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 💙

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part Eight

Part Seven

Chapter Warnings: Grief, Oral (f. Receiving) fingering, rough sex (consensual, but mentions of it hurting), unprotected sex, bad language.

Word Count: 4.1k

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Part Eight

As you pull onto to the driveway of his little house, you give his hand a squeeze. He doesn't respond to your touch, his hand limp in yours. The house looks warm and inviting, but Wooyoung just sits there, staring blankly at it. You unbuckle his seatbelt and gently pull him out of the car, guiding him up the driveway like a ghost. "Keys..?”

His hands tremble as he hands you the keys, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. Inside the house, everything is neat and tidy - Wooyoung's personality shining through, even in his absence. You manage to get him to sit on the couch, his eyes fixed on some point beyond you. "Your clothes are wet." You whisper. He doesn't react or answer you. His clothing is soaked through from the rain, his skin cold and clammy. You make a decision and start unbuttoning his shirt gently, trying to get him out of the wet clothes. He sits there like a statue, no help and no hindrance. Your hands brush his skin, as you pull the shirt off his shoulders.

He doesn't react to your touch, doesn't shiver from being cold or lean into your warmth like he normally would. You've never seen him so disconnected from his own body before. His chest is bare now, but he just sits there in his wet pants, looking completely lost. "Woo, look at me…" Slowly, his gaze drags up from wherever it was to meet your eyes. But there's no spark there, no fire. Just a dull, lifeless emptiness that makes your heart ache.

He watches as you undo his belt and lifts his hips slightly so you can pull down his wet pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

"Wait there." you say, turning to walk to his bedroom to get some dry clothes for you both, but he grabs your wrist. His grip is surprisingly strong, his fingers cold and trembling around your skin. He pulls you back toward him, his forehead pressing against your stomach. He's like a lost child seeking comfort. "Don't go.." His voice is hoarse, broken.

He untucks your shirt from your jeans and leans forwards. His lips are cold against your skin as he presses a soft, desperate kiss to your stomach. He buries his face there, inhaling deeply like he's trying to breathe you in. His arms wrap around your waist, holding on tightly. He kisses you again "Woo..." His name comes out like a whimper. His kisses trail across your stomach, his hands gripping your waist tightly. He's seeking comfort, seeking something familiar in you.

He looks up at you with those hollow eyes, his lips parting to speak but no words coming out. "Speak to me.” He swallows hard, his throat bobbing. He opens his mouth but all that comes out is a broken whisper, "I can't..." He pulls you closer, burying his face back in your stomach.

His fingers curl around the hem of your jeans, gripping it tightly. He pulls you closer, his face pressing into your stomach again. Without warning, he starts undoing your belt, his fingers shaking. He pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, his knuckles brushing against your underwear.

"Woo, what are you doing?"

He looks up at you, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He doesn't answer with words, just pushes your jeans down your hips a little. He presses his face against your underwear, inhaling deeply like he's trying to smell you through the fabric. "Woo no, not like this.” He ignores your protest, his hands pushing your jeans and underwear down to your thighs. He kisses your hip bone desperately, his arms wrapping around your legs to keep you in place. He's not thinking clearly, he's just seeking comfort and familiarity in a way that's wrong. "Shh..."

"Woo come on…" He ignores your pleas, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your hip bone and lower stomach. He's shaking, his body cold and wet from the rain. He tries to push your legs apart, "Just let me.." His voice breaks. "Please..."

You grab his cheek. He flinches at your touch, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away. He nuzzles into your palm like a cat, seeking comfort. He presses kisses to your palm and wrist, his body still shaking. He pulls your jeans and underwear the rest of the way down and you step out of them.

Without warning, he buries his face between your legs, inhaling your scent deeply.

You stumble backwards. He grabs you to keep you from falling, his face still buried between your legs. He's not thinking straight, he's just desperate for comfort and familiarity. He starts kissing and sucking on your inner thighs, his hands gripping your legs tightly to keep you in place. "Don't move..."

"You're not thinking straight."

He ignores your words, his mouth moving to your core. He starts licking and sucking like his life depends on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you. He's desperate, out of his mind with grief and loneliness. He wants to lose himself in you, to feel something other than emptiness. "Fuck.” He hears your shocked whisper and redoubles his efforts, his tongue pushing inside you. He eats you out like he's starving, his hands moving to squeeze your ass cheeks possessively. He pulls one leg over his shoulder. He can’t get enough. "Mmph.."

He feels you give in and he lets out a muffled moan against you, his tongue moving faster and more urgently. He's completely lost in the moment, using you for comfort and escape from his pain. His hands squeeze your ass harder as he devours you eagerly.

"Nngh...'

"Woo, Baby” you gasp. “Just fuck me." You plead. At your desperate whisper, he pulls back just long enough to yank off his wet boxers. He picks you up suddenly, making you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to the wall and slams you against it roughly.

"Fuck..."

You stare at him your breathing heavy. He stares back at you, his eyes wild and desperate. He doesn't speak, just grabs your hips and positions himself at your entrance. Without warning, he slams inside you hard, making you cry out. He starts fucking you roughly against the wall, his face buried in your neck.

"Slow down!" You yelp.

He ignores your plea, his thrusts becoming faster and more brutal. He's not making love, he's using you for release, for comfort. His hands grip your thighs tightly, spreading you wider as he pounds into you. He bites your neck hard, marking you without thinking. "Shh...”

"Baby please, you're hurting me!” You cry out.

Those words seem to snap him out of his daze. He freezes, his body tensing. He pulls back to look at you, really look at you, and sees the pain and fear in your eyes. He realizes what he's doing, how he's treating you.

You hold his face. "Hey, hey look at Me... slowly okay?” He blinks rapidly, his eyes focusing on you. He takes a shuddering breath as he feels your gentle hands cupping his face. He slowly withdraws from you before sliding back in at a much slower pace, his hips moving gently now instead of roughly. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...." he whimpers. "That's it." You encourage.

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours. He keeps moving inside you slowly, deeply, his hips rolling in a tender rhythm. His breathing is shaky, tears finally escaping his eyes as they slide down his cheeks. He kisses you softly, his thumbs stroking your cheeks between his breaths. "I don't know what's wrong with me.." he whispers against your lips. "It's okay."

He breaks down, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he buries his face in your neck. He continues to move slowly inside you, seeking comfort and forgiveness through gentle lovemaking. He clings to you like a drowning man, his tears soaking your skin as he apologizes repeatedly.

"It feels so good to have you inside me again Woo... two years.” His hips stutter at your words, a choked sob escaping him. He pulls back to look at your face, his eyes red and wet. "Two years.." he repeats, like he's just realizing. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone tenderly as he thrusts deeper, slower. "I missed you so fucking much." His voice cracks. "Every single day."

"I missed you too."

He kisses you deeply, pouring every ounce of his longing and regret into it. His hips roll against yours with aching slowness, each thrust deliberate and full of meaning. He whispers against your lips about how much he loves you, how much he never stopped, how he made a mistake. The rain continues to pour outside, but inside, it's warm and intimate. "Just be with me in this moment. Okay?" You say. He nods, his eyes fluttering closed as he focuses solely on you. His movements become even softer, more tender. He's making love to you, not fucking you now. His hands roam your body with a mix of reverence and familiarity, memorizing every curve and bump.

