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justbelievinginmagic · 53 minutes ago

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a faint signal | choi san

͙͘͡★Genre: Cosmic nostalgia, fantasy, fluff, cosmic deities, 1980's Hong Kong, episodical. Centered around the Chinese myth of “三星” Sanxing, The Three Star Gods

.͙͘͡★Pairings: Cosmic spirit/ Star child! San x Weary soul! childhood friend reader ͙͙͘͡★WC: 3.4k

͙͘͡★Summary: It’s the year 1982–Hong Kong’s once awe-inspiring neon lights are now a dull visage of what it once was for you in your youth. Drained and dreamless, you find yourself bawling in a telephone booth after every unanswered call, until an old imaginary friend visits you at your lowest. You’re then thrusted into a strange and cosmic reality where the dreams of your youth weren’t so imaginary at all. [theme song] city pop playlist for a faint signals night life ambiance.

͙͘͡★ masterlist.

“Mom, please pick up the phone.” You mumble anxiously and the faint click of the tip of your fingernail peeling into your mouth is the only sound you get in reply. A song of evenly paced beeps echo in the telephone booth. Another answered call.

A shaky sigh leaves you as you press your back against the cold metallic and filmy encasing of the telephone both– a beat of silence and then a heart wrenching array of sobs wrack through your body. It’s three AM and you know you shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of company.

Is this what adulthood’s meant to be like? The dulling of bright dreams, a sharp knife to the heart after meeting the end of what once felt like a fated love, or the death of illusions that promised happiness once you got the job? You came to Hong Kong five years ago straight out of high school, leaving the small mountainside village you were raised in with hopes of being beautiful enough to make it big and you did. Just as you’d wanted—your face flashed and scattered itself on the biggest screens of the steadily growing metropolis, all pretty and neon with passing eyes glancing in awe, but there was no one to call who’d answer you.

You couldn’t recall the last time you even called your mom. Over the years her calls dwindled after leaving you enough voicemails that you’d left to stack on your residential phoneline.

For the next thirty minutes all you do is cry, cry, and cry. Small gibberish phrases falling from your mouth hysterically in a flurry, none making sense in their fragments as you descended from a hot air balloon of barely restricted hysteria

‘Ah, Hong Kong!’ You moan sadly.

‘Why, Hong Kong?’ You question sadly.

‘Oh, but my dreams–Hong Kong?’ You accuse sadly. Straining and tugging the word out of your stretched mouth, squished against your palms in sorrow.

‘Oh, my loneliness.’ you drone and pull at the plump of your cheeks as the bottoms of your eyes stretch downwards strangely. All of the “sadly’s”accumulating and falling onto your lap like a landslide. Poor Hong Kong– what a lovely and bright place to blame for your loneliness.

‘Mom hates me.’ You go silent at that one, recognizing that you really didn’t have to say that to yourself. Your body slumps a bit and the previous volume of your fresh blowout seemed to flatten alongside your sadness. God, you needed to get a grip.

A small knock startles you and you quickly spring up to wipe away at the remnants of your tears. You quickly open the door without realizing to see what was standing so close to it. A small ‘oof!’ causes your eyes to widen as you catch the sight of a young man falling back and onto his ass.

You’re frozen for a singular moment, gripping onto the handle until your knuckles were pale before coming back to reality with an array of blubbers.

“Oh Christ! Are you okay?” You flounder to where the man sat as he laughed. The first thing you noticed was how free and kind his laugh sounded.

It seemed to bubble out of him, and he didn’t stop its melody for a while. His dark bangs, which originally obscured his features framed his face boyishly– tousled carelessly and he looked like an absolute dream. A dream that wore a Hawaiian button up under an oversized blazer at least, and he rises from the floor to dust his high waisted blue jeans. “I’m still in good shape.” He reaches a hand up to try and stifle another chuckle. There was something about the glimmer in his eyes that felt so familiar to you, an almost unrealistic light casting and bouncing off you like comets falling from his eyes. His feline features took in your form, almost amusedly. The sharpness of his face made your tummy spark.

He stands in front of you, tucking his hands in his pockets while tilting his head to gaze at you, bangs falling into his eyes. After a couple beats of silence, you shuffle your feet, suddenly a little shy.

“Sorry for hogging the booth. Uh, it’s all yours now.” You almost slap yourself at how you raised your arms to point to the side, bowing a little, feeling a little bit like a flight attendant. He maintains a mischievous and mysterious smile, staying silent as he gazed at you. After a few more awkward shuffles from your end you bubble “Do I know you?”

“I dare to say that I know you much better than you know me.” He instantly replies and a weird sense that it had a double meaning blooms inside of you. At your strange look, he shakes his head and takes a step back, inhaling deeply. What he does next initially complexes you before aghast astonishment replaces it quickly.

The man suddenly bows, right arm tucked elegantly against his lower abdomen, left arm flattening itself against his side before he dances a lonely waltz. He cradles the air as his makeshift companion as he hums a lighthearted tune, glistening with laughter as he whirls around you before stopping to lean towards you at eye level. “Ring a bell?” He quirks another smile, joy filling his gaze.

You’re immediately transported to a flurry of memories from your childhood at the mountain side– of sneaking away on most summer nights to sit and dream by the river that ran its course near your home. These moments were the genesis dreams of love, fame, and big city wonders. You’d talk to yourself often until the day came and you’d created your very own companion: a friend you’d named San, an obvious name for a child to pick when she was raised on the mountain. In San you found a friend, a dreamer, a confidant, and at times– a dance partner. Strangely, at the time you never questioned how vivid he was; despite knowing he was an imaginary friend. At the stroke of a memory, you digest the man’s features, noticing all of the ways he bared matured similarities.

You were positively floored.

Have you actually, officially lost it? You couldn’t let the name slip out of your mouth, fearing that it’d only confirm your mania. You fought against it, grinding your teeth, and pushing out strangled and strange expressions that only seemed to lighten him before you caved to your own hilarity.

“S-san?” It’s almost as if the lights around you brightened

“Atta girl, I knew you wouldn’t forget.” He smooths out his words, finally breaking away from his comfortable but close stance to your body, hands resting casually in his pockets once more.

Was he real the entire time or did you finally spiral out of control?

San could practically see your thoughts, tsking with a finger wagging at you. “No, no, no– don’t do that. I see you still have that habit hm?”

You exhale in disbelief “San, how are you real? You were a figment of my...” trailing off to gaze at him in bewilderment.

“Not everything’s as it seems. Being here and feeling like this in the Hong Kong you’ve always dreamt of should’ve taught you that, right?” You’re stunted at his words. While he’s not wrong, it still didn’t make sense to you, but you didn’t even know what questions to ask.

Another couple beats of silence.

San breaks it by grabbing your wrist, breaking out into a run, and you try to keep up despite fearing that your kitten heels might get caught in a crack on the sidewalk. “Where are we going?!” You shout at him, huffing for air

San replies simply, laughing with his head pointing to the sky”–We’re going to get noodles!”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to question him anymore. Not with how the wind seemed to curl around his midnight hair like a blanket of stars

Hong Kong is a flurry of buzzing and neon golds, greens, reds, and oranges– girls with big hair and red lips laugh arm in arm, and you hear Anita Mui’s ‘Oh no, Oh yes!’ playing from the patio of an open bar where people drank merrily while eating various street foods, and celebrating life or accomplishments–maybe even the mere ability of existing amongst other people. The colors flash and flow like watercolors as you run with San, suddenly girlish in laughter as you think of how nonsensical this all was.

You pass by a long array of lanterns and plastic coverings of what’s typically a morning fish market and land at a lonely restaurant where an old woman hummed as she shuffled a stack of plates to the kitchen. There’s a dim blue sign buzzing by its entrance, its characters reading out ‘Sanxing’.

The three Star Gods.

You gaze at it for a moment longer as San meanders in, bellowing out “Auntie!”

A loud “Ah?!” is immediately thrown out from the back of the restaurant, the old woman having trouble clearly hearing and recognizing the voice. She shuffles out with a slightly hunched posture, wiping her hands against her apron before brightening. “San!”

She tries to speed up but San practically flutters to where she stood and leaned down so she could hold his cheeks in her hands as she cooed.

“It’s been so long, my little star.” You see their resemblance in the glistening of her eyes– both unbelievably cosmic and you were entranced by their shared beauty. She fleetingly glances behind him to rest her widened eyes on you

“Is that the one you’ve been watching–” She starts, words skittering out of her in comical alarm before she’s interrupted by San’s hand shooting up to gently cover her mouth, pulling her back into the kitchen with a strong whisper “We haven’t gotten to that part yet!”

A strand of hair sticks out directly from your bed of hair, frazzled at the sudden pace of events as you stand alone at the center of the empty restaurant.

Two bowls of piping hot noodles are placed in front of you–fragrant and steaming in the night air as you sit outside of the noodle shop on plastic chairs set beside a lonely and small glass table. San’s aunt grins at the two of you, watching as you gaze excitedly at her plating and listens to the sound of your happy slurping of the knife cut noodles.

“Enjoy, my little stars.” She says as she practically dances away, bowed posture and all.

San’s eyes curl into little moons as he watches you eat. His heart warmed by the fact that he’s finally seeing you eat from this angle and can witness the act in detail versus his typical view of your (adorable) hair whirl. He finally picks up his spoon to gather a bit of broth, unable to stop his eyes from gazing back at you from sheer habit.

As you simmer down and relax, savoring the taste of each deliberate spice and notes of anise resting on your tongue, you finally speak.

“San, if you were… real all this time, where did you go?”

San pauses, eyes unblinking, though he still maintained his gentle candor. He settles down his spoon slowly, deliberating what to say.

You weren’t really sure when it really happened. You never questioned the slow disintegration of your imaginary friend– his existence naturally washed away with time by the idea of outgrowing the age necessary to have one. If San was real, why did he disappear? Why was he there on the mountain and unknown to everyone in such a small village with the exception of you?

“I’ve always watched over you.” He starts, fiddling with his fingers. “You’ve probably picked up on the strangeness of it all. Though I wasn’t imaginary, my being there was a curious situation. I think I can only say it outrightly, since there doesn’t seem to be another way to explain.” His tone is naturally playful, you’ve noticed. Though his eyes told him that the following words weren’t a joke, he couldn’t help the lightness he carried.

“I’m one of the many, many sons of a Star God. In some ways, I’m a spirit and in others– I’m not. It’s a gift I have– the ability to be corporeal is because I’m from his direct lineage. We’re called Cosmic Deities, Spirits, and so on– human’s also call us stars. Our lives are encompassed by a constant playing with the nighttime amongst each other or watching humans in their daily lives.” You listen in fascination. Although there was a fleeting moment when you thought you were eating with an egregiously insane man– you were able to see his earlier mysteries for yourself. Though you chalked it down and gave too much credit to your creative mind before this happened and were instantly humbled by the realization. San smiles at your attentive eyes, glad that there didn’t seem to be much disbelief or concern for his sanity in your eyes (He saw a little, but it wasn’t a concerning amount.)

“I was born around the same time as you were and placed above the mountain you were raised in. My father was always busy, and my older brothers were all placed in other areas of the night sky. Young stars are instructed to stay in one place; else they’d be too wild to contain and keep track of. As lovely as the mountain was, it was so boring to be there on my own, and on one fateful night… I saw a girl around my age talking to herself and the sky. I watched her for a couple of weeks before I broke the rules and snuck down onto the mountain. That’s where I met you–just in time to feed into your delusions.” He laughs when you reach to smack him across the table.

You raise an eyebrow in disbelief “So, you’re a… star that used to watch me?”

He picks his chopsticks back up, stuffing his face with noodles before replying with his mouth full “Yeah, pretty much.” While you’d grimaced at the sight of him talking through noodles, you couldn’t deny there was something about San that inspired adoration from everything. It made sense that he was the literal body of a star.

Slurping up his last noodle, he inhales deeply, cradling his full stomach and patting twice.

“Wanna go somewhere fun?” He asks casually and before you could even reply, a bright chrome light fills your vision.

“What the hell?” You panic a bit, straining the bulge of your eyes at San– astonished that he didn’t even consider if your little human mind could fathom what you’re seeing without passing out.

A shell like and nearly holographic prism surrounds you as different streams of color and light move in different directions and speeds. It’s what was frighteningly below you that floored you above even the beauty of it all– small glimmers and remnants of Hong Kong’s city skyline flicker and ember, except the skyline wasn’t so skyline from how high up you were.

San grins mischeiviously, almost catlike in its curl. His bangs sway a bit in that strangely charming and gamine way “You technically shouldn’t be up here, but I think you needed to get out of there–” He points down at Hong Kong “—for a little bit.”

A stunned silence and a small twitch of your eye ends up morphing into unrestrained laughter. The disbelief was palpable, and you didn’t know you’d end your lonely night in a blanket of stars. San grabs your hand and pulls you towards him before asking “You still remember how to dance, little star?”

In reply, you sway into his arms and allow him to spin you along the prisms of flowing light– the both of you beaming silver with laughter.

A small yawn leaves your body, and San suddenly realizes that humans are usually only awake during the hours of the Sun. He bristles a little at the thought, hating that the Sun got to see you even more than he did. He just hopes the man wasn’t watching you in particular.

He stands there wanting to savor this rare moment of being able to finally envelop you in his arms, and he does, until he tugs you away softly. “It’s time for you to flicker off, Star. It seems to we’ve passed your bedtime.” A boyish smile graces the beauty of his face, and your eyes linger on the dimples of his cheeks, settling like craters on the moon.

Though you were tired, you were scared of this being an official goodbye. Now in finally knowing San, there’d be no way he’d be able to disappear from memory and were lonely at the thought of never seeing him again. Your stomach is gaunt at the idea. “Will I see you again?” You ask, eyes glazing over with a small and hopeful light.

“Oh, I’ll be around. Have no doubt about that.” He turns, still glancing at you with a small and boyish half-smile gracing features, as a chrome light shimmers against his body– all cosmic and God-like before turning back to you after a brief thought. San leans his head down to grin at you with the joy of omnipresent eyes, slowly dimming his lids to place a brief and chaste kiss onto your lips.

He smiles and you swear somewhere a star’s been born before lightly saying “I’ve always wanted to do that.” Before a metallic gleam dressed his body and everything goes black.

You wake up pressed against the cold window outside of a noodle shop close to closing. A few slips of cash were slipped under a blue glass of water, shimmering in a way that reminded you of the mountain side. Despite remembering you’d just left wherever San had taken you in the cosmos now– disbelief ran its course through you.

That couldn’t have been real. There’s no way.

A small loneliness creeps its way up your throat. It wasn’t real and you spent and ended the night alone, just as you’d initially expected–with a cheek sliding embarrassingly down a small noodle shops foggy window with only the blinking of a neon light accompanying you.

Gazing at the cash, you fleetingly wonder if someone had paid the bill as an act of being a good samaritan, until you peered closely. The stray coins looked… strange.

Star shaped pieces of silver, a bit rustic and seemingly chewed on at the edges by the teeth shaped indentations, and under them laid a small scrawled on receipt paper, flapping in the breeze.

Scrunching your brows, you unfold the note and finally notice that an empty bowl of noodles sat directly across your own.

It was simple really but nothing else needed to be said as a smile shuttered onto your face.

‘Look up.’

You do and catch a glimpse of a small flicker from your favorite star, as if it were waving.

siren’s notes/blip: While I could’ve set this story in South Korea, I’ve been feeling a lot of nostalgia for the films I watched growing up that were based in Hong Kong. This was supposed to be a little writing exercise for me and then it just expanded into this little idea. There isn’t necessarily a concrete story line, as that’s not really the intention of this drabble. This was a longer piece since I wanted to set the scene or provide some backstory before it got episodical. I was trying to write chapter two of the thrill of the hunt but struggled with having frustration with plotline stitching and needed to take a break and just started writing this– which was a random idea but will more than likely be going into my short story manuscripts.

I kind of just wanted to write something that felt like sudden magic and plan on writing little episodes about this cosmic pair and the lovely starlight owner of Sanxing. I hope that if you read this, you’d enjoyed it.

Another semi-related fact about my choice of setting the story is that I’m moving overseas next year to attend a university in Bangkok but am planning to travel to another city for a tiny bit before the semester begins. I was stuck between going to Busan/Seoul, Jiufen (Taiwan), and of course– Hong Kong. I wanted to daydream a little and so here we are.

This series was inspired by the instrumental "a faint signal" by infinity frequencies. Let me know how you liked it. :)

p.s as any reoccurring readers could tell—i really like using this photo of san

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justbelievinginmagic · 11 hours ago

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space oddity; han jisung

PAIRING I astronaut!han x gn!reader

CAST I han jisung, felix lee, kim seungmin

WC | 3.5k

GENRE I angst, ai!au, astronaut!au, established relationship

WARNINGS | explicit language, major character death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol consumption

SYNOPSIS | your fiancé jisung always called himself an alien—too odd and out of place for this planet, destined to be somewhere beyond the stars. so he became an astronaut, and you became lonely, turning to an ai service to ease the pain and constant solitude.

A/N I inspired by the song space oddity by david bowie, the song alien by HAN of stray kids, and the recent film wonderland!! this was an old draft from ~a year ago and i wanted to finish it lol

request to be added to current and future taglists HERE!

MASTERLIST | RAIN’S PLAYLIST

“Ground control to Major Han?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

Your boyfriend’s face pops onto your screen, his familiar gummy smile lighting up the room. “How was your day, baby?”

You hum softly, setting your phone down on your desk and propping it up so that you can see him. “It was… good. I still miss you though, a lot.”

Jisung’s smile fades a little as he hears the sadness laced through your voice, and for a moment he’s silent. Then, he comes closer to the camera, whispering your name. “Hey. Hey, watch this,” he says, his normally cheerful voice serious. For a moment you believe that your playful boyfriend was going to get serious with you, but then he backs away from the camera to show you that he’s floating. He moves his arms to “swim” through the air, turning upside down and chuckling at you as you can’t help but scoff and smile at how cute he looks.

“Seriously, though. I miss you too.” Now Jisung’s voice is the one laced with sadness, and you manage a half smile as you stare at him over the video call. He’s righted himself, and moved back towards the phone to get a better view of you.

“How long until you come home again?” you ask wistfully, your heart thumping painfully in your chest as you watch Jisung’s face fall.

“I told you… I don’t know yet. The mission still isn’t complete.” His voice is gentle, but his words are firm. Perhaps even harsh. You can tell he’s trying to get it into your head that hopefulness won’t bring him back any sooner. “But — I’m trying my best to get my work done as fast as possible, so I can come home to you.” Jisung reaches out to run his fingers over the rim of his phone, and for a moment it feels like he’s gently caressing your face in reality. You lean into it, allowing yourself to play into falsity for just a moment, before sighing and leaning back slightly. Jisung watches you carefully, his big eyes following your movements.

“I didn't mean to bring the mood down. How was your day?” you ask softly, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them tightly. It simulates the comforting, weighted sensation that you got so used to with Jisung next to you all the time.

“Good,” he says quietly, mirroring your own response from earlier. “Gathered some data, wrote some stuff up… Joked around with the guys a little. Typical.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he mulls over the mundane events of his day. At least, what he could gather from his frazzled memories. Being in space for so long messed up clear timelines in his mind.

You’re about to respond when your phone starts ringing with another call. Distracted, you hesitate to say anything, your lips pursed in an open position with no sound coming out for a moment before you shift into a pretend yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. Jisung watches you, seeming to believe your lie as he cocks his head to the side innocently, his eyes shining with amusement and slight concern.

“Are you tired? We can log off for the night,” he asks, as he watches you stifle another ‘yawn,’ not picking up on the way your hand moves to ignore the incoming call.

“Sorry, baby. Just been a long day, you know?” you say, once again lying through your teeth. Suddenly, your arms feel like they’re in an awkward position and you cross and uncross them, hoping Jisung doesn’t notice or comment on your unnecessary movements.

The thing is, you don’t even know why you’re lying to Jisung. The incoming call was from Felix, a mutual friend that Jisung met in school and then introduced to you.

“I know.”

There’s a silence after he responds. Why you couldn’t just say “good night,” or something else, you’re not sure. But you smile weakly, hanging up the phone before Jisung can ask you if you’re really okay.

You pick up Felix’s call.

He’ll get worried if you don’t.

“What’s up?” you ask, false positivity bleeding through your voice once more.

Felix hums softly. “Are you coming out tonight? We’re celebrating Seungmin’s promotion at work.”

Damn. You’d forgotten.

“Uh… I don’t know. It’s not a good night for me.” Lying once more, making your back sticky with cold sweat. Lying had never come easily to you, and that didn’t change now. If anything, lying to those close to you added to the anxiety of it all.

“Why? Did something happen?” Felix’s voice is laced with concern.

“No. No, nothing like that.” You catch your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing off a piece of flesh and spitting it out. “I’m just tired. I worked some extra hours this week.”

Your voice is thick, both from the pain (your lower lip was now bleeding) and the uncomfortability of your lie growing.

Felix sighs. “It’s nothing crazy. Just our little group, you know? That isn’t too much, is it? For me. For Seungmin.”

His voice catches after he says Seungmin’s name, as if he were about to continue and say someone else’s name afterwards. Instead, he swallows hard.

“Come on.”

It’s a weak attempt at convincing you, but it does work. You feel guilty for ignoring your friends, when they’re so close by in proximity too. You felt bad for not capitalizing on that more often. For taking it for granted.

Your face is in a worse state than you thought. Not particularly ugly, but so exhausted. It wouldn’t be that hard to keep up the lie of working extra hours — it showed on your face, even if it wasn’t true. You busy yourself with smearing concealer on your eye bags, on the imperfections, to make a sorry attempt at decency. It works, to an extent. After covering up your face in a thick mask and reapplying some color to your face, you now resemble a normal human being more than a bloated corpse.

You sigh, and then text Felix that you’re on your way. Reluctantly.

—

The restaurant that Felix had chosen is a busy one. He must’ve booked it far in advance — there isn’t a single table open as you walk by, and everyone is dressed quite nicely. It is in a more upscale area after all, but it’s still jarring. You’re not that used to all of this — going out as a whole, but especially not in such a glitzy scene.

The table is full of laughter when you walk up. Seungmin is glaring at Felix and a few other friends from his workplace, and you can assume from the context that they’re all making fun of something that he’d said at work.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Felix,” Seungmin snaps playfully. The topic of the statement looks up and sees you, gleefully motioning for you to sit down.

“Hey, hey. I bet they’re on your side.” He giggles, before sipping more of his cocktail. You’re unsure of the name of it, but it’s the color of a sunset and complete with an orange wedge on the rim of the glass. “We were waiting for you! Order a drink. I’m paying.”

“Only for the drinks. He’s cheap,” Seungmin murmurs, gently rubbing your back as you sit down, seeing the strained muscles in your neck and the stiffness in your frame. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good… Congratulations on your promotion, by the way,” you say, smiling softly. Seungmin scoffs, waving it off as if it were nothing, before ordering you a drink.

He remembers your favorite.

For a moment, you realize how much you missed being with friends. How isolating it really was to sit in your empty apartment all by yourself.

But by the end of the night, you bid everyone good night and find peace in the walk home by yourself — even though you need to have a hand on the taser in your pocket the whole way back. And then you think, perhaps it’s better to be alone, and to be vigilant.

—

“Remember when I would sing you to sleep?”

Jisung’s soft voice asks from the darkness. He’s on the phone, and your phone is sitting on the pillow beside you. His pillow. The one he used when he was home.

“Back in the beginning of our relationship? Yeah,” you reply, after a moment of hesitation. You remember it well. How he would sing the softer of the songs that he’d been writing in his free time, cradling you in his arms as you felt sleep slowly overtake you. It was tempting to ask him why he stopped, but you weren’t sure if the answer would help or hurt you more.

“I should start doing that again, when I’m home,” Jisung says softly. He sighs, almost too quiet for you to hear him. “There’s a lot of things I want to do when I come home.”

The longing in his voice makes your heart hurt. It actually makes your chest jolt with pain, and you have to blink back tears.

“Don’t… don’t say that. Please. I miss you too much to hear that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Baby, it’ll be okay… I’m coming home, remember? One day, I’ll be there beside you again… singing to you and holding you close.”

You fiercely wipe away the tears that are beginning to spill down your cheeks. You don’t let Jisung see your face, even though the entire bedroom is shrouded in darkness at the moment. The only light is coming from your phone, and the glow-in-the-dark sticky stars on your ceiling that almost mock you every night that you spend looking up at them, imagining Jisung sailing among them in the sky.

“One day,” you exhale sharply, closing your eyes. Seeing the stars and hearing his voice at the same time hurt too much.

“One day,” he repeats, quietly.

