#jongin au

The city still burned, on some nights the fire turned blue, on others, dark purple, poisoned by ever shifting clouds of molten acid.

It burned beneath the crumbled towers, where android and human had fought until there were no victors left to remember why.

That's where Jongin found Arisyn.

Kneeling in the dark between broken pillars and collapsed walkways, rain hissing as it struck her exposed conduits and split plating. Her synthetic skin had been torn open with deliberate precision, exactly where the Watchers blades struck. Decommissioned, discarded machinery, feared and misunderstood, her once unbreakable alloy gone, gold circuitry stripped away. What remained was left to the mercy of toxic rain, corrosion already eating into what had once been flawless.

“I will never run again.” Her voice faltering as it spoke, glitching between tones, as if each word fought to exist.

Her words felt final, yet something in her eyes searched for disapproval, for someone to tell her “No! It's not the end”

Jongin’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

A knight without a king, bound by an oath to nothing that could name him. No longer human, or holy, he moved through the ruins as a relic of stubborn defiance, seeking redemption in a world that had forgotten the meaning of mercy, and why it ever mattered, refusing to die when so many like him had welcomed it.

He lingered in that space and time, an oddity, whispered about by survivors in the seedy corners of the citadel, a shadow slipping through portals and jump gates, always passing on, searching for a mission, a mercy or a death.

The war had taken more than banners and thrones, it had stripped him of his purpose. Without a king to serve, Jongin carried his vows like broken heralds, still heavy, still commanding, yet with no enemy left to face.

He wandered from ruin to ruin, chasing echoes of command that no longer came, haunted by the discipline drilled into his bones and the silence that followed its loss. Some nights he wished for orders, any orders, if only to quiet the hollow ache of choice. Other nights, he cursed the freedom he had bled for, drifting through a world that no longer had a place for knights and honour, only for survivors.

He lowered his hand and knelt before her, carefully untangling snapped wires and sparking circuits, the savagery of it slowing his breath. He cursed at deafened gods, as wires still charged carried a jolt through his fingers, then up arm and into his chest, waking every cell in its path.

Unaware of eyes upon him, he untangled her from the wreckage, whilst above, the Watchers gathered in silence, ominously creeping through the ruins, filling the shadows with their unnatural drawn-out stillness.

Their cloaked figures lined the upper walkways, unmoving, patient, foreboding. Men who had traded flesh for machinery in the promise of eternity, their faces removed and emptied of humanity, hidden beneath cowls of blackened chrome.

Amongst them stood the High Priestess Anthropeta. A serene, ageless, terrible master, beyond cruel, devoted not only to destruction but to undoing centuries of knowledge, piece by stolen piece, until nothing was left except a universal ignorance, a single, obedient mind with no will of their own.

Arisyn's source code was the final piece; The access buried inside her had the power to reshape the world, to bend it into something obedient and hollow and Anthropeta felt victory within her grasp, with each step she drew closer.

The first strike came without warning.

Energy blades screamed through the air, disintegrating stone and steel alike.

Jongin moved on instinct. His sword flashed, cutting down one Watcher, then another, and another, everything around him becoming a blur as sparks burst where steel met force, the impact ringing through the ruins, sharp and violent.

A blade caught his shoulder, then swiftly another tore into his ribs, then another pierced into his calf and another at his back, relentless hits until he couldn’t tell where the pain was coming from.

But he didn't slow, fighting on like a man who had already accepted death, pressing forward with reckless, brutal resolve, until synthetic blood darkened the fractured floor beneath his boots, Watchers falling under his blade one by one.

For a fleeting moment, relief brushed against him. Death was close, close enough to feel like rest, and part of him leaned toward it, craving the peace it'd bring. He was so very tired of choosing, tired of surviving without command of a crown, lingering after a war that had taken his king, and with him, the certainty of purpose. “Surrender!” He whispered softly to himself, promising silence at last.

But then his eyes found Arisyn's. Pleading, desperate, dreading the abandonment to a fate she didn't want.

Something older than despair stirred. Protection rose where the death-wish faltered, written deeper than loyalty, deeper even than grief. She carried a purpose, the way the world once had, ancient, guarded, enduring, and most importantly…hopeful. He could not lay down his sword while such meaning still breathed behind him. If he no longer lived for a king, then he would stand for what had survived, unbroken, when he had not.

Arisyn watched as his armour cracked, and his strength bled out with every breath, still, he stood, and he swung, each strike carrying a force that felt unhuman, as if will alone kept him upright. When the sword finally slipped from his grasp, he dropped to one knee, breath ragged, vision collapsing inward, knowing he had given his all.

Anthropeta descended the steps with unhurried grace, victory hovering within reach as she extended her chrome-plated fingers toward her prize.

Arisyn's ancient core drive, older than the wars, older than the empires that had risen and fallen and burned. Languages no one spoke anymore, histories of people erased from record, all the truths that were now buried to keep the present obedient and unknowing.

“No,” Arisyn whispered. “You are not worthy”, she added, helplessly covering her precious cargo, aimlessly swatting away the approaching end.

Unyielding, Anthropeta’s hand pressed against Arisyn's gold-plated chest, reaching for the faltering core.

Then something broke.

Ancient locks shattered within Arisyn, safeguards and firewalls collapsed by one and a foreign pressure flared through her frame, as her primary mother-board overloaded, ripples blazing white-hot, tearing free through every joint and seam. Then a single, high-intensity beam followed shortly, erupting from her chest, a scream of pure radiance sweeping across the chamber in a blinding arc.

The remaining Watchers froze mid-motion, synthetic bodies spasming as circuits liquefied and cloaks ignited, one by one falling where they stood, smoking ruins collapsing into silence.

Jongin did not hesitate.

Drawing on the last brutal surge of strength burning through his ruined body, he surged forward.

His hand closed around the hilt and with a cry torn from his chest, he drove the sword straight through Anthropeta’s cloak.

At first, his steel met resistance, then punched through.

The sound was wrong for the living, sharp grinding metal, followed by the wet crackle of severed wiring and failing power cells. Anthropeta stiffened, her mechanical breath catching, as sparks bled through her torn cape, unravelling in a hiss of dying circuitry mixed with synthetic blood.

The battlefield went silent, eerie and cold.

Ash drifted once more, the air tasting of metal and damaged ozone.

Jongin stood unsteadily, as the last of his strength faded away, and with it, the fury that had kept him alive. He stepped forward and lifted Arisyn into his arms.

His touches were careful.

Despite the tremor running through his battered frame, he held her as if she were fragile and irreplaceable, and not forged from metal and light, but made of flesh and blood. In the safety of his spent embrace, her systems dimmed, the glow within her fading to a soft, uneven pulse against Jongin’s chest.

You were fourteen when you first heard it, the song inside your head that wasn’t a part of your own stream of consciousness. It wasn’t often that people heard the music that young, but your soulmate must have turned eighteen, setting off the internal (and subconscious) alarm that it was time to make themself known. 

Because of it being rare that soulmates heard each other earlier than the age of eighteen, you didn’t realize that that’s what it was at first. Actually, you were under the impression that someone was playing music right into your ear as you were trying to concentrate on your homework. The last thing you thought it was going to be was your soulmate…especially at your age. 

You, seated in the silence of the class, groaned outwardly and asked, “Is someone really playing music out loud right now?! Some of us are trying to concentrate…” Hey, at least you didn’t swear at them even though you really wanted to.

Your classmates were startled by your outburst, looking at you like you had grown two heads. Why were you the only one complaining about the noise? In class, you were allowed to listen to headphones, but this was pushing it for you. 

Your teacher was the first to speak when he told you that nobody was playing any music. You couldn’t understand what you were hearing then. Placing both your hands over your ears to cover the sound, you tested to see if that would help. It didn’t, seeing as the song you’d never heard before was still loud and present to only you. 

From the seat beside you, you felt an elbow jab into your rib. When you looked over with a flinch, you saw your friend with a huge smile on their face, and their eyes wide open. Clearly, they had something to say. 

“What?” You asked, clearly irritated by everything going on. If you were distracted for one more minute…

“It has to be your soulmate!” They whispered, clear jealousy written across their face. They’d been obsessed with the concept of soulmates since you two were little, so of course this would be exciting for them. They’d done all the research, knowing everything they could know about soulmates. They wanted to research the soulmate bond for the rest of their life, as a career. Their parents researched them already, and although you were best friends, you never really understood the appeal. The thought of having one person that you were destined for never really made any sense to you. But you were only fourteen, so what did you know, really? 

“Isn’t it too early for that?” You asked, realizing that your life just got a whole lot more complicated if it really was your soulmate…not to mention noisy. 

They shrugged, going back to their homework after saying, “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Apparently it’s uncommon but not impossible. Most soulmates are the same age, but yours must be older than you. I read this one book where someone was talking about how they weren’t able to block them out in the slightest until they turned eighteen! Maybe you’ll be lucky and they don’t really listen to music like you!”

The idea that your soulmate was currently eighteen while you were fourteen grossed you out, but clearly there was nothing you could do about it yet. And if what they were saying was true, there, and you couldn’t block out your soulmate, you were going to scream. Wait…

“Hey,” you got your friend’s attention again after a thought popped into your head, “can my soulmate hear me then?”

Your friend shook their head and explained, “They won’t hear you until you’re eighteen.”