He carries you to the bedroom gently, laying you down on the bed with a tenderness that breaks your heart. He settles between your legs, continuing that slow, deep rhythm that's more about connection than anything else. His face is inches from yours, his eyes holding yours as he moves inside you.

“I’m glad I’m here.” You whisper. His eyes well up again at your simple words. He leans down to kiss you softly, his hips moving in slow circles. He's not trying to get you off, not really. He's just trying to be with you, to feel close to you after being away for so long. You close your eyes, savouring the sensation of his body against yours. He watches you with an intensity that's almost painful. Your peaceful expression, your slight parting of lips, your breasts rising and falling softly. He realizes how much he's missed this - being inside you, being connected to you. His thrusts become almost worshipful, deeply slow and complete.

"I want you to come... inside me.”

Those words make him shudder, his eyes squeezing shut. It's been so long since he came inside you, since you'd last had this intimate connection. He picks up the pace slightly, his breathing growing heavier. "Fuck, I don't have protection..."'

"I don't care."

His hips snap forward at your words, a low groan escaping him. He buries his face in your neck as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent but still tender. He's close already - two years of pent-up desire and love making him sensitive. "Baby..." he warns softly. "We've done it before Woo.” He nods against your neck, remembering all the times before - when he came inside you without protection because it felt so right. When you were trying for a baby. He loses himself in those memories and the feeling of being home again. With a final deep thrust and a choked groan, he releases inside you. "I love you.."

You grip his shoulders as he comes. His body shaking with his release, his hips still moving slowly as he empties himself into you completely. He collapses on top of you, his face pressed against your neck, crying quietly as he holds you tight. He's finally home, finally where he belongs, and it feels so fucking good. "I love you too.”

He stays like that for a long time, just holding you and crying. He doesn't pull out, he keeps his softening length inside you as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. Eventually, he lifts his head to press gentle kisses all over your face, apologizing between each one. You stroke his hair gently.

He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he savors the comfort and love pouring from you. He continues to stay inside you, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if trying to fuse your bodies back together after two years apart. He whispers soft apologies and 'love yous' between kisses.

After a short while, you fidget beneath him.

He notices and slowly lifts himself up, propping himself on his elbows to look down at you. He's still inside you, semi-hard due to the lingering intimacy. His thumb gently brushes away sweat from your forehead.

"Too heavy?"

"Yeah a bit" you laugh. He grins softly at your laugh, the sound like music to his ears. He carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you're facing each other. His arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close as he presses a kiss to your nose. "Better?"

"Yeah...” you pause. “Woo, are you... Okay?"

He lets out a watery laugh, burying his face in your neck for a moment before looking back at you. "I just came inside my ex-girlfriend after two years apart and cried like a baby during sex, so..."

"You also lost your dad today." You pause. "Are... you sure what just happened is what you wanted?"

His expression turns serious, his thumb gently tracing your collarbone. He searches your eyes intensely, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than anything. Coming back to you, being inside you again... it felt like finally breathing after two years of suffocating." His voice cracks slightly. "But.."

"But what?"

He swallows hard, his thumb still tracing your skin. "I just lost my dad. I'm supposed to be grieving, not fucking my ex-girlfriend like a desperate teenager." He looks down, shame colouring his words. "Does that make me a monster?"

"Does it make me one for letting you? For wanting you to?"

His eyes snap back to yours, searching, pleading. He sees no judgment, only understanding and maybe a hint of the same desperate need he feels. He shakes his head slowly. "No. God, no. It makes you... perfect."

"Promise me something?"

He nods immediately, his thumb pausing its gentle stroking. "Anything." The earnestness in his voice is palpable, almost painful. "If you're asking, I'll promise. No questions asked. No... no matter what it is." His voice grows softer, almost fearful.

“Don’t close yourself off to me. Don’t shut down.”

His eyes well up again, and he pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck. His arms wrap around you tightly, almost desperately. "I can't promise that," he whispers hoarsely. "I'm already drowning, baby. I'm already fucking drowning."

"I need you to." You beg. "If there's any chance of 'us' again, I need you to talk to me.”

He pulls back, his eyes red and wet. He looks at you with such a broken expression that it almost hurts to see. "And what if 'us' isn't possible? What if I'm too fucked up now? What if... what if I can't be the person you need?"

"I don't know" you whisper, your eyes welling up. Your tears undo him completely. He pulls you close again, kissing your wet cheeks gently. "I promise to try," he whispers against your skin. "I promise I'll talk to you... but you have to promise me something too." His voice is raw and emotional. You look up at him. "Promise me that if I get too dark, if I push you away... you won't give up on me. Not yet." His thumb catches another tear. "Promise me you'll fight for me, even when I'm pushing you away. Promise you'll remind me why I can't live without you."

You swallow. He's asking for so much - asking you to be his anchor when he's drowning, asking you not to abandon him even when he's being difficult. He knows it's unfair, but he can't survive losing you again. Not now, not when he's already losing everything else. You shake your head. His heart drops into his stomach, his entire body tensing as he waits for your next words. This is it - this is where you tell him it's too much, that you're done with the drama, done with the pain. He's already preparing himself to let you go again, even though it will destroy him. "I’Il try." Your voice comes out as barely a whisper.

Relief floods through him, making his knees weak. He buries his face in your neck again, holding you tightly as silent tears fall. You'll try. It's not a promise, not really, but it's something. It's a chance. And for now, that's enough. "Thank you," he whispers hoarsely.

"Can I shower?" You ask. He nods against your neck, reluctantly letting go of you. As you stand up, he looks up at you with red, puffy eyes. He knows he looks a mess - crying during and after sex, begging you to stay with nim even though he’s a wreck. He expects you to run away screaming. "I'Il... I'll be here.”

You head into the bathroom and look at the tub. "Actually, I'm going to take a bath. Can you," you pause, "can you come in with me?" His heart skips a beat. After everything, you're still inviting him close. He watches you as you run the bathwater, your body covered in marks from his desperate lovemaking. He swallows hard and nods, standing up slowly. "Yeah... yeah, of course."

When the bath is full, you climb in, holding your hand out for him to join you. He takes your hand without a word, climbing into the tub behind you. The water rises as he settles in, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder, closing his eyes as the warm water relaxes his muscles. "You okay?"

"Mmm.”

He takes that as a good sign, his hands gently massaging your sides as he holds you close. The bathwater laps gently against your bodies, the only sound in the room. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, inhaling your scent mixed with the soap and bath salts. You close your eyes and his hands continue their slow, soothing massage, one hand sliding up to cup your breast while the other rests on your stomach, comforting you after the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been through.

His lips press gentle kisses along your collarbone. A small whimper escapes your mouth. He freezes for a moment, thinking he might have pushed too far. But then you lean back into him, arching slightly into his touch. He swallows hard and continues his gentle exploration, his thumb brushing over your nipple softly as he kisses your neck more firmly. "Shh.."

