#also it was just really fun and interesting to think about

[kianamaiart]

IDWTBAMG CHARACTER FUN FACTS

Well, some fun facts and mostly lore or character relationship stuff. Under the cut!

AIKA

Aika became the next Star Guardian at age 13. She’s 15 now

Aika’s want to help people and relentless positivity were part of the reason she was chosen to be the Star Guardian: Guardian of the Stars in the first place. While her love for the job has fizzled out, this aspect of her character still a core part of her.

She’s very kind and gentle person but that kinda goes out the window when magical duties are brought into the equation

Her and Hoshi care about one another but their relationship is currently a bit tense. They’re usually pretty quick to make jabs at one another

She struggled to get used to the platform shoes in her magical girl outfit

She LOVES food. And her eyes are usually way too big for her stomach leading to many a food coma

Aika and her teammates worked in secret for the most part, not really being allowed to “exist in the real world”. Because of this, with the free time she had, Aika would read a lot (she’s actually very book smart)

Aika loves extreme sports and is an adrenaline junky. However, rollercoasters freak her out for some reason

Aika drags Zira into lots of new eperiences. Zira usually ends up appreciating the experiences after the fact 

Aika’s a morning person

ZIRA

Zira is smart but doesn’t apply herself in school

They have a lot of artistic interests, particularly art, music and fashion

She likes the idea of writing fanfiction in theory but writing’s sooooo much work. Any ideas she has just kinda live in her head, causing her to zone out and daydream a ton

While shy for the most part, Zira can be very blunt and isn’t necessarily a pushover

Prior to Aika, she didn’t have a lot (any) friends at school but she’s mostly content doing her own thing

They’d hang out in Miss’ classroom a lot, either to show her Moon Sailor stuff against her will or just to have lunch

Zira loves playing video games and especially loves visual novels

Zira develops a crush on Aika pretty quickly. Aika’s kindness, authenticity and bravery is inspiring to Zira. Also Aika’s the only other person her age to really give her the time of day. And also she thinks Aika’s pretty

She thinks Hoshi’s really cool and since Aika doesn’t particularly enjoy talking about her job, Zira usually goes to Hoshi for magical girl questions. Initially Hoshi doesn’t trust Zira with that information but is really flattered to have someone who looks up to them and is interested in everything they have to say. So they indulge when appropriate.

Zira’s a night owl

HOSHI

Hoshi saved Aika when she was really young and has kept her safe ever since

Hoshi and Aika started off kind of like siblings but Hoshi then became her boss, making their relationship a bit strained and more complicated

Their role as a magical mascot managerial in nature. They make Aika and her team do their jobs, follow protocol, teach them how to use their powers, keep up morale, do timecards, etc.

While Hoshi oversees this team, their responsibility is primarily to the Star Guardian

Hoshi, much like Aika, used to be really chipper and a bit more goofy but Aika’s kinda worn them down overtime

Hoshi’s not a fan of Earth, but in an effort to better understand Aika’s feelings, tries out being a human and doing Earth activities

Hoshi takes a while to get used to their human form. They’re really clumsy in it

They have a hard time making hands for their human form. Their hands are slightly different every time but equally terrifying. They eventually get better at making them though.

Hoshi doesn't use their human form too much. Most people just assume their Aika's weird pet bird

Hoshi doesn't need to eat but discovers they enjoy the act of eating

ECLIPSE

Eclipse is one of the few humans that know that Aika and the other magical girls exist

He met Aika pretty early on in her magical girl career and he was immediately enamored with her

Since finding about magical girls, he’s obsessively tried keeping track of them, leading him to start acting out in order to get their attention. They only really care because he knows their secret and they play along

He and Devoid made his current outfit together. DeVoid wanted to make it black but Eclipse was set on making it very bright and showy

Eclipse currently resides with DeVoid. He gets on her nerves sometimes but they both do care about each other

Eclipse is a pretty good cook 

Eclipse isn’t particularly hateful but he’s really got beef with Zira for some reason

It’s hard to tell if Eclipse is really in love with Aika or if he just loves the concept of their nonexistent relationship

Eclipse has a lovely singing voice

His real name is Elio

LADY DeVOID

DeVoid was banished to space by a Star Guardian. For a LONG time she lived (unconsciously) as a sort of celestial being that would spit out monsters that the Star Guardians for many generations would have to face. While not ideal it was better than fighting DeVoid before she got to full power.

DeVoid finally wakes up in the present timeline, with no memories other than being banished by a Star Guardian and wanting revenge and knowing that she’s supposed to be able to create monsters. Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t remember how to use her powers. She doesn’t even remember her name, so she came up with “Lady DeVoid”

DeVoid loves human reality TV. Specifically competition shows. She loves how petty and evil people become

Reality TV is where most of her knowledge of humans comes from

Though DeVoid is pretty stoic, her ears are very expressive

DeVoid taught Eclipse how to do his makeup

She really likes Eclipse’s cooking

When she’s out and about she’s usually wearing sunglasses because it’s simply too bright for her

DeVoid does have to work a normal job in the human world and simply goes by “Dee”

People rarely question her appearance (because that’s just rude). But when people do ask what’s up with her horns she just says “it’s a condition” and that’s usually enough for people to just end the convo there.

MISS

Miss loves her job more than anything. She’s a very accomplished teacher and takes a lot of time to make sure all of her students succeed

Miss cares about Zira a lot. Always staying in her classroom just in case Zira wants to stop by for lunch, giving her advice or giving her extra tutoring as needed 

Because of Zira, Miss has become a closet Moon Sailor fan

Though Aika’s just started attending school, she and Miss have bonded quite a bit. Aika’s positive disposition and cheeriness bring Miss a lot of joy

Miss keeps her personal life (not that she really has one) out of work but finds herself opening up a little more than she’d like to Aika and Zira

Miss used to get really antsy during summer breaks, leading her to start teaching summer school to fill the time

Her workaholic nature was the reason for her and her ex-wife’s divorce

Miss has gone on one date since her divorce. The idea of having starting over is exhausting to her so she’s mostly okay just being single

Miss doesn’t really like coffee but she drinks a lot of it out of necessity

Miss has a ton of tattoos

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You mentioned how ace's dream was like a vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas but I think whats the best part about it was how the progression up to that point made sense. Theyve dropped so many moments showing ace caring dearly for yuu to the point where this dream as fanservicey like that it was it feels natural for ace to have such a dream if that makes sense WAAGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

What did you think of the dream though ms raven? The dream made me wail so badly ough hes finally cried too m sure hes been through a lot 🥹 seeing cater talk to ace so sincerly it hits me so hard in the feels im so glad hes finally got to cry (a little anyways)

Ace’s dream felt like fanfiction, but at least it felt natural or like everything up to this point was leading up to this being his wish. I unfortunately cannot say that for several other dreams. Certainly ones definitely felt egregious or contrived. Some were largely fanservice (Savanaclaw Rook, dorm leader Cater, delinquent Deuce) or just excuses to make new cards (merform twins), even if it didn’t make complete sense for the character to wish for it.

dgjswvizjsowk I know you’re probably expecting me to comment on Ace in his own darn dream, but I actually have a lot more to say about Cater. Ace’s motivations + butting heads with the rescue squad were what I expected them to be (though I give him props for being the only character so far to resist waking up right away). More on my precursory thoughts in this post (but based the exact wording of your ask. I’d be tired to guess you’ve already read it 😅)! But CATER????? TELL ME WHY HE WAS THE GOAT THIS UPDATE ����

Cater does SO much???? First he suggests the third years help Trey cook BBQ so the darkness is distracted while the others can isolate Ace and try to wake him. When that attempt fails, Cater pretends to agree with Leona’s proposal to leave Ace behind to bait Deuce to come after him to play as his support. Cater sitting down to have a heart-to-heart convo with Ace??? And then mercilessly using his UM to gang up on Ace and beat him up??? 😭 Him reminding Ace about his courage facing off against OB Riddle… Cater confessing he wanted to run, but being encouraged to join the fight because aaaaah his kouhai looked so cool and dashing!! Thanking Ace??? Finally verbalizing some of his feelings???!?!?!?!???! CATER PULLING ACE OUT OF THE DARK????? MY GOD… OTL ThE biG BRoTHER EnERGGY WaS SO DTRONgGGGGGggGGGGG

And he kept this up even into Trey’s dream???????? Where Cater once again does a TON. He volunteers to investigate since makes the most sense (he is a Heartslabyul student so it’s not shady to be in the dorm and his UM is useful for combat). Cater also the third years with him into the kitchen to have a look around. Him saying he’s impressed with Silver’s will and how he would’ve given up so much sooner if he were him???? Dropping interesting lore about Trey??? Cater admitting that he has always been a spectator and now realizes he should have done more than just watch events unfold???

CATER CONSISTeNTLY puTTING hIMSELF AnD THE THirD YEARS IN hARm’s WAy FiRST… StRAtEGIzING… mAnIPULATING… AND ACTUAL SELF-REFLECTION AnD SINCERiTY????

Cater got to shine SO much this update, especially in Ace’s dream. He really came off like a big brother figure to Ace. A little mean, but also able to be so very vulnerable with him. Him not wanting to give up on Ace even though he later says if he were Silver, he’d have given up on everyone a while ago… MAN. CaTER cARES SO muCHHHHHhhh 😭 This might actually bump him up a little in my tier list… I didn’t like him much before 💦

[eashgirl]

As much as I love DPax and Oplita,Low-key can we talk about these three though? Because tf One gave a lot of potential for StarWaveWave.

It's just simply how they are always together,in every single scene they are present throughout the movie,they are always together the only time they were separated was when Starscream got captured and even then Soundwave and Shockwave were always together,when they finished the rescue attempt alongside Orion and Elita the three of them immediately reunited/regrouped and continued to fight alongside eachother.

Literally don't separate them.

Even in the storyboards when they helped D-16 restrain Sentinel,and when they fought Optimus no one really forces them to always be next to eachother nor does Starscream yell at them to do that they just naturally choose to stand by eachother out of choice whenever given the opportunity,and the subtle hints of camaderie that's what interesting about them as a ship/ot3. Shockwave also tried to interfere during Dee and Starscream's fight but Soundwave stopped him as much I believe he did that because he found it funny and enjoyed a brawl like any other Guard, I think it's also so because Soundwave kind of gets where this is going, Starscream at the time was not really trying to kill D-16 so he was holding back, trying to boast infront of an audience to give off a show of strength for their enjoyment,Soundwave has likely seen him do this a million times when he gets battle hungry before so he doesn't see the need to interfere if they get a good fight,that is before Dee took out the cannon.

One thing that I like about this continuity is it's Megatron who is the newer one to already pre established dynamics within the High Guard,which adds interesting potential for storylines, he's the one who needs to integrate himself and form a completely new dynamic around his new army.

The way I see StarWaveWave is mostly the Waves low-key getting annoyed with Starscream's antics,which is kind of the case in canon they definitely would bicker a lot because that is a given,but at the same time there is that camaderie as they've been working alongside eachother for hundreds if not thousands of cycles long before Sentinel's betrayal and even longer before they even met the quartet and became Decepticons before their own fall from grace they knew eachother before everything went down when life was still somewhat good for them before the Primes died,so there is also like some care underneath all of it even if they wonder why they are tolerating eachother at times, Soundwave appears to be the most reasonable out of the three of them and Shockwave has a temper and gets irritated quickly and Starscream is well Starscream enough said but he does have competent strengths as a leader since he did keep them alive for 50 cycles, there is room for some fun interactions.

Just a short post about why I love this ot3.

[potato-lord-but-not]

Followed you a long time ago for just how cool your art looks, finally decided to look into the podcast characters you like to draw! I just saw one ask asking if the character Oscar is POC, and I wonder are characters in those podcasts usually unclear in ethnicity, and the fandom can freely headcanon? Like I know if info is clearly very mentioned in the original work or there is official concept art then it would be easy, but I'm really scared if I headcanoned something that is completely different from implied canon info I didn't pick up/ info that showed up in an obscure interview. Do you have any advice in navigating information in podcast fandoms?

Usually with podcasts, you can go off of official art and or descriptions from the podcast. In the case of malevolent, hardly any characters, aside from the eldritch monsters that John likes to describe in detail, have a solid description of their looks. that’s why you get so many different variations of Noel and Oscar. Ofc there are context clues that can help you inform your design choices (or just context. like Oscar’s Scottish accent and the Butcher’s Irish accent. he may even have been described as being Irish but idk that’s besides the point, you can tell).

But even then you can play with it, like how I made Oscar mixed Scottish and Jamaican. And honestly! sometimes you can ignore it! like with Gordon from red valley, who I already had a design I liked before he was described as being pale and even implied to look white. but like I said ! you can have fun with it !

I also sometimes check voice actors, because in some instances you can’t tell someone’s ethnicity from their voice alone, and I’d hate to misinterpret their character because I couldn’t pick up on that. that’s more so a concern when the voice actor is POC tho. With malevolent tho it’s all done by Harlan, who is white, so I think headcanoning characters as different ethnicities is more important, and also way more fun.

Oh also! fandom wikis are a good place to double check. cus they’d definitely have something like that you may have missed- like something from an interview or the character’s full name, which can sometimes indicate their ethnicity ( like Parker Yang from malevolent, only shows up as a corpse in the show but important enough to Arthur that he’s still a fan favorite to make content about)

ghugh I’m rambling- I’d say the majority of the time you’re free to do whatever, just be open to change your design if descriptions come up later on (I’d say more importantly if they’re described to be POC, cus like with Gordon I think my design for him with more Afro centric features looks way cooler and feels more like him than anything I could come up with that would be more canon compliant). Also you can go off common fanon designs, but those are just mutually agreed upon and it’s not wrong to go against that. Like with the Magnus Archives there are no official designs and they let the people make whatever designs they please.

OKAY IG TLDR- do what you want, keep your ears open for character descriptions when listening, double check with character wikis or their voice actors, don’t be afraid to make more POC characters even of the cast is played by mostly white people because the more diverse cast the more fun and interesting your art will be.

[machveil]

OUUUUU KONIG LEARNING PIANO AS A KID IS SO CUTE ACTUALLY- do you think he remembers how to read sheet music or just tries to play by ear if he picks it up again? also consider; him with one of those keyboard cat kiddy pianos. the ones where the cats teeth are the keys nstuff. his sausage fingers (affectionate) might not work as well with the teeny keys but it'd be fun to just noodle with, i think

let me set the scene (I wrote this in one go and hit post)

mama König fussing over her baby boy because he had ‘hands made for piano’ as a child. König wasn’t particularly interested in learning the instrument, but for his mama? he’d do anything to make her happy. so when she brought a little upright piano home - from a neighbor who was going to get rid of it - he decided to lock in. the piano itself was a little out of tune, but for a free piano? it worked

his mama is a seamstress, but she’s always been fond of music. she remembers how to read sheet music from her mother, so she teaches König. it was their little mother-son time, she’d teach him different pieces and he’d play them back. he’s a mama’s boy through and through, always has been. he’d stay up at night reading through sheet music just to impress his mama the next afternoon

and then high school came around. König had always been sort of a scrawny kid, naturally on the thin side, so when he shot up and bulked up a little? it surprised the whole family. and, as time went by, his ‘piano hands’ filled out more, accidentally hitting two keys instead of one. his mama always said it was okay, that he was a growing boy, but he knew she was disheartened. it made his heart squeeze, another thing out of his control. he still practiced, but he got in his own head about playing wrong, fingers a little too thick as he got older

after he left for the military he didn’t really have time for music. muscle memory always kicks in, and he remembers all his mama’s little rhymes for remembering which key was where, but he didn’t play. his mama still has the piano, dusts it regularly, but it doesn’t really see much use anymore. she doesn’t play it, prefers to remember when she played with her little boy

some years down the line König is home on leave visiting his family. messing with his siblings, eating comfort food every day, going through his old belongings— and he finds his old sheet music. the papers are old and worn, ink slightly faded, and it makes him pause. he didn’t necessarily forget about that time in his life, but he hadn’t realized how long it’s been since he’s thought about it

ever the mama’s boy, he gently asks her to come to the living room after dinner. he’s much too big for that old piano, thighs too thick to comfortably sit at the bench. so he stands, awkwardly leaning forward as he lifts the fallboard, and glances down at keys. maybe it’s been too many years, but he’s grown used to his hands - precision learned after working to be a sniper. he’s not the same teen that fumbled over the keys, confidence dwindling after his growth spurt. no, König’s gained confidence in himself (though it doesn’t calm his nerves completely)

and he plays, for the first time in years. he still hits the odd key by accident, but overall it flows naturally. it’s almost like he’s a child again, playing to seek his mama’s approval. by the time he’s finished her eyes are watery (something he inherited from her), already moving to hug him. and while his other family members go about their business that night, König plays with mama again

[anakinstwinklebunny]

new hayden fan nonnie again, i am ready to officially join the fam (if you’ll have me)! may i be 🐮 anon?

also i have a fic request! would you be open to writing one where nerdy!anakin meeting his favorite book author who happens to be reader? or anakin could be the book author and the reader is the fan? either sounds cute to me, have fun with it!

thank you, bunny!!

- 🐮

PAIRING: writer!nerd!anakin x f!reader/ nerd!anakin x f!writer!reader

Author's note: OFC YOU CAN POOKIE!! and that's such a cute emoji 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (couldn't help myself and made two scenarios you mentioned)

𝓕𝓛𝓤𝓕𝓕 ❦

You weren’t nervous.

Nope. Not at all.

Just because you were about to meet the ANAKIN SKYWALKER, the actual author of your favorite book series—the one whose words had ruined you, rebuilt you, and left you obsessing over every single character, every emotion described on the paper—did not mean you had to freak out.

Except, you were totally freaking out.

Fingers clutched his book against your chest as if it may shield you from crushing your nerves adrenaline, while you stood in line, shifting on your feet, trying not to think about the fact that in a few minutes, you’d be face-to-face with him.

And then suddenly— way too soon—it was your turn.

You stepped forward, heart pounding. Hands sweating

He looked up.

Oh.

You were not prepared for how pretty he was in real life.

The grainy black-and-white author photo in the book didn’t do him justice—those messy curls framed his face in a way that made your stomach flip, glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose, and his sweater sleeves were pushed up, exposing lean forearms dusted with veins running up his body

God really took his time creating him.

He blinked at you, pushing his glasses up with two fingers. “Hi.”

His voice was soft, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t really used to this—like he didn’t know the power, the impact he had.

You swallowed, barely keeping your composure. “H-Hi,” you managed, setting his, well..yours, book down in front of him. “I—um—I love your books. A lot. Like, I might have reread them too many times.”

A soft flush crept up his neck. He ducked his head, scribbling something in the book. “That’s—uh—thank you. That means a lot. Really.”

Your heart clenched. He was adorable.

You leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have to know—how did you come up with him?” You tapped the book cover, referring to the broody, tortured love interest that had single-handedly ruined your life. “Because I swear, he haunts my dreams.”

Anakin let out a breathy laugh, looking up at you with this disgustingly-twisting-gut eyes “Uh—he just… appeared, I guess.” He smiled sheepishly. “You’re actually, um, not the first person to say that.”

You grinned. “Well, he’s perfect. And kind of my biggest crush.”

His pen froze mid-signature.

Oh my gosh..what have you done?

He cleared his throat, fumbling slightly as he handed the book back to you. “That’s—uh—good to know.”

You peeked at what he’d written, expecting just a simple signature. But beneath his name, a small note made your breath hitch and your lips to crack in a small, nervous smile:

«To the girl with excellent taste—if you ever want to discuss my characters over coffee, let me know.»

Your head snapped up. He was already looking at you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Your stomach flipped.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER had planned this day for weeks. Checked the bookstore’s event schedule at least a dozen times. He had to make sure he was on the right time, the right day, wore the right clothes for this occasion. For weeks he had practiced what he’d say in the mirror, only to stammer like an idiot each time. But now that he was here, standing in line, gripping a hardcover copy of your book so tightly his knuckles were white—he felt like he might pass out.

The line moved too quickly. One second, he was behind a group of fans, and the next—

“Next, please!”

His breath caught in his throat.

Sitting behind the table, a warm, inviting smile on your lips painted your face as you reached for his book. “Hi,” you greeted, voice soft, smooth, the same voice he’d listened to in countless interviews. “What’s your name?”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

God.

You were even prettier in real life.

“I—uh, it’s Anakin,” he managed, adjusting his glasses like it would somehow fix the fact that he was a mess. “I—wow, okay, sorry, I just—uh, I love your books. Like, a lot.”

A soft laugh left you, and his heart nearly stopped, did a flip, hit his insides and went back to its place.

“That’s really sweet. Thank you, Anakin.” You took the book from his shaking hands and flipped to the title page. Gosh, you said his name in the most sweetest way possible. Was it how heaven felt like? “Do you want me to write anything specific?”

“Uh, um—” He cursed himself for being so awkward, so nervous. He was a grown man for Force’s sake. “I—your characters. The way you write them. It’s like they’re real.” He pushed his glasses up again, desperate to say something intelligent but it made no sense in the sudden conversation. “I feel like I know them. Like they’ve… changed me.”

Your pen stilled. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his.

For a second, he panicked—had he said too much? Sounded too intense? Was it too weird? But then, your expression softened

“That’s probably the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Anakin swore his heart exploded.

