haven-cove

[haven-cove]

Pairing: Mafia Ateez OT8x Reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,

Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

18+ only- No Minors

Chapter 1: Ice in your Veins

Chapter 2: The Wolves’ Den

[haven-cove]

Animals:

Bunny Seonghwa

❥Park Seonghwa x fem reader

❥ATEEZ x fem reader

➯a/n: and so it begins... lmao i'm having alot of fun with this so thanks once again to @klllerwaifu for the request that started it all !

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, hybrid a/b/o

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: poly pack dynamics, animal/human hybrids, hybrids take on physical and personality traits from their animals, hwa in heat, wayyyy too much cum, breeding, needy and desperate hwa, pleading to keep going, fast and hard sex, thigh job, very intense overstimulation, dacryphilia, tapping out, switch dynamics, touching his ears makes hwa cum on the spot (tehe), pet names (puppy, my girl, bunny, angel), little bit of aftercare + praise, omega puppy reader / omega bunny hwa

♡masterlist !♡

18+.MINORS DO NOT TOUCH.

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

Thump!

Thump!

Th-thump!

"Do you have a problem?" You finally snap as you whip around to face the source of the grumpy thumps — Seonghwa.

The pink haired omega is standing in the doorway of your room, his ears long, fluffy ears pinned to the sides of his head and pout on his plump lips. "No..."

You sigh and turn back to your book, ignoring the sulking bunny. You get a few seconds of peace until —

Thump!

"Seonghwa, seriously! I'm trying to read, what's wrong?" You toss your book, partly concerned and partly annoyed. Your nose twitches as you sniff the air.

"Want to come to the nest with me?" He asks quickly, ears twitching while impatiently searching for your response.

His peachy scent is extra thick and syrupy —

He's going into heat.

You should have realized something was up. He was eating even more greens than usual lately, rubbing his chin on you all extra hard before you went out. When everyone else coincidentally had plans today, it should have been a dead giveaway away. They left you alone with him on purpose, to give you some privacy; he always comes to you on the first day of his heat —

And he's always extra needy.

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

"My puppy," Seonghwa groans while thrusting into you wildly. His pace is frenzied, uncontrollable — rough. "Mine. M-mine."

He's got you bent over on your hands and knees, kneeling in the pack nest. His cum is dripping down your legs, and yet he shows no signs of stopping. His chest is pressed against your back, his breathing is hot on your sweaty neck.

Your cries of overstimulation make his ears twitch, stranding straight up on his head as he revels in them. The sound of his hips slamming into yours, his balls hitting your slick covered clit with every one of his rapid thrusts. Your sweet, yelping moans make him go faster.

He may be an omega, but he certainly doesn't fuck like one. Sure, he's moaning and groaning and has tears welling up in his eyes from the amount of pleasure your sloppy heat is giving him — but he's determined to breed and he's not being gentle with his intentions. Haven't you heard the saying; fuck like rabbits?

Male bunny hybrids are built to cum and cum and cum and —

"Ahh!" You wail as he slams his hips into yours extra hard, sending you prone bone on the blankets. You fists the fabric tightly and bring it to your face, burying yourself in it and letting it soak up the tears from the insanity inducing pleasure.

"Shhh," he coos shakily as his twitching length pumps yet another load into your flooded cunt. He starts whining and grinding into you even as he's working through it, his brain still screaming at him to breed you more. "Take it," he whimpers as you clench around him, milking his member, "take it-" comes out as a huff while he pulls his hips back.

He slams them back onto you, making you jolt and scream, "Hwa!"

"T-take it," he repeats like a mantra, pushing you flat on the mess of blankets with his hands on your shoulders. "Ple-please, puppy! Don't quit on- on me, need to breed you, need to cum — fuck! I need you so bad, please, pleaseeee~"

He whines like he isn't already buried balls deep inside of you every time he thrusts.

At least he's slowed down enough to give you a chance to gather your scattered brains. You moan weakly into the blanket, your entire body twitching each time he bottoms out. You aren't even physically capable of reaching a peak anymore, you're staying there.

He's fucked you into nothing but a ball of exposed, cum covered nerves. His cock gliding against your g-spot makes a tiny orgasm spark in your dopamine flooded brain every time.

And he's still rock hard.

"I c-can't-"

He can't help the pathetic whine that comes out at your words — he's not trying to make you feel guilty. He's genuinely distressed at the thought of pulling out of your gooey heat. "You can't?" He pouts as he stills deep inside of you. "One more? One more?" His ears droop as he pleads, even though you can't see them.

He needs to cum. He needs to. The thought of getting heat sickness makes him grind deeper into you. He needs to feel you.

"I'm sorry, b-bunny," you pant as you wipe your sweat and tear covered face with the fabric — it's already a complete mess anyway. "My pussy can't take it-"

"Yes, it caaaan," he thumps his leg with a tiny growl, crushing you under his body even though you make no attempt to get away, "my girl c-can take it! Perf-perfect pussy feels s'good~"

"I can't keep up," you whimper as your body clenches around him without your permission, another sharp orgasm flashing through you. "Fuck my th-thighs," you manage to slur, thankful he can't see the drool that almost drips down your chin before you wipe it. He'd undoubtedly start fucking you again.

"Your thighs?" He pants as he forces himself to pull out, "I can?" He looks down at your twitching hole, his eyes going wide and his ears springing upward as he witnesses all of his cum dribbling out to join the mess that's already on your thighs.

The sight is enough to make him shoot his hot release onto your backside — the feeling of it on your tingling ass cheeks makes you jump a bit.

His head rolls back as he instinctively starts fisting his length; his brain refusing to let up on the command of 'cum' for even a moment. "D-damn it!" He whines loudly, his cock begging for you. "Please, how- how do want it? Hurry, puppy, I need to feel you," his foot thumps again as he jerks himself off with the mess of his previous releases as lube; sliding easily and making squelching noises that have your ears twitching.

He lays down on his back quickly as you pat the space next to you, watching you with wide, begging eyes as you shakily push yourself up. "Don't worry, angel," your words make him dribble another milky drop to join the others as he squeezes his length, "just give me a break, you can still fuck me after I calm down a b-"

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" He grabs you, cum covered hand be damned, and yanks you to lay on top of him. "My girl is so good to me," he nearly babbles as he pushes your legs together with his own, squishing your thighs around his cock; fucking them with zero hesitation or shame. "Pretty thighs feel so nice, so soft, ahhh~"

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging onto him as his fast paced fucking of your thighs tosses you around atop him. You pant softly as you catch your breath, leaning down and leaving soft kisses across his neck.

"Y- oh~" His jaw drops as you press your thighs together, his lashes fluttering rapidly. He grabs your waist, keeping you extra still as he picks up the pace. It's nowhere near as comfortable or pleasing to his bunny brain as your cunt, but it's about to make him cum nonetheless. He'd be happy with just your hand, really. As long as he can feel your skin on his.

His ears flick as you wrap your fingers up in his hair, almost begging to be touched. "P-puppy?" He mewls, wide pupils trained on your face as you come up from his neck with a questioning look. "Pet my ears, please~"

"Of course, bunny~"

As soon as your fingers touch the base of his fuzzy pink ears, he's moaning out like a pornstar as he cums. Mouth wide open, body trembling underneath you as he paints the back of your thighs white.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cries as you gently pet behind his ears, tears pooling as he looks at you starry eyed. His hips stutter for a split second until he's fucking your slick thighs with the same insatiable energy. "Ha-" He hiccups, "harder."

"Harder, angel?" You hum, giggling as he moans at the nickname; nodding quickly.

"Pull," he whimpers out the single word, starting to be just as fucked out as you were a few moments ago.

You wrap your hands around the base of his ears, watching the way his eyes flutter shut blissfully with a smirk. When you give them a careful tug, he grabs your back; grounding himself.

His ears, like most hybrids, are very sensitive. Some don't like having them touched — "harder!!" — he isn't one of them.

A soft yank sends him completely off the deep end, his mind going feral and blank simultaneously. "Let me cum inside! Please-" Another hiccup makes him wail after it cuts off his pleading, his member twitching and pulsing and needing to be completely enveloped by you. "Last o-ne! Last one! Let me p-put it inside you, puppy!"

He's about to sob as you spread your thighs, his hips still humping up into the air desperately. He gasps as your heat slowly slides onto his reddened tip.

Bunnies are fast.

He has you on your back in half a second, slamming into you and drawing an ear piercing moan from your throat as your sensitive cunt gets bombarded by a sudden orgasm.

He thumps his foot as your hands threaten to fall, "pull, pull 'em, please! Want my girl to pull my ears!" He begs while wrapping his arms around the back of your messy thighs, folding them over and pounding into you so hard and fast that your feet dangle in the air helplessly.

You have to blink a few times to get your brain back. It's back to nonstop mini-orgasms as his length glides down into you and tortures your g-spot so blissfully. You re-wrap your hands around his ears, pulling on them and holding on tightly.

"Ffffuck~" He falls over on top of you, a full body shiver running through him as he finally, finally reaches satisfaction; flooding your abused hole all over again and keeping himself as deep as possible.

He shakily cups your heated face, landing a tender kiss on your lips as you softly rub his ears.

"Mine." He whispers against your lips between his satisfied moans. "My girl." He mimics a purr as he wraps his arms around you, rubbing his chin on the top of your head to cover you in his scent as if you aren't covered and filled with his cum.

"Mmf," you can only hum as your eyes droop, hugging him back tightly and wrapping your legs around him.

"Puppy kept up with me so well~" He grins as he cuddles you; both of you thankful as you feel his length finally softening inside of you. "Thank you," he pecks your lips, "I love you," and again.

"I love you, bunny," you smile dopily, melting underneath him, "sleep time~"

"Sleep time~" He laughs softly, wrapping his fuzzy ears around your head as you fall asleep. He won't be sleeping anytime soon, but he'll let you do so until he starts getting hard again.

You'll need all the rest you can get to keep up with him until another pack mate is brave enough to take your place.

‧｡ANIMALS𖦹°‧

[haven-cove]

Ateez members when you squirt. Ft hyung line

Including: Hongjoong , Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang x fem!reader (all separate!)

Warnings: studio sex (hongjoong) dirty talk, squirting, name calling (slut, dumb little thing), mean! seonghwa, porn no plot, overstimulation, possessive! yeosang, unprotected sex, choking (yunho), size kink (yunho), Daddy kink (Yunho), dirty dirty dirty just dirty so prepare yourself, lmk if I missed anything

Authors note: I'm so happy the maknae line received lots of love 😚 here's the hyungs!!! I love yunho btw 😋

Hongjoong.

“Don’t move.” His voice cut sharp through the low hum of the studio monitors, barely audible over the looping instrumental still playing in the background.

You were supposed to be here for feedback on a demo. Just to sit pretty in his lap while he worked. But then he slipped his hand between your legs during playback—just to “check something.”

And now you were panting, lips bitten raw, clinging to the armrests of his black studio chair like they were the only things keeping you tethered to earth.

Hongjoong’s fingers were coated in your slick, his knuckles deep inside you while the pad of his thumb rubbed quick, unforgiving circles over your clit.

“Look at you,” he murmured into your neck, voice low and dangerous. “So fuckin’ wet in my chair. Acting like you didn’t wear that skirt just so I’d do this.”

“Joong—p-please—” you whimpered, voice cracking, not even sure what you were begging for. To stop? To keep going? You didn’t even know anymore.

“You feel that?” he whispered as he crooked his fingers just right, curling them up against that spongey spot inside you that made your legs kick. “You’re close, aren’t you? So fucking close.”

Your hips bucked. The coil in your belly was snapping tighter and tighter and—

“Oh my god—!”

In a split second, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your cry as a gush of wetness spilled out of you, soaking the front of his sweats, the leather of his chair, and dripping down your thighs.

You squirted.

All over him.

Hongjoong stilled. His fingers still nestled deep inside your pulsing heat, the other hand still clamped over your mouth. His breath was shallow. And then he laughed.

“Holy shit.”

You squirmed, blinking hard, barely able to see through the tears blurring your vision. “I-I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled his soaked hand back slowly, glistening in the dim LED light, watching your cunt twitch around nothing now. “Fuck. That was beautiful.”

You flinched when he leaned down and licked the mess off his own fingers, groaning like he’d just tasted the best meal of his life.

“You made a mess, baby,” he mocked sweetly, palming the soaked fabric of your panties now stuck to your skin. “Didn’t think I could make you squirt, huh?”

You shook your head, cheeks burning.

Hongjoong gripped your chin, forced you to meet his gaze—intense and hungry, his pupils blown wide with lust. “You’re gonna do it again,” he said simply, like it was fact. Like you owed him that.

“W-what? I—I can’t—”

“You can.”

He dragged you off his lap, bent you over the mixing console, careful not to press any buttons—though at this point, you wouldn’t have noticed if the whole song deleted itself.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growled, freeing himself and shoving back into your soaked, trembling hole. “And this time, you’re gonna squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

The music kept playing. The beat rolled on. But all you could hear was the slap of skin, the lewd squelch of your wetness, and Hongjoong’s filthy voice in your ear:

“That’s it, baby. Dumb little thing. Cumming again already? God—you really are mine.”

And you did. Again. And again. Until you couldn’t even cry anymore, only whimper and shake and thank him with slurred babbles.

The studio was ruined.

He didn’t care. He kissed the crown of your head and whispered with a devilish smirk:

“Let’s get that on the next track.”

Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was so pretty when he was gentle. The soft-spoken voice, the feather-light kisses, the way he tucked your hair behind your ear like you were glass.

But that wasn’t the version of him hovering over you now.

His hands were planted beside your head, and his hips were deep—so deep inside you, your belly ached. Sweat glistened down his neck, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead. And his dark eyes… they weren’t soft anymore.

“Thought you said you could handle it, princess.” He thrust in once, slow but devastatingly deep. “So why are you crying?”

“I-I’m not—ah! Hwa—!”

Your voice pitched up into a sob as the next thrust knocked the breath from your lungs. You could feel yourself getting wetter, feel your thighs trembling and twitching as he pulled back and slammed into you again.

“Liar.”

He dipped his head low, kissing the tears from your cheeks while his cock bullied your walls open all over again.

“You said you could take it.” A hand slid under your leg and pushed your knee up to your chest. “You begged for it, remember?”

You nodded weakly, fingers gripping the sheets, eyes rolling back.

His pace was cruel now. Calculated. Your slick coated his lower stomach, smearing against his skin with every thrust.

“God, this pussy’s filthy. You’re fucking dripping,” he hissed. “Look at you. You're making a mess on me.”

“H-Hwa—please, it’s too much—!”

“Too much?” he echoed, mocking, as his thumb found your clit and started circling fast, relentless strokes. “This too much? Or this?” He pressed harder.

That’s when it happened—your entire body seized up and then released.

Warm liquid gushed out from you, soaking his thighs, your own skin, the sheets. You squirted so violently it splashed his hips.

Seonghwa didn’t stop. Not even close.

He growled low in his throat and pulled out for a second just to watch it. Watched your cunt pulse and gush and spasm like you were ruined from the inside out.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, voice husky and hoarse. “You squirted for me.”

You could barely breathe. “I—didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did,” he cut in. “You wanted to. Your body begged for it. Don’t pretend you’re not a little slut for it now.”

You whimpered, biting your knuckles.

Seonghwa climbed back between your legs, cock still hard, dragging it up and down your soaked slit. He didn’t slide in yet—just rubbed his tip against your clit, teasing, tapping. Watching you squirm.

“Wanna do it again.”

“I—I can’t,” you breathed out, voice hoarse from moaning.

“You can. You will.” He finally pushed back inside—too slow, too deep—and your eyes immediately crossed.

“There’s my girl,” he purred, kissing your jaw, then nipping it. “Gonna fill you up this time, make you squirt while I cum in you. Don’t stop till you do.”

And he fucked you through it, again and again, until the only words you could say were half-spoken sobs and the sound of your own squirt hitting the ruined sheets.

Yunho.

“Holy shit.”

Yunho froze for a half-second, blinking down at where you lay trembling beneath him—your thighs shaking, your pussy gushing.

Clear liquid sprayed from between your legs, soaking his stomach, his cock, and the sheets beneath you both.

He stared, wide-eyed, lips parted. Then his expression twisted.

Into a grin.

“Did you just fucking squirt?”

You let out a choked sob, covering your face with your hands in pure embarrassment.

“D-Don’t—Yunho—”

“Oh no, no,” he laughed darkly, reaching up to yank your wrists away and pin them to the bed. “You don’t get to hide from me now, princess.”

His cock was still buried inside you, twitching, hot and hard and pressing deliciously against the spot that had just made you lose control.

“You squirted all over me, baby. That’s what this pretty little cunt does when it gets really full, huh?”

You couldn’t even talk. Just moaned, legs weak, cunt still fluttering from the orgasm that wrecked you.

“Was it too much?” he cooed mockingly, thrusting his hips once—slow, just to feel you twitch again. “Can’t handle it?”

You shook your head. “C-Can… but—”

“But what?” he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna do it again?”

Your moan gave you away.

He groaned, like he was the one about to fall apart.

“Fucking knew it,” he growled. “Knew this pussy would be obsessed with me. Can’t even stop leaking.”

With your legs still spread open and held wide, Yunho started to move again. More deliberate this time—less punishing, more controlled. Watching you the whole time like a man obsessed.

And when your thighs twitched again—when your moans pitched up, when your hips tried to wiggle away from the pressure—

He sped up.

“Don’t you fucking dare run from it,” he hissed. “Wanna see it again. Wanna feel you gush around my cock, baby.”

“I can’t—! S’too much—”

“You can. You’re gonna squirt for me again, just like the messy little thing you are.”

Your toes curled. Eyes rolled. The pressure hit you even harder than the first time—like a dam about to break.

And then—

“F-Fuck—Yunho—!”

It happened. Again.

Your second squirt hit his thighs, his cock, your belly, everything.

Yunho’s laugh was breathless, wrecked. He kept fucking you through it, holding your legs in place, watching you fall apart with complete awe and total pride.

“That’s my girl. That’s my dumb, messy girl.”

You were crying by the time your third orgasm hit.

And he didn’t stop. Not even close.

“Not done ‘til you’ve soaked the whole fucking bed.”

Yeosang.

You had always assumed Yeosang would be soft.

Gentle. Polite. Almost shy.

But now you were underneath him—spread open, legs over his shoulders, dress bunched around your waist, his cock buried inside you—completely wrecked and shaking.

And Yeosang?

Yeosang hadn’t said a word.

Not one.

Just stared down at you with that unreadable, infuriatingly calm look on his face while he fucked you slowly—so deep, so controlled, so consistent it was driving you insane.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets. “Y-Yeo—can’t—”

His hand came up to your throat—gently, but firm enough to make your next gasp catch—and his hips rolled again.

Right into that spot.

Right into that place he kept hitting again and again and again.

“You can,” he finally said, voice quiet but sharp. “You can take it, baby.”

You whined, vision blurring. “M’gonna—f-feels—”

Yeosang looked down between your bodies, his brows twitching ever so slightly when he saw it.

The wet.

The way your pussy clenched hard around him and started gushing—clear liquid spraying with each helpless jolt of your hips.

You squirted.

You didn’t mean to. Didn’t expect to. But it happened.

“Oh.” His voice dipped lower. Still calm. Still steady. But different.

“You’re squirting?” he murmured, more to himself than you. “That’s how good it feels?”

You covered your face. “I-I—Yeosang—”

He reached down and pulled your hands away, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Don’t hide,” he said, and this time there was a flicker of something smug in his eyes. “Let me see what I did to you.”

You shuddered.

And then he did it again.

Same angle. Same roll. Same deep thrust right against the spot that made your body jerk.

You squirted again.

“Mm.” He tilted his head, blinking slowly. “So messy. What a cute little thing you are.”

“Yeo—Yeosang—too much—!”

“Then cum again.”

That deadpan. That almost disinterested tone as he kept pounding into your soaked cunt, no change in pace, no hesitation, just quiet confidence as he made you come again—

—and squirt again.

The sheets were soaked. Your thighs were shaking. You were gasping, clawing, babbling.

And Yeosang was still looking at you like you were his favorite fucking experiment.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Guess I’ll have to keep making it happen. Over and over. Until you can't even blink without dripping all over me.”

Writing by @lustlvii please do not translate or publish anywhere

[haven-cove]

Can I request an ateez yeosang x reader smut where he gets her to squirt for the first time and she slips into subspace? Etc?

embarrassed for me name to be there so here's an emoji

🐈‍⬛

23:52 • sᴡᴇᴇᴛ, ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ɢɪʀʟ (NSFW)

♡ softdom!boyfriend!Yeosang x sub!girlfriend!reader

♡ comfort, domestic, smut

♡ WC • 4009

♡ Warnings!! (tags) • unprotected sex, size kink, deflowering, subspace, praise, oral (f/r), overstimulation, edging, squirting, pet names, marking, multiple positions, afab reader, swearing, aftercare. (pls lmk if I missed anything.)

♡ A/N: my first request! Thank you anonnie! 🫶🫶 I hope this was to your liking. and something for @shinestarhwaa while you wait for the wooyoung fic 😚.

♡ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

♡*♡∞:｡.｡ ♡*♡∞♡*♡∞:｡.｡ ｡.｡:∞♡*♡ ｡.｡:∞♡*♡ ｡.｡:∞♡*♡

 Your eyes were on the white ceiling, occupying yourself by looking at the slight texture of it. You tried focusing on the sound of the city below your apartment, but you quite couldn’t do that much when the sound filling the room was Yeosang slurping away at your pussy, his tongue alternating between curling inside your hole and swirling around your clit. 

   He had your legs hunched over his shoulders, your inner thighs adorned with love bites, and his drying saliva. Your outer thighs felt the chill of your room, meanwhile, his body in between them made you all the warmer. Your hands travelled up his hoodie that you had on, playing at your tits.

   Yeosang’s rough hands kneaded at your love handles, running down the rolls of your waist inside the hoodie, and down to your exposed hips. All while making out with your throbbing clit.

   Propping himself up, he sucked on his fingers, and carefully put a finger inside you. You exhaled deeply, hiding in the comfort of the hood as he proceeded to stretch your hole out. First with his middle finger, then adding his ring, and eventually his index. He scissored and made ‘threes’ inside your hole, making sure to stretch you out enough for what was to come later.

   He kissed your pelvis soothingly as he did, then licked a stripe up your clit, flicking it with the tip of his skillful tongue. You moved to pet his fluffy black hair, being met with his soft puppy-like eyes that are so perfectly complemented by the heart-shaped birthmark on his left eye. He let you pet him for a moment before gently grabbing your hips with both hands, sitting you up, and helping you onto your tummy, but you paused for a moment.

   “What’s the matter, little one?” he cocked his head, speaking to you in that nauseously careful tone of his. You fumbled with the hem of his hoodie, and he hummed. “Off?” you nodded silently, raising your arms above your head as he slipped it off you. Once it came off you then laid onto your front, the sheets caressing your bare skin, not so much the cold air that determined to leave goosebumps on your arms and back though.

   You could hear Yeosang behind you, the rustling of him taking off his sweats and the soft thud of it landing after he discarded it carelessly in a random area of your room. His underwear came next, you didn't want to turn your head and look at what he’d been hiding all this time, maybe it might intimidate you, and you didn’t want to back out of this, not when you were already to that point.

    Your head rested in your nestled arms. He moved your hair out of the way from your back, as he ran his soft hands up and down your spine. You shivered at his feather-light touches, along with the overwhelming comfort of the fluffy sheets below, melting into your nude front.

   “Sweet girl,” Yeosang whispered, caging you between his arms as he propped himself planked on the bed. He kept his tone soft and quiet so as to not disrupt the comfortable silence in the room. He then caged your legs between his and leaned down close to your head. You could feel his warm breath fanning the side of your face and neck. “Tell me if it’s too much. Alright, little one?” he cooed at you, and you nodded softly.

   Yeosang set himself on his elbows, nuzzling into your neck as he gently pushed into your tight hole. He had more girth than the small toys you regularly used, making you whimper slightly at the foreign size. He wasn’t even halfway through when he paused, worried at your noise of discomfort. His hand reached around to hold yours, cooing soothing words to you. 

   You shook your head when Yeosang asked if you wanted to stop. “Jus’ not used to it,” you mumbled into the pillow. He nodded silently in understanding, leaving a gentle squeeze on the hand that he held as he started to push in the rest of his cock. Your walls flutter around him as he stretches you out, his length slowly expanding your hymen till it tears. 

   Feeling your hymen tear you squeezed his hand. It didn’t hurt much, but you paused nonetheless. He was bigger inside you than you thought he would be, and your eyebrows creased as you attempted to adjust to him.

   “Shh,” Yeosang pets your hair, his lips against your head. “Easy, easy… you’re alright, little one,” he murmurs, kissing your head softly. You can feel his balls firmly against your pussy lips, adding a new warmth to your already furnaced heat. Your walls locked him in snugly. The plush, gummy-like texture caressed his veins. You could feel his cock pulsate inside you, it was hard to ease yourself.

   “You’re squeezing me so tight baby, you’re so tense,” your boyfriend attempted to soothe you, moving his hands to caress and massage at your sides and hips. “Ease up for me, angel,” he murmurs, the husk in his voice coming deep from his throat.

   It was hard to follow as he told you, as you could feel Yeosang bulging out of your tummy. Nonetheless, you took a deep breath as you slowly unclenched around him, making him sigh in relief. He wouldn’t admit it to you but the tightness of you clamping down on him so aggressively like a vice caused him a bit of discomfort and pain. Not really any man admits to it, to hold their pride in the bedroom, but yeosang held his discomfort in to make you feel more comfortable around him. He didn’t want you to panic over causing him pain when he was the one taking care of you.

   “You ready for me to move, little angel?” He asks gently, resting back down onto his elbows. You gave it a few more seconds before nodding softly, reaching behind you to hold his hand. Taking the hint he laid both your hands at the sides of your head, interlacing his from behind. Languidly, he started to move, very carefully pulling back his hips before slowly dipping back in. 

   His pelvis met your ass. Warm skin meeting each other before departing a few inches and meeting again after a few seconds. Yeosang guided you to take deep breaths, with each gentle thrust in and out. Fluttering your eyes shut you burrowed your face into your pillow, inhaling and exhaling deeply through your nose.

   Though it was quiet in the room the squelching reverberation of your intimates grinding together made your ears ring. The longer you adjusted to his cock the more he felt fitted inside you, his strokes feeling more pleasurable. He moved fluidly, rolling his hips into you instead of going straight and stiff.  You could feel each pant of his warm breath against your neck, trying to hold himself back from fucking you senseless. You just felt too good. With a hum, he asked-

   “How is that for you my love?”

   You nodded, letting out a small ‘good, Sangie’ before asking if he could pick up the pace now that you were more comfortable. Yeosang spread out his legs more and locked his legs around yours, planking himself up now on his hands, still laced with yours. Once adjusted he gave a few experimental thrusts before starting to move at a more moderate pace, soft claps now beginning to echo throughout the room as you released a quiet moan into the pillow below. Taking in the pleasured tone, he released his right hand from yours, placing his hand onto the headboard as he continued with his pace, still paying attention to your reactions.

   Every thrust that was deep enough he noticed you flutter around him and micro-orgasm, taking note of how your noises sounded more sweet and higher in volume. Every little detail mattered to him. Yeosang’s eyes were locked onto you below him, mainly your fingers and the way they gripped the sheets. Did they claw or twist the fabric, rake, or simply press?

   Without thinking, Yeosang picked up his pace to a quicker one. Not too fast or abrupt but above moderate. His brain flipped its switch for a moment there, focused on the way you clamped around him and how good his tip felt rubbing against your walls. His shaft felt so warm when in, but cold and wet when out. 

   Yeosang moaned softly, head thrown back as he let his hips take control and have a mind of their own. His head leaned back forward again, eyes closing as he moaned prettily.

   “Baby,” he said, returning to his elbows as he hugged your whimpering figure, his nose nuzzled into your neck. His tip hit that particular spot inside you, that you almost always reached with your toys but never quite could.

His cock thrust into exactly there, making your face contort and your noises increase. “Sangie- Sangie right there,” you whined, your arm looping to him that had wrapped around your neck warmly. “Right there, yeah?” he echoed back to you, deciding to go just a bit harder now as you babbled out little ‘Sangie’s here and there.

   Your walls contracted with every thrust, feeling emptiness before he filled you up again. The texture of his smooth head and rough, veiny shaft were the perfect mix, a foreign feeling than any of the rubber or silicone toys you used. You could get used to this.

   A couple of minutes of him boning you lasted before he pulled out from behind you, untangling your legs and sitting on his heels. His hands went to your shoulders and waist, guiding you to flip onto your back now. He moved your hair from under your back to not itch you at all and made sure your head was secure and comfortable in the pillows before placing a pillow under your tailbone and lifting your hips up. At this angle you could see his cock- he wasn’t overly hung but he was there, pale and cut, with a pretty rouge-pink head. He was an average six, you assumed his girth to be the same, he was thick. It made sense as to why your walls felt unusually stretched out.

   Noticing your staring he chuckled lightly, patting your cheek, and you looked up at him who now hovered over you. 

   “It already fit, why so scared?” he teased, noticing the way your eyes timidly peeked at his friend down there. Your cheeks flushed pink, as you shook your head. “, ’m not,” you mumbled, and he leaned down to press a reassuring peck to your nose. “Just focus on me, angel, hmm?” and you nodded.

   Aligning himself with your entrance, he entered you once again. You let out a particularly sweet whine when he began moving inside you again, resulting in your hands moving to cover your face.

   “Uh-uh,” Yeosang reached for your wrists, “mm-mm, let me see you, angel. Let Sangie see his pretty little angel,” he said under his breath, taking your wrists and pinning them to the sides of your head. You felt meek under him at this angle, full view of your breasts going up and down your chest when he thrusts. Not only that but your expressions, which he found so pretty to look at. The way your eyebrows creased and furrowed, the way you sucked in and bit down on your lip, the way your eyelids fluttered as you restrained from letting them close, wanting to keep your eyes on his angelic face above you. The tips of his ears were a shade of red, and sweat beading at his hairline. His eyes would close for a moment or two when he brushed against a certain spot inside you, and eventually, once again he found your special place, raw dogging with it once he noticed your back arch.

   “go harder, Sangie, please.” you whimpered, and he didn't think twice before wrapping your legs around his waist and putting you in a mating press, thrusting down into your needy hole.

   “Oh fuck, jagiya,” Yeosang practically whimpered, his moans escaping his lips more frequently now. His beefy tits are right above you, you can see the movement of his pectorals and his hard nipples, begging to be played with. You didn’t have a chance to though as he swooped down, capturing your lips in his in a long-awaited needy kiss. The contact of his black-cherry chapstick-flavoured lips against yours sealed everything, as you felt a knot start to build up inside your lower tummy.

   “S-Sangie-” you tried speaking between kisses, your walls clamping down on him. He felt this, not wanting you to cum yet he pulled out, restricting you from your orgasm. A loud whine escaped your throat, as your eyes went wide open and you looked at him with confusion.

   “Shh, baby. I’ll let you cum soon, but not right now.” Yeosang rubbed your clit gently as he pushed back in, moving languidly and now leaning down to your neck, gathering your hair in one hand out of his way as he began to nibble and suck at your neck and collarbone, leaving red and purple markings, now matching your thighs. His lips travelled to your nipples, taking a hard bud into his mouth as his free hand occupied the other one.

   His thrusts had come to a complete stop as he toyed with your sensitive nipples, your pussy cockwarming him as he stayed inside you. Yeosang had you filled, making all the play more sensitive. His tongue glided right on the bud, your walls contracting for a brief moment as you micro-orgasmed around his cock, a small moan sounding in your ears from him.

   Seemingly satisfied with your reaction Yeosang started up his thrusts once more, deep and moderate. He groaned and pressed himself up completely against you, cradling your head into his neck. The slaps were wet. A squelching sound from all the buildup reverberated into your sensitive senses, sending flutters from your stomach to your clit, the pearl sticking from your lips.

   Yeosang had you in a headlock as he thrusted. You inhaled his scent and it made you feel so locked in, like a swaddled baby in his arms. Every time you got close to orgasm he would slow down to a stop, until he was satisfied the fourth time around and let go of your head, planking himself up so he could press one of his hands slowly into your stomach right where the slight bulge of him was.

   You microed back to back until the knot started building up. Your pussy was so sensitive by now that you weren’t even sure if you would be able to cum. You not only felt that but a mixed feeling of having to be relieved too. It was almost difficult to put into words, but you tried nonetheless.

   All Yeosang heard were babbles coming from you, he chuckled softly. His hand that was on your stomach went to your throbbing clit, and he pressed his middle finger up on it. Your eyes rolled back before looking back up at him, your hands on his shoulders as you tried to get the words out. He shushed you though, and rubbed a few small but firm circles before you felt a gushing sensation via your urethra, straight spilling onto the sheets as well as Yeosang’s pelvis. He pulled out and dove his fingers straight into your hole, moving quickly as he watched your expressions and listened to your pretty noises.

   “See? There we go, pretty girl. Came so beautifully for Sangie, didn’t you?”

   Your brain felt fuzzy after your orgasm, eyes clearing up and legs going limp. A deep exhale exited your lungs and you closed your eyes, now feeling the sweat that built up under your back that dampened the pillow under your tailbone. Yeosang looked down at you with his soft, puppy-like expression, cradling your face with his palms.

   “You’re such a good angel for me, baby-”

   “Sangie,” You cut off, looking up at him with a pout. His expression shifted to slight worry.

   “Hmm? What happened, angel?”

   Your legs wrapped back around his waist, pulling him back in as you babbled at him-

   “Sangie, Sangie didn't cum,”

   Yeosang’s expression softened again, as he looked down at you with a mix of amusement and adoration. “That's because Sangie was focused on you, baby. You want Sangie to cum?” your hands ran down his beefy arms, nodding adamantly but no words coming out your mouth.

   Your boyfriend smiled softly at the way you became so much more needy for him now, noticeably slipping into your subspace. He always noticed from the way you become so much more desperate and clingy, your eyes having a different demeanor to them as well. It felt as if he was handling a delicate flower or a porcelain vase that would shatter any minute.

   Gently, he slipped back into you for what felt like the nth time, keeping his movements gentle and languid as he knew you were still sensitive. He hugged you close, peppering kisses to your face and a plush one onto your wet lips. It didn’t take much time before his balls started to tighten since he'd been holding it in. “I-Inside,” you murmur, “inside?” he echoes back for confirmation, and you answer with a “yes, please.”. With a few more pushes rubbing against your cervix, he spilled into you, filling up your womb with his cum. You visibly flutter at the comforting feeling, humming in contentment as he finishes inside you. He keeps himself nestled there, letting you cuddle him to your delight until he eventually pulls away and carefully pulls out, a pop separating his cock from your hole.

   Yeosang kisses your forehead before going to the connected bathroom inside the bedroom, leaving you nestled into the bed. You close your legs to keep his cum inside, it felt better knowing it was your boyfriend’s instead of the fake cum of an ejaculating toy. 

   You hear the water running from the faucet of your bathtub, your head moving to the side to get a better angle of what Yeosang’s doing in the bathroom but the door is halfway closed. You can smell the familiar scent of your vanilla bean candle though, and soon enough Yeosang emerges from the bathroom, coming towards your curled-up figure and scooping you into his big arms, nuzzling your hair as he walks you back to the bathroom. 

   Sure enough, you saw what you had smelled. At the rim of the tub were your candles, some unscented leaving only one scented so as to not overwhelm your already delicate senses. The bathtub was filled with bubble bath, not too much that it overflowed but just enough. Yeosang slowly lowered you into the tub, the warm water engulfing your skin inch by inch. He settled you comfortably, your back leaning against the wall. The bubbles went up to your shoulders.

   You frowned when Yeosang stood back up straight to leave, your face contorting. “Where are you going?” You pout, and he turns to look at you. “I'm gonna put the sheets to wash, I'll be back quick, angel.” he promises, before heading out of the bathroom. 

   He took a couple minutes, coming back to find you playing with the bubbles, completely whisked away in your own little world. He slowly makes his way over to you, crouching down at the bathside and running his hands through your hair. Grabbing the body wash, he pumps a generous amount into your baby pink loofah, and takes your arm, starting off with that. The soothing feeling of him lathering you goes up your arm and across your chest, and to your other arm as well. Yeosang makes sure to get your neck, behind your ears, your back, and so on so forth. 

   Once you’ve been bathed, he takes his time washing your hair. His fingers massage the shampoo into your scalp, making sure to be careful incase you were tenderheaded. Your soft sounds of contentment were reassurances to him, as he watched you relax under his touch. You reminded him of a ragdoll, the way your eyes looked at him with adoration when in this headspace, completely reliant and stuck onto him. He adored the moments of when he would attempt to leave the bed, only for you to pull him back with a ‘no, Sangie’, or those moments of him walking into the room to find you curled up in his clothes, hugging his pillow that was drowned in his scent. 

   Too caught up in his thoughts, Yeosang didn’t realize you had fallen asleep. He quickened his pace of finishing to wash your hair before picking you up out of the tub, wrapping you in a fluffy towel and unplugging the tub. As much as he tried to not awake you, you woke up out of your light slumber anyway. It was a tiny dozing off.

   “Out the bath?” You cooed tirely, and he nodded. “Baby out the bath, mhm. Cmon, Sangie needs to dry your hair so you don’t get sick, little one, don’t you think?”

   Yeosang dried your body, putting you in his shirt and a fresh pair of panties. He then sat you in front of the vanity, taking your wet brush and untangling your hair before plugging in the blowdryer. You flinched at the loud noise, and he immediately shushed you, crooning. “It’s just the blowdryer, I’ll put it on low for you, angel.”

   He adjusted it to a low setting so it’s quieter, sectioning your hair and drying it. Again, he took his time, even though by now it was two in the morning. He didn’t mind, he was only worried about you right now. Plus, he had the week off, time wasn’t his priority at the moment. You stared at him through the mirror, admiring his face. Your eyes locked onto his birthmark, you always found it to be so pretty. Despite his insecurities about it, you always made sure to sit on the side of him where you could see it regardless.

   Yeosang seemed to notice this. He looked at you through the window and smiled gently, before focusing back on your hair. It took what felt like forever, but eventually he got it done and he led you back to the bathroom.

   Your boyfriend lifted you and sat you on the counter. You swung your legs a bit, watching as he grabbed your bow headband and put it on you, pushing back the hair that framed your face. He started off by washing your face, using your favourite cleanser. Once he was done with that he applied your eyepatches, and applied your moisterizer. Yeosang knew you were tired so he didn’t want to drag your skincare routine out. While he was waiting for the eyebags to do whatever they were supposed to he took the time to brush your teeth, holding your jaw and giggling at the way your eyes were slowly shutting. 

   Hurrying up, he cleaned your mouth, and took off your eyebags and headband, bringing you back to bed. He took a quick trip to the kitchen to leave you a cold glass of water, and after tucking you in he took a quick shower himself. Yeosang figured he’ll worry about everything else later on, getting dressed into boxers and climbing into bed with your sleepy form.

   You felt the bed dip, and shuffled close to Yeosang subconsciously, burrowing into his side. He smiled once more and kissed your head, turning off the lamp and pulling the covers over the both of you. His hand caressed your head as he stared out the window, watching the city lights. Soon sleep got the best of him, and he fell asleep with you in his arms, occupying his side of the bed.

   Holding close to him his sweet, pretty girl.

[haven-cove]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: Cry For Me - CORRUPTION ♡

SUMMARY / An average night with your boyfriends, except this time it's more raw, more intense, the first time you fall into subspace.

warnings ✩ SMUT, DOM/SUB dynamics, soft dom!mingi, switch!wooyoung, sub!fem reader, poly relationship, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, petnames (tiny, love), praise and degradation, choking, slight voice kink, reader falls deep into subspace

word count ✩ 2,68k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @shinebyeoli @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh @hwallazia @aurorasjoongie@seonghwaswifeuuu

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

"You're doing so well," Mingi ran his fingers across your chest, occasionally pinching your nipples. His voice was low, a gentle rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You lay on top of him, barely able to hear him due to Wooyoung's head between your legs, his tongue playing with your clit in a way that made your toes curl. The room was dimly lit, only the glow from the laptop screen casting a soft blue light across the sheets. The faint scent of vanilla candles filled the air, mixing with the musky aroma of sex.

Your breath grew ragged as the sensations built up inside of you. You felt the beginnings of something new, a feeling of floating, as if you were slowly detaching from the world. The pain and pleasure intertwined, creating a pattern of sensations that washed over you like waves of warmth.

"Woo…" you croak, your thighs trembling around his head. "P-Please," you beg, not even knowing what you're asking for. The intensity was like nothing you've ever experienced before, your body hovering on the brink of a precipice you didn't even know existed.

Mingi's eyes, filled with a fierce tenderness, met yours. He read the desperation in them, understanding the depth of your need. With a nod, he gently squeezed your hips, urging Wooyoung to increase his pace. The world around you narrowed to the sensation of his tongue, the pressure building until it felt like you were going to shatter.

"Focus, tiny." Mingi whispers in your ear, the endearment a stark contrast to the firm grip he now had on your hips, guiding you. You felt the mattress shift as he repositioned himself beneath you, his erection pressing against your ass. Your eyes glazed over with arousal, unable to resist the siren call of his voice. Wooyoung's tongue grew more insistent, each stroke of it pushing you closer to the edge.

"I-I'm gonna c-come--" you whimper, leaning your head back on Mingi's shoulder. His arms tighten around you, holding you close, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady cocktail of lust and love.

Wooyoung's eyes dart up to meet yours, a silent question in them. You nod frantically, giving him the green light. His grip on your thighs tightens, his tongue flicking faster, more demanding. The orgasm hits you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs and sending your vision swirling with stars. You scream, a raw, primal sound that echoes through the quiet apartment.

Wooyoung pulled away and replaced his tongue with his fingers, sliding them in and out of you as the aftershocks of your climax rippled through your body. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt your eyes roll back into your head. Your muscles clenched around his digits, and a strangled noise of pleasure escaped your throat.

"I-I can't-" you try to protest, but the words are barely out of your mouth when Mingi leans in to whisper, "You can, baby. Trust us." His voice is a velvet promise that wraps around you, giving you the strength to endure the overwhelming sensations.

You throw your arm over your face, your thighs closing only for Wooyoung to open them back up. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, his expression one of pure, focused determination. He slathers your clit with his saliva, and then starts to suck on it, gently at first, and then with more pressure, as if trying to coax more pleasure out of your trembling body. Your cries become more frequent, each one more desperate than the last.

Tears started to fall down your cheeks from pure pleasure. Mingi's hand caressed your side, his thumb stroking your hip in a gentle, reassuring pattern. He could feel the tremors in your body as Wooyoung brought you closer to a second orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathless whimpers and the wet noises of Wooyoung's ministrations.

"Cmon," Wooyoung murmured, looking at you with a mix of passion and determination. He added a third finger, stretching you even further, while his thumb found your clit again. The dual sensation was too much, and you felt your body start to shake uncontrollably. The pressure grew, a tight coil in your belly.

"F-Fuck!" you cry out, the pleasure becoming too much to handle. Your nails dig into the sheets, clutching at the fabric as if it's the only thing anchoring you to reality. Your vision swims, and you feel your body start to drift away, leaving you floating in a sea of sensation.

