Archive of Our Own

The first time Wooyoung comes across the term ‘AO3’ is while he’s live with San. They’re sitting in Wooyoung’s room, phone on his desk, Wooyoung sitting on his chair and spinning around absent mindedly while San lies starfish on Wooyoung’s bed. They’re talking about everything and nothing like they always do, the recent comeback and performances, the upcoming tour, what they’ve been up to outside of schedules, and answering questions the fans ask in the chat. 

The chat moves by fast, as it usually does. 

Are you coming to australia for the tour?!

please come to nz please please please

wooyoung theres something behind you

what songs r u gonna perform?

HELP wooyoung ur so pretty what the hell

Wooyoung answers what he can, eyes only catching every few messages. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna perform in Melbourne and Sydney,” he says. “It’s been forever since we’ve been to Australia. Sannie, when did we go last?”

“Like 2019 or something?” San says. “It was super early on I think, before covid and everything. Literally forever ago.”

Wooyoung grins as the messages rush past with excitement.

“We're super excited!” He says in response to a few words he catches a glimpse of. “I can't wait to see all our Australian atiny again, we've missed you guys!”

He sees San through the live nodding behind him. “You guys were so cool,” San says. “I wanna see a kangaroo. Or a wombat.”

“I wanna see a koala,” Wooyoung says. 

“You literally are a koala,” San counters, and before Wooyoung can respond with a comeback halfway between offended and flustered, the distant call of Hongjoong’s voice from elsewhere in the apartment makes itself known.

“Sannie!” Hongjoong’s muffled voice says. “Come help me out for a minute!”

San sighs. Wooyoung chuckles.

“I guess that’s my sign I need to go,” San says, lifting himself off Wooyoung’s bed. Wooyoung’s mind absently supplies him with the thought that his doona would smell like San now, and he promptly ignores it. 

San comes up to stand by Wooyoung, one hand resting on the back of the chair and the other on the desk, leaning slightly forward toward the phone. 

“By atiny~” he says, his usual charming grin landing on his face, eyes squinting in that cute way they always do when he smiles. “Hongjoong needs my help so I need to go now. Have fun with Wooyoungie,” he places a kiss on Wooyoung’s cheek before he retreats with a wave, tossing Wooyoung one last private grin that the live can’t see as he slips through the door and lets it fall shut behind him with a click.

When Wooyoung turns back to the live, still grinning in the way he can’t help when his members are physically affectionate with him, he first sees it. The message enters his vision and leaves it, swamped with other messages, in the blink of an eye.

SPRINTING to ao3 rn

It’s just a couple of letters and a number. It means nothing to him in the moment. But his brain files that message away for some reason. Before he can even think about it though he’s answering an atiny’s question about the last time they toured in Australia, and the moment is gone.

The second time Wooyoung comes across the term ‘AO3’ is on twitter during a brief moment of quiet between schedules. They’ve been doing a photoshoot all morning and are now en route to an interview, crammed in their two cars like normal. Wooyoung is sat with his head against the window, San’s thigh against his, as he scrolls through whatever posts his feed suggests for him.

He’s lurking, like he sometimes does, on a fake account. He likes to see what atiny are like in the space of the internet typically reserved for the fans and not the idols, what they thought of them, their comeback, their content. 

As usual, what he comes across is a little more… unhinged… than what he usually comes across in the spaces where both fans and idols interact. It isn’t unexpected. If anything Wooyoung finds it quite entertaining, be it memes, edits and everything in between. 

The next post he scrolls to contains that phrase again.

type of yaoi you only find in the ao3 trenches

Attached is a picture of Wooyoung and San. They’re playing the pepero game, San’s hand on Wooyoung’s neck and Wooyoung cupping San’s cheek, barely a centimetre between their mouths. Wooyoung remembers the feeling, the moment, like it was yesterday (to be fair it was only two weeks ago).

It takes a moment for him to realise the term ‘ao3’ is familiar. Where had he seen it before? And what does ‘yaoi’ mean?

Before he even has time to mull over it the car pulls into a park and San is leaning over Wooyoung to open the door, the twitter post forgotten as they stumble out of the car in a tangle of limbs.

The third time Wooyoung comes across the term ‘AO3’ is on twitter again. It’s late, they’ve finished their schedules for the day, he’s showered, done his skin care, and is lying in bed doomscrolling before he goes to sleep. 

He’s lurking again, in atiny twitter. 

He comes across a post containing two photos. One of Seonghwa from Deja Vu, and one of Hongjoong from one of their older concerts in an incredibly pirate-like outfit.

pirate joong and siren hwa PLEASE

Wooyoung, intrigued, opens the replies. 

someone drop the fics im BEGGING you

Wooyoung scrolls to the next reply, which has a link attached to it.

i read this one on ao3 it was AMAZING:

There it is again. ‘AO3’. What is this ‘AO3’ that fans keep mentioning?

