#matchamatz

[matchamatz]

CHERRY WAVES

★ Rockstar! Hongjoong x Fem! Reader  ★

★ Genre: Rookie Rockstar - Rockstar's girlfriend vibe. College Students, College band Ateez (not all members), Strangers to Lovers. Attempt at humour. Set in the 90's/00's, also 90's/00's movie vibes so it's kinda tropey!!! Plot with smut like usual :P Smut (18+, MDNI!!!!) All of members make an appearance.

★ Warnings: Alcohol mention, Weed mention, Smoking, Blood (nothing graphic), smut (MDNI!!!). Mentions of toxic ex partners. Woosan if you really squint. Word count: 25,200?...(they just keep getting longer.)

★ Visuals: Mood-board Outfit inspo

★ Playlist

DISCLAIMER: This is not intended to represent Hongjoong or any of the other individuals involved. This is a work of fiction!!! Please read the content warnings and feel free to let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Notes: This version of Hongjoong I've made up in my head has created levels of delusion I will never recover from :( give him to me.

You’re sat in your dorm, the warm glow of fairy lights casting soft shadows across the room. The window is wide open, the early October rain tapping gently against it’s frame, you were half hanging out of it, joint pressed to your lips. You should be getting ready to go out, like come on, It’s a Friday night - 8pm to be exact.

The dorms buzzed with life. Music thumped through the walls, voices echoed in the hallways, friends laughed as they got ready for parties and drinks flowed in the common areas, but you were content staying right where you were. Just you, a blunt, and an open window. Just how you liked it.

You could spend hours staring at the night sky. There was something about it, the way the stars began to flash different colours if you looked long enough, the shapes formed by constellations surrounded by deep shades of blue. It made your heart ache.

You’d take this over some stinky frat party any day. Over the noise, the sweat, the half-hearted conversations. Over the constant worry about what might be in your drink. This was peace. This was yours.

You were mid-drag, eyes half-lidded, when your dorm door slammed open.  You choked on your drag, the fluorescent light switched on before you could protest.

“Ahh too bright” you wince between coughs, your eyes squinting.

“Get up. Now.” your roommate said, breathless and grinning. “There’s a party on 5th. Some band’s playing, some numetal skate punk shit, sad sounding, totally your vibe.”

You groaned, head falling back against the window frame. “I’m good here. Got my blunt, got the rain, got the stars. What more could I need?”

She rolled her eyes, already rifling through your closet. “Enough of the poetic shit. You need to stop being a hermit. Come on, it’ll be fun. You love live music. And the lead singer… I heard they’re a total heartthrob.”

You smirked despite yourself. She knew you too well. Over the past few months, you'd grown close. You have similar interests in music, style, and the same tragic taste in men. If anyone could drag you out, it was her.

“I don’t know…” you take another drag, inhaling slowly. She was already tossing you a tight baby tee which had bedazzled shiny stars where your nipples would be, a black mini skirt, and some chunky boots.

“Trust me.” she said, eyes gleaming. “You’ll thank me later.”

You sighed, stubbed out your joint, and stood. “Fine. But if it sucks, I’m leaving.”

She laughed “Deal.”

When you arrived, you shot your friend a deathly glare. “You failed to mention it was at a frat house.”

But she only looked back at you with bright eyes and a wide smile. “You wouldn’t have come with me if I told you. Plus these guys are pretty chill.” With a giggle, she tugged at your arm, forcing you both to jog toward the entrance.

When the door swung open, you were greeted by cloud of smoke that hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint smell of stale crisps and cheap beer. The living room was a sea of red solo cups, sticky floors, and bodies pressed together, moving to the bass that thumped from a speaker in the corner.

People shouted their conversations over the music, laughter spilling out in waves and heated discussions adding to tension to the mix, it made you feel alive. A couple was making out against the wall, while the group of people just beside them ignored them because behaviour like this was normal apparently. You mentally gagged at the sight. 

“Y/N! Yeji! Over here!” Your friends had noticed you, already half buzzed. You both walk over, still hand in hand.

“Now this is how you spend a Friday night.” Yeji laughed. “Yeah, right. I’d much rather be in bed.” you huffed.

“Oh, cheer up. Yeji get her a drink, PLEASE. She’s killing the vibe.” Changbin said, while you shoot him a look that said don’t start with me! Yeji secured her hand around your wrist and dragged you through the crowd to locate the kitchen. You dodged and weaved between sweaty bodies, down the hallway past gossiping girls and rowdy boys before coming into the kitchen,  where the counters are lined with half‑empty bottles, green jell‑o shots glowing under the dim light and a sink that had long since lost it’s ice and is now holding half floating cans of beer. You each grabbed a cup and filled it with something fizzy and topped it off with vodka and clinked them together with a grin.

“So remember that guy…the one I was telling you about?” Yeji couldn’t contain her excitement as she pointed towards the window.

You hummed in response, recalling her dramatic retelling of her encounter with the guy. You follow her gesture, look outside and you’re greeted by the sight of someone so good looking you almost fall to your knees.

“Wow Yej! Congratulations!!!” you turn and give her a few slow claps.

“Thank you, thank you!” she takes an exaggerated bow like she’s just won the Nobel peace prize.

It doesn’t take long for your peace to be ruined, because moments later you were approached a wannabe rapper type, oversized cap tilted to the side, gold chain catching the light. His pants sagged so damn low you half expected them to fall down and honestly the thought half scared you to death. Fuck that. He leaned against the counter like he owned the place. “Hey, my sweetness.” he drawled, flashing what he clearly thought was a winning smile.

You and Yeji exchanged a look, the kind that said: are you seeing what I’m seeing? “Sweetness? Did you hit your head on the way here or something?” Yeji shot back, rolling her eyes.

“Did you rehearse that in the mirror before coming here? I bet you did.” you added, brushing past him with your drink.

But he wasn’t done. He shuffled after you, still grinning. “Aw, come on baby, don’t be like that. You know you want a real man to show you a good time.” He moved to place his arm around your shoulder, but you were quick to dodge him.

Yeji laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “A real man? Please. Go crawl back into whatever hole you came from.”

“Shawty there’s no need to be feisty.”

Turning to Yeji you point at the guy. “Did he just?” you say half stunned.

“Leave them alone, dude. They’re clearly not interested.” a voice cut in from behind you.

You both turn to see who it is, and it wasn’t anyone you recognised. But my god, he was pretty. His hair was almost a dusty blonde, slightly bleached lighter at the tips, the shaggy mullet suiting him perfectly. He wore a black and white striped jumper with black jeans and boots, the kind of look that felt effortless. Silver piercings and rings caught in the dim light, making him all the more hotter. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

 He was casually pouring himself a drink, completely unfazed by the situation.

The “real man” scoffed, shaking himself off “sheesh whatever dude. They ain’t all that anyway.” He left with a dramatic bop in his step and muttering something under his breath.

The other glanced up at you with a half‑smile, voice low but steady. “Guys like that never get the hint. He’ll find someone else to annoy in five minutes.”

Yeji smirked, raising her cup. “Well, thanks for the save.”

He shrugged, leaning back against the counter, eyes flicking between the two of you. “No problem. Besides, you looked like you had better things to do than deal with some jerk who can’t read the room.” He pushed himself off the counter. “See you around.” And with that he was gone, disappearing into the growing crowd of people.

You stand there in stunned silence, caught in awe of a man you knew you’d probably never see again.

A crowd gathered around the beer pong table, the kitchen had now been transformed into hub of cheering participants. Red solo cups filled with questionable beverages seemed to shine brighter than usual under the fluorescent lights. Yeji was already laughing, cup in hand, egging you on as you lined up your shot.

“Come on, don’t choke now baby” she teased from across the table.

Changbin was your team mate, navigating you on where to sink the ball next. He leaned in gripping your shoulders and rubbing them. “Go for the left, go for the LEFT!”

You aimed, steadied your hand. 

Yeji was trash talking from across the table, with too much confidence for someone who's losing. “Come on. Miss it. I dare you.”

You closed your left eye and poked your tongue out slightly. Entering a flow state. The room went quiet as you took the shot, the ball bounced once, twice, then landed squarely in the cup, and the room erupted in cheers, some was even slamming the table. You spun around, excitement bubbling over and threw your arms around Changbin. “DRINK IT!” you shouted and pointed and Yeji, voice cracking with excitement.

“Okay, okay, you’re officially playing a dangerous game.” Yeji grinned before downing the beer like a champ, slamming the empty cup upside-down on the table.

Felix cheered from the sidelines “Don’t let them win Yej!”

You laughed, bowing, milking your small victory for all it’s worth, but your attention was already drifting. You slip away, letting Changbin take over, and walk into the living room. It was buzzing, people spilling onto couches, leaning against walls, and shouting over the music, but it all seemed to blur together. Your thoughts keep drifting back to the band was meant to play later, because well…that was the real reason you came here.

Excitement ripped through your chest at the thought of live music, no matter how shitty or fucking amazing it could be. You’ve even started playing a game in your head, running through guesses of who they could be. Was it the guy’s in the corner with ripped jeans and skateboards? Or the group of girls in matching plaid skirts with smudged eyeliner? Maybe the group of quiet guys nursing drinks by the stereo, who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. You scanned the crowd, but every guess felt wrong. Whoever it was, they were hiding in plain sight.

Your thoughts were cut off by the screeching static coming from an amplifier. The chatter came to an immediate halt and everyone’s eyes shifted toward the makeshift stage set up in the living room. A drum kit sat waiting, guitars leaned against amps, cables snaking across the sticky floor.

The crowd had started to buzz, restless energy building as people clustered around the makeshift stage in the living room. The coffee table was shoved to the side, red cups littering the floor, and someone dimmed the lights until the whole room felt like it was holding its breath.

Then, without warning, the band emerged, setting up their instruments.

They looked like they’d just walked out of a garage rehearsal, messy, raw, unpolished but the energy was undeniable. The band were dressed in the uniform of the scene, some wearing oversized tees hanging loose or baggy jumpers, jorts and baggy jeans worn thin at the knees, some even had rips, sneakers and boots scuffed from too many nights spent at the skate park. One of them even had his hair spiked into a wild, gravity‑defying style. You caught yourself staring, kind of obsessed with the whole vibe. Then your eyes landed on someone familiar, you recognised the lead singer but couldn’t quite place him, the room was too dark.

The first chord ripped through the room, loud, messy, melodic and fucking perfect. The guitars snarled, and the drums crashed with reckless abandon, the band had passion, and it was clear.

Then the vocals kicked in. The lead singer gripped the mic like it was a lifeline, his voice raw and aching, as if he were reaching for something he couldn’t reach and he wasn’t sure if he ever would. Every word carried a restless yearning, and you felt it sink into your chest. You were in awe.

At first, you lingered at the back of the crowd, content to watch from a distance, letting the music wash over you. But before you realised it, your feet were moving on their own, carrying you closer and closer, your friends following close behind, weaving through the crowd until you stood only two rows from the front.

That’s when you felt it, a tug in your chest. It was him. The guy from earlier, the one who had pulled you away from bad company. Just as recognition settled in, he glanced up, his eyes sweeping the crowd until they found yours. The moment stretched, suspended in the haze of lights and sound. He held your gaze as he sang, recognition flickered in his eyes too, soft and certain, and then he smiled. It was enough to make your breath hitch.

When the next song kicked in, faster, louder, it sent the crowd into chaos. You danced with friends, cups raised, bodies colliding in the surge of noise and laughter. The floor shook beneath you, the guitars snarled, and the drummer nailed the double time pace, and when they slowed it down to half time the crowd went wild.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Even as he shouted into the mic, even as the crowd roared back, his gaze kept finding you in the blur of bodies. You felt it, the weight it carried, but immediately tried to shake it off. Obviously imagining it, GET A GRIP. 

He was mesmerised by the way you moved, reckless, free, alive in the moment and the way you swayed your hips…it was almost enough to make him forget his lyrics. For a second, it felt like he was performing the entire show was just for you.

The set burned on, each song louder, dirtier, more unhinged than the last. The crowd collapsed into chaos, beer sloshing from plastic cups, voices screaming lyrics half‑remembered, the living room floor trembling like it might cave in beneath the weight of it all.

You were lost in it, laughing with Yeji, Changbin, and Felix, the four of you dancing until your legs ached, the music rattling through your chest like a second heartbeat. It was sweaty, euphoric, exactly the kind of night you’d dreamt about when you first fell in love with this scene. And you can’t believe it’s happening in a frat house.

But even in the blur, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him.

They commanded the floor like it was built for them, the lead singer was now thrashing through a riff with his leg propped up on an amp, sweat dripping down his temple, hair sticking to his forehead. His upper body bopped with every chord, raw energy pouring out of him, and it was clear his heart and soul were stitched into every note.

You felt it in your stomach, that dizzy, fluttering ache. Infatuation. Borderline obsession. The kind that made the room tilt, the kind that made you forget what was happening around you.

By the time the last chord rang out, the room was drenched in sweat. The crowd erupted, voices hoarse, hands raised high. The band grinned at each other, breathless, feeding off the chaos they’d created.

He stepped back from the mic, scanning the crowd again until his eyes landed on you. This time, the smile he sent wasn’t subtle, it was deliberate, lingering, like a secret only the two of you shared.

Yeji nudged you, grinning. “He’s staring at you. Don’t even try to deny it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding.

“We’ve been Ateez!” They all bowed and left the makeshift stage. The band started breaking down their gear, the crowd thinning as people spilled back toward the kitchen and the beer pong table. But Hongjoong stayed put, still watching, like he was waiting for the right moment.

“See? This is why you came!” she shouted over the noise. “Aren’t you glad I dragged you out!”

And you couldn’t help but smile, because she was right.

“Wanna go for a smoke?” you asked, pulling a joint from your tiny purse and flashing a lazy grin.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Felix replied, already leading the way toward the garden.

The air outside was damp, the wind sharp, carrying the faint smell of rain. The cool air feeling heavenly, hitting you like salvation, the sudden contrast from the sweaty heat inside and the wind feels euphoric. You dug your lighter out of your tiny bag, shielding the flame with your hand as you tried to spark it, but the winds keep snuffing it out. You cursed under your breath, struggling against the elements, when suddenly a shadow fell across you.

“Let me help.” a voice said.

You look up, startled, and there he was, the guy from earlier, the hot singer. You hadn’t noticed him slip outside. He stepped closer, leaning in. His hands cupping around yours, blocking the wind and rain. The warmth of his palms brushed against your fingers as he leaned in, close enough that you could see the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, a faint glimmer of sweat and rain mixing together.

You bent toward him instinctively, the two of you cocooned in that small space he’d created against the wind. The lighter flickered to life, flame steady at last, and the joint caught. For a moment, the world shrank to nothing but the glow between you, the smell of smoke, and the way his eyes lingered on yours as if the chaos of the party didn’t exist.

Your friends watched on in shared silence, cigarettes and joints glowing faintly in the dark. They exchanged glances, shocked, amused, entertained by the sudden shift in atmosphere but none of them spoke. They knew if they broke the moment, if they made any sudden movements, you’d spook and slip away.

You were in a haze, your brain too consumed by the rising tension between the two of you. His hands had shielded yours, his warmth still lingering on your skin. You whispered a small “thanks, you've saved me twice tonight.” you laugh, voice softer than you intended, and then, almost without thinking, you held the joint out toward him.

“Want some?”

He hesitated for only a heartbeat before leaning in, fingers brushing yours as he took it. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine. He inhaled slowly, eyes never leaving yours, and when he exhaled, the smoke that curled between you made you feel woozy.

“That’s some good stuff.” he teased, taking one last drag before handing it back, his fingers grazing yours deliberately this time. Then, with a playful tilt of his head, he added. “I’m Hongjoong, by the way.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden formality but you also couldn’t hide the smile on your face. “Y/N.”

His grin widened, crooked and warm. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” he glanced back toward the house where the muffled roar of the crowd spilled out into the garden. You could see it in his posture, the pull back to his bandmates, the responsibility waiting for him.

Still, he didn’t leave right away. He leaned in just slightly, voice low enough that it felt like it was meant only for you. “I should get back.” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But… I enjoyed this. More than I probably should have.”

Your stomach flipped at the honesty in his tone.

He straightened, stepping back, but his eyes stayed on yours. “Hopefully I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the noise and bodies inside.

You’re slumped in the corner of the lecture hall, too tired to even comprehend the topic of your 8am class. Everything felt so overwhelming. Settling into college life is harder than you’d imagined, feeling so out of your depth. Nobody warned you about how the way of studying changes, assignments were far more complex, and how everyone else seemed just as lost, which meant there was no one to ask for help. It didn’t help that you’d been up until 3 a.m. the night before… but that was beside the point.

You flip open your notebook, but you couldn’t seem to bring your pen to paper, you tried to focus on your professor, but your mind kept drifting back to Hongjoong and Ateez. It had been a few weeks since the frat party, and you still couldn’t get him out of your head. You wanted to know more about them, more about him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask; you knew you’d never hear the end of it. You wanted to play it cool, asking too many questions would seem desperate, but the truth was you were desperate.

Later, you were sitting in the lunch hall while Yeji launched into a dramatic retelling of her latest academic disaster. “The second I saw the brief, I knew it was over… I bombed. oh god, this is so bad” she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. I heard they’re more lenient on freshmen.” Felix said, patting her back in an attempt to console her.

“In better, more exciting news.” Changbin cut in, trying to break the tension, tired of the theatrics. “There’s this annual Halloween party at one of the frats this weekend. Apparently, it’s legendary. I think we should go, show up in killer costumes and just drown our sorrows.”

Yeji immediately perked up, her eyes wide and glassy. “Binnie, I love you!” she squealed. Then her gaze darted to you. “Oh my god, we should wear a couples costume!” She practically leapt from her seat to sit beside you, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

You laughed at her idea, but honestly, it wasn’t half bad. “Yes! Let’s do it!”

You couldn’t help but wonder if Ateez would be at the Halloween party.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur, and soon you were walking back across campus toward your dorms. The autumn air was sharp, leaves crunching under your shoes, and you were already half‑lost in thought about what costume you and Yeji could pull together.

That’s when you saw him.

Across the yard, he was leaning against the steps of the library, talking to a girl. She was beautiful, her arms crossed, her expression tight. From the distance, it looked like they were in the middle of an argument.

Your stomach dropped. Girlfriend? Of course he had one, someone who looked like that definitely wasn’t single. So why did he flirt with me? Was that even flirting? I mean this is college, maybe it’s different here. The disappointment hit harder than you expected, completely shattering the crush you had on him. You ducked your head, deciding not to approach, but the path back to your dorms meant you had to walk past them. GREAT!

