Crown of Waves Series

You Can't Pawn Love // Seongjoong (complete)

You Drive Me Mad // Yungi (ongoing)

Others

Where the Tide Meets the Shore // Woosan (ongoing)

Beneath Steps and Stage // Yungi (ongoing)

Train Adjacent // Woosan (ongoing)

Design Me, Darling // Seongjoong (ongoing)

Oneshots

The only girl id shag is Seonghwa in drag // Seongjoong (contains smut)

Other links for your troubles

My Quotev

My ao3

sooo i got bored and wrote something new and im terribly invested. So go read Teach Me Something New, a dilf hj and teacher sh fic 😼😼

Chapter Warning: Somewhat graphic descriptions of anxiety, body image issues, Hongjoong is kind of manipulative and a dick, sorry.

This is not based off of the members of ateez's personalities in the slightest, some things might seem similar, but anything else is purely coincidential.

Nerves made his face tingly. They made him feel like he was submerged in cold water up to the hair, drowning almost. Was it normal to feel like you were choking on nothing when anxiety hit? His heels click clacked on the vinyl floors, his own stone-faced expression staring back at him from the polish. He approached the glass door of his designer’s office, gently pushing it open.

“Seonghwa,” His designer hummed from the desk without looking up. Seonghwa made a small sound through his nose, shutting the door and setting his bag down, “you’re late.”

“And how did you know it was me, Hongjoong? Could’ve been anyone else you just accused of lateness.” Seonghwa asked, a brow raising as he crossed the room with the grace of a fawn.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but chuckle, glancing up from his papers. “Your heels give you away. Do you know how loud those things are?”

Seonghwa felt self consciousness settle in his already drowning lungs. Hongjoong’s naturally judgemental gaze always did that. Instead of allowing himself to break, Seonghwa just smiled slightly, shrugging.

“How do you know it’s not all part of the look? All part of what I’m going fo–”

“It’s not.”

Seonghwa shrunk a little.

Hongjoong hummed slightly again, a sound that Seonghwa knew all too well. It was his thinking sound. Judging sound, too. “Do you know your schedule for the day?” He pondered, tone distant enough to sound like he wasn’t even speaking to Seonghwa.

“Meeting with you, fitting, photoshoot, exercise, refresh.” Seonghwa told him so methodically he sounded robotic. He knew this schedule like the back of his hand. Hongjoong gave a pleased smile.

“Good. Are you ready, then? I know its early, but you’re my best model, face of the company.” Hongjoong’s praise gave Seonghwa a little bit of joy on this dark, anxiety filled morning. It was the middle of winter, and at 6:17 in the morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet. Just a small flurry of snow beyond Hongjoong’s windows.

“I am.” Seonghwa replied, nodding as if his head wasn’t pounding. Hongjoong stood, Seonghwa watching. With a beckoning hand motion, Hongjoong walked towards the little offshoot room to the side of his office. The model followed, trying to walk lighter so his heels wouldn't be so loud. Instead, he just sounded awkward.

The room was almost sterile smelling, a hint of fabric scent lingering in the air. There was a small elevated stand in the center of the room for fittings. Measuring tapes, sewing needles, spools of strings and different outfits cluttered up the small space. At the small table was Seonghwa’s tailor, a man with a round face and perfect hair. He grinned when he saw Seonghwa enter.

“Ah, my favorite model, come, come, come say hello!” He said excitedly. Seonghwa smiled a little.

“Hello, Rome. It's been a minute.” He gave Rome a quick hug. They wanted to try and catch up, but Hongjoong stood near the door, glasses low on his nose. He always insisted on staying. Seonghwa never knew why.

Because of the pressure from Hongjoong’s gaze, the process began. Seonghwa shed his coat, his heels, his button up and his slacks, stepping onto the podium in nothing but boxers. His designer clothes hit the floor like he was ridding himself of a second skin. Rome approached to observe Seonghwa, eyes boring heavily on his shape.

“Ah, I see you’ve put on some weight.” Rome pointed out. The comment was harmless, merely an observation that he was paid to make. Seonghwa subconsciously sucked his stomach in, only for Rome to laugh. “Don’t do that. I need your proper measurements.”

Why couldn’t his proper measurements be thinner?

Rome circled Seonghwa with the measuring tape, sizing everything from biceps to thighs, making sure everything was perfect. Due to the cold, Hongjoong had made idea’s for a winter line, ‘androgynous clothes for the cold’ he had dubbed it. Seonghwa suppressed an eyeroll. He liked the idea, of course. Hongjoong’s genderless fashion line was the best thing since silk, doing good for communities of people that preferred to present as all, neither, and everything in between. Sometimes, though, Seonghwa was tired.

