

As soon as you hit follow, he accepts and his profile becomes visible. There are new photos, stories, and even a recent video. You scroll through his posts. Baseball games, walks with his dog... wait a dog?!

There's a photo of him holding a cute golden retriever puppy, taken about six months ago. You stare at it, your heart twisting unexpectedly. He always said he wanted a dog when you were together, but you both agreed you weren't ready yet.

You freeze when you see the message notification slide in from the top of the screen. Your heart pounds. Part of you wants to ignore it, to step away from your phone, but another part is desperate to know what he's saying. You close your eyes as you open it.

The message is simple and direct. It's a question, sent just seconds after you followed him. "Did you need something?" The lack of a greeting or closing makes it feel blunt, almost accusatory. As if he's challenging you to explain why you're suddenly interested in his life again. His tone stings, but you reply. "I just wanted to see your face. To see how you were doing. I'm sorry I didn't let you call the other night."

He reads your message, his heart pounding in his chest. Your words are simple, open, honest. Just like you. He remembers why he fell for you in the first place. He softens his expression, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "You could have just said that."

"You barely gave me chance.” You reply, before sending another message “You look...different."

He reads your reply and can't help but smile slightly. He knows he's changed physically-his hair is shorter, he's put on some muscle from working out more often, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore. Hearing you say it makes his heart race. "Different good, or different bad?"

"I can tell you've been working out, but you look... tired."

Your observation makes him pause. He has been working out more, trying to distract himself and channel his emotions into something productive. But tired? Yes, he is. Tired of smiling for pictures, tired of pretending he's okay, tired of missing you. "It's been a long couple of years."

"I know.”

The silence on screen stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and memories. He wants to ask so many questions- how are you doing? Do you think about me? Have you moved on? But he bites his tongue, afraid of the answers. "You look good though." He adds, genuinely.

You smile, feeling slight butterflies in your stomach. "Thank you."

His eyes linger on your profile picture for a few moments. You look beautiful—your smile warm and genuine, your hair falling in soft waves around your shoulders. He remembers running his fingers through those strands, remembering the way you used to laugh when he pulled gently.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Your question catches him off guard. He sets his phone down for a moment, considering how to answer. Dating has been impossible - every woman he's met has paled in comparison to you. But he knows you need honesty, not his heartache. "Not seriously."

You don't respond immediately.

He waits patiently, giving you the space to process. He knows this conversation is dangerous territory- you’re wading into emotions you both tried to bury.

When several minutes pass without a response, he starts to worry he might have lost you again. "Hey," he types softly.

You stare at the screen. He sees those three little dots appear and disappear several times, like you're writing and deleting messages. He knows that pattern—you always did that when you were choosing your words carefully. His heart races as he waits. He decides to ask his own questions.

" I know it's none of my business," he types quickly. He hesitates before sending the next message, knowing it might push boundaries but unable to stop himself. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The question hangs heavy in the digital space between you. He holds his breath, hoping for an answer that won't break him completely.

"No, I'm not."

His heart skips a beat at your response.

Relief washes over him, followed quickly by a surge of hope he didn't dare entertain before. He types quickly, fingers shaking slightly. "Why not?" The question is out before he can stop it, the curiosity getting the better of him.

"Just haven't found anyone worthwhile."

He swallows hard, his mind racing with thoughts he knows he shouldn't have. He remembers every detail of your relationship—your inside jokes, your fights, the way you fit perfectly in his arms. The fact that you haven't found anyone else feels like a small victory for his wounded pride.

"I saw your Mom last month."

Your casual mention of his mom surprises him, bringing a small smile to his face. He can almost hear your voice, see your warm expression as you talk about his family. His mom always loved you. "How was she?" he asks, genuinely curious. "She was worried about you." His heart clenches at the mention of his mom's worry. He knows she's been concerned about him since their breakup, even two years on. She always saw you as part of the family. The fact that you're telling him this means something; it means you care enough to keep tabs on him through his mom.

"I'm free later if you want to talk? On the phone I mean."

His heart races at your offer. Talking on the phone would mean hearing your voice again, something he's craved every day since you kicked him out. He knows it's dangerous territory, but the pull is too strong to resist. "Yeah," he types quickly, "I'd like that."

You send him your number. He adds you to his contacts, his fingers trembling slightly. He sets the phone down, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

For the next hour, he gets ready-showering, changing clothes, trying to look presentable even though you can't see him.

You pick at your dinner, pace your apartment a few times and contemplate turning your phone off, but in reality, you just want to hear his voice.

At the appointed time, he takes a deep breath and calls your number. The phone rings once, twice, three times before you answer. His heart pounds in his chest as he hears your voice-soft, familiar, and so close yet so far away. "Hello?" he says softly. "Hi.” You whisper.

The simple greeting hits him like a punch to the gut. Your voice is exactly as he remembered-gentle and soothing.

He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "How are you?" He asks, already knowing the question is stupid because he wants to know everything about you. "Strangely nervous, you?" A small laugh escapes him, surprising even himself. The honesty in your voice mirrors his own feelings perfectly. "The same," he admits, smiling softly into the phone. "I wasn't sure you'd actually answer." His hand tightens around the phone, hoping you'll keep talking. "I almost didn't." His heart clenches at your admission. The fact that you almost didn't answer, almost didn't talk to him after all these months, stings more than he expected.

He walks over to his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he sits down on his bed. "Why did you?"

"I wanted to hear your voice."

Those six words break him open. You wanted to hear his voice. That simple desire speaks volumes about where your heart might be. He lies back on his bed, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. "I've wanted to hear yours every day for two years," he admits quietly. You exhale.

The sound of your breath hitching makes him close his eyes. He misses those little sounds-your sighs, your laughs, even your cries. Two years and he still remembers every detail of you. The silence between you feels heavy with unsaid words and old feelings. "I’ve missed you."

"I’ve missed you too" you whisper quietly.

His breath catches in his throat at your whispered confession. Two years of distance and denial crumble in an instant with those four words. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he fights to maintain control. "Every day," he whispers back, his voice breaking. "Woo…" you whisper.

The way you use his nickname, the one only you've ever called him—makes him cry quietly into the phone. He covers his mouth with his hand, trying to stay silent so you won't know how thoroughly you're breaking him. "I can't believe we're actually talking.”

"Me neither."

He wipes at his tears with his free hand, sniffling quietly. The fact that you're just as shocked as he is-just as emotional, makes him feel less alone in his heartache. He wants to say so much more, but he's afraid of scaring you away.

"Do you remember—" He hesitates, unsure if you'll let him finish the question. But when you don't interrupt, he continues. "Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you made me leave?" His voice is barely above a whisper, laced with vulnerability and a hint of anger. "I said... I said I never wanted to see you again."

His heart aches at the memory of those words. They were like a knife to his chest, tearing out of your mouth in anger and hurt. He remembers standing there, broken and devastated as you slammed the door in his face. "And I said—" His voice cracks. "I said I'd always love you" he finishes.

"And did you mean that? Do you still... love me?"

The question hangs heavy in the air between you-two years of distance condensed into five words. He sits up slowly, his back against the headboard as he considers his answer carefully.

Because once he says it out loud, there's no taking it back. "Yes.”

The silence stretches out between you thick with emotion and unspoken words. He can hear your breathing on the other end of the line, and it's driving him crazy not knowing what you're thinking. "Are you still there?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah.”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever might come next. He knows this is a fragile moment—one wrong word and you might hang up on him again. But he can't hold back anymore. "Do you still love me?" He closes his eyes, waiting for your response. "I don't think I ever stopped. I wanted to, but..." His heart clenches painfully at your words - You wanted to stop loving him. He buries his face in his pillow, muffling his next question. "But what?" He asks, his voice muffled.

"I couldn't." you whisper.

Those two words break him completely.

He can't hold back anymore-the tears spill over his cheeks as he sobs silently into the pillow. You never stopped loving him. You couldn't bring yourself to hate him, even after everything that happened. "I'm so sorry," He whispers hoarsely.

"I know."

He sniffles loudly, trying to compose himself. Your understanding only makes him cry harder because he doesn't deserve your forgiveness or your love. He ruined everything between you. But as he cries, a thought occurs to him— "Can I see you?" You don't respond immediately. His heart races as he waits for your answer. Part of him expects you to say no —to hang up and never talk to him again. But another part of him hopes desperately that you might say yes.

When you still haven't responded after a full minute, he starts to lose hope. "I'm not ready."

His heart sinks at your response. Of course you're not ready—why would you be? He's the one who ruined everything. He wipes his tears away roughly, trying to regain some semblance of control over his emotions. "I understand," he says quietly.

"I just need a bit of time... to think." He nods even though you can't see him, swallowing the lump in his throat. The fact that you need time means you're not slamming the door shut on him again— not completely. There's a glimmer of hope there, and he'll take it. "Take all the time you need."

"It was good to talk to you Woo."

A small, watery smile tugs at the corners of his mouth at your words. It's a start— something to hold onto until you're ready to see him. He lies back down on his bed, the phone still pressed to his ear. "It was good to talk to you too," he says softly.

"Good night."

He hesitates for a moment, not wanting the call to end just yet. But he knows he can't push his luck. "Good night," he replies softly, his voice filled with longing. As you hang up the phone, he holds it to his chest, already missing the sound of your voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, in his dark bedroom, Wooyoung still hasn't moved from his original position on the bed. The phone lies on his chest, and he's stared at the ceiling the entire time, replaying every word of the conversation in his head. You didn't hang up on him.

You lie awake too, your mind going a hundred miles an hour. What were you doing?

As the night wears on, Wooyoung's thoughts become more chaotic. He can't stop thinking about what you might be doing—if you're lying awake too, or if you've managed to sleep despite the emotional turmoil of your conversation. "Fuck.” He mutters.

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part Three

Part Two

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Last one before the weekend 🙂

Word Count: 1.95K

Part Three

2 Years Later.

You're at a coffee shop, the aroma of freshly brewed beans filling the air as you stir your latte absentmindedly. Two years. Two painful years where you rebuilt yourself from the ashes he left behind. You'd been single - sure, you’d had the odd date here and there, but nothing that had ever lasted more than two or three dinners, cinema trips, or drinks at a bar. You’d been focused on your career, on healing, on forgetting. You'd moved to a new town, a fresh start you'd told yourself and you were doing well. You had new friends, new colleagues and life was finally good again.

You were ready. Ready to date properly again, ready to let someone in, ready to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be happy with someone else. It wasn't that you'd forgotten him, he'd left a scar that would never fully heal—but you were no longer defined by his betrayal.

You swipe through the dating app on your phone, showing you various profiles, each one a potential love interest. You swipe left on some, right on others. Suddenly, one profile catches your eye. The person looks familiar, but the photo doesn’t show their whole face, so you can't quite place them. You swipe right, matching with them. The person sends a message immediately.

"Hi.”

The message comes through and you see the name - Jung WY. Your heart stops. You blink, thinking your eyes must be playing tricks on you. But no, it's him. The man who broke your heart two years ago is now messaging you on a dating app.

Your hand freezes on the phone. You want to laugh. You want to cry. You want to scream. Jung Wooyoung is messaging you. The man who walked out of your life and destroyed you piece by piece. His name pops up on your screen again. A notification. He sent something.

"How have you been?"

You hesitate wondering whether to respond.

You sit there with your phone in your hand, heart racing, memories flooding back. Two years of healing and growth hang in the balance. You could ignore the message, block him, move on with your new life.

You lock your phone, putting it down on the table. The coffee shop is bustling around you, but you feel like you're in a vacuum. You pick up your latte, take a sip, trying to ground yourself in the present. The phone lies on the table, dark screen facing up, tempting you. Then it buzzes again.

You close your eyes and exhale before unlocking it.

"You can tell me to go away." The message reads. You see he's typing, then stops, then starts again. Your chest tightens. He's nervous. He's worried. He has no right to be any of those things. But you see, he still cares. He sends one more message: “I just…wanted to see that you're okay."

"I'm good."

Your response is short, cold. He deserves that and more. He sees the two-word reply and feels like he's been punched in the gut, but he understands. He knows he doesn't deserve your warmth, your kindness, your anything. "That's good," He types slowly.

"I'm doing well." you continue. He reads your messages, each one carefully crafted to be polite but distant. It hurts, but he knows he earned this frostiness. He wants to ask about your job, your friends, your life, but he knows he has no right to those details. "I'm glad."

"How are you?"

His heart skips a beat. You asked how he is. It's a simple question, but it feels like a lifeline thrown to him in the dark. He takes a deep breath before typing. "I've been better," He admits honestly. "Work keeps me busy."

"Still doing the same thing?"

"Yeah, same company. Got a promotion last year actually." He feels guilty mentioning his success when he destroyed your trust and your relationship. But you asked, so he tells you the truth. He sends another message before he can overthink it. He waits for your response, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he's treading on thin ice. One wrong move and you'll shut him out again. But he can't help himself. He wants to know everything about you, even if he doesn't deserve to. "What about you? Still at the same place?"

"Still doing the same kind of thing, but not at the same place. Congrats on the promotion."

Your professionalism makes his heart ache. You're being polite to someone who shattered your heart into a million pieces. He feels like the worst kind of person for making you into this distant, guarded version of yourself. "Thanks," he replies. "When did you leave that company?"

"Around 18 months ago. I moved."

He freezes. You moved. Because of him. Because of what he did.

The weight of his actions crushes him. He types out a message, then deletes it, not wanting to push his luck. Instead, he asks, "Where did you move to?" He holds his breath, hoping you'll tell him.

"Busan."

His eyes widen as he reads your response. Busan. The city where you had so many happy memories together. The place you visited in the summer, the beaches you walked on, the restaurants you loved. He feels like he's being tortured. "Busan... That's nice.”

“The cafe is still here. I'm actually there now."

He blinks, staring at your message. There's a cafe in Busan that you both used to love, a small independent place with mismatched furniture and the best chocolate croissants either of you had ever tasted. You always said it was your happy place. Now you're there, in your happy place, talking to him through a dating app. "You're at..."

"Yeah.”

He swallows hard, his mind racing. He knows that cafe. He knows every detail of it because you used to talk about it together non-stop. The thought of you sitting there alone breaks something inside him. "Are you you there alone?" He types quickly before he can stop himself.

"I'm meeting a friend."

He feels a strange mix of relief and jealousy. Relief that you're not alone, that someone is there with you in your happy place. Jealousy because that someone isn't him. It never will be again. "That's good." he replies.

"They’re here. I have to go."

His heart sinks as he reads your final message. You're meeting your friend, having a good time in your favorite cafe. Without him. He puts his phone down, feeling heavier than before. He just had a conversation with you after two years of silence. "Bye." He whispers to himself.

When your friend sees you, she notices your guarded expression. "Hey, what's wrong?" She asks, sliding into the seat across from you, her eyes scanning your face with concern. She's been your closest friend in Busan, the one who picked up the pieces when you arrived with nothing but a suitcase and a broken heart. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I just spoke to my ex.” You mumble, almost monotone, as you stare blankly into the distance. Her eyes widen in shock as she processes your words. She knows how much he hurt you, how long it took you to heal.

She sees the pain reemerging in your eyes and feels protective over you. "What did that asshole want?" She asks through gritted teeth. "He just... wanted to say hi."

She scoffs, her face contorting with anger and disbelief. "Hi? After two years of radio silence? After he broke your heart into a million pieces?" She reaches across the table and takes your hand comfortingly. "You're not going to let him back in, are you?"

