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hwaightme · 1 year

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Grilled Cheese Philosophy

🥪 pairing: demon!wooyoung x reader 🥪 genre: angst, dark, comfort, soulmates, angel/demon 🥪 summary: Abstaining from a cruel reality became your one goal, and around every corner you searched for an escape from the turmoil. Until a certain soul-searching demon showed up at your door, adamant to make himself a part of your life. 🥪 wordcount: 14k 🥪 warnings/tags: TW MINORS DNI, su!cide attempt, discussion of ed, depression, discussion of death, demon woo, fallen angel woo, soulmates, reincarnation, souls, slow burn, lmk if anything!🥪 a/n: Hello <3 this fic has very heavy themes so reader discretion is advised. Watching Wooyoung's performance to 'Logic - 1-800-273-8255' I felt a call to rework a fic I had, and thanks to senpai-of-doom was motivated add light in an otherwise dark progression. Remember, you matter, you are loved -"you are never alone and you will never be". Love you all, biggest hugs. P.S.: the song quoted is 'She's In The Rain' by The Rose.

“I had a guy sell his soul to me for some toast.”

“Wait a second, really?” You were bewildered. It had never occurred to you that someone would make a deal with the literal devil for such a simple food.

“I say that…” the demon sitting across from you paused, inspected the cuticles on his left hand and sighed, “…but it was not exactly for a single piece of toast. That would make the story unbelievably funny though, I wish it were the case!” To be frank, you were a little disappointed. You had expected more from your interlocutor’s chaotic line of work. “No, what this guy wanted was to have some, quote on quote, mad toast-making skills. I was not sure for what, but then he laid out his whole plan of making the best grilled cheese in the country and opening a grilled cheese food truck and touring around, watching people queue up for something only he could make well… It was enthralling.”

You could only raise your eyebrows and eye your rapidly cooling cup of tea. After earning a questioning glare from the devil, you realised that he was waiting for polite encouragement to continue conversation. You woke yourself up from your daze and hummed once, as if in thought.

“So, what happened then, did you give him the toast?”

“Here’s the fun bit. Well, I say fun, but it was more routine really. I go, ‘why not just ask to be a genius grilled cheese chef?’, genuinely curious, but he was adamant about just having the toast be done right every time. He rejected the heavier deal flat out. I go ‘you are going to miss out on being the biggest name in the grilled cheese world you so love’ and he goes ‘you see, the world is nothing if you have no problem at all’. I did not get what he meant then, but when the deal was over and done with, it made total sense. What this guy effectively did, was got a tailored eternal struggle that he could manage. The bread was guaranteed to be perfect, but the cheese provided him a sufficient challenge to remain interested in what he was doing.” The devil took a break to take a bite out of his, no, your almond croissant, and rather unceremoniously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You clasped your hands around the mug more strongly, feeling the last bits of warmth seep away from the untouched beverage. You had no appetite or thirst left in your body, for you believed that it was far more fascinating having control over the decay of your being, especially now that you had been honoured with the audience of an otherworldly power. The devil was rather displeased that you had decided to take the matter into your own hands and go down the path of escaping life without promising him a reward, but you saw no need in making sudden deals. It was your innate passiveness and newly acquired apathy to all things living that prevented you from choosing anything at all.

Even now, you were not motivated to conjure a response for this episode from the devil’s past deals. Instead, you sank into a comfortable silence, enjoying the growing irritation the ‘young man’ was unprofessionally revealing. One tap, followed by two, then one, then three, repeat. A rhythm void of compassion for the mute. Demanding. The devil had nice nails, something you had not noticed before – the only musing to appear in the abyss that was your abandoned mental palace. Whenever your conversations would come to a halt it was as if time stopped. It was holding its breath until one of you would throw an argument into the air and continue the word game. You desired some time in solitude, so you happily challenged the devil with your skilled ignorance of social cues.

The devil exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes, displeased with the death of another attempt to get on your ‘good side’ and stood up. He readjusted his suit jacket and ran a hand through his sleek locks. Like an actor leaving the stage, the demon guest exited the tiny kitchen and turned right, undoubtedly, to check himself in the tiny bathroom mirror, then to disappear behind an old door for two or so hours – his idea of a power nap. For a taker of souls, he surely was too predictable, no matter how his appearance and character attempted to detract from his fondness for structure and patterns. Over the last few days while the devil began to spend longer hours indoors playing the role of a ‘caring friend’ you had the opportunity to grasp the general metaphorical spirit of this ‘man’. In any discussion he had his distinct style. An ebb and flow of the spoken tides, beginning with a head-on collision with either question or proclamation, followed by provoking interrogation and, finally, a theatrical departure once his true goal had been reached.

Nothing was ever direct with the devil. Otherwise, why would you be walking on eggshells when he was talking about grilled cheese? Whenever you got too invested in any of the deviant’s tales, you would remind yourself that the heroes of those stories were, at that exact moment, burning in the deepest pits of hell and feeling the unbearable weight of sin on their shoulders. Then the interest evaporated as quickly as it had popped into your thoughts. Although you must admit, this anecdote was quite amusing. So amusing that you might make a short note of it when the devil would be in his own version of dreaming.

He had explained to you before that the reason he slept so much was so he could preserve his youthfulness, vigour and striking looks, to which you sarcastically replied with the term ‘beauty sleep’, but he misinterpreted it as an honest attempt at relating to his lifestyle. That day, you had involuntarily boosted his already overinflated ego by somehow leading the devil to believe that he was beautiful, and that all of his actions were just how he had expected: rational and justified. You only wondered what beauty there was in him to sleep for.

The devil was not what one would call classically ‘handsome’. As a matter of fact, on your first meeting he insisted that the term ‘devilishly handsome’ was horrendously misleading and the perfect example of a human-conjured myth. Completely out of the bounds of what the media and the average person found appealing, the devil had a total disregard for following mortal aesthetic trends, thereby making his appearance quite jarring. Those to walk past him on the street, would undoubtedly gawk at him and be intrigued by him, and yet, feel unsettled. As though they were prey that had just nearly escaped an apex predator. Of course, he could easily turn up his charms and seduce to his non-existent heart’s content, but that was only if he saw personal gain or needed to fuel his arrogance. Other than that, he was a cold professional.

It was mainly the eyes that gave his true nature away. Eyes that knew. Eyes that were detached from mortality and morality, fixated on business which only he knew. Those unfortunate enough to peer into those eyes would be awestruck to find the deepest chasm of nothing. Not a hint of a personality or a soul, only well-trained responses, and the ideal formula to get an individual talking. That was what the demon had meant when he explained that no devil could be handsome, only frightening.

After making sure that you would not meet the devil in the corridor by waiting for the lock of your guest room, you pushed your chair back and in one motion spun out of it and to the sink, where you watched dark brown, murky liquid pour out of your stained mug you had gotten as a present – a souvenir from The Netherlands. After many years of use and scrubbing the design had faded, leaving only mysterious silhouettes and hints of windmills. Not in the mood to wash up, you left the piece of ceramic to wait for you in the basin and wiped your hands on your trousers. Unlike the devil, your whole disposition and outer image was the closest a human could get to transparency. Your pallid, gaunt face with watery irises that stared out into a bleak grey landscape you had constructed out of your days.

The fiend was a dark-haired lad with a cheeky grin, toned body and a manner of constantly fluctuating between flamboyancy and eccentricity. His pinstripe suit - a tad too big, with a bright crimson handkerchief sticking out of the pocket, messily stuffed and creased. This devil’s eyes were entrancing, even though he had said there was no emotion to see. Not that he would ever hear you admit that you liked them. Deep-set, almond shaped, glowing. A dark, alluring shimmer. If eyes were normally windows to the soul, his were closer to one-way mirror quality. It was the confident stare that had gotten him past the door frame when he showed up in front of your apartment last week.

Inviting himself into your home, the devil acted as if he was an old friend of yours, or like an auntie with a spectacular ability to nag her way through any and all interactions. When you crept out of your apartment and went down to fetch the mail your neighbours had inquired after a certain cousin of yours who was ‘such a charming young man’ and how he showed ‘great promise in the creative arts’. You had to refrain from responding with a guffaw, instead meekly nodding and imagining an actual relative of yours. Last you had heard from San he was working at a beach resort in Mallorca; one of the more adventurous members of your family, he was the only one to bear any resemblance to your unwanted guest, so you did not miss him at all.

San would be the sort of man to think of starting a grilled cheese business. The devil and him would get along well, or it would be more correct to say the devil would find a good client in him. ‘A simple-minded hedonist with no care for the future’, that was what the devil had described ‘deal material’ to be. Truly distant from what you could offer, leading you to question his motives. But he had insisted that you had the potential, and it was only a matter of time before you realised just how much more you could achieve if only you had the devil’s helping hand. You had flatly replied that you hated any form of contact and had departed to your bedroom without a second thought. When you woke up the next morning and walked out to drink some water, the devil was standing in the same place where you had left him. Like so, he had begun hurling success story after success story at you, ceaselessly trying to convince you that soul-selling was ‘not that bad’ and was only going to increase your quality of life.

Why ask for grilled cheese when you are satisfied with a single digestive biscuit? Thatyou’re your philosophy. You need not tread on other meals when something you had tried and tested never failed you. Besides, you had nothing that you wanted to order from the devil. You did not need luck, nor love, nor riches. Your daily activities suited you, and you would not trade them for a sudden burst of foolish, false fame. You ambled down the corridor, inspecting the progress of the crack that had started on the ceiling, and now had gotten behind a painting that you had bought at a second-hand market. An amateur painting of a traditional manor, nevertheless done tastefully and with careful consideration of colour. Pleasant enough to keep in a hermit’s isolation pod.

Having forgotten to undraw the curtains you were met with darkness upon entering the bedroom. The overcast afternoon did not possess enough energy to seep through the gaps. You lazily pushed them aside, accidentally taking the tulle with it. So, you stopped to admire the evergreen outside of your window before returning everything to how it was and looking for a piece of paper and pen in the dimly lit quarters, relying on memory and a stream of light from the rest of the flat.

After settling on an old envelope and a dying pen you heavily abbreviated and paraphrased all you could recall, finishing off with:

Grilled Cheese Philosophy

You nodded and folded the envelope. Chucking the pen into the bin set under my desk you turned and lied down on your bed, hearing the springs creak and curse at you for disturbing them from their peaceful daytime slumber.

-----

Over earl grey and a finger sandwich platter you had assembled from a store-bought set, the devil and you were discussing the concept of business and management. Wooyoung, or at least that was the human name he had picked, out of the blue, for himself, assured you that devil-work was mainly paperwork, and those in his line of speciality rarely had time for the pleasure of direct customer support.

“It is unfortunate. Before, paperwork, archiving and filing was all given to the rookies, but with the increase in regulations and terms of service all of us are neck deep in bureaucratic nonsense. I mean, what’s the joy in writing out a detailed account of how a deal went down? There is no time to form your own style or identity anymore.” This stirred you out of your zoned-out state, and you stopped resting your head on your hand, instead crossing your arms and moving your head as a gesture to continue. You spotted the hint of a smirk dance on his lips, only for a moment.

“Did you know that back in the day, each demon would have their own style of soul collection? That’s right. You could tell who had a contract with who, and when it would end. Back then they really cared about the artistic details, from the devil’s mark to the contract abandonment psychosis… it was all thought through.” Your eyes narrowed at the latter term, so you did not encourage any prolongation of the monologue. Wooyoung caught on quickly, used to your quiet command and with a sip of his drink explained as-a-matter-of-factly:

“Contract abandonment psychosis is a neat thing. See, when you make a deal, that’s it. You can’t back out of it. The psychosis is icing on top of that cake – if you try to avoid your over-written fate then, basically, you start going insane. Think withdrawal symptoms dialled up to one thousand. Once client of mine tried to abandon ship straight after shaking my hand, well, it only took him a week to end up in a mental institution! That guy was unlucky by nature, he never did realise his plans, so I was one happy demon.” He finished, taking a sandwich, and eating it in one bite. You thought that on that your conversation would terminate and you could continue your luncheon to the ticking of the antique clock on the wall, but soon after washing everything down, Wooyoung continued his droning.

At that point you were merely thankful that you were not being forced to reciprocate the enthusiasm for affairs of the literal underworld. You were picking apart the tuna and cucumber sandwich you had moved to my plate, watching crumbs fall and begin to pile. A piece of tuna had managed to slide out as you tore away a bigger piece, and the vegetable’s green flesh was barely hanging on. Wooyoung was watching you, a mixture of contempt and curiosity on his face. He had already devoured two more sandwiches in the time that had passed after his miniature lecture.

“You going to eat that?” He asked, snorting.

“Do you want it?” you shot back, staring right back at him. His lips curled into a smirk, and you saw his expression darken.

“Not when your filthy hands have already contaminated it, you mortal.”

“That, I am. And suit yourself.” you responded, disregarding the threatening tone in Wooyoung’s voice, and keeping on pulling the bread to bits. Now it had become a mission to irritate the demon sitting before you as much as possible. Childish, but one of the rare pleasures.

It had already been two weeks since the beginning of your acquaintance and co-inhabitancy, so naturally you had come to learn of Wooyoung’s pet peeves. One would think that a demon could remain nonchalant for all of eternity, however it seemed that that kind was, on average, more passionate and sensitive than any human you knew. Well, aside from my odd cousin San.

Wooyoung despised loud, open-mouthed chewing. He had mentioned it when talking about one particular client who could not make their mind up about what to trade their soul for. All this over a lunch where this person would not stop chewing in ‘such a barbaric, animalistic way’ – as Wooyoung had described it. That led directly to another one of his annoyances: indecision. As a dealer, businessman, perhaps contract worker, Wooyoung liked the rules and regulations to be impeccable before the final handshake. But too many a times did the poor demon have to deal with hours of following a human around listening to their empty ponderings. ‘Humans have a tendency to become overly philosophical in the most crucial moments,’ he had noted once.

Unrelated to the other two, Wooyoung despised pigeons, which was exactly why it brought you great entertainment to change the location of my casual excursions to a nearby park, populated with hundreds of birds. There you had discovered that he had equal distaste for swans, ducks and, frankly, anything avian. Flying bugs were also not his favourite, for he took great pleasure in disposing of them with your slippers, an old newspaper or a magazine.

Taking notice of the devil’s sources of displeasure allowed you to make note of his emotional cues, highlighting his mischievous and serious demeanours, which were so subtly different you had never taken notice and often had made the wrong predictions in the friendly debates you and him had. A slight repositioning of the shoulders, twitch of the brow, a complex series of taps - all were signs that, upon study, gave you a feeling of control.

While playing with your food, eyes downcast, you took peeks at Wooyoung’s upper body. It was only a matter of time before he exploded, maybe even literally. He regarded food as something practically sacred, so such table manners and misconduct would drive him up a wall. For you it gave a sublime excuse to not eat and continue to peacefully wear away into soothing oblivion. You did not need the devil to be a so-called saviour, watching over you. You continued your act of defiance, now occasionally rolling up the bread between two fingers into tiny balls.

You admired their mouldability. Their smoothness. That grainy, soft quality that most loved, now turned to a primitive wholegrain ball. But even these were not eternal. Morphing into thin snakes, falling apart at the ends, the ball pieces coated your fingertips, latched onto your skin and happily disintegrated. Perhaps Wooyoung was not enjoying the demonstration for its resemblance to what he enjoyed doing to humankind regularly? Tearing it apart just for the sake of it, only to give some false hope to, then punish them with more zeal and erase their self-conjured identity to nothing more than a tortured soul. You were proud of your own accidental analogy and had made it your task to write it down in privacy. Probably after the demon were to leave you alone.

To your delight, your antics sped up the devil’s tea drinking, and soon enough he shot up with a scoff and stormed out of the kitchen. Habitually, you waited before getting your hopes up. A minute ticked by, two minutes, but still no door slam or locking. Were you in for a telling-off? You had become genuinely curious as to what your demon guest had gotten up to. Judging from the end of a long shadow that was at the entrance to the kitchen, Wooyoung was idolising himself in the mirror. Fixing his hair, pulling at his suit, yet again. A meditation through egocentric routine. That could only mean one thing: the devil was sure to come back. Your efforts gone to waste, you toss the remaining crumbs onto your plate, saw some bounce onto the table, and folded your bony arms.

If someone out of your family were to see you now, there would most likely begin every conversation with: ‘oh dear, how thin you have gotten!’, without any awareness of the fact that you were, in actuality, on a spiritual journey to the discovery of self by means of deprivation. In your mind, deprivation also meant starvation, amongst other things. Before the arrival of Wooyoung at one point you had stopped allowing myself the luxury of going to the grocery store, instead choosing to devour remaining canned and long-lasting goods during sinful bouts. Pasta as an only meal for a fortnight could be considered dull by some, but once your stomach had atrophied to an acceptable size and all that your tongue could register was blandness, pasta was the only nourishment your body did not reject.

Wooyoung did not question your eating habits, and for that you had mentally thanked him. Instead, he had merely requested you be present at every meal he had, aside from those out of your apartment – one on one client meetings, he had instantly elaborated.

Your eyes shut, you were reflecting on your speedy self-inflicted resolution. Before you could get to the part where your flimsy, cheap coffin would begin to deteriorate and you would fuse with the soil embracing you, Wooyoung returned, almost glowing, ever so peppy and up-tempo. Apparently, you had reminded him of another ‘magnificent’ story, which he was metaphorically dying to tell, and you were literally dying to listen to.

-----

“A grilled cheese toast syndicate?”

“Yes. I swear on all of my bosses. The grilled cheese food truckers are surprisingly enthusiastic when it comes to selling their own souls for their art.”

“You have only told me about two people so far, and they are co-owners of the same food truck. Your statement cannot possibly hold true.”

“At this point, take it as axiom. Maybe some day I will tell you about January the thirteenth,” I raised an eyebrow, “… or was it April? Either way, it was definitely rainy, murky, a Wednesday, and the thirteenth.” you did not prod him for details. You did not need him to think that some empty collection of his words was a carrot on a stick that he could dangle in front of you.

“Anyways, those guys are mad dedicated, aren’t they?” you huffed in response, getting an eyeroll in return.

He had been doing it so often, his eyes might as well remain staring into the black hole that was his cranium – the only explanation you could find for Wooyoung’s intense self-centeredness and profound elevation of his being not only above humans but also above his own colleagues. This led you to wonder whether there was a defined system hierarchy in his business, or whether a low-level worker could talk down to the big demons if there was enough evidence to suggest they were right in doing so. Did the right to reprimand and walk on the heads of others warp from zero to infinitely high?

If anything, you would have wanted to hear more about demon administration, not caring a single bit for the grilled cheese men driving around on a truck powered by infernal evil. But, that one mention of paperwork and rookie versus regular employee had long since passed, remaining only in your memory and in the list of displeasures of my guest.

Upon Wooyoung’s insistence, you were now seated in the living room, him splayed out on the couch, you composed in the squeaky armchair. It was almost as if you were the devil’s therapist. Give you a notepad and a pencil, and the scene would be complete. You quietly listened to him, the made-up role giving you strength to remain in the room for a while longer and bear with the excessive social contact.

“So, this guy approached me on a Monday morning, right? I was still a bit groggy from a party weekend – corporate events, you see, so I did not register who exactly I was talking to at first, and how this rando could know me by one of my human names. So, I am sitting there, and hear-”

You could see your reflection in the dusty dinnerware display cabinet. Barely a figure, only partially human. Your wool sweater was exaggerating what mass you had left on your shoulders; made your wrists look like fragile twigs. When you acted out, did Wooyoung have the urge to check if they would snap the same way? But what was the use of such actions, when you were the only one in the demon’s life to care enough about what he was blabbering to note it down on a stray piece of paper here, a napkin there. You had made him quotable, thereby valued. Your wrists will survive longer than your cooling core. You did not mean for Wooyoung to find out, but it was bound to happen eventually. You were living together after all. You thought after his freeloading for so many weeks you might just accept him as a family member.

He was so excited, that poor beast. Giddy and giggling he strolled up to you one morning, a piece of magazine between two fingers. You had just finished watering the only plant that had survived your aunt’s ‘love’. You had asked her to take care of them for only two weeks. She had a magic touch Hades touch, you were sure of it. Ironic that you had to travel for a funeral, when there was misery in your own home. Those plants were pretty much people to you; Although you’d never say it out loud, but you missed Fred the rhododendron. Wooyoung had waited until you turned around and faced him, supressing a toxic glower. You had gripped the miniature watering can so tightly you’re your knuckles turned white.

“Got any more like this?” his voice was almost mocking. Like he had discovered a dirty little secret of yours and was about to go around and tell everybody about it. Who was everybody? If it were people who would listen, you would be impressed and let him talk.

Something had told you that you should be confident and accepting on this one occasion. This stance had allowed you to see a child within Wooyoung. As if he had been praised by someone who he greatly admired. Maybe equivalent to a mother putting up a shoddy etch on the fridge with ‘her favourite magnet’. Good demon.

“Got any more of what?” you feigned your being oblivious, unintentionally batting your eyelashes.

“Oh, you know… sayings of, yours truly, that you like so much you immortalise them… Not that I am emotionally mortal to make anything I do be tainted with such silly things, but I appreciate the gesture. Very human, yet very touching.” He had slid the piece inside of his breast pocket, careful not to crease the pocket square more than it already had been. Wooyoung was waiting for you to spill all but you would not budge. You did not feel like it.

While floating in your sentimentalities you did not notice that the demon was now hovering over you, eyebrows knitted together and a scowl on his face.

“You are not listening to me, are you? Repeat what I said.” you rubbed the inner corners of your eyes and stifled a yawn. This was just like primary school. How long ago that was, and yet even demons treated him the same way. You tried to recall what Wooyoung had said last, out of the things you registered.

“Oh,” you began; the demon was expectant, a bit of the gloom evaporating from his features. “You said the new grilled cheese man knew your name.”

“For- for goodness’ sake. That was five minutes ago, you oaf.” You have not heard that insult in a while. It was refreshing. Maybe your oaf-ness will finally get him to shut up for today and leave you be? Not a chance.

“Okay, just for you I will begin the glorious tale again. You better listen carefully now, or I will literally devour your soul.” Big threat for someone who cannot attack a human out of contract bounds without being banished for all of eternity. You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing it was wiser to leave such comments out of the already tense moment.

You allowed Wooyoung to settle back onto your couch without snarky remarks following him. He crossed his legs and threw his arms onto the back, revealing more of the dress shirt he had selected for today. It was undoubtedly an expensive article, remaining creaseless for over eight hours now. The almost neon quality the orange stripes on the item possessed could hurt anybody’s vision if they stared for too long. Wooyoung was taking his sweet time restarting his storytelling, evidently trying me. And here you were thinking that your lack of listening skill would deter people; your guess this specimen was truly not in any way related to the ‘people’ kind.

Now that you took your time to ponder it more deeply, this was another one of his ‘quirks’ – wearing pricy, loud shirts from the high streets, no matter the occasion. He had first appeared before you in all black, wings of the shirt collar an astonishing shade of crimson. When you had asked who had made the piece, not hiding your admiration, his lips had morphed into a dark smile, and he nonchalantly explained that it was handmade by the tortured souls under his command. You had refrained from ever commenting on his outfits since then, and rightfully so - the shirts were all done in a distinct style. Made in hell.

The dandy demon glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and sighed.

“Time for a cup of tea, don’t you think?”

“If you want one.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, I do not, thanks for asking.”

“I guess I will have one later, I don’t care. So, grilled cheese. Where was I? Oh right, where I lost you. So, this dude-”

-----

It was a cool and bright afternoon, with the signs of spring getting stronger and stronger each day. The flowers were blooming early this year – it had been a weak winter. Daffodils nodding to passers-by, cherry trees giving up petals to the wind, the flurry of pinks and whites spiralling off into an entrancing dance. How long had it been since Wooyoung had become your guest, your accidental friend? You stopped counting, and at the same time had lost track of how many notes you had written, now accompanied by sketches and stored in leather-bound photo albums. Finally, you had put your older sister’s gift to good use. She had bought you these empty albums with the hope that her ‘precious sibling would make some good memories and be able to look at them all any time’. So now your only worthy memory was that demon. And to think you were supposed to take photos of ‘friends’ and ‘nature’ and ‘joyful events’ – you did not see enough of any of those to be able to make a record, so any curious eyes would have to deal with Wooyoung being the embodiment of them all.

For the first time in weeks, you had decided to take a walk outside without the intent of going to buy the demon some food, or to browse the isles of the local bookstore. Wooyoung was more than happy to join me – you did not even ask, and he was ready to go. A young puppy from the underworld. You wondered what breed this guy was most like. Frankly indoors he was more of a cat. Little did he know, you were out on a mission, even this time. You wanted to get one photo. The only photo in all three of the photo albums, which would serve as a conclusion. A depiction of Wooyoung; a way of showing that demons had more human qualities than some members of the species.

You had taken a camera, never used, and a full roll of film with you. The demon suspiciously eyed it as it was swaying left and right, hanging from your neck. As soon as you mentioned your plans, however, he gained an intoxicating exhilaration, so much so that you could not resist and took a snapshot right on my street. Wooyoung was smiling wide, his eyes narrowed, spinning on his feet while avoiding fallen magnolia. In the photo it looked like he was stopped mid-dance, his hands positioned with a refined grace.

To be frank, you were enjoying the time that was passing. The number of frozen memories grew exponentially; you had to admit, Wooyoung was a magnificent model – the camera loved his features, and he certainly did not shy away from it, nor was he disrespectful of the machine. Why machine? He could not have become considerate of you and your preferences in the span of the last ten minutes.

His vigour was infectious, and an unfamiliar passion ignited within you. The desire to act, to function, to contribute to the world had been inhabiting much like a parasite for once. You would not stop taking photographs until all film available to you was used up – you had made a fleeting mental promise. Though you were fully aware that this moment was not to last, you were glad that you had gained something to reminisce when you were to breathe your last.

After a street photo session Wooyoung and you continued on your stroll, headed towards a public garden that had recently been renovated. Soon enough, you were surrounded by fragrant flowers in bloom, flaunting their spring fashion. Beings of the Earth naively blithe at the awakening of their planet. What was so warming about today, anyway? Your body had grown so unaccustomed to supporting itself that your soul had cooled to the dangerous status of near indifference. Frankly, your only pleasure was to command Wooyoung to stand a certain way, crouch down and smell the daffodils, caress a branch… The only authority or meaning you had left, serving as a tether before you could finally let go.

Your cutting away from reality to whatever existed beyond was closer than you had imagined – it almost made you feel as if you had been robbed of some precious hours to indulge in hobbies. It was now that you reflected that instead of the variety of mundane elements of routine, you could have been someone great. You could have written the indescribable, cured the incurable, solved the unsolvable. Your speeches, monologues, soliloquies could have been on the lips of millions, uttered and echoed like prayer. You could have eradicated crime, famine, war… become a martyr for the greater good of humanity. But all you had left was to mull over your options of maggots or ash.

What made people great? Did those great people know of their value? Or were they stuck in the same loop of perceived worthlessness, unable to self-validate and allow oneself to turn off the inner critic for a couple of seconds. The greats did not have the time to breathe, instead sacrificing themselves to the choking depths of their art. At the beginning, they could barely keep their head afloat, wading in the viscous fluids of judgement, struggle and challenge. At one point their muscles would be used to the constant burn, and they could pretend to be walking above it all – a slow crawl in search of a shore that does not exist. But at one point, they would inevitably falter, and then, it is impossible to know whether they will drown or stay motionless above the surface, a splayed-out water strider. How you wished you could have had an ocean of your own to talk about in your darkest hour. Pain to make life worth living.

“Do you see them?” Wooyoung’s soothing voice penetrated your consciousness, and you turned your head towards him.

“Hm? Oh, do you mean those people?” you gestured at the couple sitting on a bench ten or so metres away from us. Their hands were intertwined as they lovingly stared into each other’s eyes. You raised your camera to snap a quick photo of the moment. Wooyoung had gone awfully quiet and waited for the photo to develop with bated breath. What was so special about a-

What? Where did they go? You were confused, fear rising in your throat. They could not have- No, they were still there. How could the camera take a picture of the bench but not the individuals sitting on it? Was this some trick? You furrowed your eyebrows and glared at Wooyoung. It must had been some silly prank.

“This is not funny. Are you entertained by this?” Then, softening my delivery you added, “But I would like to know how you could have possibly done it. The lighting, the trees, the flowers are all the same. It’s just the people that-”

“-Are dead.” He ended your sentence with a shocking truth. It was obvious that, for once, he was not being misleading. If you had not known him at all you would have guessed that he was grief-striken. There was an anticipation of something you had only tentatively explored. He had the look of a worn out, hollow man, faced with a horror he had to harden himself up for, if not for centuries, then for millennia.

You were clinging onto your habitual scepticism, but it had turned to lead in water. You had nothing to protect you from the gravity of the situation. You had no choice but to believe Wooyoung – he was a demon, after all. He knew death better than anyone else. But although the easiest option was to blindly trust him, you played it safe:

“Assuming they are dead, how could I possibly be seeing them? That does not seem reasonable. A regular person cannot-”

“Yes, a regular person cannot see the deceased, or when they do see them, they do not realise that they have just encountered the other side. Dead people have a spectacular ability of being unnoticeable even when present. They are just echoes of who they were in real life, so they would never be as flamboyant, attractive or energetic.” you stared at the photograph you had taken so intensely your gaze could burn holes in the film. Not a hint of their being on the bench. “I can bet a soul you would not have seen the two spectres on the bench if I had not pointed them out.”

“Then why did you?” you had the right to be seething. You would shout and give the demon a piece of your mind. How dare he? He had no right to tell me… but then again, you were making your own conclusions. He did not tell you what you did not need to hear to know. Just yet.

“I wanted to make sure of… you know what.”

“What?” you pressed on. It was going to hurt. You had to muster up all my courage to keep this interrogation going. You needed to be hit with the phrase that simultaneously established your success, but with the appearance of Wooyoung in your life introduced notes of loss and regret.

“You are going to die soon.” That was all you needed.

You knew it. From the lost glances that Wooyoung had been giving you the last few days. It was said that there are certain dogs that can smell cancer; demons can smell death, regardless of distance. Your friend from the underworld had explained during dinner a few nights ago that this power was one of the worst punishments, and it was not even hell’s creation. He had stated that Earth reeked of death, another reason why demons did not come out too often, and when they did, they had to have undergone extensive training.

The smell of death was so strong even humans could sense it sometimes, particularly when in severe distress. However, tasks like demographic classification of a strench, or influencing its diffusion to manipulate living beings, were all beyond any demon’s capabilities. As Wooyoung had kindly pointed out, ‘that was the job of the grim reapers, and they were somewhat above supernatural commonality’.

You only needed to look at myself in a mirror or storefront window to know that you were going to die. Your body was in the process of shutting down. Only skin and bone, you hobbled around with barely any energy. You were no longer a human, but an illusion. You could study the skeletal system using myself as a model. Your only potential purpose currently. You had forgotten the meaning of nourishment, only ever treating yourself to stale bread and a glass of water. Although your primal instincts had been rebelling and begging for you to embrace nature and sustain yourself properly, your mind had prevailed. So here you were, finally coming to the personal revelation that you were going to be parting ways and falling, after balancing for enough years. Or not enough. Depends on who wished to interpret.

You were losing. Be it something, someone or generally. You had been losing this whole time. You did not know when your attitude had changed and you began to walk the tightrope blindfolded, but it had evolved from a manic pursuit of achieving daring stunts to playing with your own wellbeing for kicks. This is where you ended up. At the edge of a cliff, no going back; just one step forward, soaring to purgatory. Your last ever rise, for sure.

“So, this is the beginning of the end, as they call it, huh?” you whispered, with your voice barely audible over the rustling of the trees. Wooyoung did not say anything but pursed his lips and nodded. He did not need to elaborate further, knowing that you were perfectly aware of your condition and what was to come. You began to amble down the gravelly path, quickening your pace once you reached the bench with the ghostly couple. You wanted to get away, but only to see another ever so slightly translucent lady enjoying the sunshine, standing barefoot on the grass. You were about to scoff and make a comment about public health and disregard for the new strands but caught yourself.

These spirits had no mass, just like they had no purpose for the living. They could not influence reality no matter how hard they tried. It was impossible. They did not have the necessary human qualities, or the otherworldly powers of a demon to overcome the death-life barrier and do something as simple as feeling the breeze on one’s own skin. The same one that was making you shiver and wish you had brought a warmer coat.

