your roommate streamer!san has a bad habit of keeping you awake deep into the night with his loud noises. After losing your job you decide to finally get revenge after a night of drinking together.
content warnings: swearing, pet names, drinking, alcohol, making out, implied smut etc
[3:47 AM]
San’s muffled voice thundered through the apartment as you attempted to wedge your head further in between two pillows.
The shared apartment seemed like a good idea months ago. A friend of a friend had a two story apartment with a spare bedroom and a job that’d encourage daytime sleeping. At the time, there seemed to be no ostensible catch but after only a few nights in the apartment you found the issue. Or heard the issue.
Your mysterious roommate San, who declined to list his profession prior to you signing the lease, was a twitch streamer. This normally wouldn’t be an issue as you did enjoy gaming as well and tended to enjoy falling asleep to late night streams. However, the times in which he streamed and the volume at which he did so often kept you up at night.
The icing on the cake was when you connected the dots on why San sounded so familiar when you had talked to him a few times prior to moving in. San was one of the many streamers that you enjoyed falling asleep to at night. His carefree gameplay coincided with his mellow voice that was easy to relax to even when it reached abstract volumes. Much like they were tonight.
Embarrassing attraction to San aside, a late night text gently reminding him that you had work in the morning would quiet him for several hours but tonight your messages were being left unread.
In the room directly below you you could hear as San jumped up and down, laughed, and yelled any time his team won a round.
You groggily swipe through your phone apps before landing on the Twitch app. San’s stream was the first recommendation.
bigsanmarie: wait i’m good at valorant???? (23.4k viewers.)
You click on the stream to see San smiling so much his eyes were nearly shut. Despite his demeanor his Valorant team was amidst a 14-15 overtime loss. The LED’s of his room decorations made his cheeks glow as his matching black Razer Kraken Kitty’s glowed to match.
As upset as you were, it was hard not to laugh with San. He was vehemently denying whiffing a kill to his duo, Yunho, whose voice was booming over a discord call.
San’s collarbones poked out behind his black tank top and his shoulders rippled with laughter. San had the habit of making anything look good, even while wearing cat ear headphones he looked undeniably attractive.
This habit played a role in your signing of the lease as San had made the shabby apartment rather glorious just by existing inside of it with enthusiasm.
The time on your phone catches your eye and reminds you of your early morning mandatory company meeting tomorrow.
Without a second thought you slide out of bed and pad down out of your room and down a small staircase. San’s voice increasingly gets louder with every step until you’re outside his bedroom door. Your hand pauses before turning the handle gently and poking your head inside.
San was sitting with his back to the door, several lights pointed at him while his 3 monitors held his attention. He was still amidst an argument with Yunho when your eyes focused.
You realized you’d never been in San’s room while he was streaming before and didn't calculate for the camera to be pointing in your direction. San notices his chat speed up and turns around quickly.
“Oh my god y/n.” A light scream erupts from his throat as he scrambles to mute his mic. Even despite his girlish scream your cheeks flush a dark red as you catch a glimpse of his chest beneath his black tank top. Below the camera, San was wearing a dangerously small pair of gym shorts that revealed two thick thighs taking up the entire expanse of his gaming chair. An image of you sitting on said thighs flashes through your mind and leaves your head scrambled.
“I’m so sorry,” is all you can think to say, fully registering that you’d just interrupted his stream while 20,000 people watched and then imagined sitting atop of San.
“No, no, you have a meeting tomorrow right?” He runs a hand up into his hair and pulls his kitty headphones down, you can hear Yunho yelling through them.
“yeah… I-“ you pause when he smiles lightly.
“I promise I’ll be quieter, go to sleep Y/n it’s okay.” His voice is gentle as he pulls his headphones back on and turns back to his game as the round starts, but not before giving you an affirmative nod. You yank your head out of his room and gently close the door.
Behind the closed door you can hear San apologizing to Yunho and laughing with his chat again.
Your tired feet carry you back upstairs to your waiting bed that was still warm. San’s stream had stayed open during your journey downstairs and now played idly next to your pillow.
San’s voice carried over the speakers and began to gently lull your eyes to a close as your mind filled with the absence of thought. Next to you, the chat continued to go crazy with your surprise appearance reading things like big san’s marriage arc?? and ooooo he got in troubleeeee.
Oblivious to the chat, sleep pulls you in.
[10:24 AM]
Your obvious lack of sleep at the hands of your roommate is no longer the cause of concern for your day. Nor is the fact that you had used said roommate's stream to subsequently fall asleep the night prior.
Instead, the very important mandatory meeting that you arrived exhausted to was a staff overhaul that led to you losing your job in just a few minutes.
The walk home in daylight was not something you were accustomed to, as your walks home normally took place once the sun had dipped below the horizon.
Your and San’s complete opposite schedules were the reason the roommate situation worked so well, but coming back home now to a bleary eyed san eating a bowl of cereal without a shirt on was not part of the plan.
Granted, your teary eyes and paper bag full of your office belongings was not part of the plan either but you found yourself now in a staring match between roommates.
“What are you doing here?” San asked, cheeks puffed full of cereal. His eyes had dark crevices beneath them and his hair was sticking up in several different directions.
“I got fired.” You reply quietly, swallowing the lump that had made residence in your throat.
“Because of me?!” Drops of milk poke out of San’s mouth. Despite the mildly narcissistic comment and gross state of San right now, your cheeks threatened to flush.
“No, no…Why would it be because of you?” San’s cheeks turn bright red at your question and he leans his head into his hand to scratch at his hair.
“I guess I keep you up a lot? but that’s beside the point?” Every word ends with a question and honest bewilderment floods his expression. “Were you late today?”
“They just didn’t need me anymore.” You finish but your voice quivers. The small bump in your statement made San jolt and his eyebrows pinch together. He offers an arm out in what you assume to be a gentle attempt at comfort.
Despite being roommates your conversations rarely branched from polite one offs aside from the occasional conversation at the parties that San hosted in the living room. This conversation and its subsequent emotions were out of left field.
Seeing San’s genuine attempt at comfort despite your distant relationship is what sends the lump in your throat over the edge and causes tears to spill from your eyes.
San retracts his arm in shock as he watches the sudden shift in emotions. He pushes his cereal bowl away from him, stands up, and gingerly offers both arms outward.
To your own surprise, you accept the offer and carefully wrap your arms around his bare torso. San’s muscles seemed to ripple down his chest as his arms nestled in a safe space on your back. His grip tightens until your forehead is pressed against his chest, your head nestled under his chin.
Whether this was his intention or not, your tears ease in lieu of a hot red flush that coats your cheeks. You take a step back, suddenly aware of every movement between both of you. San hesitantly steps back, checking to see if tears continue to spill.
The awkward silence fills the space once more as he continues to stare at you wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.
“Do you need help bringing your stuff up?” he points to the paper bag full of your office supplies. A laugh escapes your lips and you shrug.
“Sure, why not.” You try not to watch as San bends down and lifts the surprisingly heavy bag, that seems to give him no issue. Despite spending 80% of his time online, it’s clear that that extra 20% was spent in the gym.
You trudge slowly up the stairs, an emotional support water bottle filled to the brim with cold water and ice courtesy of San swung behind you as San followed. His arms stuffed with your old work supplies, and a blankie from the couch he deemed to be comforting.
Compared to San’s LED dungeon of a bedroom, yours looked rather bleak right now in the early afternoon sun. Tears still fought to escape as you began to unpack your bag of things, aware of San’s presence behind you.
“I know just the thing to cheer you up.” San’s voice breaks the silence. You freeze, unsure if San’s idea of fun is purely focused around going to gym and playing video games or if he was about to pull you to a carnival and force you to go on every roller coaster.
You turn around and see him thoroughly inspecting a new dress that you’d bought that was hanging on your closet door. You flush red.
“My friends and I are going drinking tonight, you should come with us.” He nods to himself like it’s his best idea yet. The idea of drinking with strangers was not anywhere near your idea of a perfect way to cheer up. But San looked so proud of himself at that moment that your mouth moved quicker than your head.
“Okay.”
“And wear this,” he indicates towards the dress.
[11:58 PM]
You curse yourself for ever allowing San to talk you into this. He didn’t actually talk you into it but his habit of making everything seem lovely and fun had played a heavy hand in your acceptance and throughout your night thus far.
When you had stepped down the stairs in black boots and your black dress that felt a lot more sheer than it was in the store’s dressing room you hadn’t planned for San’s reaction to differ from what it normally was the few times you’d hung out prior. He would normally give a polite smile and compliment the color of your shirt or how awesome the pattern on your pants was. This time when you paused in front of him his mouth had hung slack and his cheeks glowed red despite not having had a lick of alcohol touch his blood stream yet.
“You look so beautiful.” His compliment seems to send you both into a spiral of stutters and murmured thank yous before he eventually offered his hand outward.
With his natural infinite affinity for showing off his arms he wore a grey high neck tank top paired with overly baggy jeans and riveted belt. Despite your initial hesitance for prolonged contact, the feeling of San’s hand tucked safely into yours as he guided you down your apartment building stairs felt all but unnatural.
Once outside San had gently taken your hand and placed it on his bicep for you to hold on to as you had continued your journey.
His arm muscles seemed to tighten as you clutched onto them, allowing him to lead you through the bustling city streets. He had droned on the entire walk about how this bar was his favorite, and that he knew the bartender would give him free shots on the down low.
Your arrival at said bar now seemed hazy in your memory as you attempted to recount your night thus far. Yunho, who’s voice you recognized from San’s stream instantly, had immediately ushered a shot into your hands with a promise of more on the way the second you stepped into the dimly lit bar.
Even now, being several shots deep, your memory falters with how exactly San’s arm had ended up protectively around your waist or how you’d ended up in the corner of your group’s booth together. The alcohol made your head heavy and eyes heavier. San’s arm around your waist prodded your stomach gently, jolting your eyes open to see Yunho approaching the booth with a tray full of abnormally tall double shot glasses.
“Another one?” The words escape your lips in a murmur as your heavy head lulls to the side back into San’s shoulder, which bounces with laughter.
“Only if you want,” his voice is quiet against the loud music and laughter of San’s friends, who’d all told you their names and welcomed you warmly but gave you and San space when he’d pulled you into the corner.
A glass is pressed into your hands from Yunho, which brings you back to life. You hold the glass out, cheering with everyone around you.
“This one’s too?” A friend asks as the shot glasses clink together. The group pauses for a moment, the murky green liquid inside the glasses spilling as everyone’s hand shakes.
“To Y/N!” San shouts from next to you. Everyone agrees before touching their glasses to the table and taking the drink. The liquid has a jolting minty taste that attacks the back of your throat and makes your stomach lurch. You shrink your nose in disgust as you put your glass back on the table, oblivious of the near half of liquid in the glass that still remains.
“What was that?” You manage to ask between the burning sensation in your mouth. Next to you, San has a similar reaction, but is quick to brush the hair away from your forehead.
“Green fairy, it’s a weird one.” His voice is low, and his brow is wrinkled. He points to your glass left on the table with the dregs of your shot still inside. Your hands refuse to cooperate with your head as your insides still rumble with the absinthe that’s making its way to your head. You fist a handful of San’s jeans, his head kicks back in a breathy laugh.
With his free hand he takes the shot glass and holds it to your pursed lips. Your eyes meet and he raises a thick eyebrow.
“Drink up, princess.” You part your mouth and accept the last grueling bit of your shot. Another shiver wracks your body from its core and you grip onto San tighter.
“Chaser?” You ask through your disgust, desperate to fight the rising wave of sickness that’s made residency in your stomach. Between your pinched eyelids you see San look around the table for anything to quell the disgusting taste in your mouth and stop shivers that rock your body. A cold chill passes over your shoulders, and you reach your other hand forward to grab onto San’s shirt and anchor you back to reality.
Regardless of your sparse memory of the night this far, you refuse to let it be marred with throwing up and embarrassing yourself in front of San and his friends. He jerks his head back when you pull his shirt, his eyebrows raised in question.
“I don’t have anything for a chaser,” He pauses, breath fanning across your face, forehead brushing against yours. His spare hand gently caresses your cheek before his omnipresent arm around your waist finishes the job and brings your lips to his.
The disgusting flavor that lingered from the shots melted away with the touch of San’s soft lips that tasted of alcohol and sweet taffy. A moan passes from his lips and vibrates into yours. His arm around your waist slides to lightly grasp your thigh, and squeeze you in tighter.
His kiss is gentle and comforting, as if to acknowledge your strange day and offer solace in his embrace. You push your lips further into his and feel a smile press into yours. Your hand snakes into his hair, a long strand of hair twirling around your finger. You try to grasp his head but he fights against it and pulls away.
San pulls away to smile more, this time you can see his eyes glisten and his cheeks swell, flush with red from the alcohol.
“I think I need another shot,” you sputter, your heavy head catching San’s shoulder once more.
“I think we need to get you home first, princess.” San’s voice is barely audible against the thick sound of the bar around you. You shake your head no, against his shoulder. “C’mon, I keep you up enough already.” His arms find solace underneath yours as he pulls you up, into his lap.
You try to find every ounce of strength in your body and force it into your neck, which snaps up to focus on your surroundings.
“I promise I’m ok San, I don’t want this to end.” You whisper, over your shoulder you can see his brows are heavy with concern. Despite your ever churning stomach, going home would mean ending the night.
The idea of job hunting, going back to just roommates with San, all of that was worse than the headache that plagued your body. Behind you, you hear San and Yunho’s somewhat muddled conversation.
“…call you an uber?”
“I’m worried about her in the car.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“She’s finally talking to me. I don't want to ruin it.”
This last line from San stung a little bit, and seemed to echo around your head as a thick layer of guilt massaged its way into your chest.
You’re pulled back to reality when San’s friends begin to exit the booth, making way for you to scooch out.
You do so haphazardly, muttering apologies and nice to meet you with every pass. You turn around to get a face full of San’s broad chest, he grabs your arms to steady and guide you outside.
A gust of air hits your chest like a rock. Your teeth clatter against the cold air. In your infinite forgetfulness you curse yourself for not planning on bringing a jacket when you’d left the apartment hours prior. Your feet stumble beneath you but San is quick to offer his arm for support.
“I called an uber. It should be here any second.” Sam wraps both of his arms around you, locking you in place against him. The shivers subside until a grey sedan pulls in front of you.
Gently, San places a hand on your waist and swoops the other under your legs until he’s holding you bridal style. He walks to the other side of the car, opens the door, and sets you inside. His thick hair brushes your lips as he attempts to buckle the seatbelt.
“You don’t have to do this.” you grumble, but your hands refuse to cooperate as you attempt to assist the buckling of the belt. San pulls back, having successfully secured you.
“But I want to, princess.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, before gently closing the door and hurrying to the other side. You’d barely had time to process his actions before he’s buckling in next to you.
One of his hands snakes to your head, and gently pulls it into his shoulder. There, he places another chaste kiss on your forehead and mumbles something about sleep.
[4:47 AM]
Your eyes fly open with a snap. Despite your clear head, the world spins around you and your stomach groans with the effects of copious shots.
The room around you feels unfamiliar from your own. A faint pink LED strip illuminates the spinning ceiling. You turn your head to see San sitting at his desk, both computer monitors on. He’s talking quietly into the mic in front of him, his brown boba eyes scanning the active chat on his monitor, while the other monitor illuminates with a roblox mini game. His black cat ear headphones are askew on his head, one muff on the other off.
Your eyes can hazily make out the title of San’s active live stream.
bigsanmarie: shhhh quiet night stream! (12.1k viewers.)
You groan. The last thing you remembered was sleeping in the uber on the car ride home. Nothing about San bringing you into his room was clear in your memory, but sure enough his blanket was pulled to your chin and a cat plush was stuffed between your arms.
Your groan caught San’s attention. He mutes the mic before turning to you with a soft smile, pulling his headphones to his neck. He changed into a black hoodie and a loose pair of boxers that you choose to ignore. His cheeks still burn red with the alcohol effects.
“How are you feeling?” He asks gently. You sit up on an elbow.
“You’re live?” You ignore his first question and choose to admire San’s dedication to live streaming at the worst times.
“Yeah… I promised them I would.” He motions his head towards chat, which continues to buzz despite San’s audial absence. This melts your heart a little bit at the thought of bigsanmarie promising to talk to his friends every night.
Your vision spins, luring you back into a horizontal position. You lazily motion your hand for San to continue.
“You can keep playing, I like listening to it.” You roll over before you can process your confession. The night seems too far into itself to regret any of your actions towards San.
“Are you feeling okay?” he persists. “I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
“Yeah, just a little sick.” You roll back over to check if San was still watching. He was. “Why are you in boxers?”
His cheeks flush a dark red as he looks down at his bare legs. He looks between you and his legs as if he forgot that he’d neglected to put on pants.
“I get hot.” He confesses. You smile.
“Right… right.” You both pause, observing the other.
“San…” you begin, biting your lip. Your hesitancy to ruin the night lingers in your chest. The feeling of San’s lips on yours still seemed to linger even now when you reach up to touch your own. San pulls his headphones off his neck completely and rests them on the desk.
“You can…” He doesn’t finish but instead watches as you run your fingers along your bottom lip.
“I don’t want that to be the only time we do anything.” You fully stop and fight the urge to roll over again, leaving the air purposefully ambiguous for San to interpret.
“It won’t be.” He concludes, biting his lip. One of his hands runs up his thigh and rests at his core. The other arm opens up. “Come here, princess.”
You obediently kick your feet out from the covers and slide to the edge of San’s bed. Only when your feet touch the floor and the world rotates around you do you pause.
“Your stream.” You grab the bed to steady yourself. Your dress hugged tight around your hips, and fought against your anxious attempts to pull it down. San sighs and unmutes his mic.
“Chat, I’ll be back.” He mutes again but turns his camera off this time.
You wobbly make your way to San, who waits with his arms spread. They catch you in his strong grasp and root you back into reality. His heart beats quickly against your ear but his slow breaths don’t give away any hint of anxiety. Your legs straddle his chair and shake against his bare thighs.
One of his hands finds your chin and pulls it up towards his waiting lips. When he kisses you now it’s slow. He takes his time to part your lips and savor the moment between both of you. His hand caresses your bottom gently, pulling you into his chest further.
A moan escapes your lips and rumbles between both of you, earning a breathy laugh from San. San jerks his chin up, angling your needy mouth under his chin and down further to his bare neck. Your teeth pinch the softness of his neck gently, while his hand slides down to palm between your legs.
Slight pressure of his pointer finger sends your head reeling and insides churning in one swoop. Your head kicks back, your body jolting with surprise. San’s thick arm catches you from ramming your back into his desk behind you. You look over your shoulder to see chat swirling, wondering where San was and why he was absent during this round of dress to impress.
Comments read No way he got in trouble again and I just know he’s getting some right now. Your cheeks flash a fiery burst of red at the realization of what was happening.
Despite San’s camera being off and mic muted, you felt a rush of guilt from occupying San. You turn your head back to see a gentle smile caress his swollen deep red lips. His black hair hangs in front of his face and a relaxed curve of his eyelids allows for him to take you in completely. His eyes don’t falter as they scan you up and down.
His lips move slightly to murmur something along the lines of “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
“You should get back to the stream,” You mumble, no more audible than his previous line. “I’ll be waiting there when you’re done.” You incline your head towards San’s bed and go to stand up, but San’s hands clamp onto your thighs.
“You don’t have to go,” his eyes crease with a touch of concern that’s enough to melt your heart in one swoop. You take his hands in yours and guide them to your face. Unlatching your legs from his torso, you slide down until your knees hit the carpeted ground below San’s chair. Your chin rests between his thighs, inconspicuous to the thousands of viewers.
A smile dashes across his features as he realizes your implication. His thumb slides across your bottom lip before gently inserting itself into your waiting mouth. His eyes are filled with the utmost adoration and a noticeable bulge in his pants compliments them.
Despite holding your eye contact, San moves his arm to click on his mouse rapidly. He glances at his monitor, leaving you to watch as his focus shifts. You press a kiss to his warm inner thigh.
“Don’t forget your headphones,” you murmur against his thigh. A light laugh escapes his pursed lips as he glances from chat back down to you. Begrudgingly, he slides his headphones off the desk and puts them on his head. The familiar cat ears glowing in RGB to match the shifting colors of his walls. A laugh escapes your lips.
“Hey,” San’s hand finds your chin quickly and inclines your head to meet his eyes. “Don’t laugh at me princess.” His thumb brushes your bottom lip again, which you bite down on before lightly sucking on it like it was a straw.
He uses his free hand to click away at his mouse, and unmute his mic.
“Chat, I’m back.” He finally looks away, and focuses back on his game. He gently extracts his thumb from your mouth, pulling your waiting lips to his core in the process.
The effects of the alcohol cause the world to still spin around you, the center of your vision being San’s waiting open legs offering you little solace against the spins. You press another kiss to his thigh before pushing your wait further onto your knees. You bring your head right to San’s core, and paw at his loose boxers, eager to get underneath.