That was just great. You were stuck with this for the next four years while they’d get off without having any kind of interruption in their life. 

After that first day, you didn’t tell anyone for an entire week; however, it had been a full week of your not being able to sleep. Your best friend had been severely mistaken when they said you might be lucky by getting a soulmate that didn’t listen to music…they liked it, a lot. You were sure that they were going to kill you. Your mom only found out because she heard you cry from lack of sleep. They never stopped listening to music. You didn’t know what to do to drown it out. Of course, she had to contact your friend’s parents to see what they had to say, but there was really not much that could be done. 

At first, she was genuinely concerned for your well-being. It wasn’t only uncommon that soulmates were that many years apart in age, but it seemed they were genuinely affecting your life in a negative way. She helped you figure out whatever was needed to try to get you back on track. You were generally someone who preferred dead silence. Sure, you listened to music sometimes, but it didn’t take up that much space or importance in your life…you couldn’t say the same for your soulmate. They must have lived and breathed music. 

And for the first while, you were constantly frustrated with them. Actually, it was more than frustration–it was anger. They would repeat the same song over and over again, and sometimes it was only one specific part of the song. For hours. You concluded that they had to be practicing something with the songs. There was no way that they willingly listened to songs that much. They had to have a job that was related to music, because any normal person would not even be able to listen to that much music while working if their job didn’t require them to.

You’d figured out that listening to your own music was the only solution to drown them out. Wearing noise cancelling headphones to sleep wasn’t exactly ideal (especially considering it took you weeks to get used to having noise when trying to fall asleep), and it certainly wasn’t acceptable to go around school and out in public wearing said headphones. 

You tried taking medication and meditating. It was almost to the point where your mom was considering homeschooling you, so that you could simply work when they weren't listening to music instead of having to force yourself to focus with their noisy lifestyle.

But you had to admit that it wasn’t all bad. You were making it sound insanely dramatic, when there were pros in amongst all the cons. There was one specific thing that made you forget what you didn’t like about the soulmate bond—it was that even when they listened to those damned songs through the entire night as you were trying to sleep, they would seem to make it up to you. It was like they knew how much you must have been struggling. Some nights, when you were getting ready to sleep or you were laying in bed, a soft voice would float through your mind, humming tunes or lightly singing songs. He would easily lull you to sleep as you let the calm sounds fill you up from head to toe. It was actually the only time you didn’t try to block him out. 

After it all, you grew older, graduated high school, and got used to it all. You increasingly realized that you couldn’t wait to find him…if only to give him a little piece of your mind. 

• • • • • •

Jongin on the other hand, felt dejected when he turned 19 and then 20 and then 21. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t hearing you yet. He’d grown up with this crazy desire to have this special person once he’d turned 18, but it just wasn’t happening for him. All his friends and colleagues were hearing their soulmates or had already found them, and all that occupied his head was silence. 

His parents tried to tell him that it was fine and that his soulmate was just getting ready for him. He would love them so much that they really needed to prepare. But it was insanely frustrating to someone like him who’d waited and waited for the day to come. He tried to fill his time as much as he could with work to try to distract himself from the fact that day after day he never heard from you. Still, whenever he went to bed at a reasonable hour and relaxed, he always sang a calm song, in hopes that you could hear him. 

Taemin had once mentioned to him that you may have been able to hear him because you could have simply just been younger than him. He’d seen an article on the internet about it happening, although rare enough that it was not common. His words gave Jongin at least a little bit of hope. 

Yet thinking about the fact that you could hear whatever he was listening to or singing made him anxious for when he finally met you. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that you probably wanted to scream and hit him from the sheer amount of times he listened to the same song… But what was he to do? He choreographed routines for a living! If you really were younger than him, then you must have still been in high school, which meant that you would have to listen to the music while studying for exams or listening to your teachers talk. His listening wasn’t uniform, with stops, rewinds, replays, and everything else imaginable, so it couldn’t have been easy to deal with. 

The first time Jongin heard you, he was woken up from a nap with the happy birthday song being sung to you. It took him a moment to realize that the song was for you and not for him… his birthday had been months ago. As much as he didn’t like being woken up from a nap, he was so at ease from finally hearing you. The thought of you having put him right back to sleep with a trace of a smile on his face. 

Jongin’s attitude changed noticeably in the weeks that followed. He seemed much happier, coming in to work with a chipper smile and jokes. He was never one to joke around when it came to work. It was such a noticeable difference in his attitude that everyone noticed, not just him. 

“You seem to be feeling better lately…” Taemin commented, sitting across from him, both of the men with their drinks of choice at a coffee shop. 

Jongin couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face. He shyly looked away from his friend when he answered, “I can hear her.”

Taemin was so happy for him that he practically spilled all his coffee onto the table when he went to tap his friend on the shoulder in congratulations. He had found his soulmate a few years ago, so now that Jongin could hear you, he didn’t feel so bad bringing her around. 

“Sometimes I hear her singing along to the songs that I’m working with. It’s quite cute actually. But she mostly just plays her own music even louder to try to drown me out, I’m assuming. I can’t imagine my job is easy on her,” Jongin admitted, taking a long sip of his drink. You only listened to music when he was listening to music, so it only made sense to him that you didn’t enjoy it like he did. 

“God, she must HATE it, having to hear the song so many times!” Taemin laughed.

“What’s it like after you meet your soulmate?” Jongin asked. He had never asked him before because the thought just made him more sad, but now that he knew that you were out there, the question didn’t scare him.

“You can control it more. There’s a way that you can communicate more than just hearing what the other person hears. It’s a lot more controlled. I think you’ll like it when you finally meet her,” Taemin explained. He found this inquisitive and happy side of Jongin so refreshing after the rude and workaholic Jongin that had become his friend for the last four years.

“I just hope I meet her soon…” 

• • • • • •

You’d now been eighteen for a few months, and lucky for you, your soulmate seemed to be listening to slightly less music than he had been before he started hearing you. The song that he was replaying for the last few days was a little different. He was the one singing it, unlike all the other songs that he’d played over before.

The version of the song was by all means not clean and your mind wandered. 

…I just want to know your favourite position, put your legs up, switch the position…

You couldn’t get those lines out of your head. Because he was the one singing the song, you could practically picture him with you in your bedroom. You’d never seen him, but it was like your imagination knew what he looked like. You could see him almost perfectly…and he was just right. 

The strangest feeling rippled through you as you imagined everything that he could do to you, for you…and what you could do for him. You leaned back on your bed, grateful that you’d closed the door already, separating you from your family. 

You trembled, thinking about the hot breath of his voice where your hand was teasing. You thought about the touch of his hands over your skin currently prickled with goose bumps. 

You whispered his own song back as you found your rhythm, voice barely able to form the words coherently. It was amazing, thinking about him, but you wanted it to actually be him more than you ever would have thought before. 

Just earlier today, you wanted to strangle the man for his noisy lifestyle, and now you would beg for him to be between your legs in place of your own hand. You tried to take your time, but with your thoughts and the sound of his song, it didn’t take long for you to be writhing on your sheet–tired, breathless, satisfied, and confusingly enough…frustrated. 

• • • • • •

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t meet each other for another two years. The way you found each other was a complete accident, some would have even called it coincidence that you were at the same place at the same time. You, on the other hand, would have called it fate. 

You were currently an intern at a large entertainment company. You weren’t necessarily into the entertainment business per se, but it was where your degree took you, and you definitely would have not passed up an experience like this one. You were twenty now, and facing the world didn’t seem as scary as it once had.

It was quite literally your first day there, and they were giving you a tour of the building. One of the practice rooms was getting ready to be used, so it was the first place you were headed. They were going to show you exactly how it all went down, with the cameramen, the choreographers, the crew and the artists themselves. 

You watched in awe as people were laughing, surrounding what looked to be like the choreographer, asking him about what masterpiece he was going to show them this time. 

He seemed familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

The energy in the room was chaotic and stressful, but also awesome and addicting. You didn’t think that you’d ever feel that way about entertainment, but you assumed it was the influence of your soulmate for the past six years. 

It seemed as though they were about to begin what would probably be a tiring day of memorization, so everyone quieted down and got ready while you couldn’t keep your eyes off the choreographer. 

Suddenly, the song you’d been hearing more recently playing constantly through your mind came on. But hearing music like this was not like anything you’d ever heard before. It was so clear and precise, unlike when you even listened to music in headphones, unlike listening to your soulmate through the annoying bond.  It was like it was being sung to you…like you weren’t actually listening to it in person. It was infinitely impossible to explain. It resonated through your body like you were one with the song. You weren’t sure if what you were feeling was even real, maybe it was how your soulmate felt while listening to the song. 

The choreographer seemed to be taken aback as well. The boys to whom he was going to teach the routine all seemed confused by his stillness because he was hesitating and not showing them the routine. He had even stopped explaining his vision for them mid-sentence when the song turned on. 

His eyes snapped up and started looking around the room to try to wrap his head around what was happening. When you made eye contact with him, you just knew that he was your soulmate. It felt natural to look at him, be in the same room as him. 

You dropped the pen that you were using to take as many notes as possible. You sucked in a deep breath and shuffled an inch back when he took a step toward you.

Clearing his throat and not looking away from you, your soulmate said, “Can we take 5?...Everyone get out for a minute.”

It didn’t actually come off as rude as it sounded, but you could tell that everyone including your bosses were confused as to why the two of you needed time alone when you’d just met. 