You smiled, scribbling something inside his book before sliding it back to him. “I’m really glad my stories meant something to you, Anakin.”

He stared at the book, at your signature, but what was the most important was the small note beneath it:

«To Anakin—thank you for feeling my words the way they were meant to be felt.»

His throat went dry.

Before he could even think, the words slipped out. “Would you—” He swallowed hard. “Would you ever want to talk about writing? Over coffee? Or tea—if you like tea, that’s totally fine, I—”

Your lips twitched. “Are you asking me out?”

His face burned. “I—uh—”

But then you grinned.

Oh.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

Maybe at the end of the day this was a story worth writing, too.

[justbelievinginmagic]

omg literally was kicking my feet reading your comments!!! i sincerely appreciate and enjoyed it!!!!

i'll place my response under a read more bc i got so much to say hehe

im so flattered you fell asleep while reading!!! its mean you really wanted to read it!! ive fallen asleep to my fave fics so it really made me smile!!

and yes!!! i've been waiting to see if someone noticed hehe. I was so happy you did! the pineapple scent fits him too i feel! ive actually looked into their real perfumes/colognes (from what google says is their perfumes/scents) and referenced what they actually wear! apparently hongjoong does have a pineapple undertone perfume o_o <3 i love him. hes the sweet tangy boy lol. im happy you like their scents!!

SAN IS SO SOFT. i love big strong men who are soft sweethearts. he isssss so soft for all his loves. youll see how the others want to wrap him up in pillows and blankies soon! ateez loves him.

and omg everytime i write san drinking im just like hes a lightweight. hes giggling. hes blushing. hes just keeping it under control. hes gotta be Cool.

Alleyway Scene!! Mingi is right!! but if its hwa or joong.... that'll have to be seen.

i do have to say i thought about yn remembering their voices. For both jongho and the alley scene men. but i eventually was like ehhhh lets have drama lol.

JONGHO IS BABY. he deserves a meetcute. and im happy that the maknae whisper was a good leeway!! I didnt want him to give away his name for a while but eventually thought JH would introduce himself.

I wanted her to freak out - i think she was kinda in her head so she was more ready to get out of there. but i wanted her to notice that he knew her name before she gave it!! spooooky.

woo is just so downbad in love. hes like ill do anything swanette. i really liked that angel between two demons line too!! i also think its fun bc hongjoong's lil nickname for her will be angel (like we saw in the chpt 3 flash to the future bit)

aw im happy you like her fidgeting! i try to make them feel as real as possible. people fidget and self soothe and have tells for when they lie. body language is hard to get across in writing imo but i hope these help to show how she is feeling to the people around her too.

san icing her legs will be pEAK. it was a spur of a moment idea and i was liek i gotta write this or else ill go insane!

thats an interesting point!! do they want her to need them - want them?? i feel like its definitely good and toxic. bc they are totally pushing limits to see what she is comfy with.

i read yandere fics and im like this is fine, knowing like no its not lol. right now there are totally red flags from all of the boys but woosan feels sweet rn still. so much is still blurred i feel that i dont blame yn for being swoonful.

wooyo is a softie jokester. he wants to live life comfy, casual, worryfree.

tall and taller, my boysssss!! its totally yungi! theyre planning something that definitely is setting butterfly effects off.

wooyoung being just a tease is my fave thing. he wants attention from everyone lol.

ooo s rings for seonghwa is a fun idea but i will reveal the story behind this one lol. this was to allude to it being mingi. i took inspo from the S/$ necklace he wears in the MV and the line that says "Draw a line on the name and take the won and dollars" for his name sake S/$ and M/₩. i thought an $ necklace would be a bit tacky lolol so i made it a ring instead to imply Song Mingi.... though there is more to this story i'll keep quiet for now haha.

BUT CLAIMING THINGS FROM SEONGHWA IS A BIG EYES IDEA.

Jongho loves the arts! he wanted to see what was up!! hes just a bit more suave - he knows she'd be checking out the box if he sat there.

Julia is definitely showing the more give and take of the boudoir. she wants to be more than the system she is locked into but was mean about it for sure to yn. its good advice but said badly i think. and for sure yn thinks woosan and her are different!

aaa i like that you noticed that about introvert/extrovert/outings/privacy! and also wy loves yn he loves that shes clever and caring and listening!! hes really whipped.

jooongie will make it known for sure one day! and its an interesting idea! hes been very private so far in the story - canonically he hasnt even been to the show yet (if im remembering my own writing correctly lol). why would he give her a coat? is it just a coat or is it more? why is he letting all of the boys be so captivated by her?

the necklace being tugged was a comment reply!! someone said it made them think of a collar which was not the initial implication - but then ...

i was hooked on the idea and had to add it!

I really love reading the comments you are sharing!! im literally giggling and clapping my hands!! it made my night!! i appreciate it so much!!

«hes mine just as wooyoung and you are mine» that is the dream. oh to be sans and be wrapped up in his big ol chest.

yeosang is going to be featured more heavily next chapter and im like metaphorically glaring at him likes hes a bad cat rn haha. hes unhinged but also same. i need a soft hug from good cat yeosang.

and gosh this is so sweet im so happy you are enjoying!!!!!!!!!!

san is Gentleman. He likes the glitz and glamour and pretty things on his arms.

YN just wants to be star

i love love love strong yeosang, doberman yeosang. hes got an aura around him even if he is soft boy

like hes got an intensity even if hes gentle/cutesy/demur

yeahhhhhhh san wishes it was an easier answer than prima.

she is very innocent. i try to balance it so people arent annoyed or think of her as a mary sue. BUT i dont think she'd assume mafia first and foremost. there isnt really that in this town. small town gangs, rich conglomerates, ateez is a new force.

lolol about the newspaper guy!

ys just wants to spend time with heeeeeerrrrrrrrr and it got all messed up later. he will spend more time with her for sure!! like i said hes wild in the next chapter imo.

mingi my shaylllaaaaaaa. hes soooo alrfafgvafnvlnaflv i want to squeeze him. i LOVE cute mingi. i love bashful kind silly smile mingi beneath his sexy aura!!!

matz my loves. i wanted to include them in little ways this chapter. next chapter might not feature them yet depending on pacing but i love and miss them. im a matz girlie through and through.

aaaa oh my gawddddd thats all im saying about the tooth gems hehe!!!

everything reminds me of him. i love mv san.

i loved throwing in the kitty hehe. its just a strange thing in the mv to have this kitty prowling about imo. shes jongho!!

oooo im excited for an ask if you are still curious!!!

Yeosangs flower outfit!!! hes so cuteee and soft boy. i wanted him super soft before we see him ever in his sharp pinstriped suit.

i take a lot of things from the mv lol or the behind the scenes or the teasers!! they give me so much inspo!! im happy you are spotting them!!

wy and mg's scene in front of the desk is totally derived from mingi's moment at the desk in the mv!! a lot of people got confused thinking mingi was yunho/seonghwa since they've been delegated as higher in power buttttt mingi is at a desk in the mv... mingi has his ring kissed in the mv.....

hongjoong in iomt was first goofy looking and then I LOCKED THE FUCK IN. hes so fine. i love the hair. i love his cocky vibe. i love him FLOATING LIKE AN ANGEL. i just have to try to include those vibes from him and i thought a portrait painted in a Renaissance style would fit that!

im glad!! that gives me the ick too!! another ick that i get is when wooyo blows smoke in the butlers' faces as theyre walking in the foyer. i wanted to show that they really dgaf with other ppl.

he did say that >:((( he keeps calling her a doll and nows he like liking her. wooyo and san will tease yu haha. though i will note 1910s/20s doll was common for a girl as a nickname. i think he did mean it like "this doll, this broad *raised eyebrows*" though so the growls are warranted still.

yunho is the guard dog totally. hes here to sniff out trouble and set records straight! we can trust him...right?

i love yeowoosani! i love them theyre babies!!!!!!!

mingis just a boy, surrounded by boys. hes like "shit a lady is here and now i said shit oh shit i said it again D:<"

kitty z is precious and has done no wrong yn is just going through it.

im hoping to get another chapter out faster (even if my brain is like sludge with writing rn). these comments really inspire to me keep writing and get it out faster so thank you so much!! it really brightened my day!!!

like a waltz⎯ part 4: piqué.

pairing(s): ateez ot8 x fem!reader; this chapter focuses on all the boys & reader except my beloved matz :(( (their time is coming.) series summary: when 8 mysterious bachelors arrive to town and fall for your charms, will you be able to reach your goal to be prima ballerina or be dragged into a selfish waltz between love and obsession? glimpse: As trouble arises and your patrons spend more time with you, more attention gets locked on you. Their interest is thoroughly piqued by you. warnings/tags: inspired by Ateez’s Ice on my Teeth MV & Teasers, Mafia AU, Ballet AU, early 1900’s AU with some divergences in tech advancements (i.e rule of cool), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, polyteez, MATURE topics, canon typical violence (choking, fighting, punching, etc), canon typical gore, blood, death, guns, explicit language, stalking, alcohol, smoking, bribery, lack of privacy, allusions to exploitation in ballet, implied sexual themes, suggestive themes, kissing, intimacy, angst, fluff, voyeurism sort of, obsession, infatuation, sugar daddy themes, unequal power dynamics, food descriptions, missing people, polyamory, pain, medical drug usage, traumatic injury, injuries, reader discretion advised & 18+ readers only! Let me know if I should tag anything else! word count: 20.4k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

piqué ; french pronunciation: [piːk], ‘pricked’… or to stimulate interest or curiosity.

Creeping out of the stage-door hours after a performance was a normal thing for ballerinas. The alley way was something all the girls were familiar with just as they were with the foyer de la danse. Its damp cobblestone, nearby rotting trashcans, and the barely lit path was their red-carpet entrance. They were not allowed the luxury of entering through the grand doors of the opera house with its tall columns, brightly lit lamps, and the many steps towards its shiny, gold-painted extravagance The only days they were allowed to enter through the front doors were when the opera house was closed and they were rehearsing. The petit rats were only welcomed with glamour when the rich weren’t nearby. They had the back-entrance. This was the ugly underbelly of the pretty façade.

Dressed in her pretty coat and her warmest layers, she had said goodbye to San and Wooyoung ages ago. But then, the Madame had spoken to her and a few ballerinas in her office, relaying some notes, insisting on the girls performing the rectifications immediately. So, there they stood in the rehearsal room, satin-ribboned shoes laced up over thick winter stockings and their day-dresses on. The ballerinas repeated their motions: turning in pirouettes, performing jetes, and piquing across the hall. It was only after the city’s clock tolled twelve times that the Madame allowed them to stop with a slam of her cane into the wooden floorboards. Then, after confirming each dancer had paid their weekly bill (YN smiled, wiping sweat from her brow as she was told her patrons paid once more), they were allowed to leave. The other ballerinas had all scurried home by the time she had gathered her bag and coat once more.

It was late into the early hours, past midnight and not yet morning when she finally left the opera house and crept out into the alley.

Pushing the heavy door open with her shoulder, the chill of night soaked into her bones with a whoosh. Shivering a bit, she adjusted her pretty coat closer to her body and prepared herself for the walk home. Her boots click clacked on the icy pavement as she exited the mouth of the alley. Looking this way and that, the streets were abandoned. Seemingly abandoned. Some of the candle-lit lamps even had fizzled out in the evening with no leeries about to relight them. She continued to walk along, humming softly until she heard the noise. Loud panicked whispers. A crackling fire. The crinkling of a tin-barrel. The smell of smoke. Ahead of her, dark smoke was tumbling out of a nearby alleyway, firelight lighting the brick-walls. She paused, her foot-steps slowed.

Click. Clack.

“You fucked up the deal?” It was frightened.

Click, clank.

“I didn’t mean to; I didn’t mean to. Johnny stole some cash from them, and then-“

“I don’t care! We needed this deal – the money, before he arrives – before we all lose –“

There was the squealing of car wheels and the smell of hot gasoline in the air. YN froze, her footsteps stopping. A car door slammed open, and there was a new click-clank of boots. A startled yell, a shuffle of footsteps, voices overlapping; there was a thud of a body hitting the icy ground with a yell. YN held her breath.

“Gentlemen,” the newcomer’s voice was gravely. There were heavy footfalls and a scrambling sound of someone walking backwards. Something hit a tin-can.

“B-B-Boss.”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, about that –“ the other chuckled. 

“My money isn’t no laughing matter.” There was a thud like someone being shoved into a wall violently. The man groaned in pain. “You think I’m someone to be crossed? Where. Is. It?” the intimidating deep voice asked, lowly.

YN swallowed, frozen at the alley way’s entrance just out of view. When would she be able to pass? She needed to get out of here quiet and without being noticed. Or else… she was scared what would happen. This wasn’t the usual gang-dealings. Gangs would fight back, fist with fist. These men were scared.

“We can get it to you- We can- just give me some time, boss!”

“This is the second time,” the graveled voice grumbled; there was a low whistle, sharp and piercing.

And then it was quiet. There wasn’t even pleading, no whimpering.

Silence.

YN’s breath was held as she tentatively peered out from her spot. A sliver of her face was visible against the brickwork wall of the alley way. Smoke hazed the figures, but she could just make out the broad shoulders of the deep-voiced man, cornering another man to the brick wall. The man’s hand scratched at the many-ringed fingers that grasped his throat mercilessly. A gagging sound was heard. Not one of the gang-member’s allies moved to help them. Instead, they were all staring at the automobile.

A truck was reversed into the alley way. Black and large, it shined and flickered in the firelight. Its back-doors pushed open with a click, and men in dark masks tumbled out. Large, intimidating suited figures held bulky guns she had never seen before. YN had seen muskets, shotguns, and even a revolver once. These weren’t that. These were heavy, mechanical, and dangerous-looking. They piled into the alley, the metal of their weapons glinting in the firelight of the makeshift-barrel fire. The frightened figures strewn about the alley way were frozen-still; a few on the ground pleaded, praying. The masked men pointed their weapons at them warningly.

Her heart rate jumped.

This was more than just a gang fight – this seemed methodical. Frightened, her eyes darted to the other side of the alley, her path home just a few steps away. But she’d have to reveal herself… While they were distracted, she’d run. She would. She needed to get out of here quick. Like a mouse, she’d escape when the cats played with their prey.

There was the clink of a car door opening and a metallic thunk of it shutting firmly. A sigh echoed out into the air, disappointed.  

“Please, boss.” The figure held to the wall managed to splutter out.

His captor pushed him up the wall with a violent thud before finally letting go. The man gasped and gaped like a fish as the dark figure took a step backwards to look towards his accomplice. The figure exiting the car didn’t have the dark masks like the others. In this light and smoke, she could only make out the shape of him. Clean cut short hair, the trail of cigarette smoke, the gleam of his teeth. He tossed the cigarette to the icy floor.

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

Click, clack, BANG.

A gunshot went off. His hand was outstretched in a flash; the pistol in his grasp smoking. A man on the ground let out a yelp of pain; his blood splattered against ice and stone. His hand grasped at his leg helplessly in agony.

“Shall we send a message to your pals?” the new man insisted, cocking his red-hot gun again and aiming it at the man his companion had just released from a chokehold.

There was pleading; names babbled over one another until they were unrecognizable. “Sir! Mercy please!”

“I think we should,” the deep-voiced man commented, nearly growling out his words. “We knew you scum thought this was some game. And here you made it all messy.”

His teeth gleamed and glinted with his snarl.

“Let’s make it messy in return.” He finished, nodding at the other.

There was a signal, and the men fired at the others at the two tall figures’ command. Gunfire, loud, fast, and hot, blazed out across the alley way. Her voice escaped her, screaming out. Hiding quickly out of danger, YN jumped back.

“What’s that?” a voice bit out. “You got some dame in this? Find her. Get her!”

They had heard her. Ice flooded her veins. She turned to run, only to run face first into a broad chest. She screeched out again, her hand raising to muffle it. By the looks of his attire, he wasn’t one of the gang members from the alley way. No, this gentleman was dressed nicely in a midnight-black tuxedo with a black cummerbund sash around his waist like he had been at the opera house. His face was firm, almost furrow browed as he righted her with a careful hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t be in this mess; he looked so polished and unaware.

“Mis—” He didn’t get to finish his statement as she interrupted him. Her hands shoved unlady-like against his sturdy chest, wrinkling what had been previously a fine-pressed white button-up.

“We’ve got to get out of here.” She hushed. “Now!”

Her eyes dripped of innocence, of protectiveness. Her fear was palpable. His intense brown orbs met hers and, without hesitation, he nodded. Surprisingly, despite his height and stature, he let her push and pull him away from the alley way and back towards the front of the now-abandoned opera house. She tugged him by the hand up the stairs, so they could stand hidden by the columns. 

Her boots click clacked with each step of the stairs. More gunshots rang out; footsteps followed after them. She stumbled a bit, yelping; the mystery man’s free hand reached out to support her waist before he pulled her into the cover of the tall columns.

She could hear gunfire echo through the street, and she jumped with each bang, bang, bang. The stranger’s hand rose to duck her closer to the column rather than hide against it himself. Curling into herself, into the man’s side, the column, her eyes shut tight. This was a nightmare. The masked figures would surely come after them. They’d pull him away and then her, and what would happen next? She was shaking. There was yelling, shouting. She flinched. A loud whisper.

“Maknae?”

No reply. There was a crunching of snow, the moaning of men in pain. There was a long pause; she didn’t dare open her eyes. And then, there was the sound of footsteps walking away, heaving and thuds of something, and finally the squeal of car wheels going far away from the scene. The smell of gun-smoke and burnt rubber and gardenias (her rescuer’s cologne she realized) was all that was left.

A silence tumbled over the square like the cold water of an ocean’s tide, overwhelming and discombobulating. She stayed frozen for a long until a single finger poked at her shoulder.

“Miss?” he prompted softly; he shook her shoulder firmly then.

His tone sounded nervous, almost afraid. Of course he would be; she was afraid! It was frightening to almost be caught up in trouble. They had been so very close to being looped into a gang fight. She swore she’d never go down that alley or any alley again - ever. Shortcuts home be damned.

“It’s okay. You can open your eyes.” His voice was melodic, soft. Warm in this icy cold.

Her eyes opened tentatively, and she took in the sight of the gentleman in front of her.

He looked down at her with those intense deep-brown eyes, his dark hair mussed over his forehead. She could see his brows furrow at her in concern; his tongue peeked out to swipe over his top lip. His clothes, presumably for the ballet, were wrinkled by her man-handling.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, glancing her over with a quick look.

He didn’t let his gaze linger, but he hadn’t let his hand up from her shoulder either. She swallowed and shook her head as she shifted her shoulders, physically gathering herself as she replied.

“I’m okay, sir. Are you?” she asked politely. Her voice trembled still.

His face smoothed into something she’d almost call relief before he nodded. “I am.” He glanced out at the road. “They’re gone.”

He spoke to reassure her, the tone firm and resolute.

“Do you want to go to the police?” he asked slowly.

He seemed not too disheveled as he took a few steps away from her. His eyes remained on the nearby street, monitoring it. There was no sounds of moaning or pain. What had happened to the gang members? The gun fire was horrible; she hadn’t seen much. Except for red, red, red. No. No! She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want any reason for those men to come find her! They heard her. They had. Her hands rubbed over face; hours old makeup and sweat was sticky against her palms. It felt like blood for a moment.

It sent chills up her spine.

“Miss YN?” her rescuer prompted again, dragging her attention to him.

“No, sorry,” she babbled out. “No.” she confirmed firmly. Her arms wrapped around herself, tugging her coat closer.

“Are you sure?” the man’s brow raised.

“It’s easier to ignore these things,” she muttered out. “Safer. To not get involved.”

The man hummed low in his throat, melodically.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment, trying to shake off her fear. “For shielding me up here. And running away.”

“You warned me. You saved me I guess,” he chuckled. “Thank you.”

She smiled shakily before glancing back at the now-quiet streets. Her hands clutched her coat closer.

“Will you be alright, Miss YN?” he asked.

Her nod was preoccupied.

“I will be,” she told him, glancing up at him. He fit right in with the glamour of the opera house. She wondered why she had never seen him before. He was memorable. His face was handsome; his form strong in a different way to San’s but still imposing.

“I’ll be on my way. It’s late and I don’t want trouble. I’m glad that we are both aliv-okay.” she corrected.

“I understand,” he said. “You don’t want a chaperone?”

She didn’t even know him. She wished Wooyoung or San was here. She shook her head, and she took a step away, fiddling with her coat.

“I’ll be okay. Good night…”

“Jongho,” he answered, even if she wasn’t asking. “My name is Jongho.”

“Jongho,” she repeated. “Thank you again.”

He nodded, bowing at the waist.

“Good night, YN.”

He’d whisper, “stay safe,” but he knew he’d be following after her in just a little while. After all, her designated shadow was busy tonight, too busy taking care of business to watch over her. So, the once-street-mutt Jongho had been sent in his stead to watch over his lady. And Jongho couldn’t help but be curious about her. Even more now that he had held her in his arms and seen the sweetness of her soul in her eyes.

YN was safe in her bed that night when she realized she had never told him her name.

And yet he had said it.

-

Her motions were sloppy. Her pointe was weak. And her mind lost. She plied.