You snake your hand through his pant leg but stop yourself from going any further, looking up to check with San before anything happens. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, cheeks flushed a bright red. His mouth moves a million miles a second as he obviously tenses his core, trying to conceal any amount of discomfort from his viewers. But his eyes catch yours for a mere second, as if waiting for you to finish.
“What do you think, chat, this dress or-” he takes a deep breath in when your hand finally connects with its destination. “This skirt?” His voice increases in pitch on the second half of his question. The alcohol still curses your body to behave the opposite way in which you want it, and any intention you had for your hand to stroke San had gone down the gutter and in place just let your hand rest where it needed to be, but this seemed to be enough from San who just concealed his groan with an obnoxious cough.
You smile at his attempts to conceal any form of pleasure. He catches your smile and squeezes his two stocky thighs together, trapping your cheeks between them. Wiping the smirk off your face you press another obedient kiss to his leg, leaving a purple mark in its place.
“Chat, I actually am not feeling well.” San sucks in his breath again. “I may have to end the stream here.” You bite down on his exposed thigh hard, and grip his length in the process. San’s hips buck with the pressure and he coughs again to hide the pleasure he’s experiencing. Your chest burns with pleasure.
“My stomach hurts real bad.” This last bit comes out in a whimper and it takes everything in you not to laugh at San’s predicament. In the back of your head you constitute this as payback for all the nights he kept you up and dip your head further into his supposed thigh, leaving a trail of bruises in your wake.
“Ok… Here's the final look!” His voice is barely above a whisper as you hear his fingers tapping on the keyboard to show off his outfit. A moan escapes his mouth despite all his effort to conceal himself. “I hope I win!!”
His hand finds the back of your head and grabs a handful of hair. He gently pulls your head back from your leg, unlatching you from the trail you were amidst leaving. His eyes catch yours for a millisecond, long enough for him to quirk his eyebrow before going back to his stream. You drag your hand along his member as you sit down and wait for your turn again.
His legs clench and attempt to clasp your head again but you pull too far back for San to catch. His hand quickly taps the mic, muting it from his audience.
“Come back,” he whines, and snaps his fingers.
“When you’re ready to pay attention.” You respond with a laugh, and begin to crawl out from underneath his desk.
A strong hand catches the back of your dress before you’ve successfully escaped and gently pulls you back to your former position with ease.
“Not yet princess.” he laughs.
“Just finish the fucking round.” you try not to sound bratty but your statement comes out more forceful than you intended. San takes the back of your head in the palm of his hand and pulls you back to his lap. He taps the mic again to unmute it.
“Sorry, I’m really not feeling good.” San feigns a headache and leans his head against the back of his chair. You fight not to roll your eyes, and busy yourself sucking on his thumb again. “I have this stomach ache that’s just being a brat, you know.”
The next few minutes roll by agonizingly slow and with barely any sound from either party. San occasional mumbles to chat about how bad someone’s outfit was, or how badly his ‘stomach hurt.’
“No! I didn’t win.” San says this statement with little to no enthusiasm, and instead clicks away at his computer closing tabs. “Good night chat, love you, see you tomorrow!” He rushes his goodbyes in a matter of seconds, and shuts his pc off with his free hand.
Immediately, the whirring fans that kept the room from an uncomfortable silence stopped. Nearby LED lights shut off with a click and San’s cat ear headphones slid off his head and were catapulted into his desk. You hesitantly meet his eyes.
His brown eyes are filled with the most adoration you’ve ever seen exhibited from them. Despite the LED lights dissipating, his eyes still seemed to sparkle and carry his soft smile through them.
“Get up off the floor princess.” He says quietly and extracts his thumb from your mouth a final time. He reaches both of his arms outwards and pulls you up into his torso. All his spare time at the gym pays off as he lifts you with ease, and gently carries you to his empty waiting bed.
“Took you long enough.” You mumble into his shoulder. A breathy laugh escapes between both of you. He gently lays you down on the waiting pillow and pulls the blanket to your chin, tucking his stuffed cat plush between your arms. “Hey, don’t leave.” You grumble as he walks to his closet.
San returns with a large, oversized hoodie in his hands.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, sit up.” You do as he says, and lift your drunken arms high above your head. He slides the hoodie that smelled intoxicantly of him over your head. The smell of San made you more drunk than any of the previous drinks could have and made you never want to face sobriety if San was the drug.
San lifts up the covers and slides in next to you, his head inches from your own. His torso presses into yours, the notable bulge subsiding slowly.
“What was your favorite part of the night?” He asks sheepishly, pressing an expecting kiss to the bridge between your lips and nose. You fight not to roll your eyes, and instead bring his leg to rest in between the middle of yours, letting yourself ride out the lasting bits of pleasure.
“Hmm, probably meeting your friends. What about you?” You respond with a grin. It’s his turn to roll his eyes.
“That’s it?”
“I think so, Yunho seems nice.” He stops your sentence by pressing a heavy kiss into your lips.
“Try again.” He says when he pulls away.
“Maybe trying the green fairy shot?” you suggest, a broader smile dashing across your face. He presses another kiss into you.
“Try again.” he repeats. “i’ll keep going until I get the answer I like, princess.” You swallow, tempted to lie until the morning sun rises, but San’s eyebrows are pressed into a firm line.
“Definitely the chaser.” You conclude, insinuating San’s first kiss of the night. He nods lightly, accepting this answer as one he deems correct.
“Go to bed, princess.” He kisses both of your closed eyes, and pulls the blanket up tighter to your chin. A whine escapes your throat, the thought of not being with San propelling it forward. He brings your chin up to face his. “I’ll be here in the morning and we can finish what you tried to start.” His breath is hot and makes your insides weak with every word spoken. Your insides heat up with anticipation for the morning, but a deep sleep encouraged by the safety of being in San’s arms pulls you in hard.
The last thing you hear before passing out once more is San quietly whispering sweet nothings into your ear, occasionally interrupting them with kisses to your forehead or nose.
“Go to bed,” you attempt to slur out but the statement comes out in a jumbled heap.
summary: Jongho has gained a reputation for scaring off his apprentices within the first day. When you're paired together moments of vulnerability and mutual fascination surface, evolving into a charged dynamic fueled by jealousy, and unspoken attraction. (wc 7507)
content warnings: minors dni! swearing, needles, implied smut, pet names, making out etc
Your hand quivered as you handed the tattoo shop owner your portfolio of intricate drawings. He had re-introduced himself to you as Yunho. Tattoos covered his arms with thick black lines that swirled into a nonsense of shapes. His arm muscles twitched through the thick ink as he flipped through the pages of your intricate drawings. His tongue rested between his teeth as his eyes flicked back up to you.
“Do you have any experience on skin?” His voice is deep and sudden against the shop’s thick silence and takes you by surprise. While you had coordinated with him through email prior to your visit, you quivered with anxiety as the shop owner continued to look at you through his deep eyes.
You and Yunho had gone to art school together, and while you went down the same paths he was never the nicest. He had gained a reputation for being arrogant in school and it was clear that this had carried over when he opened his private studio.
“Some.” Your voice was quiet.
A smile graces his lips, tongue in cheek. He raises his eyebrows.
“So none?” He smirks. You open your mouth to protest but he jerks his head to the right.
“Follow me.” He turns down a long hallway to his left with you trailing behind. He turns to an unassuming door and opens it without knocking.
Inside, a red haired man is crouched over tattooing a client’s back. His black sweater is tugged up to his elbows revealing more intricate fine black lines. His head turns, revealing a cyber sigilistic - esque tattoo across his neck. Beneath his ripped jeans you spot a snake trailing up his leg to his mid section, leaving your imagination to run wild.
He doesn’t react to his studio door opening.
“Jongho! I got you an apprentice." Yunho is grinning ear to ear when he says this, like there’s an unspoken joke that you’re unaware of. Jongho’s eyes are half hidden by his thick red hair as they catch yours.
“Don’t want one.” Jongho answered simply, before ducking back down to continue tattooing.
“Too bad.” Yunho pats you on the lower back into Jongho’s private room. You stumble forward a few steps. “I already have one, so I can’t take her.” In your peripheral you see Yunho cast a wink in your direction, and you know he’s lying through his teeth. You turn back to see that Jongho has finally turned to look at you fully.
His eyes are wide beneath his heavy red fringe, his plush pink lips are parted slightly as they rest on you. His silence is taken as an answer from Yunho, who turns and slams the door behind him.
You and the client on the table jump, but Jongho is still staring at you.
“I don’t… uh what do i?” Your voice is a quiet squeak against the constant drone of Jongho’s machine in his hand.
He smiles so slightly you aren’t sure if it’s a trick of the light. His eyes glitter with endearment for a moment before he leans down again. You can see his ears are as red as his hair.
“You can come back tomorrow.” Jongho doesn't look back up, his voice is layered with gravel. “I’ll deal with you later.”
You don’t move for a solid second. Your shock camouflaged by fear. He finally looks up. His eyes are hard and black against the bright lights, nothing like they were moments ago.
“Do you need help opening the door?” His eyebrows are pinched in mock concern. Without a further word you turn on your heel and slam the door behind you.
Down the hall, you hear Yunho cackle.
“Is he done with you already?” He purrs when you pass by the front desk.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You call over your shoulder as you fling the front door open.
˙⋆✮
Your knees trembled beneath your skirt.
You were sitting on a small stool in the corner of Jongho’s personal studio, a sketchbook propped on your knees in an attempt to busy yourself before his arrival. His soft eyes echo in your mind.
He had yet to show up but Yunho had grinned ear to ear when he pointed you in the direction of Jongho’s door.
It smelled heavily of musk and had a faint yellow glow from the lone lamp in the corner. The tattoo chair and its machinery nearly took up the entire room. The walls were covered with elaborate sketches and designs.
The door handle turning ripped you from your trance of thoughts and you were gripped with anxiety as Jongho stepped into the darkly lit room.
A large black oversized sweater hung from his shoulders. His jeans were so baggy you couldn’t see his feet. His thick red hair still hung in front of his eyes, which widened when they landed on you.
“Jesus Christ you came back?” His facade drops for only a moment again as he steadies his racing heart.
“Why wouldn’t I?” you puff out your chest defiantly. He pauses, his brow creased dramatically.
“I didn’t scare you off?” He asks again, still not having moved from his spot by the door. You could practically hear Yunho giggling down the hall. You ball your fists. While his mock personality was off putting, the glimpse of his real side you saw when you first entered was the only thing on your mind.
Much like Yunho, Jongho had garnered a reputation around the city for being a quiet, aggravated yet talented artist. While Yunho’s studio housed some of the best artists, you never imagined Yunho would be so cynical to pair you up with the one who was notorious for making apprentices leave within their first 24 hours. What you read online was nothing lile the short glimpse you saw earlier.
“Were you supposed to?” You try to ask innocently. His brow furrows deeper than you thought possible.
He slams the door behind him and throws his bag on the chair. His hands find his hair and drag through it dramatically.
Jongho looks around his studio, as if searching for an escape from the uncomfortable silence that had settled in the shop. His eyes land on a dustpan and brush stacked pathetically in the corner. He snatches them and shoves them toward you.
“The shop needs sweeping.” Was all he said. You take the small brush in your hands. It was barely big enough to sweep a desk, let alone a whole shop.
“Do you have a broom?” You ask, peering up at him.
“That is the broom.” He grins. You fight not to roll your eyes as you stand up and begin the monotonous task of bending over to sweep less than a foot of floor, before moving to your next patch.
Your short black skirt fought to betray you with every motion, if Jongho hadn’t busied himself with a sketchbook you swore he would be laughing at your struggle.
Once you breached out to the hallway, it was hard to ignore as Yunho walked by and cackled at you as he passed. With every sweep you grew more upset with the predicament.
This felt more like a humiliation ritual than it did an apprenticeship. It felt like the price you had to pay for even attempting at becoming an apprentice at the best tattoo shop in town. Frustration built with the realization that Yunho’s reputation for being selective about apprentices had bent for you only to watch you struggle. And you weren’t going to let that happen.
Your progress was slow and could be considered pathetic to those watching. The day dragged by as you continued to inch down the hallway and through the rooms. Only when you finally made it to the door did you stand up to look behind you.
The floor was spotless, but a beautiful and normal sized broom sitting behind the front desk caught your eye. You stomp over to it and fight the urge to snap it in half.
Instead you bring your rage back to Jongho’s personal room and fling the door open. He’s inside drawing on a yellow’d sketchbook and doesn’t look up when you enter.
You throw the dustpan and brush in the ground and kick it into the corner. You scowl when he still doesn’t look up.
“Okay what now? Mopping with clorox wipes?” You scowl.
“Do you want to?” He still doesn’t look up. You stomp to your chair in the corner and take a seat. You don’t respond, knowing that that would indeed follow if Jongho was feeling maniacal enough.
He rolls away from the desk he was drawing at to place his sketchbook on the tattoo chair. You catch a glimpse of an intricate black inked drawing of a chrysanthemum with red ink dripping from the petals like blood. He slams the sketchbook shut when he notices you looking, he almost seems embarrassed.
“I assume you know how to prep for a client?” He doesn’t hold your eye contact nor does he wait for a response. “Can you get the chair ready?” He turns away. You can’t help but notice his protruding muscles that peek over the top of his wrinkled t-shirt.
You don’t waste the effort of responding and instead busy yourself disinfecting the chair and it’s surrounding equipment. Jongho fiddled with his needles in the corner like he couldn’t meet your eye.
You hum deep in your throat, before grabbing a nearby container of disinfectant wipes, and wiping down the chair and its surrounding areas.
Behind you, Jongho flicks a switch on his speaker, a lucid guitar solo breaks the silence before he can turn the audio down further. He finally turns to face you.
“Are you scared of me?” His question comes from left field and hits you with a numbing shock that makes your hands clammy. Meeting his eyes that rest beneath his red hair ups your heart rate tenfold. You furrow your bows.
“No. Why would I be?” You break eye contact by busying yourself applying saran wrap to the chair. He scoffs and makes his way next to you to watch your motions over your shoulder.
“Most people leave by now. I apparently have a bad attitude.” He folds his arms, still watching.
“That I can agree with.” You say under your breath, fully hoping he would hear it and take the hint to let the silence succumb once more. You take a step back.
Suddenly his arm juts out and catches you around your waist, preventing you from taking any further steps back. You whip your head over his shoulder and turn around, surprised at the sudden touch from the self proclaimed walking bad attitude.
Jongho’s face is painted in an obvious glare as he yanks you to your left by the belt loop on your skirt.
“Hey! What the fu-” You begin to yell, fighting the red blush that fights to decorate your cheeks.
“You almost knocked down my entire machine” Jongho’s voice is quick, almost scarily quiet against his furious brow. “Pay more attention before you cost me thousands of fucking dollars.” He unhooks his fingers from your belt loop but continues to glare at you.
Your mouth hangs ajar. The blush you fought so hard to prevent leaves your ears red hot. Despite his obvious anger, there was something behind his eyes that captivated you.
His eyes trail from yours down to your collar bone, where a tattoo of a few fragmented stars peaks out beneath your hanging hair. Jongho flips your hair over your shoulder and leans in to look at the tattoo.
You suck in any remaining air from your lungs and hold it as he traces over one of the stars. Praying that he wouldn’t notice you fighting not to breathe beneath his touch.
“These look like shit.” He says flippantly, while straightening back up. “Who did them?”
You release the pent up air slowly through your nose, contemplating if this would be a worthy fight to take.
“Someone from art school.” The answer slips out despite better judgement. He raises a taunting pierced eyebrow that makes your insides do yet another backflip. His earlier comment was more embarrassing that it was hurtful. The thought of him not liking anything on you left you with an overwhelming sense of shame that you couldn't quite put your finger on yet. The concept of forcing Jongho to like you hung over your head like a storm cloud in a tornado, just another thing to worry about.
“Oh art school?” He mimics your tone. Don’t play back. You tell yourself, biting your lip to prevent any further comments slip out. The two of you glare at each other for a painstakingly silent minute.
“Would you let me re-do them?” His voice is surprisingly gentle again and catches you off guard. The sudden gentleness jolts you to your core and is an unwelcome variation from his usual hard toned drone. You raise your nose.
“Maybe if you’re good.” You say this in hopes of his furrowed brow that you’ve come to appreciate returning. He rolls his eyes and turns away. It was then that you realized how close he had been to you, and the space from where he once stood felt surprisingly empty.
“Get out.” His voice is edged with needles again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He adds. You grab your bag from the single chair and dart out without turning back. Your heart still beat furiously from the entire encounter and left your knees weak.
Jongho seemed to have an adverse effect on you that you hadn’t predicted. His curious presence made your heartbeat increase and left you feeling out of body in a way you didn’t expect your tattoo apprenticeship to do to you. The feeling made your anticipation for the following weeks increase steadily with each passing minute. The blooming need to conquer Jongho as a mentor fuels you.
˙⋆✮
The next few days continue like the last. Filled with monotonous useless tasks like sweeping the floor with the dustpan and organizing the black ink from lightest to darkest (they were all the same shade.)
Jongho was good at the facade he had built himself, it hadn’t slipped quite as much as it had the first day despite your effort to remain on his good side. You quickly learned how he preferred his tattoo chair and machine be prepped, when he preferred his clients to arrive, and when he typically arrived for work.
It was later in the day, you were busy with your sketchbook. Sketching had become a solace against the agonizingly quiet tattoo sessions Jongho preferred when with clients.
While you prided yourself on a variety of art styles, it was hard not to sketch Jongho in front of you right now.
When you had looked up from your chair moments earlier, your heart nearly stuttered. Jongho’s thick red hair was pushed away from his forehead with a wire headband, revealing his thick eyebrows. One was pierced with a black bar while the other had a detailed slit. Said eyebrows were furrowed with concentration.
He looked almost peaceful as he continued to tattoo. His eyes gently swept over his drawing, and looked at it with admiration as he finally turned the machine off after a three hour session. Below him was a beautiful inked drawing of a chandelier, forever immortalized on this client’s skin.
You ignore the sudden onslaught of jealousy that erupted from you when you watched how he looked at the female client before him, he smiled gently and helped her from the chair after applying the bandage. His hand lingered on the small of her back after she offered him a hug of gratitude. You always knew this side of him was in there, but your inability to draw it out made your cheeks burn.
You snap your notebook shut as he closes the door behind the client, ready to reassemble his station. Surprisingly, Jongho starts helping by throwing away the cups of ink that are still on his table.
“You’re quiet.” He says. Knowing that he preferred silence, the past few days have been filled with minimal conversation as he studied your routine. “I expected you to be more outgoing.” Whether he intended to or not the comment stung. You bite your tongue. You both continue working in silence for several moments.
“Are you jealous, y/n?” The comment makes you nearly drop the box of tissues you were holding, you turn around. Jongho was leaning on the chair, his arms folded against his printed t-shirt. The wire headband made his red hair stick out on top that made you want to reach up and smooth down.
“Why the fuck would I be jealous.” You fight to make your voice sound as dangerous as his could be. He smirk pulls at his plush lips.
“You look fucking pissed!” He points to his eyebrows, it was only then that you realized you had been glaring since the client left.
“Just leave me alone, Jongho. You make my life hard enough.” Your voice quivers slightly, you’re eager to believe he wouldn’t notice.
“Really. I make your life hard?” He stands up straight from the chair. You busy yourself with the equipment on the counter. Your hands burn red hot with anger. Jongho was right and you hated it. So what if you’re jealous? He had shown this random woman more adoration than he had to you in the entire week of you doing his dirty work. You unintentionally slam a cupboard.
You turn around to see that Jongho was now dangerously close. His arms were still firmly crossed against his chest and his eyebrows were raised.
“Tell me how I make your life hard.” His voice is almost a whisper as he challenges you. He knows you won't respond and he’s getting a kick out of this, you tell yourself. You ball your fists in the hem of your skirt. The skirt you wore in hope to get his attention.
It feels foolish now that Jongho had called you out, but this morning you had specifically picked out a black plaid skirt that matched the pattern on one of Jongho’s jackets in hope that he’d call attention to it. Anything for a normal conversation with the man that made your heart beat out of your chest.
He raises his hand and taps a finger against your chin, which was jutted out in an attempt to clamp your mouth closed. Your anger transforms into embarrassment, but you know better than to swipe his hand away.
“Good girl.” He murmurs when you don’t comment. He finally backs away.
“Fuck you Jongho.” The comment escapes through your pursed lips. He turns around again, a painted smile on his lips again. “You don’t need to make this worse.” This comment slips out without an ounce of better judgement.
“Then fucking leave! I’m not keeping you here by any means, all you do is sit in that fucking corner.” He raises his voice for the first time since you’ve met him and it takes you both by surprise. His eyebrows shoot down in concern as he watches your jaw go slack. You hadn’t prepared a comment in response.
There’s a knock at the door. Yunho enters before any confirmation is given. A shit eating grin across his face, it’s obvious he’d been listening to this interlude.
