Archive of Our Own

You hummed quietly in approval as you sipped the tea Madam Bo had set in front of you, warmth seeping into your hands along with the faint floral scent.

“This is really good,” you said, tone relaxed, shoulders finally loose in a way they almost never were outside of closed doors.

Tomás smiled, soft and easy, the kind of smile he only ever wore when it was just the two of you. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching you like this was his favorite part of the day.

Today was simple. No cameras. No managers hovering. No stage lights or choreography drilled into muscle memory. Just you, him, and Madam Bo’s tea that tasted like peace.

“You always look beautiful, lásko moje,” he said after a moment, voice low and gentle.

Heat crept into your cheeks as you set your cup down, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you…” you murmured.

Tomás grinned, leaning forward to take your hand, his fingers warm as his thumb brushed over your knuckles in an absent, affectionate motion.

You smirked. “You know flattery will get you nowhere,” you teased. “We’re already dating. What more could you possibly want?”

He chuckled softly. “If I tell you, I might start sounding like a desperate fan.”

You laughed and, without warning, slipped into your stage persona.

Your posture shifted, expression softening into something sweet and exaggerated. You pouted, eyes wide and sparkling, voice tipping into that practiced, sugary lilt.

“Oh, come on,” you whined cutely. “You’re acting like I’m dangerous. I’m just a lil’ old idol.”

Tomás froze.

His eyes widened instantly, a light pink blooming across his cheeks as he ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the table in front of him.

You giggled, utterly pleased with yourself.

“Did I make your heart go boom-boom?” you teased softly. “Be honest~”

He groaned under his breath, then laughed softly, finally peeking up at you with eyes warm and unmistakably fond.

You smiled sweetly, perking up just enough to send him two finger hearts, punctuated with a playful wink. He pretended to catch them midair and pull them to his chest, grinning when you dropped the act and laughed at him.

“You know,” he murmured after a moment, voice quieter now, “you always look so different here.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “How so?”

“You’re quieter,” he said. “More relaxed. Like your body knows you don’t have to perform for anyone.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “I perform for a living,” you said with a small chuckle. “It’s kind of hard to turn that off.”

Tomás studied you for a second, expression thoughtful, like he was committing the moment to memory. His thumb kept brushing over your knuckles, slow and affectionate, before he lifted your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

“It’s funny,” he added. “On stage, you’re all smiles. Teasing. Those little gestures like you’re daring the whole world to fall in love with you.”

You laughed quietly. “I know. They eat it up like candy.”

“So I’ve seen,” he said, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’ve watched the fancams.”

You blinked. “You watch those?”

He shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. “For… research purposes.”

You laughed, leaning in closer. “Careful, love. You’re starting to sound like a real fan.”

“Since day one,” he murmured, warm and sincere, before pulling you in and kissing you softly.

You stretched your arms above your head, sighing as your joints popped and your muscles tightened before relaxing. The backstage room was buzzing with lights warming up overhead, staff hurrying back and forth, and the muffled roar of your fans chanting your name.

You started your vocal warmups, easing into the familiar rhythm as you continued stretching out your body.

Warm, steady arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against a firm chest.

“Hello, my flame,” Kuai murmured, his voice a soft rumble against your skin as he pressed a light kiss to the side of your neck.

You hummed and rested your hands over his forearms, sinking into the quiet safety of his embrace. “Hello, love. It’s a surprise to see you here,” you said softly, turning in his hold to face him.

His eyes softened the moment they landed on you, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk.

“I wanted to see you before you went on stage,” he replied. “It’s my first time watching you get ready. You look so different like this.”

You raised a brow. “Different how?”

He chuckled lightly. “You’re usually so calm at home, always dressed down and comfortable. Now you look like the bubblegum fairy threw up on you.”

You snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled you closer by the waist. “Not in a bad way. It’s just… different. And it seems to take a lot out of you.”

Your expression softened. “Part of the job, you know? Smile bright, sing cute, pretend everything is rainbows and roses.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, slow and steady, grounding you like always.

“And when you’re done performing,” he murmured, “you come back exhausted. Like the world has taken something from you.”

You blinked, surprised, though you shouldn’t be. He always noticed everything.

“And yet,” he added gently, “you still shine.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “You’re going to make me emotional right before a show, you know that?”

He smiled faintly. “Then I’ll fix it.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead—warm, grounding, and affectionate enough to make your chest ache.