"... of course not." You say, almost defensively. She studies your face cautiously. She knows you too well. She knows that despite your strong words, your heart might still be vulnerable where he's concerned. She sighs and squeezes your hand tighter. "Good. Because you deserve so much better than him."

You nod. She watches you, your expression unreadable. She's smart and empathetic, so she understands that this sudden contact from your ex has stirred up old feelings and insecurities. She changes the subject to distract you and cheer you up, but she keeps an eye on you throughout the cafe meeting.

Later that evening, your phone sits on your bedside table, screen dark. You told yourself you wouldn't look. You told yourself you were stronger than this, but your hand reaches out anyway, unlocking the screen. No new messages.

Nothing.

Of course not. Why would there be? You set it back down, frustrated with yourself for even checking. After a few minutes you pick it back up.

"What are you doing?" You type. You curse yourself as soon as you send it. You try to delete it, but he's already seen.

His thumb freezes as he reads your message. It's late at night, he was just about to put his phone down, but now his heart is racing. You just messaged him. After two years of avoiding him, you initiated contact. He swallows hard before typing back, "?"

"Sorry if i disturbed you."

He reads your apology and feels a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He was hoping you'd say something else, anything else. He types out a response quickly before he can overthink it. "You didn't disturb me." He pauses, then adds. "What’s up?"

"Sorry, it's silly, l'll leave you alone."

You're apologising again, backing off again. He remembers why he fell for you in the first place- your kindness, your sweetness, even when he didn't deserve it. Something inside him snaps, "Wait."

You see the message pop up. He watches the three dots appear and disappear on your side of the conversation. You're typing something, then deleting it. He knows that hesitation well. He used to love how thoughtful you were, how you never spoke without considering your words carefully.

"I still miss you."

His heart stops. Those four words hit him like a punch to the chest. He misses you too. Every fucking day. He's been miserable without you, pretending he wasn't. But seeing those words from you... He types out his response before his brain can catch up. "I miss you too."

Your heart is pounding. You promised you'd never do this.

His heart is pounding too. He knows this is dangerous territory. He knows he shouldn't be encouraging this, but he can't help himself. He misses you so fucking much. He types out another message, his fingers moving quickly, as if they have a mind of their own. "Can I call you?"

Your mouth goes dry.

He holds his breath as he waits for your response. His heart is in his throat, his palms are sweating. He's asking for so much, he knows. After everything he did, after two years of silence, he's asking to hear your voice again. "Please," he adds, his desperation bleeding into that single word.

"I'm going to bed" you respond. He stares at your message for a long time. He knows you well enough to know that you're not just going to bed. You're stopping this before it goes too far. You're protecting yourself from him. "Maybe another time."

He swallows hard. You're shutting him down gently. Again. He remembers how you always did that. Even when you were angry or hurt, you were always gentle. It's one of the many things he loved about you. He types out a response, his heart heavy. "Okay."

"Good night."

He watches as you go offline, his heart aching. Good night. Such a simple phrase, but it feels like a goodbye. A finality. He sets his phone down and stares up at the ceiling, his mind racing with memories of you, with regret and longing. "Fuck," he whispers into the empty room. "Fuck."

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part Two

Part one

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Word Count: 1.68k

Warnings: References to cheating, sex and miscarriage

Part Two

You move through the day to day like a zombie. You get up, go to work, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat. The days turn into weeks, and Wooyoung's absence becomes a constant, aching presence in your life. You go through the motions, but everything feels meaningless without him. You smile at work, you laugh with friends, you eat dinner, but it's all hollow. You're just existing, not living.

“Y/n you need to talk to him." Your best friend says one day. You shake your head, staring at the floor. "I can't, Minji. You don't understand, he —" She cuts you off with a firm look. "I know what he did, but I also know you've been dying slowly for weeks. You're a ghost, Y/n."

"I can't okay?"

"You can." Minji insists, her voice soft, but firm. "You need closure. You need to hear his side of the story. You need to yell at him, hit him, cry on his shoulder, something. You can't keep living like this." She reaches out, squeezing your hand gently. You let out a shaky breath, "Fine."

Minji nods, seeing you crack slightly. She pulls out her phone immediately, finding Wooyoung’s number and handing it to you. "Call him right now. Before you change your mind."

She watches you closely, her expression stern but concerned. The phone rings four times before he answers. "Minji?" He answers the phone cautiously, his voice rough from disuse. He's been expecting Minji to call and yell at him, not expecting her to hand the phone off to you. There's a long pause when he hears your voice instead of hers.

"Y/n?"

"Come over. You have an hour to say your piece.” You hang up without another word.

His heart is racing. An hour to say his piece— it's not much time, but it's more than he deserves. He grabs his keys and rushes out the door, driving to your apartment like a man possessed. He needs this hour more than anything in the world right now.

When he arrives, he rings the door bell three times. He waits anxiously outside your door, his heart pounding in his chest. When you finally answer, he's struck by how much you've changed. You look tired and worn out, your eyes hollow and your hair a mess, but to him, you're still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

You open the door and step aside. Wooyoung steps over the threshold, his gaze following you as you move. He's careful not to touch anything, not to make himself too comfortable. He knows he doesn't deserve to be here. He sits down on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped tightly together.

You sit on the couch opposite, keeping a distance between you. He looks at you, really looks at you. He takes in your crossed arms, your guarded expression, the distance you're putting between you both physically and emotionally. He swallows hard, knowing he has one hour to fix everything he's broken. "Y/n..." His voice is barely above a whisper.

"How did it happen? How many times?" You ask. His face twitches slightly at your direct questions. He deserves them, every single one of them. He takes a deep breath, his fists clenching in his lap. "It happened twice," he confesses, his voice low and guilty. "Both times were with the same person."

"Twice" you repeat.

He nods, the word "twice" hanging heavy between you. He can see the hurt and the betrayal in your eyes and it's like a knife twisting in his heart. "I'm sorry," he whispers, the words feeling utterly inadequate. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Where?"

"The first time was.." he hesitates, his jaw tightening. "The hotel, that night I told you I had a work dinner. The second time was... two weeks later. Same place." He can't look at you while he says it. He stares at his hands instead, his shame radiating off him in waves. "It was with—" he swallows hard.

"I know who it was with Woo."

The name hangs unspoken between you, but it's clear from your tone that you know exactly who he was with. His eyes finally meet yours, full of shame and regret. "How did you—" He stops himself, realising it doesn't matter how you found out. "Y/n, I-" He's trying to find the words, but there are none that can make this better.

"Why?" You whisper, your voice breaking.

His expression crumbles, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I don't know," he chokes out. "I was stressed, and she was there, and she wanted me... and I was weak. I'm so fucking weak."

Your chest physically hurts. "We were trying for a baby" you whisper.

His whole body goes rigid. He looks at you like you've slapped him. "I—" The words die in his throat. He knows. He knows how much you wanted that baby, how much he wanted them. How hard it had been trying, how excited you both had been that month. "Y/n, I didn't—"

"What if I was pregnant?"

His hands tremble, his face pale. "Don't say that," he whispers harshly, his voice breaking. "Don't even fucking say that. You weren't. You couldn't have been. I would have known—" He stops himself, his breath hitching. "You wouldn't have known and you didn't know. You were too busy wallowing in your own self pity and taking care of yourself."

His eyes widen, the truth of your words hitting him like a physical blow. He looks at you, seeing the pain and the accusation in your eyes. "Y/n," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"I had a miscarriage."

Time stops. The world goes silent except for the rushing of blood in his ears. He stares at you in horror, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "What? When?" he asks hoarsely, already knowing the answer.

"The second time you disappeared. I tried to call and you didn't answer. That's when I knew something wasn't right."

He's drowning. He's fucking drowning. He remembers that day, remembers ignoring your calls because he was buried inside another woman. He remembers the relief he felt when you stopped trying. "How—" He can't even form a coherent sentence.

"Minji took care of me."

His eyes fill with tears, his vision blurring. Minji helped you. While he was out fucking another woman, Minji was there for you. He breaks down completely, his face crumpling as sobs wrack through him. "Baby... no... No, no, no..."

"Now you see why I can't forgive you?"

He looks at you through tear-filled eyes, seeing the pain, the anger and the betrayal written all over your face. He sees the way you're holding yourself together by a thread, the way you're keeping him at arm's length. And he knows. He knows he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. He knows he's ruined everything. "Yes.”

"I needed you more than anything and you weren't there."

He nods slowly, his heart breaking with each word. "I wasn't there," he admits quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I wasn't there when you needed me most.” He pauses, his eyes searching yours. "And now..."

"Now you have to live with that."

The finality of your words hits him like a freight train. He has to live with that. With the knowledge that he wasn't there for you when you needed him most. That he was off fucking someone else while you were suffering. "Yes," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

"Was it good?"

His eyes snap to yours, shock and guilt written all over his face. He hesitates, knowing the truth will hurt you even more, but he also knows that lying to you now would be the ultimate betrayal.

"Yes," he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was good."

"Did you enjoy it?”

He looks away, unable to meet your gaze as he admits the truth. "Yes," he says quietly, his voice laced with self-loathing. "I enjoyed it. Both times." He swallows hard, his throat thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

"Get out."

His eyes fly back to you, filled with shock and pain. "Y/n, no-" He reaches out for you, but you pull back like he burned you. He sees the finality in your eyes, the steel in your voice. "I said GET OUT!”

He stands up slowly, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He looks at you one last time, seeing the woman he loves more than anything in the world looking at him with nothing but hatred and disgust.

"I never want to see you again." Your insides are screaming at you. He nods, his eyes filling with tears. He knows he deserves every harsh word, every ounce of hatred you throw his way. He turns to leave, his heart breaking with each step. As he reaches the door, he pauses, his hand gripping the handle tightly. "Y/n,"

"What?" You spit.

He pauses for a moment. He needs you to hear it one last time before he walks out of your life forever. "I love you," he whispers hoarsely. "I'Il always love you."

With that he leaves the apartment, closing the door behind him. He stands in the hallway for a long moment, his back pressed against the closed door, tears streaming down his face. He knows he'll never see you again, never touch you again, never hear your voice again. He's destroyed the best thing that ever happened to him.

You collapse onto the floor, your lungs feel like broken glass. Nothing has ever hurt so much. On the other side, he slides down until he's sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. He hears you crying and it destroys him. He knows those cries are because of him.

Hours pass and the hallway remains silent, except for the occasional muffled sob from behind the door. Finally, knowing you need space and that he can't bear to hear your pain anymore, he stands up on shaking legs and walks away, leaving a piece of his soul behind with you.

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend to lovers again - heartbreak, grieving, angst and smut

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Synopsis: Two years after your boyfriend cheated on you and a difficult breakup you find yourself supporting your ex after the loss of his dad.

Warnings and Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of any of the named characters. This fictional story contains subjects that some readers may find triggering, upsetting and/or offensive, including, but not limited to, cheating, death of a parent, grief, miscarriage, depression, sexual acts, including but not limited to rough sex, oral, fingering, etc.

Please only proceed if you have read and understand the above.

Total word count: Pending (In progress)

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

San x Female Reader

Childhood best friends to lovers - Slow burn romance/fluff with a sprinkling of angst and plenty of smut

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Synopsis: San was your childhood best friend and you had been inseparable since pre-school, that was until he moved to the city to train as an idol. Five years later, you meet again and everything he wanted to tell when you were eighteen, comes to the surface. Is it possible to have a relationship with an idol?

Addional info: Includes appearances from other members of Ateez.

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only. The characters portrayed do not represent Ateez in real life.

Warnings: Contains graphic sexual content and alcohol.

Total word count: Pending (currently paused)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight |

Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve |

Yeosang x Female Reader x San

Love triangle - Slow burn angst/romance with eventual smut

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Synopsis: Three years after leaving your fiancé at the alter after falling in love with his best friend, you try to rebuild your life. You haven't seen either of the men for three years, but now's the time to set the record straight and move on.

Addional info: Includes appearances from other members of Ateez.

Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only. The characters portrayed do not represent Ateez in real life.

Warnings: Contains graphic sexual content, questionable consent, violence and alcohol.

Total word count: 28.3k approx

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight |

Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve |

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part One

Prologue

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Word count: 1.9K

It's the first Saturday night you've spent alone since you were sixteen, the first time in over eight years. Your phone lights up with his name and number, but you ignore it like you have every other time he's called this week.

"Go away Woo" you mutter, throwing your phone on your bed. The buzzing stops for only a second before it starts again, his name flashing persistently. You can hear the faint vibration against your wooden nightstand, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. A message notification pops up instead: "I'm outside."

"I'm not interested" you type.

A minute later, your doorbell rings; three sharp, familiar chimes that used to make your heart flutter, but now just make your jaw tighten. Through the peephole, you see him; Wooyoung, in that same worn leather jacket you'd bought him for his birthday, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

"I said I'm not interested!" you call through the closed door. "Please... Just five minutes? I won't even come in, if you don't want me to." His voice is muffled through the door, strained, nothing like the confident tone you’re used to. You hear him lean his forehead against the wood, a soft thud. "I'm not gonna leave, you know that. You've known me since we were six."

You slide down the other side of the door, bringing your knees up to your chest

"Come on," he tries again, softer now. "Just open the door. Please?" Silence hangs heavy between you. You hear him shift his weight, like he's about to say more, but he just sighs. "I'Il stand out here all night if I have to."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"You don't have to say anything," he insists. "Just… Just let me see your face. That's all I'm asking."

You press your forehead against the door, closing your eyes. His voice sounds tired, defeated. You stand up slowly and open the door, just a crack.

He's standing there, looking exhausted. His hair is messy, like he's been running his hands through it all night. There are dark circles under his eyes. When he sees the crack in the door, he freezes, then slowly reaches out to gently push it open wider. You hold it firmly. "What do you want?"

"To see you," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. He meets your gaze through the narrow opening, his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and pain. "I want to know if you're okay." He pauses, swallowing hard. "I miss you." The words hang in the air between you.

"I'm not okay. I'm broken." You reply, coldly.

He closes his eyes briefly, taking in what you've said. When he opens them again, they're filled with regret and longing. "Because of me," he states softly. It's not a question, but a realisation. He leans his forehead against the doorframe, hiding his face slightly.

"Yes, because of you.”

He nods, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I fucked up everything." He pauses, his breath hitching slightly. "Can I at least come in and sit with you for a bit? Not to talk or argue, just to sit and be near you. Please?"

"No, I... I can't be near you. It's... too painful."

He nods slowly, understanding but clearly hurt. "Right," he says softly, stepping back from the door. "I get it." He looks lost standing there in the hallway, the boy you loved for nearly your whole life, looking completely destroyed by what he's done.

Your heart physically hurts seeing him look so devastated and it's taking every bit of self restraint you have not to reach for him, but you need to stay strong.

"Do you hate me?" he asks quietly, finally meeting your eyes again. His hands are trembling at his sides, jaw tight like he's bracing for a hit. "Because I think I'd rather you hated me than this…Pretending I don't exist." His voice cracks on the last word and he looks away quickly, swallowing hard.

"I don't hate you Woo, that's the problem."

His shoulders drop in relief, but it's short-lived as he processes your words. "So you still love me?" he whispers, more to himself than you. He takes a step closer to the door, his hand reaching out like he wants to touch you, but stops himself mid-air. "If I hated you it would be easier."