Wooyoung and you were living in a metropolis of the dead, semi-humans in fading grey tones. You had no idea for how long you had been seeing these half familiar, half grotesque entities, walking on ground that was still yours; what used to be real clinging onto the regular man’s delusion, a madman’s fantasy, a sick man’s nightmare. Oh, how much must your demon friend have seen. Did he see those who were beyond saving so frequently that he lost touch with which was which? Did he treat them all the same? Were you still the person you had known yourself to be? From the day of Wooyoung’s arrival, had you been in this state, and stripped of the knowledge?

And yet… you would not have lived your last weeks with the same passive enjoyment, having a sense of power and control over your choices amidst progressive degradation. Although not confirmed, your demon companion had quite possibly withheld information about your own demise. It was true that the appearance of an entity from the inferno should have started ringing a few bells straight away, but you could not be bothered to make yourself care. Sometimes, it was the omission of fact that gave a person true pleasure.

-----

Your notes disappeared. You had woken up at the crack of dawn just to search for them, but to no avail, and it was unlikely that they were in Wooyoung’s room, for you had never given him permission to touch anything you deemed personal. This was the reason behind your gloominess during Wooyoung’s breakfast. You had a sip of water, which you proceeded to spit out into the sink. You were parched, your lips bitten and chapped, but you could not allow for a single droplet to roll down your oesophagus. The demon was not giving you any attention, instead focusing on the eggs benedict in front of him. It was like you were a family, not having to speak to be comfortable in each other’s presence.

You had gotten used to this demon. Now that he was technically more alive than you, you had a stronger pull towards him, a sense of desperation and longing. He had mentioned, in the early days, some of his clients having similar sensations prior to making deals. Had they been on the same cliff’s edge when they had found solace and a temporary solution in Wooyoung? You were not going to give in, and he did not want you to, obviously resisting any temptation to make you crack or to tempt you. Conscious of his effect on your species’ natural ability of being manipulated, he was all smiles and kindness the last few days. It was really a blessing in disguise. Made your passing far more comfortable than you could have ever imagined.

After Wooyoung finished breakfast, you washed up, immediately drying the dishes, and then walked to the living room. You longed to see the street one last time, crack open the window and breathe the stench of the polluted concrete jungle you lived in. You were not going to get to see your neighbourhood bulldozed and converted to skyscraper haven – for the better. There was the same number of cars, the same average number of people passing by. The same cat from across that went out to sit on a low brick wall was there, letting the rays masked by murky ashen clouds sink deep into its skin. It wasn’t as if the whole planet was meant to slow down just for your ending.

You were just a cog, and a cog that had removed itself from the machine so long ago that it had become a foreign object. You had always had trouble relating to people, this was only proven by the fact that it had been easier dealing with a demon; in any case, your innate lighthearted misanthropy allowed for a seamless disappearance. You would not be making anybody sad – in the best case scenario, somebody would be able to tell who it was they were meant to be mourning. Yet another reason why now you were praising myself for radically isolating, you need not worry about the majority of funeral expenses going to entertaining some guests who were likely not bothered to say anything more than ‘oh poor them’ or know anything more than what you had carved onto your face.

“It’s been a good ride, pal. I’ve had some real nice times with you. You might become one of my stories I tell clients, you never know. The antithesis to the piece of toast.” Wooyoung had positioned himself to your left, resting his arms behind his back and staring off into the smoggy distance.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked, turning once again to the horizon. Was the view from this window always so breath-taking?

“More poetic, I guess.” So informative, Wooyoung. Thank you. It rid you of all your pains.

“Yes, very clear. Cheers.”

“Wow, you sure are impressed. Sorry, I can’t explain it too well. You know… hm. How do I? Maybe it’s kind of like the bittersweet feeling you get after finishing a really good book? People can be like that too, for immortals that is. We know about each person’s birth, life, and death, and in there somewhere is that same beginning middle and end that is within every literary masterpiece.” He was inadvertently inflating the perception of your importance to society.

“Now you are making out my species to be way better than we are.”

“Yep, I know.” That was uncalled for, but you appreciated the brutal honesty in your final hours.

You glanced at the vintage clock, loyally ticking away on the wall. A little past three. Seemed right somehow, to get the end started right that instant. Spun on your heels and slowly made your way to the front door of your apartment. You could not care less to change from your slippers to an outdoor pair of shoes, so you exited into the communal stairwell how you was. Wooyoung was trailing behind you, his hands in his trouser pockets. You decided to take the stairs up instead of the elevator – it was not that long of a journey, but anyways you wanted the sort of scenic route towards your demise. Demon boy did not comment, only one of his eyebrows twitched once you were already halfway up the stairs to the next floor.

Soon enough, the metal door leading to the roof was looming before you. A map of some outdated emergency exits, the page yellowed, was framed and hung on two screws loosened by poor initial handiwork. There were meant to be two others, but they were long gone, probably lying around somewhere, with the dust bunnies, rusted and most surely extinct to their purpose. That reminded you, you should get going. Your attention had been constantly drifting ever since you had made the choice to abuse yourself into a state of being able to welcome self-elimination – truth be told in the beginning you had not calculated that this was what your actions would lead to, but now you did not oppose it in the slightest.

The wind was freezing cold, attacking you through the layers of clothing you had on. But it gave you natural encouragement to go on, go forwards and position yourself at the edge. There it was, your final destination. You peered at the concrete below; it was unlikely that you would be a pretty sight, alas you had plans and they had to be gone through with. Only a minor inconvenience for the residence – they would look at you the same way they would look at a dead animal; distract the kids, notice the awakening of a morbid fascination with the macabre, then go about their day, never to give the honour of being pondered to the poor animal again. If only you could possess the same altruistic qualities as those creatures that gave their lives away for the greater good. But you were only acting for yourself. You could have been great, but you could not act great no matter how much you tried. Your steps had led you too far from the ocean, so you had found a bog to sink into.

You closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The air was cleaner the closer one was to the sky, dizzyingly sweet, intoxicating. There was a thirst in you after all. Too late for it to ever be satisfied. Some things were meant to be left unfinished and permanently abandoned. You tuned into the howling of sirens, zooming through your neighbourhood; you were wondering who they were, where they were going. Before you could conjure a whole story for the emergency services that dashed past, stopping when you had ideated a man who discovered the body of a stranger in the middle of his living room and, in a panic, had dialled any car that produced the violent shriek, Wooyoung cleared his throat, causing your eyes to flutter open. You turned your head – he was closer to you than you had initially predicted. Had he been here this whole time?

“I have already collected your notes by the way. Sorry to have gotten you into a bit of a panic, I should have told you earlier.” So now he chose to ever so kindly bestow this upon you. A rapid onset of frustration was rapidly abated by Wooyoung’s apologetic smile. This charming bastard. He knew you would let it go.

He had genuinely not meant to cause you harm in your last hours here, or at least that was what you wanted to believe. The demon had wanted to give you a proper send-off, making sure you did not have any unfinished business on Earth. When you had questioned his motives, asking whether on your death bed he would metaphorically back-stab you he waved me off and took offense: “I get that I am a demon, but you are my friend. I don’t eat my friends’ souls,” It was almost touching until “…not a fan of bitter stuff.” He had an odd sense of humour. You will miss it, if that was possible on the other side.

He had told you that emotions were going to be your most loyal companions there. Your only true companions. Memories would make the occasional appearance too. He had given you a rundown on how to properly greet a reaper to impress them and make the walk through all the checkpoints less unbearable. “Those guys have a tendency to be quite morose. Total killjoys, am I right?” Wooyoung was proud of himself for that play on words. It was with regret that you had to part with his bad jokes.

You were standing at the edge of your ten-story apartment building, the same one you had lived in since university. You could say with confidence that this was enough to crack your thin shell. This day had come when your mind had passed the state of believing the internal alert signs that had flashed endlessly, shutting them off, now choosing to agree with the way of termination you had been preparing for. You took half a step forward, so your toes could feel the curvature of the drop through the grimy cotton stuffed with cheap card. Your demon friend was exasperating, choosing to dawdle and rock on his feet right next to you. What had you expected? This was none of his business. You sighed and could not help but give him a glare. He looked up and gave you a wide, practically coy grin – if it were anybody else, you would have been deeply disturbed, given the reason why you two were here. But Wooyoung was Wooyoung; demons were more than allowed to react in strange ways to the ending of man.

For some reason you could not picture the faces of your mother and father. In these moments people usually thought about their family, right? Normally those were who they left behind to pick up the pieces. But for you the postman that came to your street every Sunday was more vivid than your own relatives. It could be because you had not visited them for what could be seven years. Were they well? You had no clue. But it was no longer your business or concern. Might as well muse about the postman. That gentleman in uniform would have to keep on hoarding any spam and bank statements and charity advertisements that would be sent to your address until finally he would either not be bothered with them, or somebody would move in and change the name in the address lines.

The apartment would sell quickly; it wasn’t like you were doing anything funny inside, if anything you were lowering the value of the whole house, or even the street. Huh, you did have impact on the external world! Go you. At least you would be good at being harmful vermin to your neighbours. Parasitic vermin which they could not get rid of because it beat them to the chase. On the other hand, you were giving a helping hand to anyone who was looking to buy an apartment in this area for cheap – assuming a real estate agency would be interested in handling the post-mortem affairs.

You had watched an interview with an agent in Japan who specialised in houses and flats of people who ended up just like you or had passed of natural causes. Living alone, those people spiritually disintegrated, their physical selves following suit. What came after? The agency ordered a deep clean, transformed the housing and sold it off to those who dared. And that was a prime example of good business. Life went on no matter what one did, and you had nothing but respect for that man, who was effectively fighting off evil spirits that people conjured up in their creative little heads by re-making a place of mourning, a place of death into a spacious, minimalist condo for generations of life after life after life. If not you, then at least your apartment will go on. That was all you were hoping for. You could not be great now, but your apartment… For a split second you considered agreeing to give your soul away to Wooyoung in order to guarantee the protection and bettering of your little habitat, but it was not right to meddle with the natural flow of events. If the flat was meant to outlive you for centuries to come, you would be glad. If not, so be it. Demolition was an acceptable way to go too.

After the whole morning had been overcast, the sun was finally beginning to peer out, making leaves surrounding your building glisten. They were waving at you, cheering me on. The only time you had ever felt supported: “You can do it! We believe in you! Go, go!” Pressure was building inside of you, a spring or a coil, ready to be sent off. You moved my feet back, taking off your slippers. That was what you had seen done in movies and anime, so the footwear did not fall off mid-fall. Or was it just a statement that everyone wordlessly agreed upon? You did not mind following the trend. After they were pinched in my right hand, you bent over and placed them neatly on the edge. They fit into the scene perfectly, as if they were meant to be there, and not being used as platforms for striding around a household. An adventurous, risk-taking pair of slippers. You felt ready.

Tiny bits of gravel and chipped off stone pressed into your feet. You balanced on your heels, toes already hovering above the drop. The wind could probably blow you over if it was any stronger. Your hands were dry, your heartbeat somnolent and your will persistent. You nodded to yourself, and with the flash of the sun, appearing from behind a cloud, you gave in. You imagined yourself as a fledgling, finally leaving the nest, ready to feel the wind under your wings for the first and final time. Your head was spinning as you lost balance and gave into infinity.

You felt free. So free that you wanted this fall to last forever. A sigh escaped you as you could no longer feel your aches, neither physical, nor mental. You were a fleeting moment, passing by, ready to-

You were definitely meant to hit the ground by now. You had personally seen the arrays of windows zoom past you, faster and faster. Then why were you staring into the sun, and still very much alive and breathing? It was as though time had been frozen or was going so slowly that motion was barely there – you tried to move a leg, but it did not follow your command. You tried your arm – same story. What was this? Was this some illusion?

In a click, you were back to speeding downwards, but only for a split second before crashing into what felt like a pair of outstretched arms. Arms which barely moved when you collided with them full force, as though they had absorbed all the impact, transferring it to the earth beneath you. Somehow, they had cushioned your fall entirely, cradling you against something, or rather someone warm, safe.

One of the arms was holding your upper body steady, while the other was holding you under your knees. Once you had gotten rid of your initial shock, a panic settled in. You were not supposed to be here, you were not supposed to be seeing this. You had overstayed your welcome. They should let go! What right did they have to decide your fate like this!? What was this cursed act of playing some higher power and turning you into a puppet? Desperate and livid, you attempted to free yourself.

You were unsure of what you were going to do. It was funny, how you had ceased to plan anything, and were clueless even about the next few seconds of your existence. At least that part you were sure of – you were breathing, you had a pulse, and your chest was about to burst. Tears were welling up in your eyes as you tried and tried to claw your way from the strong arms that now pressed you to their owner’s body. You fought against it, weak fists hitting against the broad chest once, twice, until all you could do was let out a feeble wail and give into the flood of emotion that came pouring out of you.

As your frail frame shook with every sob, intermittently replaced with shallow gasps for air, you felt the someone who had caught you from what you had seen as a certain self-conclusion shift and walk towards the brick wall of your apartment building. There were no windows, no one scrutinising you, only you, the one who, in a matter of seconds decided your fate, and a peaceful spring day. The body had lowered themselves together with you, taking a seat with their back against the cool brick wall, continuing to hold you close.

You were blabbering utter nonsense under your misery-soaked breath, chocked up and lost. You had settled for repeating a never-ending stream of questions beginning with why, ones which the suit-clad body could not, or did not wish to answer. The tears, locked away for eons now being released in honour of what could only be described as an accidental renaissance, were rolling down your crimson cheeks, snaking like streams down your neck and leaving stains on your clothing. Embarrassment, guilt, and regret washed over you in feverish flashes as you attempted to cover your face with your hands.

You hated how you looked when you cried. You hated how helpless you were when you cried. You hated every bit of this humiliation, and yet there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was as though it was not you who took the final step, but a manifestation of all the inhibitions, and toxic limitations you had placed on yourself. A cage thrown from a precipice. And now here you were. That same little bird. That little fledgling. Saved. No longer trapped. But with the hurt not subsiding.

What have you done? Another yelp erupted from you as you rubbed your tremoring hands in circles, feeling every pore, every bit of agony-induced moisture on your skin. You wanted it all to evaporate. To disappear. You did not want to face this. Anything but this. You did not want to face yourself after what you had done. You were such a coward. How did you come to this? What had led you to this foolishness? Why did you not succeed? Because you could not do anything. You could not even control your own life.

Your thoughts were monsters, rabid, barking and biting at you, tearing you apart from within. The noise was overwhelming, dialled up to an impossible maximum as one of your wrists began to bang against your temple. You were so exhausted. You wanted this to stop. So badly. Please. Could. It. Stop.

“Do you hear me?"

A solitary plea, reminiscent of a prayer. Reaching out to you. A promise. A sweet release in the form of music, which had been so core to your darkest hours and your battles against them, that you gasped once you recognised the melody.

"회색빛 안개 덮인 Gloomy day Gloomy day covered with gray fog

눈앞이 가려진 게 두려워 I'm afraid that my eyes are covered

이젠 아무것도 흥미가 안 나 No woah…” I'm not interested in anything anymore No woah

This song was so familiar. So close to your heart. It had been with you through many moments in your life. Through times when you had no one to rely on. Through times when you had been losing hope, but at least for a few minutes, felt like there was still something worth holding on to.

The voice that was singing it was mellifluous, each note embellished with gold, clearing your haze. It possessed a steadiness that was so jarring to your state that you could not help but be jolted out, shaken from a horrific nightmare. You wanted to keep on listening, stay like this forever. Maybe this was afterlife after all? When the voice stopped for a moment, as if unsure whether to continue or not, your hand grasped one of the arm’s sleeves, squeezing it, begging for the song to continue. With a soft hum in agreement, the arm supporting your legs slips back, letting you down onto the ground slowly. In a few quick adjustments, you were now sat between the man’s legs, your back flush against his chest, as he continued to embrace you. Your wings. Your shield.

As he continued to sing, you could feel a pleasant vibration against your own body, with every breath, every sound that filled the air. Slowly but surely, your tears had stopped, leaving only reminders - streaks that had painted over you, and you were stilled to a trance, only following the music. In that moment, the only things to exist were you, him, and the melody. Who knew that this combination could be a safe haven?

“She's in the rain

You wanna hurt yourself, I'll stay with you

You wanna make yourself go through the pain

It's better to be held than holding on, no woah…”

You let out an airy chuckle, lifting a hand wrapped up in your sleeve and dabbing away at the corners of your glistening eyes. This song. Out of all of them. You had not listened to it in so long, though it was always in your memory, like a record left on a turning table. Why now? And how did he of all people, and non-people, know? While still keeping the performance gentle, he went into a cautious crescendo for the final verse, leaving the last line ringing in your very being.

“We're in the rain

떨어지고 있는 이 빗속에서 in this falling rain

흩어져 버린 널 다시 채워 Refill the scattered you

아름다웠던 널 볼 수 있게 So that I can see the beautiful you

No woah, we're in the rain.”

You took the impromptu performance in, relishing in the tranquility that it had given you. As the silence grew longer, however, pangs of guilt made an appearance once more, deciding to pick at your brain and taunt you. You did not deserve this. You had just… you were supposed to… you were told you were going to…

“So, you aren’t even going to say anything about my solo concert? Shame, Y/N, shame.”

You finally looked to the side and up at the man who had restarted your clock. Wooyoung. With his cocky grin and mischievous eyes, and, by total contrast to himself, with the patience of a saint. Otherwise, you could not explain why he was here with you. As though nothing happened. Maybe nothing did. You were now beginning to hope so.

“What’s with the first name basis, demon dearest?” you croaked, throat still hoarse and clogged up from crying.

“I think we have just re-enacted all the standard wedding vows you humans use so I think we can go on first name basis, Y/N.” he jested, mimicking a disgusted tone when saying the word ‘human’.

“But death did not do us part-”

“Thanks to my brilliant, otherworldly reflexes, obviously.”

That was a fair point. Out of all reasons to be alive, you were still hanging on thanks to a demon. To a creature of the underworld. To what one would think is the antithesis to all things valuable on the planet. There had to be a catch.

“You… you said I was going to die.” You mumbled letting your eyes flutter shut and leaning back a little. Wooyoung adjusted your form so that your head could tilt back against his shoulder, and he could rest his chin against yours.

“Isn’t everybody?”

“No, you said, I was going to die soon.”

“Well, oops, I guess.

“Elaborate.”

“Tell me what you thought of my singing, and then I might just satisfy you.” He was unchangeable. But he was here. Still a cunning menace. Reckless, but your saving grace, nevertheless.

“It was good.”

“Just good? I was out there turning my soul inside out for you, damn it.” He retorted. You could hear his smile.

“Your non-existent one?”

“About that…” he trailed off, pausing himself before answering what you had initially thought to be a rhetorical question. This put you on higher alert. You moved a little, so that you were able to speak face to face with Wooyoung. What did he mean?

Instinctively, once you locked eyes with his, you became very self-conscious. Your well-practiced, thoroughly nurtured phobias had stirred from their deprivation-induced slumber and began their routine of hurling insult after insult about how you looked, how you behaved, how you, you were. The last one was a personal favourite of yours: you, an amalgamation of blunders culminating in a virtue-less entity. There you went again, dragged out from the other side only to kick yourself into a corner. But at least you could say you were proof that old habits, did indeed die hard. As Wooyoung saw your previously frustrated expression falter, he could not help but cup one of your cheeks, directing you away from your internal hell.

“Hey, back with me.” He instructed you softly, making you mellow. As he removed his hand, the touch lingered for a little while longer. It was odd, just how easy it was to give into the sensation of being held, being protected, even if it was from oneself. This demon was surprisingly clement and forbearing.

“So, you were saying, Wooyoung?”

Although you were almost certain this had to be trickery, there was a hint at an emotion entirely unexpected from the demon. Upon trying to piece together the bits of body language, and micro reactions that you could capture from your position, you could only read a terribly concealed unease… or shame? Or worry? Either way, it was unlike the conceited hell-bringer you had grown attached to. After his dramatic pause, the man raised his head and gave you an intentionally meek grin.

“I kind of… sort of… maybe used your writing to make a pact?”

“Say that again?” you were bewildered. You had blindly believed him when he had told you he took the ramblings to remove any traces of himself in your life - so much for trying to see the best in demons.

“Well, pacts can be made in spoken or written form, and since I had your writing… well you can guess."

"Who gave you the right to do that?" you asked, venom dripping from the inquiry.

"Look, before you get mad, I have got to say is, I had no other choice!” he blurted out, raising his free hand in front of him in a defensive motion.

Your expression darkened as you peered into his deep brown orbs. As the wind picked up and clouds raced across the sky, you ignored the strands of your dull hair that were making every effort to prevent you from maintaining eye contact for much longer.

“One, you did not answer my question. Two, you could have let me die.”

“Nope. Not an option.”

“Why? And again, who?”

“If I say I am selfish and the answer to both things is just 'me', would you believe me?”

“Partially. Since when do you need me? You wasted enough time already.” reverting to self-deprecation out of habit, you did not wish to argue and instead turned the conversation into a plea for Wooyoung to reevaluate and somehow reverse the process. You were convinced that he had either done it out of pity, or out of twisted sadism.

“Never on you. Do you hear me? Never. Every moment with you is precious.” Again that question. Same one from the song. But now wholly dedicated to you.

You were dumbfounded. This was probably the first time over however many weeks… or was it months, that passed that you had heard him say something so openly positive to you. Previously it had either been a flirtatious comment through which he fished for compliments, or him outright asking for attention from you while he delivered story after story. At least the situation with the missing notes had cleared. They had come into some sort of use, albeit highly questionable.

His phrase. 'Never on you'. Those three little words were giving you room to exist. Providing you with priceless reassurance that to someone in the vastness of space you were not a nuisance. How easily you were swayed now! Nearly cooing because of every word uttered by the demon. Clinging onto every distraction from your own body. You started fading away into your toxic pensiveness, struggling to keep your head afloat.

“You didn’t even ask about the song, and how I knew. Really, we are going to have to work on your ability to ask interesting questions if you are to actually dive into the literary world.” He sounded like a parent, scolding a delinquent child for not paying enough attention in school and skipping.

His mention of the literary world had caught you off-guard. It was true that prior to your spiral your sacred wish had been to become a master of the written word, alas, you had chosen to give it up. But Wooyoung sounded adamant, as though he saw nothing else in your future except the pursuit of your ancient passion. You could not keep up with him, so you remained mute.

“Well, you always did enjoy me taking the lead, so I’ll ask and answer for you, okay?” he added, ever so cheeky. You only hummed in response, preoccupied by your own interpretations of the cryptic introduction.

“I have known you for a while, Y/N. A lot longer than you would think.”

“Okay, continue, sounds promising.” You quipped, making the demon roll his eyes.

“And… how would I say this… there is a reason why I appeared as a demon and not an angel, let’s say that.”

“And that is?”

“It was the easiest way to be with you, Y/N. Otherwise, I would be just a shadow. And I was sick and tired of letting you go. Time, and time again."

"What in the world do you mean?"

"We are bound together.”

You whipped around. Wooyoung was smiling, but it was an evident façade to conceal an excruciating terror that had begun to settle within him as he recounted to you his fall from grace. He revealed to you that he had been a guide for lost souls, tasked to be a bringer of spiritual light to beings of the earth. He was the light heart that one felt when their troubles would be wiped away. He was the freedom felt when a challenge was overcome. He was a candle in a dim reality, fighting in the shadows against people’s troubles. Wooyoung was one to trust easily, fall in love easily, and exist for others.

He was an angel who had been created for continuous self-sacrifice - that was what prophets had told him. And as time went on, he began to crumble harder and faster. It was becoming too much to stand beside these beautiful mortals and see them fall apart, without being allowed to influence their acts directly. Only through cryptic messages, encouraging nothings in moments of somnolence, manifestations… He wanted to do more, so much more!

You had been ‘just another lost soul’ initially. Locked away in your room, moving like an automaton through your human years. Wooyoung had ended up learning a lot about you, memorising your every angle, your every thought. Despite your younger years - a quality that had prevailed through every physical embodiment your soul had, you were composed of suffering wound into a tight Gordian knot – one that he was itching to cut. He wanted to help you. He wanted to be there for you. He wanted to be your guide.

It had been the same in your previous lives. You had burned out before you could produce warmth. No matter the dynasty, nor the nation, you had suffered the same fate again, and again. And every time, Wooyoung had to witness it, and had his heart break into a billion pieces. So much for being soul-bound to a human being.

You reminded him of a little bird. So much ahead of you, and yet the torrential winds of time and circumstance beat down on you repeatedly, forcing your wings back, draining you until you cannot see another way anymore. You had been a wonderful writer in your past life. In three, to be exact. Making a mark on the world - little did you know, you had been quoting yourself all this time in school, in media... a little bird, fatigued, letting out its final cry.

Wooyoung had always been commended for his compassion, but the levels of personal involvement which he had felt towards you over the span of centuries were unprecedented. It was as though he was the candle, and you were the flame itself. In the beginning, just observing you was enough. Seeing how you went about your day and how you glowed. But the wick was never long enough for Wooyoung to be satisfied, and even though he tried, no angel could caress such a flame, reassure it and be present in the moment.

It was easier than he could have envisioned to get used to your presence, and in turn, crave it. Have your attention turn to him instead of the same thoughts, same feelings, same repeating desolation. With every new life your soul experienced, the tiny mark on your body that signified a much deeper connection between you and him was only getting stronger and stronger, more vivid, and it had become undeniable. You were bound together.

He wished for nothing more than to be your bringer of light and break you from this reincarnating melancholic cycle. He wanted to be with you. For you to be with him. To rely on him. To co-exist in nothing but tranquility. And for that, Wooyoung was willing to sacrifice everything. Whatever it took to tip the scales in favour of your survival. He had fallen from grace in the blink of an eye, exchanging status and divinity for a lowly demon rank. Wooyoung was not troubled, making the underworld his home, grateful that his wish had come true. He had a chance to get closer to you before time could run out.

It had not been simple, figuring out the details of his personal contract. He had had to get the blessing of every angel and liaise with his new colleagues to realise the rescue plan he had conjured up in one feverish night. Every step of the way, he felt selfish. Your agreement was out of the question, so he had to act in secrecy, using your written word as proof of your feelings and of mutual attachment to convince the higher powers that there was a kindling hope.

It was not something he wanted, but he had to let you push yourself to the limits so you could be reborn. As his redemption. As his saving grace. He had no certainty that his plan involving you would work, even though there were signs. But he sure as hell was willing to try. And there you were, in his very arms. The chance. His love. The future.

Every pact had an exchange. His was simple. And very 'Wooyoung'. Your healing, for his divine punishment. While he would be burning in damnation, he would be helping you rise above the flood. To him, it was a way that was only natural. And he would not have any other alternative. From the greatest depths he was going to crawl, and claw his and your way forward. You were his divine soulmate after all.

As he divulged his real story to you, his true self, you could catch glimpses of who he had been, all across his features. Though what he had not mentioned yet, instead resorting to an ambiguous 'pact', was your heavenly ties to him. He could not expect you to love him. He could not force you to accept him so quickly. If it took centuries more, he was willing to wait. Time was not an issue; he wanted your heart to heal.

You were perplexed. Why did Wooyoung throw everything that he had away? Was this foolishness? Was this a lapse in judgement? Whatever he was looking for, you were sure he could not find here. There had to be another reason, something-

“Like I said, I am bound to you. So, apologies, Y/N, but you are going to have to deal with me for… a while. Now don’t worry, you are not the only one who will be on a journey, so we will be helping each other. Okay?”

“Bound?”

“Like I said. A pact.”

“So, you will take my soul?”

“That’s what demons do.”

“Aren’t you one... now? Don't you sort of have to take souls?”

“Not exactly. I just explained. Had I been a true demon, I would have been able to steal your soul on the first day we had met. Just like that.” He clicked his fingers, representing the speed at which the action could have been performed, had he had the ability. "I have to go through the paperwork to do my present duties. Dull, but at least I am still myself, more or less."

“Then, fallen angel it is.”

“Yes. Much like you, after that stellar dive.”

“Did you just-”

“If there is anything you certainly know about me, is that I adore being tactless.” He reminded you, making you snort.

“That you sure do. Maybe that's why you decided to leave the angelic realm." you stuck a bit of your tongue out, poking fun at Wooyoung, who took to your higher spirits and beamed.

"What will you do, then?” you tried.

“Only what had already been done and determined by fate.”

“Cryptic.”

“Very much so. But we will go in baby steps. Now, let’s get you inside, and get started, together. You ready, Y/N?”

He was searching for hope. For a new life. For fight within you. One that would prove to him that there was, indeed, a chance.

“Reborn ready, Wooyoung.”

As he helped you up and, an arm wrapped around you, guided you back inside, his gaze could not help but linger on the small mark on your ever so slightly exposed shoulder, exactly matched with his. He was going to tell you what it meant eventually. When you were ready to hear and to listen. The stars had long made the decision for you both, and he simply gave in. If this meant that he had to be a demon for eternity, he was willing. If him and you could be redeemed, he was ecstatic. But that was distant for now. In the present, the only thing certain was you, and him. The rest was only a series of embellishments to lead you to healing and acceptance. But it was clear. You were never alone, and you will never be.

#wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x y/n #ateez au #ateez fanfic #demon ateez #ateez angst #hwaightme #ateez #ateez comfort #choi san #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #ateez wooyoung x reader #demon wooyoung #angel wooyoung #kpop imagine #kpop writers #kpop writing

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bvlnoriyas · 1 year

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12:45 — cover by ateez wooyoung

#ateez #ateezedit #atzsource #flashing tw #eyestrain #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #.mine #.mine wy #my heart goes out to him and i hope he's surrounded by love <3 #(i know he is but i hope he gets the comfort he needs)#this cover is so beautiful i will cherish it forever #i just love him <3

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naesarangyunho · 1 year

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Beans on Toast(4)- YunGi soulmate au

[I don't own these images credits to the original owners]

SFW [A little suggestive though]

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Synopsis: Taking a little break from main couple (wooyoung x y/n) before I post their last chapter. Mingi and Yunho finally resolve their obviously not platonic 'platonic' soulmates predicament.

Contains: Mingi being a dumbass and breaking Yunho's heart. But don't worry, he fixes it!! Cursing. A lot. I always do that. No other content warnings that I can think of.

Disclaimer: I don't actually ship them romantically, they are just characters in a fanfiction and this is not a reflection of their true irl characters and personalities.

[Word count: 2.8k]

A/N: also, this was kinda inspired by the fact that Yunho literally looks at Mingi like this:

Yunho's ears perked up at the sound of the front door opening and closing and footsteps making their way down the passage to his room. He paused his game, removed his headset, letting it rest around his neck, and stared expectantly at his closed door, not quite unlike an excited puppy.

His mouth curved into a big smile as the door opened and Mingi entered, throwing his bag down on his bed.

"Hi! How are you? How was work?"

"Hey, Yun. I'm good. Work was fine." Mingi replied but his tone was off.

"Do you have schoolwork to do or do you want to join me in the next match?" Yunho asked, referring to his video game.

Mingi shook his head, "I need to go shower. I'm going out tonight."

"Oh. Where are you going?"

"Nowhere special."

He wouldn't look Yunho in the eye.

Yunho's brows drew together, "Are you okay?"

Mingi nodded but still didn't look Yunho in the eyes, focusing instead on gathering his things and heading to the bathroom. Yunho placed his headset down on the computer desk and turned in his swivel chair to watch him leave the room. What was up with him?

Yunho eventually just gave up trying to game, his focus directed on the feeling of unease in his stomach, and he went and sat on his own bed on the other side of the room.

Mingi was keeping something from him but Mingi never kept anything from him. The thought that Mingi was hiding something from him made him uneasy.

Mingi returned to the room, smelling of cologne and his honey and yoghurt shampoo. Yunho felt his cheeks flush just the slightest as he looked at his soulmate. Mingi looked good. Loose-fitting ripped jeans, a white t-shirt that hugged his body and showed off his broad shoulders and small waist tucked into his pants, and his dark hair styled in a way that showed off his electric blue streaks. He was even wearing casual makeup.

Yunho cleared his throat, "You look nice."

Mingi gave him a half-hearted smile that had Yunho feeling even more uneasy.

"I'm glad I look nice because I'm… I'm going on a date. A girl from class asked me out."

Five words. Five words were all it took for Yunho's heart to break. I'm going on a date.