As you got closer, he glanced up. His eyes caught yours, and just like that, the conversation with the girl ended. He waved, breaking into a jog as he approached you.

“Hey” he said, slightly breathless but smiling.

“Hey” you replied, trying to sound casual even as your heart hammered.

“I didn’t expect to see you around.” he admitted.

You frowned, amused. “Why not?”

He let out a small awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I don’t really have a good answer for that.” He paused for a moment “So… are you going to that Halloween party this weekend?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just heard about it today.”

He grinned. “I’ll be there too. Not performing this time, though, just going for fun.”

“That’s a shame.” you said before you could stop yourself. “You guys were amazing. I’d love to watch you guys play again.”

He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “I’m sure I can make that happen.” His smile was replaced with a devious smirk. There was a pause, then he glanced over his shoulder. “Look I’ve got to get going, but… I’ll see you on Saturday. I can’t wait to see what costume you wear.” And just like that, he was gone, jogging back across the yard.

You stood there for a moment, replaying the exchange in your head, a light blush adorning your cheeks. But the image of him with the girl lingered, heavy and sharp. Fuck you were confused. You walked back to your dorms feeling defeated.

By Saturday night, your dorm room looked like a thrift store had exploded. Clothes were piled everywhere, makeup scattered across the desk, and Yeji was pacing with a grin plastered on her face.

Yeji had gone all in on Cher Horowitz from Clueless, the yellow plaid skirt suit, knee‑high socks, and a mini backpack slung over her shoulder. She looked stunning, and you couldn’t help but worry for her safety tonight, the guys were going to be all over her, and you half‑expected you might end up fighting a frat bro before the night was over.

In the end, you both decided to go for separate costumes. You opted for something a little more fun, dressing up as Baby Spice and recreating her iconic Union Jack dress. You’d gone all out, even dyeing your hair a shade of ginger to really commit to the look and truthfully, you’d been looking for an excuse to change your hair anyway.

Changbin showed up in a black suit and skinny tie, sunglasses perched on his nose. Men in Black, of course. Felix had gone classic horror with Ghostface, the mask and robe that had taken over every Halloween since Scream dropped in 1996. The two of them were goofing around in the corner of your dorm room as you and Yeji got dressed, Changbin proudly showing off the prop neuralyzer he’d spent all of last night making, flicking it open and shut like he was about to erase someone’s memory. Felix kept lunging at Yeji with the Ghostface knife, earning himself a smack on the arm every time.

“Okay, okay, enough.” Yeji laughed, adjusting her plaid skirt. “We’re going to be late.”

The frat house was only a ten‑minute walk away, the streets buzzing with students in costumes. Groups passed you on the sidewalk, vampires with fake blood dripping down their chins, even a cluster of ghosts drifting along together. The air was crisp, the kind of autumn night that carried the faint scent of leaves and burning wood.

By the time you reached the house, you understood why everyone called it legendary.

The place had been transformed. Pumpkins lined the porch steps, each carved with intricate faces glowing from within. Fake fog curled across the lawn, spilling from hidden machines. Black lights flickered in the windows, casting eerie shadows against the walls. Cobwebs stretched across the railings, skeletons dangled from the roof, and a giant inflatable ghost loomed over the entrance.

It didn’t look like a frat house anymore, it looked like a curated haunted attraction, the kind you’d pay money to walk through.

Yeji grabbed your hand, eyes wide. “This is insane.”

“Yeah, it is.” Your words came out breathless, stunned by the sight. “I wonder who's rich daddy paid for all of this.”

You all made your way inside, and the atmosphere was even more surreal. The living room was now a dancefloor, strobe lights flashing over costumed bodies. The kitchen was a makeshift bar, lined with bowls of punch of the radioactive nature and trays of Jell‑O shots. Hallways were draped in black fabric and fake spiders, with hidden speakers pumping out creepy sound effects, chains rattling, doors creaking, distant screams.

It was spooky, it was chaotic, and it was fun. Exactly the kind of night you knew would spiral into something unforgettable.

Felix had began darting in and out of the crowd with his Ghostface mask, scaring people and then doubling over in laughter. Changbin was perched on the arm of a couch, now with some of his teammates, sitting with sunglasses still on indoors, flashing his homemade neuralyzer at anyone who’d look. You had to resist the urge to grab them both by the scruffs of their necks.

You were leaning against the kitchen doorway, drink now in hand, watching the chaos unfold. The music thumped through the walls, bass rattling the floorboards, and the whole house felt alive with energy. Yeji had gone off with the guy she’d been talking to for weeks, you’d found out he was part of the frat house from before, which explained why she’d dragged you there in the first place. The moment she saw him her face turned lovesick, so you let her slip away to play house.

Across the room, Hongjoong had spotted you standing alone, nursing your drink.

He’d just stepped inside, trench coat sweeping behind him, sunglasses perched low on his nose. Neo from the Matrix. The costume suited him almost too well: dark, sleek, magnetic. He scanned the crowd, but the moment his eyes landed on you, everything else blurred.

For a beat, he didn’t move. He just watched, lips quirking like he already had a plan. Then, slowly, he started weaving through the crowd. His presence was impossible to ignore, people parted for him without even realising, drawn to the sharp silhouette cutting through them.

You didn’t notice him at first, too caught in your own thoughts, sipping your drink as the party roared around you. But he was deliberate, taking his time, slipping closer until he was just a few feet away.

Then, with a sudden step, he leaned in from behind, voice low and teasing against your ear. “Boo.”

You squeaked out a tragic sound. “Jesus!” You jumped, nearly spilling your drink, spinning around to find him laughing, sunglasses pushed down just enough for you to catch the spark in his eyes.

You looked different tonight. Your hair now dyed ginger, red boots catching the light. Fun, bold, unapologetic. He remembered the first time he saw you in that dingy frat kitchen. He remembered watching you dance later, completely lost in the sound of HIS music. You had remained in his thoughts ever since. 

“I’m not Jesus.” he joked, eyes lighting up at his own stupid dad joke.

He grinned, tugging the sunglasses down just enough to meet your eyes. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well you did.” you muttered, trying to steady yourself. He moved to steady you, holding your arm until you managed to steady your balance.

“Sorry… but it was worth it.” he teased, gaze lingering. “You look… incredible. Baby Spice, right?”

You laughed, nodding. “You didn’t strike me as the type of guy to know the Spice Girls.”

Hongjoong raised a brow, smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t strike you as the type of girl to like Spice Girls.”

“Please don’t let my looks deceive you.” you said, rolling your eyes. “I like girly things too.”

He leaned in slightly, voice low, playful. “Girly things, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

You shot him a look, amused. “What, I can’t dress the way I do and still have a soft spot for pop music and pink?”

He chuckled. “Depends who you ask. My friends would say it’s a crime against humanity and an injustice to the scene.” He leaned in closer “but between me and you. I kinda like it.” His voice was low, smooth, and you felt it run through your body.

The music shifted into another skate‑punk anthem, the crowd surging toward the dance floor. Hongjoong glanced at the chaos, then back at you, his eyes refusing to leave.

“Come on.” he said, tilting his head toward the crowd. “Show me how Baby Spice moves.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t in these boots” you said, lifting one foot to show off the chunky platforms.

Hongjoong’s grin widened. “Oh come on. I know you can.” His tone was playful, but there was a spark in his eyes that made it feel like more than just a joke.

So, you gave in, letting him pull you toward the dance floor. The two of you moved together, half goofy, half serious, spinning, swaying, bumping shoulders as the music rattled the walls.

“I like your costume.” you said, nodding at his trench coat. “Neo, right?”

“Neo.” he confirmed, tugging his sunglasses down just enough to meet your gaze. Then, with a sly smile, “Not as much as I like yours, though.”

The words caught you off guard. Heat rushed to your cheeks before you could stop it, and you ducked your head slightly, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. The alcohol made it harder to play it cool, and you knew he’d noticed. Hongjoong’s grin deepened, just a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He didn’t say anything about it, but he made a quiet mental note: compliments work on you.

As much as you liked his compliment, you couldn’t shake the thought that he might have a girlfriend. You tried to brush it off, but the idea lingered anyway. This didn’t feel like casual conversation, it felt like flirting. Still, you could have completely misread the situation…like seriously misread. Was this just how he was with everyone? You try to brush it aside, but the alcohol has loosened your tongue, and before you could stop yourself, the words came out, teasing and careless.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing with your girlfriend right now?”

His smile faltered, just for a moment. “Girlfriend?” he repeated, brows knitting. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” He laughed lightly, tilting his head. “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, nothing- it’s nothing.” you rushed out, waving your hand as if you could erase the words. Inside, you were mentally beating yourself up. Your own stupidity had landed you here, and now you had to deal with it. What, like guys and girls can’t just be friends? Ugh. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!!!

Hongjoong didn’t let it slide. He leaned in a little, finally taking his sunglasses off so he could look at you properly. “You know.” he said slowly, voice low and deliberate, “You’re a terrible liar.” Each word brought him closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the weight of his presence.

Your breath caught, half from embarrassment, half from the teasing edge in his tone. “I wasn’t lying.” you protested weakly, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Mm.” He hummed, tilting his head, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth as his hands settled lightly on your hips. “Oh, don’t get shy now.” His words were playful, but there was a sharpness underneath, like he’d caught on to more than you wanted him to.

“You’ve got me all figured out already, huh?” His voice dropped further as he leaned in, mouth brushing close to your ear. “For the record, I came here alone. And right now…” his breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine “…I’m glad I did.” oh fuck. The closeness unravelled you. Your body betrayed you, a fragile whimper slipping past your lips before you could stop it. His grin widened at the sound, satisfaction flickering in his eyes.

He doesn’t move from here he’s situated by your ear “I’ve been thinking about you, you know.” he whispered, voice low enough to drown beneath the music. “Ever since that night at the frat house.”

Your heart skipped, the words sinking deep. You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes in the flashing light. “Me too.” you admitted softly, gaze slipping away as embarrassment settled in. He just watched, amused, as the bold and brave girl who had been sparring with him moments ago stumbled over her own honesty.

And for a moment, the chaos of the party faded away. It was just the two of you, caught in the rhythm, closer than you’d ever been. Every song felt like an excuse to stay pressed together, laughing, moving, forgetting the world around you.

“I want you to come see us perform again, this time at a real venue.” He paused, then added “It’s at the dive bar in town, Saturday, November 22nd.” He stepped back slightly, watching your face, like he wanted to see if you’d really want to.

Your heart leapt, the date already etching itself into your mind. “Seriously? I’d love to.” you said, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Hongjoong’s grin widened, pleased with your reaction. “Good. Bring your friends too, I’ll sort out the rest.”

The certainty in his tone made it feel less like an invitation and more like a promise. You nodded quickly, already picturing it: the sticky floors, neon lights buzzing overhead, the smell of beer casks, the crowd pressed too close to the stage, and the kind of music rattled the walls.

“I should probably get back to my friends.”

Hongjoong leaned in before you left, his voice low but certain. “I’ll come find you later, OK?”

The promise lingered as you slipped back into rhythm of the party. Yeji was already halfway through a drink, her cheeks flushed and her smile wide. Felix was terrorising strangers with his Ghostface mask, darting through the crowd with gleeful menace. And Changbin, true to form had somehow turned a random corner of the room into his own show, challenging people to arm‑wrestling matches on the sticky table and defeating them all and dramatically bowing once it was time to move on. You all ended up settling into a card game with a group of people you’d never met before, giggling as the rules made less and less sense with every round. As the night wound down and people began drifting away, you realised you hadn’t crossed paths with Hongjoong again, and the feeling was bittersweet, like the night felt incomplete. 

The next morning, you were crammed into a booth at a diner with your friends, half‑hungover and clinging to mugs of coffee like lifelines. Yeji squinted at you over her coffee mug, her voice raspy. “So… where did you run off to last night?”

Felix perked up, smirking despite the hood pulled low over his face. “Yeah, you vanished for a bit. Don’t tell me you were off with Neo. Oh wait what’s his name again…ah Hongjooooooong” he teased.

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you tried to play it off, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Maybe.” you admitted, voice soft as you pushed around the hashbrowns on your plate.

Yeji leaned forward, suddenly more awake. “Oh my god, you were! So what happened?”

You hesitated, the memory of his words still echoing in your head. “We danced…He… invited me to a gig.”

That got their attention. Three pairs of eyes snapped toward you, the hangover haze forgotten.

“A gig?” Felix repeated, eyebrows shooting up.

“Yeah.” you said, excitement bubbling despite yourself. “At the dive bar in town. Saturday, November 22nd. He told me to bring you guys.”

The table erupted, Yeji squealing before quickly remembering she was hungover, gripping the table as her headache ripped her a new one. Felix groaning dramatically about what he’d wear, and Changbin declaring he’d be the band’s number one hype man. Their voices overlapped, teasing questions flying at you: what did he say, how close did you get, did you dance? You laughed, ignoring everything as you ate your breakfast.

Your dorm had been a disaster, and with classes getting serious, and part time jobs keeping you occupied, you and Yeji couldn’t take it anymore. So, the two of you spent the entire Saturday morning cleaning and reorganising, scrubbing until the place looked almost unrecognisable. When Felix and Changbin came by later that evening, they swore you both had been replaced by aliens, because they’d never seen your dorm so clean before.

Now you were all sprawled across the room, surrounded by half‑empty takeaway boxes, passing around a joint with the faint hum of the TV in the background. Some whacky, family‑friendly game show was keeping you company.

Yeji was venting about her classes, waving her chopsticks like a weapon. “My professor thinks group projects are a good idea. They’re not. They’re torture.”

Felix, curled up in a blanket, grinned. “At least you don’t have a roommate who practices guitar at three in the morning. I swear I’m learning his setlist against my will.”

Changbin, of course, had his own story. “You think that’s bad? I signed up for a gym membership, and now the trainer thinks I’m entering a competition because I’m there so much. He keeps yelling ‘champion mindset!’ at me. I don’t have the heart to tell him I just like the gym and I’m a sports science major.” He puffed out his chest dramatically, earning a round of laughter.

You swear you could live in this moment forever, you loved the kinds of night where you could forget about everything else. But this time your mind kept drifting back to Hongjoong’s words. Saturday, November 22nd. 

The weather outside was borderline Baltic, you swore you could feel your limbs freezing as you walked into your part-time job at the coffee shop. You only worked Tuesdays and Thursdays and sometimes picked up the odd shift between classes. The smell of light roast coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air as you stepped inside. You’d arrived twenty minutes early for your shift, which was unusual. Maybe you could fill the time with breakfast, since you’d skipped it.

“Morning, San!” you called as you made your way to the staff room, shedding your jacket as you moved.

“Hey, Y/N!” he shouted back, his voice carrying easily over the clatter of cups and chatter of customers.

After slipping on your apron, you wandered behind the counter, scanning the baked goods display, trying to decide which one would make the best breakfast.

“You’re early! That’s a first” San teased, but his concentration was locked onto the espresso machine, as he frothed milk.

You turned to shoot him daggers. “Thought I’d come in for breakfast!”

He smirked, raising a brow. “Oh, so you’re finally taking the job seriously.” Tone dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a smile. “Keep talking San, and I’ll make sure your next latte tastes like dishwater.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” you shot back, but the warmth between you was undeniable. Working together always felt less like a job and more like hanging out with a friend who knew exactly how to push your buttons. You wouldn’t want it any other way.

After finally settling for a chocolate filled croissant, you caught San smirking in your direction. “What?”

“Oh nothing…just very predictable.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Predictable? Please. I’m the most unpredictable person you know.”

“Unpredictable?” He laughed, already steaming milk for another customer. “You’ve ordered the same drink every shift since you started here. If I had to bet my life savings, I’d put it all on you asking for a cappuccino.”

You gasped dramatically. “That’s called consistency, San.”

Before he could fire back, the bell above the door chimed and a small rush of customers filtered in. The two of you exchanged a look, the kind of look that said here we go again. You took the last bite of you breakfast before slipping into the chaotic café rhythm you’ve grown to love.

San handled the espresso machine like it was second nature, while you worked the register, and stepped in when it got busy. You both toss sarcastic comments over your shoulder whenever either of you mess up.  And he takes great pleasure in giving you the ugliest cappuccino hearts he could manage, grinning like a menace.

You were busy making an order when you heard a familiar voice. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You turned, and there he was, Hongjoong, leaning casually against the counter.

Your pulse jumped. “Oh hey.” The words came out smaller than you expected.

“Wow the apron really suits you...it’s cute.” you ignore him…because let’s face it, if you tried to speak it would’ve come out as a squeak.

“What can I get you?” you eventually ask, putting on your sweetest customer service voice.

“Hmmm just a cappuccino please.” He is beaming, clearly enjoying this side of you. 

“Good choice!”

You move around the espresso machine, the hiss from steaming the milk filled the room as you begin making his coffee, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee settles into the air. You don’t look up, but you can feel him watching, never taking his eyes off you, still leaning against the counter.

“So…are you planning on coming to the gig?”

“Hmmm maybe.” you tease back, a smile on your face now.

“Ahhhhhhhh” his pretend frustration only make you smile wider. You slide his coffee across the counter.

“That’ll be $2.25” you put on your nicest customer service voice, and he slides you a $5. 

 “Keep the change. Oh, and don’t be late y/n.” 

And just like that, he was gone.

“WHO was THAT?” San’s eyes are wide and voice was too loud.

“Huh?” You avoid his gaze, making your wake to the sink and dropping some used mugs into it, the sound of clashing ceramic filled the room.

“What do you mean “Huh” spill. NOW!” he was already on your heels.

You sighed. “Oh him? Just someone I met at a party. He asked me to come see his band next week-”he cut you off with a gasp, wanting to announce your business to the whole café.

“Shhhh.”  You tapped his arm, quick to shut him up.

“All right! All right! You better give me all the details.” He raised his arms in defeat, almost as if he was waving a white flag. But as he walked away you could see the shit eating grin on his face.

“What are you going to wear?” Yeji was raiding your closet with no remorse, tossing potential outfits onto the bed and the rejected “crimes against fashion” on the floor.

“I don’t know...maybe some jeans, that one black top and a jacket?” you had no plans of dressing up for a dive bar, especially not in the dead of winter. But you already know Yeji wouldn’t tolerate that.