“Are you alright, honey?” San asked.

It was the next night - before showtime. San and Wooyoung somehow weaseled themselves into the boudoir before any other patrons could. Sometimes she wondered how much coin that costed them. The Madame had been strict with no patrons before shows – allowing the fragile privacy to warm up and prepare for the shows. It was so easily broken by the two men, but their eyes were only locked on her. And when she turned away to shimmy into a costume or fix a corset or a loose ribbon, they’d respect her. Glancing aside no matter how much temptation itched at their hands.

Wooyoung had offered once to lace her up, and he was met with a look of sharp disbelief – even if it was shadowed by a sweet blush. He hadn’t asked again, but he looked forward to the day he would be able to lace her up… and unlace her.

Tonight, they stood leaning against the barre as she continued to warm up. But, of course, San had caught her shakiness, her focus weaning.

His hand slide across her waist slowly, thumb caressing up and down.

“I’m okay,” she said honestly, leaning into his support as she lowered her leg off the barre. She flexed her feet and rose up on to a pointe for a moment before sighing out and turning to face the two men.

San’s hand ghosted after her waist, guiding her close as she came to settle between her patrons. She rested her bum on the barre between San and Wooyoung. Her pristine white costume made her look like an angel between two black-suited demons. Wooyoung flicked his cigarette bud into an ash tray he’d stolen taken from the front lobby of the opera house.

“I’m sensing a but,” Wooyoung teased. His fingers trailed lower that they had before, grazing over her the small of her back closer and closer ‘til… San slapped his hand, albeit lightly. She didn’t chuckle at his joke. In fact, it was almost like he didn’t joke at all. He frowned.

“Hm, swanette?” he encouraged again.

“It’s—things have been different around town recently. I just got scared last night,” she admitted, fingers trailing back and forth over the barre pole supporting them. Restlessly. “I think its just shaking me up today.”

“How so?” San asked inquiringly.

“I don’t know. I’ve seen two gun fights in the past month while walking home. That’s not normal. There’s all sorts of kidnappings or disappearances. It’s just,” she shivered, thinking of the fear that had clung to her bones since last night. “Scary.” Her arms wrapped around herself.

Wooyoung frowned, his thumb going to rub at her arm soothingly. He didn’t like her fear. He liked her smiling far more.

“You didn’t go to the police, honey?” San asked, brow pursing. Wooyoung glanced over at San.

“No,” she admitted. “It’s—not my business.” She shook her head a bit, not agreeing completely with her phrasing. “I mean, that’s how it’s always been. Ignore, walk faster, try to get away before being seen. If you mind your business, they’ll mind yours… unless you’re involved. I’m not. Never have been. But… there have never been gun fights. I’ve seen fist fights, even switchblades being pulled.” She shook her head again. “I sound silly. But I know there were gangs around town – I know the familiar faces of troublemakers, their tells – and they’re afraid. And if the monsters are afraid--”

She trailed uncertain. She sighed out again before her hands went to squeeze both of their hands that rested on the barre.

“Sorry, I’m just shaken up, that’s all. I’m spiraling a bit,” she reconciled. “Sorry.”

Wooyoung was first to cut her off. “No, no, pretty girl. Don’t apologize.” He soothed. “We don’t want you scared.”  

“You weren’t hurt,” San clarified. It didn’t even sound like a question but still he said it.

She nodded in agreement. “Nope,” she showed her bare arms and twisted this way and that. As if it’d prove she was unharmed.

“Someone helped me,” she admitted.

San raised his brow at Wooyoung before the shorter began to fuss over her.

“My scared swanette,” Wooyoung pouted, huddling close. He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he wrapped her in his arms. “Shall we walk you home from now?” he murmured. “San and I will be your personal bodyguards.”

“Uh, huh,” she teased lightly. “I’m sure you will.”

They’ve only walked her home on occasion. She knew it was in the opposite direction of the Ateez House. She didn’t expect them to walk her home. She wanted them to.

“Trust me, you’ll never get hurt around me if I walked by your side,” San promised, pressing a kiss to her cheek as well.

“I’ll make the ground you walk and dance sacred.” Wooyoung whispered. “Drench it in holy water for you.”

She laughed at that.

“Stop teasing me,” she giggled. “You’re being mean.”

“We’re not teasing, honey.” San pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“I’m sure.”

“Shall I carry you home instead? Like a damsel.” Wooyoung teased, arms sweeping underneath her legs.

Wooyoung was growing bolder by the day, and it made her cheeks flush. She let out a shriek of laughter, dragging the eyes of the other ballerinas their way. San raised his brow at them. Unbeknownst to YN, San seemed to harden when looking at anyone other than Wooyoung or her. He spun her playfully. Her mind rightfully distracted from her fear finally.

“You’ll never step foot on ground again while I’m around, Miss Swanette.”

-

It was dark in the restaurant’s backroom. Smokey and lowlight with flickering candlelight. The servers, the cooks, everyone had been pushed out, locked out. The long table was bare of any meal. Water in crystal glasses sat in front of each man. At the head of the table, there was a decanter of amber liquid with two empty pristine glasses. It was quiet, so quiet that the squeaking of rats could be heard in the floor board. Nervous eyes looked this way and that; bodies shifted and fidgeted. The door opened, and all eyes were sucked to into their orbit.

Two figures stood side by side. Matching Rolexes glimmered on their wrists as they both adjust their suits. One shoved their gold-lined, midnight-black suit’s sleeves up with little finesse while the other took his time, slowly peeling off his suit jacket before rolling his white button-up sleeves up. Slinging his discarded jacket across one of his broad shoulders, he then adjusted his black tie, a long silver ring encompassed his pointer finger of his dominant hand. It almost looked like a claw. The other rolled his neck, the glimmer of multiple gold and pearl necklaces matching his sneer. 

Tall and taller glanced down the long table. Young and old sat there; most didn’t look like they had much. Fake luxurious hats with feathers, rings that didn’t sparkle quite right, and sweat-stained pinstriped suits. Some did have money. Their fat fingers rubbing their gold necklaces nervously. All of them shifted in their seats as the duo approached. One on each side of the table, they prowled.

“Gentlemen,” the one who spoke out first nearly growled his words in a snarl.

Rather than walk with his chin high like his companion, he tilted his chin to glare down the table. Dark eyes made darker still by anger. There was a laziness in his swagger as he walked behind one row of chairs; a hand trailed over each leathered chair.

“We have some… requests,” the taller one stated, a smile coming to his glimmering mouth.

 -

YN watched as Imara grab Dohyun’s hand. Her words were hushed in the loud boudoir, unreadable. But she could see the panic, the tears twinkling on her lash line.

‘Don’t do this please.’

She could read the pretty dancer’s lips.

The bank owner yanked his arm away, harshly. As if they hadn’t touched Imara’s body up and down like it was his for over a year. He glanced about as he spoke, mouth moving too quick for her to catch any words.

He shook his head again as he turned and left the boudoir.

Imara had to pay for her dues the next day for the first time in over a year.

-

Wooyoung stood by his promise. Each night since, he or San walked YN home, winding through the streets with their fingers interlaced. Most nights it was him. He liked the shared time for just them he said. Sometimes, he grew daring and would wrap his arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder. Like two lovers taking a stroll.

The following nights had been relatively calm; there were no gun fights, no gangsters. In fact, the streets seemed boring. Not a soul was seen around them except for, of course, her loyal following shadow. Not that she’d know. He was like a ghost, sneaking around the corners and alleys to keep them in his sight.

From the darkened corners of the streets, the figure followed after them night after night. His annoyance only growing as Wooyoung’s touches grew bolder in the solitude of night. With no one there, the idea of public decency was lost to the second-youngest. It wasn’t anything explicit. He just was touchy. Touchier than if it were daylight. Holding her closer, his touches longer, longing.

Longingly, he wanted to hold her; he wanted her to curl into his arms. Her shadow-man scowled deeply. Wooyoung truly was a brat he decided. Still, he continued to trail them from far away. But every now and then, Wooyoung would turn and give him a wink over his Swanette’s head. His hand sliding up her back, slow and teasing; his fingers tickled and trailed lower and lower on her waist. He whispered something in her ear, and she giggled.

Wooyoung’s smirk was triumphant as his eyes flickered over to the shadow in the alleyway. Wooyoung was teasing. Teasing both of them.

She’d huddle closer after, and the stalking figure would whisper out a curse. Jealousy itched at his stomach, and he was sure to return home with a scowl. He wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted, and, while he was a gentleman, his thoughts felt not-so gentle. He wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Have her love him. He’d give her anything she wanted. He was already so weak for her, and they hadn’t even met.

He buried himself in the work that was piled on his desk, thanks to Hongjoong. Still, he’d get distracted, imagining fantasies of him and her. He spun a ring on the desk, the ‘S’ emblem on it taunting him.

Would he be able to see her perform soon? Seonghwa and Yeosang had visited. Even Jongho had. Maybe he’d convince Hongjoong to let him go to the foyer de la danse like Wooyoung and San were able to. Why couldn’t he?

The young man knew the answer like a bitter liquor.

Later that evening, Wooyoung and him would meet face-to-face. A smirk on his kiss-swollen lips as he popped his head into the higher-rank’s office.

“Had a nice stroll?”

-

It was a Friday, and Julia with the red hair had been given a private dressing room. That was all anyone could whisper and gossip about.

It wasn’t large. It didn’t even have a mirror or dressing table yet. It was a small closet of a space. But it was hers - exclusively. Her name on a golden plaque had been placed on the door with the title ‘Featured Ballerina’ etched below it. There was space for more.  

The entire ballet troupe knew it had been paid for by her patron and wasn’t a result of any promotion amongst the troupe. She wasn’t prima; there was no way for her to achieve higher with no new show to audition for. It was all an act. It wasn’t talent. It was money and favoritism.

Meanwhile, Imara was despondent, cold as ice to anyone that gave her a pitying look.

Patrons came and went like the seasons – even if one thought they’d last forever, winter always came.

It made talking to either woman difficult. Julia was high on her excitement. The way she walked was like she owned the world. She would run off to her closet the moment she came off stage, even if there was hardly room for two people in the space, let alone warming up or staying warm. But, as YN exited stage left, she and the red head stumbled into one another with a clank.

They both yelped, flinching at the pain that radiated up their shoulders.

“Sorry,” YN apologized before her gaze rose and realized who it was.

“Hey Julia.” Her tone was sharper, less friendly than. Almost icy.

The red-head rubbed her shoulder scowling at the other before her own face dropped into an attitude of sorts.

“YN.”

It wasn’t said fond or with blooming respect like it had been before. Where was the respect that had been trickling down with San and Wooyoung’s support? Was it because Julia was still ever-higher than her? Was it because she had a dressing room now?

Maybe it was because they spotted one another outside of the ballet with their patrons by their side.

“Why did you lie to me?” YN spouted out, brows furrowing.

The other ballerina laughed out, too loud. She was almost heard over the orchestra playing a lofty tune as the White Swan jete’ed about on stage nearby.

“What are you talking about?” the other replied, dramatically hushing her tone.

“You said your patron never invited you out of the ballet.” YN stated. “But I saw you at the tennis match.”

There was a condescending tut that escaped the other, and it made YN’s eyes fall into slits.

“Oh, honey,” it was said cruelly. “You need to catch up. If you want to be like them, not be theirs, you must play like them.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve gone on plenty of outings with my patron.” She stated, fixing her hair.

“So, you lied,” YN clarified again, simply. What wasn’t clicking? She lied to her.

“I’m not invited; I’m expected,” she said. “I go where I want.”  

Semantics. It made her roll her eyes.

“He pays for you just as mine pay for me,” YN commented. “Why didn’t you just tell me it was normal? I was worried.”

Julia finally sighed out.

“Listen, YN. Liars are the only thing that fill those rich homes. Even your boys.” She bit out. “You better learn the game, how to play it, and how to tell if someone is lying to you if you want to be upper-class so badly, YN. Otherwise, you’ll just keep playing pretend, and nobody wants a pretender.”

Then, without another word, the red head pushed past her with a huff.

-

The game. Julia had called it a game.

YN had always looked at the boudoir as a show. A performance between patron and protégé. Usually explicit. But Julia saw it as a game. What type of game YN wondered?

Was it chess? A game of wits? A game of checkers? A game of hopping to the next best thing?

Wooyoung and San didn’t see her as a game. This she knew in her bones. Their sweet words were too sweet. Their genuine excitement and care were a balm to her. But then, she glanced aside at Imara who was like a lost sock without her patron, use ambiguous and left lonely in the corner of the busied boudoir. She had thought the same thing about her patron.  

Doubt crawled in. Trickled in her veins. Even as the pair of men strode into the boudoir after the show per usual. San fixed his vest, the white button up loosened and less appropriate, but pleasing to the eye. Wooyoung finished his drink, handed to him by the bulkier man obediently as they walked.

“Hello you two,” YN greeted.

“Hi, pretty lady,” Wooyoung replied. “How was your evening? You were lovely as always.”

“It was good.” she said.

Wooyoung presented his cheek to her, expectedly. With their increase in dates and walks home, he’d become openly affectionate now. Not that she fought against it. If she didn’t press a kiss, he’d pout but when she did a pleased hum would reverberate through his chest like a cat’s purr. It made her beam; his happiness became her pleasure.

She pecked his cheek, quick. He grinned and quickly engulfed her in an embrace. His lips danced over her face. Tiny millions of butterfly kisses were pressed over her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. Giggles consumed her; his quirking lips hummed as he worked his way down to her jaw, underneath it, her neck, to her collarbone, before he was pressing fond kisses over her pearl necklace and up the column of her throat. Each one sent a tingle running through her.

“No pain?” San questioned, aware of how easily she bruised and ached.

She shook her head distractedly.

“Only a few more shows left anyways if so.” She commented. He gave her a scolding look. “Training will be less strenuous than performing. Surprisingly.” She chuckled, gasping out as Wooyoung pressed a deep kiss to the spot beneath her jaw. Not quite a hickey but close.

“Good,” the man replied. She needed a break San thought. He saw how her toes were a bright red through her tights.

“It’ll be nice to dance something new soon – but it’s bittersweet.” She just managed to get out.

San hummed out in agreement, pressing his own kiss to her forehead as he wriggled Wooyoung away from his honey to let her begin to dress into every-day clothing once more. She gave him a thankful look as she quickly went to change nearby. Her face was flushed, and her heart raced. How was her hair even more mussed from her bun? He hadn’t even touched it.

“I know,” San replied. “You must be excited?”

She smiled as she shed out of her feathers.

“Closing night is always such an experience,” she taunted.

It was. Full of celebrations, champagne, and influx of patrons spending their last pennies of the season.

“Will you be there?”

“Of course, baby,” Wooyoung cooed from San’s arms. She saw him ghost a kiss across his neck.

“We’ll be there for every closing and opening from now on.”

-

Wooyoung sat by her side, her hand in his as he gestured to the menu about this tea and that americano and this croissant. Their spread was already far more than either of them could finish. Large oozy cookies, steaming croissants with chocolate fillings, savory bite-sized tarts, and a large sandwich Wooyoung had already cut in half. One for him and one for her.

They had begun to have more dates like this; Wooyoung favored more intimate places such as cafes where they could cozy up close and share treats and talk while San liked to show her off at tennis matches and outings of public attention. She had liked it – but she couldn’t help but hear Julia’s voice in the back of her head.

Did she know her patrons?

Wooyoung smiled brightly and talked easily with her now; an air of comfortability was palpable as his fingers played with hers.

“Wooyo,” she prompted tentatively, interrupting his yapping.

“Hm?” he looked up from the menu, his face inquiring. Brows raised, and mouth squeezed shut.

“I have a question.”

“Ask away, swanette.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly before letting go and flexing his arms to resettle his sitting form to look at her more attentively.

“Why is it you introduced yourself as a Jung? And not a Kim?” she asked.

“Force of habit, really,” he admitted. “Hongjoong insists on us sharing his name.” He raised his coffee to his lips, taking a sip.

“Because he helped you when you needed him?” she recalled.

His grin grew wide, amused. “Yeah.” He paused, biting his lip for a moment before he scooted closer. “He took me in basically. Which is why I consider him family, close as thieves just like Yeosangie and Sannie.”

“He’s at Ateez House?” she queried, fingering a cookie. Tearing it up but not really eating as she thought.

How many were at that mansion? Yeosang, San, Wooyoung… Hongjoong and Seonghwa as well?

“There’s a lot of you there.”

He nodded as he picked up one of the crumbs she was making and pressed it to her lips. His fingertips were warm from the hot ceramic of his coffee cup. He smiled fondly as she nibbled at it. Before raising the rest of the crumb to his mouth, licking at the chocolate melting on his fingertips.

She licked her lips as she watched, chocolate fragrant on her tongue.

“There are eight of us,” he told her. “Eight men in one house, you can imagine the chaos.”

He spoke as if they shared an apartment and not a grand ‘haunted’ mansion.

“What does he do?” she mumbled, half focusing on her attempt to solve the mysteries that had plagued Ateez House’s occupants.

“Eh, a lot of things,” he sucked at the crumbs on his thumb before reaching out a wiping a smudge at the corner of her lips. “This and that. Loves art and shows and spectacle. Is a bit of a collector, more than Sannie is – you know, San loves pretty things.”

She already knew where this was going.

“Like me, Wooyoung?” she teased, beating him to his flirt.

“Just like you, Swanette.” He nudged her tea her way, urging her to drink before it went cold. “C’mon, try this too.”

And like that, her mind was sucked into his fancies as he fed her a warm tartlet that tasted richer than any food she had ever had.

-

It was the first night Wooyoung and San would be unable to walk her home. Wooyoung was good at keeping his promise; he walked her home for many many nights. His babbling softened with his sleepiness which was cute. It was worth it to press a kiss to her lips before she went inside, and even more worth it when he caught the shadow of a figure watching them. He’d blow him a kiss – behind her back that is.

She was anxious to walk alone. Her stomach churned at the though. Wooyoung had apologized as they rushed off to something that needed their attention – him and San. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, promising she’d be okay. He’d see her tomorrow. Walk in the light and you’ll be fine, little bird. As if she walked anywhere else anymore – all her shortcuts scared her now.

It was too late to call for a carriage or a buggy to take her home, so it was the only way. Unless she wanted to sleep on the uncomfortable settee in the boudoir (and most likely be kicked out by the janitor early in the morning. She could hear the Madame already. “This isn’t an orphanage, Miss YN.” Despite the selection of orphans that made up their ranks.)

So, YN hugged her jacket around herself and began her trek home.

And it was so peaceful. Not a whisper, not a fight, nothing. The streets were abandoned – even the men who were stumbling home drunk were absent. It was absolutely empty. Except for her.

And her stalker, of course.

-

San was early at the opera house the next day– so early the doors to the boudoir weren’t unlocked yet. Instead, he lingered out front, pacing this way and that.

“Sannie,” she exclaimed at the sight of him.

How did he know she was going to practice early today? The question was quickly forgotten as she hugged him. His arms wrapped around her in a warm bear hug before he pulled back to press a kiss to her nose.

Sweet, that’s what San was.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, smiling affectionately up at him.

They hadn’t shifted in their embrace; San kept her close to him as he looked down at her. There was clear fondness there. His fingers rubbed up and down her back, over her warm winter coat.

“I wanted to see you,” he admitted. “You look so cute in your coat.”

His words brought a flush to her cheeks. This was what she imagined when she thought of Julia’s words. No way could this be false. He was cooing over her, his touch reverent. It was different.

“I love it,” she replied. “It keeps me warm. Just like you.”

He laughed, warmly. He brought her close to his chest again, hugging her. It was funny. For as much as he claimed Wooyoung was touchy, San loved skinship. He liked to keep her close.

“I got you something,” he whispered after a moment, shifting one arm to reach into his pocket.

“What’s this?”

In his small hand (well, small compared to his broad form) sat a beautiful bracelet, teardrop-cut diamonds were linked together into a delicate yet unbelievably expensive gift.

“For you.”

San smiled like a content cat as he watched her fiddle with the pretty diamond bracelet. His dimples were deep in his cheeks. Her fingers brushed over the jewels admiringly. He loved pretty things and seeing her openly awe made him buzz with excitement. Carefully, he linked the clasp over her wrist and turned her hand over in his, watching the gems glimmer and shimmer in the gas light. He grinned.

“What’s this for?” she asked, brows crinkling curiously.

It wasn’t like Wooyoung’s gift – a month anniversary gift – or even San’s gift of the coat, something she had needed in all honesty. This was sudden. Strange.

His fingers brushed over the jewels before he spoke again.

“I was jealous that Wooyo had this pretty necklace around your throat.”

He leaned forward, fingering the pearls around her throat before tugging experimentally at them like it was a leash. They tightened with the pressure, choking her lightly and forcing her to lean closer to her patron. YN’s breath stolen, not in pain but in a flicker of excitement, surprise, pleasure. Her head tilted back to smile up at him. His fingers tightened around the pearls ever so.

“Oh, honey,” San cooed soft and sweet as he continued to tug her up by the collar of her necklace to capture her lips in a kiss. One kiss that devolved into many as he pushed her up against the door to the boudoir, lifting her lightly into his arms. Pressed against the door, her bejeweled hand tangled in his hair, tugging him ever closer.