Yunho had been okay with shoving his feelings for Mingi down for years now, despite how badly it hurt, because even if they weren't romantically involved, Mingi was his. Mingi was his soulmate and Mingi had never dated anyone nor had he spoken of any crushes, which made it a little more bearable because that meant that he didn't have to share his Mingi with anyone. But now that has changed. Mingi had a date. He was getting romantically involved with someone. Yunho supposed it would happen at some point in life but he'd always clung to the hope that it wouldn't. Fuck, this hurt.

Yunho choked back tears and tried to smile and be a supportive best friend, "Wow, that's… I'm happy for you."

Mingi eyed him carefully, "Are you okay?"

Yunho nodded quickly, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Mingi wasn't completely stupid; he could tell something was off. He swallowed back his growing guilt.

"Well, okay then. I've got a movie and dinner to catch."

Yunho smiled but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, "Okay. Have fun."

Mingi looked at him for a moment before stepping forward to lean down and hug him. Yunho held him tight, breathing in his comforting scent and letting the brief warmth of the hug wash over him. His Mingi. Mingi was supposed to be his.

He gently pushed Mingi away, "You don't want to be late."

Mingi nodded and Yunho followed him to the front door, giving him one last tight smile and then the minute Mingi was gone Yunho choked out a sob.

He wanted Mingi to be happy, he really did, but if this date went well how were things going to be between them? Was Mingi going to bring this girl home? Was Yunho going to be forced to share a space with Mingi as he cuddled with and loved somebody else? Was Mingi going to spend time with him anymore?

Hot tears fell from his eyes and another sob wracked his frame.

"Yu?" Wooyoung called out from the living room.

Yunho didn't respond, staring at the closed front door and willing Mingi to come back through it. Willing Mingi to come back and into his arms. Willing Mingi to curl up with him like he usually did and watch dumb videos with him on YouTube and laugh till their ribs ached.

He felt so dumb for behaving this way but he was in pain. He'd been terribly in love with Mingi for years and the thought of Mingi with someone else was tearing him apart.

San and Wooyoung appeared next to him seemingly out of nowhere. They must have heard him crying from the living room.

"Yunho, what happened?" San asked, rushing to check Yunho over to see if he was hurt.

Yunho just cried harder and both Wooyoung and San panicked.

Sure, they'd seen Yunho cry before- he cried pretty easily sometimes. He cried watching animal videos, cried when Disney characters died, and cried when he felt nostalgic during holidays. Still, they couldn't even remember the last time they'd heard Yunho cry like this. It sounded like his world was falling apart and to some extent it really was.

"Mingi's seeing someone. He's on a date." Yunho finally croaked out.

"Fuck," both San and Wooyoung cursed and wrapped their arms around the bigger boy, their hearts aching at the way he shook in their arms.

They gently guided him to the couch and sat down on either side of him, holding him close. San stroked his back and Wooyoung kissed his hair.

"It hurts. It hurts so much." Yunho sobbed.

"Shhh. We know, honey, we're here." San murmured and Wooyoung kissed Yunho's hair again.

After what felt like ages, Yunho's tears finally dried up and his frame stopped quivering. San and Wooyoung were both leaning sleepily against him and Yunho felt bad for keeping them up. They'd been practising for their dance competition the entire afternoon and most of the evening and must be exhausted.

"Guys, you can go to bed. I'm okay now." Yunho murmured, slowly extricating himself from their hold.

"Are you sure?" San questioned sluggishly and Yunho nodded, trying his best to give them a convincing smile.

"If you need anything our rooms are just down the passage," Wooyoung said, kissing his cheek.

"Thank you."

The moment they were gone, Yunho let loose a big sigh, trying to relax completely. He felt like crap, to be honest.

He got up and made his way to the kitchen intending to make hot chocolate. Hot chocolate always helped a little when he was down and he hoped it would warm him up even if it was only just a little.

It didn't. Nothing seemed to help relieve the ache in his heart.

He ended up grabbing a beer from the fridge after he finished the hot beverage and leaned against the kitchen counter as he cracked it open and took a long sip.

He checked the kitchen clock as he took another sip of his drink- Mingi had only been gone for around an hour and a half yet it felt like he’d been gone forever already. Yunho wondered what he was doing and he wondered if he was happy. Was he enjoying himself? Did he like her? Did she like him? Was Mingi going to bring her home? He hoped not because that would be the final nail in the coffin for him.

Just as he was polishing off his beer, the front door was all but slammed open and closed. Yunho frowned and checked the time again; there was no way Mingi could be home already since the movie itself couldn't even be finished yet let alone a meal as well. But yet there he was, stepping into the kitchen with a look Yunho wasn't sure how to describe or interpret.

Mingi scanned Yunho's face and saw his puffy eyes and pink nose, evidence in plain sight that Yunho had been crying.

"Shit," Mingi exhaled.

Yunho felt tears bubble up again at the sight of Mingi but he swallowed them back.

"You're home early." He sniffed and Mingi just nodded, not really sure what to say.

The two men just stared at each other, the silence deafening, and Yunho wished Mingi would just say something because the longer he looked at Mingi the more he felt like crying.

"I just…" Mingi started, finally breaking the silence, but his words trailed off until he was as quiet as before.

"You just?" Yunho prompted.

"I just…Couldn't."

Yunho's brows drew together, "What do you mean?"

"I… Fuck, this is so hard," Mingi groaned in frustration, dragging his fingers through his hair, and Yunho noticed that it was already messy. Had she done that? Yunho shoved away the images that filled his mind. He’d rather not know or think about it.

Mingi looked so nervous and conflicted and Yunho wanted nothing more than to know what was going on in his head. It had never been more difficult to read his best friend's expressions.

Mingi stepped closer to Yunho, "She kissed me."

A pang of pain shot through Yunho and he just stared at Mingi silently, willing Mingi to continue speaking because Yunho really didn't trust himself to.

"She kissed me, Yunho, and I just couldn't do it because all I could think of was you."

Of all the words he could have imagined Mingi to say, he'd never expected that.

"What are you saying?"

Mingi looked so horribly vulnerable and nervous and Yunho resisted the urge to just wrap him up in his arms like he usually did when Mingi didn’t feel good.

"I'm saying that I…" He trailed off and gulped as he made eye contact with Yunho.

There was a moment's silence and then, before Yunho had any time to comprehend it, Mingi crossed the space between them in a few long strides, gripped his hip with one hand, the back of his neck with the other and pushed him against the counter as his lips found his.

Yunho gasped against his mouth and his hands shot out to grip Mingi's hips.

Mingi tried to pull away, misinterpreting Yunho's gasp and firm grip, but Yunho grabbed him by the front of his shirt instead and kissed him again- hard and desperate. Mingi held him tight and reciprocated the kiss, tilting his head and deepening it. Yunho's pulse was racing, his body reacting of its own accord while Yunho's brain still tried to comprehend the fact that Mingi was kissing him. Mingi was home early and kissing him.

His heart skipped a good few beats when he felt Mingi's tongue slide into his mouth and brush against his. He grabbed Mingi's hips again and pulled their hips flush together and delighted in the way Mingi gasped into his mouth.

But then Mingi pulled back again, panting against Yunho's mouth.

He didn't step out of Yunho's hold but pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him from moving forward again to chase after Mingi's lips.

"Yunho, let me speak quickly please."

Yunho dragged his eyes away from Mingi's kiss-swollen lips and looked up and into his eyes reluctantly. He wanted to kiss Mingi. He'd wanted to kiss him for so many years and now that he'd been given the opportunity to, he didn't want to stop but he also needed to hear what Mingi had to say.

"I'm sorry."

Yunho gave him a curious look, "For what?"

"For pushing you away all these years. I knew, well, I had a feeling you loved me but I hurt you and pushed you away. I'll never forgive myself for it."

"You knew?" Yunho felt tears prick at his eyes. Did Mingi know he loved him all this time but just ignored him?

"Not entirely. I had a feeling but I was so fucking scared of losing you. You'd never said anything about liking guys-"

"Neither did you and it doesn't matter. Mingi I don't care what gender you are. It's you. I care about you. "

"I know. Yunho, I just- I don't know what to say. I'm so horrible at expressing myself. I've just… I've loved you for so many years and the soulmate bond made it worse and I just was so fucking scared you wouldn't feel the same."

"Mingi, I… Do you have any idea how long I've been in love with you? Do you know how much it hurt? I tried in the beginning. I tried to tell you or throw hints but you just ignored me or brushed off my comments."

Yunho paused. He was just as poor as Mingi at expressing his feelings it seemed.

"The way you pushed me away… Mingi, you made me feel… I don't even know but it hurt. It hurt so fucking badly, Mingi."

Yunho felt himself get choked up again, tears building in the corners of his eyes and the sight broke Mingi's heart. He reached up and cupped Yunho's face, gently swiping his thumbs under his eyes and catching the tears that started to fall.

"I'm so sorry, Yunho. I'll never stop hating myself for it."

Yunho quickly reached out to hold Mingi's face in his hands, "No. Don't you dare hate yourself. You hurt me, Mingi but you had your reasons. You're allowed to feel things and be scared. I've been terrified too."

"Yunho," Mingi groaned in frustration, stroking Yunho's cheek with his thumb.

"Yunho, I don't know what to say. I don't know how to say anything. I suck so badly at this. I love you so much and I fucked things up so badly."

Mingi looked so worked up and it looked like he was going to start crying out of frustration alone.

Yunho pulled Mingi in again and gently kissed him once more, "It's okay, Min. I understand you. You've done a good job and I'm proud of you for confessing."

Mingi looked at him for a second before connecting their lips again, his kiss softer than before. Yunho could feel everything that Mingi wanted to say in that kiss and all he could was hold Mingi tighter and listen to him.

Mingi kissed him a few more times, sweet and tender, before pulling his face back to look at him.

"Yunho…"

Yunho smiled and ran his hands softly through Mingi's hair, "I know, love."

Mingi finally smiled for the first time since he'd come home and Yunho's heart swelled at the sight. He cupped Mingi's face in his hands, his thumbs stroking over the corners of Mingi's smile,

"There's my boy."

Mingi smiled brighter at his words, his eyes crescent moons, "Your boy?"

Yunho nodded, "Who else's would you be?"

Mingi leaned in to kiss Yunho, "No one. Just yours."

The blond man smiled and kissed Mingi all over his face. Mingi giggled and tried to squirm out of his arms.

Yunho chuckled and held him tighter, "Where do you think you're going, huh?"

"No where apparently." Mingi laughed as Yunho pressed kisses into his jaw and neck too now.

Yunho pressed one last kiss to Mingi's neck and then his mouth, "Let's go to bed, love."

Mingi laughed and pressed a kiss to Yunho's hair, "Sure, I need to get out of these jeans too."

Yunho smirked, "I can help."

Mingi blushed lightly and slapped Yunho's arm, "I am twenty two, I can undress myself."

"But it'll be so much quicker if I help."

"You're insufferable." Mingi untangled himself from his soulmate's arms and promptly left the kitchen.

Yunho caught up with him and grabbed his waist from behind, burying his face in Mingi's neck.

"Yunho," Mingi laughed, "I'm trying to walk here."

Yunho just hummed and smiled against his neck.

Mingi reached a hand around to poke Yunho's side, "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay," Yunho let go of Mingi but hooked a finger in one of his belt loops and followed him to their room.

They both squeezed into Mingi's bed that night because Yunho insisted on clinging to Mingi even further. Mingi didn't mind one bit, he just held Yunho tight and kissed him back softly everytime Yunho lifted his head to kiss him again as if he couldn't get enough of him. It felt right. Yunho felt right and he felt right and they felt right together. Mingi wished he'd seen that sooner.

#kpop #kpop fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez #ateez yunho #song mingi #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez yungi #ateez mingi #mingi #soulmate au #soulmarks #soulmates #college au #choi san #wooyoung ateez #jung wooyoung #hurt/comfort

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minkiverse · 1 month

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POLY!ATEEZ FIC RECS PART 1

Part 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Song Mingi - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

A collection of Ateez fics that I think everyone should know about!!! This has been QUITE the project, but I'm so happy to have done it. Unfortunately not all my recs could fit on one post so there will be at least one other part to this list, as well as individual member lists. (i really thought i could fit them all on one post lmaooo) I hope you enjoy and support these authors!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please review all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

POLY!ATEEZ

Sway With Me - @luvt0kki 🔥⛈️ Sci-fi ✧ Ongoing

the world 🤌 the story 🤌 the SMUT 🤌🤌🤌 but truly this fic is such a fun take on a sci-fi adventure. im already obsessed with the mc, AND HER AND WOO'S CHEMISTRY?!?! off the charts sooooo good like 👏👏👏 the interlude has me a tiny bit nervous because now i know how well this author writes angst and yeah its gonna be a doozy 😩😩

Wonderwall - @atzfilm ✨🔥⛈️ Yandere ✧ Faerie AU ✧ Ongoing

i realized pretty quickly that yandere is much more popular in this fandom than in previous ones i've been in, so i never really read any. HOWEVER, i get it now i do lmao. this was the first one i read, and i was HOOKED like i couldn't stop reading! the story just like took over my brain, and i am thinking why am i sympathizing with the guys BUT I AM BECAUSE THEY ARE COMPLEX AND SO INTERESTING AND WELL WRITTEN!!!!! its hard to put into words how much i love this series

The Answer - @berryunho ✨🔥⛈️ Cult AU ✧ Ongoing

i genuinely don't think i've ever read a fic like this, and i mean that in literally the best way possible. i was STRESSED reading this like there are so many scenes that make me question everything, but like there is no one to trust about what is actually happening. idk if i'm making sense but this fic just needs to be read to understand the legit anxiety it gives me in certain chapters lmaooo😭😭

Deep Down - @seventhcallisto 🔥⛈️💗 ABO AU ✧ 9th Member AU ✧ Ongoing

this is just self indulgent fun AND THAT PEOPLE IS WHAT FANFICTION IS MEANT TO BE!!! like im just kicking my feet reading about this 9th member ateez finding out she's an omega!~ i'm having the TIME OF MY LIFE!

Into the Aurora - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥⛈️💗 Idol AU ✧ Complete

this soooo quickly became my main comfort fic for ateez! like i have reread this TOO many times. sometimes i'll just revisit specific chapters, but i know the exact chapter number.... is that concerning? lmaooo~ but truly this is more than just a you date every member of ateez fic (WHICH ARE GREAT DONT GET IT TWISTED!!) but the more we learn of the mc the more i adore her and her relationship with the boys!! it's just a must read ok 👏👏

Inception - @remedyx ✨🔥⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Royalty AU ✧ Ongoing

my brain is still stuck in this world tbh, like its maybe a bit embarrassing how many times i look at the map and moodboards and just vibe and think about this fic lmaoo! but honestly the world building is so thoughtful and its so easy to just immerse yourself in it which is amazing!!!!!!!

Dragon from the Window - @thelargefrye ✨🔥⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Fantasy AU ✧ Ongoing

this collection of one shots, drabbles, headcanons, and world building i went through SO QUICKLY I WAS IMMEDIATLY OBSESSED. i am so genuinely invested in this story and how each member react to their connection with the mc!!!! ALSO the mc is a witch SO BIG BONUS POINTS!!!!~

like the moon - @sunmoonjune ✨⛈️💗 Warrior AU ✧ Clan Systems ✧ Ongoing

try not to cry challenge - FAILED, MULTIPLE TIMES 😭😭 this is major hurt/comfort, but its truly such a beautiful story!! i would do anything ANYTHING for gray!!!!! all of them deserve the absolute best in the world and i just adore them so much 🥹🥹🥹

Morning Mist - @mint-yooxgi ⛈️💗 Dragon!Teez ✧ Yandere ✧ Ongoing

another story with an mc that is just 🤌🤌🤌 like she is so badass i'm in love but also scared lmao,, but i think if you are new to yandere, this is a good starting point! like yes they are obsessed but not like terrifyingly so if that makes sense~

MULTIPLE MEMBERS

This Night Together - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥⛈️💗 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ ABO ✧ Ongoing

listen i'm a bit of a slut for ABO fics and this one!!!! THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!!!!!! im like just in love with all of them not just yungi n reader but EVERYONE (except u minseok u bitch) like not only is the main plot so good but the side plots for the other members is just incredible,, i just love this story too ok if you see this author know that every fic they write is going to be a comfort fic for me 🥹🥹

Project Omen - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Hongjoong x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

Bouncy - @hongism 🔥Yunho x Reader x Jongho ✧ Mechanic AU ✧ One Shot

splish splash - @atozfic 🔥San x Seonghwa x Wooyoung x Yunho x Reader ✧ Swimmer AU ✧ One Shot

sharing is caring? - @byuntrash101 🔥Hongjoong x Reader x Mingi ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @orgverse 🔥Seonghwa x Reader x San ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ One Shot

Threesome with Yungi with woosan watching - @k-hotchoisan 🔥Yunho x Reader x Mingi (San and Wooyoung) ✧ One Shot

one more rep - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Personal Trainer AU ✧ One Shot

blue bird - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Mafia AU ✧ One Shot

What's the Time, Mr. Wolf - @starlitmark 🔥Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

the good friend + the better friend - @byuntrash101 ✨🔥San x Reader x Mingi ✧ Idol AU ✧ Two Shot

as a sangi bias this fic changed my life maybe?!! the smut is just toe curling ESPECIALLY PART TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!! literally i could drool just thinking about this fic 🤤🤤 i need this to be my reality ASAP

Untitled - @ja3hwa 🔥Seonghwa x Yunho x Mingi x Reader ✧ Business (?) AU ✧ One Shot

knockout - @igbylicious 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Boxer AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @sanspuppet 🔥Hongjoong x Reader x Seonghwa ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥San x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

Time of Love - @desayunho ⛈️💗 San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ SMAU ✧ Complete

compromise - @cyberpxnk 🔥⛈️ Seonghwa x Reader x Yunho ✧ College AU ✧ Soccer AU ✧ One Shot

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ One Shot

cheerleader - @byuntrash101 🔥Seonghwa x Yunho x San x Ming x Reader ✧ One Shot

from eden + Pt. 2 - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Seonghwa x Reader x Yeosang ✧ Vampire AU ✧ Two Shot

whichever way - @igbylicious 🔥💗 San x Reader x Wooyoung ✧ Neighbors AU ✧ Ongoing

Under the Comforter - @thelargefrye 🔥Seonghwa x Reader x San ✧ Idol AU ✧ One Shot

Double Trouble - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Wooyoung x Reader x Jongho ✧ Hybrid AU ✧ One Shot

What Should We Become? - @sluttywoozi 🔥💗 Yeosang x Reader x San ✧ One Shot

like a dream - @cheollipop ✨🔥💗 Yunho x Reader x Mingi ✧ One Shot

this is like so incredibly hot, literally all i need in life is to be in between these two men 😩😩😩 but it is also so sweet and both boys are so doting to the mc and the end!!!!!!!!!! so loving and cute and aaaaaaaaaaaa 😭😭😭

SCENARIOS/TEXTS/HEADCANONS

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyungs, maknaes) - @eightmakesonebraincell 🔥⛈️💗 Royalty AU ✧ Scenarios

subby ateez - @seventhcallisto 🔥Headcanons

Ateez cumming too soon - @sluttywonwoo 🔥Headcanons

soft cuddles with ateez - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Scenarios

first kiss with ateez - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Scenarios

Ateez and pussy slapping - @kitten4sannie 🔥Scenarios

Bedroom Mishaps (hyungs, maknaes) - @seohwang 🔥💗 Scenarios

Ateez 'n free use - @seventhcallisto 🔥 Scenarios

Cupping their Cheeks - @yeorisanaxox 💗 Scenarios

Ateez as Exes + Pt. 2 - @kisshwa 🍑 Texts

Friends to Lovers Headcanons - @kpopnstarwars 💗 Scenario

boyfriend!ateez discovering you write smut - @eightmakesonebraincell 🍑 Texts

Ateez being overstimulated (hyungs, maknaes) - @ateezscupid ✨🔥 Scenarios

listen i just like sub!ateez a lot 😭😭 but like these are such a go too for me when i NEED some dom!reader content like it is so cute/hot/toe curlingly delicious 🤤🤤🤤

mtl of who would like choking - @sxcret-garden 🔥 Headcanons

texts when they think you’re asleep - @beenbaanbuun 💗🍑 Texts

#ateez #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez fic recs #fic recs #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #fic rec masterlist #in celebration of chellateez week 2~~#merengue makes lists

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his-angell · 8 months

Text

Savior. (j.wy)

plot; After going out at 3am to grab a snack from a near by convenience store, you found yourself being followed. Heading to a different store on a busier street, you hope that someone there could save you. Thank god he was there to protect you.

paring; non!idol!Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

genre; angst, comfort

word count; 1.9k

warnings; being followed, anxiety, crying, cursing, mentions of being drunk, mention of escaped murderer, 3rd person pov

request; no

----------------------------------------------------

(y/n) hummed to herself as she exited the 24 hour convenience store. It was like three in the morning and she had left her apartment about twenty minutes ago, seeking for a late night snack. She had a small skip to her walk, having been lucky enough to get the last pack of her favorite snack that sat on the shelf. She stopped though when she felt a sudden uneasy feeling loom over her.

She frowned and cleared her throat nervously, shaking her head a little. It was that sickening feeling that someone was following her. She tried to push it off, but as she walked, it only grew. She turned her head a bit, pretending to look around the street. Her stomach dropped when she saw a bigger man following her. She looked back in front of her, her hands starting to tremble. She reached for her pocket to grab her phone, only to find it not there.. “Shit.” She whimpered quietly. She had left it at home on the charger..

She felt her breathing starting to pick up. She would push it off as the man was just going the same way, but the way his footsteps matched her exactly told her otherwise. Her eyes welled with tears as the fear creeped up her body. She started to walk a little faster, the man's footsteps seemingly louder now as he inched closer.

She turned onto a different road, because there was no way in hell she was leading this man back to her home. She quickly swiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. Her body was slightly trembling. She had found herself on a busier street now, thank god. Her eyes scanned store to store, trying to find one that was still open.

To her luck, there was. A sign with bright green and red lights. A convenience store like the one she had just been at. She found herself walking faster, but only a little. She didn’t want this guy to know she was aware of him. Because god knows what he would do. She pushed open the door, scanning the store. Her eyes welled with tears as the girl at the counter was only like seventeen.. She was barely awake, lazily scrolling through her phone. Obviously no help to her.

She glanced back at the doors, seeing the man reaching for the handle. She swallowed thickly and looked around. She spotted at male at the back, he had white and black hair.. She rushed up to him, latching herself onto his arm. “Hey babe! Sorry I took so long to get here!” She said, loud enough for the mysterious man in the aisle behind them to hear.

The man looked down to her, furrowing his eyebrows. He opened his mouth to speak, when he caught the tears in her eyes. He glanced back to where she had glanced seconds prior. He looked back down to her with a small smile. “It's no problem, dove!” He wrapped an arm around her, holding just above her waist. “Mingi and San are out waiting in the car,” He nodded. He had said that a little louder than his last sentence. He hoped the guy would back off knowing the flight would be three to one.

The man squeezed her side a little, walking over to an aisle further away. “Are you okay?” He hushed to the woman huddled at his side. She shrugged a little, gripping onto him tighter. She only pulled one hand away to wipe the few tears that had slipped down her face. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

The man nodded again, pursing his lips. “I’m Wooyoung.. You want me to drive you home?” He asked, but immediately closed his eyes, sighing at himself. She looked up at him, her eyes a little wide. “I mean.. Sorry- I can call you a cab if you’d like.” He corrected. (y/n) blinked a few times and nodded. “Yeah.. That's fine.” She agreed. Wooyoung nodded a little. He held up the two smaller cartons of chocolate milk he had. “I gotta pay for these, and then we’ll head out.” He said. She nodded.

Wooyoung went to the counter with the girl glued to his hip. (y/n) would never ever say it out loud, but god this guy was so fine. He was even respectful with his hand placements. Above her hip, and now it rested just above the small of her back. This man was literally an angel. He paid for his drinks, giving a small nod to the girl before heading out. He retracted his hand off her back, gently holding her shoulder.

He glanced into the store again, seeing the man staring dead into the smaller woman's soul. He looked beyond pissed. Wooyoung pursed his lips. “Here… You can wait in my car if you want till your cab arrives.” He said. She messed with her hands nervously. She glanced inside the store and nodded. “Yeah.. Please,” She looked up at Wooyoung. He smiled and nodded a little. He opened the passenger door and helped her in, closing it behind her.

(y/n) was about to relax when a loud voice made her jump. “Yahh!! What took you so freaking long?” A male with red hair whined. A blonde boy was shoving at him. “Get off me! Your fat head is so heavy!” He grunted. The red haired boy slapped his chest. “Ugh! Wooyoung, tell him to-” When the man looked up, he paused, staring blankly at the girl in the car. “Who are you?” He asked, a slur to his words.

(y/n) opened her mouth to speak, but only a small nervous laugh came out. She looked between the two boys in the back seat. The one with red hair stared at her expectantly (not in a snarky way, more curious), while the blonde one looked more confused than anything. “Some creep was following them.” Wooyoung sighed as he got into the drivers side. “What!?” Both boys in the back shrieked, toppling over each other to look out the window of the car. “Let me out! I’ll fucking kill him!” The blonde one yelled. “Yeahh! At least unlock the windows so we can yell at the guy!” The red haired one joined in.

“Mingi, San!” Wooyoung reached back and wacked both boys upside the head, causing them to both whine loudly. Wooyoung sighed heavily, leaning back into his seat. (y/n) was stifling giggles. “Sorry about them.. They had a little too much to drink.” Wooyoung laughed nervously. (y/n) shook her head lightly, waving her hand a little. “It's alright,” She said softly. She looked down at her hands nervously.

Wooyoung held up a finger to her, signaling her to give him a second. He reached into his bag and pulled out the two things of chocolate milk. “Here, you two, drink these.” He tossed them into the back seats. “Oww! Woo, you hit me in the head!” San held his head with a pout. Mingi cackled at him, earning a slap to his thigh. Wooyoung sighed loudly. He shook his head.

He pulled out his phone, going to the call a cab app he had. “It's okay!” (y/n) blurted. Wooyoung looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “If.. If you still wanna, you can drive me home. I don't think I could stand being in another strangers car..” She said. Wooyoung hummed. “Yeah? What changed your mind?” He hummed a little. “Well, I find you safe enough, given that you helped me almost immediately, when normally it takes at least a minute for someone to get the hint. Also, them,” She motioned to the two men in the backseat. “None of you give off ‘im a murder’ vibes.” She covered her mouth as she laughed softly.

Wooyoung chuckled and nodded a little. “That makes sense. Well I'm glad I could help.” He said. (y/n) nodded. “Thank you, really. I’m (y/n) by the way.” She said. “I-I’m really glad I ran into you and not some weirdo..” She mumbled. He smiled. “Yeah, of course! Now, where do you live so I can get you home, yeah?” He said softly. She told him her address, and he typed it into his phone.

As they drove, Wooyoung sparked small conversions with (y/n). But they were always interrupted by the boys in the back. At some point the radio was turned on, and San was screaming the lyrics. Mingi had his head out the window like a dog, after snakily reaching to unlock the windows.

When they pulled up to the apartment complex, (y/n) smiled at Wooyoung. “Thank you again, Wooyoung.” She said softly. “You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Can I give you my number? I’ll repay you with coffee or dinner.” She said. Wooyoung hummed and nodded, handing her his phone. He opened his mouth to speak, but loud “Oooohhss!!” and whistles interrupted him. “God, I'm gonna kill them, I swear.” Wooyoung sighed, making (y/n) giggle. He was like a tired dad taking care of toddlers.

He tutted. “Anyways.. As I was saying, you don't have to repay me really.” He said. She squinted at him. “I’m going to repay you.” She said as she handed his phone back. She had sent a text to herself, so she wouldn’t freak out when a random number texted her. She opened the door, stepping out and grabbing her bag with her snacks. “Waitt.. She's leaving already?” San pouted. “It's okay, we’ll see her again soon, I'm sure.” Wooyoung smiled. “Definitely,” (y/n) giggled and closed the door, waving softly before walking into the complex.

BONUS:

A week had passed, (y/n) and Wooyoung had been talking constantly. She did end up repaying him with coffee one day. He only accepted because it meant more time to get to know her. Even San and Mingi remembered her after they woke up the morning after meeting her. They urged Wooyoung to go get coffee with her. They found them so cute when they were drunk. They even teased him. Calling him a “Strong burly man!” or making teasing comments like, “Ouh! Gosh! You’re my knight in shining armor!” Which earned harsh slaps to their backs.

At some point, they were all comfortable enough to hang out with each other. One night when they were all hanging out, (y/n) was scrolling through her phone. She frowned as she came across a news article. “Guys..” She mumbled, sitting up from the bean bag she was on and moving to sit on the couch with the boys. She handed them her phone. “Holy shit..” San mumbled. It was an article of an escaped murderer having finally been caught and put back into prison.(y/n) would have ignored it, but there was a picture.. Wooyoung frowned and looked at (y/n). “Isn’t that..” He pointed to the phone which Mingi held since he was in the middle. (y/n) nodded and looked down. It was the man that had followed her that night..

Ever since that night, she had always been grateful for Wooyoung. He was genuinely her savior. The night of reading the news article, after Mingi and San went to bed, she had cuddled with him and cried to him about how genuinely scared she had been. This was the first time actually breaking down since the event. He held her the whole time, hushing comforting words and rubbing her back. (y/n) would always look to Wooyoung if she ever felt unsafe or scared. She trusted him with everything in her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this was so yummy to write. it was heavily inspired by a story i read the other day. the bonus was written kinda choppy, but i could not just leave it there. i hope you all like ittt.

inspired by @bluehwale 'Unconventional first encounters with ATEEZ!' - Sans part more specifically :)

my requests are open guys, pls pls pls i will write anything. BUT NO SMUT. i will not write that. i love writing angst with hurt to comfort ANYWAYS i hope you guys enjoyed! stay safe out thereee! mmuuwahhh!!

all writing rights are reserved to @his-angell do not repost or translate my work without my permission. reblogs are appreciated.

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mybelovedwoo · 1 year

Text

정우영

wooyoung drabbles:

>in which all you want is a little attention and a park date

>in which wooyoung loves when you travel with him

>in which shopping can be fun just with the right person

>in which your family loves wooyoung more than you

>in which you have a sleepover at the dorm

>in which you realise you can't live without each other

>in which Wooyoung is your personal chef

>in which you both are just two bad kids

>in which only one person can comfort you on those days

>in which he is your brave saviour

>10 things i love about you

>in which you get revenge

>in which you go on a getaway

>where it all began

>in which wooyoung gets angry but you are the most important

>in which you drank more than you could handle

>in which he shows you his new room

timestamps:

[20:33]

[16:40]

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0097linersb · 8 months

Text

I See Red (m)

ONE SHOT

Pairings: San x Reader

Genre: Smut (basically pwp)

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Jealousy, dom!San , he spits in your mouth at some point, slapping, choking, overstimulaton, edging, the whole deal really, name calling, oral, fingering - This is just pure filth I’m sorry.

A/N: this was originally an nct jeno's fic but I thought it matched San so well so here u go

Follow me on twitter for updates, previews, spoilers: wooyosgfreal <3

You didn’t know what finally set San off.

Sure, you haven’t been on your best behavior lately but it’s not like it was your fault; Ever since he decided to go on little gym dates with Yubin and just casually mentioned it to you one day, like he was talking about how sunny it was outside and not about how he was hanging out (almost daily) with a super hot girl, alone - and in minimal clothing too.

You couldn’t even trick yourself with “she’s not his type” because that woman was everyone’s type, damn, she was even your type.

It’s not like you didn’t trust him or felt insecure about yourself - it made no sense, really. It’s like people say: Jealousy is a little green monster that ate your insides and got you to unreason things. You just couldn’t help feeling slightly annoyed, you mean, try knowing your boyfriend is hanging out for hours with a blonde goddess with a six pack AND be happy about it.

So, since he decided to be a pain in the ass, you decided to become what you were born to be: His worst fucking nightmare.

But in all fairness, you didn’t know exactly what tipped him over the edge. It could have been you casually hanging with his roommates in the shortest skirt you could have possibly found, it could be the way you kissed Wooyoung (just a small peck) so the boy would stop playing around and annoying the others with his over-the-top signs of affection, it could even be the way you asked Seonghwa to massage your shoulders because you were in pain but too annoyed to ask your boyfriend for it. He sure must not have liked the way you were dancing with Mingi at the party last Friday or how he got home on Monday to you wearing one of Yunho’s shirts - but he was San, of course he said nothing about it. Plus, he knew you better than that.