Wooyoung knows it’s probably a terrible idea to click the link. Rule number one of internet safety or something. 

He clicks it anyway.

He is immediately transported to a new website, red banner up the top followed by a box full of information. He spots Hongjoong’s name in it, Seonghwa’s name, his own name and the rest of the members. His eyes skim the information, overwhelmed and confused by the layout.

Under the box is a title. Some fancy looking long English word he’s never heard before. He doesn’t even bother trying to pronounce it. Then under a second, smaller name that looks to be some sort of username, ‘summary’.

“Kim Hongjoong is the infamously feared captain of the pirate ship Aurora. Seonghwa is a siren, swimming the oceans alone, with a voice powerful enough to bewitch anyone who crosses his path. So what happens when their paths cross?” Wooyoung reads the summary out loud, beneath his breath. What is this? It sounds like some sort of story. Do atiny write stories about them?

Ever the curious cat, Wooyoung decides to scroll. He’s interested now. Incredibly interested. What has he been missing on the atiny side of the internet?

When Wooyoung finishes the story two hours later, he has no idea what to think. It was weird. But also interesting. But also weird. The writing was good. The story was good. The images of Hongjoong and Seonghwa kissing that had now been placed in Wooyoung’s mind were weird. He isn’t sure how to feel about it.

Closing the website, Wooyoung puts his phone on his bedside table, laying back down on the pillow. He tries to forget about the story. He needs sleep. They have a decently early morning tomorrow. Sleep will help wash this weird feeling off him. When he wakes, he’ll hopefully have forgotten all about it. 

The next morning Wooyoung very much has not forgotten about it. Subconsciously, he finds himself watching Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s interactions all day. Where the fans might have read into their dynamic that they had something like… that… going on between them. 

He hates that he kinda sees it.

It feels like watching a car crash in slow motion when later that night, Wooyoung opens twitter again. He switches to his lurking account. He slowly, tentatively types in ‘ateez ao3’ into the search bar. His thumb hesitates over the search button. He presses it. He holds his breath as the results load.

He clicks the first link he sees. It takes him to the same style page as last night. He thinks the stuff in the box at the top is different, but there's a lot of words there and he isn’t sure what most of them mean so he can’t be sure. He spots his name again in the box though. And San’s. And Yeosang’s. And Jongho’s. And the rest of the members. He thinks they might be in a different order to yesterday though. 

He skims the summary. His brain is a little too frazzled to interpret what any of the words mean, but he sees his and San’s names there. And something about the Lemon Drop comeback.

He starts reading.

Wooyoung doesn’t even manage to finish this one.

It’s weird, reading about himself. About himself falling in love. With one of his friends. With San. 

It’s weirder when story him and San confess their undying love to each other and start making out. That’s when Wooyoung stops.

Too late though. As he tries to sleep, the image of him kissing San makes itself incredibly known in his mind. He hates it. 

He’s not sure how long it takes him to fall asleep but even that isn’t relief enough because the story plays out in disjointed scenes in his dreams and he jolts awake to his alarm mid makeout session with San.

He rushes to the shower, trying to wash the weird feeling off him, hoping the soap will cleanse the images from his brain.

It doesn’t work.

He finds himself avoiding San all day, and kind of feels bad about it. But Wooyoung is a professional yapper, so it’s better than accidentally telling him he read a story about them kissing. 

Wooyoung finds himself on twitter again the next night. It really does feel like watching a car crash. You don’t want to watch, but you can’t look away. Wooyoung really doesn’t want to explore AO3 anymore, but he can’t help himself.

He scrolls a bit first, trying to put off the inevitable, in which he discovers that what he is reading is called ‘fanfiction’ and that AO3 stands for ‘Archive Of Our Own’. And that if two individuals are put together in the ‘tags’ with a slash between their names, that indicates the story will be about their relationship. He doesn’t know what any of the other tags mean though.

Eventually the inevitable becomes, well, inevitable, and he finds himself clicking on a link. He’s taken to AO3, and he reads through the tags to the best of his ability. The most he’s able to discern is that the story is, again, about him and San, and that there is a coffee shop most likely involved.

He feels kind of nauseous seeing his name as a part of the pairing. He feels even more sick that it’s San’s as the other half. 

He starts reading anyway. 

He makes it through to the end of this one in 20 minutes. It was shorter than yesterday's. Sweet and simple. The most he and San did was peck on the lips. It still leaves a weird taste in his mouth, but it’s a lot more approachable than yesterday's.

He finds another one.

This one is about Mingi and Yunho. He backs out about 4 paragraphs in, clearing it from his browser history and turning his phone off, images flashing through his mind as he tries to sleep. He needs to stop this. He really needs to stop this.

He goes right back to AO3 the next night. And the next. And the next.

Two weeks later and he finally understands how it works. He understands the ratings, the warnings, how relationships and characters and content are tagged. He understands word count and kudos and bookmarks and is beginning to get a hang on filtering.