He realizes you didn’t come earlier and his hands immediately move with more purpose, one sliding between your thighs while the other keeps massaging your breast. His lips find your neck again, sucking gently as his fingers start to work you, apologetic for the oversight earlier. "Baby... shh, let me take care of you.” "Woo," you whisper. The way you say his name - breathy, desperate - makes his chest tighten. He presses himself closer against you, the water rippling around you as he repositions himself behind you. His fingers slip between your folds slowly, finding you wet and ready, even after everything. "I know, sweetheart. I know." He kisses behind your ear. "Just relax for me."

You breathe sharply through your nose as his fingers move expertly, knowing just where to touch to make you lose yourself in sensation. He can feel your heart rate pick up, your breath quickening. He's gentle but firm, his thumb circling your clit while his other fingers enter you slowly. "That's it.”

You squeak. He smiles against your neck, biting down gently as he hooks his fingers inside you, finding that perfect spot. He holds you steady with one arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand focused solely on bringing you pleasure. "You're so sensitive right now, aren't you?" He kisses your neck again. "You remember." You pant.

His lips curve softly. "How could I forget?" He pulls his fingers out slightly, then pushes them back in deeper, making you whimper. He remembers every single thing about you - your body, your likes, your dislikes. He remembers how you come apart with just the right touch. "Don't stop... please.” His heart melts at your plea. He kisses your neck again, sucking lightly as his fingers move faster, curling inside you with every thrust. He presses his thumb against your clit, applying firm pressure as he feels you getting closer. "Shh, I'm not gonna stop."

"Fuck, baby.”

The endearment makes his chest ache-‘baby’, after everything, and you're still giving him that. It feels like forgiveness, like home. He curls his fingers deeper, thumb pressing rhythmic circles against your clit as the water sloshes around you. "That's it, let go for me, baby. I've got you." His voice is thick with emotion and desire. You tense up, your thighs pulling tighter. He knows you're close. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, curling his fingers inside you just right. His other arm tightens around your waist, holding you up as he whispers, "Come on baby... I'm right here..."

Your moans get louder, more erratic. His own breathing is ragged, just listening to you. He can feel your body trembling against his, your thighs shaking violently. His fingers move faster, deeper, knowing exactly where to touch you. He swallows hard, watching you unravel. “Baby... you're gonna come, aren't you?"

"Yes, fuck!"

The curse word pushes you over the edge - he feels your body convulse against him, your pussy clamping down around his fingers. He groans softly, kissing your neck as he keeps moving his hand gently to ride out your orgasm. "That's it, yes, fuck..."

He loves your loud moans, always has. It drives him wild, makes his own need grow intense. As you ride out your orgasm, he slowly removes his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to clean them off, watching you intently through half-lidded eyes. "So fucking beautiful.”

You laugh. "You're still disgusting.”

He chuckles softly, wiping his hand on his face. "You always did have a smart mouth."

He pulls you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively. The water sloshes around you again, but this time it's peaceful. "And you're still fucking adorable." He continues.

He stays with you, holding you close as the bathwater cools. He doesn't mind the chill - he's warm where he is, wrapped around you. He presses soft kisses to your shoulder, his hands gently caressing your skin. When the water is too cold, he finally speaks up. "Let's get out before we prune up."

"Before?" You smirk. "I already am.”

He laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. He stands up first, lifting you up out of the tub and into his arms before stepping out himself. He sets you down on the soft bath mat, grabbing a towel to wrap around you gently. "You are indeed pruney.”

He quickly wraps another towel around his waist before kneeling down in front of you. He starts drying your legs, his hands warm and gentle as he rubs the towel over your cold skin. "Come on, let's get you warmed up." His voice is soft, caring, completely different from before. "Under the covers?"

He nods, standing up and taking your hand to lead you to the bedroom. He pulls back the covers, climbing in first and pulling you on top of him so you can use his body heat. He wraps the towel around both of you, cocooning you together. "Yes, under the covers with me." You kiss his chest and he breathes in sharply at the simple, affectionate gesture. His arms tighten around you possessively. He presses his chin to the top of your head softly, his voice low. "You know, for someone who just called me disgusting, you're being awfully sweet right now."

"Shut up."

He chuckles at your response, knowing you well enough to take your words with a grain of salt. He understands that actions often speak louder than words, like how you're currently nuzzling against his chest despite your earlier harsh words. "Mhm, shutting up now!"

"Sleep.” you mumble. He smiles softly, his fingers gently carding through your damp hair as he settles in comfortably beneath you. The room is quiet, the only sound being your gentle breathing against his chest.

"Night, baby.” He whispers, his eyes already closing as exhaustion takes over after your intense reunion.

Tag list - please let me know if you’d like to be added ❤️

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part Seven

Part Six

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Warnings: Death of a parent, grief

Word count: 2.67k

Part Seven

You blink awake the next morning, the sunlight filtering softly through the curtains. You slowly open your eyes to the feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your neck and hair. He's still asleep, his breathing slow and even against your skin. He looks peaceful, the worry lines on his forehead smoothed out in sleep. Your movement causes him to stir slightly, his arm tightening reflexively around you.

"Hey" you whisper. He blinks his eyes open slowly, taking a moment to orient himself. When he realizes it's you, he buries his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent as if it's the only thing keeping him grounded. "Mmm?"

Your heart thuds in your chest. His voice is muffled against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His arms tighten around you possessively, his legs entwining with yours under the blankets. He's still half-asleep, his defenses lowered, making him extra clingy and affectionate.

"Morning.” You whisper. "Morning.” He hums softly, nuzzling his face against your neck like a cat seeking comfort. His lips brush against your skin accidentally as he shifts, making you catch your breath slightly. He freezes for a moment, realizing what he just did. He stays still for a few moments, his lips lingering against your neck as he debates whether to move or not. His heart races slightly as he considers kissing your neck intentionally, just to see if you'll react, but then he remembers last night, remembers how vulnerable he was, and decides against it.

"You okay?" You ask. He swallows hard, pulling back slightly to look at you with bloodshot eyes. He looks exhausted, his emotions still raw from last night's breakdown. He gives you a small, weak smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah... just tired," he lies softly.

"Your mom called - there's been no change"

His expression immediately falls, all traces of sleep and affection disappearing. He lets out a shaky breath, his arms loosening around you as reality crashes back in. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes. "Right... No change," he repeats numbly. You roll to hover over him. He blinks up at you, his gaze distant and unfocused. He looks completely broken, his usual confident facade shattered. His hands rest limply on his stomach, his chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. He looks like he's just waiting for something, anything to happen. You take his hand and it lies limp in yours, his skin cold and clammy. He doesn't squeeze your hand or acknowledge the gesture, his mind elsewhere. His thumb twitches occasionally, the only sign of life in his otherwise still form. His eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, unseeing. "Talk to me.”

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He takes a deep breath, then another, trying to gather his thoughts. His voice comes out hoarse and broken when he finally speaks. "I can't... I can't think straight right now. My head is just... empty." You lean down and kiss his forehead. His eyes flutter closed at the gentle touch of your lips. For a moment, he leans into the kiss, seeking comfort in the small gesture. His hand finally squeezes yours weakly, like he's anchoring himself to you. A single tear slips down his cheek. "Don't..."