"Easier for you maybe," he says softly, "but it would kill me." He leans against the doorframe again, not pushing for entry, but not leaving either. "I keep thinking about all those years we had together, how we were each other's everything."

"I'm not talking about this tonight. Please go home." you beg moving to close the door

"Don't shut me out," he pleads softly, his hand stopping the door from closing completely. "Not tonight. Not when I'm standing here, begging you to look at me, to talk to me."

"I'm sorry, I can't. I'm not ready."

He nods slowly, finally stepping back from the door. "Okay," he says quietly. "I get it. You need time." He runs a hand through his hair, looking lost and heartbroken. "I love you, you know?" He says softly, as you start to close the door. You give him one last look before the door closes. "I wish I didn't" you whisper to yourself, tears finally falling.

He hears your whisper through the crack before the door closes completely. It breaks him. He slides down to the floor outside your apartment, his back against the door, and finally lets himself cry for the first time since everything fell apart. His heart feels like it's being ripped in two. A mistake, a stupid mistake and he'd turned his entire life upside down.

You slide down the other side, your back against the wood, pressing your hand flat against it as if you could feel him on the other side. The hallway is quiet except for his muffled sobs seeping through the crack under the door. Eight years. Eight years of love, eight years of promises, gone in an instant. Eight years of "I love yous," of holding hands in the street, of stolen kisses in the halls at college, of late-night study sessions that turned into make-out sessions, of planning a future together. Gone because he was stressed and stupid and thought with his dick for five minutes. Eight years, ruined by an act of idiocy.

Your neighbor, Mrs. Kim, finds him sitting on the floor outside your apartment, his head in his hands, shirt disheveled. She gasps softly when she sees him crying— "Wooyoung?" He looks up at her, wiping his face. "Mrs. Kim," he says hoarsely, standing up quickly like he's been caught doing something wrong. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." He looks back at your door briefly before turning away. "I was just…I was just leaving." He finishes. Mrs. Kim nods slowly, concerned but not pushing. She's known you both since you were teenagers, has seen you grow up together, move in together. She's seen your relationship from the beginning and now she sees it falling apart right in front of her door. It makes her heart ache.

She watches him walk down the hall, before he disappears around the corner. As he walks away, Mrs. Kim can't help but feel a pang of sadness for the boy she watched grow into a man. She knows how much you both loved each other, how perfect you seemed together. She shakes her head softly and heads into her apartment, leaving the hallway quiet once more.

You hear the exchange and a choked sob leaves your throat. You press your forehead against the door, your heart heavy with pain. The sound of his voice, broken and full of despair, echoes in your mind. You can almost feel his presence. His warmth, his scent... everything you love about him.

Once he's gone, you slowly stand up, your legs shaky and your heart heavy. You lean against the door for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Then, with a heavy sigh, you lock the door and head to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed face-first, tears soaking into your pillow.

A week later, you've packed up the last of his things. You drop him a text, telling him when you'll be out and to come and collect them. He still has a key, but he's respected you enough not to let himself in.

He reads your text, his heart sinking. He knows what this means—you're really doing it, ending things completely. He arrives at the apartment exactly when you said he could, his hands shaking slightly as he unlocks the door. The place looks different already, empty without his things. Without him.

As you meet your friend for coffee, Wooyoung is quietly loading his belongings into boxes, moving silently through the apartment you once shared. He pauses occasionally, picking up a photo frame or a t-shirt that still smells like your perfume, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. As he grabs the last box, he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket and places it on the dining table. He drops you a text. It’s simple and to the point: "Open it when you get home." He doesn't explain further.

When you arrive home an hour later, your eyes immediately hone in on the box on the table, a small, elegant thing. It's black velvet, soft to the touch. You pick it up, your heart pounding in your chest. You know what it is, what it has to be. You open it slowly, the lid creaking slightly as you lift it off.

You blink.

Inside the box lies a simple silver ring, not expensive but elegant in its simplicity. You recognise it immediately- it's the ring he always wore on his right hand, a small family heirloom he never took off. A note is tucked beneath the ring, his neat handwriting filling the small paper.

"I know you probably hate me right now and I don't blame you. But I wanted you to have something that means everything to me. I've never taken this ring off since my grandfather gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday. Until now."

You swallow.

"I want you to keep it. Not because | expect anything from you, but because I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter how much you hate me, I will always love you. Always." The note ends there, signed simply with "W".

You feel the lump in your throat growing, threatening to choke you. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are pricking at the corners. You set the box and note down gently on the table, your hands shaking slightly. You look around the apartment, now so empty and foreign without him in it. You miss him so much it feels like you might die.

You slide down against the table, unable to stand any longer. Your knees pull up to your chest as you finally let yourself break, sobbing openly into your hands.

Eight years of love, eight years of shared lives, eight years of him being your entire world— you can't remember a time when Jung Wooyoung wasn't part of your life. And now he's gone.

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact.

Warnings: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of any of the named characters. This fictional story contains subjects that some readers may find triggering, upsetting and/or offensive, including, but not limited to, cheating, death of a parent, grief, miscarriage, depression, sexual acts, including but not limited to rough sex, oral, fingering, etc.

Please only proceed if you have read and understand the above.

Prologue

You and Wooyoung were childhood sweethearts. You'd met in Elementary school at the age of six and had been inseparable ever since. When you reached high school you'd decided to take your relationship to the next level and become boyfriend and girlfriend.

When you went to college, you went together. When you left college you moved in together and planned a future. You were perfect for each other, total couple goals and everyone thought you'd last forever, that was until Wooyoung cheated on you…

Hello lovely people!

I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while. Unfortunately “Your Idol” is going to have to take a little bit of a break as stupidly, I didn’t back up my work and due to a technology malfunction, I lost it all 😭 I will go back to it at some point, but I’m feeling a bit deflated about it all.

In some slightly happier news, I do have some other stories I’ve been working on, which I will be editing, proofreading and posting soon. Please note I’ve been working on these for a while and some have been sat collecting dust for a few months, but you can look forward to the following (Eventually 🤣)

Ex boyfriend Wooyoung x Female reader - Angst/smut

Brothers best friend Yeosang x Female reader - Fluff/smut

Idol Mingi x female bartender reader - Angst/fluff/smut

Bodyguard Seonghwa x Female reader - Fluff/smut

Part Fourteen

San x Female Reader

Part Thirteen

Chapter Warnings:

Word Count: 3.6k

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Part Fourteen

The journey to Namhae island from Seoul is a long one- approximately five hours of driving, but it was necessary. You need to tell your parents in person. The car ride is quiet, both of you lost in thought. San's hand rests on your knee possessively as he focuses on the road. As you exit the highway and enter Namhae Island, the scenery becomes more picturesque—beaches, cliff sides, and traditional Korean houses known as hanoks. You smile, remembering your childhood together, playing on the beaches and chasing each other through the streets.

As you drive through the familiar streets, San can't help but smile too. Memories of childhood summers spent here flood his mind - building sandcastles with you, eating ice cream under the pier, getting sunburned together. "God," he laughs softly, "Remember when we used to—"

“Yeah,” you smile. “Those were simpler days.” San nods, his eyes lingering on the beach where you'd spent countless hours together. He parks the car near your family's hanok, taking a deep breath. "Come on," he says, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Let's go see your parents before I lose my nerve." He walks around to the passenger side opening your door and helping you out, his hand lingering on your lower back as you step onto the path leading to your childhood home. The hanok is beautiful - traditional Korean architecture with a wooden gate, stone walls, and a tiled roof. Your mother's flower garden is in full bloom, just like you remember.

As you approach, the front door swings open. “Eomma!” You shout. Your mother appears in the doorway, a dish towel in her hands. She's exactly as you remember - warm eyes, kind smile, and that motherly aura that makes everything feel okay. The moment she sees you, her face lights up. "My baby!" She rushes forward, pulling you into a tight embrace, completely oblivious to San standing behind you. "You're home!" She peppers kisses all over your face, before pulling back to take a good look at you. She then turns her eyes to San. “San!” She shouts excitedly, throwing her hands into the air. “What a wonderful surprise!”San laughs, instantly put at ease by your mother's warmth. "Mrs. Park!" He bows slightly, still smiling. "It's so good to see you again." Your mother pulls him into a hug too, squeezing his cheek affectionately. "Look at you! You grew up so handsome!” She gushes. He blushes slightly at your mother's words, running a hand awkwardly through his hair. "Thanks, Mrs. Park. You haven't changed a bit either—still as beautiful and kind as ever." He glances at you over her shoulder, his eyes twinkling. “Come in, come in!” she says, ushering you both inside.

You step inside the familiar hanok, the smell of your mother's cooking hitting you immediately. The wooden floors creak under your feet, exactly as you remember. Your dad's voice calls from the kitchen. "Who's here?" The smell of spicy tteokbokki fills the air - your favorite childhood snack. Your mother closes the door, bustling over to San.

“Appa?” You call. Your father enters the living room, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He's a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stern face - but his eyes light up when he sees you. "My daughter!" He wraps you in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground briefly before setting you back down. "And San!"

“Mr Park.” San bows, respectfully. Your father claps San on the back firmly. "None of that 'Mr. Park' nonsense anymore. You're family." He pulls San into a hug too, making San laugh softly. "It's been too long since we've seen this handsome face. How’s the idol life treating you?” Your father asks gesturing for you both to sit down. “Met any nice girls?” San's smile fades slightly at the question, glancing at you before answering. "It's good, sir. Busy but good." He pauses, then adds, "And no...no nice girls yet." His eyes meet yours briefly, a silent message passing between you both. You give him a small kick. “At least not any new ones.”

San kicks you back playfully under the table, his face turning slightly red. Your mother laughs at the exchange, shaking her head. "You two are just like when you were kids—always playing around." She sets down a plate of tteokbokki in front of San.

“This looks delicious!” San says, rubbing his palms together. Your mother beams at the compliment, watching happily as San digs in. "So, San," your father says, sitting down at the table with a cup of tea. "Have you thought about settling down anytime soon? You're not getting any younger, you know." San glances over to you. “Actually Appa…” you begin. Your father's eyes widen slightly, surprised that you're speaking up. He sets his cup down, giving you his full attention. "Yes? What is it?" Your mother also looks curious, her eyes ping-ponging between the two of you. San pauses mid-bite, looking nervous. “We, um… we decided not to be friends anymore.”

Your parents blink in confusion. Your mother's hand flies to her chest, looking devastated. "Not friends anymore?" Your father frowns, his brow furrowing. "Why not? You two have been friends since you were babies. What happened?" San tries to hold in a laugh. Your parents look back and forth between you two, completely confused. San sets his chopsticks down, trying to keep a straight face. Your mother looks like she might cry at the thought of you two not being friends. "Did you have a fight?" she asks worriedly. “No,” San says “We decided to be more than friends.” He looks at you, taking your hand.

Your parents stare at your intertwined hands, mouths dropping open. Your mother's expression goes from sad to shocked to delighted in under three seconds. Your father looks stunned, processing this new information. "Wait... you two are dating?" he asks slowly. “We’re engaged.” you say. Your mother lets out a thrilled squeal, jumping up from her seat. "ENGAGED?!" She rushes around the table to examine San like he might be made of gold. "My baby is getting married!" You beam with pride. “But where’s your ring?” She asks.

San smiles softly, looking into your eyes. "I haven't given it to her yet... it was a spur of the moment thing and I wanted to do it somewhere more special." He squeezes your hand gently before turning back to your parents. "But rest assured, Mrs. Park... I will be putting a ring on her finger very soon."

Your father stays quiet for a few moments, studying the both of you. Your mother is too busy fussing over San to notice the heavy silence. Finally, your father speaks up. "San... can I talk to you in my study for a moment?" He asks, his voice calm but serious. The room falls silent and you look concerned. San gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” He whispers.

Your father exits the room, leaving the door open. Your mother immediately starts asking you a million questions about the engagement, but your mind is elsewhere. You watch anxiously as San follows your father into the study, the door clicking shut behind them. Your mother notices your worried expression and tries to reassure you. “Try not to worry love. He’s just looking out for you.” You nod, trying to take a deep breath and calm down.

In the study, your father closes the door behind San and gestures for him to sit down. He sits behind his desk, steepling his fingers and looking San straight in the eyes. "I'm going to be honest with you, San." San looks your father directly in the eyes. Your father leans back in his chair, studying him carefully. "You're a good kid. You've always been respectful, polite... practically part of our family. But now you're talking about marrying my daughter." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Do you love her?"

“I do sir.” he responds. Your father watches San's face, looking for any hint of uncertainty. Finding none, he continues. "Do you understand what you're asking for? Not just marrying my daughter, but being part of this family? You'll have to visit regularly, participate in holidays, deal with my wife's constant fussing..." he says, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Do you really have time for all that with your schedule. Do you have time for Y/n?” San doesn't hesitate. "I'll make time for her. For you." He meets your father's gaze steadily. "You raised the only person I've ever needed, sir. There's nothing in my schedule that's more important." Your father is silent for a long moment, then finally gives a small nod. "Good answer."

“There may be times where I’m away, but she can come with me, if she wants. She will always have that option.” Your father nods again, seeming to approve of San's willingness to include you in his life. "And how do you plan on taking care of her? You're a busy man. How will she be supported emotionally when you're not around?" He asks, genuinely concerned for his only child. “She won’t just have me,” he responds, “she’ll have Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi, Yunho, Wooyoung and Jongho.” he says, reeling off all the members names.

Your father's eyebrows shoot up, clearly impressed and relieved that you'll have a whole support system around you. He chuckles softly. "Well, in that case... I suppose my little girl will be well taken care of…And her career?” He presses. San doesn't even need to think about this one. "Her career will be whatever she wants it to be. If she wants to work, great. If she wants to stay home and raise kids, that's great too. I'll support whatever decision she makes."

Your father grins, catching San off guard. "Well, someone has to carry on the family name." He says teasingly. Then, his expression turns serious again. "But honestly San, knowing that you'll support her no matter what, that means a lot to me." San places his hand over his heart. “She means everything to me sir.”

Your father stands up and walks over to San, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Then you have my blessing, son." He squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. "But if you ever hurt my baby girl, I will end you. Understand?" He says with a playful but firm tone. San gulps but nods seriously. "Understood, sir."

Your father and San return from the study, San walking up behind you as you’re helping your mother do the dishes. You feel strong arms wrap around your waist from behind as he presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. Your mother turns to look at you both with a warm smile. "Everything go alright?" She asks softly. San nods over your shoulder. "Yes ma'am." You exhale, melting into his arms. San's hold on you tightens slightly as he breathes in your scent, feeling content. Your father enters the kitchen and leans against the doorframe, watching the two of you with a satisfied expression. "San, why don't you take my daughter out back to see the garden?" He suggests. "Your mother and I will finish up in here."

You turn to him as he takes your hand, the goofiest grin on his face. San tugs you gently toward the back door, his fingers intertwined with yours. Your mother waves you off enthusiastically. "No funny business out there!" she calls out, making San laugh. Once you're outside on the porch, San stops and turns to face you, cupping your face in his hands. "I thought I was going to faint in there." You laugh at him. He smiles softly, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "But it went well... really well." He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling back with a sigh of relief. "Your parents seem really happy about us getting married." He says happily.