Worst of all, he has an account. 

He only has a handful of bookmarks. Just the things he’s read. He doesn’t have anything posted. But he has an account.

As he gets in bed for his new nightly routine, Wooyoung realises he’s enjoying this. He’s enjoying reading fanfiction. About his members, about his friends. In relationships with each other. He shouldn’t enjoy it. They’d probably think he was crazy if they found out. Hongjoong would implement a phone ban again. 

But none of that changes the fact that Wooyoung is enjoying this. 

He’s especially enjoying reading stories about himself and San. Potentially a little too much. Wooyoung isn’t quite ready to unpack what that means though.

A few days later San finds him in his bedroom just as he’s getting ready for bed. San’s hair is ruffled from their long day, his tshirt riding up oh so slightly at his waistband and before San has even said hello Wooyoung realises he’s been checking him out.

“Hey Wooyoungie,” San says, and Wooyoung’s eyes snap to his face. His expression is soft, tired, albeit a little nervous.

“What’s up?” Wooyoung asks, turning back to his table to put the facial cleanser he’d been about to use back down. San takes a few steps forward, but doesn’t enter Wooyoung’s bubble like he usually does.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” San says. “I feel like you’ve been kinda… distant, these last couple of weeks. Did I do something?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widen. Had he really been that bad? He knew he'd been kinda weird the first few days after his… discovery, but he thought he'd managed to keep his thoughts under control enough the last week or so that it wouldn't be noticeable. 

“Huh?” he says, giving himself a moment to come up with a feasible lie. “Of course not Sannie,” Wooyoung says, standing up and entering his bubble. “If I've been distant it's not intentional, just busy with, you know, everything.” It isn't the whole truth, but it's definitely not a lie, thankfully.

San chuckles at that, expression relaxing slightly. 

“And my little brother’s birthday is coming up soon and I have no idea what to get for him,” Wooyoung adds, and San’s shoulders seem to melt with relief. 

“Always a menace to buy for, isn't he,” San says, stepping back to plop down on Wooyoung’s bed, just like normal. Wooyoung feels some of the tension seep out of his shoulders. He sits back down at his desk to finish his skincare. 

“I swear he's interested in something different every other week,” Wooyoung replies. “Last week he was texting me about Minecraft, this week it's Spiderman. I have no idea what he'll be interested in at any given time.”

“We could go shopping together this weekend?” San suggests. “I’m useless with 10 year olds but I need some stuff anyway, so maybe I can help you out.”

Wooyoung tosses San a grin through the mirror. “Sounds like a plan,” he says. 

San continues to yap to him about something or another while Wooyoung finishes his skincare, and once he's done and reorganised everything, he launches onto his bed, landing half on San and half on the actual mattress.

San lets out a grunt before they both burst into giggles. 

“Stay here tonight?” Wooyoung asks and without a moment of hesitation San nods. He pulls out his phone to text Seonghwa and a moment later it lands on Wooyoung's bedside table with his own. 

They slip under the doona, rearranging themselves until they're in their usual sleepover configuration of half sprawled half cuddling. 

But as Wooyoung turns off the lamp by his bed, plunging them into the quiet darkness of night, and as their whispered giggles eventually subside, he feels like something's missing. 

He's not sure what it is. He can't name it. There's just this feeling that there should be something there that's not.

He stares up at the ceiling, for long enough that San’s breathing evens out beside him. For long enough that San moves subconsciously in his sleep, and one of his hands lands on Wooyoung's waist, fingers grazing the sliver of skin where his pyjama top had ridden up. 

It sends a feeling akin to an electric shock up Wooyoung's spine.

And suddenly his mind is filled with visions of San's hands on his skin, tracing paths along his stomach, his chest, down his back, his lips pressing soft kisses to Wooyoung's face, his neck, his collarbones, his lips. Just like San had touched Wooyoung in a story he'd read last night. Just like San had kissed Wooyoung in stories he'd read.

And Wooyoung is filled with a full body, all encompassing, soul consuming feeling of want. 

He hopes San doesn't somehow pick up on the sudden racing in Wooyoung's chest. 

He needs to stop reading these stupid fanfics. 

Wooyoung manages to keep his distance from AO3 for about a week. He manages to shove every single inappropriate thought or feeling he's had about San deep into the back of his mind to forget and has continued to act as, what hopefully appears, normal. He and San go shopping together, they buy Wooyoung's brother a gift, and they go to their usual scheduled activities. Just like normal.

His sober streak is ruined when he's stuck in the middle back seat between Yeosang and Jongho, with Mingi in the front seat, en route between schedules, and he catches a glimpse of Yeosang’s phone when he opens his browser, and very quickly closes it again. 

It takes Wooyoung's brain a second to register what he saw, but with the amount of reading he'd been doing a week ago, he'd recognise that font anywhere. 

He bites his tongue so hard in an effort to not say anything and out both himself and Yeosang to the rest of the car that he tastes blood in his mouth.