“You’re finally leaving?” He rubs his hands together menacingly. Tears threaten to spill as you watch the two artists exchange glances. Yunho shoves an open palm into Jongho’s chest.
“You owe me $50. I knew she’d be gone in a week.” He says this quieter and doesn’t acknowledge your presence again. Jongho mashes his hand into his face, massaging his furrowed brow. His other hand is fisted into his pocket.
The shock of knowing they bet on your tenure is enough to snap you back into reality.
“No! I’m not leaving.” You fold your arms across your chest. “I believe Jongho and I were having a civilized conversation that you interrupted, Yunho.” Jongho stifles a laugh into the hand that still covers his face. With his other hand he pushes Yunho towards the door.
Yunho grumbles obscenities but slinks out of the studio. Jongho finally removes his hand from his face.
“Thanks, I almost lost $50.” He grabs his bag from a hook.
“You bet on me?” You fight to keep your voice even as you grab your bag and sketchbook from your beloved chair of solitude. Jongho hesitates.
“Yeah… Yunho bet you’d be gone in a week and I bet that you’d last.” The second part of his statement intrigued you.
“What made you think I’d last.” He meets your eyes for the first time since the outburst. To your surprise his eyes are soft again.
“You normally take the bus home right?” He’s eager to change the subject. “It’s dark out, let me drive you.” Your jaw slacks again.
“Are you trying to butter me up after yelling at me?” Not to mention the 50$, you think too.
“Maybe,” he drawls. You roll your eyes before nodding.
“Fine, but promise you want me back tomorrow.” The promise is a thinly veiled shield to protect what little remaining confidence you had left.
“I would love to have you back tomorrow.” He looks you in the eyes when he makes this promise.
˙⋆✮
The car ride is agonizingly silent. You can see Jongho sneak occasional glances at you in your peripheral vision. His eyes hover at stop lights and skate down your legs. You didn’t expect the car ride with the man who loves silence to be particularly joyous but this was the next level of awkward.
Everything was entirely silent except the hum of the electric engine. The car was nice and complimented Jongho nicely. It has a black leather interior and smelt faintly of pine needles. Red LEDs glimmered beneath the seats and served as the only light between you.
“Is red your favorite color?” You regret the childish question as soon as it sneaks out. He smiles cynically, but doesn’t look at you. You bite your tongue hard and slam your forehead against the window with a defeated thud. The car goes silent for several more minutes.
The car slows to a stop as you reach your apartment complex. You gather your bag but are cut off by Jongho’s gaze lingering again. His hair is still pushed back with its wired headband.
“I like orange.” He says quietly like it's an admission of guilt. His eyes are earnest. You smile like you’re talking to a toddler.
“Wow! Orange!” You hesitate. You both laugh at the sudden awkwardness that's built up between the silence.
“Shut up.” He gently pushes against your shoulder. Silence reigns king in the car once more as you’re suddenly caught in an intense staring match with Jongho. “I hope I don’t actually make your life that hard.”
That's your queue to go. While you would love to chat with Jongho all night. Really. The idea of heartfelt conversations with someone who makes your heart nearly stop is the last thing on your bucket list. You grab your bag and open your door.
After exiting you turn to meet Jongho’s eyes again. You pat the top of your head.
“Your hair is sticking up.” You tease. He mirrors your motion and gently smoothes down his mess of red hair, he smiles too.
“Thanks.”
You slam the door, eager to run inside and wash away the red blush that’s become abundant on your cheeks. You fight the rising smile.
Only when you finally close your apartment door behind you do you realize the very noticeable absence of your sketchbook in your bag.
Your heart drops to your toes and a cold white sweat washes over you. You must have left it in Jonho’s car.
While the thought of the red headed man going through your sketchbook may have brought excitement to you any other day, you had left your bookmark on the page with an elaborate drawing of Jongho you had sketched earlier.
You nearly fall to your knees with nervous anticipation for tomorrow.
˙⋆✮
Your commute to work is antagonizing. Numerous thoughts skate through your mind ranging in severity.
Maybe he didn’t even see it. He’s going to be so fucking weirded out. Maybe he didn't even notice it was there. You’re going to get fucking fired. Maybe it’s in the studio. if i get there early enough….
This thought is cut off by you barging into Jongho’s private studio. You’re stopped dead in your tracks as you’re met with Jongho leaning against the chair, your sketchbook in hand.
His red hair is once again hanging in front of his eyes. An oversized t-shirt hangs from his muscular tattooed arms, and for the first time ever he’s wearing shorts. Your eyes hesitate in the detailed inking of a snake that trails from below the knee upward… just out of sight.
Jongho is thumbing through the pages of your notebook.
“I’m so sorry.” is all you can think to say.
“for what?” He responds coolly. This freak is going to make me say it? The thought drums through your head. Your mouth hangs open and houses a stutter that refuses to form any real words. He turns the sketchbook towards you.
“Can I get this one?” He asks innocently. The drawing is one of your favorites. It’s a small dove flying upwards, its mouth open in a scream forever frozen in place.
Your stutter is replaced with a nervous laugh. This has to be a humiliation ritual.
“I’m serious.” His face doesn’t change the slightest. Yunho appears in the doorway behind you and quickly assesses the situation before him. His eyes widened.
“Jongho you don’t have to do this, you don’t want her work on you forever.” Yunho leans against the door frame and adapts a casual posture, but his shoulders stay tense. Jongho raises his head, his vision carrying thousands of miniscule daggers with it.
You watch as Jongho rolls his shorts dangerously high, revealing a toned thigh beneath the dark fabric. Your eyes trail the elaborate snake tattoo upwards and stop at its head. Its mouth is open with a ferocious snarl. Your eyes linger too long, Jongho stares at you expectantly.
“You said you’ve tattooed your skin before, so do it again.” He pries. Your hands fumble with the bag still in your hands.
“W-well yeah but I didn’t expect you to want… ME to tattoo you.” You try to hold your composure.You know if he’d gone through your sketchbook enough to see your drawing, he undoubtedly would have seen the love portrait you drew without a second thought the day prior.
“Maybe I like the drawing.” He shrugs, before taking a seat at the open chair.
“Dude… You win the bet you’d don’t have to do this.” Yunho tries again.
“Fuck off and leave us alone, Yunho.” Jongho’s hardstamped sentence made your heartbeat quicken, your ears burn red hot. Despite having been alone in this jail cell of a room alone with him before, the thought of spending the next few hours closely bent over Jongho’s thigh made your head ache and heartbeat catapulted.
“You’ve proven your point, Jongho.” Yunho tries to interject again, but trails off when he meets Jongho’s eyes again. He rolls his eyes and turns quickly on his heel. Slamming the door behind him. The loud bang snatches you into reality and reminds you of your drawing that is now being printed out at the printer behind Jongho.
“What does he mean?” Your voice is quiet against the loud metal needle clinking into place in the machine. He presses the pedal once and the machine comes to love with a whirring metallic thrum.
He hands you a pair of latex gloves and takes a seat on the chair, pulling his shorts leg up even higher, revealing a clean shaven patch in the perfect shape of your drawing. He prepared for this? The thought jolts through your head makes you fumble with your rubber gloves as you try to pull them on.
“Grab the stencil from the printer,” he murmurs, jerking his head behind him. Your hands tremor as you pull the page from the print and detach the stencil from the paper.
You turn back to Jongho, who’s looking at you expectantly. He’s holding his thigh as he gestures with his head for you to sit on the stool he normally resides in.
You pull up the rolling stool to the chair and bend over his open patch of skin. Hands still trembling, you place the stencil onto the clean shaven patch of skin. It lines up with his snake tattoo perfectly. A snake chasing a bird up into his core.
“Like that?” You shake your head in an attempt to get any loose hairs off your forehead.
“What do you think?” Jongho’s eyes are the soft molten brown that you saw the first day of your apprenticeship. You consider calling off the tattoo right then and begging on your hands and knees for him to look at you like that forever. His prying eyes pull you from your thoughts. You nod.
“I think it’s perfect,” perfect was an understatement. Everything on Jongho’s body was immaculate, all of his tattoos were intricately and seemingly intentionally done. The style of the snake tattoo matched Jongho’s drawings on the walls, and had undoubtedly been drawn by him. Despite the dove being in a nearly invisible spot, the placing and subject matter seemed to fit together perfectly. The snake is forever chasing a dove in pursuit.
He gestures with his head again to the tattoo machine resting on the table. You had tattooed numerous times prior, you knew what you were doing. The combination of your hair on your neck and Jongho looking at you sent shivers down your spine. Combined with the hard pressed idea that you were completing one of Jongho’s works, your vision seemed to blur.
Without giving yourself time to worry, you switch the machine on and crack your neck before bending over Jongho. With one final exhale, you gently tip the needle into his skin and begin the outline.
Above you, you hear Jongho take a sharp breath inwards and hold it. The thought of Jongho having a low pain tolerance rumbles through your head but disintegrates when you straighten up and see his thoroughly inked arm. He’s staring at you like he has something to say but doesn’t have the words to say them. You bend over again,nestling your head into his lower stomach as you tattoo.
Jongho releases his thigh and grabs an elastic band that was on his wrist. With you still tattooing, he gathers your hair gently at the nape of your neck. Jongho runs his fingers through any tangle before loosely securing the bunch of hair with the elastic band. He takes another sharp breath inward, and leaves his hand resting gently on the back of your head.
“Distraction much?” You mutter in an attempt to break the heavy silence that has once again settled amongst you. Jongho doesn’t respond and instead continues to play with your hair. His other hand squeezes the arm rest.
“y/n…” your name leaves his lips in a moan. You jerk up to meet his eyes. they’re soft again, and crinkle when he smiles. “You don’t have to press so hard. There’s thinner skin in that… area.” Your cheeks burn the same color as Jongho’s hair as you tuck your head back down.
You work to finish the outline but the presence of Jongho’s hand on your head and the proximity of your face to your lap is making your heart beat in ways that shouldn’t be humanly possible.
“You're shaking.” He identifies, watching you struggle through this predicament.
“I know.” You grumble, forcing a soothing breath through your lungs before going back to the outline.
“Look at me.” He says quietly. You initially refuse. Unwilling to see what the gorgeous man above you had to offer. “Look at me,” he says again. This time he pulls your hair back gently until your eyes meet.
“Breathe.” He takes a deep breath in and out. You watch his chest expand and contact, and try to mirror his motions. “You don’t have to prove anything.” You turn your head back to your work when he says this.
“Yeah right.” You grumble. Regardless, you take several deep breaths to match Jongho’s breathing pattern, then duck down to your safe space of resting your head on his lower stomach. The position isn’t inherently intimate but leaves a heavy blanket of curiosity in the room.
Talking helps your hand to steady, and the remainder of the outline is applied smoothly within the following minutes. The silence is occasionally obstructed with light moans from Jongho when you get closer to a certain area that you still aren’t able to acknowledge. His hand still rested on the back of your neck, and would push down anytime he moaned.
“So, you looked through my sketchbook?” The question had hung in your mind ever since you walked through this door this morning. His whining made you crave a distraction.
Jongho moans a response.
“All of it?” you pry.
“All of it.” He laughed lightly, finally using his words. You bite your lip, face flushed once more. “Would it be tacky to get a tattoo of myself?” he continues.
This comment makes you pull away fully, the rolling chair beneath you allowing distance to be put between you. His hand leaves the back of your head where it had become nestled with a tug. You stare at him, not knowing if he deserves to be cussed out or ignored.
“If I asked you to, would you include the little hearts too?” He smiles sweetly and rubs a hand through his tangled red hair.
“I did NOT draw hearts around you Jongho, grow up.” You roll your eyes but keep the distance.
“Oh come on, you wanted to.” The soft side of Jongho that you had expected came with an unexpected bratty personality. He pats his thigh, waving you back to where you were. You hesitate but concede by rolling back to your station.
His hand is outstretched and catches your chin as you roll closed. His eye contact is strong and makes you nearly lose your breakfast.
“Relax y/n. I’m doing this for you.” His voice is quiet, he squeezes your chin and pulls it closer to his lap.
“You don’t want this tattoo?” You grumble. He laughs.
“I want this tattoo almost as much as I want to prove my point.” This makes you stop in your tracks, needle inches from his skin.
“You’re using me to prove a point to Yunho?” Your voice quivers again. His hand finds its way to the back of your head again, locking you in place.
“My point being that we should add you to our team once you’ve completed your apprenticeship. I’m obsessed with your work.” He tugs at your hair slightly. “If you’d let me finish baby.”
You swallow a lump that’d risen in your throat. You adjust your grip and press the machine back into Jongho’s skin, way harder than you should have. A whimper permeates through Jongho’s lips as he rocks his head back again. Freak echos through your bind as you try your best to focus on the rest of the tattoo.
Thankfully, the design lended itself for looking best as a smaller size. It was nearly impossible to focus with Jongho’s hand still fisted deep into your hair and occasionally moaning as your needle went further between his legs.
You rub the design with a damp paper towel. It was perfect, and you both knew it. You look up at Jongho, who was already staring at you with his deep boba eyes. He raises an eyebrow.
“Done?” He asks. You nod. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “What do you do now baby?” You bite your lip, and reach for the bottle of disinfectant and second skin on the nearby table.
Your hands still shake as you press the bandage onto your finished tattoo. Jongho’s hands held his shorts back and watched as you smoothed your hands along your work.
“Is this how you train all your apprenticeships?” You ask quietly.
“No… Just you.” The response comes out between laughs.
“And what makes me special?” You pull back slightly, despite your better judgement to stay between his legs forever. His eyes sparkle as he smiles.
“You’re intriguing, I can’t help that.” His smirk is deadly, and his eyes are fiery beneath his red hair. “I know you feel the same about me.”
You dry swallow and try to busy yourself cleaning up his machine as you had numerous times before.
“And if I did say I find you intriguing too?” You ask. Nervous for the response.
“Then I’d ask you to dinner at my place.” He’s standing up from the chair now. His broad chest is inches from your head, that you still keep tucked down at your station. He wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Thoughts?” he whispers in your ear.
You nod. Jongho unlinks his arm from your shoulder and leaves the studio without another word but leaves your legs hot.
˙⋆✮
The rest of the day drags at an agonizing pace. You spend your time sketching at your corner chair. Occasionally you sneak glances at Jongho, who was hunched over a 5 hour back tattoo.
His red hair was pulled back from his forehead, and revealed his brown eyes occasionally darting to the corner where you sat. When your eyes did meet, he was quick to look away and his ears burnt bright red.
When the client finally left, you jumped to your feet. Eager to finish today’s tidying in lieu for spending time with Jongho.
“Leave it.” Jongho said simply when you started to deassemble his station. He already had his bag slung over his shoulder, car keys in hand. “Don’t forget your sketchbook.” He winks.
Your cheeks flush bright red, and it takes everything in you to not throw a rude comment his way, but he’s already halfway out the studio door.
Yunho was sitting at the front desk with his legs kicked up on the counter.
“See you tomorrow?” He says as Jongho passes.
“Maybe.” Jongho turns to look at you as you fumble with your bag behind him.
“Maybe?” Yunho’s eyes slide to you. His face goes slack when he watches Jongho take your hand. He quickly ducks his head to the sketchbook in his hands, mumbling something about how he was busy tomorrow anyway.
Jongho’s car waits in the parking lot like a sanctuary from everything around you. He opens the passenger door for you, and turns on the red LED’s once he sits in the driver seat.
He doesn’t buckle his seatbelt or start the car. Instead, he’s staring at you, mashing his lips together like he’s trying to solve a complex math problem. Your jaw hangs slack as you stare at him. He’d taken his head band off, his red hair still hung in front of his eyes, making him impossible to read. If you could just see his eyes.
You reach out and brush his thick hair away from his face. He catches your wrist in the action, and pulls you into him. Your heart leaps into your throat and takes control as you press your lips firmly into his.
They were as soft as they looked. He was ready for you, and parted his mouth instantly letting you in. Your hands are ravenous. They travel up into his hand and nestle on his muscular thigh. He grips your chest tightly, and travels up to your throat where they rest firmly. He pulls away, leaving you out of breath.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He’s breathless too.
“Ummm maybe like a week?” you try to lighten the mood in an attempt to draw any attention away from your flushed face and heaving lungs.
Jongho smiles, but pulls away. A wave of cold washes through you as he untangles his limbs and opens the car door.
He slams the door behind him with a loud thud that rocks your head. Before you have time to recover, Jongho yanks the back door open and takes a seat inside. You gawk at him from the passenger seat.
You hold his eye contact strongly for what feels like an hour. Eventually, Jongho opens his arms and raises his eyebrows expectantly. His muscular thighs are spread, leaving the perfect amount of room for…
Without hesitation you unbuckle and crawl over the center console. Your boot gets stuck on the shift, causing you to fall nearly face first into Jongho’s waiting lap.
“Excited are we?” He murmurs as you right yourself, legs cradling his torso. You had half a mind to slap him right there if your heart wasn’t taking control.
Said heart was beating about a thousand times per second. With every brush of skin against Jongho you craved more, you didn’t care how or why you just needed him to quench your rapidly beating heart.
Without waiting for a response his mouth hesitantly finds yours. His large hands snake beneath your shirt and find their way up your neck. He pushed you back just enough so you were resting on his pelvis as he gently rolled his hips forward.
The action made your vision go black. Your hips buck forward into his chest, a low rumble bubbles into his chest in a fit of laughter. You bite down on his bottom lip, hard. The laughter stops with a light moan.
With each push forward from Jongho, you grip further into his shoulders. You pull away long enough to tug his shirt up, over his head. You take a moment to admire his decorated chest.
The same cyber sigilism designs that covered his studio walls were decorating his chest. An elaborate angel with her wings spread is just above Jongho’s belly button, leading your eyes up to his pierced nipples. You catch yourself reaching for one, playing with the warm metal against his hot skin.
His mouth found residence in your neck as you found yourself preoccupied. Jongho’s strong arms still held you securely in place, as his hips continued to slowly roll beneath you. Your shoulders slam into the driver's seat behind you, both you and Jongho’s heads rocking back.
Jongho’s hand finds your chin, and pulls your head forward back into his. Your foreheads clunk and your eyes crash into each.
“You are the only one I do this to.” He re affirms his earlier statement. Your head quivers as you nod, unable to hold eye contact. “Hey.” He taps your cheek. “Look at me.”
When your eyes meet again the puzzle pieces of your world seem to fit together. Jongho was everything you’d been missing and was someone you hoped would be in your life for a long time.
“I like you a lot, y/n. You deserve this special treatment.” His smile is gummy and conceals his eyes when he smiles. You nod again.
“But I don’t want this to be a one off.” You whisper your voice is quiet against the loud thumping of both of your hearts.
“Oh, it won’t be if I can help it.” He kisses you quickly. “Do you want to come home with me?” He cranes his head so he can catch your eyes again. You nod again, eager.
“Use your words, baby.” His tongue is lethal, and his hips rock forward again driving an ungodly moan to rupture from you.
“Yes, please.” You smile as you say it. Jongho pulls you fully into his chest, with your legs wrapping around his muscular torso. One of his hands caressed your ass as the other opened the door again. A whine curdled in your throat as the cold air hits you again. “All done?” You say quietly into his shoulder.
“Just wait till we’re home baby.” Jongho made his way to the passenger door, which he opened and gently set you on the seat inside. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he pulled the seatbelt against your chest.
Jongho closes the door gently, and climbs into the driver seat on the opposite side. His hand instantly finds your thigh, squeezing it heavily.
You try to quell the burning fire inside of you and act normal as he starts the car, Jongho’s words are still echoing around your head and making your stomach ignite.
After flicking the car on, Jongho matches your eyes.
“Are you ready?” He asks again.
“Hurry.” The plea comes out without a thought and makes Jongho kick his head back in laughter. He shifts the car into drive and nestles his hand between your thighs again, right at your core.
“Alright baby let’s go.”
a/n - and maybe i'll make a pt 2 who's to say rlly
summary: Wooyoung and San have been line mates for years, but the pressure of the season and the fight for captain drives a wedge between them. The duo confronts their unspoken feelings when the team is at it's weakest.
warnings: swearing, injury, fighting.
a/n: So basically all that matters is San is a top line center forward, Wooyoung is his left wing, and Yeosang is his right wing. and also expect more hockey stuff from me <3 Reposted and Re-edited following Heated Rivalry's surge in popularity!
[9:56 PM — Second-to-Last Practice]
Wooyoung’s skates skid to a stop inches from the barrier, spraying a thick sheen of snow that showers San. San watches him with a disgruntled look painted across his face.
“Enough, Wooyoung,” he groans, though he keeps skating idly across the ice with Wooyoung trailing behind him. “We’re too close to the finals to be doing stupid shit,” he grumbles.
The first line duo skates toward center ice, where the rest of their team waits in a tense semicircle, shifting restlessly from one skate to the other. Even though Wooyoung knows that this Pirates team meeting is coming, anxiety still builds in his chest. He glances at San, who is shrouded in a veil of confidence shrouding him. Somehow, that confidence only makes Wooyoung’s nerves spike.