"Good girl." Mingi's voice was a low rumble, his grip on your hips unyielding as Wooyoung's relentless attention sent you spiraling towards another peak. You could feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to expand with every heartbeat. The room spun around you, the only anchors being the strong arms that held you down and the mouth that worshiped you.

You collapsed on top of Mingi, Wooyoung crawling up to kiss you as the last of your orgasm ebbed away. Your legs were jelly, unable to support your own weight. You felt boneless and utterly spent, your chest rising and falling with the effort of each breath.

"Tiny, you okay?" Mingi's voice was a gentle murmur against the roar in your ears. You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, and felt his arms wrap around you protectively. The world was a haze of sensation, colors bleeding into one another as you descended into a place where pleasure and pain were one.

"Y/N?" Wooyoung's concerned voice broke through the fog of pleasure. You nodded feebly, unable to find the words to express the intensity of what you were feeling. Your eyes were unfocused, and your body was a mass of sensations, each more profound than the last.

"Jesus, she's in subspace." Mingi's voice was filled with awe and concern, his eyes never leaving yours as he felt the change in your body. You had gone limp in his arms, a soft whine escaping your lips as the last vestiges of your climax washed over you. The room grew quieter, the only sounds the harsh panting of your breath and the thud of your heart echoing in your ears.

You lazily reached around, tugging at Wooyoung's sweatpants, needing more of him, needing to feel him inside you. He must've sensed your desperation because he pulled away just long enough to shed his clothes, his erection springing free. The sight of him, all hard lines and sinew, made your mouth water, your body aching to be filled.

"N-Need…it…" you whimper, your hand shaking as it reaches for Wooyoung's cock. The words are barely coherent, lost in the haze of pleasure that's taken over your body. You're in subspace, a place of pure sensation and need, where the boundaries between reality and ecstasy are blurred.

"Be careful." Mingi's warning was a gentle nudge, his hand steadying your wrist as Wooyoung positioned himself at your entrance. You could feel the warmth of his cock pressing against you, a promise of more pleasure to come. His eyes searched yours, seeking confirmation, and you gave it to him with a nod that was more a twitch of your chin than a conscious movement.

Wooyoung pushed himself inside, filling you completely, and you let out a long, drawn-out moan that seemed to come from the very depths of your soul. The feeling of fullness was almost too much to bear, but it was exactly what you needed. As he began to move, you felt your body respond almost on instinct, hips rolling back to meet each of his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Good girl," Mingi murmured in your ear, his voice thick with arousal. "You're doing so well, letting us use your tight little cunt like this." His words were both praise and degradation, a heady mix that sent your mind spinning even further into subspace.

Wooyoung's thrusts grew stronger, more demanding, and you felt your body respond in kind, your muscles clenching around him as if trying to pull him deeper. "Look at you," he groaned, his voice low and raspy with desire. "You're such a slut for us, aren't you?" His words were a brand on your soul, claiming you as theirs.

You could only whimper in response. Mingi wrapped his hand around your neck and lifted your face, his gaze piercing through the haze of pleasure. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a dark velvet whisper. "Tell us how much you love being our little slut." The words were a hot brand, but you were beyond the point of caring about the sting.

"…l-love it," you breathed, the words slipping out like a confession. "I-I love being…y-yours." Your voice was barely a whisper, lost in the symphony of pleasure that consumed you. The admission was like a key, unlocking something primal within you, something that reveled in the feeling of complete and utter submission.

Mingi's grip tightened on your neck, his thumb pressing gently against your pulse point as he watched the play of emotions across your face. You were lost in subspace, a place where the lines between agony and ecstasy were erased, leaving only the purest form of pleasure. Your eyes were glazed, your breaths coming in short, erratic bursts as Wooyoung's cock claimed you with every thrust.

More tears started falling down your cheeks, but they weren’t from pain—they were from the overwhelming rush of pleasure and submission. You were adrift in a sea of sensation, the world around you nothing but a distant memory as you floated in a haze of bliss. Each thrust from Wooyoung sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, the feeling so intense it was almost painful.

"You feel so good," Wooyoung grunted, his hips pistoning into you with increasing force. His grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake, but you didn't care. In subspace, pain was just another facet of pleasure, a note in the symphony that played through your body. Each thrust sent you spiraling deeper into the abyss, each gasp and moan a testament to your submission.

He slowed down for a moment to pull you down a bit, pushing your knees to your chest and sliding in even deeper. The new angle made you gasp, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. But in subspace, that pain was a sweet, delicious agony that you craved. The room spun around you, the only anchor being the two men who held you in their thrall.

Mingi kept your hair out of your face, his grip firm but gentle, as Wooyoung's pace grew more demanding. The friction of his cock against your g-spot was unbearable, a constant reminder of your vulnerability, of your complete surrender. Your breaths hitched and your eyes rolled back as he hit that perfect spot over and over, your body jolting with each impact. The pain was a beautiful crescendo, layering over the pleasure until you weren't sure where one began and the other ended.

" 'm gonna…c-come…" you whimper, your voice barely audible through the haze of subspace. The sensation of Wooyoung's cock filling you up, the pressure of Mingi's hand on your neck, the sound of your skin slapping against theirs—it all combined into an overwhelming symphony of pleasure that had you teetering on the brink of another mind-shattering orgasm.

Mingi's grip tightened, a silent command for you to hold on, and you nodded, desperately trying to cling to the last shreds of coherence as Wooyoung's pace grew frantic. The world around you was nothing but a blur of colors and sensations, each more intense than the last. You could feel yourself starting to fall, your body no longer your own as the pleasure claimed you completely.

"S-Shit--" Wooyoung's breath hitched as he felt your muscles tighten around him, a clear sign of your climax. His own orgasm was close, the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke. The room was a symphony of sounds—your desperate whimpers, the slap of skin on skin, the harsh exhales of the two men who owned every inch of you. "Fuck, I'm gonna come so hard inside of you."

The words barely registered in your subspace haze, but your body responded with an even deeper clench, as if eager to milk every drop from him. The world was a kaleidoscope of sensation, each thrust a burst of color in the abyss of pleasure. Your thoughts were scattered, reduced to fragmented whispers of need and desire.

"Gonna milk him dry like a good 'lil cumdump?" Mingi's voice was a dark whisper in your ear, his fingers playing with the sensitive skin of your neck as your body tightened around Wooyoung's cock. The word "cumdump" sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you nodded, eager to fulfill your role.

Wooyoung cursed, halting his thrusts for a moment as his own climax hit, the force of it making his whole body spasm. You felt his cock pulse inside you, filling you up with warmth, and it was like a switch had been flipped.Another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than any you've ever felt. It was like your entire being was a live wire, electrified with pleasure. Your muscles clenched around him, milking him for every drop of his release, just as Mingi had said. The sensation was so overwhelming you couldn't hold back the scream that tore from your throat, echoing through the quiet apartment.

"Are you okay?" Wooyoung's voice was soft, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and satisfaction as he watched you try to catch your breath. You nodded, the word "yes" lost in the symphony of sensation still reverberating through your body.

"Do you wanna take a break, love?" Mingi's voice was a soothing balm, his eyes filled with a gentle concern that was almost foreign in the haze of pleasure that still clouded your vision. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as your body trembled from the aftermath of your orgasms.

Wooyoung carefully pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your juices. He leaned in to kiss you softly, his own breath still ragged. "I'll get your bath ready," he murmured against your lips, his hand stroking your cheek before moving to gently wipe away the tears that still stained your face.

As Wooyoung disappeared into the bathroom, Mingi held you tight, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you came down from the high of subspace. The room felt too quiet, the absence of Wooyoung's body against yours leaving you feeling slightly empty. But Mingi's embrace was warm and comforting, his touch a gentle reminder that you weren't alone in this.

"What…" you mumble, your voice still lost to the depths of your subspace haze. "What…happened?"

Mingi's smile was soft and full of pride. "You fell into subspace, baby. It's a good thing, a sign that you trust us completely." He kissed the top of your head, his arms holding you in a firm, reassuring embrace. "It's kinda like a trance."

"It…was…amazing," you murmured, still lost in the afterglow. The world slowly started to come back into focus, the sounds of Wooyoung running the bath water a comforting background noise.

Mingi chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath you. "It certainly was." He stroked your back, his touch feather-light. "But it's also intense, and you need to come back to us completely before we go any further." His eyes searched yours, ensuring you were okay with the gentle dominance in his tone. You nodded, feeling safe and loved in his care.

As the aftershocks of your climaxes subsided, Mingi brought you to the bathroom and sat you inside the tub. Wooyoung knelt beside the tub, a warm, damp washcloth in hand. He gently wiped away the remaining tears from your face and cleaned you up with tender strokes, his eyes never leaving yours. The warmth of his gaze made you feel cherished, a stark contrast to the raw, intense pleasure you'd just experienced.

[haven-cove]

best jieun moments from wanteez

[text in bold brackets denotes editor’s comments]

WANTEEZ EP.2 — TRANSFER STUDENT

jieun is committed to the bit

Everyone conversed amongst themselves as they waited patiently for the next member to appear at the door. After about a minute, the sound of the door being slid open caused them all to look over. 

Jieun pushed the door out of her way, carrying her bookbag in one hand and a black designer purse in the other. Black sunglasses were perched upon her nose with a silver necklace dangling from her neck.

[Who is this new transfer student?]

“Woah, is she a celebrity?” Someone asked. With a slight smirk, Jieun closed the door behind her and made her way to the front of the class.

“Hello everybody, my name is Sophie Song and I’m from Seongnam, South Korea,” she announced confidently in English, eliciting some surprised noises from the rest of the class. “But you can call me Jieun.” 

“She seems to be really rich,” Jongho commented. “Hey, Jieun. What do your parents do for work?” 

Jieun sighed as she took off her sunglasses, inspecting them.  

“My father is the CEO of a huge company,” she said as she put them on her head. 

“And what is the name of the company?” Wooyoung asked.

[What will be this heiress’ answer..?]

With a straight face, Jieun turned to the boy and answered. 

“KQ Entertainment.” 

“Oh? Isn’t that company poor?” One of the other classmates asked, causing them all to burst into laughter, including Jieun. She quickly composed herself and shook her head. 

“No, he built it from the ground up,” Jieun said. “Now the company is worth millions.” 

“Of cents.” 

Sighing, Jieun just nodded, muttering a “Yeah, sure,” as she made her way to her seat. 

[Heiress has given up] 

WANTEEZ EP.4 — ZOMBIE VIRUS

jieun proving she holds ateez’s single braincell 

“I think that the human zombie might not know whether they’re the zombie or not,” Jongho said sincerely, his forehead wrinkled as he tried to think about who it could be.

“Alright, it’s Jongho,” Wooyoung concluded suddenly, clearly fighting off a smirk. “It’s definitely him.”

As the other members agreed, Jieun remained still, her gaze locked on seemingly nothing. 

[Song Ice lost in thought] 

After about a minute of silence from the girl, Jieun suddenly looked up. Her eyebrows were raised as she brought herself to her feet. 

“It’s San.” The others turned to her in confusion, while the accused boy widened his eyes.

“What- me?” 

Jieun nodded and turned to him. 

“They said that the human zombie doesn’t get bitten, but when the Fever Time happened for the first time, all the zombies went towards me except for one who went to San. Wouldn’t more of them have gone to him because he was closer?” Her gaze cut into him like a knife, eyes narrowed. “And he didn’t have a big reaction when one of the zombies hugged him, but he usually would.”

[Good point…]

“I was so scared, honestly— I felt like I was frozen,” San explained earnestly, putting a hand over his heart. 

“But also,” Jieun said, still staring at him. “When all three of us were in the classroom, you were again closer to the zombie but instead he attacked Yunho.” 

At this, Yunho spoke up. “Although, San was kind of off to the side and the zombie was already walking towards me, so I think that’s why.” 

“And we all know that San is really a scaredy cat,” Yeosang added. “So I’m not surprised he froze.” 

Wooyoung just shook his head. “I still think we should vote Jongho out.”

“Me too,” agreed Hongjoong. 

“Yeah, same.”

Jieun looked around at her members for some confirmation, but it looked like everyone had already made up their minds. Her mouth straightened into a flat line as she looked directly at the camera with a tired look on her face. 

[…but it falls on deaf ears]

She let out a sigh, shrugging as she sat back down, “Alright, if that’s what the majority decides.”  

[Jieun-ah… fighting?] 

WANTEEZ EP.7 — FRIENDSHIP TEST

a (not so) rare moment of ateez adoring their youngest member turns into a jieun exposee 

“Now for our youngest, lovely Jieun!” Hongjoong announced. The girl smiled as she walked to the center, waiting for her song. 

[Patiently waiting…] 

“Ah-“ Jieun said, smiling when the pre-chorus Seventeen’s “Snap Shoot” started playing. She mouthed the lyrics for the rap section before starting the choreo. The other members cheered as she danced, even more so during the post-chorus where, on every “chal-kak”, Jieun struck a pose. First was a big heart, then she turned and blew a kiss towards the members, who all clutched their hearts. San even fell to the ground. 

[Jieun receiving lots of love from her brothers] 

When the music stopped, Jieun bowed to the camera before quickly retreating to her spot, using her hands to cover her face in embarrassment. 

“Our Jieunie is so cute,” Wooyoung said as he tried pinching her cheeks, but Jieun just pushed him away. Witnessing this, Jongho spoke up.

“You know, Jieun always acts like she hates aegyo but I think she secretly enjoys doing it.” The others nodded in agreement. 

“She’s so good at it too,” Mingi agreed. 

“Sometimes I see her practicing her aegyo at home,” Yeosang added. Everyone began laughing as Jieun’s eyebrows raised. She turned to the boy accusingly.

“I have never practiced aegyo before,” Jieun said, waving her hand at the camera crew, all of  whom looked amused. “That’s just a lie.” Seonghwa nodded in agreement. 

“I believe Jieunie,” he said. Jieun was relieved that someone was on her side, but the relief quickly dissipated as the oldest went on. “She wouldn’t need to practice aegyo because she’s naturally cute.” 

At that, the others started giggling, while Jieun simply stared at Seonghwa with her ice-cold gaze. 

[Song Ice is back]

WANTEEZ EP.10 — HEALTH CHECK-UP 

jieun’s state after waking up while being high on anesthesia

“Oh, Jieunie’s awake?” Seonghwa asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Yunho immediately stood up, grinning. “Let’s go visit her.” 

A few of the members made their way to the recovery room, careful as they filed inside so as to not make any noise. Jieun was laid on one of the beds, the blanket wrapped over her body and around her head so that you could only see her face. 

“Cute,” Seonghwa said with a soft smile when he saw her.

“Who’s there?” Jieun muttered. She raised her head slightly and opened one eye, smiling when she saw the others standing there. “Oh, hi oppas.” 

[Too cute to handle] 

The members that had walked into the room immediately started smiling, some even turning away to hide their reddening faces. Jieun let out a small yawn as she curled into a tighter ball. 

“I’m glad you’re all here,” she said, closing her eyes again. “Thank you for taking care of me. Let’s all be happy and healthy in the new year, ok?” 

[The real Song Ice, everybody] 

“Yes, Jieunie,” Yunho said as he patted her head. “Take care of yourself too, ok?” Jieun hummed in response, giving a small nod before resting her head down again. 

“Jieun-ah, good night.” Wooyoung bent down, giving the girl a small peck on the head. He grinned as he stood up straight, causing Yeosang to laugh. 

“If Jieun wasn’t high right now, she would’ve stared at you like she was going to attack.”  

A clip of Jieun’s death glare from a previous episode plays

[A look that will curse the next 10 Jung generations]

“Let’s let her rest,” Seonghwa suggested. He turned, using his arms to quietly usher everyone out of the room. 

WANTEEZ EP.21 – DRINK TOUR

jieun being the only sober (kinda) member + scaring Wooyoung into sobriety 

Jieun watched in amusement as the other members yelled at each other, the chain not having yet gotten to her. As she waited, she reached over and grabbed a water bottle from the edge of the table, taking a quick drink for herself before grabbing an empty glass and pouring some out. She turned and handed the glass to San beside her, whose face had gotten significantly redder in the last three minutes since the yelling game had started. 

At first he refused, thinking it was more alcohol, but Jieun shook her head. 

“Don’t worry, it’s water,” she said. “Now drink.” San nodded, gratefully taking the glass from her hand and drinking it all in one gulp. She took the glass back from him, using her other hand to rub circles on his back. 

[Thoughtful Jieunie]

Unfortunately for her, Wooyoung saw the kind gesture and started complaining. 

“Hey, why are you only taking care of him?” 

[Burning with jealousy]

Jieun snapped her gaze towards him, staring at Wooyoung so intensely that he began shrinking into his seat. 

“Ah… I’m sorry.” 

The other members started laughing as Wooyoung looked down in embarrassment, quickly grabbing a glass and downing another shot. Jieun chuckled, shaking her head as she grabbed the water bottle and handed it to him. 

“I don’t think Wooyoung’s drunk anymore,” Mingi said, laughing. 

The shoot continued, Jieun occasionally pouring more glasses of water and forcing the other members to drink them in between shots. She took a few shots here and there, but mainly focused on making sure the members with low alcohol tolerance (re: San) didn’t drink anymore. 

“Hey, Jieun,” Wooyoung said when she refilled his glass of water. “Did you even drink anything tonight?” 

“Of courth I did,” she replied, eyes wide.

Jongho laughed, raising his eyebrows. “What’s with that pronunciation?” 

She looked over at him, bringing her pointer finger up to her lips to shush him. At that moment, San let out a loud yawn. He swayed side to side before eventually falling onto Jieun’s shoulder. She moved slightly, adjusting herself so that he could fully lay down and rest his head on her lap.  

“That’s how you know she’s drunk,” Yunho said, observing the whole interaction. “She’s not fighting him off.” 

Jieun just blinked at him before letting out a sigh. She turned her head to the front and stared straight at the camera with a tired expression. 

[Jieun-ah… fighting?] 

[haven-cove]

𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

pairing: yeosang x reader | ot8 x reader au: idol | friends to lovers genre: angst with comfort word count: 2.5k synopsis: the aftermath of your forgotten birthday warning(s): boys getting their asses chewed, yeosang being the SWEETEST BOY

It had been a week since you’d last seen the others. Only Yeosang had come by—every single night without fail. His presence had become your quiet comfort, and with each visit, your heart swelled just a little more.

One evening, as you lay nestled between his legs, your back resting against his chest and his arms securely wrapped around you, he spoke softly against your ear.

“I know it’s been a week since your birthday,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “But I want to take you somewhere.”

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. His gaze was gentle, but there was something hopeful behind it—like he was trying to give you back a piece of something you’d lost.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked, your voice soft as your fingers absentmindedly played with his.

Yeosang chuckled lowly, his lips brushing against your neck. "That’s a surprise," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, sending a slight shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head slightly, giving him a playful side glance. "Is it a good surprise or a ‘you forgot my birthday and now you’re trying to make up for it’ surprise?"

He tightened his arms around you just a little. "Both," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "But mostly good. I promise."

You let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came from a place of healing, leaning further into him. "Okay… but if it’s skydiving, I’m turning around."

Yeosang laughed, the sound rumbling softly against your back. "Noted. No skydiving. Just trust me, yeah?"

You nodded, closing your eyes for a moment. “I do.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence, your body relaxed against Yeosang's as the steady rhythm of his breathing lulled you further into comfort. His fingers traced slow, absentminded shapes along your arm, and for a while, nothing else mattered. The world outside didn’t exist—just the warmth between you, the quiet thrum of your heartbeat syncing with his.

But the calm was shattered by a knock on your front door.

You both stilled.

Yeosang’s arms tightened protectively around you for a split second before he gently loosened his hold. “Are you expecting anyone?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.

You shook your head slowly, pulling away with a frown. “No…”

Another knock—this time louder, more insistent.

Yeosang was already sitting up, his eyes narrowing as he moved to stand. “Stay here. I’ll check.”

Your hand reached for his as he walked past, a silent plea not to go far.

He gave you a reassuring squeeze. “It’s probably nothing.”

But your gut said otherwise.

When Yeosang opened the door, he was met with a wall of familiar faces—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Wooyoung, San, Mingi, and Jongho each holding something in their arms. Balloons, takeout bags, a homemade cake with slightly smudged frosting, a wrapped gift or two… They all looked caught off guard, their expressions morphing from determined to stunned the moment they saw who opened the door.

"Yeosang?" Hongjoong blinked, momentarily thrown. "You're... here?"

Yeosang leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he said flatly.

Wooyoung peeked around him, eyes widening. “Wait—Is Yn here? We—we wanted to surprise her.”

“She’s resting,” Yeosang replied coolly. “A week late, by the way.”

The words hit heavier than he intended, but none of them denied it. The air grew thick with guilt. Mingi looked down at the bag he was holding, his shoulders drooping.

“We messed up,” Seonghwa admitted quietly. “We know we did.”

Yeosang didn’t move, didn’t offer to let them in.

“She waited all night for you guys,” he said after a moment, voice low but sharp. “She cried herself to sleep. Twice. You don’t get to just show up now with cake and think that fixes everything.”

There was a long silence.

Yunho stepped forward, voice quiet. “We’re not here to fix everything. We just… want to apologize. Properly. If she’ll let us.”

Yeosang studied their faces—each one etched with regret. After a moment, he sighed and turned, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yn,” he called softly, “they’re here.”

Yeosang turned just in time to see the way your expression crumbled—your fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, your eyes wide and glassy with panic. You shook your head once, barely, but he saw it. He didn’t need words.

Without hesitation, Yeosang stepped back into the hallway and shifted his body to fully block the doorway, his frame shielding you from their view. His voice came out quieter this time, more protective.

“She’s not ready,” he said firmly, keeping his gaze locked with Hongjoong’s.

“But—” Wooyoung started, only for Yeosang to raise a hand, cutting him off.

“She’s not ready,” he repeated. “And I’m not going to push her just because you all finally remembered she exists.”

Mingi flinched, and Seonghwa looked down, visibly biting back emotion.

“Can you just tell her we’re sorry?” Jongho asked softly from the back. “Please?”

Yeosang stared at them for a moment, then gave a slow, curt nod. “I’ll tell her. But don’t expect anything right now.”

He didn’t wait for a response—he gently pushed the door closed, locking it with a soft click. When he turned around, you were still by the couch, hugging your arms to your chest.

He walked back over to you and pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You hugged him back, snuggling into his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a quiet, calming rhythm that drowned out the world.

“I just… I don’t get how they could forget,” you whispered, voice cracking as the weight of it all crept in again. “They promised, Yeosang.”

His arms tightened around you. “I know, angel. I know they did. And they messed up—badly. But that’s not on you.”

You nodded against him, lips trembling. “You didn’t forget.”

He pulled back just enough to cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped. “Never,” he said softly. “I don’t need a calendar to remind me how important you are to me.”

Your breath caught, your heart aching in that bittersweet way. “You’re the only one who showed up.”

“I’ll always show up for you,” Yeosang whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Even if it’s just me.”

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you believed him.

" we're so fucking sorry yn - we swear we didn't mean for you get hurt," Hongjoong stated.

You nodded your head, " i accept it, but it doesn't mean i'll forget it.

The weight of their apologies hung in the air, heavy but sincere, and your heart ached in a way that was hard to explain. You could see the regret in their eyes—each of them battling with their own guilt—but that didn’t change the hurt you felt. You had been left alone on your birthday, a day that was supposed to be special, and no matter how much you wanted to move on, it wasn’t something that could be forgotten just like that.

Hongjoong’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped forward slightly. "We understand, Yn. We didn’t mean for any of this to happen. We should’ve been there. We should’ve communicated better.”

“Yeah," Mingi added, his voice strained, "It was careless, and we all fucked up. I hate that we made you feel like you weren’t important.”

“I’m really sorry, Yn," Seonghwa said, his usual calm demeanor shaken by the regret in his voice. "You mean so much to all of us.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, but the emotions were still raw. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you began, your voice quiet but firm. "But it’s not just about what happened. It’s about showing up for me, for being there when you said you would."

"I need time," you said softly, your eyes flicking from one face to the next. “It’s going to take some time to trust you all again fully.”

You smiled, opening your arms wide for them, " come here you guys."

They hesitated for only a second before they rushed forward, all of them enveloping you in a group hug. It was tight and warm, the kind of hug that you hadn't realized you'd missed until now. Their embrace was a mix of guilt, hope, and a promise to do better.

Yeosang stood back for a moment, watching the scene with a small, content smile on his face. He could see the bond you had with the boys, and though it was broken, he knew it wasn’t beyond repair. He was happy to see you surrounded by them, even if the road to rebuilding trust would take time.

"Thank you for giving us a chance," Wooyoung murmured into your hair, his voice hushed with sincerity. "We won’t mess this up again, Yn."

"You mean everything to us," San added softly, squeezing you a little tighter. "We’ll prove it to you, no matter how long it takes."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself feel the warmth of their presence. The pain wasn’t gone, but this—this moment—was a reminder that people could make mistakes and still find their way back to each other.

"You better," you whispered with a small, playful smile. "I’m holding you to that."

They all laughed softly, relieved by the lighter atmosphere that had returned. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. And for the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of hope that things could be okay again.

Your giggle echoed through the quiet field, soft and sweet as you clung to Yeosang’s hand. He walked backward with careful steps, his other hand steady on your waist to guide you along. The blindfold over your eyes made everything feel heightened—the warmth of the sun, the scent of blooming flowers, and the butterflies in your stomach.

“Yeosang, if I trip and eat dirt, I’m haunting you,” you teased, laughter bubbling from your chest.

He chuckled, gently squeezing your hand. “You won’t. I’ve got you.”

You could hear the fond smile in his voice, and it only made your heart flutter harder. After a few more steps, he slowed to a stop. You could feel the breeze shift, brushing petals against your skin.

“Okay,” he whispered near your ear, fingers moving to untie the blindfold. “Ready?”

You nodded eagerly, and as the cloth slipped away from your eyes, you gasped.

A breathtaking field stretched out before you, painted with colors—pinks, purples, whites, and yellows—all blooming wildly under the soft glow of golden hour. Flowers danced in the wind, and in the middle of it all, a blanket with a picnic setup sat waiting for the two of you.

“Yeosang…” you breathed out, eyes wide with wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

He looked at you, not the flowers, and smiled softly. “So are you.”

His hands rested gently on your shoulders, grounding you as your eyes remained fixed on the sea of flowers swaying in the breeze. You could feel his warmth behind you, his presence always steady and safe.

“I know it’s late,” he murmured, voice low and filled with sincerity, “but… happy birthday, princess.”

He turned you slightly, and your breath hitched again at the sight before you—beneath the soft pastel sky was a cozy little picnic laid out just for you. Your favorite drinks glimmered in the sun, snacks you’d mentioned in passing lovingly arranged, and in the center, a small cake topped with delicate frosting and a single candle waiting to be lit.

Your hand instinctively reached for his, your chest tightening as emotion welled up inside.

“You remembered all of this?” you whispered, voice cracking with disbelief and gratitude.

Yeosang nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Of course I did. You deserve to be celebrated… even if it’s a little late.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Better late than never, right?”

He gently squeezed your hand as he helped you settle onto the soft blanket, the scent of flowers mingling with the faint sweetness of the cake. Once you were comfortable, Yeosang sat beside you, never letting go of your hand.

You looked around, still overwhelmed, your eyes glancing between the carefully chosen snacks and the little flicker of the candle waiting for a wish. “You did all this… just for me?”

Yeosang smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d do it a hundred times over if it means I get to see you smile like this.”

You gave a watery laugh, wiping at your eyes. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

“If they’re happy tears, I won’t stop you,” he teased, leaning in to nuzzle your cheek.

A comfortable silence fell between you both as you took it all in—the field, the food, the way the sunlight hit just right—and the boy beside you who made sure you didn’t feel forgotten.

“Make a wish,” he whispered, nodding toward the candle.

You glanced at him, then at the candle, and with a small, hopeful smile, you closed your eyes and blew it out.

When you opened your eyes, you blushed to see Yeosang staring at you. " so, what did you wish for?"

You smirked, " wouldn't you like to know?"

Yeosang chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leaned in just a bit closer, his voice dropping playfully. "I would, actually. Especially if it has something to do with me."

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm..."

Grabbing his cheek, you pulled him into a quick kiss shocking both you and him. Once Yeosang felt you pull away, he was quick to pull you back, his lips chasing after yours.

His hand cupped your jaw gently as he kissed you again—slower this time, but deeper, as if he was pouring every unspoken word and emotion into it. The world around you blurred, the gentle breeze and the scent of flowers fading into the background as all that existed in that moment was him.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathless, Yeosang rested his forehead against yours, his smile soft and boyish. " i love you yn"

Your eyes widened slightly, lips parted in surprise as your heart thudded in your chest. For a second, all you could do was stare at him—at the raw honesty in his gaze, the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly against your skin.

“I…” you started, your voice catching in your throat. You hadn’t expected to hear it—at least not now, not like this. But the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, made everything inside you melt.

A teary smile curved on your lips. You placed your hand gently over his, your thumb tracing slow circles. “I love you too, Yeosang,” you whispered, your voice soft but sure.

His eyes shimmered with emotion, and without another word, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let go. The flower field swayed gently around you, the sky beginning to fade into hues of lavender and gold—but all you saw, all you felt, was him.

[haven-cove]

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲

pairing: ot8 x f!reader au: idol | friends to ??? genre: angst with no comfort word count: 2k synopsis: they all agreed to show up to your birthday party. so why are you sitting in your living room, with tears streaming down your face? warning(s):

You stared at the unlit candles, the cake you picked up because no one thought to offer you one sitting untouched. The food you had carefully prepared now sat cold, abandoned. Your phone remained silent, not a single call or message to wish you a happy birthday.

You had gotten all dolled up, thinking maybe, just maybe, this year you'd finally get to celebrate with your best friends. They were usually away, touring the world on your birthday, but this time, they were home.

They had promised you when they found out they'd be home, their excitement matching yours. You had been so hopeful, beaming with happiness as they made promises to bring cake and Wooyoung's cooking, making your birthday feel special.

Instead, you sat on the couch, tears streaming down your face. With trembling hands, you grabbed the lighter and lit the candles, the small flames flickering in the dim room. Moving slowly, you sank to the floor, pulling the cake closer to you. Sniffling, you closed your eyes and leaned forward.

Taking a deep breath, you blew out the candles, your eyes still shut tight. As the smoke curled upward, a choked sob escaped your lips, the weight of it all crashing down on you.

" happy birthday to me..." you mumbled.

Just as you finished putting away the food, a knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your shirt, you opened it — only to be met with a familiar face. Yeosang stood there, a small, guilty smile pulling at his lips.

“Sangie? What are you doing here? It’s late,” you asked softly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Ahh, did everyone else already leave? I’m sorry I’m so late — I was pretty much asleep the whole time,” Yeosang rambled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he set a small, wrapped gift down on the table.

You forced a small, tight smile, your eyes dropping to the gift before drifting back up to him. “Oh… that’s okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed thickly, the sting in your throat returning. “No one… no one showed up.”

Yeosang froze. His hand, still halfway to his side, seemed to falter in the air before he slowly lowered it. His eyes searched yours, wide and confused, as if he hadn’t heard you right. "Wait... what?"

You bit your lip, blinking rapidly to push back the tears threatening to fall again. "Yeah," you breathed out with a shaky laugh, trying to mask the pain creeping into your voice. "No one came. Guess something must’ve come up."

Silence settled between you like heavy fog, suffocating and bitter. Yeosang’s expression crumpled, guilt flashing across his face as he looked at the darkened, half-cleaned-up remains of what should have been your celebration.

He stepped closer, his voice soft and thick with regret. "Yn... I— I thought they would be here. I thought—" He stopped himself, his fists clenching at his sides.

You forced another smile, waving a hand as if to brush it off. "It's fine, Sangie. Really. You’re here now, right?" You tried to sound cheerful, but your voice wavered at the edges.

Yeosang stepped closer, his movements slow and gentle, as if afraid you might shatter right there in front of him. His hand came up, fingers soft beneath your chin as he tilted your face toward him.

His eyes softened instantly, the guilt in them deepening when he saw the tear tracks staining your cheeks, your lashes still wet from crying. His thumb brushed tenderly under your eye, catching a stray tear.

“Yn…” he whispered, his voice cracking just enough to reveal the ache in his chest. “You’ve been crying this whole time?”

You tried to look away, but his touch held you there — not forceful, just steady. Grounding. Your lips trembled as you fought to keep your composure, but the dam had already broken. "I really thought this year would be different," you confessed in a whisper, raw and honest.

Yeosang’s brows pinched together, his heart twisting painfully. "I thought we’d all be here too," he said quietly, almost to himself. "You shouldn’t have spent your birthday like this. Not alone. Not like this."

Your shoulders trembled under the weight of the moment, and without another word, Yeosang pulled you into a firm, warm embrace. His arms wrapped around you like a shield, like he was trying to hold you together with just his presence.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured again, his cheek resting lightly against your head. "You didn’t deserve this."

Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, gripping tightly as you finally let yourself cry into him, the hurt too big to hold in anymore.

And Yeosang just held you — like he had no intention of ever letting go.

You laid curled up on your bed, Yeosang’s shirt hanging loosely on your frame, the familiar scent of him surrounding you like a fragile cocoon. Finally, after everything, you had drifted off to sleep — though the evidence of your heartache remained, the tear-streaks visible on your cheeks in the dim light of your room.

Yeosang sat beside you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. His eyes, usually soft and warm, were stormy with fury. His gaze never left your sleeping form as his jaw tensed and loosened, a silent war waging within him.

How could they have forgotten?

They had promised. Promised.

He replayed it over and over in his head — the excitement in your eyes when you told them about your plans, the way you had been counting down the days, the way you had trusted them to make this year different. To make you feel loved. Wanted.

But instead, they had left you alone.

Yeosang’s fingers twitched, his anger simmering hotter with every breath he took. He wanted to call them. No — he wanted to drag them here, make them see what they had done. Make them see the pain they caused, make them understand that this wasn’t just a missed party.

It was your heart they had stepped on.

His gaze softened only when it fell back to you. Carefully, so gently it was almost reverent, he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered on your skin, a silent vow forming in his mind.

I won’t let this happen again. Never again.

As you let out a small, shuddering breath in your sleep, Yeosang exhaled too — slow and controlled, as if trying to push back the storm inside him just long enough to let you rest peacefully.

But once you woke up, once he was sure you were okay… He would make sure the others felt every ounce of the weight they’d left on your shoulders.

You nervously chewed on your nails as you stood in the elevator, the bag of food and cake in your other hand, eyes fixed on the changing numbers. When the door finally opened, you froze, startled to see Jongho and Mingi there, chatting and smiling before they noticed you.

"Oh? Noona!" they both said in unison, their faces lighting up with wide smiles.

You quickly took your nails out of your mouth, knowing they hated when you did that. "Hi Jongho, hi Mingi. Going up or down?"

They stepped into the elevator, pressing the same button you had just selected. "Up," Mingi said with a grin. "Hyung called a meeting. How was your party? Sorry we couldn't make it, but I'm sure the others had fun, right?"

You forced a smile, tearing your gaze away from them as the words felt heavy on your tongue. "A blast," you replied, your voice wavering. "But I brought some leftovers. You guys don’t mind taking them up for me, do you?"

Jongho took the bags from your hand, shaking his head in refusal before glancing at you with a puzzled look. "Why don't you join us? The others would love to see you, even though they just saw you."

You gulped, feeling the weight of his words settle in. "Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude. You can tell them I said hi, though."

Mingi and Jongho exchanged a confused look, both shrugging before nodding their heads in agreement. "Alright then. Again, we're really sorry, Noona, for missing your birthday."

You forced a smile, waving them off as the elevator doors slowly closed. "It’s fine," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as the doors shut between you and them.

Mingi and Jongho stood frozen for a moment, staring at the now-closed elevator doors before exchanging a glance. "That was weird, right?"

Mingi nodded, his brow furrowed. "Very weird."

As they entered the practice room, Yunho and Wooyoung’s eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the bags of food hanging from the maknae’s arms. "Ooh, where did this come from?"

Letting Wooyoung eagerly take the bags from him, Mingi glanced around at everyone, still confused. "Yn… she says it’s leftovers from her party."

The room fell quiet for a beat as everyone exchanged uncertain looks.

"Party? What party are you talking about?" Hongjoong asked, grabbing the tub that had his name on it, still unaware of what was happening.

"Yn's birthday party, you know, the one we all planned for her months ago?" Jongho responded, his voice tinged with confusion.

Seonghwa’s expression shifted as he shook his head, his face paling. He glanced at the others, and soon, the same realization hit everyone. Mingi and Jongho's faces turned to horror as they pieced everything together.

"Did no one go?" Seonghwa asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the question hung in the air, thick with regret.

They all shook their heads, a heavy silence settling in the room. Hongjoong sucked in a breath, the realization hitting him hard.

"Did anyone at least let her know they weren't going?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I thought Mingi told her!" Jongho cried out, panic creeping into his tone.

Mingi's eyes widened as he looked at the maknae in horror. "Dude, I thought you were going to tell her!?" he snapped, the blame now shifting between them both, neither of them able to believe what had just happened.

" yeosang you've been awfully quiet. Did you go?" Hongjoong asked.

"... yeah," Yeosang finally answered, his voice low, tight, and simmering beneath the surface.

Every head in the room snapped toward him.

"You did?" Yunho asked, his brows knitting together as hope flickered in his eyes for just a moment. "So she wasn’t alone?"

Yeosang’s jaw clenched as he looked down at the floor, his fists curling at his sides. "No. She was alone." His voice was sharp, almost slicing through the thick, suffocating silence.

The brief hope in Yunho's expression crumbled.

"What do you mean?" Seonghwa asked, his throat tight.

"I mean," Yeosang ground out, lifting his eyes to glare at all of them, "when I got there, she had been sitting in that empty room, for hours. No calls. No messages. No one showed up."

The air seemed to drain from the room.

Wooyoung’s smile had long since vanished, his eyes wide and guilt creeping into every corner of his face. "Hyung, we—we really thought someone told her we couldn’t come—"

"No, you didn’t think," Yeosang snapped, his composure fracturing. "None of you thought. None of you cared enough to double-check. She sat there, waiting, crying—!" His voice cracked slightly, raw with barely restrained emotion. "She cried herself to sleep that night. Wearing my shirt. Because that’s all she had left for comfort."

Hongjoong closed his eyes tightly, as if that would block out the brutal truth that had just been thrust upon them. But it was too late. The weight of their mistake pressed down hard, unforgiving.

"I swear to you," Yeosang continued, his chest rising and falling with fury, "if she ever sheds another tear because of us, because of this—" His voice shook with restrained rage. "I won't forgive you. Any of you."

They were silent. No excuses left. No deflections. Just the harsh, suffocating reality of their neglect.

Yeosang’s eyes, usually soft and thoughtful, burned with the promise of consequence as he grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going?" Jongho asked quietly, almost afraid to know.

"Home," Yeosang answered coldly. "Back to her. Where I should’ve been from the start."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving them all to stew in the wreckage of what they had done.

[haven-cove]

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐧

pairing: ot8 x f!reader au: idol | lovers to strangers genre: angst with no comfort word count: non !! smau synopsis: he calls you clingy warning(s): mean teez!,, cursing [part two: i hear a symphony]

── .✦ hurt my feelings | khj ✦ ⋆ ࣪. i should've known better, you should of known better than me release date: 4 - 28 - 25

── .✦ feather | psh ✦ ⋆ ࣪. i got you blocked, after this, an afterthought. I finally cut you off release date: 4 - 29 - 25

── .✦ really don't care | jyh ✦ ⋆ ࣪. but even if the stars and moon collide, i never want you back into my life release date: 4 - 30 - 25

── .✦ thank you, next | kys ✦ ⋆ ࣪. one taught me love, one taught me patience, and one taught me pain release date: 5 - 1 - 25

── .✦ we can't be friends | csn ✦ ⋆ ࣪. you got me misunderstood but at least look this good release date: 5 - 2 - 25

── .✦ shout out to my ex | smg ✦ ⋆ ࣪. guess i should say, "thank you " for the "hate you"s and the tattoos release date: 5 - 3- 25

── .✦ ain't shit | jwy ✦ ⋆ ࣪. should've known you had the baddest bitch. left on read and can't give head. release date: 5 - 4- 25

── .✦ good 4 u | cjh ✦ ⋆ ࣪. maybe i'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all release date: 5 - 5 - 25

[haven-cove]

𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: jongho x f!reader au: 9th member | best friends to lovers | pre! poly | genre: fluff | word count: 2.2 k synopsis: how jongho entered the poly relationship with you and the others warning(s): takes place during halazia era

Jongho panicked when he realized he was starting to develop feelings for you. It caught him completely off guard—he never expected to fall for anyone in this way, especially when he’d always envisioned relationships as something exclusive, just between him and one other person. But everything shifted when he noticed Yeosang getting more affectionate with you—cuddling close, resting his head on your shoulder—especially when Hongjoong and Wooyoung were around. That was when Jongho felt it: the twist of emotion he couldn’t quite name, a mix of jealousy, confusion, and something dangerously close to longing.

So, he started pulling away.

Not in big ways—Jongho wasn’t cruel like that—but he started avoiding those moments when the others were around. He’d show up a little later to group hangs, claim he was tired or busy when he wasn’t, and avoid eye contact with the others whenever he sat a little too close to you.

But feelings don’t fade just because you want them to. And every time you looked at Jongho with that gentle, concerned expression—every time you asked, “Are you okay?” with that softness only meant for him—it chipped away at the wall he was trying to build around his heart.

And maybe… just maybe… he didn’t hate the idea of sharing you. Maybe what terrified him wasn’t the others, but the fact that his heart had already decided you were worth breaking every rule he thought he had.

You had just wrapped up promotions for Halazia, and the well-deserved break couldn’t have come soon enough. For the first time in months, your schedule was quiet, your phone wasn’t buzzing with rehearsals or interviews, and the sun outside actually felt warm on your skin instead of a blur through a van window.

Wearing a soft sundress that swayed gently with each step, you slung your bag over your shoulder and slid your favorite book inside—the one you'd been dying to read since it first came out but never had the time to touch. The pages still smelled new, the spine barely cracked, and just the thought of curling up somewhere peaceful with it made your heart flutter with anticipation.

The boys were scattered around the shared house, doing their own version of unwinding—Hongjoong was sketching in the corner of the living room, Wooyoung was trying (and failing) to convince Yeosang to join him in a dance challenge, and somewhere in the kitchen, Jongho lingered quietly, pretending not to glance your way every time you passed by.

You hummed softly under your breath, the melody light and aimless as your bare feet padded across the floor. The atmosphere was peaceful, golden sunlight pouring through the windows and casting lazy shadows across the wooden floors.

As you passed each of them, you paused to place a gentle kiss on their lips—starting with Hongjoong, who smiled into it before returning to his sketchbook. Wooyoung caught you by the waist and kissed you back a little longer than necessary, smirking when you swatted at his chest. Mingi tilted his head up with that sleepy grin of his, always eager for affection, and San—ever dramatic—sighed like he was being blessed by the heavens. Yeosang didn’t say a word, but the way his fingers lightly brushed your wrist as you pulled away made your chest warm.

You offered soft cheek kisses to the rest—Yunho, who ruffled your hair in return; Jongho, who froze for just a second too long before mumbling a flustered thank you.

Seonghwa smiled, soft and familiar, before gently patting your head. His hand lingered just a second before sliding down to your wrist, fingers curling around it delicately.