Instead he nudges Yeosang's knee with his own, catching his attention. Wooyoung throws a pointed glance at Yeosang's phone, and Yeosang's eyes widen in a silent panic as the car hums along around them. Wooyoung doesn't know how to convey what he wants to through his eyes but he hopes the pointed glance he gives his own phone and the questioning look expresses something of the sort.

Yeosang awkwardly darts his eyes away from Wooyoung, leg bouncing nervously for the rest of the ride until they finally arrive at the filming location for the episode they're scheduled for today, and Yeosang drags him to the closest bathroom the first moment he can.

“Please tell me you didn't see what I think you saw,” Yeosang says, after quickly checking all the cubicles are empty. They're alone. He's panicking in a way Wooyoung rarely sees him panic.

“I'm pretty I just saw a fanfic,” Wooyoung replies, cutting straight to the chase. He needs to know he's not the only one. 

Yeosang's eyes somehow widen more. 

“Look, I'm not gonna judge you for it Sangie,” Wooyoung says. “I… stumbled across them myself a few weeks ago. I haven't read anything for like a week because they're making my brain do funny things, but before that I was reading them a lot.”

Some of the tension eases out of Yeosang's shoulders. 

Before their conversation can continue the door opens and Seonghwa walks in and Yeosang's expression bounces to the same panic from a moment ago before he schools it into something more neutral. 

Seonghwa gives the two of them a confused look, before ushering them out of the bathroom.

“Down the hallway, third door on the right,” he says. “They wanna start filming as soon as they can.”

Wooyoung nods as the two of them start down the hallway. 

“Please tell me we're talking about this more later?” Wooyoung asks, and he's pretty sure Yeosang can hear the excitement he's trying to hide in his voice. 

“Fine,” Yeosang grumbles, but at least most of the tension is gone.

“So, what you reading?” Wooyoung asks as he slips into Yeosang's room later that night.

Yeosang looks up, eyes wide with panic as he pulls out an earbud, quickly placing his phone face down on the pillow before he sees it’s Wooyoung and his expression relaxes slightly. 

“... stuff,” Yeosang mumbles. Wooyoung shuts the door behind him and collapses in a heap onto Yeosang’s bed. 

“What sorta stuff?” Wooyoung asks. Yeosang hesitates. Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, lowering his voice despite the fact they’re the only ones here because Yunho is hanging out with Mingi. “Is it stuff about us? About Ateez?”

Yeosang doesn’t reply but the pink dusting his cheeks is all the answer Wooyoung needs. He grins.

A small smile twitches at the corners of Yeosang’s mouth, before he faceplants his head against his pillow and lets out a muffled groan. Wooyoung cackles.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Yeosang whines, still muffled by the pillow. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! I’m just glad it was you and not-” he cuts himself off, and Wooyoung’s interest piques.

“And not who, Sangie?”

“No one.”

“Someone.”

“... Seonghwa.”

Yeosang finally peers an eye out from where his face is hidden, watching for Wooyoung’s reaction.

“Seonghwa?” Wooyoung asks. “Yeosangie… do you…”

“I have a fat fucking crush on Seonghwa,” Yeosang says. It’s the most direct he’s been about anything this evening. He flips over so he’s laying on his back, voice no longer muffled as his gaze dances between the ceiling and Wooyoung laying next to him. “I have for months. Probably longer. But he’s so obviously in love with Hongjoong it like, physically hurts. So this is how I cope.” He grabs his phone, what he’s reading still open, waving it between them. “Fanfiction.”

Wooyoung feels his expression soften, a soft sigh leaving his lips. “I’m sure you have more of a chance with him than you think,” Wooyoung says, resting what he hopes is a comforting hand on Yeosang’s shoulder.

“He vents to me about how useless Hongjoong is at anything romantic,” Yeosang replies, deadpan. Wooyoung grimaces.

“Anything’s possible?” Wooyoung tries. 

Yeosang turns to look at him, rolling his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yeosang replies. “I’ve already kind of accepted my fate here. My feelings will pass eventually, and I’ll fall in love with someone else. Now, change of topic, that's not my sad love life please?”

Wooyoung lets out a small laugh. 

“So what are you reading?” Yeosang asks. It’s Wooyoung’s turn to turn red, as he fishes his phone from his pocket and opens his AO3 bookmarks. He hands it to Yeosang, ignoring the way his heart flutters when he sees the fanfic he’d read last week about him and San as pirates. He thinks letting Yeosang scroll through his bookmarks will be far easier than trying to articulate a functional sentence.

Yeosang hums in acknowledgement and interest as he scrolls through the bookmarks, before tossing Wooyoung a raised eyebrow. 

“There’s a suspicious amount of you and San in here. Got anything to share with the class, pretty boy?”

“Currently unsure,” Wooyoung replies honestly. “And trying to avoid thinking about it.”