“WHAT? A hot guy asks you to come watch his band and you want to wear JEANS? Nuuh-ahhh.” She rolled her eyes. But annoyingly, you hated to admit…She was right.

 She began rummaging through your dress drawer, leaving no corner left unturned.

“Yej, please! You’re making a mess. I’m not cleaning this up!”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll sort it tomorrow.”….??? WE???

“WE?” You stare at her dumbfounded. In your dreams.

“Ah this!!” she pulled out a black mini dress that had the classic square neckline, holding it up like she just struck gold.

“And you can wear it with that white roll neck? Ohhh and my chunky wedge boots, and leather jacket. Yes!”  She was moving around the room like a woman on a mission. She shoved the dress into your arms and before you had the chance to protest, then she was moving to retrieve her jacket.

You groaned before accepting defeat and slipping into the outfit.

“Okay! And the boots!” she was back across the room again, pulling her chunky boots out from the bottom of the closet and chucking them to you. You stumbled into them, laughing but also mortified. Yeji clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling while she watched you slip the shoes on.

“YES, that’s it. Omg you look so hot.” 

“You think?” blushing you tug on the hem of your dress.

“Well obvi” Yeji threw herself onto the bed, satisfied. She grabbed the remote and flicked on the stereo and pressing play.

You both laughed, dancing around the room as you finished getting ready, applying the finishing touches to your make up, lip gloss, eyeliner, and a heavy spritz of perfume. Then Yeji pulled a joint out of her bed-side drawer, dangling it between her fingers with a grin. “Pre‑smoke ritual?” she wiggled her eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes but followed her, you both giggle as you fight for the best position near the window. The cold air bit at your skin, the campus buzzing faintly below. You took a drag, the smoke curling into the night, nerves mixing with excitement.

A knock at the door broke the moment. Changbin and Felix barged in, loud and chaotic, Felix already humming some tune while Changbin raided your mini fridge. “You two look crazy hot” Felix teased, not bothering to hide the fact he was gawking at the sight.

Yeji smirked. “Thanks babe but that is the point.”

The four of you joked, laughed, and hyped each other up until it was time to leave. Jackets zipped, boots stomping, you spilled out into the night.

The dive bar was a different world.

You lined up outside, the neon sign buzzing faintly above the door. The crowd was restless, smoke hanging in the air, boots scraping against the pavement. When you reached the security guy, your stomach twisted.

“Uh… we were invited by the band.” you said quietly, giving your name.

He looked you up and down, then asked flatly, “How many?”

“Four.” Yeji answered quickly, gesturing to the group.

The guy gave a small nod, unhooked the rope, and let you in.

Inside, the vibe shifted.

The air was musky, heavy with beer and sweat. Neon lights flickered against graffiti‑covered walls, stickers layered over posters from bands long forgotten. The floor was sticky, every step pulling at your boots.

The stage was already set, amps humming, drum kit gleaming under dim lights, cables littering the floor.

You and your friends pushed through the crowd, finding a corner near the bar. Yeji ordered shots, Changbin grabbed beers, and Felix leaned against the counter like he was too cool to be here….you knew he was nervous, this place isn’t his vibe. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

You clutched your drink, eyes darting around as you try to take it all in, the chaos, the anticipation. The room buzzed with chatter and music as you scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone you knew, maybe even catch Hongjoong before he performed. The thought of seeing him on stage again sent a strange, unfamiliar feeling spread across your chest. And the more let yourself think about him, the less you minded the feeling.

Changbin and Felix reappear with beers in hand, and smirks plastered on their faces.

“Thought you’d girls would like another drink” Changbin passed you both fresh beers.

“and we spotted your little friend at the bar.” Felix added, his tone teasing. “soooo we invited him over for a drink” you froze mid sip and choke slightly, eyes wide.

“wait.what.why????” your voice cracked and tone panicked, like very fucking panicked. This can’t be happening right now, I’m not mentally prepared for this!!!!maybe if I hide they’ll leave me alone…probably forget I even exist. I didn't mean it!!!

Yeji being thoroughly entertained and wanting to stir the pot decides she want’s you to implode too “you might want to calm down babe” she paused. “he’s walking over right now…and with company”

You turn slightly, and sure enough…there’s Hongjoong, followed by 4 others, you recognised them from the band. They were trailing behind him, they looked effortlessly cool. It all felt like they were approaching in slow motion. Meanwhile your brain was short circuiting, this is fine! You’re totally chill. Where the fuck is the nearest exit.

Hongjoong stopped in front of your group, his grin sharp. “Well, looks like we found the most interesting people in the room.” His tone dripping with confidence. “Mind if we join?” His eye’s flicked to you, his gaze lingering just enough to make your chest feel tight.

“mmhmm sure” your voice was shaky, but you managed to send him a small smile.

“Yeah! Join us!” Yeji waved them in, signalling them to come closer.

The tall one with spiked hair leaned down slightly to introduce himself. “I’m Mingi by the way. I hope you don’t mind us crashing” he let out a deep chuckle.

“Wooyoung” he gave a small wave. “Trust me, we aren’t bad company” 

“Yeosang. Nice to meet you all” he gave a polite nod.

The last guy was tall, he walked around the crowd to try and slot himself in. “I’m Yunho” he flashed a smile.

The introductions all blurred together, the now large group settling into superficial conversation. Small talk flowing easily, but you barely heard any of it, because you were hyperaware of the set of eyes burning holes in the side of your head. Hongjoong was standing just to the right of you, and every time you managed to muster up the courage to look up from your beer, his eyes were on you, like he was waiting for the right moment to get closer.

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks. Oh my god. He’s doing this on purpose. Stop staring! Stop looking at me. Oh good he’s turned away. NOPE HE’S LOOKING AT ME AGAIN! GOD I NEED A STRONGER DRINK!

The group erupted into laughter, the sudden noise pulling you out of your existential crisis. And as if Wooyoung had plucked the thought straight from your head, he leaned in, grinning like a mad man. “Alright! pre-show shots time!” 

If ever there was a moment to believe in divine intervention, it was right now! You could’ve dropped to your knees in the middle of the bar to thank whatever higher power was listening, because thanks to Wooyoung, your salvation has arrived in the form of tequila.

The now-large group had made their way to the dimly lit bar in the corner, taking up most of the space. The small venue was filling up quickly, and you were slightly stunned by the turn out. Hongjoong leaned into the bar, greeting the bartender. They seemed friendly, like knew each other quite well. “Hey Chan, let’s get our usual. But with…” He turned around to count heads. “four extra, we have guests tonight.” He grinned.

“Anything for you Joong.” Chan teases, already lining up glasses. Once the shot hit the counter, the group erupted into cheers. The glasses were passed around, Changbin shouting over everyone and Wooyoung seemed to egg him on.

Hongjoong slid in beside you, close enough that the faint mix of his perfume and weed reached you. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes back in pure bliss as you felt a fluttering feeling tighten in your tummy, nerves feeling like sparks. The smell was intoxicating. 

He leaned against the bar, his voice low enough only you could hear. “You sure you can handle this?” his tone was teasing, like he knew it would get under your skin. And he was right.

You tilted your head, deciding to match his tone. “What, worried I might outdrink you?”

“mmmhh” he hummed, letting out a small laugh that sounded sincere. “Worried you’ll black out before you get to watch us again. Can’t have that now, can we.” he smirked poking the side of his mouth with his tongue.

You roll your eyes but couldn’t help but notice how much your body reacted to his words, the hairs on your skin now standing on edge. Before you could get caught over thinking, you back the shot before he does, slamming the shot glass back onto the bar. You couldn’t help but feel smug about it.

Hongjoong laughed softly at your smug grin, shaking his head as he finally tipped his own shot back. He set the glass down with a clink, then straightened, his expression shifting just slightly. “We should head out.” he said, glancing at the others. “Stage in thirty.”

The band gathered themselves quickly, slipping back into performer mode, and with a few quick goodbyes they disappeared into the crowd.

You and your friends exchanged looks, the same thought sparking at once. “Front row!” Yeji grinned, already tugging Felix toward the stage.

The venue was small, the kind where the stage was barely raised above the floor - just a few steps up, framed by flickering neon lights and speakers in questionable state. You squeezed through, elbows brushing strangers, until you were right at the edge of the stage, close enough to see the scuffs on the amps and neon green tape markers on the floor.

The lights dimmed, the chatter dropped, and then the first notes hit, low, heavy bass rumbling through the floor, drums pounding like a heartbeat, guitar scratchy and dreamlike, weaving a sound that felt both raw and surreal.

It wasn’t a song you’d heard from them before. This one was different, almost like it ached. And when Hongjoong’s voice cut through, devastating in its intensity, it felt like the air itself shifted. But what shocked you was Mingi. From behind the drum kit, his deep voice rose to meet Hongjoong’s, harmonizing in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. The contrast was perfect. The sharp edge of Hongjoong’s vocals softened and grounded by Mingi’s depth. Together, they filled the room with something so powerful it made your chest tighten and your eye’s welling up.

You couldn’t help it, you smiled, wide and unrestrained, caught between awe and the thrill of being there, front and centre, watching them create something that felt bigger than the tiny stage it was born on.

The next song began, Hongjoong’s voice cut through the hazy sound, sharp and commanding, and though he moved across the stage, gesturing to the crowd, pulling them in with every note, his eyes never left you.

It was impossible to ignore. Every time he turned, every time he leaned into the mic, his gaze found you again, steady and unrelenting. The audience roared, but it felt like he was singing only to you.

Then he crossed the stage, steps deliberate, until he was right at the edge where you stood. The grip he had on the microphone was strong, steady, his knuckles pale under the stage lights. He leaned down, smiling in that cocky way that showed you exactly what he was like on stage, confident, magnetic, untouchable.

Your heart raced, the tequila running through your body, and you couldn’t help yourself. You smiled back, leaning in too. For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between you. His forehead hovered so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off him. The tension was unbearable, almost thrilling. And just when you indulged him, just when you let yourself lean into the moment, Hongjoong pulled back. Moving back across the stage effortlessly, his smirk widening as he moved away, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

The crowd screamed, the music surged, but you were left standing there with your chest tight, knowing he’d done it on purpose.

The rest of the set passed by in a blur, a haze of sound and light that swallowed the crowed whole. You and your friends were swept up in it completely, you and Yeji danced like nobody was watching, and Changbin and Felix were cheering on their new found friends so loudly you were pretty sure by the morning they’d have no voices…which didn’t sound too bad actually.

By the time the final song was over, you were breathless, throat raw and your chest tight from the sheer amount of force from the music. You watched as Ateez say their goodbyes and disappear into the back of the venue. The crowd began to clear out, some lingering behind to catch another drink before close.

“They’re so fucking good.” You said, breathless.

“They’re gonna be famous one day.” Changbin said as he threw his arm around your shoulder.

None of you were ready to leave and it was only 10pm, the bar buzzed with leftover energy, a few stragglers nursing drinks while the staff wiped down counters. So you all decided to linger, half because you wanted to thank Ateez for inviting you, half because the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet…and a few more drinks wouldn’t hurt right?

Wooyoung appeared first, his grin as wide as ever. “Don’t run off yet. We’re heading out back for a smoke. You should come.”

Yeosang nodded, pleased by the suggestion “We’ve got access to the back room. It’s quieter there. You’ll like it.”

That was all the convincing you needed. Soon enough, you were tucked into the back with them, the air hazy with smoke, drinks refilled, laughter spilling over. The atmosphere was loose, easy, like the show had cracked everyone open and left only joy behind.

As the night stretched on, you excused yourself, slipping outside for a smoke. The cool air hit your skin, a welcome contrast to the heat inside. Crouching slightly your platform boots helping you stay balanced, you lit up your cigarette, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, enjoying the quiet. One hand wrapped around your crouched knees while the other brought the cigarette to your lips.

A few minutes later, footsteps approached. “Hey.” Hongjoong. You quickly rose to your feet.

He leaned against the wall beside you. “How was the show?” he asked, voice low, teasing, like he already knew the answer.

You smirked, taking another drag before offering it to him. “Not bad. Could’ve been better.”

He laughed, shaking his head. He accepts the cigarette. “Wooow, is see.” He pushed himself off the wall, now standing in front of you. He takes a drag.

You tilted your chin, refusing to back down. “Guess you’ll just have to try harder next time.” You take it back, putting it between your lips.

His smile widened, cocky and amused, eyes locked on yours. The tension hung heavy, electric, as he closed the gap inch by inch. You didn’t move away, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You wanted to soak up every ounce of attention he gave you.

And he knew it.

Silence hung between you for a moment before he took another step closer. You didn’t move back, so he took another. Your gaze shifted from the burnt-out cigarette between your fingers and up into his eyes. They were darker now, unfamiliar to you, you could tell he was thinking about something. His brows tightened as his gaze moved from your eyes to your lips. He looked defeated, desperate for something.

And to him, you looked exactly the same. Your eyes wide and pupils blown, anticipation written all over your face.

“I really want to kiss you.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t answer him. The words kept getting caught in your throat. He watched as you struggled to get your words out, panic spreading across your face. He decided to test your boundaries. Reaching out, his hand gliding softly to the nape of your neck, fingers nestling into your hair.  His grip was firm, grounding. You bit back a sound of shock, your eyes widening just a little more. When you didn’t pull away, Hongjoong decided it was now or never. 

He moved in slowly and once his lips met yours, every doubt you had disappeared. The kiss was soft, gentle, open mouthed. He focused more on your bottom lip, and when you let out a small whimper, something in him snapped. He couldn’t stop himself after that, he dragged his tongue across your lip, begging for entry. You gladly accepted, matching his pace without hesitation, your tongue brushing against his in a fight for dominance, causing him to let out a groan. His other hand came up to fully cup your face, fingers lacing in your hair and tugging at it slightly.

You felt a tingling sensation bloom in your stomach as you threw your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Needing him closer. But this caused him to pull away. Breathless, he took you in. Lips swollen, puffy and skin faintly blushed. He was usually a strong man, always composed but something about you…made him lose all sense.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He ran a hand through his hair, voice rough.

You just let out a soft laugh before walking towards to the door. “Should probably head out now, it’s getting late.” You paused for a moment. “Thank you for inviting us by the way. We had fun.”

You left him there, stunned and plagued by his own thoughts.

Once you were back inside, in the empty hallway, that’s when you panic.

Fuck. What have I done.

You force yourself to steady your breathing before walking back into the room on shaky legs, your friends are already saying their goodbyes.

While waiting at the door, you’re approached by Mingi, who’s expression is amused. “It was nice to finally meet you. I mean, Hongjoong can’t stop talking about you.”

You choke on air, a sudden feeling of despair settle in your stomach. From across the room, he notices the shift, and he shoots Mingi daggers. You can’t tell if he’s teasing or being serious. But it doesn’t matter, because suddenly everything feels too real.

Still, you fake a smile and laugh. “Oh really?” You pause, not really wanting to continue. “you guys were amazing tonight, thanks again for having us.” All you want is to leave right now.

“Give me your number! I’ll let you know when we next have a show.” Mingi is now beaming, cheesing like a child who’s just been offered their favourite snack. You laugh.

You scribble your number down on a napkin, before handing over and waving goodbye.

You all step out into the cold night air, the neon glow from the venue sign casting a purple hue across the wet concrete. The streets are quiet now, besides form the hum of distant cars and the soft thud of your footsteps. You linger slightly behind your friends, letting the events from tonight replay in your head, over and over and over. You begin to regret everything, the weight of your actions bearing heavy on your shoulders. I can’t do this. Truthfully, you’re scared. You swore you’d never do this with anyone, EVER again. 

Yet Hongjoong’s stare lingers in your memory, the heat of his touch still burning hot on your skin…you’ve never felt anything like this before. 

You stop walking, fumbling in your bag to grab your cigarettes. Lighting one, you inhale deeply. You didn’t even want it, but at least it’ll warm you from the inside…and it’ll distract you for a little while…even if it is fleeting. You start walking again, dragging your feet a little more this time. It’s funny how something as innocent as a kiss can unravel all the work you’ve done to rebuild yourself, leaving nothing but chaos in it’s wake.

It’s Monday morning, and you’re rushing across campus. You managed to sleep through all eight of your alarms and barely had the time to make sure your shoes were on the right feet. You clutch your books tightly, you bag slipping off your shoulder, when you suddenly slam into someone.

“Shit!” you mutter, frantically picking up your books before glancing up. Hongjoong. He had noticed you across campus and rushed over to see you…but in your daze you didn’t see him – the collision causing him to stumble backward. His eyes are confused, searching yours. You mumble a small “sorry.”  before moving past him, not giving him a chance to talk. You don’t notice the way his hand reaches slightly for you while you speed off.

It's better this way. It’s safer. Keep your distance now.

By the time you enter the lecture all, the professor has already begun. Yeji spots you and waved you over, saving you a seat. She’d stayed with Felix after a movie night.

She studies you for a moment, brows furrowing. “Are you ok?” she whispers.

You hesitate, the words heavy on your tongue. Deciding now is the right time spill, you let it all go. “Hongjoong…we- we kissed. And now I don’t know what to do.” 

“WHAT” well that was too loud. Head’s snap in your direction, and the professor quickly reminds everyone to remain quiet and pay attention.

“Yeah.” You sigh. “my last relationship was awful. He wasn’t kind. He used everything against me. Anything I did he twisted. I don’t know if I can do that again.” your throat tight and sore as you spoke, the resurfacing memories stung more than you thought. 

Yeji leans in more, forcing you to look at her. “Hey.” Her tone soft. “Don’t shut everything out because one shitty boyfriend decided you weren’t worth anything. Because you are. If you need to take it slow, then take it slow.”

Her words felt like taking several knives to the chest…ripping you open, releasing everything negative you’d been holding in. You know she’s right. But it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. You deserve more than fear and regret. But deep down, a gnawing voice whispers that you might ruin everything, that no matter how careful you are, things will break and burn before they get a chance to grow.

Time passes by slowly, and you slip back into your hermit ways. You don’t go out anymore, just work, classes, then home. This feels safe, and the predictable routine makes life easier. At least you’ve grown closer to San at the café. He’s easy to talk to, and your personalities seem to mesh well…he’s easy to tease and you like teasing him. The avoiding Hongjoong thing – well it’s exhausting. He even came by the café once, asking San if he’s seen you around. San covered for you while you were ducked behind the counter, heart pounding, and praying he didn’t notice you duck behind the counter.

San has even joined movie nights and diner runs, fitting right in with the group. Tonight, you’re all crammed into Changbin’s dorm, passing around a joint and playing blackjack, the room hazy with smoke and filled with the noise of bickering and cheating accusations.