He began walking towards you before everyone had left. It was a shock when he was right in front of you, but you got over it quick enough. Whatever spell you’d just been under broke and all those years of annoyance from him came flooding back. 

“So it’s you…” you breathed, jutting a finger into his chest to emphasize your words. 

“Me?” He looked innocent with his big eyes and soft face when he answered.

You closed your eyes and smiled, laughing a bit before saying, “You have been the bane of my existence since I was fourteen. That’s six years. Six. Whole. Years. Do you have any idea what that amount of noise can do to a person? Especially someone like me who has just entered high school and was just trying to get good grades. I was sleepless for months, wanting nothing more than for you to disappear. I didn’t even care about soulmates and I just happened to be a rare occurrence of having one four years older than me. God, I want to strangle you for all that you’ve put me through over the years…”

He looked at you like he was expecting you to say something like that, but when he opened his mouth to reply, you cut him off and continued, “Do you even realize how much music you listen to in a day? I don’t even like it all that much and I was completely forced to listen to it practically all day. And worse was that you often pull all-nighters with the same song. I can’t even look at you right now! I’m so fucking mad at you! How could soulmates be so different?” You mumbled that last sentence after taking a deep breath and walking out of the room, crewmates and the artists almost falling onto the floor as you opened the door. They’d clearly been eavesdropping. You stepped over them and stormed down the hall, intent on not coming back…although, you knew you’d be right back in the office after lunch. A brief moment of regret passes through you for not even getting his name, but that was quickly replaced with the frustration of finally meeting him in person. 

• • • • • •

The next time you met was about a week later when you ran into each other in the elevator. He seemed surprised to see you while you tried to make your own facial expressions void of emotion. 

“My name is Kim Jongin,” he whispered, avoiding your gaze. He sounded sad, which made you regret the way you’d spoken to him last week. You supposed it could have waited for a better time and place, but you were never one to keep quiet instead of speaking your mind. 

“Y/N,” you said, trying to be polite. You took a peek at him from under your eyelashes. He really was handsome and very nearly the picture that you’d created of him in your mind. “I’m sorry about the other day…It was just a lot to process. You’ve been in my head for a long time, and I apparently had a lot to say…”

He didn’t really acknowledge your apology when he asked, “I don’t mean to sound too forward…but would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I’m cooking. We can talk more then.” 

“Okay,” you answered, handing him your phone. “Here, put your number in my phone so you can text me your address later.”

• • • • • •

Looking down at the message Jongin sent you explaining where he lived, you took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Come in!” You heard a muffled yell, the low playlist he’d been listening to becoming fuller and clearer in your mind. 

You smelled the food before you saw it. He had a nice apartment, his job clearly paying more than enough. When you walked through the doorway to the kitchen after taking off your shoes, you saw him standing over the stove, mixing something. He looked up at you, sending you a tentative smile. 

You figured he must still be hesitant with you, considering how you treated him when you first met. 

“Hi,” you said quietly, trying to ease his nerves. Now that you’d let out all your anger, you were ready to move on and get to know him better.

“Hey,” he replied, shoulders relaxing a fraction. It wasn’t very obvious, just enough that you could understand he was anxious. 

“Thanks for inviting me over for supper. I’m still sorry about how I acted last week…” You awkwardly stood there, not knowing where to sit until you decided to cut it out. You were soulmates for heaven’s sake. Why were you acting scared to be around him?

You saw a piece of counter near him that was clean, unused, so you walked toward it and asked him, “Do you mind if I sit here? I’d like to watch you cook.”

He seemed taken aback by your words but nodded nevertheless, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You were eye-level with him on the counter, and could see everything about his features clearly from your vantage. 

His brown eyes swirled like your favourite chocolate, full lips slightly gnawed (you guessed from nerves). His hair was done to perfection, looking soft and strategically placed. He had changed his clothes since work today, opting for a nice pair of corduroy pants and a sweater with teddy bears all over it. He smelled amazing, quite possibly like your new favourite scent. 

He opened his mouth to say something when the next song on the playlist began, catching you off guard. You recognized the tune, having heard it over and over again a couple years ago. “Wait,” you interrupted, putting your hand up to block his words. “I thought you sang this song?” Thinking about the song brought back memories of many lonely nights you wished to have with him. Still to this day, it contained the lyrics and the voice that brought you to the finish line every time. 

He seemed confused at first before registering which song it was. A closed-mouth chuckle shook his shoulders as he looked at the stove quickly to check the food. “I sang a demo for the artist…I’m not surprised you remember the song.” 

You looked up at his face, not understanding how he would know that you would remember something from years ago. “What do you…” Butterflies danced in your stomach as the nervous feelings about being near him surfaced. The latest time you thought of the song coming to mind. It wasn’t even that long ago. You felt a blush start to creep up your chest and neck. 

You wanted to look away, but when his eyes met yours, you couldn’t. He was looking at you curiously when he cheekily asked, “You must like the other lyrics better?” His gaze shifted to your lips that parted in surprise before he quickly took the pot off the stove. 

His breaking the stare gave you the opportunity to look at anything else but him, to catch the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t answer him. You couldn’t answer him. If you lied and said that you didn’t know they changed, he would have been able to tell. You had never been a good liar.

When he looked back at you and realized that you were not going to answer his question, he admitted even cockier than before, “You sing the song under your breath when you masturbate, Y/N.” 

Your face completely flushed and you tried to wiggle off the counter, but his hands shot out and caught one on each knee. He parted them, settling into the spot on the counter between them. You were so embarrassed you stared at a single loose thread on his sweater near his shoulder. “H-how do you know that?”

“Maybe call it soulmate’s intuition…but the breathing is unique,” he explained, moving his head to the side to see if he could catch your eye once again. 

“Oh, my god. I’m so mortified…” you admitted, hands coming up to cover your face. 

“Oh, please don’t be,” he admitted, “I-I like hearing it.” His hands softly went over yours, pulling them away from your face. “Every time I hear you sing it, it reassures me that you’re real and that you’re not with anyone else. It’s nice to know that even though we hadn’t met, it was always me.”

You had to crack a smile. “You never gave me a moment to forget about you.”

His head dipped toward you then not commenting on your words, lips just a hair from yours. “Can I…”

You didn’t let him finish as you quickly nodded and pushed yourself to him. Your kiss was slow, each feeling the other out. You’d kissed one other person in your life, a little act of rebellion against the bond, but it felt wrong. On the other hand, kissing Jongin was completely different. His mouth tasted so good you wanted to thank him for the opportunity of being his soulmate. 

You were the first to pull away from the simple kiss. “We should eat…”

“It’s not ready yet,” he breathed, hands cupping your cheeks to bring your mouth back to his. 

You gladly invited him back, your hands snaking around his waist to hold him closer to you. Your knees squeezed his hips as you scooted closer to him. Jongin’s mouth parted with yours. You wanted more of him. You were grateful you brushed your teeth and freshened up before you came over. 

Between hot kisses, he spoke, “When you sing the song, I admit I can’t help myself…”

Your entire body erupted in shivers at his words, no longer embarrassed by your previous confession. 

The oven beeped, signalling to the two of you that dinner was now ready. He broke away for a second to turn it off before immediately resuming your position. He wasn’t even gone long enough for you to notice he took his mind off you for a second. 

His hands moved behind your back and lower, cupping your butt to hold you to him. He pulled you off the counter, your feet hitting the ground. His kiss broke, and he grabbed your hand, pulling you to the leather couch next to the kitchen. You both sat down before he asked, “Is this okay?” 

You nodded and agreed, “Yes.” Using one of your hands, you began to untuck your sweater from your pants, intent on taking it off for him. 

He watched you intently, hands coming out like he wanted to help such a simple action. Once it was over your head, you could see his eyes wander the expanse of your chest, skin raised and chilled from the air. Taking his hand, you leaned back into the couch and brought him with you. 

“You’re so surprising,” he stated, pushing your hair back from your face, a knee settling between your legs. His eyes studied your face for emotions. 

Flashing him what you thought was your best smile, you shifted up to him. 

He groaned, closing his eyes and following the friction as you lowered back down. “I’ve been waiting for you for six years, Y/N. They were the longest years of my life.”

He brought his lips down to yours and resumed exactly where you’d left off in the kitchen. Only this time, he was more frantic with the kisses. You felt his teeth graze your lips, tongue testing your mouth. You sucked, wanting him to continue anything, everything, that he was doing. Your hands found his waist and travelled up his shirt, feeling the tight muscles he’d gained from all his dancing and exercise. 

You ground up into him and pushed the shirt up to his shoulders. He broke this kiss only briefly to remove the article of clothing. You thought you imagined it when he asked, “will you sing the song?” 

You? He wanted you to sing the song. Fuck that, you wanted him to sing it…exactly how you’d pictured him so many times before. 

But you did as he’d asked, unable to deny his request. You sang it softly as he watched you intently. You whispered the lyrics as you held his gaze. A hand went behind you, unclasping your bra. As you continued, his lips placed a single kiss to yours before a kiss to your chin, your jaw, your neck and down your chest. You could barely remember the lyrics now, distracted by how good it felt. 

He popped the button of your pants, unzipping them as he kissed your breasts and then your ribs. You wiggled under him, desperately wanting more. When you were no longer able to continue singing, he took over where you left off…he was driving you absolutely crazy. 