Yeosang hums in understanding. “No rush to work these things out,” he replies, typing something into his own phone, glancing between Wooyoung’s screen and his own, before he hands Wooyoung’s phone back. 

Wooyoung now has one subscriber. He glances at Yeosang, then back at his phone, clicking through to see the user page. The most recently bookmarked fanfic is one of Yeosang and Seonghwa. Definitely Yeosang’s account. 

And then he sees all the works posted. 

“You write?!” Wooyoung exclaims. “Since when have you been into writing?!”

“Since I’ve been into reading,” Yeosang replies. “So like… 10 years or something.”

Wooyoung’s jaw is on the floor.

“We’ve been friends for like a decade, how is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

Yeosang grins. 

“I feel betrayed,” Wooyoung whines. “Why didn’t you share this beautiful part of the internet with me earlier. You let me discover it all on my own, you evil evil man.”

“Because watching you crash out is funny,” Yeosang replies. 

“Evil, evil, evil,” Wooyoung mutters, as he scrolls through Yeosang’s works. They’re mostly about shows they’d watched together as teens, animes and kdramas and movies they’d been obsessed with. The most recent one is from a couple of years ago. 

“If you want any recs let me know,” Yeosang says, watching as Wooyoung scrolls. “I genuinely have a few thousand bookmarks, so I can probably find stuff you’ll like. And if you come across any tags that you are unsure of the meaning of, text me and I’ll let you know what it means. Better than traumatising yourself.”

Wooyoung chuckles, thinking back to last week. He remembers something he’d seen a few times but hadn’t read anything about. “What does omegaverse mean?”

Yeosang’s eyes light up.

It’s been a month since he discovered Yeosang’s interest in fanfiction, and Wooyoung has barely gone a day since without reading something. He’s kind of addicted. At least it’s to reading and not drugs. 

It might as well be to drugs though with the way he can barely form a coherent thought around San anymore. 

‘Wooyoung/San’ remains his highest read relationship tag, and by a landslide. He’s pretty sure this level of obsession would have had him admitted to a psych ward if he’d been born half a century earlier. 

But he can’t stop thinking about San. About his laugh and his voice, the way he pouts whenever he wants something, the way his eyes crinkle up exactly like his aniteez when he smiles, the way his lips feel against Wooyoung’s cheek or forehead when he’s feeling affectionate, and how they might feel against Wooyoung’s lips. His arms, his shoulders, and the absolute raw strength in them whenever he hugs Wooyoung or picks him up. His hands, the way they feel against his own, or a brush of the arm or grabbing his shoulders in a hug.

Everything is San, San, San, San, San.

Wooyoung very much has a crush. It’s bad. 

And the fanfiction isn’t helping. Every fic he reads makes it worse, adds to his delusions, gives him something new to dream about, to fantasise about. 

It’s soul consuming. 

Wooyoung loves it and hates it.

They’re at dance practice at the moment, and they’ve been at it for a good hour or so, all of them sweaty and huffing, when Hongjoong finally lets them take a ten minute break. 

Yeosang slides down against the wall, water bottle in hand. Wooyoung joins him. And then San slides down next to Wooyoung. Wooyoung’s eyes follow his movement. The visual of San, in a tank top, sweaty and out of breath sitting against the wall isn’t good for Wooyoung’s mental health. 

“What?” San asks, catching Wooyoung’s eyes on him. Wooyoung can’t think of anything to say other than something along the lines of ‘you look really fucking hot like that’ so instead he presses a friendly, sloppy kiss to San’s cheek and hopes thats enough. He hears Yeosang snort beside him, and San starts laughing. Wooyoung bites his shoulder.

Mingi spawns in front of them, collapsing on the floor with his head on Wooyoung’s legs, so Wooyoung grabs his forearm and bites him as well. Mingi yelps, scrambling backwards and shoving San forwards so he’s between them, as if San isn’t just as likely to bite as well.

But San loses his balance in the movement and ends up straight on Wooyoung’s lap, and Wooyoung prays to any god that will listen that he doesn’t have a physical reaction to this. 

San uses his arms to balance himself, and Wooyoung tries to avoid looking at the way his biceps flex as he supports his weight, the way his thighs are basically straddling Wooyoung’s, the way he’s sweaty and dishevelled and on top of Wooyoung and Wooyoung just knows he’s going to be thinking about this moment for the rest of the day. The rest of the week, probably. This feels like a moment from one of his fanfics. He’s sure Yeosang is thinking the exact same thing. He can’t see Yeosang, his gaze completely, entirely on San still on top of him, but he can feel Yeosang’s gaze and it is one of the most tangible feelings ever. 

Wooyoung can finally breathe again when San turns around to bite Mingi as well, and Mingi calls out to Seonghwa for help. Seonghwa gives the four of them a look, rolls his eyes, and laughs to himself as he sips on his water, leaving Mingi to his suffering. Wooyoung finally rips his eyes away from San to meet Yeosang’s gaze and Yeosang has this delighted expression on his face and Wooyoung just knows the only thought he is cooking up right now is pure evil.