The measuring lasted nearly an hour and Seonghwa had lost feeling in his toes from standing for so long. “All done, my dove! You did great as always, I’ll give your measurements to the stylists and seamstresses right away!” Joy laced Rome’s tone, a wide grin spreading on the round cheeks of his face. Seonghwa just smiled and nodded, getting up to get dressed. He could feel Hongjoong’s eyes, the subtle disappointment in them that he always had.

Seonghwa gave a silent swallow as he followed Hongjoong back to the office, looking over the measurements on the small piece of card stock. “Why couldn’t he just use paper?” Hongjoong mumbled to himself, pinning the card stock to his white board. Seonghwa stayed quiet, hands behind his back. Finally, Hongjoong motioned for him to sit.

For longer than Seonghwa would have liked, they stared at each other from across the desk. He could feel Hongjoong observing him, like an animal in a cage. Along came the cold water, stopping just below his locked knees.

“I heard what Rome said. I can see it as well.” Hongjoong began with no warning. The water rose to Seonghwa’s stomach, nausea settling deep below his ribs.

“Ah. Sorry, I haven’t been as stern on my diet.” The silence stretched like the time did. Slowly, warping almost.

“I can tell. Do you plan on fixing it?” Hongjoong asked, tilting his head. The water tickled Seonghwa’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. He nodded. Hongjoong blinked slowly.

“What time is the shoot?” Seonghwa blurted suddenly, trying to speak before the water rose to his mouth and cut him off.

“I thought you knew your schedule. Noon.” Hongjoong’s tone was dissatisfied. Seonghwa swallowed, trying to gulp the water down, as if that would keep him from getting cold and tingling again. His cheeks felt hot.

“Sorry, I– Can– Can I leave? I need to freshen up before my shoot.” Seonghwa said quickly, shoving away the urge to bite his inner lip. Hongjoong, clearly tired of the whole conversation, just waved a hand towards the door.

Seonghwa shot to his feet and bowed, muttering a thank you before completely leaving. He felt like he was forgetting something, but he didn’t care. Not much, really. He’d figure it out eventually.

For now, the cold water rose past Seonghwa’s nose and washed over his brain, submerging him in the depths of his own insecurity and anxiety.

Full content warning: There will be someonewhat graphic descriptions of anxiety, anxiety attacks, body image issues, eating disorders and partial manipulation without it meaning to be manipulation. Im not planning on smut, but i guess if it fits there might be. Other things include swearing and that might be it.

Synopsis: The fashion industry is brutal, but Seonghwa is the face of the company, practically running Hongjoong's salary through the roof. Seonghwa knows his designer means well. Knows he wants whats best for him. Its been that way for 6 years. But maybe power runs through veins and gets stuck in the head.

Chapter One

Anywho. Seonghwa is the model, Hongjoong is designer

Im thinking something kinda angsty but it ends cute

Chapter warnings: sex mention,drug talk, swearing

Part One

    This really was the best form of transportation, wasn't it? Not the safest, especially not at night, but it was better than a bus and the only other alternative to San since he didn't have a car.

    Trains were efficient, fast, saved resources, and could be used at any time of day with rarely any off time. It worked best for college students who couldn't drive and didn't exactly feel safe on buses at midnight. 

    The only problem was that the seats were usually sticky, the handles always grimy, the air always smelled... off in an interesting way. San just dealt with it if it meant he got to be back at his dorm before 3 in the morning. Even if it meant that he had to actually be on the train. 

    The subway was quiet tonight. No guitar sounding from down the left side, no people chattering or doing drugs on the right. San had one earbud in, walking from the library to the train that would take him close to his dorm. His classes had been difficult recently, meaning he had to crack down on his studies. He needed to pass. He was almost a junior.

    Yawning, San stood and waited for his train. It was dimly lit in the subway, smelling faintly of weed, metal, and something almost moldy. He didn’t use the train more than twice or three times a week, and wasn't going to today, but his friend had cancelled on him last minute.

    “Sorry, dude, car broke down.” Jongho had sighed into the phone. San sighed back.

    That's how he ended up here. Waiting for this stupid train to arrive so he could go back to his stupid dorm and get sleep for his stupid studies. San was frustrated nonetheless. He checked the time. It was near 12:24 AM. He wished he was in bed right now. So, he called his roommate.

    The phone rang once, twice, three times before his roommate picked up.

    “Seonghwa, hey,” San muttered, relieved, “sorry if I woke you.”

