#lee jihoon imagine

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if this is the first post of this series that you see.
Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death
Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader
Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent)
Word Count: Ending A - 4.5k / Ending B - 4.4k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist|Masterlists

“How do you know that?” Yong smirks at me as we walk out of her office.

“Because I am an all knowing being.” I say smugly in return but Yong smacks my shoulder, “Ah, okay. I overheard Jiwoo and Mun Hee giggling about what to get you.”

Yong exhales, “Oh, they’re getting me a gift?”

I shrug, “I guess. You should probably tell them if you don’t want it.”

“Well, this will be the first time in 500 years that’s someone’s gotten me a gift for this anniversary. So I’ll take it.” Yong giggles happily.

“Am I expected to get you something?” I ask, mildly panicking about what to get her.

“A gift from you?” She smiles, “While it would be a miracle to see that happen, no, you don’t need to get me anything. Especially if Jiwoo and Mun Hee are going to get me something.”

“I’m sure they’ll make sure it’s grand.” I reassure her. “Where are you headed?” I ask when I realize I have no idea where we’re headed.

“Hm,” She chuckles, “Well the Gods thought it would be great to send us a few new employees. So I have a nice little orientation to go through with them.”

“How many did they send?” I ask, slightly weirded out that we would get new staff.

Yong blows airs through her lips, “Five.”

“Not too bad.” I shrug as we near the conference room, “Where are they being stationed?”

“3 are being attached to Soon Bok in rooms and 2 are going down to the kitchen.” She explains with a hand on the door handle.

I nod in understanding, “Alright.”

Yong nods in farewell and turns the door handle but I stop her with my next questions.

“Oh, just quickly, what room and how long?” I ask in a quick breath.

“Room 221 and 15 days.” Yong says softly with an even softer smile.

“Good luck.” I tell her and walk back to the lobby so I can make my up to my office.

With my hands clasped behind my back, I walk lightly and just listen to the sounds of the hotel. The dings of the elevators. The lively chatter of the guests walking to and fro. The muffled footsteps mixing with the sharp clicks of heels against the tile floors.

My body feels light and for a moment, I feel happy and calm.

But it all comes crashing down when I hear yelling from the lobby.

“Why is it always the lobby?” I groan to myself and redirect my route.

When I enter the lobby, I see a group surrounding one man who looks like he wants to take them all but also very panicked on the inside. The group around him is shouting angrily and some are even trying to throw punches at him.

As I approach the group, Mun Hee walks out from the reception room and Jiwoo falls in step with me.

“Do I want to know what happened here?” I ask, leaning towards Jiwoo.

“I don’t even know what happened.” Jiwoo whispers back as the group’s noise level grows louder.

I groan and throw my head back, eyes closed. “Why me? Why my hotel?” I wonder out loud.

Lowering my head, my gaze hardens and my expressions steels. “HEY!” I yell louder than the crowd and make all heads turn to me. “What is going on?”

A split second of silence and then all the guests start talking and yelling and point all at once. I hold up a hand and their voices quiet down immediately.

I inhale and prepare to rip into these people verbally but one of the guests yells out.

“He murdered us!” He yells angrily. “We’re dead, and it’s HIS fault.” He’s pointing at the man in the center. The one who’s eyes are split between cockiness and panic.

“Did you?” I ask the man, stepping closer.

“Did I?” The man repeats my question with an arrogant smirk, “Did I do what?”

I close my eyes and mentally roll my eyes so hard before opening them again. I meet his gaze while fighting back a scowl. “Did you murder these people?” I expand my pretty obvious question.

The man half smiles, “Maybe.”

Jiwoo tenses in fear behind me while I tense in annoyance.

“It’s a yes or no question.” I state and take a step closer. “You either did.” Another step closer. “Or you didn’t.” Another step. “Answer me now.” A step closer and I’m only a few feet away from him.

The man rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. He even puffs out his chest a little. “And if I did? What are you going to do? Kick me out?”

I scoff, “Kick you out? No. No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, I killed them.” The man interrupts me before I get to the good part.

I glance behind the man and meet the gaze of Shin standing next to Mun Hee a feet away.

“Again, I wouldn’t.” I repeat myself for emphasis, “But Shin, here, will escort you to the place you actually belong.” I smirk and Shin approaches the man from behind.

“Wha-” The man stutters as Shin grabs his arms and starts dragging him backwards.

