#wooyoung fanfiction

[hwamphwamp]

bf!wooyoung texts pt. ii

a/n: working on making titles shorter because dear god. I also have way too much fun with these every single time

warning(s): swearing (or maybe not, I have a sailor’s mouth so I always add this just in case when I don’t feel like double checking), slightly suggestive unless you only see the verb eating as something you do to food. In which case I love that for you ☺️

[wwooyology]

#WIP : The Nanny Diaries | J.WY

「pairing」 : wooyoung x fem!reader 「word count」 : TBD

「synopsis」 : after being let off yet another part-time job, you were sent into a panic as your mother's hospital bills started to pile up. you had no help from your family, seeing as they saw you and your mother as insignificant, so you and your mother only had yourselves to rely on. seeing your desperation, your best friend tells you about a nanny position for a well-known CEO, and you are quick to apply. however, you had not expected the world of chaos you had just thrown yourself into or how you would fall for the little girl's dad so quick.

「genre」 : romance, fluff, angst, small amount of crack, drama, smut, age gap, ceo!wooyoung, dilf!wooyoung, nanny!reader

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, readers mom has cancer, familial trauma, mental breakdowns, arguments, mentions of death, death, grief, wooyoung is both a tease and mildly closed off, age gap (8 years), reader is depicted to be twenty-two, bullying, violence, betrayal, multiple unprotected sex scenes, dilf wooyoung (yes this deserves its own warning), sir kink, kissing, blackmailing, child endangerment, (will add more as I write)

「also starring」 : choi san as wooyoung's best friend who also runs a well known company, giselle and natty as your childhood best friends, kang yeosang as wooyoung's childhood friend who teaches yoonha's class, huh yunjin as the girl who is concerningly obsessed with wooyoung and also a huge pain in your ass.

「notes」 : hello everyone!! I have had this idea in my head for a LONG time now and as I was working on the outline I realized that this wasn't going to be a smaller fic - so I have decided that I am going to make a wip post for the reason that it's going to be pretty long and has a lot of plot to it. I hope everyone will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed and will enjoy writing it, thank you all!! <3

spoilers ➻ one | two | three

「release date」 : TBD

「current word count」 : 13.4k

「taglist」 : OPEN

➻ please send an ask or reply to this post if you would like to be added to the taglist after this fic is finished. 18+ ONLY, you must have your age visible on your blog. any blank blogs and MINORS will NOT be added!!! also, if you are on my perm. taglist, you will automatically be added to the taglist, so you do NOT have to ask to be added!! <33

also please double-check your blog settings!! with certain settings, I will NOT be able to tag you, so please make sure you check that before asking to be added!

additionally, I will be ignoring and deleting any comments and/or asks from blank and/or ageless blogs asking to be added to the taglist!

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[nateezfics]

THINGS ATEEZ SAY IN BED: WOOYOUNG

↳ things ateez say during sex. wooyoung version.

↳ warning: smut, dirty/sexual language

• “is that all you got? oh come on.”

• “you like that, huh? sure would be a shame if i stopped…”

• *mimics your moans mockingly*

• “oh god, keep doing that. yeah, just like that, baby. you’re doing good.”

• “you’re such a cutie when you whine for me. i fucking love it.”

• “you can be louder than that, right? am i just not making you feel good enough? guess i just need to fuck you harder until you’re screaming.”

• “you’re so shameless, dripping all over my fingers. and yet here you are covering your face. no need to be bashful around me, baby.”

• “go on, let it out. ahhh good, good.”

• “oh? going for more huh? soooo greedy.”

• “all you need to do is tell me what you want, baby. tell me, and i’ll give it to you. anything you want.”

• “you’re getting a little bossy. hah, i kinda like it.”

• “tell me how you want me, baby. on my knees? on top of you? under you? i’m all yours.”

• “i love it when you take what you want. ugh,, you’re so hot when you’re all greedy for me.”

• “ahhh show off that pretty pussy for me. spread a little wider – ah, there you go.”

• “such a pretty baby. my pretty baby.”

• “oh hush, you love it when i tease you.”

• “i don’t really give a fuck that they’re in the other room. let them hear how good i fuck you. show off those pretty little moans of yours.”

• “you love me, yeah?”

• “oh pretty, we’re far from done.”

• “i’m sorry, mind saying that again? can’t hear you. speak up, baby.”

ALL FICS ARE THE ORIGINAL IDEAS AND WRITTEN WORKS OF NATEEZFICS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. REPOSTING WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR NATEEZFICS IS PROHIBITED!

[daemour]

Pairing: poly! WooSan x gn! Reader

Word Count: 4587

Warnings: cursing, implied sexual activity, arguing

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, T for teen

Summary: In a relationship with Wooyoung and San, you feel left out of their activities. One evening, it all blows up.

this is my baby :') (yes i keep saying that about my fics) but i spent a lot of time on this and i think its one of my best works lol,,,,i hope u enjoy! i do have a second, shorter, part with the aftermath if you'd be interested

thank you to @hobeemin for betaing <3

You’re sitting on the couch with two pairs of legs in your lap. To anyone else, it would look like a sweet scene. Your boyfriends cuddling while you watch them fondly. But you’ve never felt so alone before.

You knew you were the addition to the relationship—San and Wooyoung had been dating for a long while before they met you, and it took another few years for them to ask you to join their relationship. After crushing on the two of them for so long, you had leapt at the chance to.

At first, you were just happy to be there—to have them smile at you sweetly, hold your hand, and press you into the sheets so well. But as time passed, it felt like being there was all you had to be happy about.

Sometimes, you wonder if you had just misconstrued the whole thing. Maybe they just wanted a roommate they could fool around with. Or you’re just reading too much into it. It’s only been six months since you were invited into the relationship.

As you’re contemplating your relationship with the two, your boyfriends stand. You only notice because of the weight leaving your body. “Hey, babe, Sannie and I are going to the bedroom, okay?”

“Oh– is there anything I can do too?” The desperation in your voice is evident, and you hate that it is. San’s eyes soften but both he and Wooyoung chuckle. Not meanly, but not kindly.

“Not today. Enjoy the movie.”

They each drop a kiss on the top of your head, and just like that, you watch them slip right through your fingers again.

You do your best to sit there and not feel upset; you try, but the pinch in your heart doesn’t go away. They’ve never been so outwardly…dismissive of you, and you’ve had quite enough of it. After a long five minutes of unhappy thoughts swirling around your head, you stand. You’re not sitting around and letting yourself feel like the second (or third) fiddle.

You blink back the angry tears threatening to fall as you pull on your sweatshirt and search for your phone, only to remember you left it on the bedside table. You’re not about to barge in on and grab it so you settle with your keys. You won’t be out for too long anyway.

As you leave the apartment, you do your best to close the door behind you as quietly as possible. The crisp fall air clears your mind, and you can think properly about your relationship. You just cannot allow yourself to continue to hurt like this. They’re a package deal to you and will come hand-in-hand with you in your life. You may love them, and they may be fond of you, but in the end, you’re just a plus one. 

The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, and you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sob that escapes. It hurts you deeply, and you don’t want it to be true. You want to believe they need you just as much as you need them, although you know the thought is futile.

You shudder as you finally let your sobs calm down, and your heart returns to a normal pace. You can’t stay there much longer if you don’t want to lose yourself. As you head back to the apartment, you hurriedly wipe your eyes and clear your throat, unwilling for San and Wooyoung to see the state you’re in.

But that proves unnecessary—when you walk back in, San is sitting on the couch, a new movie is on the screen, and Wooyoung is prepping dinner. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you’ve been gone for about an hour and a half. Your blood boils as you realise they hardly noticed your disappearance, but you force it back to your gut. Blowing up now would be counter-productive.

Your phone is right where you left it, but as you try to escape, San calls out for you, “Oh, YN. Woo and I wanted to ask…” Your breath catches in your throat, hoping for something. “Do you want to join us next time?”

It takes all of your willpower not to laugh. “No, I don’t think I will.” Such a tone of mockery had never left your mouth directed at them before, and you snap your mouth shut before you say something else. San’s eyebrow rises high into his hairline.

You hear Wooyoung chuckle from the kitchen. “That’s fine. We have more fun without you anyway.”

And you know, deep down, he didn’t mean it maliciously. Wooyoung doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was just trying to be funny and lighten the mood from the tension he had heard in your voice. But he didn’t know he (and San) was the cause of the stress, and all he does is relight the anger in your gut.

“Oh, so I’ve realised,” you mutter, and this time, San’s other brow raises, and he interrupts.

“What do you mean by that?” He moves to cross his arms, and you scoff.

“I’m sure you know damn well what I mean, Choi San. I get it. You guys have been dating for…longer than you’ve known me. It’s understandable you guys sometimes just want to be together without me.” You pause to take a breath, and San looks just about constipated. “But…I genuinely cannot remember the last time the three of us went on a date or included me in anything other than just sex. And even that, once in a while. What is the point of me being here?”

“Why didn’t you just talk to us?” Wooyoung asks, having moved from the kitchen to stand in the doorway. His brows are furrowed, and he looks so confused that you almost want to forget your argument. But it’s gone too far already, and words won’t stop pouring out of your mouth.

“You would rethink your already comfortable relationship for me? Don’t be silly.” You cut off Wooyoung’s attempted argument. “Maybe you would’ve thought about it, but come on. I’m me. I’ve known you guys for four years; you’ve been dating for seven. I asked to join you guys all the damn time, but all I got was getting brushed off. Forgive me for not having the confidence to confront you two.”

You run your hand through your hair, blinking back your tears. “I can’t imagine this relationship without you guys, but to you two? I’m just an afterthought,” you state, shaking your head.

Before your soft heart gets the better of you and you fall to your knees and take it all back, you turn right back out the door, your phone clutched in your hands this time. Wooyoung and San make no move to go after you, and it hurts more than it should.

You’re not in the mood to walk and wallow, so you sit in the parking garage, ordering a taxi. As you wait for your ride, you hear footsteps thundering up to you, and you know what’s coming.

“Are you actually leaving?” San’s voice comes from behind you, a tightness to it you haven’t heard before.

You keep your eyes forward and nod. “Yes. I need some time to myself. I…I won’t leave forever, at least not for now. I don’t want to give us up, but I need time to rest my heart. And you guys need time to process, I’m sure.”

The taxi you called is pulling up now, and you stand. After hesitating, you turn around and wrap your arms around San’s waist. There’s no wait on his side; his warm and strong arms come around your shoulders to squeeze you gently. Your eyes are shut tightly, knowing that if you open them, you’ll want to go right back up to the apartment.

“Tell Wooyoung I said ‘sorry’,” you manage to choke out, and you can practically hear San’s melancholic smile.

“You have nothing to apologise for, but I will if it makes you feel better. The only reason he didn’t come down is because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.” San sighs, running a hand through his hair. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry we’ve made you feel so alone. It was never our intention, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that it happened.”

You sometimes wish San wasn’t so sweet and lovely and perfect. And you sure wish Wooyoung didn’t feel as strongly as he did. If they cared less, it would’ve made your hurt and betrayal less sharp in your chest. But you don’t want them to be guilty, and you don’t want Wooyoung to cry.

“I…won’t be gone for long,” is all you have left to say to San before you cram yourself into the taxi, and will your tears to not fall until you get into the safety of your apartment that doesn’t even feel like home.

As soon as you reach your apartment, you collapse to your knees and cry. With every sob, your chest heaves and your throat aches. But you’re finally able to let out all your hurt, and after an hour or so, you feel as refreshed as you can be. You hope it will work out in the end for your sake and theirs.

—

You sink into the familiar comfort of your couch, a sigh escaping your lips as the silence of your apartment envelops you. It's been two weeks since the tearful confrontation with San and Wooyoung, two weeks since you've allowed yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions. The initial relief of expressing your pent-up frustrations has given way to a dull ache of longing and uncertainty.

Days turn into nights, and the silence stretches, punctuated only by the occasional text message from San and Wooyoung, their words a mix of apologies, reassurance, and pleas for you to come back. You read and reread their messages, your heart torn between the desire to run back into their arms and the fear of being hurt again.

Yeosang, your closest friend, becomes your lifeline during this time, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He listens patiently as you pour out your doubts and fears, offering his unwavering support and gentle guidance. "They miss you, you know," he often reminds you softly, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of your inner turmoil.

"I miss them too," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But what if it's not enough? What if we can't bridge the gap that's grown between us?"

Yeosang squeezes your hand reassuringly. "You won't know until you try. They're willing to work on things, YN. Don't let your fear rob you of a chance at happiness."

His words echo in your mind, a constant reminder that you can't stay hidden forever. You need to confront your fears, to have that difficult conversation, and to decide whether the love you share is strong enough to overcome the challenges you face.

As the days pass, you find yourself slowly emerging from the cocoon of your self-imposed isolation. You start venturing out, meeting friends for coffee, taking walks in the park, trying to rediscover a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions.

But the longing for San and Wooyoung never truly fades. It lingers in the quiet moments, in the empty spaces beside you on the couch, in the memories that flood your mind when you least expect them.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you call Yeosang, asking him to meet up with you for coffee so that you can figure out how to approach your relationship with San and Wooyoung. He agrees readily, and promises to set aside some time at lunch tomorrow to hear you out.

“You miss them, too.” You blink at Yeosang’s statement, before heaving a sigh and taking a sip of your drink. As usual, he doesn’t waste time with small talk and just starts with the point of the meet-up. “You’re putting off this discussion for far too long, YN.”

And he’s right, as he usually is. It’s been about two weeks since the breakdown, and you’ve managed to avoid most attempts at reaching you, placating them with a ‘soon’ whenever they text you to ask. But you’re a little too scared to reopen the conversation. What if they hate you and don’t want you anymore?

“They don’t hate you,” Yeosang interrupts your spiralling with an all-knowing look. You swear he can read your mind, and he swears you’re just easy to read. “You both just need to have a long conversation. Of course, it may not work out properly, but if not, they need to know it for future reference.”

You bite your lip, sighing like the weight of the world rests upon your shoulders. “Stop being so smart, okay? I know I should. I’m just…I don’t know how to start.”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “First, you should set up a date to talk. I recommend calling them.” He easily dodges your slap. “Seriously, YN. I can’t tell you what to say. Just go talk to them properly. They’re not gonna be unreasonable. They like you.”

If you sighed anymore, Yeosang would probably smack you himself. “Fine. I’ll call them tomorrow.” Yeosang narrows his eyes, and you know he’s seen right through your lie.

“Call them now. I won’t bother you or be loud.”

You start to whine, but Yeosang fixes you with such a glare that you pull out your phone begrudgingly. Your hands tremble as you dial Wooyoung's number, knowing San would probably be at work right now. The phone rings once, twice, and your heart squeezes in hope and disappointment that he hasn’t picked up yet.

You’re just about to hang up when the phone picks up, and Wooyoung’s breathy voice crackles over the receiver. “Hello? YN?” He sounds like he just ran a marathon, and you can’t help but smile. The sound of his voice on the other end of the line sends a wave of warmth through you, a bittersweet reminder of the love you've been missing.

“Hey, Wooyoung. Sorry for never getting back to you guys.” You can already feel the awkwardness and tension through the phone call. “Uh…when are you guys free to talk?”

You can hear the eagerness in Wooyoung’s voice as he responds almost immediately. “Don’t apologise, YN, okay? San and I are free tonight after five. Would you like to come round to have dinner? I’m making spicy pork belly soup. If not, tomorrow evening also works at the same time. If you need more time.”

He’s one word away from practically begging on his knees, and you feel your heartstrings tug. “Yeah, tonight works if that’s okay. Is six-thirty okay?”

“Yes!” Wooyoung has no hesitation when he answers you. “Just come up whenever—you know the door code.”

“Okay, thank you again,” you say, seconds from hanging up when his voice cuts through the phone.

“YN. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I’ll see you tonight.”

He ends the call before you can say anything else, and you’re left staring at the phone longingly. Yeosang’s chuckle brings you out of your thoughts. “Told you they don’t hate you,” he hums, a small smile on his lips, and you roll your eyes at him even though your heart warms.

“Should I bring a gift? Like wine or something? I don’t know…they’re feeding me. And it could be a peace offering.”

Yeosang laughs again, amused by your dilemma. “If you want to, it could be a nice gesture. But really, I think they just want to see you again.” He reaches over to you to squeeze your hand. “You guys will be just fine, okay?”

You nod, offering him your own crooked smile. “Thanks for sitting and talking, Sang. I appreciate it.” Your eyes dart to the side. “I should probably go see if I can find a proper bottle of wine, though.”

-

The bottle of wine in your hands is clutched so tightly you fear it may shatter in your sweaty grasp. You’re almost too scared to knock, but your longing to see your boyfriends (were they still your boyfriends?) overrides your fear, and you tap on the door lightly. It might be presumptuous to just walk in, even though Wooyoung told you they didn’t change the door code. You’ve done it many times before, but these circumstances are different.

Before you can chicken out and call it off, the door swings open, and San stands before you, his hair messy like it always ends when he tries to style it without help. Your fingers twitch as you keep yourself from reaching up to smooth it over. “...Hi,” you greet him instead, eyes flitting down to your hands. “I brought wine.”

“Thanks. Come on in. Wooyoung’s finishing up now.”

He steps aside, and you pass him, trying not to flinch as his comforting scent fills your brain. Oh, how you missed him and Wooyoung. The apartment is unchanged, and a picture of the three of you is still hung on the wall. “I hope you’ve been well?”

“Yea. I’ve been keeping busy.” San closes the door behind you, running a hand through his messy hair, which only serves to worsen it. “How about you?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I’m doing well. Just been working…” There’s a long pause where neither of you knows what to do. “Do you need help with anything? Where do you want me to put the wine?”

San shrugs. “There’s not much to do. The table has already been set. Do you want to wash up or anything? I can pour the wine.”

You nod, handing over the bottle, being careful to avoid San’s touch before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You can practically hear the disappointed sigh leaving San’s mouth and you feel a sharp stab in your heart at how upset he seems to be but you remind yourself this is important. As Yeosang said, they have to be aware of what issues you’re having.

You glance at your weary face in the mirror, wiping at some smudged makeup and fixing your hair, taking any moment you can get to calm yourself down. When you can hear low murmurs in the kitchen of San and Wooyoung talking you know it’s about time for you to get out of the bathroom.

When you turn the corner into the kitchen, Wooyoung greets you with a tentative smile and a wake of his spatula. “Hey, YN. Hope you’re doing well. Are…are you hungry? It’s almost done.” Wooyoung speaks carefully like he’s triple-checking the words he wants to say before they come out of his mouth.

“Of course,” you laugh awkwardly. “Your food is always good. I hope you’re doing well too.”

It’s almost painful how tense the atmosphere is, and both you and Wooyoung cast a glance at San as if pleading silently for him to resolve it for you two. Before any of you guys can speak, the rice cooker beeps, slicing the thick stress in half and all three of you laugh. “Let’s eat,” San cheers, his eyes crinkling in the smile you missed.

The three of you move towards the seats, where three glasses of wine sit and side dishes are scattered around. Wooyoung holds the stew in his hands, setting it down in the middle of the table as you and San take your seats.

The dinner is mostly silent, aside from a couple of hums in delight at the taste of Wooyoung’s cooking. As much as you would deny it, you missed this. You missed being near them, being able to share the same space with them. As the three of you eat, you sneak glances at both San and Wooyoung. Aside from the tousled hair, San seems pretty put-together, with an easygoing smile on his face and dimples still prominent. But the dullness in his eyes is clear and he smiles and giggles way less than usual. Wooyoung’s face is lined with worry, hints of stubble peeking out, and you’re embarrassed to admit you find it attractive. His hands fiddle with his silverware as he eats, and the guilt returns to eat at your stomach.

“So…” you try and break the silence carefully, and both men’s eyes quickly focus on you. “...my brother’s boyfriend adopted a cat secretly and Hongjoong is livid, but I caught him cuddling with the cat just two days ago.”

San chuckles. “Sounds about right. Seonghwa definitely seems the type to. What, did he find the cat on the side of the road and ‘just couldn’t let it starve out there’?” You snort at San’s imitation of your brother.

“Almost spot on. It’s like Seonghwa is sitting right here, really.”

And with that, the conversation continues almost completely normally, like nothing had happened two weeks prior. Wooyoung prods at San’s cooking like always and you defend San but can’t help but throw in a jab of your own, one that San reaches over and pushes gently at your shoulder for.

At the touch, you freeze and Wooyoung’s eyes dart between the two of you. A long moment passes until you finally laugh stiffly and push him back. “What can I say? It’s true.”

Wooyoung smiles at the both of you, the corner of his lips crooked. “Good to see you take his side as always when it comes to cooking,” he teases. “Maybe I’ll make him cook next time.”

Next time. Your breath catches at those words and both San and Wooyoung take note of your hopeful reaction. “I’ll hold you to that.”

-

After dinner, all of you shuffle into the living room slowly, knowing exactly what must come. None of you want to start the conversation, but it must happen. You sit first, hands wringing in your lap. San and Wooyoung sit right next to each other, but not far from you.

“We could draw straws?” Wooyoung speaks up, his hands gripping the couch beside him. “To see who goes first.”

You don’t quite know how to react, but unlike the last time Wooyoung tried to be silly, you understand it isn’t coming from a place of malice. “I think that’s a great idea, Wooyoung,” both you and San agree, and although Wooyoung’s body tenses a tad more, his eyes soften.

“Thanks.”

With shaking hands, you hold out the straws Wooyoung had given you. Both San and Wooyoung draw, keeping their pick hidden until you pick yours. Long. San uncurls his hand and reveals his. Long.

Your gaze shifts to Wooyoung who looks just about ready to throw up at the prospect of going first. “Of course it’s me,” he laughs soullessly. “I suggested it, so I end up being first.”