“As we grow closer to playoffs, we do need to decide on a captain,” the old coach starts slowly. Eyes flick to Wooyoung, then to San both of which bear the lone ‘A’ for assistant captain on their chests. Ever since Hongjoong, their former captain, graduated months earlier, hesitation has hung thick over the locker room when it came to naming his successor.
That hesitation came from the fierce competitiveness between San and Wooyoung, something Wooyoung knew too well. They played together on the top line and spent countless nights after practice arguing about plays and styles. The rest of the team had even learned when to clear out of the locker room when the bickering began.
The coach clears his throat, snapping Wooyoung out of his thoughts. His eyes are fixed on the two of them, jaw tight.
“At the end of our last preseason game, we’ll take a poll for who the team believes should be our next captain.” The words send a sharp shiver down Wooyoung’s spine. Some of the players stare.
“That’s not fair.” San’s voice cuts through the air, stern enough to catch even Wooyoung off guard. Wooyoung skates slowly around the circle, chewing his lip. The coach only shrugs.
“Any better ideas?” he asks. San says nothing. “Then we’re ending today’s practice.”
The team disperses quickly, eager to leave the rink and start their Friday night. Wooyoung keeps skating, dragging his stick across the ice and collecting stray pucks. He flips one over and under his blade, lost in thought.
The rink is silent except for the whisper of his skates over rigid ice. Wooyoung’s quiet is shattered by the sharp crack of a slapshot. A puck ricochets into the net beside him. He turns to see San pulling up from a perfectly executed shot.
“You’re going to kill me to become captain?” Wooyoung tries to make the challenge sound lighthearted, but San’s gaze is too hard when their eyes meet. Wooyoung rips off his helmet and tosses it onto the nearby bench, shaking out his long black hair. San looks away almost immediately.
“You don’t care that something so important is being left to a poll?” San asks, resting the top of his stick under his chin. He shuffles his skates, carving a fresh pile of snow beneath them. Wooyoung frowns.
“Why would I?” Wooyoung actually laughs this time. “I’m not worried.” He leans on the bench gate, easing his tired feet. “You seem awfully concerned that I’m going to be the one wearing the ‘C.’ ” Every player dreams of it. Rumor once had it Hongjoong cried when he got his, though he still adamantly denies this.
“You’d be concerned too if you were the better player between us,” San sneers. The words sting but Wooyoung’s used to it. San has always claimed he’s the best center in the league. Not everyone appreciates his fast passes or blistering pace, but Wooyoung has learned to match him. And despite San’s undeniable ranking, he knows a center is nothing without his wings.
“You don’t trust our team?” Wooyoung shifts on his skates, knowing anyone in the locker room could hear their usual post-practice clash if they cared to listen.
“I didn’t say that,” San snaps, eyes glued to his skates. “I just think the best player deserves the highest honor on the team.”
“Then let the best player win.” Wooyoung swings his leg over the bench wall, storming down the hallway toward the locker room. Behind him, slapshots echo against the empty rink as San unleashes his frustration on the open net.
The locker room is nearly empty with only Yeosang remaining, fiddling with his skate blades. He looks up when Wooyoung drops beside him.
“Told you he’d be annoying about it,” Yeosang mutters.
“It’s fine. Let him whine.” Wooyoung unlaces his skates and tosses them into his open locker. Another slapshot echoes through the rink.
“I can already imagine the drills he’ll make us do when he’s captain.” Yeosang cringes at the sound.
“When? Jesus, Yeosang, give me some credit.” Wooyoung peels off his pads, hiding the crease in his brow.
“I didn’t mean it like that. But he doesn’t seem like the type to let a losing vote slide.” Yeosang slings his bag over his shoulder.
“He’ll be fine. I promise.” Wooyoung tries to end the conversation, but Yeosang lingers.
“Why do you let him get away with talking to you like that?” Yeosang challenges. Another slapshot rings out.
“I’m not going to tell him how to act. If he wants to pull away from the team, let him.” Wooyoung tosses his gear into his locker and slams it shut. “We still need a leader.”
Yeosang is about to respond when San comes pounding down the tunnel. He throws his helmet against the wall and drops onto the bench beside Wooyoung.
“Why do you let me act like this, Wooyoung?” San coos. Yeosang groans and storms out.
“I’m not dealing with this,” he mutters, slamming the door behind him. Wooyoung stays busy stuffing gear into his bag, ignoring San’s sideways glances.
“You think you’ll be captain just because I’m hard to play with?” San’s voice carries irritation beneath its steadiness.
“I didn’t say that,” Wooyoung mumbles.
“You’re thinking about it. We’ve played together long enough.” San chuckles.
“Thank god that’s not true.” Wooyoung zips up his bag and wobbles to his feet.
“Listen,” San says, finally meeting his eyes. His brow is creased, not with anger but something almost like concern. “I want what’s best for this team. And I’m the only acceptable answer for that.”
“I’m the only one who lets you get away with that ego,” Wooyoung fires back, pointing at him. “And only because you’ve got the skill to back it.”
“So you agree?” San’s brow relaxes, a sheepish smile appearing. Wooyoung sighs and walks toward the exit.
“No more of this. I don’t even want it half as bad as you do, but you’re so full of yourself everyone else is terrified of you.” The words hit. San goes quiet. Long enough for Wooyoung to slip out the door.
[7:23 PM — Last Practice]
Wooyoung pushes as hard as he can. San is ahead of him in his peripheral vision, the puck glued to his stick like it belongs there.
They get a clean breakaway in the scrimmage and they only need one goal to pull ahead.
Wooyoung pulls his stick back, ready for San’s pass. The goalie watches him, reading his eyeline as he meets San’s eyes.
San snaps the puck, but the pass is too far ahead and just out of Wooyoung’s range. Wooyoung stumbles, tries to catch it, but all he manages to hit is the curve of the plexiglass.
A whistle blows the play dead.
San doesn’t slow down. He skates straight for Wooyoung, grabs his shoulders, and pins him back against the glass. Wooyoung’s head clinks against the boards, the breath sucked out of him in a rough huff.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” San demands. His nose is inches from Wooyoung’s, breath warm against his lips beneath the visor. “That was a clean breakaway and you’re dragging behind me like an idiot?”
“You should’ve shot then,” Wooyoung chokes out, San’s thick glove pressing into the side of his neck.
“San. Chill!” Yeosang skates up, grabbing the back of San’s jersey and yanking him away. Freed from San’s grip, Wooyoung collapses to the boards as air fills his lungs again.
“If he plays like this during the tournament, we’re screwed.” San jabs a finger at him, still furious. Then he looks down and for just a moment, something fierce and molten flickers behind his eyes.
It softens.
He flips his hand and extends it toward Wooyoung.
Wooyoung hesitates before sliding his palm into San’s. San pulls him to his feet with surprising care.
“Do you remember anything I said last night, you idi—” Wooyoung stops himself when he realizes the entire team is staring at them, stunned.
“Are you okay?” San leans in to whisper near his ear. Yeosang immediately yanks San back like he’s restraining a misbehaving dog.
Wooyoung smiles and nods. “Let’s just work on it later,” he says quietly.
He skates back to the bench with the rest of his line.
“Later? Please don’t tell me you’re making us stay late again,” Yeosang groans as he sits beside San.
“We need to work on passing,” San mutters, voice nearly drowned out by the chatter around them.
A heavy hand lands on Wooyoung’s shoulder, pulling him into San. Their helmets clunk together, both of them groaning softly at the impact.
“Relax, you two,” Coach grumbles, lowering his voice to their level. “Our last preseason game is tomorrow. I don’t need you hurting each other more. San, direct your anger at the other team, not your wings.”
The moment Coach releases them, they immediately pull apart. Wooyoung smothers a smile. San’s tongue stays sharp, but he knows better than to snap at the man deciding the future captain.
Wooyoung elbows him in the ribs. San grunts softly, nudging his shoulder back in a quiet truce. For a moment, Wooyoung is struck by a memory. Him playing with San in their teen league, carefree and inseparable.
He’s known San longer than anyone on this roster. They grew up training together, practicing on frozen courts and in San’s backyard after school. They’ve always balanced each other out. Until San hardened in his twenties. Now, every missed pass or slow line change sends him spiraling into frustration.
Yeosang doesn’t know San well enough to read him.
But Wooyoung does. He always has. That’s why they always played together.
Hot headed San and mellow Wooyoung. That's how it was.
And the thought of becoming captain over him feels wrong. Yet if the team needs him to step up, he’ll do it.
“GO, GO, GO!” San’s shout rips Wooyoung out of his thoughts. San grabs his arm, hauling him over the barrier and back into the drill.
[1:12 AM — Morning of the Last Preseason Game]
Against Coach’s better judgment Wooyoung stays late to practice with San.
What started as a considerate gesture hours ago has dissolved into monotony. They’d repeated the same drill over and over. Skate down the ice, pass ahead, catch, return. Again and again.
San makes one final pass. Wooyoung snaps the puck into the top corner of the open net. The shot rings through the empty arena. He turns sharply to stop, spraying San with a thin sheen of ice.
“Feeling better about passing?” Wooyoung asks as he glides toward him, brushing the ice off San’s shoulders like muscle memory. His fingers linger a little too long.
“I don’t care about me playing well,” San mutters, pulling back from the touch. “I care about you receiving my passes.”
“Well?” Wooyoung tries not to take the comment too personally, but heat rises in his cheeks anyway.
“Better.” San’s answer is shorts. He skates to the bench and rips off his helmet for water. Wooyoung joins him with a tired sigh.
“Just don’t get overwhelmed tomorrow,” Wooyoung says quietly. He knew San hates acknowledging vulnerability. “Please?”
San shakes his head stubbornly. “I don’t get overwhelmed.”
“You get anxious,” Wooyoung points out gently.
San’s eyes soften. His voice follows. “Because I don’t want you getting hurt by messing up simple things.” He busies himself with his helmet strap to avoid meeting Wooyoung’s gaze.
Wooyoung scoffs and kicks the top of San’s skate with his. “Come on, just admit you’re nervous. Tomorrow’s our last preseason game, and you’re desperate to be named captain.”
“Desperate is a bit much.” San’s eyes stay glued downward.
“You know what I mean,” Wooyoung presses with a tiny smile. He kicks San’s skate again, more playful this time.
San finally looks at him, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “Deserving, maybe?”
“You’re awful,” Wooyoung mutters, getting to his feet. He starts toward the tunnel, but San immediately follows closely.
“And you’re used to it?” Though he couldn’t see San’s face he could practically hear his smile.
[8:46 PM — Final Preseason Game]
The arena thrums with anxious, electric energy. Fans vibrate in their seats as the final seconds of the third period tick down. The scoreboard reads 2–2, a deadlock that has lasted the entire second period.
Of course, San was the one who tied the game but now his expression was still unsatisfied as he climbed off the bench with the rest of the first line.
The announcers drone on overhead, predicting a loss for the Pirates, citing the first line’s “habitual overextensions.” Exactly the weakness San forced them to drill last night.
Sweat slides down Wooyoung’s back as he shadows the puck.
30 seconds remain.
The Pirates settle into a final push formation.
A defenseman on the other side attempts a cross-ice pass but it glides too far off-center and ends up at Wooyoung’s stick instead.
He doesn’t think. He just goes.
He blasts across center ice, mind racing through every drill San has ever forced onto him. None of them involve Wooyoung leading a breakaway. His heart thundered.
Over his right shoulder Yeosang is too far behind and offered no help.
Behind him an opposing defenseman barrels forward, stick reaching for Wooyoung’s ankles.
But to his left, he was surprised to see San matching his speed.
Perfect pace. Perfect spacing. Exactly like the drill. San signals subtly, raising his stick, ready for a one-touch slapshot.
Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second.
A single breath.
A trust built over years flows between them like a current.
Wooyoung rips the pass left.
And immediately, the burly defenseman crushes him to the ice.
The impact rattles his bones. His helmet smacks the ice. Air leaves his lungs in a brutal grunt. From the cold surface, he watches the puck skid perfectly onto San’s blade.
San winds up.
He doesn’t notice the second defenseman barreling toward him.
The slapshot cracks like a gunshot across the arena.
But a beat later the defenseman sends San slamming into the glass.
Wooyoung’s chest tightens as San collapses onto the ice.
A whistle shrieks, killing the play. The goalie barely manages to tip San’s shot into the crowd.
Wooyoung struggles upright, expecting San to do the same.
He doesn’t.
San stays curled on the ice, hand clutching his shoulder. A referee spreads his arms, holding back both teams as tempers flare.
For Wooyoung, the arena sound dims into nothing. The world slows. He skates toward San automatically, something heavy forming in his throat.
Yeosang holds him back, pushing him away from the injured center. Medical staff flood the ice, pulling off San’s helmet, speaking urgently to him. One medic lifts a hand, blocking Wooyoung from coming closer.
San winces as they help him up by his torso. His face contorts with pain, frustration, fear. One arm hangs limp against his chest.
They guide him toward the tunnel.
Wooyoung is right behind.
Shouts echo from the bench behind him with Coach begging him not to leave so close to overtime. He ignores the pleas,
The announcer’s voice booms over the arena speakers. “Choi is noticeably absent from the Pirates’ bench. It appears Jung has left as well.”
In the locker room, chaos reigns.
Medical staff strip San of his jersey, padding, helmet—everything. The glittering ‘A’ from his jersey lies face-up and abandoned on the cold floor.
“Wooyoung, are you hurt too?” a medic asks gently.
“Too?” Wooyoung repeats. His gaze snaps to San.
San still clutches his shoulder, eyes darkened and not just from pain. Tears pool at the edges, blending into his already copper eyes. For the first time tonight, Wooyoung recognized fear in San’s expression.
“Can I have a second?” San asks, voice barely above a whisper.
The staff hesitates but eventually files out, leaving the two of them alone in the echoing room.
“What hurts?” Wooyoung asks. His skates feel glued to the tile. He can’t move closer.
“My shoulder hit the boards first.” San’s voice cracks. “I heard something. I think it cracked.” Tears spill freely now. “You need to go back out there. OT is starting.”
“I don’t want to play without you.” Wooyoung finally steps forward, sitting beside him.
San laughs weakly, though the motion brings a sharp sting to his shoulder. “You said the same thing years ago.”
“I don’t want to be captain,” Wooyoung quickly admits. His voice shakes. “You pushed everyone away and sacrificed yourself in the process.”
San suddenly throws his helmet across the room with his good arm. It cracks against the wall, visor shattering before hitting the floor.
“Did my shot get close at least?” he mutters.
Wooyoung can’t help a small, trembling smile. “Yeah… and it looked really cool.”
San lets out a string of curses, head dropping to his hand.
“You have to win,” he says, leaning gently onto Wooyoung’s shoulder pad. His free hand reaches up, unclipping Wooyoung’s chin strap, the intimacy of it nearly breaks Wooyoung open further and makes him want to quit hockey until San is back. “This can’t be for nothing.”
“We will,” Wooyoung promises softly. “And you’ll be there too. Right?”
San finally lifts Wooyoung’s helmet off, setting it aside gently. He reaches forward and wipes at Wooyoung’s tear-streaked cheek with his thumb.
“I’d always be there,” San whispers.
Wooyoung breaks completely. Tears spill freely down his cheeks.
“Hey…no.” San’s voice quivers. “I’m the one who should be crying, not you.”
“I can’t do it without you,” Wooyoung says. It barely leaves his throat.
Something in San snaps.
He leans in and kisses a tear from Wooyoung’s cheek. Quick, trembling and aching. Then he wipes the other away with his thumb, though the motion makes him recoil with pain.
Before Wooyoung can respond, the ice outside explodes with noise. The door bursts open with Pirates rushing into the locker room, cheering.
“We won! Top slot in the finals!” Yeosang tackles Wooyoung in a hug, shaking him wildly. Only when he notices the puffy eyes does he falter. “Jesus… what happened?”
Wooyoung glances toward San.
San sits calmly by his locker as the team surrounds him. He smiles, his dime sized dimples soft and warm as though the pain has vanished entirely.
“Oh god,” Yeosang mutters.“We’ll still be fine as the top line,” he rambles. “We’ll move Mingi up. And hey…think of it this way, you’re captain!”
The words make Wooyoung flinch.
He lets Yeosang pull him into the celebrating crowd, but his eyes never leave San.
When he finally breaks through the swarm again, he extends a hand. San takes it immediately, letting Wooyoung pull him into the huddle.
“You’ll do just fine without me,” San whispers in his ear. The breath of it sends a shiver straight down Wooyoung’s spine. “You were always the better option.”
[5:38 PM — Final Game of the Tournament]
The glittering C stitched on Wooyoung’s jersey catches the stadium lights as he skates across the ice. It still felt foreign on his chest and was heavy, humbling, and undeniably tied to San.
It felt like a constant reminder that a piece of him was absent on the ice.
The final seconds of the championship tick away.
Both teams hold three wins each, and tonight’s score sits stubbornly at 1–1. The arena buzzes with tension so thick it feels like breath fogging on glass.
The Pirates circle for one last offensive push. Shooters spread to the corners. Wooyoung waits at center ice, stick raised, ready.
Behind him, Yeosang weaves through traffic, stealing space between the defense.He threads a pass between the opponent’s skates where it lands on Wooyoung’s stick.
He doesn’t hesitate. Wooyoung rolls his blade, barrels the shot forward with all the power left in his aching larms.
The world slows.
The puck lifts cutting through the air like a silver arc. Past the defenseman. Past the goalie’s desperate reach. Straight into the top corner.
It hits the back pole with a ringing, metallic crack.
Silence.
A breathless, suspended, impossible silence.
Then the goal horn erupts.
The arena explodes.
Gloves, sticks, helmets fly everywhere as the Pirates rush the ice in a chaotic pile of victory. Wooyoung rips off his own helmet and flings it to the ice. A raw scream bursts from his chest as Yeosang leaps into him, followed by the rest of the team.
But one person was noticeably missing.
“Hold on…hold on!” Wooyoung forces his voice above the chaos. He shoves through his celebrating teammates, racing toward the bench.
Coach’s congratulations fade when Wooyoung spots him.
San stands at the entrance to the locker room, smiling softly. His jersey and skates are gone. His arm is secured in a sling. But his eyes were still the same warm brown they always were.
“I told you!” San calls out but Wooyoung doesn’t let him finish.
He kisses him. Quick, breathless, undeniable. A kiss carried by years of skating side by side, fighting side by side, tearing each other apart and clinging back together again.
When Wooyoung pulls back, he’s smiling wide, unrestrained.
“You have to come out to lift the trophy!” he shouts over the roar of the crowd.
San’s eyes widened. Wooyoung takes his good hand instantly, tugging him forward. At the barrier, Wooyoung pauses to gently help him onto the ice, steadying him with a hand at the small of his back so San doesn’t fall without skates.
Their journey to center ice is clumsy and rushed and mainly involves San moving carefully with one arm bound, Wooyoung supporting him with protective instinct pulsing through every step.
When they reach the team, players crowd around them, cheering. Hands reach for San, patting his back, bracing his shoulders, pulling him into the celebration he fought so hard for.
“Captain lifts the trophy!” someone shouts from the swarm.
The Pirates propel Wooyoung forward toward the gleaming cup. He reaches it. Heavy under the blinding lights. But turns back immediately.
He searches for San.
Their eyes meet across the mass of players.
“Help me lift it?” Wooyoung calls. His grin is crooked and soft. “It’s too heavy to lift alone.”
The team laughs and nudges San forward.
San steps up beside him. With his good hand, he grips one side of the trophy. Wooyoung takes the other.
Together, as always. They lift the trophy into the air.
The arena erupts.
And beneath the confetti and lights, with San pressed to his side and the weight of victory above them, Wooyoung feels any remaining tension roll off him in a flood of joy.
He leaned into San next to him, his cheek pressed against his good shoulder. The rest of the team reach anxiously for the trophy from the duo. When they hand it off, Wooyoung’s hands find San.
“Finally!” He yelled over the commotion. After all these years the duo had finally achieved their dream of winning the tournament. “What now?”
“Do we take time for ourselves?” San’s voice is quiet against the onslaught of the team still celebrating around them. Wooyoung laughs and brings San into his arms again.
Reluctantly, the trophy was pried from their hands and passed between the team. Suddenly feeling the lost weight of the missing trophy, Wooyoung's hand find San's waist. San's working hand finds Wooyoung's collar and pulls him closer under the shining lights.
Their lips connect in a swift moment. The crowd around them seems to roar into a ringing silence as their moment of victory narrows into a moment with each other.
Wooyoung brings his hands to nestle into San's hair. This kiss is longer, more defined. With it, more anxiety and tension seem to exit the duo as their uncertain future becomes more painted.
San pulls away first.
"I think I like you a lot?" He shouts over the continued roar of everyone around them. Wooyoung's eyebrow shoots up.
"You THINK? You asshole?" He laughs. "Let's get out of here." San presses another kiss to Wooyoung's cheek and continues to watch his team celebrate around him.