It was even better than you’d imagined. His nose tickled your belly button as his words vibrated through your stomach. You lifted your butt, so he could pull your pants down. Your panties were an annoyingly thin material separating you from his hot breath. He teased you with the song, and you couldn’t hold in your groan of frustration. 

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he pressed, mouth moving slowly back up towards your lips, dragging his lips up your skin. 

“I want to switch positions,” you breathed. The lyrics flashing through your mind again. You pushed him back, so he was laying on his back with you on top now. You kicked your pants the rest of the way off before running your hands over his chest. His muscles convulsed under your touch, gaining a smirk from you. “Is this okay?” You asked, repeating the question he had posed earlier. 

“Absolutely,” he answered, watching your face for any kind of change. You relaxed, straddling one of his thighs as you undid his pants, lifting your body to get rid of the material. “What are you going to do?”

You moved against his thigh, which he tense when he realized your intentions with it. You braced your weight with palms flat on his torso for only a second. You resisted the urge to close your eyes, instead opting to watch him watch you. His adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting as he lifted his leg to make it easier for you. 

The new angle took your breath away. This would be enough for you to get off, but you wouldn’t be selfish. While you slowed your pace a fraction, you moved one of your hands from holding yourself up to cupping him through his underwear. His head dug back into the couch pillow, breathing jagged. 

You began to move your hand through the material, palming him to the best of your ability while maintaining an adequate speed for yourself. His hips lifted involuntarily up to you. He clearly wanted more but was keeping that to himself, so you brought his attention back to you by asking, “Should I continue?”

His head quickly nodded, hands coming down to the side of his underwear to remove the last piece of clothing he had left. Once it was gone, you leaned down to his face, kissing him hard. Your nipples grazed the hot skin of his chest as you squeezed your thighs around the leg that you’d been riding. It was your turn to explore his body with kisses. You kissed his nose, his eyes, his ears, before grazing your teeth across his jaw and then collarbone. He was harder than he’d been a moment ago, fuelling your ego. You knew you were made for him, and he was made for you. 

You took him in your hand, stroking him a few times before darting your tongue out testingly. “You don’t have to do that,” he struggled, watching you intently. 

“I want to,” you told him, slowly lowering your mouth around him. You felt his body tremble as you began to move. One of his hands pushed your hair back from your face as the other clutched yours that was holding you up on the side of the couch. 

You didn’t have to suck and move for long before he pushed you up and off of him. “You need to stop,” he whined, pulling you up to his face again. You were laying on his chest, waiting for him to continue. “It will be over right now,” he explained, almost looking shy. 

You cracked a smile and pecked his lips once before he stated, “Let me touch you.”

You nodded fervently, not embarrassed at all by your eagerness. He shifted you again, so he was back on top, fingers not wasting any time in sneaking into your panties, pulling them down. He barely teased you before a finger entered. You were already so wet that you were asking him for more right after he began. 

He leaned down, mouth enveloping one of your breasts, sucking and pulling at the nipple with his tongue and teeth. He felt amazing. “Another one,” you pleaded, pushing yourself up and into him. It wasn't enough. The itch was getting worse. He responded without hesitation, another finger entering you. 

Yet it still wasn’t enough.

You grabbed a bicep and pulled him up again, waists almost aligned now. You winced, almost in pain, as his tip brushed over the very spot his fingers had just been occupying. “I want more. We need to do this right now.”

“Already?” He asked, a slight quirk to his mouth. Already? Hadn’t they been playing around long enough?

“Yes. Now…Do you have anything?” 

For a moment, you could hear a pin drop in the silence, but he nodded. “In my wallet in my back pocket.”

“Do you often…” You started, almost not wanting him to respond. 

“No, never. I was just hopeful,” he sheepishly answered, eyes trying to locate his pants. He got off you for a minute to find the condom. It was agonizing, waiting for him to get ready. 

You were relieved by his statement. The thought of someone else getting to experience this with him put a sour taste in your mouth. Finally, he found the condom, fumbling with the package. 

He was nervous. So were you. 

To try to ease his nerves, you shifted to a sitting position, placing a small kiss to his shoulder. He relaxed slightly, hands no longer shaking. You watched him put the condom on, finding the action interesting. One day you’d want to watch him please himself, that was for sure.

When he was ready, his fingers found your entrance once again to test to see if you were still ready for him. Nothing had changed. You were still (im)patiently waiting for him. His eyes drooped closed when he realized how much you both wanted this. 

“You’re sure you want this? I mean we just met…” He hesitantly asked, causing your heart to flutter. He was considerate.

“If you are not inside me in the next five seconds, I am going t–” Your words were interrupted by a hard kiss. Your hand went to where you would connect. He was positioning himself, waiting. You moved up, forcing him to start. 

His open mouth rested on yours, not kissing you, just breathing you in. The feeling was new and exciting, both of you wanting to please the other. 

“Let me back on top,” you requested, pushing him back. 

“Again?” He asked, but immediately listened to you, letting you take control by leaning back. 

You lowered onto him, putting one of your feet on the ground beside the couch to use as leverage. “Oh, my god,” your head fell back. 

“Oh, my god,” he repeated your words back to you, hands finding your hips and moving up your ribs. “I can’t believe I finally found you...” 

Jongin’s phone started ringing from his pocket. The ringer seemed deafening to the situation. He ignored it, trying to maintain the pace. It stopped ringing after a few seconds. But not a moment later, whoever was calling tried again. 

Frustrated, you got off him and grabbed the phone, looking at the caller. 

Taemin, it read. 

“Who’s Taemin?” You asked, sitting back on top of him.

He swallowed, you assumed he was trying to keep his composure. “A friend of mine.”

You smirked, not knowing where this calmness and confidence came from. You swiped, picking up the call, “Hello~, Jongin’s phone.”

“H-hey?” The confusion evident in his voice. “Who…”

“We’re a little busy right now, Taemin, can Jongin call you back later?” You asked, shifting on him, your breath hitching, causing him to flinch. 

“Can you just put him on the phone? This is important.” You had planned on hanging up right after you asked him to call you back, but you decided against it, giving the phone to Jongin. 

He looked like he didn’t want it, shaking his head, but you put the phone right to his ear. “Hey,” he sounded annoyed with his friend. 

You could no longer hear what the conversation was about, but from the looks of it, Jongin was only mildly interested, even though it could have been important. 

You began to move again, grinding down onto him. You didn’t want to wait for him to hang up the phone. You wanted him right now. You leaned toward him, kissing his neck. You brought your mouth to his ear that didn’t have a phone pressed against it and whispered, “Isn’t this fun? What’s so important that you can’t have all your attention on me?” Your teeth grazed his earlobe, waiting for him to react. When he shifted under you and made a whine of approval, you smiled against his ear. “Does Taemin know about me?”

“I bet he does now,” he answered, sounding completely distracted. You increased your speed, feeling that you could finish any second now. When you accidentally moaned from hitting the perfect spot, the trance he’d been in broke. “Hey, I’ll call you back…” he dropped the phone, looking you in the eye. “That was not nice…”

“It wasn’t?” His hands held you to him impossibly hard, thrusting up to finish you both off. 

He came first, unsurprisingly. He was beautiful in his orgasm, a bead of sweat falling down the side of his forehead as he looked at you. You continued to move with him, bringing your hand to your clit to help yourself along. He watched, almost as if taking notes on what to do in the future. 

In a moment, you were also done, taking a well-needed break on his chest. 

“You are so interesting,” he commented again, drawing circles on your back. 

“Thank you,” you replied as you pressed a small kiss to his chest. “That was awesome. Way better than I imagined.”

“Same. I could have done without Taemin being there though.” His chest rumbled with his words and a laugh that followed them. “Come on,” he sat up, bringing you up with him, “let’s go eat. The food’s probably getting cold.”

• • • • • •

Later that night, after you’d eaten dinner, you were laying on his bed, just looking at one another. You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of looking at him. 

“So what did Taemin want, really?” You asked, legs tangling with his. 

He closed his eyes and said, “He was explaining a new song he was learning.”

“You haven’t called him back yet,” you commented, a finger tracing over his eyebrows and nose. 

“I’d rather spend time with you,” Jongin admitted. “It’s not every day that you find a soulmate that you’ve been waiting six years for. We have so much to catch up on.”

“We have the rest of our lives,” you assured him, cuddling into his chest and closing your eyes. You were right. You did have the rest of your lives. 

Thinking back to when you were fourteen, the thought of having one person you were destined for made a lot more sense than it did then.

• • • • • •

“as i said, be by her side and support her. spend time together, and don’t bring topic about kid. you should find solution, and accept somehow that your dream is kind of impossible. i don’t know how to say it otherwise, but it’s just reality mr. kim. if you want, you can adopt a kid, but it’s up to you.” he nodded. “also, a lot of people choose dog or cat as their ‘kid’, and take care of it.”

“of course. i’ll think about it. i think i am going to see my wife now. good bye.”

 to say you were sad isn’t enough. you were crying whole night, because of what happend day ago. jongin was laying down with you on yours bed. everything was fine, you were talking about names for your child and room, you were slowly getting preaperd. it was bubble, and a lot of laughters as suddenly you felt incedrible pain down your stomach. jongin was panicking, because he didn’t know what’s happening, untill he saw a stains of blood on the sheets. 

“oh fuck, y/n. you are bleading! fuck, i am callin 119.”