“If you’re not comfortable–”

Wooyoung stops San with a quick squeeze of his hand. “No, it’s okay. I have a lot to say.” Without further ado, he turns to face you, his eyes pleading and his brows furrowed. “YN, I’m sorry. I was inconsiderate of you in the relationship, and although I meant no harm, I hurt you when I commented on ‘having more fun without you’. Although I tried to keep tension low, it only served to hurt you and I apologise for that. I should’ve been more attentive to you and considered how you may have felt when San and I went off to do our own thing without you.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, your heart warming at his heartfelt apology. “I really appreciate that, Wooyoung,” you hum. “I missed you a lot, and after a couple days of cooling down, I realised you meant no harm, and I could’ve told you how I felt about that with more maturity. I…I hope you don’t mind if I go next.”

San waves his hand, gesturing for you to go on. “Of course,” he agrees readily, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand gently.

“I’m sure my…complaints…about our dynamic were pretty clear. I felt left out, excluded, and separated from the two of you. And what I was feeling was valid, but my reaction wasn’t. I am sorry about how I went about talking to you guys. I assumed you wouldn’t care, and so I kept it to myself and let it boil over. And just running out on you guys was unfair of me. I didn’t explain, nor give you guys a chance to explain.”

San nods empathetically. “I was indeed hurt by your immediate assumption that we wouldn’t care. I thought it was clear we care about you—I mean, we did watch that show together and we asked if you wanted to join us next time. If you were really feeling hurt, I do wish you brought it up sooner.”

You sigh, looking down at your twisting hands, bringing one of them up to your mouth to chew lightly on the nail. “Like I said way back, I was insecure about the two of you changing your relationship dynamic just because I wanted it. Maybe it was stupid, I don’t know, but the hurt I felt wasn’t stupid. Sure, we watched the show, and sure, you asked me if I wanted to join next time. But that was it! I was an afterthought. You dismissed me when I said I wanted to join, and yet you asked me why I didn’t bring it up before?”

Before you can sink your teeth any further into your nail, Wooyoung leans forward, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth and bringing it to his lap. “Don’t bite your nails, YN. I’m sure San didn’t mean to be dismissive,” he pleads, elbowing San lightly in the ribs, who winces and nods sincerely. “I’m sure you understand, we were just hurt you didn’t trust us enough, although your reasons are understandable. We want to make things right, though, and we want you to be comfortable to talk to us about your insecurities and worries.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to be so defensive,” San concedes. “I got too caught up in wanting everyone to get along, I got ahead of myself. I pride myself on being the calm one, but I was too passive and that quickly turned into self-righteousness.” His hand moves to rest atop yours and Wooyoung’s, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the soft skin.

“We still want you with us, YN,” Wooyoung cuts in, “and we want to change for you. We talked about this when you were gone, and we’ll respect your decision to leave if you so wish, but we really would like to try and work this through.”

You pause for a moment. You could walk away right now, minimizing any potential hurt that could follow. But as your eyes land on your conjoined hands, any minute wish to leave is immediately squashed and you smile up at the two of them. “I want to stay too.”

San matches your smile and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. Before anything else happens, he pulls you forward, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders as he engulfs you in a warm hug. Without hesitation, San quickly joins, pressing a kiss to the top of both your and Wooyoung’s head.

As they murmur promises of how they can include you more, as well as soft ‘I love you’s  in your ear, you can’t help but relax at their showcase of love. Things will turn out all right.

[daddyfordaeddy]

noun - décolletage; a low neckline on a woman's dress or top.

Pairing: servant! Wooyoung x lady! f! Reader

Genre: Smut, implied established relationship, E for explicit, MDNI

Warnings: infidelity (woo and yn fuck, yn is married to someone else), ⚠️somnophilia (it is implied that both of them do this on a regular basis, and it is just a roleplay. it is extremely hinted at so still, please be warned!)⚠️, smut warnings under cut

Word count: 1720

Smut warnings: Peeking tom (wooyoung is a perv and watches yn sleep and touches himself over her), somnophilia (implied consensual, discussed beforehand but not shown), fingering (f receiving), begging, dirty talk, unprotected (⚠️dont do!⚠️), creampie, multiple orgasms

-

This is part of a pervert! ATEEZ collab with @sanjoongie, @mingsolo, @flurrys-creativity (Limerence), @potatomountain, @desirehorizon, @bunnliix, and @skteezcursed :) As their stories drop, their links will be added. Enjoy!

A big thank you to potatomountain for helping me figure out the plot too 🩷 probably would've suffered without you lololol

⚠️Please note, this fic, although implied consensual, is very vague on the consent part. YN and Wooyoung have talked about it and agreed to it beforehand, but it's only very lightly implied. Please approach with caution.⚠️

-

Wooyoung can’t help but to keep his eyes pinned on your sleeping form as he half-heartedly dusts the dresser for the fifth time. He knows it’s wrong, he can get fired in the blink of an eye, but the chance of getting caught just makes him grow even harder in his pants. All the other servants are with the new master on a business trip, only the cooks, stable boys, and Wooyoung are left in the mansion with the mistress. Just what Wooyoung prefers.

It’s no well-kept secret that Wooyoung is known to play around with his fellow servants, or even some esteemed guests. And it’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy it, but his sights have always been set on you. On Lady YN, his sweet mistress who can do no wrong in his eyes. You’ve always been so kind, so sweet to him, all Wooyoung wants to do is hear your precious moans as he makes you fall apart on his fingers.

Your new husband couldn’t, that much Wooyoung knows. When he creeps under your windowsill at night, hearing the new master’s grunts and groans, and your light moans that he knows deep down are fake, he knows he could do so much better. Just the thought of it boils his blood.

Carefully, quietly, he puts down the duster and approaches your bed. You’re a deep sleeper, he’s sure you wouldn’t wake up if he just takes a peek. Nothing wrong with that. With gentle hands, he lifts the linen sheet covering you and moves it to the side, breathing in deeply at the sight of your lithe form. He didn’t think you would sleep almost bare, the only thing covering you is a sheer nightgown that hides nothing, but he’s not going to complain.

Your lips are pressed into a pout as you sleep, unaware of Wooyoung staring at you like a starved man looking at his last meal. Unwilling to let this chance slip through his fingers, Wooyoung quickly moves his hand down, palming at himself through his pants, biting his lip to keep his moans to a minimum.

With every moment, he grows more desperate, his hips bucking into his hand and he groans under his breath, loosening his pants and shoving them down his thighs. With a stifled moan, he wraps his hand around his length, slowly stroking it up and down and thumbing at the tip. It doesn’t take long for precum to start beading at his tip and sticking to his fingers.

Wooyoung’s eyes drink in your form as you groan and shift around in your sleep, moving to your back and exposing your breasts and cunt, visible through the thin fabric of your gown. Wooyoung’s eyes can’t seem to stay in one place…that is, until he reaches your crotch. He can’t hold back the gasp at seeing how wet your folds are. You must be dreaming about something dirty. Slick is sticking to your thighs, strings of it connecting them together.

Wooyoung’s free hand reaches out without him even realising, pressing his thumb against your pulsing hole. A moan breaks out of your throat and Wooyoung immediately stiffens, eyes flicking up to your face, but you remain asleep. “Woo…” falls out of your throat, and Wooyoung’s eyes widen. There’s no way…did you… “Wooyoung…”

There’s no denying it now. Your quiet moans only serve to make Wooyoung more bold, crawling onto the bed and sitting on his knees, bringing his hand up to cup your chest, thumb now playing with a nipple. Each touch brings a whimper out of your mouth, and you slowly blink awake, eyes glazed over and hazy.

“Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung freezes, hand still gripping your chest and his hard cock pressed against your thigh. “Yes, my lady?” he whispers, eyes trained in on your face as you look up at him with such pretty, pretty eyes. “How may I be of assistance?”

You shift to sit up, leg dragging against his sensitive length and Wooyoung bites his lip to keep the moans at bay. “Aren’t you going to continue?” Your voice is small, delicate, and Wooyoung so badly wants to just eat you up. “It’s so hard to feel good with…him. I saw you outside at my window, you know, and I wanted nothing more than for you to come and show me how it’s done. Please, Wooyoung.”

That’s all Wooyoung needs to hear, his arm wrapping around your waist and hoisting your body up until you’re flush with his torso, face so close to his. “Gladly, my lady,” he hums before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Unabashedly, you moan into his mouth, your hands moving up to grasp at his shirt as his tongue presses into your mouth. He can practically taste how much you want him, your hips canting up against his leg as you try and get as much friction as you can.

“Wooyoung, please,” you whine into his mouth, and your voice only serves to make Wooyoung somehow harder.

With a grunt, he moves his hands to grip at your thighs, yanking the hem of your dress up and lifting your hips until his dick, throbbing painfully, presses against your bare cunt. He lets out a hiss at the feeling of your soft, wet folds practically enveloping his length, your slick dripping down to his balls and spreading on his thighs. “You’re so wet for me, my lady. So eager, huh? Tell me, how does the master try to please you?” You groan, head dropping against Wooyoung’s shoulder and he pinches the flesh of your breast, making you squeal. “Go on, speak. How else am I going to show you how much better I am?”

“Ah, well, he would kiss my neck softly, and touch my– ah– my breasts,” you whimper out, every few words punctuated by your soft moans as Wooyoung sinks his teeth into your clavicle, soothing the sting with wet kisses on your sensitive skin. His hands grip the collar of your dress, ripping open the already-low neckline. You gasp as his grip slides over to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples and you keen, hips grinding down on his crotch. “Oh God, Wooyoung, just put it in, please–”

Wooyoung laughs into your neck, his hands pinching your nipple just a little too harsh, shutting you up with a moan. “God, so impatient. You really can’t stand the master, huh. Don’t worry, my lady, I’ll treat you right.” As he speaks, one of his hands grasp the base of his cock, guiding it to slide between your folds, his precum making the slide so much smoother until the head finally catches on your hole. It feels like it’s sucking him in, Wooyoung biting his lip to keep himself from coming too fast.

“Youngah–” you moan, cunt pulsing as your walls stretch to accommodate his thick cock.

The nickname, although not perverted by a long shot, sparks something in Wooyoung’s brain and he bites into your shoulder, hard, as his thighs shake and he spills ropes of hot come inside of you. And yet, he remains hard.

“Shit–” Wooyoug groans, his grip tightening, sure to leave nail marks in your soft flesh. “God, squeezing me so tight…Do you feel me in you? You make me so insane, I just want to fuck you full of my come until my cunt is forever filled with my load. You hear that? Your cunt is mine, and I can fill it whenever I want, okay? Whose cunt is this?”

Your mouth is hanging open, nothing but incoherent babbles falling out, but Wooyoung is having none of that. He lands a harsh slap to your clit and you half moan, half scream out, “Wooyoung! It’s you, fuck. Please!”

A low chuckle sounds in your ear, Wooyoung smiling sweetly, a harsh contrast to the sharp look in his eyes. “That’s right, my lady. You’re fucking mine,” he all but growls into your ear, landing another harsh slap to your cunt before bringing his fingers to your clit and playing with the bundle of nerves.

“Yours! Fuck, I’m yours, Wooyoung,” you repeat yourself, head empty of all other vocabulary. “Please, fuck.”

Your cunt is clenching around him so well, tears springing to your eyes as you reach the edge of your orgasm. With one last ‘please’, Wooyoung’s other hand grips your chin, causing your mouth to open, and he spits in your mouth before crashing his lips on top of yours and coming once again.

With every throb of his cock and his come filling you up bit by bit again, you also reach your orgasm with a loud, drawn-out whine. Your body goes limp in Wooyoung’s hold, head resting on your chest as your thighs still quiver and your bones feel like jelly.

Wooyoung’s breath puffs over your hair, his touch back to being gentle as he rubs your back, calming you down. “My lady, how are you feeling?” he murmurs, hands stilling their movement.

“Good,” you hum, moving your head to smile up at your beloved servant. “I’m good. Thank you, Wooyoung. You certainly have helped.”

Unable to help himself, Wooyoung tilts his head to steal yet another breathtaking kiss from you. “Good. I don’t want to hurt my precious lady, you know.” He smiles, pecking your lips again. “And we’ll have the rest of the week to ourselves still, you know. Your husband doesn’t return for another two weeks.”

You shrug, shifting in his lap as you frown at your ripped nightgown. “Yes, well, maybe in those two weeks, I can find a reason to divorce him. For now, we can stick to our games and play-pretend. But my question is…did you really have to rip this? I had it imported, you know.”

You glare up at him, a pout forming on your lips, and Wooyoung can feel his aching dick start to twitch back to life. “Well…I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you,” he hums, nosing his way down your neck, all the while pressing kisses to it. “Lay back, and I’ll treat you right.”

“You better,” you threaten without real bite. “As your lady, I command you.” Your voice grows breathy as his breath ghosts over your sensitive cunt.

“I live to serve.”

[sweetiesicheng]

wooyoung - one morning

word count : 606

—

"hey. loser."

you feel someone poke your head multiple times, making you finally wake up. you grumble and open your eyes to see wooyoung laying down next to you. he has his head propped up with his hand.

"breakfast?" he asks.

you hum. "yea. do you want me to cook?" you ask him and brush your hair out of your face.

"no no no, i got it," he replies. "i'll make you tea," he says and leans in to kiss you on the lips. "come down when you get up," he says to you as he throws the blanket off of him.

"are you sure you don't want me to cook?" you ask him as he walks to the door and opens it.

"i cook for us all the time! do you doubt me or something?" he immediately asks with a frown.

"alright, whatever you say," you reply while pulling the blanket to ensure that it's around you. you close your eyes. "i'll be down in a bit," you say to wooyoung.

"yea, you're definitely falling back asleep."

"leave me alone."

—

"wow, she woke up," wooyoung says as you walk into the kitchen.

"bite me," you grumble as you hug him from behind.

"you'd like that."

you hit his stomach, "wooyoung, you're so—"

"handsome? i know. now sit down and eat something," he says and gets out of your hold. he bumps into you in order to push you toward the table.

you sit down at the table and heavily yawn. wooyoung isn't done cooking everything, so you wait for him to finish. then, you decide to lay your head down on the table.

you accidentally fall asleep, and wooyoung isn't surprised when he turns around. he laughs and puts another plate on the table.

"baby," he calls out and leans in to peck your face. "baby, come on. let's eat something together," he says, gently waking you up this time. "tea?" he asks and drags a mug in front of you.

"thanks," you say and kiss him. wooyoung sits down across from you while you drink your tea. "thank you for cooking."

"of course," he smiles. "hurry and eat. it's gonna get cold," he says to you.

both of you eat breakfast together, enjoying a quiet morning since you're still really tired. wooyoung knows better than to annoy you too much when you're tired.

—

"baby, want to go to ikea?" wooyoung asks as he walks into the living room. he had just finished washing the dishes from breakfast. "y/n, are you—" he stops speaking and chuckles instead.

you're sitting in the couch, but your head is tilted to the side. you have your arms crossed and look like you had been waiting for wooyoung before falling asleep.

"you're really tired today, huh? it's not even that early," wooyoung speaks and crouches down in front of you. "baby, my sleepy baby," he calls.

you wake up again, groaning when you realize that you had fallen asleep again. "sorry woo," you apologize and yawn.

wooyoung shakes his head, "don't worry about it. want another cup of tea? or we could go get coffee from your favorite place?" he offers.

"coffee?" you reply. "we have too many errands to do today."

"let's get ready to leave then, sleepyhead," he says with a smile before standing up, pulling you to stand as well. "try not to fall asleep in ikea. i might just leave you there," he says before kissing you.

"you would never do that," you reply to him as you wrap your arms around him.

"i so would do that," he laughs. "come on, let's go."

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '24: Primal Play/Biting | Jung Wooyoung

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact)

Summary: Wooyoung rented out a cabin for the two of you to live out a fantasy. You couldn't be happier

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: minor elements of cnc (everything is consensual and discussed beforehand), chasing, some fear play, physical aggression from both parties, choking, biting, blood for a split second if you squint, oral (m and f receiving), face fucking, spanking, dacryphilia, hair pulling, fingering, some manhandling, scratching, Wooyoung has a dirty mouth, reader is mentioned as being prey, use of the terms 'pet' and 'thing' like once each, praise, degradation, and probably a lot more

A/N: This is kinda filthy and yall are probably gonna eat this up. Please heed the warnings!!! Enjoy!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts

@brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz

@mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

Kinktober '24 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

Your heart was racing so hard it was making your chest ache, blood rushing in your ears as you pressed your back as hard as possible against the corner of the closet you were hiding in. It was pitch black, nothing but the faint sliver of light shining beneath the door from the light Wooyoung had turned on. Your hand was clasped over your mouth to try and stifle the sound of your breathing.

You could hear his footsteps, slow and deliberate as he circled the room. Then it was quiet, and then the light flicked off, and for a moment you really thought that you were home free. Then, just as you were properly letting your guard down, the door to the closet was flung open, and your boyfriend was looming over your frame, his shadow engulfing you in darkness you didn't even know was possible.

"Found you," he said, voice low and sending a jolt of panic through you. You pushed yourself up, bolting to push past him only for his arms to wrap around your waist. You squirmed, shrieking and pushing into his shoulder. He grunted as you managed to jab an elbow into his side, his grip on you loosening enough to squeeze yourself free. You dashed out the door, pulling it shut behind you to gain an extra second and sprinting down the steps, damn near tripping on your way down.

Your eyes scanned the cabin that was laid out in front of you before booking it towards the kitchen. Maybe if you were careful you could find a place to hide outside, maybe he wouldn't think to look there.

You'd thought Wooyoung was insane when he'd suggested renting a remote cabin to live out your wildest fantasies and all your domestic dreams far away from everything, but now with nobody for miles and nothing but your own instincts to protect you from the dark, desperate side of Wooyoung that had taken over.

You took a sharp turn into the kitchen, hissing when your side caught the corner of the counter. And maybe it was that single moment of slowing down, or the way your fingers were fumbling with the lock on the sliding glass door, too hopped up on the adrenaline to function properly, but you didn't manage to get the door open before Wooyoung was running up on you.

One of his palms landed against the glass door by your head, the other curling into your hair and yanking your head back. You looked up at him, eyes wide with that delicious panic that he craved to see in you, and his own dark and dangerous as he drank in your expression.

"You put up such a good fight, didn't you?" He purred, the corner of his lips tugging up into a vicious smirk. You squirmed, trying not to give in to the weight of his body pressing you to the glass. He pulled harder at your hair and you let out a strangled cry as if the pain of it, and the way he let his strength loose like he hardly ever did, wasn't leaving a searing pool of arousal between your thighs. "Bet you wanted me to catch you, hm? Put your pretty holes to use?"

He pressed closer, the cold of the glass stinging even through the fabric of your shirt, and you could feel the outline of his cock, hard and heavy against your thigh. He chuckled, noting the way that you still weren't sold on giving in to him, on letting him get what he wanted, but that was part of the fun, waiting for the switch to flip in your head and watching the way you turned from frantic prey to eager pet for him.

"Woo," You whined out, eyes watering from how hard he was still gripping at your hair. He growled, leaning down to capture your lips with his and taste how sweet his name was on your tongue. You kissed him back, teeth catching his lip hard enough to make him hiss. He brought his free hand up, wrapping it around the front of your throat and giving it a small squeeze. You gasped, and he dove deeper into the kiss.

Your hands found his waist, nails digging into his skin and feeling the way he kissed you harder in return. He pulled away, harshly dragging your shirt off of you while you worked his off in turn, each of you battling each others movements until your upper halves were bare for each other. He dipped down, mouth latching onto your neck and leaving a harsh trail of little marks. When he reached the crook of your neck, he stopped, just dragging his tongue over the spot. His big hands found your waist, pinning you back into the door and keeping you from jolting away from the feeling of the glass no matter how hard your body tried as it adjusted.

You were about to protest, tell him to let you go or get on with it, when his teeth dug into the soft spot where your shoulder met your neck, biting so hard that you were temporarily consumed by the searing pain. You cried out his name, hips grinding towards his and nails leaving nasty red marks down his biceps that he'd surely flaunt later.

He didn't let up right away, biting until you were flinching away properly. When he pulled away, he admired the way his teeth left bright dents against your skin, a couple tiny droplets of blood blooming on your skin. He smirked, latching his mouth over the spot and soothing the pain with his tongue.

"Need you," You insisted, pushing him off by his shoulders and dropping to your knees in front of him. You pulled his pants down, taking his boxers with them. He hastily kicked them out of the way, still focused on the way that you stroked him, spreading the precum he was leaking along his length before sliding your mouth down him with no warning.

He tossed his head back, letting out a guttural groan at the warm wetness of your mouth wrapped around him. He pressed a hand to the back of your head, urging more of himself into your mouth. You gripped at his thighs, looking up at him and easing your mouth open, letting him thrust hungrily into your mouth like he wanted to. You couldn't breathe properly with the way he was filling your throat, drool spilling over your lips and tears pricking your eye with every gag you made around him, but it was just spurring him on.

"Fucking filthy," He said, voice practically a whine as he fucked your face, admiring how absolutely ruined you looked for him, squirming and pushing at his thighs when he held your head down on his cock. He could feel your throat contracting around him, feel you spluttering and gagging and absolutely choking on him. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding you there for a second longer before letting you pull off of him.

You doubled over, coughs wracking your body, but he only gave you a few moments to catch your breath before he was grabbing your arm and hauling you to your feet. You stumbled, letting him bend you over the counter to yank your pants and underwear down your thighs. You laid your upper half firm against the counter, feeling yourself drip down your thighs.

You didn't see him kneel down, but then his hands were kneading at your ass, and his mouth was latching over your core. He lapped at you, sucking and slurping so lewdly that you'd probably be mortified if it didn't feel like heaven. You rocked back against his face, aiding him in the way he eagerly smothered himself in you, drinking you in and drowning in your arousal. He drove his tongue deeper into you, coaxing more of your wetness out.