This moment, this trophy, this team none of it means anything unless San is here to share it with him. And that was all that would matter from this day outwards.
quinn hughes boyfriend headcannons as a sad canucks fan. (written pre trade, sending hugs to my quinn girls.)
zones out a lot but it’s ok bc he’s thinking and he needs to do that
smells like linen
has bought himself tearless kids shampoo
it’s rlly important to him that whoever he ends up with is like best friends with his brothers.
he doesn’t show it but he is really protective, big brother instincts.
will read a shitty and cringe romance novel w his partner just to make fun of it
just doesn’t like being on camera. but he will make exceptions
i feel like he’s rlly good at fishing. like he could reel in a mean bass.
sometimes when he gets out of bed in the morning he forgets he’s not skating and can’t remember how to walk for a second
doesn’t rlly listen to music the way others would, like he’s working out to a true crime podcast.
he is called huggy bear for a good reason i know it
But he also just isnt big on physical touch
He doesn’t always know how to express gratitude or appreciation so he does so by hugging people.
also drives with one hand, the other on the shifting knob thing good lord
I KNOW he’s good at driving that boat.
makes his partner ride in front of him on the jetski. he won’t admit it but he’s afraid that they’ll fall off the back and he wouldn’t notice. it’s like his biggest fear.
In my head I can imagine him running to jump off a dock into the water and just like eating shit and falling.
doesn’t read shit in group chats. like if he missed 100+ messages he’s not reading that.
Doesn’t like boba because he choked on a boba pearl once
would never admit it but he LOVES a good arts and crafts night. like coloring in a coloring book w his partner yeah please
LOVES rotary sushi. like his ideal date. he likes to stare at the rotary.
coleslaw lover.
i bet he keeps a journal where he writes abt the books he likes.
His partner could be rink side right by the goal and he wouldn’t notice at first. too locked in
luke hughes boyfriend headcannons as someone who isn't actually even a devils fan. (made w love from a canucks/bruins fan tho.)
unironically loves wicked. He sobbed at the movie theatre after the first one.
keeps a hair tie on his wrist (even during practice) for his partner.
turns absolutely beet red when he sees his partner in his jersey, specifically the jersey jersey.
drives with one hand on the wheel the other on the thigh of the passenger, even if its Jack.
i know he said he listens to country but i bet he’s bumping the Brat album.
when he’s at the lake house he loves sitting at the end of the dock and watching sunsets with his partner or brothers. His bare toes MUST be in the water.
absolutely the most protective i won’t elaborate.
if his partner falls when skating he immediately picks them up without question. He isn’t there to shame anyone for not being good at skating.
definitely loves to door dash on weekends. Specifically Canes.
If his partner is rinkside for warmups he crashes into the glass in front of them just to scare them.
educated on the dance moms lore.
I feel like he’d be really good at making corn casserole.
Calls Ellen… Ellen.
watches love island and the bachelorette and LOVES it.
prefers to sleep in with his partner over waking up early any day.
makes extensive playlists for every mood. Shit like “Work outs for sunny days” to “My tummy hurts and I’m trying not to cry.”
tries his best to teach his partner how to wake board at the lake house but he’s kinda bad at it.
if they go in, so does he, just to make sure they’re okay.
Can swim only like 50% of the time.
one had driving the boat… yeah…
wears those wire headbands to push his hair back when it’s long
summary: despite having an annoying exterior, your coworker has a soft spot for you.
warnings: minors dni! swearing, alcohol, nausea, implied smut, making out etc WC: 4685
a/n: not entirely proofread!
[11:35 PM]
The bar drummed with thumping music and excited noises. Half of the crowd seemed to be waiting for your attention. Your hands deftly slid across the bar, making various different cocktails and beverages. You attempted to keep a happy facade as you accepted orders and tips but there was an agitated presence that disrupted your peace.
Surprisingly, the agitating presence wasn’t your coworker wooyoung as it normally was. Instead, Wooyoung worked quickly and quietly behind you. His arm muscles flashed thanks to his short sleeved black shirt. His long black hair hung over his eyes as he shook a margarita. You catch his eyes, which are creased with mild annoyance. He nods to the customer behind you, who was the cause for agitation.
“lady! Do you mind?” the man yells, waving an empty can at you.
“just a second please!” you yell back, preoccupied with putting a lemon slice on a drink. You turn your back to the annoying customer. Suddenly, a quick sharp pain hits you in the back, and an empty can thuds to the ground. You turn to see that the drunk customer had indeed just thrown a beer can at you.
“Can you fucking hurry up?” The customer yells at you again. Your mouth hangs open in shock, not used to obtrusive customers.
“You can leave,” You attempt to keep your voice heavy. You hear a mild snicker from Wooyoung behind you. Your heart drummed out of your chest, tongue in your throat. All forms of yelling made you anxious and Wooyoung knew that. You search for a better way to de-escalate the situation.
“Are you fucking serious, you bitch?” The customer grabs a napkin holder and lifts it high over his head in another attempt to hurl something at you.
Suddenly, Wooyoung pushes past you quickly. His hand reached out for the customer's outstretched hand.
“Don’t you ever fucking talk to her like that.” Wooyoung says steadily. The angry customer’s face shifts with Wooyoung's words. Your heart beats out of your chest and you stumble backwards, eyes wide.
Your displeasure of Wooyoung doesn’t waver even now. It sure had taken long enough for him to act.
“Get the fuck out of my bar or I’ll call the police.” Wooyoung says again. The customer hesitates, but eventually shuffles away from the bar. The bar now continues with its normal drone. Wooyoung turns on his heel and looks back at you.
“Get back to work, y/n.” He pushes past you again, his sturdy shoulder clanking against yours heavily. You lose your balance but catch yourself on the counter. Wooyoung continues with the drink he was previously making and doesn’t look back.
You fight to steady your shaking hands and nervous heartbeat, but a grin from Wooyoung steadies you.
[2:58 AM]
Closing at the bar had run late. The sharp and painful overhead lights were turned on to reveal the dirty remains of a successful business night. Trash had littered the floor and the counter was sticky with spilt alcohol. Your manager had left hours ago leaving you and wooyoung to go about your closing duties without uttering a word together, other than him telling you to take the trash out of course.
You finally swept up the last of the discarded straw wrappers when a familiar jingle of keys drew your attention. Wooyoung was waiting by the door with his arms crossed firmly. His weight shifted on his left foot as he waited for you to grab your stuff. Dark circles rested beneath his uneven eyelids and the mole on his lip moved in and out of view as he chewed on his lip impatiently.
you grab your bag, flip the light switch and wordlessly head for the door. not acknowledging wooyoung’s loud presence. The cold air hits you deep to your core and you curse yourself for not bringing a jacket. you pull your tote closer to your body and take a step towards your long walk home.
“you’re walking?” Wooyoung's snide voice shatters your inner peace.
“My car broke down yesterday.” you don’t turn to respond.
“So you're walking?”
“no, I'm skipping. What do you want, wooyoung.” you quickly grow agitated.
“Listen, you can’t even handle yourself against a rude customer but you think you’re okay to walk home for two miles?” Wooyoung locks the bar door and continues to loudly talk, his voice full of needles. It was true that your heartbeat had yet to come down and that tears threaten to spill still after the aggravated customers.
“I would have handled that guy perfectly fine, wooyoung.” You lied to yourself too, you turn to see that he’s glaring at you. “but you never gave me the chance.”
“Right, cause I'm going to let you stand there and stutter your way through kicking someone out.” he rolls his eyes. “I know how you get, y/n.”
“fuck you wooyoung, see you tomorrow.” you grumble and turn around again.
“You don’t want a ride?” he calls, unwilling to just let you walk away in peace. There's hesitation in voice that hints at his inability to tell if you're really fine or would indeed be going home to cry,
“Why would I want a ride from you?” your hands ball into fists at your sides and you keep walking. Thankfully, wooyoung doesn’t respond. You hear as he gets into his nearby car and starts the engine. The rumbling of the motor gradually grows louder behind you until it’s right next to you.
“Just get in, you look pathetic.” Wooyoung had rolled his window down and let his car neutrally glide next to you. you throw your hands up in defeat and stomp around his car, half convinced that he would floor it once your hand hit the handle.
His car offered a warm solace from the icy wind and could almost be considered peaceful if wooyoung wasn’t the one driving it. you quietly give him your address, adjusting your body so that you’re the furthest away from him you could possibly be.
Wooyoung drives fast, he doesn’t say anything but hums along to the song that’s blaring from his radio. you fight the urge to turn the radio off and beg him to let you off for a chance of peace and quiet, but you were already quickly nearing your apartment. His car screeched to a sudden halt. He doesn’t say anything but taps his foot impatiently as you fumble with the handle.
“wear a jacket tomorrow.” He says after you drag yourself back outside.
“yeah right.” you yell, slamming the door perhaps a little too hard. Wooyoung’s car speeds off without a second thought, leaving you alone on the sidewalk with peace and quiet for the first time of the night.
[4:47 PM]
dark circles decorated your under eyes when you finally trudged into work. Wooyoung was already at the bar, slicing lemons for tonight’s garnishes. He barely looks up as you pass.
“No thank you?” he growls. You slide your bag under the counter and pull your hair back onto a messy knot.
“for what?” you sigh, wooyoung’s irritating presence had already made itself loud and clear despite only being a minute into the shift.
“nothing comes to mind?” wooyoung purrs.
He throws a towel over his shoulder and leans on the bar to look at you.
“wooyoung, i really don’t need to be annoyed so early in this shift.” you sigh, massaging your temple.
“Annoyed? As if I’m not your favorite coworker.” He cooes. His brown orbs drag over your body, hovering on your exposed midriff.
“wooyoung please.” you moan.
“You know it’s no wonder you get problematic customers when you’re dressed like that.” he smirks. “I thought I told you to wear a jacket?”
“wooyoung!” your roar. He shrugs non chalantly but you can see the comment made his cheeks a fiery red. It was true that he had told you to wear a jacket, you fiercely ignored him but did regret it against the icy wind howling outside. He yanks an elastic band from his wrist and gathers his hair into it. His eyes scan the bar.
“Hey y/n try this,” he grabs a martini glass full of a murky liquid from the counter. You instinctively flinch away, worried he’d throw the liquid at you. “Woah chill out, it’s just a lemon drop.” His eyebrows crease.
You give him a suspicious look. Whatever was in that glass did not look like a lemon drop. He hands the glass to you but you don’t reach for it.
“Y/n, Jesus.” He sighs and steps towards you. He lifts the glass to your lips and presses it against them gently. He tips the glass slightly so the liquid can flow into your mouth. Your heart flutters.He holds your eye contact. The drink is incredibly bitter, you fight not to gag.
“Wooyoung what the hell did you put into that.” You cough, your throat burning. He glares at you.
“Vodka, lemon juice, and bacardi.” He swirls the glass around and takes a sip. His eyes widen but he forces the sip down.
“You fucking idiot that is NOT how you make a lemon drop.” You cough again. He laughs.
“It’s not bad!” He tried to defend himself but the drink was too far gone.
“Wooyoung, next time you want to get rid of me just tell me. Don’t try to make me sick.” You grumble.
“Well how do you make a lemon drop?” He dumps out the remaining liquid and slams the martini glass down.
“I’m not telling you.” You grumble, beginning to slice tonight’s lemons and limes.
“Do you have your car back yet?” He asks.
“No, it’s supposed to be back tomorrow.” You say, trying your best to ignore Wooyoung’s agitating voice growing closer.
“Okay, I'll give you a ride if you grace me with your knowledge.” He teases. You turn around to find his face only a few inches from yours.
“Who said I wanted a ride?” you raise your eyebrow. Wooyoung’s agitating presence threatened to break down a wall of peace you’d spent so long building yourself. Another ride home with Wooyoung threatened to break this wall.
“Oh, and I'm going to let you walk home in the dark?” he wrinkles his nose.
“Yes, you are wooyoung. I can only take so much of you per night.” You turn back around, praying your hair flipped into his face.
“you two! stop making out and get back to work,” your manager passes by the bar and rolls his eyes. Wooyoung makes a gagging sound behind you.
“Wooyoung don’t start please” you moan. mentally preparing for the long night.
[2:03 AM]
as the night drew to a close. your hands stuck to the broom thanks to all the spilt drinks. a drone of a headache thrummed through your head as the bar's music dwindled.
“hey y/n” wooyoung purred in your ear. His keys jangled obnoxiously behind you.
“not happening wooyoung.” you sigh, doing one final pass of tidying up the bar.
“So I'm supposed to let you die on your walk home?” Wooyoung runs a hand through his long black hair, tugging it to rest behind his ears.
“honestly, i would prefer that.” you moan. attempting to bee line for a door.
“ugh y/n you’re unbearable.” wooyoung attempts to follow you out the door, but you close it quickly behind you and begin to ramp up your walking speed. “Please, at least take this.”
You curse yourself for hesitating, but you turn around to see Wooyoung extending his hand with a balled up sweatshirt in it. You look at it cautiously.
“Come on, just take it so I can go home.” He gestures his hand again. You accept it and pull it over your head. Wooyoung’s scent peppered the sweatshirt obnoxiously. It smelled like his cologne and was still warm with his discarded body heat.
“Thanks…” You pull the hood over your head. He smiles lightly.
“Just get home safe.”
[11:23 PM]
You tug on the hem of your short black dress, balancing a drink in between your hands. It took a lot for your friend, Hongjoong, to convince you to leave the house on your only day off.
It was Hongjoong’s birthday and he had attempted to bring all of his closest friends together. Your only issue was that Wooyoung was sitting across the bar. His legs were spread obnoxiously and he was smoking a cigarette. Shots continued to flow freely as you attempted to ignore him.
It was impossible. His voice loud, his eyes shining, everyone seemed to revolve around him. They listened when he spoke and seemed to erupt in laughter at everything he said. The night seemed to drag, and the omnipresent knowledge that you had work tomorrow seemed to loom over you.
“Y/n! what’s wrong?” Hongjoong pulls you from your aggravated trance. You swayed nervously on your feet.
“I feel nauseous,” you mumble, pushing through the thick crowd and out through the front door of the club. You huff, taking a seat on a concrete planter that was near the entrance. Your fingers plug your ears as you attempt to calm down whatever nauseousness flooded your body.
Wooyoung seemed to make your whole body vibrate. While it was easy to ignore him during a long shift, seeing him out in the wild felt like a kick to your nervous system. His vibrant personality hummed through everyone and extended outward to you, but you refused to let it infect you like it had others. Wooyoung had always been a nuisance at the bar. Flirting obnoxiously with all customers, spilling beverages behind the counter, and pressing your buttons in the least favorable way possible.
You were too entranced in your own thoughts to notice someone had approached you in your sidewalk dilemma. His scent immediately clicked a recognition for you, you didn’t have to look.
“You’re awfully quiet.” A familiar voice purrs.
“What do you want, Wooyoung?” You mumble,
“Woah Y/N, I can’t check and make sure you’re okay?” He puts his hands up defensively, but still takes a seat next to you.
“I don’t feel good,” you admit, desperate to let anyone know how you’re feeling.
“Call an uber?” He offers.
“Phone’s dead.”
“Quite a situation then.” He laughs. “No car, no phone, what now?”
“Wooyoung-” You start but your voice unexpectedly quivers and catches.
“Hey hey hey, I was just teasing.” He looks at you cautiously, checking for any tears. His brown eyes caught yours. His dark hair hung over his eyes, two earrings dangled from his ears. “How’d you get here?”
“I walked.” You confess.
“Jesus, that's like a few miles Y/N” He laughs a little and slings his arm around your shoulder, the sudden contact makes you jump. “My apartment is only a few blocks from here, do you want to come back and charge your phone for a little? Or I can drive you when I sober up.”
You hesitate. The olive branch had been extended from Wooyoung’s end and it was up to you to accept it. The only thing stopping you from following Wooyoung home was the brick wall you had built yourself. With every brick you’d instructed yourself not to let him in. For every time your gazes lingered and you’d found yourself thinking about him, you placed another brick.
He noticed your hesitation. He draws his arm back to his side and nestles his hands back into his lap. Wooyoung looks away, the breeze catching his thick hair in the wind.
“How far is your apartment?” You whisper, not yet used to Wooyoung’s kindness. His head snaps back to you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. You shake with the harsh wind. Wooyoung quickly stands up and offers you his hand. You gingerly take it, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.
“Not far at all, I promise.” Wooyoung releases your hand but still quickly looks at your short dress. He sheds his jacket, revealing only a thin t-shirt underneath.
“Wooyoung no-” You start but he shakes his head.
“You already have one of my jackets, what's one more?” He smiles. You weakly offer another smile back, but drop the eye contact.
“Alright, let's go.” He says quietly.
The walk is silent. You attempt to keep your distance from him and stop stealing glances but with every step you couldn’t help but grow more intrigued. Wooyoung’s ability to stay quiet is something you didn’t think he’d ever have the ability to possess. Yet here he was, carefully guiding you through thick crowds, offering his hand when you stepped over puddles, and standing protectively in front of you at cross walks.
Wooyoung’s jingling keychain caught your attention. You watched as he pulled it from his pocket and unlocked an unassuming door. His sleek black car was parked across the street from his loft. A heavy set of stairs led to another unassuming door that he unlocked with a different key.
Inside, a wave of warm air and a thick scent of vanilla catches you off guard. A small room is illuminated with fairy lights, at the center, a small grey couch covered in pillows and small plushes. Across from the couch, a shelf with countless games and books caught your attention. A light laugh stops your ogling.
“It’s not much,” he admits, but offers a hand out to you. You stare at it. “Your phone, Y/N.” He gestures again. You fumble in your pocket and hand it to him, watching as he plugs it in by the couch then takes a seat. He pats the cushion next to him. When you sit, he throws a fleece blanket over your bare legs. You mumble a thanks and watch as he kicks his shoes off and gets comfortable.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I’m not used to you not yelling at me.” He says, you cringe.
“Yikes, is that all you think about me?” You ask. He shakes his head.
“That, and that you can’t stand me. Yet here you are on my couch.” He pulls the blanket over his legs as well.
“Hey, I’m not that bad…” You try to laugh but the effort makes your throat burn. You sneeze.
“Hey, put the blanket over your arms too. I can't have you getting sick and making me close by myself.” His voice is loud against the otherwise peaceful solace of his apartment. You cringe again. His face softens. “Do you want to watch a movie or anything?”
“No thanks, I prefer the quiet honestly.” You admit. Wooyoung looks at you sideways.
“I’ve noticed… is there a reason why?” he asks, his voice noticeably quieter. You shake your head no.
“i want to get to know you, y/n.” Wooyoung leans back and scratches his head.
“Why?” you whisper.
“I can't be intrigued by my favorite coworker?” He grins, but keeps his voice soft.
“Favorite? I’m like your only coworker.” You return his smile.
“Okay… and maybe I just want to get to know you.” He concludes. You tilt your head back and rest it on the couch. He slings an arm loosely around you but hesitates to make physical contact. You shrug.
“I kinda keep to myself.” You admit. Nervous that more questioning would break your fortified wall down. Wooyoung nods thoughtfully. It was clear the alcohol still had control of both of you. He hesitated before laying his head on the couch next to yours.
“Do you let anyone in?” He asks, quieter than you’d ever heard him. You shake your head. “Would you let me in?” you hesitate. His brown orbs don’t stray from yours, his expression is patient and non obtrusive.
“Why?” You whisper.
“Because I see you y/n. Every single day I see you keep to yourself and when we’re not at work I think about you and always wonder if you’re okay.” He confesses. You close your eyes, suddenly very conscious of the world spinning around you. A nervous queasiness rolls over you. The truth was you felt the same curiosity about wooyoung but never had the guts to pursue it. You shrug again and he laughs.
“I see you too Wooyoung.” You mumble. You open your eyes to see that wooyoung was ostensibly closer. You could feel his exhales and the surrounding world seemed to ebb around him in a warm glow. The spin stood still as he came into focus. A smile catches you as you watch everything revolve around him. The queasiness dissipates. He smiles too.
“Everything revolves around you…” you find yourself whispering. A confused concern paints his eyebrow but he quickly recovers.
“Do you want water y/n?” He asks. While the idea of water sounded nice, the idea of losing him in this moment sounded ten times worse. You shake your head adamantly. He laughs lightly, his breath fanning across your face.
Suddenly, everything stills and all you see is Wooyoung leaning in. His eyes are hesitant, painted with concern for you but a fire flickers beneath them. A fire you wish could burn inside you as well. He presses his lips to yours and the brick wall you’d built shatters.
You let him in instantly. Your hands find his messy black hair and the small of his back, pulling him closer into you. His breath hitches and you feel a smile creepy across his lips. His hands carefully find the sides of your face and pull it towards his.
Your bodies shift as you fall backwards, wooyoung on top of you. He yanks the blanket away from between you and props himself up. He pulls away from you, drawing a light moan from you.
“Is this okay?” He whispers. You nod eagerly. “I want to hear you say it… y/n.” He breathes.