They were lucky no one passed by as they devoured one another.

San may have been a gentleman, but his greed and power revealed itself slowly but surely.

-

Another man was missing. He had been a regular in the boudoir. A young man who spent his spare pennies to leer at them. He wasn’t missed by any of the ballerinas, but it was frightening. Too many people were disappearing or getting into trouble.

Her mother and the other ladies at the factory walked together now. To and from work, in case trouble arose. She had even pushed for YN to walk with someone to the Opera House for once.

“Your boy is a good one,” she appraised. “That Wooyoung walks you here every night now. Like a gentleman. Stick around him.”

-

San had invited her out to another tennis match. Wooyoung had been caught up in business (business she still didn’t know of, she lamented as they walked along the cobblestone streets. San had whispered in her ear that it was boring. Wooyoung was unlucky to not be here with her. And he, in turn, was ever lucky.)

She wore his pretty diamond bracelet on her wrist, and, every time he stole a glance, his face curled up into a pleasant happy grin. He looked sweet like a kitten.

His arm wrapped around her waist as they sat and watch Yeosang’s match. Drinking champagne, he’d offer her his flute every so often, and she’d sip away. It was an expensive brand, far more easy to drink than the piss-poor alcohol the ballerinas could afford for their own celebrations away from the leering men of the opera. Drinking the expensive liquor the men offered was never a good idea – it led to worser things.

Yeosang looked as pretty as ever. He reminded her of a ballerino the way he danced about the court.  Somehow both pretty and masculine as his form bent and stretched. Muscles rippled, leaner than San’s but not any less bulging. His arms flexed and she held onto the shared flue of champagne tighter.

San’s fingers stroked over her hip.

“You’re staring, honey,” he teased.

It wasn’t the tone of a jealous lover or a scolding of a respectable man. It was lilting, gentle. Her eyes looked away from Yeosang and rested on her date. He sipped his champagne, lips pursing and brows dancing. San’s lids were heavy as he grinned. Just as cat-like as earlier but more cheshire. Like he knew a secret.

He glanced away from her and looked over the athlete. His gaze mirrored hers, she realized. A fondness… no, an attracted air radiated in his deep brown orbs.

Was he teasing her? Was he genuine?

“Now, you’re staring,” she teased in return.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he replied coyly. He glanced back at her as he leaned in. “He’s handsome, hm?”

Her cheeks flushed at that and she looked away.

“San!” she exclaimed.

His laughter rumbled in his chest as he held her closer. His lips pressed to her ear intimately. 

“It’s alright, honey. He’s mine. Just as Wooyoung’s mine.” He replied easily. “Just as you are mine.” His lips kissed her skin before he pulled away. Her hand shifted to grasp his in hers. His thumb grazed over her bracelet lovingly.

-

Yeosang greeted them after his victory; the zing of celebratory champagne on his breath stinging her nose as he leaned forward to wrap her into an eager hug. Daring for a second-meeting. It made her worry she had been too obvious with her friendliness, her intrigue… her interest in the athlete. She did like him after all.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he beamed.

The smell of his cologne mingled with his sweat. Masculinity mixed with the soft thyme and tea of his perfume. It made her want to hug him closer. He pulled back, his eyes burning with the same intensity beforehand. A straightforwardness. He wasn’t afraid to meet her gaze. His honeyed eyes were sweet and inquiring. Taking in every feature of her – the dark coat, the pearls, the diamonds. He smiled.

“Hello Yeosang. Congratulations,” she returned.

The man nodded respectfully before he glanced over her shoulder at the tall muscled man, eyeing Yeosang with clear adoration.

“San,” he greeted.

“Yeosangie,” San replied with a fond grin. His cheeks were blushed, maybe from the champagne they shared?

The athlete rolled his eyes lightly, playfully, before he settled his gaze on the lady.

“Did you make any bets?” he asked curiously, leaning into her with intrigue.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no,” she exclaimed. She hadnt even thought of that; she was a guest after all.

“You know what? Yeosang’s right,” San retorted. His hand squeezed her waist. “Next time, you should bet some coin. We do all the time.”

Her brows crinkled, doubtfully. Not because she doubted Yeosang’s abilities. He was a powerful athlete. But betting… she swallowed a bit. She didn’t have much money to risk in general. She had just gotten used to having extra coins in her coinpurse. Her embarrassment burned at her ears.

“I’m not sure,” she said softly.

Yeosang eyed her before he hummed lightly. His gaze settled back on San, firmly.

“I’ll do it for you,” San said instead, downing the rest of his drink. His eyes reopened from the gulp and he shrugged. “I’ll buy you anything, honey. Everything.”

Yeosang laughed, lips curling. Pleased. He leaned in to whisper close. 

“You’ve got our San, sweetheart. Wrapped around your pretty finger.”

The athlete’s fingers were close by still, and they tickled her fingertips playfully. If he was any bolder, he’d be holding her hand. But instead, like a tease, he pulled back. Licking his lower lip and flashing a charming smile that only a socialite had. Easy and well-practiced.

“I’ll buy you anything, too, baby,” San purred towards Yeosang. He looked at the buff man with a raised brow. He always looked so sharp, in a delicate way despite his rippling muscles.

“I know,” he teased.

Yeosang raised a hand to squeeze the younger’s cheeks fondly. San smiled, pleased, a mirror of the grin he gave her earlier. His cheeks looked plump in the other’s lean long fingers. Yeosang chuckled, squeezing them again before his hand dropped and he turned.

“Come with me,” he nodded over his shoulder. “We can talk in the shade – the weather is horrid.”

He was right; the clouds were whirling and swirling into what was sure to be a downpour soon. They walked further into the tennis court’s shaded areas – the betting shop in the corner with a long line. People, mostly men, were cashing in their rewards. San’s hands went to rest on the small of her back; if she had glanced aside, she’d see he did the same to Yeosang, guiding the pair of them this way and that.

A rush of reporters, dressed for the weather with raincoats and large brimmed hats, flooded towards the winner. Yeosang slung his black tennis racket over his shoulder, smiling and waving at the flashing paparazzi’s cameras. Her eyes shut at the bright lights. San’s hand squeezed her waist and tugged her closer.

“Sir, congratulations!” There were cries of celebration and excitement. “Good show! Good show!”

YN wasn’t used to such fanfare, and it made her fantasize of the flashing lights she was hopeful for. One day… she glanced over at Yeosang. She’d be like him. Successful. In his own right. He grinned politely at a reporter, waving with a tight structured wave.

“Mr. Kim! Is it true you know Kim Yunho?” she heard over the chatter.

Yunho… she had heard that name before. But where? She didn’t have time to think as San guided them throughout the crowd, his hand curling over her hip to keep her closer with the writhing crowd jostling them this way and that.

The athlete didn’t reply, and he let his friend guide him through the swarm until they entered a tented area. Once the tent’s curtains were tied together, Yeosang huffed.

“I despise paparazzi,” he admitted, scuffing his feet against the concrete as he walked.

The space wasn’t special, but it was private. Scattered about were a few folding chairs, a wrought-wire bench, and a grey-green locker. Yeosang went to it, and opened it with ease. Within it wasn’t much. A folded assortment of clothes, a letter plastered to the locker’s interior, an extra racket, and a water jug. He placed his dark racket within and picked up the water jug. Raising the glass jug to his mouth, he took a big gulp. San patted her hip encouragingly as he moved away going to sit on the nearby bench. YN tentatively took a seat in a folding chair.

“Your performances of Swan Lake are coming to an end, are they not?” Yeosang queried.

“Oh, yes. They are; will you be able to attend closing night… or any show anytime soon? I’d love to see you there.” she admitted.

Yeosang’s lips quirked against the water jug’s rim before he pulled it away. Swallowing, he nodded. “I would love to see you once more, Miss YN. In your element.”

“You must encourage him to come backstage,” she turned to San. Less asking and more pressing.

He nodded in agreement. Easily swayed by his lovers, he leaned back in his seat casually.

“Is it like this?” Yeosang asked; a hand went to push back his locks, sweatied and damp.

The sight of his sharp brows quirking in curiosity sent a flare of excitement through her. He was so handsome; she couldn’t help but awe. San chuckled at her ogling.

“It isn’t, Yeo.” San admitted. “The backstage is grand and too open with too many girls running about half-dressed and men staring at them.”

Yeosang’s eyes flickered to him. “Even our girl?”

San glanced at her, head tilting. “Not as of late.”

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and placed it in between his lips. The look he gave Yeosang confused her – sharp, dark, and biting as he bit down on the cigarette before fiddling with a silver lighter. Yeosang hummed lowly.

“San and Wooyoung are polite,” she said, as if that would help the conversation. As if that was the topic at hand. “They’re the best gentleman in the boudoir. Honest.”

San grinned around his cigarette as he finally lit it. He knew she spoke the truth. She always did around him now. It made him happy to know she was so comfortable around them that she didn’t even notice the glares he sent the way of any man that dared eye her as she switched costumes.

Little did she know what would happen to one if they did. 

He puffed out smoke.

“I’d rather see you outside this boudoir then,” Yeosang commented, closing the locker’s door. “I don’t wish to see you improperly, sweetheart. I wouldn’t put you in that situation.”

“We don’t mean to either,” San coughed out, the smoke scattering about bashfully. He turned to look at her with the gentlest of eyes. “You’re painting me to be a villain, Yeo.”

“No, I know,” she interrupted. “I know San and Woo mean well.”

They had said so since the beginning. Wooyoung claimed he didn’t even know he was playing as potential patron until San said so. And now, well, she felt safe around them. When she was with them, when she was introduced to Yeosang, it made her feel permanent. Not a doll on a music box to show off around the right clientele.

Imara never had this.

“Still,” Yeosang tutted. “I’d hate that. If I had those reporters watching every little move I made back here.” He bared his teeth. “I’m sorry you have to suffer that, sweetheart.”

-

“Do you want diamonds?” San asked.

This was the fifth time he had asked if she wanted some grand gift as they walked home. The umbrella San had kept them mostly dry in the drizzle. YN knew he felt bad about the boudoir. Especially at Yeosang’s commentary.

“No,” she let out a chuckle.

“More pearls?” Not his favorite thing, but they looked pretty around her neck and they were useful.

“No,” she giggled, swinging their conjoined hands.

“Then what, honey?” he whined a bit, sounding childlike as he squeezed onto her hand.

She was surprised this bulky beefy man was acting so openly whiney in public. He didn’t need the illusion of masculinity to cling to; there was an element of strength in him deeper than attitude. Even if he was acting like a child.

“I’m okay,” she said. 

He licked the back of his lips. Doubtful. He frowned before stopping in the streets. The lamplighters were out and about, lighting the last remaining candle lights amongst the new gas-line lamps. He didn’t falter. He didn’t care if they were intimately close. His hand around her wrist as he pulled her close in the wet setting sun.

“What do you truly want, honey?”

What did she truly want? She smiled up at him. All her life she had only wanted and yearned for one thing – til Wooyoung and him and Yeosang all tumbled into her life that is.

“I want to be a ballerina. The ballerina prima,” she told him sincerely. Her hand rose to pat his cheek softly. “You are helping me get it.”

His lips pouted as he looked down at her. He didn’t like that answer. That was a harder request. But he wouldn’t tell her that. Instead, he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to her lips, so quick one would’ve missed it if it hadn’t tasted of champagne and cigarette smoke. His sweetened coffee cologne wafted over her soothingly like a chaser.

-

“Extra edition!” a newsboy cried out.

YN had been walking towards the newest restaurant that San and Wooyoung insisted on trying. It was expensive. Far too expensive for her, but San insisted per usual and Wooyoung pouted that without her he’d be bored. So, here she was walking the streets towards the richer side of town. The richer side of town where all the newsies made their routes; the rich had money to spare.

“Star tennis player Kim Yeosang associated with Kim Yunho, the man released on 1 million coin for murder in broad-daylight! Shocking details revealed.”

Now, that caught her attention. Her feet slowed until she came to a stop. For once, it felt like the newsies had given just enough information to lure her in. Her coin purse pressed against her thigh was heavy. Heavy enough to spare a few coins to buy the paper.

“I’ll take one, Jack,” she told him, digging into her pocket to hand him the necessary amount.

The younger grinned up at her. “Thank you, Miss YN.” He shuffled the heavy stack around, untying the twine to present the fresh-printed and warm newspaper her way.

She nodded in thanks as she unraveled it and began to read.

-

San and Wooyoung sat in the corner of a restaurant, talking lowly in the shadows as they waited. Only to be interrupted by a newspaper being plopped down on the table. Their eyes shifted from one another to the newspaper. Doubtful, almost darkened looks were engrained in their faces before they glanced upward to see their swanette. Haloed by the light pouring into the café, her arms were crossed; brow raised. Their expressions softened immediately like butter.

“Hello, honey,” San rumbled. He tugged the chair out for her.

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung added.

They hadnt looked at the paper yet.

“What the fuck is this?” she murmured, taking the seat easily as she shoved the headline their way.

Wooyoung licked his lips at her expletive. She didn’t curse much in the boudoir. Hearing it made his cell burn, biting at his lower lip after a moment. He glanced down at the paper; that hot feeling fizzled at the headline. He sighed, head rolling back, before he glanced San’s way. San’s expression hadn’t shifted; not even a twitch of his brow as he looked over his glasses at his partner.

“It’s a long story,” Wooyoung replied.

“I’ve got time,” she retorted, crossing her arms. “Start with the part where Kim Yunho is living in your mansion. Kim Yunho, the man who shot a near-billionaire, dead, in broad-daylight after a supposed bet gone wrong.”

Her voice raised as she retold what the inky print said. She didn’t look intimidating in their eyes. Especially with her pout. San wanted to kiss it off her. Instead, he offered, “Yunho’s got a complicated past, but he only acted in self-defense.”

“He shot a man in broad daylight. Is Yeosang safe? Are you?” she worried. “Hongjoong?”

Wooyoung scooted close at that, hating the way her voice accelerated. San chuckled lowly, shaking his head.

“Oh, little bird,” Wooyoung hummed, taking her hand. “We are safe. We are safe. You don’t need to worry – is that why you are so upset?”

She frowned at them, her furrowed brow deepening. Wooyoung cooed.

“You are, oh, baby,” he hugged her, nearly joining her on her chair. “You are sweet, YN.”

“I’m worried; you are with a criminal,” she mumbled out, making sure her words were too loud. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Wooyoung stole a kiss. “You really are a doll, an angel. We are okay I promise.”

“You can’t just kiss me and tell me it’s okay. How? How is it okay?”

“Yunho is a free-man,” San reminded. “He didn’t break out of jail; he served his time; he paid his fees; he was let go. But apparently caught the attention of the press while doing so.”

“Poor Yeosang,” YN lamented suddenly. “He hated the paparazzi and now-“ she buried her head into Wooyoung’s shoulder.

The younger cooed. His hand going to pet at her back as he glanced over at San while her back was turned. There was a rustling of the newspaper, the crinkling paper being folded over.

“Yeosang will live. He’s been reported on his entire life. Yunho will not hurt us, promise, honey.” San replied. “You’re working yourself up. I’ll get you tea.”

There was a snapping sound of his fingers. A waiter obediently came. The man whispered his order as Wooyoung murmured to YN.

“It’s alright. It really is. You’ll see.”

San and Wooyoung’s eyes met once more.

They should’ve let Yunho meet her before this all happened; their shared grimaces said so.

-

Not even a day later, there were rumors about town. That night whispers about her patrons were all about the boudoir. The Ateez House truly was haunted some said. It had a killer living there. It made her scoff. There were seven others in that house – how could you build a house to be broken and haunted by one person?

The next day, a man from the newspaper company, the Cromer Chronicle, was missing. He had disappeared in the night without a trace. Or well, there was a trace. A letter saying he was going on vacation for a while. But few believed it.

Gossip roared. What was even more interesting, was that the newspaper headlines the next day were completely free of any mentions of Kim Yeosang or Kim Yunho.

But on her vanity, a letter rested with her name in an elaborate script signed by a certain man. The seal was the same ‘A’ emblem that both San and Wooyoung wore on a gold ring.

Miss YN.

You are cordially invited to join Kim Yeosang at the Ateez House estate for a night of fine dining. Casual attire permitted. I am so excited to see you again – if you will join me!  

Yours,

Kim Yeosang

“Did you place this on the vanity?” she asked the two men who sat side by side on a sofa. Sometimes they looked too close for comfort; tonight was one of those nights. Wooyoung was nearly draped across San’s chest, his head cradled on his muscular shoulder as he stared up at her.

“No, swanette,” Wooyoung claimed. “Our hands are clean in this.”

He raised his hands in surrender, wiggling his fingers playfully at her.

“Yeosangie must’ve liked you,” San added with a smirk.

“You’d know,” Wooyoung muttered; San grasped the other’s hip warningly.

Wooyoung giggled out almost like a hyena, head tilting back in mischief.

“You should’ve seen how he looked at her, Wooyo,” San continued, his gaze flickering towards YN from over his spectacles.

“I know,” the other giggled.

“Will you be there?” she asked tentatively.

Her fingers fiddled with the corner of the thick cardstock Yeosang’s handwriting graced. She was used to their presence. They felt safe to her. They glanced at one another. San’s fingers trailed up and down Wooyoung’s waist. Wooyoung went to interlace their fingers smoothly. Squeezing it once and then twice.

“I’m not sure, honey,” San said. “We have business to attend to this weekend.”

“Sorry, pretty,” Wooyoung pouted at her. “We may see you in passing? If you miss us so much, we can meet you here early the next day. I want to hear all about you and Yeosangie.”

She smiled sweetly at them, flushing at the idea that the pair of them encouraged her to dine and possible flirt with another. It was strange but not… unfavorable. Yeosang was handsome. He was delicate but strong. Eloquent and interesting. Understanding. She liked his company. Despite the company he kept… her mind flickered back to the elephant in the room… or yesterday’s newspaper in the nearby waste basket.

“Is… Yunho –“ she asked, shifting this way and that. San couldn’t help but think she looked so sweet, so innocent, so naïve in her little feather tutu, all virginal white. “Is it safe for me - with Yunho there?”

They didn’t even need to look at one another. Wooyoung’s hand held San’s tighter as he shifted his gaze to simmer on her.

“Yunho would never hurt a lady, honey,” San replied, sincerely and instantaneously.

His hand outstretched for her to take. Which she did. It was San after all. Secure, sweet, strong San. He’s been so straightforward. She trusted him. His fingers caressed over her knuckles, “Especially you.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “I believe you.”

“Yeosang will be excited.” San promised, raising her hand for him to press a kiss to her knuckles. “We can deliver the news to him when we get home.”

He pressed a peck to each knuckle before continuing up her hand to press kisses over his bracelet. He placed a final sweet kiss to her pulse before pulling away, and pulling her towards their embrace. San could hold both of them in his lap after all. Wooyoung slid further down on the settee until his head rested on one of San’s thighs. His lips curled.

“I will send a car for you, swanette. You won’t have to lift a foot,” Wooyoung promised, reaching a hand up to tuck hair aside as she sat on San’s rippling thigh. “Easy-peasy.”

-

It was her first time in an automobile. She had traveled in carriages and open buggies but never something so expensive as a brand-new automobile. Something so polished and metallic and rich. Her excitement was almost like a child’s; her smile was bright at the sight of the car sitting curbside. Its lacquer was a deep-olive color, gleaming in the golden sunlight peeking out of the rain-heavy clouds. The chill that nipped at her heels and the rain that itched at the sky made her thankful that Wooyoung had sent a car for her – even if every single one of her neighbors were being nosey. She could see their faces pressed to their windows with curtains shoved aside haphazardly. No cars came here. And certainly, no car like this.

The driver was tall and handsome, his dark brown hair styled sharply across his forehead. A multi-layered suit with shimmering gold detailing looked expensive on his form, a long-coat making his appearance look clean cut and sleek. Just like the car.

His entrancing eyes were dark, siren-like as they locked onto her form as she hopped gracefully down the icy steps. He felt his breath catch. A mix of excitement and fear tumbled through his stomach. She looked so pretty. Her hair was done nicely and modern. Her day-dress was a pretty (if a bit washed out) green color, complimenting the car’s hue perfectly. The sparkle of her pearls around her throat and her diamond bracelet peeking from beneath the sleeve of the dark fur coat made him smile. His full lips quirked into a smirk of a close-lipped smile.

His eyes haven’t left her form yet. Not even when her mother stepped out to awe at the car and the man waiting for her on the curb.

“Hello, doll.” He greeted her, polite with a deep-voice.

His hand, covered in multiple rings, opened the passenger door for her.

“Hi,” she smiled at him, and he wanted to swoon then and there. But he stayed firm, icy, tall. It wasn’t his turn. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. But he knew the way to her house; he had a car. And he was higher than Wooyoung or San in the hierarchy. He’d do what he wanted to do… as long as the Captain allowed that is.

His eyes didn’t leave her as she entered the automobile, tucking her dresses beneath her lady-like. He closed the door behind her and circled around the car to enter the driver’s seat. He took a shaky breath before entering; he felt like a school boy. When was that a feeling he’s felt recently? (The Ateez House would say every time he whined and pouted at them like a princess.)