Your moans were flowing out of you without any hesitation now, chants of his name and hoarse, wailing pleas for him to keep going. He pulled away, pushing three fingers into you all at once. Your knees wobbled with the stretch of it and the expert way that he found your gspot, abusing it with his fingertips and biting into one of your ass cheeks, leaving another stinging mark, then several more down your thighs, ignoring the way you twitched and shrieked at the feeling, your entire body burning from the feeling.

Then you were coming on his fingers, drenching him in your juices which he eagerly lapped up as it ran down his wrist. He pulled away and stood up, not bothering to wipe your wetness from his face before lining himself up with your aching cunt. The slide was so easy, the tip of his cock reaching into your tummy and sparking a sort of desire that you couldn't begin to fathom.

"Fuck me," You demanded, already rocking back onto his cock. He reached around you, hand circling your throat again, the tip of his pointer finger guiding your chin back. You obediently arched your back, head tipped so far that you could see the way his dark hair was sticking to his forehead, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat and lips plump and red from working over you.

His thrusts were immediate, deep and fast and making your hands scramble against the counter. He filled you up perfectly, every breath coming out huffed and growly as he fucked into you like a feral animal. His free hand gripped your hip, digging his nails into you and dragging you back into each thrust until he was fucking you like a toy.

Your walls clenched around him, trying to suck him deeper, or slow him down, you weren't sure, and you didn't care. Every move he made sent tingles through you, every ridge of his cock dragging deliciously inside of you and making your head spin.

You were so loud, barely noticing the way you were babbling pure nonsense, but it was music to Wooyoung's ears.

"so fucking tight," He huffed, letting go of your hip to spank you hard, then again, and again until you were trembling under the weight of him. "Look how fucking perfect this pussy is. Made for me to use, my pretty little hole."

You couldn't think with him talking to you like that, and then he was pulling on your waist, dragging you up so your back was pressed into him, every breath tickling your ear. You gasped, feeling him even deeper as he nudged your legs as far apart as he could with your pants still around your knees.

"Wooyoung," You practically screamed, tears freefalling now. He reached up, using his thumb to wipe your tears away before sliding it into your mouth and letting you taste the salt on his skin.

"Go on, cum on my cock." He urged into your ear before dipping lower, biting the back of your shoulder hard again. That was the last push you needed, your entire body melting against him as your orgasm rocked through you. He didn't stop though, continuing to fuck into you hard and fast, groaning loudly at the way you were milking him.

"Too much," You mumbled, squirming underneath him, but he didn't give up, just sliding his hand into your hair and pushing you back down against the cool marble of the kitchen counter. The overstimulation was beginning to burn, slowly stoking the fire inside of you back up.

"Shh, just take it. Gonna take all my cum, right? Let me breed you nice and full like a slut?" He taunted, and you moaned, nodding as well as you could with him holding you down. Your entire body was already starting to ache, but it was a feeling that you craved.

Wooyoung tipped his head back, sweat beading at his hairline and dripping down his face as he chased his release, giving you a few more deep thrusts before he was spilling inside of you. He stayed there, plugging you full of his seed and letting you both catch your breath. He pulled out, and you winced, both at the emptiness and at the feeling of his cum slowly seeping out of you.

You stood up straight on weak legs, stretching your arms over your head. When you turned to look at him, his eyes were still dark, scanning every inch of you, taking in every mark he left on you. You opened your mouth to speak, but his hand came up, landing deceptively gentle around your throat, that self satisfied smirk curling his lips and leaving him looking like the cat that got the cream.

"Oh pretty thing, you don't really think I'm done now, do you?" he asked. His grip tightened, and you let out a stunted gasp as he pulled you closer, dipping to your ear. "I'm gonna fuck you in every room of this house, and you're gonna take it. Isn't that right pet?"

You looked up at him, already aching to have him fuck you again, your heart racing in your chest at the way he looked at you. You nodded slowly.

"Good girl." He whispered, letting go of your throat and stroking your hair before nodding his chin towards the rest of the house. "Now run."

copyright 2024 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[pirateprincessblog]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄

( 𝟎.𝟏 ) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨:

normal is good. it's safe. it isn't risky. and yet, normal is boring. normal job, normal family, normal relationship. makes you yawn just while reading, doesn't it? escaping it can cost a fortune, even if it is for a short, fun amount of time. when it gets bad, you don't get to regret. you don't get to complain. you don't get to cry. you don't get to go back. you wanted it. now bear the losses of your own decisions. you'll wish for things to get boring again. you'll wish to never feel an ounce of excitement again. you'll wish to be wrapped in your safety bubble, with your safe little family, safe little job, and safe little partner. and it just won't come.

!𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x oc (alice dawson) x jung wooyoung 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!hwa, collegestudent!wooyoung, love triangle, dilf trope, eventual smut, angst, fluff 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: yet to come

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of illness, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic violence, MINORS DNI (18+) 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this series will be around 10-15 chapters :) please don't hesitate to leave feedback! thank you for reading <33 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚��.

were you ever afraid of thinking about something risky while surrounded by people?

if yes, alice knows exactly how you feel. behind the dusty wooden counter, she hides a book. her eyes abandon the words she has read a dozen times this year already, checking if anyone is giving her weird looks. her thoughts are a loud mess, and she fears that one of those hard-working students might secretly have super hearing powers and is judging her right now. but when she notices no side eyes, her gaze drops on the worn-off pages again. this book set cost her a fortune, and it already looks like it has been through at least two major historical events. heaven forbid that her mother knows how much money she spent on that.

her heart beats faster with each word she reads, fingers excitedly flipping the pages, even though she knows all the plot twists, all the foreshadowing, a few little plot holes that only a small number of people have noticed. she wishes she could read it all for the first time again. the storyline, the characters, the villains, the twists, the tension, the steam. alice's favourite part in all the books. the steamy pages, written by her favourite author, making her sigh and roll in bed late at night as she reread them. sleepless nights spent with her eyes unfocusing and blurring out the words, her thoughts drifting away from the storyline and creating one of her own, using the very same characters. she would sit like that, fantasising, until a sound from the street would bring her back to the original story.

last night was similar, which is why she is barely keeping her eyes open while skimming over the room, checking for odd glares one more time. when she finds none, she continues daydreaming. the villain of the book has captured her heart, no matter the bad things he has done throughout the journey. she might just have a thing for evil, sassy, good-looking men. or she might have a thing for imaginary men with tongue skills.

"ah, your daily dose of porn, i see."

alice looks up, startled. she closes the book, throwing it in the already opened drawer and shuts it with a loud thud, making a few heads turn. the face standing above the counter chuckles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he does so.

"hush!"

"oh, relax. you have like three couples doing no-nos back there in the criminal section. your little mediocre book is nothing compared to them."

the girl furrows her eyebrows. her book wasn't mediocre. it was a masterpiece.

"what did you want?" she asks, annoyed with his teasing this early in the morning.

"i can't come and greet my favourite redhead in town?" the young man asks, his lips still in a teasing smile.

"not if you're going to be loud and disrupt. this is a library, not a bar."

"ha-ha. i forget just how witty my girlfriend is." he rolls his eyes. "luckily, you're pretty to make up for your lack of sense of humour."

"and your humour makes up for your lack of pretty." she tries to poke back, but it just doesn't sound right.

the young man laughs, sincerely, and rests his elbows on the wooden surface.

"you're cute when you try. you'd be even cuter if you were to join me in one of those horror sections. you know, to read. i love me some stephen king. i also love me some puss-"

"shut up, oh my god." alice hushes him, feeling her cheeks starting to burn from embarrassment.

"oh, come on. you haven't been over to my place in days. weeks even, i think."

"wooyoung," she exhales.

"yeah, sorry." the young man suddenly remembers, then scratches his neck from the little uncomfortable situation he has created. "how is your mom?"

"she has lost a lot of hair." alice says, eyes drifting towards the big library windows. "she has also lost a lot of weight. she still refuses to eat. she has already given up on herself."

wooyoung sighs, seeing his girlfriend show different emotions than last week. she has become numb to the whole situation. her mother has been sick for a very long time, and no amount of doctors, medicine, and persuading could convince her mother to start taking care of herself when alice wasn't around. now, alice has given up. she is angry with her mother, and that doesn't allow her to feel sad or bad for her.

"want me to come with you next time you visit her?"

"that would be today."

"yes, sure. of course. just tell me when."

"i finish at two, when rae arrives. i'll wait for you by the car?"

"i'll be there as soon as my classes are over. promise." wooyoung smiles at her.

there's a brief moment of silence, giving space for both of them to think. alice's mind went from fantasising to worrying, and wooyoung hates that he reminded her of the situation and changed her mood.

"baby?" he calls.

she hums, still a little absent.

"you haven't kissed me today."

alice looks at her boyfriend, heart swelling with guilt. her face drops, and wooyoung's eyes widen seeing her saddened expression.

"i'm so sorry," she says, voice almost a whisper.

"oh, no, no! baby, i just- hey, it doesn't matter. i'm sorry, okay? you're going through something tough, and my behaviour isn't quite helping. i'm being a dick."

alice stands up, hands gently cupping her boyfriend's face. her eyes examine his face, taking in his pretty features. she didn't mean what she said earlier, and she knows that he knows too. she smiles softly at him, assuring him that everything is fine and there is no need to apologise.

"i love you." she whispers.

and just like that, wooyoung softens in her hands, lips melting into hers as he finally kisses her for the first time in three days. it has become hard to catch her since she started working, especially since she runs to the hospital whenever she gets a chance. other times, she prefers laying in bed with little to no lighting, doing nothing but laying down and thinking of a way out of what her life has become.

wooyoung wishes he could help her. but what can he do, when they both refuse his help? he now realises where alice's stubbornness comes from. he smiles into the kiss, thinking about her stubborn nature combined with her impatience. she is a little handful, but she is his handful. and he will hold her until his last breath.

༺═━─━────༺༻────━─━═༻

while people tend to hate hospitals, alice likes it. it brings her comfort, knowing that the people around her are in charge of saving lives. she often visited hospitals as a toddler, due to often sickness. she is very prone to colds, and wooyoung has found himself getting mad at her very often because she refuses to wear a jacket when needed.

"but my outfit won't be visible!" she'd complain.

"i don't care. your kidneys are more important than a crop top. and i can't have you with a runny nose again. you know you have a hard time breathing as it is, the cold only makes everything worse."

"you just know it all, don't you?" she'd say, annoyed, while her fingers work the zipper of wooyoung's jacket.

jung wooyoung doesn't have any plans for the future, other than hopefully marrying alice and creating a family with her. he is a college student, yes. but only because his parents forced him to. he doesn't know what he wants in his life. alice is smart. she also doesn't know, so she simply didn't go to college. smart decision. it is crazy expensive, and managing those costs and the costs of healing her mother would be a disaster.

"ms dawson?"

alice stands up, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"dr clark, good day." she greets, smiling weakly.

"it certainly is a good one, ms dawson. your mother is finally showing improvement!"

alice stands still, not believing what she's hearing. wooyoung notices her lack of response, and gently takes her hand in his, hoping to shake her awake.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"she ate everything she was offered today, and she took her medication. and yes, we checked under the bed and in the flower vase, there weren't any hidden pills."

"oh, well... that's great."

the sudden change in her mother's behaviour was suspicious to alice. still, she felt relieved. with a thankful smile and a nod towards the young dr clark, the girl took her usual path to room 257, her hand still held by wooyoung's bigger and warmer one. she pushes the door open, her eyes immediately falling on the bed in the corner of the room. out of four beds, only two were now occupied, meaning that the other two had gotten better and were probably at home with their families. it made alice's heart warm.

it made her heart even warmer when her gaze dropped on the woman in the last bed, her head hidden by what seemed like a beauty magazine. fresh flowers stood beside her bed, accompanied by a framed picture and what seemed like a jewellery box.

"mom?"

the woman drops her magazine in her lap, a smile so wide on her face that it made alice's cheeks hurt. god, she looks so different. it wasn't that long since alice's last visit, was it? the woman in the bed wore makeup, her grey hair braided, and a flower head band placed neatly on her head. her nails were painted a golden brown colour, resembling the autumn leaves that tapped on her window on windy days. she dared to say, her mother looked better than her.

"ally, my darling!" the woman calls, tucking the magazine under her pillow.

alice approaches the bed, sitting in the usual stool that was waiting for her under the elevated nightstand.

"eleanor," wooyoung greets, slightly bowing. "you look absolutely beautiful."

"oh, my, this boyfriend of yours. always a sweet-talker." the woman blushes, waving her hand at the young man. "you are so very lucky, baby, not a lot of boys your age are this sweet. let me tell you, just five minutes ago, amber's son came over, had a fight with her over their house and kicked her out! look, her suitcase is right there!"

"mom, please. can you be any more quiet?"

alice looks over at the other occupied bed, and truly, there stood a suitcase. luckily, the woman was sleeping, so she didn't hear her mother's little gossip party.

"oh, don't worry. the poor woman cried so much that she fell asleep from exhaustion."

silence swallowed the room for a while, eleanor fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. she knew alice had questions. and she dreaded that she had to answer them.

"these aren't the flowers i brought you last time."

"no... no they aren't." she trails, looking anywhere but at her daughter.

"so... whose are they?"

a mumble is heard, and alice raises an eyebrow at her. wooyoung catches a glimpse at the framed picture, but when he fails to recognize the people on it, he shifts his attention back to the woman. she looks at wooyoung, as if searching for a way out of the interrogation that is about to happen. but wooyoung sends her an apologetic smile, and rests his hands on alice's hair, moving it out of her face. he feels like she will need it. there is a reason why her mother is acting so nervous, and when alice is upset, she loves to have her hair played with.

"mom."

"hm? oh. right, the flowers. uh... they're from..."

"mom, cut the bullshit. i'm just curious. so what if a friend brought them over? you have a new crush in town? dr clark not cute anymore?"

"oh, no! dr clark is very cute. and very young. and he is married, sadly for me. no, these are from, uh..."

alice grows impatient, a frown already forming on her face. wooyoung senses her tense state, and gently drops his hand on her shoulder, massaging the knot below her neck. she sighs, and looks at him as a way of saying thank you. silent conversations were common between the two, and it just showed how well they read each other. how much they love each other.

wooyoung presses his lips to her temple, and gently caresses her back as her mother prepares to give an answer.

"so?"

"so what?" eleanor acts dumb, still hoping that alice will give up.

"mom. the flowers. the jewellery. the makeup. the nails. the picture."

the girl finally takes the framed picture. she recognizes her young mother, her bright ginger hair falling in waves on her shoulder, green irises almost invisible because of her big smile and closed eyes. the man, however, she does not recognize.

"from your father."

wooyoung halts his movements. alice sits still, her gaze not leaving the picture.

"what?"

"your father. he came every day since your last visit, and brought me all these flowers, made me the crown, even painted my nails-"

"i didn't know they let drug addicts inside hospitals."

wooyoung gulps, watching eleanor's jaw drop at her daughter's numbness to the new situation they have found themselves in.

"isn't that, like, very unsafe? for both parties?"

"you shut your mouth, right now. your father is a good man."

"he is not my father, and he is certainly not a good man."

the woman's face twists into one of anger, hands turning white as she grips the sheets she's covered with. "he is your god damn father, whether you like it or not."

"he is a scumbag. that's all he is. and, he is the reason you're here. isn't it? have you forgotten?"

"alice..." wooyoung tries, but stops when alice raises her hand as a sign to stop talking.

"didn't he throw you down the fucking stairs and smash your head through the window?"

"that was years ago, alice. you were barely four."

"and yet i remember."

"you're acting as if he killed me."

"he drugged you all the time! and you became an addict, just like him!"

the dark past resurfaces so easily, pulling both women under it's veil and swallowing them with grief. so many tears spilled, so many bruises earned, and so many cuts treated. alice was only three when it all begun, and she still wonders how it all escalated so quickly in a span of just three months. from only name calling and occasional yelling, to full fist and kick fights and screaming for help. only for her mother to go back to him, too afraid and in love to let go. and each morning the same. three months of alice finding herself in crossfire, earning new bruises every other day, and crying all night long.

she loved her mother, and she loved her father a little less every day. strangely enough, there used to be days when the house was as peaceful as it used to be before her father became what he became. she didn't know why, or how. all she knew was that she was grateful. and that whatever pills dad was slipping mom in her drinks and food were, they worked, and alice guarded them in the cupboard with her life. years later, she realized what the pills were. pills, powder, injections, you name them. by the time the monster left the house, the woman was already hooked. she craved more, and more, and didn't have any. who was at fault for that? alice.

alice was the first thing eleanor saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw in the evening. she was there, consistently needing attention, food, love. and eleanor was exhausted. she just wanted her happy pills. and what other way to express your frustration, than to punish a child who just doesn't shut the fuck up?

wooyoung presses a kiss on her head, in hopes of pulling her out of her memories. he knew that she was thinking of old times, of the man from the picture. and he knew that won't do good to her.

"what did he want?" she calmly asks, fidgeting with the frame. she wished for nothing more than to burn the picture, and throw it at the old house, letting it burn the pain away. if only it worked that way.

"why do you think he would want something?"

"mom."

eleanor sighs, in disbelief. or defeat. wooyoung can't tell yet. she looks around the room, trying to find the right words so she wouldn't further hurt her daughter. though the damage was already done, and wooyoung couldn't see how she could further worsen it. until she opened her mouth again.

"he asked for money."

"what?!"

"but look, i-it's just for a new place, so we can all be together again!"

"what?!?!"

alice stands up, head in her hands and legs carrying her hurriedly around the room. wooyoung plops down on the nearby empty bed, feeling his heart swelling at the sight of his loving girlfriend lose control over her emotions. but he knows better than to interfere. he just needs to let her do what she needs to do.

"alice, please. i just want a family. a proper family."

"well you sure as fuck aren't getting that from him! how much?"

"what?"

"how fucking much?!"

"all of it! god, just stop screaming at me!"

now the other woman was the one holding her head, while the younger one shot her head up wide-eyed.

"all... of it?"

"yes, yes! all of it! he wants to create a better future for us and you're acting like a fucking lunatic for no re-"

"you- you bitch."

a gasp escapes the young man's mouth, and he looks over to the woman in bed for her reaction. she grits her teeth, trying to keep her composure. wooyoung notices how red her eyes have become, and how glossy they look. she is trying her best not to let her tears spill, but the more she looks at alice, the less control she has. she watches as her daughter grabs the picture and smashes it on the floor. when alice grabs her shoulders and starts shaking her, screaming in her face, she loses it. big drops roll down her cheeks and neck, ruining the makeup she had so carefully put on.

wooyoung hated that he couldn't help. the best way of helping was to stay back and do nothing. no matter what he said, it would only light up the fire in one of them, if not both. so wooyoung settled for glancing over at the stranger in the other bed, giving her a nod as a sign that everything is okay and that she doesn't need to worry. he doesn't know if it managed to calm the woman or not, because he gets pulled into the mess by eleanor. she grabs his wrist, pulling him closer as if asking for help.

"wooyoung can't help you right now! let go of him!"

"wooyoung, please- please! i only wanted to make it better for us-" she hiccups through sobs, desperately clawing at wooyoung's hand.

alice yanks his hand out of hers, and when a loud slap echoes through the room, wooyoung decides it is time to finally step in. alice might get mad, hell, she might even slap him too, but he doesn't care.

"alice." he sternly says, grabbing her shoulders.

"no, we're not doing this! wooyoung, i am breaking my back every day, i am working overtime, running here making sure she eats and stops acting like a child, only for her to give away all my hard work for empty promises?! to who?! a man who doesn't even recognize me anymore?!"

she is furious. she sees red. no amount of comforting from wooyoung's side will make her calm down.

"take me home."

"are you sure-"

before wooyoung can finish, he can only catch a glimpse of her dark red locks bouncing as she rushes out of the door, slamming it shut after.

"wooyoung, please talk to her."

the man sighs, torn between the two women. he hates this. letting people down. but more than that, he hates letting his girlfriend down.

"i'm sorry, eleanor. there's nothing i can do."

he gently picks up the picture from the floor, careful with the cracked glass, and places it on the nightstand. he glances at the older woman one last time, before sighing and following his girlfriend's path.

[the7thcrow]

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 10

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Ten: a relic from the past, confession, and dark magic.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 15.3k

extra chapter warnings: panic attack, a non-consensual kiss, non-consensual drug use (but magical? idk?).

chapter summary:

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

a/n: guess who’s back :3 sorry this took me a million years to write, hopefully i can be a bit more consistent in the next coming months. hope you enjoy, and don’t be shy to let me know what you think! love y’all, thanks to everyone who has not abandoned this story after this massive hiatus LMAO <3

Seonghwa has never believed anger to suit him.

While Woo wears his anger like a loaded cannon, and San - like most other things - buries it until it inevitably rises to the surface, Seonghwa has tried to avoid fury when he can.

After all, anger is often the replacement of a different emotion. It comes easier than understanding, quicker than resolution. It’s the nasty, winding short-cut off the high road, and Seonghwa has learned that the high road is almost always the safer path in the long term.

Anger is ugly. It’s nonsensical and he doesn’t like how it looks on him. It’s why he prefers the cold shoulder to blind rage, sorting out his feelings on his own rather than lashing out on others. It’s the kind thing to do. The empathetic thing to do.

It’s never been overly difficult for him to settle this rage until now.

It festers in his mind every morning, as well as in the night before he falls asleep. Everytime he accidentally catches your eye over breakfast, letting his gaze drift away in hopes that you will think that his eyes were trailing by rather than staring.

He is so unbelievably angry with you, and he hates it.

From the moment the truth was revealed in the forest, it’s as if someone wrapped a hand around his lungs and began to squeeze, then never let go. A hot, burning fire in his chest that’s smoke rises up his throat, choking him with rage. It stings his eyes, fogs his senses. It feels unbeatable, indestructible. Blinding.

He knows that anger is just an emotion. A bad one, one that he’s had to expel from others countless times before. From San, after The Desert Lotus. It’s just another entity, another plague on the body. Settle down, feel it, think better of it, then let it be gone.