"Where you off to?" he asked, his voice as smooth as ever, laced with that quiet warmth he never had to force.

The smile that bloomed on your face in response was radiant—so effortlessly you that it made every heart in the room stumble a beat. Even Jongho, who’d been watching from the kitchen, couldn’t help the way his throat tightened.

"Oh," you said with a cheerful lilt, "I’m heading to the park. I figured since the weather’s so nice and we’re all on break, it’d be the perfect time to finally catch up on some reading."

You held up your bag slightly, the book poking out just enough for Seonghwa to spot the title. His eyes flicked to it, then back to your face, his thumb brushing your wrist absentmindedly. You didn’t notice the small crowd of attention you’d gathered—how Hongjoong had set his pencil down, how Wooyoung had tilted his head with a faint smirk, or how Jongho, frozen in place, had stopped pretending to rinse his mug altogether.

"You going alone?" Seonghwa asked, the question casual—but something in his eyes said he was trying to read between your words.

Before you could answer, Jongho’s voice, steady but a little too fast, cut in from behind you.

"I could go with you. If you want company."

The twinkle in your eyes when you turned to him made Jongho’s heart lurch in his chest. He had no chance of hiding it—not the soft curve of his lips, not the way his ears flushed slightly pink, or the way his grip on the kitchen towel tightened just a bit. You looked so genuinely happy, so effortlessly warm, that it made it impossible for him to keep up the distance he’d been trying to maintain.

You nodded eagerly, the sunlight catching the edge of your smile.

“I’d love for you to join, baby bear!” you said, your voice bright, laced with that affection only you could pull off so naturally. “We’ve barely spent any time together lately.”

The nickname—your nickname for him—sent a quiet ripple through the room. Wooyoung arched a brow, clearly fighting a grin. Yeosang's gaze lingered on Jongho with a knowing tilt to his head. Even Seonghwa, still gently holding your wrist, glanced between the two of you before letting go, a soft chuckle under his breath.

Jongho cleared his throat, trying not to look too proud of himself.

“Alright,” he said, reaching for his hoodie draped over the back of a chair. “Lead the way, then.”

As you walked toward the door, Jongho fell into step beside you—just close enough that your arms brushed now and then. And though he didn’t say much, the faint smile on his lips never quite left.

" i bet you 5,000 won that they'll come back being together,"

Jongho couldn’t help it—his eyes had been on you the entire time.

You lay sprawled out on the blanket you'd carefully spread over the soft grass, the sun casting golden rays across your skin, making you look almost ethereal. Your sundress fluttered slightly in the breeze, and your hair caught the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare. The book you’d been so excited to read now rested on your face, covering your eyes, though your lips curved into a faint, relaxed smile.

You were at peace.

And Jongho? He was a mess.

He sat beside you, arms looped around his knees as he tried to convince himself he was just enjoying the quiet, the weather, the break—but his gaze kept drifting back to you. Again and again. The way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your fingers absentmindedly brushed at a blade of grass near your side. Everything about you made his heart ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He’d told himself he’d just tag along, make up for lost time, be a good partner. But now, watching you under the sunlight, looking so breathtakingly yours, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending that his heart wasn’t fully in this—that he hadn’t already fallen.

And then, as if sensing him, you peeked from beneath the book, blinking up at him with a sleepy little smile.

“Are you staring, baby bear?” you asked playfully.

Jongho froze, caught red-handed, and cleared his throat.

“…Maybe.”

You hummed softly, stretching a little as you sat up, your hands brushing back your hair before placing the book beside you on the blanket. The warmth of the sun clung to your skin, and your dress shifted with your movements, the breeze tugging at the edges. You turned your gaze toward Jongho, head tilted, a knowing look playing on your lips.

Jongho looked like he was trying to play it cool—arms still around his knees, eyes now focused very intently on a distant tree. But you could see the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers fidgeted slightly against his wrist.

"You okay?" you asked gently, voice laced with that concern only you could make feel so intimate. "You’ve been quiet."

He finally looked at you.

And for a second, everything fell away—the group, the pressure, the unspoken rules he’d written for himself. It was just you, with sunlight in your eyes and that soft, inviting smile he could never seem to get out of his head.

Jongho exhaled slowly, then spoke.

“I didn’t think I’d feel this way,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “About you. About… all of this.”

You blinked, but you didn’t interrupt.

“I thought I could keep some kind of distance,” he continued, eyes locking onto yours now, full of something vulnerable and real. “But I can’t. You’ve always made things feel safe—and now it just feels like… I don’t want to miss out on any of it.”

His gaze dropped for a moment, like he was scared to see your reaction. “Even if it means sharing. Even if I’m still figuring it all out. I just… I want you.”

Your breath hitched, heart skipping once, maybe twice.

And for once, Jongho didn’t look away.

He reached for your hand, gently taking it into his own and lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was warm and a little hesitant, like he still couldn’t believe you were letting him hold you like this. But when your thumb brushed against his knuckles, he held on tighter.

His eyes searched yours—quiet, steady, unshaking now.

“I know it’s been a while since one of us actually said it,” he began, his voice soft but weighted with meaning. “But I think… it’s because we’re scared. Scared to confirm what we feel. Because once we say it out loud, it’s real. And real means it can change things.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers still locked with his, your heart pounding against your ribs like it wanted to answer for you.

He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore. Not when it comes to you.”

Jongho leaned in just a little, forehead almost brushing yours, eyes flicking to your lips for a brief second before returning to your gaze.

“So… I’ll go first,” he whispered. “I like you. A lot more than I planned to. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

He spoke the words softly, but they landed with the weight of something real.

“You make me feel at peace, like… home. It’s something I’ve missed since we debuted. I used to miss home,” Jongho paused, his thumb grazing over your knuckles with delicate affection, “but then I realized… home is you.”

And just like that, your heart was racing.

The confession didn’t come with grand gestures or dramatic declarations—it came in Jongho’s quiet steadiness, his sincere eyes, his hand wrapped in yours like it belonged there.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, eyes stinging just slightly from the rush of emotion his words pulled from deep within you. For a long time, you’d been surrounded by love, warmth, and safety with all of them… but Jongho’s words hit a part of your heart that had been waiting—aching—to hear this from him.

Your free hand reached up, brushing his cheek with your fingertips, and he leaned into the touch without hesitation.

“I think I’ve always been waiting to hear that from you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with everything you couldn’t quite say out loud. “And now that I have… I don’t want to let go of it.”

Jongho leaned forward, gently bumping his forehead against yours, his smile soft and full of emotion.

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “Stay. Be my home too.”

You smiled, eyes soft with something deeper than words, and gave a quiet nod.

And then—like gravity finally gave in—you both leaned in, slow and steady, as if the moment itself was holding its breath.

When your lips met, the world seemed to slow.

Everything else—the distant sound of birds, the wind rustling the trees, even the warmth of the sun—faded into something muted and distant. All you could feel was him. The way his lips moved against yours, unsure at first, then surer, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

Jongho’s hand slipped around your waist, drawing you closer, the other still holding yours like he couldn’t bear to let go. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, reverent, filled with years of held-back glances, of quiet what-ifs, of growing affection that finally had a voice.

When you finally pulled back, your noses brushed, and Jongho let out the smallest, breathless laugh—like he couldn’t believe it actually happened.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, still close enough for his breath to tickle your lips.

You smiled, your forehead pressing lightly against his. “Me too.”

For a moment, you both sat there in the quiet warmth of each other, the book forgotten beside you, the park wide and endless—but it didn’t matter.

Because right now, your world had narrowed down to one thing: him.

[haven-cove]

ATEEZ 9th Member AU | WANTEEZ Ep. 10

Word count~ 1.8k

Warning: Hongjoongs fine shyt brother

A/N: ive been thinking about that video where hongjoong scolds atiny for looking at other idols recently LMAO

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Y/N was not okay.

She was fresh out of anesthesia, head foggy, lips trembling, and eyes darting around in panic. Everything felt unfamiliar—the bright lights, the cold room, the soft beeps—and worst of all…

She didn’t see them.

The members. Her boys.

Her breath hitched. “W-Where are they?!” she gasped, voice trembling as her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. Panic surged through the fog in her head. She turned sharply—only to find Jongho lying unconscious beside her, peaceful and unmoving. Everything felt too quiet. Too empty.

A nurse gently placed a hand on her arm while draping a blanket over her. “They’re in the waiting room, sweetie. You’re safe.”

“Safe?” she whispered, tears already filling her eyes. “But they said they’d stay. They promised. They left us…”

The nurse moved quickly, giving a signal to the nearby staff—who sprinted out of the room.

Seconds later, chaos arrived.

“YNIEEEEE!” San’s voice boomed as he bursted through the door.

Wooyoung nearly collided into the nurse trying to comfort her. “DON’T CRY, WE’RE HERE!”

Seonghwa rushed in, gently cupping her face. “Oh, sweetheart… we didn’t leave. miane, we didn’t want to wake you.”

“I—I thought you left me… and Jjongie…” she hiccupped, blinking like she wasn’t totally sure where she was. “I thought—I got abandoned… like… like a side character or something… no lines, no screen time…”

She sniffled, eyes glassy.

“Just… cut from the script…” she mumbled. “Didn’t even make it past the pilot…

Yunho winced. “Oh, that’s oddly.. specific.”

“You’re not abandoned, aegi,” Yeosang assured, brushing her hair from her forehead. “We’re right here. We never left.”

“I held your hand before they took you away,” Mingi cried, dramatically offended. “You already forgot?!”

Y/N sniffled, blinking up at all of them. Her panic began to ease, comforted by the circle of familiar faces.

And then… the nonsense began.

She blinked at nothing for a second. Then slowly, she smiled.

“ATINY…”

The boys paused.

“ATINY said…” she mumbled, voice dreamy, “…Hongjoongie-oppa told them… they’re not allowed to look at other oppas.”

Hongjoong, standing at the foot of her bed, tilted his head proudly. “Mm, that sounds about right—”

“But…” Y/N giggled suddenly, her cheeks blooming red.

The boys leaned in, curious.

“But…” she slurred again, head swaying slightly. “He didn’t say… we can’t look at his brother…”

The room fell dead silent.

Yeosang blinked. Mingi gasped. Yunho slapped a hand over his mouth. San froze in place.

Wooyoung broke first. He screeched, dramatically sliding on the wall. “NO. SHE. DIDN’T.”

“She’s talking about Bumjoong-hyung!” Mingi cried.

“Y/N, NO!” Seonghwa laughed, eyes wide.

Hongjoong stood there, stunned, hand on his chest like she’d just stabbed him with a knife.

“She really said—” Yunho was doubled over, trying not to choke. “She REALLY said—”

And before anyone could respond—

Y/N blinked slowly… eyes fluttered…

And she knocked out.

Dead asleep. Drooling. Smiling like she knew she didn’t just wrecked Hongjoong’s ego.

“YAH!” Hongjoong finally shouted. “Y–YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT TO ME AND FALL ASLEEP!”

His voice cracked at the end, pure betrayal written all over his face.

“She really aired you out and left you hanging,” Wooyoung wheezed.

“I’m going to call Bumjoong-hyung right now and tell him to BLOCK HER,” Hongjoong muttered.

“It’s too late for that ,” San grinned.

Hongjoong just pointed at her sleeping form. “This isn’t over. When she wakes up, I’m revoking her princess treatment. Gone.”

And yet… he still grabbed a blanket and gently tucked it around her.

Hongjoong just glared at all of them while Y/N slept peacefully, completely unaware she’d just shattered her captain’s pride with a single half-conscious sentence.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbled under his breath, still betrayed.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

When Y/N finally woke up again, she groggily sat up, prompting two nurses to rush over and help her. Her steps were shaky, eyes barely open, and her hair a mess from all the tossing during sleep

“She’s still a little drowsy,” one nurse said gently. “But she kept asking for you all.”

The boys immediately jumped to their feet.

“Aigoo, our aegi’s awake,” Seonghwa smiled warmly.

“Aw, look at her. She’s barely functioning,” Mingi whispered like it was the most precious thing ever, watching her shuffle in.

But their teasing halted the second they saw how disoriented she looked. Seonghwa walked over carefully, hands outstretched.

“Hi, baby,” Seonghwa said gently.

But the moment her eyes landed on him—Y/N shuffled forward and latched onto Seonghwa like Velcro, burying her face into his chest with a content sigh.

“Gwaenchana?” he asked softly.

“…Tired,” she mumbled into his chest.

The boys cooed.

Except for one.

Hongjoong.

Arms crossed.

Eyebrow raised.

Staring at her like she committed a crime.

“…Why are you looking at me like I committed a federal crime?” she croaked, confused.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” he said, tilting his head. “Interesting.”

She blinked. “…What?”

“Should we show her the video?” Mingi called out from the other side of the couch.

“What video?” she sat up a little, now alert.

“Oh, sweetheart,” San said, peeking in with a grin. “You told all your secrets.”

“Secrets?!” she panicked. “What did I say?!”

“You cried about being left like a second lead in a K-drama who didn’t even get closure.” Wooyoung offered helpfully. “You said you were ‘a walking subplot with no arc.’”

“That sounds like me…” she mumbled.

“And then,” Yunho added, entering the room dramatically like it was a courtroom, “You said ATINY aren’t allowed to look at other oppas… because Hongjoong-oppa said so.”

Her face flushed. “…Okay well. It’s true, right?”

Hongjoong leaned in.

“You then said…” he paused, for maximum impact, “‘But… he didn’t say we can’t look at his brother.’”

Y/N froze.

Mouth parted.

Eyes wide.

“NOOOOOOOOOO—”

She threw her hands over her face and collapsed into Seonghwa’s neck like she could hide from her own shame. “There’s no way I said that. I didn’t say that. I REFUSE to believe I said that out loud.”

“Oh, it was loud,” Seonghwa said, adjusting his arm around her as she snuggled into his side. “Crystal clear.”

“Verbatim,” Yeosang added, playing with the small yellow ball on his palms.

“And then…” Wooyoung giggled, “You fell asleep like this—” he mimicked her with closed eyes and a smug little smile, “‘Bumjoongie-oppa… heehee…’”

“I’m going to pass away,” Y/N groaned.

Hongjoong just stood there, fake wounded. “After all we’ve been through… That’s how I find out I’ve been side-eyed for my own brother.”

“I WASN’T EVEN CONSCIOUS!” she defended.

“You were honest,” Mingi corrected.

With a dramatic huff, she peeled herself away from Seonghwa’s side, limbs dragging like she was heading to her own execution. On shaky legs, she made her way over to Hongjoong and promptly flopped into his lap, clinging to him like a koala with a guilt complex.

“I was under anesthesia and clearly out of my mind,” she said, eyes wide with fake innocence. “You know I love you. Not your brother. Definitely not your brother. Like—95% sure. The rest was pharmaceutical betrayal.”

She peeked up at him, pout locked and loaded.

“Oppa,” she whispered, grabbing his hand as she looked up at him. “Please.”

“…You love me more than Bumjoongie?” he asked, dead serious.

She narrowed her eyes. “Well…” she started, but immediately trailed off the moment she met Hongjoong’s very serious death glare. Their eyes locked for a long, tense second—until she blinked and looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor.

He looked away too. Jaw tight. As if her gaze alone had personally offended him.

She swallowed.

“…He is handsome though,” she muttered under her breath.

“Mworago?!” Hongjoong snapped his head toward her so fast it nearly gave him whiplash.

He turned slowly to the others, expecting backup—only to find Yunho, Mingi, San, and Seonghwa already laughing, Yeosang covering his mouth to hide his grin, and Wooyoung giving a single, slow nod like, “I mean… she’s NOT wrong though.”

“Ha… ha…” she laughed nervously, practically sweating.

She huffed, words tumbling out in a panic. “Did he write our songs? No. Did he lead us through every comeback, every practice, every breakdown? Also no. Only you, Joongie. Always you.”

She grabbed his hand tigher, eyes wide. “You’re my favorite Kim brother—I swear.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

Then sighed… dramatically. His arms came around her anyway.

“Fine. You’re forgiven. But if I even hear the syllables ‘bum’—”

“I’m changing his contact name to ‘He Who Must Not Be Named,’ I promise,” Y/N mumbled, kissing his cheek.

The room erupted—San nearly launched off the couch, Wooyoung wheezing as he smacked him mid-laugh, Yunho clapped like it was an encore stage, Mingi full-on screamed into a pillow, and Seonghwa and Yeosang were laughing helplessly along.

“…Can I still text him—”

“NO.”

And Hongjoong? He was still petty about it.

But deep down?

He was just glad she still picked him.

[haven-cove]

WANTEEZ EP. 9 - 10 : HEALTH SPECIAL

y/n moments from wanteez episode nine and episode ten aka the health special.

tw. endoscopy, mentions of fasting, mention of blood and needles (for health purposes)

[ pre - anesthesia ! y/n ]

poor y/n 😔 you were so nervous during this episode

but you did well hiding it for the most part

your body language quickly betrays you though

the second the members start talking about it – you become stiff

yunho, who was sitting next to you, immediately notices

yunho : are you nervous?

y/n : no! 😳

yunho : *chuckles* want to hold my hand?

y/n : only if it'll help calm you 🫵 down, sure 😤

wooyoung and mingi notice your nerves too and are quick to start teasing you

wooyoung : yah! yah! yah! are you scared~~

y/n : no!

mingi : haha! you are scared!

y/n : and you aren't?? because i wouldn't be talking 😒

sulking mingi

hongjoong breaks you three up as seonghwa comforts you

seonghwa : its okay, you'll be in and out before you know it

y/n : *grumbles* if you say so...

you def clown mingi for when he ate a gummy

telling him he's in trouble with the doctor when he goes back to talk to him

you really only clowned him because you were jealous he got to eat a gummy and you didn't

the staff gently telling you 'no' reminding you that you were suppose to be fasting

y/n : but afterwards?

they nodded and you seemingly forgot all about it until later

very polite with the hospital staff – called you sweet and cute several times

both to your face and to the other members

you were literally like a cat this whole episode – laying your head on any member that sat down and still long enough

at one point, you, wooyoung, and yunho were pilled on each other. you leaning on wooyoung and yunho running his hand up both yours and wooyoung's legs.

you and yeosang would do stretches together – you fussing at yeosang when he doesn't do it right

[ post - anesthesia ! y/n ]

enter cuddly!y/n after you wake up after your endoscopy

san would go see you when you woke up before he did his and would tease you for how out of it you were

words slurring and drool on your chin as you spoke

y/n : i'm cold...

san : oh, poor baby, you'll get warm soon

would reach out and hold his hand up until the last second for when they called his name

san : i have to go, i'll see you later

y/n : noooooo 😣

yunho coming in and laughing softly at you and your pout

yunho : why are you pouting?

y/n : sannie left me... 🥺

yunho : i'm here for you

y/n : you are not my sannie 🤨

when you went back out into the waiting room – the remaining members were there

you immediately went over to seonghwa and collapsed on top on him, arms wrapping around him as you cuddled up to him

the others would laugh at how seonghwa quickly became your pillow

seonghwa : what's wrong, y/nnie?

y/n : i'm cold, please hold me

you would literally become deadweight for him as he held you

editors would do a timelapse to show how long you had been there

hongjoong attempted to get you to go lay down but you glared at him

y/n : you made me like this, evil oppa 😡

hongjoong simply deadpanned at you before him and yunho got you off seonghwa to go lay down in a proper bed

[ cut content ]

unfortunately, some of the things you said had to get cut from the final version of the episode

a lot of it revealing too much about your relationship

you telling you love seonghwa and that he "takes care of me like no one else~"

poor guy was so flustered when that left your mouth

you also told san he had such strong and nice hands

you finally agreed to go lay down, but not without having hongjoong kiss you

y/n : kiss 😙

hongjoong : thought i was an "evil oppa" really want a kiss from me

y/n : evil kiss 👹

he did kiss you but it was out of sight of any cameras, but your conversation still had to be cut

you even made him tuck you in

[haven-cove]

ateez recs: fic series edition

these are fics that have genuinely changed my brain chemistry. most are ot8/ateez ensemble.

the places between us by @written-in-flowers

HOLY SHIT! warning for anyone who comes across this, it is a HEAVY read. lots of content that may feel uncomfortable. oh my godddd the way i was screaming at the protagonist for making stupid decisions. honestly one of the best reads i've had in a while i won't lie to you.

clair de lune by @atzfilm

this series had me gripping my fucking sheets. it was so so good and i wish i could read it for the first time again. this one also has slightly heavy themes so warning to those who wanna read it.

into the aurora by @honeyhotteoks

lots of crying, sobbing, and even more crying. they all love each other so much, this is what i show to people when they ask me what love means. everyone is a ride or die here.

like a waltz by @justbelievinginmagic

i actually found this gem on ao3 (WE LOVE YOU AO3 🫶🫶). ateez are all red flags in this but i'm just like the protagonist, COLORBLIND ASF! not her fault though #letherdance. it's not completed yet but definitely recommend!!!

like the moon by @sunmoonjune

FREE BUG!!! SHE JUST WANTS TO HAVE A FAMILY!!! FUCK HER DAD!!! ateez clan are bug's ride or dies and i stand with them!!!

the answer by @berryunho

hongjoong is so fucking uncanny in this. every time he's up to no good i hear music from hereditary playing. ALSO FUCK YOU SAN!!!

in love and lore by @shadowynn

y/n helps someone and suddenly gets eight lovers, can we give her 5 big booms?

hotel california + paradise gardens by @mint-yooxgi

give me whatever the protagonist has (minus the people that are targeting her). 8 HOT lovers who would give me the world, genuinely love me, and got MONEY?? ladies, don't EVER settle for less.

not all that glitters is gold by @the7thcrow

TOOOOO GOOOODDD. i wanna give wooyoung a hug but also punch him.

pirate king by @chaseatinydream

the first ateez x reader i read and it was so beautiful. the lore the storytelling the world buildup was top tier and i wouldn't change a single thing about this. i love that the protagonist is her own character and while i love an x reader where i can imagine myself, this is so incredibly well made.

cat's cradle by @raincoreee

i have no idea when this'll update (i have hope) but sannie is a cat and reader is gender neutral!!

don't forget to support and show love to these amazing authors. may fanfiction never die 🙏🙏🙏

[haven-cove]

The Princess

Pairing: Mafia! Husbands! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Wife! Reader

Genre: Angst, a good chunck of fluff, a HINT of smut (no actual sex scenes of the sorts but they’re quite sexual towards each other)

Synopsis: If ATZ were asked what their prized possession is, they wouldn’t say what you think. It isn’t the money, the cars, the jewels, the priceless paintings or anything of the sorts. As cheesy and unexpected as it sounds, they would answer each other. Now while on surface that is true, the reality of it is their most prized possession, their true treasure, the one they don’t even dare let people know they have in true fear of it getting taken away, is you. Their Princess. So what would happen when one night, you don’t come home?

Warnings: Kidnapping, major violence, implied sexual activity, death/murder (not of the major characters), alcohol consumption, Arson, MxM of course. So because of all of this please ⚠️MNDI⚠️ if I missed anything please let me know!

Word count: 5.3k words

A/N: It’s finally here!!! My goodness you guys loved that teaser 😭 I’m so grateful for all your enthusiasm! I hope this fic lives up to your expectations!! Happy reading!! Please tell me what you think! Likes, replies and reblogs are so appreciated!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

On one side of the outskirts of town, there is this mansion belonging to a very interesting group of people. As of this moment throughout the gargantuan mansion, the sounds of fast paced footsteps can be heard. While loud or fast paced footsteps like these weren’t necessarily uncommon.

However somehow everyone who heard them deep down knew, something was wrong.

Suddenly said footsteps came to a stop as the sound of the door to the meeting room was opened.

Then the dreaded question was asked.

“My loves, have any of you seen or heard from Princess?”

Silence.

Just like that it became nothing but silence as all discussions of work seems to halt after hearing Yeosangs question.

“Is.. she not home yet?” Seonghwa asked softly.

“Well.. I can’t find her anywhere and she’s not answering her phone…”

“What?!” Wooyoung exclaimed as he quickly pulled out his phone and called her number.

Yunho took a glance to the clock on the wall and saw how late it was.

“It’s past her curfew. She knows she’s supposed to be home by now.”

“Forget that! She knows to always answer us. And she’s literally not answering us!” Wooyoung groans after the call goes unanswered.

“She’s just supposed to go shopping again!” Jongho exclaims.

The rest of the men in the room were silent. Frozen in fear and contemplation of what happened to you and where could you possibly be.

Suddenly they hear the front door open.

Believing its you, they wasted no time and quickly rushed down. However what they find are only your body guards, bloodied and bruised.

You?

Nowhere in sight.

At the sight of their bosses, your guards quickly got on their hands and knees. A position that screams begging for forgiveness.

“S-sirs! We’re sorry! So terribly sorry!! One second we were watching over her then the next we go-“

BANG

Hongjoong had no need for useless explanations or excuses.

His Princess was taken.

All he needs now is her back.

Mingi takes the gun from Hongjoongs hand and steps forward.

He kneels in front of one of the other guards and grabs him by the hair, positioning the gun under his chin.

“Where?”

“D-downtown! The alley near her favorite Chanel store!”

BANG

Jongho then takes the gun and aims it at the last guard.

“SIR! Please no forgive me!! I will find her! I will-“

BANG

Protecting you and making sure you come home safe was these guards only job. And yet they have failed.

Now they’ve lost you and to them there is no greater sin.

As Yunho is cleaning the blood off of Mingi’s face, Seonghwa turns to the maids and the henchmen stationed in the room. Clearly terrified as they’ve never seen their bosses so angry.

“Clean this up. We want this place spotless. Not a single trace of these sinners left behind. And get everyone to work. Find her. Check every corner. Turn every stone. Use any informant we have. Use any methods you can think of. Do what you must! And Find. Her. Now.”

With that they scrambled and quickly got to work.

Your husbands then left the room. Rage and determination emanating from their very being.

They will find you.

And those that took you will pay.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

At another mansion on the other side of town, much smaller than the one he calls home, San is residing. He's currently on an undercover mission to get information they need to get rid of this nuisance of a mafia.

This other group wasn’t really a threat. No one was. However they’ve been getting on their nerves for far too long. So they intended to just wipe them out for their own comfort. Silently, quickly and deadly. Like they always do. Furthermore it’ll maybe also send a message to other groups to not pull the same stunts.

So once they got wind of how the head of the mafia likes collecting and having ‘toys' around no matter the gender they knew one of them had to play the part.

After careful consideration and discussion they agreed upon San.

No one was entirely happy with the idea. They hated the thought that San had to flaunt what was theirs and let another man touch him, possibly even kiss him.

However they knew their options to make this quick were very limited.

They all drew the line that San cannot sleep with him though. Not like San ever wanted to anyway. He would rather die before betraying his loves like that.

Thankfully San knew how to play his part well, where he was fun enough to keep around even if he had yet to sleep with the man. Plus he's too pretty of an eye candy to be let go anyway.

However he still needed to get this information quick, cause he knew he couldn't play celibate forever. The man will eventually want to force him to sleep with him.

So he needed to get out of there before that happens.

Currently San is in the living room in nothing but a fur coat and his boxers, as how the man requests all his toys to dress, with said man and the rest of his toys.

He's just drinking his whiskey as the man plays, wishing he was back home.

When suddenly the door was slammed opened and a girl was thrown to the ground.

"Sir, we've retrieved what you've asked for!"

One of the henchmen announced loudly.

San acted uninterested and nonchalant as he usually does until he glanced at and unfortunately recognized the poor girl on the ground.

..Princess..?

Why were you here??

How were you here???

You’re supposed to be safe at home with the rest!

“Ah yes. So this is ATZ’s precious treasure.” The man said with a shit eating grin causing the diamonds in his teeth to shine in the light.

He then got up and made his way to kneel in front of you. The man then grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

San almost lost it.

How dare his filthy hands touch his Princess?! So roughly at that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let go of me you piece of shit.” You growled at him.

“Ah ah.. is this the way you talk to the only one that can spare yo- UGH! Fucking bitch!”

Before he even finished his sentence you spat straight into his face.

In retaliation he gave you a hard slap, knocking you down.

There your eyes met San.

While to an outsider San seemed unbothered, you knew your husband. He was beyond mad. So mad that the devil himself wouldn’t dream of messing with him.

You, of course, knew of his mission. So you understood why he had to just sit there and act like he didn’t know you.

You weren’t even upset.

You missed him too much. It was such a sight to see him again.

Especially in the outfit he’s in.

So you only give him the tiniest comforting smile. Letting him know that you’re okay.

“Lock her up. ATZ will come and find her soon. They’ll make the deal to get her back. And soon I’ll be the most powerful.”

As you were being dragged away, your eyes only lingered on San.

San could only take another sip of his whiskey, with only one thought in his head.

Oh how wrong this man was.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“What do you mean you have no leads?!?” Mingi barked at the henchmen who gave him the update. Or lack there of.

“I’m sorry sir.. we’re still look-“

CRACK

“We don’t need your useless apologies. Get out there and FIND OUR WIFE. NOW!” Mingi didn’t even let him finish before hurling a heavy desk ornament straight towards his head and yelling at him again.

Bleeding from the head but grateful it wasn’t from a bullet hole, the henchmen hurriedly staggered over to give Mingi, Yeosang, and Wooyoung each a kiss on their rings that dawn their middle finger. Once the obligatory task of showing respect was done he left the room to continue searching for the lady of the household.

The room fell silent again as Mingi walks over to the big portrait of his husbands and you right in the middle. Smiling so wide and beautifully. He’d do anything to make sure that smile stays forever on your face and for him to always see it.

All of them would.

You’ve only been missing for less than 24 hours yet that’s longer than any of you have been apart these past few years without reason. Along with the fact that they knew you were taken forcibly, unease would be an understatement to describe what Mingi and the rest of them are feeling.

Then after a sigh, Wooyoung reached over and rung a bell that was on the desk. Which caused a maid with a tray of glasses and Wooyoung’s favorite bottle of liquor to enter.

Wooyoung took the bottle, disregarding the glasses and took a swig.

“Have we heard back from San? He needs to come home now. I already hated that he had to do this. Now with Princess gone, I need to know that he’s safe too. And I’m sure he’d also want to find her.” Wooyoung rambled, jittery due to the present status of his lovers are up in the air.

“We just sent the message to him. He’ll respond soon.” Yeosang sighed, trying to reassure him by also softly grabbing his hand. However he also then poured himself some of the liquor and took a sip.

Suddenly a rushed knock on the door was heard.

“Come in!” Mingi yelled.

“Sirs! A message from Sir San!” A different henchmen hurriedly walked in and dropped a small note on the table.

“Good. Now leave.” Wooyoung said.

The henchmen nodded, also kissing the rings on their fingers before leaving.

Yeosang then took the note. It was only two words but it caused him to jump up from his seat. He bellowed for whoever was nearby to come in.

“Get Captain! We need to leave now!!” He ordered firmly.

“What?! What did he say?!” Wooyoung asked also jumping up.

‘Causing Mingi to also step forward curiously.

Yeosang merely had to show them the note for them to understand.

‘She’s here.’

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Locked away in a small and quite frankly ugly room is currently where you are. Truth be told?

You’re just bored.

You wanted to go home.

Thats all.

You knew the second you were taken your husbands will bring upon hell on earth. So you’re just waiting for that to happen.

You’re not sure how they were able to figure out you were their wife in the first place though. Someone on your staff must’ve snitched. Well you can deal with them later.

Right now they just need to hurry and pick you up.

Ugh you bought such a pretty new dress to show off to them…

It’s probably ruined in that dingy disgusting alley by now.

Shame.

A loud thud can suddenly be heard outside of your locked door and it caused your heart to race. Soon the door unlocked to reveal the beauty that is Choi San.

“Sannie!!” You chirped excitedly.

You leaped from the bed only to be pulled back.

“Ugh! Stupid handcuff.” You grumbled. Completely forgetting it was there.

“Oh Princess!!” San said as he made his way to you in a flash, quickly uncuffing you. With a key you’re not so sure where he got it from. A knocked out guard possibly. No matter though.

As now with your arms free you can finally engulf your husband in a big hug once again.

“Oh my sweet darling! What happened?? How are you here???” He asked as he pulled away and checked every inch of you to see where you were hurt.

“I’m not sure my Sannie. One minute I was walking to the car then the next thing I knew these big oafs grabbed me and dragged me here. I’m fine though love! I promise! Minor bruises and scratches is all..” You explained and try to reassure him.

You knew it was in vain though as even a microscopic scratch on you will cause any of your husbands to go on a rampage.

The fact your old butler is now six feet under for giving you a small cut is proof enough.

“Princess.. you’re clearly hurt…” San said with a sigh. “We’re so sorry.. This should’ve never happened.” He apologized softly stroking the bruise on your cheek.

“Hush now my love. You know there’s only one way I could ever possibly be considered hurt. And that is if anything were to ever happen to my precious husbands. Only then. Will I ever consider myself harmed.” Pure love and sincerity lacing your voice.

A voice San truly does miss. It’s been weeks since he’s home. Oh how he misses it.

“Well it’s good to know the feeling is mutual darling. As seeing these bruises and scuffs on your precious skin brings me nothing but great agony and ignites a fire in me like no other.” He explained as he kisses each visible blemish and cut.

“Don’t worry Princess. The others will be here very soon alright? Just sit tight. I need to get back to work to avenge you darling.” Once finished with his reassurance that your husbands are on their way, he finally gives you a kiss you’ve been craving ever since he left the comforts of your home.

“Okay my love. Though do be quick. I’m awfully bored. Oh and by the way..” You start as you softly trail your hand down his chiseled body. “You should start dressing like this at home. I’m sure the others would also very much enjoy it!” You giggle as your hand made it to his crotch. Cupping it.

Oh you missed the little twitch it does so much.

“Ah yes, hmm your wish is forever my command Princess.” He replies with a chuckle. He then takes your hand and kisses the wedding band on your finger softly.

“I love you Princess. I’ll be back.”

“I love you too.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Ah yes. Mr. Jeong. Welcome to my humble abode! I see my offer finally has caught your eye.”

Yunho doesn’t bother to reply before walking in.

“My, how rude you are. But very well. I’m sure you’re uneasy as.. something is missing.” The man then continues to taunt with a smirk.

Yunho’s face remains stoic, however his fist clenches a bit tighter.

“I have no time for your games.” Yunho simply states before letting himself into the mans office. Yunho then sits down and tells the man to do the same. “State exactly what it is you want. We’ll talk from there.”

The man lets out a scoff before sitting down across from him.

He then claps his hand which causes a very familiar man to walk in to bring in a tray of drinks.

“Thank you San.” The man says in a smirk, once again causing the diamonds in his mouth to shine.

San simply ignores him.

No longer seeing the need to act accordingly.

As San makes his way to leave, he gets stopped by a hand on his exposed abdomen.

“Excuse me. I don’t believe I’ve given you permission to touch my lovely toys.” The man warns Yunho.

Who is simply admiring his husband.

“Hmm… well, ‘your toy.’ Is quite the specimen I must say. Can’t seem to help myself.” Yunho says with a smirk towards San, running his hand up and down his body.

Oh lord how much they’ve missed each other’s touch.

With San’s back facing the man, he can’t see the smirk that San reciprocates to Yunho. Yunho lets out a soft chuckle before taking San’s hand and kissing his ring finger. That was unfortunately currently empty.

“Leave San.” The man growls.

San does. But not before softly grazing his fingers across Yunho’s broad shoulders.

“Odd.. he usually never lets anyone else touch him…” the man mumbles to himself softly. Too stupid to realize what’s going on.

“So you’ve stolen our Princess. Due to that you expect us to work with you. Is that it?” Yunho finally cuts to the chase.

“Well you’d do anything to get her back wouldn’t you?” The man replies cockily.

“Naturally.”

“Well then work with me. Then I’ll set her free. Simple!”

CRASH

“You’re a bigger idiot than we thought.”

Suddenly the sounds of bullets firing, screams and yells can be heard throughout the mansion.

The man, the coward he truly is, instinctively hides under the desk at all the noise. However that desks gets thrown off of him, revealing Yunho standing above him. Gun aimed straight to his forehead.

“Run.”

Without a second thought he books it out of the room. Only to be met with the bodies of his henchmen, maids and toys scattered about. Blood coating the walls and floors. He was frozen in shock. That is before a bullet goes flying near his head grazing his ear.

“AH!”

“I said. Run.”

The man once again runs, but also stupidly tries his luck and pulls out his own gun. Before he could even aim at Yunho, his gun was shot out of his hand.

“The more you try to survive. The less likely it’ll be the case. So when my husband tells you to run. You run.” Jongho simply states standing in the living room. Surrounded by dead bodies, shattered chandeliers, ruined paintings, and mangled musical instruments.

While he was devastated at the state of his fortune he was thankfully still smart enough to value his life more. So he began to rush again.

He thought that maybe he could take the shortcut that leads to his garage through his dining room. So thats where his running legs took him as bullets were still flying everywhere. So much so that he can’t tell which came from his own men and which came from ATZ.

As he made it into the dining room he was only met with the sight of his most precious car on top of his dining table.

“Oh? Were you planning on escaping with this? Hmm. That doesn’t seem possible now does it?” Seonghwa taunts while sitting on the roof of the car.

“All this over some girl?!?!” The man roars enraged of what has become of his hard work.

Seonghwa’s expression hardens in the blink of an eye. Without another word he stands and pulls out his gun then starts shooting at the man without mercy.

The man realizes his mistake too late and gets shot in the shoulder and grazed on the thigh. However the adrenaline pumping through his veins was still enough to have him dashing out of the room.

He no longer has a plan and getting slightly dazed from the blood he’s losing, he’s just trying to get out of there. He opens the nearest door to him hoping it’ll lead to an exit.

Unfortunately for him, once again he’s met with a horrible sight and sound.

“Ah! You’ve finally come to play!” Yeosang says with a smile laced with venom.

What the man has stumbled into is his indoor tennis courtroom. Where currently Yeosang and Yunho have gathered a bunch of his henchmen, somehow tied up their upper bodies, and made them into moving targets for their tennis practice.

Many of his henchmen had succumbed to their injuries and their blood has splattered and painted the walls, floor and ceiling.

Frozen in shock due to the gruesome display, Yunho took the opportunity to serve and strike a tennis ball straight to the mans face.

“Wonderful shot my love!!” Yeosang cheers.

“Your turn handsome.”

Yeosang then wastes no time before doing the same and hitting the man right on the crotch.

“Oops wasn’t aiming for that but I’ll take it.”

“I would say you got a higher score than me.” Yunho chuckles.

This man still doesn’t give up however.

Not like the boys wanted him too anyway. They always loved a challenge and this man hasn’t even payed a fraction of his sins.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

After hearing the commotion thats happening outside your ugly holding room, you knew it only meant one thing.

Your lovely husbands are finally here to pick you up.

While the man that thought he could have his way by kidnapping you was being dealt with, the door to your room opened revealing your knights in shining armor.

Oh my! They look absolutely gorgeous in their suits.

If circumstances were any different you would’ve happily have them take you right then and there.

“My loves!!!” You screeched happily and skipped your way over to them.

“Oh Princess!!!” Wooyoung exclaimed happily as he wrapped you up in his arms.

Seonghwa and Jongho doing the same.

“Are you hurt Princess??” Seonghwa asked worriedly. “Oh my you are! Oh we’re so sorry darling…” Seonghwa didn’t even let you answer.

“My loves I’m fine! I promise I’m fine! I have you here, I’m alright. Where are the others..?” You ask with a pout.

“Oh they’re dealing with pests right now Princess don’t worry. It won’t take them too long.” Jongho says with a soft comforting smile.

“Hmm alright.. are you three taking me home?”

“Yes we are darling! Come no- goodness! what an ugly room they kept you in!! Our Princess doesn’t deserve this?!” Wooyoung then exclaims when finally taking notice of the room. Genuinely upset that you were kept in such an ugly room.

“I know right?! It’s so tacky!!” You say with an eyeroll. Seonghwa and Jongho can only chuckle at your antics.

The three of them then safely brought you outside. Where you were met with Hongjoong waiting patiently on the hood of the limousine.

Also looking immensely good. As in ‘please fuck me right now’ levels of good.

Alas.

Circumstances didn’t allow it.

“Joongie!!!” You exclaim happily as you sprint to him.

Hongjoong quickly opens his arms for you. You jump into his arms as he picks you up and spins you around.

“Oh our Princess.. we were so worried. We’re so glad you’re okay!” Hongjoong sighs in relief.

“Of course I’m okay! You’re my husbands! Nothing will ever harm me!” You say with your gorgeous smile.

“You were taken sweetie.. We’re oh so sorry…”

“Oh enough with your apologies! I’m fine! I promise I’m fine! It seems like you guys constantly forget my vows! Now that hurts! You know I’m only ever hurt when you guys are!” You remind them.

“Well the bruises on your sweet body may not hurt you but they do hurt us sweetie. So that makes it hurt you!” Wooyoung explains going off your logic.

“Alright smarty pants!” You huff.

“Besides! You all bruise me constantly! Do you not?” You tease.

“Those are different love.” Seonghwa says with a knowing glance and grin. Stepping closer to you.

“You know that very well. Any bruising or scratches done to your skin that is caused by us is all because you wished for it. Done specifically for your pleasure.” Jongho says as he leans forward as well to kisses a certain spot under your jaw.

You quickly bit your lip to suppress the moan bubbling up your throat.

Once Jongho pulls away, and you’ve calmed down, you look at all of them properly and smile.

“In all seriousness I’m fine my loves. I really am. You’re here now. You saved me. Like I knew you would. What happened to me was not because of you. Someone betrayed us that I’m sure of and we can deal with that later. Now can you all just take me home?”

“Very well our sweet.” Seonghwa says with a smile as he steps forward to kiss the crown of your head.

As you were about to enter the car you noticed Hongjoong still just standing there.

“My love? Are you not coming with?” You ask.

“Not yet Princess. I need to watch over and there are things I must do. Go home with the others. We’ll be home soon.” He informs with a smile.

“Hmm very well… Don’t take too long though! Tell that to the others too! I miss my husbands!!” You grumble.

“And we miss you. No worries. Being away from you after everything that has happened aches me as much as you.”

“Hmm alright. See you soon my beloved.”

With a final flying kiss goodbye, you enter the car with the rest. You all then drive off as Hongjoong turns around and looks at the mess he intends to finish.

Back in what was once a mansion, with the help of his henchmen that are still abled bodied and loyal to him. The man that caused all of this is executing a plan of escape.

They were finally able to sneak past all of the chaos that was still happening, to the last functioning escape car they know of.

Or so they thought.

Before they could even start the car. That wouldn’t have worked anyway.

They noticed San standing in front of it.

With an expression none of them have ever seen.

“San..?” The man questions as he thought San would’ve been killed as well.

San without even thinking twice, pulls out his own gun and shoots the very last henchmen he had, dead.

Merely as second after their bodies slumped over, a fist slammed into the window of the mans side, cracking it.

“Get out.”

Laughed.

The man laughed.

Thats the only thing he can do in this situation.

Incredibly bloodied, bruised and broken.

With everything he had worked for.

Gone. In less than a 12 hours.

All because he thought he could kidnap you and get away with it.

He then finally got out and stood in front of Mingi.

Where Mingi happily grabbed him by the back of the collar and dragged him to the front of the mansion. Here he threw him down in front of the feet of his lovers that had stayed behind. Their sea of henchmen standing behind them.