The interior of the car smelt expensive, too. The well-taken care of leather, the wiped down metal accessories, everything reeked of rich maintenance. Her eyes ate up the new machine, looking at the gearshift, the polished controls. There was even a record player in the dash.

She never realized how rich they were. It surprised her. He ate up how her eyes widened, and she sat so delicate, hands in her lap as if touching something would bite her. She was so cute. His lips curled into a smirk as he turned the key in the ignition. The car rumbled to life, and she let out a little sound of surprise.

He chuckled low, the sound reverberating around her. She glanced over at her driver. He looked casual in the driver’s seat. One hand was on the wheel; the gleam of an expensive watch shone at her. He was leaning back, his hand cupping the back of her car seat carefully as he began to pull the car away into the street.

He didn’t want to intimidate her. Wooyoung had said she was already so nervous about Yunho. So, he didn’t speak, didn’t tease, didn’t do much except drive. He enjoyed her gaze on him though. He watched her so many times that it made the back of his neck and the tips of his ears burn pleasantly. He tongued at his canines, hiding his smirk. His plush lips pursed instead.

Her awe shifted as he sped up, her eyes flickering to the streets that passed by, faster, faster, faster. Faster than any carriage or bike or trolley. It sent a whirl of excitement in her stomach.

“This is my first time in an automobile,” she admitted into the silence.

“It is?” his voice was deep as honey, and it made her spine tingle.

He glanced over at her. He wanted to show her so many new things. He was glad to have one of her firsts. Wooyoung had stolen so many. Her first date, her first kiss, her first embrace. He’d at least be her first car ride – one of many. He’d take her in any of his cars – if they were in the countryside rather than the city, he’d show her how fast these automobiles can go. He’d impress her. They’d go one day, he imagined. They’d go all sorts of places together. He’d show her the world if she wished it.

She hummed out in agreement, pulling him from his daydream.

“It’s nice,” she complimented, shifting her seat.

A flood of rose-petal aroma consumed him. Her perfumed skin. She put so much care into this; into them. It was intoxicating. His eyes locked on the road, his fingers trembling lightly. He flexed his hand and gripped the leather of the wheel tighter.

“Thank you, darling.”

The car ride was a quick one. Ateez House was on the outskirts of the city but not too far away to be a long journey. Just far enough to be private amongst the trees and rolling hills. It looked more alive than it had ever been in all the years she lived in Cromer. While the estate was sprawling and the mansion itself large and imposing with a complicated layout, it always looked abandoned. But now, there were crystal windows gleaming with light, gardeners trimming bushes, and luxury cars pulling into a nearby car garage. People tended to the large fountain in the center of the roundabout driveway, despite the threatening rain that rumbled in the sky. The mansion’s greyness seemed to fade with the orange-light the windows poured into the evening.

It was a phantom resurrected; the flame of life was burning within the house once more.

Mingi cleared his throat. “Welcome to Ateez House, YN.”

Her eyes were locked on his home; winding over the overlapping rooftops, grazing the glowing windows to see if anyone was looking out at them. Two figures, dark silhouettes at most, stood on the upper floor, one short and the other tall.

Her head tilted in curiosity before they walked off.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him before going to open her door. “And thank you for the drive.”

There was a squeak of leather as he shifted closer suddenly. His arm outstretched over her, bracing over her chest. Her gasp was all the sound that filled the air between them. Her head turned and they were nearly nose-to-nose.

He was so close. The blood-orange of his cologne licked at her senses, mingling with the polished leather so refreshingly. He smelled intoxicating and sharp. His face was only inches away; the fabric of his long-coat brushed against her. His hand closed around the metal handle of the car door, gently nudging hers aside. He laughed out nervously. His eyes were wide and gentle. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he flashed the sweetest grin she had ever seen, all toothy and bright. It sparkled… wait, he had diamonds on his teeth. His canines were adorned with gems that gleamed in the setting sun.

“Let me,” he bumbled out. He opened the door from within, before pulling his arm back. His cheeks were painted a rosy color that only made his flustered appearance look more sweet.

“Thank you,” she said, offering him a grin of her own.

She hoped he wasn’t too surprised by her own initial surprise. He was just trying to be a gentleman she realized. Bowing her head, she quickly ducked out of the car, closing the door behind her with care.

The only thought that filled his brain – besides the intoxicating smell of YN – was ‘damn you for winning, Yunho.’ After a long moment of breathing the remains of her deep into his lungs and watching her form walk towards his house, Mingi restarted the automobile with a rumble to guide it back to their private car garage. 

-

Everything reeked of extravagance. Tall walls with recess ceilings and wainscotting details. Gilded gold and glowing gas-lamps. Italian-Renaissance inspired tiles of saints, angels, and the Heavens were inlayed in the ceiling. The floor was patterned, a rich expensive textile making up the carpet.

There were butlers lining the walls of the foyer; all in matching midnight pin-striped suits. It was almost eerie. They were like statues, repeating over and over and over. Expressionless. Each face was stoney, eyes ahead. It reminded her of when the ballet troupe lined up in their matching leotards and were separated by height; row after row. Slicked back hair, delicate body lines, starving ribs. Identical and indistinguishable until they reached prima title.

None of them acknowledged her except for one, a rogue, that walked up and nodded at her politely.

“Welcome to the mansion, Miss YN. Please, come.” He outstretched his hand to encourage her further into the lavish space.

She curtsied, uncertainly. One of the many ghostly butlers took her coat as she walked down the foyer’s hall. Her kitten heels were soft against the carpet flooring until they rounded a corner. They click-clacked across marble flooring, polished ‘til she could see her reflection.

“Mr. Yeosang has requested a meal to be prepared at the West Wing. Please follow me.” The same butler spoke once more before he turned to lead the way.

Following after him, she was awed by the space. The very place that had been teased and taunted and ghost storied about was a gleaming jewel. As they walked, she realized how each hallway, each living space was opulent. The current path had walls that were painted an ice-cold baby-blue. Yet there were touches of warmth everywhere. Fine art in gold-leafed frames, elaborate trims around columns and the floor were the same shining gold. The art was all heavenly. Literally. Gods, angels, and disciples portrayed in blurred brush strokes, painted with colors that ached of softness. Everything was all gold, fluff, and magnificence.

The ceiling had multiple heavy hanging chandeliers of pure jewels. Diamonds dripped from its wire frame and sparkled in the gas-light. Everywhere was gaslit; she was surprised. No one had notice workers here and yet it was modern. Not a speck of dust or age present anywhere – besides the ancient art she supposed.

She slowed as she passed a large Renaissance-esque painting full of cherubs with feathered wings and glowing haloes. Squinting, she saw one figure wearing a ski mask. Huh? A cat meowed nearby. Her attention was caught, her head turning to the sound.  She stilled as she glanced down a nearby hall, one that seemed darker than the others. Doors lined each wall; all shut except for one at the end of that hall. It was opened just a crack, the siren call of a piano trickled out, and a little cat peered around its corner. The sweet cat was a midnight-black, almost blue-ish in tone; her tail twisted behind her as she meowed out again.

YN’s eyes lit up at the sight; the cat meowed again as it wiggled itself out of the doorway. Its paws and claws clinked against the tile, almost in rhythm with the piano music playing. Large green eyes peered up at her curiously as the cat approached; the collar around its throat was expensive – a leather thing with jewels, pearls, and a large silver bell that jingled out the closer it got.

She meowed at her again.

The piano stopped; the reverb humming out discordantly.

“Z?” a voice called out before a gentle melodic whistle chimed out.

The kitty’s attention was caught again, its ears perking up and meowing as if answering the call of its owner. It began to stroll back where it came from.

“Miss YN,” the butler’s monotonic called out.

Her head snapped towards him, answering his call immediately. She stood from the slight crouch she had taken for the kitten’s approach. Her butler stood some feet away, arms behind his back. She expected a disapproving look, but he provided none.

“Please follow me, Miss. We wouldn’t want you disappearing.”

That was almost worse! It sounded so ominous coming from his stone-faced mouth. She swallowed.

“Sorry,” she apologized before she quickened her pace to catch up to him.

“We wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

They continued to walk down this hallway and that hallway. Someone could easily get lost here. It was like a grand castle. Finally, after crossing some carpeted stairs, they were in front of a grand hallway of windows. As they passed, she could see a dreary exterior. Rain had begun to pour, fogging the outside in grey. But she could distantly see a maze of hedges, rose bushes, apple trees, and all sorts of gardens awaiting. She awed at the sight as they continued down the carpeted hall to come to a set of dark oak doors.

“One moment, Miss,” the butler warned as he entered the room quickly.

“Boss, er, sir – “

The doors shut behind him before she could hear any more. She was left alone. YN glanced aside at the wall opposite of the windows. There were inlayed gas lamps, glowing a soft yellow. A portrait hung nearby, painted in a similar style as the painting she saw before.

It was of a young man, a handsome one at that. His inky-black hair was slicked back in shiny waves, a singular strand curled over his forehead daintily. He was in all white, soft silken tunic and oversized bowtie of virginal white. Despite the softness of his attire and of the atmosphere surrounding him (he was almost painted with his own divine halo as if he was an apostle), there was sharpness to his midnight-black eyes and the smirk of his mischievous smile. His ears were pierced up and down, pearls and fine metals looping them in sparkles. A twinkle was shining at the corner of his grin as if his teeth gleamed in the heavenly light around him. He was beautiful, but she couldn’t help but feel like his dark eyes were staring her down.

The tall doors opened behind her suddenly. YN turned to see the reveal of a dining hall as luxurious as the rest of the mansion. But the aroma that wafted from its interior was far more intoxicating.

“Enter, Miss YN.” The butler encouraged, beside the door.

He held them open for her as she took a stride inside. Her lips widening into a smile as she prepared to greet Yeosang at the head of the table. But this was no Yeosang she realized as she gazed down the long, lavish table to meet the dark gaze of a stranger.

With a calculated look, he stared at her from the head of a ten-chaired, decadent table of hot food. It was more than she had eaten in months even with San and Wooyoung: sizzling side dishes, steaks covered in thick luscious sauces, cracked fruits that had a sweet nectar gleaming on them, chocolate-oozing pastries. An open bottle of red wine rested in a frosted chest of ice; eight crystal glasses sat upside down. One glass of red wine sat in front of her spot; the other in the grasp of the man’s hand. The ruby liquid gleamed like blood. A sea of lit-candles decorated the spare space of the table; the chandelier above keeping the candles instead of trading them for their gas-lit counterpart. The orange glow illuminated the intimate room in a hazy feel. Smoke trailed out of his mouth in a long plume, perfuming the delicious air with the heady scent of tobacco.

“Hello.”

His voice was a soft drawl. His close-lip smile was the same. Soft, slow, and confident. His eyes were illuminated by the flickering candles, making the darkness there look like a night sky spattered with stars rather than with blood. He tapped his cigarette into a crystal ash tray with his long fingers. Rings after rings curled over his knuckles; some sharp and some with the emblem ‘A’ just like San and Wooyoung shared. He raised the cigarette back to his lips to take another drag into his lungs.

“YN.” The smoke billowed from his lips as he spoke her name tenderly.

She should’ve left then, knowing it was different from what she had agreed to. She should’ve asked him where Yeosang was immediately – and who was he? But she already knew, didn’t she? She had worried about this man since she read the newsprint that bore his name.

She shifted, fingers tugging at her skirt as she heard the heavy wood doors shut behind her. The butler that led her here disappearing, leaving her with him. Her fingers pressed into the door behind her, tentatively. It didn’t budge beneath her. In the shadows of the room, she saw there were men lining the wall. Like ghosts, they didn’t speak or move – they simply stood like gargoyles surrounding a castle. One broke the line to pull out her chair opposite of her dining companion. Her eyes flickered back to the man at the head of the table.

“Hello,” she said instead. “Yunho.”

It wasn’t a stutter, but there was a pause in her words. Yunho’s laughter was almost fond as he chuckled out a plume of smoke before she was urged forward with a flick of his hand. Ashes splattered across the white dining cloth, sizzling burns into the fabric. She sat down in the chair pulled out for her; the servant pushed her in towards the table with a screech of the wooden legs against the wood.

The silverware in front of her was polished, gleaming in the candle-light. A perfectly folded napkin rested on the center of her gold-lined plate. The initial ‘A’ in a circle was embroidered fancifully in shiny black thread on the pristine white fabric.

Her fingers flexed against the wood arm rests of her chair as she looked down the table, over candles, meats, cheese, and vegetables at the intimidating man. He was far away, but perhaps that was the safest option for her.

“I like you already,” he proclaimed, his words solid and confident. His smile simmered.

“Please,” Yunho gestured to the piles of food in front of them with a hand, swinging the cigarette and a trailing path of smoke about. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Her stomach felt tight with nerves, but even so it grumbled at the sight before her. Everything smelt so nice and rich and oily. Decadent. She licked her rosy lips, dragging her eyes up to look at him once more.

“Where’s Yeosang?” she asked finally.

He smiled, a peak of glimmering teeth shining in the candlelight. No, it wasn’t his teeth that shined – it was the inlayed diamonds on his canines that twinkled. Just like the driver. Just like the painting.

“He’ll join us,” Yunho reassured. “He’s running late from a previous engagement. I promise.”

Her gaze was doubtful. Why didn’t he just tell the driver to alert her? She could wait. She was used to waiting upon rich men.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I was curious of you.” He stated as he raised his cigarette to his mouth once more. As he breathed out, he gestured again at the food. “Please help yourself. Wooyoung told me some of your favorites.”

There were her favorites; steaming and hot. Some tartlets from their recent date sat on a pearlescent serving tray. Tempting. Her stomach grumbled. Watching him carefully, she reached out a fork to stab into a piece of meat and plating it.

“I’m just a ballerina,” she claimed, eyes flashing to look at him as she picked up her utensils to cut at the singular item on her plate.

Yunho’s lips quirked up on one side before he glanced aside at a man. He nodded towards her and she couldn’t help but jump as a suited butler approached. Yunho’s gaze took in the small tension that rippled through her.

The butler began to pile up her plate with this and that. Steaming vegetables, savory pastries, fluffy mashed potatoes scented with garlic, sticky soy-sauce braised meats, pasta with a rich cream sauce, seafood with clarified butter. It was more food than she could finish. The amount of food laid out was enough to feed eight men.

“You’ve entranced my brothers for being more than just a dancer,” Yunho commented. “I wanted to see what was so special about their swanette.”

She swallowed, her throat dry. She felt like a trapped bird in a zoo being observed. She tried to imagine the boudoir around her rather than the intimacy of a dining table.

“I’m a good dancer,” she told him boldly. They like bold, an older ballerina’s voice was in her ear once more.

Yunho smiled. “I heard. I apologize for never attending a performance.” He said.

“You’ve been… busy,” she said. But not too bold. Another ballerina warned.

It was a dig, and Yunho knew it. She knew it too with how wide her eyes became. And still, his lips curled into a smile, his eyes simmered.

“Its no wonder Wooyoung took to you,” he breathed.

He raised his glass of wine to his lips and took a long sip. At the mention of Wooyoung, he saw the way the muscles in her face flickered. Lightening. Interesting. Placing the glass down, he leaned forwards, hand resting under his chin as he stared at her, intrigued.

She was intriguing. She had four members of the family wrapped around her little finger and here she was in his sticky webs. Yunho ached to figure her out, dive deeper. The vein in his forehead bulged a bit with his intensity.

His eyes felt magnetic. She had cut up her slice of steak into tiny bites at this point, but all he had done was stare at her. He had not a lick of food on his own plate. It felt more like an interrogation than a meal at this point.

So, she stared back. Her eyes met his, swallowing down her fear. The twisted mangled amalgamation of fear, intrigue, and something else. She was safe, she chanted internally. Wooyoung promised. San promised. He hadn’t done anything to her…yet.

She took in his appearance. While his eyes were a hypnotizing thing, his entire face was like one of a siren’s. Handsome with chiseled features. Sharp cupid’s bowed lips, sharp brows, sharp clean lines of his suit. A pair of glasses were tucked into his pocket… he needed glasses just like her Sannie. Her eyes darted up the line of his throat. His hand rose to bring his cigarette back to his lips. He tilted his head, the midnight-black hair swaying over one eyebrow smartly.

How were all these men so handsome? The driver, her patrons, Yeosang, Yunho. All breathtaking compared to the oil-grubby handed rich men of Cromer. It made her soften just a smidge, guard walls lowering as he breathed out smoke once more. Lips pursing delicately. Cheeks soft, she noticed. It was quiet. The clinking of her utensils against her meal was the only sound in the hall.

“Do you like dancing?” she asked. Dancing was safe. Dancing was all she knew.

“Enough,” he said. “My brothers like it more than myself.”

Brothers he said again. It was strange. Wooyoung spoke of the others as friends, dear ones – explained that the shared last name was something pushed upon them. Yunho embraced it.

“Then, sports?” she countered. “Tennis perhaps?”

Yunho chuckled lowly, and it felt like a tiger’s rumble. “No,” he laughed. “Not particularly – though, I have good hand-eye coordination.”

Her mind flashed to the shooting the newspaper relayed – a fictionalized imagining in her head bloomed. Him and his gun aiming and firing with ease, just like that man in the alley way.

“Oh,” she breathed.

He wondered if she knew how blatant her face revealed things. Her fear, her thoughts, her soul. It was strange though. Yunho didn’t want her frightened.

“I play against Yeosang often,” he clarified.

“Oh,” she repeated, a different tone trickling into her exclamation. Her knife scraped against the plate’s china, screeching out suddenly like a soprano at an opera house. Her gaze turned to it, surprised.

Her meat was completely shredded now. Almost inedible with how much she had sawed into it over and over.

Yunho laughed again, the sound warm and full. “Darling,” he cooed out, soft. “Please relax and eat. I insist. Yeosang won’t mind.”

Yeosang. Of course, that’s why she was prolonging it. Her smile was bashful and Yunho’s eyes swallowed it up just like she bit into a piece of her meal finally.

“Will you not eat?” she asked.

Innocent, sweet. Yunho’s eyes simmered as he reached out to grasp a fruit from an intricately weaved wired basket. He bit into a red apple, sharp and vicious. Juice dripped over his fingers, down his chin. He raised a black napkin to the corner of his lips wiping it away. His eye contact never ceased. Did he just wink?

“How long have you lived in Cromer?” he asked.

“My entire life,” she admitted.

He hummed out. “And the ballet almost as long I suppose?”

“Ballerinas are taught young,” she said.

“The best way to shape someone.” He snubbed his cigarette out in his ash tray.

“I suppose,” she admitted. “But I love dancing. Truly.”

It was spoken sincerely, passionately. He nodded. “It’s been mentioned. They say one can tell by just the way you breath. You are full of it.”

“D-dancing?” she queried.

“Love.” he countered. “Passion.”

Her eyes blinked owlishly. “Oh.”

“Do you love them?” he asked directly. His head tilted curiously.

The topic had shifted in tone dramatically suddenly. Her heart raced to its hummingbird speed once more. Her face blushed. Yunho drank it all in like the wine in his glass.

There was a clambering down the hall way, muffled by the oak doors. Her gaze broken from his, and she looked over her shoulder at the doorway.

“Here he comes now,” Yunho whispered.

As predicted, Yeosang came busting through the doors. His hair askew, his eyes burning with the cruel fury she had only seen on the court. His elegant clothes looked rumpled; the softness of his sweater that cut into a deep v revealed more skin that she had seen of the sportsman yet. A rose was pinned on his chest, gentlemanly, and yet somehow tempting her to stare at his chiseled chest more. A decorative scarf wrapped around his throat, disheveled.

He glared at Yunho with such contempt before it was washed away at the sight of her. He glanced her up and down, quickly as if his lingering gaze would be scolded. Appropriately for such an inappropriate action. His lips parted gently; his rounded face soft with a gentle blush.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he immediately apologized, head bowing.

The long strands of russet-brown hair that framed his face swooped over his cheeks. His hand rose to tuck one strand back. “I was caught up with something unexpectedly.”

With little show, she stood, discarding her utensils to greet him. Her smile was soft, reassuring, genuine. She ducked her own head to catch his gaze – he was still glaring through his lashes at the man at the head of the table she noticed. But when he saw her own face come into view he straightened sweetly, awkwardly. But in such a charming way somehow. Yeosang was so charming even in his anger and discomfort. She didn’t want him to be in discomfort.

“Its alright,” she reassured him.

“We’ve just been chatting,” Yunho chimed from the end of the table. Unhelpfully.

Yeosang adjusted his leather gloves nervously, tugging them off finger by finger.

“I see that.” Yeosang rumbled.

His eyes settled back on her like she was his seas’ moon.

“You look lovely, YN,” he complimented. Her smile lit up the room, he swore.

He licked his lips, deep voice humming out as he looked over the table.

“I-I,” he gestured to the table, the meal he had ordered the chef to prepare, “I have those tarts you liked at the café on Riverfield Street.”

She smiled at him; he was so cute.

“Thank you,” she grinned. “And I saw. They look perfect.”

He breathed out a little, fixing his clothes once he tucked his gloves into his back pocket.

“It’s been perfect,” she tried to reassure him, sensing his anxieties. His blooming nerves. Her hand reached out to squeeze his.

He jolted at her touch, just enough for her to catch it. His ears were red. Yunho’s grin was wide, sparkling.

“Thank you for the invite.”