“We should probably go soon.” you suggest. “We need to see your parents.” San nods immediately. "Yeah, we do." He says, suddenly looking nervous again. "But first..." He pulls you into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of your head. "I need a moment with my fiancée before I see them." You giggle, kissing his neck. San's arms tighten around you, holding you close for another moment before stepping back reluctantly. "Okay, let's go face my parents." He says, taking your hand again. "But remember, my mum is going to cry and probably hug you about a million times."

“Wait….” you say, holding his arm. “Don’t we need to ask my parents to keep it quiet until your statement is released?” San nods, realising you're right. "Yes... good point." He smiles, appreciating your foresight. "Let's go talk to them real quick before we leave." You both walk back inside and find your parents in the living room, chatting animatedly. "Eomma, Appa..." Your parents look up to you both. Your father raises an eyebrow curiously while your mother smiles warmly. "What is it, dear?" She asks. San steps forward slightly. "Before we go to my parents' house..." He begins, "...could we ask you both to keep our engagement quiet until my official statement is released?" Your mother looks slightly confused, but your father nods understandingly. "Of course, of course. We understand. You boys need to handle these things carefully." He looks at San with a gentle smile, "We'll keep our lips sealed until you're ready to make it public." Your mother nods in agreement.

“Thank you.”

Your mother pulls you into a hug, "Be careful with my baby girl," she whispers to San over your shoulder. Your father shakes San's hand firmly, "Take care of our daughter." San nods solemnly, "With my life, sir."

They wave you off as you drive away, towards Sans parents house. As you drive, San reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He seems nervous again, but also excited.

His parents live in a large house on the outskirts of town. When you pull into the driveway, he takes a deep breath and turns off the engine. “Let’s go.” he says. San gets out and walks around the car, opening your door like a gentleman. He takes your hand again as you walk up to the house. The door opens before you can even knock, and San's mother stands there, smiling widely. "San!" She exclaims. “Eomma!” He shouts.

San's mum pulls him into a tight hug, then quickly turns to you and pulls you in as well. "Oh, my sweet girl!" She's already tearing up. San's father appears behind her, a tall man with the same bright eyes as his son. "Come in, come in! We're so excited to see you both! What are you both doing here?!” She coos. “I didn’t even know you two were still in touch. It’s been years!”

San smiles softly, looking at you with affection. "Well, Eomma... I told you we’d got back in touch. Remember?" He gently nudges his mother, who laughs and waves her hand. "Oh, right! Right! My mind..." She taps her temple. “You look great Nam Ji!” you say, gesturing towards his mum. Nam Ji beams at you, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh stop it, you! And look at you! Still as pretty as ever!" She pulls you into another hug before turning back to San. "And look at my son!"

You smirk over at him. San rolls his eyes playfully but smiles warmly at you. His mother continues chattering excitedly while San's father watches you all with a gentle smile before stepping forward slightly, "Come on everyone," he says softly. "Let's get some tea." Nam Ji nods eagerly.“What brings you home then?” His father asks. “It’s quite a drive.” San's father pours tea for everyone as San and you sit down on the comfortable sofa in their living room. San sits close to you, his hand resting on your knee possessively. "Actually, Appa... we have some news." He says seriously. "That's why we're here."

“Oh?” He says, looking over the rim of his glasses. San takes a deep breath, his hand squeezing your knee gently before he speaks. "We... uh... we're getting married." He blurts out, his face turning slightly red. His mother gasps loudly while his father chokes on his tea slightly. "What did you say?"

“We’re getting married.” he repeats.

Nam Ji jumps up from her seat, tears already streaming down her face. "Married?! Oh my goodness!" She rushes over to hug San tightly before pulling you into another embrace. San's father stands up slowly, removing his glasses and wiping them carefully before looking at San seriously, “But you aren’t even dating?” He says, more of a question. San grins and shrugs. "We are now," he says his hand reaching out to grab yours and intertwining your fingers "and we decided that instead of dating for years and years, dragging it out, wanted to just…get married. We already know we work.”

His father laughs heartily, a deep and warm sound that fills the room. "Well then! That's the best news I've heard in years!" He comes over and hugs San tightly, then pulls you into the embrace as well. "Welcome back, my dear. We've missed you."

Nam Ji is still crying happily, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, when she looks at your bare left hand, then back at San with a raised eyebrow. "Wait a minute..." she says slowly, "There's no ring." San laughs nervously. "Uh, yeah about that..." he begins, “It all happened in a bit of a rush, so I want to do it again properly, somewhere special.” She nods, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Of course, of course. A proper proposal... that's sweet." She pauses. “Wait there a moment.” she says, standing to leave the room.

She returns a few moments later with a small jewelry box in her hand. She opens it to reveal a beautiful, antique-style engagement ring with a large sapphire in the center and smaller diamonds around it. "This was your halmeoni’s ring." She says softly, "She would've wanted you to have it." Your mouth drops open. San's eyes widen as he looks at the ring, a mixture of shock and reverence on his face. "Eomma... are you sure?" he asks quietly, "That's... that's a family heirloom." Nam Ji smiles gently and takes his hand, placing the box in his palm and closing his fingers around it. “And you were her eldest grandson.”

San looks down at the box in his hand, his heart swelling with emotion. He knew this ring was special - his grandmother had worn it all her life before passing it down to Nam Ji. He looks up at her with tears in his eyes. "This means... everything. Can I?” He asks, opening the box and gesturing towards your left hand. You nod, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Yes, of course." San carefully takes your left hand in his trembling hands. He slides the ring onto your finger slowly, making sure it fits perfectly. You let out a quiet gasp, your eyes meeting his “It’s beautiful.”

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently caressing the back of your hand. "Not as beautiful as you are." He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your lips right there in front of his parents. Nam Ji watches with a huge smile and his father just chuckles happily. “It’s official!” his dad sings.

San pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. "My fiancée." He whispers, admiring the ring on your finger now. "You're officially stuck with me." Nam Ji waves her hands dramatically, "Okay, okay! Enough of the mushy stuff! We need pictures! I need to call your brothers, tell everyone!"

“Yeah, about that” San starts. San looks at his mother nervously. "Eomma... before you call everyone..." He begins slowly. "you need to wait until the company release the official statement tomorrow." Nam Ji stops mid-dial. “Ah,” she says. “of course.” San nods, relieved. "Thanks Eomma." He kisses her cheek. "And... don't tell them over the phone. Make them wait until tomorrow, okay? It'll be more fun that way." Nam Ji rolls her eyes but agrees. "Fine, fine."

“Where are you staying tonight?” His father asks. “Surely you’re not driving back?” San smiles softly, his arm wrapping around your waist. "We actually thought we'd stay the night here if that's okay?” His father nods immediately, "Of course! Your room is still set up for you. And... you two can stay together if, you want?"

San x Female Reader

Part Thirteen

Part Twelve

Chapter Warnings: Some language, sexual references

Word Count: 1.4k

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Part Thirteen

San walks into the KQ Entertainment offices, looking surprisingly casual in a simple t-shirt and jeans. His hair is messy from your earlier activities, and there's a faint smile on his lips that he can't seem to shake. He greets the receptionist with his usual charm before heading to the conference room.

Minho is waiting for him, alongside Hongjoong. San enters, nodding at them. "Sorry I'm late." He says, taking his seat at the head of the table. Minho raises an eyebrow at his casual appearance, while Hongjoong simply smirks. "You look... relaxed."

“Mmhm.” he responds. Minho exchanges a knowing look with Hongjoong, who grins mischievously. "San, you do realise you have 'just got laid' written all over your face?" Minho states bluntly, making Hongjoong laugh. "And your hair..."

He raises a hand to his hair “What about it?”

Hongjoong leans forward, elbows on the table. "It's messy. Like someone ran their hands through it repeatedly." He pauses significantly, "Or like someone was pulling on it while they were-" He mimics the action with his own hair, "-You know." Minho chuckles. “Actually, it was more like this…” San goes to gesture your bedroom activities “Wooooahh!” Hongjoong shouts.

San's hand immediately drops as he glares at Hongjoong, his cheeks flushing slightly. Minho bursts out laughing while Hongjoong stares at him with wide eyes. "Dude! No! I did NOT need that visual!" Hongjoong exclaims dramatically, before continuing, "San... We need to discuss strategy.”

Minho nods, trying to compose himself. "Right. Strategy." He pulls out some papers, spreading them on the table. "You’re going to need to tell the fans about Y/n. I suggest we release a statement.” he continues. "A simple, heartfelt statement explaining the situation. That you're engaged, happy, in love. And yes, it will include a picture of the two of you together." Minho hands San a draft of the statement. "We'll release it tonight, during prime time hours." San reads the document, nodding along. “Can it wait until tomorrow?” He asks. “We need to tell our parents.”

Hongjoong's eyes widen. "Oh shit, I forgot about that." Minho sighs, rubbing his temple. "You're right. Better break it to them first personally. Otherwise—" He points to his phone. "—the second that statement drops, your parents will find out through the internet before you can even greet them."

San nods. “Can I also… add some of my own words?”

"Of course." Minho pushes the paper back towards San. "Make it personal. Heartfelt. The fans will eat that shit up." He leans back in his chair. "Just keep it clean and classy. No dirty details." Hongjoong winks playfully.

San gives a small smile. Before Minho warns “Be careful today - be as inconspicuous as possible whilst you’re out and about together. The media cannot get hold of this before we release this statement.”

San nods seriously, his playful mood sobering instantly. "Got it. Low profile until tomorrow." He stands up, gathering his things. "I'm going to head out now. Need to pick up Y/n and break the news to our parents." Minho stands as well.

As San stretches, Minho adds, "And San? Try not to look so... satisfied when you're out in public today." Hongjoong snorts, catching the implication. San rolls his eyes but smiles slightly at their teasing. “Good luck.”

“Thanks” he says, nodding as he leaves.

As San leaves the room, Hongjoong turns to Minho with a smirk. "You think he'll actually manage to keep it together?" Minho shakes his head, chuckling. "With the way he was smiling and blushing earlier? Not a chance." They both laugh, as the door closes behind San.

~~~~~~~~~~

During San’s meeting, you take the opportunity for a hot shower. The water feels amazing against your sore muscles. You take your time, letting the steam soothe you. As you wash, your mind wanders back to last night - San's touch, his words, the way he looked at you... You can't help but smile. After washing your hair, you step out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel, feeling refreshed.

~~~~~~~~~~

On the way back from KQ San calls off a small boutique to pick out some new clothes for you. He steps into a cosy boutique that's popular among celebrities. The staff immediately recognise him, but they know better than to cause a scene. He waves politely and starts browsing the racks. "I need something casual but cute," he tells a saleswoman. "T-shirts, loungewear, maybe a few date outfits. She's about this tall—" He gestures.

The saleswoman's eyes linger on San's face, recognising him from tabloids and magazines. She blushes slightly, "Are these for you, or..." She catches herself, realising he mentioned ‘she’. San smiles politely, "They're for my girlfriend." He clears his throat, realising his mistake. Her eyes widen. “Ah. I’d appreciate if you could keep this quiet...” he says. “I’ll be releasing a statement tomorrow… Please?”

The saleswoman's eyes widen with excitement, but her smile turns knowing and professional. "Of course, Mr. Choi. It'll be our little secret." She hands him a pile of carefully chosen outfits - soft sweaters, flowy dresses, cosy pajama sets. "Will there be anything else?" San nods, pulling out his credit card. “Shoes, do you have shoes?” He asks.

"Of course, sir!" The saleswoman quickly rushes off to gather a selection of shoes - cute flats, stylish boots, and some adorable slippers. "These should pair well with the outfits I've chosen. A size six?," she guesses, placing them neatly beside the clothes. "Anything else for your... girlfriend?" She asks with a subtle wink.

“I think that’ll be all” he says. “Wait… how did you guess her shoe size?”

The saleswoman smiles mysteriously. "I have a good eye for these things, Mr. Choi. Plus..." She leans in slightly, "...I may have seen some photos of her online, if it’s who I think it is.” San raises an eyebrow, amused and slightly embarrassed. "Don't worry, sir," she adds quickly, “I won’t say a word.” she promises.

San nods, relieved. "Thank you." He swipes his card through the machine and the saleswoman bags up all the items - at least ten clothing bags and four shoe boxes. San takes note of the total, but doesn't flinch. "Good luck with the announcement tomorrow," she whispers as he leaves, giving him a thumbs up. He smiles, as he leaves the store, the little bell above the door ringing.

San exits the boutique, arms full of shopping bags. The morning sun shines brightly as he carefully makes his way to his car, placing the bags gently in the back seat. As he drives through Seoul, the city bustling around him, he can't help but think about telling your parents... and his own. His parents adore Y/n and although her parents had always been fond of him, he knew her Dad had had his opinions when he left to be an idol.

San arrives back at the dorm, juggling the bags. He sets them down quietly, hoping you're still in the shower. "Y/n?" he calls softly through the bathroom door. "You decent in there?" He leans against the doorframe, kicking off his shoes, still thinking about your father. The man had always wanted you to marry someone stable. “Yeah, come in,” you call.

San opens the door, steam filling the small bathroom. You're wrapped in a towel, hair wet and messy. He smirks slightly, setting the bags down. "Here," he says softly, "bought you some stuff." His eyes wander over your body briefly before meeting your gaze again. He hands you a bag, gesturing to the others, piled up on the floor.

There's at least fifteen bags total - a small mountain of purchases. San runs a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "I may have gone a little overboard," he admits, leaning against the bathroom counter. "But I wanted to make sure you had options... for when we go out, or stay in, or—" You walk over to him slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck and plant a small kiss on his lips. “Thank you” you say. San melts into you, his hands finding your waist easily. He deepens the kiss for a moment before pulling back. "You're welcome," he murmurs against your lips. "Now, get dressed. We need to head to my mum’s first, then yours. Brace yourself... she's gonna freak." His eyes twinkle with amusement. "Literally."

You groan, forgetting you needed to tell your parents. "Yeah, yeah," San chuckles, giving your waist a squeeze. "Come on, don't look so miserable. My mum will probably cry happy tears and make you eat her entire kitchen. Your mum will probably hug you and ask when the wedding is. Your dad..." He winces slightly. "...we'll handle him together." He kisses your forehead.

Part Twelve

San x Female Reader

Part Eleven

Firstly, sorry it’s been a minute! I’ve been incredibly busy with life in general and this just took a backseat. I’m back now though and can hopefully give you regular updates!

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, mild violence, mutual masterbation, mirror sex, interrupted sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2.1k

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Part Twelve

You wake the next morning to loud yelling and banging coming from the hallway - it sounds like multiple people shouting over each other. You can make out Wooyoung’s voice saying something about "not my fault," and Mingi’s voice sounding stressed. San is still asleep, arm thrown over you possessively. There's another loud crash followed by Hongjoong yelling: "EVERYONE GET THE FUCK UP!"

You nudge San awake. “San, wake up” you whisper. “There’s something going on in the hall.” San groans softly and nuzzles into your neck, not waking up fully. "Five more minutes," he mumbles, then his ears twitch at the continued chaos outside. "Or whatever the hell is happening out there." He opens his eyes slightly and looks at you.

San notices your worried expression and immediately sits up, pulling you up with him. "Alright, alright. Let's go see what the fuckwads are doing now." He climbs out of bed and stretches, not bothering to put on a shirt. He slowly opens the bedroom door and peers out.