And yet now that feels an impossible task. Seonghwa doesn’t know the last time he was so angry. Perhaps it was the night in the kitchen with his mother, learning of the heights of human greed, the one he relives every time he uses his gift to expel the anger from someone else.

He supposes this memory may replace that one.

When he found out the truth about you it was like the last few weeks came crashing down around him. The closeness, the trust and understanding, the mutual respect and admiration.

All lies. All of it. And he feels like such a fucking idiot.

There was no trust, and by the gods, there was certainly no respect. He was a mere pawn in your game, a part of the plan, and all he can do is beat himself up about being too naive to not see it earlier. Woo has always harped on him for being too nice to people, or as the elemental would put it, “not behaving like an actual person, but more like a rock on a walkway that people like to kick around”. Seonghwa thought that Woo was just being grouchy, the pessimist he always is. But hell, maybe he was right.

After all, Seonghwa should have seen it coming. There was so much he could have done. If he had questioned why a beautiful stranger would have so much immediate interest in him in the first place, or why you constantly asked him questions while dismissing any deeper ones about yourself. If he wasn’t so passive about the parasitic emotions practically radiating off of you. If he looked past the ideal he so desperately wanted and dared to dig up the reality of what was underneath.

He’s not an idiot. The reality is that for you, it was never about him. It was about getting to Kuroku. For him it was about the journey, but for you it was always in the name of the destination.

And well, he certainly did his part in getting you there. He shared his gift with you as a token of trust, he took your pain away and made it his own, he vouched for you against Woo’s constant doubt.

All for a girl who’s name he didn’t even know.

The thought makes more anger - ugly, volatile, and oh-so-unflattering - surge within his chest, and he throws a rock into the lake before him. It doesn’t skip as he intended, and instead sinks with a loud plunk.

Seonghwa frowns. He grabs another rock to throw.

After being met with an even louder plunk, he groans, before creeping further up onto the shoreline to grab a flatter rock. His toes dip in the water, which feels colder than yesterday now that he’s no longer fueled by sheer terror and adrenaline.

The coolness brings him back to Maralya, when he and Yunho would sit on the fishing dock. Feet in the water, even though Seonghwa was older, Yunho was the one who had taught him to skip rocks. His half-brother always had a knack for things like that, or well, for everything it seemed. From medical skills, to scaling buildings, to setting a fishing line; Yunho could master whatever he picked up. He must have inherited it from his father, a man Seonghwa doesn’t really remember, as he died when they were young.

Seonghwa doesn’t remember his own father either, as he disappeared on an escapade to The Mainland directly after he was born. His mother told him that his ship was lost at sea, but Seonghwa is pretty sure he just left and never came back.

It doesn’t really matter, he’s never had much of a desire to know the man. After all, the only thing Seonghwa inherited from him was his foolishness. And maybe his nose.

Seonghwa sighs. Picking up another rock, this one flat and polished, he recalls the steps in his mind. Yunho's voice runs through his head as he goes through the form, before bringing his hand back and letting it fly.

Plunk.

He stares at the ripples surrounding the sinking stone for a moment, before sitting down. He must have forgotten a step. It was a long time ago.

He lays back so that his head presses into the sand, the little grains cold and damp against his scalp. It’s familiar. It’s a little like the shore at home, although the sand isn’t as white, and the water’s colder, nor as blue. There’s no sound of hustle and bustle from back in the village, or his mother yelling at him to take a dip in the ocean before coming back inside because he’s covered in sand and he can’t track that into the house.

So maybe it’s not so similar, but he will pretend.

Seonghwa sighs, grabbing a handful of sand, letting it fall between his fingers. It’s times like these, ones where he’s dejected, broken-down, and lonely, that he wants nothing more than to go home. Only then does he remember that there’s no home for him to return to.

He sighs, his anger drifting to sadness, and yet he doesn’t mind. He believes that at the very least, it suits him better.

Footsteps approach from far off behind him, and he knows that it’s you. Woo walks faster, heavier footed, and he likely wouldn’t have heard San until he was closer. Besides, you’ve been walking with a slight limp since the fall, and he can hear it in the thump of every second step.

A part of him wants to ask what happened, what hurts. If you’re okay.

The angry part of him won’t let the other speak.

He hears your steps stutter, coming to a sudden halt from what he assumes is about a dozen feet off. Silence follows, and he wonders what you’re thinking. If you’re nervous to approach him, taking the time to contemplate your words before you say them.

Eventually, you do come closer. “San and Woo want to head towards Bebbanburg,” you call out from behind him. “I said that I’d come get you.”

“Thanks,” Seonghwa says flatly, making no motion to move. He will, of course, but not until you head back to camp. He’d like to avoid the awkwardness of walking in a strained silence, pretending not to notice as you try to meet his eye.

Although when he doesn’t hear you leave, it seems as if he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Sighing, he pushes himself up into a seated position. Glancing back at you, he has to place a hand over his forehead to block out the rising sun blinding his vision.

You stand with your arms wrapped around yourself, watching him with a dampened expression. Your tunic billows in the wind, torn around the waist and covered in dirt and dust. Chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers tap along your arm, you appear on edge. As if you wish to say something.

Seonghwa hates the way he wishes to know what it is. He hates how he wants to smooth your hair that is violently blown by the wind and wipe away the smudge of mud that has hardened against your cheek.

He hates how even now, after everything, he yearns for you.

Perhaps this is how it always would have ended, anyway. Having grown more attached then he ever should, not ready to lose what he knew was never his.

“Seonghwa,” you say finally, although it’s a little strained. Rigid. “About yesterday, by the fire.”

Ah yes, that. You and San hadn’t noticed him at the time, but when neither he or Woo came back to the fire, the two of you went out looking for them. It only took a moment, finding them sitting against the caves outer wall. Quiet and avoidant. Woo had fallen asleep, but Seonghwa had met your gaze. He held it for only a moment, watching your own eyes widen as you realized he’d seen the whole thing. He looked away when your lips parted to speak.

“With San. I hadn’t expected it to happen,” you say, calling loudly over the wind, and yet somehow your voice still seems quiet. Trapped and tight. “I… I don’t regret it. But after everything, it feels unfair to you-”

“I don’t care about you and San,” Seonghwa butts in. Not aggressively, or overly angry, merely factual. After all, that’s not what he’s angry about. He doesn’t care about you and San. That’s your business.

He wants San to be happy. Whatever it takes, the swordsman deserves a bit of peace.

Besides, now that he will not, perhaps San will wipe the mud from your cheek.

“Oh,” you say, followed by a pause. “You just seem upset.”

“I’m not angry about that,” Seonghwa replies, lips pursing together. He swallows hard. “Just about everything you did before it.”

Your expression falls. Mouth dropping open into a small part, your eyes fill with a sudden sense of shame and hurt. Your hands grip your elbows, hugging yourself tighter, even if only slightly.

Your expression settles like stone in his gut, and he knows that what he said has made you hurt. He has made you feel that same pain that tightens in his chest and floods up his throat.

Seonghwa wishes he hadn’t said that.

No matter his anger, no matter the pain, Seonghwa has never wished to pass an entity on to another.

“I’ll meet you back at the cave in a moment,” he says, because he doesn’t want to say anything else that he’ll regret. He doesn’t want to force his gaze from yours while at the same time feeling a pull towards you like a beacon, begging him to take it away. Take it all away. All the horrible entities that radiate from you like a plague, a blackened sickness.

Turning back towards the lake, he waits. When he hears the sound of your footsteps - fading away, not growing louder - he lets out a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t like what this has made him into. The anger that has filled him, strangles him, stops him from drifting towards you like a moth to a flame. Sure to be burned, but the glow will be glorious.

No, anger doesn’t suit him. And yet he wears it, draping over him, akin to a stranger’s jacket.

If there is any luck to be found following your fall from the cliff, it’s in that at least you’ve found yourselves closer to Bebbanburg.

The journey to the small kingdom only took a few hours, the fact that you had nothing to carry but the clothes on your back having sped up the trek. It was spent in silence.

You know there’s certain to be some of the black-clad men poking around in such a populous city, so upon reaching the kingdom, the first order of business was to purchase you a cloak, as Mingi’s own had remained within a satchel on the horse’s back.

It weighs down on your shoulders, knowing that it’s gone, the final piece of him you had left. You’ve tried to view it as for the better, as the cloak of a Libaiyan Royal Guard could have attracted the attention of the wrong pair of eyes.

Even so, it hurts.

The cloak you wear now isn’t nearly as nice, a tattered brown fabric that’s itchy in the spots where it touches your bare skin, but it only cost a few bronze pieces. Considering that all the group of you have to your name is the pouch of coins attached to San’s waste, you have to know where to ration your spendings.

This is only on the necessities. San is trying to locate a cheap blacksmith to fashion him a new sword. Meanwhile, Woo and Seonghwa are searching if there’s anywhere for your group to stay that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. Bebbanburg is an expensive kingdom, and so long as you find a place with a roof and walls that doesn’t blow through all of your savings, you’ll consider yourselves lucky.

With all the men on their own errands and a new cloak purchased, you’ve had about an hour to kill before now, as you currently make your way to meet them back at the city center. You’ve spent it wandering, peering into shop windows but never making your way inside. You don’t have the money to spend, nor do you want the undivided attention of a shop-keeper when you’re trying to lay low.

You’ve passed a few of your wanted posters strown up about the town, plastered to bulletin boards, poles, and shop windows alike. On top of being newly adorned with a far more accurate portrait of yourself, they’ve also added the detail of your recent scars. Printed along the bottom is the following: “Last spotted travelling with three young men. Potentially dangerous. Approach with caution.”

As an incentive due to what you assume is the elevated danger risk, they’ve increased the reward for your capture or demise to 300,000 gold pieces.

Apparently, someone at the tavern ratted the group of you out. Likely Yeosang and his band of not-so-merry men, or perhaps the poor shop-keeper desperate for a bribe.

Either way, someone is on your tail. Considering the new addition to the posters, that someone is in this city.

You haven’t seen them yet, but you know that it’s the black-clad men. They have to be lurking around here somewhere, they’re just being quiet about it.

You swallow hard, pulling the hood of your cloak further down.

Fortunately, the street’s are bustling with people. Bebbanburg, while not quite as big as the four major kingdoms, is still a hub for tourism. With money to spend, the streets are clean, the buildings well-kept. Despite being a narrow path in the merchant’s district in town, the air smells fresh.

It doesn’t feel quite right, in your opinion. Between the few towns you’ve visited these past few weeks, there was a certain scent to the air that felt more…natural. A strange concoction of smells as different taverns and homes didn’t agree on a pre-set menu for the night, dirt and pebbles aligning the trails as hunters dragged home their latest catch, or the muddy hoof-prints left by horses that stick to the bottoms of your shoes.

Bebbanburg feels too polished. The sort of polished that takes an effort, that works extra hard to rid itself of anything it deems unclean.

Trying not to obsess too much over the fact, you do your best to retrace your steps in order to return to the city center, taking a turn down another street. A slight limp to your step, ankle still not having fully recovered from your fall off the cliff, you count the shop doors that you pass along the alley’s stone wall. You kept count on your way here in order to know which alley to take back.

Counting down the doors, you pass by a butcher’s shop, cafe, and Zarian boutique for rare gems, all of which you’d passed along the way here. Gaze fluttering passively over the alley next to the boutique, you nearly miss the pair of eyes that lock on your own. Cat-like gaze fixated on yours, the bottom half of the figure's face is covered by a black cloth, their head shrouded in a dark cloak.

You pause. Hesitant, you retrace your last few steps, peering back down the alley.

The figure’s cloak follows behind them as they disappear behind a winding turn.

Swallowing down the bile that arises in your throat as an unsettled chill creeps down your spine, you keep moving along your original route. It was just a stranger. You’re paranoid, on edge, searching to find shadows and enemies in places in which they are not there.

Nevermind how something about the stranger's gaze felt oddly…familiar. Although you cannot place from where.

You continue along your original path, turning down the alley that will take you back to the city center. Glancing over your shoulder, you see nobody behind you, just the bustle of people continuing their way down the mainstreet. You mentally scold yourself. You’re being ridiculous, and casting lingering glances as you loiter in one place for too long is only going to attract attention.

When you turn forward, you catch a glimpse of movement, as something disappears behind a wall up ahead of you. “Shit,” you think to yourself, rushing forward as you place your back against the stone wall, peeking an eye out to see if you can spot them.

All you can manage is the tail end of the dark cloak disappearing down another alleyway. You wait a moment, as if contemplating how daring - or foolish - you’re willing to be, before heading after them.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper to yourself, hand drifting to the hilt of the sword at your waist as you follow after the mysterious figure. However, even if unwise, you’d rather know your enemy and have them right in front of you compared to being stalked like prey. You’ll get slain in a fair fight any day before getting your throat slit from behind.

It’s a morbid thought, something San would likely say during combat practice, and you wonder if you’ve been spending too much time with these men.

Following the stranger, you keep quiet on your feet. Pulling the sword out from its sheath, you tread carefully, slowing your pace as you near the corner that the cloak had disappeared behind. Holding the sword firm in your grasp, you take a deep and shaky breath, before jumping to face your attacker.

Only to find there is nobody there, just another barren alleyway. Another alleyway that leads to nothing but a dead end, a stone wall looming tall before you.

You frown, confused at how this is possible. Your gaze darts around the narrow alleyway, searching for a cloaked figure, but it remains entirely empty.

Letting out a troubled sigh, you resheath your sword and turn back around.

Only to be met face first with the masked stranger.

Your breath dies in your throat, and you instinctively pull an arm back, aiming to strike them. However, as you swing forward, they narrowly dodge your strike, managing to grab your wrist instead. They twist it, not so hard as to dislodge anything, but enough that it disarms you. Then, using their free hand to push you backwards, they press you up against the stone wall. Elbow against your chest and hand gripping your upper arm, their spare hand grips tightly around your other wrist, rending you immobile.

Your chest heaves, not from tiredness but scheer panic. They’ve got you. Your gaze flickers up, to scan the face of your assailant. The person that will turn you in to the black-clad men, or is perhaps one themself.

The strangers' dark eyes meet yours from beneath their thick cloak, black orbs dancing as they move to scan over your face. Cat-like in their shape, with thick eye-lashes and brows.

Then the stranger laughs.

It’s not a menacing laugh, nor one you would expect from someone who is about to kill you. Instead it’s joyous, almost disbelieving.

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

The stranger’s eyebrows furrow together into a look of confusion, before lighting up in realization. “Oh!” They say, before doing the last thing you would have ever expected of removing their hands from you entirely. “Of course!”

The stranger pulls off the hood of their cloak, revealing a head of long, thick red hair. They follow the removal of their hood by doing the same with their mask, and with it, you are hit with a wave of not only relief, but scheer and unadulterated joy.

“Yeji!” You nearly shout, pulling your back from the wall and wrapping your arms around your old laundress.

She chuckles, and then you are both laughing. In happiness, in relief, in sheer and utter disbelief. You pull away, placing both of your hands along her jaw to cup her face. You scan every detail, to ensure that she is real and actually standing before you, not some sort of trick or illusion.

But is her, just as you had seen her last at the castle. Maybe not exactly the same, wearing far different clothes than the modest beige dress she had adorned as your laundress, hair worn loosely, and eyes holding more of an edge than they ever had before.

Still, it is Yeji.

Yeji with the shimmering grin and freckle on her nose. Yeji who you know, and knows you in return. Yeji from your castle. Your home.

Yeji, a relic from the past that has not been destroyed.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, following me around like that,” you laugh, taking one of your hands and giving her a slap on the shoulder, playful and not hard enough to actually hurt.

“Sorry,” she grins. “I didn’t want to attract any attention on the street. Figured it would be safer to lure you somewhere quiet, and you know, I also wanted to make sure it was actually you first.”

She then scoffs, returning the slap onto your own shoulder. “I didn’t expect you to pull out a sword on me! Where did you even get one of those?”

You consider answering, but a heavy cloud of unanswered questions hangs over the two of you, its presence loud and rattling like thunder. The jovial nature to your reunion cannot last long, not when there’s so much at stake, not when your world has crumbled to ash since you last spoke.

“What are you doing in Bebbanburg?” You ask, before realizing there’s a far more pressing question at hand. “How did you get out of the castle?”

Yeji smiles, placing her hand over one of your own along her cheek. “After what happened with the king in the ball-room, it was chaos,” she explains. “The Dark Army were rounding up and capturing all those who worked in the castle and may have been close to you.”

Your heart seizes at the statement, and your voice is quiet as you speak again. “Did they hurt them?”

“I don’t know,” Yeji replies, tone equally as somber. “A group of us laundresses escaped together using the underground tunnel system. I didn’t see what happened to those they had rounded up, but…”

She swallows hard, eyes pitiful as they meet your own. “But with how The Dark Army were talking, and the screams that followed behind us…I don’t think it would have ended well for them, Princess.”

Your throat swells at her admission, and it becomes more difficult to breathe as your eyes fill with the remnants of tears. Your mind is flooded with the unwelcome image of all of your old servants - your friends, as they had far surpassed their job description - tortured to try and probe them for information regarding you.

You wipe at your eyes with your hands, stuffing down the rising guilt and pain, placing a lid on these horrible thoughts. You will mourn later, when you have the time to properly grieve and honour all that they have lost because of you. For now, you must keep moving, deal with what is right in front of you.

“You keep calling them The Dark Army,” you begin, changing the subject. “Is that a made up title, or something they’ve defined themselves as? Do we know who they are?”

Yeji shakes her head. “Nobody knows who they are, it’s just what we’ve been calling them because of their armour. Not to mention the fact that they are about the sourest men I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve spoken to them?” You ask, scolding yourself for the fear that seizes in your chest at the thought of it. Of them being anywhere near her, or anyone you care about, for that matter.

She nods. “They’re poking around the city. Trying to keep a low profile, because Bebbanburg doesn’t like any semblance of war or conflict contaminating their streets, but they’re here. We try to keep to ourselves by not causing any trouble or disturbances and they mostly leave us alone.”

Your head buzzes at the confirmation that they are here, within the walls and perhaps a mere alley-way over, which is far, far too close.

“You keep saying we,” you note. “There’s more of you?”

Yeji nods, a soft smile grazing her lips. “Lot’s of us. We’ve set up a refugee camp on the outskirts of the city. Bebbanburg doesn’t want us here, because of course they don’t, but at least it’s safe. Not much crime or Anti-Libaiyan extremists in the city, so even if it’s not much, it’s all that we can really ask for.”

If she had told you this a couple weeks ago, you’d have been startled to know that there were Anti-Libaiyan extremists at all. However, having been given insight into the monstrosities your father was capable of, this no longer comes as a surprise, but rather expected.

“Can you take me to them?” You ask, and Yeji nods.

“Of course,” she says, grabbing your hand as she begins to walk back up the alley-way. “Although, I’d recommend keeping a low-profile, seeing that you're alive might cause a little too much excitement. Draw attention.”

You nod in agreement, following behind her through the winding alley-ways. It’s not until you’re almost back on the main city street that you remember why exactly you were trekking through the alleyways in the first place.

“Wait,” you say, stopping. Yeji turns to face you, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “There’s some people I need you to meet first.”

“Where have you been?” Woo asks as you approach. The three men have gathered around the fountain within the center of the city square, water spouting from the tall and golden statue into a small pond embedded with various coloured jewels along its rim. The falling water casts a veil of mist around them, as well as the various other groups gathered beside it. Many of them are tourists from different kingdoms, which you can recognize by the various types of clothing they wear, such as the vibrant coloured patchwork of the group next to you that is distinctly Zarian. It seems a prime spot to talk, the definition of hiding in plain sight.

“You were supposed to meet us here a half-hour ago,” Woo says with a scowl, before he notices Yeji beside you. His gaze flickers up and down, as if assessing her potential danger. “Who is this?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself, before motioning to her. “You guys, this is Yeji.”

She gives them a smile to which none of the men return, and for a moment you stand in silence.

“We’ve heard that one before,” Woo says.

Your face warms with embarrassment, and you clear your throat before beginning to explain. “This is the real Yeji, the girl whose name I used. She was one of my laundresses back at the castle, as well as a close friend.”

Another moment of silence follows, as none of the men appear to know what to say, or how to approach the appearance of a stranger.

Eventually, Seonghwa speaks, tone polite. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, to which Yeji returns the sentiment. Although he isn’t looking at you to see it, you cast Seonghwa a grateful smile all the same.

“This is Seonghwa, San, and Woo,” you say, pointing to each of them in turn. “They have been helping me get to Kuroku.”

“Thank you for aiding Her Highness,” Yeji says, placing a hand on her chest while delivering a curtsy. A sign of respect. Although…exceedingly formal respect.

San’s lips pull together into a stifled smile, and Woo raises an eyebrow.

“You, um, don’t have to do that,” you say, placing a hand on Yeji’s shoulder and gently tugging her upwards. “It’s not really like that.”

“Oh,” she says, straightening herself as her eyebrows raise in surprise. There’s a silence that follows, as well as a sense of discomfort that hangs in the air, as Yeji chews nervously on her lower lip.

And for all the love that you have for her, you know exactly what she’s thinking, as it’s been drilled into her since the moment she began to work at the castle: The demands of Libaiyan proprietary.

She ponders that if the relationship with this group of men escorting you is not formal, then what is it, and how far have you stretched the rules of etiquette that bind you?

You wouldn’t even know how to answer that question even if she asked.

Instead of dwelling on the subject and the lingering discomfort, you turn to Woo and Seonghwa. “Did the two of you find a place for us to stay the night?”

Woo scoffs in annoyance while Seonghwa shakes his head, defeated.

“Not anywhere reasonable,” Seonghwa says. “There’s a few places we can go if nightfall comes, but we honestly might be better off sleeping in the woods. It should be a clear night, and at least it won’t cost us an arm and a leg.”