“don’t tell me what i think it is.” you were crying.

“relax honey, it’s fine.”

 that’s how you end up here. doctor who was focusing on you, told you everyting why your body couldn’t handle a child inside. you were in 4th month, and everything went well. 

 a week later

“jongin, i am sorry.” you were sitting with your husband on a seat on breanch in park. “i know how it was important for us. i am sorry that i can’t give you a child we both want, and i -”

“y/n, stop. don’t you ever fuckin apologize about it.” he holds you tighter. “it’s none of your or mine fault. things like this happens all the time, and you shouldn’t be sorry. maybe it’s a sign from universe? maybe we don’t need a child.”

“but we wanted it, and-”

“i know darling, but it’s not meant for us. maybe we should get a dog instead? i am sure we’ll be both super pet parents.”

“dog sounds cool.”

“of course, so are we going now?”

“what?”

 you were looking surprised at your husband, who were widely smiling.

“i mean why not? we need to get our minds of some things, and focus on parenting our dog.”

“you are weird.” you smiled softly. “but we should go.”

“exactly. i don’t want to see you sad again, we are here to make good and happy memories! let’s get a dog!” he shouted, which you laugh at.

 jonging stands up, and kiss you slowly. you felt butterflies down your stomach. you were happy and thankfull for jongin’s support. he does his best to make you feel happy, and good. he really shows how much he loves you during this ard times.

“if you say so. i want akita tho.”

You started as two youngsters, dancing ballet in a small academy before the Moulin Rouge found you and brought you onto its wooden stage. Over the years you learned what it was like to have hundreds of eyes on you, and what the warm silky light of the stage felt like against your skin. In the golden glow, covered in sweat, with all eyes on you, you and Jongin fell in love.

Love had happened slowly, walked towards you in small steps. Slowly, leading eyes that followed you during rehearsals turned into lingering touches. The more you danced, the more his hands wondered, the closer your bodies pressed and the more your forms moulded to accommodate the other. Late-night practices meant late-night talks, and with adolescence came stolen kisses and holding hands in secret from the older girls.

With adulthood, the stolen kisses and wandering hands at practice became a burning romance that left both of you warm and passionate. Youth had seen you blossom, and now you were a flower, dancing with the sun in human form, for the fact that Jongin was golden.

In the backrooms of the establishment surrounded by candlelight, you dance your heart out to the music coming out the gramophone in the corner of the room. Your feet were sore from practising in your heels, and Jongin wipes sweat from his forehead. The summer had been particularly hot this year, and even dancing without a shirt had Jongin covered in sweat.

In the candlelight, his skin had assumed an even more decadent shade of gold and his dark hair stuck to his forehead in black streaks.

“It’s late, the sun will rise before we get home if we don’t leave now. I’m sure we can practice more in the morning.” You pleaded with him as he walked over to the gramophone, ready to put the record back at the start.

“Are you tired?” He asked, his velvety voice floated through the room, accompanied by the fragrant summer air.

“Is it not obvious?” You asked, smiling lightly when he looked at you, his deep brown eyes finding your own, and their intensity held you in place, waiting for whatever he would do next.

“I suppose, we can go home.” He allowed, letting you pick up his discarded shirt off the floor and dress him with tired hands.

Your home was just beyond Montmartre, at the edge of the next neighbourhood. You lived on the top floor of a three-storey building with two rooms, but it was yours, and it was enough.

You walked through Montmartre in the dark, your hand clasped in Jongin’s much larger one, as he pressed you closer to his side. The walk home was silent and peaceful as the both of you walked on tired feet, watching the night with blurry eyes. Jongin would have sworn he could still hear the echoes of the gramophone in his ears, playing the familiar melodies of foxtrot and Charleston that would entertain the patrons of Moulin Rouge for the next two weeks.

Once you were home, you had fallen into bed without a care in the world. The sheets were soft against your skin, and the night air cooled the room as it breezed through the open window, sending the white lace curtains dancing to imaginary music.

Soon Jongin had joined you, slipping under the covers in his pyjama bottoms. He pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his chest. His thumb traced soft patterns against your shoulder, and you could feel his warm breath fanning your hair as he settled into the night.

“Sleep well, mon chérie.” You muttered, letting your eyes fall closed. My love, you call him, because he is.

“Good night, ma jolie fleur.” He responded, his deep voice vibrating in your ears like a soft purr. My lovely flower, he calls you, and he wonders is you know just how much those words mean to him. In the grips of sleep, right between dream and reality, you could have sworn he pressed a kiss to your forehead before falling asleep, sending your heart fluttering. You slept like that, warm in each other’s embrace.

-------------

Loving you was easy. It came to him as naturally as breathing. It had become second nature to his body, just as dancing had. Loving you was easy, and Jongin liked it that way. He never understood why anyone makes their life harder by loving someone difficult to be with. Maybe it was the chase after the forbidden fruit, the sweetness of fruit one assumed to be beyond ones reach. Maybe it was fate, and he never really had any say in who his heart loved. All those things seemed plausible. But all of them made life more complicated, made love more complicated, and Jongin didn’t need it to be complicated.

The sun shone through your bedroom windows, warming your back, and you felt the weight of Jongin’s arm draped over your waist. The morning had come too soon, and you wished it was still dark outside so that you could sleep a little longer in his embrace.

You turned in his arms to face him, your fingers stroking through his hair, pushing the dark strands away from his face as he breathed slowly, still fast asleep.

His love was easy; he loved you.

There was nothing more to that. You shared everything, lived your lives beside each other and loved simply.

Your ministrations woke him up, and when you retracted your hands to stop stroking his hair he groaned in protest, pulling you closer to him.

“Five more minutes.” His deep voice vibrated against your ears, and you laughed, returning to combing your fingers through his thick hair.

Sometimes he wondered whether what you had was not simple at all, but he had made it simple because yours was the only love he ever knew, and the only love he ever needed. Maybe that was what made it easy. Perhaps, somehow, love was never easy. Perhaps it was the hardest thing he has ever done.

Jongin wouldn’t know. You loved him, and that was easy enough.

He found no reason to torture himself with what-ifs and possibilities that never happened.

Finally, when he had enough he let you go, allowing both of you to begin the usual morning routine. Breakfast consisted of tea and baguette with butter and jam. He had eaten his breakfast in silence, sipping on the hot earl grey tea as the grogginess of the morning left him. This early in the day, his dark large eyes were puffy with sleep, and despite being combed, dark brown locks fell in front of his eyes.

“We need to stop by the market today.” He commented, watching as you sipped on your tea in silence. You hummed your approval, taking a bite out of your piece of bread. Jongin smiled, watching you as the sun fell on your face, giving your features a newfound softness.

-------------

Today, Jongin had been told you couldn’t use the practice rooms since the other dancers have put themselves on the schedule before you. Instead of waiting about for them to be done, you wondered off with him to the market.

Your shopping list was long, and you doubted if you could carry all of it today.

The stalls selling vegetables were your first target. On the bust street, you and Jongin blended in with the crowd as you strolled casually among the buyers and sellers crowding both sides of the alley.

You walked up to a large stall, covered completely in wooden crates of fresh produce, eyes scanning the rainbow of seasonal fruit and vegetables.

“What can I get you, mademoiselle?” The man running the stall asked he looked to be about your age. You watched as his eyes trailed after you before he averted his gaze. You felt Jongin’s hand wrap around the curve of your hip.

“May I get half a kilo of white transparent apples, three leeks and three courgettes?” You asked, unfazed by the slight scowl he sent Jongin’s way.

“Certainly.” He nodded, before picking up the vegetables and handing them to you to put in your basket.

“Jongin, do you want anything?” You turned to ask, craning your neck to see him. Bright sunlight gleamed off of his soft honeyed skin, and his dark eyes looked straight at the man selling you veg.

“Five red onions.” He said, smiling politely, although you noticed it never reached his eyes. There was no creasing at the corners.

“Here.” He handed you a bundle, tied together with string, before requesting the due amount.

“Are we having just soups?” Jongin asked, looking over at the ingredients in the basket. You could make soupe à l’oignon and pistou, and that would do for the next six days. Apart from the oats and apricot compote for breakfast, you would have to do with light lunches of quiche Lorraine and salad.

“What else would you like?” You asked, walking through the market, looking over the various stalls. Some sold cheese, others honey and even more sold vegetables and even bread.

“A chicken?” He asked, his eyes focused at the street at the end of the market, where the shops were. The butchers looked rather busy, with people queuing outside, and you had decided that you could afford it. Moulin Rouge would give you this month’s salary by the end of the week, after your next performance, and because it was summer, your salary had increased along with the amount of attending patrons.

“I’ll go to the butchers, hold these.” You stated, handing him the wicker basket filled with vegetables and fruit.

“Get potatoes and carrots.” You asked, pointing over at the stall beside you, manned by an older woman with greying hair, who even in the summer, was currently wearing a shawl to shield herself from the chill that came with age.

“Anything else?” He asked, one arm still wrapped around your hip.

“Can you carry anything else?” You laughed, waiting for a response that never came. A laugh bubbled out of your chest when you saw the dejected expression marring his sharp features. His brows were furrowed, and his plush lips were now pulled into a small pout, and you knew he didn’t want to part from you.

“I’ll wait for you outside the butchers.” He told you, finally letting you go, handing you silver coins from his pocket.