You suddenly feel you phone vibrate against your thigh. A number you don’t recognise. You ignore it at first, but it rings again. With a huff, you excuse yourself and step into the hallway, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you voice coming out more confused than frustrated.

“Hey y/n” On the other end, a familiar voice, but you can’t make out who it is. 

“What, you don’t recognise me? It’s me Mingi.” His tone cocky and playful.

You laugh, teasing back. “Ah right, guess I needed the reminder.”

He’s laughing now. “How are you?” the simple question shocks you, it’s genuine. Did he call just to chat? You couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m good thanks Mingi, how are you.” You entertain him, it feels like when your younger cousin calls and you’re forced to talk to them…but you always enjoy it.

“I’m good too, it’s been a while.” You hum in response.

“There’s this party on Friday. Not a frat party I promise. More of a kick-back. You should come.”

You hesitate, knowing Hongjoong will be there. “I’m not sure Mingi, I’m busy with work and school.”

“Don’t you work in a café?”

“Yes………how do you know that?” 

“Hongjoong told me.” Ah.

“You can come after work? No obligation though.” Mingi is relentless, he can’t help but plead a little, with a grin you can practically hear through the phone. “But it would be nice to hang out again, pretty please y/n”

“Fine. Yes.” you cave. WOW he’s good.

“Perfect! I’ll send you the deets. Bring your friends!” and just like that he hung up. You lean against the wall, feeling like something for the first time in weeks is screaming at you to come out of hiding.

You walk back into the room, slipping your phone back into your joggers pocket. “Guess we’re going out on Friday.” You announce casually.

The reaction was immediate, everyone erupting into cheers, the card game now abandoned and half on the floor. You don’t notice it, but your friends exchange glances. One that says they’re relieved to see you getting back to yourself again. For the first time in weeks, they’re not worried.

 The next day, you find yourself sitting alone in the lunch hall. You’re not really eating, the snacks sit beside your books as you try to study. With the festive break approaching, you’re forcing yourself to cram as much as you can before finals. But your thoughts are too consumed by Friday. Will he be weird about it? After all, you’ve made it your life’s mission to ignore him. Or would you make it weird? The guilt over how you’ve behaved gnaws at you.

You’re staring into space, left leg shaking frantically, pen tapping against your notebook, when you feel someone tap your shoulder. Your whip around, startled.

“Are you y/n?” yikes, what’s with the cold attitude.

You look up at a girl you don’t recognise. Thought something about her feels familiar.

“Sorry, do I know you?” you raise a brow. 

“No. But you do know Hongjoong.” Her tone is ice. What’s her problem?

“Ok? I hardly know him. is there something you want?” you narrow your eyes, matching her tone.

She crosses her arms like a spoiled child, staring you down. “Yeah, for you to leave him alone.” 

And then it clicks. Ohhh you recognise her now. She’s the girl you saw with Hongjoong that time. Shame, she’s really pretty when she isn’t behaving like a petulant child. 

You laugh. “hmmm that’s not how this works.” 

Your words seem to knock her down a few pegs, clearly shocked by your retaliation. She doesn’t answer, just glares.

“Right ok. This isn’t high school, I’m not playing childish games.” You turn back to your papers. 

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away.” Ah how sweet, a threat.

You turn again, rage bubbling in your chest. “Oh, is that right? And what are you going to do about it?” you stand, taking a step closer.

You’ve been in too many situations where you’ve let people treat you poorly, talk down to you…well not today. You’ve grown up too much to let this slide.

Her eyes widen, arms now falling to her sides as she takes a step back.

“That’s what I thought. Look, I’m not trying to interfere with whatever you’ve got going on. But you’re not going to tell me what to do.” You voice is low and steady, and dripping with new found confidence.

“Just stay away, ok?”

“No.” 

She blinks. Shocked. “No?”

“Yes. now leave me alone.”

No longer in the mood to study, you collect your belongings and shove them into your bag, leaving behind the girl and the group of shocked bystanders that watched the entire situation. I guess they’ll have plenty to talk about now.

Later that day, Hongjoong is back at his tiny apartment he shares with Wooyoung. The space is crowded, Mingi, Yeosang, Yunho and a few of his other friends Jongho and Seonghwa, were sprawled out across mismatched furniture. 

“Hey Hongjoong, you know that y/n girl you mentioned.?” Jongho suddenly speaks up.

Hongjoong is confused. “uhh yeah why?”

Hongjoong listens to him go on about what he witnessed in the lunch hall earlier. His jaw tightening. Anger simmering beneath the surface, but he tries to keep his cool. He doesn’t believe it at first. 

“Come on guys, stop fucking around.”

Seonghwa clears his throat “Joong… I was there. I saw the whole thing too. She came out of nowhere, she told her to stay away.”

Jongho leans forward, taking a sip of his beer before speaking up. “Yeah, she was being a bitch.” He lets out a chuckle, remembering how you clearly got under her skin. “but y/n really put her in her place. She’s feisty.”

The words hang heavy for a moment.

“You need to shut this down, hyung. Quickly.” Mingi’s the first to state the obvious. 

And Yeosang is quick to agree. “Yeah, she’s annoying, it’s not like this is the first time she’s caused problems like this.”

Hongjoong doesn’t bother answering. Instead, he pushed himself up from the couch and slips onto the balcony. The cold air hit’s him instantly. He leans over the railings, before lighting a joint, beer perched on the ledge beside him. He knows he’s partly to blame for this. They dated briefly back in his freshman year. But it ended quickly, and he thought that would be it. But then there were night’s after, that shouldn’t have happened. Quiet hookups that stretched on for longer than they should have. But those ended too, at the end of the last academic year. He made it clear it wasn’t happening anymore.

He inhales deeply, letting it sit in his lungs before letting the smoke drift into the night. Is this why you’re ignoring me?The thought made him sick. He takes a swig of beer, overthinking everything, but one thing is clear: he needs to talk to you.

Friday night arrives and you’re filled with dread. Your small dorm is buzzing, Yeji’s side looks like a battlefield. A mixture of yours and her clothes lined the floor, bed and some ever laid out on the desk. The boys are sprawled across your bed, busy chatting amongst themselves, unbothered by both of your noise.

Yeji never turns down an opportunity to get dressed up, already done with her hair and makeup, holding up outfits in the mirror while asking for feedback…the boys always hum a soft “yes looks good.” No matter the outfit combo.

“What's with you and always wanting to wear jeans. Come on, you can’t wear that.” She insists, eyes narrowing at you. While you’re sporting a shit eating grin, holding up the most boring yet comfy outfit you could manage.

“Look it’s only a kickback. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” You discard the outfit and cross your arms.

“It’s not for anyone else…it’s for you! Don’t you want to feel good? Cute? This is the first time you’ve been out in weeks.”

You nudge her…and she laughs. That’s how she knows she’s right. Whenever you accept defeat, you always whack her lightly. “See! Get dressed already.”

You do want to feel good. So, you settle on light-washed high waisted boyfriend jeans, pointed heels, and a black long sleeve top with a deep v-neck cut. You throw on an oversized black leather racer jacket and add some gold jewellery. Your hair, now dyed a dark shade of brown was styled into a silky blowout. The reflection staring back at you feel like someone you haven’t seen for a while.

Yeji is looking at her on reflection, she had paired a denim skirt with a cute cream jumper, tights, chunky boots and a trench coat. Applying lipgloss as a final touch, a dramatic smack of her lips “Perfect!”

Noticing you’re both dressed and ready, San groans dramatically “Can we leave already, I’m dying here!” 

The group bursts into laughter, deciding to dogpile him, throwing cushions at him, teasing him for being impatient. You can’t help but feel all the anxiety from the past few weeks slip away with the sound of your friends laughter.

Finally leaving the dorms, the December air nipping at your skin, you all huddle together while your check the address. The address Mingi sent you, leads you to an apartment building, you all look up, noticing one of the apartments full of people. You exchange curious glances with Yeji. Well, I guess this is it…a kickback at someone’s apartment. Interesting…you were expecting a dorm.

You’re all greeted at the door by Wooyoung, who’s already buzzing with excitement. “Welcome to my apartment!” he grins, arms spread wide.

You all blink at him stunned. His?? Wait- how old are they then? You’d thought they were freshmen like you. But that doesn’t even make sense now that you think about it. Their band is well-known on campus, they couldn’t possibly be first years. You make a mental note to ask Mingi about it later.

Inside, hip-hop and rap is coming from the speakers, the bass feeling like silk in your ears. You all make the rounds, saying hello to Yunho who’s manning the speakers, clearly enjoying his job DJ’ing. You spot Mingi and make your way over. He pulls you into a hug, his warmth instantly easing your nerves. “Hey, let’s get you guys come drinks.” He leads you to the kitchen. You all grab a beer and the rest head back over to Yunho and Yeosang.

Leaving you both in the kitchen, you lean against the kitchen side. “I didn’t know Wooyoung lived in an apartment. I thought you guy’s lived in dorms.” 

He laughs “none of us do. We decided to go for student housing for our second year.  With the band, we can’t really rehearse in dorms. It gets complicated”

“Oh, I guess you’re right.” You take a sip of your beer. 

“Wooyoung lives here with Hongjoong.” You almost choke. You’re in Hongjoong’s apartment?

He goes on to tell you that he, Yeosang and Yunho share a small house nearby. Between their part-time jobs, the band and student loans and help from their parents, they’ve managed to afford a place where they can rehearse in peace. You watch him explain in awe. “it’s not much but it’s enough.” He smiles. You find it adorable and admirable how much effort they put into pursuing their dreams.

“Wow, you guys are amazing.”

“Nope, we’re just regular guys.” Mingi is too nonchalant about it.

“Don’t sell yourselves short Mingi. You are.” You say, tone frustrated…because let’s face it you are. You notice him blushing.

After talking to Mingi for a while, you slip out onto the balcony for some fresh air. It’s more like a fire escape but more upscale. It was narrow but gave you enough space to breathe.

You were alone for a while…until you weren’t.

Someone steps out, lighting a cigarette, the glow from the lighter illuminating their face. They inhale, then turn to you. “Hey”

You offer a polite smile. “Hey.”

“Want some?” they ask, holding out their cigarette and giving it a little wiggle.

“No thanks, got my own.” You flash your own, which has been burning low between your fingers for a while now.

The stranger steps closer, too close, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture made your stomach churn. You take a step back, but the edge of the balcony presses into your back, leaving you nowhere to go.

He smirks, voice dripping with arrogance. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone?”

You look at him with disgust. “I’m not alone. I came with friends.”

Back inside, Hongjoong, Mingi, Changbin and San are watching you through the glass door. Their expressions harden, fury rising. Hongjoong is the first to move, the others following close behind.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hongjoong’s tone is threatening.

The guy backs up, shrugging. “Just messing around.”

“The fuck you are.” Hongjoong snaps.

The stranger turns his attention away from you, finally noticing the other four broad and built guys standing behind Hongjoong. His confidence falters “Shit, you guys are no fun.”

“I think it’s best you leave.” Yeosang says.

“Yeah. Leave.” Hongjoong is now taking a step closer.

“Sheesh, whatever.” He flicks his cig butt off the edge of balcony, and heads back inside…not before winking at you.

You flip him off. 

The others follow him to make sure he leaves. Now it’s just you and him left, the city lights stretching out below.

“Thanks”  you mumble, looking down at your feet.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah.” No.

“Wanna go for a walk, get out of here for a bit”

You look up at him, eyes wide gratitude. “please” you breath, thankful for the lifeline.

“Come quick.” he grabs your hand and leads you to the stairs on the fire escape. You can’t help but let out a giggle as the metal stairs creak beneath your boots, the heels catching between the ridges. His grip firm to keep you from falling. “Come on, keep up.” He teases, glancing back with a grin.

Once you’re on the street, you realise how quiet his neighbourhood is. It’s so different to campus life. You’ve never actually seen an actual neighbourhood since moving here a few months ago. You couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. 

“So, this is your neighbourhood?” You glance around at the unfamiliar street.

“Yeah. it’s not much, but we love it here.” He’s already a few paces in ahead, leading you to a convenience store. “Come, let’s get ice cream.” He grabs your hand again, and you welcome the warmth.

Inside the fluorescent lights buzz over head, quiet jingle sounding music playing as you browse the shelves. You can already feel the headache settling in. The two of you wander the aisles together, debating snacks, holding things up for approval. Eventually you both reach for the same ice cream. At the checkout you grab a cherry flavoured lollipop from the jar near the gum. 

He tries to pay, but you argue. He insists and so do you…but in the end you let him win.

You find a nearby bench and sit, deciding to eat before heading back. Silence hangs between you, before the awkwardness pushes you to speak... “so how have you been?” 

“Good, just been coasting through life.” He replies between bites of ice cream.

“mmhhm same.” The tension was thick.

“Sorry, you know- for what happened on the balcony. We don’t really know the guy, he’s a friend of a friend…” the guilt in his words was clear.

“It’s not your fault…but I guess you could keep better company.” You tease. 

 “You’re right” He chuckles slightly, nodding.

You finished your ice creams in quiet, letting the sounds of the night fill the empty space.

“Let’s get back before everyone noticed we’re gone.” you say, unwrapping your lollipop and popping it into your mouth with a smile. Hongjoong watches, amused…remembering you saying you had a soft spot for girly things. He can’t help but notice how happy you look.

He just nods and starts walking, but when he notices you aren’t following, he calls back. “Are you coming or what?”

You nod. “Are you sure I’m allowed to be seen with you?” you tease. “Your girlfriend might kill me.” You try to keep your tone light, playing it off as a joke.

He stops mid-stride, turning to look at you with raised brows. His tone playful but laced with something more serious. A tone akin to the one you heard earlier. “You and this girlfriend thing…I told you already.”

You nudge him in the shoulder, with a grin. “I know, I know. I’m just messing.” He knows you’re not.

“Oh, you’re impossible.”

You stop dead in your tracks, now standing directly in front of him. Pulling the lolly out, you deadpan “or am I.” then you pop it back in your mouth and walk ahead. 

But before you could escape, he grabs your wrist, pulling you back over to him, pulling your closer.

“If I had a girlfriend.” He paused, locking eyes with you, pupils dilated. “Would I do this?” 

He takes the stick of the lollipop, pulling it from your mouth with a satisfying pop. Your expression is unreadable, but inside you’re freaking out. His other hand comes up to rest gently against your cheek, before he leans in, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss to your lips, before pulling away, with a smirk on his face. He pops your sweet into his mouth and breaks out into a jog, running ahead, hands tucked in his pockets.

You stood there stunned. And annoyed. HELLO?? THAT’S MINE??

“HEY! Give that back.” You chase after him, the sound of your heels hitting the pavement echoing through the street.

“mmhmm, cherry flavour my favourite!” he teases, picking up speed.

“HONGJOONG!!!” you break out into fits of giggles. “GIVE IT BACK! WAIT FOR ME.”

Back at his apartment, you both lingered downstairs. The lollipop long finished by Hongjoong. “You owe me a new one.” You playfully pout.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He moves closer to you, hands brushing your sides. “Before we go back to the chaos, I want to do one more thing.”

“What?” the words came out quiet…too quiet. He laughs.

“This.” He cups both of your cheeks and kisses you again. It starts out soft, gentle. But you want more, so you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip. He laughs, and you swear you felt your heart skip a beat.

He lets you in, letting you take control. The kiss is nothing like he’s felt before. It’s slow, deliberate, like it carried meaning. The taste of cherry on your tongue and the feeling of your glossed lips moving so slowly against his own, was enough to make him want to feel this for the rest of his life. He wants to take over and give you more. When you pulled away, he swore he could cry.

You give him no time to react, quickly making your way back up the fire escape stairs. Pride swells in your chest when you don’t hear him following.

You walk back into the party like nothing happened. Yunho greets you immediately, concern etched in his voice. “Hey y/n, you good? I heard about what happened?” 

“Yeah, I good” you say with a wide smile…you are now, FOR SURE.

“Have you seen Joong?”

“Nope” you say before excusing yourself and finding your friends.

You sink into the empty sofa, stretching out comfortably, one leg hanging off the edge. You slip into conversation with Yeji, San, and Changbin…where Felix was... you didn’t know. The group feels easy, like they’ve always been your friends.

From across the room, Hongjoong can’t help himself. His eyes keep drifting back to you, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the conversation happening right in front of him. He watches the way you laugh, head thrown back, the way your gestures are more animated when you tease San about his earlier impatience. You look so at ease, laid out across his sofa like you belong there.

He takes a sip of his beer, watching as you smile at Yeju who’s now standing above you. He feels his chest tighten. He watches as Yeji flops herself onto of you, both of you full on belly laughing. He can’t help it. He feels the corners of his own mouth twitch. He knows he should look away, but he doesn’t.

Mingi notices, nudging him with a stupid grin. “You’re not even trying to be subtle, man.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” But he doesn’t deny it.

The night carries on, everyone chatting and drinking, the earlier tension long forgotten. You catch sight of Wooyoung and San getting cozy on the sofa, their shoulders pressed together, Wooyoung has one leg tucked slightly behind Sans, heads leaning close. You laugh, rolling your eyes, nudging Yeji to point it out. She smirks knowingly, and the two of you dissolve into giggles.

Eventually, you all decide to leave. Felix emerging from a room you didn’t know existed with Yeosang and two others who you now know as Seonghwa and Jongho. They snuck away to play video games… typical.

“San, don’t forget we’ve got work tomorrow.” you remind him, tugging at his sleeve. He groans dramatically, earning a chorus of teasing. You turn to Wooyoung with a wink. “Sorry for stealing him away.”

The walk home is quiet, the December air crisp against your cheeks. Once back in your dorm, you collapse onto your bed, still buzzing from the night.

Your phone vibrates. An unknown number. You hesitate, then open the message.

UNKNOWN: we’ve got one more show before we leave for the holidays. You should come.

You stare at the message, you watch as another text comes in. The details for the show.

Before you could reply, wanting to ask who it was. Another message came through.

UNKNOWN: Cherry really is my favourite btw ;)

You stare at the screen, heart racing. Hongjoong.

Kicking your feet excitedly under your covers, you bury your face in your pillows, unable to hide the smile on your face.

The final few weeks of college pass by in a blur of exams and busy shifts. Everyone’s social lives on campus come to a standstill. The dorms heavy with exhaustion and stale air as everyone stays cooped up in their rooms, besides leaving for lectures, work or the library. Your desk is littered with open textbooks, coffee cups which have now accumulated into a stack...right next to the OTHER stack of cup ramen.