“This is perfect, wooyoung.” You whisper. He grins sideways, before carefully capturing your lips once more. His hands slide down to your hips and press into you gently.
His body melts into yours delicately, his legs cradle yours and you feel as he presses his lower half into yours. His mouth molds to yours perfectly, his nose lightly bumping yours as he moves.
“I want to take care of you,” he mumbles between his movements. you laugh lightly. His mouth trails down to your neck, sucking lightly. “Please…” he whispers again.
“Always,” you murmur. You feel wooyoung laugh through his nose below you. Your hands snake from his hair, and down his back. You tug at his shirt.
“You want it off baby?” He sits up. Without hesitation he strips his shirt and throws it to the corner, revealing several tattoos decorating his arms.
Wooyoung immediately comes back to you, and continues to decorate your neck with his work. You are busy running your hands along his back and pushing him into you. Your dress was slowly riding up with this motion but you didn’t care enough to pull it down.
You moan his name as he works his way back to your mouth. Pressing quick kisses to your jaw and lips, worshipping you. You both smile when your lips meet again, eager for the night ahead.
[3:34 AM]
You wake up with a start. You and wooyoung had fell asleep in each others arms, you rested in his chest as he snored quietly.
A wave of anxiety hits you like a truck. While you didn’t regret what had happened, you hadn’t thought to anticipate what the future may look like for you both. Nervous that this might be a one off, the idea of waking up to see Wooyoung in the morning suddenly prickles you with fear.
You slide out of his arms, and grab your now fully charged phone resting on a table. You quietly tip toe out of the apartment and down the stairs. If wooyoung heard he didn’t protest.
You quickly open your phone and look at uber prices home, the price was triple what you expected. You place the call, and pace nervously in front of wooyoung’s apartment, fighting to pull your dress down against the heavy wind and occasional snow.
The uber arrives, the driver is cranky and eyes you suspiciously. You don’t have it in you to open your front camera yet, knowing that Wooyoung had undoubtedly left marks. Your heart thumps with the uncertainty of tomorrow's shift.
[5:12 PM]
You had slept in way more than you’d anticipated. A hangover hung over you like an angry storm cloud. It hurt to walk and you had to pull out your only turtleneck to hide your purple neck. You finally trudged into work, sick with fear of what Wooyoung might say.
The door nearly hits you in the back as you step inside the quiet bar. Wooyoung’s head snaps up, his eyes creased with concern, but softens when he sees you.
“Hey…” He greets softly, his hands upwards and stretched out to you as if you’re a fragile pane of glass. Your tongue is caught in your throat, your feet glued to your floor. When you don’t move he laughs slightly. “A little late, y/n- are you?”
“fuck you wooyoung,” the insult suprised you both. You take a step back hesitantly, his eyes go from concerned to hurt. But his ego recovers quickly.
“You already did that last night, y/n.” He whispers, taking a step closer, his arms still outstretched. You face burns a hot red. You look up to see your manager rapidly approaching.
“Seriously y/n? 20 minutes late? What the hell is wrong with you?” He yells. Without a second thought you back out the door and back into the cold. You fight as your hangover threatens to make you spill whatever you had left in your stomach and start to walk home.
“Dude seriously? You didn’t need to do that.” Wooyoung’s voice echos from inside. You can’t hear your manager's reply but behind you the door slams open. Wooyoung catches you in your long pathetic trudge home.
“hey hey hey, can we talk?” He hugs his arms around himself.
“why? So you can tell me to forget what happened last night?” tears welled in your eyes. Wooyoung catches your shoulder and pulls you backwards. His face is red against the wind.
“What?” Wooyoung stops in his tracks but keeps a firm grip on your arm. “Why would I do that?”
Your breath hitches, scanning his face for any crack that could be there.
“y/n i know you like keeping to yourself but please….” his voice quivers “let me get to spend more time with you.” A cold wave of relief washes over you. You sway on your feet but wooyoung is there to steady you.
“Okay…” You nod. “Promise you won’t let that be a one off?” You whisper the second half.
“I promise, i’ll do anything to keep you around me.” Wooyoung laughs. “Even if that means leaving this fucking job.” You laugh too.
Wooyoung tugs at the edge of your turtleneck, he grimaces lightly.
“Sorry about that,” he laughs. “We’ll call it even for the sweatshirts.”
“C’mon, we have to go to work.” You whisper. You tug Wooyoung back towards the bar.
“Does this mean you’ll finally teach me how to make a lemon drop?” Wooyoung’s eagerness returns quickly and the Wooyoung you’re familiar with bounces beside you.
“Only if you’re good.” You response catches Wooyoung off guard, his mouth agape. He stops and pulls you to a stop as well.
Your eyes crash against one another and without hesitation he’s pulling your mouth up to his.
This kiss is tender and sweet, the mix of snowflakes makes you shiver. You pull apart first.
“Alright let’s get back to work.” Wooyoung laces his hands with yours and pulls you into a happier future.
pairing: dancer!wooyoung x reader, slight san x reader.
summary: after a chance encounter with the leader of your rival dance crew, you become obsessed with the idea of him. WC - 12458
warnings: drinking, smoking, throwing up, swearing, making out etc.
AN: First time writing in awhile I apologize for any mistakes!
[4:37 AM]
Your legs burned with a fiery hot red rush of adrenaline as you pushed through the last of your routine. The clock neared dawn as you and the rest of your team took unison steps with precision. Sweat rolled off your back as the closing notes faded out.
San, the leader of your small dance crew is front and center. You catch his eyes looking at you. There's assurance behind his stare. Making sure you’re okay.
your knee has been bothering you for weeks. It wasn't something you were willing to complain about, or even mention. But your closest friends noticed the winces, the favoring of the one side, and the hesitation with your steps.
“San please, let’s call it.” your teammate Yeosang broke the silence and spoke for the rest of the crew. San's eyes left yours as he dropped from his ending position. “y/n has work tomorrow.” Yeosang concluded. you fell to your bottom as you waited for the hot shivers to leave your body.
“I'm fine, I just need a break.” it was true, your shift started in just a few hours. However the crew still needed practice to nail the ending. Only a few days remained until one of the biggest underground dance competitions of the year.
Crews from all over the city met in an abandoned warehouse to claim the renowned title of ‘hongdae’s crew.’ While it wasn’t official, the long term bragging rights that accompanied the title hung over everyone’s heads in a way that could only encourage a crew’s egotistical mindset. The cash prize wasn’t a downside either. Last session nearly 6 months prior, your crew had claimed the title after a misstep from your rival crew.
The night still rang clear in your mind. The stuffy warehouse stunk of cigarettes and sweat but the adrenaline was so high from everyone in attendance that no one seemed to care. You were drunk off of the victory and tequila when you stumbled into the 2nd place crew.
Wooyoung, the leader, had looked over you when he made his threat to San.
“This will be the last time your pathetic team even smells a podium finish.” Wooyoung spat at your feet. San had wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder and pulled you away with a glare directed towards the long hair boy. The memory of Wooyoung had somewhat tainted the otherwise positive day for the Sanity crew.
“y/n are you okay?” Yeosang pulled you from your stream of thoughts.
“Let's end it here.” Haewon, your other teammate agreed. San nodded and grabbed his water bottle off the ground and left the studio, leaving the team in various positions of exhaustion. You didn’t know san and wooyoung’s history, but Wooyoung’s snide remark was enough for San to increase the length and occurrence of practices for the Sanity crew.
With yeosang’s help, you steadily stand up to grab your things and leave the studio. Outside, the sun was gradually beginning to rise and a cold late fall breeze brushed against your cheeks. San was outside, cigarette in hand. He offered it to you as you approached.
“Hey.” you greet numbly.
“Are you doing alright?” san doesn’t look at you, but it was obvious he was anxious. You played an integral part in the team. not only as the secondary captain but as the center. It wasn't hard for anyone to notice that you and san were two of the best dancers in the gender integrated crew. While he tried to assign parts fairly, you always stood out.
“I'm fine, I promise.” you say, handing the cigarette back. San doesn’t respond right away, but instead watches as the rest of the team files out and says their goodbyes. He drops the cigarette and snuffs it out with his toe.
“See you later, y/n. be safe today.” and with that, he walked the other direction.
[6:04 PM]
You spent the day struggling to keep your eyes open. Your hands fumbled clumsily around the cafe you worked at. With your brain half asleep and on a different plane from your body, coffee continued to get knocked over and orders messed up. Aside from the occasional grumble from the customers, the day dragged by before coming to an eventual close.
With a heavy chunk, you lock the cafe door and begin to stumble home. Only when you reach a busy intersection, does something catch your eye.
Across the street waiting to cross in your direction, a tall man with long black hair waited. He was preoccupied with fixing his headphones and nodding his head to the beat, but his shining hair rustled gently around his face and the black sweatshirt he had cinched to his chin. His eyes, a dark hazel remain stagnant behind uneven eyelids when he finally looks up and makes eye contact.
It clicks who this was. Wooyoung. The leader of your rival dance crew, Fiery crew. The realization almost knocks the air from your lungs. You hadn’t seen him since his loss against the Sanity crew nearly 6 months ago.
The light turns green and you take a few hesitant steps forward, heat rushing to your cheeks. With him, Wooyoung conducted a strong presence that was hard to describe. He danced with such precision you always couldn’t help but to stare and watch. His social media was decorated with pictures of him adorned in tattoos, sweating in the Fiery crew’s dance studio. His comment sections were always full of praise from men and women alike. You often found yourself lingering on his profile late at night, unsure why this mysterious man seemed to have grabbed your attention in the way he did. While you didn’t know his history with San, there was no hiding that the two didn’t like each other and their subsequent crews felt mutually the same about the other.
You ducked your head as he walked your direction, unwilling to admit that you recognized him and too nervous to see if he had noticed you in your unkempt cafe uniform. You passed each other without a fleeting ounce of acknowledgement from either of you.
Once you safely reached the other side of the road, you couldn’t help but to quickly glance behind you to confirm that that was indeed the mysterious leader of the Fiery crew. As you turned around to check, the tall man had done the same motion and turned around to look at you. Wooyoung and you locked eyes for a moment of recognition that you had both just stopped walking to check the other’s identity. You turn around too quickly to see him look away, and begin to speed walk home. You quickly pull out your phone and type up a message to San.
y/n: you’ll never believe who i just saw.
Sanni: who
y/n: mf wooyoung!! Right by the cafe! I didn’t know he lived near here.
Sanni: ????
You hesitate, unsure of why you felt the need to inform San of his rival’s proximity.
y/n: i’m heading home to eat but then i’ll be by to practice.
Sanni: be safe… see you soon
You close your phone, unwilling to give San any details of you and Wooyoung’s encounter, despite how minimal it was. With the competition only a week away, there was no time to discuss the rival fiery crew.
[10:12 PM]
“San!! Hurry up!” You stopped to yell at your best friend trudging slowly behind the rest of the group.
San had begrudgingly allowed practice to end early and instead let the crew go out for a night of drinking at the nearby bars and clubs. Yeosang was stuck holding the door for the crew as Haewon and five other members slowly shuffled in. You paused entering and waited for San, who had fallen behind the group to catch up.
He was wearing a nearly see through black short sleeve shirt that hugged his toned abdomen and large biceps deliciously. His dark ripped jeans swayed as he ran to catch up and place his hand on your lower waist before nodding you inside. Behind you, Yeosang quirks his eyebrow, not oblivious to San’s obvious favor towards you.
You had on a nearly identical pair of baggy ripped jeans, but paired it with a cropped jersey and black sports bra. The jeans hid a thick knee brace you had quietly started wearing. The crew said nothing when you had shown up to practice with it for fear of bringing attention to a possible injury. San had also declined to comment, but was more careful around you as if he might break your knees just by looking at you incorrectly.
You joined the rest of the crew at the bar before being handed a shot that you later split with San.
Drinks continue to flow freely until Haewon shuffles her way over to you. She gently stuck her elbow in your rib before whispering in your ear.
“Totally do not look but is that not the Fiery crew?” She yells over the thumping music. You feel a pit of cold anxiety form before you quickly turn around. Sure enough the first person you noticed was the tall dark haired boy from a few nights prior. Wooyoung had his long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He wore an oversized printed t-shirt that showed off his sharp collarbones with every movement. He smiled as his crew member, who you recognized as Yunho, balanced several drinks in his hand.
Without warning, Wooyoung lifted his head and met your eyes. His smile didn’t fade as you would have expected. Instead he held your eye contact as he lifted a drink to his mouth.
“Why did you look?!” Haewon grabs your arm and tugs you gently. The crowd surged and you lost sight of Wooyoung. Your attention snapped back to your surrounding crew.
“Have they always been in the area?” You can’t help but wonder out loud. Jiwoo, another member of your Sanity crew, shakes her head.
“I stalked their instas, looks like they recently transferred studios to one nearby.” She yells over the music. Both of you flick your eyes to San, who currently loomed over Jiwoo’s shoulder. His jaw tightened but he didn’t say anything. A sudden rush of queasiness hits you as your previous wave of anxiety catches up with your stomach.
“I… have to go to the bathroom” You squeak before pushing through the crowd and out the front door. San and Haewon on your heels. You make it outside and bee line for a nearby group of bushes before letting go of the contents of your stomach. Haewon kneels beside you and gathers your hair in her hands while San keeps his distance.
Thankfully, the drum of the crowd flowing in and out of the bar drowns out the noise. You take a deep breath before sitting back up, attempting to fight off any ounce of anxiety and embarrassment that remained in your system.
Haewon helped you up and offered hand sanitizer as you brushed off your knees and turned to face the rest of the crew that had followed you out.
“I should maybe head home.” You say, defeated that your first night out in several months was ending so soon. “But please don’t let that stop yall, have a shot for me.” You offer a weak smile.
“I’ll walk you home.” San instantly offered. You swayed on your feet, feeling light headed. He wraps an arm around your own and braces you slightly.
“Feel better y/n!!” Jiwoo and the rest of the crew chant as you and San begin your trek home.
You walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks. That was what you loved about San. He knew when he didn’t need to talk. However as late night practices began to increase San seemed to pull further away from his usual self, as he tended to do when a large competition or show was approaching.
“I promise I’m fine.” You say as he helps you step over a curb.
“I know you are, but I need you to be feeling perfect.” San mumbles in response. The two of you turn down a busy residential street. Different signs glowed neon against the black night sky. Up ahead a crowd seemed to be formed in a circle, with music blasting. You and San can’t help but crane your necks in hopes of a glimpse of the commotion.
As you get closer to the crowd, you recognize Don’t Tease Me by Speed blaring over the speakers. The crowd parts enough for you and San to find the front. Your stomach drops again as you take in the scene ahead of you.
It was unmistakingly the Fiery crew.
Wooyoung was center as the camera man zoomed in and followed as he executed his part perfectly. He was flanked by Yunho, who again executed every step like it was his second nature. You look up at San, who has little to no reaction, and instead watches with an intrigued expression.
The crowd gasps, ripping your gaze from San and back to the Fiery crew. One of the members that you didn’t recognize had jumped into his members arms while another flipped over him once, then flipped away. The crowd of drunk passerbies and curious onlookers erupted into a roaring applause. You and San don’t react.
Wooyoung seems to notice the two people in the crowd who didn’t seem to care for his crew’s stellar performance. His eyes find San first, then quickly jump to you. His eyes rake you up and down before he settles on your arm linked with San’s.
“Let’s get out of here.” San pulls you away from the front before you’re able to fully process how Wooyoung had looked at you.
“You don’t think they’ll do that song next week, do you?” You ask as you tuck yourself into San for fear of being knocked off balance from the dissipating crowd.
“If they are, we're ready for it.” San replied simply, seemingly unphased from his rival’s sudden appearance. “I have an idea, anyway.”
[5:52 PM]
It was the night after the crew’s sudden trip to the bar. Your crew now sat scattered across the Sanity crew's small practice room. San stood at the front, his head leaning against the mirror and his short cropped hair plastered to his forehead.
“A flip? Why now?” Yeosang sat up in shock at San’s sudden decision to add a flip at the ending of your performance.
“We need a wow factor.” San replied simply, shaking his head.
“Who though?” Another member piped up. The obvious confusion hung in the stuffy air.
“Y/n.” All eyes snapped to you after San said your name.
“With her bad knee?” Haewon stood up. The crew cringed. No one had yet mentioned your knee. Sure, it was obvious as you continued to favor one side and wince after longer takes, but Haewon’s statement proved everyone’s worst fear. You were injured.
“I’m sure she can do it. We’ve done it before.” San defended you. It was true. A year or so prior you and San had gotten bored and attempted to teach yourselves how to flip.
“I can do it. My knee doesn’t hurt.” You agree. It had been months, almost a year since you’d last done this highly technical move. San’s sudden decision didn’t surprise you. While he didn’t comment on Wooyoung’s sudden appearance and stellar performance, it had obviously left a lasting effect on him. You hadn’t felt the need to tell anyone else about your encounter with the Fiery crew for fear of rising nerves higher than they needed to be.
“Are you sure? The competition is in two days!” Jiwoo points out. San shakes his head again.
“We can do it, I know we can. Y/n and I will work on it tonight and we’ll incorporate the move fully tomorrow… For now lets take a break.” San says. The team shuffles outside with various grumbles and disagreements. None of which were voiced loud enough for San to discern. The decision had already been made despite everyone’s pleas.
You groan and fall to your back. You can hear as San approaches you, and takes a seat on the ground next to you.
“I know you can do it.” Was all he said. You covered your eyes from the bright fluorescent lights with your forearm.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.” You whisper, too nervous for the rest of the team to hear. While being assistant captain was a nice decoration, it came with the loss of ability to show fear. Any miniscule hesitation in you or San seemed to ricochet across the crew and negatively affect your performance. You and San both knew this well. You could feel anxiety teeming under his surface as well, but he was just as hesitant to show you as he was to the rest of the crew.
“I know.” He acknowledged quietly. “I promise I will not let you fall. No matter what.” He pulls your arm away from your eyes. You refuse to say anything for fear of disrupting his silent confidence.
“Let’s get started then.”
[9:37 PM]
You pulled nervously at your sleeves as you followed the rest of your crew into the abandoned warehouse.
The night had finally come. After sleepless nights, most of which seemed to spin by with San’s newest addition to the choreography. San was true to his word and had not let you fall.
The plan was simple. Conclude your team’s longer than normal dance break by bouncing off of Yeosang’s knee, into San’s hands, where you would catapult into the air and land as the music ended. It had been rehearsed as much as it could to feel as if it were always a part of the conversation.
Your crew was adorned in a matching style. You all had on black jackets with silver details and chains. Yours was cropped and paired with a pair of black shorts and black boots. As much as you wished you could hide it, the chunky black knee brace still remained.
It was too late to change your uniform and San didn’t want a baggy pant leg to get in the way of his finale. You recall him promising you that you still looked good and no one would be looking at the brace.
“Jesus...” Yeosang craned his neck to look at the swarming crowd. A resounding base thumped through the crowd as a thick smoke seemed to arise over everyone's head. The air teemed with the stench of cigarettes and a high percentage of vodka.
“Let’s try to find a corner to practice on!” San called from behind you. As always, he was following directly behind you as Yeosang led the group to the far wall where a gap had arisen.
Maybe it was your chunky boots, or the inhuman amount of anxiety that hung in your crew, but your knee ached with every step. As you bent to stretch it, you had to suck in air to keep from doubling in pain.
“Y/n, please…” It was Yeosang, his eyebrow creased with concern. “You truly don’t have to dance if you’re in pain.” He kept his voice low. San had disappeared to check your crew in and announce your arrival. Whispers had already passed through the crowd that last session’s winners had arrived.
You turned your head away from Yeosang in an attempt to tune him out. With your head turned something caught your eye.
The Fiery crew was warming up several feet down. They were all wearing black tank tops with maroon pants. You catch eyes with Yunho and watch as he reaches Wooyoung. You turn back to Yeosang.
“I promise you I’ll be okay.” You position yourself into a split and lean forward, feeling your muscles tighten in your legs. You offer Yeosang a smile, which he returns before his eyes lock on something behind you. You turn to see Wooyoung and Yunho obviously looking at your crew, both of them walking towards you.
Wooyoung looked breathtaking and you hated to admit it. His long hair hung at his shoulders and brushed against his bare skin that his tank top gripped to. His tattoos glistened under the dim LED lights and you watched as he brought a hand up to tug at the several hoops he had hanging from his ear.
“Y/n close your mouth.” Haewon whispered, catching wind of what was happening. The two gorgeous men continue to head towards the edge of your crew. You notice San’s continuous absence and realize it was now your responsibility to respond to any crew that questioned you.
“Yeosang, please help me up.” You swallow nervously as the boy supports your weight onto both of your standing legs. You look up at him and notice an obvious hint of anxiety in his eyes.
“Sanity crew.” Wooyoung’s sing-song voice lofts through the air behind you. You turn around and meet the two outsiders.
“Fiery crew.” You fight to keep your voice steady. Even with your platform boots, Wooyoung and Yunho tower over you. Again, Wooyoung’s eyes sap over your body. They hover on your thigh tattoo, then land on your knees. While one had the thick brace, the other was covered in black and blue bruises.