“Where, where are you taking me?” He struggles against Shin’s iron clad grip.

A smokey grey doorway appears on the wall and Shin heads straight into it with the man struggling behind him. Shin gives me a curt wave and I return the gesture with a small smile before the two of them disappear into the grey smoke. And in a blink of an eye, the doorway disappears.

I turn and walk back to Jiwoo who blinks a few times to reset himself.

“Ah, uhm, I do apologize for… that.” Jiwoo says once he has his voice back. “He will no longer be a problem so I do genuinely hope you enjoy your stay here. I will have refreshments sent up to your rooms.”

Mun Hee leads some guests away as they break away from the group while the others disperse by themselves. Jiwoo stays quiet at my side and I finally let my shoulders relax slightly. A female guest walks up to us and takes my hands in hers.

“Can I finally rest?” She asks with pleading eyes.

I nod once, “You can rest now.”

The guest smiles happily and a male wraps his arms around her shoulders. He pulls her away towards the elevators. Jiwoo and I turn and follow their movements.

“Sooo…” Jiwoo drags out the word when all the guests are out of earshot, “Where did Shin take that guy?”

I smile with mischief, “A place similar to what you humans call hell.”

Jiwoo’s eyes widen, “But what about the souls who had a past life of a murderer?”

“One or two murders is, unfortunately, passable for another life in the human world.” I explain, eyeing the other guests milling around the lobby, “However, kill three or more and the Gods end your lives right there and then. When they reach our front desk, Shin is usually waiting to take them to ‘hell.’ Though I don’t know what happened today.” I say, slightly confused.

“So hell really does exist?” Jiwoo wonders in awe, “Like there’s an actual place where terrible souls go?”

I chuckle and look over at him, “It exists and, no, you don’t want to know what it’s like.”

“Okay.” Jiwoo takes in my answer, “Then have you ever been there?”

“Once.” I breathe out, “When Shin was busy with a departure and there was a female who killed 8 people acting psychotic in here. I had to take her there and for the record,” I lean over and whisper, “Even I don’t ever want to do it again.” A shiver runs down my spine as the memory of the cold empty air resurfaces.

Jiwoo is stunned into silence and he just blinks at me. “That… That is scarier than all the stories my world has of it.”

“All you need to know about it, is that the souls who go there, certainly belong there.”  I tell him and then walk to the elevator. Reaching the elevator, I press the up button as Jiwoo calls out another question.

“(y/n)! What do you call it?” He asks and his curiosity evident when I turn around.

“There.” I tell him as the elevator dings and the doors open.

Leaving him no time to respond, I enter the elevator and press the floor where my office is located. And let the doors close shut.

~The Fifteenth Day~

The bright sun burns against my skin as I sit outside on a picnic blanket. Soft guitar plucks flow through the air. I turn towards the sound and find Woozi sitting next to me with a guitar in his lap.

He looks up and notices my gaze. A lazy smile grows on his face and he stops plucking at the strings.

“Like it?” Woozi asks, resting his arm on the top of the guitar.

“Not sure what it was.” I answer him, pulling my knees up to my chest.

Woozi laughs, “Me neither to be honest.”

“Well, for a moment, it sounded like you had a melody going.” I say leaning my head on top of my knees.

“Which part?” He inquires with eyes full of wonder.

I bite my bottom lip in thought, “The small bit with the repeated runs.”

“That’s like the entire thing.” Woozi chuckles and shakes his head. “I always forget you’re not versed in music terms.”

I roll my eyes, “You try running a full-scal-” I stop myself mid sentence realizing what I was about to say. In my time with Woozi, I’ve become extremely relaxed and almost let my secret slip.

“Running a what?” Woozi smiles softly, amusement showing on his face.

“A full scale family.” I clear my throat, covering up my mistake.

“I thought you didn’t have a family?” He questions, setting the guitar aside.

My eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. I blink a few times as my mind races to think of another excuse. With each second that passes, my heart beat starts to beat faster. But Woozi grabs my hand, smiles, and makes my panic disappear in a second.

“Don’t worry, I won’t push.” He says softly, “I know you don’t like to talk about it.”

I turn up the corners of my mouth and he gives my hand a squeeze before picking up his guitar again. I rest my hand on the blanket and continue to watch Woozi as he resumes his random plucking.

My fingers fumble with the pen in my hand and it clatters onto the floor breaking me out of my daydream.