You frown, not fond of the idea of spending yet another night on the ground, especially without a tarp or blanket to shield you from the elements.

Fortunately, Yeji pipes up from beside you. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve formed a refuge on the outskirts of the city. I believe we have an extra tent to spare.”

Now this finally causes the men’s expression to shift, the discomfort and wariness on each of their faces replaced with a glimpse of relief.

“Alright,” San says, gaze shifting over to you even as he speaks to Yeji, and his expression is difficult to read. He appears almost bemused. “Lead the way.”

The refuge, while about as bleak as you expected it to be, fills you with an undeniable sense of glee. Mostly due to how big it is, meaning that even if the mass size of the refuge indicates that there have been hundreds driven from the Libaiyan kingdom, there are also far more people who survived and escaped the castle than you’d originally thought.

Gathered just outside of Bebbanburg’s walls, dozens of the beige and tattered fabric tents are clumped together, creating a sort of maze as people make their way between the narrow passages. Head shrouded beneath your hood, the five of you pass through the different camps, ducking beneath laundry lines hanging between tent poles and maneuvering through the small groups gathered around make-shift fire pits as they roast small rodents and birds for dinner.

You watch their faces, searching amidst them for anger, for loss and resentment. While some are quiet, dark circles of tiredness hanging beneath their eyes, others are not so beaten down. There is the sound of laughter in the air, and a group of children nearly bump into you as they recklessly chase each other through the labyrinth of tents.

You smile. All is not lost.

You’d been so focused on your own survival, of getting to Kuroku alive and fighting to give your kingdom a chance, that you hadn’t realized the fear you had of there being no kingdom to fight for. Of not only the castle being besieged, but the entire kingdom being left in ashes.

Yet, even if this is so, there are still Libaiyans left. There is still a nation, full of life, that will not let themselves be stripped of their pride so easily.

“This way,” Yeji says softly, trying not to draw too much attention to your party. A group of girls wave to her as you pass by, and you recognize some of them as your kitchen maids, although you were never close enough to have learned their names.

The women are seated around a small fire. With the setting sun, they gather closed together, a blanket stretched over them. Or, upon closer look, a Libaiyan flag, its golden sun bright against its stark white background.

There is a man playing the lute sitting beside them. He has light eyes and a soft voice, fingers dancing as he strums the small wooden instrument in tune with his voice.

The man sings a Libaiyan folk song, one about a man arriving home to a small Libaiyan village after fighting many long years at war. The song doesn’t make clear which war exactly, centuries old and deriving from a time of high conflict, but it doesn’t really matter.

After all, the song is less about the war, and more about coming home. The ghosts of his fallen comrades following him, cane in hand to support his leg that will never heal, and his love having left the village to marry another man from the kingdom city.

The song is normally sung in a minor chord. It’s sad and melancholic, painting a tale of loss and grief.

However, the man currently singing has changed its tune to a major chord.

A message of triumph. Of defiance. Of the man’s survival, even after all else is lost and destroyed.

A song of hope.

You want to join them. To listen to this man sing your nation's song, to let his tune of triumph fill not only the air, but your entire body. Your heart, even your soul. Reignite the reason you started this journey, why you couldn’t give up.

These people need you. Your people need you.

Yeji wraps her arm around your wrist, giving you a gentle tug forward as you linger near the fire for a little too long.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “You’ll be able to hear his voice late into the night, even from your tent.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, how to depict your gratitude for all of this. For her taking you in and letting you hear these songs that you weren’t so sure you’d ever hear again, for being alive and granting you hope.

All you can do is reach to give her hand a soft squeeze, and hope she understands.

Yeji stops before a small tent, one that doesn’t seem big enough for two men, let alone three. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope it will do.”

“It’ll do,” Seonghwa answers with a smile.

“Especially considering we have no luggage,” Woo grumbles.

If Yeji hears the dissatisfaction in his voice, she doesn’t show it. “My own tent is just over there,” she says, pointing to what is only a few tents over. It’s a bit larger than the one before you, although not by much. She turns to you. “You can stay with me.”

You’re grateful for the sentiment, considering none of the men - except maybe San - would enjoy being forced to share such close quarters with you.

“There’s a table inside, if you’d all like to sit and regroup. I can catch you up on all that has happened since the siege,” Yeji says.

Her gaze flickers over to the three men, and it is hesitant. Curious, as it returns to you. “And you can do the same.”

“Scorpion beasts, a mimic, and a dragon-basilisk hybrid all in just a few weeks?” Yeji gapes, hands clutching tight around her mug of hot tea, as if she needs something to hold onto. “And you’re alive?”

“I take it your journey here wasn’t so exciting?” San asks, sipping his own mug. He seems in good spirits today, as he willingly engages in conversation with Yeji. Especially compared to Seonghwa - who is more hesitant, likely less willing to jump the gun on trusting a new stranger - and Woo, who sits with his eyes bearing down into the table, not touching his mug even as the tea inside grows cold.

“No, we took the main path down the Arila River, so far less rural,” Yeji explains. “Although it was a good thing you didn’t do the same. There were Dark Army ports all along its bank. We were stopped and searched at every one of them.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt from Yeji’s recollection of the besiegement and the time that followed, it’s that the black-clad men are relentless in their pursuit. They want you, at any cost. You only wish you knew who they were, so at least then you’d know why.

“I really am glad you’re alive, Princess,” Yeji says suddenly, hand drifting to rest on your own atop the table. “Libaiya has a chance to be strong again, so long as your blood sits on the throne. You’ll make the perfect Queen.”

You open your mouth to thank her, albeit bashfully, but are cut off as Woo pushes himself from the table. It rattles in protest, although the elemental does not seem to care, as he stomps towards the tent-flap. He does not meet any of your eyes as he disappears beneath it.

“I’m sorry,” Yeji says, tone worried. “Did I say something to-”

“It’s not you,” San reassures her. “He’s just been dealing with a lot lately.”

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say, because you have a feeling about what may be bothering him. Your blood, as Yeji had said. Although to him, it’s more like poison.

“No,” Seonghwa cuts you off, already rising to his feet. “You shouldn’t, I don’t think he’d take it well. I’ll go.”

You want to protest, as Seonghwa does not know about Woo’s past, about the orphanage. The Libaiyan orphanage, and all the horrors that happened there. But the empath is already heading towards the tent flap, and the words die on your lips.

Even so, maybe he is right. Woo is upset, upset about you and your nation, perhaps you are not the one who should attempt to console him. Besides, Seonghwa has always been far better at that.

Yet, as you watch Seonghwa disappear after Woo, you have the sinking feeling it may not go as the empath plans.

Wooyoung cannot breathe.

Making his way blindly through the darkness of the refuge, the sun having set over the horizon, he pushes past Libaiyan’s as he heads for the exit. They turn and look at him as he shoves past, and he wonders if they know. If they can smell it on him.

“You were his,” they whisper as he walks by, or is that just in his head? “One of his dogs. Our dogs. A machine for use. Worthless.”

The last word is in Warden’s voice, and Wooyoung places a hand over his ears to try and tune it out. The other clutching his chest.

He can’t breathe. By the god’s, he really can’t breathe.

Each short pant is as unsatisfying as the next. He feels dizzy, wanting to summon a ball of flame to guide him, but he can’t seem to move his hands in front of him. He pushes forward, searching for an exit through the mazes of tents.

Then he’s covered in something. It’s thin, engulfing him, and panic rises hot in his chest. They’ve gotten him. Again. It’s happening again. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

It’s only after nobody attempts to drag him away and he gets a whiff of soap that he realizes that what covers him is not a bag, but someone's laundry. With shaky hands, he untangles himself from the fabric, before glancing down at his captor.

It’s a Libaiyan flag.

The bright, golden, and horrible sun stares back at him. The same one hung in the cafeteria, the one he pledged allegiance to three times a day. The one plastered atop the ceiling of his bedroom, watching him every night. The one deckled on Warden’s shoulder, as he tortured them relentlessly, as he murdered Yeonjun.

Wooyoung throws it to the ground, hands still shaking as he walks over it, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe stark against the flag’s white background.

“Woo!” A voice calls from behind him, but it sounds far away. Maybe it’s also just in his head. He keeps walking.

He can hear the sound of the same man singing as when you’d all entered the camp. He has a nice voice as he sings Libaiyan songs. Songs he’s never heard. Songs that were reserved for Libaiyan citizens, not slaves.

Wooyoung’s throat burns with the taste of Libaiyan tea. Only one sip, and it will not leave his tongue.

It tasted like the infirmary tent after Assessment Day in the orphanage. Before Warden got there, but not before Wooyoung got beaten within the sparring ring. They’d given him the tea to calm him down, try and make him forget the burns lacing up and down his arms.

With the taste on his tongue it’s as if he can feel them again, the searing pain starting in his mind and seeping into his skin.

“Woo, hold on!” The voice calls again, closer than the last. This time Wooyoung knows it’s not in his head, as he recognizes it to be Seonghwa. The sound of foot-steps follows behind him, as the empath chases after him.

He does not turn around. He needs to get out of this place.

Wooyoung begins to run.

Tearing through the refuge, he sees Bebbenburg’s outer walls appear ahead of him, the light emitted from the lanterns hung on the outside fortress drawing him in like a beacon.

When he reaches the wall, he makes sure to take a few steps inside and past the gates, to ensure that he is no longer within Libaiyan territory. Here, he is within the Kuroken realm. Safe.

He pauses to catch his breath, less from the running and more from the panic that has seized him. Hands placed on his knees, Wooyoung lets the foggy haze fade from his mind, although it does not relinquish control so easily. His heart continues to race, ears ringing with a constant buzz.

Wooyoung doesn’t know why this is affecting him so horribly. He’s been to the Libaiyan castle since entering the orphanage, having stolen plenty of Libaiyan treasures and heirlooms on their heists within the castle.

Then again, that was in the dark of the night, when there were no songs to be sung or tea to be drunk. When the flags were shrouded in pure shadow, not wrapped around him like bonds of rope.

That was when he was in control. That was when he was taking from them. That was revenge.

That was before he entangled himself with their princess.

“Woo, what the hell?” Seonghwa asks as he approaches, slightly out of breath from chasing down the elemental. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” Wooyoung says, because it is all he can manage. He doesn’t look up at Seonghwa, instead staring at the cobblestone beneath his shoes, blinking blearily as he tries to direct his focus to its stone patch-work.

“Why did you just storm out of there?” Seonghwa asks. He’s not mad. Not yet. He genuinely wishes to know.

“Because of what that woman said,'' Wooyoung answers in his mind. “Because it’s true, she is the Libaiyan throne. Because it is her blood that’s done all of this. That did this to me.”

Wooyoung, of course, does not actually say any of this out loud. Seonghwa won’t understand. He doesn’t know, not only about Wooyoung’s past, but the orphanages in general. He’s from a small town within Zaria’s realm, far away from any news about Libaiyan political treachery.

He won’t get it, and Wooyoung isn’t going to even bother to try and explain it to him, especially when his tongue feels three sizes too large and his heart beats at a million times per minute.

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” he mutters, turning away from Seonghwa and heading deeper into Bebbanburg, hoping the empath will take the hint and piss off.

But he doesn’t, because after all, it’s Seonghwa. The blonde follows after him. “Where are you going to go, Woo? You saw the poster, it’s better to stay together, keep a low profile.”

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” Wooyoung repeats, beginning to walk faster, tone a little more pointed.

“Is this about her?” Seonghwa asks, and now his own tone is rising, annoyed as has to jog to catch up to the elemental. “Look I know you’re mad, I am too. But can’t you just push that aside? We’re almost to Kuroku, then we’ll be past it. We can move on.”

“Right. We’ll get to Kuroku. She’ll leave. San will leave. And then inevitably, you will too.”

After being met with silence, Seonghwa lets out a groan of annoyance, continuing to chase after him.

“Woo, stop!” He calls, reaching out to grab Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung slaps his hand away, perhaps a little harder than he should have. “Can’t we just talk about this? Can’t we have an actual conversation for once instead of you shoving me away?”

Wooyoung keeps moving, because no, they can’t. Not right now. Not like this. Not when he can’t think straight.

“I don’t get what you have to be so mad about anyway!”

Wooyoung stops at this, finally turning around to face Seonghwa. “What?”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, eyes wide and mouth parted with surprise that Wooyoung actually stopped. Then he frowns, eyebrows furrowing together, as if remembering his annoyance.

“Yes, she lied to you,” Seonghwa starts. “And I know it sucks. But it’s San’s money on the line, and clearly he’s been able to forgive her.”

Seonghwa swallows hard. “And even if I haven’t been able to do the same, even after all she’s done to me I’m willing to swallow my own feelings to get this journey done. For them.”

Them. By that Seonghwa means San and you. You, after all that you have done - to Seonghwa, to San, to Wooyoung himself - he’s still choosing you.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t, Hwa!” Wooyoung says, and now he’s shouting. It’s good. The anger provides him comfort, something familiar to latch onto. “She used you! She used all of us! I know you have this deep-seeded issue of thinking everyone and everything has good in them, but open your eyes! Not all that glitters is fucking gold! A pair of pretty eyes doesn’t repair what she’s done, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t rotten inside!”

“Just as you are too,” a voice reminds him within his mind, but he ignores it.

Seonghwa opens his mouth to cut back, but Wooyoung is not finished. “She lied through her teeth, and you’re really just going to let it slide?  Keep quiet because it’ll make things easier for her? For the sake of the gods, grow a spine!”

“Why do you care so much about what I do?” Seonghwa yells back, taking a step towards Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s fist is clenched at his side, and for a moment Wooyoung thinks that Seonghwa might actually hit him. He almost wishes he would.

“Why do you care if I forgive her? Why do you care so much about whether I let people walk all over me? Why do you care?”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he does it.

Maybe it’s the way his mind still buzzes from moments prior, hazy and foggy and unable to think of anything beyond his anger. Anything beyond the way his heart pounds rapidly and vision blurs with an anxious haze.

Maybe it’s the way Seonghwa’s words sting, more than Wooyoung wants to admit, and he wishes to prove the man wrong. Show him that it’s not so simple. Win, in a strange and possibly fucked up way, but win nonetheless.

Or maybe, more than anything, it’s the way Seonghwa is looking at him. Big brown eyes scanning his face, full of anger, but also passion. Desperately searching for an answer, as if there will be a solution to the enigma that is Wooyoung hidden somewhere on the elemental’s face.

Wooyoung knows what the answer is that Seonghwa seeks.

It’s the part of himself that Wooyoung has never admitted exists. The part that he has shoved down, smothered, pretended wasn’t there. The part that flutters at the sound of Seonghwa whining at his teasing. The part that stalls when Seonghwa lets his hand fall onto Wooyoung’s shoulder, thinking nothing of it, simply trying to get the elemental's attention or leaning in to point out something in the distance.  

The part that broke the first night you and Seonghwa spent together. Defeated, angry, and beaten down, crawling into his bed that night in a drunken stooper, aching at the thought of the elemental being intimate with someone. Well, someone else.

The part that he once again shoved away the next morning, and had every day before and has every day since.

It’s that part of himself that he’s dejected and ignored that now comes crawling to the surface, invited by Seonghwa’s searching eyes, that unleashes its presence in a way that will make itself known. That will ensure it will no longer be forgotten, that it cannot be ignored or subdued again.

That part of Wooyoung unleashes itself in the form of a kiss.

It’s a horrible one, teeth smashing into teeth as Wooyoung grabs onto the collar of Seonghwa’s tunic and roughly pulls the man into him. In fact, it’s less of a kiss compared to two faces smashing together, Seonghwa clearly not prepared for it, but the message is sent all the same.

Wooyoung holds him there for three seconds, which feel far more like an eternity as they pass by.

Then Wooyoung pushes Seonghwa off of him, letting go of the man’s collar as the blonde stumbles back.

For a moment they stand in silence, and it’s a deafening one. Seonghwa’s hand drifts up to his lips, grazing them, eyes wide as he stares at Wooyoung. He’s clearly in a state of shock, as he says nothing, just stares with his mouth parted open in disbelief.

“There,” Wooyoung breathes. “Do you get it?”

Seonghwa continues to stare at him. Then his eyebrows furrow together, and when he begins to speak, Seonghwa’s tone is incredulous. “Woo, what are you-”

“Forget it,” Wooyoung cuts him off, because he doesn’t want to know what Seonghwa is going to say. He doesn’t want to hear the empath call him crazy, ask him what the hell he’s thinking.

Because Wooyoung doesn’t know the answer to that either. The mind-numbing fog has returned to his head, his heart racing even faster than it had before.

He needs to get out of here.

“Just go back to the tent, Hwa,” Wooyoung says, and then his feet are set in motion. He heads deeper into Bebbanburg, away from the Libaiyan tent. Away from you and San. Away from what he’s done, the irreversible mistake he just made.

He runs away, and this time Seonghwa doesn’t follow him.

“What were you thinking, what were you thinking, what were you thinking?” Wooyoung repeats the question to himself over and over again in his head, trying to make sense of what he’s done.

The look of bewilderment on Seonghwa’s face, followed by incredulity. Shock, then disbelief. Almost angry, and why shouldn’t he be? How could Wooyoung do something like this? Something so blatantly stupid and thoughtless?

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Wooyoung still cannot come up with an answer, because frankly, he wasn’t thinking. And he still can’t.

He turns down one of the many alley’s surrounding him, head buzzing, not a clue of where he’s going. All he knows is that it’s away, and for now, that is enough for him.

Wooyoung closes his eyes, hand trailing along the wall beside him as he runs. He feels silly, running with his eyes closed, but he cannot bring himself to keep them open. This way, the world around him fades. He can simply be moving, feel the air rush past him, and pretend that nothing happened.

There are no Libaiyan refugees a few alleyways over. He does not care for the Liabiyan princess, nor did he lose San a mere night ago. He did not reveal his feelings to a man he loves and ruin their entire friendship in one fell swoop.

He is merely running in the darkness, chest heaving for air, fingers scraping along the cobblestone wall.

Maybe, if he keeps running like this, he’ll actually have escaped it all.

Or maybe, running like this is not such an acceptable option, as it stops him from noticing the figure that has been following after him.

Wooyoung does not notice he is being followed until it is too late. Until he’s already been shoved sideways, face smacking into the stone wall beside him.

At the very least, the blows knock him from his stupor, and his eyes fly open as he stumbles. Whirling to face his attacker, fire ignites immediately within his hand, dancing in between his fingers.

However, the second he turns, he’s met with a swift punch to the jaw that catches him off guard. Mostly because it does not come from where he can feel the man beside him - who now pins Wooyoung’s wrist to the alley-wall - but from the other side.

It’s not one attacker, but many.

“Shit,” Wooyoung thinks to himself, spitting out the blood that fills his mouth, the metallic taste thick on his tongue and gritty between his teeth. Eyes searching the darkness around him, his attackers are nothing more than blurs within the night, and he gives the one in front of him a swift kick to the groin. The man lets out a long string of curses, and Wooyoung uses the opportunity to try and rush forward.

It’s of no use, as another man (or two, maybe even three?) pins his wrists to the wall.

It’s not the most efficient way to capture a person, as it leaves their legs functional to kick and mouth free to spit, bite, or scream for help.

Unless, of course, you’re capturing an elemental.

Wooyoung tries to summon fire into his hands, and while it manages to dance around his fingers, the inability to move his arms stops him from managing anything greater. He tries to summon the flame with only his mind, staring at his hand with sheer determination. He knows it’s possible, he’s done it before. Once. The night Yeonjun died.

Of course, he didn’t exactly mean to, and apparently it isn’t the sort of thing he can do by will, as his hands remain barren of flame.

Instead, he’s left helpless, pulling against the grips of the men that bind him. His eyes dart amongst the shadows that surround them, and he tally’s roughly ten of them, although he’s certain that there’s more as he hears shouts from down the alley-way.

One of the men’s hands digs into Wooyoung’s hair, pulling his head forward before slamming it back into the stone-wall. Hard.

Stars dance before Wooyoung, and a darkness creeps into the corners of his vision. He continues to kick out in front of him, although each swing is far weaker than the last, as the pain leaves him sluggish.

The man yanks on his hair again, before slamming his head back into the wall once more, and suddenly Wooyoung is on the ground.

He doesn’t remember crumpling, but the stone pathway is cold against his back, so he must have passed out for a moment. He opens his eyes, vision swaying as he tries to make out the men surrounding him.

He can vaguely spot the face of the man above him. Middle-aged, with a dark beard and intense eyes. He speaks to someone beside him, although Wooyoung’s mind is too muddled to make out the actual words.

Likely not thugs then, as they aren’t even bothering to hide their identities. Besides, there’s too many of them to be a regular mugging. Too conspicuous, so it must be targeted.

But if it’s targeted, then who are they?

“W-who?” He asks, because the full sentence is far too much effort. His words are slurred and he sounds drunk. Which to be fair is an awful lot like how he feels.

The man above him doesn’t answer, but instead places a hand on Wooyoung’s throat, silencing him. With his other two hands, the man pins Wooyoung’s wrists to the ground.

No, no, that doesn’t make any sense. He can't have three hands. Which means it must be somebody else pinning his wrists to the ground, as well as another that slips the cloth bag over his head. How many were there again?

By the god’s Wooyoung really can’t think right now.

“Knock him out,” one of the men speaks from above him. Now that Wooyoung can make out.

Then the world goes black.

“And he seriously didn’t tell you where he was going?” San asks, arms crossed as he leans against the training post outside of the men’s tent. It’s covered in grooves, clearly crafted by a sword, and one in the hands of someone not too pleased. A testament to San’s opinion on Woo not returning to the refuge last night.

“I already told you,” Seonghwa replies. His tone is also frustrated as he sits at an outside table, fingers tapping anxiously in rhythm with his jittering leg. “No. He didn’t.”