It didn’t help when Wooyoung and Mingi asked what was going on between you two and you shared your boyfriend’s gym adventures, of course you could trust those guys to join in on making their friend’s life living hell. It was just open game then, Mingi playfully flirting with you and complimenting you whenever he could and Wooyoung teasing your boyfriend about it.You were always careful to not cross any lines, though. Only doing things that you knew weren’t actually going to upset San and would be perceived by him as one of your little games, which is what they were. You also kept it subtle and spaced out - which is why you were expecting to be playing for a long time, or at least for a bit longer than you actually did.

Your plans were ruined on Wednesday afternoon, when the black-haired boy came out of the shower to a Jung Yunho pulling you to sit on his lap, his arms going around you to show you how to play the video game. Your boyfriend quietly sat down next to you two, saying nothing and staring deeply at the Tv screen but, the look on his face and his clenched jaw were sending a shiver down your spine.

Damn you for refusing to have sex since you found out about San’s gym buddy, this pent-up frustration was not helping you at all.

Thanks to the distraction that was your boyfriend, you couldn’t focus on the race going on and lost at the easiest level, resorting to whining to Yunho, who simply patted your thigh in a comforting manner and let out a soft, “It’s ok, baby.”

Your pouting soon morphed into a face of shock and your little fit was interrupted as your boyfriend hastily stood up, groaning a “That’s it. Room, now!”

You looked up at him confusedly but not done with being annoying yet, you decided to try one last jab, sending him a challenging look, “I don’t really feel like it.”

San simply raised an eyebrow at you, his whole aura shifting, making you coward immediately under his cold gaze, “Care to repeat that?”

“I said- Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, move.”

You repeat what your boyfriend said in a mocking tone but obey, leaving an amused looking Yunho behind as you wondered where the fuck did all your confidence go to. You really couldn’t keep the character up when San lowered his voice - you liked playing with fire but you weren’t crazy enough to jump in it.

As you entered your boyfriend’s room, your heart was beating like crazy. You felt like a kid again: When you knew you did something wrong and your mother was about to punish you for it. The anxiety did not sit well with you, maybe you should start being nicer to the man.

“San, I-” You tried reasoning as soon as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“I don’t give a fuck, sit down.”

Damn.

You were happy to comply, legs getting wobbly as his strict tone had a weird effect on you. You sat on the edge of the bed and San was quick to stand up in between your legs, you tried to look anywhere but at him, but that was proven impossible as his hand softly but confidently grabbed your chin and tipped your head up so you were forced to stare at him like a deer stuck in head lights. You could hear your own pulse throbbing inside your ears.

Well, no use acting all innocent now, you really did bring this upon yourself.

“Had fun?” He asked, his voice could cut you right open. You didn’t know what to answer, nervous of any extra consequences that may come if you did, but your silence was clearly not accepted as his grip on your jaw tightened, “Speak.”

“Yeah.”

He hummed, eyes slowly skimming over your face as his thumb softly brushed your cheek, “So pretty. Too bad you don’t know how to behave, huh? I think it’s about time for me to put you back in your place, don’t you agree?”

You close your eyes and enjoy the smooth circles he was tracing with his thumb, not sure where he was going with this - your heart was trying to leave this room, though, by the way it kept pounding against your ribcage- but knowing you wouldn’t get a lot of soft moments from this point forward.

“Did you think I would find it cute?” He sternly asked, his tone contrasting with the light touches on your face. He knew your answer to that and you knew he was just playing your cards, and well, it was working.

“No.”

“So you acted like a brat on purpose?” He tried giving you a chance, knowing you really had no way out of your own mess.

“At your service, sir,” You joked as you rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood, maybe make the man laugh a bit so he would forgive you.

“Watch it,” He spat out and you kind of regretted saying it when his hand flew to the back of your head, pulling on your hair harshly so you were forced to look up.

Ok, San was mad mad.

His cold expression didn’t faze at the way you groaned in pain, neither did his grip on your hair as he bent down so his face would be right in front of yours as he warned, “You brought this upon yourself. Clothes off.”

You had it in you to fight a bit, but honestly, you were already aching between your legs and curious to know how all of this would unroll. You quickly undressed, leaving your panties on since he didn’t say anything about it, your eyes not leaving the floor as you did it. You then stared at your boyfriend, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the next instructions. San simply looked at the place between his spread legs, signing where he wanted you. As you sat down, you noticed the man had placed the full body mirror he owned right in front of you while you were undressing.

Oh, boy.

You two locked eyes through the mirror and he calmly asked, “What’s the safe word?”

And that’s when your brain stopped working, knowing you had really fucked up. San has always been a little bit more on the rough side in bed, even kind of dominant sometimes, but never like this. You two had never used a safe word before. He noticed your struggle and suggested in a soft but strict tone, “Is Apple ok?”

“Yeah,” You muttered and he nodded in acknowledgement before harshly forcing your thighs open with his hands, making you gasp. His chest was pressed against your back, but you couldn’t feel his heart hammering crazy like yours was.

San slowly moved his hands higher up your thighs, getting goosebumps to erupt all over your body. He ever so lightly traced one single finger against your clothed slit as he said, eyes still locked with yours in the mirror, “I want you to watch yourself being a slut, maybe then you’ll be embarrassed and learn how to behave.”

You whined, not sure if it was at the tip of his finger barely grazing over your clit or at his words. Honestly, who the fuck was this man?

You could see the wet patch of fabric between your legs in the mirror and San caught you staring at it as his middle finger rubbed slow circles on you, only smirking at you in response, clearly satisfied with the effect he had over you.

It was embarrassing how quickly you were squirming under your boyfriend’s touches; your bottom lip was almost bleeding from how strongly you were biting it to keep your whines inside your mouth as you tried to move away from his finger because it was soon becoming too much. He was having none of it and his other hand firmly found its place on your jaw once again as he grunted right into your ear, “Be a good girl for once and take it. We have barely started.”

You did whine at that, his stare not fading for one second as he tightened his grip on your face and pulled your head back to the front every time you tried to look away from the mirror.

“Look at you. I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re already a mess, what happened to all that attitude, huh?”

He was right, he had only touched you through your panties and you were already so close. Guess you really were all bark and no bite – But to be honest: You were dripping, your underwear was soaked and his finger drawing shapes against your clit just felt so good you didn’t care about your little personality problem at all.

Your thighs were quivering from the stimulation and when he sped up his movements they tried to fly shut, but his voice stopped you midway, “Don’t you dare.”

You grabbed the fabric from his pants harshly, “San, I’m-”

“Only talk when spoken to.”

This new side of San, his heavenly (or devilish) finger teasing you plus his hard dick throbbing against your lower back, got you spasming in record time. Your nails carving shapes on the skin of his thighs as your whole body shook when you orgasmed. San continued tracing your clit through your high, until you were jumping from sensitivity and whining at him to stop. He lightly pushed you so you would stand up and you struggled to comply with your shaky legs, but tried your best.

You stood in front of your boyfriend, expecting him to then order you to suck his dick or something and this would be all over with, but were surprised when he pulled your panties down your legs with delicate fingers. Goosebumps filled your skin again at the mere touch of his knuckles against your lower abdomen. It was weird how he touched you so softly while his eyes burned holes into you, you had never seen San so worked up before, you felt like he could explode at the wrong move of a finger from you.

He slowly kneeled in front of you, eyes locked in yours. His hands were on the back of your thighs and you felt cold and warm at the same time, nipples hard with the shivers that ran up your spine. San didn’t comment on your shaking frame, giving your clit a soft kiss as he stared up at you.

“San, I-“ You began, trying to inform your boyfriend you were too sensitive from just cumming.

“I’ll make you cum once for every time you flirted with someone this week, and now once more for disobeying me,” He simply informed before going back to work, tongue doing wonders against your swollen clit.

You cried out at his words.

The man pulled your legs slightly apart so he could go all in, his wet lips and warm tongue playing with you until the sensitivity turned into pleasure and you were entering a place of euphoria, trying to not moan too loudly since his roommates were right outside. He noticed you were trying to contain your noises and tskd, eating you out more fervidly. When it became too much again, your hands grabbed his hair for support, which only resulted in you receiving a firm look, “No touching. If you want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one.”

Ouch.

You tried balancing on your feet, but your body was quivering at San’s ministration and he wouldn’t let you go. Not managing it anymore, you let your body fall to the front, supporting your hands on the bed, thanking the heavens your boyfriend didn’t complain about it. You wanted to tell him you needed his fingers inside of you but didn’t want to disobey his order once again, only letting moan after moan leave your lips. San simply looked animalistic kneeled in between your legs and you forced yourself to close your eyes, throwing your head back in pleasure.

You were not recognizing yourself but that thought was far from your worries as you released once again against his tongue, hand gripping the sheets so tightly you were afraid of breaking your fingers. San stood up, holding your waist so you would do the same as you breathed hard, “This one was for rubbing yourself all over Mingi at Yeonjun’s.”

You could see the way San’s cock was throbbing against his pants, but he seemed to pay it no mind as he pushed you down into the bed on your back. He hovered over you, slightly brushing his lips against yours before telling you, “I’m giving you 10 seconds to recover.”

One, he counted out loud before kissing your cheek. Two, he mouthed just below your jaw. Three, he whispered and sucked on the side of your neck, making you twitch in bliss. Four, he licked your collarbone. Five, he kissed between your breasts, your back automatically arching. Six, he brushed his fingers against your hardened nipple, loving the sound of your mewls. Seven, he left an open-mouthed kiss on your stomach. Eight, he did the same to your navel, feeling your abdomen tense under his fingers.

Honestly, this was not helping you calm down at all. Shivering this much couldn’t be healthy.

On the count of nine, his nails scratched the inside of your thigh and on the count of ten, he plunged two fingers inside of you with no warning. You chocked around nothing, biting the back of your hand so you wouldn’t legit scream. You had never been so wet in your life and the way his fingers were slowly rubbing so good against your walls, had you out of your mind.

“Put your hand away, I want to hear you,” He ordered, eyes locked on the way his fingers disappeared inside of you. How did he even know you were biting on your hand?

He continued pumping and curling his fingers, speeding up when he felt your walls tightening. You started feeling your third orgasm approach you even faster than the first one, tensing your legs so you wouldn’t close them because of the sensitivity.

San smirked at you, “Look who’s being a good girl for once.”

You didn’t even care anymore, everything felt so good you couldn’t even remember your name and you were sure you sounded like a porn star, having no control over your voice. You were so close, knuckles white again at the force you were holding onto your pillow. So, so close.

And then it all stopped.

You whined loudly and San simply ordered, “Use my fingers.”

When you gave him a confused look, hoping you hadn’t understood what he said right, he nodded at you, “You heard me.”

You groaned and dropped back down, San easing three fingers into you and waiting still, patiently. This was humiliating but when he gave you a pointed look, you simply forgot about your pride and pushed yourself against his fingers until you were ready to explode again, and as promised, San didn’t do a thing, letting you make yourself cum only using his fingers. It didn’t take long, considering how fucked out you were already (and you weren’t even actually fucked yet). A few more bounces and you were done for, wanting to cry at how good it felt.

“This one was for getting my friends hard, prancing around in those mini clothes of yours.”

You couldn’t help shutting your legs now, body spasming every 2 seconds. San said nothing about it this time as he stood on his knees, undoing his belt with one hand, groaning he couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped his pants and boxers, letting his cock out and your heart pumped faster at how hard and swollen it was.

Your boyfriend roughly opened your legs, positioning himself on top of you and entering you in one harsh thrust, not even waiting for you to adjust (not that you needed it much, considering he was just 3 fingers knuckles deep into you). Real tears started to run down your face at the oversensitivity, your mind couldn’t form a single comprehensible thought, “San, I can’t-“

“I’m not stopping unless I hear the safe word, you can take it,” He snapped, voice as harsh as his thrusts inside of you. He had never fucked you this hard, the whole bed shaking and complaining. There was no way people wouldn’t know what was going on by now.

You trashed under him, it felt like too much but at the same time you didn’t want it to stop. San’s hand was quick to wrap around your throat, squeezing on the sides to hold you down so you would stop moving.

“My pretty princess crying over getting fucked after acting like a slut for days. That doesn’t seem right, now, does it?” He groaned, not faltering his speed or strength one bit. “Tell me, if I didn’t give you the attention you wanted, would you have let one of them fuck you?”

You whined, nails digging harshly on his back (which he thankfully allowed). You thought about answering but you couldn’t really mutter any words with the way San was drilling into you and he knew it.

“I asked you a question,” He hissed, tightening his grip around your neck, cutting the blood circulation from reaching your head.

The lightheadedness didn’t help your case and after another few seconds without an answer, you felt a sting from the slap San gave right across your face. He had never done that before and as a strong independent woman, you didn’t expect to like it as much as you did it.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“N-no.”

“No what?” He demanded. The neighbors must really hate you from the way the bed frame kept hitting the wall, but nothing else really matter besides how you were being so pleasantly destroyed.

“Only you can fuck me.”

“That’s right, you’re mine. Open up.”

You were not sure what he meant, embarrassed of doing what you thought he was implying and being wrong, but when he stared you down so intensely that you got actually scared, you slowly opened your mouth. He gave you a wicked smile before slowing down his thrusts a bit, his hold on your neck still strong and when he slowly lowered himself and spit right into your mouth, your body betrayed you and you came all over the place without a warning, not even giving you the chance to brace yourself.

“Good girl,” He caressed the place he had slapped you with his thumb, stopping his movements to let you calm down for a bit. You were not even sure your brain would ever go back to working normally. He silently and slowly sucked marks on your body until your breathing somewhat resembled something normal again.

“Come look at yourself,” He called, tone a bit gentler. Maybe your tears softened him up a bit.

You tried to obey, carefully dragging yourself to the edge of the bed so you could stand up in front of the mirror where he wanted you. As soon as you tried standing up, your legs gave out, but San was right behind you to catch you, holding you up by your waist and pointing to the mirror, “Look.”

And you did. You had purple bruises on the left side of your neck, on your breasts and on the inside of your thighs. Your hair was clearly all tangled up, there was dark mascara running down your face and smudged around your eyes. You looked absolutely wrecked already.

“So fucking pretty,” He whispered, littering your shoulder with soft kisses. “All of you. Every single part, and they are all mine.”

You shakily nodded. At this point, if San wanted you to walk around wearing his hand as a necklace you wouldn’t even complain.

“It’s all of my friends’ wet dreams to fuck you, I don’t want to ever hear you moaning Seonghwa’s name or see you kissing Wooyoung again, understood?” Your boyfriend told you, placing two of his fingers on your lip for you to suck. You wrapped your mouth around him, sucking on it gently and drawing your tongue along the length of his fingers, feeling his still hard cock against your lower back. He had no reason behind that action, he just wanted to show he could do whatever he wanted with you, whenever he wanted, and you would enjoy it.

“It was a joke,” You breathed out once he retrieved his hand, referring to the kiss your boyfriend was talking about.

“I know baby girl, but let’s not give them any hope. I want them to know who you belong to,” He quietly told you, his breath hitting your ear. “Get on all fours.”

Your body stiffened, “San, I really can’t-“

“Did I ask?” He cocked his eyebrow at you and you took a deep breath before shakingly obeying.

As you crawled in bed, your boyfriend finally took his clothes off before positioning himself behind you. At least this time he pitied you enough to at least start fucking you slowly.

A hiccup escaped your throat, almost sure you couldn’t handle it anymore and San caressed your lower back to comfort you as he grinded his cock inside you, “Only one more, princess.”

You were in heaven and hell at the same time, your pussy was so sensitive that every thrust felt like you were right on edge, you had never experienced anything like that before. Your arms gave out quicker than your attitude dropped, left side of your face pressing against the sheet and staining it with your mascara and tears. You were honestly not even sure you were moaning anymore, not being able to hear yourself, but with the way San sped up his movements you figured you were.

“Hands,” San asked and you complied, like being used by him was your sole purpose in life.

He grabbed both of your wrists and held it together on your back, the bruising tight grip and the low groans leaving the man’s mouth brought you closer to reality. If you were in a normal state of mind, you would wonder how your boyfriend could last so long, he had been hard and throbbing since he locked the door earlier - But since your mind was floating somewhere far away, your only reaction was to sob in pleasure and overstimulation.

“Do you remember the safeword, baby?”

You shut your eyes tightly and nodded your head desperately.

“Tell me,” San asked.

“A-apple.”

“Good girl. We’re almost done,” He told you and you could feel how his thrust were getting shallower and messier. You were so close too.

After another few minutes, San let out a loud moan with a broken whine and shot inside of you (something else you two rarely do, both of you enjoyed it but the pregnancy scares were always too much), you could feel his cum hitting your walls and you loved it. He continued to fuck into you for a whole minute, riding out his high as the hottest sounds left his lips. You clenched around his sensitive member, signaling you were close and he hissed, suddenly pulling out.

You whined like you had never whined before and he simply shushed you, slowly gathering his cum dripping from your hole with his fingers and pushing all of it back inside. You cried out, using your now free hands to hold onto the sheets as he pumped his finger into you – You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the sheets were ripped by the end of the day. He was teasing you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to reach your high with the speed he was using. You tried pushing back into his fingers but he was quick to hold your hip still, “I don’t think so. Sit down against the wall.”

You wanted to scream.

“San, please,” You sobbed.

“What? You’ve been teasing me with Mingi for almost 2 whole weeks and I can’t even tease you for a few minutes? Don’t you think that’s a little bit unfair?” He asked, stopping his fingers only when he felt your walls spasming around him. “Now do as I say.”

You accepted your fate, trembling as you followed his instructions, surprised when he got out of the bed and sat down on his desk chair, calmly looking at you.

“Touch yourself,” He instructed. “But don’t cum, or else we will go for another round.”

“You said we were almost over,” You wail.

“And we are baby, just do this one more thing for me.”

You opened up your legs, letting your fingers rub against your clit. You were so wet and San’s cum just made you more lubricated. Since you were already so worked up, you had to trace less than 5 circles against yourself before becoming a noisy mess, ready to let it all go.

“Stop,” Your boyfriend’s strict voice cut you off.

You opened your eyes, which you hadn’t even noticed you had closed, and stared at San in shock, halting your motions.

“Now do it again while looking at me.”

You held the sob that wanted to escape down your throat, shakingly nodding and obeying, just doing anything he wanted so you could cum already. You touched yourself while you looked into San’s stern eyes, your cheeks burning at the fact he had never seen you so vulnerable before.

“I can’t hold it any-“ You stuttered, your eyes stinging again.

“Stop.”

The sob that you had been trying to hold back escaped, ripping through your whole body, you had no pride anymore, or shame, as you let your tears spill freely as you begged, “Please, San. Please. I ca-can’t-“

San silently got up and crawled into bed, positioning his head in between your legs.

“It’s ok, princess. You can cum now,” He told you gently before lowering his head and sucking on your clit. He only had to do that three times and you were seeing colors you never had before. The wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you tough you passed out for a second or two, seeming lost when you managed to open your eyes again.

“Hey baby, it’s ok,” San comforted you softly, quickly getting up on his knees to hug you with one hand while drying the tears that wouldn’t stop soaking your flushed face. “I got you, it’s all over now.”

He was fast to embrace you tightly, bouncing you gently like people do to calm babies down as he muttered praising words after praising words against your ears. It all filled your heart with warmth and pride.

“Want to take a bath?” He asked you in his baby voice and you managed to form a small smile, remembering that was the same man who was slapping you across the face and spitting in your mouth a few minutes ago.

You nodded and the boy ran into the bathroom so quickly you didn’t even process his absence.

“I’m only preparing the bath, baby. I’m here,” He assured you when he wasn’t back after a minute or so. You were thankful he understood how vulnerable you felt in this moment and how it was something new to you.

He eventually came back and cuddled you until he felt like the tub was full enough. San carried you easily to the bathroom and tested the water temperature before placing you down with care.

“I used your favorite bath bomb,” He smiled and you returned the gesture, appreciating the warm water around your muscles and the gold glittery appearance of it. “I’m just going to go grab our towels, ok? I’ll be right back.”

You waited for a while, playing with the water and taking deep breaths to inhale the vanilla scent coming from it. The water looked so creamy and you slowly rubbed your face with it, trying to clean all the make up and dried tears. You were content, you just had the best sex of your life and San was proud of you.

You were almost falling asleep when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, “Honey, are you covered?”

You looked down confusedly at the opaque water, the man had just almost chocked you to death, why was he worrying about your modesty now out of all times?

“Yeah, why?”

“Wooyoung and Mingi are being a pain in the ass, they want to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

At that you laughed and just let yourself slide down the bathtub, letting the water drown you in shame.

____________________________________

“Babe?” You called, watching the way San played with your fingers. When the boy hummed at you, his chest pressed against your back making your body vibrate, you continued, “What finally set you off?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I’ve been trying to get on your nerves for days-“

“Oh,” He laughed and then sighed in embarrassment at his confession, “Yunho called you baby, only I get to call you that.”

You turned around from where he was holding you on the tub, trying to see if he was serious, only to find your boyfriend pouting.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Choi San.”

Pt. 2 (a little extra, not a continuation or necessary for the plot)

#ateez #ateez smut #san #choi san #san smut #choi san smut #san scenarios #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #choi san x y/n #ateez scenarios #ateez fics #ateez fic #san fic #wooyoung #mingi #yunho #seonghwa

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yunwooz · 6 months

Text

― jung wooyoung, 1999 NOVEMBER 26

❝ since everyone has their own pain and their own hard times, i don't know if i'm able to give you comfort but, as a result, what i wanted to say is that you're not alone ❞ most darling and precious wooyoung, thank you for being a source of joy and inspiration for so many, please love yourself gently and kindly ♡ ―

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skteezcursed · 25 days

Text

❝0025❞ — j.wy.

PAIRING. jung wooyoung x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. friends to lovers. kinda idiots in love. switch woo. switch reader. teasing. strip poker. mentions of alcohol. pet names (pretty boy, bunny, love, good girl, etc). praising. p in v. unprotected sex (please, do NOT!). oral (mostly fem receiving). creampie. kinda breast play. mostly filth, i'm sorry. lmk if i forgot anything!.

SYNOPSIS. you and wooyoung have always had a thing for each other, but never acted on it, until one day he gets tired of waiting once he notices you want him just as bad as he wants you.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. 3,3k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateezchella especial. bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

The idea that something could be so infuriating and exhilarating at the same time was confusing to say the least, but that was how you felt whenever Jung Wooyoung would look at you, the eyes that held a teasing and menacing gaze at the same time they burned to your skin as if you were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. In all truth, you were, and he was expecting to make that known to you that night as he had managed to convince you to play a game of strip poker, the drinks you had earlier not helping one bit at keeping your judgment clear.

It’s not that you were bad at card games, no, you were amazing at them, except when you had something – or several – to drink, which was now the case. Although Wooyoung wasn’t too far behind you in being intoxicated by the alcohol, he seemed to have kept his cool, almost sober as the cards were dropped and clothes started to fill in the floor you two were in, thanking heavens that you were alone with him at the comfort of your house, at the same time trying to ignore how the pool that was forming in between your legs kept getting more annoying as the time passed and your clothes were on the floor while he still had his pants and one sock on.

“Oh, look at that…,” the grin that took over his lips made you want nothing more than to rip it out as you groaned loudly looking at the cards he was showing, winning again. “C’mon pretty, take some piece off.”

“I fucking hate you,” his laugh reverberated through the room as he watched you take one of your socks, trying your best to push away the cold that involved you as you were only in your lingerie. Sensing the disappointing look Wooyoung sent your way, you hid your smile trying to calm your heart. “Be ready to take off some pieces next time, you are gonna lose!”

The smirk was quickly back into his lips as he picked the cards shuffling them around his hands, as you forced your eyes to not stare at them, not to imagine how good they always looked on your thigh or how flustered you always were whenever Wooyoung was bold enough to touch you a bit longer and in a daring way. The truth was, you’ve always had a thing for Wooyoung, if you were honest, how could you not? He was the perfect mix of a gentleman and a menace, but never going as far as making you uncomfortable, whenever a slight hint that you were annoyed by his antics, he would stop and apologize to you. The fact he was a touchy person didn’t help keep your feelings at bay as you grew closer.

As the cards were thrown, you tried your best to keep your poker face and legs crossed – the latter so he wouldn’t be able to see the wet patch on your underwear. Wooyoung was already cocky enough about all the attention he got, although he got shy, you knew he enjoyed teasing the living shit out of you whenever someone would compliment him or indicate they wanted him, but curiously enough, he never gave them another second of his attention, just politely declined and kept on with whatever it was that your group was doing, also leaning closer to you, even if it was to tease how many gorgeous women and men wanted him.

Although you wanted to deny, you loved how he would decline all the offers that came his way. You weren’t much of a jealous type, but you were definitely a possessive one, as much as you wanted to tell your brain you shouldn’t be like that towards Wooyoung. Whenever he would tease about that, you’d play it out by saying that’s how you were with all your friends, receiving a laugh from Wooyoung as you felt his hands linger on your body, sometimes he would talk back against your ear, others he would pull you closer with some excuse, and on rare occasions he would just stay like that, fingers burning on your skin as the tip of his fingers would lightly caress your exposed skin.

“YES! Told you I’d win!” You cheer with excitement as you draw your cards laughing loudly at his pout as his eyes bore into your figure and you notice a small smirk appear on his lips before he gets up, eyeing you with that menacing glare. “No, I don’t care what you say, I’ll win the next ones too and -”

As his fingers went to the buttons of his pants, your voice stopped at once, eyes ignoring the apparent tent that was there. Once his fingers found the zipper, your eyes averted to the ground, specifically to his feet that still had one sock, which brought an inquisitive look to your face, turning into shock as his pants fell at his feet before he took them out completely kicking them somewhere along with his shirt, the sock joining it not long after, bringing your eyes to finally look up, straight into his face, as the tongue was in between his lips along with the growing grin that made you clench your thighs together.

The movement did not go unnoticed as you saw Wooyoung’s eyebrows rise and fall before he took a few steps closer to you, noticing finally how you had your legs up to your chest cursing at yourself as you realized he probably saw the wet patch in your underwear. As he lowered himself in front of you, the maximum you would allow your eyes to wander off was up to his chest, the tattoo on his ribs finally visible for you to see, for you to touch, to –

“My eyes are up here bunny,” luckily, you only clenched your own cunt and not your legs as the pet name reached your ears, as your eyes found his predatory ones, the smirk with a slight gap between his lips, allowing you to see his tongue moving inside his mouth… God, you needed it in – “still need to go a bit further up,” his finger found your chin bringing your eyes to finally meet his and stay there. “That’s it, I like when you look at me, especially when it’s like that.”

“Fuck off,” you push his hand away and turn your legs around in front of you, still covering the growing wetness between your legs, making Wooyoung chuckle before he returns to his position, “why didn’t you take your socks off, you are supposed to only take one piece of clothing.”

“Are you complaining, love?”

You rolled your eyes as you pointed to the cards in between you two, ignoring his grin as his fingers nimbly organized the cards, ignoring how his eyes were fixed on you.

“You're scared you will lose?”

The scoff that came from Wooyoung made you finally eye him as he finished organizing the cards. “I was planning on suggesting something for the grand finale.”

“You definitely scared to lose though, you were the idiot who took two pieces of clothing, while -”

“You would do the same if you had noticed how hard my cock is as it only got harder as I saw how wet your cunt is,” that shut you up at the same instant, the deck of cards being left on the coffee table as his eyes never left you, the smirk growing as his tongue wet his lips, sitting cross legged in front of you as his hands found his thigh, chuckling as he noticed you finally noticing his hard cock against his underwear. “Are you still gonna pretend you don’t find me attractive and that you don’t want to fuck me as badly as I want to fuck you?”

“Wooyoung, look -”

“What do I have to do for you to understand I don’t see you as a friend and that I want you to be mine?” As your eyes averted from his, you could hear the movement and see it from the peripheral view, only to get his hands on your chin, making you eye him as he towered above you, trying to ignore how his hard clothed cock was inches away from you. “I never wanted to be just your friend and I sure as fuck ain’t blind not to notice how you react to me, so are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you senseless before becoming officially mine, or you still gonna be fucking brat?”

Instead of responding you palmed his clothed cock watching as his mouth opened with a gasp as you squeezed gently the length, his hands moving from your chin to caress your cheek as you smirked at each other.

“Tell me again how badly you want me, Wooyoungie.”

As you said that, both your hands moved to the waistband of his underwear, pulling slowly as you sustained eye contact with him, until you noticed that the tip of his red angry leaking cock was finally seen. Making you eye him before moving your face closer to his hip bone, leaving a tender kiss there as you slowly moved towards his cockhead, watching as it twitched slightly, his chest going up and down rapidly, making you giggle before your lips touched the tip making him groan loudly.

“Fuck you are gonna torture me?”

“I told you what I want, if you give it me, I’ll give it to you,” another kiss on his cockhead makes him throw his head back groaning before his hand go to the back of your head, your hair getting tangled within his fingers, “it’s a fair trade don’t you think, pretty boy?”

“Fuck I knew you were gonna be my end the day I laid eyes on you, bunny,” at that, you finally took the rest of his underwear, making his cock slap you in the face, making you giggle before holding it with one of your hands, putting just the tip inside, feeling his precum on your tongue before squeezing lightly the base of his cock. “Fuck, you are such a fucking tease, the way you’d sway your hips, how you always wear something that shows skin just to have my hands on you trying to take those fuckers who just want to fuck you away -”

“But you are one of the fuckers who want to fuck me, aren’t you Wooyoungie?”

“The difference between me and them my dear bunny, is that I can fuck you senseless and you’d still come begging for more, because you are just as desperate for my cock as I am for your cunt.”

At that he forced your head down his cock making you gag as you took him all in, tapping his thigh after a while, feeling him pull your head back and up, as his lips finally met yours. It was sloppy, desperate, lustful, it was all you both wanted and more and you felt him pulling you closer, his other hand found your waist going up your back to unclasp your bra, but never leaving your lips, not even when he felt your hardened nipples against his chest, pulling you closer to his, letting his cock press against your stomach.

You tried to put your hand in between you two, but he wouldn’t let you, keeping you firm against him as his tongue explored your mouth, God the amount of time you imagine those lips against yours, leaving wet traces until it finally found itself between your legs with your hands on his hair as he ate you out.

“Be a good girl and sit on the couch, legs spread open,” he was as out of breath as you were, yet you complied taking off your bra first, but he stopped you as your hands went to your panties to pull them off. “Did I say something about taking these off?”

“Then how are you gonna eat me out properly?”

“Oh, my sweet bunny,” he hovered over you on the couch, the smirk forever present as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you, “I’m gonna make you scream my name in no time once I get a taste of you, and then I’ll fuck into oblivion until you beg me to stop.”

“Is that a promise?”

The doe eyes you sent him not matching the secret wish that question held, making his smirk grow as he pulled you in for another kiss, one of his hands going all the way from your waits to your knee as his other, found your breasts, pinching the hardened nipple making you moan against the kiss before he slapped it before massaging it all over again, making you whimper against his lips.

“It’s a promise since the moment I first saw you,” his lips lingering closely to your own as you felt his hand squeeze your thigh as his other moved up to your neck cupping your face pulling you in for another tender and innocent kiss before he started moving downwards, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses on your jaw and neck before reaching the valley of your breasts. “It’s a promise from the moment I saw your tits almost slipping out of one of those dresses you wore for the first night out we had as a group, where I almost had to fight a few guys who wanted what was mine.”

“I thought I wasn’t yours yet.”

“You were always mine, you just didn’t want to accept it,” his mouth fully involved your breast as his hand massaged the other, feeling the little random bites that would sure make their appearance in the morning, but you couldn’t care less as your fingers found his hair moaning every time he sucked and bit your breast, “so pretty like that and I barely touched you, I wonder how pretty you look all fucked out.”

“Why don’t you start by putting your mouth to use somewhere else?”

“Your wish is my comment, love,” he kisses you one last time before the wet trail of kisses happens all over again, slowly but surely accompanied by small bites here and there as Wooyoung makes sure to hold you down and spread your legs open as he gets closer to your clothed core. “Fuck, you are so wet, I wonder how much you can last.”

Combination of his words, eye contact, fingers gently taking the edges of your panties and the small kiss he leaves on top of your clothed aching clit, makes your hips jolt up, bringing a chuckle to Wooyoung’s mouth as he finally takes your panties of, a this line connecting your panties to your soaking core makes him curse before completely throwing your panties somewhere along with the other clothes. “Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you and make you cum on my mouth.”

