#and hot but that's a conversation for another day

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 2

In which something a little more serious and a lot more meaningful than either of you anticipated starts to blossom between you and your curly haired crush.

Warnings: nothing, this is so tooth achingly fluffy, you may need a trip to the dentist afterwards. Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Master List

(quick note in case anyone is paying super close attention. i switched the job reader has at McLaren to fit this bit of plot in. I think switched all mentions over in part one, but just in case you notice the different job title, that was on purpose :) )

yourusername (private) posted:

110 likes liked by landonorris, BFFSarah, coworkerMolly, and others yourusername scenes from the longest winter break ever landonorris is Stella baking me more cookies??? >>>yourusername she gave all gingerbread men mullets 'just like lando', what do you think? >>>landonorris thats my girl!! coworkerMolly that skirt on you is INSANE btw >>>yourusername ;)

The holidays slip away in a blur of presents and hot cocoa dates with Stella so fast that before you know it, school is beginning again and you're forced back into the office on a regular basis. With the way the holidays fell this year, you ended up taking nearly two weeks of annual leave between Christmas and New Years and while you appreciated the time off to reset and battle burnout your job inevitably brought on, by the time you dropped Stella off at school that first morning, you were near ecstatic with relief.

You didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even barely to yourself, but you also had missed Lando. He'd spent Christmas at his parents for a few days before jetting off to somewhere gorgeous and warm with his friends and while he texted you near constantly, you often found yourself wondering what he was doing. You hated how much you looked forward to the chime on your phone alerting you to a new text but even more, you hated how much your heart stuttered in your chest every time you saw it was his name that was lighting up your phone.

You had told Sarah about running into Lando at Harrods that Saturday and then made the mistake of telling her that he had bought the booster seat (downright refusing to allow you to even split the cost it with him) and driven you home. She had grinned like a cat with warm milk, saying she knew something was going on but was wildly excited when you told her about the drive home.

Like you had predicted, Stella had been fast asleep by the time Lando had merged onto the freeway. She had stayed sound asleep even after you had reached your house, Lando allowing his Range Rover to idle for nearly twenty minutes in your driveway as you chatted. The conversation was quiet, neither of you wanting to wake a sleeping Stella but it flowed as easily as champagne on New Years Eve.

As you sat in the passengers seat of the SUV you couldn't help the way your mind wandered into the 'what ifs' of what was happening here. What if everything hadn't been ruined the moment Lando found out that Stella was yours? What if that, despite everything being against you, this was the time it all worked out. They were dangerous thoughts, especially for a single mom who couldn't allow her heart to be compromised. There was another heart that had to be taken into consideration: Stella's fragile six year old heart. So when Lando had started allowing his gaze to wander down to your lips and leaning almost imperceptably closer towards you with each passing moment, you had ignored his advances. You didn't want to, but you were scared. The what if's scared you but the what ifs not working out scared you even more.

You had slipped out of the car before anything could happen, thankful for the fact that Stella began to finally stir after nearly 30 minutes of you and Lando talking.

After that night, the texting had started and while Lando hadn't visted the MTC since, he had made a point to check in with you a few times each day. He didn't want to get ahead of himself, reminding himself of how you had ever so subtly rejected his advances the night he had taken you and Stella home.

As he had been analyzing the evening the next day with Max, his best friend had all but warned him off of you. 'Being with a single mom is a challenge that I don't think you're up for, mate.' Had been his warning, a warning that Lando had so far, chosen to ignore. He knew it was kind of a crazy thing to consider, especially with the lifestyle that he had become accustomed to over the last few years, but there was something magnetic about you. The way you sacrificed everything in order to make sure Stella was taken care of. The way you took on everything solo despite having a solid support system, because you didn't want to be a burden to anyone. The way you still managed to find magic in a life that had to be full of heartache and difficulties.

You were a magnetic force to be reckoned with and the fact that you had opened up to Lando that night in the car while Stella slept soundly in his back seat was something that he cherished.

It was also why he found himself nervously pacing outside of Sarah's office one January morning after he had returned from his vacation in Finland. The new season was fast approaching and it was time to get down to business and spend more time in the sim and at the MTC, making sure he was ready to give everything for the 2025 season. But he also had other reasons to be at the MTC even more: you.

Sarah is in her office that chilly January morning when she hears shuffling outside her door. It's propped open so all it takes is a quick peek outside. "Lando?" She calls, spying the driver hovering outside her door, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he paced the empty corridor.

"Oh. Hi. Sorry." Lando pushes his curls off his face, stepping into the brightly lit office. "Am I interrupting? I can totally come back..."

Sarah nearly laughs at the anxious energy radiating off of Lando but manages to quell it, not wanting to spook him. "No, it's fine. What can I do for you?"

"I...well..." Lando cards his hand hand through his hair once again, searching for the right words. He hadn't gotten the best reception from Max when he opened up about his feelings for you, so he was really nervous about what your best friend was going to say. He didn't want to get told off by her too. "I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor?"

Sarah smirks. "Does this favor have to do with our favorite single mom who works down the hall?"

Lando goes crimson at the question but a bit of him feels relieved at the smile that plays on Sarah's face. "Uh...It does actually. I was wondering if you would be willing to babysit Stella Saturday night so I could take her out to dinner and maybe a movie or something."

Sarah pushes away from her desk, the look on her face transforming from smug to soft admiration. "You really like her, don't you?"

Lando nods earnestly, "I do. Stella kind of threw me for a loop there at first but after spending time with them before Christmas..." He drops the rest of the sentence then, not sure if he should be opening up this much to your best friend. She probably knew how you felt about him already but it was a natural reaction for him to keep his feelings closely held. "I know our lifestyles are not exactly...compatible but she's amazing and I just want to spend more time with her."