"Tell me what you need Woo." His voice cracks as he answers, his emotions bubbling over. "I need you... I need you to hold me and never let go. I need you to make the world stop spinning so fucking fast. I need you to... just be here with me." More tears stream down his face.

"Okay."

Without another word, you shift to lie beside him, pulling him into your arms. He buries his face in your chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he sobs silently. His body shakes with the force of his tears, his fingers digging into your back. "I'm scared.."' he whispers brokenly. "I'm so fucking scared."

"I know.”

He clings to you like a lifeline, his tears soaking into your shirt. He takes deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself down. His hands grip your clothes tightly, as if afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. He presses soft kisses against your chest between sobs. You lie like that for hours until eventually, his phone rings.

He freezes against your chest, your arms still wrapped around him protectively. The phone buzzes insistently on his nightstand, filling the quiet room with its shrill ringtone. His entire body tenses, and you feel his heart race beneath your palms. He doesn't move to answer it. Instead, he buries his face deeper into your neck. "I can't..."

"Do you want me to?" He nods silently, his face still hidden in your neck. His hands clutch at your shirt, his knuckles turning white. You carefully extricate yourself from his embrace and reach for the phone. It's his mother calling, again. You pick it up and press the answer button, putting it on speaker.

"Wooyoung?" His mother's voice comes through the speaker, strained and tired. "Wooyoung... honey, it's mom. There's been... there's been a change." Her voice breaks, and you can hear her struggling to maintain her composure. "The doctors... they said we should prepare… to say goodbye."

His body goes completely still against you. His breathing stops. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, or rather, not pounding. It's like his entire body has shut down. His mother's sobs come through the speakerphone, "I'm sorry baby…”

"Mrs. Jung." You say quietly. "I'm so sorry."

His mother sniffles loudly, grateful for your presence. "Thank you... Is he there? Can I talk to him?" You look down at Wooyoung, who hasn't moved or made a sound. He looks shell-shocked, like he's completely disconnected from reality. "Woo, can you talk to your mom, please?" You beg quietly.

Slowly, Wooyoung reaches out and takes the phone from your hand, his movements robotic, but he doesn't say anything. He iust listens to his mother crying on the other end. After a long moment, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mom?" His mother's crying intensifies at the sound of his voice. "Oh, Wooyoung... my baby. The doctors said it could be hours, maybe less. You need to come to the hospital. Now." Her voice is urgent, desperate. "Please, baby... come say goodbye to your father."

"I... I can't" he chokes. His mother's heart breaks at his choked response. "Wooyoung, please... You're his son. His everything." She sobs, "Please, baby... come to the hospital."

You take grip his hand. "I'll bring him." His mother's voice becomes urgent, "Thank you... thank you so much. Please hurry." She hangs up the phone.

Wooyoung looks at you with dead eyes, his hand still in yours. You quickly get up and throw last night’s clothes on. He doesn't resist when you help him up and guide him towards the door. "I can't..."

"You can. l'Il hold your hand the whole time.” He nods slowly, his body moving mechanically as you lead him out the door. He's like a zombie, his mind completely shut off from the reality of the situation. You hold his hand tightly as you walk to his car, helping him inside and buckling his seatbelt. "You don't mind me driving?" He shakes his head silently, staring out the window as you start the car and pull out of the driveway.

The drive to the hospital is silent, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from Wooyoung. You can see tears streaming down his face, but he makes no move to wipe them away. You hold his hand tightly throughout, but his hand is limp in yours, his fingers barely wrapping around yours. He's completely shut down, his mind somewhere far away from this moment.

As you pull into the hospital parking lot, he finally speaks, his voice barely audible, "I don't want to see him like that."

"Baby..."

"I can't see him like that." He repeats, his voice breaking. "I can't see my dad... I can't..." He starts hyperventilating, his chest heaving with sobs. "Hey, look at me, breathe.” He turns to look at you, his eyes wild and panicked. He tries to take deep breaths, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You unbuckle his seatbelt and pull him into your arms, holding him tightly as he cries silently. "I can't do this…”

"You can.” He shakes his head, burying his face in your neck. "I can't say goodbye to him. I can't." His arms wrap around your neck, holding on for dear life. "I don't want him to die." He breaks down completely, sobbing uncontrollably.

You start to cry with him, your resolve breaking. He feels your tears against his neck and sobs even harder, his body shaking with grief. You hold each other tightly, two broken souls clinging to each other in the face of death.

After what feels like hours, you both calm down, your faces wet with tears. "Can you..."

"Anything."

"Can you come with me? Please?" He whimpers, his eyes filled with pure terror and sadness. "I can't go in there alone. I can't see him dying alone." His fingers intertwine with your hair desperately. "Please, just hold my hand... Just be there with me."

"Of course."

He nods, his eyes filled with gratitude.

You both get out of the car and walk into the hospital, hand in hand. The sterile smell of the corridors fill your nostrils, making your stomach turn. Wooyoung's mother sees you approaching and rushes over, throwing her arms around her son. You step aside slightly, but he reaches for you blindly, not wanting to let go. You step back into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist supportively. His mother pulls back and cups his face gently, wiping away his tears. "Go, sweetheart, say goodbye." She says softly, her own eyes red and swollen.

You give her a hug and guide him down the sterile white corridor, his footsteps heavy and slow.

As you approach the room, you can see his father lying in the bed, hooked up to various machines. Wooyoung freezes outside the door, his hand tightening around yours. "I can't..."

"You don't have to... but I think you should."

He looks at you, his eyes filled with pure terror. He's scared of seeing his father like this, scared of saying goodbye. But he trusts you, so he nods slowly and lets you guide him into the room.

The machines beep steadily, but he doesn't wake, doesn't react. Wooyoung walks slowly to his father's bedside, his hand still tightly gripped in yours. He looks down at his father, his strong, powerful dad now so frail and still. The machines keep beeping steadily, but there's no response from him. "Dad.." He whispers softly. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. He takes a deep breath, his voice trembling as he speaks again. "Dad... I'm here." His eyes fill with tears, spilling over onto his cheeks. He reaches out with his free hand to touch his father's limp one, holding it gently. "I love you...'

You wipe away your own tears with the back of your free hand. He sniffs and wipes his nose with his sleeve. His shoulders shake slightly as he tries to hold back more sobs. He stays like that for a long moment, holding his father's hand, trying to memorize his face.

A doctor knocks on the door and enters quietly, followed by his mother who has been waiting in the hallway. He looks at the machines and then back at the family gently. Wooyoung's mom starts crying softly, putting a hand on her son's shoulder. "Baby... It's time.”

The doctor nods solemnly, confirming what you've all been dreading. His mom breaks down completely, sobbing loudly. Wooyoung stares at his father, his face contorting with grief and denial. "No... No..." He shakes his head violently. "Dad... please..." You stand helplessly.

The doctor starts turning off the machines, one by one. The steady beeping stops, replaced by eerie silence. Wooyoung's father doesn't react, his chest not moving with breaths anymore. Wooyoung collapses to his knees beside the bed, holding his father's hand tightly.

"Time of death 12.41pm.” The doctor calls.