“He just took off?” San repeats, and you can understand why Seonghwa is becoming a bit annoyed. It’s also the third time you’ve heard San ask, although you have a feeling the swordsman isn’t actually expecting the answer to change. He simply wants to hear it again, to let him fuel the flame of his annoyance. “Without a word? Without a reason? Out into a city we’re currently being hunted in?”

Seonghwa’s eyes shift to the ground. “Yes.”

“And you let him?”

Seonghwa scowls at this. “What did you want me to do? You know Woo, he’s going to do what he wants no matter what anyone says or thinks.”

Seonghwa has been in a sour mood all morning, and something tells you there may be a little more to Woo leaving than he may be letting on. However, now is not the time to ponder what it might be, nor is it the time to start a fight. You simply need to find him.

“Let’s not start bickering with one another just because Woo’s not around to start it,” you say, attempting to remedy the argument before it can start. Fortunately, neither of the men are overly confrontational, at least not with each other.

“You’re right,” San sighs, turning to Seonghwa. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed, I know it’s not your fault.”

Seonghwa gives San a sort of half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before staring back down at his shoes. He appears to immediately lose himself in thought, knee bouncing anxiously.

Yeah, something definitely happened last night.

“This isn’t like him,” San says, pulling his sword out from his sheath and spinning it around in his hand. A nervous habit. “Staying out for the night, sure. But he’s always back by the next day. Always.”

With morning long past, the sun high in the sky with the arrival of late noon, San’s statement of “always” is replaced with “until today”, and a sense of uneasiness passes through you.

Something is wrong. You can feel it.

And with both San’s sword spinning in his hand and the sound of Seonghwa’s fingers tapping the table, you know that they can feel it too.

“I think we should go looking for him,” you say, expecting immediate approval. Instead both men look at you, and San shoots Seonghwa a side glance, to which the empath returns.

“What?” You ask, uncomfortable at the fact that it appears they’re both in on something you’re not.

San sighs. “You shouldn’t come.”

“What?” You say, this time with far more anger than confusion. “If Woo’s in danger then of course I’m going to come-”

“If Woo’s in danger then it’s likely because of the men who are looking for you,” San cuts you off, and while his tone is not accusatory, it is pointed.

You prepare a rebuttal, but it dies on your lips. San is right.

If the black-clad men have done something to Woo, then you going looking for him is likely exactly what they would want for you to do. While the stubborn part of you wants to go anyway, put Woo’s safety before your own. Be daring, bold, and perhaps a little stupid, just as Woo is in the face of danger, you know that this is not an option.

You need to get to Kuroku, and if you aren’t yet certain of the danger Woo may be in, you cannot afford to take such blatant risks.

“Alright,” you say, tone defeated as Seonghwa rises to his feet, San making his way towards the path leading outside of the refuge.

You don’t manage the next words until they’ve already left. Leaving you alone, face shrouded by your hood, suddenly aware of the wind’s chill nipping at your skin. The seasons are turning.

“Good luck.”

They are back sooner than you expected.

You sit at a table with Yeji, playing a game of Skirmish. A traditional Libaiyan game meant for children, due to the fact it has few rules and never really ends, so it can keep them occupied for hours. You didn’t particularly want to play, but Yeji said it might help to keep your mind distracted. You figured it was worth a shot.

It didn’t work.

However, it doesn’t matter, as when both San and Seonghwa approach from down the refuge’s path, the cards are forgotten. Tossing your deck to the side, you give San a look, one that asks: “Any luck?”. Although, you’re fairly certain of the answer, as there is no Woo in tow behind them.

San does not give you a look of his own. In fact, he does nothing. He simply stares back at you, a dead look to his eye.

It’s that look, the emptiness of it, that tells you something has gone wrong.

“What happened?” You ask as he approaches, although San does not reply. Instead he gives Seonghwa a fleeting glance, and the blonde meets it. His own expression is not as empty as San’s. In fact, it is the opposite. Brimming with emotion, Seonghwa’s eyes hold worry, mouth drawn tight, jaw clenched. A look of nothing less than pure fear.

“Seonghwa?” You ask, your own worry settling deep in your chest. Something has gone wrong, but what, and how badly?

The blonde doesn’t answer you with words, instead he moves towards the table. You hadn’t noticed before, but he holds something in his hands. The paper is a light tan colour, the size also familiar, and you recognize it to be one of your wanted posters. Immediately you're confused, as why would Seonghwa show you one of these? You’ve already seen dozens of them plastered all over Bebbanburg.

However, as he lays it down onto the table, the answer is blatantly obvious.

The paper is smeared with blood. The red stark against its light colouring, it doesn’t coat the poster fully, but is rather smothered haphazardly, the semblance of fingerprints notable. It’s testament to a job done quickly, as whoever did this did so with one purpose: to get a message across.

The message is made even more clear by the thick, dark lock of hair tied to the corner of the page.

Woo’s.

Beneath the lock of hair is writing, scrawled in black ink.

The Concursos Mountain Pass.

Three Days.

Wooyoung awakens to the back of his head pounding in a violent, aching fashion. The world sways in front of him, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is exactly.

However, at the sight of tarps on all sides of him, the tent coated in darkness as only the light of the setting evening sun is able to get through, he remembers.

Right, the Libaiyan refuge.

Wooyoung groans, blinking as he tries to get his eyes to focus, his pounding head making his thoughts difficult to string together.

He moves his hand, attempting to wipe the sweat beading along his forehead, only to realize that he can’t.

His hands are tied.

Eyebrows furrowing together, he looks over his shoulder. The chains that tie his wrists to the chair that he sits in are thick and made of iron. If he tried to melt his bonds with the fire between his fingers, rather than catching fire like rope, they’d heat up and burn his wrists.

“What the…” He croaks out, throat raspy. Who would have tied him to a chair? Surely not Seonghwa or San. Not very likely you, as he couldn't see what good that would do you. Maybe your friend, the Libaiyan patriot? But why?

Wait.

Wooyoung’s brain pauses, mind doing a double-take as he stares at his bonds, noting bruising along his wrist. The massive purple marks are dark against his bronzed skin, and are almost line-shaped, as if someone had been holding him.

No, he’s not in the Libaiyan refuge, he’s somewhere else.

The memories of last night come rushing back to him. Running from the tent. The fight with Seonghwa. The subsequent kiss with Seonghwa.

His capture.

The shock of it is enough to cause Wooyoung to jolt awake, mind finally clearing even if the pain at the back of his head does not subside.

As if sensing Wooyoung’s realization, a man appears from under the tent-flap. He’s older, his face like a worn-glove, leathery and wrinkled in its places most used. His dark hair is cropped short, although his beard remains long, as well as scruffy.

Most notably, he’s dressed entirely in black armour. One of your predators.

“Ah, good. You’re awake,” the man says, and his voice is not as deep as Wooyoung expected.

“Who are you and-”

“Don’t speak. Not everyone has arrived yet,” the man cuts him off dismissively. “Besides, we’ll be the ones asking the questions.”

“Oh, my mistake, I thought-”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he is surprised by the slap, but he is. Maybe because he hadn’t even had the chance to say the insult he was planning yet. Usually the hit would at least come afterwards.

These men, they aren’t playing around, that is clear.

His cheek stings, and he can imagine the bright red mark appearing along his skin as more men in dark armour appear from under the tent-flap. Wooyoung is surprised by the amount of them that manage to crowd into the space, almost a dozen.Then again, it is a big tent. Mostly empty, other than a small table in the corner, scattered with a variety of knick-knacks and spices that seem non-sensensical. Lunadore pollen, silver beads, Alagor Root, and a bunch of other rare ingredients the Wooyoung does not have time to make sense of, although set him on edge nonetheless.

If they plan to torture him, the table should be full of knives. Hammers. Maybe a few pliers to pull off his fingernails. Not plants.

The man who slapped him - their leader, it seems - clears his throat, and the group of men fall silent. Each of them turn to face Wooyoung, eyes glinting with something dark, something that says that they know more than he does.

Wooyoung makes sure to give each of them in turn a glare.

“I’m sure you know who we are by now,” the man says.

Wooyoung considers playing dumb, maybe earning himself a matching slap on the other cheek. However, he needs information, which means at least for now he must play along.

“You attacked the Libaiyan castle. Killed their king,” Wooyoung answers, meeting the man’s gaze. His eyes are sharp, intimidating, and Wooyoung makes sure not to look away. Not to show any fragility. Even if he has been made into the weakest in the room, he need not show it.

“People have been calling you The Dark Army,” Wooyoung says, and then because he can’t help himself, adds: “Cute name. Very scary. Did you come up with it yourselves?”

The man doesn’t answer his question, but instead smirks. “If you know who we are, I’m sure you also know what we’re looking for.”

You. That’s the answer the man wants. But Wooyoung won’t give that to him. “Power?” He ventures instead. “Glory? Access to the king’s many bejeweled robes?”

The man steps forward, grabbing Wooyoung's face in his hand. His fingers squeeze Wooyoung’s jaw, so much so that it not only hurts, but prevents him from speaking.

“Enough playing coy,” the man says. He still does not seem angry, face blank and tone almost bored as he grips Wooyoung’s face between his fingers. “Tell me where she is.”

He eases his grip just enough to let Wooyoung speak. “Where who is?”

The man’s grip tightens once again, fingernails digging into the elemental’s skin, and Wooyoung forces himself not to wince. “The girl you’ve been running all over Burovia with. The princess turned convict. Ring any bells?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wooyoung manages. At this the man lets go of his jaw, but it’s only to deliver another slap that burns along his cheek. The man grips his jaw again, and Wooyoung struggles to focus on the man’s face, blinking away the stars that dance across his vision.

“Yes, you do,” the man says, and this time his tone is almost soft, gentle as he attempts to coax out an answer. Somehow it’s far more unsettling than the blankness. “Is she with the refugees? At one of the hostels, or even a tavern?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Wooyoung says through gritted teeth. This time the man does not slap him, but instead grips his hair as he brings Wooyoung face down into his knee. Pain radiates from his nose through the rest of his face, and when the man lifts him back up, it takes Wooyoung a moment to register the man’s face before him through the blurriness.

It’s not until now that Wooyoung realizes the severity of the danger that he is in.

They want him to hand you over to them, and Wooyoung can’t do that.

But why can’t he do that? It would be the easiest thing to do. Nobody would blame him, after everything that you’ve done, especially if it came down to choosing between his own life or yours. San and Seonghwa would understand.

You are the Libaiyan Princess. Your family sent him to the orphanage. Turning you in would rid himself of the volatile confusion that has plagued him, it would fulfill the dream that his younger self wished for every night and morning. So why can’t he do it?

He knows the answer. How he feels towards you has grown beyond hatred. It’s grown beyond mere toleration for San and Seonghwa’s sake. It’s grown beyond the excuses he’s been telling himself for weeks.

He’s not going to hand you over to them to die, no matter what that may mean for himself. Unfortunately, what that may mean for himself is not looking good.

“You’re going to tell us,” the man states, not to persuade, but to simply state as fact. “It’s just a matter of how much you’re willing to put yourself through before you do.”

“Well I have nothing but time,” Wooyoung answers, grinning, and he knows his teeth are bloody. Can feel the grittiness on his teeth, or maybe that’s still from the night before.

The man smiles back. “You have three days.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m just such lovely company?”

“Because that’s how long we’ve given her to come find you.”

Wooyoung pauses at this, and he knows he’s shown a glimpse of weakness. How did they get a message to you? Is he bluffing?

Would you really be stupid enough to come after him?

“Nobody will come,” Wooyoung says, and even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Surely you wouldn’t come after him. Not when you’re so close to Kuroku, to San’s freedom. You have to keep going, there’s no way you, San, and Seonghwa could take on a dozen armed and highly trained men, especially considering there’s more of them out there somewhere. It would be pointless, a suicide mission.

But Wooyoung also knows that none of you would leave him behind to die.

“That’s fine,” the man says with a shrug. “Either she comes to us, or we go to her with the information you’ll give us. It doesn’t matter.”

“You aren’t going to be able to torture anything out of me,” Wooyoung says with a scoff, tilting his chin up, defiant. “Pain? Yeah, I’ve been through my share.”

The corner of the man’s lip curves upward, eyes gleaming. “I know. That’s what they told me.”

Wooyoung frowns. They?

The man chuckles at Wooyoung’s weary expression, finally letting go of his hold on the elemental’s jaw. The group of soldiers step back, creating a pathway for him as the man heads over to the table covered with rare ingredients and spices.

The man begins to fiddle around with them, although what exactly he’s doing Wooyoung can’t make out, his vision obscured by the other men standing before him.

“Do you know what they say about those whose body cannot be broken?” The man calls over his shoulder, and Wooyoung catches a glimpse of what is in his hand: a small bowl and mallet, which he uses to grind down the Alagor Root.

“No,” Wooyoung answers, wary.

“Break their mind instead,” the man states, holding up a small vial of purple liquid that Wooyoung cannot identify, before pouring into the bowl. A strange, dark and odorous smoke wafts up from the concoction. It smells like something burning, although what exactly Wooyoung cannot place. That is, until he can. It’s burnt flesh. It reminds him of the infirmary tent, of his scorched arms.

An inkling of fear settles into Wooyoung’s chest as he becomes increasingly aware of the bonds on his wrist. He can’t move, run, fight back, or do anything, really.

For a man with so much power, he’s grown accustomed to never feeling powerless. For a moment, it’s like he’s thirteen again. At Warden’s disposal and no fire to call his own.

The man places the empty vile back down on the table, before grabbing something else Wooyoung cannot see, although he can hear the sizzling noise it makes as he adds it to the bowl.

Wooyoung cannot take the silence any longer, his curiosity - or better, fear - overtaking him. “What are you doing?” He asks.

Instead of answering him, the man begins to mutter something beneath his breath, making a strange circular motion with his hand above the bowl, which he has set back down on the table. Wooyoung cannot make out what he is saying, but the way the words leave his lips is almost rhythmic, like a priest delivering a chant.

Wooyoung scowls, opening his mouth to interrogate the other men around him as to what the hell is going on, but the words die on his tongue. He knows what the man is doing.

It’s part of the Old Faith. Old Magic.

Dark magic.

Wooyoung has never been a devoted servant to the gods. In fact, for all of his life he’s hated them. He hated them as a child for giving him a gift he could not use. He hated them as a teenager for cursing him with the power to destroy everything he held dear. He hates them as an adult for idly standing by as all of the horrible events of his childhood tumbled down one after the other.

However, even with his hatred towards the gods, he’s always considered worshiping them to be far more understandable than the Old Faith. More particularly, the Old Magic aspect.

It’s a breach of order. If the gods blessed the gifted with their powers, then Old Magic defies that. It’s taking from the earth what was not given to you. It’s blasphemous. Immoral and unnatural. At its very core wrong.

Wooyoung tugs at the chains around his wrists, which clatter in protest. Panic begins to rise in his chest, as one thought fills his head: “What the fuck are they going to do to me?”

The man finishes his chant, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a miniature knife. He uses it to create a small cut along the tip of his finger, holding it above the bowl as a drop of blood collects around the wound, before dropping into the potion.

Smiling to himself in satisfaction, the man takes the bowl with him as he heads back towards Wooyoung. Stopping before him, the man takes a moment to meet the elemental’s eyes, that glimmer of darkness potent within his gaze.

Wooyoung does not look away, but by the gods, he wants to.

“Well,” the man says. “Open up.”

Wooyoung keeps his mouth shut, lips pursing together. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feeling its thump throughout his entire body. He can’t drink that. He isn’t sure what it will do, but he knows that its something horrible.

It will break his mind. That is what the man had said.

And while Wooyoung has always had confidence in his abilities, perhaps even relied on himself more than he should, for the first time that confidence falters.

“So this is what it takes for you to be quiet,” the man jests, earning a few chuckles from the others around him. “Good to know.”

When Wooyoung doesn’t reply, the man nods to a couple of the soldiers beside him. “Open his mouth.”

Four of the men approach him, and Wooyoung fights against the bonds of his chair, even if he knows it’ll be pointless. The chains against his wrists and ankles hold him still, and as two of the men grab his shoulders to stop the chair from rattling, he’s left with nothing but twisting his face away from the men who grab at him.

Hands blur across his vision as he feels one of the men press an arm to his throat. Another digs into his scalp, pulling his hair in order to bring his head back and face upwards. Fingers claw at the crevices of his face, digging beneath his cheekbones, into his ears, scratching along his lips.

It’s overwhelming, but Wooyoung stays focused, repeating over and over again in his mind, “Don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth.”

It’s not until the elbow pressing into his throat has been there for a little too long that Wooyoung registers that he needs to breathe. Black lines creeping into the corners of his vision, head beginning to feel foggy, he does his best to ignore it.

Until he can’t any longer. Against his mind’s will, when the man removes his elbow from the elemental’s throat, Wooyoung gasps for air.

The men do not waste the opportunity.

Fingers dig themselves into his mouth, and while he attempts to bite down on them, their force is too strong as the many hands pull back his cheeks. Limbs bound, hair pinned, and face pulled back, he’s left helpless as the man with the bowl approaches him.

As the man lifts the bowl above the elemental’s face, a smile grazes over his lips, and Wooyoung knows that he is enjoying this.

The liquid burns as it pours down his throat, rubbing like sand-paper along his tongue. It tastes familiar. Like stale bread, but worse. Rotten with mold. Wooyoung gags but the man does not stop, not until the final drops fall from the bowl and into his open mouth.

The men do not release him until he swallows the concoction, and he feels it as it settles down into his gut, twisting and turning like cheap whiskey.

Wooyoung attempts to catch his breath, chest heaving and sweat beading along his forehead as he looks at the man before him. He continues to smile that awful, wretched grin, empty bowl in hand.

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard,” the man says, for no other reason but to rub salt in the wound.

Wooyoung spits on his shoes.

The man does nothing, merely takes a few steps back as he continues to watch Wooyoung with an analytical gaze, as if observing whatever the hell is supposed to happen. For a few moments, Wooyoung feels nothing but the tension that hangs in the room as all of the men stare at him. He feels like a monster in a cage, like one of those griffin’s from a traveling circus he saw passing through Gloria many years ago. Undeniably dangerous, but stripped down to a mere display for people to gawk at.

Then he notices it. It doesn’t start as much, more of a feeling in the back of his mind than anything else. An uncomfortable tingling sensation creeping through him, like an itch beneath his skin, little prickles of worry like ants tunneling through his veins.

He blinks, and his vision goes blurry.

The men in front of him transform into foggy statues and he blinks again, but instead of focusing it only gets worse. He swallows hard, only to find his throat has gone dry, the saliva refusing to go down.

Heat settles itself in his gut, rising into his chest as an aching sensation washes through him. Wooyoung lets out a low whine, one that under any other circumstances would humiliate him, but he can’t bring himself to worry about that right now. Not when his body feels as if it’s rejecting him.

“What did you do to me?” Wooyoung asks, and it comes out as a hoarse whisper. The man hums softly, reaching forward to hold Wooyoung’s chin. This time his grip is gentle, and Wooyoung wants to slap it away, but he doesn’t have the strength. In fact, if it weren’t for the man holding his head up, he’s certain his chin would have fallen down to his chest. Maybe it already had, Wooyoung doesn’t remember.

“This is the easy part, Jung Wooyoung,” the man says, and Wooyoung swears that that is the first time the man has said his name. Although the worry is replaced by agony as another ripple of pain rattles through him.

“Remember. You tell me what I want to know, I’ll make it stop,” the man says. “You’d be wise to accept that offer.”

Wooyoung blinks up at him, and he thinks thaf tears stain his eyes, although his vision is too foggy to notice a difference. “And if I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” the man says, giving a soft, condescending thumb-stroke along his cheek. “They always tend to comply.”

You cannot sleep.

The tent feels crammed, even though you’re well aware that there’s more than enough space. Yeji sleeps soundly, a few feet away and face turned from you as the peaceful sighs of deep slumber escape her lips. It is dark, only the faintest hint of moonlight seeping through the tent’s thin fabric, and yet it feels too bright.

You do not wish to sleep. There are things to be done. This is no time for rest.

They have Woo.

The men you’ve been fearing this entire journey. The ones that ambushed your father, that killed Mingi, that besieged your castle and robbed your life right out from under your feet. The men that have made you paranoid, always keeping one eye over your shoulder, creating wariness with each new city and step you have taken.

The men you have feared would kill you, they have taken him instead.

And somehow that is so much worse.

It’s not something you’d anticipated, always having assumed that if the black-clad men were to find you, you would be the one to face the consequences. The idea that travelling with the three men was putting them in the crossfire of the mysterious army hadn’t occurred to you. After all, it’s your wanted posters on every city street, not theirs.

How stupid you had been, and now Woo is gone. Captured by your family’s assassins, and only the god’s know what sort of danger he is in.

It’s your fault. It’s you they really want, he is just a pawn in their greater game. You’ve been outplayed, and Woo is the one forced to pay the price of your failure.

They could be torturing him for information. You know the sorts of things powerful men do to prisoners, having heard whispers about it in your halls, the dungeons located deep beneath the castle. Using a whip to lash the back until there's more blood left than flesh, spending hours drowning them within a bucket of water, pouring vials of liquid metal along the skin. Maybe one of them is a sadist, and Woo’s face is blistered and burnt beyond repair.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You roll over, eyes accustomed enough to the darkness that you can make out the ceiling of the tent above you. Although really, what you see is Woo, pleading for mercy as one of the black-clad men delivers the final blow. Woo goes silent, his eyes still open, and you know that it is over. He is gone.

Another person you care for, dead.

You cannot just sit here like this and let that happen. However, while you were prepared to head to the Concursos Mountain Pass the moment Seonghwa placed the message down in front of you, both he and San urged caution.

“This is clearly a trap,” San had said, wrapping a hand around your wrist to stop you from heading down the path towards the refuge’s exit. “They’re going to be prepared, which means we need to be. We need to come up with a plan before we do anything.”