“Of course, I wanted –” he glanced at Yunho’s leering gaze. “I wanted to get to know you better, sweetheart.”

“And we shall,” Yunho agreed. “Sit, Sangie. Let’s eat.”

A butler appeared to pull out a seat for him. It wasn’t near either of them, in fact. It was the third seat to the left side of the table. Yeosang glanced at the butler silently before pulling out the chair directly beside YN and seating himself.

He was served a selection of the meal, silently. She went to break the silence.

“How are you?” The headline still brandished itself in her mind. His words about paparazzi left a lasting impact.

Yeosang huffed out. “Well,” he replied. “News articles come and go. I’ll remain on top of my game regardless.”

Yunho nodded steadfastly from across the table. “It’ll be nothing by the next game.”

Yeosang offered her a smile. “Thank you for worrying about me. I’ve survived worse.”

She nodded solemnly. “I don’t like it still.” Yunho watched the interaction carefully. His brow quirked.

“How are you liking Cromer?” she asked. She was used to asking men how they enjoyed the show… but that wasn’t an option here when the room lulled into silence.

“It’s different. But I’ve seen places as beautiful as Aurora, as desolate as the Strictlands, and as rural as Paradise. Cromer reminds me of Aurora in a different way.” Yeosang explained. “It feels homely.”

She smiled. “Ateez House is yours, correct?”

“Its in the family,” Yeosang replied.

“What do you think of it?” Yunho queried.

“Its very nice,” she politely said.

Yeosang tilted his head fondly at her. “Meaning?”

Her brows crinkled in surprise. “Its—nice?” she repeated.

“Shall I remind you what San encourages you to do, sweetheart?”

To be honest. How did he know about that? Her neck and ears became a soft pink in the candlelight. Swallowing, she glanced to the side.

“It is genuinely nice – its just… this house has been called haunted my whole life,” she told them. “There are ghost stories linked to this mansion. It’s strange being here and seeing that it is, in fact, not rotting or some supernatural force of nature.”

Yeosang chuckled out, smiling sweet.

“There are stories?” he leaned in. “Do tell!”

“I love a good gruesome story,” Yunho commented.

But for some reason, the way the words lilted in his tone didn’t make her flinch like before… in fact, was he teasing her? Her eyes flickered from Yeosang’s open form to Yunho. His cheek rested on his hand; elbow pressed into the table as he eyed her with Yeosang.

He smirked at her as they met one another’s eyes. He nodded, urging her. And so, YN went into the ghost story she had been told as a little girl, sitting among the tutu’ed training ballerinas while her mother did alterations on the prima’s show-stopping costume.

“The story goes that this house was home to a Captain,” she started, twirling pasta about her fork as she spoke.

Yunho and Yeosang’s eyes locked.

“The Captain was no ordinary captain; he was the fiercest pirate king of all. With his crew, the Black Pirates, they terrorized the seas and reaped countless treasures. When he grew old and hoarding like a dragon, he docked at Cromer under a false name. Ateez House was built upon blood-soaked jewels and coins; they say the pirate captain passed in his vault, hidden deep in the mansion’s basements. His bones are still there, unrested. His ghost terrorizes the house and refuses to let any soul except his pirates’ prowl.” She dramatically told.

Her fingers wiggled sensationally. “Or that the treasure was haunted by those they robbed and killed mercilessly. Their ghosts remain and haunt these halls.” She shrugged her hands landing back in her lap. “The story changes every so often.”

“What a story,” Yunho breathed. “Do you believe it?”

“It’s just a story. Maybe there are some real parts but… ghosts aren’t real. I’m not that silly of a girl.”

“You aren’t,” Yeosang commented immediately.

“But everyone in town knows it, so it sticks,” she told them, reaching out for the glass of wine in front of her and taking a sip.

“Cromer loves its gossip.” Yeosang commented.

“They’re stuck in their ways,” Yunho added.

“What do you think of Cromer?” she redirected to Yunho.

He took a small breath in. His previous grimace faded and his brow crinkled as he looked at her thoughtfully. His lips pressed together before replying.

“At first,” Yunho said, tilting his chin. “I did not like it… but now…”

His gaze felt hot, ever present. There wasn’t a barrier of modesty she often felt with other men. Yeosang’s was intense. San’s was careful, observant. Wooyoung’s eager and challenging. Yunho’s was steadfast. Confident. Even the men in the boudoir knew there were limits. They had their wives. They had their image with the other men within the boudoir itself. Here she felt both hunted and examined. Admired but equal. He was looking at her soul.

“Now, I like it.” Yunho purred. “Very much, darling.”

He placed his silverware down with a clink. He leaned forwards, hands pressing into the table.

“There’s more to you that meets the eye,” Yunho commented. “I see that, so now I will let you speak your mind, truthfully.”

Her heart nearly stopped. Was he going to ask her about her love again? In front of Yeosang?! Her eyes remained on him steadily. Her ears burned.

“You’re frightened of me, yes?” he said.

It was strange to feel relief at the confirmation of something so horrible. Because she was still nervous around him, for his boldness frightened her just as much as his previous actions. Yeosang’s eyes shifted to her, widening as he watched her nod.

“Sweetheart,” he reached out for her hand, petting her phalanges but not grabbing it. He simply wished to reassure her. Just as she had done for him earlier.

“San and Wooyoung said I didn’t have to be,” she replied. She licked her lips.

“Ask me what you want to know.” He stretched back into his chair, neck flexing as he met her gaze.

“Is it true? Should I be frightened?”

“That’s not it,” he laughed a bit, lip curling almost scornfully, scoldingly. He raised a brow, head tilting as if weighing his options. “But no, you don’t need to be frightened. Ask another.”

“I don’t have another question.” She countered, only to state simply and firmly. “You shot a man.”

And he smiled. “I did.” Yunho confirmed.

“On purpose?” she asked.

“Yes, darling.”

Her blood felt cold. She hadn’t met someone like him and it sent her stomach into a cramping mess. Yeosang did take her hand now. Interlacing his fingers softly. He glanced over at his elder as he rose from his chair. Oh, Yunho was tall. Very tall, in fact. With them sitting, he looked giant. His heels thudded against the floor.

“Why?” she asked. Yeosang felt her hand tighten in his grasp.

“He tried to fool me, steal from me,” Yunho stated, walking towards them. “Lied to me. I don’t like being played.”

There wasn’t a moment for the words to sink in for YN. Instead, like a game of tennis, she shot back.

“So, you shot him? Just like that?”

“For your information, yes.”  

“That’s frightening.”

“Yes.” Yunho was beside Yeosang now.

“But!” Yeosang was the next to interrupt. “If you must know… Yunho isn’t some cruel man, sweetheart. It was done in self-defense.”

“Self-defense?” she asked doubtfully. Wooyoung and San said so themselves as well.

The air that Yunho carried seemed to be more than that. He wasn’t exactly proud, but he was at peace with what he did. Yunho’s face pulled into a tight thing as he rested a hand on Yeosang’s shoulder. They both looked at her inquiringly.

“He pulled a blade on Yunho,” Yeosang interjected. His gaze flashed to her. “He has the scars to prove it.”

They had an answer to everything. It was self-defense. Not a thing of violence. Of necessity.

She stared at them

“It wasn’t… he struck first?” she repeated slowly.

They glanced at one another before smiling at her with dual grins. Yunho tapped his fingers on Yeosang’s shoulder before he pulled back. A hand went to his chest, gentlemanly and earnest in nature.

“Yes.” He ensured.

Her eyes flickered to Yeosang. He had been a sensible figure – likeable, nothing formidable. If he trusted him, if her Wooyoung and San did. Yunho spoke with such authority. He valued truth just like San did.

Her defensiveness, something she didn’t even see in her body language, softened. Yunho’s sigh was one of understanding as he walked back to his seat, stealing a glance at her. He smiled again, his teeth gleaming in the cande light.

“YN.” He spoke her name luxuriously. “If there is one thing you should know about me. I don’t do mess.”

He plucked a dessert from his plate, biting into the chocolate with slowness. Calculated. He kept her gaze. It sent a thrill through her; he sent a thrill through her. Swallowing together, the corner of his lip curled. He raised a napkin to his lips, gentlemanly.

He was a gentleman, straightforward and powerful. He had to be telling the truth.

“I’m not a messy man, darling-doll.”

The dinner didn’t last much longer. Yeosang encouraged conversation; Yunho threw in some topics, mostly of things she had mentioned to San and Wooyoung. It struck her then that they shared many stories about her. They must’ve talked about her a lot. It made her cheeks flush as red as the chocolate strawberries Yunho ate.

Their eyes were hot on her; it felt like they were captivated and it made her heart race. Like she was on the stage.

She liked it.

Surprisingly, her two patrons made an appearance at the end of the meal. Wooyoung, of course, was the one to pop his head into the grand dining room.

“Swanette!” he beamed at the sight of her.

Yunho took in how her shoulders softened and her chest heaved at the sight of Wooyoung, at his voice. He smiled, softer and truer than any other smile he shared tonight so far.

Wooyoung was dressed the most casual she had ever seen him. A fashionable patterned white-and-black button-up shirt was barely buttoned, revealing a black ribbed tank-top beneath it. His hair was pushed back casually and messy; a rolled cigarette was behind his ear. His slacks were a deep black, loose and flowy rather than a structured fabric.

“Woo,” she barely got out, her mouth dropping at the sight of him.

He smirked, arms slinking over the chair and over her shoulders.

“Hello hyungs,” he greeted the others, barely glancing at them before ducking his head and pressing a less-than-decent kiss to her mouth. Smothering and all consuming. She squeaked into it. A ringed hand rose to cup her guide her head in the kiss, icy cold against her flushed red cheek.

Yeosang and Yunho chuckled out. The sound was a mixture of fondness and annoyance. Yunho’s brow twitched. Yeosang’s hand held hers tighter… he hadn’t let go, of course. But YN hadn’t noticed the entire dinner and dessert. ‘Til now. Her fingers flexed in his as Wooyoung swiped his tongue across the seam of her lips.

“Alright,” San scolded Wooyoung, his hand going to the back of the shorter’s neck. He nearly pried him off her. “Wooyoung!”

“I missed her,” Wooyoung said simply, flushed face and breathless.

His hot breath fanned over her rosy face; his lips were spicy and left hers burning. Mischief twinkled in his eyes as he stole another kiss from her lips. San pulled him back again with a harsher hand.

It was then she got a glance of her other patron. San had freshly washed hair, the locks combed out and dripping over his forehead. He wore a similar tank top to Wooyoung, but in a white shade. Shockingly, he had a pair of workman’s light-washed blue jeans hugging his thighs. Thick thighs, muscular shoulders, tawny honey skin. It was tantalizing, tempting. But when she looked over his face, her mouth dropped in surprise. A bruise kissed at the corner of his lips; his sweet smile tarnished with a purple-red watercolor splotch.   

She couldn’t help stand immediately, half in the clutches of Wooyoung. Her hand rose to cup San’s cheek.

“Honey!” he exclaimed out in surprise.

He didn’t shift away, actually bending at the knee for her height, but San was certainly surprised. He had taken the lead between them often. YN rarely made the first move with either of her patrons. But what he had mistaken for sexual tension only led to pain. He was shocked when her thumb’s brush against his lips made pain radiate up his face.

“Ow,” he whimpered, frowning. His brow furrowed.

Yeosang laughed nearby. “He forgot he’s hurt,” the athlete commented.

“It’s been a while,” Yunho added, finishing his drink as he watched the interaction play out.

San’s lips pressed together, blinking rapidly before taking in the concern look on her face.

“Oh, honey, I’m okay,” San tried to reassure. His hand rose to cup her hand that was pressed to his jaw, thumb brushing over it soothingly. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“You just said ow, you liar,” she scolded him, brows furrowing. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine,” he swore, tilting his head to press a kiss that stung his mouth to her palm. “Promise.”

“This town is getting more and more dangerous,” she breathed out.

Her thumb brushed over his cheek softly. His pretty face marred. Without his glasses on, she could see how his eyes sparkled in the chandelier’s candlelight. Soft and starry, as if she hung the world.

“You are an angel,” he murmured. “I’m okay. I’ll live.”

“Wooyoung, will you tell me what happened?” she prompted, not moving. Wooyoung pressed to her side made a humming sound.

“The streets are rough around here,” he said. “Someone really ought to fix that.”

Yunho huffed from across the long table.

San smiled at her again, eyes falling into half-moons. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips stung to do so, but she was worth it. “Thank you for worrying.” He told her. His stomach did somersaults at the thought of her jumping to his aid.

“Shall we walk you out, swanette?” Wooyoung directed instead, head tucking over her shoulder to look at the table. “Yunho has a meeting to attend unfortunately.”

Yunho hissed in through his sparkling diamond-inlayed teeth. “Does the—”

San nodded.

He breathed in through his nose before offering YN a simmering smile. Full of warmth. “It was lovely meeting you, Miss YN. I hope to see you very soon.” He bowed politely before with long-legged strides left the room. Wooyoung winked at him as he passed.

“I’ll join you,” Yeosang offered YN. “You must come visit again soon – in the spring, the gardens are beautiful. We could have tea or -”

“Yeosang likes to take long strolls through the gardens – even if it’s raining,” Wooyoung revealed, finally peeling himself off her back to look at the selection of food laid out. He plucked a grape from a platter.

“You gossip like the upper-class now,” Yeosang commented, raising a brow.

Wooyoung laughed brightly at his friend before popping the fruit into his mouth. “Eh, they rub off on you – I had to keep up with you, Sangie.”

Hmm, it was an interesting interaction. Playful but also… strange. She knew their pasts implied they hadn’t always been wealthy… Yeosang had been a protégé tennis player at a young age but how did he meet Wooyoung? Was it all because of Hongjoong?

San’s hands squeezed her waist. When had both of his hands shifted there? “You sleepy, honey?” he asked.

“Too filling of a meal,” Yeosang complained as he rose to his feet.

As if the food was her reason to getting lost in her head.

“It was perfect,” she countered, taking a step back. “Thank you again for the invitation.”

“Thank you for gracing us,” Yeosang replied, offering her his hand. She took it, and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. A picture of a gentleman. But he was quick to wrap her arm up into his, pulling her into his side now. Surprisingly daring for the Yeosang she knew.

“Shall we?”

Their exit seemed to take forever just as before. Yeosang lead her down hallway after hallway after hallway. It almost felt like they were navigating a maze. San and Wooyoung framed the two in; Wooyoung on her side and San on Yeosang’s.

“How was Yunho?” San prompted, tentatively. “He didn’t scare you?”

“Did he frighten you – when you were alone with him?” Yeosang repeated, arm tightening around her.

“No, no, he wasn’t frightening,” she reassured them. “He was a surprise certainly.”

“Ah, Yunho was sneaky. He doesn’t like the opera, so he found his own way to meet you,” Yeosang sighed. “I feel like he caused the trouble for me on purpose, so I’d run late. You’re popular around here, sweetheart.” He squeezed her arm teasingly.

“Who else here?” she chuckled. Seonghwa? Hongjoong? She hadnt yet to see either of them – like they were ghosts.

“You’d be surprised,” Yeosang commented before leaning in and admitting. “I quite like you, too.”

He made her cheeks burn red, and Wooyoung giggled.

“She likes you too, Sangie,” he crowed out, fingers reaching to tickle her waist. “I’ve seen her blush over San, over you… Do you like Yunho as well?” Wooyoung queried, his words becoming less and less playful. They were almost inquisitive, as if testing the waters instead.

There was a crack as he lit a match across a gold-leafed frame. He placed the cigarette that was behind his ear to his lips and lit it.

“I did,” YN told him, honestly, as they continued through the foyer. Wooyoung chuckled out, smoke puffing out in front of his face in surprise. He wasn’t expecting her to admit it so fast.

“Not like that,” she interrupt his giggles, face burning. “I just—”

Looking down another hall they, she made out Yunho’s form, tall and slim walking down the hall with purpose. His back to her as they turned into the foyer finally.

“He was kind. Even if he was a bit intimidating… he wasn’t cruel or harsh. Just… confident.”

Yeosang smiled close-lipped. Wooyoung blew out his smoke to the side, the plume passing over the butlers’ faces. Not one flinched or coughed.

The smell of expensive tabacoo wafted over her face warmly as Wooyoung walked in front of them to push open the large heavy doors of the mansion.

“So he wasn’t so scary after all?” he teased. “Wait ‘til you meet Hongjoong and Hwa-hyung. They’re properly-”

“Wooyoung, don’t tease her,” Yeosang defended.

The younger raised one of his hands in defense as he held open the door for them. “I’m just saying – she got pass the guard dog.”

“She hasn’t met Jongho yet,” Yeosang giggled lightly. “He’s truly got a bad case of looking gruffer than he is. He’s our baby.”

Jongho. She had only heard that name once, and it was that night. Her ears rang.

“Jongho?” she queried softly.  

He had been at the opera! He was one of their ‘brothers’.

“Or Mingi--Ah, here he is now,” San commented, smiling over at the man standing in front of the green-painted car.

“Hello,” the driver greeted, voice as deep as earlier. His eyes flickered to her arm in Yeosang’s.

Wooyoung smirked at him. “Mingi, I didn’t know you were driving today,” he said.

“I thought you and San were doing business today.”

“It was a fast deal.”

Mingi looked unamused, his siren-eyes looking him and San up and down. “Uh huh.

“You know a Jongho?” she turned to Yeosang as they spoke.

“Jongho is the youngest of us. You’ll meet him soon, sweetheart,” he reassured, squeezing her arm. “He’s busy too often. I think they overwork him; he’s just a boy.”

“He’s only a year younger than us,” Wooyoung commented with a pout.

“He’s a baby,” San agreed offhandedly.

“I think I—"

“Is she going the hell home or not?” Mingi bit out. Before looking bashfully at her. “Sorry, doll,” he apologized for his gruffness. “I’m not used to a dame being around.”

“Its okay,” she mumbled out. Her mind was preoccupied with trying to figure out why Jongho was at the opera… without his supposed family knowing.

Mingi pouted at that. “No, its not.” He admitted. “Don’t take disrespect.”

Her distracted gaze rose and nodded softly, not really processing his words.

Wooyoung tsked out. “Here he goes about respect,” he sighed out. “Hurry up, swanette, or else we will be here for hours.”

There was a rumble of chuckles in the group. Yeosang squeezed her arm once more before pressing close to her ear, cheek to cheek. A whispered “next time it’ll be just you and I, hm?” was hushed into her ear before he unwound himself from her and allowed the others to hover about. “I’ll see you next time, Miss YN.”

San pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised. “And again, I promise you, I’m fine.” He pressed another kiss to her hairline before guiding her into Wooyoung’s arms.

He was warm and smelt of smoke. His grin was playful, wolfish as he leaned down and stole her lips into a kiss. He was getting bolder and bolder. His kiss was hot, a lick of his tongue into her mouth this time. She squeaked and he chuckled deeply.

“Mmm,” he moaned as he pulled away just a fraction. Wooyoung smiled as if he was innocent but his teases were devilishly. “Perhaps I should call you little mouse instead of swanette.”

She pushed at his chest, playfully. Wooyoung tugged her closer, grinning. Her face was akin to a rose.

“Let her go, Wooyoung,” Mingi said from the side. His face was sharp as he glared at the other. He didn’t appreciate the teasing. “She must be tired.”

Wooyoung heaved a sigh as if this was the hardest thing to do. He pouted at her before stealing a kiss, pressing a peck to her nose. “Fine,” he relented, unwinding her from his spider web embrace.

“See you soon, pretty. Mingi will make sure you get home safely.”

Mingi nodded steadfast before he offered her his hand.

“Shall we, baby-doll?”

-

Next time, when she woke, it was to a cat’s sandpaper-esque tongue licking her cheek. Little tiny licks with the familiar nuzzle of her wet nose, Z investigated her like any other day. The little more-blue-grey-than-black cat sniffed at her, the talkative pet meowing loudly. Her green eyes blinked slowly at her before she nudged her cheek with her forehead once more.

Her body didn’t burn. It didn’t ache. It didn’t feel like anything. Whatever drugs she was on, they were good. She blinked at the kitten, slow to do anything once more.

She was still in Yeosang’s room. The smell of him was all around her, Jongho’s familiar gardenia aroma mingling in the sheets. YN tried to move. Pushing herself upwards was easier than before but the slightest shift in her legs reminded her of the heavy casts that wrapped her ankles. The pain nothing like before but there was still the zing up her knees that made her pause. Her breath caught as she stared at her limbs before her.

Her reality. Bedbound, grounded. It was a depressing thought. Even more depressing when she realized she wasn’t sure what day it was nor what hour. How many shows had she missed? Did her mother know she wasn’t well? Was she just the same as those folk written about in the papers? Missing and forgotten.

She let out a shuddering breath as she laid back into the fluffy luxurious pillows, contemplating what to do. Should she cry out for them? Hongjoong was the last face she remembered but she didn’t want to see him. Or Seonghwa. Or any of them. Really. Anger burned her throat like the nearby fire place. Z’s whiskers dusted over her arm, nudging at her for attention as she let out another inquisitive meow.

“Leave me alone, Z,” she mumbled into her pillow. The little tongue peaked out to lick her again. “Stop, Z; go away.”