The scene that greets you is pure chaos. Mingi is trying to calm down a very red-faced Wooyoung, while Hongjoong is standing in the middle of the hallway, looking like he's about to explode. There are broken pieces of what looks like a vase scattered on the floor.

“What happened?” San asks, scratching his head. Hongjoong spins around, pointing a finger at Wooyoung. "This fucking asshole happened!" He yells. Wooyoung yells back, "It was an accident!" Mingi tries to intervene but gets pushed back by Hongjoong. "Accident my dick!"

San steps out fully into the hallway, arms crossed over his bare chest as he tries to make sense of the situation. He looks from Wooyoung to Hongjoong and back, eyebrows furrowed. "Alright, slow down. Someone start from the beginning before I lose my patience too."

Mingi takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Okay, so... Wooyoung and Hongjoong were arguing about who forgot to buy groceries—" Wooyoung interrupts defensively, "I didn't forget, he just didn't write it down!" Hongjoong's eye twitches. "You literally said you'd handle it!"

“And um…” he stutters.

Wooyoung grabs a nearby broom and throws it down the hallway in frustration. It hits the broken vase pieces, sending one shard flying. Hongjoong yelps as it nearly hits his foot. "See? SEE?" Hongjoong is now trying to get into Wooyoung's face but Mingi is holding him back. Mingi continues, “Woo stormed off, but he knocked this off on his way past.” San nods slowly, putting the pieces together. He uncrosses his arms and runs a hand through his messy hair instead. "So... Woo stormed off like a child, knocked over the vase, and now you two are acting like you're about to duke it out over it? Got it. Mature.” San chastises.

Both Wooyoung and Hongjoong have the grace to look slightly ashamed under San's disapproving gaze. Mingi smirks slightly, knowing San's reaction was exactly what they needed to calm down. "Yeah, yeah. Mature. You're one to talk, Mr."

“What’s that supposed to mean?” San pouts. Hongjoong seizes the opportunity to deflect. "It means you're not exactly the picture of maturity right now either, San. You're half-naked, hair messy—" He gestures towards San's bare chest and messy hair.

“I just spent the first night with my… fiancée.” he smirks. “Yeah, you were loud.” Seonghwa interjects, emerging from his room. “The fucks going on out here?”

“These two idiots were arguing.”

Wooyoung throws his hands up. "I said it was an accident! Why is Hongjoong acting like I committed a crime?" Hongjoong's face darkens again. "Because you're being a fucking baby about it! You can't handle a simple list!" Mingi sighs heavily, looking at the broken pieces. “Let’s just clean up.” he says.

Mingi starts gathering the broken pieces carefully while Wooyoung and Hongjoong exchange glares but don't argue further. Seonghwa leans against the wall nearby, arms crossed. "And San? Put some clothes on before someone walks in." San grins.

When he walks back into the bedroom, he immediately notices you're not in bed anymore. His grin falters slightly. "Babe?" He calls out, looking around. Then he sees you standing in front of the full-length mirror, looking at yourself in the dim morning light. You're wearing one of his oversized hoodies, completely naked underneath. "You look..."

“This is mine now.”

San's eyes widen slightly. A smirk spreads across his face. "Yeah? Stealing my clothes already?" He walks over to you slowly, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He kisses your shoulder gently. "It looks better on you anyway."

He stands behind you and you grab his hand, placing it between your legs, still looking in the mirror. San's breath hitches. He looks at your reflection - tired bedroom eyes, hair a complete mess, his hoodie swallowing you whole, and a hand being led where it doesn't belong. "Babe," he whispers against your ear, fingers brushing lightly. "The hallway is literally full of people right now."

“Okay. Never mind.” you say, pulling away.

San's fingers tighten around your wrist gently, stopping you. He leans in close to your ear. "No no, don't you dare." He starts moving his fingers slowly, watching your face in the mirror. "Just be quiet, okay? And don't you dare make a sound."

San starts moving his fingers in slow, deliberate circles, applying the perfect amount of pressure. He keeps his eyes on your reflection, watching as your lips part silently, eyes fluttering closed. "That's it," he whispers. "Just like that." His other hand comes up to cover your mouth gently, muffling any sounds. You sink back into his chest. San smiles against your neck, continuing his slow, steady motions. He knows exactly what he's doing - how to make you melt against him without making a single sound. His chest rises and falls slowly, keeping pace with his movements. "You look so fucking good right now."

“You feel so fucking good.” you respond.

San groans quietly, burying his face in your neck to muffle the sound. "Shh, baby, I'm serious. You have to be quiet." His fingers pick up speed slightly, knowing you're close. "Those idiots are right outside..."

You reach behind you, freeing his cock from his sweatpants. San's breath catches in his throat. He hisses quietly as you start stroking him slowly, matching his rhythm. "Fuck," he whispers, his fingers working faster between your legs. "Quietly, love. So fucking quietly."

“Fuck Me” you whisper.

San's eyes darken with need. The chaos from the hallway is still faintly audible - Mingi's voice trying to calm everyone down, Wooyoung's defensive muttering, Hongjoong's frustrated sighs. The perfect cover. "Against the mirror," he whispers, helping you. He lifts you up slightly, positioning you with your hands against the glass. He positions himself at your entrance, holding your gaze through the mirror as he slowly pushes himself inside you. His eyes flutter closed briefly at the feeling, but he forces them open, keeping them locked on yours. He starts moving slowly, his hips rocking against your rear. "So quiet, my love," he pants softly, his lips brushing your ear. "So quiet for me." You breathe heavily, but quietly.

San's hand covers your mouth again, muffling any sounds you might make. He increases his pace slightly, the mirror fogging up with your combined breaths. His other hand grips your hip tightly, pulling you back onto him. "Shh, baby," he whispers urgently, "Just feel me." You throw your head back, leaning against his shoulder. San watches your throat work silently, swallowing moans. He spreads his legs wider, changing the angle. He hits that spot perfectly, making your legs shake silently. One hand moves from your mouth to your throat, applying slight pressure. "You're so fucking silent," he praises softly.

“Don’t stop.” you whisper. San's lips brush your neck, teeth grazing lightly. "Wasn't planning on it." He shifts his angle again, hitting that spot repeatedly, his thumb finding your clit. The sounds from the hallway have died down slightly - Mingi's voice is quieter now, probably actually cleaning up. "Fuck, you're taking me so well, baby." You laugh lightly. San's lips curve into a small smile against your neck at your quiet laugh. He picks up the pace slightly, knowing you're close. "What's funny?" he whispers playfully, his fingers working faster between your legs. "The fact that we're fucking silently while they clean up out there?"

“The fact that twelve hours ago we were still just best friends.” you say breathlessly. San chuckles softly, his movements stuttering briefly as he remembers the exact same thought. His hand tightens slightly around your throat. "And now look at us." He leans down, biting your shoulder gently as he thrusts deep. "Quietly fucking against the mirror."

“My Fiancé” you whisper.

Something in San's chest swells at the word. His pace slows, becoming deeper, more deliberate as he savors each thrust. "Yeah, fiancé." He kisses the shell of your ear, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw. "You're stuck with me now." His thumb strokes your jawline gently, contrasting with how firmly he's filling you. “Only if you do this every day.” You say. San laughs softly, picking up the pace again, knowing you're serious. "Every day," he repeats, his voice low. He makes love to you slowly one moment, then pounds into you the next, his voice a quiet whisper, "Every night. Every morning. Whenever you want."

“I’m close.” you whisper. San's eyes darken with renewed intensity. "Shh, baby," he whispers, his hand covering your mouth again as he feels you tighten around him. "Come quietly for me. Just for me." He increases his speed, hitting that spot perfectly, his thumb finding your clit again, circling slowly, carefully.

The door suddenly bursts open. "SAN! The—Oh my god MY EYES!!” Mingi screams dramatically.

Everything happens at once. San's hand clamps over your mouth as you come silently, your body shaking. Mingi stands in the doorway, his dramatic scream echoing through the room before he immediately covers his eyes.

"HOLY FUCK, MINGI!" San yells, but it's muffled against your neck. He's still inside you, frozen, your walls clenching around him. San bites back a groan as you come silently around him, making him release immediately. Mingi is still standing there with his hands over his eyes, shouting indignantly. "I DID NOT NEED THAT VISUAL!"

“GET OUT!” San growls.

Mingi slowly peeks through his fingers, his eyes widening as he realises San is still inside you, and you're both covered in sweat and other things. "Fuck me," he mutters, slapping his hands over his eyes again. "I'M GOING! I'M GOING!"

The moment the door closes, you collapse into laughter. San pulls out of you immediately. He turns you around, pressing you against the mirror as he starts laughing silently, his shoulders shaking. "Fucking Mingi." He laughs quietly, wiping sweat from his forehead. "He's never going to live this down." You kiss him playfully on the lips. San kisses you back instantly, his laughter turning into a playful moan as he deepens the kiss briefly. He rests his forehead against yours, smiling widely. "You're fucking laughing while I was just inside you." He accuses softly, nudging your nose with his. “It felt, nice.” You giggle. San chuckles, his hand moving to gently squeeze your butt. "It was more than nice." He leans down, pressing soft kisses along your jawline and neck, his voice a playful whisper. "And we're definitely doing that every day. Morning sex, midnight quickies..."

You slap his shoulder playfully. San laughs, catching your wrist and pressing it against the mirror above your head. He nips playfully at your fingers. "What? You don't want morning sex and midnight quickies with your fiancé?"

“Oh every day.” you say. San smirks, pressing his body against yours possessively. "And every night. And probably some afternoon sessions too." He leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before pulling back with a smirk. "You're going to be too exhausted to walk straight."

“You have a job you know.” You laugh. San waves his hand dismissively. "My job can wait. My fiancée can't." He says seriously, before bursting out laughing at his own cheesiness. He uncuffs your wrist gently, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. "But seriously, love. I have a meeting in an hour."

You groan.

San laughs, turning you around gently. "I know, I know. But I promise I'll make it up to you tonight." He smacks your butt gently. "Now let's clean up before Mingi comes barging in again. That man has zero respect for privacy."

Part Eleven

San x Female Reader

Part Ten

Sorry for the delay lovelies! I’ve had a busy couple of weeks!

Chapter Warnings: SMUT (it’s going to be a recurring theme now 😂), fingering, oral (f. receiving), language

Word Count: 2.6k

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

“I guess you two made up?” you hear Wooyoung’s teasing voice form hall.

San's eyes widen slightly as he realises you’re not alone. He quickly grabs his boxers and pulls them on before throwing the duvet over you. He opens the door to find Wooyoung, Mingi, and Jongho standing there, all with stupid grins on their faces. "Fuck off," he says, trying to sound annoyed but failing.

“Hey Y/n!” Wooyoung waves around him, grinning. You bury your head in the pillow.

The guys all exchange amused glances before Wooyoung speaks up again. "So, you two finally fucked it out?" He laughs, while Jongho just shakes his head and Mingi grins mischievously. San rolls his eyes, trying to look annoyed but his cheeks are slightly pink. “Go away” he says, moving to shut the door. “About time!” Seonghwa calls from the living room. San groans, his hand staying on the door handle as he debates whether to slam it. "Seonghwa, I swear to God—" But Seonghwa is already jogging over, joining the huddle at the doorway. The four members stand there like a wall of judgmental man-bitches. “Leave them alone.” Yeosang calls. San sighs heavily, running a hand through his messed-up hair. He glances back at you, still buried in the pillow, before turning to face the wall of curious roommates. “Seriously, can we not do this right now?" They nod apologetically, understanding your need for some privacy. “Thank you.” San says, finally closing the door.

As soon as the door is closed, San leans against it, letting out a deep breath. He turns to face you, finding you still buried under the pillow. He can't help but smile at the adorable sight. "Come out," he says softly, pushing the pillow aside to reveal your flushed face. You pout at him. San chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to your pouting lips. "Don't pout," he murmurs against them. "They were just joking around. You know how they are." He sits down on the bed next to you, pulling you into his lap. “Did you mean what you said… during?” You ask carefully. San pauses, his expression turning serious. He cups your face gently with both hands. "Every single word. Especially the part about being in love with you since we were eighteen. That wasn't just sex talk, okay? I've been crazy about you for years." You look into his eyes. “I love you too.” San's eyes widen slightly, then soften with pure affection. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing out a quiet laugh. "Took you six fucking years to say it," he teases gently, his thumb tracing your jawline. "But I'll take it." He kisses you tenderly. "Does this mean we're finally dating?"

“It means I’m yours, if you still want me.”

San's heart swells with love and relief. He pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. "You've been mine since we were kids," he murmurs. "But I want it all now. The dating, the labels, the future. You're stuck with me, okay?"

“Deal.”

San grins, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Deal." He pulls back slightly, his eyes sparkling with happiness and love. "So, my girlfriend. Want to stay in here all night or do you want pizza with those bitches out there?"

“Definitely pizza.” you laugh. San laughs too, squeezing your hip. "Good answer. Cuddles later?" He whispers against your neck before pulling you up and getting you dressed.

You exit the room together, holding hands. The guys see you and San holding hands and exchange knowing smiles. Wooyoung whistles. “Leave it alone guys!” San says, exasperated. The members all raise their hands in surrender, trying not to laugh. Seonghwa just winks at you. Mingi grins. "We're not saying anything!" He says innocently. Jongho shakes his head, already heading to the kitchen. "Pizza's here. You two lovebirds can sit together."

San sits on the floor and you nestle between his legs. He wraps his arms around your waist possessively, resting his chin on your shoulder, kissing your neck occasionally while the members joke and eat pizza around you both. Yeosang throws a pillow at San's head playfully. "Get a room already." Everyone laughs. You throw a piece of popcorn chicken at Yeosang, the usually quiet one and he laughs back at you. “I like her!” San smiles proudly, squeezing you tighter as Yeosang laughs at your playful retaliation. The members continue their banter, including you in their conversations and jokes. As the night goes on, San steals kisses whenever he can. He's officially staking his claim publicly now.

Yunho and Hongjoong, watch quietly from the corner before Yunho pipes up. “I’m happy for you guys, seriously.” He says, raising his cup. All conversation stops and the members look at Yunho. Hongjoong nudges him with a soft smile. "Me too," Hongjoong adds, his voice gentle. "It's about damn time." The rest of the members raise their cups or bottles. "To San and Y/n," Mingi toasts dramatically.

San places a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. The kiss makes you laugh softly, and the members all smile warmly at the display of affection. Seonghwa raises his cup next. "To finally seeing San happy and in love." Everyone cheers and clinks their drinks together. San leans down to whisper in your ear, “Imagine what they’ll be like when we get married.” He says.

The members all hear San's whisper and start laughing and teasing him playfully. "Already planning the wedding, San?" Yeosang calls out. Wooyoung grins wickedly. "You two just officially dated five minutes ago!" Mingi adds dramatically, "But I approve!"

You look at San with wide eyes. “Yes,” you say simply.

San chokes on his drink, coughing dramatically as the room goes silent. He turns to you with wide eyes, his face turning red. "What... what did you just say?" He whispers loudly. The members are frozen, waiting for your response. "Seriously?" San asks softly.

“I said yes, I’ll marry you.”

San's jaw drops. All the members simultaneously lose their shit. Wooyoung literally falls off the couch. Mingi starts clapping. Jongho whoops. Seonghwa is just grinning like a proud dad. Yeosang is laughing. Yunho and Hongjoong exchange soft smiles.