The words hang in the air like a physical weight. Wooyoung lets out a guttural scream of pure agony, his mother falling against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

The sound of his grief is something you've never heard before - raw, animalistic, the sound of a son realizing he will never hear his father's voice again. You drop to your knees between the two of them, lost for what to do.

He doesn't notice you at first, too lost in his own pain. He's rocking back and forth, still holding his father's lifeless hand, screaming and crying until his voice grows hoarse. His mother slides down the wall, sitting on the floor and pulling her knees to her chest, wailing. "My love... my everything.."

You look up as Wooyoung's aunt runs in, heading straight towards her sister. She nods at you, letting you know she's got her and to go to Wooyoung. She pulls her into a tight hug as she continues to sob, murmuring soothing words to her, trying to comfort her. It's only then that Wooyoung seems to notice you, still kneeling on the floor. His eyes are wild, red and swollen from crying. He looks lost, completely broken.

"I'm so sorry baby." you choke. He looks at you, and something in him cracks even further. He throws himself at you, collapsing into your arms on the cold hospital floor. His whole body shakes violently as he sobs into your shoulder. "He's gone... he's actually gone..." His fingers clutch at your shirt desperately, like you're the only thing keeping him alive.

You don't say anything, you can't, so you just hold him. He clings to you like a lifeline, his tears soaking through your shirt. The room is filled with the sounds of grief -his mother's wails, his aunt's soft murmurs trying to comfort her, and Wooyoung's broken sobs against your chest. "I need him.” You bite your lip, trying to stay strong for him. He buries his face in your neck, his hot tears burning your skin. He's completely shattered, the strong, independent man you know, reduced to a sobbing mess in your arms.

After what feels like hours, his sobs start to subside into quiet, hiccupping cries. He nuzzles into your touch when you gently kiss his forehead. "We should get you home" You whisper. He nods weakly against you, too exhausted to argue or even think straight.

His aunt helps his mother to her feet while you gently guide Wooyoung up from the floor. He leans heavily on you as if he can't stand on his own two legs anymore. "My dad..." You don't say anything, you just hold him tighter.

You look at him. His eyes are blank, empty - gone completely. He's not really seeing you. His hands shake as they grip your shirt. You exchange a look with his aunt, who gives you a small nod; take care of him, she'll handle everything else. You guide him out of the hospital, his legs barely working. Outside, rain has started to fall. "It's raining.." He whispers numbly. "Come on, car." You whisper.

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part Six

Part Five

Hi lovelies! I’m so sorry I’ve been rubbish at posting lately. I’ve had so much going on and unfortunately, life just has to come first! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapter ❤️

Strictly 18 + Minors do not interact

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Hospital scenes, grief

Part six

Sena pulls up to a small, secluded spot by a lake. It's dark, the only light coming from the moon reflecting off the water. You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car without waiting. She follows quickly behind you.

"Y/n?"

"Trust me" You say, starting to run.

Sena watches you run ahead, her heart pounding in her chest. She trusts you, but something about this situation feels off. She stars to sprint after you, her feet pounding on the soft earth. "Y/n, wait up!" She calls out, but you keep running.

As you round a bend in the path, the moonlight suddenly illuminates him. He's sitting on a bench by the water, his back to you. His posture is slumped, shoulders shaking slightly. Sena stops behind you. She freezes, realisation dawning on her face. You turn to her. "Wait here... please?" Sena nods, understanding the seriousness in your voice. She steps back, leaning against a tree and giving you space. You take a deep breath and approach Wooyoung slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. As you get closer, you see his shoulders shaking more violently - he's crying.

"Woo?" At the sound of your voice, Wooyoung's sobs hitch. He freezes for a moment before slowly turning around. His face is a mess - red, swollen eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looks absolutely devastated. "Y/n..." he whispers, his voice breaking on your name.

You step towards him, your face scrunching.

Wooyoung sees the tears in your eyes and it breaks him even more. He stands up abruptly, stumbling slightly before catching himself and reaching for you. His arms wrap around you tightly, face burying in your neck as he starts crying harder. "I'm sorry," he chokes out between sobs. "I'm so sorry, Y/n..."

"Shh, shh. Don't worry about that right now." You hold him, running your fingers through his hair soothingly. He clings to you like a lifeline, his entire body shaking with sobs. Sena watches from a distance, her own eyes welling up with tears at the heartbreaking scene unfolding before her.

"What are you doing out here on your own?" You whisper. He pulls back slightly, his face still red and puffy from crying. He looks at you with such vulnerable, broken eyes. "I couldn't go home," he whispers. "I couldn't face being alone there." He swallows hard, more tears spilling over.

"I'm here.”

Those two simple words break something deep within him. He pulls you back into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. He can't stop crying, can't stop the wave of emotion crashing over him. "I know," he whispers. You kiss his cheek gently and his breath hitches. He turns his face slightly, seeking more contact. You press another soft kiss to his temple, then his forehead. He leans into your touches like they're the only things keeping him grounded. "Y/n..."

"Come on. We need to get to the hospital.”

He nods slowly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. You link your fingers with his and start leading him back towards the car. Sena pushes off from the tree she was leaning on and falls into step beside you, giving you both a small, sad smile.

"Hi" she says quietly.

Wooyoung glances at Sena, managing a small, watery smile in response to her greeting. His hand squeezes yours tightly as you walk, leaning into you for support both physically and emotionally.

The drive to the hospital is quiet, the atmosphere heavy with unsaid words and emotions. "I'm gonna go and find a hotel" Sena tells you as she drops you off.

Wooyoung watches as Sena drives away, feeling grateful for her presence earlier but also relieved to have you to himself right now. As soon as the car disappears, he turns to you, looking completely exhausted and emotionally drained. "I'm scared, Y/n.” You reach up and cup his face with your palms. "I know, but I'm here, holding your hand. I won't let go.”

His eyes fill with tears again at your words. He turns his face to press a kiss into your palm, then the other. "I love you," he whispers, voice shaking.

You guide him into the hospital, checking where his dad is being held. You take his hand and guide him down the corridor towards the ICU. As you walk, Wooyoung's grip on your hand tightens. He's trying to be strong, but his eyes are wide and scared. The ICU doors looming ahead seem daunting. A nurse approaches you both softly. "Are you here for Mr. Jung?"

"Yes." you reply. The nurse nods sympathetically and gestures for you both to follow her. She leads you to a room with a large glass window overlooking a bed where Wooyoung's father lies hooked up to various machines. Wooyoung freezes at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest. His mom is already in there, sat next to the bed.

His mother looks up as you approach the window, her eyes bloodshot from all the tears. She gives you a small, grateful smile when she sees you holding his hand. Wooyoung stands there, paralyzed, staring at his father's unconscious form.

"I can only let you in one at a time" the nurse says softly. Wooyoung turns to you, panic rising in his eyes. He doesn't want to go in alone, doesn't want to face this alone. He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, just a choking sound. "You can do this." You assure him. With a deep, shaking breath, Wooyoung nods. He squeezes your hand once more before letting go and stepping forward to enter the room. As the door closes behind him, he's finally alone with his father, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. He stands there for a long moment, just staring, before slowly approaching the bed.