“You remember what I said last time?” Wooyoung snaps his hooded eyes back to yours, his expression hard to read.
“I do.” You laugh a little. “You’re not going to spit at me again are you?” Wooyoung and Yunho exchange a glance and stifle a laugh.
“Where’s your leader?” Yunho questions, venom laced in his voice.
“Awww… do I not count?” You force a smile and feel Yeosang take a helpless step forward behind you before you see San fight his way through the crowd. He shoves his way forward and puts himself between you and Wooyoung. You have to peep over San’s massive shoulder to keep eye contact.
“San! Good to see you.” Wooyoung doesn’t smile but you watch as San’s shoulders shimmy with a laugh.
“Can I help you with anything?” San says. You feel his hand reach around push you further behind him. You roll your eyes.
“What! I can’t say hello to my good friends?” Wooyoung laughs this time. He looks around San and at the rest of the crew, who continue to listen. The crew had grown in size by two since the last competition. “You don't see many mixed gender crews here.” Wooyoung’s eyes land on you again.
“We have the best dancers.” San concludes without sparing a glance at his crew behind him. Wooyoung opens his mouth to respond but his head jerks to look past San.
“San!-” Haewon’s voice behind you makes you turn around. Blue flashing lights are visible through the entrance door signaling the arrival of law enforcement. The crowd went from casual chatter to urgent yelling. Attendees began to push in all directions in search of an entrance that didn’t lead to a misdemeanor of trespassing. The lights and music snapped off and anxiety surged through the crowd.
“Yeosang take them!” You hear San yell over the chaos. You pull your phone from your pocket in search of any light. Suddenly you feel someone push through the crowd and San’s hand leaves your hip. The person crashes into you and sends your phone flying with you stumbling after it.
Your phone clatters to the ground and you watch helplessly in dim light as someone steps on it and shatters the screen in one swoop. You're on your hands and knees and people continue to push in all directions. You reach for your phone in any attempt of safety. When you have it, the crowd thickens and it feels impossible to stand up without any help.Your knee throbs and sends shooting pain that resonates from your foot to your head.
“San!” You yell but your voice meets a pit of nothing as people continue to scream and push. “San!” You yell again. Someone mistakenly kicks your head. Your vision blurs but you push again to try and stand up.
Suddenly, two hands grab your waist and yank you upwards onto your feet.
“Can you walk?” A mysterious voice that did not belong to San says in your ear. You stumble and grab onto your throbbing head. Your single step on your bad leg results in you nearly crumbling to the floor again.
Without warning, the mysterious person grabs underneath your knees and sweeps you up into their arms. The crowd continues to swirl around you as your hero pushes through in an attempt to exit out the back door.
A burst of cold air hits your face as you finally emerge. You force your eyes open only to see that everyone continued to run into the woods behind the warehouse. Police lights still flooded the area and illuminated everyone as they ran away. With the help of the blue light you’re finally able to identify your savior.
Wooyoung’s long hair brushed gently against your forehead as he gripped you closer and desperately searched for anyone he recognized.
“Shit, Wooyoung put me down.” You push against him, your tongue in your throat as you feel queasy from pain. Wooyoung ignored you as he pushed into the surrounding woods. “Wooyoung please, I need to know where my crew is.” You push again.
“Chill for a second y/n. I don’t know where my crew is either. Yunho!” Wooyoung yelled for Yunho into the woods as loud as he could and continued to search for any sign of anyone familiar as he pushed further into the forest. The crowd of escapees slowly began to dissipate as he continued to push further. As if things couldn’t get any worse, an ice cold rain began to drizzle from the sky.
You were surprised that Wooyoung knew your name, let alone care enough to drag you out of there.
Wooyoung abruptly stopped in a clearing. Shouting was still apparent in the distance and police lights continued to flash in the sky. Wooyoung leaned and gently propped your feet onto the ground and supported you into a standing position.
Your head throbbed but not as bad as your legs. You swayed on your feet as a white hot pain seeped through your body. You grit your teeth as you reach forward for your knee. The pain was so intense it was almost numbing.
“Woah.” Wooyoung grabs your shoulder again. “Hey do you have your phone to call anyone?” You attempt to straighten yourself but instead sway backwards and Wooyoung has to grab you again. “Y/n please. My phone was in Yunho’s bag.” You finally upright yourself and put your hands out as if to grab an invisible table and stabilize yourself. “Y/n you’re freaking me out.” You don’t respond again and instead try to wipe your wet hair away from your forehead.
“My knee.” Is all you can whimper. Something didn’t feel right but you didn’t have the guts to accept that yet. Wooyoung sighs next to you and looks around exasperatedly. It takes him a second, but he bends down and then picks you up again. He carries you for a few more feet before helping you sit down at a tree. He takes a seat next to you.
“Y/n I need you to focus.” Wooyoung’s voice is right in your ear. His perfect face is etched with concern for his crew, and maybe a little bit for you. His long hair is pressed against his forehead and dripping down his perfectly toned muscles.
“My phone, it broke.” You continue to stare straight ahead but reach for your phone in your hidden shorts pocket. Sure enough there was a giant shatter right in the center of the screen. Wooyoung gently takes it from your hand and gingerly looks at it from every angle. You lean your head against the tree and close your eyes.
You hear Wooyoung attempting to use your phone next to you. He’s tapping at the screen and yelling for siri.
“Hey y/n, please don’t close your eyes. I don’t want to deal with that.” You jump awake as Wooyoung shakes your shoulder and pushes your hair behind your ear. “Yunho!” He yells into the black abyss of the forest again. The sound makes you cringe from your oncoming migraine.
“Please don’t yell.” You mumble. You shield your eyes with your forearm so you don't have to look at the gorgeous boy next to you. Wooyoung sighs and folds his arms next to you. “Did you see if Yeosang got the crew out?” You manage to say.
“Y/n. I hate to break it to you but I didn’t see anything aside from you absolutely eating shit and falling.” Wooyoung huffs.
“What about San?” Your next question doesn’t get any form of response. You move your forearm to steal a glance at Wooyoung. He’s looking at you with a crease of anger painted across his brow. “Okay sorry.”
The clearing illuminates as your phone lights up. You both jump and it’s Wooyoung’s turn to fumble with the phone. A familiar photo of Yeosang is visible on your phone screen as Wooyoung carefully swipes to answer.
“Y/n! Where are you?” Yeosang yells through the phone.
“Yeosang!” You gasp and sit up. You lean over Wooyoung to hear Yeosang better. The other line is a commotion of voices that you recognize desperately trying to talk to you. You try to ignore Wooyoung roll his eyes.
“Y/n Whe- a- … ou?” The line cuts in and out.
“Yeosang! We’re in the woods? Where are you?” You lean further to speak into the phone.
“We- … fine. A- … together.. Wh- ar-... with?” Yeosang’s voice continues to chop its way through your phone.
“Yeosang have you seen anyone from Fiery?” Wooyoung interjects. The line goes dead for several heartbeats.
“Wooyoung?” You hear San’s familiar voice through the phone.
“San!” You breathe a sigh of relief. Your head brushes Wooyoung’s shoulder. You both flinch away,
“St-... ere. We’ll …. To you.” San attempts to say. Without warning your phone dies and darkness takes over the clearing once again.
“Fuck me dude!” Wooyoung yelps. A sudden burst of energy jumps through you and you brace yourself in an attempt to stand. You can’t bend your leg at all and the other struggles against the sudden weight.
“Wooyoung help me up.” You say between struggles.
“Did you not hear your boyfriend? He said to stay here so he can save the day.” Wooyoung grumples as he slumps against the tree, fully accepting the rain.
“He is not my boyfriend.” You snap. Wooyoung inclines his head toward you inquisitively. He watches you struggle for a moment before standing up himself. He offers a hand. You sway again.
“Y/n you are not walking anywhere.” Wooyoung groans as he watches you attempt a step.
“Shut up I’m fine.” You steadily begin to inch forward cautiously. Wooyoung huffs again, but continues to follow you as you inch forward. “We’ll find Yunho too, don't worry.” You manage to say between steps, getting more confident. Wooyoung doesn’t answer.
Several minutes pass as you creep towards what you presume to be the edge of the forest. A yell bursts through the silence in the distance. You both stop. Wooyoung grabs your arm with an iron grip as you both anxiously await a second noise.
“Wooyoung!” A distant voice erupts again. Wooyoung instantly lights up.
“Yunho!” He runs forward a few steps before turning back to look at you.
“Go ahead, I'm fine.” You manage to say between labored steps.
“I’m not leaving you, stupid.” Wooyoung signs and returns to your side. He slings your arm around his shoulder and shrinks to your size so he can support your more painful steps. You do your best not to focus on his arm gripping your waist protectively.
Wooyoung and Yunho continued to yell back and forth every few steps with Wooyoung attempting to cover your ears when he yells but often forgetting.
You both burst through the edge of the forest and see Yunho from the Fiery crew painted with anxiety. Yunho runs to Wooyoung with his arms outstretched. Wooyoung glances at you and neglects to move your arm but still greets Yunho with a side hug.
“Are you all okay?” Wooyoung pauses walking but continues to support your full weight. Yunho can’t help but stare in confusion but catches himself.
“Y-yeah, we’re all fine.” He rips his eyes from you. “The Sanity crew were behind us.” He motions his head to you.
“Can you get them? She can’t stand.” Wooyoung said. You attempt to protest but realize you were fighting your eyelids again. Every step further was a step of labor and pain. You needed nothing more but to lay down. Between blinks you watched as Yunho dashed through the trees again. You both continue to inch forward.
“Wooyoung… I can’t.” You stop and start to sway again.
“Stop… C’mon.” Wooyoung barely spares you a glance but continues to pull you forward, his hand on your waist. “We’re almost there.” He says again, half to you half to himself.
You hear rustling up ahead in the distance but continue to put your full weight into Wooyoung. There were voices rapidly approaching. Suddenly two guys crashed through the trees.
“Y/n!” San practically yelled and ran to you, not sparing Wooyoung a second glance. You smile through heavy eyelids.
“Carefull, she can’t stand.” Wooyoung precautioned quietly. San reached for you, his hands finding your hips but Wooyoung still neglected to take his hand from your waist.
“I’ve got her, it’s okay.” San finally addressed Wooyoung, but only glanced at him. He wrapped his jacket over your shoulder then slung his arm under your knees, pulling you from Wooyoung’s protective grasp. You gasped in pain but the release of your own weight proved to be just what you needed.
You tucked your head into San’s shoulder and looked over at Wooyoung. Yunho was by his side and checking on him, but you were the only thing he was looking at. Concern still obviously painted his face as he watched San carry you away. He was chewing on his lips as his eyebrows knit themselves together. He continued to watch until you were no longer visible.
[6:21 PM]
A few days had passed since your bizarre encounter in the woods with the rival team. Your teammates hadn’t pressed for details aside from assuring that you were safe and comfortable. San hadn't mentioned Wooyoung since he pulled you from his arms days earlier.
You finally finished your routine of closing at the cafe when you pulled the door shut. The pain in your knees had become a constant dull throb that persisted throughout the day any time you were on your feet. Practice would continue as usual tonight in preparation for the rescheduled competition that was due to occur the upcoming weekend.
The sun was just beginning to set against the autumn sky when an out of routine voice called out from behind you.
“Y/n… hey.” You whip around to see the dangerously beautiful Fiery crew leader. Wooyoung had dark circles beneath his uneven eyelids, his hair was pulled black with a wire headband, and he had a zip up sweater zipped up to his chin. You fight off a nervous wave of bile that piles in your chest at the unexpected sight of the boy from your night in the forest. You clutch your bag tighter and eye him up and down curiously. “I should have given this to you earlier.”
He extends his hand like an olive branch. In it, your smashed phone from the night prior. You had already wasted a whole paycheck replacing your phone, unsure of where the totaled one had gone. The screen was still smashed but your pink case sparkled in the setting sun.
“I… tried to charge it but it might be too fucked up.” Wooyoung says bashfully. He scratches the back of his head when you take the phone, still eyeing him curiously. You both stare at each other for a second, the silence hanging over you like a thick blanket.
“I have to go to practice.” You turn on your heel and attempt to walk away from Wooyoung.
“Practice? He’s making you practice on your knees?” Wooyoung quickly matches pace with you. He’s looking at you inquisitively but you still refuse to grant him any eye contact.
“My knees are fine.” You dismiss.
“You’re limping. Y/n.” You cringe at his statement. While your team refused to comment on your time with Wooyoung, they also refused to comment on your obvious pain. Even San preferred to look away as you hobbled to your starting position.
“I’m fine.” You say again. Wooyoung grabs your arm forcing you to a stop.
“I better not see you dancing this weekend like that.” He bends slightly, forcing you to finally hold his eye contact. You notice a small mole below his left eye, something that wasn’t visible in the dark. You also notice an identical mole on his protruding bottom lip. It’s endearing but you refuse to admit it. He notices you looking and takes a miniscule step back. “I’m serious.”
“Or what?” You force a smile. He shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re injured and it’s crazy that San is making you dance like this.” Wooyoung folds his arms. Your face hardens.
“San isn’t making me do anything. You’re forgetting that I’m a captain for Sanity too.” You grip your bag again. Wooyoung’s eyes flicker to your plush keychain hanging from the strap. He reaches for it and squeezes it in his hands. It’s a plush black cat with a red collar. You pull back.
“We’re twinning.” He says quietly. He reaches for the hem of his sweater and pulls it up ever so slightly. Your breath hitches at the sliver of his toned tummy, but your eyes finally focus on an identical black cat keychain hanging from his belt loop. He drops the sweater.
“I’ll see you Saturday Wooyoung.” You breathe out. Forcing your eyes back to his. He presses his lips into a fine line and lets a sigh out from his nose.
“Right. See you then.” And with that, he was gone. Your new phone buzzes with a notification.
Jiwoowoo: Hey!! Wya!!!
y/n: Heading to the studio now. You’ll never believe who I just talked to…. WOOYOUNG.
Jiwoowoo: girl. Fr?
y/n: he gave me my old phone back.
Jiwoowoo: That's it?
y/n: he told me to stop dancing and let my knee heal. It was weird.
Jiwoowoo: he’s trying to get in your head. Don’t let it affect you!
y/n: true. Don’t tell San why I’m late.
Jiwoowoo: I won’t I promise… Do you like wooyoung?? That time in the woods had to have done something.
y/n: shut up jiwoo. I hate wooyoung!
Jiwoowoo: righttttttt. See you soon!
[10:01PM]
The past few days blurred past with your mind preoccupied. All you could think about was your strange encounter with Wooyoung. Your late nights of stalking his profile resulted in nothing new as his profile had gone completely dead, no new posts or stories. All you were able to find was a single story post from Yunho. It was a mirror selfie with Wooyoung in the background. His shirt was absent and his hair was once again pulled away from his face in a loose ponytail. Wooyoung was caught dragging his hand through his hair, his face once again knitted together in what looked like concern. Yunho captioned the photo with ‘he’s distracted.’
As your team approached the new venue for this month’s competition, the crowd teemed with anxiety. Not only fear of once again being ratted out from the police, but an obvious tension hung in the air. Everyone was anxious to dance and the crowd was quieter than it had been a week ago. A strong sense of deja vu hit you like a truck as you looked down at your familiar performance outfit.
Your team had split off to start stretching against the far wall. San insisted that you come with to check in your crew. You both were standing at a rickety white table and watched as the organizer typed in your information. You hear a scoff and look up to see two familiar faces. San slinks a protective arm around your shoulder as he notices them too.
Wooyoung’s eyes are filled with fire when they lock with yours. Wooyoung had on his familiar maroon pants from last week, but instead of his tank top he wore a large bomber jacket. His shiny black hair was tucked behind his ears, showing off his rows of piercings. His eyes don’t stop to peruse your frame as they normally do, instead he intentionally tries to catch your eyes. When he does he shakes his head slightly. No words are exchanged when San pulls you away and back to the Sanity crew.
[11:22 PM]
Immeasurable anxiety coated your team as you finally took your places for your routine. You and San both neglected to mention your encounter with Wooyoung and Yunho in an attempt to keep the team excited. Behind you, you feel Haewon squeeze your hand once in quiet assurance. You turn to see San, already looking at you. He smiles quickly and winks.
You face the judges table. The Fiery crew has just performed before you. They had danced to Don’t Tease Me, just as San had predicted. Not a single step had been missed. The flips were executed perfectly, and the performance ended with Wooyoung in the center. His muscles had glinted with the sheen of sweat coating them, a smug grin on his face. The Fiery crew now stood behind the judges table, observing Sanity through glares.
A numeric countdown sounded over the speakers, and soon Hit by Seventeen blasted over the speakers. Your legs instantly began to carry you through your routine. Despite every step aching and exploding with pain, a smile formed on your voice. This was undoubtedly your favorite place to be.
The crowd chanted the lyrics and encouraged your crew with every beat. With every dance break the crowd seemed to surge in energy. The energy made the anxiety in your stomach dissipate with every surge. Before you knew it it was time for your finale. San caught your eyes quickly, his face flooded with reassurance. You spotted Yeosang bent to one knee, ready to support your weight.
Without hesitation you leapt forward. Your good leg catapulted off of Yeosang into the direction of San’s waiting hands. Your leg met his hands, but faltered slightly. The familiar shooting pain ricocheted through your entire leg. Something felt off.
You were still in the air when you realized you had flipped too far. Your feet were too far behind your head to catch you in your landing position upright. You folded your knees inwards and braced for the impact.
You crashed to the ground. Upright. But your full weight slingshotted into your bad knee as it was the only thing that caught you from falling to your face. The crowd erupted, unaware that the performance had ended unlike it was supposed to. Tears instantly welled in your eyes and your vision began to blur with pain. You look to the judge table.
The judges were smiling, oblivious to your accident. A swell of pride was almost enough to conquer the rising pain in your body, but then you locked eyes with him.
Wooyoung had his hands in his hair, his face pulled back in a grimace. It was obvious he was aware of the mistake. Any perfectly trained dancer would be. His eyes were on fire with rage as he watched your team gather for bows. You rip your eyes from his snide face and plant both hands firmly on the ground.
Your knees buckle when you attempt to stand. You yelp in pain, your voice lost in the cheers. An arm quickly loops around yours and yanks you upward. Your feet scream in protest as they begin to support your weight again. You instantly lift your bad leg off of the ground in a crutch like style in an attempt to ward off some of the pain. San is next to you, pulling you down in a bow. The crowd erupted again.
“San… Please.” You whisper, tears welling up in your eyes once more. You're unsure if your plea for help was drowned out in the applause again but you force your bad leg down, despite your knee screaming.
Your crew swarms around you, patting your back and head. Not ready to acknowledge the mistake yet. San continues to help support you as your crew shuffles back to your claimed waiting area and the next crew takes a stage. Even from behind Yeosang’s tall frame you can see as Wooyoung is quickly approaching you.
You watch in horror as he swerves around Yeosang and plants himself firmly in front of you and San. His eyes are still on fire.
“Why would you make her dance?” Wooyoung shoves his face into San’s. Yunho is instantly behind him, grabbing his arm in an attempt to quell any anger that may be about to explode.
“What do you mean?” San raises a defiant eyebrow and matches Wooyoung’s energy instantly. He drops his arm from yours and instead keeps both of them at his side.
“She’s obviously hurt. You insufferable piece of shit made her do that -” Wooyoung started, jabbing a finger at you.
“Wooyoung.” Yunho’s calm commanding voice breaks his friend's tirade.
“What the fuck is your problem?” San challenges Wooyoung by taking a step forward. The two men are almost so close that their foreheads bump.
“Y/n let's go.” Yeosang whispers in your ear and attempts to pull you away.
“Stop! Leave me here.” You protest and shrug out of his grip.
“My problem is that you’re so full of yourself you’re letting your team kill themselves just in an attempt to fill your ego.” Wooyoung spat. His words fly through you like a bullet. San had always had a commanding leader presence. Your crew respected him in that manner. But he clearly had an issue separating his passion from his life. San’s cheeks burn red.
“Fuck you. Fuck you Wooyoung.” Is all he said. He breaks eye contact to look around. The rest of the Sanity crew had departed under Yeosang’s orders. You were the only one who remained. All eyes snap to you. You watch as Yunho’s eyes widen in shock. You look down at your knees.
Both knees were dripping in blood from your impromptu collision with the uneven ground. Your black knee brace was beginning to soak up the blood while the other uncovered knee was left to bleed out into your boot. You sway at the sight.
Wooyoung’s arm juts out to catch you. San repeats the motion on the opposite side.
“Stop… I’m fine.” You shrug out of both of their grips. “Can I have some time to myself.” You direct the last part towards San. He gnaws his lip, angry at Wooyoung and angry at your inability to back him up in this situation. He nods.