“We have three days,” you snapped back, frustrated. “Yeji said the journey is at the very least a full day’s ride. We don’t have the time to sit here and twiddle our thumbs.”

“Then we have a day and a half to come up with something,” San replied, tone calm but also curt. He was not entertaining the possibility of going now, no matter how much anger you added to your glare. “Maybe we can form a group of some of the other refugees and leave together.”

“There’s only two horse’s between the entire refuge,” you cut back. “We cannot make it in time by foot. There’s no chance of us building our own army, if that’s what you're implying.”

“We’ll figure it out,” San said, still not budging. However, beneath his steady gaze, you could see the faintest hint of worry. Of doubt. Of knowing that there may have been no other option but to go alone, although he was not ready to admit it. Not ready to acknowledge the truth that weighed down on each of your shoulders.

The fact that it may come down to Woo’s life, or your own.

Thus, a second truth sat just as heavy. He would choose Woo. They both would.

It’s not until this moment, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, that you realize you would choose Woo too.

You will not have him die for you. You will not have the black-clad men take anything else from you. Not him. Not like this.

If they are to kill you, let it be your own doing. Not ambushed for the money they have placed on your head, or killed silently in an alley-way along the streets of Bebbanburg. You will not be your father, stabbed at his own celebration, unaware of what was coming. If you are to die, let you come to them with your sword in hand, fighting for a man who - even when you haven’t deserved it - fought for you.

Rising to your feet, you pull the blanket off of you, heading towards the tent flap. Stopping in place, you turn back, watching Yeji’s sleeping silhouette, chest rising and falling peacefully.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and it is not only to her, but to all of them. All of the Libaiyan’s uprooted from their homes, left to wander Burovia with no kingdom to call home. They had finally been reunited with their princess, only for you to leave them once more. It is selfish. It is what your father would consider an abandonment of responsibility.

Maybe you are abandoning your royal duty, or perhaps you are fulfilling your duty to another.

Either way, it must be done.

Slipping out from under the tent flap, you can hear San and Seonghwa talking within their own tent, though you cannot make out what they are saying. Good, they're busy. They will likely not notice you’re gone until morning.

Scanning the field, the man continues to sing by the fire, and it is the same song as before. Lute in hand, he serenades the men and women surrounding him, although the number has depleted under the blanket of the night.

As you approach the horse tied to a nearby tent-pole, you sing along quietly beneath your breath, to the words you have known your entire life.

“My love for whom I do come home,”

“I’ve been bathed in scars, both body and soul,”

“And while I’ve returned beneath darkened gloam,”

“Without you this place may never be whole.”

Although, while you may sing his words, unlike the man within the song you will not be so passive.

You will find Woo, and you will bring him home. Even if you do not come back with him.

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

next chapter.

[kwanisms]

➔ wooyoung masterlist | back to ateez m.list | back to main m.list

🔞 many of these works contain sexual content (18+ mdni) 🔞 ♤ — angst :: ♡ — fluff :: ♧ — smut ✍ — ongoing :: ⊝ — hiatus :: ⊗ — discontinued :: ✓ — completed

— oneshots

»» Kinkuary: begging + mommy kink ♧ ➥ 6.4k; Wooyoung bites off more than he can chew when he agrees to finally meet his online dom in person.

»» Library of Illusion: Arachnophobia ♧ ➥ 8.1k; Deep in the Horror Section, Y/N finds herself descending into a dark cave where she meets a man who is not what he seems.

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ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ ©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[hwamphwamp]

~11:39pm

warning(s): mentions of being high and the side effects of being high, a suggestive line or two if you squint

In hindsight, expecting Wooyoung to follow instructions was your first mistake.

At least that’s what Hongjoong said when you called him, desperate for advice.

“Just be there for him until he comes down from the high,” Hongjoong said, his voice muffled by the sounds of the party he’d stepped out of to take your call. You waited, hoping he’d have more to offer than just that.

“Joong, he thought he was sinking into the mattress for half an hour, and now he’s freaking out because he has a case of cottonmouth that’s— in his words—‘so extreme he can’t breathe.’ What do I do?”

“Give him a gallon of water and some cuddles or something. He’ll be knocked out in no time,” he replied, unfiltered as always. “Listen, my set’s starting soon, so I have to go. If he gets worse, take him to the hospital or something. He’s got good insurance.”

With that, the call ended, leaving you just as helpless as before. You knew that later on, when both of you were much less high, you’d realize everything had been perfectly fine. Sure, Wooyoung had taken twenty milligrams for his first high instead of the five he’d been told to take, which was a bit much, but he’d be okay by morning. Right now though, in your current state of mild panic, it felt like him experiencing one more side effect would send you spiraling.

“Baby?”

You turned towards the balcony door to see Wooyoung peeking out, a small frown on his face as he shuffled over to you.

“What happened to our cuddle session?” he asked, throwing his arms around you and lifting you just enough to carry you back inside. “I waited for an hour, and you weren’t back. I was starting to get worried.”

“First of all, it’s only been ten minutes at most,” you corrected, wriggling free from his arms once you reached your bedroom. “Second, when I tried to cuddle you, you thought our combined weights would make us sink into the mattress faster.”

“Oh… Wait, I’m the one who stopped the cuddle session? That doesn’t even sound right, so I kinda have to assume you’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

You caught yourself, deciding there was no use. Wooyoung was too stubborn while sober to admit he’d ever stop any affection with you—better yet while high and you were picking and choosing your battles tonight.

“Yeah, you’re right. That does sound crazy, Woo,” you replied, watching him as he made his way over to your vanity.

“By the way,” he started, motioning for you to join him, “I drank the rest of the bottled water in your stash under the bed. But more importantly, I was looking at your makeup.”

“That water was supposed to last me until next week—”

“Again, more importantly, I was looking at your makeup and thought it would be fun if you did my makeup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again, taken aback by his request. It wasn’t surprising he wanted to look pretty no matter his state of mind, but still, it was random considering the last thing he’d said before you went outside to call his best friend was how he didn’t feel real and thought the person running his “simulation” hated him.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes.”

“At almost midnight?”

“Also yes.”

“Is it because you want your makeup done or because you want to hold me without feeling like you’re sinking into the abyss?”

“Both.”

You sighed, pulling your desk chair over to the vanity and motioning for him to sit down. Even though you were ready to sleep, it was hard to resist the way he looked up at you, his bloodshot eyes still brimming with affection. Wooyoung had this way of looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you could never stay annoyed when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, so what look are we—”

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he interrupted, patting his lap as he waited for you to take your usual spot.

“It’d be easier to reach the makeup if I just stand up, Woo. Besides—”

But before you could finish, Wooyoung pulled you down, guiding you to straddle him. His goofy smile grew wider as you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t act like you don’t like being on top of me,” he teased, his hands resting in your hips.

You chuckled, playfully smacking his arm before grabbing a foundation brush. “Behave. Now hold still.”

As you started dabbing foundation onto his face, Wooyoung’s hands moved up to your waist, tracing light, lazy circles that made it nearly impossible to focus. You bit back a smile, hoping he didn’t notice the way your cheeks flushed.

“You’re so gentle,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as you blended the foundation. “Feels nice.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you moved to grab the concealer. “Stay still, or I’ll mess up.”

Wooyoung pouted but obliged, though his hands continued their light movements. “It’s hard when you’re so close,” he mumbled, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shook your head, smiling as you started patting the concealer under his eyes. “Yeah, ok pretty boy. Now close your eyes.

He obeyed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he relaxed into your touch. You took your time, perfecting the base as he hummed contentedly, entranced by the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

“Wow, I can already tell I look amazing,” he said, cracking one eye open to see your reaction.

“Patience, diva,” you laughed, reaching for an eyeshadow palette. “Let me work my magic.”

He watched as you carefully selected a soft pink shade and began sweeping it across his eyelids. Every few seconds, Wooyoung would open his eyes a bit to peek at you and every time he’d break into a smile, watching you with a look so full of adoration it made your heart ache.

“You’re so good at this,” he said softly, his voice taking on a rare, serious tone. “It’s like… I don’t know. You make everything feel like art.”

You paused, warmth spreading through you at his unexpected compliment. “You’re making me blush, Woo.”

“Good,” he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on your back. “You should know how amazing you are.”

Trying to keep your composure, you moved on to his eyeliner. His eyes sparkled as you carefully lined them, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the makeup made his already striking features stand out. You brushed a bit of highlighter onto his cheekbones, and he closed his eyes, soaking in the attention like he wasn’t used to it by now. Still though, there was something so nice about being with someone who treated every intimate moment with you as if it were the first.

Once you finished, you leaned back, admiring your work. “There. You’re all done, Woo.”

He glanced in the mirror, his mouth dropping in playful awe. “I look like a whole new person! No… a prettier version of myself. You’re incredible, babe.”

You laughed, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his face. “You’re gorgeous with or without makeup. I just brought out what was already there.”

For a moment, you both stayed silent, just looking at each other. His hands found yours, and he pulled you even closer, his fingers threading through your hair as he let out a soft, contented sigh.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured, his voice quieter than it had been all night.

Your heart skipped a beat as you leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “Yeah… I love you too, Woo.”

A soft smile spread across his face, his eyes beginning to droop as the high was just starting to wear off. You felt him growing heavier, his hands resting in your lap as he started to drift off. His head leaned against your shoulder, his breathing evening out as sleep began to take over.

You could’ve moved, or nudged him towards the bed, but instead, you stayed right where you were, feeling the gentle weight of him against you. You watched his face relax as he slipped into sleep, his makeup still perfectly in place, highlighting his beauty even in his unconscious state.

In that moment, with his heartbeat steady against yours, you realized you were falling for him even more. If that was even possible.

On a not so unrelated note, you now had to tell Hongjoong he couldn’t have been more right if he tried.

ateez masterlist | general masterlist

[99guz]

Opening the door to your apartment you didn’t expect to see a pair of shoes at the entrance. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you stare at them almost missing the smell in the air. Quietly taking off your shoes and slipping into your house slippers you carefully make your way into the apartment peaking your head around the corner to the kitchen area. There is a man over the stove with his back towards you and your eyes widen in terror. How the hell did this person get into your place? You go to yell out to them when they turn their head to the side and you instantly recognise your best friend's side profile.

Your shoulders relax and a sigh leaves your lips “Oh my god you scared the shit out of me.” you say.

Wooyoung looks back from his place at the stove with a smile overcoming his face. “Welcome home!” he greets.

Placing your work bag onto the dining table you work to take off your coat. “I thought you said you were coming back next week?” you ask. Wooyoung had been on tour for the past few months. A tour which the both of you have been very excited about because he had been able to go to more countries. He loves to travel and learn about other cultures. It’s a trait that you really admire in him.

You watch as he focuses on the food which he is preparing. “Yeah I wanted to surprise you which is why I said I was coming back next week. I missed my best friend so I was thinking we will have dinner and catch up on everything that I missed while I was gone.” he explains and you nod.

“Alright well I’m gonna shower. Be right back.” Leaving Wooyoung in the kitchen you make your way down the hallway and into the bathroom to freshen up. By the time you are back the table is set up with food. “Where do you want me to start?” you ask taking a seat at the table.

Wooyoung opens a bottle of soju pouring into two different glasses. “What is going on with Jia and Tayong? Last I heard the engagement is off?” his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

Taking a sip from your glass you hum. “Okay so we need to take it real back for the full story. So you remember they got engaged right before Tayong had gone on that business trip a few months ago. Well, it turns out that he cheated while on that business trip!”

Wooyoung’s mouth hangs open in shock “Are you serious?! Tayong cheated?” he squealed out.

Nodding your head, taking a bite of the meat Wooyoung cooked. “Yes but that's not even the part that is crazy. So you know like a few months ago that Jia’s cousin moved in with them cause she needed a place to stay while she was apartment hunting. Well turns out she knew Tayong even before that happened.” you jested

His eyebrows narrow “Does she know the girl he cheated on?” he questions. I nod my head and Wooyuong crosses his leg placing an arm on the table leaning on it. “Who is it?” Leaning back into the chair you cross one of your legs over the other soju cup in hand while taking a drink. He observes your facial expressions and you can see the moment in clicks in his head. His eyes widen and a scream escapes his mouth slamming his hand onto the table. “Shut the fuck up! No? No!” All you do is nod. “That bitch! How did Jia find out though?” he inquires.

You place the glass back on the table. “They got fucking cocky and were fucking in the house! She came home and saw them. So the engagement is off and both sides of the family are in an uproar right now. It’s full on war.” you state. “And the fucking audacity of Tayong to come and be like ‘Baby please forgive me it meant nothing it was a mistake’ give me a fucking break.”

“You fucking cheated on your fiance with her cousin! Why is it when they are cheating it’s not a mistake but as soon as they get caught it is full of dramatics.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“I would fucking be in jail right now if it was me.” you blurt out.

“Okay dail it back I’m a public figure here cant bail you out and have my reputation fucked.” he takes a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

You tilt your head to the side “You wouldn't bail me out if I killed my cheating fiance?” you questioned. Wooyoung doesn't answer, just takes another bite out of his meal. “You’d let me rot in jail you bitch!?” You scoffed.

Silence takes over the table before you both burst out into laughter. “Let's be honest, I'm in there with you. We can get San or Yeosang to bail us out.” The image of Yeosang and San bailing you both out of jail makes you laugh.

We continued to go over all the drama which Wooyoung had missed while on tour until we both finished off our plates and moved over to the couch. Wooyoung tells you about all the countries he went to and everything he did while on tour. You both stay up late into the night talking about everything before going to sleep.

[nateezfics]

LET IT SNOW!

PAIRING — ateez x reader

GENRE — fluff, romance, established relationship, holidays, boyfriend!ateez, gn!reader

WARNINGS — no warnings apply;; just a lot of sappy sweetness <3

WORD COUNT — 2.6k

SUMMARY — fluffy snow, holiday movies, hot chocolate, and freshly baked gingerbread cookies. it’s the most wonderful time of the year!

HONGJOONG — “oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful.”

“it’s still snowing.” your voice was soft, barely audible over the crackling fire. snow fell gently outside the window, and while your head rested on a warm chest, you watched it fondly. you weren’t sure if you were heard until there was a small chuckle above you.

“the forecast called for lots of wintery weather,” hongjoong responded, shifting a bit so he could watch the snow with you. you lifted your head to allow him room to move, and once he was comfortable again, you nuzzled your face into his chest. his sweater was soft, and you inhaled his scent that was tangled in the fabric. “i don’t think the snow will be letting up any time soon.”

you hummed. you absentmindedly toyed with the edge of his sweater, liking the way it felt. you were comfortable just like this — laying on his chest, the two of you on the couch under a heap of blankets, and warm from the heat of the fire. free days like today were rare for hongjoong, and you were simply glad to be in his presence. you didn’t need to go out to do anything; watching the cold snow from the warmth of each other’s arms was enough. after some time of silence, you spoke up, “hey, hongjoong?”

“hm?” he sounded sleepy. you gazed up at him to find his eyes closed.

“i love you. and i’m glad we got to spend time together today.” your voice, while quiet, was full of conviction. you saw his lips curl into that smile you adored so much, and affection swirled in your chest.

hongjoong opened his eyes and bent his head to place a soft kiss against your hair. his arms grew tighter around you. “i love you, too,” he paused for a moment, feeling emotion for you surge, “and i wouldn’t trade these moments with you for anything.”

SEONGHWA — “and since we’ve no place to go, let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!”

“seonghwa! we can’t have a snowman without a nose!”

“i don’t think it matters,” seonghwa replied. he noticed you stop what you were doing, gloved hands frozen over the round rump of the man-shaped snow pile. he winced, immediately regretting his choice of words.

the debate of whether or not a snowman needed a nose was put to rest the moment you shot your boyfriend a glare. of course a snowman had to have a nose! duh! “yes, it does! now help me find something we can use.”

seonghwa was eager to aid you in your search for a nose, feeling a little bad about his earlier comment. the search was short lived since mostly everything was buried under inches of snow. “don’t snowmen usually have, i don’t know, carrots for noses?”

“yeah, but i didn’t think to pick up any carrots at the grocery store,” you said with a pout. your shoulders slumped in defeat. “there’s got to be sticks or something we could use…”

“it’s all under the snow,” seonghwa pointed out. at your pouty face, he smiled. he put a hand on your shoulder. “you know, our snowman may not have a nose, but —” he took the knitted hat off his own head and placed it on the snowman’s, “—he does have a cute hat!”

you giggled, appreciating your boyfriends attempt to make you feel better. it worked, and you instantly felt much more cheery. you looked over your snowman and smiled. “he looks good in that hat, but i think it looks better on you.”

seonghwa laughed as he leaned in to kiss your cold cheek. “of course it does, but i think i’ll let him keep it.”

you nuzzled yourself into his side in search for warmth. despite the layers of sweaters and jackets, the winter air still managed to get to you. “let’s go inside. all this snowman building has me freezing!”

seonghwa lead you inside, the two of you remaining close together. “sounds like we need some hot chocolate, yeah?”

YUNHO — “man it doesn’t show signs of stopping, and i brought me some corn for popping.”

“all these holiday movies are the same,” yunho critiqued just as the movie ended. he stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth while he watched the credits roll.

you huffed. “so what? i still like them. they’re nice and make you feel good! plus they always help to get you in that christmas spirit!”

yunho smiled at you fondly just as you finished speaking. “i know you like them,” he said, reaching over to grasp your hand in his. his larger hand overwhelmed yours, something that never failed to make the both of you laugh. “that’s why i sit here and watch them with you, even if they bore me to tears.”

you bumped his shoulder with yours. “i appreciate that.”

“so, are we watching another one?” yunho knew the answer already. another movie was starting just moments later. he reclined into the couch cushion, patting his chest in invitation.

you grinned and cuddled into his chest. when he sat the bowl of popcorn on his lap, you took the opportunity to grab you some. you watched the movie in comfortable silence, enjoying the time spent together. about halfway through, you had an idea. “hey, after this, do you wanna bake some cookies?”

yunho kissed the top of your head. cookies sounded very good, and his mouth was already watering at the thought of the warm and sweet treats. “as long as i’m with you, i’m up for anything.”

YEOSANG — “the lights are turned way down low. let it snow! let it snow!”

you took a step back to appreciate your work. you felt proud, eyes twinkling as you took in the sight of the glimmering tree. “it’s beautiful!”

yeosang, who had helped you decorate the tree, nodded in agreement beside you. the tree was alive with ornaments, shiny tinsel, and flickering lights. a star shined brightly at the top. “it is. you did a good job, babe.”

you blushed at the compliment. “not just me, you helped, too!” you reached for him and circled your arms around him, pulling him in close. your heart skipped when he returned the embrace, his scent filling your senses.

“the tree looks the same every year,” yeosang pointed out, and you didn’t know where he was going with that until he continued, “but every year i’m astonished at how pretty it looks.”

you giggled as you looked up at him. “i think it looks prettier after decorating it with your favorite person.”

“i think so, too,” he agreed. he gazed down at you, and affection buzzed between you. his face was very close to yours, leaving him only inches to cross if he wanted to. he looked so handsome amidst the colorful lights. you could see the lights from the tree playing in his dark eyes. “i never was into the holidays, at least not until i met you. you make me enjoy this time of year.”

you were touched. yeosang wasn’t a man of many words, but the words he did say were always so heartfelt and genuine. he never failed to remind you of just how much you meant to him. “i love you.”

yeosang finally closed the space between you, lips meeting yours in a slow kiss. “i love you, too.”

SAN — “when we finally kiss goodnight, how i’ll hate going out in the storm.”

you always loved christmas parties with friends. it made this time of year even more fun. wooyoung liked throwing a few of them at his place every year, and they were never short of a good time. especially once the eggnog got spiked (no one could figure out who kept putting alcohol in it, but everyone suspected mingi).

you sat on a couch in a less rowdy area. wooyoung’s apartment wasn’t the most spacious, and with so many people there wasn’t many places to go. but this little space in the living room was at least less crazy than the other side of the room, where wooyoung and yunho were taking shots while an exasperated hongjoong watched. you took a sip of your hot chocolate, enjoying the warm, chocolatey goodness.

“i wonder if alcohol would taste good in hot chocolate,” came san’s voice. he sat next to you with his own cup of hot chocolate.

you offered a smile towards your boyfriend. new boyfriend. the two of you had only started dating last month, but you’d been friends way before that. you were still acclimating to this new dynamic with san; going from friends to lovers was a major transition, but you both were happy to explore this relationship together. “nah, wouldn’t want to ruin a good thing. hot chocolate is superior on its own.”

san laughed and nodded in agreement. “yeah, maybe you’re right. besides, i think the spiked eggnog is a good example of what happens when alcohol gets in the mix.” you both eyed the commotion across the room with amusement.

“yeah,” you said into your cup. you hummed in enjoyment.

“hey, y/n?”

you met san’s eyes. heat rose to your cheeks when you noticed how close he was. you waited for him to say something, but no words ever left his mouth. instead, his lips met yours before you knew it. they were soft and tasted like chocolate, and you sought them out again just as he made to pull away.

san smiled into the kiss. “you had a hot chocolate mustache.”

you attempted to respond, but Wooyoung interrupted you before you responded.

“you guys realize we can see you, right?”

MINGI — “but if you’ll really hold me tight, all the way home i’ll be warm.”

mingi shivered. “must we really find a tree out here? it’s freezing!”

“oh, come on! being out in the snow, looking for that one perfect tree, it’s all part of the fun!” you made sure to not let him see you shiver.

mingi rolled his eyes. “i’d rather be at home, nice and warm. now that’s fun.”

you ignored him and kept on walking with him in tow. you went all over the tree farm in search for the best looking tree. it took a while, but eventually you found it, and you jumped for joy as you gazed at the full, lush tree. “mingi, this is the one!”

mingi eyed the tree. “it looks the same as the others?” you stilled, shooting him a cold look. he watched your smile fade, and guilt coiled in his chest.