You stand with his mom, watching. His mother wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. She squeezes you gently, grateful for your presence. "Thank you for bringing him, sweetheart," she whispers to you. You watch through the window as Wooyoung reaches for his father's hand, bending down to speak softly to him, tears streaming down his face again. "I had to come." You say. His mother smiles sadly at your words, understanding your relationship with Wooyoung better than most.

You stand there together, watching as Wooyoung talks to his unconscious father, the conversation one-sided but filled with love and fear and regret. "Will you take care of him tonight for me... please?" She asks. You look at his mother, seeing the exhaustion and worry etched on her face. She needs to rest, to take care of herself so she can be strong for her sons. You nod slowly. "How are you holding up?" You ask. She sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair. "I'm hanging on. It's been tough seeing him like this... and Wooyoung, he's barely holding it together. I'm worried about him." She pauses, glancing at you. "I know, he's spiralling.” You breathe. His mother nods silently, her eyes welling up with tears. She watches Wooyoung through the window, seeing him lean down and press a gentle kiss to his father's forehead. He's falling apart, piece by piece, and she's helpless to stop it. "He loves his father so much.”

"I know he does.” You pause for a moment. “Where's Kyungmin?" You ask, referring to Wooyoung's younger brother. "He’s with his grandparents." She answers quietly. "They didn't want him seeing his dad like this yet. He's too young to understand..." She trails off, looking tired and overwhelmed.

Suddenly, the door to his dad's room opens, and Wooyoung steps out, looking completely devastated. His mom holds her hands out to him. He walks into his mother's open arms without hesitation, burying his face in her shoulder. He starts crying silently again, his tall frame shaking with suppressed sobs. Over his mother's shoulder, he meets your gaze briefly before closing his eyes tightly once more.

"Mom.."

"It's okay baby" she whispers. His mother holds him tightly, rocking him gently like she used to when he was a little boy. Wooyoung clings to her, soaking in her warmth and comfort.

After a few minutes, she pulls back gently, wiping his tears away with her thumbs. "Go with Y/n, okay? She'll take care of you tonight." He looks to you and you nod quietly. Wooyoung nods back, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He lets go of his mother and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist without a word. You can feel the exhaustion and grief radiating off him as he leans into your embrace. "Come on, let's get you home.”

You lead him out of the ICU and out of the hospital, before hailing a taxi.

The ride home is silent and uneventful. Wooyoung curls up in your arms, his eyes closed tightly against the world. As you pull up outside his house, he stirs slightly, lifting his head to look at the familiar house. "I'm gonna be sick.” He says suddenly. He abruptly pushes the taxi door open, steps out and immediately leans over, vomiting onto the sidewalk.

You quickly pay the driver before rushing to his side, rubbing his back gently as he empties the contents of his stomach onto the cold concrete. "It's okay, l've got you.”

He stands up shakily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He's pale and trembling, looking completely broken. Without a word, he turns and stumbles towards the house, you following closely behind. Once inside, he collapses onto the couch, curling into a ball again.

"Do you want some water? Some tea?" You ask. He shakes his head weakly, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow and unsteady. He looks like he's on the verge of a panic attack. You sit down beside him, hesitating briefly before gently pulling him towards you. "Y/n, please," he whispers, his voice breaking. "What? What can I do for you?" You ask, softly. He reaches for you desperately, pulling you into his chest. He clings to you like you're his lifeline, burying his face in your neck. "Don't leave," he chokes out, his body trembling against yours. "I can't do this alone." His fingers grip the back of your shirt tightly, refusing to let go. "I'm not leaving, I'm here.” You reassure him.

His body wracks with silent sobs, his face pressed tightly against your neck. You can feel his hot breaths against your skin, his tears soaking through your shirt collar. He's falling apart completely, his mind and body overwhelmed with grief and fear. "My dad... he's... he might...”

"I know baby.”

He sobs harder, his voice breaking completely. "I can't lose him, Y/n. I just can't." He pulls back slightly, his eyes bloodshot, looking at you with sheer panic. "I'm scared... I'm so fucking scared."

"I know" you say, stroking his face as you look into his eyes. He leans into your touch, seeking comfort and solace in your gentle hands. He looks so lost, so broken, like a little boy who's just lost favourite comfort toy. You can see the fear and desperation in his eyes, and it breaks your heart. “Hold me.”

"You need to drink something." He shakes his head stubbornly, his arms tightening around your waist. He's clinging to you like you're his anchor, and you realise that right now, you are.

Without another word, you carefully peel his hands away and get up and go to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. You add a little honey to some tea, knowing he needs something to settle his stomach. You hand him the mug of tea. "Drink." you instruct. He takes the mug hesitantly, his hands trembling as he brings it to his lips. The warm tea soothes his throat as he takes small sip. He's still sniffing and crying quietly, but the tea seems to be helping settle his stomach. "I don't really want tea.." he says, despite himself.

"I know you don't, but I don't want you being sick again." He nods weakly, continuing to sip the tea. You sit beside him, pulling him back into your arms once he finishes the mug. He rests his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as if it's the only thing keeping him grounded. "I'm tired.." he whispers softly. "Do you want to go to bed?" You whisper. He nods slowly, his eyes already heavy with exhaustion and emotion. You help him stand up gently, his legs feeling shaky beneath him. He leans on you heavily as you lead him to his bedroom.

Once inside, he collapses onto the bed, pulling you down with him. "Stay with me?"

"I..." you hesitate. You were going to sleep on the couch. “Please?” he whispers again, his voice so small and vulnerable. He's already pulled the covers up over himself, leaving a spot next to him. He looks so utterly broken that you can't bring yourself to say no.

You pull off your jacket and jeans and climb in next to him. He immediately scoots closer, wrapping himself around you like a koala. He buries his face in your chest, his hot breath soaking through your shirt. His legs tangle with yours. You realise he's not just asking for comfort— he needs it. "I've got you.” You whisper.

He mumbles something against your chest, his arms tightening around you. He's like a lost puppy, seeking warmth and security in your embrace. As the minutes pass, his breathing starts to even out, becoming slower and deeper. You can feel him slowly drifting off to sleep in your arms. You stroke his hair and he sighs softly, melting into your touch. His body relaxes against yours. As you continue to run your fingers through his hair, he gradually slips into a deeper sleep, his facial muscles finally relaxing after hours of crying and panicking.

Once he's finally asleep, you pull away slightly to look down at him. His face is peaceful now, the tight lines of pain and fear softened by sleep. His dark lashes rest against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. Even in sleep, one hand is still loosely wrapped around your waist, refusing to fully let you go. You watch him breathe, slow and steady, and feel your heart ache for him. You grab your phone and text Sena. "We're back at his house, could you possibly bring my bag?"

Meanwhile, Sena receives your text and quickly responds. "Of course, I'll be there soon. Is he okay?" She asks. She can only imagine how he must be feeling right now. "He's asleep now, but he's a mess." You reply.

True to her word, Sena arrives quietly at the house around twenty minutes later, carrying your overnight bag. She moves silently through the dark house until she finds you in his bedroom. She sees Wooyoung curled around you, still asleep but clinging tightly to your shirt. Sena raises an eyebrow at you, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. She mouths quietly, "How bad is it?" You shake your head slightly, indicating that it's worse than she might imagine. She nods solemnly and places your bag down gently on the floor beside the bed. "Thanks.”