-------------

Loving Jongin was easy. Love came as naturally as breathing, as effortless as dancing to the tunes of the gramophone in stuffy backrooms of Moulin Rouge.

It was the only love you had ever known.

Now, you stood with him, hands clasped together in the dim light of the backstage as you waited your turn on the wooden floor, waiting for the cancan girls to finish their main act, their black and white dresses flying into the air, the ruffled providing them with incredible volume.

Your dress was simpler, a jade green, straight cut ensemble with beading around the neckline and down to the bottom. It reminded you of peacock feathers, and as the dress reached below your lip line, it split into three layers, the second layer was a light sage green, and the third was the same jade shade as the rest. The embroidery on the hems was beautiful and delicate, and you could tell it was Manon’s handiwork. The seamstress had made all of your outfits since she became Monsieur Baekhyun’s lover. Jongin’s suit was an identical green shade, with white lining on the inner edges and lining the pockets.  His hair was parted to the side and swept-back, a few loose strands curled over his forehead. He looked breath-taking.

Cheers rang through the establishment, and the cancan dancers gave their last bow, before disappearing through the opposite end of the stage.

It was your time.

Bathed in the silky spotlight, you entered in step with Jongin, smiling brightly, before he pulled your hand, twirling you towards him, and as your body pressed into his, the music began playing, and the crowd erupted in polite clapping.

You spun around the stage, pulling each other every which way, dancing to the tune of the Charleston. Your legs performed the complicated step routine without having to think, muscle memory acting on its own. The whole time you stared into Jongin’s eyes. His gaze, which had been soft and affectionate backstage was now smouldering, setting you on fire where he touched you. When the melody changed from Charleston to foxtrot, it was with natural grace and practised finesse that you assumed your new positions. Not a single breath out of time. That was the level of skill Jongin had always expected of himself, as his partner, of you as well.

It was easy to love him when he looked only at you under the golden light, his gaze flickering every once in a while to the audience to send a practised smile their way. It was a privilege to love him, when he spun you around, pressed you close to his body so that you could feel the pumping of blood rushing through his heart.

When the melody ended, and the hall fell into silence, the only sound you could hear was your heavy breath, and your blood rushing through your ears.

The split second of ringing silence was Jongin’s own paradise. It was heaven where only you existed, only you and the stage upon which he could dance, spin you around, and be spun.  It was a small piece of heaven, bathed in golden light and tasting like sweat and effort. Heaven belonged to him.

And then, it was over and the polite cheers brought him back to reality and off the stage.

“You have to change.”

“Your second set is waltz and tango in about fifteen minutes, Hurry.” One of the seamstress girls watching over the costumes ushered you both into an empty practice room before her friend handed you your next costumes.

This time your dress was white, the delicate lace layers covered the skirt, with white faux pearls stitched into the cream embroidery around the neckline. Jongin was handed a pair of black dress pants and a white shirt with ribbon ties at the cuffs.

“Don’t button it all the way. Leave a few undone.” One of the younger seamstresses giggled, before walking out of the room.

You laughed once she was gone and proceeded to take your jade green dress off, draping the beautiful garment over a chair.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Jongin did the same, taking off his green trousers, putting on the black slacks and suspenders.

Once you were done, you watched as Jongin buttoned his white shirt completely.

“Leave a few undone.” You chastised, walking over to pull a few buttons free.

Without warning, Jongin swooped down, his warm lips pressing into yours, and you could feel his hands coming to grip your hips, as his mouth moved in sync with yours.

“Do you have your red lipstick?” He asked, breaking away from you, his eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Yes, why?” Your brows furrowed, and you looked up to search his face, shadows dancing over his sharp features as gas lamps burned in the corners of the room. His brown eyes reflected the yellow light, turning bronze when he looked down at you.

“I was thinking, we could tease them a little.” He whispered, leaning towards you to drag his plump lips across your hairline; his touch so gentle it tickled.

“How so?” you whispered, your hands still holding onto his waist. He pressed his lips against yours again.

“A few red stains never hurt anyone.” He smiled, and you laughed at his suggestion. He wanted you to kiss him, leave kiss stains over his body.

“And where would you like them?” You smiled, pulling away to reach for your bag, draped over a chair along with your and Jongin’s clothes. The little black tube was quickly taken from you, and Jongin took it upon himself to glide the red pigment over your lips.

“How about here, and here?” He pulled his shirt away, revealing the smooth golden skin of his collar bones.

“I can do that.” You smiled, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. With a relieved sigh and a small smile blooming on his lips, he pulled you closer to him.

“Thank you.” He whispered once your soft lips pressed against his soft skin, firm against the hard bone beneath it.

“My pleasure.” You whispered, pulling away, letting him kiss your forehead one last time before you left, hand in hand to your next set.

This time as you waited for the dancers in black and white dresses to leave the stage there was no silence lingering between you. The seamstress girls who had been giggling all night and battering their eyelashes in Jongin’s direction were murmuring among themselves, sending angry looks your way. Jongin’s hand was firm against the swell of your hips, his nimble fingers playing with the lace details as he whispered sweet nothing into your ear. You ignored them in favour of listening to the quiet deep timbre of Jongin’s voice,

“I like this dress on you.” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. He could feel you tense against him, your neck craning to take a look at him.

“Why?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“How about I get you your own white dress?” He ignored your question, eyes focusing on the dancers twirling on the stage in the glow of the spotlight.

“And a veil?” He continued, fingers moving to play with the hem of your neckline, gliding over the uneven surface, occasionally falling onto the little faux pearls decorating the dress.

“A veil?” you asked, his other hand wrapping around your abdomen to pull you a little closer to his body as Jongin stood behind you.

“Mhhm.” He hummed.

You could feel the vibration against you, his chest purring like that of a cat as you both watched the performance on stage. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

-------------

Loving you was easy. Jongin had always known that. He had felt reassured in his decision when he caught Byun Baekhyun’s eyes in the audience in the middle of the tango. The older man was smiling, his hands clasped over his lover’s. His love was not easy, with social standing and family in the way, bringing Manon and showing her off in public was risky, but it was a risk he was willing to take when attending Moulin Rouge. The Bastion of Pleasures had one fascinating quality. Its scarlet exterior and bustling interior always felt like freedom. Whether it was Jongin dancing on the stage under the golden stage lights or it was you, with hundreds of eyes following your every move, or even Baekhyun, who could bring his love out among free-spirited Parisians. Moulin Rouge felt like liberation, and that had always made him brave. Looking at Monsieur Byun that night, happy in the seamstress’ arms, made him want to reassure the man. That was why he had smiled, and to his surprise Baekhyun had smiled back, raising his champagne flute in silent thanks. For a moment, he understood the older man, their situations were similar enough; they were both in love with someone society disapproved of.

Now, with the show finished, he was holding your hand again. The summer breeze blowing in the night carried the scent of flowers and the memories of summer nights spent in your arms, and he wanted to live in this moment forever. Warm, fed and in love.

“Did you know Byun Baekhyun is planning on running away with the seamstress?” He asked you, making you turn your attention to him with the sudden question. It has been a running joke they would finally elope, but you had not thought they would do it. Byun Baekhyun was a Joseon man, but unlike Jongin he had parents and an inheritance. His path was set, and you didn’t think he would stray from it.

“And where did you hear that?” You asked, pulling him along towards your home. In the dark, illuminated only by few dim streetlamps, he looked ethereal, and you thanked whoever decided you could love him, for the fact that you would not have to run away just to lay in his arms.

“Kyungsoo works as his accountant, he told me they bought tickets for a ship sailing to French Indochina.”  Jongin looked over at you, eyes scanning your features, softened by the dim light of the streetlamps as you walked home, your shoes clicking against the cobbled stones beneath your feet.

“I’m happy for them. If they succeed and get married, I wish them all the best.” You answered, genuinely happy that they found a solution. You could not imagine what leaving Jongin would be like. It was a possibility too painful to consider.

“What if,” Jongin began, but he cut himself off, not sure if he should ask the question running through his mind.  He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers. His dark eyes, now black like the night, fell onto the cobblestones and his straight brown brows furrowed, creasing his smooth forehead.

“What?” You inquired, linking your arm through his to match his step. For a few paces, he stayed silent, basking in the warmth of your body beside him, scared of rejection. You watched from the corner of your eye as he chewed on his lips turning them red.

“What if we get married? Nothing is stopping us. We don’t have parents deciding our future, and everyone already knows we are lovers.” He asked finally, his feel stopping, making you halt alongside him. You turned to face him, catching his nervous gaze, and holding it as silence rang through your ears.

“We could get married.” You took his hand, threading your fingers through his.

You loved him. You had always loved him, and you were sure you would always love him because despite life being hard, despite the world making living difficult, loving him was easy.

“I would like that.” You told him. A smile graced your red-painted lips and you could hear your pulse in your ears as your heart beat against the rungs of your ribcage as the bones held it hostage.

“Really?” He asked, disbelief at how easy it was painting his face. His features softened when he looked at you as he let go of your hand, choosing instead to cradle your face.

“Of course. I love you, mon chérie.” You whispered, your lips brushing against his, sending a familiar tickle down his spine.

“I love you too, ma jolie fleur.” He whispered back, his lips pressing against yours firmly. You moved in sync in the darkness, the fragrant summer air filled your lungs, and you kissed the way you danced, passionately until there was no more air in your lungs and you didn’t know where one ended and the other begun.