"You'd be lucky to land a girl like her, Lando." Sarah observes, leaning back in her chair. "And while I agree, your lifestyles are radically different, I think you two could be good for each other."

"Yeah?" Lando's voice is a wash of relief, having expected to face the same criticism that he had faced from Max.

"Yeah, I do. I'd be happy to take Stella for the night as long as she's okay with it. Have you asked her?"

Lando shakes his head. "I wanted to make sure you were okay with it first."

"Can I give you some advice though?" When Lando nods, Sarah continues. "You're going to have to be patient with her. She's been through a lot and she has a lot on her shoulders. She doesn't need someone adding to that load. She needs someone who's going to help her carry that load, take some things off her shoulders. And if that's not something you think you can do, don't even start anything with her. If you're not all in with her and Stella, please don't pursue anything further, okay?"

Lando leans against the door frame, taking in your best friend's words. "I'd never do anything to add to what she already carries." He says softly and Sarah grins.

"Good. Tell her I'll take Stella for one of our famous sleepovers, yeah? Treat her well, Lando. I don't want to have to kick your ass if you hurt her."

"Thanks, Sarah. I'd never hurt her, I promise."

"Good. Now get, I think she's leaving after lunch today to get Stella for a dentist appointment. She should still be in her office though."

yourusername (private) posted a story:

replies: BFFSarah oh my GODDDDDDDD! you're going to give the poor boy a heart attack. >>>yourusername stoppppp, i'm so nervous. >>>BFFSarah not as nervous as he was when he was in my office on Tuesday asking me to babysit Stella ;) landonorris well hello pretty girl. is that outfit for me? >>>yourusername maybe ;)

"Wait, so you were the one who came up with the idea for that tire deg prediction program?" Lando stares at you from across the table, jaw nearly hitting the white linen tablecloth.

You blush into your wine, not good at taking compliments. The small Italian restaurant that Lando had booked a table at was quiet and cozy, allowing both of you to focus on the person sitting across from you and not anything else. It was nice, getting out of the house without Stella in tow. As much as you adored your daughter and valued every single second spent with her, sometimes it was really nice to have some time away. You were on your second glass of wine and your head was buzzing delightfully, the look on Lando's face as you fell into conversation about the work you were so passionate about sent something that felt a lot like desire curling deep in your belly.

"That was me. I'm actually working on an improved model for the upcoming season. More inputs like weather and historical degradation data should help the model give Andrea and the team a better idea of when the ideal pit window for you and Oscar will be in real time."

Lando just stares at you, dumbfounded. He had known bits and pieces of your job from the time he spent accosting you with questions over the last six months but he had never realized how deeply ingrained you were in his weekend routine already. "That program helped me win Miami last year." He says, totally awestruck.

You fidget under his attention, barely hiding a smile. When you had stumbled upon data analytics and predictive modeling in your first semester of uni all those years ago, you had never imagined it would lead to you writing a program that helped an F1 team predict how and when the tires were going to go off during a race. It was just one of many projects you had worked on in your two years at McLaren but it was absolutely the one you were most proud of.

"Well, hopefully with the improved modeling system I've been working on, we can get you and Oscar onto that top step more this year. I have a meeting with Zak and Andrea next week actually to discuss putting more resources into it so we can further develop it."

"I don't know how you can improve on it, the data I've seen it produce is already wildly helpful." Lando has to resist the urge to cover your hand with his, the need to touch you suddenly overwhelming.

He had been so nervous tonight while driving over to your house to pick you up for dinner, it was a wonder he hadn't ended up in a ditch or something. Stella had already been whisked away by Sarah by the time he got to your house, but there was a (albeit a bit stale) gingerbread man with a curly mullet left on the counter for him. 'Stella gave me strict instructions to make sure you get your cookie.' You had informed him, face serious with the task at hand.

Now that you were sat across from him, plate of food sat half eaten in front of you, Lando found himself not as nervous as he thought he'd be. The butterflies were still there and he had to constantly keep the desire to lace his fingers with yours in check, but the way you had made him feel calm and comfortable during the time he visited you in your office before had simply transferred to dinner tonight. He'd never felt more at ease with someone who made him so nervous before and while it was an uneasy feeling, it also felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"I didn't realize anyone beyond the strategy team used the models." You admit.

Lando likes the way your cheeks flush under his praise, even if you're still refusing to meet his eyes while he compliments you.

"Will and I go over all that data after session. With how unpredictable the tires can be from day to day, I really depend on that information."

"Well, I'm glad my little data project is doing its job." You say simply, before taking another bite out of the food before you.

The rest of dinner passes in casual conversation and meaningful looks exchanged over drinks and dessert. If having dinner with Lando and Stella in London had been fun, this dinner was certainly a more intimate affair. It wasn't until your third glass of wine that you settled into the feeling that there could be something between you and Lando, allowing the fear to take a back seat even for just one night.

"Can I ask you something?" You ask boldly while dessert is being placed in front of you.

"Anything."

And he means it.

"I know the first time you found your way into my office was by mistake but I've always wondered why you kept coming back. I mean, my office is literally on the opposite side of any place you'd ever be normally."

"Besides the fact that you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life?" He flirts shamelessly, the alcohol in his system making him braver than he really felt.

"Lan..." You scold, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

Lando chuckles and finally loses the battle he's been fighting all dinner. He reaches across the table and slips his fingers into the spaces between yours, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of your hand. The spark that ignites when he touches you has the breath catching in the back of your throat. "Because you talked to me like a normal person. It was right around the time the championship race was heating up, as manufactured by the press as it was. The team was a bit in shambles and I just felt really unsupported."