Before Hongjoong even acknowledged him, he turned to San. Admiring his body that he missed as much as the others but then clicks his tongue. He grabbed the fur coat San was still wearing then asked.

“He gave you this?”

San simply nodded.

Scoffing he tugs on it more, silently telling San to take it off as he takes his own off.

“No husband of mine will wear such a cheap and ugly fur coat like this any longer.” He complains as he puts his coat on San.

Thankfully he wore the big sized one today. It fits San perfectly.

“H-husband..?”

“Yes. Husband.” Hongjoong replies still admiring San but now also running his hand up and down his body.

Now these are the touches San’s been craving for all these weeks.

“Oh which reminds me!” Yeosang exclaims before pulling out a familiar gold band.

Seeing this causes a huge smile to appear on San’s face and his eyes to light up.

As he did many years ago, Yeosang took San’s hand and slipped his wedding ring back right where it belongs. Kissing it to seal the deal.

“Hmm. Much better. Oh also! You should start dressing like this at home.” The smirk never leaving Hongjoong as he says it.

“I agree.” Mingi states.

The other lovers humming in agreement.

San could only chuckle.

“Princess said the same thing.”

“Well we must make it happen then.” Yunho said with a wide cheeky smile.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

Oh they forgot he was there-

“You really did mess with the wrong people you stupid man.” Yeosang sighs bored of the man already.

“I have a name?!”

“We clearly don’t care. And it clearly won’t matter anymore.” Mingi says with an eyeroll as he flicks open a lighter.

“So this is it? You’re gonna set me on fire?”

“Yes.” San says.

The mans eyes shot wide. Somehow not expecting the blunt answer.

“Not before you watch everything you have burn of course.” Hongjoong says as Mingi throws the lighter behind the man.

The lighter then lands in a trail of gasoline that leads to mangled furniture and fortunes that are strewn about, before leading to the actual mansion.

It doesn’t take long until everything goes up in flames.

The man watches in agony as everything. Everything. Burns. He then turns to the men and curses.

“You’ve taken everything.. literally everything. Must you really kill me too?” The man asks somehow still trying to make it out of this alive.

“I won’t bother you again… I’ll just vanish. Live a quiet life please. You won’t gain anything from killing me. You got her back!!!” He bargains.

SMACK

“Don’t even think about mentioning her again. No. Don’t even think about her. Your mind is not worthy to have her in it.” Hongjoong says after slapping him straight across the face.

“You’re right though. We won’t gain anything from your death. We won’t even gain satisfaction.” Yunho starts.

“However. We’re merely just punishing sinners.” Yeosang continues.

“Before you even bother. No. You haven’t suffered enough. Not even close. But we could’ve done much more. So consider yourself lucky. As of now at least. As we’re sure in hell you’ll suffer even more for what you’ve done.” Mingi adds with a gleaming smirk.

“You took our Princess. Your greatest sin and stupidest mistake. So for that. You must pay the price.” San explains further.

“To put it simply. You gotta die.” Hongjoong finishes as he steps forward and grabs the mans collar.

“‘Cause you being alive is still a sin in itself. Why? Well... you’re still breathing her air.”

And with that, Hongjoong merely gives him one last shove. Making the man fall back into the flames.

His screams of suffering can be heard for miles. However due to his extensive injuries it didn’t take long for said screams to just stop. Leaving nothing but the melody of crackling fire in the air.

Once that happened, Hongjoong lazily chucked in San’s old fur coat into the flames as well. Coincidentally the coat landed perfectly on the mans, now charred, body. This action actually made Yunho chuckle.

“Oh. Like he needed that. I’m sure he’s toasty enough.” Yunho commented sarcastically.

In turn causing everyone else to also let out a laugh.

“Well. Thought he might want to descend to hell wearing what he thinks is fashion.” Hongjoong reasons with a shrug.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

As the fire burned on ATZ and their henchmen just watched. Making sure everything gets burned to the ground. Took a while but it was beautiful in a way so they didn’t mind.

Once the fire started dying down the sound of a car approaching was heard.

Odd.

They were supposed to wait at home.

The car came to a halt and then the rest of ATZ exited. As they walked up to ones who were watching, the henchmen parted straight down the middle to make way before returning to position.

The rest that just arrived now stand next to the others as they also tuned in to watch the fire.

“Weren’t you all supposed to wait at home and keep Princess company?” Yeosang asked.

“Well we were. But we all missed you too much. And you know Princess loves watching the show. Plus.. she was getting needy for all of us.” Seonghwa explains with a subtle smile.

“Aaah I see. Oh! But she shouldn’t be breathing this much smoke though!” San says worriedly.

“Relax. We made her wait in the car. She can still view it well but she won’t be in harms way.” Jongho reassures before handing San a pair of pants.

“Good. Oh? What’s this? You’re not enjoying seeing me like this like the others are Jongie?” San teases.

Jongho simply rolls his eyes and ignores him. Biting the inside of his cheek hoping no one notices his flushed cheeks. Also trying to not look down at San’s bulge.

“I think he just doesn’t want to be distracted. This is the first time we’ve seen you in weeks Sannie. We missed you very much. You and your sexy body.” Mingi says as he nudges Jongho’s shoulder.

Jongho just softly nudges Mingi back.

“Just say you miss my cock.”

“We all do.” Wooyoung chirped in with a smack to San’s ass.

A couple of hours past before the fire finally dies down and the smoke begins to clear.

Their work here is finally done.

And just ust like that the car door then opens.

Then out walks you, their Princess, wearing one of your newest most lavish and expensive dress in your favorite color. You’re also all dolled up just for them.

At the sight of you exiting the car, the sea of henchmen that were still standing behind your husbands, quickly part to make way like before. However this time, they also got down on their knees, head down, in respect.

As they should.

“What a beautiful sight! Oh my loves you outdid yourselves with this one!” You praise them giddy as if you weren’t talking about the scene of a gruesome massacre.

“An appropriate punishment for such a sinner don’t you think Princess?” Hongjoong asks as he takes your hand.

“I suppose.” You hum as you stand beside him.

“Now that you’re done, can we please leave? I’m hungry!”

“Ah! One more thing before we leave!” Hongjoong announces as he walks towards the ashes.

In said ashes, there lies the skeleton of the man that started all of this. With a wide smirk on his face, Hongjoong carefully crouches down and picks up a small but very sparkly diamond from the teeth of said skeleton.

Hongjoong, smirk not faltering even a bit, makes his way back to you and takes your hand.

“What do you think princess? Shall we customize you a new ring?” He asks showing the diamond.

“Oh my! Yes please! Oh! And check for any more jewels that are left behind in these ashes and rubble! We shouldn’t let such pretty things go to waste.”

“Of course darling.” Jongho starts before turning his attention to the men that were still on their knees before you.

“You heard her.”

“YES SIR!”

Like that they all got up, bowed to you once more before rushing to the ashes where a lavish mansion once stood. In search of anything shiny that might please you.

“Hmmm can we pleeeasee eat now?” You ask with a pout.

“Yes we can our Princess. Yes we can.” Seonghwa tells you with a smile as they all lead you back to the car.

“Can we go to my favorite place tonight?”

“Anything for our Princess.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Bonus ending! ♡

© mimikittysblog 2024

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity @puppyminnnie @borahae-reads @spenceatiny18 @justconniez @rosydipity @vtyb23 @beccaskz @boredlol914 @ntlmundy @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @ateezswonderland @peachyy-jooniee @robertsbbygirl @hanniehq @smally97 @pixie0627 @haven-cove @jaerisdiction @btskzfav @bbyunicornbby @tinybada @cecilleasworld @mudent @mortal-advocate @jjcanwrite

Those who are italicized I could not tag for some reason :(

[haven-cove]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 17: Breaking Point

"Excuse me?" you said, your voice dangerously quiet as Hongjoong's words sank in. "What did you just say?"

Hongjoong straightened in his chair, his pack leader instincts making him double down despite the warning looks from his packmates. "I said that's what being mated means. Your priority should be the pack, your mates. Not some job."

"Some job?" you repeated, your voice rising with each word. "SOME JOB? I am more than just an omega, Hongjoong. I'm more than just your mate. I'm a person with skills, with ambitions, with a career that I built myself!"

"Nobody's saying you're not—" San tried to interject, but you whirled on him.

"Aren't you? Because that's exactly what it sounds like. You're all sitting here discussing my life like I'm some problem to solve, some biology to manage, instead of asking what I want!"

Hongjoong's jaw clenched as he felt his authority being challenged. "What you want isn't always what's best for the pack. As pack leader, it's my responsibility to—"

"To what? Control me?" you snapped, taking a step toward him. "To decide my life for me because you think you know better?"

"To keep you safe!" Hongjoong shot back, rising from his chair. "The entertainment industry isn't safe for a mated omega. Tonight proved that there are threats we can't always protect you from if you're out there working—"

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," you said through gritted teeth. "I handled situations like that long before any of you came along."

Hongjoong's eyes flashed gold as his frustration peaked. "Like you handled yourself at the radio station?" he said coldly. "Because that worked out so well."

The silence that followed was deafening. Seven pairs of shocked eyes turned to their leader as the weight of his words sank in. He'd just thrown your most traumatic and vulnerable moment back in your face as ammunition in an argument.

Seonghwa's low growl cut through the silence like a blade. "Hongjoong," he said, his voice carrying a warning that everyone in the room could feel.

"Okay!" Wooyoung said with forced cheerfulness, jumping to his feet with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Who wants ice cream? I think we all need ice cream. Very soothing, ice cream. Helps with... tension and... terrible life choices in conversation..."

But his attempt at lightening the mood fell flat as everyone watched the fight drain out of you in real time. Your shoulders sagged as tears gathered in your eyes, Hongjoong's cruel words hitting exactly where he'd aimed them.

"You're right," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't handle myself. I froze up like a helpless omega and needed my big strong alphas to rescue me."

The devastation in your voice made Hongjoong's stomach drop as he realized exactly what he'd done.

"Y/n, I didn't mean—" he started, but you were already backing toward the door.

"No, you meant it," you said, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. "You all think I'm just some weak omega who needs to be managed and protected and kept at home where I can't embarrass myself or endanger the pack."

"That's not true," Yunho said desperately, rising from his seat. "Tulip, please—"

"It is true," you said with heartbreaking certainty. "And maybe you're right. Maybe I am just a weak omega who can't take care of herself."

You turned and walked toward the door with as much dignity as you could muster, which wasn't much considering the tears streaming down your face.

"Maybe I should just accept that I'm nothing more than a biology to be managed."

The sound of the door closing behind you echoed through the house like a gunshot. Seven alphas sat in stunned silence, processing what had just happened, while their pack leader stood frozen in the middle of the room, watching the door his mate had just walked through.

Hongjoong's heart felt like it was being crushed in his chest as the reality of his words sank in. He'd used your trauma against you. He'd thrown your most vulnerable moment in your face to win an argument about control.

"Well," Wooyoung said into the silence, his voice flat and disappointed. "That was possibly the worst thing you could have said."

"I know," Hongjoong whispered, his voice broken as he stared at the door.

"Do you?" Seonghwa asked coldly, his disapproval radiating from every pore. "Because what you just did was cruel. Unnecessarily cruel."

"She was challenging my authority—" Hongjoong started weakly.

"She was defending her right to exist as more than just our omega," Yeosang interrupted, his usually calm voice sharp with anger. "And you threw her trauma back at her for daring to want agency in her own life."

"I didn't mean..." Hongjoong trailed off, knowing there was no excuse for what he'd said.

"You meant to hurt her," San said quietly. "To shut her down. To make her feel small so she'd stop fighting you."

"That's not—"

"That's exactly what you did," Jongho cut him off, his young voice carrying more authority than usual. "You used her pain as a weapon."

Hongjoong looked around at the faces of his packmates—disappointed, angry, some barely containing their own rage at how he'd treated their mate.

"Go after her," Yunho said firmly.

"She won't want to see me," Hongjoong replied, his voice hollow.

"No," Seonghwa agreed coldly. "She probably won't. But you're going to try anyway, because that's what you do when you hurt someone you love. You try to fix it."

Hongjoong nodded numbly, his feet already moving toward the door. Behind him, he could hear Wooyoung's voice, no longer comedic but seriously concerned.

"This is bad, right? Like, pack-threatening bad?"

"Yeah," came Yunho's quiet reply. "This is really bad."

As Hongjoong stepped out into the night air, heading toward the guesthouse where his mate was probably crying because of his cruel words, he realized that being pack leader meant nothing if he'd lost the trust and love of the most important person in his life.

He'd won the argument about authority and control.

But he might have lost his mate in the process.

---

The guesthouse door was unlocked when Hongjoong reached it, and he stepped inside with careful, hesitant movements. The first thing that hit him was the absence—the complete lack of your scent in the air. His alpha immediately whined in distress, a sound he couldn't suppress as he realized you'd put your blocker back on.

The loss of your scent felt like a physical blow, a rejection that went straight to his alpha core. After hours of being surrounded by your natural jasmine and vanilla, the sudden return to sterile nothingness was devastating.

"Y/n?" he called softly, moving through the small living area. "Can we please talk?"

He found you in the bedroom, and the sight that greeted him there made his blood run cold. You were methodically packing your belongings into the same suitcases you'd arrived with months ago, your movements efficient and emotionless.

"What are you doing?" he asked, though the answer was obvious and terrifying.

"Packing," you replied without looking up from folding your clothes. "If I'm such a burden to the pack, such a problem that needs constant managing, then clearly the solution is for me to leave."

"You're not a burden," Hongjoong said desperately, stepping into the room. "That's not what I meant—"

"Isn't it?" you asked, finally looking at him with eyes that were red from crying but completely devoid of warmth. "You made it very clear that you think I'm incapable of taking care of myself. That I'm too weak, too helpless to exist in your world without constant protection."

"I was trying to protect you—"

"You were trying to control me," you corrected, turning back to your packing. "There's a difference."

The sound of the door opening interrupted whatever Hongjoong had been about to say. Wooyoung and San appeared in the bedroom doorway, having come to check on the situation, and both stopped dead when they saw the suitcases.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wooyoung said, his voice rising with panic. "What's with the luggage? Are we going somewhere? Please tell me we're going somewhere fun and not... leaving."

"She's packing to leave," Hongjoong said, his voice hollow with the reality of it.

"Leave?" San repeated, shock written across his face. "Tulip, you can't leave. You're our mate. You belong here with us."

"Apparently I don't," you said calmly, continuing to fold clothes. "Apparently I'm just a problem that needs solving, a biology that needs managing. So I'm removing the problem."

All three alphas looked stricken, but it was Hongjoong who seemed to be spiraling the fastest. His alpha was already in distress from the loss of your scent, and now faced with the very real possibility of losing you entirely, his control was slipping.

"This is ridiculous," he said, his voice taking on that authoritative edge that had started this whole mess. "You're being irrational. It's just your omega instincts and your heat making you act crazy. You'll feel differently tomorrow—"

Your hands stilled on the shirt you'd been folding. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes blazing bright purple with omega fury.

"Did you just..." you said, your voice dangerously quiet, "call me crazy? Did you just dismiss my completely rational response to your cruelty as omega hysteria?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Wooyoung groaned, actually slapping his forehead with his palm. "Why do we keep letting him talk? Seriously, at what point do we just tape his mouth shut to prevent further catastrophic damage?"

San was staring at Hongjoong with horror. "Hyung, please stop talking. Please. You're making everything worse."

But Hongjoong, driven by panic and the desperate need to make you stay, seemed incapable of stopping himself from digging the hole deeper.

"I'm trying to be rational here," he insisted. "You're upset, your hormones are all over the place from your heat—"

"GET OUT!" you screamed, your voice carrying such omega authority that all three alphas actually took a step back. "GET OUT OF MY SPACE RIGHT NOW!"

Your eyes were blazing purple fire, your omega nature fully emerged and absolutely furious. The force of your command, backed by the mate bonds and your own considerable will, sent all three alphas scrambling for the door.

"OUT!" you screamed again, and they went, leaving you alone with your packing and your shattered heart.

In the living room, three alphas stood in stunned silence, processing what had just happened.

"Well," Wooyoung said eventually, "I think it's safe to say that went about as badly as it possibly could have."

"She's really leaving," San said, his voice small and broken. "Our mate is really leaving because of us."

Hongjoong said nothing, his face pale as the full magnitude of his mistakes finally sank in. He'd called her crazy. He'd dismissed her completely valid feelings as hormonal instability.

He'd lost her.

And this time, he wasn't sure there was any way to win her back.

---

Wooyoung burst through the front door of the main house with all the dramatic flair of someone announcing the apocalypse, which, considering the circumstances, wasn't far from the truth.

"SEONGHWA!" he called at the top of his lungs, his voice carrying that particular pitch that meant someone was about to die and it might be all of them. "CODE RED! EMERGENCY! OUR CAPTAIN FORGOT HOW TO PEOPLE AND NOW OUR TULIP IS LEAVING US!"

There was a thundering of footsteps as the remaining pack members rushed toward the sound of Wooyoung's voice. Seonghwa appeared first, his face immediately shifting from concern to alarm at Wooyoung's words.

"What do you mean leaving?" Seonghwa demanded, his alpha instincts immediately on high alert. "Where's Y/n?"

"Packing!" Wooyoung said, gesturing wildly toward the guesthouse. "She's packing her suitcases because our fearless leader here—" he pointed an accusatory finger at Hongjoong, who had followed him and San back inside, "—decided that the best way to handle an upset omega was to call her crazy and blame her hormones!"

"He did WHAT?" Seonghwa's voice dropped to a dangerous growl as his protective instincts flared to life.

"I didn't—that's not—" Hongjoong started weakly, but San cut him off.

"You called her irrational and said it was just her omega instincts and heat making her act crazy," San said flatly. "Those were your exact words."

The silence that followed was deafening. Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho had all gathered in the doorway, their faces showing varying degrees of shock and horror at this latest development.

"You called our mate crazy?" Jongho asked, his young voice carrying disbelief. "After everything that just happened, you called her crazy?"

"And now she's leaving," Wooyoung added, his dramatic flair giving way to genuine distress. "She's actually packing her bags to leave because she thinks we all see her as just a problem to be managed."

Seonghwa's expression was thunderous as he turned the full force of his disapproval on their pack leader. "How could you be so incredibly stupid?" he demanded, his voice carrying a level of anger rarely heard from the usually composed alpha. "After what she went through at the radio station, after everything she's been dealing with, you threw that back in her face and then called her hysterical?"

"I was trying to—" Hongjoong began, but Seonghwa cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"You were trying to control her," Seonghwa said coldly. "You were trying to make her feel small and weak so she'd stop fighting for her own agency. And when that didn't work, you attacked her mental state."

Hongjoong's face crumpled as the weight of his mistakes finally hit him fully. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he said, his voice breaking. "I keep saying the worst possible things. Every time I open my mouth, I make it worse."

"That's because you're losing control," Yeosang said quietly from his position by the doorway. His analytical mind was already working through the problem, trying to understand the root cause. "Your alpha is all over the place. The mate bonds, the territorial instincts, the stress of managing pack dynamics—you're not thinking clearly."

"What do you mean?" Yunho asked, though his eyes were still fixed on the guesthouse where their mate was presumably still packing to leave them.

"Alpha leaders often struggle when they first find their omega," Yeosang explained, his voice taking on that lecturing tone he used when analyzing complex situations. "The instinct to protect and control can overwhelm rational thought. Hongjoong's alpha is seeing challenges everywhere—threats to his mate, challenges to his authority, problems that need solving through dominance."

"So he's basically going feral," Wooyoung said bluntly.

"Not feral," Yeosang corrected. "But his instincts are overriding his better judgment. Every time Y/n pushes back against his attempts to control her, his alpha sees it as a threat that needs to be neutralized."

"Which is why he keeps saying increasingly terrible things," San said with dawning understanding. "His alpha is trying to establish dominance."

"But she's not a threat," Jongho pointed out. "She's our mate. She's supposed to be protected, not dominated."

"Try telling his alpha that," Yeosang replied grimly. "Right now, his instincts are telling him that an omega who won't submit is a problem that needs correcting."

Hongjoong was staring at them with growing horror as they dissected his behavior. "That's not... I don't want to control her. I love her."

"Your rational mind loves her," Seonghwa said, his anger giving way to concern as he saw the genuine distress on their leader's face. "But your alpha is in panic mode. It's been triggered by the mate bonds, by the stress of the past few days, by watching other alphas claim her while you're trying to maintain pack order."

"How do we fix it?" Hongjoong asked desperately. "How do I fix this?"

"First," Seonghwa said firmly, "you stay away from her until you can get your alpha under control. Every time you open your mouth around her right now, you're making things worse."

"But she's leaving," Hongjoong protested, his voice cracking. "She's packing to leave us."

"Because of YOU," Wooyoung said, his dramatic tendencies returning in full force. "Because you keep putting your foot in your mouth and then shoving it down your throat for good measure!"

"Wooyoung's right," Yunho said grimly. "You need to step back and let the rest of us try to fix this."

"And if we can't?" Hongjoong asked, the possibility clearly terrifying him.

The silence that followed was answer enough. If they couldn't convince you to stay, if the damage was too great to repair, they might actually lose their mate because their pack leader couldn't control his instincts.

"We'll figure it out," Seonghwa said finally, though his voice carried more determination than confidence. "But Hongjoong, you need to understand—if she leaves, it's because you drove her away. And that's something you're going to have to live with."

Hongjoong's face went pale as the full weight of the consequences finally sank in. He'd let his alpha instincts override everything else—his love for you, his respect for you, his understanding of who you were as a person.

And now he might lose you forever because of it.

"What do we do?" he whispered, looking around at the faces of his packmates with desperate hope.

"We try to save our mate," Seonghwa said grimly. "And hope that she still wants to be saved."

The room fell into tense silence as everyone contemplated the magnitude of the task ahead of them. How do you convince someone to stay when your pack leader had systematically destroyed her trust and self-worth in the span of a single argument?

Yeosang cleared his throat, his analytical mind already working through possible solutions. "I hate to admit this," he said slowly, looking around the room with reluctant resignation, "but sending Wooyoung to talk to her might be our best option."

"Me?" Wooyoung squeaked, pointing at himself in surprise.

"He's..." Yeosang sighed deeply, as if the words were being physically dragged from him, "he has the charisma. And he's... hard to say no to."

The moment the words left Yeosang's mouth, Wooyoung let out an ear-piercing squeal of delight that made everyone in the room wince.

"OH MY GOD!" he shrieked, bouncing on his feet with unbridled excitement. "You think I'm charming! You think I'm irresistible! I KNEW you were in love with me, Yeosang-ah! I'll send out the wedding invitations as soon as we fix this whole 'our mate is leaving us' situation!"

Before anyone could react, Wooyoung launched himself at Yeosang and planted a loud, exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

"BLEGH!" Yeosang immediately recoiled, making gagging sounds while frantically wiping at his cheek. "That's not what I meant! I meant you're annoying and persistent and she might cave just to make you stop talking!"

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Wooyoung said with mock sincerity, clutching his heart dramatically. "I'm going to treasure this moment forever."

"I'm going to disinfect my face," Yeosang muttered, still scrubbing at his cheek with his sleeve.

"Can we please focus?" Seonghwa interrupted, though there was a hint of fondness in his exasperated tone. Even in crisis mode, Wooyoung's antics were oddly comforting. "Our mate is still packing to leave us."

"Right, right," Wooyoung said, immediately snapping back to seriousness. "Operation Save Tulip is a go. What's my approach? Charming? Pathetic? Desperately adorable?"

"Honest," Yunho suggested. "Just be honest with her about how much we all care about her. How much we need her."

"And maybe," San added pointedly, looking at Hongjoong, "apologize for our fearless leader's complete inability to speak like a rational human being."

Wooyoung nodded solemnly. "I can work with that. Honesty, charm, groveling—the holy trinity of relationship repair."

"Just..." Seonghwa said, placing a hand on Wooyoung's shoulder, "try not to make it worse?"

"When have I ever made anything worse?" Wooyoung asked with wide, innocent eyes.

The collective stare from six pack members answered that question without words.

"Okay, fine, point taken," Wooyoung conceded. "But this is different. This is our Tulip we're talking about. I'm not going to mess this up."

As he headed toward the door, determination written across his features, the others could only hope that Wooyoung's particular brand of chaos might be exactly what was needed to convince you to stay.

Next>>

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[haven-cove]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 16: Instinct

Mingi stared at you, chest heaving, pulse visibly pounding in his neck. The intoxicating mix of your scent—part mate, part pre-heat, part lingering traces of Seonghwa and Wooyoung—made his control unravel, fiber by fiber. His eyes flashed dangerously gold and his hands shook as he reached for you.

But even in the grip of rut, he barely held back, forced to touch, but desperate to savor. His fingers ghosted along your bare arms first, then up your neck, rough thumbs tilting your face. “Need—need more. Need all of you.” His breath fanned hot across your lips, tangled and ragged.

He kissed you then—nothing soft or practiced, just the pure, wild collision of mouths and teeth and tongue. He bit your lower lip, growling when you gasped, and licked into your mouth with a hunger that made your knees weaken.

Mingi’s hands roamed with next to no patience. He gripped your hips, dragging you hard against his body, letting you feel exactly how desperate he was. He pressed you to the wall, his mouth blazing a messy trail down your throat, nipping and soothing with tongue and lips. “Smell so fucking good—gonna go insane—” he muttered, biting a mark over your pulse. He sucked and bit, not bothering to hide the evidence of his claim.

You shuddered, your own hands clutching at his bare shoulders, nails scraping helplessly. He moaned at the sting, rut making him crave every sign of possession and surrender.

He tore your underwear from your hips in one swift motion—no pretense or apology, just need—and let it fall to the floor. He dropped to his knees with a reverent groan, dragging his mouth down your belly, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady.

He nuzzled between your legs, inhaling deeply, the growl that rumbled out of him sending heat straight through you. “Missed you, need your taste,” he rasped, and then his mouth was on you—hungry and worshipful at once.

At first, he licked slow, broad strokes up your slit, tongue flat and hot. But his rut wouldn’t let him stay gentle for long; his grip tightened, holding you in place as his tongue flicked and circled, lips sucking hungrily at your clit. He moaned against you, the vibration making your knees threaten to buckle.

He buried his face deeper, chasing every slick sound and every gasp you made, drunk on you. Every time your hips jerked or your nails pulled his hair, he just groaned louder, tongue plunging into you, fucking you with abandon.

“Mine. Our omega,” he panted, voice rough and hoarse. “Want all of you. Need your scent all over me, need you marked inside and out—”

You could barely breathe, slick and aching, thighs shaking against his shoulders. When his fingers pushed inside you, thick and curling, you nearly sobbed from the stretch.

He didn’t let up, his rut making him relentless; his mouth and fingers worked in perfect tandem, coaxing you closer, rough and sweet, until you finally shattered, shaking against his mouth as you cried out his name.

Mingi didn’t stop; he kept licking, working you through every wave of pleasure, not satisfied until your whispers turned into pleas. When he finally stood, his lips and chin were slick with you, and his eyes glowed wild with triumph.

He yanked you up, lifting you off the floor in his arms with startling, alpha strength, and carried you to the bed, tossing you onto the sheets. He followed, covering your body with his own, larger and hungry and trembling with need.

He pressed his forehead to yours, panting raggedly, cock pressed hot and aching against your slick entrance.

“This is your last chance,” he growled, every muscle straining. “Once I’m in you, I’m not stopping ‘til you can’t remember anyone but me.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Mingi, please—take me. Make me yours.”

The last thread of his humanity burned away in a breath. He pushed inside with one deep, claiming stroke, filling you, claiming you utterly, body and soul. His hips snapped forward and everything left was need, need, need—furious, worshipful, overwhelming—an endless night built for only the two of you. 

Mingi’s rut consumed him now. He swallowed your gasp with a kiss as he drove into you, his movements frantic—every thrust deep, unyielding, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to leave marks. The air turned thick, laced with the scent of mating and sweat and pure want.

“Mine,” he growled, lips dragging over your throat, damp and swollen from his earlier kisses. “You’re mine. Want everyone to know. Want them to smell me on you, inside you—”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice breaking as you met his thrusts, desperate for more, for all of it. “Want you, Mingi. Need you to claim me—want to feel you everywhere—”

He snarled, rut making him incoherent, but he pressed your legs wider, hips snapping harder, raw and relentless. He licked a stripe up your neck, then bit—not enough to break skin, but to stake his claim—growling, “You’re never leaving this bed, omega. Not ‘til you’re marked, not ‘til you’re knotted—”

You whimpered as his teeth stayed pressed to your skin, as his cock dragged deep—each push burning with pleasure. “Do it. Mark me. Fill me, Mingi—please, I need it, I’ll go crazy—”

“Already making you crazy, aren’t I?” His laugh was dark, hungry. “Look at you, begging for your alpha. All mine. All fucking mine.” His hand reached up to clamp around your throat, not choking, just holding, just controlling as he looked down, golden eyes wild. “Say it. Say whose omega you are.”

You moaned, arching helplessly against his grip. “I’m yours, Mingi. Only yours. No one else.”

“That’s it, good girl,” he hissed, claiming you with his body, his scent, his every word. “Gonna knot you so deep, everyone will know who you belong to. Want my cum leaking out of you for days—“

Mingi’s mouth was everywhere at once: he flipped you over, biting at your throat, your shoulder, then sucking marks onto your spine as he pulled you up. 

“Get on all fours for me,” he growled into your ear, breath hot, voice trembling with the effort of holding back. “Need to see you—need to fuck you like this.”

You shivered, rolling forward onto your hands and knees, heart hammering in anticipation. His hand came down heavy on your ass, squeezing, spreading you, groaning at the sight. He knelt behind you, broad chest burning against your back, cock pressed hot and thick between your thighs.

“Look at you,” Mingi snarled, lips brushing your ear as he bent over you, hand threading firmly into your hair to keep you arching for him. “So perfect—so ready. This is how I want you, how I always want you—open and waiting for your alpha.”

You pushed your hips back, craving the stretch of him, smirking over your shoulder. “Then take me,” you gasped. “Don’t hold back. I want it, Mingi—I want all of you.”

A deep, answering growl rumbled through his chest, and he gripped your hips with both hands, lining himself up behind you. He eased the head of his cock through your slick folds, dragging it slow and deliberate over your entrance, making you squirm and whine for it.

“Patience,” he rasped. “You’re going to remember this every time you sit down for a week.”

He pushed in, slow at first, groaning as the tight heat of you surrounded him. Inch by inch, he filled you, his fingers bruising your hips as he fought the urge to just slam home.

“Fuck, omega...” His voice was guttural, hungry. “So good. So tight for me—” He bottomed out with a deep, shuddering moan, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. “This—this is mine. You—” He punctuated each word with a shallow thrust, angling to hit every sensitive spot inside you. “Are. Mine.”

You whimpered at the burn-bliss of the stretch, arching your spine, pushing back to take him even deeper. Mingi lost the last bit of restraint; he set a bruising rhythm, hips slamming into you with punishing intensity, skin slapping, low curses spilling from his mouth.

“You feel that?” he panted. “No one can fuck you this deep. No one can fuck the omega out of you like I can.”

You could only moan, pleasure cresting into something feral and mindless. Every thrust forced you forward, his hands keeping you right where he wanted. One hand slid up your belly, between your breasts, to close around your throat with filthy tenderness, pulling you up so your back molded to his chest.

“Want you to come around me,” he groaned, voice low and threatening. “Want to feel you trembling, screaming my name.”

His free hand dipped between your thighs, fingers rough on your clit. You cried out, pleasure blurring every sense, and Mingi sped up, rut making him nearly savage, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Such a good girl for me… Let ‘em hear you, omega. Let the whole house know who’s making you fall apart.”

You shattered around him, body clamping down tight, cries muffled by the hand still at your throat. He didn’t stop, hips pistoning relentlessly, working you through your orgasm and straight into another crest.

The tremors wracked you, boneless and gasping, but Mingi still didn’t let himself finish—he wanted you wrung out, marked and raw, ruined just for him.

“You’re not leaving this bed ‘til you take every drop,” he snarled, tongue sweeping up your sweat-slick spine as you quaked beneath him. “I’ve waited too long, missed you too much. Tonight, you’re mine—over and over.”

Your only answer was a desperate, blissful sob as you rocked under him, every movement spelling out your surrender, your wild need for your alpha.

He held you tighter, still moving inside you, relentless and possessive, already pushing you toward the edge again—intent on proving, in every primal way, that you belonged to him.

---

The sounds that began emanating from Mingi's room reached every corner of the house with crystal clarity. What had started as soft murmurs and gentle comfort quickly escalated into something far more primal—the unmistakable sounds of a rutting alpha claiming his omega.

In the guesthouse, Seonghwa jolted awake first, his enhanced alpha senses immediately picking up on what was happening. His eyes found the empty space where you should have been sleeping between him and Wooyoung, and understanding dawned with horrifying clarity.

"Wooyoung," he said urgently, shaking his packmate awake. "She's gone."

Wooyoung's eyes snapped open, and within seconds he too could hear what had woken Seonghwa. His face went pale as the implications hit him.

"She went to Mingi," he breathed. "Our omega went to a rutting alpha."

Both alphas were on their feet and running toward the main house before the sentence was fully out of Wooyoung's mouth.

In the main house, the situation was deteriorating rapidly. Hongjoong had been trying to maintain some semblance of control, but the sounds from upstairs were affecting every alpha in the building. Yeosang stood frozen in the hallway, his usual composure completely shattered. Jongho gripped the stair railing with white knuckles, his young alpha nature warring between protective instincts and overwhelming need.

But it was Yunho who broke first.

The alpha who had been struggling all evening, who had been barely holding onto his sanity while listening to you with other packmates, finally reached his breaking point. The sounds of your pleasure mixed with Mingi's possessive growls triggered something primal in him that overrode every rational thought.

"I can't," he said roughly, his voice breaking. "I can't just stand here and listen to—"

Without finishing the sentence, he was moving, taking the stairs three at a time as his alpha drove him toward his omega. Behind him, he could hear Hongjoong shouting his name, hear the others scrambling to follow, but nothing mattered except getting to you.

Mingi's door was slightly ajar, and Yunho burst through it without ceremony, his eyes immediately blazing gold as he took in the scene before him—his omega and his packmate lost in the throes of rut and heat, both of their scents mixing in the air in a way that made his alpha roar with need.

"Yunho!" Hongjoong's voice carried his pack leader authority as he and the others crowded into the doorway behind him. "Stand down!"

But Yunho wasn't listening. His alpha had scented his omega in heat, had seen her claimed by another alpha, and every instinct he possessed was demanding he join them. The rational part of his mind that understood pack dynamics and careful planning had been completely overridden by biology.

Mingi's reaction was immediate and violent. The rutting alpha's head snapped up, his golden eyes fixing on the intruder with deadly focus. A growl that was more animal than human ripped from his throat as he positioned himself protectively over you.

"Mine," he snarled, his voice completely unrecognizable. "My omega."

"She's our omega too," Yunho replied, his own voice carrying that dangerous alpha edge as he took a step into the room.

The tension in the air became explosive as two alphas in heightened states faced off over their shared mate. You, caught between them in your heat-hazed state, could only watch with wide purple eyes as your mates prepared to fight over you.

That's when Hongjoong's pack leader authority finally cut through the chaos like a sword.

"ENOUGH!" The command reverberated through the room with such force that both alphas froze mid-snarl. "Both of you will stand down NOW or I will remove you from this room myself!"

The absolute authority in his voice, backed by the power of the pack bonds and his position as leader, finally penetrated through Yunho's alpha haze. Mingi, still deep in rut, took longer to respond, but eventually the pack hierarchy asserted itself and he reluctantly backed down.

"This ends now," Hongjoong continued, his voice carrying deadly calm. "We're going to figure this out properly, or we're going to tear this pack apart. The choice is yours."

Your soft whines from beneath Mingi cut through the tension in the room, the sounds of an omega caught between heat and the overwhelming alpha energy surrounding her. The protective instincts of every alpha in the room flared at the vulnerable sounds, but it was Hongjoong who acted first.

"Seonghwa," he ordered, his pack leader voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. "Cover her and get her to the living room. Now."

Seonghwa moved immediately, his nurturing instincts overriding everything else as he gently but firmly displaced Mingi enough to wrap you in the nearest blanket. His touch was careful and respectful as he lifted you from the bed, your heat-dazed state making you pliant and trusting in his arms.

"It's okay, Tulip," he murmured soothingly as he carried you from the room, your soft whimpers of distress breaking his heart. "You're safe. I've got you."

Mingi's anguished roar at being separated from his omega echoed through the house, but Hongjoong's commanding presence kept him from following.

"Yunho, Wooyoung, help me hold him," Hongjoong ordered tersely. "Dr. Kim dropped off something earlier to help with rut suppression. We're using it now."

"No," Mingi snarled, fighting against the arms that moved to restrain him. "My omega. She needs me. I can smell her heat—"

"She needs you calm and in control," Hongjoong interrupted firmly, grabbing the small vial Dr. Kim had left with strict instructions for emergency use only. "And right now, you're neither."

In the living room, Seonghwa settled you carefully on the couch, your body trembling with the aftereffects of heat and the sudden separation from your rutting mate. The blanket provided some modesty, but your flushed skin and glazed purple eyes told the story of what had transpired upstairs.

"Shhh," Seonghwa whispered, smoothing your hair back from your face with gentle fingers. "I know it hurts to be separated from him. But Hongjoong's right—this situation was becoming dangerous for everyone."

You made a soft sound of distress, your omega crying out for the alpha who had been claiming you, but Seonghwa's calming presence was slowly bringing you back to yourself. His vanilla and cedarwood scent wrapped around you like a safety blanket, reminding you that you were protected, even if you weren't with Mingi.

"Is he okay?" you asked weakly, your voice hoarse from the intensity of the past hour.

"He will be," Seonghwa assured you, though his eyes held concern. "Dr. Kim gave us something to help ease the worst of his rut symptoms. It won't stop everything, but it should give him back some control."

From upstairs came the sounds of a struggle, followed by Mingi's roars of protest. Then, gradually, the sounds began to quiet as the medication took effect.

"The others?" you asked, suddenly aware that your actions had affected the entire pack.

"Struggling," Seonghwa admitted honestly. "But we'll manage. We always do."

As if summoned by his words, the rest of the pack began filtering into the living room. Yunho appeared first, his eyes still slightly gold but more controlled than they'd been upstairs. Wooyoung followed, his usual energy subdued by the emotional intensity of the situation.

One by one, they gathered around you—not crowding, but close enough to offer comfort and reassurance. Your omega recognized each of them, the mate bonds humming with contentment despite the chaos of the evening.

"I'm sorry," you said softly, looking around at the seven faces surrounding you. "I know I shouldn't have gone to him alone."

"You were protecting your mate," Yeosang said quietly. "It's what omegas do. We just wish you'd felt safe enough to come to us for help."

"Next time," Hongjoong said firmly, settling beside you with careful movements, "we handle these situations together. All of us. No more lone wolf rescues."

You nodded, exhaustion finally beginning to claim you as the adrenaline of the evening faded. Surrounded by your pack, safe and protected despite the chaos you'd caused, you finally allowed yourself to rest.

With Mingi finally sedated and sleeping peacefully upstairs, the pack had gathered in the living room to try and make sense of the chaos of the past few hours. You were curled up against Yunho's side, his arms wrapped securely around you as his citrus and clean linen scent helped ground you after the intensity of your heat episode.

His fingers traced soothing patterns along your arm as he held you, his alpha finally calm now that you were safe in his embrace. The territorial need that had driven him to burst into Mingi's room had settled into protective contentment, knowing you were exactly where you belonged.

"We can't keep doing this," Hongjoong was saying, his leader voice tired but determined. "Every time someone's biology kicks in, we can't have the entire pack falling apart. We need structure, protocols—"

"Actually," you interrupted suddenly, sitting up straighter in Yunho's arms as reality crashed back over you. "I need to get back to work. I'm your assistant, remember? I have schedules to manage, interviews to coordinate. The comeback preparations—"

"No," Hongjoong said immediately, his voice carrying absolute finality. "Absolutely not."

You blinked at him in surprise. "But I have responsibilities—"

"Your only responsibility right now is to yourself and to this pack," Hongjoong interrupted firmly. "You're our mate, not our employee. That changed the moment we recognized the bonds."

"But the schedules, the promotional activities—" you protested weakly.

"Can be handled by someone else," Seonghwa interjected from his position across the room. "The company has other assistants, other coordinators. You are not replaceable as our mate, but you are absolutely replaceable as our assistant."

You felt that statement like a physical slap, did they not appreciate the hard work you had done?

Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically from where he was sprawled on the floor. "Besides, trying to maintain professional boundaries while we're all mated? That's a recipe for disaster. Imagine trying to coordinate our schedules while going through heat cycles."

"And now you get to learn how to be our omega," Yunho murmured against your hair, his voice warm with affection. "Our mate. Our partner. That's so much more important than any job."

The words, meant to be comforting, instead lit a spark of irritation in your chest. More important than any job? You shifted slightly in Yunho's arms, but he didn't seem to notice your growing tension.

"The practical issues remain, though," Yeosang continued, oblivious to your internal reaction. "The heat and rut cycles, the territorial instincts, the pack dynamics. Tonight proved that we're not equipped to handle these situations as they arise."

"Which brings us back to needing better protocols," Hongjoong agreed. "Safe spaces, rotation schedules during sensitive periods, ways to manage—"

Your irritation was building as they discussed you like you were a problem to be managed rather than a person with your own thoughts and feelings. They were talking about your life, your future, your career, and dismissing it all like it was nothing.

"Actually," Jongho interrupted quietly, "there might be a simpler solution."

All eyes turned to the youngest alpha as he continued, "If we properly mated her, claimed her with a mark on her neck, things should quiet down significantly."

"A claiming mark," San repeated softly. "That would establish the pack bond officially."

"It would also help regulate the heat and rut cycles," Yeosang added. "Claimed omegas have more stable cycles, especially when bonded to a pack."

Your hands clenched into fists as they continued discussing your biology, your cycles, your entire existence as if you were some sort of problem that needed solving rather than a person with agency and ambitions.

"The pack alpha would give the mark," Seonghwa said. "It would have to be Hongjoong."

"It's not a decision to make lightly," Hongjoong said carefully. "A claiming mark is permanent. It changes everything."

"Everything's already changed," Yunho pointed out. "This just makes it official."

That was the final straw. You pulled away from Yunho's embrace and stood abruptly, your eyes flashing with anger as you faced all seven of them.

"So that's it?" you said, your voice sharp with betrayal and fury. "My job, my career, everything I've worked for—it all just ends so I can be a good little omega who stays home and pleases her alphas?"

The room went dead silent, seven alphas staring at you with varying degrees of surprise and confusion.

"That's not—" Yunho started, but you cut him off.

"Isn't it?" you demanded, your voice rising. "You just dismissed my work like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing beyond being your mate. I'm good at my job, I'm talented, I worked hard to get where I am, and you're all just casually deciding that none of that matters anymore because I'm your omega now?"

Hongjoong's expression hardened slightly, his pack leader instincts responding to the challenge in your tone. "Yes," he said bluntly. "That's what an omega is. That's what being mated means."

"Oh no," Wooyoung groaned from his position on the floor, immediately recognizing the catastrophic mistake his leader had just made. He actually covered his face with his hands. "Oh no, no, no."