“Fuck.” I mumble and bend over to pick the pen up off the floor.

My hand wraps around the pen when someone quickly opens and shuts my door. I jump in surprise which results in me hitting my head on my desk.

“Fuck!” I groan in pain and slowly rise up, the pen still in my hand, somehow. With a hand rubbing the spot on my head, I look towards the door and find Yong leaning her back against it, breathing heavily. Her eyes are wild and in a slight panic.

“Are you okay?” I ask with slight concern that the hotel may be in extreme, extreme  chaos.

Yong nods while still catching her breath. “Uhm, I sort of blew up the gift that Mun Hee and Jiwoo got me. And… they found out.” She reaches the climax of her story.

“How did it happen?” I ask, trying to mask my laughter.

“Well,” Yong exhales, pushing away from the door, “I was trying to turn a knob on it and then a different piece sprang off. And then another. And then the whole thing came apart within seconds.” She finishes and glances back at the door to make sure it stays shut. “It was just my luck and then even more my luck that they passed by my OPEN office door.” She shakes her head, “I ran out while they were stuck frozen, just staring at the scattered pieces.”

I place the pen back in it’s holder, “You’ll be okay. They’ll forget about it.” I comfort her then wiggle my eyebrows, “Especially if you ask them to help you put it back together.”

“That is an excellent way to get pummeled by two employees.” Yong rolls her eyes and I laugh with glee.

“You’d survive.” I tell her, our smiles still lingering.

“Barely.” She mumbles, “Uhm, I was supposed to talk to you about a few things but,” Yong gestures to her empty arms, “I kind of don’t have the files.”

I wave my hands dismissively, “We can it without the folders. It’s not like I look at them anyway.”

“True.” She nods her head at me, “Well, Shin just helped with two departures and there are 3 more left today. There weren’t any check ins during the day but Mun Hee checked in 3 guests as the moon rose. Soon Bok’s new employees are picking up the work nicely and the guests have nothing but compliments for them.” Yong looks up at the ceiling in thought, making sure she’s not missing anything.

Yong’s phone dings with a notification and she quickly pulls it out. “And Soon Bok just dropped Woozi off in the garden.”

“She dropped him off?” I chuckle and raise to my feet.

Yong shrugs, “Hey, do you mind if I hide out here for a bit? I kind of want to avoid Jiwoo and Mun Hee.”

I nod, “Go ahead. Just don’t let Jiwoo or Mun Hee trash my office.”

Yong throws me a thumbs up as I walk past towards the door. I throw one back and exit my office, heading towards the bare tree sitting in the center of the lonely garden.

As I enter my garden, I’m welcomed with the soft patter of fingers drumming against a table. Smiling, I turn towards the source and see Woozi staring out the window, his fingers mindlessly drumming to a melody that only he can hear.

“Oh, I like that bit.” I say and Woozi’s head whips around, startled. I giggle and he chuckles at the fright he fell into.

“Well, now I forgot what that bit even sounded like.” He pouts and I sit in the empty chair next to him. “But if you give me another hour, I probably could find it again.”

I hum in amusement, “If you did that, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you.” Now I’m the one pouting.

“What do you want to talk about then?” Woozi asks, resting his chin on his fists.

“Anything.” I say with a smile, “Everything.”

Woozi chuckles, “Where would you like me to start?”

I pucker my lips in thought, “Mm, start like you always did. With the music.”

“With the music.” Woozi repeats my words and leans back in his chair, “Well, I wrote a lot after you left. Wrote and composed. So much, in fact, that I had nearly 100 titles under my belt within 10 years.” He smiles at the achievement, “Was considered a musical genius by everyone. Even the critics. Though they continued to enjoy ripping my pieces to critical shreds.”

“I thought the critics loved you.” I wonder.

“Oh, they loved me.” He agrees, “But they also hated me. My pieces were so beautiful but they were made up of the worst parts. The critics never understood how so many terrible passages could mesh together to make the most beautiful piece their ears had ever heard.”

“There was never another Jihoon. Ever.” I reference the pseudonym he used and lean my head on my hand.

“You kept an eye out?” Woozi asks with delight.

“Of course, I did.” I scoff, “I had to make sure no one would surpass your level of genius.”

“And what if someone came who was better than me? What would you have done?” He questions me, squinting his eyes.

I shrug, “Probably delayed or made it so their works were never as good as yours.”