He doesn't have to say it, but you instinctively know he's talking about the Hungary race earlier in the year. The Wednesday after that race, Lando had popped up in your office first thing in the morning and had sat across from you until well after lunch. The way his shoulders hunched and he kind of just folded himself into the desk chair that you now kept specifically for him had broken your heart.

"You never asked me about racing or the championship or anything like that. You let me talk and ask questions about your job and I was just able to forget the outside world for a bit. I was never Lando Norris, McLaren Formula 1 driver competing with Max Verstappen with you. I was just 'Lan'. I really appreciated that, especially during the second half of the season."

You had become his safe space was what he wanted to say but fear kept that bit of information from passing his lips. For now.

The warmth of Lando's fingers tangled with yours travels through your entire body. "I'm glad I helped." You murmur, heat pooling low in your belly at the look he's giving you from across the table.

"More than you know."

"Okay. No, I understand. Yes, she was fine when I dropped her off this morning. Okay. Yes, thank you. Tell her I'm leaving work right now, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Thank you, Ms. Rose."

Panic floods your chest as you stare at the computer screen in front of you. "Fuck." You whisper, frantically looking up the phone number for Zak's personal assistant. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"That is a lot of swearing for 10 in the morning on a Wednesday."

Your eyes fly from your computer screen to the door of your office where Lando stands, leaning against the doorframe looking unreasonably handsome in a green jumper and jeans. You couldn't admire him for long though, panic returning to the front of your mind as you desperately try to figure out what you're going to do.

"Stella's school just called." Lando immediately crosses the room and sits down in 'his' chair, as he's begun to think it. Ever since your date last Saturday night, he hasn't been able to get you off his mind. He's been at the MTC every morning this week, something that even Zak noticed this morning and made a comment about him being extra dedicated to getting the new season started off on the right foot. If only he knew the real motivation for being around all the time now. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd spent any time back at his other apartment in Monaco.

"Everything okay?"

"No, she's running a fever. They need me to come get her except remember that meeting with Zak and Andrea I told you about? It's in..." Your eyes flicker back to your computer screen before bouncing back up to meet Lando's concerned gaze. "Fifteen minutes. I'm going to have to cancel and God knows when I'm ever going to get this kind of face time with either of them before the start of the season. Without their support, the upgrades to that tire deg model I want to make will basically be dead in the water."

Normally, you handle the pressures of being a single mom pretty well. You realize your career trajectory is a little different than normal, with you being unable to work late or travel extensively or do any of the other things that usually help with job advancement and you made your peace with that a long time ago. You make enough to provide very comfortably for Stella, so when you're passed over for promotions or unable to dedicate extra time, you're usually fine with it. Not today though.

"I've been prepping for this meeting for weeks. Weeks, Lando. Sarah is on annual leave in Spain and my dad is in London today with a client, there is literally no one else to go get her. Today of all fucking days." Tears threaten to spill over, you're so frustrated. You've worked so hard to get this meeting and now it's all going to go to waste.

"I'll go get her." The way Lando says it has shock slicing through your heart, quick as a knife. He says it so casually, like you're silly for not even considering him.

"What? No, Lando, I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking, I'm offering." Lando stands, pulling out his phone. "Text me the address of her school and I'll go get her. I drove my Rover this morning and guess what I still have in the back seat?" A brilliant smile flashes across his face.

Something stills in your chest at the fact that Lando left your daughter's booster seat in his car after all these weeks.

"Lan..."

"I don't want to hear any more arguments, mama."

Well that was certainly something you'd have to unpack your reaction to later.

"Are you sure?" You bite at your lower lip and Lando has to physically restrain himself from kissing you right there in your office. Something which he still hasn't done, as much as it was killing him. After dinner the other night he had wanted to kiss you more than anything but he hadn't wanted to rush you, Sarah's words echoing in his head. How he needed to be patient with you and how you'd bene through so much the past few years so he had chickened out, erring on the side of caution and had settled for a hug and quick press of his lips to your cheek instead. He had regretted it every moment since dropping you off at your door that night.

"Absolutely. Now, go call Ms. Rose back and tell her Lando Norris is coming to get Ms. Stelly Belly. Do you have a spare key for me? I'll take her back to your place and we'll watch movies 'til you can get home."

An unfamiliar sense of calm settles over you at the sound of confidence in Lando's voice. You don't let just anyone take care of Stella, especially when she's sick. Really, the only other two people that you'd ever trust with her are Sarah and your dad. That list now was a list of three, you supposed.

"Okay." You reply weakly. "Thank you, Lando. Seriously. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you."

"Go get ready for your meeting, pretty girl." Without a second look, Lando turns and walks out of your office. Moments after he gets into the lift to head to his car, his phone chimes with a text from you giving him the address to Stella's school.

A few hours later, you slot the key to your front door in the lock, swinging the door open as quietly as you can manage. From the entryway, you can hear the TV playing in the living room on the other side of the house.

Just in case Stella is asleep, you don't announce your presence opting to tip toe towards where you think Lando and Stella will be instead. The sight that greets you when you finally spy them has your heart clenching painfully, stealing the breath straight out of your lungs. The couch is perpendicular to where you stand, so you can just see Lando's profile as he sits, cheek tilted down resting gently on Stella's head as he watched Frozen playing on the TV in front of him. Stella is cuddled up in his lap, her arms thrown around his shoulders and her little head is buried deep in the crook of his neck. Lando's arms are wrapped securely around your little girl as he cradles her to his chest.

You rub at your sternum, desperatly trying to massage the ache that has settled there at the way Stella is curled up into Lando for comfort. You've never seen her do this with anyone other than you. Not even Sarah.