Before you could say anything, his hot breath collided with your sensitive clit, a tender and contained kiss being left there as you could sense the chuckle Wooyoung left at your whimpers, reverberated through your body before your fingers found his head pulling him into your soaked cunt. His hands firmly on the back of your thigh spreading them open, your knees up to your chest as his mouth fully involved your clit, the kitty licks making you moan loudly and arch your back, feeling the small laugh he let out reverberate through your body once more.

“Woo, fuck-,” you cried as he lowered his head, his tongue at your entrance as his nose would meet your clit sending shocks of electricity and warmth through your body, “fuck, just like that Woo, fu-fuck, your ton-tongue, I can’t I-”

“Don’t you dare hold back, I wanna hear you, bunny.”

As two fingers entered you and his mouth closed on your clit sucking it, a scream left you. His fingers were quick, curling from time to time inside you making you squirm under him, as his arm could barely hold you still, but he honestly didn’t care, the sight of you shaking under him, your taste on his mouth, the feeling of your cunt clenching his fingers was sending him into overdrive and he wasn’t even inside you yet.

The first wave hit you like a truck, the guttural sound that left your mouth followed by a scream as your fingers pulled Wooyoung’s hair was enough for him to finally let go of your wet folds. Once you felt his face away from you, your eyes met with his face glistening with your juice as he pushed his two fingers into his mouth, ravishing on your taste before pulling you in for another kiss. Your hands quickly ran down his chest to find his hard cock, before he stopped you.

“But Woo-”

“We’ll have plenty of that, unfortunately, if I don’t get inside of you right now, I’m afraid I’ll combust,” as you pulled him in for another kiss, your heels found his ass and thigh, pulling him into you, your hand finding his hard leaking cock and putting it at your entrance, making him whine against your lips as you squeezed him with your hand as to pull him closer to where both of you needed. “Fuck, I’m gonna break you, bunny.”

“You can break me as many times as you want if you are willing to put me back together.”

“God you are so perfect,” as his lips found yours with a tender and borderline innocent kiss, his cock pushed through your gummy walls making you gasp and moan against his lips before he hid his face on the crook of your neck, biting the base as he slowly entered your tight hole. “Tell me when I can move.”

A small shake of your head was all he needed before he started progressively thrust into you, his hips finding yours at a rapid pace as both your moans and grunts filled the house along with the sounds of your bodies. Wooyoung was a bit over average size, but he was girthy, so you were still getting used to his size as he fucked you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix every so often.

His hands pulled your legs towards your chest making him hit a whole new spot inside you, making you scream at the feeling before his thumb start rubbing circles on your clit, your legs already shaking, mouth open, uncontrollable moans leaving both of you as his thrusts became sloppier, his kisses were messy and you clenched so much around him that ripped profanity after profanity from his lips.

“Woo, I’m coming, fuck, please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, it feels so good!”

“Cum with me, love, cum all over my cock,” as if magic, his words hitting your core sending you to combust under him, shaking and screaming as you felt your orgasm reach you, feeling his warm seeds inside you as his thrusts faltered before coming to a stop. Your legs were numb, but your arms quickly wrapped around him, your nails scratching his scalp softly as his body weight held you against the couch. “You are just as perfect as I imagined you to be.”

Your giggle came with the small kisses and love bites he left on your neck before pulling out of you and placing some distance between you two as he watched his seeds leak from your fluttering hole, a smirk on his lips before his lips met with your clit making you cry a moan.

“Wooyoung, please…!”

“Sorry love,” his face was quick to go up to yours, a kiss on your lips as you both smiled at the current situation. “So, can I ask you to be officially mine, now?”

“I was yours from the moment we met, Wooyoungie.”

“That’s my good little bunny.”

general masterlist here ♡

network: @cultofdionysusnet ♡ @atzhouse ♡

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

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xuchiya · 3 months

Text

you right [p.seonghwa]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

[mention: age gap and cheating]

₊˚.༄ I got a man, but I want you And it's just nerves, it's just dick making me think 'bout someone new ₊˚.༄

park seonghwa. the man that your mom kept mentioning about, the "young and handsome" man that everyone fawns— the company crush. He was every woman asked for and God must have heard those prayers and gave only one, you shake your head in disbelief telling her about, "we come from different generations mom, so we have different ideals." she just looks you in the eyes with, “i’ll get the last laugh.”

but that's where you're wrong. so wrong

one sunny afternoon when your mom called you to deliver her some packed lunch since she does not feel like eating at the cafeteria; you were just cleaning the house so you being the nicest daughter— cooked and delivered to her.

“F-fuck josh!” your eyes rolled at the back of your head, biting your lip as your boyfriend ram his hips on your pussy. His hands held on your shoulders, slamming you back on his dick— hitting that spot until your eyes fade white as you cum on his softening dick as he spurt his cum inside your walls. He grinds his hips chasing the ecstasy as he humps like a rabbit, clinging on your torso groaning and moaning.

“Your pussy so good.” he mumbles before pulling out, slapping your ass. You rolled your eyes, pulling up your panty and shorts, knowing him; after a quick fuck, he’ll be on his way out.

“I’ll pick you up later?” you feel an irritation bubble on your throat. You nodded, “yeah …” being oblivious to your reaction, he leaned in and kissed your lips before going out of your apartment. You sigh, shivering when you feel his cum flowing out of your hole, “I told him to pull out …”

After cleaning up, you dress up in a thin cloth sundress (not too thin to have your garments see through it) you arrive at your mom’s workplace with the neat and fresh cooked lunch pack. You were slightly regretting wearing the old sundress but now, oh you praised and wish that this sundress can go any see through.

park seonghwa.

now you understand why your mom keeps on gushing about him. He is INDEED young and handsome for a 36 year old. he was in a conversation with two of his friends, who happened to be one of them, your senior and closest friend at your old school, jung wooyoung.

Noticing your presence by the door, seonghwa raised his hand with a small smile on his lips, “come in!” your throat constricts from breathing as you slowly approach the man, his aura radiates heaven; innocence and kindness. The way his clothes clinging to his body, showcasing his built lean body.

“ohh~ isn’t my favourite junior?” wooyoung jokes, opening his arms. You scoff nonetheless hugging him; wooyoung was a great senior towards you when finishing your years in highschool whilst him being an intern at a company he is now currently working at.

“Hello wooyoung-ssi .” you smile at him, having your hand running down his back in a comfortable manner. If wooyoung gonna be honest, he had never expected you to have such a (more) glow up that had him smirking then side-eyeing his older friend— who in the moment of ogling you right now. Hand holding the one cup of coffee he was finishing then the other inside his trouser pockets; which wooyung noticed that it moved closer to his crotch, gripping something– hard.

Wooyoung knows and he’ll do it (even though knowing you had a dickhead boyfriend and such huge age gap but who rejects the drill if you know) so he clears his throat, “hey peach–”

As if the nickname knock out some senses to seonghwa who caught himself spacing out when he observe the way you walk, your hips swaying and highlighting the flesh underneath the dress— that thin dress that you were wearing right now had him, gripping his hard erected dick in his pocket (which he knew wooyoung had now notice with the playful smirk on his lips).

“Peach?” seonghwa mumbles. Your cheeks were suddenly powdered in red hue as you remember why wooyoung calls you that, you waved off the question trying your best to lure out from the question but wooyoung grabs your shoulder, placing you beside him as he diligently explains to seonghwa.

“Oh curious eh? Well here, my dear hyung, she hit puberty in such young age that had everyone drooling as she turn around—”

“Oh dear, there you are!” when God has mercy, he has and lots of them when he saw you slowly melting under seonghwa’s eyes, you were wishing above to save you as the thought of back in 9th grade had every boys in school glancing not only your swelled uniform because of your bulging boobs and your skirt that was clinging tightly on your widen hips.

You ranted on wooyoung about the issue yet his answer, “well it’s true and your hips do resemble that fruit emoji— Hey! I should call you that from now on!”

Your mom walks towards you, handing over her packed lunch. Your mom smiles, pinching your cheeks before turning to seonghwa, her eyes sparkling, “oh seonghwa-ssi, this is my daughter.” you nodded your head in acknowledgement still feeling that awkwardness on your cheeks.

Seonghwa licks his lips, smiling at your mom then back to you, hand from his pocket reaching out to take your hand. The softness and the size difference had him gripping the cup of coffee on his other hand, wooyoung noticing.

“Nice to meet you, doll.” his lips brush gently on the back of your hand, not once did his eye contact falter and had your knees weak for an entire second.Wooyoung had thousands of lightbulbs popping up in his head; the moment he saw your stiff body and seonghwa hardened gaze.

As the days passed by, Wooyoung had finalised his plan.

Hey hyung! Doors pass is 1028… still in the showers, make yourself at home.

Seonghwa sighs, one arm full of snacks and a chicken bucket on the other as per wooyung requested. Wooyoung had suggested that they (the other boys) have a movie night with the other boys in Woo's apartment. As he reaches the door of wooyoung’s apartment, he inputs the pass before he hears the soft ring of the doors opening, he slips out of his shoes and towards the quiet living room.

His light footstep met the countertop and placed the items before taking a good look of the apartment.

Seonghwa felt sketchy as he took in the clean and organised living room hence the soft smell of the humidifier at the corner; which did not make sense until he saw a light reflecting from the small hallway, his eyebrow hunching together, “woo?”

He called yet no one answered, his feet decided on their own as they took him to the last door on the left, the door ajar; small glimpse of the purple hue room with—. His eyes widened, jolted in surprise when he saw you. You were on your bed, on your stomach, hoodie on yet no pants; you were in front of your full length mirror, taking pictures. Your ass–those asses were a wish to dive into along with the flesh of your thighs.

Now he understands why wooyoung calls you peach. Those thighs were enough to choke and he will thank you for that or even watch how your ass jiggles when you walk out after delivering the packed lunch for your mom and how that dress hug your shape so much that it emphasises your figure, your mounty chest, another thing to dive into. Or how every night he wishes to have his dick in between them—

“Seonghwa-ssi?” he was pulled out of your thoughts when he saw your figure in front of him, his heart soaring to the roof when you tilt your head to the side, confused. He cleared his throat, “H-Hi.”

you push the door slightly open, “what are you doing here? How did you get in my apartment?”

His mouth opened to explain until he realised at the last minute. The “passcode”, clean apartment, the humidifier and the quietness. Seonghwa groans, “wooyoung …” This whole thing could eat him alive until he dies but that moment dissipates when he hears you chuckle, “so wooyoung was behind this? As expected.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, “Expected?” you shrug, looking at him, “When he sees something, he’ll do it.” That made him even more confused. “What did he do?”

He was oblivious of your smirk on your lips, “this.” you slowly sunk down on the floor, aligning with his pressing prominent dick inside his jeans. Your hands run down his thighs, brushing on his dick which made him hiss, a groan leaving his lips.

“So you were part of this?” again, you shrug, looking up at him, “maybe … maybe not.” you leaned towards his dick, leaving kiss on them before looking back up, a sudden boost of confidence surge on your brain down to your lips, “before you go might as well fuck me now.”

That it all took for seonghwa to have back up on your feet, carrying you towards your bed then tossing you on top of your sheets. A squeal left your lips; excitement running inside your veins as you watch seonghwa’s eyes dart on your half exposed body, legs vaguely open for him to see your arousal seeping through your panty. You spread your legs for him, fingers circling your clothed pussy, biting your lip seductively “seonghwa~”

Seonghwa is a composed man yet when he sees you, they don’t matter and loses control. Just like how he had himself in between your legs, panty ripped from your body and lapping his hot tongue flat on your wet pussy. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, devouring you like his favorite meal.

He had you moaning loudly, thrashing on your bed as his tongue cat-lick your bud several times hitting those nerves of pleasure, “f-fuck seonghwa!” your hand grip his hair moving your hips to fuck your pussy on his tongue, grinding them. Your whimper-cries echoed your room, manicured hands were gripping tightly on the sheets, arch back as seonghwa had plunged his tongue on your hole, running those long tongue for a good use then pulling away gathering his saliva then spitting them on your trembling wet pussy.

The action had your head swirling in thoughts, biting your bottom lip suppressing a smile on your lips, “that’s so good hwa~”

Seonghwa notice you were nearing your climax when he pulled away, the coil faded leaving you pouting but he chuckles darkly, gripping the back of his shirt before throwing them off across your room as he diligently remove his pants, teasing you as you bit your lip observing his lean body, slim waist yet those hard cock says otherwise. It was bigger than you imagine, quite veiny and enough to send you to heaven to hell then back to earth. Your mouth watered at the size, your pussy aching to be dick down.

Seonghwa leaned down to smash his lips on you, moving them messily on your lips, pulling you by the waist as he humps his clothed dick on your exposed cunt. Your hand found its way again on his hair, as you moved your hips also.

“Do you want this dick so bad?” you nodded like a bobblehead, thoughts of being dicked down by seonghwa as you rushed to remove your hoodie to show him your bare chest. You squish your arms to stress out the flesh, giving them a little shake. Seonghwa licks his lips, scoffing, “stay like that for me doll.” you listen and watch him undo his pants, jerking his cosmic dick.

You know what he wants; hands each on your boobs pushing them in the middle as he fucks himself in between your chest. Seonghwa was beyond the clouds as the flesh of your chest touched his sensitive tip then his whole shaft, it was long. Long enough to have your mouth meeting his tip each time it comes back up, moistening them.

“Fuck doll this tits are made for me aren’t they?” you look up at him, eyes gleaming in overwhelming with emotions and pleasure, “yes yes fuck your dick on it, hwa~” seonghwa’s lips curled up, pulling off his dick between your breast before gripping your ja in his hand.

He tilt them to the side, observing your soon-to-be fucked up face, your heart were racing in anticipation. This is a whole new other level, new experience of being fuck by someone older and probably had much exploration in sex, “open for me, doll.” you obeyed, your pussy clenching on nothing yet another set of arousal leak out when seonghwa spit at your mouth.

You swallow them, the trail going down your throat then sending another arousal out of your pussy, he was so experienced on this one and you're down to get your pussy wreck.

Seonghwa laid you down on your back, hands running down your body, giving your tits a nice squeeze, a tweak on each of your hardened nipples then pulling them. You were squirming on time he circled his thumb on the. He moved between your legs, releasing his aching cock out of his boxers.

Seonghwa gathered a mouthful then spitting on his dick, giving a couple strokes before slapping his dick on your pussy. He eye your twitching body, body on fire as the tension gets thicker and thicker yet deep down he knows your loyalty was being tested.

He had heard about a week ago about wooyung and his despise on your significant other who just comes for a quick fuck and out he goes. Been 3 months doing it while you never did anything to stop the whole thing so seonghwa tried his best not to involve himself in the drama. Sooner or later those words came back to him when he kept seeing you in the office to pick your mom up after a long day of work.

Seonghwa fathoms the amount of weight of euphoria whenever his eyes travels.

“Spread those legs for me, doll.” you grip the back of your thighs as Seonghwa sheathed himself on your cunt. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head, a squeal like smile left your lips as your walls were being stretch out on the girth of his cock.

“Fu-fuck doll you’re so tight …” When he fully bottom down, he adjust his knees and place his hands on each side of your waist, lips near your ears,”i’ll fuck you better than your boyfriend.”

His hips pull out an inch before hammering himself back down, immediately pounding your cervix. Your mouth gape, no sounds immits as the overwhelming pleasure had you speechless, the sounds of the nasty skin slapping had you unfolding your legs further.

“The moment I gave this pussy a nice full of my load, you belong to me now.” You nodded like crazy, tears running down your cheeks; seonghwa coo mockingly, “does your boyfriend fuck you like this? Make you cry being fuck so good?”

You were so out of your mind, hands gripping his biceps tightly creating a crescent shape on them. Small sounds of curse freed out those sinful lips, “h-harder hwa~” but seonghwa wasn’t having it, he halted his actions then gripping your jaw rather harshly making you look at him.

His face dark in pleasure and dominance, “i ask you and you answer?” you nodded, your eyes going dopey habitually biting your lip as, “yes yes, your dick so good i want you to cum inside and have your babies.”

Seonghwa’s dick twitch inside as the mention of impregnating you, creampie you with loads after loads of his cum seeing that bulge on your stomach just sent his head circling with lots of euphoric sensation.

“Is that so? Then take it.” The grip on your jaw moved down to your neck, squeezing them as his hips repeatedly pounding back to your pussy. You were on cloud 9 that you did not hear your phone ringing; your boyfriend calling you.

Seonghwa saw it and smirk, removing his grip on your neck towards your phone. He press the green button.

“Hey babe—”

His voice a little deep and rough, “sorry she’s busy …”

There was silence before your boyfriend spoke.

“busy?! W-who are you and what are you doing with my girlfriend?! Yah!”

“Yeah she’s busy .. busy getting fuck up by me. I’m rearranging her guts right now that’s what I’m doing. She looks so pretty under me, you know?” Seonghwa runs his hand on your chest then slapping your tits making you moan loudly, hearing those made your boyfriend panic and ranging.

“W-what?! Stop this right—”

“Shut up. I’m busy fucking her, so don’t contact her again. She’s mine now.” Seonghwa ended the call, tossing your phone to side before diving his head on your neck, his tip hammering your cervix deliciously before he felt the familiar coil on his stomach, his broken groans sent shiver down your spine, “i’m gonna cum doll and i don’t want to see any of it going to waste, got it?”

You moan, gripping your tits, “yes yes yes pelase I’m gonna cum too.” he pulled out only the tip left inside before slamming back inside, his cum spurting on your velvet walls. Your eyes rolling back once again, long string of fuck creaming his cock, “that’s my doll. Good girl.”

When he had loaded himself and you were milking him dry, he pulled out not long plunging his fingers, “I hope you’re up for another round .. I’m gonna make you squirt so bad.” even with the ring of your arousal and cum on his dick, it had not yet softened and wanted to go for another said round.

You smirk, laying down on your stomach, propped up on your elbows; looking over your shoulders as you joggle your ass, “then fuck me more, show to my boyfriend how you’re fucking me good hwa~”

Seonghwa smirks, loving your confidence, “of course doll.” And there goes round two.

taglist:

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez park seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez au #park seonghwa imagines #atz smut #atz x reader #atz imagines #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader

386 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 24 days

Text

♡Boyfriend!Wooyoung♡

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x female reader

TW: none

Word count: 678

Genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship, bullet points, non-idol!au

A/N: Hello, anonie, I see that you have sent the request to my other blog, which I use for rebloging my favorite works (something that I haven't been doing for a long time lol I have to pick up on it again) I'd like to clarify that I don't take requests, sorry guys, but I simply don't have the time rn and I usually struggle coming up with anything unless it's my own idea lol. And if you do send a request, it might take a long time for me to write it, my apologies. This story is in bulletpoints, just letting you know. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

it had been a long day

too long, actually

normally, tackling a long day of work and going to your Pilates class too wouldn't have made you so exhausted

but you were sick, very, apparently

you had spent the weekend up in the mountains last weekend, at your boyfriend's best friend's weekend cabin and it was rather cold

so naturally, you caught a cold

but life doesn't stop there, no matter how unwell you felt

you still had a job...a very demanding one, at that

and you had just picked up more shifts last week, unknowing of the predicament you'd find yourself in after your little trip

so now, by the time you had reached home at the end of the day, you had no power left in your body

your head was dizzy and you were grateful you managed to get home without crashing your car, but walking up the stairs to your apartment felt like an eternity, and it was horrible

as you fiddled for your keys, on the verge of tears as your whole body was burning up, you became aware of the music coming through the front door, and you boyfriend belting out high notes alongside it

and as you finally unlock the door and push it open, you're met with your boyfriend standing in the middle of the living room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt reaching past his naked thighs and knee-high socks he uses when playing football with his friends after a long working day

and oh, he's holding a wooden spoon, looking completely off-thrown by your arrival

he misjudged the time and thought you wouldn't be home for another hour

now you'd have to wait for dinner, and that's not how he had planned your date night to go

which was a surprise that Wooyoung came up with last minute

you stare at Wooyoung for a second, before dropping everything from your hands and kneeling, holding your head in your hands, tears finally springing from your eyes

Wooyoung is flabbergasted and immediately rushes to your side, dropping the wooden spoon on the small coffee table in the process

he's by your side in an instant, cradling your head to his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead before he's wiping your tears away, making you finally feel at ease despite the headache, dizziness, and nausea you're feeling

Wooyoung is your pillar when you're feeling even the slightest bit off and he certainly understands that what you need right now are silence, a warm bath, and some painkillers, of course

and so just like that, he helps you up and walks you to your bedroom, leaves you on the bed to discard of your clothes and goes prepare the bath for you

and once you are done with the bath, feeling slightly better as your head isn't pulsating so much anymore, Wooyoung surprises you by bringing dinner to bed, of which you can't eat too much now, but it'll be good in the morning

and then Wooyoung gives you some water and you take the painkillers and before he could go and let you rest, you grab Wooyoung's wrist and offer him a small smile

and he understands without you saying anything

and so, he shuts off all lights in the apartment before joining you in bed, and because you don't want him to catch a cold, he becomes the small spoon as you burry your head into his back, holding onto him tightly

and suddenly all your worries melt away, and today doesn't seem so grim anymore

your head is still thumping, and your nose is still stuffy, and you think your fever is finally going down

but what matters most, is your boyfriend being by your side and humming quietly, tracing your skin gently with his fingers, your right arm resting around his torso, feeling safe

far away from the exhausting world and demanding assignments from your work

and you know you'll feel a lot better by the morning, all thanks to your lovable boyfriend, Jung Wooyoung

⚞ Masterlist ⚟

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaaa

@aaa-sia @sharksandminhos @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld

@anastasiamin860 @vcutparis @yunhogrippers @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @tunaasan

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

336 notes · View notes

highvern · 5 months

Text

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: romance, smut, angst, exes to lovers, Christmas!AU, fake dating

Warnings: she/her pronouns, Drug use, alcohol, mentions of aging family members, unhealthy family dynamics, mentions of illness (reader is a doctor), cursing, dry-humping/grinding, kissing, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex, angst, poor self-esteem/self-doubt, pining, some threats of bodily harm

Length: ~24k

Note: God this was such a doozy. I started it on December 1st and barely finished it this morning. Based on Happy Place by Emily Henry (if you like romcoms I highly recommend all her books) and most cheesy Christmas movies (Exmas). Did I project my middle child syndrome onto fellow middle child Wooyoung? Maybe! BUT why write if not to explore your own trauma lmao

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy or don’t! Merry Christmas! MWAH!

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

June 27th

“So I have some news. I know it hasn’t been easy for us going back—”

“I think we should break up.”

“and forth so much but—What?”

“I don’t think it's working out between us.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say before your vocal cords seize.

Your mouth falls open, lips attempting to form words that don’t manage to make a sound. Eyes shifting around the room, the sheen of tears thickening as a few beads trail down your cheeks as you stand shakily; managing only a few steps away from the table before a choked sob wiggles free from an iron grip. People are staring as you nearly run out to the door, unaware that several whip around to look at the man left sitting behind you.

Wooyoung doesn’t chase you down. Doesn’t call or text as you walk the twenty blocks to Lisa’s apartment in the thick humidity of the city night; snot and tears trailing down your face.

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything at all as eight years shatter to pieces in a matter of seconds.

December 7th

Wooyoung

…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

Wooyoung staples the finished packets together, ears tickled by jazzy Christmas music leaking from his computer speakers in the corner of his L-shaped desk. Surrounded by colorful brick walls of a midtown elementary school isn’t where most people his age would find themselves on a Friday evening but where else would he go?

His roommates have their partners over, he’d rather avoid the frigid dampness of the park he usually smokes at, and Wooyoung isn’t interested in the crowds clogging anywhere else he’d think to visit. The usual comforting bustle of the city only serves to set him on edge, making him desperate for a true solitude he really craves. Getting ahead on his classroom prep for the remainder of the semester seemed like the perfect, albeit a depressing way, to spend the evening.

The dulcet tones of Dean Martin are joined by an incoming call buzzing his phone across the wooden top of the desk. A familiar picture of his mom and him as a baby flashing across the screen before he answers.

“Hi sweetie,” his mom yells on the other line. Wooyoung can tell she’s driving home from work based on the poor audio quality.

“Hey mom,” he wedges the device between his shoulder and cheek, using his hands to continue organizing the worksheets for Monday; paper warm in his palms from the printer.

“I’m just calling to make sure you and Y/N are still coming for Christmas. I know the hospital is usually crazy this time of year so I thought I’d double check.”

“Actually mom—”

“Bibi keeps talking about wanting everyone home for Christmas but if Y/N can’t make it she’ll understand. She’s always been her favorite.” His mom laughs.

Wooyoung’s grandmother is impolitely frank about her age and never hesitates to use it to her own advantage. How does he tell her that his girlfriend, who she liked more than her own grandsons some days, is no longer his girlfriend? And how he is the only one to be blamed for that.

He might as well start digging his own grave.

“We’ll be there.” Wooyoung blabs before he can stop himself.

“Wonderful! I’m pulling into the driveway so I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Fortunately, on a cold winter night like tonight, the only other soul in the building is Mr. Rollins, a janitor with headphones permanently attached to his ears. The colorful combination of expletives pouring from Wooyoung’s mouth would make a sailor blush.

Typing in a familiar name to his message bar, Wooyoung realizes he hasn’t changed it in all this time; the string of emojis from the first night he got her number glaring back at him in mockery. A sting of bile blisters the back of Wooyoung’s throat as he steads himself for what he’s about to do. Who he is about to ask for the biggest mercy; one he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

Wooyoung inhales before hitting “send,” locking his phone and tossing it down like it’s possessed.

Barely a full minute passes before it vibrates with her response.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

He can’t even type a reply before the buzz buzz buzz on an incoming call tickles against his palm.

Tapping into the false chipper personality he reserves for strangers and his class, Wooyoung answers with a simple. “Hey!”

“Hi.” She deadpans.

“Is it a bad time?”

“What do you want, Woo?”

“How have you been?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t calling to ask me that.”

Wooyoung wants to object but she’s right. “I’m not but I still care.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so my mom called and asked if you were coming over for Christmas.”

“Why?” Y/N asks after a pregnant pause.

“Because I haven’t told them we broke up.”

A rush of clattering sounds from her end along with a few curse words sounding far away before she continues. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been six months!”

“I know! But I’ve been busy and there was never a good time and it’s just kinda snowballed.”

“Well, tell her now.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Bibi keeps talking about how she wants everyone how for one last Christmas and with Kyungmin going to colle—”

“Please tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

“I thought us breaking up meant I didn’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

“I can tell them your busy and the hospital is keeping you or—”

“No,” Wooyoung can picture the hand scrubbing down her face, fingers massaging her temples the same way she always did when his shenanigans got them in trouble. “I’ll do it.”

Now he’s the one to pause, “Really?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to see them all one last time.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I actually need to get back to doing that so–”

“Yeah, I’ll, ugh, talk to you later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

As the line clicks and Wooyoung is left alone in his classroom, the space abruptly feels too big. With each minute ticking by, he convinces himself he hallucinated the entire exchange because there is no possible way his ex-girlfriend agreed to this ill-thought plan. Everything feels too normal for her to extend such undue kindness his way, especially after how he ruined their relationship in a moment of insecurity.

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great

Y/N🥰🍯💖: ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

There’s a weight on Wooyoung’s tongue at the new dynamic settling between them. Eight years of dating but now she’s a stranger. The last text messages arranging for their mutual friend Lisa to pick up a box of her stuff from his apartment.

Six months and he didn’t know if she kept her hair the same way or what new book she was obsessing over in her sparse free time; if her neighbor in Boston’s yappy geriatric dog finally kicked the bucket.

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

December 10th

Wooyoung

Wooyoung wakes up to the early morning bustle of the busy streets just outside his window. His phone clock reads thirty minutes past his normal alarm which means he’s late. And that means his boss is going to tear his ass a new one.

In a whirl, Wooyoung rushes to the bathroom. He wets his hands with the freezing tap water, patting his face and attempting to style his bed ridden hair. The door shifts to catch his foot as he exits, stubbing his toe and forcing him to hop down the hallway to his room. Wrinkled khakis and a sweater are all Wooyoung manages before he throws on his parka and is out the door.

He sprints to the subway, just in time to see the doors closing on his train.

“Fuck me!”

“Too young for me buddy,” croaks the homeless man splayed on the bench in the middle of the platform.

Ignoring him, Wooyoug paces further down the station, anger filling him with restless energy. Glancing at his phone, he shoots an email to his principal that he’ll be late due to “train delays.” Thank god for the MTA being a regular piece of shit.

Finally checking the stream of missed notifications during the night, he uses the lull to answer them.

Mom: Does y/n still like those chips we bought last time? I’m at the store getting a few things

Wooyoung: She said she’s happy with whatever you get!

Not a lie since Y/N would be happy to have snacks of any kind.

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS?

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

At least he can always count on San to state the obvious.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket

Wooyoung does a double take when he sees she’s flying out of New York, not Boston. Why isn’t she flying out of Boston? There’s no way it’s cheaper than flying out of Boston and she wouldn’t go through the trouble of getting down here unless she had a good reason.

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

A lump of lead hardens in his stomach. She lives here, in New York. She’s been in the city and he didn’t even notice. Questions race forward. How long has she been here? Where is she working? What neighborhood is she in? Why didn’t he know she moved back?

The last question is more his own fault than he cares to admit.

His train arrives without preamble, brakes screeching as it slows to a stop. Wooyoung crowds into the compartment, happy for it to be relatively empty. Finding a spot on the wall, he zones out of the chaos for the next twenty minutes. A group of highschoolers laugh obnoxiously in the corner, snatching one another’s phones as they share god knows what between them. A young mom tries to placate her crying baby, the older man next to her rolling his eyes as he devours his morning paper. When the doors open at his stop, Wooyoung pauses for a second as an elderly woman enters the train. Catching her eye, he offers her his seat; only standing when she’s close enough so no one else tries to take it from her.

Wooyoung slithers out of the closing doors and bolts out of the station as fast as he can.

Panting and sweating under his black parka, Wooyoung arrives outside the red doors of the elementary school he teaches at. Principal Martinez is tapping his foot at the top of the steps, arms crossed in front of his chest, scowl etched deep on his face.

“This is the third time this month.”

“I know, I’m sorry! But the train got delayed with repairs or something and—”

“Save it. You have a class to get to.”

Breezing past, Wooyoung’s boots clack against the linoleum tile as he careens towards his classroom. The rowdy cacophony of third grade voices echo beyond the doorway, only increasing in volume as he peeks his head in.

A dozen shrill voices scream something along the lines of, “Mr. Jung you’re late!”

“You’re all just early!” Wooyoung goads back, sending a thankful look at the teacher who stepped in to watch them till he arrived.

The room descends into giggles, students finding their places as he settles at his own desk.

“So today, we’re starting with circle time!”

Y/N

“Let me get this straight: your ex asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend and now you’re spending Christmas with his family?”

Sparing a glance from the manilla folder containing notes on your next patient, you see Hongjoong watching you skeptically. The ridiculousness of the situation isn’t lost on you. You’d nearly convinced yourself the entire exchange Friday night was some cruel dream if not for the string of text messages proving it’d been real. Wooyoung’s first real attempt to speak with you post-breakup, and he asks you to pretend he didn’t break your heart six months ago.

“That’s about as straight as it gets.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow, “And you said yes, why?”

“Because…”

You missed him? Because you still loved him? Because when you saw his message you thought he was finally ready to admit it'd all been a mistake?

Because Wooyoung always convinced you to go along with whatever he asked?

“I really like his family.”

“Oh, sweet child.” He clicks, leafing through his own case file.

“Look, it’ll be nice to see them one last time and I’d rather spend the holidays with them than cramped in my apartment to avoid the tourists.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason why?”

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

“Shut up,” you say before dipping into the exam room, shifting your face into an enthusiastic smile. “How are we today, Mrs. Haspin?”

“We’re doing okay. Harper hasn’t been liking the new medicine you prescribed.”

“She hasn’t?” You gasp sarcastically, staring wide eyed at the tiny brunette with braided pigtails sitting on the exam room bed.

“They’re gross!” Harper cries with all the sincerity a four year old can muster, her tiny hands wrinkling the paper as she slaps the bed indignantly.

“Well that’s no good. I’ll make sure to check if they have other flavors.” You type a few notes in her electronic chart as you turn over your shoulder. “Mom, have you noticed a difference?”