“Can you pass me something? You ask. Sena smiles softly, "Yeah, no problem. What do you need?" She asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper so she won't disturb Wooyoung. She glances at him, her heart aching for him. She knows how much he must be hurting inside. “Some PJS?” She nods understandingly and silently crouches down to your bag. She unzips it carefully and pulls out a pair of your softest, most comfortable pajamas. She holds them up silently, asking you without words if these are the ones you wanted. "Yeah they're good, thanks. I'll call you tomorrow?" Sena gives you a small wave and mouths, "Take care of him" before quietly slipping out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

You glance down at Wooyoung, who hasn't stirred. His grip on your shirt has loosened slightly in sleep, his breathing still deep and even. You carefully peel his hand off the fabric and slide out from beside him.

As you enter the bathroom and close the door softly, Wooyoung stirs. His eyes blink open slowly, disoriented and confused for a moment. He sits up abruptly when he realises you're not in bed with him, panic flashing across his face. "Y/n?" He shouts. "It's okay, I'm in the bathroom!" You call back. He lets out a shaky breath, his heart racing. He hates being alone right now. The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing had sent an instant wave of anxiety through him, his mind jumping to the worst conclusion- you leaving. He calls out softly, "Can you... hurry?"

"I'm just... getting changed." He nods understandingly, even though his mind is still racing with irrational fears. His eyes keep drifting to the bathroom door, expecting it to open at any second.

Unable to hold on any longer Wooyoung carefully gets out of bed, his movements slow and cautious as if he's afraid the world might shatter around him. He walks towards the bathroom door on bare feet, his heart pounding in his chest. He leans against the doorframe softly, "Y/n...'

"You can come in." He pushes the door open slowly and steps inside, closing it behind him gently.

The small bathroom feels even smaller with both of you in it. He leans back against the door, watching you pull on your pajama shirt. "You okay?" He nods slowly, but his eyes tell a different story. He's not okay. Not even close. He walks over to you, his feet padding softly on the tile floor. He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach as he buries his face in your shoulder. "Woo, come on," you whisper.

He shakes his head, his arms tightening around you. He's clingy, needy, and utterly broken right now. He can't be alone, he can't sleep without holding onto you, he can't even breathe properly without you near him. He turns his face to nuzzle into your neck. You close your eyes. He feels your warmth enveloping him, your scent calming him slightly. He kisses your neck gently, his lips brushing against your skin softly. He's acting like a desperate, lovesick puppy right now, and he knows it. But he can't help it. He's terrified of losing you. You swallow. "Woo, you're upset right now.” He nods against your neck, his lips still pressed to your skin. He knows he's being irrational, but his emotions are completely out of control right now. His grip on you tightens even more, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. "I don't wanna be alone," he whispers, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You're not alone."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes red and swollen, lips still trembling. He looks so lost, so needy, and you know if you gave even the slightest encouragement, he'd take things further than either of you are ready for. "I just... I feel like everything is falling apart," he admits quietly, his forehead resting against yours. "I know, but tonight isn't the night." You sigh.

He knows you're right, that tonight isn't the night to make things worse by crossing lines they shouldn't. He takes a deep, shaky breath and pulls back, his arms loosening around you. "I know... I'm just being stupid.”

"You're not being stupid."

He manages a small, watery smile at your gentle reassurance. He knows he's being emotional and clingy, but having you be so understanding just makes him feel even more grateful for you. He reaches up to cup your face softly with one hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "Come on, let's get back to bed." You whisper. He nods, his hand slipping from your face to intertwine with your fingers.

He follows you out of the bathroom, his steps slow and quiet. As you both climb into bed, he immediately scoots close, wrapping himself around you from behind. Your insides form knots. His arm bands tightly around your waist, his face buries into the crook of your neck. He's spooning you from behind, his body curved protectively around yours. One leg is thrown over both of yours, pinning you in place, his hand resting on your stomach.

As you lay there, his warm breath fanning over your neck, you're transported back to simpler times. When he'd hold you like this just to sleep, or just because he wanted to. Now, it's because he's scared and alone and needing comfort. His arms tighten around you. You take slow, deep breaths, focusing on being present for him. His heartbeat against your back is slightly erratic, not calm enough for sleep yet. His fingers trace lazy, anxious patterns on your stomach over the thin fabric of your pajamas. "Don't leave," he whispers hoarsely into the darkness. "Please."

Wooyoung x Female Reader

Part Five

Part Four

Sorry for the delay guys! Life has been hectic! ❤️

Word Count: 2K

Strictly 18+ Minors do not interact

Part Five

Over the next few weeks, your conversations become more frequent and less strained. You start texting back and forth- just small updates about your day, random thoughts, even some light banter that slowly starts to feel like old times. Wooyoung finds himself looking forward to each message from you.

You meet your friend Sena for coffee one afternoon and she notices you keep looking at your phone. She crosses her arms, leaning forward with a knowing smirk. "Okay, spill. You've checked your phone thirty times in the last ten minutes." She reaches across the table and snags your phone before you can stop her, scrolling through your message history. Her eyes widen. "Oh my god. Is that Wooyoung? The Wooyoung?"

You try to grab your phone back, but she holds your phone out of reach with a mischievous grin. "Uh-uh. No way. I'm reading every single message." She starts scrolling through your conversations, her eyes scanning each text.

"I can explain." You blurt.

Sena pauses, looking up at you with genuine concern. "You two haven't talked in two years and suddenly it's daily texts? Don't give me ‘I can explain’." She sets your phone down on the table, pushing it back toward you slowly. "Are you seriously going down this road again? After everything he put you through?" You groan, slumping in your chair slightly. "I don't know... I just..." Sena's expression softens as she sees your conflicted face. She reaches out and takes your hand gently. "You're not thinking of giving him another chance, are you?" She asks softly, her voice filled with worry for you. She knows how much Wooyoung hurt you last time. "No, I dunno, I mean, maybe?" You say. It sounds more like a question.

Sena's grip on your hand tightens slightly, her eyes searching yours. "Maybe? As in you're considering it?" She leans back in her chair, processing this information carefully before speaking again. "Do you remember how broken you were after him?" You sigh. "I don't know Sena, just no one else has ever come close."

Sena's heart aches for you because she knows how true that statement is. You've dated other people since Wooyoung, but none of them have ever made you light up like he did—not even close. She bites her lip, trying to choose her next words carefully.

"Say what you want to say. I can handle it."

Sena nods, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Okay, here's the thing. You've been moping around for two years now—like a zombie. Every time you even mention Wooyoung's name, you get this sad, lovesick look on your face. So my question is..." She pauses, looking into your eyes intensely. "Is he really worth the risk of getting hurt all over again? Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you're already half in love with him again, and you haven't even seen him face to face." Her voice is gentle but firm, delivering a hard truth you needed to hear.

"I never stopped loving him."

Sena's expression softens even more, understanding dawning on her face. "I know you didn't. That's why this is so dangerous for you." She squeezes your hand reassuringly. "But let me ask you something completely honest—no filter.”