Lando senses when you walk into the room, having not even heard the door open moments before. Stella sleeps soundly against him, her warm breath tickling at the space between his neck and shoulders. They hadn't been home longer than twenty minutes when Stella had started to cry because she felt so poorly. When Lando had offered her a cuddle to make her feel better until you could get home, Stella had crawled right up into his lap and fell asleep before Anna even had a chance to build that snowman.

He was surprised at how comfortable this felt, with Stella seeking comfort from him. How easily it had come for him to just wrap his arms around her frame so she'd stop crying. He was pretty sure he'd do anything to get your little girl to stop feeling sad.

Lando turns to you after a few moments and smiles. Something passes between you then, with Stella asleep in front of you. It's powerful and reassuring and everything that you've been waiting for since the day you had realized you'd be raising Stella on your own.

"I think I finally got her fever down." Lando whispers, not wanting to wake Stella up.

"Oh my gosh, I didn't even tell you where the paracetamol is in the house." Your hand flies back to your throat in horror.

"It's okay. Stella told me where it was. My mom helped me figure out the dosage for her."

"Your mom?" You squeak, swaying on your feet.

Lando chuckles. That had been an interesting call. He hadn't had the time to explain to her exactly why he was asking for help to figure out how much paracetamol to give Stella but he was panicked, the school being unable to give her a dose of anything and her fever was going up. She had been confused, but helped without further question.

"It's fine. We got it figured out and then I turned Frozen on and she fell asleep pretty quick after that. I haven't found the thermometer yet but she feels a lot cooler than she did earlier."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at Lando. It unnerved you how comfortable he was with her. Not in a bad way but in a completely unexpected way that had goosebumps littering your skin.

"How'd the meeting go?" Lando breaks the silence after a few moments.

Your eyes snap from Stella's sleeping frame to meet Lando's gaze. He made no attempt to move Stella off his lap or hand her over, just kept his arms securely around her while he waited patiently for your answer. He could tell you were trying to wrap your head around what you were looking at and he was hoping it was a good thing. He knew you weren't used to people stepping up for you, the close inner circle you kept was very small, but he hoped that after today you'd maybe let him in a little more.

"Oh..." You pause, struggling to focus on anything other than the sight in front of you. "Good actually! Zak was super impressed with what I've got done so far. He wants me to go to Bahrain later in the month for testing with the team to test the program first hand. And he wants me to go to a few races too"

"Baby," Lando coos, reaching out a hand to capture your fingers with his. Your heart squeezes at the pet name as you barely hold in the squeal at the nickname. "I'm so proud of you, that's amazing."

Tears threaten at the edge of your vision. It had been a long time since someone other than your own father had told you that they were proud of you. "I called my dad and him and my step mom are going to watch Stella whenever I need to travel and whatever they can't cover, I'm going to hire a nanny."

It had been Zak's idea to hire the nanny, a suggestion that nearly bowled you over when he made it. He knew your situation and had wanted to make sure that you were able to travel while being comfortable with leaving Stella with someone.

"Zak offered me a raise to help offset the cost of hiring someone." You say quietly, reflecting on how insistent the man had been when you waffled at the thought of traveling more this season.

The thought of getting to travel with you this season, even if it was solely for work, was so appealing to Lando it was a little silly. He had been thinking the other night how much it was going to suck having to travel so much this year just as things were getting started with you. He usually loved losing himself in the season, not having anything hold him back or weigh him down from enjoying the constant moving and sleeping in different hotel rooms every weekend. But as the season had approached and the prospect of spending less time with you had started to become a reality, the thought of the start of the season had filled Lando with a bit of dread and anxiety.

You just sat there for a moment, smiling over at Lando and Stella as he grinned back at you. It was a comfortable silence as that same feeling from earlier crackled through the air. Like something was being set into motion today that neither of you quite understood but both knew was the start of something important.

"It's almost dinner time. Why don't you go put her down in her bed, she sleeps like this whenever she's sick, and I'll make us dinner?" You suggest finally, realizing your stomach is begging to be fed.

Lando follows your suggestion and within a few minutes, is joining you in the kitchen as you bustle about trying to figure out what to make. "I was going to make some chicken noodle soup, I think I have everything for it and Stella loves it when she's sick."

"Considering I was going to be ordering take away tonight, anything you want to feed me is good." Lando murmurs, coming to stand behind you at the counter as you peel some carrots and chop the onions.

His arms slip around your waist and you can't help but lean back into his warmth for a moment, enjoying the way the heat of his body seeps into your muscles. Lando nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you as deeply as he can, trying to commit your scent to memory. He wants to remember every little detail about this evening, something calm and steady settling into his bones as he gets a glimpse of what could be.

"You're distracting me." You mumble, the heat of Lando's breath tickling the sensitive skin at your neck.

"I"m sorry, but you're a constant distraction to me so consider it payback."

You chuckle, putting down the knife so you can spin around to face Lando instead. Your arms snake up his body before you clasp them behind his neck, enjoying the way he melts even further into your body now that you're closer.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue today." You whisper, voice raspy with emotion as you think about how much Lando's done for you in the short time you've been spending time with him.

Lando bumps his nose with yours and grins, the way you feel in his arms is something he's never experienced before. "I'd do anything for you and Stella, you know that."

"After today, I certainly do."

The look Lando gives you turns your core molten and you struggle to catch your breath. Gazing up at him through your lashes, you drop your gaze down to his lips before they flit right back up to those green blue watercolor eyes that always seem to find you wherever you are lately. Before you can steady yourself, he's leaning forward eyes locked on yours. The smile that sits at the corner of his mouth is so utterly enticing, you nearly forget your own name.