“She’s not having as many coughing fits.”

“That is very good.” You curl your stethoscope in your palm, attempting to warm the cool metal. “Can I listen to your lungs, Harper?”

She shakes her head up and down vigorously, the pink and gold beads at the end of her pigtails clacking together.

“Alright, take a deep breath in.” The woosh of air entering her lungs fills the room. “And out. In. And out.”

You prompt her to continue several times, gliding the chestpiece along various parts of her back as you listen intently. A few crackles pop in your ears, mucus coating her airways; only made worse by the dry winter of the city.

“Very good, Harper.” you praise before turning to her mom waiting anxiously in the corner. “With the winter make sure you’re using the humidifier as much as possible but her lungs sound better than last time so I’d like to stay on the meds.” You swivel back to your patient. “I’ll check with the pharmacy if they can do something about the flavor. Okay?”

Harper beams, glad to be heard. Her mother beams for an entirely different reason. Her daughter struggled with respiratory issues since she’d been born and as she aged they’d only gotten worse. Harper was the first patient you took when you started two months ago and in that time you’ve grown fond of her.

“All right, I’ll walk you all to the front. I think we can push out our next visit until six weeks since she’s been doing so well. If anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

Handing them off to the receptionist to schedule their next appointment, you return to your office for a quick lunch.

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

How do you tell him that you’ve lived here since the day he broke up with you? How that night at dinner you were planning to surprise him by moving back to New York and removing the distance that plagued your relationship for three years?

The benefit of no longer being in a relationship means you don’t have to explain anything.

Locking your phone, you scarf down the squashed sandwich you brought from home before rushing to your next patient.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung: since when?

Wooyoung checked his phone after finishing pick up duty, one of several over the next month as a bargain to keep his job.

She’d ignored him. It wasn’t the first time his messages went hours before being answered. She was a doctor, and before that a med student, and before that pre-med when they’d met at some dive and realized they shared a behavioral psych class. Y/N always maintained a full schedule, only responding to the outside world when the night bled into the early hours of the day.

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

Even his roommate knew she’d been in the city.

Double fuck.

December 14th

Y/N

Another week passes before Wooyoung reaches out to you again. You’re set to leave in a few days but work requires all the energy you can manage thanks to a volatile respiratory season.

Youngie 🖤: Our flights are around the same time. Do you wanna carpool?

You spoke with Yeosang frequently enough (once in a blue moon) to know they still lived in the dingy old walk up they could hardly afford. The high rise you rented further up Manhattan would be on his way to the airport but did you want to see Wooyoung sooner than needed?

Misery still festered in your veins since the break up. Eight years you’d dated; through senior year of undergrad, four years of medical school, and just shy of three years of residency. And the asshole couldn’t give you a single reason for your break up. No warning. No fighting. The same bouquet of delicate pink tulips waiting in hand for you as you arrived at the train station for your last visit to the city before relocating permanently. Yeosang texted you that very afternoon about his excitement to have you back as if nothing was wrong.

A beautiful afternoon holed up in his room for a late nap before dinner, apartment silent in the absence of his three roommates who’d usually greet you enthusiastically as you returned to the city for a visit. Wooyoung hadn’t acted any differently than the other times you visited, seemingly unaware of the surprise you planned to unveil at the fancy dinner he planned to congratulate you on finishing your long years of training.

But then he sat down and said the six words that replayed in your mind like a curse.

And that was the last time you heard his voice until Friday night; as if Wooyoung dove off the face of the earth. The only proof of living were the traces of him in his friends’ Instagram stories or faceless photos of him in their posts.

You’d never been one to post much on social media anyway but his shock at your move back to the city fanned a sick sense of satisfaction. As if to say “two can play at that game.” Wooyoung cut you out and you’d done the same. Keeping your move under lock and key despite sharing the same friend group.

Y/N: no thanks

You’re toeing the line of rudeness but what’s Wooyoung going to do? Break up with you again?

December 21st

Wooyoung

Terminal C of LaGuardia Airport four days before Christmas ranks among the top destinations no one in their right mind would want to be. Parents attempting to keep track of hyper children, businessmen scowling down their nose as they scream into their cellphones, adults slamming down overpriced drinks in preparation for the endless questions holidays bring.

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

The last is Wooyoung’s grandmother’s new favorite. Myungho faces the brunt of it; married three years and in no rush to add another mouth to feed just yet. When Wooyoung flew home for Bibi’s birthday in April, she decided to turn her inquiry towards him and Y/N.

How fun it’ll be to answer those questions again with his temporarily not ex-girlfriend.

Security is long and laborious. One agent yells at him for keeping his shoes on, another rolls her eyes when he asks if his laptop needs to come out of his backpack. In front of him, a frail looking elderly woman struggles with placing the hard plastic bin on the rolling conveyor belt. Behind, grumbles of discontent regarding her holding up the line rise in volume as Wooyoung helps her with her things; sending a smile to her thank you.

And because no good deed goes unpunished, Wooyoung gets pulled for an extra search once he passes the large metal detector.

A burly pale skinned man with blue nitrile gloves sorts through his belongings with the gentleness of a bull in a china shop. Wooyoung’s wrecked and dusty backpack passes inspection easily enough but the contents of his carry-on end up spread across the shiny metal table for further examination under the sterile lights. Gifts for his family, some books he’s teaching next semester, and a navy velvet box he hasn’t left the city without in the past year.

That is apparently the source of interest for TSA as the man pops open the lid to scan the marquis cut diamond ring before putting it back in its place.

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung gives a tight smile.

Nodding his head to his colleague, the TSA agent steps away and allows Wooyoung to pack his bags.

He really needs a drink.

Y/N

“I’m sorry ma’am, the flight is overbooked. But there is room on the next flight to Denver!”

“No charge?”

“Not unless you would like to upgrade to business class.”

You have the money and Wooyoung paid for your seat so it’s technically cheaper than it’d usually be. However, Wooyoung would take it personally if he found out you sat in business when he paid for a last minute economy flight on a teachers salary. A few hours of comfort aren’t worth adding to the awkwardness you’ll face over the next week.

“No, thank you. But if there’s an aisle seat available that’d be great.”

She taps on her keyboard with manicured nails for a moment, the light of the screen reflecting on her face, before speaking with a perfect customer service smile. “Alright, your new flight number is AYX287 and you’ll be flying out of Gate 98.”

“Thank you.” You say, reviewing the boarding pass she printed. Your new gate is on the opposite side of the terminal but you have a little over an hour to make it there.

Rolling your silver carry-on next to you, you weave in and out of the other airport goers heading in the opposite directions. A curse of any crowded space, people forget to walk with a sense of purpose. You dodge a young couple, probably teenagers, standing in the middle of the walkway oblivious to anyone else; only to end up behind an gaggle of older women surrounded by a heavy cloud of perfume and cheap wine. One of their shirts reads “Happily Divorced!” in glittery cursive.

More nimble footwork and multiple sign checks later, you reach the correct wing of the terminal with forty five minutes to spare. Confirming that your gate does in fact exist, you turn back up the walkway to find a drink. Preferably several.

The first time you see Wooyoung in months will require the strongest alcohol you can finally afford now that residency is over and you're making the hefty salary you’d been promised at the start of medical school.

A friendly faced woman, old enough to be your mother, greets you as you take a stool at her bar.

“Cranberry margarita.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

“Yes, please.” You answer, handing over your credit card.

The first overpriced drink goes down smoothly, a little sweet and perfectly tart. The second and third much the same. Pleasantly buzzed with fifteen minutes till boarding, you cash out and shuffle back to wait by the gate.

And in one of the cramped pleather seats of the waiting area, sits your ex-boyfriend.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is hallucinating. Two gin and gingers and a THC gummy churning in his stomach make the mirage in front of him look incredibly realistic.

In her usual flying outfit, Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend stands twenty feet away every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw her. Loose gray sweats, the same old hunter green crew neck with the name of his hometown in frayed golden embroidery on the front, sherpa lined short ugg boots, and glasses perched on the end of her nose. The silver carry-on she bought in the airport last time they visited his family at her side.

And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting her lips.

Better he sees her for the first time since their break up now instead of later in front of the audience of his nosy family. In the safety of anonymity, she can kill him multiple times over with her eyes, and Wooyoung can grovel and pander like he usually does.

Or Wooyoung would if she hadn’t taken a seat along the bay of windows at the opposite end of the alcove.

Wonderful.

Y/N actively avoids looking in his general direction for the next fifteen minutes. An impressive feat given he’s directly in front of the help desk and TV screen displaying updates for their flight. But she digs her nose into her phone, tapping furiously to who Wooyoung assumes is her best friend. If he wakes up to Lisa in his apartment one morning with a knife to his throat, there’ll at least be a paper trail of evidence.

The gate agent booms over the loudspeaker, announcing priority boarding and first class to come forward. Wooyoung’s bank account weeps at the idea of flying first class during Christmas. Who flies first class domestic? A true mystery for the ages.

The familiar head of hair, full of murderous thoughts aimed at him, boards with group three. Flashing a polite smile to the gate agent as she struts down the hall without a glance back.

When Wooyoung is called with the last group, he’s first in line. The airport is a dog eat dog world and his good deeds end where the boarding line begins.

Nearly every seat is filled when Wooyoung shuffles down the cramped aisle, full overhead bins already closed half way down the plane. He doesn’t spot Y/N amongst the faces of passengers preparing for the next five hours, some already knocked out with eye masks and neck pillows.

Seat 27A, a window seat Wooyoung paid an extra $37 for, sits next to a blissfully vacant middle seat. There’s also just enough room for his black suitcase to fit overhead, snug between a gray hard case, and a blue duffle.

The aisle seat in the row is occupied by a man who looks a little younger than Wooyoung's age, a college hoodie and baseball cap similar to his own. He rises, allowing Wooyoung to shuffle by and plop into his chair. Stuffing his backpack under the seat in front, Wooyoung shoots a few last minute texts. One to his family group chat, letting them know the flight is about to take off; resending the flight number for his dad to anxiously track. Another to his roommate group chat, reminding them to cover the drains before they leave town. And a final one to San, begging for thoughts and prayers.

He barely hits send when the seat next to him jostles with the weight of a body. Turning, Wooyoung spots the man in the aisle seat a few inches from himself. On the other side, his ex-girlfriend.

Great.

Y/N

Wooyoung’s familiar mop of dark hair remains unseen through each new rush of passengers, the plane slowly filling up more and more. You dread to think he got stuck the same way you did hours ago, forced on a later flight than intended. If that was the case, would you be stuck at the airport waiting for him? Given his parents had to drive two hours to pick you both up, the answer is probably yes. And two hours unsupervised with Wooyoung’s mom would ruin the entire plan.

Nature calls you to the cramped bathroom at the back of the aircraft as passengers at the front continue trickling in. Hopefully Wooyoung is sitting far away from you when you return to your seat.

Stupid motherfucker. You think, rattling the jammed door of the airplane stall in an attempt to force it open. Just as you're about to kick the door down, a flight attendant shoves it aside, flashing a tight smile of displeasure.

Shuffling up back to your seat, you awkwardly wait behind struggling passengers putting away their belongings in the sparse overhead space. Thank the powers that be, your new ticket came with better boarding.

Finally catching up to the familiar faces of the rows around your seat, you turn to find two men in your row. One in your seat, and the other your ex boyfriend.

You stop dead in your tracks, with a loud, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry!” The man who is not your ex-boyfriend apologizes.

“No! Not you, sorry!”

Wooyoung just stares blankly. If habit and history were to repeat itself, Wooyoung carefully timed an edible before stepping through security. Given his propensity for being obnoxiously early to the airport, he should be high as a kite.

And now you’re stuck next to him drunk as a skunk.

Great.

Taking the now vacant aisle seat, you attempt to ignore Wooyoung once again; plugging in your headphones and pulling out a book you’ve been trying to get through for months. Lisa’s recommendation of smutty fantasy romance with hot immortal faeries. You didn’t see the appeal but at her insistence, you gave it a chance.

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left.

Nope, not doing this. You think, forcing yourself to read the opening paragraph again but registering none of the words..

“Y/N,” he tries again.

In your periphery, you can see Wooyoung folding over at the waist to look around the man sandwiched between you.

“What?” You snap, ripping out your headphones.

“How’ve you been?”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sink back into your chair, headphones replaced and book in the pocket in front of you. It’s going to be a long flight.

Murphy’s law states that anything that can go wrong will and your flight is no exception. The packed jet is stuck taxing for almost an hour, courtesy of the trademark fog and rain of New York in the winter. You can feel the heat of Wooyoung’s gaze burn the side of your face, cheeks heating under his scrutiny. But the full scale meltdown threatening to unleash if you entertain him has no place in the sanctity of a last minute holiday flight of people just trying to make it to their next destination.

He doesn’t stop when the plane finally lurches forward, witnessing you brace for the worst part of flying; take off.

The loud rattles and pitch of jet engines skyrocket your blood pressure, flooding your mouth with saliva as a threat of vomiting everywhere; a sickening cold sweat pooling at your back. All you can do is close your eyes, and take deep calming breaths your guided meditation apps recommend. Running through the facts keeps you from descending into full panic. Airplanes are notoriously safe. The odds of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million. You’re more likely to die in a car crash or from something one of your patient’s brings into the hospital.

But the brief suspension in time and space as you rise through the atmosphere unsettles you to your core.

The panic steeping into your veins is temporary, eager to vanish the second you reach cruising altitude. It disappears like a late winter snow under early spring sunlight, leaving only trace evidence it ever existed in the first place. But it’ll be back with a vengeance under the screaming brakes and the sounds of wheels hitting pavement as you land.

The seatbelt sign chimes off, and the breath you’d failed to release follows the fading light that illuminated it.

Wooyoung tries to talk to you another two times before giving up. The final instance is a plea for the bathroom, which you graciously grant; thrilling in the relief you feel at his absence.

The poor guy between you two looks worse for wear, having offered to trade seats with either of you so you didn’t have to talk across him. You apologize once Wooyoung is out of earshot, excusing the strange behavior with a white lie that he's just a friend from college you didn’t get along with and hadn’t seen in a while. The stranger's name is Jay, and he laughs at the irony.

“That’s crazy that you two ended up on the same flight. Are you from Denver?”

“Oh, no. Just visiting some family in Lavensville. What about you?”

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

“Small world,” you laugh. “So what took you to the city?”

“I’m in grad school at Columbia. Getting my MBA.”

“Excuse me.” Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder.

When you rise, you notice his face is tense as he passes to return to his seat. He pretends to sleep the rest of the flight as you chat with the man next to you.

Six laborious hours pass before you land in Denver. Exiting the plane, you leave Wooyoung behind in favor of waiting by the restrooms on the way to arrivals. You tap your foot impatiently as he stumbles over, clearly exhausted by the late arrival of your flight and the idea of another two hours in his mom’s cramped sedan.

Shuffling next to one another in somber silence, you wait for Wooyoung to speak first. He dragged you into this, and it’s his job to make it work.

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How’s work?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. Look.” He turns, stepping directly into your path and nearly toppling over when you bounce off his chest. “I’m sorry for all of this but you agreed to come so can we please at least act cordial?”

Unfortunately, Wooyoung is right. He might have put his foot in his mouth, but you didn’t take the chance to bail. He’s only fractionally more guilty than you.

“Fine.” You sigh.

He pins you with a look, eyebrows arched as if asking “are you sure?”

Shuffling around him, you begin your journey to baggage claim once again, Wooyoung hot on your heels.

“I’m working at a hospital uptown, I live in Yorkville, and I still prefer the buses to the train.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Wooyoung nods. “I’m at the same school, in the same apartment, and still living with San and Yeosang. But Mingi moved to Williamsburg with his girlfriend.”

You try to smother the snarkiness of your voice but a sarcastic “I know.” slips free.

Even if you weren’t as close with the boys due to the break up, they’d been your friends as much as his; especially Mingi’s girlfriend, who’d you introduced him to. Lia invited you to their housewarming party when they finally settled in but you missed it due to work, and the nerves of seeing Wooyoung so soon after such a fresh break up.

The conveyor belt of remaining unclaimed luggage spins like the saddest merry-go-round in existence. Wooyoung jumps forward to snatch your suitcase before you can react, rolling it your direction before diving back in for his own. Once out of the way, he calls his mom to confirm she’s pulling around to pick you two up.

The silver sedan whips to the curve, Wooyoung’s mom beaming from the driver’s seat.

“My babies!” She cries through the rolled down window.

Mrs. Jung always gave you the enthusiasm your own mother couldn’t feign. Smiling at her before circling the trunk where Wooyoung packs away your bags, you snatch his hand before he can throw it closed.

“Should we tell them I still live in Boston?”

As if you’ve just spoken another language, Wooyoung simply blinks at you.

“How are we gonna explain separate apartments? It makes no sense.”

“Oh,” he gasps, as if the thought didn’t occur to him. “Ugh, yeah good idea.”

The security guard monitoring the pick up area begins striding towards the car, inhaling to yell a warning. Throwing your remaining luggage inside the trunk roughly, you both sprint to enter the vehicle. Wooyoung plants himself in the passenger seat, squeezing his mom in a tight hug as you buckle in the middle seat. Untangling from her needy son, Mrs. Jung peels out and joins the line of cars attempting to merge on the interstate.

Reclining the seat back, Wooyoung knocks out immediately, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“How’s Boston, dear?” She chimes, voice light and bouncy despite the late hour.

You provide your stock answer for everytime someone asks over the past three years.

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

You try to swallow the instinct to comb through Wooyoung’s hair as he naps. The first thing you learned about him in the early phase of your relationship was that Wooyoung needed some kind of physical contact at all times or he’d die. At least, he thought so. It’d been annoying at first; the constant hand holding, suffocating hugs that left your arms useless as you tried to study, even the overabundance of cartoonish kisses anywhere his lips could reach. But over eight years, you grew to appreciate his special way of showing affection. When words failed the man who always had something to say, he relied on touch to convey the things he couldn’t verbalize.

Even if you say all the right things and act like nothing's wrong, anyone who has ever been associated with Wooyoung will know something is up if he isn’t hanging off you like a koala. So if you’re going to pretend the last six months hadn’t happened then you have no reason not to treat him the way you always had.

Your nails snag on a few invisible tangles in his shaggy hair that spills across the cloth seat. It’s longer than when you last saw him in the summer, top half pulled back in an elastic. Continuing to provide updates, you gently brush the bangs hanging in his face. Wooyoung whines sleepily when you pause, causing his mom to laugh.

“Nice to know the city hasn’t changed him.”

Quick to appease, you start again before responding. “Eh, I don’t know about that. Have you seen some of his shoes?”

“Still?” She gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

Mrs. Jung’s cackly laugh is a perfect doppelganger of her son’s. Shrill and mischievous, compelling you to laugh along in pure glee even if you don’t find shared humor; bewitched by the pure joy.

Once the initial rush of reunion wanes, she insists you doze along with her son. The gentle caress of warm air from the vents, paired with the smooth carols from the radio, lulls you down into a shallow rest.

Wooyoung

As his mom rolls to a stop in their driveway, the gentle glow of the car's cabin lights draw Wooyoung awake. Eyes only a quarter open, he stretches in the reclined seat with an obnoxious yawn, hands brushing the firm body of Y/N dozing behind him. She shrugs his hand off her thigh, burrowing back down into the collar of her sweater.

“Come on, sleepy heads. We’re home.” His mom announces as she opens her door.

Home for Wooyoung is a cream two story, five bedroom, three bathroom, Williamsburg Revival style home with royal blue shutters. His dad added the two car garage himself, meticulously matching the exterior to the existing home, blending old and new seamlessly under the watchful eye of his mom. The now gray and dead garden that usually bloomed wildly below the first floor windows was his grandmother’s contribution when she moved in before Wooyoung started highschool.

When his parents were two college students at the obscure liberal arts college Lavensville was built around, his mom had been obsessed with the very house Wooyoung grew up in. According to his dad, Wooyoung’s mom talked more about the house than anything else; a true historic preservationist to her core.

It was an odd way to ask someone to marry you, but his dad always said “Some women wanted a ring. Your mom wanted this house.”

His dad surprised her with the ring after she stopped crying about the house.

Golden string lights drip from the corners of the roof, casting the exterior in a buttery soft haze. Each window sporting a wreath with a thick red velvet ribbon. A heavy layer of snow coating the ground like powdered sugar makes the entire scene like something out of a snowglobe.

Another yawn before braving the inevitable blast of chilly air, Wooyoung spots Y/N in the rearview mirror; features curled in a sleepy scowl, eyes squinted against the sudden light.

Wooyoung joins his mom at the back of the car, crowding her away from the truck as she insists on helping them carry everything inside. She manages to snag his backpack and Y/N’s carryon before he can shoo her towards the path to the front door where his dad is jamming on an old pair of sneakers to come help.

“We got it!” Y/N calls across the icy lawn, bidding the older man to stay inside as she struggles with her suitcase.

“I can see that.” His dad laughs, jogging down the salted sidewalk curving along the front of the house to reach them.

His dad lifts her larger suitcase out of the truck with ease, leaving Wooyoung to roll his own inside while Y/N balances her tote bag and his carryon. The wheels grate against the uneven brick sidewalk as everyone rushes to return to the heated interior of the house.

It’s well past midnight as they climb the staircase in the foyer to the second floor. Wooyoung’s room is just as he left it the last time he visited in the spring. The headboard of the tiny twin bed resting against the wall just under the window looking out to the front yard, posters from his childhood still tacked up crookedly.

Wooyoung tries very hard not to think about the last time they shared the quilt covered bed of his childhood room. How the last trip here had been the last time Y/N slept in his arms, the last time he laid her bare beneath him. Six months and the memories felt as real as they had when it happened.

Sharing the tiny mattress could only mean trouble for the delicate truce Wooyoung had made with her in the airport.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He offers, unzipping his suitcase for clean clothes to sleep in.

Digging in her own suitcase, Y/N scoffs at the idea. “Don’t be stupid, what if Bibi comes in?”

“She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s gonna happen again.

“We can share the bed, it’s too cold up here to sleep on the floor.” Y/N says as she grabs her toiletry bag and shuffles to his door. “You’re a diva when you don’t get good sleep.”

“I’m not a diva” Wooyoung whines after her, rebuttal bouncing off the piece of wood separating them.

When Y/N returns from the bathroom, Wooyoung takes his turn to brush his teeth and wash his face. It’s just for a few days, he reminds himself. She leaves the day after Christmas and after he returns to the city he can tell his family they decided to part ways.

Until then, Wooyoung gathers all the patience he typically reserves for the army of eight year olds he deals with every day in an effort to not descend into insanity.

He finds her balancing on the edge of the narrow mattress, a sliver of space behind her for him to sink into. Neither says anything as the minutes tick by, both refusing to fall asleep despite the fatigue swirling over them attempting to find root. Back to back, Wooyoung stares at the wall as he tries not to listen to the gentle whoosh of Y/N breath.

December 22nd

Y/N

Shuffling into the cold kitchen, you barely crack your eyes open as you beeline for the coffee pot resting on the counter. Wooyoung’s mom greets you from the dining table, eyes scanning her newspaper as you reply with a mumble “morning.”

One would think years of twenty-four hour shifts and early mornings would make waking up easier but you’d sleep all day if given the chance; however, Wooyoung suffocating you like an octopus forced you from the heated sanctuary under the covers and downstairs. Already it was too easy to pretend you were still together. Waking up tangled in him, his face squashed against your sweater clad chest as he snored, blissfully unaware of the budding panic attack you’d calmed with a freezing shower full of choked tears.

Planting your rear in a dark oak dining chair around the table, the jolt of caffeine and sugar lulls your senses awake as you scroll your phone.

You send a text to your little brother, confirming your parents had made it to their cruise safely while your flight crossed the country. Two weeks in the Caribbean, all expenses paid, sounded a lot better than a week in rural Colorado with your ex-boyfriend. Thankfully, there’s no cell service in the middle of the ocean; so you don’t need to explain to your mother why you were spending Christmas with Wooyoung, who she truly was never fond of to begin with.

Sometime after bed, Lisa sent a string of vaguely threatening emojis and a picture of her yorkie with the Christmas sweater you bought as an early gift. Assuring her Wooyoung had been on his best behavior so far, you switched over to skim your clogged work email.

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?”

“This is fine.” You say, raising your mug.

“How can you be a doctor and try to tell me coffee is a healthy breakfast?”

“I have horrible news if you think doctors have time to do any of the things we tell people they should.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re here then because you have plenty of time now.”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung hates waking up alone. It feels inexplicably wrong. Especially after sharing an apartment with Y/N for those four years she was in medical school. There’d been plenty of road bumps but spending every night curled up under the comforter with the woman he loved made it all fade to black. He never slept as good as those years.

Except this morning, he wakes up to Y/N’s fingers brushing his hair like she always did when they’d been together, and for a second Wooyoung thinks the entire breakup must’ve been a horrible dream. Wooyoung hadn’t moved a muscle lest the passes of her short nails sending goosebumps down his spine stopped. Eventually, the lazy drags lulled him back into the land of sleep as her heart sang his favorite lullaby.

The second time Wooyoung woke up, she’d been long gone and he felt the familiar emptiness he thought he’d forgotten after all these months apart.

Trudging down the stairs with loud footsteps, Wooyoung spots his mom in the kitchen, mouth spread wide over laughter as Y/N sits at the counter, cradling a mug of steaming coffee. If Wooyoung had to bet, the ceramic mug probably contained more sugar and milk than anything.

“Morning,” he grumbles, forehead resting against the cool marble of the island as he continues to doze in front of the audience.

His mom pats his back as she passes to reach the fridge, “Go sit down, Woo. You're in my way!”

“Everyone is so mean to me,” he pouts, but rounds the counter to sit next to Y/N nonetheless, resting his cheek on her shoulder, feeling her startle at the contact.

Wooyoung hides a satisfied smirk in her sweater when a hand starts scratching his back under his hoodie. He can almost forget their lying to everyone in the gentle passes of her cold fingers chilling against his hot skin.

“Your brother is getting in this afternoon so we thought of letting everyone relax until this evening and then having a game night.” His mom calls over her shoulder, busy with the pan heating in the flames of the stove.

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

“He went with Bibi to volunteer at the church this morning.”

“Sucker,” Y/N mumbles for Wooyoung’s ears only, sending him into giggles.

Wooyoung’s grandmother has a particular way of guilting everyone in his family to do exactly what she wants. It’s why he’s sharing his childhood bed with his ex-girlfriend, why his dad keeps the house unbearably warm all year round, and why his little brother is no doubt undergoing military grade interrogation first thing in the morning.

Going to church with Bibi was less about being closer to God and more about being paraded in front of her old lady friends with single granddaughters. Wooyoung had been a victim until he met Y/N, each summer at home more exhausting than the last with not so subtle reminders Ms. So-and-so's granddaughter was very pretty and very available. But the second Wooyoung sent a picture to his mom of the girl he had not so casually started dating fall semester of senior year, his grandmother ceased all effort to set him up. And after she met Y/N at graduation, Wooyoung beamed with the knowledge his entire family not only approved but liked his girlfriend.

Leaving poor Kyungmin to bare the brunt of Bibi’s well-meaning torture almost made Wooyoung feel guilty. Operative word being almost. Because Wooyoung had survived it, their older brother had survived it, and now it was Kyungmin’s turn to endure the special brand of Jung family meddling.

And the second his family finds out he's technically single, Wooyoung knows it’s only a matter of time before Bibi smothers him in his sleep for breaking up with the girl she considers family. And after, when she resurrects him from the dead, Wooyoung will be thrown to Bibi’s friends like a sacrificial lamb to starving wolves.

Stealing a sip of Y/N’s overly sweet coffee can’t clear his mouth of the sour taste.

“Wooyoung, you need to make up the guest bed for your brother.” His mom says, dropping a plate of eggs and toast on the counter for him and Y/N to share.

“What about her?” Wooyoung asks, lips stretching as he stuffs his face.

“She’s a guest!”

Washing down a harsh swallow with another sip of coffee, Wooyoung mutters a “hardly,” under his breath.

“Get your own!” Y/N snaps, shoving the mug out of his reach.

Wooyoung responds with a high pitched whine, huffing similar to a toddler rather than a man who's almost thirty. “Why are you both being so mean to me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Rising to pour his own mug of caffeinated gold, his mom quickly claims the empty chair before she bats Wooyoung away. Claiming something about “girl time” as an excuse to get him out of the kitchen before he can truly annoy them to his fullest potential.

Y/N

When the afternoon rolls around, Bibi greets you with a fierce hug and a grandmotherly pinch to your cheek, smiling up at you as she asks for any and every update since she last saw you in April for her birthday.

Luckily, Kyungmin unconsciously rescues you as he enters the house, boxes piled high in his arms of goodies from the other ladies at church trying to court him on their granddaughter’s behalf. Rushing to his aid, you give him a gentle side hug as you walk with him to the kitchen.

“So…” you start, eyeing the stacks of cookies crowding the counter. “How was church?”

A pained groan answers you, Kyungmin dropping his head to the marble counter with a thud.

You can’t contain your snicker, snagging one of the deformed gingerbread men to dunk in your fresh cup of coffee.

“Only a few more months,” Kyungmin mutters under his breath, the reprieve of college clearly tethering him to sanity.

Wooyoung told you all about Bibi’s ways when you started dating, thankful to no longer entertain doting mothers and grandmothers interested in him only because he was single and knew basic manners unlike many of the men lurking around Lavensville. Poor Kyungmin didn’t stand a chance if Wooyoung hadn’t managed to charm his way out until he got a girlfriend Bibi approved of.

“At least we get snacks out of it!” You clap, continuing to sort his haul as Kyungmin hides in his arms.

A tan hand sneaks over your shoulder to steal the decapitated cookie still in your grip, turning to see Wooyoung nibbling on arm as he observes the collection of cookies, fruit, and other treats.

“Come on!” You stomp your foot like a toddler.

“Tastes better when it’s stolen.” Wooyoung winks, forcing you and his brother to dry heave in unison. Your reaction isn't genuine, only an effort to hide the squeeze in your chest at how easily he can fall back into old habits after months of radio silence.

Wooyoung’s mom breezes into the kitchen, unbothered by your bickering as she types out a text message.

“Myungho and Mia land in an hour. Your dad is already on the way to pick them up.” She rattles off, more to herself than anyone else. “Kyungmin, you need to tidy all of this up. Wooyoung you already put clean sheets on the guest bed? Great. Y/N, dear, would you mind helping with dinner later?”

“Of course.”

—

Dinner consists of chili you didn’t assist with other than pulling out extra toppings from the fridge for, and everyone chattering around the table. Myungho is sharing some story about his and Mia’s neighbor who refused to close their blinds, everyone laughing at Mia’s grimace when she recalled the horrors of the “tighty-whities” incident. Each time you stay with the Jung’s you're shocked how well they get along, everyone slotting together perfectly like some cheesy sitcom family.

It’s not that your family didn’t love each other, but there was little bonding you together other than shared blood and memories. Your mom clearly favored your brother while your dad tried to make up for the snub by prioritizing you. Growing up with the invisible competition left bitter resentment to this day. At least now, after years of therapy and freedom from the suffocating expectations of your childhood home, you and your brother shared a mutual understanding that it was your parents fault for the animosity between you. Nothing could the damage already deeply ingrained, but you’d become a more united front during family affairs.

That’d been the first time you and Wooyoung fought in your tentative relationship. He hadn’t seemed to understand how you could talk about your brother with such vitrole, confused why you weren’t more excited to see him after living in the city permanently since sophomore year. Not that you’d explained your family dynamic prior to calling him in a full blown meltdown in Washington Square Park at midnight. But Wooyoung listened. And when you brought up how perfect his family seemed, he quickly corrected your assumption.

Wooyoung knew his parents loved him and his brothers equally. But they were helping him pay thousands of dollars in tuition out of state for him to be a teacher while his older brother made six figures fresh out of college as an engineer. Even if they were happy for him, Wooyoung struggled with the internal conflict of idolizing his brother and feeling like he’d never measure up.

It’d been the first time Wooyoung cried in front of you.

The tense conversation and awkward small talk of your childhood home didn’t seem to have space here at the Jungs, nothing but laughter and warmth filling each nook and cranny. Even the awkwardness of sitting next to your ex-boyfriend, pretending he was still your partner, seemed to be stifled with the company.

“So, Y/N, when are you planning to move back to New York? You finished residency, right?” Mia asks over her glass of wine, eyes bright.