“Seriously, how would you have done that?” Woozi smiles at my ridiculous statement.

“Twisted the Gods arm and forced them to.” I state definitively much like a child.

Woozi bursts into laughter, his body rocking forward and his hands clutching his stomach. His outburst makes me laugh as well because we both know that I would never be able to do such a thing.

“Did your kids like your music?” I ask when our laughter has died down.

“My kids?” Woozi asks.

“Did… you not have kids?” I hesitantly ask, wondering if I got that piece of information wrong. “I thought I heard news that you and your wife had 2 children together before she… passed away.” I avoid eye contact because I remember hearing about the slump he slipped into after she died.

“Yeah, I had two kids. Twins.” He sighs and grabs my hand, partly to tell me it’s okay to look at him and partly for his own reassurance. “Sunny and Yuna. And yeah, they did for a while… and then they were teenagers.”

I smile at the unfortunate growth of a human.

“But they came back to loving my music once I retired.” Woozi continues. “Sunny became a music professor and she used a lot of my works for her students analyze. And Yuna went into music therapy. She also used my works but for vastly different reasons.”

“They did what I expected of a musician’s kids.” I comment, “You raised them well. They carried on your legacy.”

“And how do you know that?” Woozi asks, “I thought you couldn’t get involved in my life after you left.”

I smirk, “I can’t get involved, but I can keep up. Your name didn’t just disappear into the noise like most peoples do. Yours stood out for many, many years. I got to see your daughters create a foundation in your name that helped kids get an arts education. I saw your grandchildren continue that foundation. I saw Jihoon’s pieces played throughout the decades.”

“You watched for that long?” He asks, sincerely touched by my words.

“What else was I supposed to do?” I answer his question with a question, “I wasn’t going to just sit around all day, twiddling my thumbs, and waiting for the next love. Besides, since you were no longer in that life, I could get involved… kind of.”

“What did you do? Donate money to the foundation every year?” Woozi guesses my exact actions on a whim.

I press my lips together and the information clicks in his head. I even see a tiny light bulb illuminate behind his eyes.

“You donated??” He says, grabbing the table and the back of his chair for support.

“Not a lot.” I keep his expectations low, “Just a few thousand every year at the beginning of November.”

“My birthday month.” He smugly smiles.

“My very own memoriam.” I tell him, leaning closer.

Woozi leans forward and presses his lips against mine just for a second, “It fits you beautifully.”

I smile happily, “I thought so too.” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs and my arms. “Mmm, did you ever tour?” I ask, remembering me urging him to do so but he always shot me down.

“Much to my dismay, I did.” He nods, “My management said it was 'good for business.’ And they somehow snuck a clause for at least one tour into my contract.”

“Where did you go?” I quickly ask, curious.

“Mainly major cities all over the world.” He answer me with an amused smile, “It took nearly 2 years to complete and my wife wasn’t all that happy about it. Even when I told her she could come along with me but she was determined to stay and work her job.” Woozi chuckles and I wrap myself with the comfort that he found someone who matched well with him. “She was so strong headed. Reminded me of another I loved.” He looks to me and raises an eyebrow in suspicion, “She looked an awful like you.”

I push his face away with a laugh, “Oh, stop it.”

Woozi lets out a very airy chuckle, “Are you going to make me?”

I pout angrily at him, “I won’t if you keep talking.”

“About what?” He sighs as he’s at a loss for stories that I want to hear.

“Anything.” I groan.

“Everything.” We simultaneously say, only he’s deadpanning and I’m curious.

Woozi inhales, “Would you like to hear about the time I almost ruined a performance in Paris?”

My eyes widen, partly because of worry and partly because of interest, and I nod my head a little too eagerly.

“Of course you would.” He shakes his head in believing disbelief. Then he tells the tale of how he had come down with terrible allergies in Paris and was sneezing terribly through the entire performance.

From Paris, the stories traveled to the cities he toured. Most good and funny memories but there were a few that weren’t as cheery. Like in Moscow how he was almost arrested because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or in Australia when he woke up with 5 lizards in his bed. Though, while Woozi found it very traumatizing, I found it absolutely hilarious.

After his story stories were told, he dove deeper into his life as a father to Sunny and Yuna. The days when he’d be home early enough to surprise the girls before bedtime. The nights when they would wait up for him because he 'was the better story teller.’ The times when he would be stuck on a melody and his girls would intuitively somehow know that and come running into his home office. All the firsts in their lives that he got to experience. And all the lasts that he missed: high school graduation, college graduation, etc. But even through all that, he reminisced on how his girls never faulted him for any of it. Because they understood his talent.