When Lando covers your lips with his for the first time, you swear you see stars. Gold bursts of light spark behind your closed lids, your entire world stuttering down to the way Lando kisses you. It's full of promise and longing and the smokey taste of desire. Your hands tangle through his curls on their own accord as you desperately try to get impossibly closer to him, losing all sense of decorum and control with just a simple kiss.

When he pulls away, Lando is satisfied at the heavy lidded look you stare up at him with, heart hammering in his chest like he's just finished the Singapore Grand Prix.

"I've been thinking about that since I left you at the door on Saturday without kissing you." He confesses, forehead tipping forward to rest on yours.

Emotion clogs your throat as you struggle for a response. Warmth pools deep in your belly as you settle on just a simple nod in response, knowing that Lando will instinctivly be able to tell that you feel the same. Silence fills the kitchen, comfortable and easy as Lando kisses you again. Both of you could feel it with that second kiss, this thing happening between you on this random Wednesday afternoon and both of you were secretly scared to death at what this was going to mean for every facet of your lives.

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[4milly]

mws - jey uso.

parings: jey uso x black!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, arguing, use of n word, car sex, unprotected sex, my man, my girl, but not my man or my girl trope, praise kink, talking you through it lawd,

the message made you roll your eyes so hard you thought they might've got stuck.

“this man really called me a crybaby,” you muttered under your breath, already feeling your annoyance bubbling up.

from the day he set foot into your life, all he did was keep up with the dramatics. being extra and shit about any ole thing. this time? he was irritated about you still following your ex on instagram. fed up with the conversation, you blocked him. he could send novels to your messages by himself.

mind you, it was jey who decided not to be official yet. he was a busy man, and you respected that. being on the road damn near everyday out the year was taxing; trying to be in a relationship wouldn't work. but he couldn't let go of you.

you sighed so deep you swore your soul left your body for a hot minute. this man really had the audacity to pull up unannounced, acting like you were the problem. you peeped out the window and sure enough, there was his black range rover parked across the street, engine still running.

"lord give me strength," you mumbled, huffing and flopping on the couch. slipping on your hot pink ugg slides and grabbing your keys. just as you were about to close your eyes and pretend you ain't see shit, jey layed on his horn.

you weren't about to let the neighbors get a show, so you stepped outside, locking the door behind you. you knew how exaggerated jey could be; if he didn't get his way, no doubt he'd blow his horn all night to get your attention. and at this time of night? you'd be out by morning.

the passenger seat of jey's car flung open before you could hit the side walk. you quickly got in, slamming the door behind you, "how many times did your mama drop you as a fucking baby? are you crazy? blowing your horn and shit? what if someone called the po—"

"mane, ion give one fuck 'bout that shit. you got me fucked up." he seethed throwing his hands in the air.

you rolled your eyes again, matching his frustration,"I got you fucked up? Nah, you got me fucked up. you really pulled up to my place at 2am over what? some likes?"

jey's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white, "so you fuckin' him again? thats whatchu' on now, mama? fuck outta here 'bout some likes and shit. how you think i feel? seein' another motherfucka all under yo pictures leaving heart eyes?"

your head snapped backwards in disbelief, "that's rich coming from you! how many bitches under your pictures, jey? where's my phone at? let me go count em'."

"i aint responding back with no fuckin' hearts and shit tho! thats the shit im talkin' bout!"

the tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. jey's eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but you could see the storm brewing behind them. you knew this man well enough to know his blood was boiling.

your jaw dropped, heat rising to your cheeks. "excuse me? y'know what? you wanna talk about crybaby shit? how about you mad as fuck right now going through my page to find something? you're throwing a whole ass tantrum over a follow!"

"and you blocked me right? but, you can't block that motherfucka tho? thats some bullshit and you know it!" jey spat, his jaw clenched. honestly? he didn't even know what he was more mad it. you blocking him, still following your ex, liking each other's post, or you coming out the house in those little ass shorts.

was he terrible for being upset at all 4?

it irked something inside of him. you weren't his girl...yet. but still, it's a respect issue. he knew he was yours, and unless you forgot, you knew you were his. there wasn't room for anybody else no matter what you thought.

"oh, so now you wanna act brand new? like you ain't been doing the same shit?" you snapped, pulling out your phone. "let's see…tiffany, amber, and how many other people—all up in your comments 'lord he could get it.' 'till the room stinks.' 'till the earth-fuckin'-quakes.' but I'm the problem?"

jey snatched the phone from your hand, tossing it in the backseat. "don't flip this stupid shit on me. so thats what this is? yo crybaby ass wanted to get back at me, so you followed his ass again? all up in his business for what? ian texting you back fast enough or sum?"

you were fuming, everything about him grating on your nerves. you were so over it, over him acting like you were the one causing problems when he was just as messy.

part of jey knew he was being petty, but it didn’t stop the heat rising in his veins. he hated seeing you follow your ex, hated the way you acted like he was the only one with a damn problem.

"i ain't competing with nobody, especially not for a man who can't even claim me. you think you deserve me why?"

"you want me to claim you? ight. c'mere." jey growled before crashing his lips into yours.

your protest was muffled against jey's lips as he kissed you fiercely, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other gripping the front. his tongue demanded entry. the kiss was everything the argument was. rough and fiery.

"get inna back," he growled, breaking the kiss to undo his belt buckle, "you ain't hear me? now."

you hesitated for a moment, torn between desire and indecisiveness. part of you wanted to get out the car and leave him here, but the smoldering look in his eyes made the decision for you. you scrambled over the center console, your shorts riding up as you climbed into the backseat.

jey followed, his muscular frame towering over you. "been turnt wit' my ass all fuckin' morning. yo crybaby ass. you wanted this shit too. and you better take it all, none of that runnin' shit."

his large hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties in one swift motion.

he tossed your shorts in the front, before shoving your panties into your mouth, "pretty ass. just wanted to get yo pussy ate didn't you, mama."

he slid down your body, kissing his way across your chest to your stomach until he rested between your thighs.

his large hands gripped your plush thighs, pulling you towards his mouth. he instantly sucked your throbbing bud into his mouth. you let out a muffled gasp before arching your back upwards.