Seonghwa shot Hongjoong a look of pure disapproval, his eyebrows raised in a clear 'are you serious right now?' expression.

"Excuse me?" you said, your voice dangerously quiet as Hongjoong's words sank in. "What did you just say?"

Next>>

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[haven-cove]

OMGGG. i just finished reading this and im honestly wrecked and TRASHED in the best way possible. this fic took my heart, tore it to pieces, fed it to feral wolves, and then stitched it back together with golden thread. i laughed, i cried and i almost threw my phone away!!!

the scene where seolhee coded made me sob so hard and i thought about my very own patients; the times where i felt hopeless and doubtful of my skills that maybe it was my care that was insufficient that led them to where they were but ahhhh this little girl will forever hold a piece of my heart ❤️

im going to be thinking about this one for a long long time.

and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky

genre: poly doctors!ateez x doctor fem!reader, hospital romance, established relationship, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 39.7k

c/w: slow burn in reverse, work/life burnout, heavy medical themes (death, cancer) and mentions of medical procedures (medication, needles, chemotherapy, surgery), grief and crying, brief mentions of self-harm (hitting, pinching), mental breakdowns, workplace misogyny and nepotism, profanity, kissing, non-sexual nudity, m x m interactions

synopsis: after transferring during the last year of your residency program, you work alongside your eight boyfriends at kq hospital. it becomes harder to keep your relationship the same as it used to be as you all navigate the respective challenges of being doctors and nurses. you come to experience love and loss in both warmth and coldness, but only one of them will keep your relationship alive.

a/n: please read the tags carefully as this is probably my heaviest fic in terms of the themes and struggles being explored. mandatory shoutout @sorryimananti-romantic for putting up with my snail-pace writing speed the last five months :)

nobody talks about how ironic it feels to work in the hospital during the holidays, particularly christmas.

in any other establishment that is open, be it a restaurant, cafe, retail store or convenience mart, employees are greeted kindly with festive cheer–warm wishes and sincere smiles from one stranger to another. but nobody walks into the hospital on christmas with laughter and gratitude for the assistance of the doctors and nurses, because nobody wants to be at the hospital.

nobody plans to spend the day there, either.

where white embodies the nature of christmas itself–joy, celebration, festivity, snow–it changes the moment you step through the sliding glass doors of the hospital’s entrance. white is the sterile and detached appearance of the tiled floors and coated walls. it is the bedsheets and linen of the ward beds which fall short of mimicking home. it is the authoritative coats of the doctors who are the arbiters between life and death; the very same coat that jongho currently wears over his scrubs.

you are reminded of this dystopian juxtaposition as you and five others gather around your phone from the brightness of the cosy living room in your shared apartment, talking to jongho over facetime while he hides in a storage room for five minutes of respite.

in the background of your video, the fairy lights blink rhythmically on the christmas tree and reflect off the glossy wrappers of the presents placed underneath its bottom branches. behind jongho, there are shelves of medication that you can recognise as the anaesthetics and anticoagulants solely from the colours of their labels, even in the hazy darkness of the storage room.

“you won’t fucking believe the number of grannies i’ve had to explain to today that no, they cannot go home for christmas because they literally just came out of open-heart surgery ten hours ago,” jongho rubs his temples.

yeosang laughs quietly from beside you, amusement poorly concealed behind his hands. you fondly admonish him with a light slap to his thigh but cannot deny the smile that tugs at your lips too.

rushing in for damage control, seonghwa asks, “how’s mingi?”

“tired as fuuuck,” jongho snickers whilst dragging out his words smugly, as if his own eye bags do not reach the middle of his cheeks. the way he lacks the self-control to police his language is also evidence of his utter exhaustion. “last i heard, he was dealing with a couple who had gotten a bauble ornament stuck up the dude’s ass because they wanted to try something ‘festive’ or some shit like that.”

the stories you hear from the emergency department never fail to amaze you with what the human mind can think of doing. it is natural selection at its finest–exhibit a, b, all the way to fucking z. wooyoung gets an absolute kick out of it every single time though, so there is that.

“plain stupidity,” hongjoong rolls his eyes in exasperation. “people need to stop adding to our caseload.”

you chuckle with agreement. “what about yunho? did you get to see him?”

“he’s in surgery,” jongho shakes his head. “not sure what for, but i haven’t heard from him all day so it must be a pretty complicated one.”

the conversation is cut short when his pager goes off. jongho curses, downing the last of his coffee in one large gulp and grimacing from the stale and grainy taste. he crumples the empty paper cup before he apologises, “i have to go. sorry we couldn’t spend christmas together.”

from over the phone, you and your boys refute him with comforting utterances of “don’t be”s, followed by warm exchanges of “merry christmas”s.

“i love you all,” jongho murmurs shyly, the end of a call the only time other than whispered confessions in the safety of a bed where he is comfortable enough to express himself so intimately.

you respond giddily, “love you too,” at the same time your other boyfriends also return the same spoken sentiments. then the youngest ends the call, rushing to attend to an abnormal ECG reading for a patient.

san lets out a sad little sigh as the screen of your phone turns off. his fingers continue to absentmindedly tousle the back of yours and yeosang’s heads whilst wondering, “when will we get to celebrate christmas together? i don’t think all nine of us have ever been free on the same day since we started dating.”

“most of you finish your residency in just over a year, and jongho in two,” seonghwa fondly pinches san’s cheeks, a bittersweet smile adorning his own face, “so maybe the year after that?”

piping up from your other side, wooyoung suggests to the oldest, “or, hear me out–you and hongjoong work while the rest of us stay at home.”

“and do what,” hongjoong narrows his eyes.

“look pretty,” you say in unison with wooyoung, twin grins of mischief flashing at the only registered doctor and clinical nurse specialist in your relationship.

seonghwa laughs endearingly as hongjoong pretends he is not. the rounds of your cheeks settle with warmth when seonghwa leans down to place a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth in between a teasing, “i wouldn’t mind that.”

it draws out a girlish giggle from you, forever unable to curb the feeling of butterflies in your stomach whenever you are with your boys, even more so with the intoxication of christmas itself–the season of love. wooyoung tilts his cheek out expectantly for his own kiss at the same time hongjoong scruffs the oldest by the neck with a playful chide, “they’re going to actually drop out from the residency program at this rate, hwa.”

but hongjoong is smitten, as you all are for one another, and contrary to his words there is adoration dripping from his gaze…only for it to immediately disappear when wooyoung punches his forearm.

“kiss me, peasant!” wooyoung demands.

“that’s it,” hongjoong snaps and the younger screeches as his neck becomes wrapped in a headlock. in retaliation, wooyoung bites the skin that is within reach, setting off a high-pitched yelp.

yeosang stands up so you take it as your cue to do the same, both of you tucking your chairs under the dining table as san and seonghwa step back from the commotion. you grab your phone then walk away with the three of them to the continued sound of petty slaps and childish bickering.

just another normal day.

“should we sleep in the main bedroom tonight?”

at your suggestion, san wraps his arms around you from behind. his voice rumbles with enthusiasm that you can feel against your back and you sink into his embrace as he agrees, “good idea, love.”

the main bedroom is quite literally a bed room. it consists of numerous platform beds pushed together to make–for lack of better description–an XXXXXXXXL bed. there is nothing else in the room, any and all visible space taken up by the beds as it is the only way to create a surface size comfortable for all nine of you to sleep together.

there are only double or twin beds in the remaining normal bedrooms because frankly, you all need quality sleep for your jobs. between all of your on-call shifts, leaving the house and arriving home at random hours of the day, it is just easier to sleep separately on most nights. plus, despite the fact that you are all earning more than the average salary already, there is still a fuckload of student debt to pay off and mattresses are fucking expensive. hence, you make do with the one room where you splurged your money.

“i’ll let the others know,” yeosang states. he pulls out his phone to send a text to the group chat. mingi and jongho were unlucky enough to have drawn the short end of the stick with a 24-hour shift, and yunho had apparently been placed on surgery. so although it is not the ideal nine of you, you have long learnt to accept that there will almost always be at least two absent at any one time.

seonghwa has already made himself comfortable in the centre of the mattresses when you walk into the bedroom. he lifts the edge of the blanket, arms beckoning for you to cuddle him. you toe off your slippers and crawl into his arms, slotting yourself perfectly against his chest as he tucks you under his chin and covers you with the blanket that is warm from his body heat.

the bed dips again from the weight of somebody else slipping in behind you. he curls around you, a sturdy arm gently cradling your waist with a comforting weight. you can immediately tell that it is san simply from the way his body feels against yours–you would be able to tell any of them apart simply from the way they held you, even if you were to lose your sense of sight.

slowly tracing a finger along the prominent veins on san’s forearm, the bed suddenly rocks with a gleeful shout before the three of you are crushed under an energetic mass. “wooyoung!” you gasp between exasperated fondness and he giggles whilst squirming to make himself space within the cuddle pile.

san moves over so the younger can slot in beside you whilst extending an arm out to his side. it wraps around yeosang to tuck him into the group, and hongjoong settles in last behind seonghwa on the outside edge. there is a bit of further wriggling as you all adjust yourselves comfortably, but eventually your arms and legs twist together snugly. with seonghwa’s fingers languidly combing through your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp with each repetitive motion, you drift off to the boys’ low whispers and enter a dreamy haze of cackling fire and fluttering snow.

it is well into the early hours of the next morning when one of the trio comes home. the soft click of the front door wakes you up, your body used to sleeping lightly from years of on-call shifts. your ears slowly drag you back into the realms of consciousness as you listen.

there is a dull thud and a muffled “ow” that tells you it is yunho, the only one who has somehow made it a habit of his to bump his head on the cabinet every time he bends down to put his sneakers away. as his soft footsteps pad down the hallway, you track his path mentally in your head; to the open dining room to place his messenger bag down on one of the chairs, to the bathroom to wash his face and his hands, then finally to the main bedroom.

to see his lovers.

yunho nudges the door open with bated breath in hopes that he does not wake anybody up. a smile immediately spreads across his face, unable to contain his fondness at the sight that greets him as his eyes adjust to the darkness. within the hands of slumber, you and the boys have slowly spread yourselves out across the mattresses. still, you somehow manage to find each other through the tangle of blankets–seonghwa’s fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist; the tip of wooyoung’s nose nudging your forearm–unwilling to completely separate even in your unconsciousness.

your body dips with the mattress under yunho’s weight when he carefully inches towards you. his sturdy arms hold his frame over your smaller one and you pretend to be asleep just to feel the protective tenderness with which he dips his head slowly to press the softest of kisses against your temple. his warm lips worship your skin with the reverence a butterfly would land upon the prettiest of flowers.

in the magical remnants of an enchanted pre-dawn, yunho whispers bittersweetly, “sorry i’m late, y/n. merry christmas.” then he tucks the blanket more snugly around you, cocooning you in both warmth and love before he pushes himself back off the bed to leave.

as much as he wants to hold you and his boys, yunho has not yet showered. he is exhausted to his very core, unable to bring himself to the arduous task of showering when he can barely keep his eyes open. so he retires himself to one of the other bedrooms instead even though it is the last thing any of you want.

but all of you are used to it. none of you are strangers to coming home in the ghostly hours of night, fighting off debilitating weariness long enough only to check on the others briefly before falling against a mattress away from the clean warmth of somebody's arms.

it is the career and life that you have all chosen. it is just another normal day.

and it is this exact self-sacrificial nature within the medical field that is easily forgotten and overlooked. you and your boys sacrifice your holidays with loved ones to ensure other people get to go back to their loved ones for the holidays. it comes with the price of time, freedom and memories.

but what can also happen is that sometimes…you end up sacrificing the relationships themselves.

for every rapid shuffle you make throughout the house, gathering your things to haphazardly shove into your backpack, mingi trails behind you easily with languid strides of his own.

“i can drive,” you reason half-heartedly as you focus on the stubborn front zipper. “you can be my passenger princess.”

his scandalised look that you would even suggest a thing goes unnoticed even as he protests, “or you be my passenger princess.”

“okay, and how will i get home? your shift doesn’t even end at the same time as mine.” you throw the door of the fridge open to grab your packed lunch, cramming it into the large compartment of your bag.

“yun’s shift does, so he can give you a ride home unless he gets called in for surgery again.”

“and if he does?”

mingi looks at the whiteboard calendar that is mounted on the wall beside him, squinting at the mass of colour-coded letters that are scribbled into the box marking today’s date. “then wait for hwa. his shift ends at five.”

“no,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, “you know how often he picks up extra hours because he can’t bear to leave his PICU babies. i’ll just take the bus home.”

“no,” mingi mimics you as he holds out your coat for you to shrug on, “the correct answer is to then wait for hongjoong or call one of us. between the eight of your boyfriends, there’ll always be someone who is just ending their shift or is free to pick you up.”

you look up from your shoes to level him with a blank stare, “you know that isn’t feasible every single day, right?” despite your words, you do nothing to stop him from stealing your car keys out of your pocket.

mingi’s doggedness–all of their doggedness–in ensuring one of them will always be accompanying you to and from work is endearing, but the truth is that it is not feasible. there is a reason why you had been commuting by yourself the last three years of your residency, and along with the fact that the nine of you have different shifts that change each week, the logistics of it all will drive you insane, if not them.

“that’s besides the point. it’s your first day of work today so i’m doing my baby a favour,” mingi coos teasingly, pinching your cheeks because he knows it gets a rise out of you.

you swat his hands away with a grunt, jabbing his side for good measure in retaliation to his smug grin. “you talk as if we aren’t both fourth-year residents. and it’s not a favour if you have to go there anyway since, you know, we work at the same hospital.”

“it’s your first day at this hospital, so technically you’re still fresh meat,” mingi argues as he pulls the front door open. while you lock it behind you–everybody else already at the hospital–he continues, “plus, my shift doesn’t start until tonight so i’m sacrificing my sleep for you.”

you give him a little curtsy with exaggerated gratitude then hurry after him when he swivels on his heel, head held high like a noble king with you as his court lady. except, the roles reverse the moment you reach the car and he opens the passenger door for you with a bow.

“m’lady,” he beckons inside.

you snort but settle yourself into the seat, patiently waiting for mingi to get in from the other side of the car. as he starts the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital, you suddenly look at him with suspicious clarity, head now clearing enough to wonder why the most rational of your boyfriends is being irrational. 

“you’re trying to get on my good side for something, aren’t you? did you spill coffee on seonghwa’s scrubs again?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“what?” mingi’s head whips towards you before he looks back at the road, chuckling nervously. “no? of course not. why would you think that?”

at your lack of response, he crumbles with a confession. “it was hongjoong’s idea! he said i should drop you off so i can size up whoever might try and chat you up on your first day.”

“god, you’re all hopeless,” you burst out into laughter.

prior to today, you and the boys had discussed how public you were all going to be at the hospital about your relationship. it had been decided that you would not deny it if questions arose, but at the same time, you were not going to go out of your way to make your relationship with one another general knowledge.

not everybody is going to be accepting of your polyamorous dynamic and neither do you need people questioning whether you successfully transferred into the residency program at this hospital through…favours. because despite the fact that it is the twenty-first century, it remains the harsh reality that the doctoral field is still predominantly male-oriented, with females automatically assumed to be the nurses–lesser in hierarchy, knowledge and skill.

a rumour as such might not affect the boys but it would be enough to tarnish your career.

as mingi pulls into the underground parking lot for employees, you rest a hand on his forearm to stop him from turning off the ignition. “mingi, i’ll be fine,” you reassure. “go home and get some sleep.”

“but hongjoong–”

“–will just have to stop being a big baby. we’re in our mid-twenties,” you chuckle, “not fresh eighteen-year-olds discovering the opposite gender for the first time. everyone’s going to be too busy on their first day to care about flirting.”

you lean over the console of the car and mingi relaxes easily under your hand that caresses his jawline. he melts once you press a soft kiss against his cheek, conceding, “alright.”

“i’ll see you at home before your shift.”

he nods and watches as you get out of the car. from out of the open window, he gives you a cute little wave, waiting for you to walk through the sliding doors before he leaves. you walk to the elevator doors to press the up arrow, fidgeting with your scrubs and hair with nervous restlessness until the sounding of a soft ding followed by the low groan of parting doors. you take a deep breath, then you walk in.

into kq hospital.

boasting over one hundred different core and specialised departments and home to some of the few fields in advanced medicine, kq hospital is the largest and most renowned hospital in seoul. your years of clinical experience in other hospitals and past visits to your boys during their shifts provide you with a sense of familiarity with the place, but it is still easy to feel overwhelmed by its formidable size and bustling urgency.

seeing the fresh interns and second-year residents gathered in the auditorium as you join them for the morning orientation reminds you of your own four years ago. never did you think you would have to undergo orientation again during your residency, yet here you are, having transferred to kq hospital in your final year for the clinical exposure and opportunities in career advancement that it has to offer.

you sit towards the back of the auditorium, a few seats away from a girl who has the nerves of an intern. you give her a polite smile then face the front, not exactly ready to make small talk unless you have to. yunho always jokes that as an introvert you really picked the wrong job–you have no defence as you pull out your phone and pretend to be occupied.

somebody slides into the seat next to yours a few minutes later. however, your saving grace comes in the form of several people walking across the front of the stage, so you do not have to do much more than dip your head in courteous greeting before everybody settles into silence.

a woman in thin-rimmed glasses steps up to the podium. “welcome, interns and residents. my name is doctor heo and i’m the program director of the paediatric residency program here at kq hospital.”

the hours of the morning quickly blur together into a multitude of faces, names and information. you and a few of the other senior residents had only been required to attend half of the general welcome talk, your orientation much faster and tailored to your pre-existing experience. by the time you have gone through the policies, patient populations and workflows of the paediatric department, your head is reeling to digest it all.

only at twelve do you converge with the interns again, this time at the cafeteria. there is a generous spread of catering of finger food and drinks before the joint lunch you will have with the other faculty members from your department.

“this will be a good opportunity for all of you to meet the residents, doctors, nurses and department heads. get to know your colleagues because they will be the ones you are learning from,” dr. heo advises.

your ears perk up, wondering whether you will be able to see some of your boyfriends. san is already a fourth-year resident in the paediatric department, wooyoung one of the nurses, and even though seonghwa works mainly in the paediatric ICU, his position as a clinical nurse specialist likely makes him important enough to at least show his face.

everybody starts to make their way over to the tables to fill their plates as they mingle and chat amongst one another. you have always had a sensitive stomach that often disagrees with food–the very reason why wooyoung makes your lunch most days, which currently still sits inside your bag–but you do not want to appear ungrateful or picky. so you head to the drinks to at least keep your hands filled.

just as you grab a small glass of orange juice, a voice startles you. “it’s you! hi.”

you turn to find a man maybe a few years younger than you with a bright smile on his face. “hi?” you hesitantly answer, unsure why he is acting so familiar with you.

he frowns slightly, “you don’t remember me?”

you could honestly give less than a flying fuck who he is, but you suppose the whole point of this break is to give those fucks, so you apologise instead, “sorry, i’m not great with faces.”

“i sat next to you during orientation this morning,” he laughs like you have just cracked the funniest joke. he extends his hand out for a handshake, “i’m doctor baek, but you can call me cheolmin.”

“nice to meet you, doctor baek,” you return the handshake, setting your boundaries with your response. “doctor l/n.”

he quirks a brow amusedly. unprompted, he reveals, “my sister’s boyfriend’s aunt’s friend knows the director of this hospital,” as if he thinks you would be impressed. you are willing to bet the seventy-two dollars in your savings account that the director of the hospital does not have a clue who this dr. baek is.

as you struggle to come up with a professional response that is not a sarcastic ‘cool’, you suddenly make eye contact with somebody from over his shoulder. they are looking at you with nonchalant amusement, lips tugged up smugly and their hands in the pockets of their coat.

you hurry to wrap up the conversation and make a move to step around dr. baek. “that’s great, nice to meet you. i’m going to go and introduce myself to–”

“are you doing anything after work today?” he cuts you off, stepping slightly in front of you. “it would be nice for us to get to know each other better, considering we’ll be colleagues from now on.”

“uh…” you trail off, distracted when you make eye contact again with the person and they cock their eyebrow, asking for your permission to play knight. you give the subtlest of nods before dr. baek adjusts himself into your line of vision.

“doctor l/n, don’t play hard to g–”

“y/n,” the dependable voice of hongjoong interrupts dr. baek. your expression relaxes into a smile as your boyfriend sidles up to you, presence steadfast and unwavering. “i didn’t catch you this morning–how are you getting home?”

dr. baek’s eyes narrow even further at the implication of hongjoong’s question than when he realises you two are on first-name basis.

“mingi dropped me off so i can’t drive,” you shrug.

“i finish at five-thirty. i’ll take you home,” hongjoong says, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair out of your eyes. “make sure to put on your jacket while you wait for me. it’s meant to snow later so it’ll be cold.”

you laugh softly at his attentiveness, “okay, hongjoong.”

unable to watch any longer, dr. baek pivots on his heel and stalks away. your boyfriend cannot resist pulling you closer by the sleeve of your scrubs as he haughtily huffs, “i knew people would hit on you.”

“is that why you told mingi to take me to work today?” you tease. hongjoong is also from the neurology department–definitely not meant to be here right now–but you will save that ammunition for another time.

“oh, look,” hongjoong pretends not to hear you as he ushers you away from the tables. “san and wooyoung are over there. let’s go and talk to people who actually matter.”

the laugh you let out this time is unrestrained, letting yourself be led through the interspersed groups of people towards your other boyfriends–the only people who actually matter. san and wooyoung’s faces break out into the most tender of smiles the moment they lay their eyes upon you and hongjoong, and the remaining nerves and tension in your body completely melt away when you feel their subtle embraces around you.

it may be winter and the road ahead to acclimatise with your new job may be demanding, but you know that you will be shielded from the cold of the world by the warmth that your boys will always bring to you.

“patient history and current status?”

selecting the seventh floor, you press the close button to the elevator doors once your team of four have settled inside. you turn back slightly to look at your interns in wait for a response to your question.

dr. son glances at dr. yang before answering, “the patient is kim seolhee, currently six years and three months old. she was initially diagnosed with T-cell acute lymphoblastic leukaemia at two years, eight months. she was admitted into hospital one month ago due to a relapse and is currently undergoing re-induction therapy. she received a chemotherapy dose this morning, so we are monitoring for any potential side effects from the treatment.”

“and how is she responding to the treatment?” you probe.

“slow response–the leukaemia cells are not clearing as expected so second-line chemotherapy is likely to be recommended.”

you nod at the information as the elevator doors open to the paediatric oncology ward. walking out, you ask, “why is the patient not responding to first-line treatment?”

the following silence permeates with flusteredness that shows neither intern has considered this question. “doctor lee?” you cue instead.

the junior resident takes over with ease. “seolhee’s initial treatment when she was first diagnosed required aggressive chemotherapy due to resistant leukaemia. treatment lasted for two and a half years and she achieved remission at five years, four months. however, she relapsed one month ago due to minimal residual disease in the bone marrow.

“from her history, we know that her leukaemia was resistant to initial treatment and there is the persistence of residual cancer cells at the time of relapse. plus, her diagnosis is T-cell, not B-cell, which tends to present with greater quantities of leukaemia cells and thus requires more intensive therapy. all of these risk factors combined makes it difficult for remission to be achieved through first-line re-induction therapy.”

“well done, doctor lee,” you acknowledge as he beams, “all of that and the fact that her relapse is early–merely nine months after remission–correlates to a higher likelihood of treatment resistance.” you address your interns, “it is easy to focus on the patient’s immediate presentation, but it is just as important–if not more–to look at it in the context of their prior admissions and treatment responses. that was a good attempt though, doctor yang.” reaching the door to the room you are about to enter, you quickly wrap up the conversation and head in.

seolhee looks at you curiously, a new face being one of the only interesting things that change up her repetitive days in the hospital. her sickly pallor and sunken cheeks are a morbid juxtaposition against her rounded eyes and braided pigtails. as you walk closer, you can see that her hair has been plaited loosely with care so as not to strain her already-thinning hair.

you lower yourself to the side of her bed with a bright smile as you compliment, “i love your hair! who did it for you?”

immediately, she beams, any prior apprehension clearing as she tells you, “my favourite nurse! he's been braiding my hair for years!”

“has he now?” you gaze at her fondly as she happily shows you the ribbons tied to the ends too.

“are you talking about me?”

seolhee’s eyes instantly light up in response to the voice that enters the room. she exclaims, “nurse hwa!”

“hello, my snowflake.”

you turn just in time to see seonghwa walking in with endearment enveloping his entire face. you let out a small chuckle, your own eyes melting with honey at the sight of him. of course he would be the favourite nurse.

when seolhee questions why he is making his rounds earlier than usual, he leans in conspiratorially, yet in a whisper loud enough for you to hear, “a little birdie told me that your new doctor is very pretty, so i had to come see for myself.”

he winks at you and you shake your head with an exasperated smile. so much for keeping lowkey and professional. clearing your throat, you play along, “ah, are you the favourite nurse who braided her hair, nurse hwa?” you find it absolutely hilarious that six-year-olds are using the same pet name that you use for your boyfriend.

seonghwa nods, “my girlfriend taught me.”

“she must be quite the amazing girlfriend, then,” you joke.

“she is,” he smiles, gazing softly at you.

for a six-year-old, seolhee is frighteningly perceptive as she looks back and forth between the two of you before blurting out, “is she the pretty girlfriend you always talk about?”

you fluster with a bright blush that you try to conceal behind a cough, only to make eye contact with dr. son and dr. lee giving you the most delightful shit-eating grins on their faces from beside you. seonghwa simply laughs, brightly and joyfully like the festive chime of bells. his affirmative nod in response is just as childishly proud as the one adorning seolhee’s face at having guessed correctly. she decides right there and then that you are her favourite doctor, because you are pretty.

“let me give you something,” she beckons with a small wave, little fingers calling for you to look closely.

seolhee pulls a little booklet out of the bedside table’s top drawer. the cover and edges are well-loved and from the way the top of the little booklet is nearly falling apart, you can tell that she has used it often. she flicks through the empty pages one by one until she finds what she is looking for. fiddling for a few more seconds, she holds out her hand to present you with–

“a sticker?” you ask.

“for doing a good job,” she giggles.

you take the circular sticker from her extended fingers. when you look down, you realise it is a little snowflake with a smiley face on it. the corners of your own mouth tug upwards involuntarily and your cheeks round out until they start to feel sore. never did you think a mere sticker would bring you such glee as an adult, but you are going to wear it proudly.

you tug the breast pocket of your scrubs outwards so that you can stick it onto your name badge, right next to the small twinkling star that is the signature additional design on all of the paediatric departments’ name badges. at your response, seolhee beams with pride.

“where’s mine?” seonghwa childishly quips.

“you haven’t done anything yet,” seolhee wags her little finger at him as he swallows the urge to retort that neither have you. “have you drawn my blood yet? inserted an eye-vee line or a…pick line?”

“no,” he chortles in defeat, “no IV or PICC lines today. maybe a blood test later.”

“so no sticker for you,” she reprimands him rightfully.

the conversation draws a laugh out of you, yet leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. a child like seolhee should be talking about the colour of her doll’s dress and the name of her plush teddy, not medical procedures that draw her line between life and death.

seonghwa eyes your sticker mischievously. “i might have to steal her sticker then.”

seolhee glares at him like a ferocious kitten, easily deciding that you are now her favourite out of all the doctors and nurses. “don’t you dare,” she pouts before turning to you with full solemnity and seriousness to pledge, “if he steals it, come back and i’ll give you another one.”

you send him a smug wink and seonghwa finally concedes, arms raised in mock surrender. “i’ll go back to my morning rounds then. see you later, snowflake,” he gives her a wave before bidding you goodbye with playful professionalism, “see you later, doctor l/n.”

on his way out, seonghwa exchanges brief but warm pleasantries with a middle-aged woman who is simultaneously entering the room. it is easy to presume that she is seolhee’s visitor, considering she is not wearing scrubs. just as you are about to introduce yourself, the woman's eyes skim right past yours to land on the taller of the interns behind you.

"hi, you must be seolhee's new doctor," she greets. "i'm her mother."

dr. yang shifts uncomfortably on his feet and glances at you, unsure how to correct the older woman that whilst he is a doctor, he is not the most senior one. with grace, you extend a warm hand out with an even warmer smile.

"lovely to meet you, mrs kim. i'm doctor l/n, and this is my intern, doctor yang," you introduce, before gesturing behind to your left. "this is my other intern, doctor son, and this is doctor lee, my second-year resident."

seolhee's mother rushes to shake your hand as she trails off, "sorry, i assumed he was the doctor because..."

"i know, i get that often. don't worry about it," you pat her hand placatingly.

she responds, "well, it's going to be nice having a female face around."

from the flush on her face and the overcompensatory laugh that leaves her lips, you know she does not mean it as much as she is trying to cover up her embarrassment. the woman before you is not the first person to have dismissed you as a nurse or an intern solely based on your gender, and she will definitely not be the last. so you pretend not to notice, redirecting with a laugh of your own and the question, “how has seolhee been feeling since her dose this morning?”

mrs kim easily jumps on the change in conversation and the attention shifts to the little girl in bed. you listen intently to any side effects of concern, long having learnt to ignore the layered feelings of fatigue, frustration and disappointment in your chest whenever somebody undermines your capabilities, even if it is never ill-intentioned.

because as with any job, there are sacrifices to be made, and putting other people’s comfort before your own is just one of the many.

you do not want to jinx it, but you think that you may not mind night shifts after all.

“what are you thinking about?”

yeosang fills your entire vision, his brown orbs blinking at you curiously with a mellow dusting of blossom pink speckled across his cheeks from your close proximity. you have often been pulled away into a hidden corner or spare room somewhere within the labyrinth of the hospital by one of your boyfriends for a few minutes of company, but this is the first time yeosang has initiated it. his shy nature is endearing though, and it is a much-needed break during your second consecutive night shift.

you tease, "it's a secret," before pressing an innocent kiss against the corner of his lips right where it quirks up bashfully whenever he is around you. yeosang carefully rests his hands on the dips of your hips and brings you in a little closer towards him as you ask, "what about you? what's on your mind?"

“wondering how long we can stay in this storage room for before one of us gets paged.”

his answer stuns you for a second but then you both break out into giggles at the absurdity of his answer. “jongho has rubbed off on you too much," you adoringly flick the bottom of his chin with the tip of your finger. not many people know, but yeosang is just as bad of an influence as all your other boyfriends when he wants to be.

"we could try," he suggests with a grin. "none of my team was rostered on for a night shift with me."

your laugh easily fills the small space, "neither was my team."

“so nobody would come looking for us, unless–”

a discrete tap sounds against the door from right next to where you and yeosang are pressed up against one another. you both fall silent and motionless, pupils wide and breaths held, hoping you have either misheard or whoever is outside will leave soon. but then you hear another tap and it does not stop. the tapping is incessant, obviously trying to gain the attention of you two. yeosang ducks down as you raise the blinds of the small window on the door and you peer out to find–

–fucking wooyoung squashed right up against the glass pane with a cheshire grin. you finish yeosang’s sentence for him, “unless one of our boyfriends do.”

wooyoung perks up immediately at the word 'boyfriends' as if that is his cue. "hi," he announces, "are you guys making out? i heard yeosang."

you sputter while yeosang pops up beside you with a horrified expression at the younger’s uncouth question. said person beams cheekily, “can i join?”

wooyoung’s breath fogs up the glass with every word he says but he is unfazed. your boyfriend simply rubs the glass with the sleeve of his coat, presses his face up against the window again and continues to look at you both with a dazzling, expectant smile. when neither of you respond, he winks for good measure.

wooyoung flinches and shrieks when you tap the glass right between his eyes. he jerks back enough for you to push the door open and step out through the gap with mirth bubbling in your chest. you playfully drag your fingers across his chest, then tease with faux coyness, “break time is over, sorry.”

the indignant whine you receive in response is more than enough for the amusement to spill out of your chest as you walk away. you will make it up to him with triple the amount of kisses once both of you are home. for now, you walk back to your department, pleased that yeosang’s oncology ward is not far from yours.

even during the late hours of a night shift, the hospital is never completely quiet. the rhythmic sounds of beeping machines interspersed by footsteps and closing doors follow you down the corridors of the paediatric ward. what truly sobers you out of the lighthearted moment you just had, though, are the occasional whimpers; of discomfort, of pain, of nightmares.

you enter seolhee’s room alone–your interns and junior resident scheduled only for the day shift–to find the little girl also by herself. her parents must have decided to go home, having already spent countless consecutive nights by her side since she commenced second-line chemotherapy last week.

seolhee received a dose of nelarabine just this morning so you need to keep a close eye on her. a quick flick through the chart on her rolling cart shows that the nurse on night shift had taken her vitals just two hours ago with no abnormalities.

“doctor snowflake?”

you startle at the quiet murmur. turning to look at the bed, seolhee is looking at you with slow, blinking eyes and a tiny smile. your own eyes soften as you lower yourself down towards her, “why are you still awake?”

“couldn’t sleep,” she mutters.

you scan her face with concern, “are you feeling pain anywhere? feeling sick?”

seolhee shakes her head in reassurance. then in a small voice, she answers, “just lonely.”

the tension in your shoulders releases only slightly. the little girl before you may be feeling all right physically…but at what cost? your chest tightens with humbling clarity–you may sacrifice a lot as a doctor, but your patients sacrifice so much more. neither is it a choice for them.

it is a relatively quiet night; you can spend time with her. and even if you did not have time, you can make time for her.

you pull a chair closer to sit down, gesturing for her consent to lift up her blankets to check her skin for signs of bruising or infection. she nods and you ask, “why doctor snowflake?” to keep her mind occupied.

seolhee glances at your name badge. “because you still have the snowflake sticker and snowflakes are pretty, just like you.”

the line insertion site on her chest is free of discharge and irritation and you fix the front of her hospital gown. “that must also be why nurse hwa calls you a snowflake,” you fondly tap the tip of her nose as she giggles.

“my name means snow,” she tells you proudly. “my parents named me seolhee because i was born on the first day of snow.”

“they named you well, seolhee. you really are a special gift, a precious snowflake.” in the muffled quiet of the hospital ward, you let go of your professionalism for a brief moment to make a hushed promise, “one day, you will be able to join all the other snowflakes outside–free to flutter and land wherever you want.”

not confined to the hospital nor your sickness.

seolhee returns a promise of her own, “and when i’m all better, i’ll come back to visit you.” she beckons for you to lean in before she whispers into your ear, “because you’re my favourite.”

you are technically not meant to play favourites, but it is hard when she is far ahead of the others in the unofficial competition. so you whisper back scandalously, like two teenage girl friends gossiping together, not a doctor with her patient in hospital, “you’re my favourite, too.”

the pager in your pocket goes off and seolhee’s face falls with disappointment. one of her hands involuntarily reaches out in your direction, seeking comfort and companionship in a place where people succumb to grief and isolation every day.

seolhee is only a child. she should be sleeping in her own bed at home, the faint glow from her phosphorescent star stickers across her bedroom ceiling guiding her into whimsical dreams. instead, it is the washed out moonlight filtering through the drawn curtains in her hospital room, shadows of snowfall outside drifting gently across her face, that surrounds seolhee’s fragile body in a romanticised nightmare.

“how about this,” you suggest, “if you go to sleep now, i’ll come again tomorrow night and i’ll tell you the story of how nurse hwa and i met.”

her eyes light up. “you promise?”

christmas has passed, but it does not mean that the season of miracles has to come to an end with it. you nod, “i promise.”

this time, when you make a move to stand up, seolhee does not reach out for you. she does not need you to stay; she has your gift of a promise to hold onto instead.

“goodnight, my little snowflake,” you tuck her blanket around her shoulders. affectionately, you brush her thinning hair off her forehead, “love you.”

you almost miss her sleepy response, a mumbled sentence just as you reach the threshold of the door to her room–words from a little girl whose heart is too big for the world to ever truly contain.

“i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

like the heavy snowfall that comes with the arrival of mid-winter, work quickly starts to pile upon itself into layers that do not melt away easily.

you are not the only one nearly thigh-deep in the snow. besides yourself, yunho, yeosang and san are also residents in your final year juggling demanding caseloads and increasing responsibilities as the seniors. hongjoong has been slaving away in preparation for the annual meeting of the korean neurological association, and seonghwa has recently been tasked with revising the departmental policies and procedures for sepsis protocols.

all of that on top of the nine of you studying for specialty board exams, pouring over journal articles to stay up to date and partaking in research projects, it almost becomes a game of never-ending tag in the house with the small increments of time that are lucky enough to overlap with somebody else.

unable to see one another as often, much less spend time together, you and the boys have to make do whenever you can, wherever you can, however you can. it comes in varying forms; a shared smile in brief passing through the wards, an extra chocolate in your packed lunch, a quick reminder to wrap your scarf snugly.

this morning, it comes in the form of an inconspicuous-looking disposable cup waiting for you in your assigned cubby. you almost miss it and knock it over with the bag you hastily push into the space, but the stark contrast of a black scribble against the whiteness of the cup’s surface catches your eye right before you give your bag a final shove.

it is a cup of takeaway coffee from the cafe downstairs–the one you never buy coffee from because the wait for your order can take up to ten minutes, and that is ten minutes of time every single day that you cannot afford to give up. but for you, there is someone willing to sacrifice those ten minutes of their day.

your eyes soften and eyebrows upturn as you immediately deduce who the coffee is from. if the coffee itself is not a dead giveaway, then the cute, artistic doodle of rudolph surrounded by little hearts around his antlers and the accompanying phrase, ‘you’re my rein-dear’, is.

jongho.

for a brief moment of respite from the unceasing rapidity of the hospital, you are warmed from your very core all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes by your boyfriend’s gesture. one hand starts to reach for your phone to send a text of appreciation when the call of your name jerks you out of the comfort you had been encased in. the cup is set down without finding its sweet home against a pair of lips.

“doctor nam is looking for you.”

you wince. dr. nam, the head of the paediatric department, has never really seemed to take a fancy to you for some reason. you are quite certain you have not done anything to provoke his unwarranted scrutiny, but apparently you can never be too sure.

as you hurry to dr. nam’s office, your legs work on autopilot through the corridors and doorways. your mind bombards itself with a barrage of thoughts, guessing what the meeting may be for, estimating how long it might take, and calculating how far behind you will fall with the onslaught of other tasks you are meant to complete before you are joined by your juniors for your morning rounds.

you do not have time for this, and you most certainly do not have time to–

“–take on an extra intern?”

your eyes blink themselves into a carefully schooled expression of neutrality despite the voiced incredulity in the question you have just asked. dr. nam has summoned you to his office to notify you of an additional intern commencing in the paediatric department and you are to be their assigned senior. what a fucking splendid way to start the day.

it is completely normal for a senior resident to have four juniors to teach, but interns have less experience and confidence, requiring significantly more time and effort–time and effort that you do not know if you have. the thought of another intern in addition to your existing two and second-year resident is enough to make you want to enter hibernation for the rest of your life.

what you also know though is that dr. yoon, another fourth-year resident, only has two juniors under him–both second-years at that. respectfully yet firmly, you bring up such and suggest, “it may be in the best interest of all parties for doctor yoon or somebody else, even doctor ha, to take on the new intern. this can ensure all of our junior doctors are receiving as much one-on-one support and guidance as possible.”

the department head raises an eyebrow, eyes dull and mouth pressed together thinly as he stares back at you dryly. “both doctor yoon and doctor ha are promising candidates to become chief residents. they do not have time to spare to teach interns.”

‘promising candidates’. you are not saying that that is bullshit…but that is bullshit. this is the first time anybody has praised them as such and the only thing that would make them both supposedly more qualified than all the other senior residents is their direct acquaintance with dr. nam himself.

fuck nepotism.

gritting your teeth and taking a deep but restrained breath in what you know is just a losing fight, you yield, “when does the intern start?”

the right corner of dr. nam’s lips raises smugly as he answers, “today. doctor lim will be waiting for you in the resident lounge near my office. orientate him to the department.”

and down the drain goes all thoughts of ending on time tonight. when you stalk over stiffly to the lounge, dr. lim is leaning against the edge of a desk, legs extended and crossed at the ankles in front of him not dissimilar to how his arms are over his chest. one foot taps disinterestedly as he waits. you have a bad feeling you already know what kind of intern he is going to be.

“doctor lim,” you call out.

“you’re doctor l/n?” the intern looks at you snobbishly, very obviously sizing you up and down.

“yes.”

dr. lim takes a lazy glance at the clock on the wall. “you’re kinda late.”

and you’re kinda a fucking asshole, you want to retort. but you have not survived this long without learning how to reel in the burst of flames that erupts inside your chest, so instead you look at him placatingly. “you were not originally part of my planned day. doctor nam asked for a very last minute favour.”

not so much a favour as an outright demand, but he does not need to know.

“i’ll show you around the hospital before our morning rounds,” you state. at his audible sigh whilst pushing himself heavily off the table, you cannot help but get at least one jab in, “an inconvenience for the both of us, but do bear with me.”

after a sarcastic smile, you turn around without waiting to see if he follows. the first place you take him to is where all the personal lockers and cubbies are just to retrieve your forgotten coffee and take a long sip. it spites him as desired, a nose wrinkled in your direction. nevermind the fact that it has long cooled to room temperature–your coffee has never tasted sweeter.

the rest of your day, unfortunately, runs in bitter discord. straight after dr. lim’s orientation, you run yourself dry with morning rounds, acute care and consultations with other paediatric departments, all the while trying to catch dr. lim up to the expected competency for interns. the end of the day does not appear to get any closer within reach and yet, you have no idea where all your time is going.

you end up throwing in the towel exactly seven hours and twenty-three minutes into your shift, when you are trying to teach the very basics of the hospital’s electronic medical record system for the umpteenth time. there are only so many ways you can explain the five steps required to start drafting a progress note for a patient–the very five steps that do not change. if you have to repeat yourself one more fucking time you are going to shoot somebody, doctor’s oath or not, and that somebody has a last name that starts with ‘l’ and rhymes with ‘dim’.

dr. son and dr. yang are sent as the scapegoats to teach the new intern how to navigate the system. with all three of your interns now occupied, you also send dr. lee off to adjust the medication for a few of the patients whose daily lab results had come back this morning with minor fluctuations in numbers.

your body almost crashes the moment your juniors disperse and only then do you tune in to your senses. contrary to the grumbling cavern in your stomach, there is a heavy pressure in your bladder and parchedness in your throat. jongho’s coffee was the last of anything you had consumed today–the lunch wooyoung had packed for you remains untouched in your bag–and you have been unable to step away even briefly to use the bathroom. trudging heavily through the paediatric oncology ward, the one thing that keeps you upright on your feet is that you are not scheduled for an on-call shift tonight. 