“Ugh,” you stutter, unprepared for such directness.

“Or maybe you’re thinking of moving to Boston?” She eyes Wooyoung.

“We’re, uh,” Wooyoung pipes up, frantically looking at you.

“I’m looking at jobs in the city but nothings come up yet.”

“That sucks.” Myungho chimes, working to help their father clear the table for games.

Rather than answering, you take a long draw of your drink before rising to hide in the bathroom.

In the silence of the small half bath under the stairs, you attempt to control your stuttering breath. A few splashes of cool water on your face help shock your system but it does nothing to stop the It’d taken years to perfect the stone-faced facade you presented to families when the outcome was less than favorable.

A light tap at the door startles you from the nose dive your conscious has taken.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You call, scrubbing your hands in the sink.

“It’s me,” Wooyoung chirps on the other side of the wood.

Opening the door, Wooyoung leans his shoulder against the jamb, eying you warily. Pulling him into the cramped space, you press the door closed as you lean against.

“I can’t do this, Woo. I can’t lie to them.”

“Don’t think of it as lying! Just pretend you're back in that drama class in college!”

“Oh, you mean the class I almost failed because I couldn’t act?” You whisper harshly.

“Just let me take the lead okay? All you have to do is be normal.”

Another knock on the door startles you both. When you got so close to Wooyoung, you have no idea, but there are only a scant few inches between you and you can smell the peppermint schnapps on his breath.

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

Twisting around your stiff body, Wooyoung nudges you out of the way as he twists the handle and pulls the door inward.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, opening the door to a concerned Bibi. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

Bibi brushes past him, the cool back of her wrinkled hand pressing against your forehead. “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine, just got a little light headed.”

One arm curls around yours, the other gently patting your back as Bibi guides you back towards the kitchen with Wooyoung trailing behind.

“You know, when I was pregnant with Wooyoung’s father I got lightheaded all the time.”

“Oh?”

Bibi’s implication isn’t lost on you, or Wooyoung for that matter when you hear him curse as he trips behind you.

“Almost everyday I’d have to drink a gallon of ginger tea just to get out of bed.” She guides you into a seat before turning. “I’ll make you cup while the boys set everything up, okay?”

“That’s really not neccess–”

But Bibi is already filling the kettle and rummaging in the cabinets for tea bags as if you didn’t speak at all.

Wooyoung

Cursing his grandmother for making an already tense situation worse, Wooyoung shakes his head as she flutters around the kitchen. Perhaps he should be relieved Bibi moved away from asking when they were getting married and fast forwarding straight to asking for grandchildren. At least Wooyoung hadn’t been as close to being the dad as he was as being a husband. Kids were completely hypothetical; but marriage had almost been a reality.

Kyungmin is already setting up the Scrabble board and dishing out letters. Eight people was far too many so like every year they divide into pairs. Mom and Dad, Myungho and Mia, Kyungmin and Bibi, and him and Y/N.

The board begins to crowd with letters. Bibi and Kyungmin struggle to play anything worth more than fifteen points while his parents brush off challenge after challenge as they fill the board with words like “Paczki” and “Rudistid.”

“Quips, baby! Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a Q?” Mia asks everyone, high fiving Myungho next to her.

Wooyoung exchanges a conspiratory smile with Y/N before he ruins their celebration. “I know! And when you have a U and an I and every other letter I need for QUILTING on a double word score. Plus bingo for all the tiles we don’t have…Boom 96 points.”

Arms thrown around each other's shoulders, he bounces up and down with Y/N in victory. Their cheeks squish together, matching bright tipsy grins pulled across their lips. Almost like everything is normal.

“No fair! You’re an English teacher!” Kyungmin protests, nostrils flared.

“Yeah to third graders, Minnie. You know just as many words as they do, I promise.”

Y/N doesn’t move from his hold except to take another swig of the tea his grandmother made her. Wooyoung tries not to think about what it means; having an arm curled around the back of her chair while she settles into the crook of his chest, watching his family over the top of her head, relaxing firm pressure of her body against his own. Taking the tentative peace for granted, Wooyoung greedily overindulges in the illusion of normalcy.

December 23rd

Y/N

In the cool toned light of the snowy dawn, you wake in Wooyoung’s arms once again. This time you're both on your sides, Wooyoung pressed firmly behind you as he snores in your ear. A familiar lump pokes against your rear, scorching your skin through the layers of clothes that serepate you.

Wiggling in his grip, you're ashamed of the quiet moan fleeing your lips as Wooyoung flexes his arms to hold you tighter, his hips rolling against you harshly to pin you to him.

Blame it on the months without feeling another person’s touch, or the liminal space that exists when the world is asleep and void of any real consequences, but a hollowness stings your core and dampens your panties.

Years of dating meant years of exploring one another’s bodies, discovering every spot that drove the other mad and perfecting the balance of teasing and satisfaction. You still remember the first night in your shared apartment years ago; Wooyoung blindfolded and tied to the bed, putty under your fingers as you rode him until your eyes felt permanently crossed and your legs numb. And just when you thought the night was over, sated with his cum leaking onto the sheets, Wooyoung knotted the silk scarf around your own wrist and “cleaned up” the mess between your thighs until you actually blacked out.

The very memory has you arching backwards, clenching around nothing but disappointing emptiness.

It’s wrong. So so so wrong. To fantasize about your ex-boyfriend while he’s asleep next to you, none the wiser to your stuttered breath and pounding heart.

But the way his hand on your stomach fists the fabric of your shirt, pulling you into him again, beckons you closer to the edge of temptation. Wooyoung told you to act natural. What’s more natural than enjoying some half asleep heavy petting? You’re already pretending to date him, why not reap some of the old benefits you’d missed in your time apart?

Just as you turn in Wooyoung’s arms, set on waking him with an offer even he can’t refuse, he yawns awake. Arms stretching high, he pushes you from the toasty covers and onto the floor with a bang!

“Jesus Christ!” You groan, jolting pain in your elbow shocking your system as it catches the edge of the bed frame.

Wooyoung’s head pops over the side of the mattress, “Why’re you down there?”

Scoffing, the back of your head thuds against the floor; eyes sinking shut as you fight the urge to murder him. Three more days and you’ll never have to deal with the ridiculousness that follows Wooyoung like a shadow.

You hear, rather than see, Wooyoung exit into the hallway. Stretching your lungs around another deep breath, you follow behind him. Passing the bathroom door as you pad down stairs, you're greeted with an empty kitchen. The stove clock reads just past nine so more bodies should trickle in soon, called by the coffee you’ve begun brewing. Sending a silent prayer to the universe, you prepare for quality time with Mrs. Jung and Mia. Another day of lying to the people who treat you better than your own family.

Wonderful.

Wooyoung

Like a teenager with his first wet dream, Wooyoung hides in the sanctuary of the bathroom.Thankfully, his brothers aren’t prone to waking before noon and he stakes his claim by locking the door and entering the steam.

Maybe dry humping his ex-girlfriend while half asleep was a bad idea but Wooyoung knows she pushed back into him with a purpose. He’d heard the whimper she tried to silence, felt her press her legs together the way she did when she was wet and needed his help.

Wooyoung hadn’t meant to launch her to the floor but overdue break up sex with the rest of the house due to wake up any minute couldn’t be a good idea. And with three more days of their charade Wooyoung needed less complications, not more.

But the knowledge of how wrong he should feel doesn’t stop the memories of them together from placating his mind as he palms his aching cock. Months of abstinence fail to dissolve Wooyoung’s photorealistic memories of his ex-girlfriend in compromising positions; bent in half to take his cock, staring down her nose as she sits in his lap. And his personal favorite, Y/N on her knees, eyes watering as her swollen lips stretch around his length, the flared head nudging the back of her throat.

The swiftnesses of his orgasm is a fatal blow against his fragile ego. Biting the meat of his fist, Wooyoung watches his cum sink down the drain. Unfortunately, the confusion pulsing through him doesn’t follow.

—

As Wooyoung descends to the living room, he spots his dad and his brothers watching a documentary on the Discovery channel. Sinking into the worn leather of their ancient couch, he cracks open one of the books he brought from home. Brave New World wasn’t light reading, but he’d been meaning to give it a try since Yeosang recommended it to him and what better way to spend his free time?

Soon enough, his dad snores from his spot in the recliner, chin tipped back against the headrest. Kyungmin remains entranced by the colorful birds dancing across the screen while his other brother no doubt taps away at work emails cluttering his phone despite the holidays. It’s the kind of peace and content Wooyoung loved about his family. Co-existing without needing to interact, enjoying each other's presence while living their own lives.

Y/N

The acrid sting of acetone and nail polish burn your nose under the harsh white lights of the nail salon. Mia is happily chattering away, blasting through any stilled pauses or awkward silences. Bibi and Mrs. Jung sit at the counter getting their nails painted by the attendants in calm silence.

You try not to kick the young woman scrub your foot as she brushes against your ticklish nerves, squirming in your seat as she gives a tight lipped smile at your discomfort. For a week off for Christmas you cashed in every favor, picked up every single on call asked of you, nearly breaking under the demand to stretch yourself so thin as the new doctor in your department. The horrific results of hours on your feet were being ground down and clipped before you.

Relaxing was… difficult for you. Or other peoples’ definition of relaxation was. To you, the perfect day off was running around town, hitting an early morning pilates class followed by an overpriced coffee and finding something to do in the city that offered everything. Sitting still was a necessary evil to get to and fro but it left you to stew with your thoughts you preferred to drown in an overwhelming weight of activity.

“Y/N,” Mia calls, bringing you to turn and look at her.

Her usually glowing face is apprehensive, lip worried between her teeth and eyes downcast.

“Yeah?”

“You work with kids, right?”

“All day.” You laugh, trying to break the tension.

Mia hesitates, struggling to find the words she wants to say. “After all the stuff you’ve seen, do you still want them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you and Wooyoung think you’ll have kids someday?”

“I mean not anytime soon considering…”

That we aren’t together. You finish in your mind.

But Mia assumes the unspoke truth is the fact you’re supposed to be living in Boston while Wooyoung is living in New York.

“I mean of course, but like you guys both work with kids and I feel like you know the worst that could happen! My friend Mina just had her baby and she says she can’t sleep. She just sits up all night watching him because she’s afraid somethings gonna happen.”

“Mia, are you and Myungho?”

“Not yet,” she smiles. “But we’ve been talking about it more and I know I want that with him but I’m just—”

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

Hesitating as you weigh your next words carefully, you think about all the conversations you’ve had with worried parents. Most of the kids and parents you met were under less than positive circumstances. Babies with underdeveloped lungs, toddlers who couldn’t breath from just sitting up. You’d be lying if it didn’t make you question having your own. The powerlessness you felt when no matter how hard you worked to fix things it was all for naught.

But all of the bad days don't outweigh the good ones. When NICU preemies got to leave the ward with their families for the first time. Having a child take their first full breath because their medication was finally starting to work. The plethora of thank you cards hanging on your fridge and displayed in your office from the families you’d helped.

And you remember all the stories Wooyoung told you about his classroom. Kids who could barely read falling in love with the books he gave to them, hounding him for more stories. When he made way with a problem child, watching them begin to excel under his gentle guidance. Giggling at Wooyoung hiding his tears at the end of year advancement ceremony when all his third graders became fourth graders every year.

“I think being scared means you care. And you can always call me if you’re worried, no matter what happens.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Mia laughs.

“You’re gonna be a great mom.” You whisper, squeezing her arm.

Mia squeezes your hand back, “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.”

“Me too.”

You look away as Mia blinks, breathing away the wetness glossing your own eyes.

—

Upon returning home, you find all four men passed out in various positions in the living room. Mr. Jung in the recliner that predates your birth, mouth wide open and glasses crooked on his nose. Sprawled across the floor is Kyungmin, gangly teenage limbs starfished to the edges of the carpet. Wooyoung and Myungho share a blanket across their laps, both with their backs on opposite sides of the couch.

You four try to contain your laughter at the sight. If there was any doubt about who fathered the Jung boys, the shaggy black hair and symphony of identical snores would easily lay those rumors to rest.

Bibi shuffles down the hall to her room, claiming a nap to be a great idea after the pampering from the nail salon. Mia and Mrs. Jung head into the kitchen, each teething with bulging bags of groceries for tonight's gingerbread competition.

But you can’t take your eyes off Wooyoung. The only time he ever looked so peaceful was when he was sleeping, face positively boyish and missing the stress induced wrinkles from managing a class of eight year olds. The urge to cross to him and kiss the freckle on his lower lip floods your brain but you’re able to stuff it down when he whines in his sleep, twisting to re-adjust on the lumpy couch.

Following the shuffle of plastic bags echoing from the kitchen, you busy yourself with unpacking the boxes of pre-made gingerbread houses, candy, and tubes of icing. Neatly organizing the packages on the counter, Mrs. Jung pushes you and Mia upstairs as she starts to prepare dinner.

The clock on the stove shows it’s closing in on three, giving you enough time to shower and have a nap of your own before the mayhem of the evening.

Cranking the faucet to the highest setting, you waste no time waiting for it to heat as you jump under the cold water. Wooyoung called you a psychopath the first time he witnessed you shower routine but you’d been busy applying for medical school, working in the student health center, and tutoring in the biology lab, all while maintaining a perfect GPA in the fall semester of your senior year; you didn’t have time for the simple pleasures of wasting precious minutes while your apartment’s old pipes struggled to carry hot water through the faucet. And as they say, old habits die hard.

The chill brings sharp clarity with it. It’d only been two days and you’d already fallen into the same bickering as before, been tempted to kiss him when no one was around to fool, and nearly fucked him in his childhood bed.

Three more days. You think, shivering lessening as steam billows around you.

Then you can leave this entire maddening ordeal behind you forever.

Wooyoung

The squeeze of Wooyoung’s heart threatens to topple him to his knees at the sight of Y/N curled up in his bed. His old college hoodie circles her face, lips pouted and eyebrows furrowed at whatever dream world she’s lost in.

Wooyoung aches to wake her up with innocent kisses as he holds her to his chest, fingers ironing out the wrinkles of her forehead as she breaches the surface of sleep. To smile at her whines of protest of being interrupted from a rare opportunity to rest without worrying about work or some other responsibility.

But what Wooyoung wants, he doesn’t deserve. As bold and indulgent as he might be in front of the prying eyes of his family, he isn’t cruel. Even if it kills him not to touch her like he used to be able to, Wooyoung won’t subject her to the torture of his feelings. It’s the least he can do for pulling Y/N into this sham after ending their relationship without explanation.

“Y/N,” he whispers, fingers prodding her shoulder. “Gotta wake up.”

She responds with a throaty groan, pulling the edge of the blanket over her head to hideaway.

“C’mon it's almost time for dinner.”

“Youngie, it’s cold.” Y/N protests as he tries to lift the covers.

Grinding his teeth against the nickname, Wooyoung continues to pry the quilt from her iron grip.

“I can get Bibi up here.”

Flying into a seated position, she blinks against the overhead light. “I’m up!”

“That’s what I thought.” Wooyoung smirks, crossing to the door. “Let’s go sunshine.”

Y/N mutters empty threats under her breath the entire way to the kitchen, so close she’s cast in his shadow under the threat of Bibi’s wake up methods. Nothing like a woman pushing eighty banging pots over your head to get the blood pumping.

Everyone else already crowds the table, picking apart the trays of snacks as they organize their supplies kits.

Jung family tradition requires everyone, sans Bibi, to decorate their own house according to the year's theme. After an hour, she picks her favorite and the winner has the honor of opening the first present on Christmas morning. Y/N demolished Myungho’s long standing winning streak the first year she entered the competition; Mia taking her place the next year in Y/N’s absence. Since then, Kyungmin reigned supreme despite his creation looking like a haunted house no matter what the theme was.

“Alright,” Bibi stands once Wooyoung and Y/N have taken their seats at the end of the table. “This year's theme is movies. On your mark, get set. Go!”

A room full of adults, plus Kyungmin who's only a few months short, should act with a sense of decorum and dignity. A fair and clean competition in the name of holiday spirit, family, and comradery.

But Jung house rules mean cheating is not only expected, it’s encouraged.

The table is warzone. Icing dripping off the sides and onto the tile floor. Candies trailing everywhere like shrapnel. Mia hides a piece of Myungho’s roof in her lap, and their mom steals the level their dad insists on using every year. Even Kyungmin slowly starts hoarding the bags of colorful royal frosting one by one in the pocket of his hoodie before anyone can notice.

Wooyoung catches Y/N attempting to eat his bag of gumdrops in his periphery. Their half gone by the time he’s noticed but he simply laughs under his breath. What she doesn’t know is that those are her gumdrops and his are stashed under the table since they sat down.

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

Most of the houses are beginning to take shape, albeit much more loose definitions of whatever each person decided to do. Kyungmin’s house is poop green with a red roof, streaks of color patchy against the brown cookie sheets. His mom sticks with the traditional decorations instructed on the packaging, no doubt prepared to argue it somehow fits the theme despite being the same every year. Mia’s is laced garishly with pink and pastels, while Myungho crumbles pieces of his for whatever godforsaken reason.

Wooyoung focuses on decorating his tiny gingerbread man with black slashes and stripes.

“Time!” yells Bibi as she whacks the bottom of a pot with a wooden spoon, everyone drops their last piece of candy before hands fly up.

As always, his mom manages to be the only one to finish due to years of practice. Everyone else’s houses are… interesting.

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

“The Grinch?” Y/N asks, confused by the horrendous green and red abomination.

“See, you get it!”

Shaking her head, Y/N points to her own monstrosity. “Okay, so the yellow skittles are the yellow brick road and the green on the house is meant to look like the Emerald City from Wizard of Oz.”

Perhaps if the Emerald City burned to the ground and became ruins but everyone nods at the vision.

“Mine is supposed to be Barbie's Dream house.” says Mia, gesturing to the mound of pink frosting sliding from the roof.

Myungho slams a toy dinosaur from their childhood on top of his pile of cookie pieces before declaring, “Jurassic Park.”

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes.

A chorus of groans around the table answer.

His dad’s is covered in chocolate bars and marshmallows. It looks decent but Wooyoung doesn’t get it until he tells them it’s “Willy Wonka.”

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his.

“Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The gray and black icing swirl to make a ugly blob, but Wooyoung will argue it’s exactly what he was going for. Especially with his miniscule Jack Skellington perched in the yard.

Bibi circles the table, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each entry. She shakes her head at Kyungmin, clearly disappointed in his failure this year.

“Eunkyung wins!” She cheers, raising his mom’s hand like she won a boxing match.

Claps and whoops fill the kitchen as she beams, proud to win a second time in the history of the competition.

“Wooyoung, put the winning house on the mantel please.” His dad asks, already moving towards the pantry for trash bags.

“Your majesty.” Wooyoung bows in front of his mom, laughing when she slaps his shoulder.

What he fails to realize is Y/N is leaving the same door he is, and that a sprig of green leaves sit just above their heads.

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” Grunts Y/N, confused.

Wooyoung looks up and spots the infuriating piece of decoration, another pair of eyes trailing after his own.

If they were still dating, Wooyoung would swoop her into his arms and make an entire production of giving her a short peck on the cheek, his parents were watching after all, while Y/N laughed at his ridiculousness. But now he hesitates as he looks into her eyes, barely missing the nod as she leaves a brief kiss on his lips before turning and leaving the room.

Even under the brief contact, Wooyoung’s lips feel like they’ve been zapped with lightning; his entire body on high alert. So lost in his own world, Wooyoung doesn’t realize he watches her walk away until she’s turning a corner and is out of sight.

Remembering the gingerbread house still in his hand, Wooyoung continues into the living room to place it front and center on the mantel.

Y/N

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! You think, watching yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth.

You’d spent the rest of the night sweaty and flushed, stuttering like an idiot because of a G-rated kiss with your ex-boyfriend for crying out loud.

What was wrong with you?

It was like the butterflies of the beginning of your relationship were waking from dormancy, demanding to let loose in your chest.

But none of this is real. Wooyoung only reached out so Bibi wouldn’t be upset over a last minute cancellation. He didn’t ask to explain why he ended your relationship so suddenly. Didn’t try to weasel his way back in and kiss everything better. All the touching and joking you’d missed so much were nothing more than an elaborate plan for Wooyoung to not be seen as the bad guy by his family. His way of delaying the inevitable.

And you’d fallen right into the mess subconsciously hoping it might have meant something more.

The foaming residue of toothpaste splashes against the porcelain sink as you finish washing up. Hiding in the bathroom can only buy you so much time before you have to face Wooyoung again, a new feast of tension waiting for you on a silver platter.

His tiny room is notably empty. Wooyoung nowhere to be seen as you burrow into the blankets. Hopefully, he stays away until you're fully unconscious and able to avoid the entire ordeal.

—

A draft of frigid air invading the warm haze under your mountain of quilts wakes you. Wooyoung shushes your indignant protest, pulling the top layers off. His weight doesn’t dip the bed behind you. Instead, you listen as he shuffles around, the dull thud of pillows and blankets hitting the floor. When he quiets, you turn to see him curled into a ball on a makeshift sleeping matt next to the bed.

The questions burn on the tip of your tongue. Why is he sleeping on the floor? Was he that upset about the kiss?

But you don’t ask and Wooyoung doesn’t provide an answer.

December 24th

Wooyoung

Christmas eve is Wooyoung’s favorite part of the holidays. Not even a poor night sleep on the freezing unforgiving floor can dull his excitement.

He’d risen early, sneaky out of the room the second the sun peaked from the horizon and illuminated the space. Y/N slept soundly, back turned away from him as he evaded her successfully.

A fresh powder of snow fell sometime in the night. So with a hot cup of coffee and a need to get lost in something mindlessly physical, Wooyoung heads to the garage for a shovel to clear the sidewalk and driveway.

Wooyoung knows he should apologize to her. She’d basically avoided him after they got caught under the mistletoe, scurrying upstairs the second it was polite for her to do so. Technically, she kissed him. But the entire situation wouldn’t exist if he didn’t put his foot in his mouth.

Plus, the entire ordeal of yesterday morning couldn’t be ignored. And Wooyoung was ashamed he didn’t feel ashamed.

Mind numb in the cold monotony of moving slush from the concrete to the yard, muscles burning at the strain, Wooyoung loses track of time as the sun moves across the sky.

His dad finds him shoveling the end of the driveway, pants soaked and breath heaving.

“You okay, kid?” the older man asks, sipping his thermos.

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

“Wooyoung.” A sharp sternness to his tone as his dad’s gloved hands halt the shovel.

He hates that voice. Wooyoung’s dad was soft spoken and good natured, the quietest member of their boisterous family. Always gentle with three rowdy sons that constantly pushed the endless bounds of his patience. Wooyoung can count on one hand the times his dad used this voice on him. Apparently now is one of those times.

Wooyoung looks his dad in the eye before lying to his face, “I’m fine. Really.”

Eying his son skeptically, Wooyoung’s dad clearly doesn’t believe him.

“Alright.” he drawls. “But come inside, your mom made pancakes.”

Y/N

“Come on Kyungmin, we don’t want to be late!” Bibi calls from the hallway.

In front of you, Kyungmin blanches; terrified of another day surrounded by prodding grandmothers. He looks at you for help, but you offer a sympathetic smile and a shrug of shoulders. If only he knew how much torture you were being subjected to in the name of keeping Bibi happy.

Wooyoung had been scarce since the early hours of the morning, slaving away at clearing the driveway alone. He made a brief appearance at breakfast and lunch but found any excuse to stay faraway from whatever room you planted yourself in.

Taking the hint, you set up camp in the kitchen. Laptop screen reflecting off your blue-light glasses as you skimmed another journal article about forced oscillation technique and impulse oscillometry. Fascinating as it was to you, it’s just boring enough to anyone else to keep them away; allowing you to waste away the entire afternoon in the most productive way possible.

The sun is already setting by the time others begin to trickle into the kitchen. Mia begins filling snack trays for the trademark movie night; half sweet, half savory. While Myungho sets to work on a batch of mulled cider they picked up at the market.

Kyungmin stomps into the kitchen with a fuming Bibi hot on his heels.

“They’re nice girls, Kyungmin. There was no need to be rude!”

Your wide eyes meet Mia's twin expressions of shock. The youngest was a sweet kid; perhaps he had an attitude sometimes, but he was a teenager after all. To hear he’s been out right rude and in front of Bibi no less, comes as a surprise.

“You’re crazy!” Kyungmin yells, arms waving wildly before he flees to his room.

The sudden silence of the kitchen is rattling. No one moves or speaks as Bibi starts organizing random objects and mail on the counter, clearly uncomfortable with her grandson’s outburst.

Slipping from your chair, you turn to follow in the direction you know he’s bound for.

—

Winter in Colorado is brutal enough, but the wind slicing across your cheeks as you teeter out a tiny window onto the roof at the back of the house makes you regret wearing only a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants.

Kyungmin’s lone figure is illuminated in the silver moonlight. A telltale stench fills your nostrils despite the thick smoke evaporating in the wind the second it leaves his mouth. Waddling towards him on your butt, you stop next to him. He passes the glass bowl into your waiting hand without a peep.

You take a long hit before speaking, allowing the tingle of THC to flutter through your veins.

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask, cradling your knees to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth.

“No.”

“Okay.”

The thick woods fencing in the backyard bends in the wind. Pine trees shake the fronds like feathers, fluffing up as the wind flutters by. A lone swing, attached to a rickety playground set, swings back and forth. It’s beautiful and eerie. Only your breath and the occasional cough from Kyungmin disturbs the fragile place.

“I can’t wait to go to college.” Kyungmin mutters from under his hood.

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

“No. But I don’t care where I go as long as I’m not here.”

“Was it that bad?”

“She’s crazy! All of them in that fucking church are insane!”

“Wooyoung told me the same thing.” You chuckle.

“They just stare at me. It’s creepy.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

“And Andi just laughs whenever I try to tell her about it.”

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.”

Kyungmin’s tense response tells you Andi isn’t just a friend at all.

“What's she like?”

“She’s nice. She’s in my history class at school.”

“Oh?”

“And she got a scholarship to play soccer in Georgia.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“So you like her?”

“I mean, of course I do. She’s my best friend.”

“Kyungmin…”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s so out of my league.” Kyungmin sighs.

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s smart, and she’s athletic, and she’s funny. She wouldn’t see me like that.”

“Okay.” You nod, “Well, when Bibi started pimping you out at church, what did Andi do?”

“She got really mad when I went on a date with one of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“She didn’t talk to me for like two weeks. I thought she was just, like, on her period or something.”

Shaking your head, you turn to face the ignorant boy. “Alright, first things first. Never, under any circumstances, assume a girl is mad at you because she’s on her period. Ask your brothers or your dad how that's worked out for them. Second, how would you feel if Andi went on a date with someone?”

Face twisting in disgust, Kyungmin grabs the piece again to take a hit.

“Exactly. Maybe you should ask her on a date.”

Kyungmin snorts at the idea, “Yeah, sure.”

“Party out here?” Myungo calls from the window.

Turning, you spot Wooyoung and Mia peaking around his broad shoulders.

“Yeah but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

“Perfect.” He calls back, folding in half to step on the roof.

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay.” Kyungmin promises as he links his pinky with yours.

Mia and Myungho land on Kyungmin’s other side, a joint visible in Mia’s dainty fingers. Wooyoung plops down next to you, lifting the bowl from Kyungmin and dumping the ash on to the roof.

As he focuses on packing it, you get your first glimpse of him all day. The tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, no doubt from the hours he spent outside or in the garage doing who knows what. Wooyoung’s hair is a mess of tangles, sticking this way and that in the wind and you choke on the urge to straighten it for him.

You’ve never been good at staying mad at him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong. And what’s worse is Wooyoung knows it.

Wisps of smoke pour from his nostrils before he passes you the bowl again. Shaking your head, Kyungmin plucks it from his brother’s fingers.

You feel Wooyoung’s breath caress the shell of your ear before he speaks.

“What are you guys doing out here?” He whispers.

“Bibi.” You whisper back.

Wooyoung nods lazily, eyes glazed already. Landing on his back, he looks up to the sky.

The pale light sharpens his features. Strange how all three brothers looked so similar yet different. Kyungmin still had the round cheeks of adolescents, limbs gangly as he towers over his brothers at only seventeen. Myungho was broader than both but only a fraction taller than Wooyoung, square jaw and cropped hair. But Wooyoung was all angles and sharpness. Even from the first night he approached you in that dingy karaoke bar near campus, you knew he was handsome. But now he looks ethereal. Like some beautiful demon coming to take your soul and laugh all the while.

Eventually you all end up shoulder to shoulder, each lost and thought and staring at the lonely full moon above. Wooyoung’s hand brushes your own, sending throbbing jolts of electricity through your body. Hooking your pointer finger around his, Wooyoung sighs next to you before settling.

It somehow hurts worse than if he would have let go.

Wooyoung

Exhaustion and pot nearly knock Wooyoung out as he passes his bedroom door. An early night, lost in the land of dreams where he doesn’t have to think about why he can’t look Y/N in the eye; why he felt a punch in the gut when he spotted her on the roof with his little brother, taking care of him like Kyungmin was her own family; how he wanted to cry when her fingers circled his own.

Wooyoung’s attempt to uncomplicate his life only seemed to tighten the noose around his neck.

Jung family tradition dictates a Christmas movie with gross amounts of sugary snacks on Christmas Eve. The tradition started before Wooyoung could remember but it’d been his favorite all the same. What little kid didn’t cherish the opportunity to wake up to Santa dropping presents under the tree? Not that he or his brothers managed to stay awake more than half way through whatever movie his parents pulled from the dusty DVD collection on the bookshelf. But as he grew older, Wooyoung appreciated the uninterrupted time he was gifted to spend with his family, especially with each of them living in separate corners of the country.

The new set of matching pajamas every year were simply a bonus.

This year’s boast a deep green with a vintage Christmas light pattern. The inner flannel is positively delightful against Wooyoung’s freezing skin, lulling him into a light doze as leans against the couch between Y/N’s spread legs.

Kyungmin sprawls in his usual place on the rug in front of the coffee table, glazed eyes glued to Will Ferell terrorizing New York City in yellow tights. Mia and Myungho are off on the other side of the couch, Bibi taking the middle seat. His parents are snug in his dad’s recliner, resembling two teenagers rather than the fifty year olds they really are. Adorably disgusting how in love they still are.

Resting his cheek against Y/N’s knee, Wooyoung twists his hands in his lap. He can’t touch her. Not sober and absolutely not high out of his mind like he is at this very moment. Because if he starts, Wooyoung is too weak to stop himself. And considering the way she keeps staring at him every time she thinks he isn’t looking, Wooyoung doesn’t think Y/N would want him to stop either.

—

Bedtime is the same awkward dance as before. His entire family pulls each other into tight hugs, mostly aided by the edibles Myungho slipped them before they all descended downstairs. Calls of “Love you,” and “see you in the morning,” land against his back as he trails behind Y/N.

They get ready for bed in the dark, flashes of bare skin visible in the light trickling in from the cracked curtains covering the lonely window. Turning to face the wall, Wooyoung plugs in his phone while he listens for her to land on the mattress.

When the shuffling ceases, he finds her in a nest on the floor, back towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night.”

“You don’t hav–”

“Just go to bed.” She bites, voice fragile.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he huffs, temper rising as he crosses to the other side of the mattress.

“I’m fine.”

“Just take the bed.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sitting up, Wooyoung barely makes out her scowl. “Why do I need to explain everything to you?”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

“Considering you’re the one on the floor while the bed is empty, yes you’re the stubborn one.”

“Because I’m fine here!”

Wooyoung wades through the quicksand of his brain for a response. Upon finding none, he flops on the pile of blankets next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now shut up.”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs.

No more energy to fight, Wooyoung burrows deeper into the mound of quilts; set to sleep next to her on the floor if she continues to refuse the bed. If he was a diva on poor sleep, Y/N was a menace. She’d cave eventually when her hips ached from the painful stiffness of the unbending wood.

Except Wooyoung can’t sleep. All of his nerves are heightened next to her. His entire left side burns in her heat, acutely aware of every shift of her weight or rustle of the blankets. Wooyoung’s lips still burn from their kiss. A childish brush against his mouth but he can’t stop replaying it in his mind over and over. And when he thinks about yesterday morning, when he dreamed about her and then woke up flushed against her, it all makes his blood rush to his head and a weight settles on the back of his tongue.

When Y/N stops twitching beneath the covers behind him, breath even and shallow, Wooyoung finally follows her into sleep.