You fall asleep, exhausted from a full day of holding back your emotions. Meanwhile, Jisung listens to the sound of your breathing as he looks out the window, seeing the ever so distant planet Earth. He plants a hand against the glass, wondering why it seemed so still. Then again, everything on Earth seemed still when he was this far away, merely spectating life down there from a nearly unimaginable distance.

—

Nearly a week had passed since you last saw your friends to celebrate Seungmin and his promotion. The only person that you really spoke to was Jisung, and Felix every few days to make sure that he knew you were still alive. He was… persistent.

Like always.

Jisung had asked him to be, before he left for this last mission. “Please, be there for them. Especially when I can’t be.”

You’re in the middle of sending Jisung another message, asking about the mundane, when a video call from Felix pops up.

This does send you into a panic — you’re unshowered, unkempt, and clearly looking unwell, despite the desperately convincing texts you’d been sending to Felix over the past few days.

You send him a message: can’t talk rn. call later?

Now you’d have to slot a shower into your schedule, between all of the work assignments that you’d been putting off.

He texts back: Pick up. Now.

There’s barely ten seconds between the text registering in your mind and another video call request. Cursing, you look into the camera to try and smooth your greasy hair away from your face, try and angle your shirt so that no stains would show in the camera.

You pick up.

“What’s up?” you ask, false positivity overtaking your voice again. It’s a little too peppy to be normal, and you know that. Felix’s eyes narrow, and he looks at you, trying to peer around your face to look at the state of your apartment at the same time.

“You aren’t doing okay,” he says. It’s a statement, not a question.

“I’m doing… fine,” is your mediocre reply.

Felix sighs deeply. “Come on. Look at yourself. When was the last time you talked to a real person?” he asks. Despite the harsh words, there’s real concern in his voice.

You’re not sure how to reply — it’s been a long, long time. You’d spoken to Jisung, and Felix, but other than that…? You’d been ignoring your work, ignoring messages from others that you don’t see on a daily basis to hold you accountable…

“How long?” he prompts again.

“I talked to Jisung today,” you say defensively, before you immediately regret it.

“To Jisung?”

And, God, that makes it all come back.

Unlike Jisung.

Jisung wasn’t coming back.

Not now, not ever.

—

They’d lost contact with the vessel that Jisung and his crewmates were in. The last time they’d talked to him, they’d been circling an unidentifiable object — probably a rock or something, nothing aggressive or lucid.

A few minutes later, they lost contact. Forever.

That was a few months ago.

It was hard to find sympathy in others, because no one really understood it. In your mind, he wasn’t really gone — he was still just on a mission. He would come back home someday, even if he couldn’t communicate that to you, or anyone down on Earth. He had to be out there somewhere.

And with that belief, you channeled your grief into a new experimental app, and made your own brand new Jisung.

This Jisung was in space, on a mission. Just like yours. He wasn’t sure when he would be back, but he always reassured you that he would see you again someday, because that was embedded in his coding — that reassurance, that caring nature. Because that was what the real Jisung was like.

He could call you. He could video chat with you. He would send you text messages and act like he would buy you gifts when he came home. He was the perfect boyfriend, because he never had to carry through with those perfect requests, which were already tailored to your preferences as well as what the real Jisung would actually do and say.

It freaked you out at first. Mostly because the wound was still fresh. But as time went by, you missed Jisung more and more, and the constant messages from the app seemed more and more appealing. From there, it was easy to pretend.

He was a lot like the real Jisung, and that helped the illusion. It really did feel like he was still away on a mission, and he was telling you that he’d be home one day. It felt real. You wanted to believe it so bad.

Felix made you delete the app when he found out. He said it was unhealthy, and that you needed to heal properly. So you did — by going to therapy, taking all sorts of medications, by taking walks in nature and channeling your grief into other hobbies and passions.

It worked, but nothing worked as good as that app. Nothing brought you as much comfort as Jisung’s voice saying, “I love you. I’m coming home soon.”

Even if it wasn’t real.

petrichor-han 2025. do not translate or repost without my permission.

please consider reblogging and/or leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic :) tumblr posts revolve around reblogs, and i'd appreciate the gesture!!

DIVIDER CREDIT: @strangergraphics-archive

#aaaaa i loved this #the way i was totally shocked by the twist!!

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justbelievinginmagic · 12 hours ago

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space oddity; han jisung

PAIRING I astronaut!han x gn!reader

CAST I han jisung, felix lee, kim seungmin

WC | 3.5k

GENRE I angst, ai!au, astronaut!au, established relationship

WARNINGS | explicit language, major character death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol consumption

A/N I inspired by the song space oddity by david bowie, the song alien by HAN of stray kids, and the recent film wonderland!! this was an old draft from ~a year ago and i wanted to finish it lol

request to be added to current and future taglists HERE!

MASTERLIST | RAIN’S PLAYLIST

“Ground control to Major Han?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

Your boyfriend’s face pops onto your screen, his familiar gummy smile lighting up the room. “How was your day, baby?”

You hum softly, setting your phone down on your desk and propping it up so that you can see him. “It was… good. I still miss you though, a lot.”

“How long until you come home again?” you ask wistfully, your heart thumping painfully in your chest as you watch Jisung’s face fall.

“Are you tired? We can log off for the night,” he asks, as he watches you stifle another ‘yawn,’ not picking up on the way your hand moves to ignore the incoming call.

The thing is, you don’t even know why you’re lying to Jisung. The incoming call was from Felix, a mutual friend that Jisung met in school and then introduced to you.

“I know.”

You pick up Felix’s call.

He’ll get worried if you don’t.

“What’s up?” you ask, false positivity bleeding through your voice once more.

Felix hums softly. “Are you coming out tonight? We’re celebrating Seungmin’s promotion at work.”

Damn. You’d forgotten.

“Why? Did something happen?” Felix’s voice is laced with concern.

“No. No, nothing like that.” You catch your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing off a piece of flesh and spitting it out. “I’m just tired. I worked some extra hours this week.”

Your voice is thick, both from the pain (your lower lip was now bleeding) and the uncomfortability of your lie growing.

Felix sighs. “It’s nothing crazy. Just our little group, you know? That isn’t too much, is it? For me. For Seungmin.”

His voice catches after he says Seungmin’s name, as if he were about to continue and say someone else’s name afterwards. Instead, he swallows hard.

“Come on.”

You sigh, and then text Felix that you’re on your way. Reluctantly.

—

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Felix,” Seungmin snaps playfully. The topic of the statement looks up and sees you, gleefully motioning for you to sit down.

“Only for the drinks. He’s cheap,” Seungmin murmurs, gently rubbing your back as you sit down, seeing the strained muscles in your neck and the stiffness in your frame. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good… Congratulations on your promotion, by the way,” you say, smiling softly. Seungmin scoffs, waving it off as if it were nothing, before ordering you a drink.

He remembers your favorite.

For a moment, you realize how much you missed being with friends. How isolating it really was to sit in your empty apartment all by yourself.

—

“Remember when I would sing you to sleep?”

Jisung’s soft voice asks from the darkness. He’s on the phone, and your phone is sitting on the pillow beside you. His pillow. The one he used when he was home.

“I should start doing that again, when I’m home,” Jisung says softly. He sighs, almost too quiet for you to hear him. “There’s a lot of things I want to do when I come home.”

The longing in his voice makes your heart hurt. It actually makes your chest jolt with pain, and you have to blink back tears.

“Don’t… don’t say that. Please. I miss you too much to hear that,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Baby, it’ll be okay… I’m coming home, remember? One day, I’ll be there beside you again… singing to you and holding you close.”

“One day,” you exhale sharply, closing your eyes. Seeing the stars and hearing his voice at the same time hurt too much.

“One day,” he repeats, quietly.

—

Like always.

Jisung had asked him to be, before he left for this last mission. “Please, be there for them. Especially when I can’t be.”

You’re in the middle of sending Jisung another message, asking about the mundane, when a video call from Felix pops up.

This does send you into a panic — you’re unshowered, unkempt, and clearly looking unwell, despite the desperately convincing texts you’d been sending to Felix over the past few days.

You send him a message: can’t talk rn. call later?

Now you’d have to slot a shower into your schedule, between all of the work assignments that you’d been putting off.

He texts back: Pick up. Now.

You pick up.

“You aren’t doing okay,” he says. It’s a statement, not a question.

“I’m doing… fine,” is your mediocre reply.

Felix sighs deeply. “Come on. Look at yourself. When was the last time you talked to a real person?” he asks. Despite the harsh words, there’s real concern in his voice.

“How long?” he prompts again.

“I talked to Jisung today,” you say defensively, before you immediately regret it.

“To Jisung?”

And, God, that makes it all come back.

Unlike Jisung.

Jisung wasn’t coming back.

Not now, not ever.

—

A few minutes later, they lost contact. Forever.

That was a few months ago.

And with that belief, you channeled your grief into a new experimental app, and made your own brand new Jisung.

It worked, but nothing worked as good as that app. Nothing brought you as much comfort as Jisung’s voice saying, “I love you. I’m coming home soon.”

Even if it wasn’t real.

petrichor-han 2025. do not translate or repost without my permission.

please consider reblogging and/or leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic :) tumblr posts revolve around reblogs, and i'd appreciate the gesture!!

DIVIDER CREDIT: @strangergraphics-archive

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justbelievinginmagic · 18 hours ago

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prison. jailtime.

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justbelievinginmagic · 18 hours ago

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ATEEZ @ Dingo Music 'Tipsy Live' 250616 😭

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justbelievinginmagic · 20 hours ago

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🐿️: "… i was dancing to the rhythm" sulky jisung @ hollow — release program (trans cr.)

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justbelievinginmagic · 2 days ago

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“my mom saw me on TV and told me I looked like a boiled dumpling”

{cr. 0613data}

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justbelievinginmagic · 3 days ago

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forgive the version of you that didn’t know any better

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justbelievinginmagic · 3 days ago

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justbelievinginmagic · 3 days ago

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justbelievinginmagic · 4 days ago

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like a waltz⎯ part 6: enveloppé. (pt.2)

pairing(s): ateez ot8 x fem!reader series summary: when 8 mysterious bachelors arrive to town and fall for your charms, will you be able to reach your goal to be prima ballerina or be dragged into a selfish waltz between love and obsession? glimpse: you wake alone in the mansion; you fall asleep in an spider's embrace. warnings/tags: inspired by Ateez’s Ice on my Teeth MV & Teasers, Mafia AU, Ballet AU, early 1900’s AU with some divergences in tech advancements (i.e rule of cool), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, fxm, polyteez, MATURE topics, canon typical violence, canon typical gore, sugar daddy themes, unequal power dynamics, polyamory, intimacy, Korean honorifics, controlling & obsessive tendencies, maybe some stockholm syndrome?, embarrassment, anxiety, flirting, infatuation, mafia things, alcohol, smoking, mafia things, kissing, possessiveness, jealousy, stalking, sexual themes but no explicit smut, pain, medical drug usage, traumatic injury, injuries, food/eating, period typical gender roles/expectations, period typical thoughts on sex work, reader discretion advised & 18+ readers only! Let me know if I should tag anything else! word count: 28.2k previous chapter <- enveloppé (pt. 1) -> next chapter series masterlist read on ao3! important note:hi! this part was too long for tumblr’s word count rules, so it has been split! please make sure you've read the first part of this chapter, here! or you can read it uninterrupted via the ao3 link ;)

enveloppé ; meaning “enveloped" or the action of wrapping around the supporting leg inward from an open position.

That Thursday she received a letter, delivered once more by a butler with a stoney expression. His eyes were deep and dark, shadowed. He didn’t look at her. Just held out the letter with gloved fingers.

“Dearest Angel,

Please join us for an extravagant night out in honor of your Six Month Anniversary this Friday at golden hour. Our Mingi shall be there to deliver you to us. It’ll be quite the event.”

There was no signature once more, simply a red seal with Ateez’s symbol.

“Thank you,” she nodded.

“Do you accept?” the man’s voice was gravely, almost like a corpse. Like he hadnt spoken in years.

“Yes, of course,” she exclaimed.

He simply nodded once before he turned like some sort of automaton. It didn’t strike her as odd anymore, she realized. There must be a reason they acted like this for the men.

The men that seemed enraptured with her more and more…

It was only later that night when she was greeted at the mansion by the same butler. Or… well she thought it was the same butler. They all looked alike, strangely. Same short hair slicked back. Same stoic expression. Same pristine uniform.

But she couldn’t think too much about that because, just like the sun and the moon, an Ateez bachelor followed after her.

Wooyoung looked like he had sprinted there. His hair was messy as he came to a stop. His button up was haphazard; a button in the wrong hole.

“Hi swanette,” he greeted, not even a smidge out of breath as he nearly slid down the stairwell.

If she listened closely, she could hear curses far off in the mansion. Something akin to ‘fuck you Woo’. Wooyoung peacocked as he swaggered up to her.

“Did you get our letter?” he queried, nosily.

“A night out?” she waved the letter at him, coyly.

Wooyoung grinned, his hands dragged through his hair.

“Anniversary,” he excused. “It’s important you know.”

It seemed like Wooyoung loved to celebrate anything. He liked flaunting his money; he liked having fun. He liked growing older.

“An ‘extravagant’ anniversary.” She added as he strutted towards her.

His arms wrapped around her and gave her a fond squeeze. “I had help with the letter,” he admitted.

Their lips locked. He tasted of expensive alcohol and something sweet. The scent of oiled-leather, coconut and earthiness, clung to him.

A throat cleared behind them. Mingi stood at the top of the stairwell. He was dressed in an all silky dark suit; his entire chest was exposed. Unlike San’s, which was chiseled and structured, Mingi’s looked irresistibly soft. Honeyed skin that looked oh so tempting to bury her face into. Squinting, looking like a content cat, she could see a hickey on the taut skin of his ribs, the imprint of fangs there. Her cheeks flushed at the sight.

She tucked her head underneath Wooyoung’s chin, hiding her hot face for a moment. Wooyoung hummed pleasantly and wrapped his arms tighter around her.

“Hi Mingi,” YN said, turning to look up at him after a moment. Her sparkling eyes met his – he was waiting for her gaze.

“Hey babydoll. Talking about the event?” Mingi questioned, voice deep, as he swaggered down the steps. He looked so effortlessly expensive and sleek. His chest glimmered in the lamp light. Was he oiled up or was his skin just so golden?

“Don’t spoil anything,” Wooyoung exclaimed, squeezing her tighter in his embrace as if to hide her away into his suit. “It’s all a surprise.”

“I don’t even know where we are going or what to wear.” She giggled.

“You need an outfit?” Wooyoung asked, metaphorical cat ears rising.

“I have an idea,” Mingi answered immediately. His eyes lit up with excitement.

“Mingi,” there was warning in Wooyoung’s voice.

The taller tsked in the back of his throat at the other. “It’s a great idea; it’s perfect,” he insisted. “You’ll love it too, Youngie.”

“What idea?” she chuckled.

“I have just the dress for you. Don’t you worry. I’ll handle everything,” Mingi promised. “I’ll even deliver it to you!”

It wasn’t Mingi who showed up at her apartment’s door nor was it San or even Wooyoung. It was Yunho. Fine-wired spectacles glimmered in the early morning light; a heavied dark-green long coat was slung over his shoulder, and his hair was mussed to a perfect consistency so the fine strands fell over his brow. His eyes were dark as he looked this way and that way around her apartment complex as if analyzing it the same way he analyzed her the first dinner they shared.

“Yunho,” she exclaimed, after she had unlatched each lock to swing open her door with an audible jingle of the metal work.

His gaze, liquid honey in the sunlight, shifted from glancing around to her locks to then her. Cooly and smooth, like the finest of liquors. He took his time, in control. His lips curled in a smile at her.

“Darling,” he drawled out.

It was then she realized how tired he looked - darkness under his eyes as if he hadnt slept, the wrinkled nature of his white collared shirt, and the looseness of his black tie. It wasn’t the prim and polished Yunho she had remembered in every single one of their encounters. But then, she guessed she didn’t look exactly put together – a frilly old robe tied over her soft pajama dress. Her hair tied back but not at all styled to perfection. When Mingi said he’d visit, he never visited this early. Sometimes his car rumbled in the cold for hours, but he never came to her front porch so early.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she admitted, bashfully.

“Mingi gave me your address; everyone got caught up in last-minute work last night,” he said. “I am just a delivery boy.”

It was a soft jest as he moved his other arm that was not holding onto his coat and presented a sleek wrapped gift. A plush red silk satin bow kissed the dark-black box to perfection; there was a embossed brand she had seen once before on the side of the box. ‘FAITH’ written in a fancy script with angel wings and a spiderweb it seemed.

“Oh!” she gasped, not expecting such a display.

When Mingi had said not to fret about clothing, she hadn’t expected an whole ensemble to arrive – she had thought he’d simply help her style herself. None of the bachelors never once before were picky about how she looked – even when they went to the many outings and sports events. (But perhaps she should’ve remember how Mingi said he wanted to spend on her.) She didn’t expect a gift. Especially nothing so… shiny. Wrapped up and heavied by the way Yunho held it carefully. It gleamed of something brand new.

Yunho blinked at her, lips quirking faintly. “Yes?”

“I just—I didn’t expect such a gift.” She admitted.

He leveled her with a serious look despite the smile growing on his face, making his face look dreadfully unserious and soft. A glowering glare paired with a smile seemed to suit Yunho.

“Has Wooyoung convinced you that we wouldn’t spoil you?” he asked, outstretching the gift once more.

“We?” she countered, taking the box and raising a curious brow.

Yunho’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink, blinking and looking aside. Now, he looked totally soft. Like a guard dog with his owner, he reverted to a puppyish state. He licked his lips.

“Was it not obvious?” he asked quietly. “We – I find you – “ He struggled with his word, eyes dancing away.

How adorable and uncharacteristic for the man. She leaned forward on the doorstep.

“Cute, appealing, talented?” she teased.

“Precious.” he said simply, locking eyes with her. “And, all of the above - if it matters.”

She hugged the box to her chest, a wave of tropical cologne ballooning from it as she squeezed the box’s soft contents a bit too much. A sweet blush coated her cheeks as well.

“Well, I think you are precious, too,” she said softly. “I’ve come to cherish you all.”

His ears were a cute shade of rosy red, surprising her with how much this man could blush. Cute. Clearing his throat, Yunho nodded, shifting his jacket in his arms. “Good,” he said, equally as soft.

“Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee?” she offered. “As thanks.”

If there was ever a look of despair and conflict, it painted itself on his face. When flustered, romantically, it seemed he became an open book. Sweet as jelly and soft as cotton candy rather than the brooding character she met that night in their mansion. Perhaps it was the lack of lackeys to impress.

“If I could I would, darling,” he said earnestly. “I have matters to attend to unfortunately.”

Her lips shifted into a pout, one that made Yunho want to eat his words. His heart panged at the sight and he swallowed, glancing back at his car. The engine was still on, rumbling in the cold morning air.

“I understand,” she said after a moment.

Tone shifted, he frowned, his brows furrowing behind his spectacles.

“I do mean it,” he insisted, hand going to her arm to rub soothingly. His long fingers made soft circles. His gaze was strong, like that night, magnetic to her. “I’m sorry, YN; next time, I’ll stay for a cup.”

She smiled softly, the thing growing more genuine as he stared at her with aching eyes as if rejecting her was as painful as a bullet.

“Just for a cup?” she teased softly.

“Anything you want,” he settled on, serious despite her jestign.

“Oh, a cookie, too,” she giggled before stepping back a smidge, his hand falling from her form.

“Anything,” he repeated. “Our time will come.”

He looked so different. She remembered Wooyoung described him – as all bark, no bite similar to Jongho. In this moment, she saw that. Not a business man or dangerous man… he looked reverent and kind and all things good.

“Thank you, Yunho,” she said.

“You’re welcome, darling. You’ll look stunning in it I’m sure,” he complimented before taking a step back, his smile sweet.

Then, in a swoop of his coat over his shoulders, his expression faded from soft and kind to something more hardened, strong and stony. The façade was back on.

“Have a good time tonight.”

It was a brief goodbye before he was back in his automobile and shifting gears onto the cobblestone road.

What a whiplash of a man, she thought while she stared after the car.

Mingi arrived right on time as the sun crept low into the sky, kissing the horizon gently with its orange glow. The entire world was caught in the delicate golden hour as she stepped out onto her front porch.

“Mingi!” He heard her before he saw her. Her voice peaked in what he could only call nerves.

Turning, he was swept off his feet. His heart sped up and he swore he felt like gasoline has been dumped on him and a match flicked his way; his entire body turned hot.

“Oh, doll,” he rumbled out, low just like his car’s engine. He leaned back against the hood of his car, almost tortured. Head flung back, his large hands clung to the automobile’s metal. He chuckled deep in his chest. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack. You’re beautiful.”

YN flushed red and smoothed out her dress once more, minding the delicate bits of it. She shifted her coat up her arm before it could slip further off her barren shoulders.

“Thank you. It’s--- are you sure? --- it’s not too much, Mingi? I was expecting something like that lacy dress,” she admitted. Unsure for once, he ate up her innocent expression. The gentle doubt that ached for his guiding hand.

Her dress was nothing like the lacy white of the day-dress she borrowed once before. This was nothing like that. This was more everything. This felt beyond expensive. It felt custom. It fit her just right – which would’ve been frightening if they hadn’t seen the curves of her body every night in the boudoir. It was extravagant – like the letter hinted at.

“Nah,” he tutted and Mingi couldn’t help his eyes from wandering. Appreciatively, he eyed her up and down. His diamond-inlayed canines’ bit into his plump lower lip. “This is perfect. Made for you, baby. Wooyoung’s going to lose his mind – everyone’s going to.”

He went to open her car door, a hand reaching for hers to help her get into her carriage. The way he burned made him know the others would be just as feral.

Good.

If he couldn’t do anything, they couldn’t either – especially in front of the public. They’d burn together.

Dressed to the nines, Wooyoung stood on the steps of a bustling event. From his polished shoes to his slick hair, he looked like a picture-perfect gentleman. Something from clothing magazines. All lean and fine. Everyone’s eyes glanced over him, grazing over the pinned anchor emblem on his chest pocket.

But he was only looking for one person. One car. It’s deep-olive contrasted with the orange sunset as it pulled up to the portside.

Wooyoung nearly fainted as she was let out of the car, a delicate ankle visible for a moment as she lifted her hem to step onto the cobblestone path. Her heel barely hit the ground before he was swooping in.

The persona of a perfect gentleman consumed him in these moments. His rebellious nature hid as he swaggered and swooned her. His arm wrapped around hers and he smouldered a look of devotion. His hands remained proper, his eyes didn’t dip to her visible cleavage. (He knew it looked amazing though.)

Her makeup looked angelic, highlighting her face with a sparkling shimmer. Her eyes wide and sweet at they search for who was by her side. At the sight of him, he saw her visibly relax and he couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re unreal,” he complimented. “You look like sin and sweetness, like an angel wrapped in embers.”

The glow of the building’s façade made every bead and pearl sparkle on her gown, like she was lit aflame. Her red cheeks only complimented it more. Her head tilted in bashfulness.

“You both are ridiculous,” she whispered lowly. “Mingi and you.”

Wooyoung’s head dipped to catch her bashful look. “What’s ridiculous is not gifting you every single dress we have. Ordering hundreds, thousands. In every shade, in every style. The newest things. No model compares.” He told her. “You’re breathtaking.”

She barely could reply back before her own breath was stolen from her. When had this building been erected? The new building in front of her was like nothing she had seen. Everything was shiny and sparkling like a diamond in the rough. What was once an old warehouse in the salty port was now a shimmering façade lit up in sparkling lights. It glowed like it captured a perfect golden hour even as the sun continued to set into a dusty purple; a warm glow emanated from the marque and the large crystalline windows sparkled with gas-lit lights. That giant chandelier she saw get toted in days and days ago glinted and gleamed high above them as she and Wooyoung walked through the red painted doors.

YN ooh’ed and aah’ed at the interior. Throughout the entire space, crystals dotted the walls and ceiling, painting a sort of swirl in the ceilings. Like a whirlpool of diamond stars. She couldn’t believe something like that had appeared so quickly in the port of Cromer. It was gorgeous, more modern than the Cromer Opera House.

But Wooyoung’s eyes were glued to her, watching her adorable reactions. He loved seeing her like this, happy, smiling, and doe-eyed. Her hair was piled upon her head stylishly, decorated with roses from the Ateez gardens, curls tumbling down her neck to drag one’s eyes down her chest, down her waist, to the tips of her satined heels. The gown that clung to her curves was intoxicating. The red satin-taffeta dress draped in black organza with hand-sewn pearls and glass-beads sparkled like she was wearing a smokey starry night. His strings of pearls around her throat complimented the dress, making him giddy. The fur coat that one would think would hide more only accentuated her curves until Wooyoung urged her to slip it off her bare shoulders for the coat check nearby.