Ten minutes after dance practice ends, Wooyoung barely able to keep his eyes off San for the entire remaining time, he receives a text from Yeosang. 

The eight of them are making their way out of the building, some having rushed ahead and probably already at the cars by now, others like Wooyoung and San and Jongho and Yunho having lingered behind slightly longer, catching their breaths and tidying up and gathering their stuff before they headed off. 

San’s arm is around Wooyoung’s shoulder as they walk. Wooyoung can’t form a thought.

He opens his messages with Yeosang to see what he’d sent him. It’s an AO3 link. As if it’s muscle memory, Wooyoung clicks on it, his browser opening and the page loading.

Before he can even start reading the tags, Wooyoung suddenly remembers he’s in public. It’s daytime. San’s arm is around his shoulder. 

Wooyoung shuts off his screen and shoves his phone in his pocket with a speed that could rival light.

“What did Sangie send you?” San asks, something Wooyoung can’t quite place flashing across his face, and Wooyoung’s face burns because why had San been looking at Wooyoung’s phone. Wooyoung wants to explode on the spot. 

“Nothing,” Wooyoung answers, too quickly. “I don’t know. Just some article about something or something.”

San hums non-committedly, his fingers tracing light, subconscious patterns where they rest on Wooyoung’s bicep. It sends an electric feeling down Wooyoung’s spine. 

Yeosang is pure evil. 

“Why’d you turn off your phone so quick then?” San asks, and Wooyoung might kill himself. He spends about one second trying to formulate a response, realises he can’t think of anything to defend himself that wouldn’t sound suspicious, and bites San’s shoulder. 

San yelps, jumping away and Wooyoung grins, hoping against hope that San doesn’t try to ask him again.

Yunho and Jongho are ahead of them, waiting at the elevator and watching them with mixed levels of disdain.

“Hurry up lovebirds,” Jongho says, and Wooyoung hopes the blush on his cheeks at the implication isn’t obvious when he grabs San’s bicep (muscles, muscles, muscles, mu-) and drags him forward toward the elevator.

“You’re like a teething puppy today,” San says, as Yunho shoves both of them unceremoniously into the elevator, and Jongho steps in behind them, clicking the button for ground floor. 

“He’s like a teething puppy every day,” Jongho counters. Wooyoung is incredibly tempted to launch at Jongho and bite him, too, but that would just prove their point.

“It’s cause I’m irresistibly cute, right?” Wooyoung asks, looking up at San with a grin. 

“Something like that,” San says, a soft smile on his face as he reaches out to squish Wooyoung’s cheeks. Wooyoung’s heart bounces around dangerously in his chest.

When they’re in the car Wooyoung claims a window seat, and when he’s absolutely sure San and Jongho are locked in on their conversation beside him, he lowers his brightness and opens the link Yeosang sent him. What on earth could be so important to send to him during the day?

It’s a fic about him and San. Wooyoung isn’t surprised about that. He is surprised to see its rated E. Something Wooyoung had been keeping a safe distance from since he’d started his reading endeavours. He didn’t need to put those sort of pictures about his members in his mind. Especially about San. 

But ever the curious cat, he can’t help but skim his eyes over the tags. He gulps. He reads the summary. He closes his browser. 

He texts Yeosang.

Me:

youre evil

actually evil

i hate you

san was beside me when i opened the link

youre a terrible person and you know it

Yeosangie:

you love me

did he ask what it was?

Me:

yes

i bit him

Yeosangie:

i wish i’d seen that

Me:

i hate you

Yeosangie:

love you too

Wooyoung closes his phone, looking out the window, begging his heart to control itself with the way San’s thigh presses up against his. The way their shoulders bump with the movement of the car. The way San’s hand suddenly finds Wooyoung’s while it rests on his thigh amidst his conversation with Jongho, tracing light patterns into Wooyoung’s skin that send sparks through his entire body.

Wooyoung isn’t sure he’ll make it to the end of the week at this rate.

That night, in the quiet and solitude of his room, Wooyoung opens the fic Yeosang sent him. He knows it’s a terrible idea to read something like this. He starts reading it anyway. It starts off innocently enough, he and San practicing a choreography together in the practice room, late at night, just the two of them. But there’s heated glances and lingering touches and then one of them miscalculates a movement and trips into the other, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. San lands on top of Wooyoung. Wooyoung knows exactly what that visual looks like now. It sends a spark of heat straight downwards. 

And then they start kissing, and Wooyoung’s read this sort of thing plenty of times, but the touches in this story are different, the way San slips his hands under Wooyoung’s shirt are different, the way both of them are hard is different. 

The story Wooyoung starts unbuckling San’s belt, and Wooyoung knows this is his last chance to back out. His last chance to put the fic down, clear it from his history, pretend it ended there and stop himself from feeling even more insane than he already does. 