    “You didn’t. What’s up?” Seonghwa replied, almost breathlessly.

    “Did you just run a mile, what the hell?” San asked before he heard whispers through the line. “God, gross, did I interrupt you and your boyfriend having sex?”

    Seonghwa laughed some. “Almost but no, we just got done, you called at a good time. Thought you’d be back sooner though, honestly.”

    San rolled his eyes, wishing Seonghwa could see his disgust. “That’s why I called. Jongho’s car broke down so I’m waiting for a train.”

    “Ah. Hope you get home soon, it isn’t safe out there this late.” Seonghwa hummed, worry evident in his tone. At least he cared. “Joong, tell Sannie good night.”

From Seonghwa’s end, San could hear Seonghwa’s boyfriend Hongjoong mumble sleepily into the phone. “G’night, San. Get back safe.” San couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Night, Sannie. We’ll be here when you get back.” Seonghwa added.

    “Night, you two.” San replied before Seonghwa hung up. San knew he was lucky to have a roommate who somewhat cared about his safety. Seonghwa and Hongjoong both looked out for him, wanting him to be safe and healthy. They were both older than San by about a year, so he truly saw them as older brothers.

    Finally, after 8 more minutes of waiting, the train hissed into the station. A gust of musty wind hit San and ruffled his fluffy brown mullet, a sound of relief leaving his throat. The door slid open slowly and San stepped on, clutching his bags tightly to keep them safe. To San’s surprise, there was no one on the train. Well, it was late, so of course there wouldn’t be. 

    San sat at the seat closest to the door he came in, ready to put his other earbud in and tune the 20 minutes on the train out, but a new sound caught his attention. A rhythmic tapping sounded from down the aisle, almost dragging his eyes over involuntarily as he took his remaining earbud out. 

    A few seats down from him was a pair of legs thrown over the edge of a seat. Mismatched converse donned the person’s feet, red on the left foot and yellow on the right, laces a neon green on both. Their jeans were ripped in the knee and cuffed at the bottom. The sound was coming from said person, and from what San could see, a pair of drumsticks tapping on the bar. He watched, stared, listening to the wordless but consistent beat, before the person sat up. 

     A man with a messy ponytail met his eyes. The dim train light bounced off his facial piercings, letting San see the snakebites, septum ring, eyebrow studs and bridge studs in the nearly dark place. The man’s arms were bare in the tanktop he wore tucked into his jeans. It was more of a t-shirt without sleeves to be fair, but it was also mid February so it was too cold either way. San and the man stared at each other for a moment as the tapping slowed to a stop.

    “Did I… disturb your… whatever?” The stranger asked, waving a tattooed hand and arm towards San. San quickly shook his head. “No, no, sorry, I just got on and I heard your tapping.”

    The stranger smiled a small, crooked thing, one that made San wonder what his own smile looked like and if it looked that nice and boyish.

    “Ah, I see. The great Jung Wooyoung once again gathering the attention of the boys and girls he comes across with his awesome music skills.” The man–Wooyoung–said triumphantly, tapping his drumsticks together. San couldn’t help but smile a little, amused by how… carefree Wooyoung was this late at night. They didn’t even know each other and San still felt something like ease fill him. 

    Silence stretched between them, the only sound being the vaguely worrying thumping of the subway train. “You gonna tell me your name?” Wooyoung finally asked.

San blinked, pausing like he forgot his name before replying. “Choi San. San. I’m San.” He repeated, making Wooyoung laugh, an amused cackle at something that really wasn’t that funny. Wooyoung’s eyes eventually met San’s again, San now realizing they were asymmetrical. 

    “Right, okay. Nice to meet you, San on the late night subway train.” Wooyoung smirked, tone a gentle tease. San chuckled softly. “Nice to meet you too, Wooyoung the musical genius.”

    They shared a smile between each other before Wooyoung fully sat up. He tapped the spot next to him with a drumstick before tucking them out of sight in his back pocket. “Come sit with me. You look studious but not in a broody way, you deserve someone colorful next to you.” Wooyoung spoke in such a tone that made it hard to deny the offer. He seemed so sure of himself, so comfortable in his own skin. San wondered if he too was like that, and found himself desiring to be like that if he wasn’t.

    San stood, moving to sit next to Wooyoung on the hard plastic seat of the train. The closeness had awkwardness seeping under San’s skin, but Wooyoung was just enough himself that it broke the tension.

    “We clearly come from two very different places, so what’s someone like you doing out here so late?” Wooyoung asked, shifting sideways in his seat. He propped one leg up on the seat as the other bounced rapidly against the floor. He really couldn't sit still.