You abruptly wake up from your nap, head snapping up from your desk, wiping the drool off your face. Dazed and confused you reach for your clock to check the time. 8pm. Your pulse quickens, 8PM!! You fell asleep for 4 hours. Shit. You notice you have 2 missed calls and a few messages.

2 MISSED CALLS. Yeji <3.

NEW MESSAGE FROM UNKNOWN: Finals are brutal huh?

Hongjoong. You hadn’t even realised you still hadn’t saved his number.

You’re about to click his contact to save his number, when your phone starts vibrating in your hand.

Incoming call: UNKNOWN.

Oh. Oh no. oh shit, is this really happening??? 

You hesitate, then pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

There’s a short pause on the line before he spoke again. Your stomach flipped.

“Hey, I’m grabbing some food near campus. Thought I’d see if you’re down to study together and eat?” 

This must be some sick joke right?

“I could swing by? That’s if you’re free…No pressure.” 

You look around at the state of yours and Yeji’s dorm, suddenly feeling disgusted, offended even, by the sight of it.

“oh um…” you stall.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to-” 

“no no no!” You cut him off so quick that you cringe. “It’s just, we’ve been studying so much our room’s a mess…Don’t judge us…please.” You let out an awkward laugh, cursing yourself and Yeji for putting your education first like responsible adults.

You hear him laugh in response and you slowly drop your head back to your desk…this is so mortifying.

“Well we could always go to mine?” whaaaaaaaaaaaat?

“I mean…I guess. That works.” 

“oh..cool. I can meet you at mine. I’m getting takeout. Any recommendations.” He seemed shocked by your response, like he was expecting rejection. You start to regret your decision.

“um no, I don’t think I’ve had takeout around here before. You pick, I’m not fussy.”

“Cool, I’ll see you at mine by 9?” 

Again…you respond too quickly, agreeing before hanging up and staring at your phone like it’s just committed the worst betrayal of all time.

You spend the next 30 minutes frantically moving around your room. Throwing on some jeans and an oversized flannel, instead of your joggers and stained tshirt. Splashing water on your face, brushing your teeth and hair, and applying a little makeup.

By the time you’re on the way to Hongjoong’s apartment, your heart is beating uncontrollably. And the reality of the situation is starting to settle in, you’re meeting Hongjoong alone, at his…and you’re painfully sober. And that’s a problem, this is the first time you’ll be hanging out with him without something in your system, something to loosen your tongue and calm your nerves. 

But now everything is real, too real, and now you’re scared.

You’re approaching Hongjoong’s apartment, when you see him lingering outside the entrance, leaning against the wall with a takeout back in his hand.

He spots you and grins, before pushing the door open and holding it for you. “Well look who decided to show up.”

“I could’ve taken longer you know.” Hongjoong just laughs and leads the way. 

You follow him upstairs, the stairwell echoing the with your footsteps. Once you’re inside the apartment, he puts the food on the coffee table between the sofas and tell you to “make yourself at home.” 

You watch his as he retreats into the small kitchen. You slip off your shoes and make your way to the nearest sofa. Looking around, you take in the scenery of his and Wooyoung’s shared apartment. It looks so different when it’s not filled to the brim with college students and rap playing through speakers.

In the corner of your eye, you spot a pink guitar leaned against the wall by some other music things. It was gorgeous. You wondered who it belonged to.

Their apartment was incredibly clean. The apartment smelled like clean laundry and a hint of boy musk…but not in a bad way. Which this was a shock…college boys didn’t tend to keep clean. This made it easier to relax a little. You reach out to grab your bag, placing it on your lap before unpacking your books and putting them onto the large coffee table. Deciding it was too far away, you moved to sit on the floor, making it easier to use the table.

Hongjoong returns not too long after with a few plates, chopsticks and some cups. He settles not too far from you, but not close enough for it to be awkward.

“I decided on Chinese. I hope that’s OK.” He rubs the back of his neck, wearing a lazy smile.

“Nice! I love Chinese.” You reassure him.

He starts unloading thing’s from the bag, placing it on the table, putting drinks into cups. “Help yourself, but please try the fried rice. It’s the best in this city.” You can tell he’s trying to not make this feel weird.

“So,” he says, opening a takeout container. “What do you study then? I don’t think we’ve ever spoken about it.”

You let out a laugh, amused by the ridiculousness of it. “True. I study chemistry…you?”

He looks at you with wide eyes… “I’m studying literature.” He said slowly, still in shock by your answer.

Hongjoong blinks at you, still processing the word chemistry like it personally offended him.

“Chemistry” he repeats, eyebrows raised. “Like… actual science? Lab coats and explosions?”

You laugh. “Not everything explodes.”

“Yeah, but enough things do.” He nudges your knee lightly with his. “Meanwhile I’m over here writing essays about dead poets with daddy issues.”

You snort, and he grins like he’s proud of himself for getting that reaction.

He opens another container and pushes it toward you. “Here. Try this one.”

You take a bite, and he watches you…not in a weird way, just… curious. Like he wants to see your reaction.

“mmhm it’s good!” you nod in approval, and he relaxes a little.

“It’s my favourite.” He says with a small smile.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Not awkward, just comfortable.

Then he reaches into the takeout bag again.

“Oh..right.” He pulls out a small, crinkled wrapper and holds it out to you. “I got you this.”

You look down. A cherry lollipop.

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “I, uh… stole yours. You said I owe you one so.” he wiggles it around in the space between you.

You take it from him, your fingers brushing his. A tiny spark shoots up your arm, and you almost flinch.

“Thanks.” you say softly, avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t make it weird” he teases, but his smile is warm. “It’s just candy.”

It’s not just candy. You both know that.

You place it on the table before grabbing your notebooks and flipping them open.

he says, clearing his throat, “Are you actually any good at chemistry?” 

“I’m pretty good.” you say, trying not to sound defensive.

“Oh, I believe you.” He leans in slightly, elbow brushing yours. “You give off smart‑kid energy.”

You roll your eyes. “And you give off… literature‑major energy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Brooding. Dramatic. Probably writes lyrics in the margins of your notes.”

His mouth twitches. “I do not brood.”

“You literally brooded outside the building waiting for me.”

“That was leaning.” he corrects, pointing at you with his chopsticks. “Very different.”

You laugh again, and he looks pleased with himself.

The studying starts naturally, your books spread across the table, his notebook open beside yours. He leans close when he asks questions, close enough that you can smell the fresh laundry on his hoodie. Every time his hand brushes yours while reaching for a pen or flipping a page, your breath catches.

He notices. Of course he notices.

At one point, he leans over your shoulder to look at a diagram in your textbook, his hand resting lightly on the floor beside your knee. His voice is low, warm, close enough that you feel it more than hear it.

“So this is what you do all day?” he murmurs.

“Pretty much. We’re not really doing lab work until next semester.”

He hums. “No wonder you’re always stressed.”

You glance at him. “And you’re not?”

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But I get to read stories and write stuff. You’re out here doing math.”

“Chemistry isn’t just math.”

“It’s math with extra steps.”

You shove his shoulder lightly, and he laughs, a soft, breathy sound that makes your stomach twist.

The room settles into a warm hush, broken only by the occasional sigh or muttered complaint about finals.

Time blurs.

At some point, you reach for the cherry lollipop he bought you. The wrapper crackles, a small, sharp sound in the quiet.

Hongjoong hears it instantly.

He doesn’t look up at first, but something in him shifts, a tiny, almost imperceptible pause in the way he turns a page.

You unwrap it, pop it into your mouth, and keep reading.

He tries to keep his eyes on his notes. He really does.

But the soft click of the candy against your teeth…the way your lips part around the red gloss of it…the faint cherry scent that drifts across the small space between you…

It unravels him.

His mind slips. Uninvited, unstoppable. back to that night. The taste of cherry on your tongue when you kissed him, soft and sudden and so sweet it nearly knocked him out.

He remembers the way you’d pulled back, breathless, eyes wide like you couldn’t believe you’d done it. He remembers wanting to pull you right back in.

He remembers thinking about it for days after. Every night since.

Now, watching you with that same candy between your lips… It’s too much.

His pupils dilate. His throat tightens. A slow heat crawls up his neck, settling under his skin like a fever.

He tries to focus on his book, but the words blur. He tries to breathe normally, but it comes out uneven, each breath shaking on its way out. He tries to be subtle, but he’s losing the battle.

You don’t notice at first, too absorbed in your notes, pen tapping lightly against the page. But eventually… you feel it, that stare, It’s heavy, warm. Almost desperate.

You look up.

Your eyes meet his, wide, innocent, curious and he freezes like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

You tilt your head slightly, pen still in hand, and reach up with your other to pull the lollipop from your mouth. The candy leaves your lips with a soft pop. The candy glinting red under the lamplight. Your lips are still parted, breath soft, eyes wide and impossibly innocent as you look up at him.

“What?” The word is small. Soft. Completely unaware of the chaos it detonates in him.

Hongjoong’s breath hitches just barely, his pen slips slightly in his hand. He blinks once, slow, like he’s trying to reset his brain before it betrays him any further.

Because you’re sitting there on his living room floor, surrounded by textbooks and half‑finished notes, looking at him like that, like you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

He swallows, throat tight.

“You…” he starts, voice lower than he meant it to be. He clears it quickly, trying to steady himself. “You just-”

He gestures vaguely toward you, toward the lollipop, toward the whole situation, like the words won’t line up.

“You’re distracting.” he finally says, barely above a whisper.

The room goes still. Your pen hovers mid‑air. Your eyes widen just a fraction more.

And Hongjoong knows he’s in trouble, the kind of trouble that feels a little like falling and a little like wanting to.

Hongjoong blinks hard, trying to pull himself out of whatever daze you’ve put him in. He clears his throat, scoots a little closer, and taps the corner of your worksheet.

“Uh-this one.” he says, voice a little too casual. “Explain it to me?”

You nod, shifting your textbook toward him. He leans in. You lean in. Your shoulders almost touch.

Almost.

You start explaining the problem, a basic reaction equation, nothing complicated. But your voice feels too loud in the quiet room. You point to the numbers, the arrows, the balancing steps. He watches your hand move across the page.

But he’s not listening.

Not really.

Because you’re still sucking on that damn cherry lollipop.

You keep talking, oblivious to the way he’s unravelling. Your voice is soft, steady, explaining the reaction step by step. He nods, pretending to follow, but his eyes keep flicking to your mouth.

He doesn’t notice he’s drifting closer.

Not until your knees brush.

Not until your breath mixes with his.

Something snaps.

Before he can think, before he can stop himself, Hongjoong leans in and kisses you.

It’s quick. Your gasp caught between his lips. He swallows the sound with ease, pulling back just enough to see your expression.

You’re wide‑eyed. Stunned. Breathless.

He looks entirely too pleased with himself.

“I just…” he murmurs, voice low. “…really like the taste of cherry.”

He leans back against the sofa, pretending to be casual, but his cheeks are flushed and his breathing isn’t steady.

Something sparks in you, confidence, boldness, something reckless.

Before he can process it, you’re moving, crawling slightly across the floor toward him, the lollipop still in your hand. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t move.

You lean in and place a gentle kiss on his lips.

It’s soft. Barely there. But it destroys him.

Whatever restraint he had left flickers out like a blown fuse.

His hand comes up instinctively, fingers sliding to the nape of your neck as he pulls you in for a deeper kiss, slow, warm, hungry in a way that feels like he’s been holding it back for far too long.

He shifts, back pressed to the sofa, and you’re still on your hands and knees when he pulls you closer, guiding you into his lap without thinking. Your knees settle at his sides, your lolly long forgotten. His other hand coming down to grip your hip a little too tight, like he’s trying to pull you down further into his lap. The sudden closeness causes you to gasp into the kiss, because you can feel him, hard and pulsing against your core. Hongjoong let’s out a smug laugh.

 The world narrows to the sound of your breathing, the warmth of his hands, the soft press of your mouths. You grind down, before you could stop yourself, your brain deciding you needed to feel more, threading your fingers in his hair. Hongjoong’s head falls back against the cushions of the sofa, abandoning the kiss. He goes to speak but before he could get the words out. The front door bursts open.

“Oh.”

“OH MY GOD-”

Wooyoung. Mingi.

You shove yourself off Hongjoong so fast you nearly topple over your textbooks. Your face is burning. Hongjoong’s isn’t much better, pink‑cheeked, hair tussled, lips definitely swollen…and wearing a smug little half‑smile that makes everything worse.

Wooyoung whistles. “Wow. Really guys? In my living room?”

Mingi grins, walking over and assessing the contents of the table, flicking a page or two of your textbooks. “Didn’t know we were interrupting a chemistry lesson.”

Hongjoong groans. You want the floor to swallow you whole.

“H‑hi.” you manage, voice embarrassingly small. “Um… I should probably head out. It’s getting late.”

“Already?” Wooyoung teases. “Aww, don’t go on our account.”

You scramble to pack your things, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Hongjoong stands, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking far too pleased for someone who just got caught.

“Thanks for the food.” you mumble. “And… the quiet study time.”

“Anytime.” he says, but the way he says it makes your stomach flip.

You slip past Wooyoung and Mingi, who both give you matching knowing smirks as you escape into the hallway.

The door closes behind you.

And you break.

You press your hands to your face, pacing in a tiny circle, whispering frantic little noises of disbelief to yourself.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. What was that. What did I just- oh my GOD.”

You cringe so hard your soul tries to leave your body.

But under the embarrassment… there’s something else.

A warmth. A thrill. A memory of cherry and breathless laughter and the way he pulled you in like he’d been waiting for it.

You make it three steps down the hallway before your brain finally catches up with your body.

Then it hits you.

You kissed Hongjoong. Hongjoong kissed you, AGAIN. You were in his LAP. Wooyoung and Mingi SAW.

You stop walking. Your soul leaves your body.

You press both hands to your face and whisper, “No. Nope. Absolutely not. That was social suicide. I’m never going to live that down.” Your freak out continues.

Down the hall, their door opens slightly, someone peeks out, sees you having a meltdown, and silently closes it again. Mingi.

You pace in a tiny circle, muttering:

“Why did I crawl? Why did I crawl? Who crawls? Who does that? I’m a grown adult. I have a degree- well no, almost…three years from now but STILL.”

You smack your forehead lightly. “And the lollipop. THE LOLLIPOP. Oh my god. EWWWW.”

You groan into your hands.

Meanwhile, behind the door you just left.

“She’s freaking out.” Mingi turns to the others, clearly amused.

“So.” Wooyoung says casually. “you two looked… busy.”

Hongjoong closes his eyes. “We were studying.”

“Mm.” Wooyoung nods, pretending to think. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“WE WERE STUDYING WOOYOUNG.”

“BRO, YOU HAD HER IN YOUR LAP-”

“Shut up” Hongjoong groans.

“I can’t believe you were making out on the FLOOR.”

“Bro, your hair is literally messed up.”

Hongjoong touches his hair. It is messed up. He grins harder.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes. “Why do you look so smug?”

Hongjoong shrugs, trying to play it cool. “No reason.”

Mingi adds “Her face was SO red.” Laughing to himself.

“So was his.” Wooyoung fires back.

“Both of you get out of my apartment.”

“I literally live here.” Wooyoung pushes past him.

You freeze in the hallway, mortified… but also smiling like an idiot.

Because despite the embarrassment, despite the chaos, despite the fact that you may never show your face in public again…You wouldn’t change a thing.

Finals are finally over! And you now get to spend time doing things that really benefit you… like sitting in chat rooms for hours and editing your profile. You pull up a chair and sit in front of the dorm’s computer. You crack your knuckles over the keyboard, the glow of monitor lighting up your room. Yeji is behind you on her bed, flipping through a magazine and humming to the Brittany song coming from your CD player.

xXx_y/nInURDreamz: exams are over!!! what’s the 411?

You hit send, the chat window starts blinking…you wait for it to explode.

Felix is first to respond… always is.

Lixxie99: Dive bar duhhh.

Lixxie99: like where else would we celebrate lol…and your boyfriends band playing ;P

You scoff at his response, but mentally facepalm because how could you forget??

xXx_y/nInURDreamz: OMG no. 

Yeji rolls off her bed and slides into her desk beside you, dialling up her own computer. typing with one hand while the other is applying chapstick.

A new message pops up – Changbin, typing like he can’t formulate a coherent sentence in one message.

Changbinnie: YO! 

Changbinnie: I’m in

Changbinnie: but only if you guys promise to buy my drinks

Changbinnie: im broke :’-(

yejibbyXoX0: I second that motion

yejibbyXoX0: when are you not broke?

YejibbyXoX0: is san AFK? It say’s he’s online.

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “he spent all his money on protein power.”

Yeji snorts.

San joins…likes he been monitoring the chat this whole time.

3annie_: ok ok whats going on?

3annie_: I’ve got like 100 notifs

xXx_y/nInURDreamz: speaking of lmao.

Lixxie99: keep up grandpa

3annie_: excuse me? I am youthful :(

3annie_: dive bar yes I’m in

xXx_y/nInURdreamz: ok so dive @ 9?

The last messages flood in, the boys agreeing to meet you there. You close the window and shut the computer off.

“Alright, let’s get ready!!” Yeji is still typing in the chat.

You glance at the clock, 6:30pm. You decide to get ready slowly, letting the anticipation settle into your bones. You hadn’t heard from Hongjoong since the night at his apartment and you couldn’t help but feel awkward…did he even want you there tonight?

You had decided on wearing low rise jeans, the ones that hug you just right. A black square neck vest that hugged at your chest, paired with a leather bomber. Your chunky boots thud against the floor as you move around the dorm. You’re busy smoothing over your hair and touching up your makeup one last time, when your cell phone buzzes. You reach into your tiny bag to pull out your flip phone. 

Hongjoong: are you coming tonight?

You stare at the message for an unnecessary amount of time, a wave of relief washing over you as you read the words over and over. You response with a short “I’ll be there.”

Before tossing it back into your bag. 

Yeji takes one last look at you before she goes to put on her shoes. “Hongjoong is going to lose his mind…he might have to fight someone.”

You laugh as you pull open the door “yeah right.”  But you couldn’t help but feel a pool of heat building up in your tummy.