San stares at you for a long moment, eyes wide and glassy. He grabs your face with both hands and kisses you deeply right there in front of everyone. The members cheer and whistle loudly in encouragement. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "Fuck, I love you," he whispers before kissing you again more gently this time.

“I love you too. Now pass me some more pizza.” The members burst out laughing at your casual demand after such an intense moment. San smiles softly, releasing your face and grabbing the pizza box. "Here," he says, handing you a slice. "But seriously... you're actually gonna marry me?"

“Shut up,” you say, stuffing the pizza in your mouth. San laughs and pulls the pizza away, holding it out of reach. "Answer the question." You try to grab it back, but San holds it higher. "Are you gonna be my wife?" You glare at him, mouth full of pizza. He grins. You give him a single nod. San's grin widens. He leans down and kisses your forehead triumphantly before handing you the pizza slice. "That's my girl," he murmurs.

It’s way past 2am when the members begin to filter out of the living room and off to bed, the adrenaline from the stage finally leaving their veins. Wooyoung yawns dramatically. "I'm dead. Literally dead. That stage killed me." Mingi stretches. "We need a day off tomorrow. Or a week." Seonghwa glances at San and you still cuddled up together. “I think San’s gonna need a month,” he teases.

San flips him off playfully, but he doesn't deny it. He just holds you tighter, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. "Get out," he says fondly, but there's no bite in his voice. The members laugh and head off to their rooms, leaving you two alone in the quiet living room. San looks down at you. "Wanna go to bed?"

“I can’t be bothered to move” you groan. San laughs softly and starts kissing your neck gently. "I'll carry you then." He stands up slowly, lifting you into his arms bridal style without any effort. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. "My future wife is too lazy to walk."

“Fuck you,” you mumble into his neck. San laughs and bites your neck lightly. "There's the girl I'm gonna marry." He carries you to his room and locks the door behind him. He walks over to the bed and tosses you onto it gently. "You're sleeping in my bed tonight." You bounce on the mattress. “Sleeping?” You ask, cocking your eyebrow. San's eyes darken slightly at your raised eyebrow, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he leans down to whisper against your lips. "Okay, maybe 'sleeping' wasn't exactly what I had in mind." He kisses you deeply, hands already sliding under your shirt. "We have the whole night. No one's interrupting us now."

San lets out a small "oof" as you flip him over, ending up on top of him. He looks up at you with wide, surprised eyes before his smirk turns positively devilish. "Someone's assertive." His hands immediately go to your hips, gripping them possessively. "I like it." He bucks his hips up slightly. You grin down at him. “Ew,” you tease. San chuckles deeply, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "Ew? Baby, you just agreed to marry me and you're straddling my dick, and you say 'ew'?" He flips you back over suddenly, pinning your wrists above your head. "Keep talking and see what happens." He kisses down your jaw slowly. “Ew San!” You continue, giggling. San's face contorts in mock offense, his hips grinding down against you deliberately. "Ew? Ew? You're gonna regret that word in about five seconds." He releases your wrists and starts tickling you instead, knowing exactly where you're sensitive. "Say it again. I dare you."

You press your lips up to his ear, “EW!”

San practically growls, pinning you down more firmly and attacking your sides with both hands. You squeal and laugh, trying to fight him off but he's too strong. "That's it, you're dead," he whispers against your ear, voice dark and playful. "Payback time."

He rips off your sweatpants and without further warning, plants his face between your legs. You gasp loudly as San's mouth lands on your folds. His hands grip your thighs hard, pulling you closer to his face as he starts lapping at you hungrily. "Mm," he hums against you, the vibration making you shiver. "Still think 'ew' is funny, fiancée?" He teases before diving back in. You throw your head back into the pillows “Oh god… San!” You pant.

He slows his pace, eating you out lazily, savoring you like his favorite meal. His tongue traces slow circles while his thumbs dig into your inner thighs. "Someone's extremely wet already," he murmurs against you before sucking your clit into his mouth. You cry out, fingers immediately threading through his hair. He takes that as permission and doubles his efforts, tongue pushing inside you. He pulls away momentarily, before lying back on the bed, pulling you over him. "Ride my face," he demands gruffly, pulling you up his body until you're straddling his mouth. "And if you say 'ew' one more time..." He doesn't finish the threat because he immediately buries his face back between your legs again.

“Ewwww” you moan, egging him on as you roll your hips. San smacks your ass hard. "Keep it up," he growls, then dives back in, tongue sliding in and out of you aggressively. You whimper and grind down harder onto his face, feeling his nose bumping against your clit with every thrust.

You’ve lost all ability to speak at his point, a series of strangled screams coming from your mouth. San keeps his relentless pace, hands squeezing your ass to keep you steady on his face. He's determined to make you lose your mind with pleasure and shut you up about that damn 'ew' word. His tongue curls up, hitting that spot inside you perfectly. Your legs start shaking uncontrollably. “San!” You moan, his name drawn out. You feel his lips curl into a smile against your core even as he keeps going. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading you wider for him. "There's my girl," he mumbles between licks, voice muffled but smug as hell. "Say my name again." He sucks hard on your clit, making your whole body jerk. "Louder."

“San, oh god San!” San smirks against you and sucks harder, his tongue working magic. You can feel his stubble scratching your sensitive skin pleasantly. Your moans get louder and more desperate, completely forgetting about teasing him now. His name becomes a chant on your lips as you grind against his face, chasing your release. "Let go, baby," he commands. "Come on my face."

“Oh god!” You scream, throwing your head back. Your orgasm crashes through you violently, thighs clamping around his head like a vice as you come hard against his mouth. San doesn't let up, riding out every wave of pleasure with you, licking you through it all until you're nothing but a trembling mess. "That's it, good girl," he murmurs approvingly, finally pulling back.

There’s a bang on the wall from the next room. “I can hear you guys!” Seonghwa shouts. San starts laughing loudly, completely unbothered. He wipes his face off with the back of his hand before swatting your ass. "Too loud for you, Hwa?" He yells back, pulling you down the bed to cuddle. "Get some earplugs."

“Stop making us all feel so single!” He shouts back. San laughs deeply and kisses your forehead. "No promises!" He yells back confidently. He turns his attention back to you, now panting and exhausted against his chest. "You okay there, fiancée? That was quite the show." He teases, fingers drawing lazy circles on your back. "Worth the 'ew's though." You poke a finger into his dimple.

San captures your finger immediately, bringing it to his mouth and biting down gently. "Keep poking, see what happens." He warns playfully, then pulls your hand away and kisses your knuckles. "You tired?" He asks softly, thumb rubbing circles on your lower back. You nod sleepily. San chuckles and pulls you closer, spooning you from behind. He kisses your temple. "Sleep then. Long day tomorrow." He's about to drift off when there's another bang on the wall. "WE'RE ALL STILL SINGLE SAN!" Wooyoung's voice calls out dramatically.

San flips the wall off without looking. "Suffer!" You Laugh softly, pulling his hand up to your mouth for a kiss. “You might have to start spending more time at my apartment” you whisper. San smiles into your hair. "Yeah? You trying to steal me away from my boys?" He whispers back teasingly. "I might take you up on that. Maybe we need a rule about quiet sex hours..." You hum in response as you begin to drift off. Spooned by your best friend of nineteen years, now your fiancé.

San lies there in the dark, listening to your breathing slow down as you fall asleep. His arm tightens around you protectively, thumb still stroking your hip absentmindedly. He stares at the ceiling, a goofy smile spreading across his face. "Fiancée," he whispers to himself, testing out the word. It feels right.

Part Ten

San x Female Reader

Part Nine

Chapter Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, rough sex, soft gentle sex, biting/marking, bad language (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 4.2k

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Part Ten

San tries to call you that night, but you ignore it. He tries the next night and the next. Days turn into weeks, and the constant ringing of your phone slowly fades away. No more late-night calls, no more unanswered messages. It's as if San has given up trying to reach you. You feel empty. Like you made the biggest mistake of your life by shutting him out. You can't focus on anything. Every time your phone buzzes, you hope it's San, even though you know he's stopped trying. You feel a heavy emptiness in your chest, a constant ache that won't go away. You miss him terribly.

It’s a rainy Sunday evening when you tell yourself enough is enough. You pick up your phone, typing out a text. You delete and re-write it several times before settling on,

“I’m so sorry San. I miss you. Let’s not wait another 5 years. Can we start over?”

San is lying on his bed, staring blankly at the rain-soaked window when his phone vibrates on his nightstand. He hesitates for a moment before picking it up, his heart pounding in his chest as he reads your message.

The article had come out weeks ago and the media blew up, but it was all swept under the rug pretty quickly. The fans were pacified when San went on live to talk (lie) about exactly what happened at the shoot.

San stares at the message for what feels like an eternity, his finger hovering over the screen. His chest tightens with a mix of relief and anxiety—he hadn't realised how much he'd been hoping for this moment until now. After a deep breath, his fingers move across the screen.

"We have a concert next weekend in Seoul. I’ll put you on the guest list."

You look at the message as it comes through. Relief flooding through you that he didn’t completely hate you.

As the week wears on, you find yourself counting down the days until the concert. The thought of seeing San again, being in the same room with him, fills you with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. You choose your outfit carefully, wanting to look casual yet presentable.

You arrive at the area, letting the door staff know your name for the guest list and they lead you towards the doors for backstage.

San is in the middle of soundcheck when one of the crew members taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. San nods slightly, his expression unreadable as he watches you make your way backstage. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the reunion.

As the members leave the stage, you’re met first by Hongjoong “There she is!” He smiles, pulling you into a hug “So nice to see you again.”Hongjoong's warm welcome puts you at ease slightly, but your eyes keep drifting towards the stage, searching for San. Just then, you hear his voice behind you. "Hey." It's simple, casual even, but there's a hint of something deeper beneath the surface. “Hey” you say, turning to look at him. San's gaze meets yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. He looks different—more tired perhaps, but also more intense. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you slightly. "Thanks for coming." His voice is low, almost intimate amidst the backstage chaos. “No problem” you say, still guarded. San's jaw tightens slightly at your reserved response. He expected... more. More emotion, more regret, more of you. Instead, you're giving him polite small talk like strangers meeting for the first time. "You wanted to start over," he states flatly, his eyes searching your face. "So start."

“I don’t want to ruin your show,” you say, reaching for his hand. “We’ll talk, I promise, but later.” San's gaze flickers down to your hand reaching out for his, then back up to your eyes. He hesitates for a moment before wrapping his fingers around yours, giving them a gentle squeeze. He understands—this isn't the time or place for a heart-to-heart. "After the concert." You give him a small smile.

With a nod, San pulls away gently and turns back to his members, who have been quietly observing the reunion. Hongjoong gives you an encouraging thumbs up behind San's back. As the crew start ushering them back onto stage for their entrance. San glances back at you once more. “I’ll be watching,” you say, waving your lightiny.

San's lips quirk up into a small smile just before he disappears behind the curtain. You make your way to the designated spot for guests, blending in with other industry professionals and close friends of the band. The lights dim and suddenly, San is center stage, looking absolutely electric.

This concert is different to the last. You know the songs, know the words. You’d spent hours scrolling YouTube, just to get a look at his face.

San's performance is nothing short of breathtaking. He sings with passion and energy, his dance moves seamless and captivating. But what truly holds your attention is the way he connects with the audience—his smiles, his interactions, his sheer presence. He's a star.

He’s covered in sweat as he takes the stage for his solo performance. The moment the song begins, the entire atmosphere shifts. The spotlight falls solely on him as he performs "Creep," a song that has always been one of his most intense and provocative. He moves seductively, his body swaying and grinding in a way that is utterly captivating. You find yourself staring. Fixated on his hip thrusts and the way he traces his hand down to his crotch, before yanking it back up again, his body language dripping with sexuality. He's not just singing—the he's putting on a show, a striptease of sorts. And damn, he's good at it.

You comepletely lose your mind when the rest of the members rejoin him on stage for “Wake Up”. The arena erupts into chaos as the members perform, their movements wild and uninhibited. San and three others drop to their knees simultaneously, mimicking sexual acts with thin fabric strips—blindfolding themselves briefly before thrusting their hips forward in sync. The crowd goes wild. You’re captivated. You’ve never seen him in this light. As the song reaches its climax, the members stand up abruptly, tossing the fabric strips into the air as they finish the routine. The crowd screams and cheers, completely hypnotised by the performance. San stands center stage, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his abs.

Your breath catches in your throat as San winks directly at you from the stage. It's a small gesture, but it feels incredibly intimate given the context. He continues the show seamlessly, but that wink... it lingers. Was it just for you? Or part of the performance?

At the end of the show, Minho comes to find you in the crowd. “I’m so glad you came y/n,” he says. “He’s been insufferable these last few weeks.” As Minho pulls you into a warm hug, San walks off the stage and heads backstage. He's surrounded by his members and the crew, all of them laughing and high-fiving each other after a successful performance.

Minho leads you backstage where San is towelling himself down and throwing on his sweats. He glances at you. “Guys” he calls. “I’m going to skip send off tonight. Tell Atiny I’m sorry and that I don’t feel well.” Hongjoong nods understandingly and gives you a knowing look before excusing himself to inform the rest of the group about San's plans. San turns to face you, his hair damp and messy from the towel. He looks exhausted but incredibly sexy in his simple sweats. "Come on. Let’s head off - Minho, can you drive is back to the dorm?” Minho nods, pulling his keys from his pocket.

As Minho starts the car, San leans back against the seat, closing his eyes briefly. He looks like he's about to fall asleep right there, but then he shifts slightly closer to you, his arm brushing against yours accidentally—or maybe not? “Thank you for coming tonight” he whispers. “My pleasure,” you say. “You were great. You all were.”

San smiles softly at your praise, but doesn't push for more conversation in front of Minho. The drive back to the dorm is relatively short and quiet. Minho pulls up outside the building and turns off the engine. "You two should talk.”

San opens the door, extending a hand to help you out. “I’m going to take a quick shower when we get in,” he says. “If you want one, you can use my bathroom and I’ll use Woo’s.” You nod.

Once you’re in the dorm, San grabs a couple of towels, handing one to you and gestures at some clothes he’s pulled out. You walk back out into the living room area, watching as San disappears into Wooyoung’s room. Minho lingers for a moment before speaking up. "He's really been struggling lately... just be gentle with him, okay?" He gives you a small smile before leaving.

San’s shower is amazing, with a large waterfall head and multiple jets that spray from the walls. You lather yourself up with his luxurious shower gel that smells just like him and wash your hair with the most beatiful shampoo.

As you're lost in the luxurious shower, San is finishing up in Wooyoung's bathroom. He's toweled off, pulled on a pair of low-slung sweatpants, and is now leaning against the doorframe of his own bathroom, listening to the sounds of water running. He runs quickly to the bed, when he hears the shower shut off.

As you rush out, wrapping a towel around yourself, San glances up from his phone. He's trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes linger on your damp hair and the way the towel hangs loosely around your curves. He clears his throat. “Oh, um sorry,” you stutter. San shakes his head with a small smile, setting his phone down. "Don't be. You look... comfortable." He purposely avoids saying 'hot' or 'sexy', trying to keep things casual. He crawls down the bed, grabbing the clean tshirt he laid out for you. "Here."

You take it from him and notice he’s also laid out of pair of his boxers for you. You furrow your eyebrows. San notices your expression and shrugs casually. "They'll be big on you obviously, but comfier than the towel, right?" He turns his back deliberately to give you privacy, even though he'd love nothing more than to watch you dress.