“I’ll be right back,” he breathed into her ear, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. He wished he could bury her in kisses but stealing such a peck was enough for now he acquiesced.

Wooyoung was quick, cutting past the line of folk easily to hand his and hers coats off. As he turned back to find his shining star, he was awed. More awed at her than any silly piece of architecture.

Wooyoung would have to praise Hongjoong for his skills and taste later.

The dress looked breath-taking on her; it was worthy of her beauty. She sparkled beneath the chandelier like she was one of the diamonds inlayed in the Hala Opera House’s façade.

Turning to find Wooyoung staring at her with a lovesick gaze, she smiled a smile he felt like was only meant for him, not for any other audience or stage, and took graceful steps his way. She grasped his hands excitedly; her gloved hands were silky against his skin.

“Woo, this place is beautiful!” she gushed.

He grinned widely. “You think?”

Her eyes widened as if he was a fool. Of course, it was gorgeous. All the people walking past were both new and old. People far from Cromer had traveled to here – the portside rather than downtown! Their dresses and suits were brilliantly colored and styled so differently. Gems decorated women’s bare flesh; men wore intricately woven attire that wrapped around in bows and ties.

Everything felt new and sparkling.

“Yes!” YN exclaimed with a giggle. “What’s the show tonight? I couldn’t see it with the crowds! Oh, how did you get tickets?”

Wooyoung felt the warm gushy feeling in his chest at her outward excitement. He loved when she was happy, when she was openly accepting his gifts. She deserved everything. Her happiness only made her look more stunning.

Seonghwa will eat this up, he giddily thought.

He squeezed her fingers. “Only the best for you.” Wooyoung whispered. “Come; let’s go to our private booth and I’ll tell you.”

His hand rose to promenade her up the grand staircase. His eyes flashed as he glanced about at the folk around, a wolfish grin coming to his mouth as he spotted investors and under-men. He spotted a few of their men standing nearby, dressed in clean cut suits and wearing those ever-so-familiar blank faces.

YN was so engrossed in looking all around. Delicate inlayed diamonds made up the walls in a pretty-swirling design. Gold paint glimmered in the light. The smell of perfumed air was heated by the rush of people climbing the stairs beside them. Wooyoung kept her close, shielding her when someone pushed close to them.

His hands went to her waist, fiddling with the beads there fondly as he led her along. ‘Box Eight’ read on the door’s golden plaque, freshly polished.

“Here we are,” he said.

YN laughed a bit at the sight of the number. Of course, he’d take that box – the one known to be abandoned or skipped all together in Cromer history. Luck was something some people still valued after all.

“Ladies first,” he acquiesced opening the door like she was a proper lady… maybe she was, finally, she thought.

Stepping inside, YN realized that it was the first time she had been in an opera house box. As a performer, there was no need to peruse the finer places of the opera house. It was rare a dance would creep into the common areas of the orchestra, let alone so high above the stage. Inside, the tiered seats were plush velveteen, smelling of something fresh and clean. Curtains of deep-red pooled to the sides of the box, tied up by new looking golden threaded ropework. The floor was soft under her heeled feet.

There were only two rows of five seats here; the chairs were large and comfortable looking. Between each chair had a small table of dark wood. Two glasses of fizzing pink-champagne sat there, one for her and one for Wooyoung.

Gas-lit candles lit their space, and lined the walls of the opera house delicately. The main source of light was the grand chandelier that hung in a thousand sparkling diamonds. She couldn’t imagine someone finding so many diamonds so fast. It sent a constellation of golden light across the room. As gigantic as it was, it didn’t block their view of the newly laid stage and it’s delicately painted cutouts.

“Wooyoung, this is beautiful!” she exclaimed again, hands going to grab the golden railing that protected them.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen a performance and not performed in one. Maybe when she was young and sat in the lap of her mother backstage?

The perfumed air had billowed up into the rafters, just reaching them as the swarms of ballet-goers flooded the orchestra seats to find their ticket’s spot. It made her dizzy with excitement. It made her feel like she was on the stage as finely-dressed patrons glanced up at her to take in her grandiose attire; they were looking at her and talking about her behind fans. Jealous of her, jealous of where she was. The pride gleamed in her stomach.

“I’m glad you think so, gorgeous,” he praised as he picked up the flute of alcohol. He swirled it, watching the bubbles twinkle and tumble to the top casually before he said: “I have another surprise tonight.”

He took a sip of his champagne. The tone was teasing, a rebellious tone trickling into its timber. One she had only begun to notice after their many months together. Her own smile turned mischievous, and Wooyoung swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her painted lips sharpening like a blade.

“What is it?” she asked as she turned to look at him, haloed by the grand chandelier’s light like a brilliant eclipse. The red of her silken dress gleamed, highlighting her curves. He bit his lip and raised his brows.

“That’s no fun, is it?” He placed the flute back down onto the table, playing coy.

She giggled, girlishly, before taking the short steps to embrace him sweetly. His hands rubbed across expensive fabric and intricate beading as he hugged her close to his form. He smelt the pineapple-summer of Aurora's shores on her, mingling so nicely with her own rose-petaled scent. His nose dipped to the crook of her neck, brushing against the cold pearl necklace wrapped there in circles. His lips teased a kiss, light and delicate, before he pulled her back a smidge.

“This day’s been full of surprises,” YN admitted; her stomach clashed with excitement and nerves. Her fingers fiddled with a golden chain around his throat; he nearly leaned into it as if she'd give it a tug. But she didn't. YN leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, short and sweet and shamelessly. “Give me a hint.”

Oh, he’d give her the world.

“You’re meeting them tonight.” He replied with a lipstick-stained mouth

He could see her eyes dilate, and he wanted to devour her. Her want was palpable. Her eagerness was visible in her very eyes, and Wooyoung ate it up like it was the finest meal. This star wanted them just as much as they wanted her, he knew it in his very soul. His heart sang at the sight.

She didn’t even know Hongjoong and Seonghwa yet – and still, the reaction was enough for him to know. Wooyoung didn’t smirk; he beamed before leaning in, shuffling them behind the drawn curtains for a semblance of privacy. Her back pressed into the warm velvet wall as his ring-laden fingers rose to cup her rosy cheeks before he swallowed her mouth into a consuming kiss. Like she was water and his soul was on fire.

"When?" she murmured, lips smeared against his cheek as they gasped.

“After the show, my swanette,” he breathed as a chiming bell rang out. The performance was about to begin.

It was hard to focus. It was almost funny since she was a ballerina you’d think loud music and bright lights, changing wardrobes, and singing wouldn’t phase her. It was the opera after all. But that mixed with her eyes searching through the sea of people to find whom she thought was Hongjoong and Seonghwa, paired with Wooyoung’s hand on her knee, rubbing small circles, was distracting. Add the expensive and potent champagne they had sipped during the first twenty minutes of the performance, and her head was in a whirl.

It was almost like a game. Searching over the shadowed faces of well-dressed society to find someone she knew she’d recognize. It was strange that she believed the moment she spotted them she’d know, but she truly did.

Wooyoung watched her more than the performance (just as if she was dancing on stage in Swan Lake.) He found her far more enchanting, far more interesting than any tale of betrayal happening on stage. Some tzar was stabbed in a flurry of red silken fabric. Mournful moans of singers called out; the trumpet horn blowed.

The performance was lavish, all jewels and glimmering lights. New age mechanics creaked underneath the live orchestra, making the scenery change and the stage come alive in ways YN had never seen before. And when the show did catch her eye, she was enamored by the theatrics. Her fingers would go to grab Wooyoung’s hand as a crash of false-lightning cracked through the hall.

“How’d they do that?” she asked under her breath to him.

Wooyoung chuckled as he interlaced their fingers and squeezed her hand. A glimmer of pride fluffed his feathers, his shoulders slinging back as he said he had no idea.

The room was cast into darkness as the orchestra rallied into a whirl of what she assumed to be a theatrical storm. Some betrayal was happening; tombstones rose from the stage from trap doors; everything was thrown into a shadowy aura. Figures danced in all black velvet, silk, and organza. Thick smoke tumbled over the floorboards in a smog.

And then, a rush of cold air flooded the orchestra floor. Even from high up, there was a shiver as icy air tickled her ankles. And even though it was the middle of the act, a stream of bright artificial light poured down the main aisle, golden against the pitch dark.

Two men, still swamped in their opera coats of fur, came into view. They walked with a confidence unlike anyone she had ever seen. One had such a swagger that it would’ve looked ridiculous if he didn’t have the charisma to own it. The other’s long legs (made longer with custom heels) seemed to move faster than the other yet they remained in tandem somehow.

All eyes were magnetized to them, not the stage. Even while the performers continued, there was a pause that was undeniable. Dancers faltered in their routine; the tenor stuttered over his next lyric. A palpable freeze, cold as the icy air they brought with them. The two men commanded the room in one moment. As if they were owed more respect than the show they had just interrupted.

Slowly, the opera singer caught up to the violins and piano-forte as the two men continued to stride through the opera house. And when the turned to settle into their seats, front and center at the first row of the orchestra pit, they glanced up and looked right at YN.

In the fleeting golden light of the hallway, she saw them for the first time.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

From afar, it was hard to make out their features in detail. The tall one had longer dark hair that was as sharp as his smirk. Elegant features that were almost ethereal. A brow raised as he examined her. His face revealed nothing.

Hongjoong’s hair wasn’t sharp at all. In fact, it was slick, curling into intricate curls plastered to his hairline. Finger-waved to perfection, his dark hair looked like an oil spill (and just as expensive-looking). He wore a matching fur coat to his partner – more of a snow leopard compared the dark browns of his counterpart. His eyes felt magnetic, dark pits that lured her further in even from so far. His smile seemed almost sweet, if it wasn’t for how his gaze seemed to darken with every moment. Not like Yunho’s dark eyes, no, these felt hungry. Like he was eating her up.

How handsome they were.

How intoxicating.

Their eyes were darker than the theatre’s corners; the smiles on their lips sharper than the precisely hit choreography the ballet dancers hit. But, then the doors to the hall, shut and, with it, the light faded. Cascading darkness consumed them and they turned to sit.

Wooyoung wished he had more composure. That he was tensely cool and calm like Yeosang would’ve been. Or able to play it off like San with a glance away and pushing his glasses up his nose. Jongho wouldn’t have even flinched. But instead, he grinned; a manic sort of high-pitch laugh bubbled up his throat.

Oh, how he adored this! His loves meeting one another for the first time. And he brought them together! His skin burned with excitement. He unwound their fingers to loosen his tie, his other hand unbuttoning his suit jacket as he shifted in his spot.

“That’s them.”

She didn’t ask; YN told Wooyoung. Her eyes hadnt left them – even as they had turned and sat to look at the production.

“My smart swanette,” he rumbled, approvingly.

His gaze shifted to her now, taking in every micro-expression she made. His stomach flipped as her eyes dilated while looking up and down Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

He smiled. Yes, he liked this side of his swanette for sure. The confidence – the confidence he knew she had from the moment he laid eyes on her. The boudoir limited them; the title patron limited him and her. For once, tonight dressed in what she deserved, they were equals in the eyes of society and he was able to see how eager she could be.

He loved it.

YN lifted a pair of opera glasses up to her face, the metallic looking-glasses were high end, sparkling and new. Undoubtedly thanks to Wooyoung. Peering through them she could see the opera singer’s chubby cheeks squish open as he let out a belt of some Italian or French. But soon enough, she shifted just so, to peer at Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

Highlighted by the stage lights, she could see the gleam of their tanned skin. While Hongjoong’s skin was smooth as can be, there was a series of delicate scars on Seonghwa’s cheekbone. Scatterings of freckles like constellations danced over his cheeks. Their dark eyes remained dark even with the glow of the lights reflecting in them.

A ballerina did a trick, and she watched as they both awed, societally appropriately. Their mouths gleamed in the light as she saw their grins for the first time. There was a lull, she continued to watch them. Eyelashes fluttered against cold metal.

Hongjoong raised a hand, shielding his mouth as he leaned into Seonghwa to say something. The taller figure’s shoulder shook with a low laugh, the silhouette of his brow jumping.

Then, Hongjoong turned to look at her – right at her.

She jumped a bit in her seat and glanced away with a flush. Her hand dropped the opera glasses down to her lap. A part of her wondered if he could see her flush, the rise and fall of her chest as she tried to slow her surprise.

Wooyoung, meanwhile, got a front row seat to her embarrassment, she thought. (He was in heaven.)

His fingers had slid from her palm to her knee once more, steading her as she jolted in surprise. Wooyoung’s dark brown eyes flickered to the two men below before returning to her bashful face. She had focused back on the stage; Hongjoong was still looking at her.

She gave a few seconds before glancing down at the orchestra seats once more. He was still looking at her.

His arm had raised to rest on the back of his seat, elbow resting there casually. He didn’t stare with a cruel intent – as if to hush her. Instead, it seemed pleased.

She could only hold it for so long before her heart rate stuttered and she faux-focused on the performance at hand.

It became a game, albeit a losing one from YN. Her hopes he’d glance away, to not stare at her like he was ready to devour her whole, stifled each moment she glanced back at him. He smiled at her, tilting his head to rest on his ringed hand. Comfortable in his admiration and her adoration.

“You know…” Wooyoung said. Closer than she had anticipated. She was so distracted she wasn’t even paying attention to the man she was on a date with. Her stomach clenched guiltily, shamefully. His breath was hot against her cheek, making her hotter.

He leaned even closer to whisper into her ear lowly. “I am a jealous man.”

It was lilting and teasing like a sing-song. His words smiled, smirked, grinned silently at her. Her feet shifted beneath them; she wiggled in his grasp just enough that he had to hold her tighter. The hand on her knee tightened for a moment before it began to move.

His fingers trailed up her thigh, slow and taunting. His nails caught on each pearl and bead teasingly. His palm pressed into her thigh, curved over the plush where her hip met her stomach before it slipped up her gloved arm. His fingers scraped pleasantly agaisnt her skin as he tugged the glove away, pocketing it slyly before his hand slid into hers. He squeezed it firmly, his ringers cold against her skin. Gooseflesh danced upon her arm as a chill tickled her before their hands were interlaced intimiately, skin-on-skin, once more.

“I love deeply,” he said. “I love wholeheartedly. I want what’s mine to remain mine…”

It was almost threatening how he spoke. His words were deep and earnest in her ear.

“Except when it comes to my boys.” he admitted with a low laugh. “I’m not ‘just alright’ with San fancying you. I encourage his affections for you. I want them to want you.” He pressed a kiss to her ear. “Yeosang wants you. Mingi never lets just anyone in his cars. Jongho doesn’t play his games with any of us. Yunho… I havent seen Yunho act this way in ages. Lovestruck.”

The smile that grew on his lips felt ominous against the cartilage of her ear. Like a snake’s grin. Like a devil on her shoulder, he even leaned closer still. His carved nose pressed into her rosied cheek.

“Hongjoong-ah…. I see,” he’s almost sing-songing at her; hot against her ear. “how he’s looking at you.”

YN felt like the world was abuzz, her vision blurring. She could only focus on Wooyoung’s breath, his confession that solidified the men’s adoration. Her stomach butterflied; her ears felt full of cotton. She felt like she was on fire. Wooyoung knew the feeling; he felt like that whenever he was near her. Passion and affection burnt him up.

Somehow she managed to look to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong’s gaze had stayed on her, a pleasant burning leer. The corners of his lips curled tauntingly, but he didn’t drag his gaze down her neck, over her busom, her bare shoulders. He simply stared at her soul as Wooyoung chuckled into her neck. He pressed a kiss to her bare collarbone, tongue teasing the double-string of pearls there.

YN shivered. Hongjoong laughed, fondly, as if he knew why she trembled.

The lights blazed behind him as the prima donna belted out a tone. He didn’t care for the performance. Even when she willed herself to look away, her red cheeks competeting with the shimmering red of her gown, she knew he was still looking at her. Everytime she glanced at him, he was looking at her.

She held tight on to Wooyoung’s hand, nails digging deliciously into his skin.

“Swanette,” he cooed, giggling. A thumb brushed over the back of her hand soothingly. He shifted, crossing his legs and leaning ever closer.

“You like the attention, yeah.” He breathed, shifting their clasped hands over his lap. He loved the way she reacted, her pretty flush, her pouts, her wide eyes. He wanted to kiss her into oblivious oblivion. Not yet. Not here. Even if it would tempt the Captain and his Right-Hand Man so much. The brat inside Wooyoung prowled.

“He can’t take his eyes off you.” He teased still.

How would she survive this show?

She didn’t. That was the answer.

From Wooyoung giggling in her ear to Hongjoong’s hypnotizing gaze to the extravagent orchestra crashing throughout the theatre to the fantastic performance on stage, she felt like she was going insane. Too much stimuli (yet somehow not enough). Her skin felt hot as she stayed tucked close to Wooyoung. Well, as close as their chairs could permit. He remained somewhat appropriate (except for the shit-eating grin that beamed on his face and the tightness of his pants.)

Wooyoung loved to tease any of his lovers, and whenever he met Hongjoong’s eyes from high above, he could see that he was doing well. When he felt YN’s hand sweaty in his and wriggling beside him, he knew he was suceeding, and he continued to do so until the curtain fell and the lights began to reignite.

He was still staring at them.

With Hongjoong’s eyes on her, Wooyoung teased.

“I wonder what he’s thinking. After all…”

Hongjoong’s gaze burned.

“He’s seen us all with you. He’s heard so much about you. And he’s obsessed.”

It wasn’t as frightening as it sounded. Instead, it piqued her interest even more. How could someone become enamoured so quickly? Even when it came to Wooyoung, San, Yeosang, Mingi, Yunho, and Jongho, her affections took time. It took time to build these things.

Hongjoong’s eyes looked at her like she was the sun, like she was on a cloud somewhere high above. Adoration. Dark chocolate, sweet and deep. His smile glowed in the dark.

Only when Seonghwa squeezed his knee did he finally draw his eyes away. His mouth moved. She wondered what he said to him

“Seonghwa hasn’t snuck a glance?” Wooyoung whispered.

The man hadnt. Not since he had turned to sit down. YN had been so enamoured by Hongjoong she hadnt even noticed. Even now with the red curtains lowered, he didn’t sneak a peek.

“He’s so strict – even with himself,” Wooyoung cackled before leaning closer, his chest pressing into her arm. “I don’t have that level of self control anymore.”

“Wooyoung,” she exclaimed as he kissed her neck enamouredly once more. The chatter of the audience moving to leave made her pleas muffle.

“Swanette,” he murmured into her skin, hot and wet. His lips danced over her throat just like the ballerinas did on stage moments ago.

She let out a whine as he bit into her throat, nibbling and biting as she saw Hongjoong’s eyes gleam as they turned to focus on her once more. They sparkled with something she couldn’t understand before he turned back to Seonghwa as he said something again.

It felt like a whirlwind. She was tugged out of her seat by an eager Wooyoung. He fussed over her with gentle hands, adjusting her hair and dress and stealing kisses as he pressed her into a column on the way down to the lobby. It smelt of fresh paint and Wooyoung’s cologne - dizzying.

“I don’t want to share you yet,” he mumbled. “I want you to be all mine.”

“I’m yours,” she whispered as he captured her lips once more.

“You’re mine and theirs,” Wooyoung hummed. “I want you to meet them – just know that I’m your first, o-o-kay?”

He stuttered as she leaned forward to capture his lips. His cheeks burned as he hugged her closer in his embrace.

He hated that there was this selfishness in his heart, dancing around with the passion he had for his loves. He was greedy, and he wanted it all. But he knew that wasn’t how things worked. Life wasn’t fair and his life was pretty grand. If he had to share his swanette with his other loves, he’ll learn. He learned with San and Yeosang. Then the others when they won his heart. They all had enough love to give – just in different ways.

She had so much passion. He knew this from the moment her eyes met his. Even now.

“Let’s go.” He hummed, his thumb raising to wipe at her mussed lipstick. His eye danced over her marked neck, half-hidden by his pearl necklace. “My pretty swanette.”

The foyer was bustling, full of figures talking and laughing and sparkling. Men and women stood with jewels on their skin, expensive tailored outfits gleamed in the bright gaslights. Wooyoung wrapped her arm around his, leading the way as she was half-dazed, half-in-a-fit-of-nerves. His lips were stained a faint red, something he had proudly kept when he took in his appearance as he passed a mirror.

Spotting his lovers was easy. Only those who knew Seonghwa tried to approach with shuddering shoulders and tentative smiles. The tall man radiated a certain energy that seemed to change the gravity around them. So many folk glanced his way, intimidated like he was something new and unknown.

Hongjoong’s back was to them. But he could see Seonghwa’s attentive gaze flicker to him, replying with a coy curl of his lips before he took a puff of his opera pipe. Seonghwa was a tall menacing figure even with the soft smile on his carved lips. Next to Hongjoong, he looked even taller.

“Hyungs!” Wooyoung called out from the crowd, further than necessary.

He did it for the attention and attention they did gather. Men and women alike glanced at him – and YN on his arm. Their gazes flicker to the ‘hyungs’ he called to.

Seonghwa’s gaze rose from Hongjoong to glance over the shorter’s shoulder and see the pair appraoch. The grin that came across Seonghwa’s lips was devilish, something wicked and lovely.

“Hello, dove.” He greeted; the words nearly purred out. “Wooyoung.”

Leather-gloved hands raised a long, long opera pipe. Smoke trailed from it leisurely. His own mouth had a faint smoke trail pluming from it.

“How was the show?” Hongjoong echoed as he turned over his shoulder to look at her and Wooyoung.

His eyes simmered with amusement. His smirk one that she had felt on her all night. And they didn’t trail from her now.

Seonghwa’s eyes did. He glanced over at Wooyoung, the brat of the household, and took in the way he grinned and paraded her on his arm towards them. He looked like the cat who got the cream. If Seonghwa squinted any more, he could see Wooyoung’s metaphorical tail swishing back and forth. He didn’t need to look far to see the shadowed bulge in his pants or lipstick stained lips either. Seonghwa flashed him a snarl, the diamonds embossed on his canines flashing.

Wooyoung’s free hand went to trail over the intricate beading of her bodice, tauntingly. Seonghwa was lucky her gaze was so enraptured by Hongjoong. She didn’t watch as he followed Wooyoung’s hand. How it fiddled over her waist, just below her breasts. Too high to be casual, too crude for public but Wooyoung was the brat after all. Wooyoung smiled sweetly at the eldest as if he was doing nothing wrong.

Seonghwa was a jealous man when it came to his boys; Seonghwa would be frothing at the mouth if someone’s hands was on his or (when his’ hands were all over someone else in this case.) How dare someone touch, feel, admire what was his? But with her… he felt none of that. Instead, he felt electric at the sight of her and Wooyoung. Like a flame lit in his veins.

He remembered feeling it years ago when all eight of them came together. He focused in on YN as she replied.

“Beautiful.” she said – in relation to Hongjoong’s question about the show.

It wasn’t a lie, but if she was honest, it was hard to keep track of the opera. It had been a blur of fanciful moving choreographies and belting tunes. Fuzzy. Her mind had been so focused on him, him, him, him, him (mixed in with Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung.) It felt a bit like she was intoxicated by the extravegence and yearning of It all. Even now, she felt like they were alone despite the sea of people that were keenly watching them. Wooyoung glanced aside as someone brushed his arm as they passed; his amused expression fading into a scowl at the hungry eyes of others. He hugged YN closer, his fingers fiddling with the beads on her bodice self-soothingly

“Everything about the Hala Opera House is breathtaking,” she admitted instead. One hand went to rub Wooyoung’s arm without thinking. “Its been a while since I’ve been a spectator. It was a lot.”

The younger of the duo grinned, the look of fondness softening the foxy sharpness of his smile.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Hongjoong preened. “I enjoyed myself, too.”

There was implications that she wasn’t daft enough to not process. Her cheeks reddened deliciously. Hongjoong smiled at her, like a predator staring down prey. Pleased as it was wolfish.

Seonghwa’s gaze flickered to her gentle minstrations with Wooyoung. Her tenderness, her softness, it contrasted beautifully with her passion. Like the way her red dress was cloaked in something darker, she was more than just fire and talent.

“How do you like your dress?” Seonghwa was the one to ask.

He knew Hongjoong would want to know.

“Its gorgeous,” she said, her head tilting to look over her dress. Wooyoung’s thumb stroked over her faint swell of her stomach softly, catching on the pearls dotted here and there. “I’ve never worn something so beautiful, so luxiurious.”

Hongjoong’s smile grew and grew.