He keeps reading.

The sex he reads about between story Wooyoung and story San is heated and heavy and rushed because anyone could walk in, but is just as equally soft and full of yearning and love and everything Wooyoung wants. 

It fills his mind with so many new images and Wooyoung doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to look at San the same again. 

Every single word he reads sends feeling straight downwards and by the time he’s finished the story he’s slipping a hand under his waistband to deal with the situation he’s given himself, imagining, vividly, what sex with real San might be like.

He actually might kill Yeosang for what he’s done. 

It’s a weekend and they have no schedules, everyone relishing in a day to finally sleep in and relax. Yunho, Mingi and San decide to go out, so early afternoon Wooyoung heads over to Yeosang and Yunho’s apartment to chill with Yeosang. They make ramyeon and hot chocolates, put on some random tv show quietly in the background, that soon gets turned off as they both opt for headphones and whatever music they feel like instead, and sit down in the living room to read.

It’s their new favourite bonding activity, and Wooyoung kind of loves it.

He’s still never going to forgive Yeosang for what he sent him the other week though.

He’s laying down with his head in Yeosang’s lap, phone propped up on his chest as he scrolls. Yeosang’s fingers card absently through Wooyoung’s hair as he holds his phone with his other hand. 

Wooyoung is, unsurprisingly, reading a fic about himself and San again. It’s canon compliant, them as they are in the real world, and they’ve both had crushes on each other for years, dancing around each other, both of them too nervous to make the first move, unsure if the other feels the same way. It’s weirdly comforting and weirdly makes him feel worse about the whole situation. He fully understands why Yeosang uses this to cope with his crush. 

Wooyoung almost jumps in surprise when Yeosang pushes a side of his headphones off. 

“Scoot. I need the loo,” he says. Wooyoung sits up with an overdramatic groan. Yeosang rolls his eyes as he stands up and disappears toward the bathroom, and Wooyoung slips his headphones back on properly and curls up in the corner of the couch to keep reading. 

The tension between story Wooyoung and story San is growing quickly. Their touches linger longer, their gazes, they’re starting to work out that the other feels the same way they do. They’re sitting in San’s room, talking, thighs brushing and shoulders bumping, gazes dancing between eyes and lips. 

Wooyoung doesn’t see Yeosang return but he feels the couch cushion sink behind him as Yeosang leans over his shoulder. He’s not fussed, Yeosang had been the one to send this one to him in the first place, so he keeps reading.

Story San and story Wooyoung lean in, almost instinctively, still talking like normal but neither able to focus on anything but the other’s lips. The tension is palpable, and they both know this moment could make or break their friendship. San’s hand moves to Wooyoung’s hip, and Wooyoung brushes a stray hair away from San’s eyes, hand lingering on his cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” San asks, barely a whisper, breath fanning story Wooyoung’s lips. Wooyoung answers the question by bridging the distance between them, pressing his lips to San’s, softly at first, tentative for a split second, then San kisses back, and they fall backwards against the bed, and it’s all lips and teeth and hands and everything both of them have been dreaming about for the past seven years, and then in Wooyoung’s peripheral vision he sees a shadow come to a stop in front of him and he looks away from his phone to see Yeosang standing there. 

Wait.

But if Yeosang’s in front of him then-

He whips his head around to find himself face to face with San. Wooyoung’s stomach plummets. He feels sick. Like, he actually thinks he might throw up. 

Wooyoung fucking bolts.

He shoves past Yeosang, pulls his shoes on without even tying the laces, and pushes through the door in record speed. He runs for the stairwell. If he takes the elevator he’ll have to wait and anyone could catch up to him. He doesn’t care that they’re twelve floors up, he starts down the stairs anyway, stumbling every other step, as everything he knows comes crashing down around him. He’s ruined it. He’s ruined fucking everything.

The tears start slipping from his eyes at around the seventh floor. 

He collapses in a heap at the bottom stair of the fifth floor.

His sobs echo around him as he bites his hand, trying to stifle the sound but it’s useless. He can’t fucking breath. He can’t think. He almost throws his phone against the wall but decides against it because that’ll just make everything worse.

San's never going to look at him the same again. He's going to think Wooyoung's a perv and a weirdo and he's going to distance himself. He'll stop hanging out with him, tension will build between them. They'll fight and then the other members will take sides and the entire group will fall apart because Wooyoung has a fat fucking crush on San and can't cope with it in a normal, sane way. 

He hears footsteps echoing in the stairwell from above him, rushed as they race down. 

He tries to stand up, tries to move, tries to escape, but he can't fucking breath and his arms and legs refuse to cooperate and he really wants the concrete to swallow him whole before whoever it is that's coming down the stairs sees him curled up in a pathetic mess on the floor.

Of course it's San that appears at the top of the flight of stairs a moment later. He's probably going to cuss him out, yell at him for being a weirdo, call Hongjoong and tell him to kick Wooyoung out. 