You dry yourself quickly, slipping into his boxers, using a hair tie to secure them around your waist and pop the tshirt over your head.

San hears the familiar rustle of fabric and turns around to see you drowning in his oversized shirt and boxers that are cinched haphazardly at your waist. His heart does a funny little flip. You look... ridiculously cute. Domestic. Like you belong here. "Come here," he pats the space next to him on the bed. You carefully sit down, grabbing a hairbrush from your bag, before running it through your hair. San watches you silently for a moment, enjoying the quiet domesticity of it all. He reaches out and gently takes the hairbrush from your hand. "Let me." He begins to slowly brush your hair, his long fingers working gently through the strands. His other hand rests lightly on your shoulder. "You have really pretty hair."

“Shut up.” You say, blushing slightly. San smirks at your response, continuing to brush your hair gently. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "Make me." His fingers linger on your scalp, massaging lightly. The room is filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sounds of the hairbrush moving through your hair. Your heart flips in your chest.

San sets the hairbrush down once he's finished, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. He leans back against the headboard. He watches you for a moment, before saying, “So you wanted to talk?” You stare at him a moment, your eyes flicking to his soft lips, then his bare chest, then back up to his lips before finally landing on his eyes again. San swallows hard, noticing your gaze flicking between his lips and his chest. His heart races slightly at the intensity of your stare. He clears his throat softly. "Eyes up here," he says gently, tapping his forehead playfully to bring your attention back to his face. "Talk."

“Let me try something.” you say, edging towards him. His breath hitches as you inch closer, his eyes locked with yours. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, just waits to see what you'll do. His arms remain loose at his sides, giving you full control of the moment. "Try... what?"

You stop a couple of inches from his face, before leaning in and softly pressing your lips to his. San's eyes flutter closed at the sudden softness of your lips. He doesn't move, doesn't kiss back, just lets you press your lips to his for a moment. You freeze, thinking you made a mistake, thinking you’ve got it all wrong “I…I…” you stammer.

Before you can pull away, San's hand shoots out to gently cup the back of your neck, keeping your lips pressed against his. He finally kisses back, soft and gentle at first, testing the waters before deepening it slightly, parting his lips to invite yours in "Shh."

You kiss him back, sliding your tongue in as he opens his mouth. San makes a quiet sound against your mouth as your tongues touch. His other hand comes up to gently cup your jaw as the kiss deepens naturally. When you finally pull away, both of you are breathing slightly heavier. San keeps his forehead pressed against yours. "Not a mistake."

Your lips crash into him again, this time more hungry. He kisses you back with matching hunger, his thumb tracing along your jawline as his other hand grips your hip possessively. The kiss is messy, needy—years of tension finally breaking. San leans back slowly, pulling you with him until you're both lying down on the bed, him beneath you. "Wait—" he breathes against your lips.

His eyes are dark with desire and something softer, more vulnerable. He swallows hard, his hands sliding up your sides under his oversized shirt. "We should... we should take this slow." His voice is hoarse, betraying his true desire to rip your clothes off right now.

“Don’t you think six years is long enough?”

San's eyes widen slightly at your words. He searches your face for any sign of jesting, but finds none. A soft smile spreads across his lips, "You've been wanting this for that long?" He asks softly, his hands stilling on your sides. "Why didn't you ever—"

“Why didn’t you?”

"Because I thought you saw me as just your friend," San admits quietly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. "And because I didn't want to ruin what we had. You were always there for me, and I—" He cuts himself off, pulling you closer. "I didn't think I deserved you. Still don't, maybe."

“Shut up.”

He smirks at your response, a familiar dynamic returning between you. He pulls you closer until your legs are draped over his hips and his hands are resting on your lower back. He looks up into your eyes again, this time with more determination. "You know what?"

“What?”

He tilts his hips up slightly, pressing against you. "I'm done talking." Before you can respond, his lips capture yours again in a hungry kiss. His hands slide under your shirt, gripping your bare waist as he rolls you both over until he's hovering above you, one knee settling between your thighs. "Tell me to stop and I will.” You grab the back of his head and pull him down into another hungry kiss. He takes that as permission, kissing you harder, deeper. San's hands roam freely now - one hand tangling in your hair, the other sliding down to grip your thigh and hitch your leg up around his waist. His knee presses between your thighs, and he grinds down instinctively, his hard length pressing against your core through the layers of fabric. He groans into your mouth.

You lift your hips to meet him, feeling needy.

San groans again at the friction, his hips moving automatically to match yours. He pulls back from the kiss, breathing heavily against your lips. "We should... we should probably slow down..." Despite his words, he grinds against you again slowly. You wrap your other leg around his waist. He loses it. Any semblance of restraint he had snaps. He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, his hands gripping your thighs to pull them higher around his waist. He rolls his hips deliberately now, simulating sex through your clothes. His hands slide up to squeeze your breasts through your shirt. You throw your head back in a moan.

San takes that as an invitation, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck. He finds that sensitive spot below your ear and sucks hard, marking you. His hips grind against you in a steady rhythm now, his cock straining painfully against his sweatpants. One hand slips between your bodies to push his boxers down slightly, seeking more friction. "God, you feel so good."

You grab his backside pulling him harder against you. He groans loudly at your touch, his hips snapping forward hard. His boxers and yours are now pushed aside, allowing skin to skin contact. He breaks the kiss to bite your collarbone sharply as he dry humps you with increasing urgency.

You guide his hand to your waistband and whisper, “Take them off.” He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal. At your command, he slips his hand into the boxers, pushing them down your legs. He kicks the fabric away and settles between your bare thighs, his hard cock pressing against your wet slit. "You sure?" He asks. “Never been more sure.”

He smiles softly at your words, kissing you gently this time. He presses the tip of his cock against your entrance and pushes slowly inside inch by inch until he's fully buried inside your warmth. He pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size before pulling out almost completely and slamming back in hard. “San!” You wail. He captures your lips in a messy kiss to muffle your cries as he starts to pound into you hard and fast. His hips snap forward at a brutal pace, his thick length filling you completely with every thrust. One hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise while the other wraps around your throat gently. "Shh, baby."

“Slow down” you say, through a strangled cry. He immediately slows his pace, kissing you gently as he rocks into you slowly now, letting you feel every inch of him. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes. "Too rough?" His voice is thick with arousal but full of concern. You pull your lips together tightly, your eyebrows furrowed as you nod at him. San's expression softens with understanding. He leans down to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose - placing soft, apologetic kisses everywhere. "I got you," he whispers against your skin. He slows down even more, making each thrust deliberate and deep rather than fast and hard. He angles his hips differently, searching for that spot that'll make you see stars. You grip his shoulders as he moves, rolling your hips to match his rhythm.

San groans softly at your movement, his hips rolling perfectly in sync with yours now. He captures your lips again in a deep kiss as he hits that sweet spot inside you repeatedly with slow thrusts that make your toes curl and eyes roll back slightly. “Oh god, San.” You moan. He pulls back to watch your face, his eyes dark with desire as he sees pleasure washing over your features. He angles his hips just right, hitting that spot again. "Right there?" he breathes, thrusting into that angle repeatedly. His hands slip under your hips to lift you higher, giving him even better access. You feel him hit deeper now.

You look up at him, heavy lidded, lips parted. This is the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. San's eyes flicker with something almost possessive as he sees the look on your face - he knows exactly what you're thinking. He leans down to kiss you again, his thrusts becoming slightly quicker but still maintaining that perfect angle and depth. "You like that?" You nod at him. He smiles against your lips, his pace picking up slightly but still controlled. He's determined to make you feel every inch of him, every thrust, every kiss. His hands roam your body - squeezing your breasts, gripping your thighs, spanking your ass lightly with each thrust. "Look at me." Your eyes meet his.

He holds your gaze as he fucks you slow and deep, his thrusts unwavering. The intimacy of eye contact makes everything more intense - you can see every flicker of pleasure, desire, and something deeper in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he watches your expression contort with pleasure. "Been wanting to see this look on your face for six years."

Your breathing is laboured San leans down, pressing his forehead against yours as his hips never stop their slow, deep rhythm. "Close?" he murmurs against your lips, one hand sliding up to grip your throat gently again—not restricting, just holding. He strokes his thumb across your pulse point, feeling your heartbeat race. You're trembling beneath him, your walls fluttering around his cock. “Yes,” you breathe. He smiles wickedly, knowing he's got you right on the edge. He slows his thrusts even further, rolling his hips in a circular motion that grinds his pubic bone against your clit with every rotation. "Come for me.”

“San,” you whisper “tell me something true.”

San's thrusts never falter as he looks into your eyes seriously. "I've been in love with you since we were eighteen. Every single relationship I had was a fucking distraction. I've never wanted someone the way I want you. I've never needed someone like I need you." He punctuates each sentence with a deep roll of his hips.

That’s enough to drive you over the edge. You grab his shoulders pulling him down on to you as your body trembles. San captures your lips in a desperate kiss as he feels your orgasm wash over you, your walls squeezing him tight. He doesn't move his hips, just lets you ride it out while staying deep inside you. When your body finally relaxes beneath him, he pulls back slightly. “I’m going to come soon.” he says breathlessly. “Where do you want me to do it?”

He waits for your response, his body tensed above you. When you don't answer immediately, he rolls his hips gently to remind you of his presence. "Inside?" He suggests hoarsely, already knowing the answer. All you can do is nod at him. San's eyes soften as he sees the love-drunk expression on your face. He leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back slightly. "I'm going to come inside you," he smirks softly against your lips, his hips picking up speed slightly, but still maintaining that deep angle.

You kiss him again as his thrusts continue. The kiss is messy and desperate as San's pace becomes erratic, his controlled rhythm falling apart. He's close - so close - and the feeling of you wrapped around him so perfectly is making him lose his mind. He grinds against your clit with each thrust, chasing his own release. "God, I'm..." he breaks the kiss to bury his face in your neck.

He lets out a loud groan as he comes undone, his hips jerking forward as he spills himself inside you. He bites down on your shoulder to muffle his loud moan, his body shuddering with each pulse of his release. He stays buried deep inside you, filling you completely as he rides out his orgasm. "Fuck..."

“Fuck” you respond.

San stays slumped against you for several long moments, his face still buried in your neck. He's completely spent, his body limp and his arms wrapped tightly around you. Finally, he lifts his head to look at you, his expression soft. "You're going to hate me tomorrow."

“Not this time,” you smile. He smiles back, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "Good," he murmurs against them, before pulling back slightly. He looks down between your bodies, where his softening cock is still buried inside you, leaking his release. He groans softly. "I made a mess."

“What’s new?” You joke as you hear footsteps in the hallway and muffled whispers. The rest of the guys must have arrived home. He chuckles softly. He pulls out slowly, watching as his release drips out of you. He quickly grabs some tissues and cleans you up gently before cleaning himself up. He hears the whispers and footsteps getting closer. "They're home."

Part Nine

San x Female Reader

Part Eight

Chapter Warnings: It’s just bit sad 😞

Word count: 1.6K

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Part Nine

You’re awoken by San talking on the phone at 8am. “I need you at KQ by 10am” Minho’s voice says through the speaker. “Use the entrance from the basement carpark.” Smart, the paparazzi couldn’t get in there.

San's voice carries down the hallway, low and urgent as he speaks on the phone. He's pacing back and forth in the living room, running a hand through his hair repeatedly. When he finally hangs up, he lets out a heavy sigh. He notices you standing in the kitchen, watching him with sleep-rumpled hair and a creased t-shirt. “The meeting,” he confirms. “We need to leave soon. It’ll take an hour to get into the city.”

San watches you wordlessly as you lean against the doorframe. There's a weight between you that wasn't there before - a mixture of everything from the shoot, the unfinished conversation, and the obvious tension that neither of you know how to fix. He moves to the couch to grab his things. "I'm sorry for waking you," he says quietly, not meeting your eyes.

You don’t say anything, but walk over to him, embracing him in a hug. San freezes for a moment, surprised by your sudden affection. He quickly wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. He rests his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes. For a moment, everything feels normal again - like the past 24 hours didn't happen. “Okay, I’ll get dressed,” you say, before turning and walking away.

San watches you leave, his heart heavy with unspoken words and feelings. He quickly finishes packing up his things, trying to push down the knot of emotion in his throat. By the time you're both ready, the tension has lifted slightly, replaced by a heavy silence. "Ready?" he asks, holding the door open for you. “Uhuh,” you reply.

The drive into the city is uncomfortable. Neither of you turn on music, instead letting the sound of traffic and San's occasional muttering at other drivers fill the silence. When you pull into the basement carpark of KQ Entertainment, San lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. “Let’s go,” he says, motioning at you to get out of the car and follow him.

San leads the way through the underground parking lot, his long legs eating up the distance. He pauses at the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly as if hoping it will arrive faster. When the doors ding open, he steps inside, holding them open for you with a strained smile. "After you." You smile at him weakly, it not quite reaching your eyes. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

The elevator ride is agonisingly slow. San stares straight ahead, his reflection revealing a tense jaw and furrowed brow. You stand beside him, hands clenched tightly in front of you, trying to calm your racing heart. When the elevator finally dings on the tenth floor, San steps out quickly, not waiting for you. You follow him down the hall and enter a boardroom filled with several members.

The room falls silent as you both enter. The other members of KQ stare at the two of you, sensing the tension in the air. San takes his seat at the head of the table, his expression stern and professional. He gestures for you to sit beside him, avoiding eye contact. The CEO stands (yes this crisis has called for the CEO) and begins the meeting. “So we are here to discuss the stategy for managing… this.” He says, projecting an image from the previous days shoot.

San stares at the image on the screen, his expression unreadable. He's aware of every single pair of eyes in the room watching him, waiting for his reaction. He clears his throat before speaking, his voice steady and calm. "Firstly, let's address the elephant in the room." San begins. “Was that real?” The CEO asks, cutting him off. San freezes at the question, his eyes snapping to yours before quickly looking away. The room falls silent again, all eyes on him waiting for an answer. He hesitates before responding softly, "Yes." His admission hangs heavy in the air before he continues, "It was real, for me at least." Your eyes flick over to him quickly before averting back to your hands clasped together in front of you.

San watches you out of the corner of his eye, seeing how you fidget with your hands. The CEO continues, "So we have two options. Either we lean into this and create a narrative that this was planned all along..." Both of your heads snap up, eyes widening. "...or we downplay it and say it was just a very convincing performance."

“The second option.” San says without hesitation. The room nods in agreement with San's immediate response. The CEO continues, "Alright then. We'll be putting out a statement soon that the kiss was just a result of great acting." San's jaw clenches at the word 'acting', but he keeps his composure.

“I don’t think that’s going to fly.” Minho's soft-spoken voice cuts through the room, causing everyone to turn their attention to him. San looks at him sharply, hoping Minho will explain himself further without revealing too much. "Why not?" the CEO asks curiously. "It's a plausible explanation."

“Because what happens when the fans find out it WAS real, and we lied?” The room falls silent again at Minho's words. San's heart pounds in his chest as he realises the truth behind Minho's statement—the kiss was real, and lying about it could backfire horribly if fans found out. The CEO looks uneasy, "You're saying we should come clean?"

“I don’t know” Minho says, holding his hands up in frustration. “It’s not our lives.”