(He had made the dress, poured his energy into, his obsession, his yearning. It felt like she was accepting him by wearing it – like she was his already. In his mind, she had been his for a while.)

“You deserve beautiful things.” Hongjoong praised. “Beauty highlights beauty, hm?”

YN’s blush rivaled her dress and made Hongjoong want to bite at the apples of her cheeks. She made him feel hungry.

“If you tear that pearl, Wooyoung, you’ll get spoken to in Hongjoong’s office, privately, tonight.” It was a sharp scold. Seonghwa threatened as if Wooyoung was a school boy.

Hongjoong’s gaze flashed away from her eyes for the first time, snapping to the outfit as if to verify all of the beadwork still remained perfect. Wooyoung’s hands left her waist with the threat.

He raised them up with a giggle, boyish.

“Hyungie,” Wooyoung half-sung, head tilting like a puppy dog.

Seonghwa raised a singular brow tauntingly. It was intimidating on his serious face. Unimpressed with Wooyoung’s tactics. There was a coolness in him YN noted. Something that countered and balanced Hongjoong’s light and bouncy attitude. It made her think of Jongho… Jongho had mentioned Seonghwa was his sort of mentor.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Wooyoung had to poke and prod the (mama) bear.

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, the muscle snapping into place attractively. YN’s eyes took in every miniscule muscle as Seonghwa took a long drag from his opera pipe. The picture of opulence and expense as he leaned back. Like he was planning something, as he eyed the youngest of the trio.

Hongjoong’s giggle was manically musical. Her attention danced to him in a flash. He looked pleasant and not a speck frightening like Yunho or even Seonghwa. There wasn’t that sort of coldness, firmness.

“Not in front of the lady,” Hongjoong warned, smoothly. His tone was light and playful, smiling.

YN didn’t know if it was directed at Wooyoung or Seonghwa. Seonghwa raised his opera pipe to his lips delicately, sucking in a puff.

Hongjoong’s gaze settled back on her. The look was something that fitted against her skin. Like his eyes were meant to stare at her with such intensity. Like a perfect puzzle piece slotting into place.

His attention felt just like a spotlight. She loved it.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you,” Hongjoong stated reverantly.

He moved slowly, leisurely. Like he had all the time in the world, like the way the waves lapped at the sand. Natural. Something that was destined.

Seonghwa remained behind him, trailing after him like a shadow. A trail of smoke followed the taller as he exhaled through his nose.

“I’m Kim Hongjoong,” he took her hand in between both of his before she could lift a finger.

He raised her hand to his lips. His breath was hot against her knuckles. He swept in closer. So close it felt like the world was just them. A wave of that pineapple salted air crashed over her. Him. He was the tropical warmth.

“YN LN, it’s a pleasure.” (He knew her. He knew everything.)

He winked, and she felt like her legs were kicking through the clouds. He was so smooth like the finest of liquor. A innate charisma that was undeniable, more palpable than any of the others. Not even Yunho’s intimidating presence could compare. Hongjoong lingered there for a moment. Eyes locked, almost like he was digging through her soul. Picking her brain without the need of words. His grin never left, cheshire-wide.

“And this is Park Seonghwa.” He continued. He did not do it at any nudging from the other. He took his time.

But there was Seonghwa behind his shoulder, towering and intimidating. But as YN glanced up at him, the aura that surrounded him like tobacco smoke parted for a moment. And he smiled… Soft. Fond. First at her and then at Hongjoong. It felt almost angelic. Kind. Gentle. Nothing like the icy glare he sent to Wooyoung. Nothing like the snide smirk he gave other men walking by like a growling guard dog.

Hongjoong glanced behind him, and gave him a fond look in return. Excitement danced in his eyes like ballerinas spinning round and roung.

Seonghwa’s voice was low as he said once again, “Hello dove.” His smile turned indulgent, deeper. “I can’t wait for us to spend more time together. Your ballet company is on hiatus, is it not?”

He spoke proper, almost business-like despite his usage of the word ‘dove’.

She nodded. Hongjoong’s smirk was pressed against her knuckles before he pressed another kiss to her skin, indulgently despite its quickness, before he threw an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders. The man ducked to accommodate the movement.

“It is.” She replied.

“As you know,” Seonghwa continued. His eyes cool and cold despite his smile, pleased and succulent. “You’re welcome at our home – and here.”

It made her brows crinkle.

Here?... Did they own the opera house?

“Any time,” Hongjoong insisted. He paused, looking her up and down once more. “I’d like to see more of you.” Approvingly.

“Not from windows and stairwells,” Wooyoung teased from beside him. Was he teasing her? She glanced aisde at him – drawn by his laughter. The youngest was grinning while Seonghwa glared an icy stare his way. He loved its punishing bite.

“I was curious of the pretty girl that captured my Wooyoung’s heart.” Hongjoong replied.

“I can see why she did.” Seonghwa completed Hongjoong’s thoughts.

“Me too,” Hongjoong breathed.

“I’m sorry; you own the opera house?” she retorted, dragging her thoughts back to that fleeting thought before it faded away in the whirlwind of their affections.

She blinked at them, glancing over at Wooyoung in query.

He glanced aside, oblivious. It would’ve made her laugh if Hongjoong hadnt replied with. “No need to apologize, angel. Yes. It was a passion project of ours.”

Passion project?

“We love the arts,” Wooyoung added, helpfully.

“I love passion.” Seonghwa commented.

Her gaze was doubtful; it was just so odd. But when had these men been normal? Hongjoong’s smile soothed her; the type of smile that made tension fade from your shoulders. It was like he sucked the air from her and replaced it with the ocean of him. He was able to command anything.

They spoke for only a few minutes more before men appeared, whispering about this and that to Seonghwa and soon enough Hongjoong. Wooyoung easily tugged her away, nearly lifting her up and off her feet to sweep her away from the greasy old men.

“Sorry, angel,” Hongjoong apologized aside. His face looked genuinely distressed like some sort of Renaissance painting; despair splashed across his mischevious features. An anchor pin on his lapel sparkled in the gas-lights, winking just as tauntingly. “Gotta work. Wooyoung, get her home safely.”

It was a command, not a question.

“See you very soon, precious.” Seonghwa promised before they walked towards a back room of the opera house in a crowd.

It felt like a whirlwind. The entire night was a burning hot hurricane of feelings and YN only just now realized how exhausted she was. Emotional highs and lows of finally meeting the men she heard so much about got to her. Her body sagged in Wooyoung’s embrace, almost like her gravity was rearranged.

They were something else. Powerful, magnetic, draining. She was intrigued and strangely afraid.

“Let’s go home, honey.” Wooyoung coddled her. “Tonight’s been a big night.”

Later that night, it was hot and heavy in the grand bedroom of the Captain. Its interior was humid; the nearby bathroom’s large doors were open with the bathtub’s haze heating the air in plumes of steam. The decadent bath drawn was forgotten as a groan filled the room. Seonghwa’s back hit the bed. Hongjoong’s lips locked with Seonghwa’s, devouring him just as he had eaten up every. single. thing. YN had done that night.

Seonghwa let Hongjoong take anything out on him. He let him take anything from him. This night had been both exciting and teasing. Hongjoong had so much to take out on him.

“I want her - YN,” Hongjoong whispered against Seonghwa’s lips. “Did you see her? How she looked at me, at us?”

If Seonghwa wasn’t in the same boat, he would’ve hated another’s name coming from Hongjoong’s mouth – especially while in such an intimate moment. Yet here, Seonghwa groaned as he let the shorter, his younger, his Captain, his leader, his boss, grind into him. Unrelenting. His eyes fluttered in bliss.

“I know, I know,” the long-haired man moaned in agreement. “She will be ours.”

It was a fact.

“Do you like her?” Hongjoong murmured, pressing kisses over his Seonghwa’s jaw. His fingers knotted in his lover’s hair tugging it to the side. “Say you like her, please.”

Was it a plead or an order? The tacked on ‘please’ was panting, an afterthought.

“I do, my love,” Seonghwa reassured. “We all do.”

It didn’t matter if they did, but it was a pleasant surprise. Just as they all clicked into the machine that was the Kim family, she fitted within their hearts. Each curve of her fitting a different part, a different need.

“Wh-what do-do you like?” Hongjoong asked breathily before he bit at Seonghwa’s ear tenderly.

Seonghwa licked his lips, letting a moan escape him easily. Hongjoong giggled lowly in his ear as he continued to nibble and lick.

“Beautiful. She sparkled like all the stars in the sky tonight. Not just her dress, her body…” He shuddered as Hongjoong sucked harder. “Her eyes. She’s enchanting.”

“You’d know, my Star.” Hongjoong’s nose grazed up Seonghwa’s throat as the older’s hands danced over the other’s form. There was a lilt, a soft sound in the back of his throat. Encouraging Seonghwa to continue.

“Talented,” Seonghwa started. “She’s worked hard to get to where she is – she is mo-ore talented than any of those prima ba-.”

Seonghwa was breathless as Hongjoong continued his path; deft hands unbuttoned the other’s night shirt with ease. Hongjoong hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as his hands slid down and down. Their mouths locked and his words bled into his lips.

“She’d fit in with the best of the best. She deserves the best of the best.”

“And?” Hongjoong breathed, fingers pausing.

“And she’s clever,” Seonghwa continued. “She knew it was us. She knows that we are powerful – and she is playing her-her cards right.” He chuckled lowly as he shivered. “She’s smart.”

“She’s so sweet,” Hongjoong was the one to lament. “Kind. Gentle. She’s so cute.”

He shuddered as Seonghwa bit down on his throat, a dark rumble of a laugh growing in his chest, manic.

“Hwa.” It wasn’t quite a scold.

“She is.” Seonghwa agreed, trailing his lips up to capture his Captain in a kiss. “Our Angel.”

The words were whispered against his mouth.

Hongjoong breathed in with elation, enraptured, smiling. He bit at Seonghwa’s bottom lip, tugging the thing lasciviously. Hongjoong wanted to hear more, hear everything about her from his right-hand man. His Star and his Angel. He liked the thought of that.

“Keep going, and I’ll keep going.”

“Keep going!” San encouraged.

His tone was giddy, his hands drumming against the car’s dashboard.

“Hey, watch it,” Mingi complained, eyeing his car’s delicate interior.

“You’re excited to hear everything to.” San commented glancing at the man for a moment before his attention magnetized back on YN.

A very sleepy YN who was half-asleep in Wooyoung’s embrace in the backseat of Mingi’s car. They had been talking for ages now – the duo had pulled up to pick Wooyoung and YN up after the opera and once they returned to her home they had all remained talking in the fine leathered interior of Mingi’s automobile.

“They came walking in during the middle of the act,” Wooyoung retold. “And YN knew it was them, immediately.”

“They demanded attention – like you all do,” YN murmured. She was so sleepy it was cute. But they wanted to hear everything. They had been waiting for this night just as much.

“And they looked right at you,” San predicted.

He remembered when Hongjoong scouted him. It had been at a boxing match, bloodied and beaten and yet Hongjoong looked at him like he was the world. Like he could take on the world. The way his eyes burned… it was as if he was branding his soul.

“Yeah… how’d you--?” YN queried.

“Then, he smiled that smile,” Mingi almost sighed. His grin was nostalgic.

“How do you know that?” YN also exclaimed, blinking more awake and shifting in Wooyoung’s arms.

His body shook with a rumbling laugh. “Easy, swanette. We all experienced what you did – once upon a time. The moment where everything changed.”

It made her brow crinkle thoughtfully. That’s how it felt. How the world felt like it tilted on its axis. She had thought it was just Hongjoong and Seonghwa… was it something more? Or was it just her romantic mindset growing by the second?

Had everything changed in that one moment?

Yes.

Everything had changed.

YN sat in her sitting room, petulantly glaring at the clock. Tick, tocking onwards. In her lonesome.

It was humiliating being put into her room like a child. Her legs ached as the time crept onwards without pain-killers. It was strange knowing if she called for them someone would come. They wouldn’t let her suffer pain but theyd let her suffer this… Put in time out to chill out as Seonghwa had said when he brought a snack her way.

It was cruelly caring – he hand-delivered it. Just to look at her with those shamed eyes. His disapproval burned.

She hated this. She hated the waltzing feelings in her chest – the seesaw of want of affection, to disgust and anger. How they could set her aflame and send her into the snow? What could someone do when they wanted their pain?

YN was lost in circles of a tango with her own thoughts.

The doors to her living room flung open with lackadaisical care. Not quite violent but not gentle.

“You fought with the Captain?”

Her heart tumbled in her chest at the voice. The gentle rumble of a laugh that left his throat made her skin ripple with gooseflesh.

“You’re just like me, swanette.” Wooyoung whirled through the room like a tornado. He plopped down on a nearby singular chair, legs slinging over the side lazily.

His grin was mischevious until he glanced over her form, really looked over beyond the blankets where he could see the bulky casts protruding. Her… broken and couch-bound. It was like ice was dumped over him. And now he realized why the others kept him away, him and San especially.

“Oh, YN,” he breathed from his spot. His heart felt like it had been punched. He sat up straighter, shifted closer to examine her.

It hurt to see the care. His love had never hurt til now. Seeing his eyes widen when he was an acomplice in this. She looked away.

“This is all your fault.” She muttered out, judging.

His brows jumped at that. Hurt shuddered through them.

“My fault?” he queried, pushing forwards ‘til he was kneeling before her. “What do you mean?”

“None of this would’ve happened,” she argued. “If we hadnt met! You knew—”

He didn’t even let her finish her words. “They said you were angry but don’t curse our love,” he snapped at her.

Wooyoung never snapped. His gaze was sharp as ice, a reminder that he was just as dangerous at the others. Her lips formed a firm line. She didn’t press back. (Perhaps her cool down did help.)

He let the pause simmer before he reached out to brush over her casts. Careful, reverant as if they were something necessary.

“I love that we met,” he told her sincerely. His eyes met hers. “I love you. You love us. This is just a warning from the Captain, ok?” His thumb rubbed over her knee. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her thigh. “You’re okay.”

A warning. It made her stomach churn with disgust. They were foolish to think this was something little.

“We don’t want to lose you.” He whispered.

It was cruel.

They were cruel. And so was she.

She pushed him away. Her legs curled into her as much as they could. Her sneer cut him like ice.

“They sent you, didn’t they?” she accused.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa knew she loved Wooyoung, not quite the most but differently. He was her first. She was soft for him. Easy to bend like she was in an arebesque.

Not now. She wouldn’t let him convince her this was normal.

“They don’t command me.” He told her. His tone was tighter. He hated being compared to something someone could use. He’s a free soul through and through. “I came to see you.”

“Why’d you stay away?” she bit back.

Because of them. She knew it. She knew it. Her eyes glanced back at him in a glare.

He glared back, glowering. He met her where she was – glare with glare.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Being their dog,” she retorted. “You didn’t visit for days. You or San. Why do you think that is?”

“Sannie was heartbroken you wanted to leave,” he growled out pushing back from her. He stood.

“But not that you and your lovers broke my legs?” she said. Her firm face was choked. The reality was cruel. Tears twinkled like diamonds in her eyes, unshed.

“We didn’t want you to leave. I’m not leaving.” He retorted. It was an accusation.

There was a stand off, two lovers caught in a quarral. Their eyes were full of fire. Anger and disappointment, ice and cruelty. And then there was a beat. Before Wooyoung softened.

He didn’t kneel again instead he towered over her. “I’m not leaving.” He told her solidly. “I’m not.”

It was no longer judgement but a declaration. She could try. All she wanted, he decided. He’d be there for her. Unlike the others, he didn’t storm out. Instead, he returned back to his seat and sat down.

He stretched. His fingers reached for the nearby phone, picking up the landline to a tolling ring.

“Do you need medicine?” He asked.

The others’ words echoed in her mind. They wouldn’t let her suffer in their injury. It wouldn’t fix anything.

“Yes.” She mumbled. Her legs curled tighter into her chest, turning onto her side.

He murmured the request into the receiver before he set the phone down with a clank. Her back was to him, something he was unfamiliar with.

“Do you want a hug?” he murmured slowly.

“No,” she growled.

Yet somehow hours later San found them, enveloped in an embrace. Her bandaged legs carefully arranged and her face pressed into his chest, his heart leading her towards a dreamy world of broken ballerinas and hypnotizing dark eyes.

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justbelievinginmagic · 4 days ago

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like a waltz⎯ part 6: enveloppé. (pt.1)

pairing(s): ateez ot8 x fem!reader series summary: when 8 mysterious bachelors arrive to town and fall for your charms, will you be able to reach your goal to be prima ballerina or be dragged into a selfish waltz between love and obsession? glimpse: you wake alone in the mansion; you fall asleep in an spider's embrace. warnings/tags: inspired by Ateez’s Ice on my Teeth MV & Teasers, Mafia AU, Ballet AU, early 1900’s AU with some divergences in tech advancements (i.e rule of cool), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, fxm, polyteez, MATURE topics, canon typical violence, canon typical gore, sugar daddy themes, unequal power dynamics, polyamory, intimacy, Korean honorifics, controlling & obsessive tendencies, maybe some stockholm syndrome?, embarrassment, anxiety, flirting, infatuation, mafia things, alcohol, smoking, mafia things, kissing, possessiveness, jealousy, stalking, sexual themes but no explicit smut, pain, medical drug usage, traumatic injury, injuries, food/eating, period typical gender roles/expectations, period typical thoughts on sex work, reader discretion advised & 18+ readers only! Let me know if I should tag anything else! word count: 28.2k previous chapter <- enveloppé (pt. 2) -> next chapter series masterlist read on ao3! important note:hi! this part was too long for tumblr’s word count rules, so it has been split! please check out the rest of this part after reading this post, here! or you can read it uninterrupted via the ao3 link ;)

enveloppé ; meaning “enveloped” or the action of wrapping around the supporting leg inward from an open position.

When she woke up that morning, YN was not in her familiar bed.

No, instead of the well-loved lumpy bed that she had inherited from her mother, everything was too soft. Softened cushions and too-gentle duvets cocooned her in a dreamland. So gentle, it made the ache in her feet triple somehow as if the lack of roughness highlighted the pain. Her body hurt the way it did after dancing a busy weekend or when she skipped icing her legs after a long multi-show day. Flexing them, she sighed as the cramping ceased. Her body felt too warm; the day-dress was stifling with the many layers of duvets and sheets. Her hips felt stiff from her corset, too.

Wait a minute, she had slept in her corset!?

Blinking her eyes open, she squinted blearily. There was so much light - natural light that streamed into the room gently felt like knives to her delicate, sleepy mind. Its brightness made her bury her face into one of the many goose-feathered pillows that supported her (admittedly, aching) head. God, her head hurt so much. How much champagne did she drink last night?

A soft groan tumbled from her throat as she mustered the strength to push herself up and examined her unfamiliar surroundings. Her face scrunched and pouted as she looked up from her couch over the space. It wasn’t long until she realized it wasn’t so unfamiliar.

This was no bedroom, but one of Ateez House’s many living rooms. The same one she waited in when she arrived early to her dates - the same one she played chess with Mingi in over and over, the same one she napped with Wooyoung in. She was not in a bed but a comfortable settee, elegant and scented in a tropical aroma she was distantly aware of. But despite the familiarness, it was somehow different. The room was softer – gentler than she had remembered.

White drapery had been added to the nearby windows that looked out into the late-winter gardens, hiding the outside world with the gauzy fine-lace curtains only the most-wealthy could afford. They looked brand-new with how pearly white they were. New floral wallpaper had been installed, somehow looking like it had been there all alone with the fine mirrors and paintings unmoved. A fire had been lit in the nearby firepit, keeping the place warmer than she was used to on these dreary days. Flowers were everywhere, in every corner of the room and on every surface, it almost looked like a florist shop. With the fire’s warmth, the blooming nectar of blossoms pungently scented the air.

Amongst the fluff and florals, there was a dark speck against the soft white. It was a figure of a man, haloed in the diffused natural light of the window. His long legs outstretched – the dark, almost spiderlike limbs contrasted with the white surroundings. He placed some papers aside; the simple rustling irritated her head. The long waistcoat cinched his waist in tight as he leaned forward.

Black eyes met hers.

She blinked at him owlishly, surprised to say the least.

“Yun--ho?” it was said confusedly, syncopated with sleep, as she tilted her head.

Yunho chuckled, and it didn’t seem threatening. In fact, he sounded boyish for a moment. Pushing himself up to stand, he smirked a smile her way.

“Hello, sleepy head,” he greeted, grabbing a nearby decanter of clear liquid. “Sleep well?”

Sleep well? Her eyes blink, blink, blinked before flashing to the nearby window. Its view was partially obscured by prettied lace curtains but even she could see the bright sun high above. How long had she been asleep? How did she even get here?

Yunho poured the liquid into a glass cup as she quickly sat up. Her corset creaked, the metal squeaking, as she shot up from her spot; the blankets tumbled to the ground as she tried to stand. Her bare feet (Wooyoung had made sure to slip her heels off last night) slipped on the floor as the fabric tangled and twisted in between her legs.

“Woah,” Yunho exclaimed.

There was a clatter of the crystalline glass to a nearby side-table as he heaved forward. His arm wrapped around her waist with ease. He took her weight easily as he caught her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she insisted, face to face with his chest. A wave of his cologne, something fruity and fresh, something the complimented the tropical breeze that seemed to swallow up the room, engulfed her just as his arms tugged her close.

“I’m sorry!” she babbled.

Was she apologizing for tripping or for staying the evening, he wondered for a moment before realizing it was probably both. Her face was a pleasant pink and he couldn’t help but find the panic in her eyes charming. She was so cute.

“I-I stayed the night --- How did I even get here? Please don’t say I insisted or did something forward—”

Her words stumbled to stop as she tried to remember the night before. It was a blur of champagne kisses and swirling whirling dancing. The last memory she really could recall was twirling in a promenade with…with Yunho. Her eyes flashed up to him. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but see him as the man sat intimidatingly at the end of a banquet table, eying her like a prey. Even now in his arms, she felt akin to a fly in a spider’s soft web. While she wasn’t exactly unsafe, she felt caught; she knew he was strong and powerful. Her inhibitions had been dulled last night; she was surprised she let herself dance with him so closely. His breath was hot, not a smidgen of alcohol on it from what she could remember. His arms were strong, sturdy in a different way than San’s. Confident and daring.

Just like now, his arms flexed around her and she felt her stomach dance with butterflies.

“Shh, darling doll,” he hummed out as if sensing her budding anxieties. (He was always so in tune with Mingi’s anxieties; it’d only make sense he’d be cognizant of hers, too.)

His grip loosened and his hands trailed to both arms. Soothingly, he stroked up and down her arms as he guided her to sit once more on the settee that she had made her bed sometime last night…or this early morning she supposed. She realized then she was still in her day-dress from yesterday; the clothes sticking to her with a day-old warmth and hours-old sweat. Her hair probably looked a mess too, she realized. Her hand was quick to raise up to push and prod at it.

Yunho couldn’t care less. He enjoyed seeing the ruffled feathers of their swan. After all, it meant she was comfortable – well rested. That’s all he liked to see. Those he cared for comfortable. The slight panic in her eyes made him chuckle again. Turning, he grabbed the glass to present it to her.

“Drink.” he insisted. It was not a question and, by the look on his face, he wouldn’t let her refuse.

It was then she realized how parched she was. Her mouth was all dry like a desert. Lips cracked with day-old lipstick (half of which had been kissed off last night). She nodded, taking it eagerly with both hands. In her eagerness, YN didn’t even wonder if it was something else as she took large gulps of it.

Water poured down her throat, trickling unlady-like down her chin in her haste. His dark eyes gleamed gently as he hummed once more, soft and gentle.

“Good girl…” he cooed.

His fingers, long and ringed, rose to wipe at the trails of water on her chin. It made her flush even more.

YN felt the embarrassment rise and twist in her stomach at his actions. The fondness in his eyes reminded her of San’s gentle gaze while she prepared in the boudoir. Heavy with care – she knew Yunho wasn’t teasing her. It made her throat somehow dryer – despite finishing the water and placing it aside.

Her eyes looked up at Yunho pleadingly. “What happened?” she asked, smally.

“Nothing happened.” His tone was securely final.

His hands fell to his knees as he sat on the coffee-table in front of her. His arms pressed into his knees as he leaned forward, ducking his head just enough to lower himself to her eye-level.

“We insisted you stay with us. As your patrons,” he included himself with that title – himself, Jongho, and Mingi she noted. “You’re our responsibility. And you were exhausted last night,” he told her. He lowered his tone. “And a smidge drunk.”

His smile was sparkling, smoldering delightfully as if sharing a joke. Oh, the embarrassment. She never got drunk. Her cheeks warmed to a ruby red, and he couldn’t help himself. The back of his silver-ringed hand stroked the burning hot skin, smirking contentedly.