The dive bar is already buzzing when you arrive. The bouncer recognises you both from last time and waves you in with a nod. Inside, the air is warm and thick, so thick it coated your lungs. The neon signs humming against the walls in colours and designs that weren’t there last time. The floors as sticky as ever, the crowed thick. Everyone in this place feels like they’re hanging onto their last lifeline…like they’re here is for the same reason: to blow off some academic steam.

You and Yeji make your way to the bar, weaving through clusters of people you recognise from campus. Chan spots you immediately, leaning forward with a grin like he’s been waiting for friendly faces to show up and make his shift easier.

“Well, look who’s back.”

You smile. “miss us?” you mind drifts back to the last night here with Ateez, and how Chan had joined you after the place had gone quiet.

“Always. What can I get you?”

“Four tequila shots.” Chan shoots you a look…and shakes his head with a little laugh.

He lines them up, salt and lime and all…but when you reach for your wallet, he shakes his head.

“Not tonight.”

You frown “Chan-”

He cuts you off but putting his pointer finger over his lips, you look at him wide eyed, shocked by his audacity.

“I’ve been told to not let the pretty girl and her pretty friend pay for anything.”

You both freeze, then blush. Yeji mutters something like “Those boys are insufferable.” with a laugh. Chan gestures to the shots, you down the first one, it burns at first but you love the feeling, both gagging at taste before giggling.

Now that you’ve taken the liquid courage, you decide to find the rest of the group, but to no avail…the sounds and vibrations swallow the sound of your calls to Changbin’s cell phone and the room is too busy…so naturally you guys slip into conversation with a couple people from your chem class, deciding to grab another few drinks with them. Time slips by without you noticing, and before you know it.

The lights dim.

The crowd shifts, tightening around the stage. A burst of excitement moves through the room, and you and Yeji exchange a look before pushing forward. But you couldn’t get too close, Changbin and San aren’t here to bulldoze a path for you, but you’re close enough.

The crowd cheers and you feel your stomach flip. You push yourself onto your tiptoes and watch as Ateez walk across the stage. You bring your hands to your mouth before screaming “OH MY GOD IT’S HONGJOONG” before bursting into laughter while Yeji slaps you back in fits of giggles.

Hongjoong chuckles, looking around to try and find the source, he recognises your voice, but doesn’t seem to find you.

Yeosang hit’s the first cord, a rugged guitar sound before Mingi kicks in on the drums. Hongjoong steps into the hue of orange stage light, hair pushed back, wearing the focused expression you’ve grown to love, right before he sings. 

Your chest tightens, as his voice carries through the small venue, pride, affection, something warm and strange…

The crowd moves like a single body. You allow yourself to lose yourself in it, letting the music consume you.

That’s when you feel Yeji jab you in the side. “There.” She shouts over the music, pointing slightly to the left.

You stop, follow her gaze. You see San, waving for you over from a pocket of space near the front with the others. You both push through, exchanging smalls sorry’s and hello’s to anyone you recognised. Then suddenly you’re right at the front, and you can see everything – the lights, the wires, the sweat that adorned their faces and the way Hongjoong’s eyes scan the room.

Then he see’s you. And he smiles.

But this smile isn’t the usual stage smile, it’s not polite…it’s a smile reserved only for you. And you smile back, with a little wave. He copies and the crowed loses it. Your friends behind you going absolutely ballistic.

And San see’s this as the perfect opportunity to lean close, voice low.

“So…that chemistry session was true huh?” he laughs.

You whip your head towards him, eyes wide. He just winks and makes a mocking kissy face. You punch his arm…not hard, but enough to make him hiss. He shoots you a pout before whispering “Don’t hit me…Hit Wooyoung.” He shouts over the music.

Well, Wooyoung isn’t here right now…so he will do. You whack his arm again. Raising a brow and San quickly diverts his attention back to the stage.

The lights shift before the next song, and the crowd feels it. The subtle tightening, the shift on stage. The band had rarely paused between tracks the few times you’d seen them, so the sudden stillness pulls everyone forward.

Yunho steps up to his mic, breathless and grinning. “This next one is new.” His voice echoing through the speakers. “So, uh…be kind please.”

The crowd laughs, but your attention is already drifting.

Hongjoong disappears behind one of the tall speakers, crouching down like he’s digging through something. When he stands again, your breath catches.

He’s holding a pink guitar. The pink guitar from his apartment. The one you’d seen leaning against the wall.

He steps back into the light, adjusting the strap. He doesn’t look at you, he commands the stage. But when his eyes finally flicker towards you, just for a second…your pulse jumps.

He strums. 

The sound hits you like a shockwave. Deep. Heavy. Raw.

Mingi’s voice comes in with a growl, layered with Yunho’s fry screams that send the crowd into a frenzy. The whole group feels different, they look different.

But Hongjoong is something else.

His fingers move fast, the pink guitar snarling and purring under his touch. The lights flash across his face, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He looks alive, but in a way you’ve never seen before. His passion is clear as the strings bite at their fingertips, until the songs memory is carved into them and crimson blood scatters across the guitar. He moves with a kind of reckless devotion, one that looks like it should hurt, but he doesn’t stop, and it leaves you feeling envious of the instrument. 

You’re swept up in it all, but you feel something shift…out of nowhere, you’re shoved from behind, sharp enough to jolt you forward.

You turn, startled, greeted by somebody you’d hoped to never see again.

The girl that threated you. His EX?

She gives you a look that’s filled with venom and insecurity and mouths a half arsed, vile “I’m sorry.” before turning to her friends and laughing.

You can’t help but let out an amused scoff, while moving to step forward to try catch her. But Yeji grabs your arm. “Don’t.” she warns.

You listen, choosing to ignore her pathetic attempt at high school level bullying.

But Hongjoong saw the whole situation. Of course he did. He’s not angry, his behaviour not reckless but decisive, like something finally clicks into place.

During the next chorus, he steps forward, in your direction. Closer and closer. He swings his guitar to his side and crouches at the edge of the stage, right in front of you. Time freezes and your stomach flips, a nervous bubbling feels like it’s making it’s way up your throat. You watch his face, casted in a golden haze, sweat catching the light, come closer…and closer and closer, eyes locked on yours. His hand finds your jaw, his blood stained fingers slip into your hair and he pulls you in.

It’s not rushed, not messy but it’s absolutely for show. A kiss that says I will choose you every time, in front of everyone.

The crowed screams, and somewhere behind you, his ex goes silent.

Hongjoong pulls back, just enough to look at you… really look at you, then places one last soft peck on your lips before turning and launching back into the song like nothing happened.

You stand there shocked, unable to take in the final moments of their set, temporally blacking out…freaking out actually, because what the fuck? You’re not used to this, to being seen, to being chosen so loudly. 

So, while everyone around you was dancing to the last song, you were spiralling, overthinking every action you’d made in the last 2 hours…

The set ends with the crash of Mingi’s drums, and a screech from Wooyoung’s amp. When they finally stepped off stage, they were buzzing. The post gig adrenaline still humming under their skin, slick sweat cooling on their necks, and hearts pounding. But underneath that energy, sits a hollow ache, the kind that hits after every gig. Every time they leave the stage, it feels like a little of them is left behind. A piece they won’t get it back until they’re in the spotlight again.

Your friends suggest sticking around, San mentions something about meeting them backstage for drinks…the thought stirred something in you. Excitement and fear.

Backstage was dim, walls littered with graffiti, stickers, posters, and even signatures from bands…their legacies either carried on or left long forgotten. The room smelled like sweat, old wood and cheap leather sofas that feared black lights.

Mingi tosses Hongjoong a water bottle. “That crowd felt bigger, right? I’m not going crazy?”

Wooyoung nods, leaning against the table. “Yeah, something felt different.”

Hongjoong just nods in agreement, chugging water, and flexing his taped fingers.

Yeosang and Yunho exchange a looking. A Is he seriously not going to talk about the kiss? look

Then you and your friends burst in, laughing, shouting praises and giggling. The two boys shoot you a look of confusion…

Yunho is the first to break “Sooo. Front row looked fun…”

Yeosang muffles his laugh. “Are we pretending that kiss didn’t happen?”

Everyone else just laughs, like they’ve seen it before, or had been expecting it for a while now.

You laugh “mind your business.”

He just smirks “I mean you made it my business when you both started making out during my set.”

Chan walked in at just the right moment, holding a small cooler of beers “You kids are messy.” He says, cracking one open. “Good show, though.”

Everyone settles into their own rhythm, you’re sitting with Yeji who’s hanging off Mingi’s arm, making him blush so hard he can’t even look at her. The rest of the guys are huddled around a table with a deck of cards, and you could’ve sworn you heard Changbin counting bets.

You head for the cooler, reaching for a drink when Hongjoong suddenly appears, hair still damp, shirt clinging to him and fingers taped. He looked tired, but in the best way, like he was fulfilled, flushed and still buzzing with post gig adrenaline. 

He stops just in front of you, wearing a look you can’t place.

“You good?”

He nods once “Yeah.”

It’s not the answer you wanted, but you tell yourself he’s tired.

You grab you drink and walk to the open window. You feel him follow.

You’re leaning out of the window, and he leans on the wall beside you, like he’s waiting for you to speak. You don’t. You turn slightly to look at him, to study his features, then go back to looking out the window.

He makes a face…his lips pursed and eyes wide like a begging puppy. “Are you gonna pretend you didn't kiss me? and enjoy it."

Heat floods your cheeks, oh, he’s playing. So, you play back. “Hmm. Not sure I remember that.”

He gives you a look, and it excites you as much as it scares you. “Don’t start.” His voice stern.

“I can’t promise that.” You shrug, a challenge.

He glances around, everyone’s busy, distracted. Nobody’s watching. Or so he thought.

He steps closer, his hand brushing yours, fingers hooking with yours, playing with them. Testing the waters.

“Come here.” His tone still serious.

And you do.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, it’s slower and deeper, like the night in his apartment. Like he’d been reliving that moment until he got the chance to do it again. And the kiss on stage had only made him crave you more. The kiss was warm, the feeling of him pulling slightly at the small tufts of hair at the nape of your neck makes your knees give out, but you catch yourself.

He pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. “Let’s get out of here.” His voice low, you could feel the vibration of his words run through you.

You whisper “Okay.” 

And with a quick glance around, you slip out the back door together, hand in hand, mischievous looks on your faces, thinking you’d gotten away with it.

But inside, Wooyoung murmurs “Did they really think we couldn’t see them” He doesn’t even look up from his cards.

The group erupts into hysterics.

Mingi perks up, eyes wide “Oh I wonder where they’re going. Whose room is doomed”

Wooyoung’s eyes shoot up from his cards. “oh no.”

Yeji cringes “She wouldn’t!”

Yunho and Yeosang are still confused. “What is happening?”

But you and Hongjoong, unaware of the terror you’ve just caused, make your way to his apartment. The walk to his apartment was quiet, the city lights paint you both in gold, and the frosty air feels good against your flushed skin. You brush your hand against his, testing, and he takes it.

When you reach his apartment, he unlocks his door, but you notice how his hands shake. He steps aside, letting you in first. The soft click of the door closing behind you sends a shiver down your spine.

You turn, slowly. He’s already watching, looking at you with anticipation. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes your pulse stutter. Your brain tried to process it, tries to play catch up, but everything feels like it’s on a half-second delay with reality.

You feel stuck, like your body can’t move. You’re frozen. Not with fear. Frozen with too much.

Too much adrenaline, too much want, too much him.

Your thoughts are all over the place, tripping over themselves, your body just won’t move.

You just stand there, only able to watch him as he takes a step closer.

You feel your breath catch in your throat. Your brain is now screaming for you to move, do something, anything. But your legs don’t listen.

He tilts his head slightly, cocky, when your eyes widen. Like he’s filing away every tiny reaction, every flicker of response you give him.

Another step, he moves closer, his hands find your waist. “You don’t understand how much you fuck with my head.” His words, the contact, sends a shock through you so strong your knees almost give out.

You scrunch your nose, your body finally ready to cooperate “huh?”

He exhales, a frustrated, helpless sound. “You make me want things I’ve never even thought about.” His thumbs trace small circles into your hips, soft and deliberate.

“like?” you’re breathless.

“like? I don’t know, everything. You make me want to do better. You make me want you.” 

The words leave you before you can even think them through, breathless and raw. Filled with months of building ache and want. The walls you’ve been rebuilding, and the self doubt you’ve been feeling come crashing down, hard. “You’ve had me for a while, Hongjoong.”

“Fuck.” He whispers. His hands raise to cup your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss. A kiss so desperate your teeth bump, both struggling to keep at each other’s rhythm. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, not pulling, just holding, like you needed it to ground you. He leans into your touch, like he’s begging you to do something.

Then he pulls away. Gently, he slips one hand down to lace his fingers with yours.

“Come!” He tugs at your hand, pulling you along. Your legs feel heavy as your cross his apartment. You enter a short hallway you’ve never seen before, and suddenly you can hear your pulse in your ears.

He pushes open a door, and you stop dead in your tracks. His room. The room was dimly lit, only by a small lamp and some string lights, that casted the room in a soft amber glow. It’s messy, but not in a gross way…a way that feels lived in. It was comfortable and a little chaotic. It felt like him. A couple guitars rest on stands in the corner next to some recording equipment that had seen better days. A small desk pushed against the wall, cluttered with tangled cables and his textbooks. 

Hongjoong watches you as you take it all in. You walk over to his desk, where a mic stand stood, leaning at a questionable angle. Set just beside everything was a pair of headphones and a stack of notebooks. You pick one up, and flick through the pages. Hongjoong goes to move, to stop you but he decided not to. The notebook was filled with scribbled lyrics and doddles. You can’t help but smile, your heart feeling like it was going to burst at the seams.

Placing the notebook back down, you take a final look around. His walls were covered in posters, the typical bands like Nirvana, Weezer, The Smashing Pumpkins, and a few local bands you’ve never heard of. One poster was signed, the ink smudged and faded.

He watches your reactions still, feeling shy for the first time tonight.

“Sorry.” he murmurs, his arms crosses and self-soothing by rubbing. “It’s…kind of a mess.”

You shake your head, still taking it all in. “No! It’s very you. I like it.”

He laughs, walking closer. Bringing your attention back to the lyric books. He wraps his arms around your waist, placing his head into the crook of your neck. “You’re not going to steal my lyrics, are you?” he jokes.

“Mmhm. That was my plan all along. I’ll start my own band with Yeji, might even steal Yunho and Mingi.”

He gasps with faux shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

He gasps again but this time louder, which caused you to laugh, and something cracks inside of him, he places a small peck on your neck. You let out a soft hum, he takes this as a sign to continue. He places another kiss, this time lingering longer, and pulling you in closer. Another followed, he licked a stripe from the crook of your neck to just below your ear, he was slow, enjoying, savouring the saltiness of your skin. He places one last open mouth kiss on your neck, you let out a breathless moan.

You turn to face him, wanting to be closer. Suddenly with a surge of confidence after your brain had been stagnant, you place a firm hand on his chest and push him towards the bed. His legs hit the edge and he sits, pulling you into his lap. You kiss him, holding his face. You pull away for a moment, looking at him, wanting to take in his image, because what if this never happens again. He’s looking back at you, doing the same, pupils dilated and lips pursed. 

“Hi.” you whisper, wearing a lazy smile.

He huffs, tired of waiting. He lifts you of off his lap and flips you over, now taking up space between your legs. You both laugh as you hit the mattress, and you pull him closer.

“Are you okay? Do you want this?” He asks as he adjusts, settling on his knees between your legs.

“Yes, I really do Joong.” You sigh.

He near enough loses his mind at the nickname. He attaches his lip to yours with pure desperation, all teeth and spit and no coordination. You groan at the feeling, opening your legs wider so he could come closer…if that was even possible.

You feel sparks spread through your core as he moves closer, his clothed core meeting yours. You gasp at the sensation, grinding up in a pathetic attempted at tyring to feel more. His voice was sickly sweet, teasing as you try to reach for him. But he completely ignores you. Instead, he reaches for the waistband of your trousers, tugging slightly. You lift your hips, allowing him room to remove them. Leaving you in your black lace undies and top. He quickly strips off his top, and you’re left speechless. He’s not muscular but you can tell he’s active as the sight of his toned chest and tummy make you whimper.

“Huh what was that?” He teases.

You shake your head, embarrassed.

He laughs at your pathetic actions, and you burn red. He decides not to press, and instead runs his hands across the now exposed skin between your panties and vest. The cold metal of his rings sends a shiver down your spine, and his taped fingertips tickle, causing your hairs to stand on edge, as he slides his hand up your waist and under your top, his hand now cupping your breast. You gasp when he takes a nipple between his fingers, pinches it gently, and moves to the other doing the same. He just scoffs, shaking his head. Leaving you unsatisfied and needy. Hongjoong’s usual energy had shifted, replaced with something more dominant, something possessive, and it scares you…in the best way.

You whimper as he kneads his fingers into the skin of your hips, he mocks you again. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.” You don’t say anything, in the hopes he’ll let it go again.

This time he doesn’t. With a firm grip on your hips, he leans down to whisper “Ah, ah. What do you need baby.”

“You Joong, please.” You try to keep your voice steady, but the words come out broken and shaky.

He chuckles, dragging his hands back down your body, until they reach the waistband of your panties. You watch with anticipation as he shuffles, lower, coming face to face with your core. You internally freak out, because this is new to you. But the excitement is too much to bear.

You can feel his breath against you, the lace of your panties creating the mere illusion of a barrier. He places a firm kiss on the fabric, causing your core to pulse. He looks up at you from between your legs, eyes hooded and filled with lust.

“Can I?”

“Please.”

He needed no convincing, he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you, the sudden cold air makes you jolt, hips snapping up. He finds enjoyment in your small reactions, so he blows against you. The sensation makes you jolt again, but this time he makes light work of it, immediately attaching his mouth to your clit, sucking gently. The sudden stimulation made you scream, pleasure rippling through your body, a pleasure you’ve never experienced.

He licks a wet stripe up your folds, sucking lightly before wrapping his arms around your thighs, gripping them like they’re his anchor. Your head falls back against his mattress, fingers lacing themselves through his hair. He groans into you as he continues his movements, the feeling causing you to tug as his hair. 

A pitiful “Hongjoong-” falls from your lips, unable to string together anything coherent as the rest becomes babbles.

This only encourages him further, as he releases the grip on your thighs, brining one hand to your entrance. His fingers tease, applying pressure at your entrance, then circling around it. You whinge and whine under his touch, the lack of full contact was frustrating you. You wanted more. And he knew it, the tugging on his hair gave you away.