"you taste so fuckin' good, mama. love tastin' her ass. wish you stop talkin' so damn much," he groaned out into the air.

his tongue worked magic, flicking and swirling around your most sensitive spots. you squirmed against the leather seats, muffled moans escaping around the fabric in your mouth.

the noises you made as his tongue swirled your swollen clit, locking your fingers into his thick hair, wanting to grind against his hot tongue but he was a step ahead—pinning you down with his arms.

jey alternated between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue, building you higher and higher. just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he slid two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside of you.

he doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers pumped relentlessly. the dual sensation was overwhelming, and within moments you were trembling on the edge of release.

his wet muscle sliding into your awaiting hole, fucking you with it was enough to send you over. you came with a muffled scream, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

your body thrashed around the seats to escape from his mouth, "let me goooo," you let out a muffle whine, barely even comprehensive.

you pushed at his arms around your waist. jey had an end goal; he wasn't going to let you leave that damn car till his point was proven. you were his.

his girl.

that instagram following shit? it was over tonight. and he was gonna make the clear anyway he could...or had to.

he licked your pussy clean as more juices erupted from your pussy, giving him something to drink on. you were going crazy. you couldn't thrashing away from him, unable to remain still as pleasure hit your body in waves. your lower half worked against the strokes of his fingers; riding them into oblivion. your juices continuously flowing down into his mouth like a waterfall.

but with his dick getting hard? watching you attempt to push him away with tears in your eyes? no-one was leaving this car anytime soon.

you came with a muffled scream, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, "lil’ angry ass...get it all out, baby," he pressed his tongue flat against your pussy causing your body to shutter and gush into his mouth.

"c'mere. crybaby ass just needed some dick, so move it. lemme see how much you want it," he laid against the seat, pulling your arms to move you on-top of him.

his strong hands gripped your hips, positioning you over his thick length. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his dick twitching against your inner thigh. jey's eyes locked with yours, intense and hungry, "take whatchu' need from me, baby."

you reached between you, taking his girth into your small hand. you positioned him at your entrance and slowly eased down onto him. a small whimper left your throat as he pushed his dick into your warm heat in a swift movement.

"ride me, mama. show me how much you want this dick," he encouraged before locking his arms around your waist. the burn of his dick stretching your walls long gone by now.

no-one was stupid. had any of your neighbors looked out the window, they knew exactly what was going on. the car rocking up and down, from him slamming your hips onto him, and the fog clouding the windows. you could draw your name on it.

"faster, baby." he demanded, bucking his hips up to meet yours. tears pooled at your eyes even though you obliged, picking up the pace. the car filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin. jey's hands slid down to grip your ass, helping you bounce on him.

your thighs burned as you rode him harder, desperate for release. jey's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movements. the car rocked with each thrust, the windows completely fogged over now. his dick kissing your cervix with each thrust. your wetness drenched his dick, making him slide in and out so easy.

your pussy started to twitch, as his dick massaged your walls, continuously bouncing in his lap, making his dick kiss your cervix, and making note to squeeze when you reached his tip.

suddenly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, locking you in place. "my turn," he growled before locking his arms around your lower back stilling your movements.

tears began to stain your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. with your bodies pressed together, jey began to ride you from the bottom. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your pussy fluttered around him. a smirk plastered across his face, he felt your pussy clenching around him. he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"so damn pretty on top of me. you mines, right?," he cooed, his hips never stopping their relentless pace. he reached up to pull your panties from your mouth. you through your head back, letting out a loud cry to the roof of the car, "you mines, ain't you? say it."

you could barely form words, lost in the sensation of him riding you from the bottom. "i-i'm yours," you managed to gasp out between thrusts.

the sight of jey's dick coated in a white sheer layer made his head spin, "say that shit louder, baby. let everyone know who fuckin' you right now."

"i'm yours!" you moaned out. a smirk plastered over his face before pulling you to him by the back of your neck into a searing kiss, "i'm yours, too."

he was losing himself under you, his strokes were becoming erratic. the sensation sending the coil in your belly overboard. you creamed all over his thickness, clamping down on him. the move triggering his own release.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. you both swallowed each other's moans. the moment was...new. you had an unanswered question in the air.

but either way? you both knew you only had eachother.

ᰔ:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! leave me a comment also. i love reading those. xoxo, cleo🩷.

[ramp-it-up]

Peach, Part I

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. You are a struggling dance teacher in Atlanta. And what is the quickest way for a dancer to make money in the A? When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet.

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Bartender/ Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: Okay. I can explain. Yes, I got carried away with this one too, but have you met me? It's what I do. I feel like we're gonna get a little more angsty with these two, but the payoff might be good. Idk, I just hope that you like it!

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and comes a couple of months before the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part is coming by the end of the week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, angst, financial difficulties, cute tiny dancers, familial feelings, feelings about besties being in love (third wheel?), Steve the businessman, shady people, Steve lying, Steve using an alias, a lil bit of voyuerism (involving dancing) exotic dance life; pole dancing, wild thoughts, flirting, hand holding. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Late October

Steve Rogers was frustrated.

His best friend Bucky had recently fallen in love, and instantly Steve’s life became an urgent race to divest their Art business of illegal ties so that Bucky could begin his life with her.

Together with Sam and Natasha, Bucky and Steve ran an art import business in New York which was extremely lucrative.

Except that it wasn’t really.

“Just wait until I see you tonight, Frumoasă….”