“Cute,” he commented breathily before swallowing down his desire.

“You didn’t do anything unusual – just danced a lot, YN, and then you were falling asleep on your feet. We didn’t want you wandering home like that – we made sure you were safe and comfortable here. You slept like you haven’t slept in decades.”

Her cheeks remained sizzling hot, his eyes focusing on the hue for a moment longer before he smiled at her gently. She was precious. A gentle thing, a doll worth protecting as Mingi had said before.

“I’m so sorry.” She spoke again, still choked with embarrassment.

She couldn’t believe she let loose so much. She never drank at these parties but Wooyoung and San… and well, all of the men who were their friends (and hers she thought delayed) made her feel safe. Secure. Even now, with Yunho’s teasing words, she believed him. Just as she took the glass of water from him moments ago without a thought of ill-will, she trusted him. They did care for her and protected her.

She could imagine San insisting on having her return home with them or Wooyoung not letting her free from his embrace… maybe Yeosang’s careful hand on her back, guiding her to a car. Or Mingi taking her arm in his and whispering he’d make sure she arrived safely just like when he drove her to and from work. Jongho’s arms thick and muscular, safe, swooping her up.

Yunho stroked her cheek with the back of her fingers once more before tapping her nose playfully, drawing her back into the present. He was certainly more familiar and casual with her than he had been before last night. His smile almost boyish rather than sharp and dangerous. It made her blink at him doe-eyed, whiplashed. Was she hung over?

“It’s alright. Lunch is being prepared; join us for it, and all will be repaid.” The tallest man stepped back from her orbit to walk over to the chair he had occupied. His suit jacket rested of the chair’s arm alongside a portfolio of something in a leather booklet.

She nodded softly, swallowing down her pride as she tried to smooth down her skirt and shake away her surprise and sleepiness. Her dress was horribly wrinkled and, for a moment, she worried she stunk (she couldn’t tell with the near-florist level of floral bouquets scattered about the sitting room… her flowers she remembered finally! They had even taken care of transporting them!) Her eyes widened in wonder at the thought. They were so considerate… and here she was so sloppy. YN’s hand rose to shift her hair again, behind her ear at first before attempting to untangle what she could. She tried to smell her dress’ fabric discreetly with a tilt of her head.

Yunho watched her from the corner of his eye as he slid his jacket back on. Glancing aside to give her a moment of discretion, he spoke once more.

“A dress has been left for you in the bathing room,” he nodded his chin towards the bathroom nearby. “If you wish to wear it – I’ll give you some privacy.” He grabbed his portfolio of papers and raised his brows at her. “I’ll be outside.”

The idea of privacy was a blessing.

Once the door shut behind Yunho, she groaned into her hands. Oh, how improper! She had stayed the night. Gotten so drunk they had to take her to their home. Her stomach was in knots thinking of everything. Her mother must be worried sick! Oh, they must think her so lazy! Its lunch-time! Her thoughts tennis-balled back and forth in her head. Irresponsible, unkempt, indecent, she worried as she rushed into the bathroom to change and hopefully reclaim some of her decency.

The decency didn’t come easily. The borrowed dress was intricate and smelled of a different type of soap, a perfume that wasn’t like the sweet pineapple of the comforter she awoke with but instead a warm vanilla. Sweet as sugar with a burnt coffee tinge. The dress itself was something pastel, all ruffled lace and softness. It made her feel like she matched the curtains and drapery in her the sitting room. The fabric was so soft and expensive. Perhaps one of the finest dresses she’s ever worn – and it was just a day-dress. One thing that was clear was that it was created with the idea of someone fastening the lady into it rather than the lady herself putting on the clothes. She needed someone to lace her up. The bodice remained untied in the back, pooling around her chest.

Opening the door of the bath room, she called out.

“Yunho? Can you help?”

Silence. She waited a few moments before YN shuffled with the dress, holding it close to her chest to hide her basic corset and underthings. She poked her head out of the grand double-doors of the sitting room. Shockingly, she came face-to-face with a suited chest, a fabric rose nearly poking her eye out.

There was a soft gasp of surprise from both of them.

After all, it wasn’t Yunho standing in wait, but Yeosang.

YN let out an embarrassed squeak, tucking back into the room slightly.

“Hello sweetheart,” Yeosang replied, smiling at her. His intense eyes softened as it jumped from her disheveled hair to the loosened bodice of the dress that she held close to her chest with both hands. “Do you need assistance?”

YN felt like her cheeks would permanently be blushed at this point as she shifted the fabric of her bodice closer to her. While it wasn’t showing too much skin, the looseness of the unlaced dress was nerve racking. Inappropriate despite the fact she knew they’d been close to her as she was close-to-bare (even if they averted their eyes often) in the boudoir. Even if the intense eyes of Yeosang were always kind when it came to her, her nerves were like a live-wire today. (She wondered distantly if it was due to the fact the ballet was done for the season.) She was no longer their patron; she was simply YN.

Yeosang’s gaze remained on her face now. Soft features patient.

“If you don’t mind?” she managed to get out.

“Never,” Yeosang promised as he shouldered his way into the sitting room. His eyes flashed to look at the nearby butlers outside (as if checking if they were looking at his YN or not) as the door shut with a thud.

Shifting to present her back to Yeosang, his fingers flexed as her bared skin revealed itself; her corset despite its simplicity tempted him. A flash of a daydream flickered before his eyes:

His hands went to slide off a gown, silky soft. Her corset would be whale-boned with intricately designed lace that would feel like butter over his fingertips. Before he tore it open (and he could with his bulging muscles). Expenses be damned. Gooseflesh would decorate her skin and he’d press kisses to each one. He’d shower her body in kisses. One after another as he trailed up her bare back to her shoulders to her neck ‘til he’d turn her around and-

He swallowed as she shifted the fabric over her shoulders more, helping him as if he couldn’t see the loosened fabric hanging.

The dress had its own makeshift corset, criss-crossing ribbons of silk, to cinch her in even more. With careful hands, he began to lace her up, slowly. Wooyoung had more experience with this. Yeosang took his time as he maneuvered the corset backing.

“Where did Yunho go?” she queried after a moment.

“He was called away to work,” he told her. “He’d been working on some paperwork while you were resting.”

Her ears burned pink.

“No need to blush,” Yeosang soothed, his thumbs brushed over the now just slightly bared remaining skin of her back as he tied the dress up with a delicate bow. He shifted the modesty panel to hide her skin. “He called dibs to keep an eye on you today. He wanted you to rest well; he was the first to ask if you wished to go home last night, too.”

Yunho… wanted to see her? Took care of her? Wanted to keep an eye on her? He was the one to sweep her away in her drowsiness. Instead of the others, images of him came to mind. Fantasies of his long fingers going to cup her face as her head lolled sleepily came to mind; his fingertips stroking her cheek gently. His tall form sweeping her into his arms, easily keeping her steady. It didn’t lessen the blush on her cheeks.

“All done.” Yeosang assured her, pressing a daring kiss to the back of her neck. It smelt of soap; YN had quickly wrung a wash-cloth over her skin in the wash room moments ago.

His kiss made her shimmy – a shudder of delight or surprise she couldn’t decipher the feeling. Yeosang was so bold with her. Yeosang smiled, pleased. His smile grew to a grin as she turned to face him.

She was an angel in lace. He liked these cute things – he imagined her in a wedding dress and couldn’t help but awe. YN saw how his eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re beautiful,” Yeosang complimented before offering her his arm. “Let’s get some food in you.”

Together, they walked to the dining room. His guidance felt almost like a dance she realized. He moved with such grace as he delicately led her around butlers. Sometimes he had her arm through his; other times, he’d shift and his hands would graze over the small of her back as he led her this way and that. She noticed the way a butler visibly flinched when he passed. Huh… It was almost frightening to see how the man’s statuesque stoicism faltered. YN glanced down the row of butlers and observed as Yeosang led. Most of their gazes remained straight ahead, but some visibly sweated or trembled as they passed their vision. One let out a breath.

Her brow quirked.

“What are your plans while the ballet company deliberates over a new show?” Yeosang asked her.

Ah yes, her break. It was something most ballerinas looked forward to – either to continue to grow their skills or to relax. And she was looking forward to it, too! In fact, she was more excited than she had been in a long while. She wanted to relax and help her mother, but she also knew the boys wanted to go on adventures. San had planned many dates already.

“I’ll continue to practice in a few weeks or so,” she admitted. “We all continue to practice in a nearby dance studio, this warehouse of sorts. But it’ll be a nice break. Maybe I’ll take up extra hours sewing with my mother in the meantime- if they need extra hands.”

Yeosang frowned at that. He didn’t want to imagine her breaking her back in a stuffy warehouse by the port. He knew how horrid they were getting. His free hand twitched; he curled it into a fist.

“I struggle with taking breaks, so I hope you are better than I am and truly try to rest,” he said. “I know if you need a place to nap the day away, our home is available.”

It was a light tease, and she groaned a bit into his shoulder. He smiled and laughed.

The dining hall’s doors were opened for them by two butlers.

Inside was not the feast she had been greeted with before. No, instead it was more modest. There were a few plates bearing cured meats and fine cheeses; some were decorated elaborately with fruits. There was a steaming soup in an expensive-looking cauldron, steaming as it roiled and boiled a light broth, tumbling vegetables around. Each place mat bore polished utensils and porcelain plates as well as a small bowl full of steaming rice. Some had another bowl placed atop it, keeping it warm. Others were empty with only a few grains of rice clinging to the ceramic. (Some of the men had already eaten, she wondered who.)

Mingi and Jongho were the only members present. Sat side by side, their conversation was quiet as they spoke between bites of food and drinking from their cups.

“-in the port. As if they have a chance of changing anything.”

YN caught the last few words of Mingi’s rumbling lament before he took a large bite of his rice, cheeks puffing out as he chewed. Jongho slapped at his arm, eyes zeroing in on the doors opening.

“You bastard,” Mingi’s voice came out in a muffled splutter, rice splattering a bit from his pursed lips. Offense was on his masculine face.

Jongho’s eyes bugged.

“Hyung!” he gritted out before his chin jolted towards the entry way.

Yeosang’s head tilted at the others, greeting them with his eyes rather than any action. YN smiled softly; the rosy flush was still clear on her cheeks. She wondered if they had fun last night or if it was just a drunk disaster.

Jongho grinned at her.

“Babydoll!” Mingi jolted in his spot, half-choking on his food at the sight. “Hi!”

Yeosang shoo’ed a butler who tried to pull out a chair for her and went to tug the chair out instead. YN sat across from the equally-embarrassed Mingi. His cheeks had gone bright red, matching his ears as he struggled to swallow down his food, half-choking. Jongho patted his back, not quite helpfully as the older jolted from the harsh slaps to his spine.

“Hi,” YN greeted. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

She didn’t clock Yeosang’s hand brushing over her back as he sat beside her, his bare hand grazing the visible skin there reassuringly. He hated her apologizing for something they welcomed.

“No intrusion,” Jongho denied easily, leaning his elbow on the table to look over at her.

His food had quickly been ignored at the sight of her. His gaze was gentlemanly, remaining on her eyes. Only when she glanced towards the servants who piled food upon her plate, some at the request of Yeosang or Mingi, did Jongho take in her appearance.

She looked lovely. Soft and angelic. He wanted to keep her in the safety of their House, their arms, especially after seeing the evils of men in the ballet last night. He’d seen how the Madame was no protector before. She deserved better. The gentle soul of the youngest swooned over her even if he remained stern and stoic on the outside. There was only a gentle quirk of his lips even now.

“Yeah, how’d you sleep, doll?” Mingi chimed out once he swallowed down his rice without choking.

“She was out like a light,” Yeosang noted.

Did Yeosang also watch over her? Her face was a dewy red as she nodded, saying she slept well.

“Good,” Jongho murmured, pleased.

“I’m sorry that I –“

Mingi made a tsk in the back of his throat. “No, no,” he scolded, in that deep voice of his. “No more apologies.”

“Sor-“

Mingi pouted at her, his plump lips looking oh so enticing despite the squint of his eyes. Disapproval. Instead of finishing her words, YN went to take a bite of her meal.

“No sorry’s.” He insisted. “Are you busy today?”

Their intentional acceptance of her was hard to swallow, now especially. Her eyes flickered away from him to the nearby windows haloing them in afternoon light. Afternoon… she couldn’t help but burn with shame. It was afternoon already! YN hesitated. Yeosang stroked the back of her hand soothingly. Mingi and Yeosang’s gaze met.

The taller cleared his throat, fumbling a bit.

“You don’t have to join me, but I was going to go for a ride in my newest automobile,” Mingi clarified.

He wanted her to join so badly but he could practically feel the embarrassed heat of her rosy cheeks from here. He didn’t want her to feel pressured. She should never feel frightened. But Mingi also wasn’t used to being told no.

He wanted to push and reassure and hold her close. Yeosang stroked her hand once more reassuringly. Mingi shifted in his seat.

“Maybe,” she replied softly.

“Was that the custom order from Aurora? Another car?” Jongho queried from beside Mingi. He took a sip of his drink as he glanced away from YN for the first time to look at Mingi.

There was a bashful grin that came to Mingi’s face, a bit boyish and care-free. His hand rose to rub the back of his neck.

“Ahhh,” he nearly moaned. “Maybe.” He admitted before raising a brow and pointing at Yeosang. “But he ordered custom tennis rackets. Diamond-incrusted!”

The idea of diamond-incrusted rackets was almost laughable. The amount of wealth these men had surprised her constantly. She cracked a smile as Yeosang cooly defused the accusation, the performance of a socialite on like a mask.

“You’re mistaken, Mingi,” he said, shaking his hand politely towards the others. “I’d never splurge like that. I’m not our youngest.” He directed the ire towards Jongho.

Jongho spluttered, losing his stoic-charm to fall into his youth. “I don’t splurge.” He defended. “I search for treasures – and I find them.”

His eyes flashed from Yeosang to YN. They looked big and boba-like, soft and squishy.

“Treasures such as custom-golden game sets?” Mingi teased. “I saw the orders!”

“Entertainment treasure!”

“Transportation treasure!” Mingi argued back.

The men’s laughter made YN relax and lighten up gently. It was interesting how these intimidating men lightened up around one another and especially with her. They treated her equal to them, sometimes even better than them. Like she was something to be treasured.

YN reached for an apple in a silver chalice, but Jongho grabbed it before she could. Her eyes flashed to his. His cheeks puffed into a small smile as he began to cut at it with precise knife skills, his attention shifted to the task at hand, adorably.

“Let me,” he murmured.

“Ooooh,” Mingi ooo’ed and aaa’ed at Jongho’s apple-cutting skills. He raised a ring-clad hand up to cup his mouth as if to prevent the others from listening as he told YN across the table. “Jongho could break that apple by hand if he wanted to, you know?”

His eyes flickered up, glancing at Mingi with a glare. The older laughed.

“I’m a gentleman, Mingi.”

“Oh yeah,” Mingi teased back. “You’d do it if she wasn’t here.”

Her eyes lit up just enough at the idea. Images of Jongho, safe and secure and strong, with his arms flexing deliciously as he cracked an apple easily in half. In this fantasy, he wasn’t in his long sleeves and tight-button shirts, but nothing too revealing. Just a simple rolled up sleeve… almost like Yunho from earlier.

Their fantasied versions blurred together. Lean imagined arms flexing, Yunho’s long delicate veiny hands gripping the apple.

Yeosang chuckled nearby as he watched her fall into a day dream. She must’ve been still sleepy he assumed because YN only came back to herself when Jongho presented an apple slice on a fork outstretched for her to take.

“Thank you, Jongho.”

Her fork reached out and pierced the piece before bringing it to her mouth.

It was a pleasure to see his ears ripen to a red that could rival the apple he continued to slice up.

The lunch continued with the soft laughter and company of Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang.

A clock tolled two times.

“That’s my cue,” Yeosang commented. “I practice at 2:15 daily,” he admitted to YN.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head, surprising her still. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” her voice was small, surprised, but pleased none the less.

Each kiss from Yeosang was so innocent and yet made her heart beat wild. A part of her wondered when he’d kiss her lips and it made her cheeks flush at the thought.

Mingi and Jongho said their goodbyes to him as well as they finished up their meals.

“Perhaps I should head out soon; I’m sure you’re busy,” she said to them as the door shut.

Groaning, Mingi leaned back in his seat, stretching like a cat. Her eyes were guided up his slim torso, his button up shirt barely buttoned up she noted as she got a flash of his toned, tanned stomach. Her eyes flashed away quick. Jongho chuckled, catching her.

“You don’t have to leave,” Jongho said after a moment. He wasn’t looking at her. His fingers fixed his jacket’s cufflinks. “The sitting room is yours. You are welcome to stay there – I know Wooyoung-hyung and Sannie-hyung will be back soon.”

“I’m here,” Mingi argued.

It was clear Mingi and Jongho teased back and forth easily. Jongho’s pleased grin was a tell-tale sign of their playfulness. It made her smile.

“Let me take you out for a ride, doll,” Mingi pleaded again. “This car is faster than fast.”

“Is it safe?” Jongho countered as he rose from his seat. A nearby butler immediately went to clean up Jongho’s placemat, sweeping the plates and silver-wear into their arms quietly.

“I’m the best driver in all of Cromer,” Mingi crowed out, placing his napkin down

“Bold,” Jongho teased, his eyes smiling as they met YN’s. His hands went to fix his suit jacket’s buttons next.

“I can prove it.” Mingi said, standing next. The butlers repeated their actions with Mingi’s dishes now.

Jongho circled the table and scooted YN’s seat out to help her stand.

“I’m not sure, Mingi.” She admitted. “Maybe not today.”

She couldn’t imagine explaining to her mother that not only did she stay the night but she went for a joyride! Oh, the scandal.

“Are you sure?” Mingi whined.

She nodded bashfully, hands clasping in front of herself. “Another day, I promise.”

“She’s still tired,” Jongho added as if to help soften the blow more. He turned to glance at her, leaning in a smidge closer. “I see the stars in her eyes.”

He flirted… her stomach whirled. He smiled pleased as if he could tell he made her flustered despite her silence. It felt like after last night everyone was teasing her. It wasn’t unpleasant but it was overwhelming. The contrast of the polite hand that rested on her back tingled as the trio began to walk out of the dining room.

What had happened to make everyone so bold? Was she bold last night? She’d have to ask San or Wooyoung.

“Next time for sure, then. I can drive you home still,” Mingi insisted. “In a tamer automobile,” he reassured Jongho.

“Better be,” Jongho commented as they continued through the halls. “YN’s precious.” It was a softer admittance as he glanced aside to nod at a butler.

Her cheeks burned now. Her hero spoke about her like she was some princess.

“I know,” Mingi huffed.

He turned to flash her a smirk, seemingly suave despite the fact she had seen and loved his gummy smile. “I’ll be back, babydoll. I’ll bring the car around.”

He took off down a different hall before the foyer, leaving her and Jongho alone.

“And then, there were two,” Jongho commented. He smiled at her. His hand didn’t squeeze or pat her back as they walked along.

She nodded; the pair walked in silence for a moment until they came to a stop in the entry-way of the mansion. New bouquets sat on nearby side tables made of marble and aged wood. Their blooms flavored the air into a rose-tinted aroma.

“I—” Jongho began. “I had fun last night.”

“You did?” she asked. A flood of nerves tingled at her fingertips.

He nodded firmly; his hair bounced cutely.

“I’m not a party person like that,” he admitted. “I’ve prepared parties for Hongjoong-hyung, but I don’t go to parties much.”

“You’re a party planner?” YN queried surprised.

“I’m a planner,” he clarified. “I manage the entire mansion, some of Ateez’ businesses and estates as well. When they need things planned, I handle it.”

She remembered San explaining that Jongho handled a lot of things around the mansion. It made sense that he organized everything. Almost as if to prove that, Jongho fiddled with a nearby rose in the floral arrangements.

“That’s a lot of work.” She said, glancing around the foyer. “And it’s just you?”

Jongho was the youngest; it surprised her that he held such responsibility within the group of men. It made her realize that earlier when he discussed deliveries that he probably arranged them.

“I’m… efficient,” he said.

“You’re smart.” She added.

He smiled at her before he licked his lips. He glanced away at the rose again, plucking it out of the bouquet. He fiddled with it, plucking at stray thorns and fluffing the petals to full bloom. She was surprised by how he did so quickly without slicing his own fingers.

“Seonghwa used to manage everything by himself; Hongjoong wanted someone to help him. I’m naturally… good at what I do, because--.”

He twirled the rose in his hands before his dark eyes lifted to meet hers. In the distance, she could hear a car rumble out front, but with his eyes locked on hers the world seemed to fade away into a watercolor blur.

“--I care for them. So, I want to make sure everything is in place, secure, and perfect for those I care for.” Jongho said. He outstretched the perfect rose her way.

YN took the rose carefully, holding it delicately.

“I see,” she said softly.

Jongho grinned at her. So sweet and full of sunshine that it made her heart flutter.

“Good.” he hummed before glancing behind him. That grin faded like clouds covering a beautiful sky. He was once more the put-together-man she had met that late-night. Her hero, her savior, her perfect gentleman.

“Mingi’s here to take you home. Please visit soon.” He insisted softly, turning to look back at her.

The moment she returned home it was like a bomb had gone off.

“Where were you?” Her mother exclaimed, hands on her hips.

Her mother paced as YN changed from the fine gown she had borrowed from the men and shimmied into something far less opulent. She brushed off invisible dust as she folded it neatly. She’d return it as soon as she could.

Her eyes flickered to the nearby single rose on her vanity – she had left the other bushels and bushels of roses at the Mansion. She knew she’d see them soon.

“I was--- San and Wooyoung had insisted I go to the mansion.”

“Did you and them—”

“No!” she exclaimed, head snapping to look at her mother. “No, Mama!”

Her mother sighed out, her hands going to rub at her face.

“Everyone saw you leave with them; I heard it from Catalina who heard it from Hanuel!” her mother scolded. “You were drunk. Now, you return in different clothes….”

YN’s face felt hot; her stomach churned at the scolding.

“I was just a little drunk but –”

“Its indecent, YN! It makes you look bad… and they’ll not want to be around you if you taint their reputation!” The words were harsh despite their truth. Societal standing was everything in Cromer.

“Apologize to them immediately. How indecent of you!” her mother worried. “This is not how you win a man! You inconvenienced them!”

She had been so hopeful with these men but now… did they only see her daughter as a harlot?

YN huffed as her mother slammed the door to her bedroom, frustration coming off her in waves. Was she right? They had acted so nonchalant but perhaps it was just… their kindness. And now they’d never want anything to do with her – especially with the closing the show. There was no reason to pay her dues, no set responsibility to see them (even if she wished she was with them now…). It felt like her body was hot and cold, a clash of thoughts rang out in her head.

Glancing at her dressing table and the rose once more, she took a deep breath before going to pick up her pen and her paper. Carefully, she began to write.

YN was sitting waiting for Wooyoung, tucked away in their favorite spot of a local café. She thanked a server as they delivered some tea and treats to the table – something Wooyoung had insisted upon whenever they dined there. The waiters knew them by face that it was near immediate perfect service.

Wooyoung was a tornado as he rushed into the café; everything hyperfocused on her. His hair was wild; his eyes sharp. His lips were a firm scowl.

“Indecency?” Wooyoung exclaimed; tossing the paper down onto the table. The opened letter spun onto the table slowly as he glared at her. “You think that was indecent? That you are indecent? Letting us take you somewhere safe? Sleeping in?” he scoffed.

His offense was palpable. If it had been a stranger and not his swanette that said this, he would’ve spiraled into a rant. Instead, he levied her with a scolding look as he plopped down in his seat. “Oh, my sweet innocent swanette.”

“It was… wrong of me, Wooyoung,” she mumbled out, glancing away from his intense eyes. “I should’ve been more careful, less … drunk.” It was bashfully said. “I inconvenienced you and the others.”

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes, scooting his chair towards her with screech against the polished floor. Some bystanders in the sea-side café glanced at him. His arm slid around her waist, his other hand rose to cup her cheek, and crowded closer to steal a kiss to her lips, silencing her.

She squeaked into it, her hands falling to rest on his white button up, sleek fabric soft against her fingertips. His roughened fingertips teased the softness of her blushed cheek.

“Never think you are an inconvenience – ever.” He warned. “You were welcomed – are welcomed at Ateez House.”

“It wasn’t proper,” she whispered into his air, glancing up at him.

“Who cares about proper?” he mumbled, leaning closer to press his forehead to hers. “I’m not a proper gentleman, am I?”

There was low chuckle in his throat as if he had said a joke.

“Yes, you are!” she argued, pushing at his chest in defense.