“You two.” You point at San and Wooyoung. “Seperate.” With that you turn around and beeline for the bathroom in the far corner of the facility. You wipe your knees as you walk, nervous that if anyone on the judges panel caught sight of the blood your team would earn negative points for the well hidden mistake.
You push into the dim bathroom. The lights droned off white. The thick metal door offered some cushion from the blaring music that had started back up outside. The bathroom was thankfully empty, which allowed for you to yank the paper towel roll from its holder and begin to clump the paper towel around your knees. Cursing to yourself as tears begin to flood down your cheeks.
Every inch of your body screamed in protest. You wish for nothing more than to leave this disaster and go home. You steal a glance in the mirror and catch your eyeliner streaking down your cheeks. You curse and fight to comb your hair and wipe your cheeks.
Your back is facing the door when you hear it push open.
“Haewon… not now please.” You say quietly, but hear no response. You look over your shoulder. Wooyoung stands nervously by the door, looking around the bathroom. “What the fuck? Isn’t this the girl’s bathroom?” You accuse. He doesn’t respond but instead clinks the lock to the left. Locking you both inside.
“Come to finish me off then?” You swallow a lump of anxiety and instead give your attention back to your swelling knees. So not ready to have him see you like this. You were nearly positive that San was on Wooyoung’s heels and would be breaking down the door any second.
“Are you okay?” Wooyoung says quietly, almost too quiet to hear. You don’t respond. Instead you entirely ignore him. Confident that if you don’t give him the attention he so badly deserved, then he would take the sign to disappear.
You catch your face in the mirror again. It was a mess not only were you now coated with tears but sweat dripped down your forehead. You wipe your cheeks again. The heat suddenly unbearable, you rip off your show jacket. You were now only in your dancing bra.
“I uh… here.” Wooyoung breaks your self declared silence by taking a step forward. From the corner of your eye you see your familiar black purse. Your black cat plush keychain dangled from the strap. You shoot him a quizzing look that you hoped carried needles with it. You snatch the bag.
“Jiwoo gave it to me.” He admitted. You curse, surprised your teammate would so easily hand over your bag. You were positive she was absolutely smitten by him and didn’t spare a second thought about handing over your personal belongings.
“Where’d San go.” You ask. Still confident that your best friend would be gnawing through the metal of the door any second now.
“He stormed off. That's why I followed you.” Wooyoung raises his hands in defense. You don’t stop him as he takes a step closer to you. He peers over your shoulder at your bleeding knees. “Wrap your jacket around that one.” He points at the leg without a brace. You glare at him again.
“It’ll staunch the bleeding. Look, that one is doing better.” He points at the knee with the brace. You don’t move for a few long seconds. Your body continued to ache with every breath. You hoist yourself up onto the counter. Wooyoung winces watching you struggle.
He slowly approaches and reaches a hand out for your jacket that was now balled in your hands.
“Please. I can’t.” You whisper. While you were nearly topless in front of Wooyoung, you couldn’t bear the idea of going topless in front of the crowd that lingered outside. You clutch the jacket to your chest. Wooyoung rolls his eyes. He quickly sheds his own jacket, revealing the uniform you recognized from last week,
Up close, the tank top hugged his muscles in a lethal way. His collarbones pushed through the straps as he wrapped his own jacket around your legs. You can’t help but to laugh at your overwhelming sense of deja vu that accompanies your alone time with wooyoung.
“We can’t keep meeting like this y/n.” Wooyoung leans against the counter. He’s just close enough for you to feel his breath on your chest.
“Why are you here?” You challenge him. Tears begin to slide down your cheeks. You’re defeated. Not only from your astronomical fumble. But from your crew’s absence. Despite needing alone time, alone time with anyone else right now would be preferred. Wooyoung raised your heart rate in a way that didn’t partner well with your aching body.
He doesn’t respond and instead watches you rummage through your bag. You sigh when you finally find your makeup wipes. You drag one across your face.
“I can’t check on you?” He whispers. You fight to roll your eyes.
“You don't know me Wooyoung.” You finish with the makeup wipe and weakly throw it in the trash. It misses and he laughs.
“Can I get to know you?” He fidgets with his fingers.
“I… don’t know.” You stammer. Your aching brain fatigued itself attempting to process what Wooyoung was saying. “It seems like you have a strange vendetta against my best friend.”
“Your boyfriend?” He coos.
“Wooyoung, please.” Your eyes were completely dry of any other tear that could possibly make another appearance.
“Sorry.” He quickly apologizes and the bathroom fills with silence again. He reaches out hesitantly and grabs your plush keychain that is still hanging from your purse. He strokes it quietly with his thumb.
“Why do you hate San?” You watch as he plays with the keychain.
“Just stupid stuff.” He mumbles a response quickly. You turn your head to look at him, eyebrow raised. “We used to dance at the same studio, just ego stuff.” He shakes his head. You nod, unsure of what else to say. “You should go back out there. They’ll announce the winners soon.” He breaks the silence.
“I don’t want to see my team’s reaction.” A lump forms in your throat. Wooyoung’s reaction made you realize that your mistake may not have gone over the judges head.
“Sanity is going to take first place again. You guys exploded.” Wooyoung actually chuckles as he says this. He rubs his forehead.
“I fell in front of the judges, Wooyoung.”
“But you covered it up well.” He tries to defend your mistake, not oblivious to your quivering voice. His hand is still in your lap, fidgeting with your plush keychain. You watch as the tattoo on his forearm flexes with every moment.
“If I covered it so well why did you react like that?” This catches him off guard. He pauses for a moment, fighting for a response.
“I was only watching you… y/n. The judges were watching the team. Not you.” He defends.
“Great.” You say numbly. Silence falls over the bathroom once more. You can’t help but stare at his forearm tattoo.
It was gorgeous. You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but the lines were intricate and done immaculately well. You can’t stop from reaching out to touch it. Wooyoung freezes at your touch. You can’t help but to trace the lines in an attempt to map out the design, knowing it may very well be the last you ever see it. Wooyoung gently rested his cheek on the top of your head, not protesting the intimacy.
The bathroom door suddenly jiggled, pulling you both from your trance.
“Occupied!” Wooyoung yells, the person on the other side yanks one last time before scuttling away. You laugh as wooyoung leans his head back, his black hair cascading around his shoulders.
“I should go.” You say, half to yourself. You begin to remove Wooyoung’s jacket from your knee, which had already started to scab over. You sit up straight.
“There’s still time till the winner is announced.” Wooyoung suddenly whines. Your breath hitches as you turn to look at him. A stray strand of his jet black hair hangs in front of his eyes.
“I need to go home.” You protest.
“How did you get here?” He questions.
“Yeosang drove a few of us.”
“I’ll drive you.” Wooyoung regains his energy and springs up. He backs away and watches as you attempt to descend from the counter gracefully and without pain. He gives up watching you struggle, and instead grabs your hips, lifting you upward before gently placing you back onto the ground.
“And leave your team?” You protest, ignoring his act of kindness.
“They’re big boys, they can handle it.” He winks. Your breath hitches and you have to look away from his utterly perfect face to preserve your sanity. “Text your crew. I’ll drive you home then swing back.” You can’t help but grumble as you pull out your new phone. His jacket is still slung over your arm. You open Sanity’s group chat.
I’m going INSANITY
y/n: hey!!! So sorry yall but I keep throwing up. I’ve called an uber home. Love you all lots you all killed it today. See you soon for a celebration xxx
Hae: what?? Pls feel better y/n. You killed it today please don’t dwell on our routine! You still absolutely killed it.
Yeosang: I can drive if you want
y/n: no worries, uber already on the way.
Jiwoowoo: :(
Sanni: please text when you’re home. I’ll keep you updated w the score.
y/n: love you all.
You close your phone and tuck it into your bag. You look up to see that wooyoung had taken a few steps back. He was looking at you in the way you hated. His eyes slowly dragged down from your chest and lingered at your hips, quietly observing your tattoo that hung just above your wasteland before it dipped down.
“What’s your tattoo?” He points to your hip. You roll your eyes and tug your show jacket back on.
“Take your jacket Wooyoung.” You shoved it towards his direction. He holds his hands up.
“No way. It’s got Y/n cooties on it.” He smiles, venom dripping from his voice. His tongue traced his teeth.
“Whatever. I’ll clean it and give it back later.” You mumble.
“So you’re seeing me again?” He beams and it becomes apparent that he is the human embodiment of the moon. His smile gleams with passion.
“Fuck off Wooyoung. Are you taking me home or not?” You felt bad for that one, but was in too much pain for his sudden antics. Wooyoung takes a step forward again. He tentatively reaches forward to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. His hand lands on your earring. He plays with the star shape in his fingertips and smiles gingerly.
“Twinning again.” He turns his head to the left to reveal the same earring. You smile this time. It was his turn to turn away. He breaks contact and quickly unlocks the door. He sticks his head out, and quickly looks around before offering you a hand. “C’mon. Let's hurry.” You stare at his outstretched hand. You wait long enough for him to pull his head back inside and look at you. He shakes his hand.
You can’t help but roll your eyes when you take his hand. With that he was pulling you through the crowd. The crowd parted easily with his commanding presence. You ducked your head for fear of being recognized as he sped through the crowd. Your forehead brushes his bicep as it flexed. Your began to almost enjoy being Wooyoung’s shadow before you finally reached the outside air. Wooyoung had dragged you to a black Nissan with dark windows. He opened the passenger door with a smug smile.
“Lose the smile Wooyoung.” You grumble and you slide into the nice leather seat. He closes the door behind you and saunters to the driver's seat. He cranks the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life.
“Where to?” Wooyoung purrs, he smirks at you. His smile sends electric ice shockwaves through your heart. You stare at him, mouth agape. His rings glisten in the dim light as he turns the steering wheel. You stumble out your address.
The car ride began in silence. You noticed Wooyoung’s eyes as they wandered from the road and landed on you. He repeated this act several times.
“Wooyoung -“ you begin, but don’t have any intention of finishing your sentence. His breath audibly catches.
“Remember what I asked in the bathroom?” He closes the gap of silence. You tilt your head. The bathroom was already very much a blur. Your vision clouded with Wooyoung’s defiant smirk and fresh tears.
“You said a lot of thing.” He laughs at the last bit. You watch as Wooyoung tentatively reaches over the middle partition and lightly places his hand on your knee. It didn’t feel sensual. It felt protective.
“Would you ever allow me to get to know you?” He smiles again. He turns the car with a single hand, and steals another glance at you.
“eyes on the road. freak.” You laugh to yourself but every inch of your body burns. Nothing hurt anymore, you just yearned for his presence. Desired him inside of you. You needed him. But just not for tonight. You wanted him forever. You bite your tongue.
“Well?” He doesn’t look at you this time.
“I….” You fight every inch of your body that’s screaming yes. San and your friends flash in your mind and a pit of cold anxiety washes over you. “I don’t know, Wooyoung.”
His jaw clenched and his foot punched on the gas. You jerk backwards with the acceleration. His hand tightens every so slightly on your thigh. He drifts down the familiar road of your apartment. Your mind races.
He jerks the car to a halt and yanks the keys from the ignition. He doesn’t say anything as he walks to your door and opens it. You nervously look up at him. His jaw is tight, and expression impossible to read.
“Will… you help me upstairs?” You ask. It was stupid. Pathetic even. A disastrous attempt to not let your time with Wooyoung end. His eyes shift. His hand juts out, palm up. You take in gingerly.
“Which one.” He whispers. Eyes no longer in yours. If you knew any better you could hear a quiver in his voice. You point feebly to the stairs in front of you, wrapping your arm around his neck. his arm around your waist is electric.
He grips you like you might run away at any moment. With every step he turns to pull you up. You remain quiet as he gently lifts you upstairs. At the top of the stairs, the light outside your door has gone out.
The corner was dark, save for the protruding streetlights. You turn to look at Wooyoung, who now seemed unsure. He shifted uneasily on his feet. His dark hair hung in front of his face.
You reach to brush it behind his ears. He looks up, eyes nearly glistening. He smiles weakly.
“For what it’s worth, y/n… I’ve always loved watching you dance. If it weren’t for you I would have completely ignored the sanity crew.” Your heart catches in your throat.
“Wooyoung. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.” You whisper.
“Then don’t.” He pleads. His arms find your arms and pull you closer.
“I.. I can’t.” You utter. Your allegiance to Sanity hung by a thread in this moment. The crew felt like your family. They’d been there for you in your absolutely worst. How would they react if you got with the leader of your rival crew.
“Are you choosing him over me?” Wooyoung was inches away from your face. His breath ticketed on your lips. His lip mole was visible. You smile.
“It’s not like that Wooyoung really.” He doesn’t hesitate after this response. His lips crash into yours and there’s no hesitation from either party.
A moan escapes your throat as he gently backs you into your apartment door. His hands start in your hair and travel down your body. They feel everything. He stops at your hips to pull them into his own. Your hands find his chest and rest on his pecs in a mock protest.
His lips part yours and his tongue inches into your mouth. Your teeth clink against one another. His body relaxes into yours. Nothing hurts anymore. The anxiety has completely despaired. He smiles against your lips.
You both separate and Wooyoung instantly tucks his mouth into your neck and begins to nibble and suck. His hand now rests between your thighs. Your hands finds his long hair and brush your hair through it.
“Wooyoung.” You moan and fight for air as he continues to attack your neck. His hand flutters between your thighs. He pulls one of your legs up and wraps it around his body.
“I’d do anything to make this last forever… anything for you y/n.” Your heart catapults into your stomach. “Please…” he moans this last bit. You close your eyes.
“Wooyoung” You start again and pull his hair slightly. He moans again and you laugh. He pulls away and rests his head on your chest, his dark orbs peer up at you. He kisses you from your chest up to your chin and crashes his needy lips into yours once more.
The kiss only lasts for a few seconds before he unlinks himself from your arms and straightens himself. Your heart rate pumps through your ears as you fight to catch your breath.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous.” Wooyoung kisses you again on your cheek. His hand laces with yours gently. You breath an anxious sigh of relief.
Wooyoung takes a step back. His dark eyes sweep over your body one last time, and land on your face. He reaches out to swipe your lips with his thumb.
“I’ll see you later… y/n”
With that, he darted down the stairs into the dark.
[1:32 AM]
Several months had passed since your night with Wooyoung. You hated him. Your body tensed when Haewon mentioned him. Not because he was the leader of Fiery, but because he left you by your door all those nights ago.
Wooyoung’s social media had gone silent. No posts or stories had been made. He made no mysterious cameos in Yunho's story either. While the Fiery crew had continued posting regular covers, the boy with long black hair was noticeably absent.
Your heart ached at the thought of your last encounter. The feeling of his calloused hands on your hips and the feeling of his plush lips burning into your head. You cursed your inability to find the courage and reach out to him. You felt discarded to the side. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing during his drive away. When you’d try to ask Haewon what he looked like after he arrived back at the dance competition, she said he looked noticeably exhausted. She said he didn’t react when the Sanity crew had been awarded the victory.
After your win, the crew swore to take at least a month off. During this time you spent your days in agonizing pain. Not only from your knee injuries, but from the anxiety that came from waiting for wooyoung. Every phone notification brought new hope, followed by new pain. You’re only attempt to reach out came in an instagram reel you posted of yourself dancing to Sports Car by Tate McRae. in it, you wore his baggy bomber jaggy he left in your possession. This attempt of breaking no contact was nearly laughable months later.
the crew noticed you withdrew and changed over time. The grief of letting wooyoung leave you hangs over your head and you let it attack your self esteem. You’d cut your hair into short bangs and gotten new tattoos by the time Sanity resumed practices in preparation for another dance gathering.
Tonight, the crew insisted on dragging you to San’s apartment for a post practice celebration. The drinks flowed freely as you eyed the new trophy on San’s shelf.
Haewon asked a question a minute earlier that still hung in the air. “y/n, what ever happened with wooyoung?” the energy had been sucked out of the room. Everyone curiously turned to look as you gripped your drink between your balms. San sat beside you, he kept his head down by eyes trained on you. Your legs were draped over his.
“I… don’t want to talk about it.” You squeak. Jiwoo behind you sighs heavily. She’d let it slip that after San and Wooyoung’s fight a few months prior, Wooyoung had found her to ask for your bag.
“C’mon y/n. Obviously something has been bothering you.” Jiwoo protested. Next to you San sucked air in between his teeth and nodded slowly.
“The recovery physically has been a lot. That's all.” you offer. This was also true.
“You can tell us anything.” San spoke next, his voice was firm. His strong hand had found your ankle. You suck in a large burst of air.
“Nothing happened with Wooyoung. He checked on me like any friend would.” You conclude. end of story. your team unhappily accepts this answer and continues on with the idle chatter. San eventually left the couch you were perched on, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The overhanging cloud of misery had returned with the mention of his name. You were unable to discern if his going MIA was a result of not wanting you or something else. You felt sick.
[11:47 PM]
Another month had passed.
You still found yourself looking at Wooyoung’s profile late at night. Finger hovering over the message button. Fear of rejection kept you from ever following through.
Jiwoo and Haewon had insisted on dragging you out of the studio and to a nearby club, in a desperate attempt to help you forget this weird boy that you spent a single night with.
You hadn’t gone over details but it was clear that by the way you’d catch your breath at the mention of his name that something was up.
You wore a strapless denim mini dress. Drink in hand, Haewon and Jiwoo on both sides. A smile decorated everyone’s face as a deafening base pumped through the floor. You spun, letting the music and alcohol take your mind from your body.
As you spun, someone caught your eye.
A familiar talk face was laughing in the corner. Yunho was talking to some who’s back was turned towards you. You stopped in your tracks, fumbling a little with your clumsy steps.
Yunho was talking to someone with bleach blonde hair cropped short that wasn’t similar to your long haired wooyoung in any way.
Yunho catches your eyes through the crowd. His mouth moves quickly. The crowd swells in and out as the blonde man turns around.
You instantly recognize the uneven eye lids. Your knees go weak.
Haewon grabbed your elbow before you completely collapsed.
“Are you okay?” She yelled over the thumping music. You nod quickly and begin to pull away.
“I think I recognize someone!” You yell, pushing towards the corner you saw Yunho in moments earlier. The crowd seems to grow thicker the more you struggle.
People push back, others curse you out, others give you dirty looks. You had just a few more steps. You push forward. Just when you break through a swarm in the crowd, two hands catch your forearms. You look up to see a face you’d never forget.
“Wooyoung.” You breathe. Aside from his obvious change of hair, he looked different. He looked noticeably thinner and a new tattoo decorated his arm. He smiles. He’s wearing a loose white t shirt, and a plush black cat keychain dangled from his belt loop. You look down and notice an identical black cat keychain dangling from your purse still.
“Do you want to get out of here?” You can barely hear his voice over the pumping music. You nod.
Wooyoung gingerly takes your hand in his, and begins pulling you towards the glittering exit. The crowd parted easily for him, just as it had months prior.
When the cold hair hit your face, you snuck another look up at him. He pulls you down the alleyway next to the club. You turn to face him, words don’t form.
You reach up to brush his short bristled hair from his forehead. His once flowing black hair now barely brushed his eyebrows.
“You look different.” You murmur as he leans into your hand.
“Yeah…” is all he says before the tears start falling lightly from your eyes. He immediately notices and sweeps them away with his thumbs.
“Where have you been?” You demand. He grimaces.
“Around,” he offers but you don’t accept it. You push his hands from your face.
“Wooyoung you disappeared! I thought I imagined you!” Your cheeks flush red with this admittance. He bites the mole on his lip.
“Y/n…. no I just didn’t -“ He pauses.
“Didn’t want me?” you whisper, your voice trembling, the words like a dagger to your heart. His eyes widen, and without a second thought, he steps forward, his hand reaching out as if to catch you before you can fall apart.
“No. Not at all. Please, don’t say that, y/n. I swear, I’ve thought about you every single day.” His fingers run through his dyed hair, the same nervous gesture that makes you ache. Another sob wracks your body, and he looks at you, helpless. “I was scared... scared that you didn’t want this. That you’d be happier with someone else."
“Why would you think that?” You beg, your heart breaking even more. Wooyoung shrugs, the vulnerability in his eyes speaking louder than any words.
“I just... you seemed so happy with your crew,” he admits, and there's a hesitation in his voice, an unspoken fear in his gaze. His words hang heavy, and your stomach churns with the hint of jealousy, the name he’s too afraid to say. “San’s your best friend, right?”
“Stop it, Wooyoung. Please, don’t walk away from me again.” Your voice cracks, fighting to hold back the flood of tears. He pulls you into his arms, his warmth like a refuge, his head resting against yours as you tremble in his embrace.
“Is that what you really want?” he whispers, his voice so soft, so sincere, that it feels like a vow.
You pull him closer, your heart racing as you rest your cheek against his chest, your words barely audible but filled with every ounce of longing you've kept hidden.
“Yes,” you whisper, shaking, but this time, it’s not from fear it’s from the love that pours out with every heartbeat.
“Then I’ll never leave your side again, y/n. I swear it.” His words are a promise, sealed in the quiet between your breaths, a future more concrete than you were used to.