And so did the world. He got so much recognition for his work and yet, it never seemed like enough to me. I always thought he deserved more recognition when he was living. But like all things, the recognition came after he died.

Just like the soft ending of an orchestral ballad, the sun softly nuzzles under the horizon and gently nudges us towards our end.

I lean my head on Woozi’s shoulder and sigh.

“Guess that means my time is up?” Woozi guesses and points to the last wisps of light peeking over the western horizon.

I nod but stay silent.

He smiles and grabs my hand in comfort. “I’m sure the time apart will fly by in a blink of an eye.”

“It didn’t last time.” I mumble, turning my hand over to properly hold his.

“This time it will. I can feel it.” He whispers and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Come on now. The Great Jihoon can’t be late for his last appearance in this world.” He pats my hand against my thigh a couple times.

I lift my head off his shoulder and stand up with him.

“Which one bloomed for me?” He asks, nodding towards the white chrysanthemums.

Lifting my free hand, I point to the one on the far right. “That one.”

“And what will happen to it once I leave?” Woozi continues to ask but he starts to lead me out of the garden.

“Do you want to know?” I ask, worried that it won’t be up to his expectations.

He nods, “I want to know.”

I exhale and say, “It’ll wither and disappear.”

“Oh.” Woozi says softly.

“It’s nothing special.” I lower my gaze in embarrassment and release my hand from his. “The chrysanthemums are just there to remind me of the loves I have to wait for.” I raise my head and find we’ve almost reached the lobby. “But the withering of one means that another is to come and that I’m one love closer to being free.”

“I’ll hold onto that last part and not think about the rest.” Woozi says and our footsteps echo through the quiet and empty lobby.

Now it’s my turn to lead our directions and Woozi grabs my hand again for comfort. We stay silent as we approach the departures door and my heart thunders against my chest. Opening the door, Woozi lets me pass through first with a small gesture.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands stoic next to a running car, its red back lights like red eyes watching our every move.

“Do you think Sunny and Yuna are over there?” Woozi asks as we walk closer.

I look over at him and his eyes are filled with calm, genuine wonder. “Yuna will be there. I haven’t seen Sunny pass through my hotel yet.” I tell him honestly.

“And how many lives did Yuna have when she passed over?” He continues to question.

“She lived 8 lives.” I inform him.

He looks straight ahead and straightens his shoulders in preparation to leave this world. “And Sunny?” He asks.

“When she was born as your child, she was on her 4th life and she had 6 more to go.” I say and my hand remembers how lightly Sunny rested her hand in mine after she passed away in the human world.

Woozi nods and pats a hand over his heart. “Good.”

We stop a few steps away from the car and Shin opens the car door for Woozi.

“Hey,” Woozi pulls my hand so I’m turned towards him, “I remember that bit.” He says quietly.

He raises my hand, palm up, then uses the other hand to drum his fingers against my palm. My eyes watch his fingers as they move against my skin.

Da, da-dum, da-dum-dum, da, da, da-dum.

My eyes look up to his which are studying my face for a reaction.

I smile softly, “That was the one.” I remember the small rhythm from hours earlier.

“Don’t forget it.” Woozi instructs and points a finger at me.

I shake my head, “Never.”

He smiles before capturing my face in his hands and bringing my lips to meet his in a deep kiss. I lean further in, not wanting to let go. But the nightly breeze that wraps around us directs us apart.

“I love you, (y/n).” Woozi whispers.

“I love you, Woozi.” I say, just as quiet.

After one last kiss pressed against my forehead, Woozi pulls away and walks towards the car. He ducks into the car and Shin closes the door behind him. The car’s brake lights brighten for a second before dimming and the car moves forward into the forest fog.

“What did he press into your hand?” Shin asks, walking up to me.

My eyes don’t leave the fog but my hands reach for Shin’s hands. Without breaking my gaze, I drum the melody against Shin’s palm.

Da, da-dum, da-dum-dum, da, da, da-dum.

I let my hand hover over his palm for a second before letting go of his hands.

There is a heart beat of silence before Shin says, “Beautiful.”

And back in my garden, the chrysanthemum sitting farthest to the right side withers away.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel)to choose the next guest.