He was more gentle of a gentleman than any of the other men in the boudoir. All of her patrons were good and proper. San was respectful. Yeosang was a proper socialite. Yunho was intimidating but never violent (towards her). Mingi made sure she was safe. Jongho too! They always gave her a choice and didn’t push.

The smile he gave her was swoon-worthy; his grin was full of pearly whites. Wooyoung leaned forward once more to press a kiss to her lips; more smiling that it was a purse of his lips.

“Then, we must’ve made the proper decision if you believe us to be proper,” he laughed, pulling away from their embrace. “Trust us. You had your fun; we watched over you – as gentlemen do. Nothing you did was indecent… ever, YN.”

He steadied a serious look towards her. Their eyes locked and she couldn’t help but bend at his insistence. It was Wooyoung she was talking to. She hummed out an agreement reluctantly before she leaned forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder.

He cooed out, his frustration melting as she came to him for comfort. He immediately wrapped her up in a hug, tugging her off of her own chair and into his lap. A squeak left her in surprise but she didn’t wriggle away. Settled in his lap, engulfed in him, he whispered, “My lovie.”

Love. Her heart fluttered. “Lovie,” she repeated into his chest.

His heart thu-thumped faster.

“Yeah, don’t you remember confessing your love for me, for Sannie, and Yeosangie?” Wooyoung teased even as he tilted his chin to lean in closer. His minty breath fanned over her face, hot and heady. “Or that I love you in return, swanette?”

Her heart was beating out of her chest, and she could hear his thudding just as fast beneath her own ear.

“Hm?” he murmured in question, nose pressing against her hairline.

She lifted her head to be sucked into his orbit. They were closer than socially acceptable.

Her eyes met his. Her eyes were starry eyed as she watched his gaze grow deeper and darker like the seas. She licked her lips as she nodded. YN didn’t remember, but she knew in her heart it was true. She’s known for some time – and even with how she went to him for reassurance made her realize. She looked to him, looked for him in everything now. Same with San, Yeosang… all of the Ateez bachelors.

It was still said with reverence; with importance.

“I do love you, Wooyoung,” she confessed, quietly.

Wooyoung’s chest ached as he chuckled and hugged her closer. Arms overlapped as he hugged her tight. There was no intense locking of lips; it was just a heart-warming embrace. Like if he let her go, she’d fly away.

“I love you, YN.”

No nicknames, just her.

Wooyoung held her closer. He knew … he knew that the others did too. Everything was falling into place. Over her shoulder, he watched as a shadow passed in the window. His grin was like a wolf who had bitten a lamb.

YN received a letter in return a day later, hand delivered by a faceless butler. Firm lipped and eyes averted; he presented the letter with grandiose.

The paper was thick and expensive with an embossed ‘A’ signa that was now familiar and made a fond smile come to her lips (even if her stomach whirled nervously.) The comfort of yesterday’s reassurances soothed it into a low rumble. The envelope was heavy as she lifted it from the leather-gloved fingers of the butler, making her brow crease.

Without a moment’s pause, the butler offered a blade with a bow of his waist. She flinched back at the glint of the letter opener’s blade. Her eyes flickered between it and the man. He remained silent, waiting.

Apparently, whatever this letter spoke of was urgent.

“Thank… you,” she said delayed before taking the blade and slicing through the edge of the letter.

Inside was folded piece of paper and a key.

“Never doubt that you welcomed in our House.” The letter read.

It wasn’t signed, but she felt like she could hear the echoes of multiple men’s voices in the handwriting.

The key was opulent, custom-made with its intricate patterning at the key’s bow. It formed the initial of her the first letter of her name. Delicate but ornate in a way that screamed fancy and money. On its tip, there was a tag attached that read ‘For Our Eternal Star YN’.

Despite having a key to their mansion, YN had yet to meet the elusive Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Whenever she arrived, she was often guided by a butler who day after day would deliver her to the familiar sitting room that had become hers.

More often than not, there would be tea ready or light snacks in her favorite flavors. Like they anticipated her to visit more than they didn’t. It was sweet.

Sometimes she’s catch sight of Hongjoong and Seonghwa – or what she thought was them. A tall figure next to a shorter counterpart passing in the high windows of the mansion as she arrived. Like ghosts, they’d disappear into the darkness of the house. She wondered who was who. Was Hongjoong the tall one who stormed pass with the heeled boots? Or was he the shorter who seemed to swagger along beside the taller?

One day, she discovered which was which.

She had arrived later in the evening – when the sun had begun to set and the butlers were oddly absent from their typical spots. Unlocking the door, she entered without much fanfare. It was quiet.

YN was no snoop. She knew by now there were places she wasn’t meant to be and things perhaps would be better not to be privy to. Jongho’s gentle warnings when she had snuck away after Z left an impression after all. Instead, she began the familiar trek through the mansion to her sitting room. She passed under the grand stair-well as she headed towards what she had come to realize was the path to her ‘domain’ of the mansion.

It was then, half-way underneath the stairwell, she heard his voice.

“Mingi!” the voice called out. Melodic almost despite its sharpness. “Where’s my Mingi?”

She paused. There were heavied footsteps above her as the man walked past on the upper floor.

Creeping out from underneath the stairs, she peered around some nearby palm fronds and up through the stair’s balusters to catch sight of a lithe form, walking through the upstairs like a comet. His strides were quick and long despite his shorter form. His hair tickled the back of his neck, longer but not like Wooyoung’s. It was clean-cut, styled nicely, slick. She couldn’t catch sight of his face. YN held her breath as she leaned closer to the baluster, pressing her face into the wood.

Maybe… Maybe she’ll see his face.

“Seonghwa! Find Mingi.” the voice called out. Firm and commanding. “Both of you - my office!”

There was a long moment where she stayed frozen at her spot, watching as he walked off with steady footsteps.

“Sneaky swanette.” A voice taunted in a whisper.

YN nearly let out a shriek, her hands going to cover her mouth to muffle anything that tumbled out as she turned to look at her surpriser.

Wooyoung grinned at her.

“Did you catch a glance?” He teased, his eyes flashing upstairs where she had been looking.

She shoved at his chest lighthearted, casual, despite her blush.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Ah, the cry of the innocent,” Wooyoung teased as he reached out for her hand. “Come along. Tea’s ready.”

It was like he knew she was going to visit somehow.

“Where is everyone?” she queried. It was strange to see the halls vacant of their statuesque butlers.

“Helping Jongho with something.” Wooyoung answered.

Wooyoung led her to the – her - study and grinned as he spotted San and Yeosang sat about. Steaming cups of tea in delicate china sat undrank on the woodened tea-table by the window. Their conversation cut short as the doors were flung open by Wooyoung.

“Our swanette was sneaking about – looking after Hongjoong-ah.” Wooyoung said so, in a singsong.

“Oh, really?” San exclaimed, glancing up from his newspaper. He placed it aside as he spotted her.

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” she argued.

San smirked a catty leer as he opened an arm out for her to approach him. Squeezing her into an embrace, one where she nearly was sitting on one of his strong thighs, he rumbled, placating. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

“She did. She was hiding behind a palm tree,” Wooyoung snorted, grabbing a cookie from the platter beside the tea pot.

Yeosang chuckled out his signature chortle at that. San was half-distracted, cupping her cheeks to bring YN into a reverent kiss. In the privacy of their home, San was easily affectionate. His kisses grew more frenzied quicker. Even now, his nose pressed harsher into hers as he kissed her, as if he could get lost in her.

“Hello.” He breathed as he pulled away.

“Hi.” She smiled.

Wooyoung scooted two chairs nearby to the table.

“I’m surprised that Hongjoong hasn’t insisted on meeting you yet,” Yeosang commented as he tugged a placed chair closer to him.

Glancing over at Yeosang, blearily eyed from kisses, she made a ‘hm’ sound. The socialite chuckled before his chin tipped to point towards the seat beside him. His commanding magnetic gaze gestured for YN to join him, inviting her to sit next to him instead of San’s lap.

She heard San rumble a whine as she stood and sat down in the seat. Wooyoung pouted about how he wanted to sit next to Yeosang.

“Hello sweetheart,” Yeosang hummed, lifting a cup of tea to her lips for her to take a sip. Before she could purse her lips, he blew on it; his minty breath fanned across her face. His eyes locked onto hers intimately as he urged her to take a drink now.

YN sipped on it and hummed pleasantly before greeting him.

“Yeosangie,” she beamed after swallowing.

He smiled pleasantly before placing the cup of tea down in front of her.

“I’m surprised he’s stayed away for so long, too,” San commented. “Hongjoong is jealousy incarnate.”

“He is?” YN wondered aloud as she nibbled on a tea-cookie.

Wooyoung scoffed, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Yes. He only saw me because of my closeness to Yeosangie.”

“Not true,” Yeosang rebutted.

“It is,” Wooyoung commented before glancing at YN with a wink. “And because of how devilishly handsome I am and clever and -.”

San slapped at Wooyoung’s thigh to stop his ramble.

“Is he jealous of me spending time with you?” she commented softly.

Hongjoong seemed like a kind soul. He helped all of the men she considered to be close to her heart. His wealth was theirs; their wealth was his she assumed. Was that… not true? Her dubious expression flickered from Wooyoung to San to finally Yeosang.

The socialite chuckled into his tea before shifting to lower his tea cup. “Oh, honey,” he cooed softly. His fingers curled around YN’s knee, thumb brushing over the bone soothingly.

“It’s the opposite.” San said.

“He wants to spend time with you.”

“Me?” YN exclaimed.

“Who wouldn’t want to be in your orbit? You’ve managed to capture all of our hearts,” Wooyoung commented cooly, too casual for the implications.

“That’s no easy feat,” Yeosang admitted.

San hummed softly as he and YN laid back in the couch, enraptured in his embrace. Soften linen and furs surrounded them. The inkling of it being improper trickled through her head but… this was San they were talking about. Sweet, perfect gentleman San.

The way he laid back and hummed was almost catlike. Like a kitten purring, he continued his melody.

It wasn’t one that she had heard before. And she felt like she had heard all sorts of songs in the ballet. The orchestra loved to stay up to date; the penny arcade always had a piano player with the latest tunes. This was something softer. Something homely. Special.

“Sannie?”

“Yes, honey?” he replied, raspy toned.

It made her shiver as she turned to look up at him. His smile was slow, sleepy, and calm.

“What are you humming?” she asked.

His smile grew, a nostalgic gleam came to his eyes. “Something we sang back home.”

“Tell me about Aurora?” she whispered, curling towards his chest. Her cheek pressed against his warmth. His heart thudded beneath her ear.

His hand, bare of any rings for once, trailed up and down her spine.

“It was home. Golden skies, golden sands. I’m not used to your winters, honeybee,” he admitted, shifting her to wrap them both tighter in the soft fur coat.

“Summers will be warm,” she said, almost like she was reassuring him.

(She didn’t want them to leave.)

“I grew up in the port. On the beach nearly. I never wore my shoes always wanting to feel the sand between my toes. It wasn’t like here. Here it’s so… much – layered upon layered docks and mixed buildings and barely visible coastlines. Foggy and grey in the mornings. Back home, it was just an open dock and sunshine and sand. One or two ships could come and go as a kid – it wasn’t until Hongjoong that..” He trailed off sighing deeply. A hand rose to rub his face. “It became so different.”

There was a tiredness to his voice that YN hadnt noticed before.

“Do you miss it?”

San’s intake of breath was sharper than she anticipated. Her head turned to glance up at him. Her chin pressed to his chest.

His eyes were on her, dark as midnight. It almost startled her.

“No.” he admitted genuinely. His fingers spread over her back as he slid her up with ease. “No, I don’t. Not one bit.”

He nuzzled her jaw softly. “One day, I’ll tell you why, okay?”

“I promise.” He swore.

Another day of no practice left her uneasy. She was used to her schedule and, without it, she felt like worms wriggled in her stomach nonstop. Without the opera, she worried faintly if her patrons’ attention would waver but it grew. In her worries, she always tried to cling to that. Wooyoung’s love, San’s embraces, Yeosang’s attention, Mingi’s protectiveness Jongho’s eagerness. When she offered to help her mother at the factory, one of the men conveniently swooped in to distract her. Without fail.

Lately, it was Yeosang. The socialite had grown bolder just like the other Ateez bachelors. He insisted on dates about town and dinners and cinema visits. Their publicity brought scrutiny that YN was unfamiliar with. Because, after all, the ballet was on hiatus. San and Wooyoung were not her patrons as of late, and Yeosang was never truly one either. It was scandalous for her – so low-class to be with the peak of society Kim Yeosang.

He could not care one bit.

Through the downtown, they’d stroll leisurely with no final place in mind. It was a promenade, a statement to society that the Kim Yeosang was with a ballerina of the Cromer Opera House. He had her on his arm proudly. His smile was sweet.

Some folk whispered as they passed (“Isn’t that YN? Wasn’t she seen with Mr. Kim San?” “I saw her on an outing with Mr. Kim Wooyoung!” “What a who-“) Yeosang’s direct glare was something that could melt ice. Intense and full of hatred as he overheard the nastiness of high-society. He held YN closer as if that’d prove something. As if that’d protect her.

He wished he could shelter her from high society’s stupidity. Despite being the socialite, he didn’t like the people in it. It was just his duty. He was to ease the press not alight them. That wasn’t his role here. So he bit his tongue.

He simmered in his anger silently. So much so, that YN clocked the change in his demeanor.

YN squeezed his arm softly. “Want to head back?” she asked softly.

Yeosang weighed whether it was because she worried he was ashamed or if she was embarrassed. He couldn’t tell. He wished he could read her better. He was still learning.

YN knew that these things would appear unsavory. Many still saw ballerinas as nothing but harlots. But the Ateez men were different. She wasn’t some whore to them. She knew it. Yeosang’s reverent gaze proved that.

“Only if you are ready, sweetheart?” he asked, tentatively. His voice was dulcet and sweet, intimately said just for her. He hoped the way he whispered, his closeness, would speak enough.

She nodded lightly. “I want to head back home.”

Yeosang felt his body buzz at the thought of her considering the Ateez Mansion home. Even if it was just a turn of phrase, he took it and ran with it. He already couldn’t wait to tell Jongho all his hard work with the sitting room paid off.

The socialite simply hummed and turned towards the path that would take them homeward. Not without taking a final look at those who insulted his own. He noted their facial features, the letters embroidered on their handkerchiefs, the way they dressed. Yunho would know what to do with the information.

“Don’t listen to them,” he encouraged a few moments later as they went down an isolated path. The ground beneath their feet was muddied, the snowfall melting in the dirt.

“I didn’t… I won’t.” YN replied.

She shifted to lift the hem of her dress, simplistic as it was to make sure it didn’t get too dirty. Wash day was some days away.

“I know what I look like to them,” she admitted. “It’s not true though.”

“What you look like?” Yeosang interrupted, brows furrowing. “You don’t look like anything your tone is implying, my sweetheart.”

She chuckled a bit. “Because they’re wrong,” she agreed. “But come now, Yeosang. Our relationship is odd.”

He hissed in through his teeth, shaking his head disapprovingly. “What kind of man do you take me for? I think we are a perfect fit.”

Perhaps they’re all delusional. Wooyoung had claimed time and time again he didn’t mind what she looked like beside their wealth. Did they not know?

“You’re a perfect man,” she admitted. “But there are rumors about ballerinas. You know that. You’re clever and well-made in society.”

“You’re you,” he said, stopping them in their promenade. “Not some ballerina.”

YN turned to look at him, brows upturn.

Yeosang’s eyes were gentle as he leaned forward. “I am not some haughty socialite – like them. I like you, YN. I am proud of you. Of your achievements in your craft. Your endurance.”

His words were intimately said. Warm and gentle as he raised a hand to her cheek. “Like San and Wooyoung, I am proud to be with you. I… care so immensely for you – if you feel lesser let me ease that pain.”

He pleaded with her wholeheartedly and she couldn’t help but to urge him to relax. Her hand raised to cup his.

“I am not lesser. I just know what they think when they see me - dressed the way I’m dressed and occupied in ballet – with someone like you. Any of you. Especially multiple of you. It’s simply the way it is.”

“Let me change it,” he whispered. “I will change it. We all will.”

His nose was nearly brushing hers and the air was tense. His promise was said with such vigor and force that YN chuckled only to soften the atmosphere.

“Okay,” she relented. “I appreciate the sentiment, Yeo.”

He smiled softly at her nickname, at her gentleness, and her naivety. Because here she thought he couldn’t? They would lasso the moon if she wished for it.

His other hand tugged her closer before it shifted from her waist to brush aside a non-existent hair from her cheek. His hypnotizing eyes captured her whole.

“May I kiss you, Miss YN?” he asked.

Her heart jumped and her eyes flashed to his lips. He chuckled at the blush. He thought he was clear but perhaps she needed more urging.

Wooyoung had said she had admitted her love to Yeosang in a drunken stupor… If he disliked it, she was sure he wouldn’t be so bold. YN knew he favored her.

YN remembered San and Wooyoung’s encouragements – their eagerness as she reported her moments alone with Yeosang. Wooyoung cooing about how cute they were together and how San nearly purred in satisfaction at the idea of his two favorite people being so close.

They knew everything they said once upon a time. They shared everything with one another. Yeosang was included in that when she spotted their eyes lingering on one another too long or when San stole a kiss quickly. Yunho even squeezed the man’s arm tenderly, intimately. They saw how Yeosang kissed her pulse like she was something worth cherishing and had simply stared adoringly.

It didn’t feel like cheating when she knew the lips she’d kiss had kissed San and Wooyoung. It was just their dynamic – they were special. Her and them. The ballerina nodded breathlessly. Her heart beat out of her chest as he leaned in close, a wave of his warm woodsy scent crashed over her as he leaned closer still.

“You’re ours,” he whispered softly. His lips brushed hers. “You deserve the best.”

His words were kissed into her lips; reverent, sincere. His mouth was hot, fierce, and strong – like how he played on the court. If his arms hadn’t wrapped around her waist to support her, she was sure she’d faint from his intensity. Everything he did, he did with such power.

He giggled softly as he pulled away, taking in her dazed expression. “Oh, sweetheart.” He ate up her sweetness, true to her nickname.

“Give me a moment, Sangie,” she chuckled, her hand raising to grasp his arm. Oh, his muscles rippled underneath her grasp. Her heart rate only increased. Her other hand rose to press against her hummingbird heart.

He preened at her reaction, leaning in to nuzzle at her cheek. His waterfall of reddish hair brushed over her skin in a tickle.

She giggled at the action. He was so bold, bold as he was gentlemanly. She said so.

“You’re so bold.”

“That’s what you like, hm?” Yeosang replied with a curled smile. He rocked them side to side playfully. “What do you think of me?” Yeosang prompted suddenly.

If she liked confident, he could be that. He could be anything.

“Oh, Yeosang,” she stuttered out. Not prepared to say something so honest to his face. Talking about someone while they werent there was easy.

“I can be confident,” he told her. “Cruel… on the court. Soft to you. Different sorts of boldness, hm?” he offered, tilting his head like a puppy dog.

“You are all those things,” she replied immediately. “I love your boldness and your softness.”

His intimacy felt special. His intense gaze different than when he was on the court. Same but different. When he was on the court, he looked like he was ready to destroy and take, take, take. When he looked at her here in the country-side, he was ready to dedicate everything to her. It was intoxicating as it was familiar. Sometimes she felt like she was drowning when she was with San and Wooyoung – and now Yeosang. Each one of the Ateez men felt so encompassing it was hard to ignore her feelings and their affections.

“I… love you. I feel like we are kindred souls.” She admitted. “All of us.”

Kindred souls, soulmates, he liked that. He smiled, a he-het laugh tumbling from his before he leaned in to press another kiss to her lips, sweet as sugar.

“I agree, beautiful.” He replied.

YN smiled up at him and he mirrored her sweet grin, lovesick.

“Let’s head home and watch Wooyoung lose his mind over our developments, love.” He teased as he shifted from embracing her to holding her arm once more.

It made her laugh.

“I’m starting to think you can read my mind,” YN told San as he met her that morning as she stepped onto the front porch of her flat.

He smiled at her coyly.

“How so, YNie?” he asked.

“Every time I want to go to the factory with my ma, one of you turn up,” she teased.

“Must be fate, honeybee,” he retorted, a hand outstretched to her. “May I steal you away?”

“You may, Mr. San,” her mother’s voice chimed out as she came walking out alongside YN. “She doesn’t deserve to be shuttered up in there with me.”

“Mother,” YN scolded.

The older woman shrugged.

“Neither do you, ma’am,” San said charmingly.

Her mother waved him off. “It’s a living.”

He gave a soft scolding look, kind at heart. “Still,” he hummed.

“Steal her away all you want,” her mother continued waving them off again as she passed them. “Be home before dark, YN.”

“Yes, ma’.”

Jongho was always at home she noticed. While there were moments where Mingi was out with his car or San was away on business or Wooyoung caught up in a meeting, she had noted that Jongho was almost always available to some extent. Even if she had to wait some time, he’d visit her within the hour.

“Am I disturbing you?” she queried one day as Jongho entered the sitting room – the House according to a butler was ‘vacant of all except Mr. Jongho’. Her fingers scratched over Z’s furry head. The kitten had begun to follow her around once she arrived to the mansion. Sometimes she’d be asleep where YN tended to sit.

“Never,” he told her.

Unlike the others where they looked comfortable in their home, donning silken robes or open button tunics, Jongho always looked sharp. Fully buttoned suits, ties perfectly laid, and a pocket watch sparkling in his breast pocket, he was class and charm wrapped up with a pretty bow. Yet when he was in her presence, she could see his shoulders sag just a bit. His face grew warm with a smile. He joined her on the couch, his hand going to stroke down Z’s back fondly.

“Z likes you,” he chuckled cutely.

Z meowed – almost like she was agreeing as she turned and butted her head against Jongho’s hand. Her tail wiggled, pleased.

“She likes you,” YN giggled in return. “Is she yours? I never see her approach the others.”

Jongho hummed as he petted the black cat sweetly. “She’s mine. I found her on the streets in Aurora. She just needed someone.” The cat purred loudly. “The others care for her – especially Seonghwa-hyung and Sannie-hyung.”

“But you’re her daddy,” YN commented, watching the pair fondly.

He grinned at that, cheeks warm. “Yeah. We’ve been through a lot – weeks of ship travel. I bet she wouldn’t survive out in Cromer if she got out.”

He frowned, adjusting Z’s collar. It was diamond incrusted she noted.

“Well, who would want to leave here?” YN chuckled glancing around. “She’s a little princess here.”

“Yeah…” Jongho sighed, watching as Z grew tired of the attention and hoping off the couch to go attack a pet toy mouse she had dragged in some time ago.

“Want to play a game?” he offered after a moment.

“What sort of game, Jongho?” YN chuckled.

Jongho flashed a smile. “Nothing too complicated. How about we start with tic-tac-toe? Maybe a word game? Cards?”

It was sweet the way he offered with a lilt in his voice, tentative and almost vulnerable. She wondered if she played these sorts of games with the others or if he was too shy.

“Okay! But no cards! I remember what Mingi said about you being the best. I don’t want to get beat so quickly.”

“We’ll see!” he grinned.

So, there they sat in the afternoon sunlight. The warm sun beginning to set over a slowly awakening garden beside the window of the study. Flowers bloomed as they crossed ‘x’s and ‘o’s on scrap pieces of fancied paper.

Each time Jongho won, he’d wiggle and peacock about how he won, he won, he won. But it wasn’t bold or extravagant, it was as if he was stating a fact as he smiled at her. It was youthful.

“You’re too good at these games,” YN complained as she lost again. “You must be an expert!”

“I’ve never played these games growing up,” he admitted with a laugh. “I’m just that good.”

She chuckled, even if it surprised her. Never played kid’s games like this. Even she did growing up. The ballerinas and her would scratch lines and circles and crosses on chalkboard tablets in between lessons – even if theyd get scolded by the teacher or Madame.

It made her wonder about Aurora and their childhood… if he came from Aurora like the others – she assumed he did. What was it like for Jongho? Sweet, smiling Jongho.

“Aegi-ya!” There was a shout.

Jongho almost became statue stiff, arm outstretched frozen mid-marking of their game.

“Aegi,” it was more sing-song of a melody, impatient in its tone.

“I’ll be right back,” Jongho promised YN, standing quick. He almost looked panicked as he fixed his suit and his hair in a nearby mirror. He strode out the doors, the butlers nearby shutting them quickly.

Huh. Her head tilted as she heard Jongho call back.

“Hyung-ah!” he shouted. “I’m coming.”

His voice entered back into a familiar cadence of responsibility. Stern and a bit stoic. It was funny even as they called him baby, he tried to be more adult than them. He really did change when it came to the others.

Just how fast did he have to grow up?