The CEO turns his gaze to you, awaiting your input. The room holds their breath, knowing that whatever you say could potentially change the course of this crisis. San watches you intently, his heart aching as he realises how much this situation is hurting you. "What do you think?"

“I think we’re best friends,” you say flatly. “So obviously we have chemistry… and we were just channeling that chemistry, and playing around.” The CEO nods slowly, processing your words. He looks around the room, gaugeing the reactions of the members before speaking again, "So you're saying it was just...friendly playful acting? No underlying feelings or meanings behind it?" His eyes flick back to you expectantly. “That’s correct.” you say.

The CEO nods, seeming to accept your explanation. He turns to the others in the room, "Alright then. We'll stick with that narrative. Friendly playful acting between best friends. No big deal." He pauses, looking back at San, "You okay with that?"

San is stunned silent, his mind reeling from your response. 'Friendly playful acting' - that's how you're explaining away the most intimate moment of his life. He feels a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion swirling in his chest as he watches you maintain your composure.

“Okay, we’ll draw together a plan then.” the CEO says. “You’re dismissed.” The meeting ends quickly after that, with everyone filing out except for you and San. As the door closes behind the last person, San finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Friendly playful acting?" He repeats your words back to you, his tone laced with hurt and disbelief. "That's what you're going with?"

“That’s what it was, wasn’t it?” You retort.

San's face contorts with frustration and hurt as he responds sharply, "Was it? Because from where I was standing, it felt like a hell of a lot more than just 'friendly playful acting.'" His voice cracks slightly on the last word, giving away the depth of his feelings. “San, I can’t do this.” You say. San's expression hardens as he processes your words. He takes a step back, his voice cold and distant. "Can't do what? Can't admit that there might be something more between us? Can't handle the fact that we shared something real?"

“Just leave it, okay?” You say. Your voice tired. San's jaw clenches as he fights to keep his composure. He hates how exhausted you look, how deflated your voice sounds. It makes him want to reach out and shake you, to make you snap out of whatever is holding you back. "Fine."

“I think you should stay here.” you say “Go back to your dorm.” San stares at you for a long moment, his chest heaving with unspoken emotions. Without a word, he turns on his heel and exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As he walks back to the dorm, he feels a sense of numbness washing over him.

Minho pops his head in the room. “Everything ok?” He asks. “Do you want me to take you home?” You nod slightly, feeling exhausted. "Yeah, please," you whisper, gathering your things slowly. Minho watches you with concern, noticing the dark circles under your eyes and the way your hands are trembling. He doesn't press for details. “Can you pick up San’s things whilst you’re there?” You ask. Minho nods, understanding that you want to avoid any further confrontation with San today. As he drives you home, the silence in the car is deafening.

When you arrive, he follows you up to your apartment, waiting in the hall whilst you throw all of San’s belongings into his suitcase. Once you’re done, you pass it to Minho. “Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Tell San I’m sorry.” Minho takes the suitcase with a gentle nod, his heart aching for both of you. He sees the genuine regret in your eyes and it only confirms his suspicions that something deeper is going on. "I will," he promises softly before turning to leave.

Part Eight

San x Female Reader

Part Seven

Chapter Warnings: Bad language, name calling, Y/n slaps San, angst - it’s just a bit sad 😔

Word Count: 2.7k

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Part Eight

Out in the corridor, Minho turns to San, his face furious. “What the hell did I just witness?” He barks. “I don’t know.” San mutters, shuffling his feet. Minho groans and runs his hands through his hair. "You don't know?! You don't know why you kissed her like that?! San, that was not a friendly peck on the lips. That was full-on, tongue-entangled, heat-of-the-moment kissing!"

San looks up at him, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may have been… suppressing some feelings,” he says “… for a while.” Minho's eyes widen in shock. "You've been suppressing feelings for her?" He pauses, processing this new information. "For how long?" San looks away, avoiding Minho's gaze. "San," Minho presses gently, "How long have you had feelings for her?"

“Over six years.”

Minho's jaw drops open. "Six years?! You've been in love with her for six years?!" He exclaims loudly before catching himself and lowering his voice. "And you never said anything? You never tried anything?!" San shakes his head, looking miserable. "San..."

“After I left for training in Seoul, we lost contact. I didn’t see her for five years.”

Minho's expression softens with understanding. "I see... So when you saw her again, all those suppressed feelings came rushing back?" San nods silently. "And that kiss just now... that was six years of unsaid words and unspent feelings pouring out." Minho smiles knowingly. San nods.

Minho pats San on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Well, there's your answer then. Those photos aren't going to create a shitstorm because of some scandal. They're going to create one because people will be able to see that you’re crazy about her."

San groans loudly. “She doesn’t feel the same.” Minho's smile fades slightly. "Are you sure about that?" He asks gently. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like she was pretty into that kiss too." San shakes his head. "No, she doesn't see me that way."

“If you say so” Minho says. “Come on, we need to get back in there.

As they walk back into the room, they find you still sitting with your head in your hands, looking completely mortified. Mina and Soobin are trying to comfort you but failing miserably because they're both laughing too loudly. Minho clears his throat loudly. "Alright, everyone calm down."

You look up from your hands to see San looking at you. His gaze locks onto yours immediately. His expression is unreadable, but there's a warmth in his eyes that wasn't there before. He holds your gaze for a long moment before looking away, his cheeks slightly flushed. Minho starts talking about damage control and PR strategies, but you can barely focus on anything except San and that kiss. You look away from him quickly, avoiding eye contact.

San notices your abrupt lookaway and a small frown forms on his face. He starts to say something but Minho interrupts him, launching into a detailed plan for how they'll handle the media fallout. "So basically," Minho concludes, “We’ll just say that Sophie is an upcoming model and you’re both really great actors.”

Soobin nods. "Exactly. No need to make this into something complicated." He looks between you and San, emphasising the point. "Just two professionals doing their job. No scandal here."

“You’re forgetting something though,” San says. “The media already know she’s my childhood friend.” Minho freezes, “Shit.”

Minho runs his hand through his hair, looking stressed. "Yeah, that's going to complicate things. They'll start digging into your past together." He looks at San seriously. "Are there any... other photos or videos from when you were kids that could surface?" San shakes his head, “Nothing that I can recall. Maybe some of us play fighting when we were like Seven or eight, but nothing that could add fuel to the fire.”

You look up from where you’re sat, you’d been quiet until now. “Prom,” you say simply.

Everyone falls silent at your sudden interruption. Minho looks at you curiously. "Prom?" He repeats, trying to recall if there's some significance to that word. San's eyes snap to yours, realisation dawning in his gaze. Soobin and Mina exchange confused glances. “We went to prom together, as best friends.” you add. “We’d both recently gone through pretty messy breakups, so we decided to just go together.”

San's cheeks flush red at the memory. "You went to prom together?" Mina squeals, immediately pulling out her phone. "You have to have photos of that!" Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. "Great. So the media now has evidence of you two being each other's emotional support system for over a decade." He mutters. “Could any of those prom photos be perceived any anything else?”

Mina’s already scrolling though social media. “Yep!” She says turning her phone around to show the men the various poses of you and San hugging, kissing each others cheeks, pulling silly faces.” Soobin leans over to look at Mina's phone. "Okay, those are pretty innocent. Some hugging, cheek kisses... Wait, what's this one?" He zooms in on a photo that has both of you laughing with your foreheads touching. "This looks kinda..."

“Intimate.” Mina finishes. Minho nods grimly. "Yeah, that one is definitely intimate. The 'just friends' narrative is going to be hard to sell if photos like that start circulating." He looks at San seriously. "How many more photos are there like that?" San swallows hard, shaking his head. He has no idea. You’ve been friends for nineteen years, around each other constantly for fourteen of those. "There could be hundreds of photos like that. We were always taking selfies or having friends take pictures of us." He looks at you with a worried expression. "And there might be videos too..." Minho groans. "Great. Right, we need to have a crisis meeting tomorrow at KQ.” he says. “We need to wrap up here. What else do you need Soobin?”

"Just a few more shots of San looking serious and y/n... looking naturally beautiful," Soobin smiles wickedly, "Actually, can you two pretend to argue? That'll give us some great 'behind-the-scenes' content. No actual fighting, just..."

You look up, your face forlorn. San sees your expression and his own face falls. He knows exactly what Soobin is asking for - the kind of argument couples have, complete with angry faces and dramatic hand gestures. He turns to you, trying to force a smile. "Come on, y/n."

“I don’t think I can San.” you say quietly. San's smile falters at your quiet refusal. He steps closer, lowering his voice. "We don't have to actually fight," he reassures you softly, "Just pretend." He gives you a small, encouraging smile, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes - a silent plea. "Please?" You pull your lips together in a small frown. “Okay.” you say.

Soobin claps his hands excitedly."Perfect! San, grab her jaw and look angry. Y/n, use that frown on your face - you're already halfway there." San steps in front of you, his hand moving to grip your chin gently, tilting your face up. "Just... look annoyed at me."

You narrow your eyes, pulling your face into a scowl. “Y/n, call him a name” Soobin shouts, clicking away. “Asshole.” you spit.

San's eyes widen at your sudden insult, and he lets out a fake laugh that sounds eerily genuine."Fuck you, Y/n." He retorts immediately, his face contorting into an angry expression that Soobin is quickly capturing with his camera. "You're such a bitch."

“Yeah well you’re a dick!” You shout. “A stupid, pretentious, dick!” Soobin is in heaven, snapping photos as fast as he can. San's face turns red with fake anger, his hand tightening on your chin. "At least I'm not a jealous little girl who can't let go!" He shouts back, completely getting into character.

San is playing along really well, his acting pristine. What he doesn’t realise is that you’re letting your real anger out. “You left me you bastard! You left me for five years and then you have the nerve to pull this shit?!” San's eyes widen slightly at the raw emotion in your voice, realising too late that you're not just acting anymore. His grip on your chin loosens, but he quickly recovers, playing along with even more intensity. "I left because you were fucking impossible! Always needing attention!"

“Says the IDOL! OH LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME!”

San's face twists with mock anger, but there's a hint of genuine frustration behind his eyes. "At least I have something to show for my fame! You're still just a fucking nobody with your stupid fucking face!" He shouts, throwing his hands up in the air.

You slap him, hard. One swift blow across his face.

The sound of your hand connecting with his cheek echoes through the room. Soobin's camera clicks rapidly, capturing every detail of San's stunned expression. For a moment, there's complete silence as San stares at you, his hand slowly reaching up to touch his reddened cheek. Your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“This is brilliant!” Soobin shouts. “I think I’ve got all I need guys!” San's hand drops from his cheek, and he blinks rapidly, coming out of character. He looks at you with a mix of shock and something else—something softer that he quickly masks. Soobin is already packing up his camera, clearly satisfied with the footage. "Yeah... that was perfect."

The moment the shoot is declared over, you turn away from San, walking over to wardrobe to return your dress. “Keep it baby.” the stylist says to you. “That dress was made for you honey.” You bow slightly in thanks and go to grab your things. All the while avoiding eye contact with San.

San watches you silently as you gather your things, his hand still lingering on his cheek where you slapped him. He seems at a loss for words, torn between his character's anger and the reality of what just happened. Soobin claps him on the back, breaking his trance. “Good job today.” he says. “Give y/n my details, I’d like to work with her again. Oh, and I hope you figure out whatever,” he gestures between you “this is.”

San nods mechanically at Soobin's words, his eyes never leaving you as you exit the room. He waits until the door clicks shut behind you before letting out a heavy sigh. His hand returns to his cheek again, rubbing it gently as if trying to erase the sting of your slap. "...Fuck."

San quickly changes back into the clothes he arrived in and walks out front to find your ride already there. His stomach drops seeing you already in the car. He hesitates at the curb, debating whether to get in the backseat with you or call for another driver. Minho walks up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You should go talk to her," he says quietly. "That wasn't all acting, was it?" San exhales and opens the door.

He slides into the backseat beside you, closing the door gently behind him. The car pulls away from the curb, leaving you alone in the dimly lit interior. San sits stiffly, his hands clenched in his lap, staring out the window. After a long silence, he turns his head to look at you. "Y/n..."

You’re looking out the window. You don’t turn to look at him. San watches your reflection in the window, seeing how you stare out at the passing city lights. The silence between you is heavy, loaded with everything you both said during the shoot—some of it fake, some of it painfully real. He clears his throat. "So... that was good acting back there," he says weakly, trying to break the tension. “Yeah, you too,” you say distantly.

San falls silent again, the car's engine and the hum of tires on the road filling the gap. He fidgets with his seatbelt, avoiding looking at you directly. The air between you feels charged, like any moment could ignite into another argument or... something else. "Y/n," You still say nothing. San unbuckles his seatbelt and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. He stares at the floor, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, more sincere. "Can you at least look at me?" You turn to him. “Put your seatbelt back on.” You scold.

San quickly buckles himself back in, sitting back against the seat. He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. There's a mix of frustration and vulnerability in his gaze. "Why are you being like this?" he asks quietly. “I’m just tired,” you lie. “It’s been a long day.” San's lips press into a thin line, knowing you're not being completely honest, but also recognising that pushing will only make you shut down more. He falls back into silence for the rest of the ride, the tension between you thick and uncomfortable.

Your head is going a million miles an hour. You couldn’t possibly say ‘because I just realised I’ve been in love with you for years San.’ No, that would be stupid, so you lie.

The car pulls up to your building, and San watches as you quickly gather your things, preparing to make a quick exit. He reaches out before you can open the door, his hand gently gripping your arm. His touch sends a familiar spark through you that he ignores. "Wait," he says firmly. “Can I still stay?”

San sees the weariness in your eyes, the same exhaustion that's been building between you for days. He knows he's overstayed his welcome, but something in him desperately wants - needs - to stay. To fix whatever just happened back there. To figure out what's really going on between you. "Please."

“I thought you were anyway.” you respond flatly. San's shoulders sag slightly at your tone, but he takes it as permission rather than invitation. He waits a moment before following you up, watching as you drop your bag by the door and move directly to the kitchen. "I'm gonna use your bathroom real quick." he says. “Okay.” you respond.

San disappears down the hallway, giving you a moment alone. You hear the bathroom door click shut and you lean against the kitchen island, finally letting out the breath you've been holding. Your hands shake slightly as you process everything - the shoot, the argument, the way San's eyes looked when you slapped him.

The kiss.

The memory of his lips on yours flashes in your mind - how real it felt, how his hands held you like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block it out. The bathroom door opens and San emerges, his hair slightly damp from washing his face.

“I’m going to bed.” you say quickly. “You can stay on the couch.” San pauses mid-step, his eyes widening at your abruptness. He opens his mouth to say something, but snaps it shut again, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. He watches as you disappear down the hallway without another word, leaving him alone in the living room. "Fuck."

San stands alone in the living room, his mind replaying the past - the sleepovers, the shared beds, the countless times he'd fallen asleep with your head on his chest or his arm wrapped around you. His chest aches at the sudden change - you sleeping alone while he stays on the couch.

Once in bed, you lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling. You had to get through two more days and then he’d be gone. Away from here and back to his real life as an idol and you could go back to your perfectly boring normal life.

San settles onto the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. He stares up at the dark ceiling, wondering how things got so complicated between you two. He misses the easy laughter, the late-night talks, the way you'd curl up against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Neither of you fall asleep until the early hours. Thoughts plaguing your mind.