“y/n.”

the sweet and low timbre of the voice that sounds from ahead of you immediately turns the one into two things. it takes the remainder of your willpower not to bury yourself straight into san’s arms as he gives you a cute dimpled smile.

your eyes reflect the sparkle of happiness in his once you are close enough, neither of you having planned to run into one another. san is currently in his paediatric haematology rotation and whilst your departments are closely related, it is not very often that your caseloads align for patient consultation directly between the two of you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, unable to hide the pleasant surprise in your words.

san steps in a little, naturally inclined to be physically close to you and answers, “going to check up on seolhee. have you gotten around to seeing her today?”

seolhee was one of the patients you were planning on fitting into your day. one of the nurses had documented nausea and reduced appetite at lunch time, so you were going to review her current antiemetic regimen and decide if it needed adjusting. but then she had ultimately been pushed back as a medium priority on your list with everything else you had to complete first.

when you shake your head, san proposes, “want to join me then?”

your lips quirk upwards at his suggestion. it is sort of piteous that your time walking together through the ward to see a shared patient is the closest to a date you have had with san in the last few weeks. but as he gives you a playful nudge to your side and you back to him like you are strolling along the snowy streets instead of sterile corridors, you are grateful for at least these short moments of interaction.

seolhee’s voice is spirited when she greets you despite the increasingly dark shadows silhouetting her face. you smile, “hi, snowflake. i brought a friend with me this time.”

when san’s gaze is not focused on you, he looks at the little girl with the same softness and deep affection; you like his moon, his patients like his stars. you are unable to imagine san ever working in a career that does not involve children.

“i’m doctor choi,” he introduces himself gently. “i heard you’ve been feeling a bit tired and didn’t really eat lunch today, so i’m here to see what i can do to help you feel better.”

as you bend down slightly to adjust the corner of seolhee’s blanket, san steps behind you to reach for her chart. he unconsciously places his left hand on the nape of your neck and tenderly squeezes out of loving habit. immediately, san feels the tight knots under his fingertips that only surface whenever you are stressed or overworked.

his eyebrows furrow and he dips his head down slightly to softly murmur, “hey, rough day today?”

“just a little,” you admit, looking upwards whilst placing your own hand atop his in reassurance. “don’t worry.”

there is a giggle to the side. seolhee’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you before she cryptically asks, “doctor choi, do you know who nurse hwa is?”

“i do…” san answers, puzzled by the random question.

seolhee looks at you and giggles again with a very directed comment, “i see.”

you have said this before and you will say this again: seolhee is frighteningly perceptive. if she were two decades older, you just know she would be that friend of yours who you are unable to hide any secrets from. leaning in, you whisper, “there are six more of us.”

her eyes widen with curiosity. “do i know any of them?”

of the remaining boys, wooyoung is the only other one who is specialising in paediatrics and likely to have come across seolhee before. “nurse wooyoung,” you divulge.

she sinks back into her pillow at the revelation and nods approvingly as if she is your mother. “good choices,” she supports, san letting out a bright laugh from beside you now having caught on to what the conversation is about.

the rest of the bedside evaluation continues as such. seolhee badgers you both with questions about the rest of your boyfriends–which department they are in, what their names are and most importantly, what they look like so she can keep an eye out for them.

you indulge her with answers, far longer than you should, but it is an easy decision when it comes to anything involving your favourite patient and your boyfriends. you have long learnt that any amount of time that you give to somebody else even at your own expense will always be worth lifetimes more to them than the luxury of a punctual meal or longer shower that you would gain from the time instead.

so when your shift for the day ends and you still have not completed all of your work, you end up staying overtime and it is only then, during the evening, that you are finally able to sit. your stomach no longer growls, body running solely on cortisol, the caffeine from jongho’s coffee having long depleted. you turn on your hospital-issued tablet and pull out a stack of jotted notes. with mid-rotation feedback for your juniors in two days, you have their paperwork to complete before you can even start to scrape away at your actual paperwork.

you do not realise how stiff your neck and shoulders have become from hunching over for a prolonged period until there is a knock at the door of the resident lounge and a timid, “um, doctor l/n?”

“yes?” a soft wince escapes your lips when the movement from looking up sends a brief stab of pain down your back.

the intern standing at the doorway comes scurrying in. “i’m here to give you the report on the pathology results.”

“pathology results?” you repeat, mind blank of patients who had needed a biopsy or tumour excision.

“from doctor jeong? from general surgery?” the intern’s voice trails off, face blanching at the creeping possibility that he has found the wrong resident.

“doctor j–oh,” you suppress the sudden tug at the corners of your lips to reassure, “yes, my apologies, i forgot. thank you.”

you have certainly not forgotten about an entire pathology report you have requested–this is simply yunho being your boyfriend. waiting until the intern has scurried off, you flick the clipboard open to find exactly what you had been expecting: anything but a report.

there is a sole sticky note, neon green, that grins right up at you with another of yunho's scrawled jokes. 'are you a snowman? cause i wanna stick my carrot into your mou–'

the clipboard slams shut with a resounding clap in the emptiness of the lounge. back ramrod straight, your eyes dart around scandalously even though you are the only person in the room to witness the contents of the flirtatious message.

"oh my fucking god," you guffaw. "jeong yunho!"

(from somewhere within the general surgery department three floors down, somebody lets out a delighted giggle of glee at the thought of a certain message having been received.)

your laugh eventually fades out with a poignant sigh as you peel the sticky note off the clipboard and stare at it in your hands. the start of this year has already been the toughest year in your residency thus far and it is no easy feat for nine people in the same or similar situation to balance a romantic relationship simultaneously.

you must give, and give, and give, but like you have experienced today, you also receive. it is never anything huge; a coffee, some food, a note, a conversation. yet for now, that is enough to keep moving forward even if your feet are buried deep under the snow.

however, you will soon come to realise that the issue does not lie in whether you are receiving enough or not, but in the fact that you can unknowingly give away too much of yourself without even realising.

you give the little boy and his family who are in front of you a smile that conveys both appreciation and apologeticness. if you were in their position, surrounded by inexperienced interns learning to properly insert a central line, you would be on edge too.

dr. yang and dr. son stand off to the side, hands clasped together in front of themselves with concealed nervousness for dr. lim. said man is anything but nervous, when really, he is the only intern who should be nervous out of the three of them. ever since he started, dr. lim has consistently performed with a shocking lack of care and willingness to learn. but you had learnt the hard way the first time you tried to bring up this issue that dr. lim is not somebody you can touch because of his connections, so you have no choice but to tolerate his incompetence.

you beckon for dr. lim to come closer so that you can show him the proper angle of needle entry. he does, at least smart enough to know he needs to maintain some level of professionalism in front of actual patients lest the hospital be sued.

“for an internal jugular vein catheterisation while the head is in the neutral position, what is the angle of needle entry?” you question.

dr. lim guesses, “twenty?”

“thirty to forty-five, and the angle adjusts based on the ultrasound image,” you correct, not having expected him to remember despite the numerous times you have already taught him on physical phantoms. your gloved fingers trace over the patient’s clavicle towards the sternum as you continue explaining, “locate both the sternal and clavicular heads of the sternocleidomastoid muscle. this forms the triangle where your IVJ lies beneath. the needle should aim towards the ipsilateral nipple.”

positioning the tip of the needle at the apex of the triangle for a few seconds, you then pass it to dr. lim with the instruction, “show me the positioning and angle of the needle only.”

the intern takes the needle from your hand, his other hand roughly probing the sternocleidomastoid muscle before angling the needle perpendicular to the young boy’s neck like he is a fucking hostage. your voice is curt as you rush to correct dr. lim, adjusting his hands with verbal prompts, before you slip the needle out of his hands to fully take over the procedure now.

“you’re not ready yet,” you assert when he glares at you, further reiterating, “when you can independently position and angle the needle, and you can demonstrate to me that you can use the correct pressure when inserting the needle in a mannequin, then you are ready.” you do not care if he has connections with dr. nam. you make it clear to your intern that he cannot fuck around with his theoretical knowledge and phantom training and still expect you to let him practice on real people.

outside the room, wooyoung winces in sympathy for you as he passes by and catches the end of your firm reprimand. you have come home far too many times with pent-up frustration for him–and all your boyfriends–not to know about your notorious intern. wooyoung hands over the central line kit he is returning to the ward’s nursing station then dawdles by the desk.

he waits in hopes of catching your eye and giving you a smile to equip you with the patience he knows must be needed to deal with dr. lim. your boyfriend’s face softens unconsciously as he watches your expression, now concentrated with furrowed brows as you steadily insert the needle whilst monitoring the ultrasound, because wooyoung thinks you look the most charismatic when you are working. when a nurse calls out for wooyoung, he takes one last glance at you before walking away.

you straighten up and step away for dr. lee to take over the rest of the procedure, just in time to see the back of your boyfriend’s figure darting away with purpose. his long unruly hair flies around with mirrored chaos that you could recognise anywhere. and as you explain to the patient’s parents the remainder of the catheterisation procedure, the smile on your face is much more genuine than it would have been mere seconds ago.

it continues to linger subconsciously long after the brief glimpse you get of your boyfriend. for wooyoung, too, it is the same. working together at the hospital means that you can still be a source of light for one another even if only from a far distance and that is always what gets you through to the end of your shift.

when five o’clock finally rolls around, you head to your locker whilst checking your phone. there are no notifications from hongjoong, so you type a quick message to let him know you are clocking off and going to his department first. it is one of those rare days where you two have managed to organise a date–just a quick and simple dinner before heading home since your shifts end at the same time, but a date nonetheless.

“good thing i caught you before you left. doctor nam wants to talk to you.”

you look up to see dr. lee already changed into a puffer jacket and his backpack on, a cheeky grin on his face as he delivers the message and adds, “bet you’re in trouble.”

scoffing playfully, you quip back, “probably for something you did wrong.”

he shrugs exaggeratedly and sing-songs, “who knows,” before darting away with a goodbye.

you sigh and delete your drafted text to hongjoong, alerting him that you will be going to the department head’s office and for him to meet you outside if he finishes. then with heavy steps, you go to find dr. nam. with your stroke of luck, dr. lee is probably right about you being in trouble for something.

and he is right.

“did you tell one of your interns that he wasn’t ready for a clinical task in front of your patients?”

dr. nam’s direct question the moment you step into his office is enough to stun your mind into blankness at how a situation could be wrongfully warped like so. blinking distractedly you start to explain, “doctor lim was tasked with simulating the correct needle placement against the skin–nothing more and nothing less. i had to reiterate those expectations when he–”

“so he was not allowed to insert the central line, correct?” dr. nam interrupts.

you frown involuntarily and parrot, “allowed? it was not a subjective decision to–”

“doctor l/n, you only need to answer the question that i ask. was doctor lim allowed to insert the central line or not?” he interjects yet again.

you barely manage to swallow the rising heat in your chest to answer, “no.”

“you said he was not ready in front of the patient, yes or no?”

“yes.”

dr. nam leans back in his chair. “have your other interns inserted the needle before?”

despite his position as your department head, you keep your mouth shut in defiance because dr. nam is simply fishing for the answer he wants to hear regardless of context. he does not need to hear that dr. lim is a shit intern–all he wants to hear is that you are treating your juniors differently.

as expected, without waiting for your response, dr. nam states, “there have been some…concerns raised that you are not giving your interns equal opportunities.”

“is that what doctor lim told you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“you do not need to know,” he dismisses thoughtlessly, “the point is, there seems to be a bias in the amount of support and guidance you are providing doctor lim. perhaps it is your lack of teaching and provision of learning opportunities that is hindering his full potential.”

struggling to keep your voice polite as frustration quickens your breaths, you defend, “i have taught him the theory numerous times, allowed him to observe, provided him with supervised mannequin practice and step-by-step grading on actual patients, and my experience as a senior resident and his direct supervisor tells me that he does not yet have the competency to insert a central line.”

dr. nam hums as if he is considering your words but the way he distractedly brushes the dust off the surface of his table tells you otherwise. “i see there are differing opinions. this all comes down to miscommunication and lack of clear expectations set from the both of you. i suggest you take some time to sit down and talk to doctor lim about what opportunities he will have moving forward.”

from behind your back, your hands clench together, muscles quivering from how hard your fingers dig into your palms. yet you do not say anything–you cannot say anything, not when dr. nam simply dismisses you with, “i expect there to be no further issues in the future.”

and just like that, the one-sided discussion is over.

your feet drag against the floor as you trudge listlessly back to your locker, body heavy as if you are caught in the very midst of a snowstorm. your shoulders cave even further in on themselves when you check your phone to see no reply from hongjoong.

you want nothing more than to bury yourself in your boyfriend’s arms, nose pressed against the soothing rumble of his chest as he listens to you complain about your day. it will not change anything about the situation with dr. lim and dr. nam but at least you will be able to release the hot steam that has built up from the bubbling pit of lava in your chest.

if hongjoong is still working, perhaps you can sit in his office and wait on his couch. his presence will be enough to keep you grounded.

some of the nurses in the neurology ward greet you cordially as you exit the elevator and you return their smiles before sitting on a bench further down the corridor to avoid being in anybody’s way. you test your chances and call hongjoong’s number, only to hear the line ring until it sends you to his voicemail. when another attempt ten minutes later yields the same result, you send a text telling him to call you when he is finished.

you resign yourself to the bench with a passive sigh and wait, all the while a tempest swirling inside of you. eventually, one of the junior residents tilts her head at the sight of you still sitting on the bench, having passed by you almost twenty minutes ago in the same position. she calls out, “doctor l/n?”

you jerk up from where you are fiddling with your phone. recognising her as hongjoong’s colleague, you ask, “i’m just waiting for doctor kim. do you happen to know where he is?”

“doctor kim?” she furrows her brows, “he left already. he actually left early today.”

“oh.”

the heat in your chest suddenly dissipates, immediately replaced by a frigid hollowness that makes your mind go blank instead. horrified, you feel your eyes involuntarily start to prickle with tears no matter how hard you will for them to disappear.

“do you want me to pass a message on for you?” the resident looks at you with a twinge of concern, but mostly curiosity.

you shake your head and mumble, “no, that’s okay, thanks,” then rush away to avoid embarrassing yourself any further. deciding against asking one of your other boyfriends to drive you home, you forgo catching the bus too in favour of walking through the streets.

it’s not even a big deal. we’ve all forgotten about dates before and hongjoong would never deliberately blow you off.

you know that. you know this is not something you need to be upset over and you know that your boyfriend must have a reason. yet knowing does nothing to stop the trembling of your lips as you swipe furiously at your dripping tears with the back of your hand. on top of everything that has piled up today, hongjoong forgetting about your date is enough to topple it over completely.

the light snowfall from earlier has already stopped but the temperature remains just as low. as you tread through the chalky streets home, thoughts creeping through your mind like the fractal branches of a snowflake–fragile and delicate–you welcome the numbing chill around you instead and let it paralyse your emotions like an anaesthetic.

by the time you reach the front door, you have collected yourself enough. the rims of your eyes and the tip of your nose still have a slight redness to them but your appearance can easily be dismissed by the biting cold outside. you unlock the door and walk in.

you are met with immediate warmth; from the residual heat of shared dinner, from the streaming glow of lights, from the peals of low laughter. walking through the corridor almost feels like walking through a warped tunnel of dissociation–so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

san sits on the couch, languidly scrolling on his phone with an arm wrapped around yeosang’s shoulders, who is flicking through a thin booklet of paper. sitting cross-legged at the coffee table in front of them in a stark contrast of mess is hongjoong–hongjoong who is hunched over his own booklet with a newly-made carpet and tablecloth of thesis and journal articles, textbooks and tablets.

you are so caught up by the hurricane of a scene that you do not realise you are about to step on the corner of a textbook until hongjoong’s head snaps up to look at you.

“be careful!” his warning cry is sharp with alarm.

your body jolts and you step backwards. “sorry.”

despite san and yeosang’s chirpy greetings, you remain frozen to the spot. the two of them clamber up to pull you into an excited hug, only to pause when they realise there is no way to navigate the landmine of paper scattered around the room, so they settle back into the cushions instead.

“don’t mind the mess,” yeosang giggles, unaware of the sudden onset of unease that courses through your body. “even seonghwa has given the okay for him to do this.”

your words come out thick and sticky as you ask, “what is hongjoong doing?”

san’s voice is sympathetic, “there was a last-minute change to his presentation that he’s doing at that annual neurological association meeting. his department head wants him to do a different topic.”

“he could’ve told me, i don’t know, five fucking months ago,” hongjoong curses fiercely at his tablet, “but he just had to wait until my presentation was basically done to let me know.”

you have had a bad day…but so has hongjoong.

the door opens behind you. fumbling for a moment, you try to make yourself smaller against the wall to make room for whoever of your boyfriends has returned. it is mingi back from his shift which tells you just how long you had waited for hongjoong, considering mingi’s shift ended almost two hours after yours did.

“y/n?” mingi’s eyes widen slightly as he smiles, the sight of you a pleasant surprise. he asks, “did you and hongjoong come back from your date already?”

you wince at the bomb he has unwittingly dropped; the very one you yourself were still unsure how to navigate.

“shit,” hongjoong’s head snaps towards you again but for an entirely different reason this time. “holy fuck. oh my fucking god.” his hands flutter as he upturns the scattered notes around him in search of his phone, face draining of all colour as it dawns on him he had silenced his notifications. “the date–i forgot. fuck, i am so fucking sorry, y/n.”

your boyfriends on the couch watch with darting eyes and mingi glances at you cautiously. in some twisted reality, you almost feel immobilised by guilt as hongjoong stumbles to his feet, grasping the phone he has finally found from where it had been tossed under the table.

nothing changes the fact that he forgot nor the fact that you have had a rough day. but just as you had realised, hongjoong has also had a rough day, if not worse than yours. and as with any relationship, one will always have to yield under pressure lest both people break.

swallowing thickly, you manage to force out, “that’s okay. i forgot too.”

a white lie, but a white lie has never hurt anybody.

mingi catches the slight twist of your fingers in the side of your jacket. he murmurs, “let’s go inside,” then tugs you by the elbow. he steps you carefully through the landmines further into the living room, gingerly toeing papers inches aside to reveal the floorboards underneath for the both of you to step on. hongjoong is still looking at you remorsefully as you near, his hands itching to reach out but afraid they will not be met with forgiving ones.

“it’s okay, joong, really,” you extend your fingers in his direction and gently squeeze his hand. “sorry to hear about your presentation. i know how hard you’ve worked on it the past few months.”

sadness still lingers in your boyfriend’s eyes at having made such a careless mistake despite the grateful smile he gives you. “i’ll make it up to you after the presentation is finished,” he vows. “i’ll take you out for a nice dinner and i promise i won’t forget this time.”

you chuckle softly with a reassuring nod, “okay.”

“what about you? how was your day?” hongjoong asks.

an hour ago you wanted nothing more than the comfort he could offer while you vented about your day and you are almost certain fatigue and frustration are smeared across your face right now. yet you simply answer, “it was a long day but it was good.”

another white lie.

before your boyfriends can probe any further, you state, “i’m going to take a shower first. might head to sleep early today.” you lean forward to give hongjoong a chaste kiss, who easily relaxes into it with relief. you turn to rise onto your tiptoes to give mingi one too before meeting yeosang and san halfway from where they kneel on the couch to also kiss you goodnight.

then you turn and retreat to your room. it is not all too bad, you reconcile with yourself. alone time would be good after today’s events.

a third white lie.

but again, that is fine, because a white lie never hurt anybody…nobody except for yourself.

winter passes and spring arrives, but contrary to the pulsating liveliness that awakens with the season, things start to dull with repetition and roboticism.

your rotation in the paediatric oncology ward comes to an end and you commence your next rotation in paediatric haematology. whilst your acquaintanceship with your new junior team is nowhere near as close as you had gotten to dr. lee, son and yang, there is also no more dr. lim to deal with. still, unlike the snow that has now long melted away, your workload does not cease nor diminish.

you wake up and you go to work; you manage your patients, teach your juniors and have on-call shifts; you go home, you eat, you shower; you squeeze time to see your boyfriends, you sleep for a few hours; you wake up and you go to work. the cycle repeats itself, neither you nor your boyfriends able to escape from its grip.

seolhee, too, suffers from the torment of her own cycle. second-line therapy had eventually been deemed ineffective against her leukemic cells, requiring her to undergo salvage chemotherapy and putting her at increased risk of myelosuppression. because of this, she is one of the few patients who have remained on your caseload despite the rotation change.

the most unsettling change that the toll of fatigue can have on a person is not the change in their demeanour but in their eyes. and as you complete a routine check-up on seolhee, her eyes watching you with a slight dullness to them that is not due to the late hours of midnight, you do not realise that your own pupils look the same.

you give seolhee a soft smile as you tell her, “i’ll get nurse hwa to check on you in the morning. how does that sound, snowflake?”

“he’s busy?” she asks quietly.

you shake your head. “he’s at home. both him and nurse woo are working day shifts this week.”

“what about doctor choi?”

“he finished his haematology rotation,” you sigh regretfully. “he’s in the NICU now.”

seolhee mulls over the information with her eyes downcast, then murmurs, “are you busy? can you teach me how to braid your hair?” she absent-mindedly touches the nape of her neck where her fingertips meet the smooth skin of her bare scalp. “that way i can braid my own hair when it grows back.”

you still have notes from today to write and tomorrow’s chemotherapy doses to confirm with the pharmacy and platelet orders to put through before you can chance an hour or two of sleep. but what difference does the amount of sleep make when you wake up from both with the same bone-deep exhaustion anyway?

seolhee’s eyes brighten the slightest when you pull a chair up beside her bed and it solidifies your decision to answer, “of course,” because as a doctor, time is not for yourself but for other people. you have to make time out of nothing.

you tug on the elastic around your ponytail and shake your hair out, sectioning off the right side to work with. from your experience teaching all of your boyfriends, it had quickly become clear that braiding was easiest learnt with less hair to work with. splitting the sectioned hair into three locks, you lace them through your fingers to keep them separate as you talk seolhee through the steps.

“take the right strand and bring it over into the middle like this,” you teach, moving your fingers deftly but slowly. “then take the left strand and bring it over into the middle. then we repeat it again–right into the middle, left into the middle.”

your fingers continue weaving the locks of hair over and under, the motions familiar and the memory of teaching somebody else even more so. when you have braided almost to the ends of your hair, you release the braid then tuck your chair closer to the bed so that seolhee can reach easily.

“here, you try.”

at your encouragement, the little girl does as she remembers and starts to section off three locks of hair. her fingers accidentally tug too hard when she encounters a knot and you both rush to apologise.

“sorry, my hair is kind of tangled,” you chuckle lowly as heat rushes to the tip of your ears. “i haven’t used conditioner in a long time.”

“that’s okay. me neither,” seolhee jokes, giggling at her own words before asking you, “why not?”

you distractedly run your fingers through the hair that is not in seolhee’s hands as you slowly answer, “it saves me five minutes each time. it doesn’t sound like a lot, but…”

“...in the hospital it’s a lot,” seolhee finishes solemnly.

you nod. “five minutes can be a long hug before someone leaves forever. it can be somebody’s last confession or last promise. five minutes can be the difference between life and death.”

hush settles over her room while she eases the knot apart, six-year-old fingers gentle with the understanding of an adult several times her age. after a few minutes, she changes the topic. “who was the fastest learner out of your boyfriends? was it nurse hwa?”

“it was actually doctor jeong,” you reveal.

“from general surgery?”

you laugh at seolhee’s memory, “yes, doctor jeong from general surgery. he has the steadiest and most skillful hands.”

“are his braids also the prettiest, then?”

“they are very pretty, but i think doctor choi–the younger choi–does the prettiest braids.”

seolhee’s fingers pause so she can admire the beginnings of her handiwork. “do they still braid your hair?” she asks.

“not anymore,” you give a miniscule shrug. “there isn’t as much time to do things like this and certain things just lose their novelty over time.”

she looks at you curiously. “what does novelty mean?”

“something new and unfamiliar…in a sense, special.”

“why do things lose their novelty then?” seolhee frowns.

you hum, unsure how to answer such a simple yet riveting question when you yourself have never thought about it. you deliberate over your words, “i guess when we see, do and say things that were originally different over and over again, they can simply become habits and part of our routines. we do things just for the sake of doing them and eventually they lose their meaning. when that happens, sometimes you just end up not doing them anymore.”

wistful nostalgia fills you as seolhee continues braiding your hair, the ticklish intimacy sending your mind adrift to a time when your boys would do the same–back to a time when your hair was smooth and knot-free because you still used conditioner. but change is inevitable and you have no time to dwell on what used to be. so after seolhee finishes her braid, you return to your cycle of work, home and sleep.

by the time you get home in the afternoon, most of your boyfriends have long left for their shifts save for san, who was also on-call, and yunho, who is still not back from an emergency trauma surgery. you are barely able to keep your eyes open when you stumble into the bathroom for a quick shower. this time, you completely forgo both conditioner and shampoo, simply wetting your hair as you roughly scrub your face and the rest of your body. you do not bother to dry your hair either, keeping it wrapped in a towel before you sink into bed.

you have no recollection of falling asleep when the soft click of the front door opening and closing wakes you up. eyes still closed, you drowsily listen to yunho’s soft thuds and murmurs as he treads his usual path through the house upon returning. your boyfriend pads softly to the dining room, to the bathroom…then he goes straight to his own bedroom.

no longer do you stay within the clutches of rest. yunho has always, no matter how exhausted, taken time to give you and the others a kiss before he heads to sleep. it is his habit, his routine. you lay awake for a long time, coming up with excuses as to why he has broken his cycle today, waiting to see if yunho will get up again and come into your room.

he does not and you eventually fall asleep again in restless fitfulness.

this will soon become the new norm; yunho will not take an extra five minutes to go into your bedrooms and give you tender kisses. in due time, your heart will no longer clench in disappointment nor will you lay awake in false hope whenever he returns from his shift.

you will simply drift back into the realms of unconsciousness seconds after hearing the click of the front door open, succumbing into peaceful sleep again before the door has even closed shut. after all, things lose their novelty over time.

you do not normally watch dramas or tv shows, or anything that requires a recurring time commitment, really. for one, that is hours upon hours of time that could be used elsewhere, and two, the scattered time you can find here and there is so sparse you often forget the events of the last episode by the time you watch the next.

but your fingers currently hover over the first episode of an airing drama, one too many clips of this particular show having appeared on your feed for you not to crack, so you decide to give it a go. you can watch maybe half an episode before you should head to sleep since your shift starts early tomorrow, but maybe, just maybe, tonight you will spoil yourself with the entire episode.

keeping the volume low on your phone since you are in the living room with a few of your boyfriends, you tuck your feet closer towards yourself on the couch and play the first episode. jongho’s ears perk up at the starting sounds of the introduction from where he is in the kitchen reheating some leftovers and he comments, “it’s been a while since you last watched something.”

you nod just as jongho’s words catch the attention of wooyoung walking past. “you’re starting a drama?” he asks, peering at your phone with a slight snicker. “damn, you’re going to spend even less time with us now.”

it is an off-handed joke with no ill intentions, yet it digs itself uncomfortably inside your chest, even more so when a few of the others also chuckle. your finger twitches to stop your episode. the couch sinks beside you under the weight of mingi, who has moved from his position on the floor to your right with quiet comfort and veiled protectiveness.

“we’ve all been spending less time with one another,” he vaguely points out.

hongjoong looks up from the systematic review he is reading on gene replacement therapy, still rushing to complete his presentation. “you’re right. that’s funny,” he remarks, “i can’t remember the last time we went out on dates, even when just any two of us.”

wooyoung shrugs, “we’ve all been tired.”

your mouth opens before you can stop yourself from snapping, “so why was i the only one who was the butt of the joke?”

“woah, sorry,” hongjoong winces slightly, “we didn’t know it would make you feel upset or anything.”

it is not sadness so much as guilt that pricks at your conscience, because there is slight truth to the situation–you haven’t been making as much effort, but neither has anyone. you are not the one drifting away from the others. you are all drifting apart in your own directions.

jongho steps in to smoothen the situation with a blanket statement, “we’ve all been tired and busy. nobody’s pointing fingers at anybody. drop it.” the microwave sounds and he turns to take his food out.

something is pressed into your hand and you glance down to see mingi wordlessly handing you a set of earphones. he gives you a small smile, nudging your hand with the earphones and a beckon of his brows. you return his smile and place one in your ear before offering him the other. mingi puts it in whilst reaching over to hold your phone in your stead, then taps his own shoulder with his free hand for you to rest your head against.

your boyfriend adjusts the volume higher as he murmurs, “it’s a bit hard to hear,” but you know better. mingi does not care for dramas and the volume is already plenty loud. sometimes, additional noise is just needed to drown out other noise.

the drama continues to play but you heed no attention to it. wooyoung has walked back into his room to finish the lecture he is watching, jongho now sits at the dining table to eat, and hongjoong is working on his presentation again.

the conversation with your boyfriends has ended with the conclusion that there have been no dates recently. yet, there is no extension of the conversation to make a date happen. it would be a lie to say that you have not noticed their absence, but after the first couple of times they had to be postponed or called off entirely, they just started slipping from your mind completely.

you wonder when you had all stopped making the intentional effort to go on dates, but most of all, you wonder when you had all stopped caring.

you only watch half an episode that night. you do not pick it back up again either.

she is alive.

there is a webbing of tubes and wires encasing her entire body–blood transfusions, vasopressors, monitoring lines of all sorts–but she is alive. kim seolhee is still alive.

only at the physical sight of her chest moving up and down does the reassurance unlock the tautness in your joints, the strained muscles in your body almost failing to hold your weight upright as you lean subtly against the threshold of the door.

you had headed straight for seolhee’s room before everything else the moment you had arrived for your shift. the usual fifteen-minute drive to the hospital had been shortened to half its time when mingi had arrived home from his shift just as you were getting ready to leave for yours with the news that seolhee had been readmitted into the ED with sepsis and was now in the paediatric intensive care unit. you had driven on autopilot the entire way swallowing the thick surge of panic that kept rising up your throat despite mingi’s repeated reassurances that she was stable; she just needed further monitoring.

“i thought i was going to die.”

those are the first words that faintly leave her lips when she sees you, her face mercifully free of a ventilator and oxygen mask, which is always a good sign. you weakly breathe out, tone as light as you can make it, “well, thank god you’re alive.”

“missed you too much, doctor snowflake,” seolhee’s hand twitches in your direction with attempted cheekiness as you walk closer. “i came back to follow you to your next rotation.”

despite the situation, you break out into a small bout of giggles at her morbid humour. you had sated seolhee’s curiosity by telling her your entire year of scheduled rotations and by some twist of fate, your PICU rotation had commenced two weeks ago. with a fond tap of her nose that conceals the clenching sadness inside your heart, you joke, “you just like riding in the ambulance, don’t you?”

“maybe,” she grins innocently. “the sirens are pretty cool.”

despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, her answer is what truly makes your throat constrict and voice waver. your words are hardly audible–afraid to break down fully in front of your patient, in front of sweet seolhee–when you respond, “i knew it.”

but she is ever perceptive as she comforts, “don’t cry.”

“i’m not,” you shamelessly counter, even as heat starts to pool around your eyes, and the both of you laugh at your absurdity. but in certain situations if you do not laugh, the only other option will be to cry and you cannot have that because that would be unprofessional–neither would you be able to stop–so you will wait until you are only in the presence of your boyfriends to let yourself go.

sleep starts to take over seolhee again and she drowsily blinks at you, energy depleted from her infection, cancer and the numerous drugs pumping throughout her battered body. she sinks herself a little deeper into her crinkly mattress and fights off her closing eyelids just long enough to tell you once more, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

it is already nearing the end of summer now despite the unchanging pristine whiteness of winter within the hospital walls. yet, you cannot bear to point that out, not when you were so close to losing her phrase of affection forever.

her eyes close and you watch the steady rhythm of her chest rising and falling. thank god she is alive.

your prayer comes from y/n, but the bitter resentment at the irony of those five words comes from doctor l/n. your entire life is dedicated to saving the lives of others, yet time and time again you are forced to wonder just how much power you truly have as a doctor in the face of fate and the gods above; where it makes you wonder whether your efforts and sacrifices will always be in vain if your patient is somebody whose time on earth has just simply run out.

and it appears that you are not the only person weighed down by the harsh insecurities of your career today. yeosang’s knees are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them as he sits on the floor against the wall of the storage room you two are hiding in, mere hours later after your turbulent morning with seolhee.

“he was our age,” yeosang finally murmurs after a few minutes of silence. “he was admitted for a suspected brain tumour only because a sudden headache caused him to lose consciousness.”

whereas seolhee had been a case of could have–she could have died–there are cases like yeosang’s patient. the would have lived; the what if and the if only.

yeosang’s chest shudders as he exhales, “he had had consistent migraines for months but he never did anything about them. he would’ve lived, otherwise. turns out it was a brain tumour all along and it ended up rupturing because it was left untreated…he didn’t survive the surgery.”

your boyfriend rarely cries and today is no exception either. yet the way he leans into your side for both physical and emotional support shows just how much his heart is hurting for this death. death is something you all learn to become accustomed to in the medical field, but desensitisation does not equate to immunity. there will always be ones that hit harder than others.

it is a harrowing death when the patient is close in age because it makes you think of yourself–of your friends, of your lovers–and it hurts that much more to think that it could have been any of those people. this morning has already left your emotions strung tight and heart vulnerable, and very quickly you can feel the same swell of tears threatening to demolish the walls you had hastily built to keep yourself collected.

you want to cry but then that would be taking away from yeosang’s hurt, so you will wait until you are home instead. for now, you tug yeosang into your arms, holding him steady against your chest as if that will support your own walls and keep them from crumbling.

by the time you get home after your shift, you are no more than a mere husk of yourself. you have drained every single reservoir of yours that holds your love, care and courage for your patients. all that is left are the fragile remnants waiting to break at the slightest touch. you trudge down the corridor to your room, muddled mind trying to recall whether san is home tonight to hold you in your sleep, when you walk past the partially-closed door to seonghwa’s bedroom.

instinctively, you glance inside. he lays listlessly on his bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, and you immediately know.

where there are the could haves and the would haves, there are also the should haves; the unjust, the young deaths. those that should not even be an existing phenomenon in the world no matter how cruel the devil may be–those who should have lived.

seonghwa, who wears his entire heart on his sleeve, has lost a PICU baby at work today.

for a split second, there is a shameful thought that suddenly infiltrates your mind–to continue walking past as if you had not seen him until you reach the confines of your own room. but you could never do that to any of your boyfriends, much less seonghwa. seonghwa, who treats each and every baby like his own, who hides in the bathroom to cry after he sees the parents hurting, whose love and empathy is a never-ending fountain of supply.

you knock softly on the door so as not to startle him then gently call out his name. it takes the door opening a little wider for him to realise you are stepping into his room and he immediately sits up, a small smile gracing his face at the sight of you despite the blotchiness of his skin.

“sorry, love. i didn’t notice you standing there,” he apologises.

you shake your head, heart clenching at the sight of him pretending to be okay. you walk closer to him until you can smooth down the back of his hair with kind hands. “do you want to talk?” you tenderly ask.

the tension releases in seonghwa’s shoulders and back as he sags, no longer keeping up his facade at the knowledge that you can see right through him. he looks up at you tiredly with his swollen eyes, “do you have time to talk?”

time you can always make. perhaps the question that should be asked is whether you have the capacity to talk…the emotional capacity. frankly, you do not. you yourself need to cry, whether for seolhee or out of mental exhaustion itself it does not matter anymore. but saying no would be putting your needs before his, and putting your needs after everybody else’s is all that you have known as a doctor, so you will wait until you are alone in the darkness under your bed covers to finally let yourself go.

for now, you rest seonghwa’s head in your lap and brush away his tears, soaking up the pain of his words into your own heart instead. only when his breathing evens out and he no longer stirs under your fingers do you finally ease yourself to lie down next to him, barely hanging on to the edges of your own consciousness. you fall asleep before your tears can even begin to gather underneath your closed eyelids.

that night, you dream of drowning–stifling lungs and gasping mouthfuls–until you eventually suffocate in silence and become swallowed by the black depths of the water. the pillow underneath your cheek is damp when you jolt awake, but whether it is from cold sweat or tears you do not know.

you are convinced dr nam’s job description includes making your life hell. no matter where your rotation takes place, the department head always manages to find fault in something you do…or do not do.

“do you know what our hospital prides itself in?” dr. nam asks rhetorically. “we are not simply a hospital–we are a family. we help each other out in times of need.”

there is a rising snort in your throat that threatens to reveal your cynicism, knowing that when the phrase ‘family’ comes from somebody of higher authority, it is just a cover-up of mock care for the employees. dr. nam continues to smile, not unkindly, but with obvious artificiality that makes it look dangerous as he asks, “so how come you are not helping out in the NICU? i know that the attending has asked you for help.”

overnight on-call shifts already have fewer staff rostered on than usual, but with one of the junior residents having called in sick, the NICU is currently understaffed. the attending physician had paged you earlier asking if you could help out with some of the routine admissions and write up the patient histories and physicals, but you had apologised and declined. for one, you are assigned to the PICU, two, you are the most senior resident on that shift and three, you have endless tasks with far higher priority to complete instead.

you struggle to keep the exasperation out of your voice, sick of being flagged for ridiculous reasons and much less when you are seventeen hours into your shift, “most of the NICU admissions were stable and did not require urgent attention. their H&Ps can be completed later when the juniors are back.”

“ah,” dr. nam nods his head condescendingly, “doctor l/n, you stick by the rules too much. where is your sense of comradeship for this family that we have at kq–if not the entire hospital, then at least within our own department? if i remember correctly, there was a similar incident with one of your past interns.”

it is absolutely ridiculous that even months later you are still being faulted for the central line incident with dr. lim. you stay silent, expression dark and jaw grinding no matter how hard you try not to let your frustration show. 

“go help out in the NICU for an hour or two. i’m sure your own unit is relatively quiet right now,” he instructs. “remember, we’re a family that helps one another.” dr. nam’s grin grows wider, words dripping with saccharine honey that makes it impossible to refute.

“yes, doctor nam,” you respond through gritted teeth. double-checking you have your pager on you so that your actual ward can still reach you for emergencies, you take the elevator down to the NICU.

the next few hours are spent stretching yourself thin over both units as you run back and forth managing patients, answering questions, and most irritatingly, completing tasks that should really be allocated to juniors. it is not until you dazedly mistype the same word four times into the EMR that it registers in your groggy mind that it is already early in the morning, past the quiet time that is your usual window for a brief hour of sleep.

you inhale slowly until your chest is full then let out the longest sigh, your head tilted upwards, eyes closed and shoulders slouching as the world’s worth of resignation weighs down on you. it is 5:30AM, only five more hours–or three if you are lucky–left until the end of your shift. keeping your eyes shut for another few seconds, you recollect yourself to make it through the morning.

a resident appears in front of you, seemingly chipper as he stretches his arms above his head and jokes to a passing nurse that he had an amazing nap in the call room. the brief composure you had gathered immediately dissipates when you hear him. not only have you sacrificed your own sleep to help a unit that is not your own, but there are NICU residents who have taken the liberty to nap instead.

that’s it. you have done multitudes more than your duty requires you to do so. greeting the well-rested resident with a passive-aggressive smile, even if you are aware he is not at fault, you bid your farewell with the instruction, “tell your attending that doctor l/n has gone back to her own unit now.”

you punch the elevator’s number to your floor a little harder than intended, grateful that there is nobody else inside to hear your loud exhale of weariness and defeat. the floor display slowly flickers with higher numbers. maybe being back in the PICU will give you peace of mind.

the elevator doors open to directly reveal a ruckus beside the nursing station. “fucking hell,” you mutter to yourself, finally letting a curse slip through. “what now?”

“what do you mean you’re not a doctor?” a shrill voice cuts through the noise of the small huddle of people as you walk closer.

“i am a nurse, mrs ryeo, not a doctor,” somebody answers.

you could recognise his voice anywhere–it is wooyoung. your exasperation quickly turns into concern and you ease yourself through a few nurses so that you can reach your boyfriend.

mrs ryeo states, “but you’re a man.”

“that is an excellent observation, but unfortunately, that does not change my job qualifications.” despite wooyoung’s innate cheek, it does not usually appear when he is dealing with parents or the occasional adult patient, which tells you that this woman is either a repeating offender or has been kicking up a fuss for some time now.

“hello, mrs ryeo,” you intercept, stepping over to wooyoung’s side. “how can i help you?”

the middle-aged lady scans you up and down with disdain before scoffing, “i don’t want a nurse; i want a doctor.”

your patience has long been running on thin ice and if you did not care about your career, you would turn around, walk two steps away, then twirl around with a curtsey whilst introducing yourself as doctor l/n just to fuck with her. at least wooyoung would laugh.

unfortunately, you do care about your career so you can only explain with a placating smile on your face that you are a doctor–a fourth-year resident at that. mrs ryeo ignores you in favour of rudely pointing and beckoning behind you. “hey, you,” she demands, “see my child.”

a glance over your shoulder reveals that she has pointed to one of your male interns. he does not make a move to step forward, warily gesturing back towards you as he explains, “she’s the senior resident on call right now.”

“i don’t want a fucking resident. i want a real doctor,” she opposes.

“mrs ryeo,” you grit your teeth, “he is my intern. i am a doctor–the most senior doctor currently on shift–”

“bullshit you’re the most senior doctor. i refuse to let you treat my child. i want a male doctor.”

your fingers flutter out to grasp the side of wooyoung’s scrubs, partially to ground yourself, but also because you know that he will not stand there and let you be disrespected. however, there is absolutely no way any of you will be able to talk some sense into her, so it is better to just save your breaths. “dr. ahn will not be in until this afternoon,” you simply state.

“then i’ll wait,” she snaps stubbornly.

you nod, “as you wish. i’ll let him know.” you walk away and the nurses take that as their cue to disperse and continue with their duties now that the situation has been somewhat diffused. 

wooyoung follows you aside to where there are less people. “you okay?” he asks, searching your eyes.

with a dismissive shrug you answer, “you get used to it,” then change the topic to gently remind, “document it on the EMR that she refused to be seen and then fill out an incident report.”

wooyoung nods but continues to look at you unconvinced. “do you finish at seven today? i’ll wait for you,” he offers.

“no,” you grimace, “i probably have to wait until the morning rounds are over. you go home first.” a soft laugh escapes from you when your boyfriend’s eyebrows knit together and you reassure, “i’m fine, really. i should get back to work. i’ll see you at home, woo.”

you turn around before his expression or any further questions can weaken your resolve. from somewhere near the nursing station, you know that mrs ryeo is still staring at you scathingly. breaking down now in any shape or form would only serve to fuel her misogynistic prejudices. so you hold your head up high, pretend that this is just any other day, then continue with the remainder of your shift telling yourself that nothing can make you break.

it is nearing eleven in the morning by the time you get home. your feet mechanically take you to your doorstep and your hands slide the cover of the keypad lock upwards to tap in the number code, mind dissociated from your heart and the rest of your body. like water and hot oil, you keep them separated, otherwise dwelling on how they feel together will inevitably lead to a sudden outburst of emotion.

you feel yourself being dragged back to your senses, automatically tuning in to the rowdiness that increases in volume when you open the door. it is one of those rare sundays where more than half of you are home together. there are shouts of teasing banter, cabinets closing shut and the clink of glassware being washed. vaguely, you can also hear a passionate squabble between two of your boyfriends over something trivial.

whereas before, coming home to your boys would have cooled down your bubbling oil, today they feel like the water you are trying to keep away.

“i swear it wasn’t me,” you hear.

san’s voice is slightly muffled as he teases back, “yeah, whatever you say, yunho.”

you slowly walk into the open living room from where you can also see the kitchen. the countertop surface is covered with plastic bags, groceries for nine spilling out from them as jongho systematically pulls the cold items out to hand them over to san. said boyfriend has his body halfway inside the fridge whilst yunho holds the door open by leaning on it with his weight.

“it’s true! i didn’t drink any this week,” yunho defends himself. “y/n didn’t buy them!”

you falter at the mention of your name. without the context of the conversation, you are suddenly left wondering whether you had messed something up.