San sits down beside him. Wooyoung flinches. San removes his jacket and places it gently over Wooyoung's shoulders, tenderly adjusting the collar until it sits evenly around Wooyoung's neck. Wooyoung tries so hard not to melt into the sensation, melt into the smell of San surrounding him, the warmth against his back. He melts anyway. 

San's hands find Wooyoung's. Wooyoung's sobs have mostly subsided. He feels hollow. Empty.

Of course San wouldn't be mean about rejecting him. He's far too kind for that. He'll do it in the nicest way possible. Wooyoung would almost rather it be the harsh way. 

“Interesting story, huh,” San starts. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung replies, monotone and empty. 

“It isn't… it doesn't, perchance, reflect your real feelings, does it?”

Wooyoung considers lying. But he doesn't think San will believe him, not with the way he's just reacted to everything.

“Yeah.” 

He looks down at their hands. He doesn't want to see San’s expression change to disgust or discomfort or whatever it is it's going to change to. 

One of San’s hands lets go of Wooyoung’s, leaving cold in its wake, and he knows this is it, this is San pulling away, this is the beginning of the end. It lands on Wooyoung’s face a moment later, brushing away the hair from his eyes, wiping away the tears that still slip down his cheeks. It finishes on his chin, gentle, lifting Wooyoung’s face to meet San’s gaze.

“Look at me, Wooyoung,” San says, whispers, soft, gentle. Wooyoung flicks his gaze to San’s eyes. In the split second of a moment he realises there isn’t even a trace of disgust or discomfort or anything negative in them. Wooyoung’s brain seems to stop. “Do you wanna know how that story ends?”

He nods. San traces soft circles in the palm of Wooyoung’s hand.

“Wooyoung and San fall asleep in each other’s arms. They’ve done it before, but it’s different this time. They’re able to hold each other in a way they never have before. The next day they finally visit that cafe they’ve been talking about. You know the one, with the flowers out the front?”

Wooyoung nods. He remembers that from earlier in the story.

“They get drinks, split a cake, then go for a walk in the park. It’s spring, so the cherry blossom trees are in full bloom. San puts one in Wooyoung’s hair. It’s just the two of them, they’re holding hands, and everything is perfect.”

Wooyoung nods again. 

And then his brain catches up.

“Wait-” it’s caught in his throat, and makes it out as barely a whisper. San smiles softly. His eyes crinkle in that perfect way they always do. “You… you’ve read-”

“Yeah,” San says, a perfect shade of pink dusting his cheeks and his ears. “I have. And a lot of others, too. Like. A lot.”

San brushes another tear from Wooyoung’s cheek. He’s pretty sure it’s the last one. 

“Oh.”

Wooyoung needs a moment to process this.

“Oh,” San replies.

“Do they… do they, perchance, reflect your real feelings?” Wooyoung asks, throwing San’s words right back at him.

San nods. Wooyoung’s heart stumbles.

San brushes his fingers gently through Wooyoung’s hair again, and he leans forward. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to-”

Wooyoung launches forward to meet San’s lips. It’s wet from his tears and he misjudged the angle, their noses bumping together, but it’s better than any of the fanfics he’s read because it’s them and it’s real and it’s perfect. 

San’s fingers run through Wooyoung’s hair. Wooyoung reaches up to cup San’s jaw pulling him closer, relishing in the taste of him, the feel of him.

“I can’t believe I waited so long to do this,” San whispers as they pull apart. Wooyoung presses a soft kiss to his nose, giggling as San presses one to his cheek. “You’re beautiful,” San whispers, pressing their foreheads together. 

“That's rich coming from you,” Wooyoung replies, and San giggles, pressing his lips to Wooyoung's again. It's everything.

They curl up that night in Wooyoung's room, wrapped up in each other's arms under the covers. 

They haven't told the others yet what's happened, except for Yeosang because he was kind of there in the moment and harassed both of them the second they came back. Mingi and Yunho were blissfully unaware of what had happened. 

They'll tell the others eventually. But for now they just want to be them. 

Wooyoung presses soft kisses to San's face, as they talk about everything and nothing and whatever comes in between, lips dancing over his freckles, relishing in the feeling of his skin. San’s fingers trace Wooyoung’s hip, his wrist, his bicep, his cheek, leaving soft trails all over his skin, not subtle like they used to be, present and there, a feeling Wooyoung could get drunk on.

They talk about the fanfics they’ve read about each other, both of them flustered and embarrassed, giggling like school kids the entire time. They start a group chat with Yeosang, promising him their next mission is to get him with Seonghwa. Wooyoung hopes it works out for him. 

But most of all he’s happy and in love and San’s right next to him and Wooyoung wants to cherish this moment for the rest of eternity. As San falls asleep beside him, both of them a tangle of limbs, San’s head curled beneath Wooyoung’s chin, Wooyoung replays the evening over and over and over, making sure it’s committed to memory.