You looked up at him, eyes warm. “You know… if my fans knew you were doing this, they’d be so jealous.”

Kuai grinned down at you. “You can tell them I’m just a lucky fan who won a private meeting with you.”

You laughed softly, only for Kuai to catch your smile and capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Both of you sighed into it, letting the closeness say what words didn’t.

When you parted, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“Go and kill it out there, little flame,” he murmured.

“Just for you, my f/n,” you grinned.

You smiled softly as you wandered through the shop, your hand firmly held in Bi-Han’s as he walked beside you. His grip was steady, eyes narrowed as he glared at everything like he was mentally tearing it apart.

You’d mentioned needing new books and art supplies earlier that morning. When you’d asked if he would come with you, he’d hesitated, taken a slow breath, and begrudgingly agreed to tag along.

“You don’t have to look so miserable,” you teased lightly as you stopped in front of a display of sketchbooks.

“I am surrounded by people,” Bi-Han replied flatly. “I am miserable.”

You snickered, tugging him a little closer as you picked one up and flipped through its blank pages. “You act like this is torture.”

“It is annoying,” he sighed.

You raised a brow at him. “Then why come?”

“You wanted company,” he answered simply.

Your expression softened. You set the sketchbook down and leaned in, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek.

Bi-Han tensed for a split second before relaxing, the furrow in his brow easing just slightly.

“Thank you,” you whispered before pulling away and continuing to browse.

You’d barely moved on to the next aisle when a sudden squeal rang out through the store, followed by a hurried tap on your arm.

You blinked, turning to see a girl clutching her phone tightly, eyes bright and hopeful, barely containing herself.

“H-hi! Oh my god—hi!” she rushed out. “Oh my god, you’re A/N! I love you so much, I can’t believe it’s really you!”

The switch was instant.

Your posture straightened, your smile turning bubbly and bright as you leaned in to give her a gentle hug. “Hi! Oh my gosh, you’re so sweet,” you gushed easily. “I’m so lucky to meet you!”

Bi-Han frowned at her immediately, arms crossing over his chest as his scowl deepened.

You kept up the persona without missing a beat, smiling brightly as you posed for pictures with her, pulling cute faces for the camera and signing whatever she handed you. When she asked to call her mom, you didn’t hesitate, leaning into the screen and apologizing in that sweet, exaggerated tone for bothering her.

Her mother laughed, waving it off, thanking you for making her daughter’s day.

Eventually, the fan said her goodbyes, practically vibrating with excitement. You returned it just as enthusiastically, waving until she disappeared from view.

Then you turned back around.

“I’m sorry about that,” you sighed softly.

Bi-Han shook his head. “It is alright,” he replied, voice gruff, clipped.

You searched his face anyway, guilt lingering even when he avoided your eyes. After a moment, you nodded and quietly started wrapping up the rest of your shopping, moving faster this time, careful not to linger too long in any one place.

Bi-Han stayed close, silent, hand never leaving yours.

On the walk back to the temple, Bi-Han finally pulled you from your thoughts.

“You’re very different,” he said quietly.

You glanced at him, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“The way you acted with her,” he clarified. “You never act that way with anyone.”

“Oh.” You nodded slowly, understanding. “Yeah. That was my idol persona. They know me as bubbly. Cute.” You let out a small chuckle. “That’s who A/N is to them.”

Bi-Han hummed in acknowledgment, falling silent again for a few steps before speaking once more.

“It seems to take a toll on you,” he said carefully.

You smiled at him. “It does. Sometimes. But… I owe it to them, I think.”

He frowned, clearly dissatisfied, opening his mouth to argue, only for you to shake your head gently.

“I mean,” you continued softly, “I owe it to them to be the person they came to love. A/N, not Y/n. And honestly…” You hesitated, then met his eyes. “I think it’s better if they only see that side.”

“Why?” he asked, blunt as ever.

You stopped walking, gently tugging his hand until he turned to face you.

“Because my real self is something I keep hidden,” you said quietly. “Only the people I love get to see her. Only they get to love me for who I really am.”

Your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“Like you,” you whispered.

Bi-Han didn’t respond, simply stared at you.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, the kiss slow and deliberate, stripped of performance or pretense. When he kissed you back, it was just as quiet—protective, grounding, real.

And for once, there was no audience.