Steve glanced over at his bestie, who was turned away and whispering into the phone with a giant grin on his face. Steve shook his head and looked out of the window of the car that Nico was driving uptown to a meeting. He rolled his eyes.

More phone sex with Bucky and his girl. Great.

“Behave. Or I will make you…”

Steve cleared his throat as he listened to the suggestive chatter and shifted in his seat. Bucky and his girl were burning hot.

All of the time.

It seemed impossible.

“I love you too, Frumoasă.”

Steve needed what Bucky had in his life. At first he thought he was jealous. His best friend had an extremely desirable woman who made him drop the player lifestyle the instant he saw her. It took Steve a minute, but he realized he wasn’t jealous of either Bucky or his girl; Steve was jealous of the feeling.

When Bucky ended the call, Steve tried to continue the conversation they were having.

“Everything good?”

Bucky smirked, a look on his face that Steve hadn’t seen before his best friend met the love of his life just weeks earlier. It was an amazing transformation.

“Everything is great.”

Then Bucky frowned.

“Except this timeline. We need to get clean, Steve. Faster. We’re going to have to travel a little more before the end of the year.”

The blond raked his hand over his face.

“Bucky, I get it. Believe me I do. But we’ve already tripled the rate of divestiture. Are we to quadruple it? Is it really worth the money we’ll lose?”

“I don’t think you get it at all, Steve. But you will one day. “

Bucky gave Steve a look that made him roll his eyes again.

“I’ll take the losses, Steve. You and Sam and Nat will get the agreed upon cut.”

Bucky gazed out of the window.

“Billionaires shouldn’t exist anyway.”

Steve sighed.

“We all agreed to speed up, and we all agreed to an equal split of the profits. And losses.”

The two men shared a knowing look. Steve assented.

“Okay, Buck. Let’s get Sam and Nat on the phone; I just want it all to be square. You know they want this just as much as you and I do.”

Bucky smiled at his friend, the oldest he had in the world.

—--

Early November

You smiled at little Amina, who was trying her best on her pliés. Although she was only four years old she had a determination like no other. Her little tongue was poked out and there was a scowl on her adorable little face.

You came over and smooth her brow and took her tiny chin in your hand.

“Relax, Mina. If you’re not having any fun, it’s not worth it. Don’t force it, sweetie.”

Amina smiled back at you and began to giggle, relaxing into the poses.

“See there! It’s better already!”

You widened your smile and spoke to the entire class of 12 little 4-6 year olds. They were adorable in their uniform black leotards and pink tights.

“Remember dancers, hard work and lots of fun, that’s our motto. And one, two, three….”

Amina’s mom, Michelle, came up to you after class.

“Here’s what I have Ms. YLN.”

She deposited half of what monthly tuition was into your hand and held it for a beat. Her eyes were watery but she had a brave smile on as she glanced over at Amina giggling with her classmates. Then, she lowered her voice.

“I’m afraid this will have to be her last class. I just can’t come up with the funds… She loves it so much… We’ll miss seeing you every week.”

Your heart shredded. You made a knee jerk decision.

“It doesn’t have to be her last class. I will send you the paperwork for the scholarship. I’ll see you both next week.”

You smiled and gave both her and Amina a hug as she skipped over to you.

“Thank you, Ms. YLN. So much!”

You smiled and nodded as they left the dance studio that you rented for your weekly classes. The tuition you collected barely allowed you to pay the rent, much less compensate you for your time and preparation.

But you were determined to help these little ones with their dreams. And to see your own to fruition.

—--

“You can’t keep letting these people put dance classes on layaway, Cousin.”

Heat bloomed in your chest. Your favorite cousin, who had everything she ever wanted, whenever she wanted, growing up was joking about layaway. Even now, she had an insanely hot, wealthy guy eating her up. Literally.

“Okay, you know what…”

“Calm down. I will finance little Amina Rickard’s monthly tuition before you cuss me out. You know I love you. And you knew sending me that picture of her was gonna work. Making my ovaries explode.”

You smiled, almost choked up.This was your cousin’s second scholarship student and your family’s 8th overall. You were really blessed, even though things hadn’t come easy for you.

“I think the guy who is trying to breed you all over the place is making your ovaries explode, but okay.”

“Y/N, YLN! I am a demure, respectable–”

“You’re a whore for that man and we both know it.”

“Girl, you ain’t lyingggg! Shit, he’s calling me now…”

“Go get that nut video.”

Your cousin laughed at you.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, and thanks, Sistercuz.”

“Bye Sweetie. Have a good night.”

Easy for her to say.

—---

The jet was delayed in New York because of snow and Steve was late getting started. After he landed and was sat in Atlanta traffic, he was reminded that he wanted to be in and out of the city, preferably in two days, and on to Kansas City as soon as possible.

Atlanta could be a fun time, with many many beautiful women, but he was on demon time. He needed to get rid of the criminal enterprises in the company. Quickly.

The holdings in Atlanta consisted of a handful of exotic dancing establishments. And the strip clubs in Atlanta were known to be dens of considerable iniquity. He was sure it would be easy to make a decision to offload the five clubs in the area.

On the second day, Steve had quickly turned a profit on the first four clubs, borderline dives with mid-level girls. The drugs and prostitution levels were off the charts and there were plenty of shady characters who wanted a chance at those businesses.

He’d saved ‘the best for last,’ a supposedly upscale club called Regine in midtown.

It was supposed to be a classy place, so Steve decided to just drop in to check it out before making a decision. He arrived a little over an hour before opening, stepping into the kitchen from the back alley where he parked his rental car.

“Hey, yo! You the new bartender? I told you to be here at 2, not 2:45.”