He pulls away, moving so he’s now kneeling between your legs, but before you have the chance to object, he’s slipping his fingers into you. You let out a loud moan as he curls his fingers into you. You look up at him with glassy eyes, his mouth glistens from your wetness, and he’s wearing a look of concentration, his hooded and hazy eyes only add to your arousal. You reach for him, grabbing the air trying to grasp even a piece of him. He laughs, curling his fingers more, telling you to wait. You become a moaning mess under him, but still wanting more contact, you try again. Your eyes met his, wide and pleading, voice trembling as you whispered “Joongie please.”

He practically whimpered. “Fuck, how can I say no to that.”

He picks up the pace as he comes down to meet you in a kiss, lips clashing together, his tongue forcing entry as he swallows your moans. Before you could warn him, your orgasm hit you. You squeeze your eyes shut, legs shaking as you choke out “H- ah, joong!”

You could only hear him laugh “There it is, that’s what I want.” relishing every moment of your pleasure, loving making you feel good.

You could feel him move, hear his belt unbuckling and the shuffling as he takes his jeans off. He lined himself up with your entrance, but he pauses, like he’s waiting for you, like he’ll only move with your say. Your eyes shoot open, nerves taking over. He notices.

“Are you ok? Do you want me to stop?” Concern clear in his voice. A moment ago, your nerves were enough to for you to abandon everything, stop this before it turns into something you can’t take back. But the way he asks, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters…that’s enough. And just like that, you feel yourself choosing to trust him. Fully.

“No, no please don’t. I want this Hongjoong, please.” Your pleads would sound desperate and frantic to anyone else, but to him, it sounds like someone finally allowing themselves to choose for themselves. 

His hands trail down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze before sliding his hand between you both, to guide himself to you. The pressure of his tip teasing your entrance, made you whimper. He eased into you agonisingly slow, you could feel the stretch of every inch. He made it about halfway before he pressed in further and harder. With that final firm thrust, he bottomed out. The both of you let out strained moans, you bring your hands to his shoulders, manicured nails digging into his skin, gripping him like a lifeline as he starts fucking into you. Small, punctured thrusts at first, letting you get used to his size.

“You sound so pretty baby.” He whispers, rolling hips into you, drawing another moan from your lips. “See, like that. So pretty.” He teases, through gritted teeth. He starts to thrust faster, harder, whines slip past your lips with every thrust, breath catching as he comes down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. You moan in tandem, his rugged moans and pants blending perfectly with your whines and breathless whimpers.

You feel heat spread across you, a pressure building between your thighs as he moves in a perfect rhythm. “More please Joong.” 

“Yeah baby, you want more?” His words come out rugged, like he struggled to speak.

“mmhmm please.”

The shift was instant, his thrusts became harder, at a brutal pace. The sound of skin echoed through the room and the bed began to creak. You gasp, loud, shocking you both. Hongjoong let out a strangled chuckle, bringing a hand to your jaw, his thumb gently brushing your bottom lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in. He gladly accepts, putting pressure on you tongue as you suck.

“Shit.” His jaw is clenched, as he snaps his hips, harder, slowing down to an agonising pace. You start to see stars, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re feeling.

“God you feel so good. So wet baby.” His voice unsteady as he comes close to cumming.

“So good Joongie.” You feel your cheeks get warm, heat spreading through you. Like the knot in your stomach is about to snap.

Hongjoong can tell you’re close as your moans take on a higher pitch. “Gonna cum for me? Wanna feel you cum.” He asks, barely able to get his words out. He brings a hand down to rub circles against your clit. The contact made you gasp for air, eyes roll to the back of your head as you reach your climax. He continues fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation causing you to convulse and whine uncontrollably, your hands that were gripping the sheets below, shot out for Hongjoong. You held him close, nails dragging down his spine as he doesn’t stop, now chasing his own high. You hear his whimpers and feel his thrusts becoming erratic as he starts to come undone. He pulls out before it’s too late, releasing his load onto your stomach with a choked breath.

He flops down beside you with a sigh, catching his breath. He reaches and grabs an old t-shirt, one worn from years of wear, to clean you up with. He bunches it in his hands, his expression shifting to focus. You watch as he cleans you, his brows drawn together, his lips in a pout. There’s something so tender about it, the way he handles you like you’re something precious, like he might break you if he’s not careful.

“I’ll be back in a sec okay.” He leaves the room for a moment, the door clicking softly behind him. You lay there in the warm glow, breathing still trying to steady itself, cheeks still blushed.  When he returns, he’s wearing fresh clothes, a loose band tee and some sweats. Hair still damp with sweat and cheeks sporting the same flush as yours. He’s carrying two glasses of water. He hands you one, you open your mouth to thank him, but he blurts out, too fast. 

“Please stay.”

You laugh, surprised. “Okay.”

He breathes a breath of relief. “Cool.” he nods once, then again, like he’s trying to play it cool.

You set down your glass and glance around his room, suddenly aware that you have no idea what “staying” looks like. You sit on the edge of his bed in nothing but your top and panties, confused. He notices your hesitation and mentally beats himself up.

“Ah sorry! Pick any top you want from that drawer.” He points to the small chest of drawers next to his bed. He moves to a pile of laundry, grabbing you some socks and a pair of boxers.

“I hope this is ok?” he hands them to you, and you nod.

You open the drawer and find exactly what you expected: a pile of soft, worn shirts that all smell faintly like him. You pick one and slip into the bathroom to change.

When you return, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, fiddling with the hem of his shirt like he’s trying to keep his hands busy. He looks up when you enter and the way his eyes soften makes your stomach flip.

“You look…” He trails off, shaking his head with a shy smile. “You look good in my clothes.” You blush but ignore him…trying to remain calm.

You climb onto the bed slowly, unsure of the rules, unsure of where to put your hands, unsure of everything except the fact that you want to be close to him.

He hesitates for a moment, then lifts the blanket in silent invitation.

You slide under it.

The mattress dips as he lies down beside you, leaving a respectful amount of space at first. Then, gently, he shifts closer.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He inches closer until his arm brushes yours. Then, slowly, like he’s afraid to spook you, he drapes an arm around your waist. You melt into him without thinking, your body finally catching up to what your heart has known for weeks.

He exhales, a soft, content sound that warms your chest.

You rest your head against his shoulder, and he tucks his chin lightly against your head. His fingers trace small, absent‑minded patterns along your arm. Everything just feels right, like you’ve done this before…together.

Morning comes slowly.

You wake to the faint hum of the city outside and the soft rise and fall of Hongjoong’s breathing beside you. For a moment, you just lie there, wrapped in him, in the strange yet wonderful feeling that last night wasn’t a dream.

Eventually, you slip out of bed, feet hitting the cool floor. Hongjoong stirs, blinking awake, hair in complete disarray, eyes soft with sleep.

“Morning” he murmurs, voice rough.

You smile. “Morning.”

You both pad out into the living room and immediately freeze.

Wooyoung is sprawled across the sofa like he owns it, blanket half on the floor, hair sticking up in every direction. San is curled up on the other end, equally dishevelled, eye’s glued to the tv, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be here.

So he stayed the night too, you think, trying not to laugh.

You manage a shy, awkward little “Hi…”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows shoot up, a slow grin spreading across his face.

San’s eyes widen, taking in the sight of you.

Hongjoong, of course, is completely unbothered. He stretches, yawns, and greets them like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Morning.”

Wooyoung snorts. “Morning, he says. Like they didn’t ditch us last night.”

Your face heats instantly.

San sits up, pointing at you dramatically. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, young lady.”

You groan. “Please don’t start.”

“Oh, but we’ve already started.” Wooyoung says, leaning back with a hand over his heart. “I’m emotionally wounded. Betrayed. Abandoned. I thought we were friends.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, amused. “Who wants coffee?”

You nod quickly, anything to escape the teasing and follow him into the kitchen. He moves around the space with sleepy ease, grabbing mugs, filling the pot, humming under his breath.

When the coffee is ready, you pour it into two mismatched mugs. As you do, you feel arms slip around your waist from behind, warm, gentle, familiar. Hongjoong rests his head lightly on your shoulder, still half-asleep.

He presses kiss, soft and affectionate on your exposed neck. A small gesture that makes your chest tighten.

Wooyoung turns into the kitchen, at the wrong moment clearly.

“EW!” Wooyoung yells. “I need to stop walking into rooms unannounced.”

You laugh, leaning back into Hongjoong just a little. He only tightens his hold, completely unfazed.

“Get used to it.” he calls back.

Wooyoung groans loudly, while picking up a mug of coffee. “I hate it here.” 

But he’s smiling, big, bright, and genuine, the kind that tell you this is a group you’ll be stuck with for a long, long time.

The next evening, you’re all piled into Changbin’s dorm. You, Yeji, Changbin, Felix, and San… Snacks everywhere, and a smoky haze created by only the best weed on campus. Everyone staring at you like you’re about to deliver the scoop of the century.

“So?” Yeji demands. “Spill. You don’t get to ditch without giving the deets.”

You give them the short version of last night. The kiss, the sex, the staying over, the morning coffee.

They all gasp. Felix falls backwards, lying on the ground and stares at the celling like he’s tapped out from the conversation.

“You’re joking.”

Changbin points at you. “You’re not joking.”

San just smirks. “You should’ve seen her the morning after.”

Your head snaps toward him. “San!”

He shrugs. “What? I was there.”

The room goes silent.

Yeji’s jaw drops. “YOU WHAT?”

Felix’s eyes widen. “San… did you?”

San throws his hands up but can’t come up with an excuse in time.

“Oh my god. You did.” Felix is in disbelief.

“Scandalous!” Yeji screams before burying her face into a pillow.

They all gasp again, louder this time.

Changbin groans dramatically. “I’m friends with whores.” Throwing his hands up in defeat.

You bury your face in your hands, laughing despite yourself.

And just like that, the room slips into familiar chaos, loud, ridiculous, full of people talking over each other. You sit there watching them, and somewhere between the laughter and the teasing, it hits you: this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

[matchamatz]

SIREN SONG.

★ Pirate! Jongho x Fem Siren! Reader  ★

★ Genre: Fantasy, myth, toxic relationship, Not a love story, reader is naive and taken advantage of. angst/hurt/no comfort??? all of Ateez make an appearance.

★ Warnings: Toxic behaviour, Alcohol mention, blood mention, non consensual acts take place but only briefly mentioned and not in detail. No direct smut but alluded sexual acts (consensual). DEATH. everyone dies...one way or another.

★ Playlist: Halsey - The Lighthouse, Halsey - Ya'aburnee.

DISCLAIMER: This is not intended to represent Jongho or any of the other members of Ateez involved. This is a work of fiction!!! Please read the content warnings and feel free to let me know if I’ve missed anything. Don't read if you're not comfortable with the warnings!!! read that again. word count: 5-6k??

Notes: I was listening to Halsey's If I can't have love, I want power and wanted to write something inspired by it. I couldn't think of a better person to play the handsome alluring pirate!! I didn't think it was going to take a dark turn, it just fit!!! I tried to keep it short and struggled :3

The edge was steep, served as protection barely a breath off the coast, shrouded in mist and myth. No one lived there. No one dared. But you did.

A lonesome siren remains stuck, not by choice, but by consequence. Their voice, once sweet and reckless, had long since soured into something mournful.

Forever 23. That was the age they left them, hollowed out and discarded. You had trusted too easily, loved too loudly. Men had taken your softness and carved it into something sharp. You sought comfort in the wrong arms, those no good for you, mistaking cruelty for care. 

When you finally broke, the sea took you in.

It’s said they met a sailor…A Pirate, in the 13th century. He was charming and drawn to you like a moth to flame. And you? Yuoi were bratty and naive, insolent in your charm, and far too trusting. He promised you escape and you believed him.

Eventually he’d never made it back to shore.

Now, you wait. Not for love. Not for rescue. But for the next fool who thinks they can save you. The island remains quiet, save for the wind and the occasional whisper of a song, one that speaks of betrayal, heartbreak, of longing, and a soul who was never saved.

Visitors don’t come often. Those who do are never seen again.

But is that really how the story goes?

The inn was cloaked in amber candlelight and thick incense, a poor disguise for the sour stench of spilled ale and sailors who hadn’t bathed since the last port. You stood behind the bar, waiting, for patrons to beckon the usual: “more drinks!” followed by crude gestures, slurred flirtations, men starved of softness after months at sea. Desperation made them bold. And unbearable.

You’d learned to endure. Survival meant smiling when you didn’t want to, serving drinks to hands that lingered too long, brushing off words that crawled across your skin. You were good at it. Too good.

“Excuse me, miss” came a voice behind you, low, clear, and startlingly polite.

You turned, arms full of empty glasses, and forced the usual grin. “Evening, sir. What can I get you on this fine night?”

“A glass of your finest mead” he said, with a nod that held no trace of mockery.

You blinked. No one spoke to you like that here. Never with an ounce of respect, because it’s not like you mattered.

Your smile softened, real this time. “Coming up.”

He noticed.

As you walked back to the bar, something shifted, you felt like you were being watched. It’s not like you weren’t used to being watched, but this gaze was different. It burned. It pressed against your spine, made your knees falter, you almost had to grip the edge of the counter to steady yourself. You knew it was him, but you couldn’t prove it.

Pouring the drink, you stole a glance.

He sat alone, posture relaxed but alert. His linen shirt clung to broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to reveal forearms that looked carved from stone. A doublet lay folded beside him. His trousers were tailored, finer than anything worn in this place, structured and clean. And his eyes… deep brown, warm and unreadable. They held stories, unimaginable stories for someone like you. Not the kind told over drinks, but the kind whispered in the dark, behind locked doors.

You handed him the mead, fingers brushing his for a moment too long.

“Thank you” he said, voice like velvet.

You nodded, heart thudding. What a beautiful stranger.

The days bled together, the same thread of routine. But now, there was a face you knew. He came every night and sat in same seat. Sometimes he arrived with others, men dressed like him in tailored linen and quiet confidence. Other nights, he was alone again, and he never left until closing.

You’d never seen him before that first night. Patrons came and went, faces blurred into one another. But he stood out. You needed to know why.

“What brings you here?” you asked, voice flat as you placed his ale down, harder than usual.

He blinked, startled. “Pardon?”

“I’d never seen you before. Then suddenly you’re here every night for a week.” It wasn’t meant to sound accusatory, just honest. Curiosity had a way of slipping past your guard.

He tilted his head. “Care to sit with me? If you’ve got a moment.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Give me one moment.”

You crossed the room to, headed towards the madame, weaving through the haze of pipe smoke and sweat. “Madam, that gentleman wants to talk with me. I’m sure he’ll buy more drinks if I keep him company.”

She glanced over, eyes narrowing. Then, something flickered behind them…gold and silver, like coins catching firelight. “Fine. Keep him here. Keep him drinking.”

Your chest bloomed with pride and excitement.

“As you wish.”

You returned with a fresh ale, heart thudding.

“I can spare a few moments” you said, sliding into the seat beside him. “But you’ll have to keep the drinks coming.”

“Fair trade for time with a beautiful lady.” he said, flashing a grin that should’ve felt sleazy. But it didn’t. It felt dangerous.

You adjusted your skirt, settling in. The candle between you flickered violently, as if reacting to something unseen. “What brings you here then?” you asked, wasting no time.

“Eager, I see.”

You nodded.

He leaned back, eyes dark and unreadable. “I’m not planning to stay. I’m here for… business.” The pause was deliberate. Heavy.

“What kind of business?”

His laugh was low. His gaze shifted and the warmth you’d felt from him vanished. In its place was something colder, it wrapped around your ribs and squeezed, winding you.

You liked it.

“now that’s none of your concern darling” he took a slow sip of his ale, eyes locked on yours over the rim of the cup. The candle between you flickered again, casting shadows that danced across his face.

He didn’t need to say it. You knew. His answer was enough to confirm a small suspicion.

Pirate.

Not the kind that stumbled in drunk and boastful, slurring tales of sea monsters and stolen gold. No, he wore it differently. Quiet. Controlled. Like the title wasn’t a badge, but a blade tucked beneath his sleeve.

He watched you, waiting for the push, but it didn’t come.

“You think you’re the first pirate to waltz in here?” you scoffed, leaning back. “I had a hunch but couldn’t prove it. Your type all have the same look, like the world owes you something.”

That made him laugh, a real one this time. Rich and warm but still edged with something dangerous.

It should’ve scared you but it didn’t.

“You’re mouthy.” he said, amused.

“You’re secretive.” you shot back.

He tilted his head, considering you.

You shrugged. “I’m bored. Tell me more” you ponder for a second. “You have a boat right? What does it look like?”

He smirked. “You’re dangerous when you’re bored.” You didn’t deny it. He continued “Wouldn’t be a pirate without a ship, darling,” he said, voice low and proud. “She’s a beauty, dark oak wood, obsidian features.”

“Wow, sounds amazing!” you said, your smile wide and genuine. “The feeling of the ocean must be incredible! The breeze, the motion…” You trailed off, already lost in the daydream. The idea of being on a boat, letting the current take you wherever it pleased.

Jongho tilted his head. “Never been out to sea?”

You looked confused for a moment, then shook your head. “No.”

“Not even on a fishing boat? You live in a port town.” His brow furrowed, perplexed.

You shook your head again. “Never had the opportunity. Nobody’s ever asked.” You paused, then added quietly, “I didn’t have much growing up. Just my mother and I. She worked in a tailor shop, did everything she could to keep us afloat.”

He blinked, then gave a soft whistle. “Such a shame. A beautiful lady like you deserves to see the sea.”

You blushed, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“So what’s life like at sea then?” you asked, leaning in, eager. You wanted to know what freedom sounded like and maybe one day, feel it too.

Jongho smiled, sensing your curiosity. He began to speak, painting vivid pictures with his words: the rhythm of ship life, the camaraderie of the crew, those same men who’d been with him at the inn. He told you how the nausea fades after enough storms, how your legs learn to sway with the deck, and how heavenly the sun feels when you’re surrounded by nothing but sea breeze and sky.

You listened, eyes wide, heart open.

Then he paused.

His gaze lingered on you, studying your face like a map he couldn’t quite read. “You’re not like the others.” he said softly.

You looked up at him, eyes shining, like a child being told bedtime stories of brave pirates sailing the seven seas. People usually feared him. He was in awe.

But beneath that awe, something else stirred.

A flicker of possession.

A quiet, selfish want.

He wasn’t just admiring you.

He was imagining keeping you.

“No” you agreed. “I’m not.”