Her tone was raising with her rising grief. That was the only way to describe what she was feeling grief – a mixture of hoping, pleading, that everything had been a dream only to be reawaken to reality. Anger and sorrow clashed like cymbals in her head.

The cat nuzzled her again, and she snapped this time.

“Z, go!” Her hands shifted the quilts aside in a huff, making the little cat hop away, back arched.

“Z, come here,” a voice, melodic as it was masculine, called. The doorway creaked open, the gaslight in the hallway illuminated his figure, bulky in the best way. “Love isn’t in the mood to play.”

She frowned over at him, even if Z hopped off the bed and went towards Jongho eagerly. Her little body pressed against his leg as she passed him, purring softly. He smiled after his kitten before his gaze settled back on his love bed ridden.

“Hi love,” he greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Angry,” she told him.

“But not in pain,” he smiled.

The youngest crawled up onto the bed, sheets rustling and ruffling as he settled beside her. Jongho wasn’t one to be silenced by a glare or dirty look. He was made for this world – his hyungs’ beloved aegi was used to getting what he wanted. And she was his baby. His love. He wanted her.

She turned her rageful eyes his way. He simply smiled just like the others. “I know,” he hummed. “I tried to warn you.”

He had. He cried to her last night… or a few nights ago? Her anger was quenched by those tears now. Her eyes softened just a smidge, and Jongho took a mile. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. His arms wrapped around her ‘til she was caught in his embrace, warm and coddled.

He indulged in the way she didn’t pull away or yell. He had heard her shouts at Yeosang’s attempts at affection.

“What happened? I remember waking up in pain – why?” she murmured into his chest. Trying to gather information from when she was asleep.

Even now, she felt safe in his embrace. It caused a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach.

He heaved out, her head rising and falling with his chest. “You had an infection – the doctor said it was possible dirt from that alley way. It entered your injury for too long. He fixed it.”

“Is he alive?” she mumbled.

“By Yunho’s grace.”

She felt the ebbing and flowing rage, the despair rush over her again. Almost as if sensing it, Jongho shifted, his chin tilting into his chest to look down at her. He moved to tilt her own chin to meet his gaze. Fiery passion burned there. He liked it better when her passion burned for her dancing… but he supposed it had to go somewhere while she was incapable.

“It’s the way things are,” he told her. “Stop fighting it.”

Stop fighting and give in. Look what fighting did. Just let them control her…

YN scoffed. “I’m not some doll,” she bit back. “Or some—"She wriggled like a worm on a hook. Jongho’s eyes ached, and he reached for her hands. He cupped them in his. His bloodstained ones. How many time had he scrubbed away ichor? Dug it from under his nails? Her hands were dainty.

“It’ll never touch your hands,” he interrupted earnestly. “You’ll never bear it. Our work. Our lifestyles. If that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m bearing it now,” she whispered to him, voice breaking. “I’m afraid of you.”

He frowned, his face firm and thoughtful. He was always thinking her Jongho. He never stopped. His thumbs brushed over her palms, his forehead pressing to hers intimately.

“You tried to leave,” he said. “I didn’t want this. None of us did. If you hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You understand what that means – I’m just something you control like your butlers and your members and your-.”

“No.” Jongho interrupted soft and earnestly.

“You are no pawn, my love. You are our priority… our treasure. Always.”

[oh-no-its-bird]

Gonna ramble a bit here, sorry in advance for that

With the rise in worry about the permanence of online media (books / music / video content / art / online chat history / etc.) I've been thinking about wanting to print out some of my favorite fics, or catologue some of my longer (months and years long tbh) conversations about ocs. Or maybe try and learn how to burn cds so I can save my music and favorite shows / videos n stuff

Mm,, download a show online and burn it into a cd so I never have to look for it again,, easily accessible physical copy,, I love pirating things

Obviously, with printing out fics I'd want to ask for explicit permission from the author and then keep the printed volume to myself. Gotta be careful to be respectful ab that sort of thing.

I'd also be interested in printing out some of my own shit too, just for fun. Those old conversations about ocs won't last forever, discord will eventually fail and when it does I know I for one will be crushed to lose all that chat history.

Obviously, I'm an American, and like the current political state in America is uhhh. Deeply worrying for all of us over here. So I won't lie, that's also adding a layer of worry from that angle. Things are already looking ugly, and if they get uglier, you know, I for one don't want my information to be completley ripped away from me

Turning back to the fic thing again, there's also a good amount of American fic writers who have / are planning to / are thinking about taking down some of their fics, due to fear of potential laws that threaten to make pornography illegal, and alao laws that classify anything homosexual as pornography.

Now, to be clear, I don't think they'll really do this. I think that even if they try, there're literally no fucking way it would pass. The backlash alone would be insane. But that doesn't change the fact that people are scared— that people got scared, and some have already taken things down

So there's another layer of just, shit man, I don't wanna lose my fics. There's always a risk that even if you download it, you could one day lose it too.

Also printed and bound fics are just cool as hell. What do you mean I have a copy of my very favorite fics, right there on my shelf in physical form, which I can open any time to any page I want without fear of ao3 one day crashing?

The ideal world tbh

Besides that, there's also a sort of time capsule aspect to it.

The other day, my dad whipped out his old tape recordings he made when he was a kid, just of him rambling about shit to mail to a cousin. He put them in to a record player he apparently just had, and I lost my fucking mind seeing it.

Both of my parents were laughing at how excited I was to see both the tapes and the boom box— and to listen to my dad's tinny, muffled voice sounding just like the vintage tapes might be portrayed on TV. Faint static and old timey tv lilt in his voice and all.

To them, it was just a small, slightly nostalgic thing. To me, it was cool as hell and totally retro

The things I save today, that I print, that I burn into cds; Stories I'm scared might get deleted, conversations I dont want to lose, tv shows I could never afford to maintain a subscription to see, playlists of music I worried I'd lose; They may someday be some day be a real relic of the past, however many years in the future. If not for other people, than yeah, for me

So just, I dunno. It's important to save things in a way that they can't be taken away from you.

It's supposed to be the "age of information," isn't it? Well then, let me keep my goddamn information

[n1ghteeea]

UNIVERSITY RGB HCS BC THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO SHARE THEM ‼️‼️

Disclaimer: this only contains Egon, Ray and Peter as they are the ones who were in uni together (sorry Winston and Janine). Also this is long and self indulgent as hell.

I am NOT taking up the responsibility to say at what exact ages they got into uni, but let’s say that during their first year Peter is 18, Ray is 17 and Egon is 19.

Now, Ray is doing electrical engineering, Peter is doing engineering in hopes that it relates to trains (spoilers: it doesn’t, but he doesn’t find out until after his second year), Egon.. well Egon actually isn’t a student, but rather an instructor. I got this idea from an uncited wiki trivia point, and just ran with it. Maybe he was in uni instead of school bc he’s just that smart, maybe something else, idc really. He’s a physics instructor who is the same age as most of his students.

Ray and Peter are roommates and while it takes some time, eventually they bond and become best friends. And when I say best friends, I mean it to an almost unhealthy extent. In my head, Peter was always alone. Absent family, constantly moving around the country, unconventional interests, autism - I don’t think he ever really had friends. In the show we see him TRYING to be a charmer, but most of the time people do not buy his act, and I think the same thing happened in uni. He wanted friends, desperately wanted to fit in, but never really managed to. So when suddenly his roommate turned out to be a great guy who genuinely liked his company he immediately grew almost unhealthily attached. We won’t blame him.

Ray, on the other hand is liked by many due to his kind and charming personality, but doesn’t have many close friends, again, due to his unconventional interests and hyper behaviour towards them (ADHD). He isn’t that bothered by it, though. Good for him.

Now Egon is taking his unique position very seriously. He is no doubt popular at the uni - people have to be curious about this super young, clearly genius and handsome (canon in the show, not my words!) guy who works as an instructor. However, he does not engage in personal conversations, doesn’t seek out human connection or fun activities. He is focused on studying, working, getting experience and progressing in the field. He has many older mentors, but no friends of his age and is perfectly fine with that.

——————————————————————

So, first semester, first year. Both Ray and Peter take Egon’s physics class (though in different sections). Ray and Egon do not interact in class whatsoever, Ray is simply a good student: he studies well and does all his assignments on time (or mostly on time). They have no reason to talk and so do not know each other personally.

Peter, on the other hand, hates physics, finds it extremely boring and useless and makes a loud statement of not studying for it. It upsets Egon, who doesn’t want such morale to spread around his class, so he invites Peter to after-class talks.

This attitude pisses Peter off immensely because the audacity of this guy to tell him what to do and what to study for?? And from that point on Peter makes it his life’s mission to piss Egon off at any chance possible. He doesn’t bully him or set him up in front of people, he just acts like a dick and shows his disrespect in any way he can. Egon doesn’t like him back. This goes on for a while.

Now, aside from classes and physics, Egon also does parapsychological research on the side, as at the end of the day, that is his main area of interest. One day, as he goes into a lab to work on some experiments, he meets Ray who, very expectedly so, is also doing parapsychological research since that is his biggest interest, too. They bond over it and become lab partners and eventually friends.

I also want to specify that a moment when their relationship transforms from formal to friendly is one silly heist of sneaking into the patron section of the uni’s library at night to borrow a book necessary for their work. Adrenaline and oxcytocin do their job well and they go from “Mr. Spengler” and “Mr. Stantz” to “Egon” and “Ray” 🫶

⏩️ Fastforward to the second semester. Neither of the guys are taking Egon’s class anymore, but Ray and him are still working together and progressively becoming better pals by widening their conversation topics as well as hangout occasions. Peter still hates Egon’s guts, luckily they don’t have to meet too often. At least until one day.

That day electricity malfunctions in Egon’s room right when he needs to mark his students’ assignments. As usual, he does it late at night when the library is already closed. Ray, as a good friend, offers him a spot in his and Peter’s room to work which Egon accepts, becoming a horrible surprise to the latter. After spending about fifteen minutes trying to get a reaction out of Spengler with no visible result Peter notices just how exhausted the guy is and for the first time it really hits him that surprise!! Egon is human too. He even grows slightly worried, after all, he doesn’t want the dude to pass out in their living room. They don’t begin interacting more after that, but Peter as if slightly cuts back on the teasing. But he still calls him “Spengs” out of disrespect.

⏩️ Fastforward to the second year. Egon and Ray hang out more, forcing Peter and Egon to interact, and good news! They now tolerate each other. And yes, they do go to “Egon” and “Peter” though “Spengs” and “Mr. Venkman” are still present, mostly to show annoyance and displeasure.

At some point in the semester Ray makes a new close friend named Max and that fact makes Peter crash the fuck out. Ray is super excited about this new guy who also studies engineering, loves comic books and horror movies, is super smart and funny. They hang out a lot and study together and whenever Ray comes back to the room he just cannot shut up about how good of a time he had. And Peter (need I remind you, lonely and self-conscious Peter who was always left behind by everyone in his life, including his father) watches, listens, gritting his teeth, until he just can’t anymore. Did I mention he has an unhealthy obsession with Ray?

He goes through a full mental breakdown, and they talk about it and partially resolve the situation (though the one-sided Max beef in Peter’s head continues, it’s hilarious).

⏩️ Christmas break comes and Ray announces that he is going to be leaving to spend it with his family in Bronx, and only here do we see just to what degree both of these people really are dependent on him.

Peter crashes out, yes, again. He’s lonely, he’s bored, his plans are ruined and he has no idea how he is going to survive three weeks alone in the dorm.

Egon takes it more calmly, he’s Egon, after all. He doesn’t complain or act upset, but two things happen. First, his work slows down significantly, and second, with his support system being gone he falls back into the unhealthy habit of overworking himself to a point of total exhaustion (speaking from experience here, it’s really hard to stay consistent with your healthy habits and routines when the person who is usually there to help you with them isn’t around).

To not die of boredom and exhaustion, Peter and Egon organise hangouts, sometimes sitting in the library and trying to get work done, sometimes watching TV or getting lunch together. Their relationship improves significantly during that time, and Ray is very happy to see that upon arrival.

Not much to say from that point on. All three of them become best friends, Peter switches his concentration to psychology, they rent an apartment together and go on with their academic lives. If I had to somehow describe their relationship I’d say they are a qpr. Not in love whatsoever, but still very emotionally intimate, physically affectionate and are the most important people to each other.

Also they don’t know it yet, but the moment they met each other they met the rest of their lives 🫶

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think of Bellatrix? Would you have liked to explore more dynamics about her?

I *love* unpacking sibling dynamics and toxic relationships, so of course I find Bellatrix fascinating. (Also "Bellatrix Lestrange" might be my favorite name in a series full of very good names. 10/10.)

To me, what's key about Bellatrix is that she's the oldest of the three Black sisters. She could have been written as the indulged, attention-seeking bratty baby... but that would be a less interesting character.

Growing up, I think Narcissa was probably the quiet, passive child. That's her strategy when Voldemort shows up and she's once again living with a powerful, unstable authority figure. (I mean we have no info about what Cygnus Black was like, but he's Walburga Black's younger brother, and I imagine they probably enforced each other's extremism and intensity after their brother got blasted off the tapestry.) Narcissa's strategy is fade to the background, don't react, don't let them see what you're thinking, let them ignore you.

(I also think it's very believable that she went subtly went low contact with the Blacks after she married Lucius. The Malfoys have *always* been much more squeamish about violence, and much more politically moderate. I think Narcissa likes that.)

Andromeda you can take in a couple of different directions, but she was probably the problem child/scapegoat. And if she wasn't before she married Ted, she DEFINITELY was after. She also looks so much like Bellatrix that Harry does a double take, which I think... would have really bugged Bellatrix growing up, and informed their dynamic. Bellatrix sees herself as SO exceptional that she wouldn't want to be compared to anyone... but if she were, then it would be important that any casual comparisons come out in HER favor. (Which can't have been fun for Andromeda.) It's interesting that Voldemort underlines the connection between the two sisters as a way to get under Bellatrix's skin, and it works *really* well. She's got a competitive streak.

Because Bellatrix would have 100% grown up the *Golden Child.* Powerful, driven, beautiful in a striking way. The Daddy's Girl energy is off the charts (and she was probably Aunt Walburga's favorite too.) Bellatrix is described as acting like a queen, which is exactly how she sees herself. She grew up in an echo chamber not only telling her that people like her were special and better... but that she was the most Special one within the Special group.

So she meets Lord Voldemort. He's beautiful, driven, brilliant, power levels off the charts. He's Grindelwald born again (but straight) (probably.) He's not just the Dark Lord, he's a King. He wants to rule the world as an immortal god-king. He tells Bellatrix that this is going to happen, and she believes him.

And like - of course she's into that. But also, seeing yourself as a temporarily embarrassed Immortal Goddess Empress requires such a specific self-concept. You are going to need a delusionally high opinion of yourself... but also enough talent/power/beauty/external validation to carry that idea into adulthood.

(also Rodolphus... he doesn't count. Good Marriage was just another box to check as a young woman so Bellatrix could remain Perfect. The rules are different if you're a Immortal Goddess Empress anyway. Any consort she had would be so far below her own power level, or the power level of her King, that he literally would not matter. But she's not going to have a *kid* with Rodolphus. She's Voldemort's favorite, Rodolphus is not good enough. You sire PRINCES with the KING.)

Voldemort of course would know all this. And we see him have so much fun finding ways to creatively torture Lucius. He's a sadist in general sure, but there's something specifically about bringing pureblood royalty low that he gets REALLY into. He *likes* bringing up the werewolf nephew-in-law and and watching Bellatrix scramble desperately for ground, crying, while the rest of the Death Eaters point and laugh. Until he tells them to cut it out, because he's the only one with enough power to do that.

And then Bellatrix goes back to her room and probably constructs a whole narrative about how that was actually Voldemort protecting her, because she's the most Special, and it's all in good fun really. Because the alternative is having to admit that she's not extraordinary, she's just a punching bag (like Lucius Malfoy.) This is where a lot of her anger and instability come from. Every time she's in a situation where someone else is doing something *more* or *better* ... she lashes out.

In the main timeline of the books this mainly shows up in her dynamic with Narcissa. Bellatrix tries to give orders in Malfoy Manor (I am sure it really annoys her that Voldemort is using her sisters house as his HQ. That isn't how it's supposed to go.) Narcissa is sacrificing Draco for the Dark Lord? Well, Bellatrix would have five sons (hypothetically) and sacrifice them all (happily.) She tries to shift the blame for Department of Mysteries thing 100% onto Lucius, and gets really defensive when Snape implies that he has more emotional intimacy with Voldemort than she does.

But she's still really, really useful, and Voldemort knows this. She is talented, and powerful, and his best enforcer. So he would have so much fun dangling that carrot just out of reach, forever. The prophecy makes such a big deal about Voldemort marking Harry "as his equal," because that's just not a thing he does. BELLATRIX certainly isn't his equal.

(dumbledore though... we can maybe revisit.)

[weathertheraine]

Karasuno First Years: DnD Party AU!!

This is an AU I’ve had cooking for literally years so finally here’s something for it :DD I’ve built the first years as a level 4 party - just starting to get on their feet and not almost die on the daily.

Character backstories here!!

I have practically made character sheets for these guys but BE WARNED. They are not all 100% legal I have fudged things like Hinata needing a high strength score to multiclass out of Barbarian… but like. I don’t think I’ve cheated in any ways that a chill DM wouldn’t probably find a way to swing :P

IMMENSE ramblings under the cut about my reasonings for class/race/trait decisions if you’re interested in that :P

HINATA: HALFLING BARBARIAN/SORCERER

- Hinata as a Halfling not only gives him an even bigger height disadvantage than canon, but also has some INCREDIBLY fitting traits: ‘Lucky’ lets him reroll 1s, ‘Brave’ means he is resistant to being Frightened, and ‘Nimble’ means he can dodge through spaces occupied by creatures who are bigger than him (aka Human-sized), giving him extra manoeuvrability on the battlefield.

- I thought a barbarian’s Rage was also a great way of representing Hinata’s near-superhuman athletic abilities and determination on the court. For the duration, he has increased attack and strength abilities, and resistance to physical damage. The rage will end if he hasn’t attacked a hostile creature or taken damage since his last turn - a fun parallel to his need to stay in the action and constantly be touching the ball or he gets deflated (at least at first - this is their early days as a party, so they have some of their early flaws even if they’re young adults here instead of teens).

- ‘Reckless Attack’ is also fitting as it gives him advantage to attack but also gives his enemies advantage to attack HIM - this could serve as a version of decoy-ing, drawing attention and fire. As he levels up, he’ll also gain Extra Attack and Fast Movement (self explanatory) and Feral Instinct which makes him less likely to be Surprised, and more likely to be the first to jump into battle

- The most fun part though of course are his wild surges of magic, since he is a Wild Magic Barbarian. This means random magical effects can sometimes happen as a side-effect of his actions - things which can be helpful like ‘temporarily infuse your weapon with magic’, but can also be things like ‘deal necrotic damage to everyone around you, including your allies’. I think this is a really fun way of translating Hinata’s incredible abilities which at the beginning of the series, he has little control over. He can pull off amazing feats, but he can’t recreate them on demand, and sometimes it’s more of a hindrance than a help

- Narratively, he’s trying to learn to control his emerging magical abilities by multiclassing into Sorcerer and training with Kageyama. This means he can now cast spells on purpose as well as accidentally but it also increases the wackiness and power of the magical accidents he can cause. These now include gems like ‘involuntarily cast Fireball at 3rd level, centred on yourself’ and ‘you are transported to the Astral Plane until the start of your next turn’, but also ‘for the next minute, you can teleport 20 feet as a bonus action’

- As a sidenote Hinata also has by far the highest hitpoints, which represents the amount of time he’s able to get hit and keep on going, and the highest initiative which means he’s likely to be acting first in a fight

-

KAGEYAMA: DROW SORCERER

- Kageyama HAD to be a sorcerer to me because that’s the class that has innate magical ability, which is the best parallel for his prodigy status and natural volleyball talents (as opposed to a wizard like Tsukishima who has to learn from a spellbook)

- As a sorcerer, Metamagic also gives him increased control over his spells, which I think is perfect for him as it represents his incredible control over the ball. I picked ‘Careful Spell’, which lets him essentially cast an AOE spell but avoid his allies, and ‘Seeking Spell’ which lets his spells bend around obstacles to reach their intended target.

- He takes the origin of the Clockwork Soul - this gives him the ‘Restore Balance’ ability which lets him remove ‘advantage’ from his enemies and remove ‘disadvantage’ from his allies. I saw this as a good way of representing his setting responsibilities of opening a good opportunity for his spikers; if the opposing side would have had an advantage, Kageyama can take that advantage away. It’s also a fun mirror to Hinata’s ‘Tides of Chaos’ ability, which lets him GAIN advantage.

- I also imagine him using a lot of buffing spells like ‘Enhance Ability’ and ‘Aid’, bringing the best out of his allies

- He’s a Drow/Dark Elf because I wanted him to be edgy (silly answer) - for real though, he has a terrifying reputation as Drow are considered automatically evil, and it’s a reputation he… only partially deserves. He IS a powerful and dangerous sorcerer, but he’s not evil, in fact he’s doing his best to do good in the ways he knows how, but his demeanour in combination with people’s assumptions mean that he’s never been able to keep a party or erase the negative rumours. Only now, with the other first years making an effort to understand him, is he starting to find more of a place in the world.