    “I was at the library. My dorm’s across town though.” San explained. He probably shouldn’t be telling a tattooed stranger where his dorm was. 

    “College student, how boring.” Wooyoung placed a hand over his heart solemnly. “Do you at least do fun stuff, like parties or something?” 

    San shook his head slowly. He wasn’t used to someone with this much energy, especially not when he was this tired. He wondered if he had visible eyebags and was suddenly kind of self conscious of his boring life. 

    “That’s disappointing. The college boys I know usually are like that.” Wooyoung hummed, the boringness of San’s life clearly not affecting him. Why did San even care what Wooyoung thought anyway? It didn’t matter what others thought of him! “I’m in a band, so maybe that’s why rowdy 20 somethings like me…” Wooyoung muttered, almost to himself. 

    “A band?” San queried. Wooyoung perked up again. 

    “A band! I’m the drummer and I think it’s such a cool experience and–” Wooyoung cut himself off as the train rattled to an uneasy stop. “This is my stop! It was nice to meet you, San! Don’t get yourself hurt, and don’t study too hard. You deserve some fun.” 

    San blinked, caught horribly off guard by how easily distracted Wooyoung was. This wasn’t his own stop, his was next, but Wooyoung launched from his seat and bolted towards the train doors. Something rattled behind him on the seat he was in. San looked and saw it was one  of Wooyoung’s drumsticks, covered in paint and sharpie marks. 

    “Wait!” San called, grabbing the drumstick and running to the doors. “Wait, Wooyoung, your drumstick!” But the doors were already closed. San stared out the windows with wide eyes, Wooyoung waving from the platform as the train huffed down the tunnel. He was fully unaware of his lost drumstick.

    Trains didn’t care about belongings left by people. They just cared about the destination.

✶✶✶✶

    The drumstick was smooth and weirdly heavy in San’s hand. The elevator rattled up to the third floor of his dormitory, but San’s usual fear of elevators was overtaken by the curiosity of Wooyoung. All of him. Not just his clothes or hair, not just the fun way he talked at almost 1 A.M. This had really happened in the span of less than an hour? San’s awareness of the time frame made his head hurt.

    The sound San managed to make when he stumbled into the dorm was a mix of exhaustion and something he couldn't quite place. He didn’t mean to be too loud but from the bed on the left side of the room, the lump of bodies under the comforter stirred. 

    “San..?” Hongjoong muttered, sitting up from Seonghwa’s grasp. His chest was bare, a few scattered bites on the plane of skin. “Welcome back, glad you're safe.” He mumbled, voice thick from sleep, hair a mess. He flopped back down as quickly as he came up, snoring softly almost immediately.

    San just gave a small smile. He peeled off his clothes, the ones he wore all day at school, all 3 hours he spent in the library, and all 30 minutes he spent on and near trains. He grimaced because the only smell that stuck to the clothes was train and it was so distinctly train that he gagged quietly. “Fuckin’ gross…” San grumbled, stripping down to nothing but boxers.

    Before he lay down to go to sleep, San’s eye caught the drumstick sticking out of his school bag. He stared at it for a moment, contemplating, before ultimately deciding to grab it and hold it when he laid down.  

    “You were so interesting… Why couldn’t you have stayed longer?” San asked the drumstick, as if Wooyoung would somehow answer. “Should’ve gotten your number… hope you're safe, Wooyoung…” He mumbled, clutching the drumstick to his chest as he drifted off.

    The next morning, San awoke to the sunlight pouring into his dorm and not the whispers of Seonghwa and Hongjoong above him. Sometime in the night, San had ended up on his back, sprawled out with the blanket tangled up in his legs. He was a bit damp, having gotten hot in the night from the heat needing to be on in the February cold. The drumstick was still clutched in his hand, now pressed to his chest. 

    A groan slipped past San’s lips as he blinked his sleep dry eyes open. He went to roll on his side before a cold hand grabbed his shoulder and rolled him back. San shivered, goosebumps erupting over his bare skin. “Fuck, what time is it?” San asked groggily, voice thick with sleep. 

    “We should be asking the questions, San.” Seonghwa said from above his roommate, eyes narrowed. Hongjoong was next to him, a little less accusatory than Seonghwa clearly was. 

    “What?” San grumbled, sitting up slightly. “About what?”

    Seonghwa took the drumstick from San’s hand. San was now very aware that he was holding it–well, that he was previously holding it–and little flashbacks of last night passed behind his vision. “Whats this, dude? I mean, if you had a secret life, you could’ve told us.” Seonghwa pulled his hand away when San reached for the object. 