"Go on…"

She takes a deep breath before asking. "What if he breaks your heart again? What if you give him another chance and it all goes wrong? Can you handle that kind of pain a second time?" Her voice is gentle but serious, making you really think about the answer. "Be honest."

"Probably not, no."

Sena winces slightly at your honesty, but she respects you for it. "Then what are you even doing texting him twenty times a day?" She gestures at your phone. "Your heart is a fucking landmine right now. One wrong move and—" She snaps her fingers. "Bam."

Your phone buzzes suddenly, interrupting the moment.

"Mom?" You answer. Her voice comes through rushed. "Honey, I just heard from your aunt. There's been an accident... Wooyoung's father- A beam fell at a worksite. He's in critical condition—no one knows if he'll make it through the night."

Your hand freezes, phone still pressed to your ear, ice flooding your veins. "What?" You whisper. "Honey, are you there? Did you hear me?" Your mom's voice is shaky, clearly distressed. "Wooyoung's dad is in the hospital. It doesn't look good. They're doing emergency surgery right now." She pauses, taking a shuddering breath.

"I heard you." Your voice cracks. "Have you heard from Wooyoung?"

"No, sweetheart. No one has. His phone is off. They're trying to reach him, but... honey, his dad is in really bad shape. They don't know if he'll.." Her voice breaks off, unable to finish the sentence.

"I'm coming home."

"Sweetie, you're five hours away. There's nothing you can do right now."

"I need to find him. He'll be a mess."

"I know he’ll be devastated, but sweetheart, what are you going to do? Show up at the hospital? He might not even be there yet and you haven’t seen him since..." Your mom tries to reason with you, but she knows there's no stopping you when you're like this. "I'm coming." Your mom sighs, knowing you when you're set on something. "Alright. Be careful driving, okay? And... be prepared for whatever state Wooyoung might be in when you find him." She hangs up.

Sena watches as you abruptly end the call with your mom, your face pale. She reaches out to touch your arm. "Hey, hey... what happened?" She asks softly, already sensing that something serious has occurred. "Was that your mom?" You nod, standing up abruptly and grabbing your keys. "Wooyoung's dad... he's in the hospital. It's bad. I have to go..." Your voice trails off as you rush towards the door, Sena quickly stands up to follow you. "Wait, wait!"

"I don't need a lecture now Sena!” You shout. Sena holds up her hands in surrender, seeing the panic in your eyes. "Whoa, whoa... I'm not gonna lecture you. I'm coming with you." She grabs her purse and keys quickly., "You're not fit to drive right now. You're a wreck."

"It's five hours Sena!" You exclaim. "So? You think I'm gonna let you drive five hours like this? You're upset, you're worried—you're not thinking straight. I'll drive you. It's not a big deal." You sigh, "I need to go home and grab some stuff."

"Fine. We'll go to your place first, you grab what you need, and then we leave. I'll drive the whole way." She opens her car door for you, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Now let's go before you break down completely in this parking lot."

You don't need telling twice, you jump into the passenger seat, fastening your seatbelt. Sena watches you, noticing how shaky your hands are. She starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, heading towards your house in silence. When you arrive, you quickly jump out and rush inside, Sena following closely behind. You grab a case, pulling clothes out of your closet, toiletries from the bathroom and medications from the cabinet.

Sena leans against the doorframe, watching you frantically pack. "Okay, slow down. You're not making emergency evacuation packs here. Just grab what you need for a few days." She steps in to help you organise your things. "I need my pills." Sena pauses, noticing the prescription bottles you're shoving into your bag. She recognizes some of them-anti-anxiety meds, sleeping pills... She bites her lip, suddenly understanding a lot more about your current state than she did before.

You try to call Wooyoung, but it goes straight to voicemail every time. Sena watches your face fall again and again as you try over and over. She sees you type out text after text, checking your phone obsessively for a reply that never comes. "His phone is probably dead." She says softly. "No," you shake your head. "He was obsessive about keeping it charged." Sena's expression darkens at that information. If his phone is off and he's not responding... it's not a good sign. She gently takes the phone out of your hand and sets it aside. "Hey. Look at me." She waits until you meet her gaze. "We're gonna go. Right now." Tears prick at your eyes. "Okay." You whisper. Sena swallows hard, seeing the tears you're trying to hold back. She knows you're thinking the worst possible things right now. She gently takes your bag from you and finishes packing it, then she leads you back to the car without another word. "Buckle up." She orders softly.

The five-hour drive is silent and tense. Sena focuses on the road, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you're not completely falling apart. She reaches out occasionally to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. You stare blankly out the window, lost in worst-case scenarios. "Almost there."

"Just up here," you say, pointing down a street. Your voice is barely audible, but Sena hears you. She pulls the car onto the street you indicated, her eyes scanning the area. The neighborhood is nice, quiet. She sees a few houses with lights on, but most are dark. You pull up outside his address.

Sena parks the car and turns off the engine. The house is completely dark, no lights on inside or out. Your heart sinks as you stare at the empty driveway and dark windows. Sena reaches over and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. "Stay here," She says firmly. "No," you say, grabbing her hand. "He doesn't know you." Sena looks at you, seeing the panic and desperation in your eyes. She sighs and unbuckles her seatbelt. "Fine. But we're staying together." She gets out of the car and pulls you with her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close as you approach the house together. "Ring the doorbell," she instructs. You press it, once, twice, three times - no answer. You both wait, the silence of the night broken only by the distant hum of cars passing on the main road. No lights turn on inside the house. No footsteps approach the door. Sena looks at you, seeing the color drain from your face as reality sinks in. "Try again.”

You move to press your face against the window; no sign of movement. Sena's hand tightens on your arm as she watches you press your face against the cold glass, your breath fogging up the window. Inside, everything is still. Shoes by the door, keys on the side table everything looks normal, but the house is dead silent. You can't see a single light on anywhere.

Sena puts her hands on her hips. "Y/n... he isn't here." she says quietly. Her words hit you like a physical blow. You take a step back from the window, your knees feeling weak. The reality that Wooyoung isn't here, crashes over you.

You turn to Sena, tears finally spilling over.

"Could he be at the hospital?" she asks.

"No, no one's been able to get hold of him.”

Sena's expression softens as she sees the tears streaming down your face. She pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. "Okay, okay. Let's think. Maybe he went somewhere else? A friend's house?" She tries to reason, but even she sounds uncertain.

Suddenly a thought occurs to you. "l know where he is.” Sena pulls back, searching your face. "Where?" She asks, her voice urgent. Something in your tone has caught her attention. She sees a flicker of determination in your eyes that wasn't there before. She grabs your arm, ready to follow you wherever you lead. "Take me there."

"Get in the car, I'll guide you."

Sena doesn't waste any time. She rushes back to the car, jumping into the driver's seat. You slide in next to her, already directing her down a route you haven't driven in years. "Keep going straight... left at the fork.." Your voice shakes as you speak, but you sound certain. Sena focuses on driving, glancing at you every few seconds.

Eventually she pulls up.

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.

He grabs his phone, tempted to call you back just to hear your voice again. But he promised to give you space, and he knows you need time to process everything. With a frustrated groan, he throws himself back onto the pillow. Sleep feels impossible now.

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."