“speak of the devil,” yeosang announces, spotting you as he returns from the bathroom. he comes up and gives you quick squeeze in greeting.

yunho perks up at the sight of you. “perfect! let me prove it to you,” he tells san. determined to attest his supposed innocence over something that you still do not know what, your tallest boyfriend turns to face you and asks, “did you restock our protein shakes last week?”

you frown with an unintelligent stutter as you try to recall the sudden information. last week, you had gone out to get some fresh groceries but had suddenly been called in for a shift, so you had had to give up on everything you did not deem as essential. san and yunho’s shakes, unfortunately, did not make the cut.

“no, i–”

“see!” yunho exclaims, whipping around to face san again before you can finish the rest of your sentence. his tone is triumphant as he reiterates, “i told you it was y/n who was the culprit, not me!”

san chuckles with fondness at the other, “okay, you’re forgiven.”

a bitter taste immediately spreads throughout your mouth along with the flaming heat that now covers your cheeks. you cannot tell whether it is anger or embarrassment–perhaps both–but it feels as though the water you have been holding off has suddenly been poured over you.

“why didn’t you go buy them yourself, then, if you knew i didn’t,” you question yunho curtly.

he looks at you with a grin, “because you were meant to buy them and then i didn’t have time to go.” his words are stated as a matter-of-factly with absolutely no intentions to insinuate anything apart from his reasons as to why he did not buy the protein shakes himself.

but you do not hear yunho and his playfulness that you normally indulge in–you hear dr. nam instead belittling your time and you also hear mrs ryeo with her condescending contempt, and now that you are no longer at work, you fail to reign yourself in. you snap before you even realise how heated your words are, “yeah, and i have all the time in the world.” you throw out sarcastically, “next time, why don’t i also mix your shakes, wait on my knees and hold the straw up to your lips while you drink them during your workouts.”

your boyfriends stare at you with wide eyes, silence deafening after the near-shout your voice had risen to by the end of your sentence. you let out a shaky exhale, suddenly sober. you no longer bubble and boil inside, emotions down to a simmer now, but still they remain unsteady and suddenly leave you with overwhelming exhaustion.

“sorry,” you mutter under your breath, “forget i said anything.”

pivoting on the balls of your feet, you escape to your own bedroom, ignoring the concern on wooyoung’s face from where he has woken up and stuck his head out of his own room at the commotion. you shut your door and then sit heavily on the edge of your bed, elbows resting on your knees and head buried in your hands.

“fuck,” you hiss, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes to stop yourself from crying. you are so frustrated–at everything that has happened today, at how you reacted, at the fact that you cannot seem to understand what you are feeling or what you want anymore.

you are going to have to talk to your boyfriends and apologise later, but for now, you just need to be alone.

only a few minutes pass before there is a soft knock on your bedroom door. you make no move to acknowledge the sound. neither do you make a noise of rejection though, so the boyfriend outside your door takes it as his cue to walk in.

“y/n?” he calls out hesitantly.

at the sound of his voice, you immediately look up. it is yunho looking like a kicked puppy, unable to bear any sort of conflict between any of you no matter how big or small the matter. you stand up but stay close to your bed. your heart wants to tug you closer towards your boyfriend yet your feet stay glued to their spot.

“y/n…” he starts again, “i–sorry, i didn’t mean for you to feel as though i was blaming you.”

you shake your head, “it’s fine, i know you didn’t.”

“that still doesn’t change the fact that i hurt you,” yunho expresses, taking a step closer towards you.

“no, i should be the one apologising–sorry. what i said to you was completely uncalled for,” you admit.

“hey, no. i didn’t come for an apology,” he looks at you with rounded eyes, now close enough to grasp you gently by your arms. yunho’s voice is soft as he says, “i’m worried about you. you don’t normally lash out like that…what’s wrong?”

everything.

“nothing,” you answer, avoiding his gaze.

he continues to probe, “are you sure? is it something to do with work?” when you remain quiet, he starts to guess, “...or is it us–”

“it’s work,” you cut him off before he can turn his words into a real question. “work has been tiring. i just–give me a bit of time.” you pat yunho’s hand placatingly, subtly easing your arms out of his grasp at the same time. you do not deserve his affection right now.

he fumbles awkwardly, unease stringing his body tight as his eyes scan yours. “we’ll talk later then?” he eventually concludes, verbally reaching out one more time to see if you want to take it.

“later,” you confirm softly, a small smile gracing your lips that does not reach the rest of your face. “i’m going to catch up on some sleep now.”

“ah, right. you were on call. sleep well then,” yunho concedes. he walks out of your room, gingerly closing the door behind him.

you have barely grabbed a fresh set of pajamas and underwear to quickly rinse yourself in the shower when there is another knock on your door. it takes a lot of energy not to sigh but to open the door instead where you discover san and jongho standing in the corridor with twin expressions of concern.

“did yunho talk things out with you?” san asks as jongho simultaneously says, “how are you feeling?”

you know that they have good intentions checking up on you, but you really just want to be left alone. your own thoughts and emotions are already equivalent to a crowd themselves. “yeah, yunho and i are fine. i’m fine, just tired. thanks for asking and sorry for shouting earlier,” you apologise, because you owe them that much at the very least. then you try and dismiss them before they can ask anything else, “a shower and some sleep will do me good.”

they glance down when you lift up your hand and they see the clothes you hold. jongho knows better than to push, so he places his own hand on san’s back in silent meaning whilst answering on their behalf, “you’re right. we’ll let you sleep. do you want us to wake you up for dinner?”

you smile a little more genuinely but still shake your head. “i’ll eat something before i leave for work tomorrow.”

although san has a lot to say to that, he holds his tongue and lets himself be guided back to the kitchen with jongho’s hand still on him. “let her have some time alone first. she’ll eat if she’s hungry,” the younger reassures him and san can only nod and hope that rest is all that you need. he cannot shake off the feeling that there is much more to it than you are letting on.

you hop into the shower, rinse and dry off and brush your teeth within ten minutes. sleep is your only reprieve now–the only time you do not need to think or feel–and you rush through your routine before you can start coming to conclusions about the whats and whys to the problems in your life. finishing up in the bathroom you go back to your own room, startling when you open the door and are greeted by the sight of wooyoung waiting on your bed.

“you okay?” he asks as soon as he sees you.

annoyance starts to grind your gears no matter how hard you try to remind yourself that your boyfriends are purely looking out for you. but concern has its limits before it starts to become overbearing and when they keep asking one after the other, you are unable to appreciate their efforts.

“i’m fine,” you respond tersely, words no longer genuine after how many times you have repeated them to questions you have heard on loop.

“are you sure? i know you had a rough day at work with mrs ryeo and–”

“wooyoung,” you finally interrupt, “just drop it. please.”

his expression falls and you immediately regret your words. but what’s done is done and the list of people you are hurting today only seems capable of growing–what is one more person on the list? wooyoung stands up and leaves your room with a quiet, sorry, and you do nothing to stop him.

hearing the door shut behind you, you walk over to where the curtains are pulled aside to let the afternoon sunlight of autumn filter in. all the curtains in the bedrooms are blackout curtains, the first additions to the apartment from day one of your careers. you draw them closed, shutting out the sunlight and plunging your room into darkness.

at last, you slide into bed. the screen of your phone lights up as you plug it into your charger and you find a text from yeosang and one from seonghwa just a few minutes ago, but you do not open them. you clear your notifications before you can even read the previews and put your phone on ‘do not disturb’. making sure your alarm is set for tomorrow’s shift, you switch the screen off and shove it under your pillow.

you close your eyes. you have a long list of people to work things out with before you can truly say that you are fine. but there is one thing you fail to realise as you finally fall asleep. the name at the very top of the list is not one of your boyfriends’–

it is your own.

the incident ends up being swept under the rug. you wake up that next morning an hour before your first alarm goes off, lying in the muted hours of dawn before the world starts to stir with the shadows on the ceiling of your bedroom twisting and warping like creatures.

your entire body is filled with an inexplicable sense of dread at the thought of the day ahead. it is not solely due to what happened yesterday between you and your boyfriends. there are a multitude of contributing factors but frankly, you fear dwelling on them and finding out just what percentage of your anxiety stems from the boys. unable to fall asleep and not entirely ready to face anybody yet, you decide to leave for your shift early.

the drive to the hospital feels particularly dystopian today. no matter what season the streets transition into over the year–regardless of the brilliant vibrance of autumn that has blanketed the ground for the last two months–it unfailingly turns back into the perpetual state of sterile winter once you are inside the hospital. it has never been something that you have dwelled on, but now it seems to be the truest reflection of your current self–a mere utopian facade hiding what is inside your walls.

you return nurse aeri’s enthusiastic greeting upon walking into the PICU with chirpiness that your weekend was great. you gasp with animated reactions at the story little siwoo tells you when you reach his room during your morning rounds. you comfort mr and mrs chae with graceful compassion and warm smiles when you tell them their daughter can finally be discharged. not a single person would look at you and think that something is wrong, and yet, you feel like you are simply a ghost of your emotions, detached and distant from your own words and actions. not even the news of seolhee stabilising enough to be transferred out of the PICU back to the paediatric oncology ward gives you the same genuine spike in emotions you would have felt a week ago.

the brief encounters with seonghwa around the unit and the brief glimpses of san and wooyoung around the department do nothing to alleviate your blanket of anxiety because they are a visual and physical reminder of the cavernous pit in your stomach. you end up going home after your shift with a tightness in your chest that has gradually become suffocating at the thought of being confined in the same space as your boyfriends, wondering if they are expecting you to talk to them; the conversation you had brushed off yesterday.

you are not ready yet and you do not want to talk, so instead you do what you do best–walk through the threshold of your front door with a plastered expression of neutrality as though nothing has happened the day before. but to your surprise–whether pleasant or bitter, however contradictory that may be, you cannot tell–they too appear to skirt around the issue.

there is a restless buzz in the air as yunho portions dinner out into separate bowls for those who are at home. hongjoong is hunched over his laptop with concentration at the dining table as usual, zeroed in on his presentation even amongst the bustle of yeosang and jongho setting the cutlery around him, but the jitters in his legs tell you differently. when he spots you walking closer, he shuts his laptop and places it to the side to greet you.

“seonghwa made ramen bulgogi for us before he left,” he tells you while you wash your hands at the sink and peer into the pot yunho is holding.

you gingerly slide into the seat across from hongjoong, watching yeosang dawdling in the kitchen as if he is trying to find something to keep himself busy with. “i thought he wasn’t rostered on for night shift today,” you absentmindedly comment.

jongho places your bowl of ramen in front of you and sits to your right as he answers, “he had to cover for one of the other nurses.”

you nod, waiting for the two in the kitchen. yunho comes to sit on your other side at the head of the table and yeosang beside hongjoong, their bowls placed down with a clunk that leads to silence in conversation.

“how’s your presentation going?” yunho vaguely asks hongjoong after a few minutes.

the older picks at his meat in his bowl, “it’s going alright. i only have the limitations and future directions for neurological gene therapies left to research.”

there is another lull in conversation before jongho asks, “did your surgeries go smoothly today?”

yunho nods, “i led a couple of trauma surgeries today. only one of them ended up going overtime.”

“you’re going to surpass the other doctors soon, doctor jeong from general surgery,” you tease slightly.

the boys share a few chuckles before the table falls silent once more and you can only hear the occasional slurp of noodles or clatter of chopsticks against the bowl. you glance at hongjoong, who is scratching the back of his neck, then at yeosang, whose gaze you can see darting around his bowl like he is avoiding eye contact. shifting your weight slightly in your chair, you suddenly start to realise why they are all acting so awkwardly.

it is not that your boyfriends are trying to skirt around yesterday’s fallout–if you can call it that–like you are. instead, they are waiting for you to be the one initiating the conversation so that they know for sure you are ready to have the conversation. the sentiment is appreciated but it does nothing to stop your muscles from clamming up even further.

the thought of talking and even just thinking about why you are feeling the way you are is enough to overwhelm you entirely again. it is much easier to simply pretend you are okay than to face the problems head on, because then you have to actually acknowledge that something is wrong. but you know that it is not just one issue but several things exacerbating one another, and just that awareness in itself already makes your insides lurch and clench dangerously. 

there is one sole advantage to your boyfriends’ approach to handling this situation. the timeline of when to talk is left up to you, so you choose the one option they had failed to preempt–not to talk at all. you finish your ramen in silence pretending you do not see the shared glances between the boys, get up to place your dishes into the sink ignoring the gazes that linger on your back, then retreat to your bedroom whilst shoving your emotions into the deepest corners in the back of your mind.

they gave you a choice. you simply made one.

the weeks pass by. you change through another rotation and the beginning of winter arrives once more. the only thing that stays the same is the elephant in the room that remains unaddressed and your lonely fight to keep it that way.

restlessness seeps into every interaction that the boys share with you. it follows you to work, jongho and yunho making excuses to go to your ward just to see what you are doing even though their own wards are on the other side of the hospital. it is in the way san tries to swap himself onto night shifts the days he knows you are working one as well, and in how seonghwa liaises with your colleagues under the guise of his role as the CNS, simply to probe whether you are overexerting yourself or not.

it follows you home too, a constant breathing down your neck in the form of mingi carefully scanning your expression the moment you walk through the door after your shift, and in yeosang hovering within five feet regardless of where you are. wooyoung checks the fridge first thing after coming home, counting the boxes of meal prep to make sure you had taken one to work that day, and hongjoong asks how your day was with the intention of probing further to ask how you are coping. he is not the only one who tries to check and your answer never changes–work was good, you are fine.

gradually, you find yourself trying to avoid their line of sight, ducking behind colleagues on the wards or back into your own bedroom at home. it is easier to pretend that you are okay than to admit that you are not, and when that does not work, to just stay away from your boyfriends completely. you are well aware that avoiding them is not healthy, but smokers too know very clearly the health risks of tobacco yet continue to smoke. just how many things are there in the world that we know are unhealthy for ourselves–physically, mentally, socially–and we still choose to make that decision?

but as with any unhealthy choices, they eventually lead to detrimental consequences. unbeknownst to you, each denial of help causes the string inside of you to wind up tighter and tighter until it becomes taut enough to snap at any moment.

and that is what ends up happening on a wednesday night.

seonghwa and wooyoung are both still at the hospital. by the time they get home after their shifts, it will already nearly be time for dinner, so with everybody’s first preferences for cooks still working, you are the next in line. hongjoong had originally offered to order takeout instead since you had been on call last night, but you had been unable to fall asleep despite how exhausted you felt and you hated being stuck in the limbo state of idleness between rest and non-rest.

“are you sure you don’t want us to just order takeout today?”

“it’s fine, hongjoong,” you respond shortly, “i’ve already started cooking.”

yeosang sits at the countertop separating the kitchen from the open living room and dining area, watching as you make a simple soup and stir-fried dish. you try to ignore his intent staring but it is difficult when his gaze quite literally follows you from cupboard to sink to stove. it is only when he hesitantly asks, “are you okay?” that you realise you have left your expression unschooled, dark frown covering your face.

you force your features to relax and nod, trying not to throw a question back at him asking what he is doing just staring at you. his question catches the attention of san sitting on the couch, who calls out to check up on you, “is something wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, turning around as if that will help to block them out, aware that your patience for them–for anybody–has started running thin. you idly hum at san’s reminder to ask them for help if you need it despite knowing fully well that having an extra person in the kitchen space would only serve to have the opposite effect to its intended purpose.

jongho passes by behind you to fill up a cup of water at the sink. as he waits, he glances at you stirring the pot before double taking at your expression. he tentatively questions, “you alright? do you want me to help?”

“why do you keep asking me that?” you reply, only half-jokingly. you drive him out with an irritated wave of your hand, “just sit and wait.”

your boyfriends are at least tactful enough to understand they are not to step foot into the kitchen until dinner is cooked, but it does nothing to alleviate the sensation of holes being drilled into the back of your head. you are so focused on ignoring them that you do not realise when seonghwa and wooyoung come home from their shifts.

“hey, love,” seonghwa sidles up to you in the kitchen as you slice some extra spring onions. “how’s your day been?”

as he asks you, he comes up from behind and slides a hand around your hip to rest on it. his touch is habitual–something he always does to you and the boys–but you are tense and on edge. you jerk in surprise, accidentally slicing your finger with the knife. it is only a small cut and absolutely unintentional on your boyfriend’s part, but your fuse finally runs out and you drop the knife with a clatter, whirling around angrily to face him.

“can you fucking stop doing that?” you snap, tone clipped and unkind.

seonghwa flusters, trying to apologise and look at your injury whilst simultaneously jerking backwards in confusion at your hostility. he stutters, “i–y/n, are you okay? i didn’t mean to surprise you–”

“no, that’s not it,” you interrupt, blind to the stinging in your finger. “i mean your fucking questions, and not just from you. all of you.” you lash out at the other boys too who have now stood up and are varying distances from the kitchen. “every single fucking day you ask me if i’m okay. can you please stop that?”

san slowly walks closer until he reaches the countertop that separates the both of you. “y/n,” he calls out to you sadly, your sudden anger uncharacteristic, “we’re just worried about you. we want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“i know you do,” you cry out with exasperation, heat starting to gather behind your eyes, “and i’m trying to be okay, alright? i’m trying for everybody’s sake. but you make it so fucking hard when each and every single one of you keep asking me how i’m feeling as if you want me to fucking break down.”

“that’s not what we’re trying to do,” hongjoong tries to reason with you, but you are unable to rationalise anything in the spur of the moment.

you desperately blink back tears. “i’ve tried to pretend that everything is okay–pushed everything to the back of my mind so that i don’t think about it and hope that it resolves itself…but it’s not working.” you take a shaky breath, lips quivering and voice quieting with every word, “i’m just one person at home and i’m just one person at work. i am so fucking tired all the time.”

“but you aren’t just one person. you can tell us and we can help you.”

you do not even register who says that, because your eyes blur with wetness and your voice increases with frustration, “no, i can’t. when you’re tired, when you’re exhausted, you don’t have the time or the energy to ask for help, much less to fight for yourself. you think i haven’t thought about complaining to you guys and letting myself cry in your arms? or escalating whatever happens at work to the higher-ups? i know what i should do, but it’s all useless.

“when you are about to be caught in an avalanche and buried alive, do you remember to ignore your instincts and run horizontally instead of attempting to outrun it? do you remember to keep your mouth shut to stop yourself from choking on snow? or to use your arms and legs to create air pockets for yourself, or to spit and use its trajectory to work out which way is up and down after you’re disorientated? no, you fucking don’t, because in the moment you can only focus on surviving. there is no time to do anything but that.”

your boyfriends are stunned into silence, not only by the bitter resentment that coats your loud voice and mars your face with furrowed eyebrows, but by the raw confession that tumbles out of your lips. they had known you were tired recently, just not the extent of it.

the tone of your words soften with exhaustion and heartache as you look them in the eyes one by one, “just think about ourselves…things aren’t the same between us anymore, don’t try to deny it. we don’t love each other like we used to. things have changed between us this year–it’s just that nobody has brought it up.” the tears that have pooled around your eyes finally slip down your cheeks. “and you know why? it’s because we’re all just trying to survive now. we don’t have the time or the luxury to do anything but survive.”

there is no thought that can be formulated in response to your words. seonghwa opens his mouth but then shuts it again because he knows you are right. it is ugly, but it is the truth.

having been in a relationship together for over four years now, not even including the turbulent years prior to becoming official when you were all navigating the hardships of medical school, your bonds are built upon the foundation of comfort and understanding. but what happens when that comfort turns into complacency, and understanding turns into indifference? what happens when time runs its course and wears down a relationship?

you avert your eyes downwards, the lines of the kitchen tiles blurry underneath your feet as your vision mists over, afraid to look at the sad gazes of your boyfriends any longer. there is a sudden thump of body colliding against the wall and a muffled curse that draws everybody’s attention, including yours, towards the corridor. mingi’s head snaps upwards with guilty eyes from where he had been trying to slink his way in from the front door unnoticed before accidentally stubbing his toe.

your body makes a split-second decision with the diversion. you push past seonghwa in the kitchen, past san and yeosang at the countertop and mingi by the wall, and past the rest of your boyfriends just standing there, back into the safety of your bedroom. it is from years of muscle memory navigating the apartment that you do not walk head-first into anything despite your vulnerable state, although your boyfriends also step out of your way in stunned stupor.

fumbling for the edge of the door behind you with your hand the moment you walk past the threshold to your bedroom, you step backwards until you are able to push it closed. it shuts with a loud click and then finally, you are alone.

you slowly sink forward to the ground, legs useless as your hands reach out towards the floor to hold yourself up. the world around you continues to blur with wetness, a stinging heat behind your eyes and nose, yet the tears do not fall and you do not cry. your gaze remains unfocused on the spot right beside the leg of your bed, frozen in your own stupor of tangled thoughts and emotions.

time, fucking time. you despise that word with your entire soul. in this world, the ones who are truly rich are not those with endless wealth to spare–the ones who are truly rich are those with endless time to spare.

when was the last time you drank freshly-brewed coffee at a cafe instead of guzzling down the grainy staleness of a rushed instant coffee that has not even been mixed properly? when was the last time you sat down for a knife-and-fork meal with warm food instead of popping a mint into your mouth to stave off your hunger pains for a little longer? when was the last time you went shopping for a pretty dress and a cute pair of matching heels instead of sniffing your scrubs at the end of a shift wondering whether you can postpone the laundry for one more day? when was the last time you used shampoo and conditioner when washing your hair instead of simply rinsing it under the water before your eyes closed on themselves?

they are such simple tasks of everyday life, yet they have now become unattainable luxuries in the face of insufficient time. you deliberately sacrifice the quality of your life to save a few extra minutes here, a few extra minutes there. but no matter how much time you are able to scrape out of thin air, it slips through the cracks of your fingers like fine sand and disappears amongst the people around you. even one spare minute, if you have any leftover after prioritising your patients, must be somehow split between the eight of your boyfriends.

you can save however much time you can, but it will never be enough. you are not enough.

the knotted twist of anxiety that has been distorting your insides for the past few weeks suddenly unravels with shattering clarity as your fears suddenly weigh you down with crushing exhaustion. you cannot even take care of yourself anymore–how can you take care of your boyfriends, much less eight of them? you want everything to just stop, but what exactly ‘everything’ entails, you have no idea.

there is a soft hand on your shoulder squeezing tenderly. it is warm, you idly think to yourself. they murmur, “y/n,” and only when they squeeze you again do you dazedly look up, blinking to clear your vision. mingi’s round eyes gaze at you and you find him kneeling beside your crumpled form on the floor of your bedroom. you have no energy to acknowledge him further than another blink and prolonged eye contact.

he stares at you for a few seconds, eyes full of words that he holds back, before simply asking, “have you showered yet?”

you do not answer, but he had not questioned you with the intention of receiving an answer. he responds for you, “probably, but i doubt you washed your hair. come,” his hand slowly travels down from your shoulder to your smaller hand, “take a shower with me.”

mingi’s gaze does not waver despite the slight narrowing of your eyes that tells him you are tired and unamused. “i stink and i want your company,” he states. then he makes the decision for you and tugs you upwards with him. despite his strength, mingi’s hands are gentle as he holds you, leading you out of your bedroom and into the bathroom instead.

you stand there and let him guide your arms through your jumper so that he can take it off your head. he does the same with your shirt, your pants and with your undergarments, his touch intimate and loving not with sexual desires but with devoted care as if he is afraid you will crack under the slightest of pressures. his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps where they brush against your skin and your eyes close with the softest of sighs, letting yourself relax under your boyfriend’s careful movements.

the bathroom begins to steam up from the spray of hot water and mingi steps you into the shower with him. quietly, he wets your hair and lathers his shampoo into it, sturdy hands massaging the tension out of your scalp and the nape of your neck. you watch the concentration in his creased brows and the water that drips down from his chin falls between your chests. not once does he look at you–only focuses on properly shampooing your hair.

it is only when mingi is rinsing your hair and you are no longer facing him do you pluck up the courage to speak delicately, “why aren’t you asking me if i’m okay?”

he is silent for a few seconds and you feel the slight pause in his hands against your scalp before he continues to run his fingers through your hair. “do you want me to ask?”

once again, you do not answer, but that is an answer in itself.

“plus,” mingi softly murmurs, hands leaving your hair, the click of a bottle cap opening resounding in the echo of the bathroom louder than his voice, “you’ll just say that you’re okay…even though you’re not.”

then the touch of his fingers returns as he teases something cold into your hair from its roots to its ends. almost immediately, you choke up and your expression crumples, lips trembling downwards as your eyebrows furrow, because mingi is putting conditioner in your hair. it is embarrassing that this of all things is what finally marks your breakdown, but mingi does not comment when your shoulders shudder with shaky exhales nor when you fail to hold in a stuttering sob. he lets you cry out your sorrows, pain and fatigue and he simply continues to massage the conditioner into your hair.

mingi simply continues to love you in the way that you did not love yourself.

when your hair is rinsed, only then does he turn you around to face him. under the showerhead with only the comforting tranquility of water pattering against the tiles around the both of you, he softly tilts your chin upwards to capture your lips in a kiss. it is a slow but simple kiss, lips pressed against yours with a thousand utterances of comfort and reassurances dancing across them.

he gives you one kiss, then another, and another, each one sweeter than the previous despite the salty tracks that run down your cheeks. your hands find their way onto his chest and the steady beat of his heart thrums underneath your palm. mingi rests your foreheads together, your tears falling in solitude with the water and with the tears that fall from inside his heart.

finally, he asks, “is it work?”

you shake your head slightly. “i don’t know.”

“is it us?”

the tears that had slowed down reappear with a strangled sob as you answer truthfully, your fears emerging at least, “i don’t know.”

“that’s okay, you don’t have to know,” he whispers, “and you don’t have to be okay.” he pulls away a little so that he can cradle your jaw with his hands and look into your eyes. “take the day off tomorrow, y/n.”

you do nothing to stop the tears that continue spilling over the bottom of your eyes as you shakily answer, “i don’t have time. my patients need me.”

“you do have time,” mingi counters, thumbing your tears away. “you just haven’t been spending that time on yourself. even doctors get sick, you know.”

“i’m not sick,” you deny.

your boyfriend pulls you into his chest and encases you in a protective embrace. “physically, maybe not. but your mental health is just as important, and sometimes the things that you can’t see inflict more suffering than the things that you can see.”

it is something that you all know and understand, but when you are trapped in a workplace where the mentality revolves entirely around a medical model of physical health, the disparity in value you place between your physical and mental health becomes so deeply ingrained it is almost impossible to change.

“mingi, what if…” you trail off. your boyfriend nuzzles the top of your head with his chin before brushing his lips over the crown of your forehead in encouragement. you swallow thickly to continue, “what if i need time alone?”

mingi pulls away from you once more, slowly so as not to further upset your already-scattered emotions. he looks at you earnestly, considering your words and their meaning–whether he is understanding your undertone correctly and whether this is a genuine request for respite or a spur-of-the-moment cry for reassurance. he watches your eyes flicker back and forth between his own.

“if that’s what you need,” he finally whispers, wrapping you closer in his arms again, “then i’ll support you no matter what.”

he feels your small puff of surprise against his chest and it pierces through his heart like a sword. how he wishes that you would realise that he and any of your other boys would pluck all the stars in the universe’s galaxies if you were to ask for them. but instead, you are asking him in a small and timid voice, “you’re not upset? the others won’t be upset?”

mingi chooses his next words carefully, aware that they could easily be misunderstood but also unwilling to treat you like a child where the world is only full of happy endings. not that you believe that anymore, anyway. “we will be upset,” he gently breaks to you, “but only at the situation that we're in because things have ended up like this before we could even really do anything for you. y/n, we will never be upset at you in this situation, much less upset at the decisions you choose to make. if time is what you need, then take however much time you need.”

you do not have the courage to lift up your head to meet his eyes, shame starting to creep through your veins because what if this decision is simply a decision to run away yet again? but then mingi senses your doubts and draws you in for another kiss. he captures your lips between his, pressing against you a little harder when you both start to run out of breath. he draws it out for longer until the kiss becomes dizzyingly and intoxicatingly blissful and fills your mind with thoughts of him and him only.

when you can finally inhale, the air swirls with a mix of his scent and the shampoo he had used. here, under the warm spray of water within the safe confines of the shower and mingi's arms, it may only be momentary but you are okay.

“can you tell the boys for me?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. “i don't think i can tell them myself.”

mingi nods and the corners of his lips rise bittersweetly. “of course.”

so for the first time in four years since moving in with your boys, on a night that snows lightly but unceasingly, you pack a small bag of clothes and essential belongings…

and move out.

“good evening, doctor jeong from general surgery.”

the running joke between himself and the little girl in front never fails to draw a laugh of amusement out of yunho, who pretends to bow in formal greeting as he returns the acknowledgement, “good evening, kim seolhee from the paediatric ward.” when she giggles, he comments, “you look like you’re having a good day.”

seolhee grins and nods with excitement. not only does her expression look livelier, there is a slight healthy glow to her skin as well. “i was just telling doctor snowflake that they’re letting me go home for christmas next week before my next round of treatments start.”

at her words, there is no way to avoid eye contact with your boyfriend as his gaze automatically flicks over to where you are sitting beside her bed. ever since you moved out a few days ago into a friend’s rented apartment with a spare couch, your encounters with your boyfriends around the hospital have been…different.

a shift in dynamics was always going to be inevitable because it was–is–an action of request for space to think and just breathe, even though neither parties are truly mad or upset at one another. just as mingi had reassured you in the shower, it is simply the circumstances that have piled up and led to a consequence like so, and if you need time away from a contributing factor to sort your emotions out, there are absolutely no hard feelings. despite all this, your boyfriends cannot help but yearn to reach out and bring you back into their arms–to bring you back home.

yunho’s eyes soften the moment they lay upon you and he savours the sight of you today, unsure of when he will next see you around the hospital. “that’s so good to hear,” he says earnestly, “and i’m sure that news has made doctor snowflake’s entire week.”

he smiles at you warmly and this time you find yourself mirroring his expression, awkwardness taking a backseat because you know he is genuinely happy for both seolhee and you. the level of fondness and love you have for seolhee has long blurred past the usual level of care you would show to a patient on your caseload. she has spent more christmas’ in hospital than out, so to be able to spend these holidays at home is the greatest gift seolhee could receive and the greatest gift you could witness.

your boyfriend lingers around for a little longer, pushing his visit as long as he can without it being obvious that he does not actually have a reason to stay. eventually he says, “i better get back to work. enjoy your christmas at home, seolhee.”

she nods happily and then he looks at you. “i’ll see you–” yunho cuts himself off, holding back from finishing the sentence with ‘at home’. he corrects, “i’ll see you around.”

“see you,” you respond amiably, fingers fiddling with the hem of your scrubs as he walks out.

yunho only makes it a couple of steps away before he bumps into wooyoung making his evening rounds. they exchange brief conversation and you quickly avert your gaze when you see the taller of the two gesturing back into seolhee’s room. seolhee’s eyes dart between yours and the view outside her room before she points out, “it’s nurse woo!”

“really?” you lie, pretending you had not noticed. yunho has already walked off by the time you look back, so only wooyoung is looking at you. he makes no move to come into seolhee’s room. instead, he gives you a little wave with a hopeful smile. a small exhale of fondness leaves you as you return his gesture through the room’s window with a similar amount of restraint. however, it is enough to make your boyfriend break out into a beam, and then he goes running off.

seolhee is already staring at you when you turn to face her again. she raises an eyebrow. “are you and your boyfriends fighting?” she immediately asks.

her question makes you flinch with a sheepish smile, knowing that she would catch a whiff of it sooner or later–just not this fast. are you and your boys fighting? it is technically not a proper argument nor a proper break from the relationship, but there is the need to take a step back and rethink what certain things mean to you–to the boys–and what you want your life to look like.

you are not about to unload all of this onto the now seven-year-old girl with an ‘it’s complicated’ as your answer, so you opt for a simple, “yeah, kind of.”

seolhee shrugs and comments casually, “my parents used to fight all the time.”

you are reminded of her mother, mrs kim, who you have seen several times during visiting hours after that first meeting with her. you are also reminded of mr kim, her father who drops by whenever he can when he is not at work. they have been nothing but strong and supportive parents during seolhee’s battle with her cancer and you cannot reconcile that image of them with the image of constant arguing.

“what changed?” you probe curiously.

despite the smile on her face, the glimmer in seolhee’s eyes fade slightly. “i got diagnosed and then they realised that in the grand scheme of the universe, life is just too short not to spend every moment loving each other.” she turns to look outside the window on the other side of her bed. “we learnt a lot–love isn’t just about expensive outings and fancy gestures and impressive words because there are a lot of things that i can’t do that other normal kids and families can…we learnt that love is all about the small things too and those small moments in life are the things we truly end up cherishing, especially during the tough times.

“mum helps me pick out the colour of my bandanna when i want to wear one, and dad helps me hold the bucket up when i’m feeling sick. i pretend to hide my parents behind the curtains to see if the nurses will let us have an extra five minutes past visiting hours, and they will always smile and give us ten. we don’t always love each other the same way as other families do, but those are the things that we’ll remember the most.”

you look out the window with seolhee as you listen to her words. the snow has fallen lightly the entire day and now under the streetlights, the growing layer of snow glows brightly amongst the dimness of the winter night. you think back to your boys–the lack of dates and diminishing displays of love; how that had been one of the first indicators that something had changed in the relationship dynamics. then you also think back to those small gestures they had done for you; the silly notes, the coffees, the brief conversations, the meals, the break room hugs.

“it’s kind of like snow,” you murmur to neither yourself nor seolhee in particular. “you don’t notice it at first, and only when it starts to form a layer on the ground over time do you start to realise how much it has actually snowed.”

the moment those words leave your lips, you are suddenly reminded of how even those small gestures had gradually disappeared–how that too played a part in the shift in your romantic relationships. your tone is wistful, “then the snow melts and it's gone, just like that.”

seolhee looks back at you, considering your words thoughtfully. she hums for a moment before putting forward, “it melts, but does that change the fact that it snowed in the first place?”

the snowflakes continue to drift softly outside like butterfly wings. as beautiful as they are, there will come a time when they melt away, but the reality before your eyes right now is that they exist–they are there. it is snowing.

“no,” you reply, “it doesn’t.”

“then maybe it's up to us to remember that it snowed until it does snow again,” she smiles triumphantly, the innocence of her radiating beam so strikingly different to the clarifying wisdom she has suddenly dropped even if she does not know the true extent of the meaning her words hold to you. seolhee points at your name badge to drive her point home, “it's just like your badge. my sticker is gone now but that doesn't change the fact that it used to be there.”

your head flicks down immediately and you tilt your badge upwards so that you can get a good look it at. disappointment washes over you when you find that her words are true and her sticker is gone, so worn and loved that it has fallen off somewhere within the hospital. you have no idea when that occurred but it must have been today, because it was still there this morning when you touched it for comfort on your drive here. now, only the faint outline of its shape remains.

it should not hold as much sentimental value as it does, but the realisation that seolhee’s sticker is no longer with you makes you ask, like you the child and seolhee the adult, “can i have another one?”

her voice takes a rare tone of complaint as she grumbles, “i lost the sticker book when i moved back to this ward.”

“that’s a shame” you remark, as genuinely upset as the little girl beside you.

she lets out an endearing little sigh, then pats the back of her hand with her own. “that’s okay, you can look outside whenever you miss me. remember,” seolhee blinks at you earnestly, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

you place your other hand over hers with a hint of a challenging smile. “and if it stops snowing?” you ask, testing the seemingly boundless wisdom that is hidden inside of her.

seolhee beams, answer so clear and obvious. “then count the stars in the sky.”

for the first time in his life, jongho is late.

his, san’s and yeosang’s mornings had all started off a little rough after the latter had rushed past the open door to the bedroom the other two were sleeping in together, dressed in his scrubs and puffer jacket ready to leave, only to double take at the sight of them still in bed. they had been woken up by yeosang’s frantic question, “jongho? don’t you have work today?”

san had groggily lifted his upper body off the bed as jongho jolted into a sitting position, trying to pull himself together. “what?” jongho’s brain had remained foggy no matter how alert he appeared in panic. “what time is it? what day is it today?”

“it’s six thirty,” yeosang had responded, san’s grunts of confirmation affirming the same. alarm had suddenly run through yeosang as doubt creeped into his own mind. “and it’s monday…isn’t it?”

“yeah,” san had confirmed again, voice thick with sleep.

jongho had been certain he did not have work. “i checked the whiteboard last night. my name’s not down for a shift,” he had stated, only to break out into cold sweat immediately afterwards with realisation. you are the only one who goes to all the effort to note down everybody’s shifts for the fortnight on the whiteboard–the very same one that has not been changed since you moved out.

“oh, shit,” jongho had cursed. “i do have work.”

and so for the first time in his life, jongho is late. he knows he only has himself to blame for relying on somebody else for something as important as when he has to show up for work, but for years that is how it has been. not once have you ever made a mistake with the erasable calendar, always taking meticulous care to check that all the shifts for each day are correct because it is the easiest way to help you all keep track of where everybody is for the day.

nobody asks you to update the whiteboard. you just do.

hongjoong realises the same thing in the wake of jongho’s rush to leave the house. he stands in front of the bathroom sink, his eyes half-closed as he brings his toothbrush up to his mouth, only to get a gross mouthful of plain bristles. it is still too early in the morning to swear so he sighs in resignation instead, “not again.”

he pulls the head of the toothbrush back out of his mouth to squeeze a glob of toothpaste on top. it is the third morning in a row that he has done this, still unaccustomed to your absence in the house. on the mornings you leave for work earlier than him–which is most days–you have always pre-squeezed his toothpaste for him, simply because you know it takes a little longer for the cogs in his head to start turning in comparison to your other boys.

hongjoong does not ask you to squeeze his toothpaste for him. you just do.

it is second nature to you, just as it is to hang wooyoung’s keys on the jacket hook by the front door so that he does not upturn the entire house looking for them like he has been for the past fifteen minutes. seonghwa follows hot on the younger’s heels flipping cushions back onto their spots on the couch, shifting trinkets on the kitchen counter back where they belong and closing all the cabinet doors that are swung open haphazardly.

“i never understand why you don’t just put your keys back onto the same hook whenever you get home,” seonghwa exhales.

wooyoung pointedly chooses not to respond to that, instead firmly stating, “i’m telling you, they were on the couch just last night."

“and why would you put them on the couch in the first place?”

“that’s besides the point,” the younger waves his words away carelessly, going back to the couch once more and sliding his hands along the cracks in case they slipped inside.

“how does y/n always manage to find your keys,” seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair.

“i don’t know,” wooyoung suddenly dampens, hands coming to a stop in the middle of the couch as he thinks of you knowing exactly where his keys are in the chaos of the house. “she just…does.”

and there are a lot of other things that you just do. when mingi saunters into the kitchen after dinner, feeling peckish but not for something unhealthy considering it is already close to bedtime, he pokes his nose into the fridge as san washes the dishes. the latter glances over his shoulder.

“you want me to cut you an apple later?” san offers.

mingi nods happily and requests, “without the skin?”

the older laughs, repeating his words, “without the skin.”

when mingi is handed a plate of neat apple slices ten minutes later, he finds himself subconsciously comparing them to the ones you will silently place into his hands after dinner before he even asks for them. san’s slices are the same in appearance–skinned and uniform–except he cuts them into thicker wedges than you do.

mingi takes a bite into one. the apple tastes sweet and tart across his tongue and yet he cannot help but think that the apples taste better when you cut them. whereas san cuts them into six slices, you cut them into nine; just something that you do.

later that night, yunho is again the last one to arrive home after his surgeries run overtime, save for seonghwa and yeosang on night shift. it is pitch black when he enters, bumping not only into the shoe cabinet but also an untucked dining chair as he fumbles his way in with his hands outstretched.

the night light that is usually plugged into the wall of the living room is not on to greet him in the dark hours past midnight today. the light was something you had insisted he buy, absolutely not because the design of the glowing mushroom cap was cute, but because you did not want anybody–read yunho–tripping flat onto their face coming home from a late shift. you are always the one to turn it on if you know one of them will be late, but this time there is no light…because there is no you.

yunho does not ask you to turn the light on for him. you just do. nobody asks you to do any of those small things for them, yet you just do, because that is your way of showing you see, your way of showing you care, and your way of showing you love.

a wave of longing washes over yunho, the sands of his heart already long damp from the moment you moved out. how he wishes he could just walk into your room right now and shelter your peacefully-sleeping form from the shadows of the night with a tender kiss, just like he used to.

but he cannot, not anymore, and he regrets more than anything not doing it while he could.

nurse yejin, the head of the paediatric emergency department, is just about to greet you as you walk up to the nursing station when she takes all but one look at you and points out, “you’re looking like shit this morning.”

from anybody else, that statement would have been insulting despite it being the truth. but nurse yejin has always been frank and blunt, not one to beat around the bush with the intent of getting to the root of problems as efficiently and effectively as possible. ‘head nurse things’, she had told you early on in your rotation.

you let out a laugh in response, although it probably looks like a grimace more than anything. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” you joke.

it is only true to a certain extent since you have not been sleeping on a bed but on a couch for the past six days, now counting seven. but ever since you moved out, you have woken up every morning feeling out of routine, standing in the middle of the unfamiliar living room disorientated and wondering whether you usually brush your teeth before changing into your scrubs or after, and whether you usually grab your socks before you pack your bag or right before you leave for work. you do not realise how mentally ingrained into your system your morning routine is, down to the number of steps your feet can take on autopilot and the exact placement of the items your hands can grab without looking, until your environment changes entirely.

the drive to the hospital is also different. it is only ten minutes longer than your usual commute and the streets all look similar under the covering of snow, yet it still throws you off, setting the tone as such for the remainder of the day.

this morning had been no exception–arguably worse–when you realised with frustration that you had no more clean scrubs to change into. you had forgotten to run a load of laundry the day before, leaving you with no choice but to borrow your friend’s clothes that were presentable enough for you to wear to work until you could change into a set of the hospital’s spare scrubs.

forgetting to do your laundry is no rare occurrence but it has never been an issue. how many times had you opened your wardrobe, uncertain whether you would find a set of wearable scrubs, only to be surprised by an ironed and neatly-hung set waiting for you? it has never been an issue until now, as realisation dawns upon you that one of your boyfriends has always looked out for you by ensuring you always had clean scrubs for work.

“you better snap out of it quick then, doctor l/n,” nurse yejin advises, words pulling you back to the present. “we have a thirteen-year-old male arriving in a few minutes with a first-time generalised tonic-clonic seizure. episode lasted for six minutes, now postictal but stable.”

your mind immediately shifts, focus zeroing in on the length of the seizure as the head nurse continues to provide you a handover of the paramedic’s call. you instruct, “notify the fellow or resident currently on call in paediatric neurology. tell them to be ready for immediate assessment.”

nurse yejin nods and reaches for the phone as you walk off briskly to prepare for the patient’s arrival. from behind, she watches you with a slight smirk of pride because there you are; fire lit up in your eyes once again. only, it is nowhere near as intense as it used to be.

for fire, too, has a life of its own. it is able to burn and burn and burn, engulfing whatever it can within its vicinity in order to keep itself alive and bright. but even the strongest of fires will eventually burn out into nothing but a wither of smoke if it does receive enough fuel to keep it sustained, whether sourced by itself or provided by those around it.