The candle burned low between you, wax pooling like blood. The inn buzzed around you, but it felt distant, like the two of you were sitting in a pocket of time, untouched.

He was dangerous. You were an insolent brat. And something was beginning to stir. Something close to ruin.

It had been months since you last saw him.

The handsome stranger with the quiet eyes. Your conversation, which was brief, replayed in your mind more often than you cared to admit. You hadn’t even gotten his name.

Pirates never stayed. There was always something shinier to chase, somewhere bloodier to be, somewhere else to conquer. You knew that. Everyone in a port town did. But still, you looked. Every night, your eyes drifted to the seat he once claimed like it belonged to him. Someone else sat there now. They were loud, greedy, disgusting. He laughed too hard, drank too fast, and tried to flirt with you like you were a prize to win. You ignored him. But the sight of him in that seat, made something twist in your chest.

You hated that he was gone. Hated that he’d left without a word. Hated that he’d taken up space in your thoughts and then vanished like mist.

But most of all, you hated that you missed him.

You moved through your shifts like a ghost, smiling when you had to, biting back the urge to scream when the sailors got too handsy. You were restless. Like something inside you was clawing to get out.

You wanted more. From everything.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d find a way to take it.

Tonight’s shift was slow, monotonous, until you heard faint chatter amongst some of the older, kinder finishing gentlemen. A rumour came in quietly, folded between drunken boasts and half-lucid ramblings. A ship had docked at the far end of the port. Said to be a ship sleek and dark, and unlike the usual battered vessels that limped into town. No name. No flag. Just whispers.

You didn’t react. Not outwardly.

But that night, you left the inn early. Told the madame you had errands. She didn’t ask questions, she never did when your eyes looked like that. You had an itch and you were going to scratch it.

It wasn’t desperation. Not exactly. Just curiosity, a need to know. You told yourself it was casual. You were just checking. Just walking past the docks to see if the sea had spit him back out.

The port was quiet, the air thick with salt and smoke. Lanterns swung gently in the breeze, casting golden halos across the mossy cobblestones. You moved like you had a purpose, but not a destination. Just a hope. Feeling brave because you had a knife tucked into your boots.

And then you saw it.

Moored at the edge of the harbour, half-shrouded in mist, was a ship that didn’t belong. Its hull was polished obsidian and dark oak, catching the moonlight like a blade. The sails were furled, but the rigging was taut, precise. No drunken crew loitered on deck. No shouting. No music. Just silence.

You stopped.

Something in your chest tightened. Recognition.

You didn’t see him. Not yet. But the ship was enough.

You stepped closer, boots echoing against the stone. A figure moved on deck, too far to make out. That same cold heat winding around your ribs returned.

Then the urge to climb aboard took over.

The dock groaned beneath your boots as you stepped closer, each footfall swallowed by the hush of the harbour. The sounds of waves crashing calmed the nerves you began to feel. The ship loomed above you. No name etched into the wood. No welcome offered.

You hesitated at the gangplank.

This was foolish. Reckless. You knew that. Ships like this didn’t take kindly to uninvited guests, but the rush that he could be aboard was thrilling enough to make you shake those thoughts. You took a step onto the plank, and you let your heart take you the rest of the way. Maybe you could hide somewhere below deck and wait for them to set sail. You started to hope they’d keep you on board…finally experience the sea. Your brain was running wild with possibilities, of adventure and new experiences, and that was all the encouragement you needed.

The wood was damp, slick with salt. Every step felt louder than it should have. You half expected someone to shout, to drag you back down, but the deck was quiet. Not empty, you could feel eyes on you, but no one moved.

The ship was immaculate. Ropes coiled with precision, sails furled tight, the scent of oil and iron lingering in the air. This wasn’t a vessel cobbled together by thieves. It was curated. Controlled.

You stepped onto the deck, heart hammering.

A man stood at the helm, back turned. Broad shoulders, dark hair tousled by the wind. He didn’t move. 

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how out of place you were, your worn skirt, your trembling hands, your foolish hope. But you didn’t turn back.

“Take a wrong turn?” he said, turning to face you, voice low and laced with something sharp. “You shouldn’t be here, little lady.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

“I-I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know.” you stammered, the words crumbling as they left your mouth, your hands white knuckle gripping your skirt.

His eyes were unreadable, but they held no softness. “You don’t know?” he repeated, stepping closer. “Then let me help you. This ship isn’t for wandering little girls with shaky hands and curious eyes.”

You flinched but held your ground.

“I was looking for someone!” you managed, voice barely above a whisper.

He stopped inches from you, gaze heavy, unreadable. The mist curled around his shoulders like a cloak.

“And you thought climbing aboard a ship like this was the way to find them?”

You nodded, breath shallow. “The last time I saw him he described this ship.”

He studied you for a long moment, then tilted his head. “I recognise you. The girl from the Inn?” he laughs, half in disbelief.

Another nod. You remembered him too, this man had come in with the handsome Pirate and the others, boots heavy with salt, eyes sharp. You’d watched them from across the room, laughter spilling from their table. 

“You’re either brave or stupid.”

“Both.” you said, voice steadier now.

The crew gathered slowly, drawn by the tension. Then you saw him, his big brown eyes wide with shock. “You..I didn’t think I’d see you again” he said. Something in his tone was off.

“I didn’t think I’d want to” you replied. “But here I am.” You paused, unsure if what you were going to say next was incredibly stupid or a way out. “I want to see the sea” you said with pleading eyes. “and I didn’t even get your name.” you blushed sightly.

“Absolutely not.” A tall man said, he was leaning against a pole, next to him stood a taller man.

“She’s not crew.” A beautiful blonde man said.

“She’s not threat.” A muscular man replied, closing some distance between the both of you, as if he was evaluating you.

“She’s clearly desperate.”

 “She works. She stays. She slacks, she swims.” This was clearly the captain, the man who had confronted you when you climbed aboard. His gaze didn’t waver.

You swallowed hard. Trying to contain the excitement bubbling inside you “I’ll work. I’ll earn it.”

So that was that.

They introduced themselves one by one, each name landing with the weight of something ancient and unspoken. The man who first addressed you, Hongjoong. Now stood at the helm, arms crossed, gaze sharp, watching everything without a word. He didn’t move. He didn’t blink.

Wooyoung and San leaned against the mast, smirking, their eyes flicking over you like they were sizing up a storm. Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed, calculating. Mingi and Yunho exchanged a glance, neither of them particularly phased by your presence. Yeosang said nothing at all, his silence louder than the wind.

And then, finally, Jongho stepped forward.

His expression was unreadable, cold. You felt the weight of every footstep he took toward you, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d crossed a line, if stepping aboard had been a mistake.

“Welcome aboard, pretty lady,” he said, voice smooth, warm enough to melt every doubt that had crept into your chest.

They didn’t welcome you. But they didn’t throw you overboard either.

You scrubbed the deck until your knuckles split. Hauled ropes until your arms burned. Learned the rhythm of the ship, the moods of the crew. They watched you with suspicion, but slowly, it softened. A nod here. A shared drink there. A quiet word when the sea turned cruel.

Jongho kept his distance at first, but he did watch. Then suddenly there was a shift, He started helping you tie knots. Showed you how to read the wind. One night, when the rain lashed the deck and the cold bit deep, he handed you a blanket without a word.

You started to feel a spark begin to ignite within you. The glances lasted longer, you even began sneaking away together to have quiet conversations below deck. He made you feel safe, it felt like he cared.

And after one particular rowdy night on deck, after a feast fit for a king and enough ale to knock out even the most seasoned drinker. His hands found yours in the dark. His mouth traced your skin like he was memorising it. You whispered secrets into his chest. He had held you like he meant it.

You let yourself believe you were safe.

And the ship sailed on.

One evening, the sun beating down on the deck, warm and golden, casting long shadows across the polished wood. You stood watching the sea, taking in it’s sparkling surface, it was calm, stretching out like glass, the kind of rare stillness that made you forget storms ever existed. You leaned against the railing, eyes closed, letting the breeze kiss your skin. Salt clung to your lips. Behind you, footsteps approached, measured, familiar.

Jongho.

He stopped beside you, arms folded, gaze fixed on the horizon. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, softly, he said “You ever think about what it’d be like to never go back?”

You opened your eyes. “To land?”

He nodded. “To anything. No rules. No chains.”

You smiled, cautious. “ To truly be free” you let out a soft hum.

He turned to you then, eyes catching the light. “I want you to have it. Freedom, with me.”

Your heart stuttered. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “You belong here. You’re not like them.” 

You laughed, but it came out hollow. “You barely know me.”

“I know enough.” he said, voice low.  You looked away, suddenly uneasy.

Something in his tone made your stomach twist. You chose to ignore it. You craved him. You wanted to be by his side.

Still, the words lingered. He hadn’t said with us. He’d said with me.

You glanced at the crew scattered across the deck. San adjusting the sails, Seonghwa cleaning his blade, Wooyoung laughing with Mingi. None of them looked your way. None of them smiled.

You were here. But not one of them.

It was suddenly, painfully clear.

But again, you chose to ignore it. Your heart was too forgiving. Too hopeful.

Jongho stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your hip. “You don’t need anyone else.” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you.”

The breeze shifted. The sea darkened, just slightly.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Okay.”

He kissed your temple, soft and possessive.

Hongjoong laid the papers across the table. Maps, letters, and peacekeeping documents. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly agitated.

“The nerve of these neanderthals to ask for a peace treaty.” he muttered, jaw tight. “Afraid of becoming a target, so they pull this bullshit.”

Seonghwa leaned over the large wooden table, the document, assessing the situation. “They want access to the left passage. But why? There’s nothing there.”

“Exactly!” Hongjoong snapped. “Either they know something we don’t. Which I doubt. Or they’re just stupid.” He let out a sharp exhale of breath. “a fucking peace treaty with terms and fucking conditions.” He said almost to himself. He dropped into his chair with a sigh, the wood groaning beneath him.

“We can grant them access to the left passage, no problem.” he continued. “In return, we get a hefty payment and fewer headaches in the western quarter.”

He then added, a little too casually “And as a gesture of good faith… they can have the girl. Show them we’re serious.”

Mingi, lounging nearby, nodded. “I like your thinking, Captain.”

Jongho’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, get the girl?”

Hongjoong didn’t flinch. “As much as we don’t need this treaty, Jongho, it’s leverage. If they spread word that we’re cooperative, we gain leads, influence. It’s mutually beneficial. We’re not doing this out of weakness or for less bloodshed”

“She’s not part of this” Jongho said, voice low.

“She’s not crew.” Seonghwa added, matter of fact. “She’s a guest. Temporary.”

Jongho’s fists clenched at his sides. “She trusted us.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, eyes sharp. “She trusted you. That’s not the same thing.”

The room fell silent.

Outside, the sea whispered against the hull, as if it already knew what was coming.

Months passed, and everything began to feel normal. You formed relationships with the crew, friendly, fulfilling. It seemed like they finally saw you as one of their own. You learned new skills, discovered secrets, even began gossiping with the others over late night watches and shared meals.

Everything felt right.

But beneath it all, a quiet dread stirred. A small seed in the pit of your stomach, sown and beginning to grow.

You didn’t know what it would become.

Later that night the sky was bruised with storm clouds when they led you to the dock of an unknown destination.

You didn’t understand at first. You thought it could possibly be a supply run. You walked beside Jongho, your fingers brushing his, heart steady in your chest. The crew was quiet. Too quiet.

Then you saw them.

The enemy ship. You recognised them from a bloody encounter from a while back. Black sails. Rusted steel. Men with cruel eyes and hands that twitched near their weapons.

You stopped walking. Digging your heels into the ground. “What is this?” you asked, voice tight, feeling your throat start to sting.

Jongho didn’t look at you, but he did take the time to shove you forward. Now you were stood between the two crews,eyes darting around paranoid and terrified.

Hongjoong stepped forward, his expression carved from stone. “A treaty” he said.

Your stomach dropped. “And I’m the offering?”

No one answered.

You turned to Jongho, eyes wide. “Tell me this isn’t happening.”

He swallowed hard. “It’s just until things settle. You’ll be safe.” Liar. You thought

“Safe?” you spat. “With them?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at the boards beneath his feet like they held answers.

“You promised me freedom.” you whispered. “You said I belonged here.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” he said, voice barely audible.

You laughed, bitter and broken. “You had a choice. You just didn’t choose me.”

The enemy captain stepped forward, grinning. “We’ll take good care of them. Right guys!” cheers erupted from the other clan. Your stomach clenched.

You felt the hands then, rough, unkind and grabbing your arms too tightly, pulling you toward the ship. You kicked, screamed, fought, digging your nails into the man’s arm, nails piercing the skin, scratching like hell. Your nails now covered in blood. Everyone watched you, tears streaking your cheeks, the weight of every wrong decision pressing down on your chest.

No one stopped them.

Jongho didn’t move.

You locked eyes with him one last time. “I hope the sea swallows you whole.” 

And then you were gone.

Dragged aboard a ship that smelled of blood and rot. Thrown into a cell. Stripped of dignity. Used. Bruised. Broken.

But not forgotten.

Because the sea remembered.

And soon, it would answer.

Once you were dragged aboard, they led you down a narrow staircase, the air growing colder with each step. The light dimmed, swallowed by shadows, lit only by oil lamps that flickered against damp wood and rusted iron. At the bottom, a small cell stood waiting, Iron bars framing a straw-lined floor, a single chain bolted to the wall like a threat. The walls dripped with condensation and the scent of mildew thick in the air.

This was now your home. No words were spoken. No explanation given. Just the sound of the lock clicking shut behind you, sealing your fate in silence.

Your time on that ship broke you. Bruises bloomed across your skin, fingerprints etched into your thighs, your arms, your face. They grabbed you like property, whispered filth into your ears, made you a slave to their whims. You became frail. Hollow. A ghost in your own body.

But you held on.

You told yourself it was temporary. That Jongho would come. That the crew who laughed with you, drank with you, touched you like you mattered. would fight for you.

They didn’t. You realised the last few months with them was nothing more than a show, a facade. You went to be sick, but your body was filled with nothing.

You were traded like coin. Left in the arms of enemies who saw you as nothing more than leverage. Jongho didn’t fight. He didn’t scream. He didn’t come.

So you stopped waiting.

You became hostile. Violent. You spat in their faces, clawed at their throats, shattered plates and bones alike. You refused to play house with criminals. You refused to be soft. They didn’t like that.

After an altercation with a crew member, his breath sour, his hands rough. You were left lifeless on the deck. Blood in your mouth and salt in your lungs. You had fought like hell. But it wasn’t enough.

They tossed your body overboard near a jagged island, thinking the sea would finish what they started. But the ocean didn’t devour you, it cradled you.

The waves wrapped around your broken form, pulled you into the deep, sheltered you from the rage above. And there, in the dark, something stirred. The sea stitched you back together, not with flesh but with fury. Scales shimmered where skin once bled. Your voice became a weapon. Your eyes, a curse. A siren.

You didn’t rise from the water. You became it.

The ocean didn’t just mend your wounds, it built you back up, bone by bone. Breath by breath. It filled your lungs with salt and song, replaced your heartbeat with the rhythm of the tide. You were no longer a human who had been betrayed. You were vengeance incarnate.

Your skin shimmered beneath the moonlight, kissed by scales and shadow. Your voice, once soft and pleading, now carried the weight of storms. It could lull a man to sleep or drag him screaming into the abyss. You learned the language of the deep. The whispers of drowned sailors. The lullabies of forgotten wrecks. The sea taught you how to hunt. How to haunt. How to sing.

You sang for every bruise. Every stolen breath. Every promise broken beneath deck sheets and moonlit lies.

Then you took action. Ships began to vanish. First the men who took your life, you made it slow, painful and taunting. Next men who sought pleasure in port towns never returned. Their vessels found days later. Stories of your actions started to spread like wildfire.

You found HIM years later, his ship cutting through familiar waters, bold and unaware. He stood at the bow, wind in his hair, eyes scanning the horizon. Still as beautiful as you remembered.

He seemed peaceful, happy. Until he saw you.

A flicker beneath the surface. A face he thought he’d long forgotten.

You rose slowly, deliberately, emerging to the surface. Your black eyes met his. Recognition bloomed. Then terror.

He stumbled back.

Of course that’s how the story goes. That’s how the myth of the siren’s song came to be. You lured one of the most powerful pirate crews to their death. Eight men swallowed by the sea, their ship never found, their names etched into tavern whispers and sailor prayers.

The sea cradled them now.

Eight men, scattered in the water like offerings. Their limbs moved slowly, not from exhaustion but enchantment. The song had drawn them in, soft and sweet, like honey laced with poison. They didn’t fight it. Couldn’t.

Jongho floated closest, his eyes locked on yours. Salty water clung to his lashes. His lips trembled.

You swam to him, the water parting like it knew you. Like it feared you.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

You reached for him, cupping his face with hands that no longer felt human. Cold. Smooth. Scaled. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

You tilted his chin up, meeting his gaze.

“Y/N?” he whispered, voice barely audible over the waves. “Is it really you?”

You laughed. A jagged, manic sound that echoed across the water.

“Yes, yes! it is!” Your smile was cruel. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was enough.

“oh cat got you tongue?” 

His breath hitched. You leaned in, Jongho’s hands rise, hesitating at your waist. Not to pull you close. To hold you back. your lips brush his.

He hesitated but you didn’t. The kiss was cold. Final. A seal on the fate he’d chosen the moment he stepped into the sea.

When you pulled away, his eyes were wide. Not with love. With fear.

You smiled, flashing him your teeth, sharp and dangerous. Terror took over his features.

Then you sang.

The song rose again, no longer sweet. It was mournful now. A dirge. A lullaby for the damned. The waves surged, wrapping around you like silk. You let go of him, letting the current take him deeper.

Jongho reached for you but the ocean was faster.

You disappeared beneath the surface, voice still echoing, still calling.

And the crew began to sink.

One by one.

You listened to their screams and watched their struggle.

They say you sang from the rocks, hair tangled with seaweed, eyes glowing like moonstone. This part was wrong…oh so wrong. 

They say the ocean turned black that night. That the waves rose unnaturally high, and the lighthouse keeper saw shadows dancing on the water, too graceful to be human. They say you were cursed. A woman scorned. A lover betrayed. With a voice that was honeyed and hollow. That the sea gave you power in exchange for your pain. That you sing still, waiting for the next fool to mistake longing for love. And that, that was right.

Well, that should teach a man to mess with me. You thought.

[shrimpwoo]

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