December 25th

Wooyoung

Christmas morning brings Bibi through the upstairs hallway with a familiar wooden spoon and small tin pot. Wooyoung hears the first crash slide under the crack beneath his door, an ice bath to his system.

He’s still on the floor, a foot between him and Y/N.

“Get up.” Wooyoung shakes her, not wasting a second as he stands to dive into the still made bed.

She groans in the morning light, eyes crusted as she looks for the disturbance.

Another shrill beat sings through the hall. Much closer to Wooyoung’s door than last time.

“Shit!”

Y/N tackles him into the pillows. Both attempting to look natural as the door rebounds against the wall, a well rested Bibi standing in the doorway.

“RISE AND SHINE!” His grandmother wails, drumming a rhythmless beat and she turns to stalk towards Kyungmin’s room at the end of the hall.

Dual sighs of relief leave their lips, Y/N rising to stalk to the bathroom without looking back.

Y/N

Mrs. Jung’s victory grants her the privilege of opening the first present this morning. Everyone gathers around, matching states of messy hair and bed-wraggled pajamas, to shred shiny wrapping paper at ten in the morning.

Her first gift is the large rectangle box addressed from her sons, all of them failing to stifle their matching laughter as she slowly unwraps the picture frame. You and Mia had helped arrange the picture last time everyone was together for Bibi’s birthday, sneaking out of the house with the excuse of seeing a movie when you drove to the mall for an old school photoshoot at the department store.

Wooyoung’s parents join in the giggling bouncing of the walls as they take in all three boys dressed head to toe in denim, arms wrapped around on another’s waists prom-date style as they stare dead faced at the camera. The cherry on top is their matching bowl cuts, making them resemble a nineties boy band. Another frame slips out of the paper, a similar photo of you and Mia except her chin rests on top of your head, eyes obscured by yellow tinted sunglasses.

“Oh my god,” Mrs. Jung guffaws. “You all are ridiculous.”

Passing the frames around the room, Mrs. Jung takes turns hugging her sons along with you and Mia.

“Oh, my girls. Thank you for putting up with them.” She whispers into your ears, Mia on her left and you on her right.

You refuse to think about how tomorrow you’ll leave their house for the last time as you squeeze her back tightly.

As the youngest, Kyungmin is charged with passing out rounds of presents while Mr. Jung collects the discarded ribbons and paper. Thankfully, bringing a gift for Wooyoung wasn’t an expectation. Why sacrifice sacred luggage space to exchange gifts with someone who lives in your backyard? Mia and Myungho never brought their gifts for one another, and you and Wooyoung followed suit.

But that didn’t stop you from braving the hoards of the city in an effort to last minute Christmas shopping before flying out. Bibi loves the fancy lotion you brought her, and Kyungmin is more than satisfied with the promise of whatever new video he can afford with a Playstation gift card. Wooyoung’s parents leaf through the books you bought in a last ditch effort to provide some sort of parting gift. Myungho screams as he unwraps the mug with “IBS: I be shitting” blasted across the front and Mia opens each tin of specialty tea for a whiff of the herbal scents.

Hours later, surrounded in the disarray of boxes and bows, Mrs. Jung announces it’s time for brunch. Everyone takes turns washing up or teetering upstairs to brush their teeth but she pulls you aside before you have a chance to follow.

“Y/N, we have one last gift for you.” She whispers, removing a small box from behind her back. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone just in case but I want you to know how much we all love you.”

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

There isn’t a single day I don’t thank the stars for how lucky my son is to find someone as incredible as you. He’s a better person because of you and our family is so blessed to have you in it. I was lucky enough to be given three amazing sons but now I’m fortunate enough to have two daughters as well.

Love, Mrs. Jung”

Each word is a new punch to the gut, tears swelling in the corner of tight eyes. Focusing on opening the box in an effort not to break down in the hallway, you unveil a simple silver chain with a knotted pendant. The same you’ve seen Mia and Mrs. Jung wear on special occasions.

“Oh, I can’t—”

“Nope. I won’t hear a word of it! It’s family tradition. Bibi gave me mine, and now I get to give you yours.”

“But I really—”

But Wooyoung’s mom is a force to be reckoned with. Slipping the delicate piece of jewelry out of the box, she slips it around your neck and straightens it before you can stop her. When she’s happy, you fall into her arms in a fierce hug as you weep into her shoulder.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, patting your back comfortingly; clearly thinking you're overcome with emotion at officially being a part of the family.

You don’t correct her. Why ruin such a heartfelt moment by shattering the illusion now that you're so close to the end? Instead, you take comfort in her embrace, willing the tears to stop with the same principle you use in the hospital: save the crying for the shower.

Stepping out of the hug, you allow her to wipe away the trails of tears marring your cheeks with soft swipes of her thumbs, a soft smile at her tutting over you. Mrs. Jung pulls you into one last bear hug before pushing you upstairs to compose yourself.

Wooyoung stares as you pass him on the stairs, evidently alarmed at the evidence of your crying. But you keep your eyes down as you trudge by.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung can’t help but worry at what happened between presents and breakfast to make Y/N so upset but his mom keeps squeezing her shoulder and Bibi just smiles knowingly in her direction. The new necklace circling her neck is familiar but Wooyoung can’t place why and he hasn’t had the opportunity to ask.

Crowding into the living room as the sun sets, he doesn’t miss the way Mia intertwines Y/N into a fierce squeeze, practically bouncing off the walls with giddiness. He doesn’t have time to ask what it’s about before another movie is starting on the TV to wind down for the evening.

He can feel the tension rolling off her in waves next to him. Muscles locked and leg jittering the same way it did before she had to take her MCAT or open exam results. When the screen fades to black, Y/N is up the stairs and out of sit before he can blink.

Following her up, Wooyoung finds her perched on the edge of his bed, fingers stroking the pendant resting between her collarbones. Shut in the quiet of his room, Wooyoung asks the question that’s buzzed in his veins all day.

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

“I thought so.” He nods. “But why was everyone acting weird about it?”

Rather than answer, Y/N hands him a note. Wooyoung recognizes the tight cursive of his mom’s handwriting. Regret trickles down his spine and bubbles over with each word. He’d never meant to be cruel when he asked Y/N to come here but then again he didn’t think about how hard this must have been for her. To secretly say goodbye to his family and their relationship after she was already working through it on her own. He should have known she was bottling it all up, the same way he was prone to.

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

“Why did you break up with me?” She asks, still staring at the floor.

Regret transforms into the shame that’s eaten him alive for months. Wooyoung’s mouth won’t form the truth for what he did so he lies.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit!” She bites, glazed eyes blazing as she rounds on him. “Eight years. We dated for eight years and you think you can tell me you don’t know why?”

“We dated for eight years and you didn’t even say anything when I did it! You just left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay?”

“You just gave up.”

“No, you gave up!” her voice cracks, finger pointing accusingly. “I didn’t even know we were having problems.”

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

Wooyoung recoils from the invisible smack against his face. Is that what she was planning to tell him when he interrupted her?

“What?”

“That night I was trying to tell you I got a job in the city. That I was moving back.”

“You’re joking.”

Shoulder sagging under the weight of their mess, Y/N falls back onto the bed.“It was gonna be my last weekend trip down.”

Sniffles and desperate breaths fill the space. And Wooyoung gathers the courage to tell her the truth.

“I was planning to propose.” He can see her head turn in his peripheral, but he’ll lose the gaul if he sees her face so Wooyoung stares at the wall ahead as he speaks. “I had the ring for a year. And I was gonna ask you but I…” he trails off.

“You what?”

“I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of everything. I thought of how much we’d have to change, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give anything up to be with me.”

“Wooyoung, I never felt like that.” She objects, shaking her head. “I hated Boston. Do you think I was moving back to the city for you?”

“Kind of, I—”

“I have my own life there. I lived there for seven years! I was always planning to move back.”

“Then why were you being so secretive about it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew you’d been stressed and I ddin’t want to add something else to your plate and… because I was worried if I brought it up too soon something would go wrong.”

“I still have it by the way.”

“What?”

“The ring.”

“Why?”

“I think some part of me feels like if I let it go then it’s really over.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to get back together?”

“I didn’t want to break up to begin with.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I’m not good enough for you! I’ve never been good enough and I know you say it's not true but it is. I’m a public school teacher with shit pay and an apartment I can barely afford. That’s all I can offer you and it isn’t close enough to what you deserve.”

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” Y/N fumes, clearly not understanding what Wooyoung meant. “Why do you think you get to decide what's good enough for me?”

“Because someone has too! One day you’re gonna wake up and realize you can have anyone you want.”

“Not anyone.”

Y/N

The suffocating atmosphere of Wooyoung’s room pushes you into the chilly shower stall. In the stifling steam and perfumed bubbles, you quietly let all the emotions of the day run wild; eyes puffy, face swollen, and snot dripping from your nose to be washed away by the boiling streams of water. You hide for as long as possible, shivering as the heated water runs out and frigid ropes blast your skin. Unable to endure anymore of the stinging icicles, you exit the stall red nosed and blue lipped.

Wooyoung sits on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. You watch his shoulder tense, rising closer to his ears as you pad closer to lay down.

You’re too tired to sleep on the floor, too exhausted to fight with him again. So you curl under the covers, body sliding back when Wooyoung joins you.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, tracing his index finger along the knobs of your spine, attempting to comfort you the same way he always had.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

You both stay there in the silent darkness, their breaths and the hum of the heater keeping absolute stillness at bay. The tears you split in the shower followed you to the pillow, running down your cheeks as you try to keep the worst at bay. Wooyoung doesn’t stop tracing shapes between your shoulder blades, the worn cotton of your sleep shirt rubbing against your heated skin. How is the source of your distress the same as the source of your comfort?

Turning to face him, you realize how close he’s moved. Scant inches separate your chests, the heat of his legs licking your own bare ones under the blankets. You spot his own tears, eyes swollen and red, thick lashes clumped together as they fall.

If your love for Wooyoung was an ocean, you’d be lost at sea for years.

He watches you watch him, hands finding one anothers and tangling together. When Wooyoung opens his mouth, pausing as a sniffle breaks free, you surge up to connect your lips.

Startling for only a second, he eagerly kisses you back. Tears and spit gloss your lips as you dip your tongue into his mouth, licking against his teeth before retreating to bruise his lower lip with your own. Wooyoung manages to roll on top of you, pinning you to the mattress as if you plan to up and leave at any second. You respond by crushing your lips together a fraction harder, attempting to communicate the longing and hurt words can’t convey.

The hem of his shirt finds its way between your fingers, moving further up his stomach with each insistent tug. Wooyoung’s own hands busy themselves, one buried in the hairs at the base of your scalp, cradling your head to move you this way and that as he continues exploring your mouth. The other wrinkles the pillow case beside you, muscles rippling as he holds himself over you.

When you wiggle your hips, thighs spreading to cradle him between, he dives to your neck. Blood rushes to the surface as he nips and bruises the delicate skin below your jaw, scorching pants raising goosebumps in its wake. He shudders when your nails scratch down his abdomen, thumb dipping under the band of his pajama pants.

It's been nearly eight months without this. Two months before your breakup, in this very bed while the rest of the house was asleep as Wooyoung laughed into your neck while you drunkenly whined for him to touch you.

As familiar as those memories are, this time is entirely new.

Wooyoung’s thumb, knowing and skilled, brushes across one of your nipples over your shirt, using the rough fabric to his advantage; stiffing it to a tight peak before allowing the weight to settle in his palm. Arching your back, you remove the piece of cloth separating you. Wooyoung barely allows you space to slough it over your head before he’s back on you, latching to the side of your neglected breast as he curls his hips into yours coursley. Your body reacts on nothing but instinct; back arching closer, thighs spreading wider as his knees carry him further down the mattress.

Reverent caresses of his hands lead him to the apex of your thighs, his breath fanning the damp patch of your shorts just before Wooyoung tucks his thumbs into the elastic to nudge them down, breathing deeply as he bares you for his eyes.

A tentative lick up length of your slit pulls a pathetic whimper from the back of your mouth. The flat of his tongue lave against your engorged clit, slow and torturous as Wooyoung indulges in your taste. Rough palms slide beneath the meat of your thighs, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. A harsh suck against the bundle of nerves locks your muscles tightly around Wooyoung’s head but he takes it in stride as he drops a hand to slip his fingers inside your clenching hole. Curling the pads of his digits upwards, you feel him in your throat as you bite back moans. Your fingers twist in Wooyoung’s inky hair at the delicious torture, hips rocking into his eager mouth as he pants against you; refusing to separate from your drenched center.

When his unoccupied hand slips into your own, a death grip on your entertwined fingers, you fall apart. Your chapped lips nearly bleed from effort to remain quiet, writhing in Wooyoung’s hold as he continues to lap up everything you offer him.

A final suck against your clit has you scrambling to pull his mouth to your own, tasting yourself on his soaked cheeks and tongue.

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

Wooyoung responds by kissing you gently, the passion curling your toes while he fists his length before allowing the flared head to nudge your entrance.

Finally presses forward, fitting inside you as he always has, another tear burns down to your face. It all comes rushing forward, never ending waves rolling over you after you’ve been knocked down into the surf. Memories, good and bad, race through you at a breakneck speed. The tingling elation of the night Wooyoung asked you to be his girlfriend, the nerves of when you asked him to move in together during medical school. Sadness when you moved away for residency with the promise to come back. The numbing despair you felt the night you thought would be a turning point in your lives. The straw that breaks the camel's back is Wooyoung's admission that you’re too good for him. Choking your own pain down, you try to hone in on a spot on the ceiling in an effort to stay grounded.

Several seconds pass before Wooyoung notices the fresh bout of sobs, mistaking choked whimpers as whines of pleasure after such a long time apart. His nose traces the tendon of your neck as he cants his hips slowly, one hand still tangled in yours, the other pressing your knee up and around his waist to stretch deeper. When the dig of your nails into his shoulder turns from a sting to a cut, he leans back and realizes his mistake.

Eyes find one another through the distorted haze your sorrows create, his rounded with concern still glazed with evidence of his own tears. Staring at one another in a silence broken by sniffling and staccato breaths, a second set of tears mix with your own as he rests his forehead against yours. Locking your arms around Wooyoung’s broad shoulders and hooking your knees around his back, you try to seal him into your skin.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, voice broken and cracked. “I’m so sorry. I–” he hiccups. “I didn’t–”

What he’s apologizing for is a mystery. Forcing you into this charade? Telling you he was planning to propose? Breaking up with you in the first place?

Perhaps it's all those things. Maybe it's none of them.

“I love you.” He whimpers into your hair, lips branding the words into your skin.

It’s not enough. But for tonight, you’ll let it be.

“I love you, too.” you whisper back, straining to brush the tip of your nose against his own.

Tomorrow, you’ll fly back to the city and hide in your apartment and pretend to be okay. Dive so far into your work that you forget the way Wooyoung has ripped the healing wound on your heart open again.

Tonight, you’ll pretend the missing piece has finally been found and can stay forever.

Tensing your thighs, your locked ankles nudge at the dip of his spine to remind Wooyoung he’s still inside you. He hesitates for a moment but your lips silence his objections, just as eager to indulge in the fantasy as you are.

The pace is bruising, stomachs firmly pressed together as he reaches for the top of the bed frame to provide more leverage. Wooyoung’s back ripples and flexes as he pounds into you, the vibration of his weak moans tickling the sensitive pads of your fingers as they etch down his ribs.

Consumed by an overwhelming need to touch him everywhere, you cradle his face between your palms. Wooyoung flashes his eyes open, as if startled you’re still there, before leaning into one of them. Thumb tracing his lips, he drops a searing kiss to the crease of your knuckle. The tenderness burns the remaining oxygen out of the room.

His next word is so quiet your ears fail to detect them over the slap of your bodies connecting or the squeak of the old bed frame. But Wooyoung’s said them against your skin enough times over the years for you to know the feel of his mouth forming around the sound.

You come with a muted whimper. So worn from tears, pleasure fizzles in your veins like the gentle ripple of the wind through the trees. Clenching around Wooyoung harshly, the tell tale hitch in his breath signals the beginning of his end.

But he is truly done for when you lean up and whisper his words back into his ear, “forever.”

December 26th

Wooyoung

Wooyoung wakes to an empty bed, cold sheets, and the pillowcase squishing his cheek already damp from the tears he shed while sleeping.

December 29th

Wooyoung

A tedious drive to the airport grants Wooyoung ample time to stew in discontent, replaying the events of the past week over and over in his head.

Was he insane to think Y/N wanted him too? All the moments he nearly forgot they’re barely more than strangers after months of silence, how they still fit together so perfectly. Wooyoung knew he’d been a mess after the break up but the past week made him realize how lost he felt without her. Like the ocean without the moon to guide the tide; like he was missing half his heart. How many times had he opened his messages to text her something mundane from his day, just to close them and realize he’d ruined the best thing in his life in a second of weakness? And now having her next to him again, knowing he can’t fix what he did?

“When were you planning to tell us you two broke up?”

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung, I know.”

“How… she told you?”

“Poor thing was crying the entire way to the airport. I told her I wouldn’t let her fly by herself if she was that upset until she explained.”

“What’d she say?”

“That you two broke up a few months ago but you didn’t want to disappoint us.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“You know Y/N, always keeps her cards close to her chest.” His mom looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I made a mistake.”

“If you two weren’t happy then it wasn’t a mistake.”

“But we were happy! She’s the one and I messed it up because I’m not good enough for her.”

“Where is that coming from?”

“I know you and dad wanted me to be an engineer like Myungho, okay? Even Kyungmin wants to be a lawyer! I’m the family disappointment. It only makes sense I’d disappoint Y/N too.”

Wooyoung’s mom is notorious for going under the speed limit, waiting to turn even if the oncoming car is five hundred feet away, and using her blinker religiously. Which is why Wooyoung thinks she’s having a seizure when she veers off the road and onto the shoulder like an F1 driver.

“You are not a disappointment! To me or your father or anyone. You are my son, and I have always been proud of that. I’ve seen you teaching, the way those kids look up to you. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to. And if my worrying has made you feel that way then I am so sorry. I’ll we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy sweetie.”

Crossing his arms, Wooyoung flicks away the beads of moisture tracing down his chin. “You’re my mom, you have to say that.”

“Well I’m not Y/N’s mom but I talk about her the same way.”

“Yeah well she’s a doctor, saving kids lives and all that.”

“You don’t think you do the same thing? Those kids come to school excited to learn because of you. Just because you’re not finding a cure for cancer doesn’t mean your job isn’t important. And Y/N isn’t disappointed with you either. She loves you, Wooyoung. Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s too late for that.” Wooyoung mumbles, eyes on the toes of his shoes.

“Maybe you should ask her if she thinks so.”

December 30th

Wooyoung

Rather than give into his impatience, Wooyoung stews on his mom’s advice. And each passing hour conveniences him more and more she’s wrong. Especially when San and Yeosang sit with him in their cramped living room, bottles of beer and empty takeout littering the coffee table.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung responds.

San, red faced and tipsy, slaps the leather armrests of the chair before rising.“Fuck you! You broke up with her over nothing and instead of trying to get her back you have a fucking pity party? Grow a pair.”

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?”

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot.” Yeosang butts in.

Wooyoung knows his hesitation speaks for itself when Yoesang keeps talking.

“You can ask her to pretend you’re still dating but you can’t tell her you wanna get back together?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Yes it is!” San argues. “You love her right? You care about her?” San doesn’t continue until Wooyoung nods. “Then she has a right to know.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no. Cross that bridge when you get there. You’re already broken up, how much worse can it get?”

Surprisingly, Wooyoung agrees. He sits forward, looking at his roommates before asking.“So what do I do?”

December 31st

Wooyoung

When Wooyoung’s messages go unanswered and his calls fall into the abyss of Y/N’s full voicemail box, pulls out Plan B.

Unfortunately, Plan B has no moral or ethical oppositions to castrating him.

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Lisa, please!” Wooyoung begs into the phone.

“No! Not once but twice I’ve had Y/N crying on my couch because of your dumbass. I’m not letting it happen again!”

“I need to talk to her. Please just help me!”

“What makes this time so different?”

“I—,” Wooyoung freezes. What does make this time different?

He hears Lisa sigh on the other end of the phone, almost as if she’s disappointed. “Just leave her alone, Wooyoung.”

And the line clicks dead.

Walking back into the kitchen from the worst call of his life, Wooyoung spots San’s downcast face while Yeosang watches him from the table; both clearly overhearing his exchange with Y/N’s best friend.

The vinyl table top shakes as Wooyoung drops his forehead down with a bang, groaning in frustration.

“She’s working at NewYork-Presbyterian.” Yeosang mentions, returning to munch on his bowl of cereal.

“What?”

“Y/N works at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

Shrugging, Yeosang takes another bite and swallows before explaining. “She told me she got a job there when she was planning to move back.”

Wooyoung has Yeosang’s shirt in his hands in a flash, nose to nose with his lifelong friend. Never in his life has Wooyoung been so furious with the man before him.

“You knew this whole time?” He bites, his eyes so wide with anger the whites show.

San is at Wooyoung's back, winding his arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him off their other roommate.

“You knew all of this and you didn’t fucking tell me? You’re my friend!” Attempting to shake him off, Wooyoung keeps pressing forward.

Yeosang rises to his feet, hands wrapping around Wooyoung’s wrists and squeezing till the pain forces him to let go. “Yeah, and you’re acting like a real asshole right now!”

“Guys calm down!” San yells, managing to pull Wooyoung back now that he’s no longer attached to Yeosang’s shirt.

“Why didn't you say something?”

“You ended an eight year relationship out of the blue, I wasn’t about to let you get back with her just because you decided being single wasn’t your thing anymore.”

The words slap Wooyoung in the face. Even his own friend’s don’t trust him not to hurt Y/N anymore. “I’m not— I wouldn’t,”

“Come on, Woo. All you could talk about was how excited you were to ask her to marry you and then you come home and tell us you broke up with her. She’s my friend too and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you were desperate enough to call Lisa. If you fuck up again she’ll actually kill you.”

Wooyoung isn’t going to mess up again, not if he can help it. And if he does, he’ll walk straight into the river before Lisa can force him.

But for now, he focuses on getting Y/N to listen to his apology.

January 1st

Y/N

Chief complaint: Father reports patient’s fever and cough have become more severe since previous visit. Reports child is refusing solids but drinking well and taking soft foods such as apple sauce. Sleeping okay.

One of the residents pops her head into your office, “Dr. Y/L/N you have a delivery at the reception desk.”

“Thank you!” You call, not missing a beat as you continue your notes.

Impression: Upper respiratory infection, right otitis media

Plan: Amoxicillin prescribed, five day follow up with p.r.n. at PCP.

Finishing your chart, you rise and head out towards the receptionist desk. A familiar bouquet of blush pink tulips greet you, a silk white ribbon knotted around the dip of the crystal vase. A small envelope is tucked into the spread, sending a terrified jolt through your system.

“I wish I had someone send me flowers as pretty as this!” Jessica sighs, eying the arrangement enviously.

“Yeah,” you laugh, unable to muster an ounce of false humor.

You snatch the bouquet before turning back the direction you came.

Once back into the safety of your office, door shut and blinds drawn, you open the note.

If you don’t want to see me ever again, I’ll let you go. But I can't say enough how every time I ever put my arms around you I felt that I was home. I’ll be waiting at our spot on Saturday. As long as it takes.

–W

You don’t realize you’re crying until the ink of the note begins to bleed.

January 3rd

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is the first customer to enter the cozy coffee shop overlooking the southeast entrance of Tompkins Square Park at nine a.m., claiming the tiny wobbly table off in the corner that provides the perfect view of the door. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It feels wrong to scroll through his phone as he waits so he snags one of the artsy newspapers sitting on the counter while the surly barista prepares his order.

After an hour, adrenalin maintains the pleasant buzz through Wooyoung’s system, fueled further by espresso on an empty stomach. Each chime of the bell over the door results in awkward eye contact with a stranger that certainly isn’t his ex-girlfriend.

After three hours, his butt is numb and Wooyoung’s abandoned the newspaper he’s memorized. The NYT mini crossword archive isn’t as extensive as he thought.

After six hours, he’s had enough coffee to power a jet plane and his leg jitters aggressively. He’s started people watching through the window, making up stories for passersby entering the park and crossing the street. Half his heart hopes they’re happier than he is, the other half hopes he’s not alone in his misery.

When he’s been at the shop for eleven and a half hours, burned through every source of distraction possible and can describe in vivid detail the features outside the glass wall that separate the inside of the cafe from the sidewalk, Wooyoung accepts that she isn’t coming.

He stays till close, every minute that ticks on a drop in the bucket of regret in his heart. The barista starts stacking chairs, passive aggressively swiping the frayed broom in a ring around his table, so Wooyoung does the sensible thing and waits outside.

The bitter wind wafting through the city finds home in his bones despite his thermals and padded parka. Wooyoung desperately clings to the tiny drop of hope still clinging to his heart. Shaking from the chill and overindulgence in caffeine Wooyoung watches as the clock hits nine.

She isn’t coming.

She doesn’t want him back.

Wooyoung watches a couple laugh in each other's embrace across the street, clambering over one another in amused content. There was time that would have been him and Y/N, high from the intoxicating joy of one another’s presence and the city lights in the winter. Fingers interlocked as they trapeze through crowds, ignoring every other soul in favor of focusing on each other.

Eyes stinging, he turns to head for the train station but nearly shouts as spots the woman in question ten paces away.

Her hair is a mess, nose and cheeks blushing from the cold, breath obscuring her face as it fogs in the cool air. But she’s here, looking every bit unsure as he feels.

“Hi.” He says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“I did.”

Wooyoung might faint. His heart is beating a mile a minute, breath shallow and labored. She’s here. She’s here and she’s looking at him like that. And the fear creeps into his pause.

“I’m sorry.” He warbles.

“I know.”

But she can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

Because he can’t think of anything else. Nine hours of going over the grand speech about how he missed her and how breaking up with her was the greatest regret of his life flies out the window now that she’s in front of him and willing to listen.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

The only thing she’s ever asked him for is the truth. Wooyoung’s been so afraid that if he tells her how he truly feels, she’ll think less of him. That being so in love it terrifies you is disgusting, pathetic.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

“Because if you came I didn’t want to miss you.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

“Because—,” she pauses, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Really?” She smiles apprehensively.

“Yeah, but now that you’re here I don’t remember any of it.”

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

Laughing at his outburst, she nods at him. “That’s a start.”

And the space between them grows a little warmer.

“That night at dinner, when I went to the bathroom, I got an email.” Wooyoung starts, stepping closer. “I’d applied for a grad school program and I thought I was gonna get in but … I didn’t. And I think that and the nerves from proposing just caught up to me. I thought you’d want to stay in Boston after all and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to move back here. And it snowballed and all those feelings of not being good enough came back and— When you didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why or try to argue with me I thought it meant it’s what you wanted too.”

Shame flushes through him, a tsunami of disgust for allowing himself to think so poorly of her. Y/N never made him feel less than. The only person in their relationship who thought he wasn’t good enough for her was him and he let that destroy everything in a second of self doubt.

“I tried to convince myself I did you a favor. That you’d be better off without me and you’d meet someone better. Find someone good enough for you. But I was wrong. I am wrong. There hasn't been a single day since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I try not to, you’re always in the back of my mind. And then I think about how selfish I am for wanting you back. But when it comes to you I’ve always been a little selfish because I love you. And—” he breaths for the first time. “And I don’t know how to be me without you.”

The humor is gone from Y/N’s face. Her beautiful eyes brim with tears, rimmed red not unlike his own; chin shaking. The wind is louder than ever now, cars wheel sloshing across the wet pavement crashing between them.

“Please say something.”

“How do I trust you again?” Her voice cracks, and it knocks the air from Wooyoung’s lungs.

“I don’t know.” Wooyoung looks at the ground, guilt-ridden.

Everything, all of the pain and heartbreak, was his fault. He dug them into this mess and now he doesn’t know how to get them out.

Y/N

Seeing Wooyoung, the man with an answer for everything, admit for once he doesn’t have an elaborate plan in motion to win you back is refreshing. You didn’t want Wooyoung who’d fix everything, Wooyoung who’d carry the burden of your relationship by himself even if it killed him. All you wanted was for him to tell you the truth.

And now that he has, you’re done being apart.

Nearly topping to the ground as you tackle Wooyoung in a fierce hug, you focus on inhaling his cologne and basking in the feel of his body pressed firmly against you. He barely manages to steady your combined weight, feet scrambling to regain his balance on the icy sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever do that shit to me again!” You yell, arms squeezing around his waist.

Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, clearly shocked at the turn of events. Rising out of his chest, you look at his gaping mouth and furrowed brows before his arms knot around your shoulders.

“I missed you.” You whisper into the delicate kiss you land on his lips.

“I love you.” Wooyoung whispers back, forehead resting against your own.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Four months later

Central Park in May is a bustle of people enjoying warm days following months of slushy snow and gray skies. Shrill screams bounce off the trees as children dart across the walkways, giggling groups of friends crowd around blankets on the greening grass, and a menagerie of dogs zigzag around their owners in the fresh air.

Today is a rare day where they both can spend interrupted hours lounging in one another’s presence, eager to make up for years of long distances and the months neither likes to talk about. Wooyoung woke Y/N with innumerable kisses across any sliver of skin his lips could find, basking in the knowledge today he’d finally ask the question hanging from the tip of his tongue since this time last year.

Sprawled across an old throw blanket, skin warming in the afternoon sunshine, a thick book obscures her face from view as Y/N rests her head in his lap. Wooyoung tries not to check his pocket for the millionth time this afternoon, ensuring the little velvet box is still there. He isn’t worried she’ll say no. But the phantom fear from the last time he planned to ask creeps up no matter how many affirmations he silently repeats in his head. But when she looks up at him, crinkled eyes visible just above the edge of the book pages hiding her smile, Wooyoung forgets all his worries.

Plucking the book from her grasp, he carefully marks her place before setting it down beside her hip. Wooyoung folds in half to silence her protesting “hey!” with a kiss, humming when she gives in all too easily.

“I was reading that.” She mumbles as they separate.

“Wow, you’d rather read some smutty book than kiss your real life boyfriend?”

Laughing, she presses another peck to his mouth before answering.“Glad you understand.”

“What about your fiance?”

Y/N smile melts into shock, mouth gaping and staring at him like a deer in headlights.

Wooyoung smoothly maneuvers her up and out of his lap, pulling the jewelry box from his pocket as he kneels on a lone knee.

“Y/N. You’re my favorite person in the world. The only person I can ever imagine spending the rest of my life with. I love when you sing in the shower, and how you put way too much sugar in your coffee. I love how smart you are, and how you’re nice to everyone even if they don’t deserve it, me included. And how everytime I look at you my palms get sweaty and that just thinking about you makes my day better. You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Wooyoung is shaking so violently he fumbles the velvet box twice during his speech. He drops it a third time when Y/N tackles him in a fierce hug, tear filled laughter spilling from their lips and into the field where they lay.

“Yes!” She squeals into his neck, “Yes, I’d love to marry you.”

At dinner with all their friends, he subconsciously holds Y/N’s hand so the diamond glints at anyone looking. When Wooyoung walks home, giggly from champagne and love, he kisses her knuckles a ridiculous amount of times just to feel the cool band under his lips. Once inside the doorway of her apartment, Wooyoung crowds Y/N against the door; his thumb focusing on the bevel of the diamond sitting on her ring finger as his other hand pushes the strap of her sundress off her shoulder so his tongue etch her collarbone from dip of her throat where the locket he gave her for their first Christmas together rests to under her ear.

“So, future Mrs. Jung, now that we’re alone, how would you like to celebrate?” He asks, nipping against the sensitive skin she sighs, chest arching into his own.

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” Wooyoung asks, a strong thigh moving between her parted legs.

“Yeah, future Mr.Y/L/N. I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss right n—fuck, Youngie.”

Wooyoun can’t help but giggle at her reaction, rocking again just to hear her moan his name once more.

“What were you saying?”

“Don’t,” she huffs, whimpering at another torturous drag. Wooyoung can feel the heat of her cunt through her panties and his jeans. “Don’t be mean to your future wife.”

“Love when you talk dirty.” He bites, teeth raking against the strained muscle raising from the side of her neck.

“That turns you on? Calling me your wife?”

“Feel for yourself.”

“And if I call you my husband?”

Wooyoung doesn’t dignify her question with an answer other than sprinting to the bedroom to demonstrate just how much he likes the new name.

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