Out of all the Ateez bachelors, Mingi didn’t belong here, wandering the market beside her. There was a sort of softness to him that only a silver spoon could give him. He didn’t have the edge like San and Wooyoung to blend into whatever surroundings they found themselves in. Mingi instead insisted on being seen.

It was clear by the way he walked, the way he dressed, the way his aura radiated off of him. Even if he wasn’t wearing his finest linens this morning, he still wore expensive leathers that had a polished sheen to them (something no one’s leathers around here had). His button up was loose, unbuttoned too low on his chest to enjoy the warmth that had begun to climb into Cromer. Spring was just starting to leak through the ports with a humid fog and sunny afternoons. Her own winter day-dresses were exchanged for a more breathable alternative – even if the air was colder in the morning and the evenings.

His neck bore layer after layer of jewelry, opulent in the eyes of the port-goers as it sparkled in the sun. His face wasn’t exactly stern, but there was a sort of scowl on his poutful lips. Serious despite the fact he was walking beside YN while holding her grocery basket (something he insisted upon the moment he saw her step out with the thing.)

Despite the pout, his cunning eyes were sharp as they took in the passing customers as she bartered with a grocer. Mingi’s fingers flexed over her basket, flashes of light reflecting off of his many rings. He followed a man’s gaze as he passed by, looking over YN for too long for Mingi’s liking.

She wondered why he even wanted to join her. YN doubted any of the bachelors had to go to the market on their own in quite some time considering the banquets they held. They must have personal shoppers ready at the direction of Jongho. Yet here Mingi was.

“I’ll have a few of those apples, too,” YN stated pointing to a crate full of fresh apples.

The trader nodded and handed them over. While she placed them in the basket, Mingi shifted one hand aside to dig through his pockets. Before she could even argue, he placed the proper coins into the trader’s hand with a curt look.

“Thank you, sir!” the grocer beamed.

Mingi didn’t smile here; in fact, YN was almost certain if she hadnt seen his bright smile before she’d think he’d never smiled before in his life. His face was just so blank, so held-high. Haughty almost. His hand went to her back to urge her on her way to the next stall.

“Do you need bread, baby?” he rumbled out.

“Mingi, you don’t have to pay,” she argued softly.

His gaze shifted to look at her, almost down his perfect nose. “We’ve had this conversation before.” His lips almost smiled, but it wasn’t quite there. His tone however was playful. “You don’t need to feel like I’m doing anything out of politeness, doll. I want to buy things for you.”

We all do, remained unspoken by Mingi.

Her face tightened in uncomfortableness. It was one thing them paying for her ballet career but this… it was intimate. They were shopping for groceries together.

His hand raised to pinch her chin fondly, as if it’d make her soft pout disappear. “C’mon.”

It was funny to watch him walk so confidently… but in the wrong direction of the next item on her list. She giggled and grabbed after his hand.

“This way, Mingi,” she laughed. His bashfulness only flickered to the front. His eyes widening boyishly, cutely, before he covered it up by swagger.

Together, her arms wrapped around one of his, they strolled through the port. One thing she liked about spending time with Mingi, that was special compared to the others, was sometimes all they needed was silence together – driving in silence, walking in silence. It felt safe with him.

The ebbing winter had left its mark. Some new rust bit up and down metal railings and riggings. The broken cobblestone in the road revealed mud where the snow and frost melted to rain and sludge, slowly drying in the sun.

But there was one thing that stood out among it all. An older warehouse that she could barely remember what it once was covered in burlap coverings. YN’s footsteps slowed as she took it in.

There was some scaffolding still there, making the coverings bulge oddly but it seemed like most of the work was now in the interior as men rushed in and out of the warehouse. The smell of fresh paint and a metallic zing of electrical work whooshed out with each worker.

Inside, it was still dark, only lit by the partially covered windows or stray candles, but her eye caught glimpse of what looked like a skeleton of a metal chandelier sitting in the freshly laid wooden planks.

“What’s going on here?” she wondered aloud.

A small whimpered ‘hm’ escaped him. It made her smile. He wasn’t paying attention she thought as she glanced back at him, only for him to be glancing aside. Running from her gaze. He had been staring at her, not the streets. She grinned. He was cute. Mingi’s lips flattened as he glanced at the warehouse. He shrugged.

“I wonder what’s being put in. I’ll have to ask Ma or one of the ladies at the factory.” YN concluded. She sighed out. “Things keep changing around here.”

“Change is good.” he said to her, leading her down another path. Their strolling had become more lackadaisical than goal-oriented. Her basket was heavy on his arm, but he barely could feel its weight with her on his other arm. “New is good.”

“I suppose. After all, you and the others are new and I adore you,” she teased.

Mingi did crack a smile at that – the type of smile she loved where his teeth flashed more than just a millisecond. The diamonds on his incisors gleamed. They rounded a corner of the port, passing some folk on the street.

“Whore.” A man mumbled as he passed.

YN’s eyes widened in surprise.

The lower class was not like the upper class. There was no need to dance around thoughts and whisper them behind fans. In the port, people called it how they saw it. And they, too, thought lowly of ballerinas. They were after all the petit rats of society in everyone’s eyes.

Mingi could feel how her fingers curled around his jacket just a bit tighter. He clocked how she had jolted. He felt everything. He stopped in his tracks, making YN stumble to a stop.

“Min-“

“Apologize.” Mingi’s voice was deep as the ocean and loud as a roaring rumbling automobile.

There was the sound of feet scraping against cobblestone. The other man stopped. A laugh tumbled out of the stranger’s throat, gravely and scratchy.

“What’d you say?” he croaked out.

Mingi’s hand flexed around the basket. Teeth gritted. His head snapped to the side in one motion, glancing over his shoulder at the worthless speck of a man.

“Apologize to the lady before I make you.” Mingi warned.

The man fell into a crackle of laughter; the idea was hilarious. Mingi licked over his teeth before glancing at YN. Her fingers tugged at his jacket, a smidge helpless as she watched him hand over the basket. She sagged under the weight, scrambling to hold it tight and steady.

Mingi turned with efficiency, a controlled storm in his body as he approached the man quickly. The man didn’t even clock him coming, his belly laughs consuming him so.

There was the sound of clothes tearing as Mingi grasped the front of the man’s shirt and yanked. The stranger’s feet dangled as he wriggled like a fish. Mingi’s head tilted as he stared, his nose twitched. He could distantly hear YN’s exclamations of shock.

“Apologize. Now.”

“I’m sorry!” The man spluttered.

People paused nearby; their gaze enraptured.

“To her,” Mingi growled, head nudging towards YN who stood flabbergasted. “Not to me, dipshit.”

“I’m sorry, miss. I’m sorry. You’re no wh-“

He doesn’t get to finish his words as Mingi dropped him. He crumbled to the ground, knees hitting the cobblestone hard. Mingi held in the urge to kick him. YN was right there. He breathed through his nose.

“Fucking trash.” He instead muttered as he turned to return to his lady.

With ease, he swept the basket back into his hands and returned his arm beneath hers. And they began to walk again… as if nothing had happened. It was baffling. YN couldn’t help but stutter a bit.

“Mingi, you didn’t need to do that!” she exclaimed. “You could’ve—”

“What?” he growled out. It wasn’t threatening like before, but his voice had taken on a near rumble like a fire’s spluttering. His eyes softened as he took in her appearance.

There was no fear there like a part of his vicious anxiety had whispered. Instead, he saw disbelief and… surprise. He flashed a flicker of a smirk.

“I would do anything for you and your honor,” he declared. “Demand respect always, baby. I’ll ensure you get it.”

It was a rare moment when their practice was shifted from the familiar warehouse the Cromer Ballet Company rented to the Opera House stage in the offseason. Usually, it was scheduled for other activities – bands, parties, sometimes speakings. But today, it was their rehearsal room.

Its tilted stage which was a pain to perform on was great for moments like this. Practice always started, paused, and ended with stretching. Stretching at angle allowed them to rest inconspicuously. Most girls laid back on the slant, eyes shut and hoping to get a moment of rest while they continued their stretches.

YN’s eyes were shut as she continued to slide into a splits’ stretch. The tendons in her legs ached; her thighs trembled.

“Did you hear? There’s going to be a new theatre!” Tiny was the one to come tumbling down the stage in a sort-of-controlled somersault.

YN fell deeper into her stretch, her leg straightening to stop the younger ballerina from tumbling off the stage with a flex of her calf.

“What are you going on about?” another younger girl giggled nearby.

Tiny’s head flopped back up and she turned to look at her friend. “The new theatre! In the port!”

“The port?” a few of the girls murmured.

The port wasn’t the place of high-class, not like the downtown. It was a strange place for a new theatre – even YN could admit that.

“I’ve never been to the port,” Tiny exclaimed, outraged in the way only a child could be. “A traveling group is visiting to perform!”

“What group?” an older ballerina asked.

“There will be no talk of other companies here,” the sharp interruption of the Madame made their head snap towards her. Mouths shut promptly.

The older woman’s heels clicked; her cane heavied against the worn floor-boards of the stage. Click, clack, click, clack. “I don’t want to hear of this new theatre.” She warned. “If so much as any of you humor jumping ship, I will have you banned from here to Twilight Town.”

The women glanced away from the Madame, avoiding her gaze.

“Understood?”

There was a scattering of replies. “Yes, ma’am.”

A long heavy pause weighed over them before the Madame slammed the tip of her cane to the ground, solidly. Before turning her back to the girls, she commanded.

“Stretching is over. To first position.”

Luckily, the ballerinas held in their groans at the cut-short break as they rose to their feet. YN stood, flexing her feet. Her gaze rose to follow the Madame as she prowled about the stage. She couldn’t help but realize that the woman was frightened.

Only the scared threatened others.

This new traveling company must be something grand – if the Madame was frightened by them.

With the ice melting on the ground, Ateez House boomed with activity. New shipments came in and out of the house daily, sometimes hourly– large wooden containers rolled in from large vans that reeked of the seaside.

Gardeners were knee deep in damp dirt. Their rainboots were slick with cold mud as they shoveled and dug into the grassy knoll beside the greenhouse. Large holes splattered the lawn; most had rose bushes (the ones carefully nurtured throughout winter in the greenhouse) ready to be planted; others were nothing but human-sized maws in the greenery. Waiting for something.

YN sat inside her sitting room, glancing out the window. Her fingers held aside the lacy curtains as she watched the flowers being placed into the ground.

“Pretty.” A voice chimed.

YN’s fingers faltered, closing the curtains a bit as she turned to look at doorway.

Yeosang smiled at her.

“The flowers?” YN chuckled, eyes flickering toward the window.

“You.”

Yeosang’s reply was as if he was discussing something common sense – like the sky was blue. It was clear she was pretty. It was written in stone; it was the world’s way.

She smirked at him, her hand reaching out for his.

Yeosang’s grin was fond as he came to her side. He squeezed her hand softly as he raised her hand to his lips. He pressed a sincere smooch on her knuckles. His gaze was steady as he pressed another kiss to her wrist to her arm to her shoulder until he was bending down to press a kiss to her lips.

His kisses weren’t one of heat. Instead, it felt like sugar. Sweet and intense on her tongue as he leaned in to deepen their embrace. She leaned back into the chair as he nearly straddled her lap, his other hand raising to cup her jaw.

“Let’s go look at them outside,” Yeosang offered even though he continued his sweet pecks over her lips, her cheeks, her ear. His breath was hotter than the fire that burned nearby.

“In a bit, Yeo.” She pleaded leaning up to kiss him again.

He gave into her like a flower leaning up to the sunshine. Naturally.

Yeosang had lured her away from the sitting room soon after to take a walk throughout the gardens. YN had thought it was sweet the way he had splayed a soft blanket on the dewy ground underneath a slowly budding cherry blossom tree.

But, soon enough, their conversation fell into soft kisses and embraces. Yeosang’s intensity extended to his affections. He was thorough with how he showered her with pecks. It felt like the moment their lips locked he couldn’t get enough of her taste, her scent, her. It was distracting for both of them.

As the shadow of the mansion covered them, they realized how much time had passed lost in their fantasy. YN blinked blearily up at Yeosang, her back pressed into the blanket firmly as he hovered over her.

Over his shoulder, she could just make out a curtain shifting close. A tall shadow walked the upper floors.

Watching them.

“Spent some time with Yeosang I see?” Yunho was the first one to say anything as she entered her sitting room again after sunset.

The sitting room had platters of food resting on the tables scattered about, a light dinner it seemed awaiting her in cured meats, cheeses, and breads. Fruits and vegetables that weren’t in season yet somehow perfectly ripe sat cut and diced on serving plates.

Yunho turned to glance at her from his spot on the loveseat settee. Mingi was perched beside him, one of Yunho’s long arms slung low around his hips to keep him steady on the armrest. The hand, covered in intricate rings, sprawled over Mingi’s stomach, firm. A thumb stroked slowly.

Yeosang beamed a smile at them, one that was more cunning than sweet as he led YN back into her sanctuary.

“We were checking the progress of the gardens,” Yeosang said, voice huskier than usual.

Yunho laughed at that, shaking his head at the other.

“Also known as making out in broad-daylight,” Mingi commented. The hand on his stomach squeezed.

YN’s cheeks flushed at the comment.

“I’m s-“

“Don’t apologize, baby doll,” Mingi interrupted before she could even finish her words. It wasn’t scolding or cruel; in fact, it was chuckling rumble.

“Mingi’s just jealous,” Yeosang commented. “Must want a kiss from me.”

It was coy and off-handedly casual as the tennis player flirted with the car enthusiast. Yeosang squeezed her hip as he left her side and went to pick at a plate full of food. Yunho smiled at the sight. YN tentatively walked towards the couch, past Mingi and Yunho.

“I can kiss you whenever I like,” Mingi countered lowly to the man.

It made YN’s eyes widened. She had seen San and Wooyoung kiss by now, faint and fleeting in the public eye. San and Yeosang had an energy that it wouldn’t surprise her if they kissed. And now with how close Mingi and Yunho were… Hearing about their intertwined relations was interesting but not too surprising for her. Their boldness was more surprising.

Especially when she realized that… if he didn’t want to kiss Yeosang… did Mingi want to kiss her?

Mingi was tugged down with a quick firmness by Yunho’s arm. He now was perched on Yunho’s lap, embraced tightly.

“Easy, princess,” Yunho’s words were murmured and low into Mingi’s ear but YN still caught them.

Her breath caught at the display of affectionate dominance. Mingi’s cheeks dusted red as Yunho squeezed him again. Her gaze shifted as if to give them privacy.

But as she passed them, Mingi’s hand caught her waist. Strong and secure but nothing harsh. Her eyes flashed to Yunho’s eyes first, oddly. He was already watching her with a small smile, pleased and calmer than she’s seen him despite the momentary tension between him and Mingi. There was no ill will as he wrapped his arms around Mingi’s waist pleasantly. His eyes shifted to Mingi, taking her attention towards him instead.

“YN,” the younger murmured.

It was soft and rumbly. Desperate for her attention in someways as his doe eyes enraptured her.

“Hi Ming.”

His fingers left her waist to intertwined with her hand. He squeezed and she felt like there was something more here that she just didn’t know. She squeezed it back reassuringly, a bit questioning. Her brow quirked in curiosity.

Yunho chuckled low, turning his face to bury into Mingi’s shoulder. “Cute,” she could hear him mumble into the fabric.

Her or him?

His ringed fingers were pleasantly cool against her warm skin. He fiddled with her hand gently, tongue licking over his bottom lip. Mingi hesitated before he smiled his gummy smile.

“Go eat, baby.” He said but she doubted that was what he really wanted to share. “You worked up an appetite, I’m sure.”

Yeosang nearby shook his head fondly.

They’d have to face the music one day, he thought.

The warehouse had begun to have its coverings ripped away. Folk walked past it with curious eyes. It’s exterior sparkled and shined.

A new emblem was high on its wall in pretty wrought iron and incandescent lightbulbs.

Hala Opera House.

“I win!” she chimed out in a cheer as she hopped the last of San’s checker pieces to collect it.

His grin was genuine even if his brow raised questioningly. It wasn’t as if he doubted her or thought she was cheating; no, San knew he wasn’t any good at these sorts of games. Not like Mingi was at chess or Jongho at… well, any game. If anything, his own raised brow was towards himself.

“No way,” he exclaimed before pouting. “Let’s play something different,” he nearly whined.

In all their closeness, YN was finally allowed to see another side of him here. The gentle giant was more than that. He was someone who loved to babied, his head tilting and whining at Wooyoung or Yeosang at times. And now, her. It felt like an even playing ground – there was a lack of roles here. It was just him and her. No patron or protégé.

“But I’m winning,” she teased him in return as she reset the game board.

Her boldness was addicting. He loved seeing the passion he could clearly see on stage leak out here – her personality was something fierce.

His face scrunched into mock displeasure as he flopped back, boyishly against the couch.

“No fair,” he complained.

YN was graced with the view of his lean waist, the muscles there rippling as he took in a deep breath. His pout was adorable and she couldn’t help but laugh.

She giggled and he swore it was angel’s music. His own face scrunched into a grin easily. His eyes fell shut pleasantly, slowly blinking almost like a cat when calm.

“Dramatic,” she hummed as she continued to reorganize the game board.

The low rumble from his chest was her only reply.

“It’s your turn, Sannie,” she called lightheartedly as she moved her own checker piece to start the game.

“No,” he defied, turning away from her. The large man curled into the couch, almost in a fetal position. Vulnerable. “I’m not getting beat again.”

Her laughter continued. Stretching from her spot on the ground, she leaned in to tickle his waist playfully. It was more a stroke against his ribs than anything. He didn’t squirm or react. Her fingers made his skin tingle. He wished it was on his bare skin.

“Sannie,” she cooed again. “You’re such a sore loser.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just… a great winner,” San argued, still facing away from her.

He was used to winning most things – card games, boxing matches, bets…

“Uh, huh, sore loser,” she teased again as she stood and her hand patted his arm playfully. In a flash, he had grabbed her by the waist, manhandling her into his embrace.

“Sore loser,” he repeated with a chuckle as he tickled her now. His large limbs wrapped around her easily, like an octopus. YN squirmed in his grasp, a caught bird in an iron cage. “Sore winner is more like it for you.” He laughed.

“San,” she managed to giggle out as he continued to dance his fingers over her waist, her tummy, her arms. He grinned even when she got her own revenge with her own tickles.

Their giggles rang out through the mansion loudly. The sound was something more innocent than the walls were used to. A few butlers even glanced at one another – surprised to hear these giggles from the Enforcer. Even Jongho who was approaching the sitting room’s shut doors paused at the sound.

A strange relief flooded the youngest at the sounds of joy. Perhaps moving here was the right choice after all. Because it led to this. Led to Her. San never would’ve laughed this freely before. He hadnt know that peace – none of them did. It was all because of her.

It made him slow to open the door. It made him delay the inevitable just a moment longer. Because he knew he was going to be the one ruining that peace today.

“San-hyung,” Jongho called as he opened the door.

He couldn’t even see them at first. The room looked abandoned. But then, YN’s head popped up from the couch. Her hair was mussed from their tickle attack; her cheeks just a bit flushed. As Jongho stepped further in, he could just barely make out San beneath her. San’s face was nearly buried in her bosom.

“Jongho!” Her voice peaked, and she tried to wriggle away. Something that San didn’t want. His arms wrapped around her waist tighter, his cheek pressed into collarbone now.

“Jongho,” San droned out. “What do you want?”

His tone was full of lament, poutful as he made eye contact with the younger.

“Sorry to impose,” the younger coughed, a bit bashful as he glanced aside at the sight of YN’s dress pooling around her ankles, her knees on either side of San’s lithe waist. It wasn’t crude – he knew San wasn’t going to steal her innocence so crudely. Not with how romantic of a soul the man had when it came to his lovers. But still…

“I need your expertise.”

That was all he said. And that was all San needed to hear.

His hands paused over her back and he leaned into her body just a moment longer. His breath tickled her skin as he inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“Okay.” It was all San said, after a long pause.

Glancing up at her, reverently, his fingers smoothed her dress over her form.

“Work calls, honeybee.”

With ease, he stood, cradling her close as he rose from the couch. Placing her on her feet, he let out a hum, low and almost mournful. He held her close for a moment longer before pulling away with a regretful smile.

“Sorry, hyung.” Jongho said aside.

The younger’s hands flexed and curled into fists repeatedly. Awkwardly. He watched as San fiddled to fix their ballerina’s hair and clothes. His strong hands were tender when it came to her. He cupped her cheek and pressed a far-well kiss to her pout.

“See you soon.” He turned to meet Jongho’s gaze. “Seonghwa or Yunho?”

The question was said with such ease; it was second nature almost.

“Seonghwa-hyung,” Jongho confirmed.

San’s neck tilted, stretching with a crack. A curious ‘hm’ left rumbled in his throat as he passed the younger.

“YN wants to play games. You have time, Hongjo?”

Despite its disguised question, Jongho knew it was no request. And despite their hierarchy, he knew the delicate position YN was in. No one would fault him for entertaining her as San went off to the deeper parts of the mansion.

Jongho’s gaze shifted from the serious look on San’s mug to the lightly-flustered YN and the checkers’ board beside her. Almost like a puppy-dog, his head tilted. His hair flopped cutely.

“Since when did we have checkers?”

“Since Mingi bought all the games he could think of,” San called before the doors shut with a clank.

The faint thought of ‘was it for me?’ flickered through Jongho’s head before he was enamored by YN. She cleared her throat.

“Want to play?” she asked kneeling again. “You don’t have to if you are busy.”

Oh, how could he deny her…

“Your winning streak is about to be beat, love.”

Another afternoon came and, instead of Yeosang or Jongho waiting for her in the sitting room, it was Yunho and Mingi.

“Oh hello,” she chirped out.

Her face had a faint glow about it, her hands holding tight to a ballet bag. Her pointe shoes peaked out from the tote.

She had just gone to a practice from early morning to afternoon. There had been little to no new information about the upcoming show. It was frustrating considering itd had been weeks now. Weeks of scattered practices but mostly days of spending time with the men.

Yeosang and her had gone on multiple dates a week where they often got lost in one another. If there were no dates, she’d come to her sitting room in the morning – driven by Mingi at times if she heard his car rumbling for her in her front yard. Jongho would check upon her, bringing a different fruit that she would imagine again and again being broken by his bare hands. They sit and talk or play games. Yeosang would join at times, usually a hint sweaty from his morning work-outs. San would prowl out of bed with messy hair and a puffy face. His lips pouted for her to kiss. He’d whimper a bit if she refused; nothing like the bold man she saw at the boudoir. Here he was oh so soft. If she didn’t smooch him fast enough, sometimes Yeosang would lean in a press a teasing kiss instead – the image was enough to make her entire body hot. Wooyoung visited at her sitting room mid-day where he’d insist on a mid-day nap. It was peaceful… but lazy.

Finally, being able to practice made her feel productive. She loved performing; she loved dancing. Without it, her entire body felt restless. Incomplete.

Mingi and Yunho were only around occasionally, and it felt like each time it was a culture shock. They’ve grown more daring with her. Mingi’s eyes burned; Yunho smiled at her so sweetly she could almost forget the way he had a warrant out for his arrest when he came to town.

“Hi baby doll.”

“Hi darling.”

They spoke over each other; their nicknames for her chimed melodically.

“What’s going on?” she tentatively asked.

It was funny how she paused in her step they thought. Her caution was cute; her observation was valuable.

“We wanted to see you,” Mingi pouted. He stood from his spot to approach her, fast with his long limbs.

“I see that,” she chuckled.

He liked that she didn’t flinch away from him – so many did. His lankiness was seen as dangerous. Yunho never flinched from him; she didn’t now, too.

“They’ve said you haven’t been in the mansion as of late?” YN asked.

There was a whisper of modesty around them. She didn’t know them as closely as Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang. She was shy and Yunho ate it up from his spot on the couch. Mingi grinned as he stood in front of her.

“We’ve been busy,” Yunho commented from afar. “We almost forgot about your beautiful blush.”

As if summoning it, YN did blush.

His lips quirked.

“How are you? Did you have a nice practice?” Mingi asked warmly. His hands went to take the bag from her and place it on a nearby hook (one that Yunho had asked for Jongho to install once he spotted her bags on the ground before.)

“How’d you know I came from practice?” she asked. She pushed hair aside, hoping she didn’t smell. It wasn’t a too rigorous of a rehearsal.

“Your shoes,” Mingi claimed.

“Yeosangie.” Yunho countered from his spot.

It was funny how they kept speaking nearly over one another. The pair seemed so instep when together that their befuddlement was strange. Out of character.

“Yeosangie?” she questioned. Her head tilted. Perhaps she did tell him a while ago. It was hard to pinpoint conversations now when so many of their dates were consumed by sweet words and kissing. She was always distracted.