Loving was as easy as breathing, an effortless dance you had practised over and over until your bones ached.

“I guess…”her mouth dropped open, the playful disappointment in her gaze and pinching fingers spread  warmth through your skin.

“What do you mean I guess?! Today is the day we will make Amortentia…”her robe arm brushed against your wrist, slinent glances being sent to your friend.”Oh...What I would do to have Taehyung smell something from me..”

Jieun had a huge crush on a classmate of yours, the tall boy the embodiment of a lion, with his luscious locks and tall frame. It was just that she wasn't the only one, having the whole school after him in a sense. 

You, however, didn't really have your eyes on him. 

“Hmm, I’m sure whoever it smells like will be happy..”Jieun sent you a glance right as you passed a side corridor.

And there he was, yellow and black tie loosely tied, white button down shirt making him look even more sunkissed. Maybe you wished he would smell something which was yours.

-

“Sit down sit down..”Mr Slughorn muttered out to the loud classroom, students chatter echoing like thunder through the stone walls.”I know you all are excited but please behave..”

Jieun was vibrating in her seat, seeding a million glances to Taehyung who sat closer to the front, his hair golden, but you just watched the cauldron before your hands, a weird feeling spreading through your body. You never noticed the eyes on your back, how someone’s cheeks were slowly turning red with the thought of what would be in his potion, the destruction of his secrets. 

“Do you think it will me? I hope it’s me..”looking at Jieun, you wondered how no one could not like her and her blessed life. She was like her mother had been in her days, so beautiful yet carrying a heart of gold. 

“I’ll hold my thumbs for you..”a light smile came to your lips, fingers starting to feel clammy when  Mr Slughorn started speaking again.

   “So class..”the room was so quiet, a needle could be heard when it dropped, but you felt the energy, the vibration in everyone around you. It was almost like the mother pearl sheened liquid had gone into their veins.”Take a sniff of your creations..”

Jieun brought her face close to the cauldron, her eyes expecting. In her head, the scent would be of the sunny outside during a quidditch match. That was what reminded her of Taehyung, sunny lands filled with cheers and candies, but to her dismay, the only thing she got was the damp forest by her house. 

“What’s wrong?”your question made her  jerk back, disbelief clear in her gaze which slowly fell on Taehyung. 

“I’m not getting him…”Jieun stood up and in the midst of all the happy students, was she unnoticed by Mr Slughorn. 

With quick steps, she was out of the classroom and you were on her tail, head filled with questions. You didn't notice the honey glazed orbs following you or the warm cheeks he adored. 

Jongin swallowed quietly, his gaze snapping back to his own potion when the door slammed after you. He felt nervous and uneasy knowing his friends would ask what he smelled. Baekhyun had already pushed Sehun to tell what he got, the slytherin scribbling down the scent of an old library with a frown on his lips. According to Baekhyun there were too many book worms in Hogwarts so they would never know who that was but Jongin had a feeling Sehun knew exactly who it was, just like himself.

Jongin knew that the salty sea was you, the memory fresh in his mind. He saw you on the beach the summer leading to your second year and couldn't forget about you since then. You lived by the sea so the saltiness never really left you, it was like it clininged to your clothes or hair, made you feel like freedom to him.

“What did you get Jongin?”Baekhyun’s eyes shimmered, the boy having set on a mission to find everyone’s crush, since he was so happy with his own. The scent of the tree he saw you under, a soft aroma close to newly bloomed clover, was no surprise to him.

“Uhm….Honey from home…”bringing his face to the cauldron, Jongin took a deep breath.”...a sweets shop my cousins and I used to wistit we we were young…”

Opening his eyes, he just started into the shining liquid. The sea was overpowering in his potion.

“And the sea…”Sehun glanced at Jongin, remembering the bright blue water and how someone was dressed in its color. 

“Don't Y/n live by the sea?”

-

“Jieun please tell me what’s wrong, I’m worried..”two days had gone by since the potion making class and she just laid in bed, staring at the wall. You hadn't been able to focus on school and it made your stress even worse. 

“I didn't get him…”and you didn't understand why that was such a disaster. Amortentia didn't lie and Jieun was good with potions so she should have made it correctly. 

“So there’s someone else you like more? That’s not so bad, right Jieun?”sitting up, the blanket slipped down her shoulders, pooling by her stomach. Her eyes were hard like you had never seen before, mad even. 

“But it is! I got the stupid forest from home and that can only mean one thing!”your orbs widened, remembering the story she told you once, about the boy she ran into playing with leaves under an oak. Her mother said she should be nice but Jieun thought he was creepy.”How can I like someone so disgusting?! He’s a freak!”

“He’s not that bad..I’ve heard he's very nice..”but her eyes told you it didn't matter because it didn't line up with her perfect picture of her life, a picture she had made with Taehyung and no one else.

With a sigh, she fell back onto the mattress, arm laying across her face.

“I still don't like it…”peeking out from her hiding, Jieun muttered her next words lowly.”..Oh, I never asked what you got..”

Heat instantly formed over your cheeks, your robe suddenly feeling way too warm. You hoped she would forget about it but with her memory, you guessed it was like praying Weaslys wouldn't joke around. 

“A-ah...nothing special I guess..”twirling your thumbs, your eyes falling to the blue velvet curtains.”Home and the astronomy tower...and honeycombs..”

“Wow..It seems like the world is not with us...Both falling for hufflepuffs..”Jieun shook her head and you were now burning with embarrassment.”Why are you blushing so hard? You thought I wouldn't know who it is?”

A small laugh left her lips, blonde hair falling in waves around her. 

“Y/n Y/n..there’s one boy in school who I basically associate with honey and so does everyone else….”she smirked before she sighed.” I guess Jongin is cute.”

-

Baekhyun looked at you, outright stared at you sitting with your books. Ever since Sehun said your name, it had been his mission to learn about you but he never really understood Ravenclaws. Both Minseok and Kyungsoo were a mystery to him, all their brain and high marks. 

“I never thought you would fall for her…”Jongin frowned, his blush permanent now.”It’s not a bad thing but she had never even looked your way..ow!”

Kyungsoo’s hand twitched slightly while Baekhyun rubbed the back of his head in pain. The Ravenclaw had enough of his friend’s none extsing stop button.

“Don't say that Baekhyun..it’s mean, even I know that..”sitting down by Jongin, Kyungsoo smiled like he always does, lipped and small.”Besides, she studies hard and looks at him when she forgets herself..”

“She looks at me?!”Jongin’s voice was too loud, earning him some disapproving gazes and

 some angry mumbles.”..Sorry..”

The attention looming over him was fastly stolen by Baekhyun’s booming laugh, a sound so high even you looked from your books. Kyungsoo hissed at the older but all Jongin could do was watch you watch him, eyes like the wide open land or maybe sky. He blushed and oh Merlin...when your gaze found his...If Jongin could sink through the ground, he would, but stone was not something he could do that to. So he found himself watching you with wide eyes. It was like time stopped, like his breathing became so much more heavy. 

“Go talk to her..”Sehun whispered, pushing his friend to walk while Mrs McGonagall scolded Baekhyun.

You swallowed, back stiff as Jongin started steering towards you, feet feeling heavy with every step. What was he doing? The thought passed both of your brains, disbelief in his and confusion in yours. 

“H-hi...you’re Y/n, right?”great job Jongin...stuttering and all that.”We have some classes together…”

“Ah...and you’re Jongin, right?”at least you knew his name..

Jongin nodded slowly, glancing to the chair in front of you. He didn't understand why he just listened to Sehun and walked up to you when in four years he never had the nerve.

“Can I sit here?”heat spread to your face when you realized you never said it was okay and over the fact that you were just staring at him. 

“Yes, sure..”a sudden yelp in pain dragged your fading gaze to the table Jongin came from.”Is that your friends?”

“..Yeah..”his answer was followed by a slow shake to his head. Baekhyun had always been trouble but he was never mean.”They are nice but special…”

You smiled, glancing back down at your book. What were you supposed to say? You had liked him for a long time and even your heart seemed to know it was him and no one else. Jieun had been right about honey and him, how it was something everyone associated with him.

“So...what did you get?”Jongin stammered softly, fingers pressing against his palm. It wasn't going great for him...not at all actually.”I-I mean what did you smell from the  Amortentia?”

Warm light laid over Jongin, brightened him and his exposed arms. You noticed he had a tendency to roll up the white button up and have the yellow tie slightly crooked. While you wore your robe and had the blue which was contrasting him. 

“I..I got home and the astronomy tower..”Jongin’s face fell because it meant that you were more like Kyungsoo and probably liked him more.”..and honey…”

“Ah..okay well I-”his eyes widened, back straightening while the embarrassed blush turned to a love sick fool's one.”You got honey?!”

Jongin didn't see the roll to Sehun’s eyes when he heared the dumb question, the disbelife in the obsiandian orbs his frined adorde. That poor idot..

“Y-yeah..”the fast lean forward from him made you uneasy.” What did you get?”

Emphasizing the you, eyes just as wide as his, you asked the question back. Nerves crept over your body and the hormones made it hard to decipher the situation. Jongin could think anything and you had no clue where to even begin, this wasn't like a test.

“Umm..honey from home and a sweets shop..”you missed the small diatlines now, something you never do otherwise. His tense shoulders or the never resting gaze, everything was missed by your brain because looking at him was filled with butterflies…”and the sea..”