“do you not enjoy doing this stuff with me?” you asked and he felt even worse. mingi sighed.

“i do,” he revealed as he stepped closer to you. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel like i don’t enjoy doing this with you. truth is, i enjoy it, i’m just a wimp when it comes to the cold.”

you smiled, elated over his words. “i know you hate the cold, and you still came with me despite that.”

“so apology accepted?”

“yeah, apology accepted.”

mingi grinned. “good, now come over here and hug me before i freeze!”

you laughed and wrapped your arms around him. you both reveled in the heat your bodies brought. mingi held you tight while you buried your face in his neck. “better?”

he nodded. “better.”

WOOYOUNG — “and the fire is slowly dying. and, my dear, we’re still goodbying.”

“that looks more like a gingerbread blob than a gingerbread man.” you rolled your eyes at wooyoung’s comment.

“so what he doesn’t like like a normal gingerbread man. i think he’s perfect just the way he is!” you gazed down at your gingerbread blo — gingerbread man. “and it doesn’t matter what they look like as long as they taste good.”

wooyoung laughed as he began piping icing onto his much more aesthetically pleasing and anatomically correct gingerbread cookies. “that’s what everyone who can’t bake says!”

you scoffed and swatted at his arm. you were glad when you caused him to mess up one of his cookies. “you are in my kitchen and you insult me? the audacity! i think you should leave!” you bit back a laugh when he made a face at you.

“it’s practically a blizzard outside. i’m not going anywhere in that weather. you’re stuck with me now!” wooyoung was so amused.

“fine, but you’re sleeping on the couch.” you started to decorate your batch of oddly shaped cookies. and in your opinion? they looked way better than wooyoung’s!

“oh really? then what must i do to get back into your good graces so i can be with you in the warm bed tonight?” wooyoung stopped what he was doing to look at you. you looked cute while you concentrated, focus on your cookies. really, your cookies looked a million times worse than his, but he couldn’t help but admire the way you looked at your batch so fondly.

you held up a finished cookie. it had a rounded shape with four nubs that only barely resembled hands and feet, and the icing work was slightly messy. wooyoung almost laughed, but refrained before he could let it slip. “you’ve got to admit my cookies are better!”

wooyoung sighed. “guess i’m sleeping on the couch then.” when you gave him a shocked look, he allowed himself to laugh. when you reached out to swat at him again, he caught your hand and pulled you close. “just kidding. your cookies are better than mine.”

you rolled your eyes, sitting the gingerbread blob on the counter. “it’s a good thing i love you, you know that?”

wooyoung pecked your lips. “i know.”

JONGHO — “but as long as you’d love me so, let it snow! let it snow! and snow!”

one thing was for sure: jongho was a ruthless opponent in a snowball fight.

he was relentless, throwing snowball after snowball at you. there wasn’t anywhere for you to go. your only opportunities to retaliate were the small spaces of time between his blows. you didn’t really land many hits on him, and after every missed snowball he’d laugh hysterically. you were about to admit defeat until you hatched an idea.

you waited until he sent a particularly hard snowball your way, and when it made contact with your side, you let out a loud yelp while falling to the snowy ground. you stayed down, feigning pain with your hands pressing into your side. jongho stood some distance away, unsure of what had happened. at first he was confused, but when you didn’t get back up, he rushed to your side.

“babe! are you okay?” he pulled you into his arms, eyes scanning over your body to find where you were injured. you had him right where you wanted him.

you gripped some snow into your gloved hand and smooshed it into his face. you were never going to forget the look on his face. you smiled victoriously. “gotcha!”

jongho grinned. “not fair!” his fingers poked into your sides, tickling you relentlessly.

you wiggled in his hold, not even caring about the cold snow under you. your laughter filled the winter air, accompanied by the sound of jongho’s own amusement. “okay, okay! i’m sorry! i surrender!”

“oh no! it’s too late for that!”

the tickling didn’t cease until many moments later. your sides hurt from his fingers and your laughter. you rested in his arms with your head on his shoulder. neither of you made a move to break apart, even though the snow was beginning to seep into your clothes. “i can’t believe you fell for it.”

jongho chuckled. “i can’t believe you cheated.”

“at least i managed to get one hit. i’m proud of myself.” you looked up at his cheek, still covered in snow. you kissed it as your way of apologizing. “i’ll play fair from now on, okay?”

“and i’ll take it easier on you from now on. maybe.”

AUTHOR’S NOTES — now that it’s december, i’m feeling the holiday spirit! i know fluff is so rare for me, but i just felt like posting something soft would be a good way to start off the holiday season 🎄

TAG LIST — @abiaswreck @jungkookieprincess @lilie-dctl @mjyungi @mylovelymito @marievllr-abg @nebulousbookshelf @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @thesafecafe

NETWORKS — @kflixnet @wonderlandnet

ALL FICS ARE THE ORIGINAL IDEAS AND WRITTEN WORKS OF NATEEZFICS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. REPOSTING WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR NATEEZFICS IS PROHIBITED!

[daemour]

Pairing: biker Wooyoung x barista gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, light angst barely there

Warnings: Cursing, mean customer who throws hot coffee

WC: 1809

Summary: Customer service sucks, and today even more so. But a certain regular makes it better.

Yes, yet another wooyo fic LOL im sorry but i love this man and biker wooyo makes my knees weak

-

“(Y/N), your favourite customer is here,” Keonhee peeks his head around the back, wriggling his eyebrows at you as you make a face at him. “He’s looking especially fine today, you know.”

As you walk past him, you try to shove at his shoulder but Keonhee dodges and giggles. “What a butt,” you roll your eyes at him with no maliciousness. He isn’t wrong anyway. Every Friday, a group of bikers would come in and order a bunch of coffee. When you first started working here, they terrified you, but as time went on, you slowly got used to them and even came to enjoy their company.

And yes, one of them has caught your eye. Not that it was any of Keonhee’s business. But god damn was he fine. The gang itself was filled to the brim with young, handsome guys who would send even the most stoic person into a blushing mess. But there was something about this guy—Wooyoung, you learned his name was after overhearing their conversation—that just sparked something in your gut.

Maybe it was the way he smiled or his loud laugh that you could hear even in the back storage room. Or maybe it was the way he always included a lollipop along with his (very generous) cash tip. And the way he was nice to look at helped as well.

To your surprise, the rest of his friends were nowhere to be seen. It’s weird enough to see him on a Tuesday. “Hi, fancy seeing you here today,” you greet him, wiping your hands on your apron. “Your usual today?”

“Hey, it’s my favourite employee!” Wooyoung beams as soon as you come into view and you can’t help but smile back. “What’s popping, dude?”

Wooyoung leans forward, elbows propped on the counter, and it takes all your willpower not to stare at the sliver of chest showing. “Nah,” Wooyoung drawls. “I’ll try something else. What do you reccommend, doll?”

You try your hardest to keep your face still but even if you succeed you’re sure your burning face gives you away. “Trying something new?” you ask, attempting to cover up your awkwardness.

Wooyoung’s smile widens. “Yeah, I think I will. What’s your favourite drink?”

Is he flirting? You’re not quite sure. It sounds like he is but you’re also a pessimist and would much rather go for the safer option. “Ah, I know you like your coffee strong, but I actually don’t drink it. I prefer a matcha latte, but if you prefer coffee I can ask my coworker?”

Wooyoung shakes his head, his smile unwavering. “That’s okay, I’ll try your favourite drink. You can make it just how you like it.” He punctuates his sentence with a wink and you immediately busy yourself with the register, avoiding his eye contact so that you can calm your heart rate down. Surely he’s got to be flirting now? Sometimes you hate your obliviousness.

You know Keonhee is absolutely listening in on your exchange and you accept your fate of getting teased for the next four shifts until Friday rolls around and he finds new blackmail material. “This one is on the house,” you attempt to regain some dignity by keeping your voice steady “as thanks for being such loyal customers.”

Before Wooyoung can protest or even say anything, you quickly process the order and turn to make the drink, willing your face to cool down in the process. As you mentioned, you don’t know what it is about Wooyoung that makes you flustered and become so socially inept.

As you are pouring the finished drink into the cup the door opens and the bell tinkles. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” you call out, slightly thankful for the distraction but also mildly annoyed you can’t spend more time with Wooyoung on your own.

“Here’s your drink,” you hand it to Wooyoung over the counter, “enjoy!”

He smiles at you and you return it before heading back to take the next customer’s order. “Hello! Sorry for the wait, what can I do for you?” Before you can even say anything, the middle-aged lady gives you a once-over and you already know what kind of customer she will be.

“That’s fine, I guess,” she sniffs and waves her hand dismissively. “Can I get two hot chai lattes with oat milk and four pumps of syrup?”

“What type of syrup? All our flavours are listed here.” You motion towards the plastic taped to the counter. Apparently, this was the wrong move because the lady rolled her eyes.

“You don’t have to give me such attitude! I can read perfectly fine! I’ll take the vanilla.”

Your eye twitches and you bite back a snarky reply, instead opting for a polite, “I apologise. I’ll get this done ASAP.” As you input her order, you can feel Wooyoung’s eyes on you. It’s not quite how you wanted him to see you, but that’s just how customer service is, you suppose.

As you finish up, you can hear the lady grumbling under her breath about the disappointing service and you have to take a few deep breaths to avoid letting your temper get the better of you. “Here’s your drinks, ma’am.”

“Finally! You know, I am in a rush, you should hurry up next time,” the lady snaps, snatching the cups from you and taking a sip from one.

“Ma’am, that’s a hot–” you try to warn her but to no avail. The lady chokes, and in her surprise slams the cup down onto the table, creating a mess that you inevitably will have to clean up.

“How dare you!” the lady screams at you as you stare in disbelief. “I am a paying customer!”

“Sorry ma’am,” you grit out. “It does say on the cup that it is a hot beverage, but I can make you a new one if you’d like?”

Your offer was not enough to appease the angry customer and she grabbed the other drink, attempting to throw it at your face. Thankfully, you take a step back and her aim is just as bad as her manners, but it still catches on your shoulder.

Keonhee gasps behind you but before he even has a chance to kick her out, Wooyoung steps forward.

“Get out.” The lady snaps her head towards him, incredulous, and opens her mouth to speak but Wooyoung slams his fist on the counter. “Get out of my sight, and get out of the store. I never want to see you here, or even hear of you here again. Am I clear?”

Without another word, the customer scurries away and Wooyoung turns to look at you. “Uh…I’ll go get the med kit,” Keonhee says, turning tail and leaving you in the front with Wooyoung, but with a completely different vibe surrounding the two of you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” you apologise to Wooyoung, bowling low, but he waves away your apologies.

“Don’t worry about it, that lady was such a bitch,” he scoffs, glancing out the door as if she’d come back. “Tell me if she comes to bother you again. Are you okay though?”

You glance down at the soiled fabric and it’s only then the pain hits you and you wince as you try and shift your shoulder. “It’ll heal. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad and it wasn’t my face.” You peel back the sleeve and both you and Wooyoung wince at the sight of the red flesh.

“(Y/N), I got the med kit,” Keeho calls out as he returns with the white box in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. “Do you need to take the day off? I can have Minho come in to cover for you.”

You start to decline but Wooyoung interrupts. “Yeah, call him in,” Wooyoung stares you down when you try to argue and you’re much too tired to fight him on this. “You’re in no condition to work. I’ll take you to the bus stop and you will rest.”

You look at him for a long moment and Keeho looks unsure about his offer, but you’re not in the mood to argue about this either. “Okay, you win, Wooyoung,” you concede with a sigh. “I’ll take the day off.”

Wooyoung hums, happy with your choice and Keonhee dares to wink at you in full view of Wooyoung, who just laughs smugly. “Come on, then. Do you have everything?”

You nod, and as you walk around the counter towards Wooyoung, he ushers you out with a hand on your lower back and you fight to keep your smile off your face. Maybe that customer was worth it—you get a day off and kinda of get to “hang out” with Wooyoung.

As the two of you walk down the sidewalk, you’re not sure of what to say, or how to even start a conversation. Usually, there’s a counter between you and Wooyoung, but with his hand on you, you apparently can’t think straight. “So, what is your name?” Wooyoung breaks the silence. “I never got it yet.”

“Ah, I’m (Y/N). I’m surprised you didn’t hear my coworker yell it from the backrooms.” Wooyoung laughs.

“I don’t really take to eavesdropping, unlike how you learnt my name,” Wooyoung bumps your good shoulder, a laugh in his voice and you squawk. “I don’t mind, really. We’re a loud bunch, which I’m sure you’ve known by now.”

You laugh a little at that. Your boss is always annoyed at the noise they make but they are regulars and tip well so he can’t do much about that. “So I have. Speaking of which, are they not with you today?”

Wooyoung shakes his head, his bangs falling into his face. “Nah, I wanted to steal you all to myself. And I definitely got more than I bargained for.”

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, ducking your head down to hide your burning face. “How are you so smooth?”

Wooyoung snorts. “I can’t help myself around you,” he teases, poking at your face.

“Oh, hey look, the bus stop! And how lucky, the bus is coming too.” You keep your eyes firmly ahead and Wooyoung laughs as you approach the stop. “Thank you for walking me back, Wooyoung.”

“Hey, of course. I’ll see you Friday?” You nod, turning to board the bus when he grabs your wrist. “Wait, hold on! You need your lollipop!”

Wooyoung fumbles in his pocket before pulling out a lollipop and you laugh, taking it. “Blue raspberry? You’re so basic.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “I’m so nice to you and this is all I get in return? You don’t deserve to see me Friday, me nor my lollipop stash.”

You laugh at his antics and Wooyoung smiles, proud of your laughter. “I’ll see you Friday, Wooyoung. Thank you.”

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1004

Warnings: cursing, fingering, couch sex, unprotected which you should NOT do guys ^^

Genre: smut, fluff, rated M for mature, established relationship au

Summary: You're watching a show in peace, but when Wooyoung comes home from work, he has a proposition...

The way this took me 5 months to write 👁️👄👁️

-

“Baby baby baby,” Wooyoung vocalises as he walks through the door. He’s in a good mood today. “Have you eaten?”

You smile up at him from where you’re lazily stretched out on the couch, reaching your arms out to ask for a greeting hug and kiss silently. “I had some ramen. How was dinner with the boys?”

Wooyoung hums, setting his bag down and coming over to let you pull him into your arms. You grunt a little at the weight settling over your body but you don’t mind. It’s almost therapeutic. “Fine as usual, we just ate at the company today. Jjampong and jjajangmyeon. Missed you, though,” he says before kissing you gently. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders as you smile at the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Whatchu watching?” He murmurs into your mouth and you giggle a little at both the feeling and his stubbornness to ask you about your day every time he comes home, even when either of you have something else on your minds, and today is no different.

You pull him closer, cupping his face with your hands and stroking the soft skin of his face with your thumbs. “Mmh, some detective show I used to watch with my mom. I’ve seen all the seasons before though.”

Wooyoung doesn’t speak for a few more minutes, instead opting to kiss you again and again. You’ve half a mind to stop watching your show and initiate something else when he finally speaks. “...Can I propose something?” Wooyoung hesitates and you raise an eyebrow at the sight of him being shy and nod. “Could you maybe, possibly, pretend to watch the show while I fuck you on the couch?”

He’s so quiet that you almost don’t hear his suggestion. “Mmh, yeah, Woo. I can do that for you,” you reassure him as you card your fingers through his thick hair and he sighs at the feeling.

“Okay! Can you scoot over a bit for me?” You can’t help but laugh a little at how quickly he becomes excited as soon as you agree. You press a kiss to the crown of his head before moving over and letting him shuffle behind you and plant his face in the crook of your neck.

You refocus your attention on the TV, although you’re not really paying attention to the chase sequence as Wooyoung peppers light kisses all over the back of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat as his hands slip into your underwear but you manage to keep your body relaxed. You can feel the hardness growing in his pants as he groans softly at the fact that you only had one of his oversized shirts on as well as just underwear.

As his fingers find your clit, your thighs tense but you firmly keep your eyes on the show. With Wooyoung’s affinity for excessive PDA, you’ve gotten used to keeping a straight face even though you so badly want to turn around and kiss him senseless. Even though his fingers are deftly bringing you closer to your orgasm, you keep yourself focused.

One of his hands slides up your shirt, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple as his other fingers slide inside of you. You groan slightly and Wooyoung laughs, nipping at the sensitive skin at your neck.

"Fuck, you smell so good," he mumbles and you can't help but chuckle a little at that, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as Wooyoung bites at your ear in retaliation.

His fingers curl around your soaked-through underwear and gently tugs them down, lifting your hips to help him a bit. You hold your breath in anticipation as you feel and gear him shuffle around before finally sinking the tip of his cock into you slowly.

It takes all your willpower to not react, but you can tell how it affects Wooyoung, his breathing growing heavy as he finally bottoms out. He's not thick, but the length makes up for it plus a little bit more, able to reach the deepest spot inside of you with ease. The curve of his cock also hits your g-spot almost perfectly every time. He starts to thrust slowly, shallowly, but the movement feels like it melts your insides anyway. But the way the sounds that are overcoming the TV is what turns you on the most, surprisingly to even you. You can feel your pussy grow wetter and wetter and you know you're about to come.

"Fuck, I'm so close," Wooyoung whines, his hand aliding down from your chest to your clit and the sensation throws you over the edge as you come, impaled on his dick. He doesn't stop moving and you can feel your legs start to quake at the overstimulation and you moan, turning you head to meet Wooyoung in a messy kiss.

Not too long after, Wooyoung finally reaches his release, his hot come filling you up and leaking around his cock. His member twitches inside of you and both you and Wooyoung sigh, bodies relaxing together. He doesn't pull out immediately, and to be honest, you prefer it that way, with his dick acting as a plug.

"Thank you," Wooyoung mumbles into your shoulder and you smile even though he can't see it. It's always been a habit for him to thank you for sex and it's a sweet gesture that you can't get enough of.

"Thank you too, baby." You run your hands through his hair, turning in his arms to face you, sighing a little when his dick slides out of you, missing the feeling of being filled up. "I think you were onto something with that suggestion."

Wooyoung giggles, planting a kiss on your nose. "Well, we'll just have to do it again," he teases, letting his lips over yours. "Maybe next time, you can ride me while I watch TV."

You laugh. "You just want to be lazy, pillow princess. But deal. Can I finish my show now?"

@cultofdionysusnet

[sweetiesicheng]

wooyoung - daycare

word count : 791

happy birthday to wooyoung !!

-

"shush! do you want them to wake up?" you ask wooyoung.

"you're whispering too loud too!" wooyoung replies.

you hear a noise and look over at the sleeping children to see one of them just moving in their sleep. the child eventually settles and you sigh out of relief.

"hand me the trays," wooyoung whispers.

you nod and hand him the remaining trays that need to be cleaned. he leaves the room to put them in a dishwasher while you tidy up the room.

you and wooyoung are best friends who work at a daycare on the weekends. both of you started a few months ago, but now you only work on the weekends because of school. there aren't too many kids today, but there's a lot of cleaning to do as per usual.

the kids are taking a nap before they go home for the day, but you and wooyoung want to go home as soon as possible. the hard thing is trying to clean and not wake the kids up.

you clean up one of the areas, picking up scattered toys and books that the kids had been playing with earlier. you put everything back into their respective places.

when you're done, you join wooyoung in the kitchen area. he's putting some food away and any dirty dishes that weren't put in the dishwasher yet.

"you good?" you ask him.

"yea. just have these few," he replies. "how much time do we have left?" he asks.

you look around for a clock and find one on the wall. "like fifteen minutes," you answer.

all of a sudden, you start to hear crying from the room that the kids are sleeping in. you hurry back in and go to the child. you sit down and rub the child's back, trying to soothe them to sleep for the remaining fifteen minutes.

once the child settles down, you move and sit against the wall, deciding to finish everything you need to do once the kids wake up from their nap. wooyoung walks into the room and notices you.

"what are you doing?" he whispers.

"waiting," you answer. he just nods his head and starts tidying the room as needed.

—

"bye bye miss y/n and mister wooyoung," one of the kids says to both of you.

"bye! have a nice day," you say.

"see you later," wooyoung says as kids leave with their parents. "woah! buddy, don't run," he says to another kid.

you feel something tug your apron and look down to see one of the kids. "miss y/n," the child speaks.

you crouch down a bit. "is something wrong?" you ask.

they shake their head. "i have a question," they say to you, "are you and wooyoung married?" they ask.

you try to keep your composure but laugh. you shake your head. "no, we're best friends!" you say to them.

"but my mommy says that her best friend is my daddy," they reply, looking confused, "so you're not married?"

you pat their head, "you can best friends with anyone. it doesn't have to just be someone you're married to. you have a lot of best friends here, right?" you say to them.

it seems like a lightbulb has turned on, "oh, i think i get it!" they say to you with a smile.

"well, you're very smart. i knew you would," you say while fixing their hat. "i'll see you next time, okay?"

"okay! bye bye!" the child runs off, going to their mom. you wave and continue to watch the kids who are still waiting for their parents.

after all of the kids leave, you and wooyoung finish up cleaning before closing the daycare up.

"dude," you call out to wooyoung as you get into the passenger seat of his car, "they think we're married."

"huh? married?" wooyoung replies, "that's kind of cute." he starts his car up and drives out of the parking lot.

"yea, it is, but they're little, they don't know anything yet," you reply. "hey, can we pick up food?"

"idiot, are you paying attention? i didn't even drive in the direction to our neighborhood," wooyoung replies as he stops at a stop sign.

"i'm just asking! you always bicker with me..." you say to him, mumbling at the end.

"well i need someone to annoy," he says and continues to drive down the street. "you're paying for food."

"again? we just got our paychecks!"

"you're the one who didn't pay me back yet!"

"ugh, jung wooyoung! you're glad i like working with you or else i'd smack you in front of the kids.

"excuse me, you have hit me! you and the kids bully me every time!"

"we do not!"

"yes you do!"