    “I– I don’t, Hwa.” San slid off his bed, reaching for the drumstick more diligently, only for Seonghwa to press his palm to San’s forehead. Seonghwa was much stronger than he seemed. San eventually gave up and just leaned into Seonghwa’s palm, making Hongjoong chuckle some. 

    Seonghwa chose not to budge, dangling Wooyoung’s drumstick just out of San’s reach. “Well, then what is this?”

    “A drumstick.” Hongjoong quipped unhelpfully.

    “Baby, hush.” Hongjoong nodded with a pleased smile.

    “Seriously, San. You’ve literally never had an interest in music before and I wouldn’t judge if you suddenly got one, but this doesn’t match you. At all.” Seonghwa rambled. He sounded a bit worried. San couldn’t exactly place why Seonghwa would be worried about this but that was just how he was so he didn’t look too far into it.

    “I… got it on the train yesterday.” San answered. He technically was telling the truth. Half of it left out but still the truth. Seonghwa made a face and held the drumstick between two fingers. 

    “Gross. You seriously just… took it off the train?” Seonghwa inquired, lips pulling back in a small icked out motion. San nodded. Now he was lying. “C’mon, San. You’re smarter than this. What if it was laced with cocaine? What if it was the weapon in a murder? Now we’re all suspects!”

    Seonghwa suddenly moved his palm, making San stumble forward as all of his weight was pressed against Seonghwa’s hand. He took his chance as he was falling and snatched up the drumstick, landing on the floor with a thump and a grunt. Seonghwa sighed softly, helping San up.

    “Listen, I don’t exactly care what you do, I’m not your dad, but I also don’t want you getting reckless.” Seonghwa said, finally allowing himself to calm down. “ You shut down when you lose focus on things that you want, and I’ve known you long enough that I’ve seen it happen.”

    San sucked his cheeks in before letting out a breath. Seonghwa was right and San knew that.

    “Just… Don’t let that happen. Do what you want but don’t shut down, Sannie.” San nodded slightly, letting Seonghwa pull him into a hug. Hongjoong latched onto his back. 

    “We just care about you, San.” Hongjoong muttered into the hard plane of San’s back. “We only want what's best for you but we don't want to limit you.”

San hugged back with a tiny nod. He understood them. He knew them and knew what they wanted for him. But it didn’t stop his mind from wandering back to Wooyoung all damn day at school. 

    He had kept the drumstick in his bag all day. Around noon, while San was walking through the halls, someone stopped him. And by stopped, San was tugged fully to the side and by the lockers. He gasped a little, a touch caught off guard. 

    “Hey! Hey, what's your name?” The person asked. When San looked down, it was a girl who San didn’t know, just some person.

    “Oh, uh, San?” He replied, trying to pull away because the girl had a hold on his bag strap. 

    “Do you know Wooyoung? Jung Wooyoung?” She asked, a crazed look in her eye. San didn’t really know how to say ‘I know him but I’m not friends with him, but we got weirdly close in the 20 minutes we talked on the train, but we definitely aren’t friends’.

    So San just said, “yes?” with a tilt of his head. The girl gave a pleased sigh, biting her lip slightly. “Well, that drumstick sticking out of your bag is clearly his.” San made a face while she spoke. He knew that of course because he was with him. How did this girl know that?

“You know, he can’t play drums without it. So maybe you should give it back.” She said as if San was supposed to fix that. 

    “Where is he playing next? I can probably give it back then?” San gave a sheepish smile, as if that was going to make anything better. She scoffed in his face, the audacity of this girl. 

    “His band is playing at the Theta Lambda Beta house Saturday night, for some party or whatever, I’m only there for him.” She huffed out, finally letting go of San and pulling away. San didn’t even realize he was holding his breath til she let go. “You’d better find him and give it back before then.” 

    The girl gave a rough poke to San’s chest, making him blink slightly and go to speak, but she was already storming off down the hall.

    Seriously? A deadline? On top of every school deadline he had? San sighed and leaned his head back. At least it was only Tuesday. 

College made San quiet, more focused on his studies. Not alone, but lonely. Trains are like him, in a metaphorical sense. Meeting a stranger on a train can disrupt the feeling of solitude in a way San never knew it could.

So this was supposed to be a one shot but not anymore

Content Warnings: Swearing, lots of random sex mentions, probably eventual smut?

i dont know if this spoils any of my one shot thats ended up being nearly 3k words and they havent even fallen in love yet but honestly thid is the best thing i have ever written