Woozi slides his hands down his thighs and exhales. “This is your last time doing this.”

“What? Going to the forest?” I look over at him in confusion.

“Sending people off.” He restates.

“But this time I get to leave too.” I say and stand up, “Which makes it a last and a first.”

Woozi stands up in front of me, “Then we should get this last-first show going.”

I giggle at him and nod.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

“So this is it?” Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. “This is the day you leave us?”

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he’s being so sappy. “Maybe I’ll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year.” I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

“Don’t you dare say that. You better not return here.” He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, “I won’t come back. I promise.”

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should’ve done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family’s service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

“When you leave today, you won’t be able to find this place again.” I inform him, “I hope that you’ll be able to go and live your life happily.”

Jiwoo nods, “Thank you for letting me work with you. I won’t ever forget you.”

I smile sadly, “You will. But thank you.”

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

“You’d think after all these years of waiting that I’d be prepared for this day.” She says through sniffles.

“Thank you, Yong.” I rests my hands on her shoulders, “For everything. Thank you.”

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

“Keep this hotel running beautifully.” I tell her before Woozi grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Woozi and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

“(y/n).” He says when we reach him, “It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest.” Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

“The honor was mine.” I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I’m free. I served my years of punishment and now I’m free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel’s many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

“(y/n)?” Woozi softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, “Are you ready?”

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Woozi securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

기억나? Do you remember it?

Description: Alcohol is something you never touch, it’s just not your cup of tea. But one night, you decide to throw caution to the wind because you were feeling guilty for being the only sober one whenever Woozi and his friends drink together. But after you drink a little too much, Woozi is called in to get you home safely.
Warnings: Swearing
Genre: Angst, Fluff, BF!Woozi x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.4k

SeventeenMasterlist|Masterlists

“She’s….” Woozi’s voice trails off on the other end of the line.

“Drunk.” (y/f/n) finishes, holding your phone up to her ear.

“How? She never drinks.” He wonders incredulously but at the same time is scrambling to collect his things.

(y/f/n) shrugs, “Well, she did tonight. And she drank a lot.”

“Is she gonna get sick on the way home?” Woozi wonders, slightly worried about how he’s going to get you home.

“I don’t think so. She’s just very, mm, very emotional.” (y/f/n) says glancing over as you have your head buried in your hands. Not tears yet, just massive amounts of guilt.

Woozi sighs more out of worry than anything. Worry because you really never drink. Partly because you’re a lightweight and partly because you hate, absolutely despise, the way alcohol makes your body feel. Gets you all red and itchy and it’s not a fun time for you.

“I’ll be right over. Could you text me your address?” Woozi asks, slipping on his jacket.

“Yeah, no problem.” (y/f/n) says and hangs up before texting Woozi her address. Then she places your phone back into your purse.

Your hands drop from your face then and you continue your previous rant, cheeks are still bright red as is the little amount of chest showing. And from the last bathroom trip, everyone knows your thighs are also cherry red.

“I just, I just feel so so so bad.” You lull your head to the side. “Like I know it’s not my fault for not enjoying alcohol or the taste or how it makes my body feel but I feel so bad when all his friends are drinking and I’m the only sober one.”

“Who wants to play another game?” Another one of your friends asks, trying to break the odd tension you’ve created. But the question only springs another tangent from you.

“And games!” You throw your hands into the air, “When we play games and it involves drinking I try not play because half of the time Woozi has to drink for me! Why am I always the sober one?” You lean in close to the person next to you to emphasize your question.

“Because you have your reasons.” She answers your question with a humored smile. She’s clearly enjoying your drunken state as are the others along with a little worry cause they’ve never seen you drunk or drinking before.

“My reasons make me feel guilty.” You pout like a child. “I’m starting to wonder if I should drink more and force myself to get better with it all.”

“No, no, no.” (y/f/n) quickly shakes her hands in front of her, “That’s probably not a good idea. Remember the last time you tried that?”

“When did I ever do that?” You ask, blinking blankly at her.

“Before you finally gave up on alcohol the first time.” She reminds you and the memory resurfaces like a bad nightmare.

You visibly shiver and suddenly have a craving for water. “Pass me the water bottle?” You reach out a hand and one of your friends places it in your hand. “I still feel guilty as hell though.” You mention after taking a couple sips.

Before you could spiral back into the guilt ridden speech, Woozi knocks on the front door.

“Who’s that?” You whip your head around as (y/f/n) goes to answer the door.