“He mentioned it.” Mingi confirmed.

There was a hum that escaped YN as she approached the settee.

“How are you two?” she asked in return.

“Things are well,” Yunho said.

“Falling into place!” Mingi chimed, his arm slung over her shoulder as he caught up with her.

“Business?” she clarified as he let him guide her and himself towards the couch. “Is that why I haven’t seen you two as often?”

“You want to see us?” the arm around her froze.

Mingi, despite his obvious swagger, was not confident like Yunho. In fact, more often than not, she saw his warm-hearted ways tumble into bashfulness at her requests. His icy-cool façade melted easily around her. He stuttered a bit as he joined her on the couch, caging her in between him and Yunho.

“Of course,” YN reassured. “I want to get to know you both as I know the others.”

It made both men burn. They wanted to know her that way, too. Yearned for it. Their jealousy burned when they spotted her in the embrace of their lovers.

“Like them?” Yunho murmured, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

It was a question and she felt like she was diving into a pool as she answered with a soft nod.

“Of course,” she admitted. “Do you think I’m like this with everyone and anyone?”

It was bold – perhaps Yeosang was rubbing off on her. But with her words, there was an electric zing in the air. A shift as Yunho leaned closer. She could feel Mingi’s heat from here.

They were different. They had known this. Mingi had watched her so carefully he knew she had no other but for her to say it… He burned for her. He wanted to swallow her whole, keep her safe in his ribs, safe in his embrace.

Yunho was more subtle in his yearning.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, darling,” Yunho murmured, his hand went to graze over her fingers delicate and longing. “Let us make it up to you. Go on a date with us, hm?”

The ‘us’ was solid. Not him, not just Mingi. Them. A double date… with Yunho and Mingi made her stomach tumble in her body. Butterfly wings brushed at her ribs, making her nerves jitter.

There was a cleared throat.

“It may need to wait,” Mingi admitted softly to Yunho, his gaze pointed.

Yunho’s eyes widened before sighing out in agreement. “You’re right. In due time then.”

The silent conversations they were able to have sometimes made YN feel out of the loop, but in the same breath, she knew if she needed to know they’d include her. It was a bittersweet pill to swallow – to know they didn’t do so to disrespect her but perhaps… to protect.

YN wasn’t foolish to believe that everything happening her was perfect. The butlers, the deals, the secrecy of Hongjoong and Seonghwa. It all felt… not quite dangerous but something to handle carefully. And the way each man handled her was oh so careful that she assumed they knew that too.

“Soon?” she instead asked.

Mingi smiled at her and leaned forward to bump his head against her temple, almost cat-like, all fond.

“Soon. You’ve got a lot headed your way in terms of dates.”

“What?” she giggled. “Is Yeosangie planning something?”

“Oh, you think Yeosangie, hm?” Yunho cooed. “No, no, no; it’s a surprise, YN. Trust me, we are full of surprises.”

“Dearest Angel,

Please join us for an extravagant night out in honor of your Six Month Anniversary this Friday at golden hour. Our Mingi shall be there to deliver you to us. It’ll be quite the event.”

There was no signature once more, simply a red seal with Ateez’s symbol.

“Thank you,” she nodded.

“Do you accept?” the man’s voice was gravely, almost like a corpse. Like he hadnt spoken in years.

“Yes, of course,” she exclaimed.

He simply nodded once before he turned like some sort of automaton. It didn’t strike her as odd anymore, she realized. There must be a reason they acted like this for the men.

The men that seemed enraptured with her more and more…

(continue this chapter here!)

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justbelievinginmagic · 4 days ago

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✌🏻men.

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justbelievinginmagic · 6 days ago

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˗ˏˋ like a waltz ˎˊ˗ series masterlist

pairing(s): ATEEZ OT8 x Fem!Reader

series summary: Your entire life has been dedicated to one thing: the ballet. For decades, you’ve trained, lived, and breathed for ballet, hoping one day you’d be the star prima ballerina for the Cromer Opera House. Despite the shady politics of patrons and the daily strife of a disapproving choreographer, you were determined to rise to stardom by your own talent. When 8 mysterious bachelors arrive to town and fall for your charms, will you be able to reach your goal or be dragged into a selfish waltz between love and obsession?

OR – mafia ateez will do anything to keep the independent ballerina who aches for the spotlight by their side. anything.

warnings/tags: Inspired by Ateez’s Ice on my Teeth MV & Teasers, Mafia AU, Ballet AU, early 1900’s AU with some divergences in advancements (i.e if i think itd be cool to include, this world has it earlier than irl), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, polyteez, mature topics, strong language, ballet lore, angst, fluff, suggestive topics, violence, unequal power dynamics, allusions to exploitation in ballet, injuries, smoking, more tags to be added.

word count: ~100k written; ongoing

read on ao3!

part 1 - brisé. (posted 11/20/2024) part 2 - fondu. (posted 12/6/2024) part 3 - emboîté. (posted 12/30/2024) part 4 - piqué. (posted 1/30/2025) part 5 - aplomb. (pt. 1) (pt. 2) (posted 3/7/2025) part 6 - enveloppé. (pt. 1) (pt. 2) (posted 6/9/2025) NEW! part 7 - tba!!

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justbelievinginmagic · 6 days ago

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...he asks while being the most adorable

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justbelievinginmagic · 6 days ago

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What We Need - Part 3 - Hongjoong/reader (Insecurity-series)

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong/reader

Word count: 4,2k

Genre: Angst, romance, hurt/comfort, fluff, idol!Ateez

Summary: Being in a relationship with Hongjoong is an amazing thing. He’s so kind and loving and attentive, and you know he loves you. So why is he so adamant about keeping you to himself?

Contains: Baby as a nickname, insecurities (duh), secret relationship, hopefully plenty of angst, too many long sentences (I did my best), happy ending, injuries and hospital visit.

A/N: Hongjoong’s story has come to an end and once again I want to thank @thewinter-eden and @mrsminseochoi for keeping me from freaking out about how many of you wonderful people who have ended up reading this, and for keeping me sane!

Enjoy, and if you want to be tagged in the epilogue of Hongjoong's story (or any or all of the others) just let me know in the comments or an ask and I'll make sure it happens!

Series Masterlist

Part 2 Poll for the next member

Every two to three hours someone checks on you. They wake you briefly to ask a couple of questions and when you don’t seem confused or act out of the ordinary, they leave you to go back to sleep, even if sometimes it takes you a little while.

Jin stays around for one of those rounds before you tell him he should go home and get some sleep, having already stayed with you for almost 5 hours in the hospital. He protests, because of course he does, but knowing he’s exhausted you insist.

Even Hongjoong tells him he can go, that he’ll keep an eye on you and call him immediately if something happens, but it still takes several attempts before your friend gives into your request and finally leaves.

“You should go home too.” You tell Hongjoong once you know Jin is well on his way home and unable to stop you from making stupid decision (his words, not yours).

“Do I need to call the nurse in here again?” The idol says only half-joking as he watches you. “I just told Jin I’m not leaving.”

“He won’t know.” You wave him off and go back to playing with his rings. “You need sleep.”

“He barely likes me as it is, you really think I’m going to risk him finding out I lied?”

“I’m worried about you, Joong.” You say, looking up to see the stunned look on your boyfriend’s face.

“You're worried about me?” He asks, eyebrows almost up to his hairline as he stares at you. “You’re in the hospital, baby.”

“I know. And there’s staff here whose literal job is to make sure I don’t die. I will be fine.”

“Do you want me to leave? Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, needing to know in order to navigate this whole situation in a way that won’t result in him running you over in another conversation.

“It’s not like that.” You try to explain even as your head starts pounding again and you want nothing more than to go back to sleep. “I know you’re going back to the studio in the morning, and you need some sleep.”

“Then isn’t it my choice if I want to be sleep deprived or not?” He shoots back, eyebrows raised and looking so adorable that you want to snuggle up on the bed with him right in this instant.

“Joong-.”

“I want to be here for you, baby.” He says, thumb caressing the back of your hand before pressing a kiss to it. “And if I’m to have any chance of tricking you into forgiving me, I’m going to need Jin’s approval. So, leaving is a no-go really.”

“You really think you need to trick me, Joongie?” You give a tired chuckle, squeezing his hand as you pull him down to make him lean his forehead against yours.

His breath shakes as he exhales, the air brushing your face, and glancing up you can see his eyes squeezed shut.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers.

“I disagree.” You nuzzle against him, noses caressing each other and even in your slightly dazed state you can tell he’s shuddering. “And I’m injured so you’re not allowed to argue with me, alright?”

“I think you might need another head scan.” He chuckles, pulling back to kiss your forehead and listening to you whine when it’s not enough contact.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You whisper so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you and you hate yourself for saying anything when he pulls away completely, eyes searching yours for something you can’t figure out.

“Then I won’t.” He says, a soft smile on his lips as he watches you. “I’ll stay until you don’t want me here anymore.”

“Good.” You nod, unable to keep your eyes open for longer than a couple of seconds at a time. “Cause it won’t happen.”

If you were more cognizant, you’d have seen the doubtful look crossing his features, but you’re not so you don’t. You’re barely even aware of him helping you lay down again.

“Wanna sleep with you.” You mumble, healthy hand grasping for his, and Hongjoong’s face warms up under his makeup, his ears tinged pink at the way you weakly try to pull him onto the bed.

“I don’t think the nurses would be too happy about that, baby.” He chuckles, stroking your hair as he sits down on the side of the bed, close but not laying down like you want him to. “But I’m right here. Might use the bathroom once in a while, but if I do, I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay…” You whisper, right on the cusp of falling asleep. “Love you.”

He’s glad you don’t see the tears in his eyes as he leans down to kiss your forehead once more and whispers.

“I love you too.”

The next time you wake up by yourself it’s morning. You’ve been checked on throughout the night so you wouldn’t say you’re necessarily rested, but overall, you feel clearer than you did last night.

Your body however is a different story.

Even with painkillers the pain is there, dull and throbbing when you move and even though saying it feels like you’ve been hit by a truck seems overdramatic, it sure as hell doesn't feel far from it.

Glancing over to your side, you see Hongjoong and you’ve never been so grateful for him not listening to you, seeing as he hasn’t left.

He’s without makeup. He must have removed it sometime during the night while you were sleeping, and his bare face looks so relaxed even though he’s literally pulled his body into a pretzel shape to make himself comfortable in his chair.

You still can’t believe he’s here. That he came.

When you get out of here, you’re going to kiss Jin for calling him when you didn’t have the guts to do it. You’ll probably kill him right afterwards for not listening to you, but at least he’ll die knowing you’re grateful.

As if he senses your eyes on him, Hongjoong stirs awake.

You can’t imagine his body feels much better than yours (at least you’ve been in an actual bed all night), and the little sound he lets out when he stretches makes your insides all gooey.

“Good morning.” You chuckle, watching him blink repeatedly to wake himself up some more before his face turns to you, a soft smile gracing his lips.

“Morning.” He says, looking you over to gauge how you’re doing.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over just how beautiful his bare face is. He’s always a little embarrassed to be seen without makeup, but it’s nothing like how it was in the beginning: he barely let you see him without it at first.

Nowadays, he’s still a little self-conscious around you but a well-placed kiss and a soft compliment will never not melt those insecurities away.

“You took your makeup off.” You say, unable to stop staring at him, and you’re pleased that you’re able to properly see the blush that dusts his cheeks and ears.

“Yeah.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck as he does his best not to hide himself from your eyes. “It wasn’t looking good anymore and all the crying didn’t exactly help, so.”

“You look beautiful.” You say, addicted as always to the way his face lights up at your praise, and you can’t stop smiling at him.

“So do you.” He says, frowning at you when you scoff.

“I’m pretty sure I look horrible, Joong. I need a shower so badly.”

“I’ll ask the nurse about a shower.” Hongjoong chuckles. “But I think you look pretty.”

“Don’t lie to me, Joongie.” You roll your eyes even though you can’t stop a smile from pulling at your lips at the praise.

“You’re always beautiful to me, baby.” He chuckles, habitually leaning over to kiss you, freezing once he realizes what he’s done, staring at you when you blink dumbly at him. “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby. That wasn’t- I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, jagiya.” You say softly, lips tingling from the first kiss you’ve received in two weeks, trying your best to keep breathing as the heat rushes through your body. “I don’t mind.”

“But I shouldn’t have.” He says, looking so guilty you actually feel bad. “I should have asked, I didn’t mean to push-”

The kiss you press to his lips halts his guilt-fueled rambling, his body tense as he keeps staring at you like he can’t believe what’s happening.

“I’m okay with you kissing me, Joongie.” You clarify when you pull back, good hand caressing his face even though he can barely find it in him to relax at your words.

“I don’t want you to feel like I don’t respect your boundaries.” He says, voice soft and uncertain, and you just know he’s been set adrift with no clear rules or boundaries to clasp onto.

“I know.” You say, smiling softly at him. “You’ve never crossed a boundary I’ve laid out.”

“You might want to hold off on saying that for a bit.” He suddenly winces, pulling away and the shame clear on his face has you a bit taken aback as he pulls out his phone.

“What are you talking about?” You stare at him, eyes flitting between his face and the phone in his hands.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He assures, glancing up at you, his face purposefully put together which is doing nothing to ease your nerves as he hands you the device.

He can tell the moment you realize what you’re looking at and he watches you read the statement in silence, barely able to breathe.

Hello, this is KQ Entertainment.

Due to a family medical emergency, Hongjoong, captain of ATEEZ, will be temporarily absent from upcoming group activities and schedules effective immediately. He will take this time to care for his family, and the company fully supports his decision and sends its well wishes for a speedy recovery.

In the meantime, ATEEZ will promote as a seven-member group, and we and the members ask that ATINY will continue to support Hongjoong.

Thank you

“You can tell me to fuck off, and I’ll take the time to catch up on some sleep or whatever people do in their spare time.” Hongjoong says carefully as he watches your face for a hint as to what you’re feeling.

“You did this?” You ask, staring at the official statement from his company, face as level as your voice.

“I let them know last night.” He says as he nods. “I know it was me assuming things but even if you didn’t want me around, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on work anyway.”

“I didn’t ask you for this.” You whisper, staring down at the statement that’s going to be burned into your brain forever.

“I know.” He says, bowing his head, unable to look at you anymore. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I would never ask you to choose me over your work.” You press, and when you look at him it’s with eyes brimming with tears. “Please don’t tell me you did this because you think it’s what I would want.”

“No.” He says, head tilting and his face confused. “No, I know you’d never ask me to choose between you and work. This is me looking after my own sanity, because the idea of leaving you alone right now is honestly enough to make me feel crazy.”

He reaches out a tentative hand but doesn’t make contact, waiting for you accept his touch and you can feel the minute tremors going through him when you do, slipping your hand into his where it belongs.

“Plus, I’ve been told I’m due for a vacation for a while.” He sends you a little wink and the old memory of your admonishing him for not looking after himself brings a smile to your face.

“They called me family.” You say after a beat of silence, during which the tension has settled once again. “In the statement.” You explain when he gives you another head tilt.

“Because you are.”

“People are going to misunderstand.” You say even as your face feels like it’s burning, eyes shy as they look at him.

“I don’t care.” He says, a soft look settling on his face. “It would have said girlfriend but I figured we should actually talk about it before I went ahead with that impulse.”

“So KQ…?”

“They know.” He says, thumb stroking the back of your hand in a soothing pattern. “I told them a couple of days after we went on the break.”

The way your heart squeezes at his words has the tears finally spilling over, and Hongjoong shushes you softly as his other hand goes to your cheek to wipe the streaks of salt from your skin.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, trying your best not to sob, a bit unsure about why you’re apologizing.

“I know we need to have that proper talk when you’re feeling better,” He says, gentle eyes searching yours as you lean into his touch. “But I didn’t need two weeks to figure out what I want.”

You can’t stop the sob that wracks through you at his words and it only takes Hongjoong a moment of finagling to get himself into bed beside you, holding you close while still being careful with your injuries.

“Talking to management was long overdue. I should have done it when we were getting serious, but I was selfish. I wanted to keep you to myself, and it all just sort of spiraled after that.”

“So, what happens now?” You ask, snuggling into his embrace as close as you can get without hurting yourself further, finally feeling like you can start to relax.

“Now, we take some time to go over what we want and how to go about it. The company will probably want to meet with the both of us eventually, but they see no need to rush things until you’re feeling better.” He explains, and even though it’s what you’ve wanted for so long, you can feel the anxiety start to creep in.

“So, this is it. We’re really doing this?” You say, feeling a little short of breath all of a sudden.

“If you still want it.” He says, kissing your temple, lingering as if he wants to breathe your scent into his lungs and etch it into his very soul.

“I do.” You say, squeezing his hand and you know he can feel your own shaking. “Is it bad that I’m kind of afraid when this is what I asked for?

“It’s a scary thing.” Hongjoong says but his voice is so calm that the panic inside you can’t quite take hold. “But we’ll take it however slow you need. Like I said, there’s no need to rush.”

“Full disclosure,” He follows up with and it makes the breath hitch in your throat. “There were pictures taken of me rushing out of the event last night, and people have been speculating about what’s going on.”

“Hence the statement.” You say, your tone of voice too detached for comfort and Hongjoong immediately grasps your chin and angles your face to look at him.

“Hence the wording of the statement.” He presses, sincere eyes flitting between yours, begging for you to believe him. “I still would have asked for time off, and they would have released a statement regardless of the actual reason. But this way it gives people an explanation and offers us a bit of privacy while we figure out the next step. Does that make sense?”

You mull it over in your head for a moment, even though you know your silence is killing him.

It does make sense. It’s more uncomfortable for people to ask questions if the given reason is a medical emergency, and the word family can imply different things without it being factually incorrect. But you’re still hung up on that word.

Family.

“Does your family know about this?” You ask, watching the tips of his ears turn red.

“I told my mom.” He mumbles, trying to stop the smile pulling at his lips, probably feeling like he shouldn’t be feeling this way about it given the circumstances. “Just the basics for now, but yeah, she knows.”

“The basics?”

“That I’ve had an amazing girlfriend for the last year and a half, I fucked it up by being greedy, and now I’m trying to salvage the relationship as best I can.” He explains, almost sheepishly and you squeeze his hand, suddenly feeling a different type of nervous.

“How did she react?” You ask, teeth pulling at the skin of your bottom lip before his mirthful chuckle distracts you from your nerves.

“She called me an idiot and said to invite you home for dinner whenever you feel comfortable.” He says, a shy look settling on his face as he watches you. “I sent her a picture of us.”

“You did?” You ask, eyes once again brimming with tears, the overwhelming joy and nervousness making your heart do somersaults.

“Yeah.” He says, leaning his head against yours, unable to stop the grin from taking over his face any longer. “She thinks you’re beautiful, and she said that I haven’t looked that happy in a really long time.”

“When did you do all this?” You have to ask, if for no other reason than to distract yourself from all the emotions threatening to burst out of your chest.

“This morning, before you woke up.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “She’s up early most days.”

“Will there be people outside when we leave?” You then ask, brain deciding to focus on the logistics now that the emotional parts have been discussed.

“The company said they’ll send a car so there might be some because of that,” Hongjoong says, making sure you’re comfortable leaning against him. “But it’s preferable to the alternative. We usually don’t get that much attention in public, a lot of groups have it worse, but it never hurts to have someone with us in case something happens.”

You nod against him, thinking back to the videos you’ve seen of fans and paparazzies swarming idols and causing accidents, finding that you quite prefer the added protection as well.

“Are you feeling hungry?” Hongjoong then asks, checking his watch for the time.

“Maybe a little bit.” You snuggle closer to him, knowing that he’s about to pull away. “I’m still a bit nauseous though.”

“My poor baby.” He coos, kissing your head gently before he starts untangling himself from you. “I’m going to go see if anyone knows what the plan for the day is, and I’ll try to scrounge you up some breakfast on the way, okay?”

“If I’m staying, I’m pretty sure they’ll handle my food, Joong.” You laugh, holding onto him for just one overdramatic second longer before letting him get off the bed.

“Which is why I’m checking the plans first, my sweet baby.” He continues cooing at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead and it’s almost embarrassing how both the tone and action has you flushing.

“Okay, fine.” You relent, and you’re forever going to vehemently deny that your words are accompanied by a pout.

“Okay, watch your step.” Hongjoong says, arm wrapped safely around your waist as he helps you over the threshold of your apartment.

The rest of your tests turned out fine and the doctor gave you the all clear a couple of hours after breakfast, and after clear instructions on how to care for your injuries, you and Hongjoong were sent home.

The idol was fretting over you as soon as you stepped foot out of the hospital bed, and he has not stopped since: instructing the driver to avoid any sharp turns or speed bumps (did he think the man was going to go full Fast and the Furious on you?) and sticking to your side like glue as if you’ll disappear if he lets you go for even a second.

You’re only slightly ashamed to admit you like it.

Seeing him so protective and hands on where others can see him feels like you’re breaking the rules, but it’s such a shift that you can’t help but preen under his care and attention.

You may have gotten into the company car in the parking garage away from any potential cameras, but there was still staff and visitors both there and on the entry level when you left, and he only had his eyes on you.

“Lean against the door, would you?” Hongjoong says as he crouches down to help you untie your shoes, not wanting you to lose your balance when he can’t catch you properly, and you do as he asks with a smile.

Jin had popped by in the morning with some clothes for you, and even though you love your Gucci boots, you’re grateful you haven’t had to torture your twisted ankle by walking in them.

The knees of your pants had ripped in the fall, blood still trapped in the fibers, and although you mourn them, you know you’ll be able to reform them into something cool once your wrist and collarbone heal.

Your coat, blazer and bustier had been saved but only because you’d refused to let the hospital staff cut them off. Jin had basically yelled something about priorities at you, but you’d pulled an Idina Menzel and refused to let them touch the clothes. It was with gritted teeth and tears in your eyes that you’d pulled your injured wrist out of the garments, broken collarbone hurting like a bitch at the movement, but you’d managed to save most of your outfit so it’s worth it.

They’d let you shower at the hospital while you waited for your last tests to come back, and Hongjoong had helped even if he had blushed the whole way through. You’ve showered together many times before, but you guess there was something about the whole situation, and your vulnerability in that moment that just made it so much more intimate than usual.

“You good?” Hongjoong asks, looking up at you from where he’s still crouching, and it takes so much willpower not to run your fingers through his hair, remembering the last time he was on his knees in front of you.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You say, sending him a soft smile where you rest your good shoulder against the wall. “Just tired.”

“You want to get some more sleep?” He asks, standing up once he makes sure your bag and shoes are in their proper places to not risk you tripping over them.

“Feels like all I’ve done this weekend is sleep.” You whine, doing your best to suppress a yawn even though Hongjoong is quick to catch it.

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” He chuckles, holding your face in his hands as he leans his forehead against yours. “But that’s what the doctor said to do so really you’re just following orders.”

“And you know how much I love to do that.” You roll your eyes, winching a little as it makes your head ache.

“You seem to like it fine sometimes.” He smirks before kissing the tip of your nose, and even in your drowsy state you can feel your blood rush south.

“Only cause it’s you.” You all but mumble, words starting to become difficult again, and it’s with another kiss (this one to your cheek) that Hongjoong pulls back and starts leading you towards your bedroom. “Are you actually going to sleep with me this time or do I need to cuff you to the bed?”

“As much as I normally enjoy that, baby,” Hongjoong says, giving you a gentle squeeze although there’s a hint of teasing in his voice that almost manages to chase the exhaustion away. “I don’t think now’s the best time for the handcuffs, no matter how fluffy they may be.”

“Spoilsport.” You mutter, leaning on him a little more as your ankle is starting to hurt but thankfully, he’s helping you lay down in the bed not long after.

“Yeah, I know.” He placates you in a voice that should not be making you this soft, fluffing up your pillow and pulling the covers over you. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“Hurts a little.” You say, body already starting to relax into the fluffy mattress, and it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open.

All of sudden he’s standing by your side with painkillers and a glass of water, and it takes you a dazed moment to realize that that last blink might have been longer than you thought.

He helps you sit up enough to wash down the little pill and finish the water, before he lets you settle once more. He gets out of his sweats and hoodie (he’d been as surprised as you when Jin had shown up with clothes for him as well) and finally gets into the bed with you.

He’s careful about how to position himself so he’s not making you lay at an awkward angle, while also giving you the closeness he knows you need and once he gets there, the exhaustion finally washes over him too.

He makes sure to set an alarm before he drifts off alongside you, just so he can still keep an eye on you even though the doctor told him sleeping beside you should be enough.

He’s playing it safe this time.

He’s been granted another chance at cherishing and loving you the way you deserve, and he’s not going to fuck it up this time.

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