“you’re not eating?” your intern asks you, hours later.

you turn your head slightly towards her to show she has your attention, but you keep your eyes glued to the screen as you rapidly type up the notes for the seizure patient from this morning. “you go have lunch first,” you respond distractedly, not having realised it was already past one thirty. “i’ll eat in a bit.”

only, when it comes to three o’clock, a wrench having been thrown into the works by a sudden code blue, you realise you do not have a lunch to eat. “fuck,” you curse at yourself, hands digging into your bag once more in hopes of finding a stray protein bar. you knew you should have thrown in a couple of them last night while it was on your mind.

just like your scrubs, your lunch has never been an issue for you until now. once more, realisation is forced upon you as you wonder why not; san has always had an uncanny sixth sense that somehow alerts him each time you forget to stuff your lunchbox into your bag so that he can do it in your stead. on the days you forget and he leaves earlier than you, hongjoong is there to take it to work, personally finding you on the wards to deliver it to you.

sometimes, your lunch will be packed in a different container. when wooyoung makes a heavily-spiced or greasier dish, he portions some to cook with less chilli or seasoning specifically for you to take to work the next day because he knows your stomach is sensitive, especially when you are stressed or fatigued. today though, you have no choice but to grab something from the cafeteria.

even the instant coffee you quickly brew for yourself tastes particularly unpalatable and sand-like, a tricky feat considering how rock-bottom the standard already is. jongho has always somehow managed to make it taste bearable if he does not have time to order freshly-brewed coffee from the cafe. you think that maybe it is because he takes the extra minute that you do not to properly pre-dissolve the powder in some boiling water before diluting the coffee with the rest of the water. and jongho does do that, except the reality is that it tastes better simply because he is making it for you.

you find your mind incessantly churning as your day continues in a similar manner–sudden awareness of all the different ways your boyfriends have been looking out for you. it shadows you from the hospital back to your friend’s apartment, which is pitch black when you get back after your shift. your friend had texted you earlier that she would be out drinking with friends and unlikely to return before the morning, so when you unlock the door, you are greeted by nothing but deafening silence and apocalyptic stillness.

using the display of your lockscreen to illuminate a path, you toe off your shoes and sluggishly trudge into the living room. you have never come home to complete blackness before–one of your boyfriends, usually yunho, has always made sure to keep a night light on for you. but this time, the lonely gloom of your friend’s apartment beckons to you in a way that is hauntingly comforting. so instead of turning its lights on, you sit down heavily on the couch in the darkness.

the night seems colder than usual.

you lean back onto the cushions of the couch and stare blankly at the ceiling above. the display on your phone dims before turning off from idleness. as if your body takes it as a cue to do the same, you close your eyes and slowly exhale, muscles deflating into the couch as the silence spreads over your body like the gradual creep of water freezing.

just what exactly are you doing? what is it that you need?

did you simply need an opportunity to just be yourself, away from those who you felt the need to always be a perfectly happy and positive y/n around? or did you need space to reconsider the state of your relationship with the boys? maybe it was never even about the relationships in the first place, but that you had no way of isolating yourself from work so you chose the next best option to cut yourself off from.

perhaps, you really just wanted to continue running away and hiding from a greater problem that you do not want to acknowledge.

a wetness builds up behind your eyelids, confused and overwhelmed by the fact itself that you still cannot make sense of your emotions. maybe it is because there is no one answer but that all of them are answers, because no matter what you try to do or where you try to run, you cannot seem to rid the bone-deep exhaustion that continues to crush and constrict your soul.

however, there is one thing you are certain of after today. having spent so many days away from the boys and your normal routine, only now do you realise just how many subtle routines there are that intertwine you all together. some you only notice because of the change it has brought upon this week; others long known because they ceased to occur.

but seolhee’s words resonate within you. yes, some of those routines had disappeared, but like the snow, it does not change the fact that they existed in the first place. the commonality that all of the routines share–whether it be those you had previously been so hung up about dwindling or those you are only just becoming conscious of–is that they are all routines of love.

and like the golden warmth of the sun during the frigid bitterness of winter, you do not learn to truly appreciate something until it becomes absent from your life.

sometimes, you wonder what the end of the world will be like.

you wonder how it happens; whether it would be instantaneous, one second everybody going about their everyday life then the next second everything gone, people’s last moments still in blissful ignorance as to what has become of them and the world; or whether it would be gradual, an agonisingly slow and painful wait as inevitable doom creeps closer, no better than mercifully taking your own life.

you wonder what you would feel; fear for what will be or resignation for what is to be? regret for what had been or grief for what will not be? you wonder how you would realise, where you would be the moment it happens, who would come to mind first, why the world would be ending.

you have wondered so much and yet, you would have never expected to experience a part of your world ending through a phone call, your ringtone jarring and eerie in the late hours past midnight, jolting you awake on an unfamiliar couch to the sight of an equally unfamiliar ceiling. it takes you a few seconds to process the sound, disoriented from having accidentally fallen asleep still in your scrubs with no recollection of the last few hours.

by the time your fingers fumble across your phone, it has already stopped ringing. squinting, you turn the screen on. there are fresh notifications at the top of your screen showing two missed calls, but before you can process who they are from, the silent living room is disturbed by the piercing sound of your ringtone once again.

it is only seonghwa who is calling but an unsettling shift in the air abruptly makes the hair along your skin rise. something is wrong. you pick up.

“...hwa?”

“hey, love,” your boyfriend responds carefully. “where–are you at your friend’s place right now?”

you sit up on the couch and adjust the phone closer towards your ear with both hands. “yeah…i am.”

you can hear seonghwa take a shaky exhale before answering, “i think you might want to come to the hospital.”

blood rushes to your ears and your breath hitches. “why?” you whisper out, voice barely audible as your clutch on your phone tightens.

he does not answer you immediately. it is not until you choke out your question once more, voice urgent and desperate, that he breaks. seonghwa's tone is solemn, hesitance to speak louder than a waterfall, and never would you have thought that it would only take something as simple as his next two words for you to experience what feels like the end of the world.

“it’s seolhee.”

the room spins around from under your feet. you suddenly find yourself blindly groping the surface of the kitchen countertop, having stumbled your way across the dark living room. the phone call has ended–you cannot recall whether you hung up on seonghwa or whether he hung up on you, or whether it is actually still ongoing, his concerned shouts of your name simply falling upon deaf ears.

your breathing becomes increasingly shallow but you do not start crying. your expression remains stonily frozen as you frantically feel and search the countertop with your hands, uncaring of the ruckus and mess you are making. you are looking for something. what are you looking for? you need something. you need to bring something, but what? keys. you need to bring your keys. you need keys. you need your car keys. car keys, so you can drive to the hospital. you need to drive to the hospital because seolhee is there. you need to get to the hospital and you need to drive and you need your keys, where are your keys? you need your keys.

something cold brushes against the side of your pinky and immediately you snatch it up. you rush to the front door, toeing on the first thing that feels like a pair of shoes, then yank the door open before they are properly on your feet. you have no time. your leg jitters and your finger repeatedly jabs the elevator button as you watch the display numbers of the floor slowly move upwards towards yours. please, you beg to whichever higher entity is willing to listen to you, please, i have no time.

the moment the doors start to crack open, you force your way into the elevator. the doors cannot close fast enough and you pace in restless circles in the enclosed space while it takes you down to the underground carpark. your feet have already exited the threshold of the elevator before the doors even fully open again and your frantic steps reverberate loudly in the echo of the parking lot as you sprint for your car.

“y/n!”

you almost miss the yell of your name in your distraught, but your steps falter at the last moment, slowing down only slightly to turn in the direction of the sound. there is no time to question what you see. mingi is there, rapidly closing the distance between the two of you.

he stands in front of you within seconds and his chest heaves with effort and adrenaline. you feel your face crumpling as you instinctively and automatically reach out for him. mingi catches your hands, letting you squeeze his own in panic even if your nails dig into his skin.

“mingi, seonghwa–seolhee, she–the hospital–”

“i know,” mingi nods quickly, gently shushing your unintelligible blabber, “i know. let’s get you to the hospital.”

he envelops your hand in his and tugs you along behind him towards his car. you want to urge him to run, but he maintains a steady pace until he can pull the car door open and guide you into the seat. mingi can feel your anxiety rolling off in waves as he rounds the front of the car to the driver’s seat and he knows how desperate you are for him to hurry up and floor the pedal, but he also knows that feeding into your panic with his own will only make things worse.

mingi drives as fast as he can without speeding too dangerously, although he cuts it close with a few red lights. the two of you sit in loud silence the entire ride. your boyfriend glances over at you every now and then, brows furrowed with concern, but you remain motionless with your eyes fixed to the road in front despite the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat.

“y/n–” your boyfriend cuts himself off upon arriving at the hospital, where you tumble out of the car the moment it jerks to a stop. he is not quick enough to grab you as he puts the car into park and he fumbles to undo his own seatbelt whilst you are already weaving your way towards the sliding doors to the elevator.

you run. never before in your life have you ever run with such sheer desperation. one after the other, the soles of your shoes strike against the ceramic tiles of the lobby before they become thuds against the vinyl flooring of the wards.

the past month, you have walked this exact path almost every single day; you have seen stretchers being rushed in, and parents and family members forcibly pulled away from the side of their loved ones to make way for immediate medical assistance from doctors like you. but today, you are on the other side–you are the one rushing into the paediatric ED dishevelled and crazed, uncaring of how you look to the rest of the world.

“seolhee,” you mutter to yourself, pace slowing to an unsteady stumble as you twist and turn to find her familiar smile. “seolhee, where are you?”

nurse yejin spots you and rushes up to grasp you by the elbow. “doctor l/n,” she urges with wide eyes, “she came in as a code blue. she's in the resus bay but she–”

your blood runs cold and the rest of nurse yejin's words become a muffled fuzz in your ear along with the surrounding clamour of the ED, replaced instead by a high-pitched ringing that reverberates throughout your entire skull. gaze unfocused, you sway as your feet slowly pivot in the direction of the resus bay. nurse yejin’s outstretched hand falls to her side and she watches you helplessly, your shoes shuffling with contradictory urgency and hesitancy towards the sliding glass doors.

around you, the commotion of the ward blurs away, your vision narrowing into a pinprick tunnel the closer you get. seonghwa tries to reach for you when you pass by him and some of your colleagues near the doors, but you continue shambling forward as if you are possessed, mind and body completely blind to his presence and touch. you do not stop until you reach the doors. slowly, you bring your hands up to rest on the cool surface as you press yourself closer and look inside.

it’s a code blue, you think to yourself in a state of trance and stupored confusion at the scene that unfolds before your eyes, but why is nobody resuscitating seolhee? why is nobody helping her? why isn’t anybody doing anything?

“seolhee,” you whisper vaguely, right hand weakly hitting the glass. then again, you call out her name, this time with more urgency. “seolhee.”

you hit the glass once more, then a third time but harder yet. “seolhee!” you shout, both hands now fisted and pounding against the glass in distress. “seolhee! somebody save her!”

hands start to pull you back but you do not register any of them nor are they strong enough to draw you away from the doors. the anguished cries of your name are left unheard, but despite the wildness of your crazed desperation, your mind vaguely registers the few words that somehow manage to break through. the sounds are warped and distorted as if you are continuously being thrust underwater then hauled upwards over and over again, but it is enough for you to piece them together.

“cardiac arrest…multi-organ failure–” “–terminal lucidity–” “–time of death–”

your body nearly topples over as you freeze under the resistance of those around you, jostling around limply in the crowd of limbs. all of a sudden, you are wrenched out of the water and your chest convulses trying to gasp for air. the noise of the ED and the shouts around you flood back into your ears like a tsunami, except it comes from every direction imaginable with force that has multiplied infinitely and pulverises your entire soul.

you cannot stay here any longer. you run.

you run wherever your feet take you and you do not stop, even when your lungs and your legs begin to sear at the same intensity as the inferno that currently incinerates your heart. lurching up stairs after stairs after stairs, you run and run and run until you burst through the doors to the rooftop of the hospital where your chest takes in a heaving inhale. the piercing temperature of the air leaves your system shocked and breathless and you stumble over to the ground.

there is nothing to break your fall in every sense, so there, on your hands and knees at your absolute lowest in the stinging cold of the hospital rooftop, you finally shatter into smithereens. it starts off as a tremble of your lips and a quiver of your chin, a choked stutter of breath as your eyebrows crumple and your eyes blink back the growing heat behind them. but then a small cry of pain leaves you and you lean back heavily onto your feet before your hands fist the material of your scrubs. your skin turns white as you clench and rock yourself back and forth, breathing erratic and sobs increasing in volume until they are long, soulful wails.

your entire body convulses uncontrollably with each gut-wrenching cry that leaves you. the world around you blurs away from the tears that fall down your face and your head pounds with lightheadedness. you hit your chest with an agonised fist, again and again, harder and harder, because you would rather feel any physical pain than the shattering crevice in your heart.

you are suddenly jostled by a strong pair of arms wrapping around your upper body. they tuck you firmly into their chest, a hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you from hurting yourself any further and the other pressing your head against the warmth of their neck.

they shush you repetitively with soothing rocks back and forth. as they comfort you, their own voice cracks from their constricted throat, “i’ve got you, y/n. just cry.” only then do you hazily register it as seonghwa’s voice. seonghwa, who was just as close to seolhee as you, understands the pain that is breaking you apart and is here to hold you through it.

you cannot rid the image of seolhee’s last smile out of your head–her excitement to go home for christmas, her cheery confession of how much she loves you. you fist the front of seonghwa’s scrubs and weep, “it hurts, seonghwa. why does it hurt so much?”

he rests his cheek against the top of your head, his own tears falling freely and dripping down to join yours on the snowy floor in bittersweet harmony. as doctors and nurses, grieving for patients is a luxury that cannot be afforded for every single life that is lost. grief is a weakness in the medical field because you cannot look back–you can only look forward and do your best to make sure there are no more lives that are lost.

but you forget that grief is not a weakness as a person, and you are human first and foremost before you are doctors and nurses. sometimes, it becomes a necessity to grieve before you can keep moving forward.

“i know, love,” seonghwa brushes his hand over your hair as he tries to keep his voice from breaking. “grief is the price you pay for loving somebody.”

because unfortunately, life comes with transactions and between two people, there will always be one person who must pay the price of love.

you close your eyes, gritting your teeth when your face crumples again and a fresh bout of sobs escapes through your lips. seonghwa presses his lips to the crown of your forehead, resting them there while you shake in his arms. eventually, he murmurs into your hair, “you want to know what seolhee’s mother told me once?”

your answer is in the form of more anguished cries but you hang onto every word that comes out of your boyfriend’s mouth like they are your lifeline. the corners of seonghwa’s lips tug upwards with mournful nostalgia as he tells you, “she’s always wanted to thank you for loving her daughter as if she is your own…so it’s okay–it’s normal for you to hurt so badly, because you love seolhee and the more you love somebody, the greater the price you pay.”

seonghwa’s unconscious choice of phrasing–that you love her, not that you loved her–simultaneously cradles and crushes your heart. it is an exact reflection of the last conversation you had with seolhee. snow may melt, but it does not change the fact that snowflakes flutter down from the sky. seolhee may be gone, but it does not change the fact that you love and remember her.

“seolhee’s last wish was fulfilled,” seonghwa softly murmurs, pulling out his phone from his pocket to turn the screen on. the light hurts your sensitive eyes when you try to make out the display through your fuzzy vision and you can just barely make out what looks to be the time on his lockscreen. he explains, “it’s four thirty am…that makes it christmas already. not only was she able to spend some time at home with her family again, but now she gets to spend the rest of her christmas back where she came from–”

your boyfriend pulls away slightly and tilts your head up tenderly with his fingers. you see him properly for the first time tonight. his eyes are just as red and swollen as yours are, cheeks wet and glistening despite the small smile he gives you when you finally look at him. he finishes, “–the sky, with all the other beautiful angels just like her.”

you slowly follow his gaze upwards. once more, a wounded cry breaks free at the sight that greets you. it no longer snows, the thin blanket of snowflakes covering the ground and the rooftop the only traces left and already steadily melting away. but that is not what makes you sob even harder.

the skies above you are filled with an endless expanse of stars, shining and gleaming no matter where your eyes look. there are thousands upon millions of stars, too many to begin counting even if you were to stand on the rooftop for numerous lifetimes.

the heavens cried in the form of the first snow when seolhee was born, for they lost her to the world. but tonight they rejoice, for their precious angel has returned soaring through the starry skies. and even amidst her joy of freedom–from the shackles of pain and suffering–seolhee remembers to tell you that she loves you more than you can fathom.

more than you can count the stars in the sky.

you jolt awake confused and disorientated for the second day in a row. only, this time it is not a jerk-induced reaction to your ringtone but a sudden thrust into consciousness by the feeling that you have overslept.

shit, what time is it? i have work.

the rising flood of panic in your chest is immediately quelled when you spot a scrap of paper on your bedside table, handwriting printed neatly in the centre.

hongjoong took sick leave for you today. don’t worry about work and go back to sleep after you take the painkillers.

that is when you register the fucking terrible headache you are sporting and you let out an involuntary groan as you press a hand to your temple. your other hand grabs the two tablets and you down them with the glass of water beside the paper.

groggily, you pat the mattress around you in search of your phone to look at the time. apart from the dim glow of your bedside lamp, the curtains to your left are drawn shut in your room, making it impossible to discern whether it is the morning, afternoon or night. the numbers blink back at you when you turn the screen on and you find that you have slept past lunchtime. confusion swirls inside of you with an unusual mix of something else. taking the day off work is not the only thing that is off.

wait.

your head jerks to the left, then to the right, then down at your bedding–the blue-grey colour familiar and soft to the touch. you are in your room–your room room, back at your place with the boys. you turn your phone on again and check the date. it is christmas.

and then it hits you.

it is still christmas. it is still the same day as what now feels like a vivid fever dream. you can only recall bits and pieces, so hazy and yet so evocative at the same time. it is like trying to make sense of an optical illusion; it disappears when you think about it too directly, but the moment you take your mind off it even slightly, it is right there in your peripheral vision, begging for your attention.

you remember being woken up by seonghwa’s phone call and your desperation to get to the hospital. you remember mingi driving you there and then sprinting towards the ED. you remember breaking down on the hospital’s rooftop after finding out that seolhee had…

your fingers pinch the inside of your left wrist to stop yourself from finishing the memory. with an unsteady exhale, all tension is lost from your body and you fall back to slump against the headboard. grief starts to take over you once more, vice tightening its grasp around your heart but simultaneously leaving a cavernous hollowness and numbness in your chest.

that is how wooyoung finds you an hour later, still staring blankly at the bedroom wall across from you and swimming in muddy water. he had only tentatively knocked twice on your door before entering, half-expecting you to still be asleep and making a soft noise of surprise when he finds that you are not. in the back of your mind, you vaguely feel a twinge of guilt at not having the energy to do something as simple as greet him as he sits carefully on the edge of your bed.

but wooyoung is a persistent soul and an even more persistent lover. he has learnt from experience that sometimes, asking anything but what he truly wants to ask is what you actually need. wooyoung catches himself from gazing sadly at you, putting on a small smile instead as he lays a hand over your thigh. his touch is warm through the blanket.

“should i bring in some food for you? there’s dumpling soup,” he tells you. “or do you want to go to the living room? we can put on a movie.”

it is hard to find the words to answer him–hard to even hum or nod or shake your head in response. your fingers twitch slightly in the direction of wooyoung’s hand still on your thigh and he immediately moves it to place over yours. the rhythmic touch of his thumb brushing back and forth over your skin is soothing.

“we don’t have to talk. we can just sit for a bit,” he offers.

the room settles into silence for a while as he gives you time to decide. finally, you ask, voice quiet, “who’s home?”

wooyoung wriggles a little closer with restrained excitement at your response. “all of us are.” when you blink at him in reaction, he understands your question immediately because none of you can remember the last time the nine of you had a day off together, much less on a christmas. he explains, “we all took whatever personal leave we could.”

“the hospital let?” you frown slightly, the tone of disbelief the most amount of emotion you have shown so far.

wooyoung mirrors the minute increase in animation with cheek in his vague shrug, “they can’t afford to fire any of us. plus…i think we’ve all realised that some things are more important than work.”

you are more important than work; ‘us’ is more important than work.

something tugs at your heartstrings and you sit up a little straighter. looking at wooyoung, a slight spark of resolve lighting up in your eyes, you slowly suggest, “can we…have a talk?”

he is taken aback with pleasant surprise as he answers, “of course we can. we don’t have to do it today though.”

“no,” you shake your head, “let’s talk now.”

while we still can. before it becomes too late. plus, who knows when the next time all of you are together like this will be.

so you follow wooyoung out of your bed and then out of your room, his fingers intertwined between yours as he walks the both of you into the living room. it is a lie to say that it is not awkward seeing everybody’s heads turn towards you in simultaneity and your knee-jerk response is to dismiss their poorly-concealed concern with a wave of your hand and an, ‘i’m fine’. but you think you have had enough of that–enough of pretending and enough of pushing them away.

yunho opens his arms from his seat on the couch, eyes hopeful. you push away any second thoughts and bury yourself against him. your boyfriend pulls you right into his chest whilst tucking your legs off the ground over his thighs and he murmurs against your temple, “you sleep okay?”

you nod into his neck as jongho asks, “did you take the painkillers?” and seonghwa questions, “do you want dumplings?”

a small puff of amusement comes out of your chest because just mere weeks ago, perhaps even one, questions like these would have fanned an inexplicable inferno inside of you. now, it all seems so long ago, but it does not change the fact that you are apologetic about it–apologetic about a lot of things.

“i took them, thanks jongho. and maybe later, hwa,” you respond softly. “come sit?”

the boys heed to your words immediately and the oldest of your boyfriends crosses the living room in three large strides to take your other side on the couch, the rest of them settling on the adjacent couch or on the floor. the shared warmth from being sandwiched between seonghwa and yunho immediately envelops you in comfort and safety and your body relaxes into the shape of theirs.

you do not know where to start, much less what you even want to say to the boys now that you are here with them. there are masses of things to unpack and each one seems like such a colossal mountain to climb. some you do not know the route up, others you know the route up but not the way back down, and the rest you cannot even see the mountaintop. so you choose to start easy: at the very bottom of the trail where it is safe.

“i miss having clean scrubs,” you blurt out, “and i miss the lunches that wooyoung cooks and the coffees that jongho makes.”

from beside you, yunho’s body rumbles with low laughter at your unexpected conversation starter and he glances down at you fondly. his voice is soothing in your ear as he says, “we miss seeing your night light greet us whenever we come home.”

“and the changes you make on our whiteboard calendar,” yeosang adds.

“we struggled to remember our shifts without you keeping track of them,” jongho divulges sheepishly.

yeosang tattles with a giggle, “he was late for work for the first time.”

“yeah,” you smile, “i heard.”

jongho huffs out before quipping, “at least i still knew how to squeeze my own toothpaste and find my own car keys.”

both hongjoong and wooyoung curse indignantly at the uncalled-for betrayal of the youngest as he pointedly ignores them and continues, “some of us have realised we have non-existent survival skills without you.”

“oh, speak for yourself,” san nudges him endearingly.

but you are more than grateful for the lightening of the mood because you do not think you would have the courage to otherwise abruptly apologise, “i’m sorry that i took so many things for granted.”

“what? no,” san counters, the first of many others to parrot the same thing. “we’re sorry about that too. when you moved out, we also realised just how many things you do for us without our appreciation. you raised a valid concern because our relationship with one another is something we have all become too complacent about.”

yunho squeezes you a little tighter with the arm he has around your shoulders. he muses, “it’s easy for a long-term relationship to become less ‘exciting’, but we forget that part of the reason is because we simply become so attuned to one another’s likes and dislikes, preferences and habits that it becomes our own second nature to do those things naturally. it isn’t that we love each other less, it’s just that we become so used to the way we love and are loved that we stop noticing it.”

your mind drifts slightly to a sweet, little girl with a bright smile, telling you that relationships are not always about the grand gestures, but rather the small things. she always did know better than you.

“in saying that though,” hongjoong brings up, “as important as it is for us to start appreciating all of those things again, i think it’s just as important for us to put in the conscious effort to go out of our way to have quality time and conversations with one another, like going on dates.”

wooyoung cackles, “that’s a bit rich coming from you, mister sorry-i-forgot-about-our-date,” and a snort comes out of you despite yourself.

the older flips him off. on both hands.

now occupied with his handsy insults, seonghwa takes over the conversation instead, “no relationship is perfect. they all need mutual effort to maintain and it definitely won’t be easy, especially since so many of you are nearing the end of your residency. it’ll be a busy few months preparing for the board exam and there’ll be plenty of hurdles to jump over in the future too, but things will work out because we’ve got each other’s backs now.”

the boys all smile affectionately at one another and at you. seonghwa presses a loving kiss against your temple and you bathe in the brief feeling of everything being okay before you remind yourself that it still is not. “on that note,” you start cautiously, “i owe you all another apology.”

you catch the gaze of mingi’s soft expression from opposite you, who gives you a small nod and a minute smile of encouragement. with an exhale, you admit, “the way i handled everything–not just moving out but everything leading up to that–i know you were all trying to look out for me and i shouldn’t have pushed you all away the way that i did. i just–everything was so overwhelming and confusing and tiring, and i wanted to work things out by myself because all of you had enough things to deal with, and i…”

once more, you are unsure of what you want to communicate. you are sick of not knowing and not understanding and your eyes start to water with frustration.

at your sentence trailing off, mingi finally speaks up, “life isn’t meant to be smooth sailing, y/n. yes, they’re your feelings, but that doesn’t mean that they have to make sense to you.”

and it is as if that is the validation you have needed all along, because the vice around your chest finally loosens its grip. you can breathe again and the rush of oxygen into your lungs without a heavy weight crushing you inwards is liberating.

“as healthcare workers, we become accustomed to seeing other people in the most painful moments of their lives.” mingi gently shrugs his shoulders, “we become accustomed to invalidating our own feelings. it doesn’t matter if we’re having a bad day; there will always be somebody else having the worst day of their lives. but we forget that pain is not relative–just because somebody else is hurting ‘more’, it doesn’t make our own hurt hurt less.

“and yeah, work is always going to be shitty and we’re always going to run ourselves ragged chasing after time, and then coming home from work to eight of us is going to be tiring too,” he chuckles softly. “but y/n…i think part of the reason why it’s been so hard for you is because you never let yourself have time for yourself. you never let yourself be tired or be hurt.”

you swallow your objections–the voice inside of you that says you shouldn’t and the voice that says you can’t–because you know mingi is right. you just needed to hear that you should and that you can.

he continues, “we all need quiet time away from other people and that’s okay. we spend all day showing our patients, their families and our colleagues the best side of ourselves, which means that a lot of the times we only have the…” mingi scratches the side of his head as he finds a way to express his thoughts without saying ‘the ugly side’, because that is far from what it is. “we only have the side of ourselves that we do not like as much because it isn’t what we view as ‘perfect’. but it simply holds our realest emotions–fatigue, stress, worry, frustration, impatience. it is not just you who has that side–we all do and we understand better than anybody how guilty it can feel when that is the only side that is left by the time we get home.”

there is a brief pause in the conversation as he lets the words sink in. around you, heads and gazes lower alike to the floor because that guilt is something that resounds with everybody in the room. you continue to look at mingi, though, unable to avert your eyes as his solace finally stirs the cathartic release of tears flowing freely from your heart to your eyes.

“like i said, it’s okay to take time away from us; in your room or out with your friends or somewhere else. but at the same time, i want you to know that it doesn’t make us love you any less if you don’t come home happy. you don’t love us any less when we’re unable to leave our baggage at work, because you have the same struggles. in fact, you are often the first to offer to share the load.

“as doctors and nurses, we have signed up for a lifetime of baggage and sacrifice. and that is exactly why it is that much more important for you to know that home is your safe space.” mingi gazes at you with all the earnesty in his heart. “we are your safe space where you can share your baggage. we might not be able to take it off you, but we sure as hell can curse or laugh or cry together over it, and sometimes, just that is already enough to help you keep carrying its weight over whatever mountain you are facing.”

from beside mingi, san watches you with a clenching heart. in an ideal world, san would rather you have no baggage at all and he be your only mountain–the one who shields you from the harsh elements of the world and is your unwavering presence from sunrise till sunset and yet again till the following sunrise. he sees the way you finally lower your head and let months of repressed tears fall in front of them, soft sobs in yunho and seonghwa’s comforting arms and the rest of your boyfriends within reach.

but san knows your tears are no longer ones of pain or fatigue, so for now, that is enough. he scooches closer across the floor until he is at your feet, peering up at you from between the strands of hair that have fallen in front of your face. tenderly, he asks, “y/n, will you move back in with us?”

a warm hand brushes over your cheeks. it could be san, it could be seonghwa, it could be yunho or it could be any of them. but it does not really matter. what matters is this: in order to love others, you must first love yourself–

“yeah,” you slowly nod, “i will.”

–and part of loving yourself is letting others love you. there is no place like home, much less a place like where your boys are. snow melts, but it will always fall again. without fail.

as your boyfriends all shuffle closer and envelop you in the middle of an embrace that is long overdue, loving warmth dizzying to the touch, outside the windows the first snowflake of many others flutters its graceful path down from the sky. soon, snow will cover the streets as far as the eye can see.

nobody talks about how ironic it feels to work in the hospital during the holidays, particularly christmas.

in any other establishment that is open, be it a restaurant, cafe, retail store or convenience mart, employees are greeted kindly with festive cheer–warm wishes and sincere smiles from one stranger to another. but nobody walks into the hospital on christmas with laughter and gratitude for the assistance of the doctors and nurses, because nobody wants to be at the hospital.

nobody plans to spend the day there, either.

but that is exactly why it is ironic. the hospital is a symbol of misery, the white colour of its interior the embodiment of sterility and detachment all year round–all except for a few days. on christmas eve, christmas itself and perhaps even the rest of the week leading up to the new year, the corridors are adorned with never-ending lengths of glittering tinsel, the wards are filled with the low hum of christmas carols on a looping playlist, and the staff all wear silly scrubs with rudolph faces and dancing santas on them.

there is an underlying hum of excitement and festive cheer that overrides the usual despondency of the hospital as everybody pretends it does not exist, even if just for a few days. the electric buzz thrums not just in the air at work but outside of work too, filling households with a hustle and bustle of liveliness–yours included.

“hongjoong!” you yell as you knock on the bathroom door, “we’re leaving in a few minutes!”

you press yourself flat against the door as yunho races past you with several pairs of socks in both hands despite the ones he already has on his own feet. he skids to a wobbly stop and shuffles backwards two steps to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“gross,” you laugh, pretending to wipe it off your face, but yunho is already skedaddling off again back towards his destination of the living room, on a mission to deliver the socks to your other boyfriends.

ever since you, yunho, yeosang and san all passed the board exam and became fully licensed doctors like hongjoong, your shifts have been significantly more consistent. it is much easier for you and your boyfriends to drive to work together in fewer cars, making the mornings before work significantly more chaotic. your wake-up times and subsequent bathroom usage is no longer as staggered as it was with different start times and several more night shifts, but it is a good chaotic–a bright and lively chaotic.

hongjoong yells back at you, “my hair gel isn’t hair gel-ing!” and you nearly topple onto him when he suddenly pulls the bathroom door open.

his hair is swept up neatly away from his forehead and there is not a single strand that is out of place. you chuckle and tell him as such, “your hair looks perfect, joong,” but you know his nerves are due to something completely different. you cup his jaw and gently pull him towards you for a kiss before you encourage, “you’ll do great today. you already presented at the korean neurological association earlier this year–what’s a seminar to the hospital staff in comparison?”

your boyfriend groans, “i know these people though. they’re all my colleagues.”

“and all of these colleagues will be wearing their ugly christmas sweaters or have stupid antler headbands with glowing lights on top of their heads. trust me, you’ll do amazing,” you reassure, pressing another chaste kiss against his lips to quieten his worries.

“y/n! hongjoong!” yeosang hollers.

“coming!”

you pull hongjoong out of the bathroom with you hand in hand, only letting go when you both fumble to catch the socks that yunho chucks through the air in your directions. within the next few minutes, there are playful elbows, harmless shoves and childish curses as you all cram yourselves in the corridor to put on your shoes and walk out the door to the car.

as you squish into the backseat with hongjoong and yeosang, yunho in the driver’s seat and san beside him, the latter wonders what you should all do after work. by some christmas miracle, neither you nor any of your boys have been scheduled for a night shift today, which means that if there are no hiccups at work, the nine of you will be able to spend christmas together once more.

you like to think that your guardian angel is still looking out for you, even an entire year later.

“should we try to make a reservation for a nice restaurant?” san suggests. “or should we stay up and watch a movie together?”

hongjoong proposes, “i have a friend who works at a pretty decent french restaurant if we want to go there.”

voicing your opinion without prefacing it with an apology is still something you are working on, but you have gotten much better at communicating over the year. you pipe up, “i’d prefer to stay at home tonight, but the movie sounds like a good idea. maybe we can go to your friend’s restaurant for new year’s?”

“yeah, i don’t really fancy going out tonight either,” yeosang agrees. “but new year’s, definitely.”

san nods enthusiastically. “i’ll let the rest of the boys know,” he says, then sends a question for movie recommendations for tonight into the group chat.

it is not long after that yunho pulls into the hospital’s car park where you all pile out and wait obediently by a nearby pillar as he backs the car into a particularly tight space. when he has turned the ignition off and carefully squeezed himself out without slamming the door into the car beside him, it is his turn to wait obediently as you all thank him with a quick hug or peck on the cheek.

you grasp the collar of his coat and pull him down to give him a teasing kiss on the forehead but he tiptoes instead to make it harder for you. in retaliation, you quickly jab his side and he immediately keels over enough for you to plant a triumphant kiss on his face. the boys chuckle around you, yunho pretending to nurse his wounds as he stumbles after all of you into the elevator.

the doors close and he straightens to offhandedly comment, “you guys thank me for driving every single time.”

yeosang shoots back with the same nonchalance, “because we’re thankful every single time.”

yunho claps his hand over his mouth and looks at the younger out of the corner of his eyes, but it is clear that he is hiding a bashful grin behind his fingers. the expression is not lost to any of you, your displays of gratefulness always done with the intention of making one another feel appreciated for even the smallest of things, because you have all learnt that a simple thank you goes a long way.

“see you all after work,” hongjoong says, stepping out into the lobby with the rest of you following him to let those waiting for the elevator get in.

just as you all turn to walk off your separate ways to your respective departments, he calls out as an afterthought, uncaring of the people around, “merry christmas, babes!”

you reciprocate his words with a laugh, a tinkling, cheery sound that makes san reach out for your hand and intertwine your fingers together to pull you in for a quick kiss of endearment. “choi san!” you giggle, slapping him lightly and looking around to see if anybody noticed.

if there is one thing that has changed the most over the year, it is how daring your boyfriends have become with public displays of affection. but, just as wooyoung has made it a point to remind you all of his newfound motto, what is the hospital going to do? fire all nine of you?

highly unlikely.

“alright, babes,” san tugs you along teasingly, “let’s get to work.” pinkies intertwined and swinging gently between your bodies, the two of you walk towards the same department, letting go only at the last moment to lead your morning rounds.

there is a running joke that it does not matter if you end up having enough children to make an entire soccer team because almost half of you are now fully licensed to work with children; you and san as doctors, seonghwa and wooyoung as nurses. there is no need to worry about ageing either, not when the other five are each in charge of their own specialties too.

you and your boys do not work at a hospital–you and your boys are the hospital. and it certainly feels that way when there is almost always at least one of them watching over you, regardless of wherever you are in the paediatric department.

it is later that day as you are attending to a three-week-old baby in the NICU when a second-year resident walks up to you, addressing you carelessly. immediately, you feel wooyoung’s ears perk up and watchful eyes zero in on the offending resident as the both of you recognise the younger.

“good to see you’ve stuck with paediatrics, doctor lim,” you greet neutrally. it is anything but good to see him still in the medical program at all, but you digress.

your past intern ignores your comment, confidence through the roof not only because he has somebody backing him up but because he is now a second-year resident. he shortly says, “doctor nam wants you taking over the shift for the NICU attending tonight.”

the department head has more or so left you alone for the last few months, but you guess he suddenly felt a christmas urge to scratch an itch that never existed in the first place. your expression remains impartial as you ask, “for what reason?”

dr. lim is unable to hide the brief flash of surprise across his face, not having expected you to put up a fight. he quickly scowls, “do as you’re told.”

you will not, in fact, ‘do as you’re told’, not when dr. nam is blatantly abusing his power to assign you a shift without a proper justification or notice–and through dr. lim at that too. you sure hope wooyoung can hear you as you respond sarcastically, “tell doctor nam to notify me of this change in schedule through an email from the chief resident. i’m sure he’s familiar with the proper procedure that i’m referring to.”

“i’ll make sure to tell him,” dr. lim scorns and you snort as he retreats.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to you,” you mutter at his back. you hope he slips on ice on his way home tonight.

you jump in surprise when you turn around and find wooyoung right there, an absolutely shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. he cackles as he quotes, “‘merry fuckin’ christmas to you.’ the boys are going to love it when i tell them what just happened.”

the shove you give him only serves to make him laugh even harder but you cannot deny that a sense of pride rushes through your body. force doctor nam to leave written evidence that can be used against him, jongho had advised you to do one day, and you feel a surge in confidence that this might actually work.

wooyoung certainly thinks that it will, gathering himself enough to give you an attractive smirk as he leans closer to whisper into your ear, “that’s our girl.” pleasant shivers run down your spine at his deep voice and it leaves you on cloud nine long after he stalks off absolutely preening at the response he has elicited from you.

you do not hear from dr. lim or dr. nam again nor do you receive an email regarding the extra shift tonight, so you begin to safely assume that the request is no more–that is, until the end of your shift when you are in the team workroom finishing off a referral letter.

“doctor y/n,” dr. bang grabs your attention from the table opposite you with a cryptic tone of amusement. “i think you’re wanted.”

you blink at the slight smugness on her face with confusion until she beckons her head behind you in the direction of the office door. you glance back, suddenly expecting dr. nam to be standing there fuming and ready to give you a harsh reprimand for your snarky response. except it is not him.

of all people, you did not expect it to be mingi, pressed up against the little window that looks through the door into the room. but then you realise he is not the only one peeping in–there is another pair of mischievous eyes in the corner of the window that you recognise as yunho’s, and another face pressed up against the large window along the wall, and oh–

they are all gathered around the workroom peering in with varying expressions of cheekiness as they enthusiastically wave at you. it is hard to tell whether you are the monkey in the zoo or if they are the monkeys staring out through their enclosure. you guffaw, half in embarrassment and half in exasperated fondness, then scramble to save your work and log off for the night before your boyfriends garner even more attention than they already have.

with unrestrained eagerness, your boys drag you off after exchanging rushed but warm wishes of  “merry christmas”s with your and san’s colleagues. seonghwa pivots around from where he has been walking at the front of the group, “should we walk home today?”

“in the snow?”

he nods excitedly, so obviously the youngest in his family despite being the oldest in your relationship. “we can finally experience a hallmark christmas.”

“what about our cars?” yunho asks, although he is not at all opposed to the idea.

seonghwa suggests, “how about you and i drive the cars home and then we’ll start walking back here. we can meet up along the way and walk the rest home together.”

the two of them share a look for a few seconds before they immediately take off in unison in the direction of the lifts to the car park, yunho hollering over his shoulder, “walk slowly!” within seconds, they disappear from sight around a corner and the rest of you blink at the fast exchange that has just occurred.

“fuck it, we ball,” wooyoung grins, earning himself a scandalised look from hongjoong as a reminder he is still in the hospital. “come on, gramps,” he snickers, then loops an arm around the older’s shoulders and starts to drag him towards the main entrance, the rest of you falling into step beside them as he devises, “let’s think about how we can attack the two with snowballs once they get back.”

only, he really should have known who he was going to be up against.

you and your boyfriends are about halfway home, cutting through a small field of what is now covered in a decent layer of fresh snow, when a snowball suddenly whizzes past your face and explodes against the side of wooyoung’s head in a detonation of white crumbs. he whirls around with a shriek absolutely ready to risk it all in the name of your dared treachery, only to see yeosang getting pummelled in a similar fashion and then jongho following victim immediately after.

“snowball fight!” comes seonghwa and yunho’s combined battlecries from thin air before a hail of pre-made snowballs is unleashed upon your group.

hongjoong’s screams fill the air until he is abruptly cut off by a mouthful of snow and wooyoung runs around like a headless chicken as three snowballs hit their mark in quick succession. you laugh loudly, running to hide behind jongho who has escaped several feet away from the danger zone. san, too, starts to retreat a distance, but only to shovel snowballs together without the risk of anybody stepping on them.

a shower of residual snow sprinkles over you as yunho switches targets and pitches his snowballs in your direction. however, you rapidly realise his eyes are only fixated on jongho. your shield now a danger hazard, you make a split decision and run as fast as you can through the snow towards your tallest boyfriend. call yourself fickle or whatever, you are simply a survivor.

“traitor!” mingi yells out and points a finger at you. “y/n has switched sides!”

the boys echo with a roar, “traitor!” and you squeal with adrenalised glee as you leap the final stride towards yunho, who stretches out a hand to pull you behind him. seonghwa immediately rushes to defend you both, throwing snowball after snowball with scary precision and strength. you can only hear the solid thump of snow hitting against thick clothing and the splutters of indignation as a result of the eldest’s lobs because your eyes are closed from how hard you are now laughing.

with equally-as-scary unity, hongjoong and your five youngest boyfriends charge in simultaneity towards you and yunho. neither of you have time to brace yourselves before you are tackled into the snow, limbs tangling together as seonghwa also jumps on top.

you cannot tell who is who, but you can tell exactly whose laugh is whose–each one so distinct and playing out as different melodies in your ears. your own laughter is radiant and effervescent and the sound makes every one of your boys break out into a joyous smile. yunho starts to push the others’ weights off of himself and you, and they begin to roll off the pile into the snow around you.

one by one they join you on their backs, your bodies leaving the memory of your merriness deep in the white softness of the ground. you are all a little breathless; from the physical exertion and adrenaline of the childlike fight, from the windedness of being tackled into a dog-pile, from the chill slowly seeping in through your clothes from the snow, from the soul-stirring view of the night sky above.

you all lay there in silence, hush broken only by the scattered puffs of visible air as you catch your breaths under the whispering snowfall.

it is amazing how much can change in one year. you still fatigue from juggling your time, down to the last second. you still burn out from the sacrifices you make as a doctor, no matter your years of experience. you still grieve over the loss of seolhee, particularly on this day. but you are finally at peace with yourself, with your life and with the love you deserve, and you realise that you are also breathless from the overwhelming feeling of how lucky, content and happy you are.

in a burst of gratification and fulfillment, you are unable to stay silent. you confess, heartfelt words that you keep close to your soul every day, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling right now.”

your boys turn to look at you, gazes softening impossibly at the tranquil smile that adorns your face. seonghwa feels a heat gathering behind his eyes, knowing better than any of them the weight behind your confession.

he prompts, softly, tenderly, “and if it stops snowing?”

you smile wider, because you have been taught the answer by a forever-seven-year-old-girl who received all the bad things in the world yet chose to only see the good; who taught you not to focus on what has melted away, but rather what you remember; who taught you that the purest reflection of love is something that is hard to see but will always be looking over you.

and so if it stops snowing?

“then count the stars in the sky.”