She opens the door and reveals Woozi to the room and to you. As soon as you see him, you press your lips together to keep from saying anything about your earlier rant.

“You ready to go?” Woozi asks you, walking closer with a warm smile on his face. If you were sober you would’ve noticed the tinge of worry in his eyes but you were drunk so that detail went way over your head.

Not wanting to break your newly found code of silence, you simply nod your head though questions are flying through you mind.

Why is he here?

Where am I ready to go?

Is he taking me?

Are we all going together?

(y/f/n) hands Woozi your purse as you stand and walk to his side. Then he wraps an arm around your waist and leads you out of (y/f/n)’s place. You stumble here and there but are pretty stable when walking which brings some relief to Woozi.

“Did you have fun?” He asks you while waving down a taxi.

Again, in your code of silence, you just nod while focusing on staying standing and not letting your butt meet the concrete sidewalk.

Within seconds, a taxi pulls up and Woozi ushers you into the back seat before joining you and telling the driver an address. You’re not sure if it’s your address or his. If it’s his then you’re going to be going to an apartment with twelve other guys who will definitely never let you live this down. But that thought hasn’t hit you yet.

You let your head fall onto Woozi’s shoulder during the car ride and he lazily intertwines your hands together.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you quietly and you just nod your head truthfully.

“How much did you drink?” He continues to question you but you only shrug, staying silent.

Woozi chuckles, “(y/f/n) said that you were being chatty and ranting about something. But now you’re all quiet.”

Again, you just give him a small shrug as an answer.

“Just tell me if you don’t feel good, okay?” He asks, concern now seeping into his voice slightly but again, it goes right over your head.

You nod your head and feel your eyelids become heavy. Guess the adrenaline only lasts while your friends are there to keep fueling it.

By the time the taxi stops and Woozi pays, you’re about ready to fall fast asleep.

“Just a bit longer, (y/n).” He says and tugs you out of the taxi before closing the door and wrapping his arm around you waist again.

“I really don’t want the other guys to see me.” You suddenly spit out and Woozi walk falters ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t bring you back to the dorm.” He explains, “(y/f/n) lives closer to your place anyway.”

You gasp, “You know (y/f/n)?” You ask, shocked in your drunken state.

“We’ve met a few times and she called me tonight to come and pick you up.” He explains.

“Why would she call you?” You wonder, “I was fine. We were all fine.”

Woozi sees the tiny opening in the conversation and dives straight for it, too curious to be stopped. “Well, she said you were getting emotional.”

You place a hand over your chest, “I was? No, I wasn’t. I was just explaining how I feel bad because my boyfriend and his friends like to drink but I always end up being the sober one. And then my one friend had to mention games and then it only reminded me how my boyfriend - his name’s Woozi by the way - my boyfriend always has to drink for me if we play games and how terrible I feel about it because he has to drink twice as much.” You inhale dramatically after rushing the last bit as your breath ran out with it.

Woozi stays silent and internalizes your words. In all honesty, your soberness never bothered him. He didn’t mind drinking for you since he had a pretty good tolerance and drinking for you allowed him to get to an enjoyable buzz quicker than if he was drinking for just himself. And again because of his tolerance, he never minded that you were sober. He was always essentially sober when his friends drank so it was nice to have you around as another sober person. Plus he knew you detested the feeling you got when you drank so he respected that and never tried to get you to drink.

“Heyyyyyy.” You point to your front door, “This is the same number as my place! Has your place always been the same number as mine?” You ask, turning towards him with wide curious eyes.

Quickly unlocking your front door, he chuckles, “No, this is your place.” He says and opens the door before you go bounding inside.

“Woozi! Look!” You exclaim, gesturing to your couch, “It’s my COUCH! I sat right here while you and all your friends drank that one time.” You plop onto the couch and groan while squeezing your eyes shut, “And I was the only sober one that time too.”  

Closing the front door, all Woozi can do is shake his head and chuckle at your current state.

-the next morning-

Rolling out of bed, a low throbbing in your head makes you groan. Stumbling towards the kitchen, your mind replays hazy dream like memories of you going over to (y/f/n)’s place, deciding to throw in the towel and drink, and drink some more, then Woozi showed up and brought you home where you think you screamed something about your couch before talking about being sober.

“You’re awake.” Woozi states the obvious as he stands next to the coffee maker, “I was just about to come and wake you up.”