“Oh..I live by the se-”Jongin’s eyes dropped and your mouth hung open.

“Yeah...oh..”he laughed, scratching his nape. This wasn't how he imagined things would go but since you were still there, since you too smiled softly..he guessed things were going well.

And you? You never really thought he would like you back, the soft boy who looked at life just a bit different from you. Jongin was what you needed in a sense, the calm inside the galactic storm.

“Maybe we are sweet and salty?”his rushing heart calmed down to the fluter of a dancing spring leaves, your words just as soft as your look.

“Maybe we are Y/n..”ignoring  the ever growing smirk on Baekhyun’s lips, Jongin spoke words which made you warm inside.”I’d like to give you some of our honey sometime, okay?”

His hands roamed up and down your sides, enjoying how soft you felt in his grasp as well as the smooth material of your dress. One hand found your rear and gave it an appreciative squeeze, making you sigh in pleasure. Jongin smiled against your mouth.

“We could just stay,” you whispered, lips still grazing against his. You looked up at him and saw the temptation of your words flicker in his eyes. “I’d much rather stay home with you and do much more entertaining things than to go sit at this pointless dinner.”

Jongin shook his head, though you knew just how much he wanted the same as you. He hated these dinners, especially the ones like the one planned for tonight, where he would be dining with another mafia family. And he loathed having to take you, since dinners with other mafias could go so horribly wrong in just a blink of an eye. He didn’t like putting you in any potential danger. “As tempting as that is, we’ve got to go, unfortunately. It’s important we make a good impression. Making a new ally could be beneficial to us.”

You roll your eyes. “New ally? I thought this family was somewhat of a rival to us?”

Jongin hummed, stepping away from you and straightening his suit jacket. “Friends close, enemies closer, I guess.” His phone rang and he retrieved it from his pocket, answering immediately. It was a quick call, and from the way your husband spoke, you guessed it was time to go. He smiled at you after hanging up. “Ready?”

You shrugged. “Does it matter?”

You felt stifled. The atmosphere was so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. No one talked outside of occasional small talk or mafia related matters. And the way they watched you like a hawk while you ate made your heart rate thud erratically. According to the way Jongin had talked about them prior to the dinner, you didn’t put it passed them to compromise the food. You were weary at first, but your husband had assured you it was fine.

Jongin was tense next to you. One quick look at him revealed his apprehension of the situation, his jaw bone locked tight. You reached a hand out to him and rested it on his thigh. He shot you a small smile, though it was only half-hearted. You would’ve said something to him, but a man from the other side of the table interrupted.

“Jongin,” the man said, voice a deep, raspy baritone that made your skin crawl at the sound of it. You couldn’t remember the man’s name, but from what your husband had told you, this man was a higher up in his family. “You didn’t tell me that your wife was so beautiful.” The seedy smile on his face made you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

Jongin’s hand gripped yours under the table protectively. He faked a smile. “Ah, the fact must’ve slipped my mind.”

The man chuckled from across the table, leaning back lazily as his eyes stayed focused on you. You could tell that he was picturing an awful image in his head of you just from the way his gaze travelled over your form. He was not even trying to be discreet. He let out a laugh. “Oh, don’t lie to me. I know you kept her a secret on purpose. You want her all to yourself, which I can understand. A pretty thing like that must get all sorts of attention. You can’t be too careful.”

You could’ve laughed at the double standard in his words. But you instead leaned closer to your husband to try and hide yourself as much as possible.

Jongin was at your side throughout the night’s event. After dinner, everyone mingled, danced, and drank. The atmosphere was slightly more lighthearted than before, but that was only because of the alcohol making everyone lose bits of their inhibitions. Jongin had a glass in his hand for show, but refused to let his guard down. A protective arm was around your waist.

“How much longer?” You asked quietly, eyes looking around.

“Just a bit longer, baby,” Jongin stroked your hip with the hand that was holding you. “Trust me, the second I can get you out of here and away from all these pigs, I will.”

By pigs he meant all the men from the other mafia family who weren’t shy about showing their attraction towards you, their gazes burning holes into your skin at every moment. Jongin was growing more and more angry by the second. “Hopefully that moment comes soon.”

Things took a turn for the worse when Jongin was pulled away from you to address some important matters. You were left alone in the sea of people, feeling vulnerable without your husband’s protecting presence. You stayed rooted to your spot near the table with all the refreshments after you deemed that place was the safest. You could see a lot of the room from there, your eyes on the lookout for anyone who seemed like they wanted to cause trouble.

You smiled politely as people passed you by. You felt brief relief any time someone from your own group walked by. They acknowledged you with respect. Being Jongin’s wife, you were held with esteem. Jongin was high up his family’s mafia operations and was soon to take it over. Being married to him meant that you were to be respected and well taken care of as well as protected.

You were fine standing there on your own until you felt a presence behind you and a hand on your hip. You knew instantly it wasn’t Jongin, the smell of alcohol wafting to your nose and making you freeze.

“Seems Jongin has let his guard down. Can’t believe he’d let his pretty wife stand all by her lonesome like this,” the man said and your heart stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. It was that man from earlier, the one who spent the duration of the dinner undressing you with his eyes.

You gulped, starting to step out of his hold but to no avail as his grip tightened. “M-my husband will be back soon,” you spoke, trying to sound confident, but failing miserably. You knew Jongin would come back, but exactly when he’d return was unknown. He had already been gone far longer than expected.

The man cackled as his hand started to roam. You squirmed and tried to push at his hand, but he didn’t let up. “He’ll learn not to leave his toys unattended. You know what they say, finders keepers.” His mouth was at your ear and you tried desperately to get away, but the man even in his drunken stupor was stronger than you.

Everything in the next moment happened so fast you almost didn’t register that the man was quite literally jerked away from you and thrown to the floor, the yells of everyone around you echoing. You swiveled around in shock only to see your aggressor on the floor, your husband standing over him with his gun poised and ready. You felt relief wash over your being at the sight of Jongin.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” Jongin growled through his teeth as his foot came in contact with the man’s side, his whole countenance seething anger. “Thinking you can put your nasty hands on my wife. You’ll pay for that.”

Jongin was set to pull the trigger, but the sound of another gun firing caused chaos to break loose. It was madness as you and many other people ducked down as men started firing their guns towards each. You didn’t know what was happening, and for a moment you just stayed still on the floor. You didn’t move until you saw one of your people running to you and ushering you to follow him, which you did without hesitation.

It was a mad dash to the car, the driver taking off instantly the moment you were inside. It only took you a few seconds to register the absence of your husband. “Jongin! Where’s Jongin?!”

The man who helped you escape, Sehun was his name, shook his head. “He’s still back at the enemy’s estate.”

“What? Why would you leave him?” You didn’t mean to sound so accusing, but the rush of worry in your bloodstream was overwhelming.

Sehun sighed, obviously worried as well, though he was trying to hide it through the mask of indifference. “My priority is making sure you got out safe, (Y/n). Jongin will be tailing behind us as soon as possible.”

His words did little to calm your nerves. You sat quietly in your seat the rest of the car ride.

It was a long night spent waiting for Jongin to make it back home. You were ordered to wait in your bedroom, but that was a task that was growing more and more difficult to do. You paced your bedroom floor many times over until there was a knock at your door. You ran to open it.

Sehun appeared at the other side, brows furrowed in a hard line. “Jongin is back,” is all he said to you and from the look on his face, there was something terribly wrong.

You waisted no time in letting him lead you to your husband. Sehun took you to the medical wing of your estate and worry spiked at an all time high. You walked through the double doors and were met with the sight of Jongin sitting up in the bed as nurses tended to the large, gaping wound that adorned his left shoulder. There was blood all over him, and he looked to be in severe pain, but that didn’t stop him from offering you a smile. “Baby.”

At his voice, you rushed to him, practically pushing the nurses to the side despite their protests as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He grimaced when your body collided with his and you pulled back instantly. “Jongin, I’m so sorry.”

Jongin shook his head and smiled, looking up at you with dazed eyes. His arm that wasn’t attacthed to an injured shoulder reached for your hand. “Don’t worry about this, baby.”

You laughed humorlessly. “Don’t worry about it? Jongin you’re hurt! You were shot.”

“And I’d be shot a million over just to keep you safe,” Jongin said resolutely, his eyes serious as they looked into yours. He sighed and leant forward, head resting in your chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. Stupid people and stupid mafia deals—”

You shushed him as your hands raised to run your fingers through his hair. He was hurt, but you were glad that he was safe with you. You weren’t even remotely worried over yourself. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that in the end, you came back for me. And what matters now is that you’re safe.”

“Worrying over me being safe? I thought I was the one who was supposed to worry about you,” Jongin chuckled as he lifted his head to look up at you. “Anyway, I’d ruin a thousand alliance deals just to keep you away from nasty assholes.”

“Ah, so I guess the deal is off, then.”

Jongin smirked. “Yeah, it is. And I think that’s good for us in the long run, to be honest. Now, can you me kiss me? I need a kiss to feel better.”

You hummed in agreement as you leant down to press a soft kiss to his lips. Your husband smiled and kissed you back, loving the way the taste of you always made everything better.

Jongin would be shot many times more, and would even die, just to keep you safe. You were his and his alone. No one could ever take you away.