-

TSUKISHIMA: HALF-ELF WIZARD

- Tsukki is a wizard because that’s the spellcasting class that studies magic from spellbooks and that’s just his vibe. I can imagine him being frustrated with Hinata and Kageyama’s natural sorcery abilities, in a parallel to his view of them as Volleyball Monsters who have innate power he just doesn’t have.

- I imagine him being a very by-the-book wizard in the beginning, mostly using utility spells like ‘Comprehend Languages’ and ‘Detect Magic’. He’s uncomfortable in combat and probably casts Magic Missile every turn because it’s one of the only spells that’s guaranteed to hit its target - this mirrors his early series attitude of playing it safe and coasting on his abilities instead of pushing to be better.

- As part of the start of his growth, he’s taking the path of chronurgy magic. This gives him ‘Chronal Shift’, which means he can force opponents or allies to re-roll certain actions, potentially turning a success into a failure or visa-versa after seeing how the original roll turns out. I think this is a fun representation of him coming into his blocking abilities, letting him essentially say ‘oh Ushiwaka spikes it in? Actually no he doesn’t, roll again’. At higher levels, he’ll even be able to dictate what the new roll is, and he can also cast spells but save their effects for later, which parallels his ability to form long-game strategies which don’t pay off for a while.

- I’ve also said he starts using spells like ‘Augury’ which lets him see whether the outcome of a certain action will be overall good or bad, and ‘Suggestion’, which lets him bait opponents to do what he wants - developing the strategic skills that will eventually make him a real asset in combat

- He’s a half-elf partly because Yamaguchi is human and Kageyama is an Elf - Tsukki is special, but he’s not THAT special, in a middle-ground when it comes to his natural talent. Yamaguchi definitely looks up to him as someone special and magical, but Tsukki doesn’t see himself that way compared to ‘real’ elves and ‘natural’ spellcasters.

-

YAMAGUCHI: HUMAN FIGHTER/RANGER

- Since Yamaguchi is the most ‘normal’ of the first years and the only one not on the starting lineup in the show, it made sense to make him the most ‘normal’ option of a human fighter, which is a combination that’s sometimes considered basic or boring but can actually be invaluable when it’s used well. He considers himself the weakest link on the team at first because he isn’t magical like the others, but his martial abilities often give the team the edge in combat.

- Instead of the usual human ability increase, I gave him the feat of Martial Adept, letting him take Battle Master Manoeuvres. He has ‘Trip Attack’ and ‘Disarming Attack’ which means he can knock down and disarm enemies rather than just damaging them, giving his allies an opening to attack more easily. This is a great parallel to his pinch serving, which breaks up the opposing team’s formation and gives his teammates the opportunity to strike!

- As a Banneret fighter he ‘inspires greatness in others by committing great deeds in battle’, foreshadowing his role as eventual team captain!! He gains ‘Rallying Cry’ which bolsters his allies along with himself, and in the future he’ll be able to give them extra actions as well

- Yamaguchi has also taken a level of ‘Ranger’ now that the party is on the road, giving him survival and travelling skills that the other’s don’t have. It’s also starting to give him a small amount of magical power, which he doesn’t have the hang of yet (I’m fudging this a bit for narrative). I’m seeing this as a kind of parallel to his canon arc of finding a way to fight with what HE can do, finding his own niche that ends up being invaluable to the team.

- Yamaguchi also has by far the most balances stats and I think often ends up as the ‘face’ of the party even though he has the lowest Charisma score and would really rather ANYBODY else was doing the talking. But Kageyama is too likely to offend, Hinata can be overwhelming or accidentally confrontational, Yachi is too nervous, and Tsukki hates talking to people even more than Yamaguchi does. Poor Yamaguchi.

-

YACHI: ROCK GNOME ARTIFICER

- To match her manager roll Yachi needed to be a support class, and I really like the idea of her being an artificer rather than a traditional spellcaster. Rather than always using innate magic, she’s learned a specific set of skills which allows her to create magical artefacts and potions, thus helping her party to be stronger even if she isn’t often in combat herself

- Being a rock gnome gives her more knowledge of magical technology, and allows her to ‘tinker’, constructing small clockwork devices with simple functions like starting a fire. being an artificer means she has ‘magical tinker’ as well, meaning she can infuse objects with a spark of magic to produce a small effect in a similar way.

- ‘Infuse Item’ gives her more powerful abilities along these lines, letting her imbue objects with magic. I gave her the infusions ‘Returning Weapon’ (a weapon can be summoned back to the user after being thrown), ‘Enhanced Weapon’ (this and the previous feel good for assisting Hinata and Yamaguchi,, ‘Replicate magical item’ (feels fitting for her smarts and the way she’s good at absorbing knowledge from what’s around her), and ‘Enhanced Arcane focus’ (good for assisting Tsukishima). Her different abilities mean she can be a huge help to all her teammates in different ways, just like as a manager she has different approaches to helping out the different team members

- She has the specialty ‘alchemist’ which lets her make potions and cast some healing spells. however, it also lets her create ‘experimental elixirs’, which have a random effect. though yachi is more level-headed than most on the team, she is still a member of karasuno with the capability of pushing the envelope and growing in exciting ways, so I felt like this was a fun way of representing her own passion and enthusiasm for trying new things, as well as fitting for someone who’s spent a lot of time with a wild-magic user like hinata

- ‘The Right Tool For The Job’ means with time, she can create the perfect tool for the task the party needs, showing her smarts and her ability to solve specific problems with the right solution - something I think she shows in the series with how she has such good advice for the team on many occasions.

- Yachi also has the highest wisdom of the party, meaning she’s the best at insight and reading emotional situations, such as telling when people are lying.

[sha-brytols]

see i think he's right in that there is no actual discernable line between Anders and Justice but i think it's a little bit more complex than that because. well obviously we see moments where justice just straight up takes control of anders body like in the fade or the quest with ser alrik or his rivalry path. but i also feel like a lot of the things anders says and does is not entirely just him. like.

okay so justice has a very distinctive style of speech. very verbose. rarely (if ever) uses contractions. has a very declarative style and frequently speaks in terms of absolutes. "It was your condemnation of their race that led to your folly" and "This is a mortal body of flesh! I am trapped within!" it's a very similar, albeit less poetic, manner of speech to that of cole's. their mannerisms are very reminiscent of someone whose grasp of communication is limited to the abstract (if that makes sense.?) so their speech feels unique in that it's more visceral and conveys a certain Feeling in the player. while cole's is more flowery and evocative, justice's speech is direct and forceful.

and as we know anders in awakening, he talks more casually, much more carefree, upbeat, very informal and uses more colloquialisms in his speech. "Erm... i didn't do it?" and "Whoa. She's talking to me. Voluntarily." he's literally the most unserious man in the world and honestly talks more like the class clown from your college frat party than a fantasy wizard.

i think this is most apparent when you see him and justice talking to each other:

justice is very no-nonsense and straightforward and really super does not fucking appreciate anders' cheeky attitude, while anders is borderline obnoxious and seems to enjoy being a smartass for the fun of it.

so like. in da2 we know that for the Most part, the smarm and glibness has been very toned down and anders is now more somber and subdued. he's also become more romantic (both in the literal sense as well as in the literary sense) and idealistic. he seems to have settled in a middle ground between polite and familiar and his tone is less playful and more earnest. he's also become a lot more respectful with how he talks about religion, compared to how he casually wonders if andraste was actually ugly or something in awakening (interesting thing to note: we know for a fact that justice actually believes in the maker and also has a deep respect for mortal faith)

so my personal interpretation of the justice/anders dynamic is that they kind of exist on a spectrum of sorts. one side being "mostly anders" and the other side being "mostly justice" with his default state being right smack in the middle. something that immediately stuck with me when i got it was anders' reaction in aveline's act 2 quest

maybe i'm insane and overthinking it but. this is just such a fucking abnormal response to a cute goofy "oh no how do i get this guy to like me?!" conversation that i can't not immediately think. hi justice.

her banter i think also provides a pretty perfect example of this

hi justice ^_^

hi anders ^_^

so my interpretation has always been that like. while i do believe for the most part they are genuinely "one" as anders claims, it's pretty clear to me that there is still a small divide between them, but it's more like in the way purple is always a mix of red and blue, but sometimes purple is more blue than red. and sometimes it's more red than blue. they aren't entirely separate from one another, but you can clearly see which is the strongest at any given time.

am i making sense. is anyone here. can you hear me. hello

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you have any thoughts about the Love square Ship? I just realized that a huge reason why they are happening is because they are 'fated to be together' just cuz they're ladybug and chat noir. Aren't the writers shooting themselves on their feet? 'Cause it just means that Adrienette only love each other because they're LadyNoir.

The love square has fallen into a trope I like to call the Sk8er Boi trap. This is a reference to the opening question of Avril Lavigne's famous song:

He was a boy She was a girl Can I make it any more obvious?

Yes. Yes you can make it more obvious! I'm not going to ship these two based on gender alone! Give them depth! Give them substance! Make me care.

To be fair, Miraculous didn't start this way. The first two seasons of the show did a decent job setting up the crushes. It wasn't amazing, but it was enough to see the potential, especially when you paired it with the fun of identity shenanigans. Those early seasons also felt like a promise that more depth would come with time as is typical in a slow burn.

Instead, as time went on, the crushes became ever more superficial because the show has committed to maintaining a status quo that doesn't allow for a deep, meaningful romance. Without that depth to really sell the ship, Miraculous is relying on the audience shipping the love square because Adrien and Marinette are the endgame couple and that's about it. The quality of the relationship doesn't matter. All that matters is that the show says that they're meant to be. It's disappointing, but annoyingly common.

For reasons beyond my understanding, there is a decent subset of the population who are happy to play this game. If the writing says, "these two are meant to be," then this audience is happy accept that no matter how little substance the couple has. Heck, they'll ship couples that are straight up toxic!

The audience in question seems to be here for the drama and the passion, not the love and depth. Give them twists that come out of no where! Give them ridiculous miscommunication! Give them poor characterization! They'll take it all so long as it's shocking and dramatic. I don't get it, but it's not a fringe preference. It's straight up popular right now. Couples like this dominate mainstream romance, YA, NA, and romantasy. They're all obsessed with drama over depth, but that's the opposite of what I want. I will take depth over drama every day.

My ideal romance is a cute boring couple made interesting by the extraordinary circumstances they're dealing with. I thought that's what the love square was going to be, but I have given up on that hope. It started to really die in season four and season five straight up killed it.

You'd think that a show aimed at kids would be free of unhealthy romances since there are a lot of topics a Y-7 show can't touch, but apparently not! Season five's love square feels like it's an awkward, kiddified version of the kind of trends that have made me avoid mainstream Romance, YA, New Adult, and Romantasy for the past few years. Every book I've tried made me rage (insert reductive "are the allos okay" joke here). So, to answer your question:

Aren't the writers shooting themselves in their feet?

Not really. They're not writing a deep nuanced romance, but they are writing the type of frustrating, drama-laden romance that some people adore. As long as a subset of those people are willing to watch Miraculous, the show will be successful. I don't get it, but Goodreads has shown me that people love this shit, so I'm stuck waiting for the current trends to die off or for a new genre to pop up that leans towards what I like. Such is life. It's not like there's nothing good out there. It's just harder to find since it's not on trend right now. Plus there's always fanfic! That's my main source of romance. I look for other things in original fiction.

[weeewooobitsfallout]

Companion rambles: could they operate a vehicle + other random assortment of headcannons

Curie:

Knows every single part of a car. Knows every driving safety rule. Do not let her near a vehicle. Her driving style is mad-max levels of fear. She will giggle and comment about how much fun she’s having, and how she wishes she did this sooner. Danger level: 9/10. You won’t die but you’ll never look at a corvega the same.

Cait:

In trying to hotwire it, will either blow it up or will turn it on for just enough time that the alarm goes off. If she did find a functioning one, it would probably end up in a ditch. Danger level: 7/10

Deacon:

He can drive, but in the same way that a elderly person would: you don’t know if he should be behind the wheel, but goddamn it if he’s not going to Tokyo drift into the last parking spot in front of the super-duper mart. Danger level: 5/10

Danse:

Why concern himself with pre-war ruins that aren’t even technologically interesting? He *technically* can fly vertibirds, but also…heights get to him sometimes. If he did have a car, he would dive super safe and basically act like a midwestern dad. Do NOT try and merge without signaling in front of him. Danger level: 2/10

Mac:

Really good at taking cars apart. Only knows about driving from comics. TBH I think he would be the type to only learn how to ride a bike at 10+ years old. He can’t even start the car. Danger level: 0/10

Hancock:

Would try to drive but would get either lost or just confused after about a half hour. Would probably try to add a bunch of stuff on top, like a missile launcher or a turret. It would be so decked out that it wouldn’t even be functional anymore. Would take joy in doing demolition derbies with Mac. Danger level: 3/10

Piper:

She knows how a car works, but like, only from reading 4 pages of a really old manual when she was board. She claims to defunct know how they work, but has no idea what to do when she lifts the hood. Either causes an explosion or ends up breaking at least one part. Never gets it moving. 6/10

Gage:

He can probably figure it out after about a day or two of trying to compare it to a coaster. When he does start it, I think he would actually hate driving. He’s the sole one in control, with his foot on the gas the whole time, and there is no way in hell he is ready for that. Would probably make up some excuse about how raiders don’t need to use cars to make their points. 2/10

Preston:

The safest driver in the world at first, but then he starts going after bigger things. Trucks would help with transporting supplies to settlements, he argues. If we had a garrison of tanks, imagine how many people we could protect, etc. He’s not wrong, and not bad at driving, but he really needs to stop adopting every bubble-top he comes across. 3/10

Nick:

Can drive. Will drive. Then will have to confront the reality of his muscle memory being from a person he never really was. He’ll still take a spin now and then, especially if going long distances, but he prefers to walk. It’s more….him. 1/10

Longfellow:

Cars, no. Boats? Hell yeah. He’s taught just about every sailor far harbor has. But try to get him to drive on land and he will straight out refuse. It’s not who he is. 0/10

Strong:

No. Car for throwing. Inside small, only for weak human. No need metal shell to go fast. 0/10

Dogmeat:

Sticks his head out the window. Can honk the horn. 0/10

Codsworth:

Listen, somewhere in his programming is knowing how to drive a car. Also how to assemble one from 4 cans and a high powered magnet. Can drive it either completely normal and safe or in a way that would make vin diesel scared. 7/10

X6:

Danger level: 10/10. He would succeed in the way Hancock could not. He turns it into a weapon. Stuff of nightmares. Avoid at all costs.

[asexualbookbird]

It sure has been a Year huh. Ups and downs this month, as life happens. Saw friends I haven't seen in years, went into the city and met new friends, tried new foods, saw some birds, tried new crafts, read new books.

The Fireborne Blade by Charlotte Bond ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Hm! Interesting! Didn't hate it, but something feels missing? Almost like it could've benefited from being at the very least a short novel. It needed more. I also have qualms at this being pitched as sapphic when there is no romance at all and the main character talks a lot about being betrayed by her last romance with a man. One mention of Woman With Hot Thighs. Not mad I read it, might even read it again.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming ⭐️⭐️ ‐ I'll be honest, one star is Mean but I had a lot more fun reading Fourth Wing and that was two stars. The tone is what dragged this one down for me. It reads like YA, but it's very much not. I do not believe for a second the MC is 24, she doesn't act like it at all. The sex scenes. Are there. I could make an entire post about the book ending on them having penetrative PiV sex. Part of my grievances are me not liking the genre, but I truly think this just isn't that good. Plenty of people on the internet write better more filthy works for free. Why was this sitting unassumingly on the library shelf.

*amended to two stars if this is indeed satire

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P Djèlí Clark ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Fine. Not much to say because it was Completely Average. Not mad I read it, but don't wish to repeat the experience. I think maybe Clark isn't an author for me, as I recall feeling similarly about A Master of Djinn. It's not so much that the characters or world feel flat, but something definitely feels missing. It was silly and lighthearted and gory and I did like that though!

The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Another hit from Sarah Beth Durst. I see your Themes. I see your Tropes. Kindness. Found family. Accepting help. All personal attacks on me. Adorable, fun, some sort of cross between T Kingfisher and Becky Chambers, I didn't want it to end, and now have a name for my spider plant. It also seems like I need to get my spider plant a friend.

The Woods All Black by Lee Mandelo ⭐️⭐️ - I have very mixed feelings about this that are really summarized as This Wasn't For Me. I like the idea that yeah you're a monster but someone loves you anyway. I like using the monster to punish those who called you one. I think there's some very specific midwestern religious trauma that I'm missing to really Get It, though. On top of that, while I recognize the themes and significance in the age gap, a 30 year old going after an 18 year old icks me out. I'd still recommend it with very very heavy reservations.

The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal ⭐⭐ - Going to be honest, I just finished this and I'm already moving on. The writing was fine and I'm not put off of the author entirely, but I never felt wowed. I was annoyed more than anything. I didn't love any of the characters, but I didn't really hate anyone either. The amount of people Tesla let pet her service dog drove me nuts. The ending felt slapped together. It never really felt cohesive. I feel vindicated reading that fans of her other books also were unimpressed with this. I wouldn't steer people away from it, but I didn't have a lot of fun.

I'm tentatively excited for February. I have art ideas I'd like to get started on, I am working on a craft thing that I might be able to profit a bit off of, I'm flat out ignoring the world, book club is approaching. I'm looking for good things in the world, and I will find them. That is a threat.

[marsbutterfly]

Nerd Hanji head cannons??? Absolutely smart and top of her class no social life? Pulls Y/N??? Erwin, Levi and Moblit are like is Reader blind???? Fluffy nerdy shit I eat that up and let me tell you I’m STARVING

Headcanons: Nerd! Hanji Zoe

a/n: i've had these ready for about a week or so but for some reason i haven't posted them? idk, but i do hope you enjoy heh i had fun.

warnings: none. this is pure fluff. | tagging: @wizzy21

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has been your close friend since the two of you were young. They were always a bit awkward and going around studying frogs or collecting rocks, but you were always following closely behind with a pencil sharpener and a box of band-aids.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who used to tutor you in their free time. Their favorite subjects had always been the most difficult ones: chemistry, physics and math. So they would always do everything in their power to make the subjects more interesting or, at the very least, easier for you to understand.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has done your homework for you more times than you could count. Some times because you were sick, some because you were getting frustrated and aggravated and some of them in exchange for some of your baking. So they would sit on the kitchen counter as you would bake them cookies, cakes, whatever they were craving that day.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has always been class president for as long as they were allowed to run. They were constantly trying their best to make sure everyone in class was happy and also having their concerns being heard. They ran unopposed for over five years, mainly because there was nobody else who could have done a better job than them.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who deletes all of their social media every time they have an exam coming up. No matter how many times you tell them that they could easily just delete the app, they will not listen to you because they say they're tempted to just "download it" again.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who has had a crush on you for years but never did anything about it. They wanted to ask you out for so long but didn't for two reasons. Number one is that they didn't think you felt the same way and, number two, because they wanted to wait until you both got to college and had an idea of what you were looking to do for the rest of your life.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who was the joke of the group multiple times but they still couldn't understand that they were being teased for your feelings about them, not the other way around.

❀ Nerd! Hanji Nerd hanji who excels in absolutely everything that they do but are completely oblivious to your feelings for them until you straight up kiss them after a day out together. You were already considering it a date, they thought the two of you were just hanging out before college started. They didn't complain one bit, though.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who doesn't pay attention to how they look, especially when you go out together. They will keep their hair in a messy ponytail, wear the same pair of old crocs and the same taped pair of broken glasses.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who gets you a scholarship to your dream college so the two of you can study together. They will change their entire life plan that they have had since they were a child just to spend time with you, much to their parents' dismay.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly helps you study for your exams because they have absolutely nothing to worry about for themselves and they want you to achieve only the best you can.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who set the curve for the grades too high so they are lowkey disliked by most of their classmates. They don't really care though, the only person they care about is how you feel about them. And you love them to bits.

❀ Nerd! Hanji has an internship at a very prestigious laboratory and is already being considered for a full-time position by the time they graduate.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly sends you pictures of funny looking bacteria they find. They find random shapes and immediately whip out their phone (which they are very much not allowed to do but they get so excited that they can't help it.)

❀ Nerd! Hanji who constantly needs to buy new pens and pencils because they are often biting the back of it or the cap. They have come home with blue or black ink on their lips more times than you can count on one hand.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who sometimes forgets to eat so you always bring them food regardless of where they are. They always blush and tell you not to trouble yourself with these kinds of things but you can't help it. Knowing that they are using all that brain power with no fuel makes your heart ache. So you always give them extra food and water.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who tilts their head when they are thinking about stuff. They do it regardless if they are at work or if they are at home. So you just know they could be looking for a bacteria in a sample or for the extra block of cheese in the back of the fridge, the look is the same.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who doodles your name all over their notepads over and over, to the point where they have to force themselves out of that mind space, otherwise they can't focus.

❀ Nerd! Hanji who looks at you and only you. No matter how old the two of you are, they are always in love with you. And they are always yapping about some video game or book, not that you mind, of course. You never did.