You give him a half smile, the most you can muster with your headache raging, “My head is killing me, do I have any painkillers or something?”

Woozi chuckles and points to the dining table where a large glass of water sits next to a napkin with two painkillers. “Way ahead of you. And drink the whole glass. It’ll help.”

You nod and pop the pills into your mouth before washing them down with the entire glass of water.

“Did I really drink that much last night?” You wonder and head into the kitchen to refill the glass.

“I don’t really know how much you drank.” Woozi admits while pouring out his coffee, “But yeah, I would guess it was a lot.”

Leaning back against the counter, you let your head fall forward in dismay.

“Do you remember it?” Woozi asks, copying your position opposite of you.

You nod slowly, “It’s foggy but I remember pretty much all of it, yeah.”

“You want to talk about it?” He offers a small smile.

“Don’t you have to get to work?” You wonder, looking over at the clock in concern.

Woozi shrugs his shoulders, “Work can wait for a little. Plus I don’t technically have to be in for a few hours.”

You sigh and purse your lips, “Why was I talking about being sober?” You ask, still curious as to why the word ‘sober’ kept appearing in your memories.

“Well, you kind of get emotional when your drunk, apparently. And last night, you kept ranting about how bad you felt that you are always the only one who’s sober when we get together with my friends.” Woozi fills you in and your face drops in embarrassment.

“Oh fuck me.” You groan and rub your hands over your face. “Oh, god, that’s, oh god.”

Woozi walks up to you and pulls your hands away from your face, “You know it doesn’t bother me right?”

Looking at him, you ask, “Being an emotional drunk or being the only one who doesn’t drink?”

A light smile touches his lips before he answers, “Both. But I’m mostly talking about you being sober while my friends and I drink.”

“Really?” You question him, “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course not.” Woozi says, gripping your hands a little tighter.

“Even when they make you drink for me when we play games?” You ask, scrunching your lips together.

“Even when they make me drink for you.” He repeats your words with a light tone, “It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. In fact, sometimes I enjoy those times.”

“You- why?” You stutter, curious.

“Because of my tolerance, on a normal night I can barely get a buzz enough to tolerate the others but on game nights, when I drink for you, I reach that comfortable buzz faster.” He explains, “And then Dokyeom, Hoshi, and Dino become ten times funnier.”

He chuckles and you try to control a smile by lowering your head down but a little giggle comes out anyway.

“But I already talked to the guys.” Woozi continues which brings your head up to meet his gaze. “I asked them to quit it with the 'if you’re playing a drinking game, you need to be drinking alcohol’ rule. They said fine so when we play, you can sip whatever drink you want to.”

“Why?” You ask, feeling gratitude to Woozi but also some confusion as to why he would do that.

“Cause I was starting to sense that it wasn’t sitting right with you that I was drinking for you.” He tells you, “Yes, I picked up on that. I’m your boyfriend, I could read you after like six months of dating.”

“Damn, I guess I gotta get better at hiding my thoughts then.” You joke and Woozi rolls his eyes.

“Good luck.” He offers encouragement with a touch of sarcasm and you stick your tongue out at him.

But Woozi quickly wipes the scowl away with a soft kiss to your lips.

“Thank you for talking to the guys. You really didn’t have to.” You tell him with a grateful smile.

“I kind of had to. They really were being pushy with the whole thing.” He says, matter-of-factly. “Hey, can I ask why you drank yesterday in the first place?” He wonders, wrapping your arms around his waist before placing his around your waist.

You shrug, “I guess I was kind of tired of being the sober one so I just grabbed a drink and drank it.”

“But you hate how alcohol makes you feel.” He reasons.

“I do. But I just was feeling so guilty about possibly being a downer cause I don’t drink that I guess, I just didn’t care last night.” You explain and rest your head on his chest/shoulder. “And I don’t think I’ll do it again. I really hated the feeling. And my body got so red, I swear it looked like I was sunburnt.”

“Ah, more like you had just belly flopped into a pool.” Woozi corrects your simile and you shoot a look up at him.

“What?” He counters your look, “Someone had to get you into your pajamas and you were in no state to do it yourself.”

You bury your face into his neck as a blush blooms on your cheeks.

Woozi laughs and hugs you closer, “It’s okay, you were an adorable drunk. And by the way,” He shuffles the two over to where you can see the living room and he points to the couch while laughing, “That is indeed your couch.”