The salutation came from a huge guy with a large belly and lots of teeth. He’d be scary to anyone else. This must be Sully. Steve recognized him from the file. He decided to play along, glad that he’d dressed down in a flannel and jeans.

“Yeah, well. Traffic.”

Steve thought it best to say as little as possible. That way he would get the most information.

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me. I have to drive here from Alpharetta every day. The 400 is hell every morning.”

“We need someone with some experience. Someone willing to be paid in cash tips, nothing on the books. You look like you’d prefer that.”

Steve stared Sully down, not debunking the myths the latter was making up in his mind. Sully kept talking.

“Also may need to do some security. We get into some… situations up in here.”

Sully took in Steve’s stature and unwavering stare.

“A man of few words I see, Looks like you’ll do. Can you start tonight?”

Steve couldn’t believe this joker, hiring someone off the street.

“Sure.”

This place was not looking like a keeper, Steve thought as he followed Sully for a tour. In daylight, it was passable; in the dark with the right lighting, he was sure it looked swank. Sully told him how to water down the liquor and where the firearms were kept. When his 30 minute orientation was over, Sully left Steve to set up the bar on his own.

“Cory just called in, but Mike will be in later. You should make a lot of tips, our girls are top notch.

Steve just nodded, his hands on his hips as he calculated how much Sully must be skimming off the liquor alone as the latter walked away. Sully came back to the bar and asked a pertinent question.

“Oh yeah. What's ya name?”

“Grant Stevens.”

A little white lie would never hurt anyone, especially if this situation got sticky.

“Aight. Nice to meet you Grant. Tips are not the only perks of this job, if you know what I mean.”

Steve shuddered as Sully lumbered away. He wanted no parts of perks.

—-

A couple of hours later, the girls started arriving, most of them greeting Steve with a polite hello, some skipping it with a grimace, some in their phones, and one, you, listening to music and vibing out. You were different than the weary women who’d passed by ahead of you.

Steve was struck at the serene look on your face as you entered the establishment, braids in a bun on top of your head, eyes closed and your mouth pursed as you hummed and bopped your head to the music, bag slung across your back.

Your skin was dewey, free of make up and those lips, well those lips were what made him do a double take. Your neck was graceful and the cropped hoodie you were wearing did not do a thing to hide your full curves, smooth skin, round tits, long legs, and all that ass. Steve’s palms began to itch.

Steve was convinced that the strip of stomach showing between your hoodie and your sweats was more alluring than any stripper outfit could be, because at the sight of it he broke out in a sweat. Your body was calling him to touch, but he didn’t even know who you were.

He was about to find out however.

Steve stepped to the edge of the bar, ready to give a greeting, but you just bopped on by, oblivious and making your way to the dressing room. It bruised his ego, but the sting was soothed by the sight of you walking away. He stood there for a full minute in shock, but then he shook his head and went behind the bar to drink some water.

“Get it together old man,” Steve grumbled to himself as he tried to cool down. He set about talking to the employees in the kitchen to get more intel on this establishment. The sooner he had enough info, the sooner he could put this one to bed and get away from distractions.

Like you.

—--

“Did you see the new bartender? Just put him on stage, I’ll climb him like the pole.”

"Dat azzz tho."

“Right? And did you see those eyes, those lips? Pretty fly for a…”

You frowned at the chatter around you. You really had to pay more attention to your surroundings. You didn’t notice any new bartender. But knowing these ladies’ taste in romantic partners, you’d bet he was overrated.

You sighed and put your earbuds back in; there was no time for nonsense. You had to warm up properly to protect your instrument: your body.

You looked down at your watch and saw that the doors would open in 45 minutes. You had 20 minutes to go and warm up and still have time to get changed. You sat down to trade your Jordans for your stilettos and make your way out to the pole.

—-

When Steve walked back to the bar from the kitchen, there you were on stage under the lights in a crop top and short shorts.

Again, you were oblivious to him.

Steve, on the other hand, was undone.

Your skin glowed everywhere,and he noticed that you didn’t seem to have augmented anatomy, not that there was anything wrong with that. He just knew that if he had a handful of that ass, it would be real. He stepped behind the bar to watch you, a convenient barrier between you and Steve’s stiffening cock.

As he watched, you moved slowly, the motion elegant and mesmerizing in the six-inch heels you were wearing which elongated your beautiful legs.

Lost in your own world under the lights, you looked ethereal, a goddess.

You approached the pole and held on with one hand, walking around and around it seductively, hopping a few times in the heels, making your ass shake with the impact. It was hypnotizing, watching your strong arms and legs, especially those legs, grip the pole as you worked your body around it.

Then, you let your hands slide down the pole, causing you to bend over and showcase your luscious ass and thighs. Steve imagined that they tasted delicious.

Next, you straightened up and walked around until the pole was nestled in between your asscheeks, widened your legs and undulated on it. Never in Steve’s life had he wanted to be an inanimate object until now.

When you turned around and body rolled on the pole was when Steve had to grip the bar. And when you slowly twirled down to the floor and went spread eagle, beautiful legs in the air, was when he felt like vaulting over the marble bar to get to you.

You rolled over onto your knees and started undulating, then started crawling toward the end of the stage closest to him.

Steve knew the exact moment you noticed him.

You froze, looking like a startled feline. Squinting, you moved your hand over your eyes so you could see beyond the lights, then pulled out your earbuds and got to your feet effortlessly.

—--

You thought you were alone with your music and your fantasy of dance that got you in the headspace to strip for strangers. You didn’t notice anyone out in the club until you were almost done with your warm up routine, when, as you looked up from the floor you saw a large figure behind the bar.

You froze, a moment of something like fear, but more like a thrill, passing through you.

As your eyes adjusted to the area beyond the lights, you saw a tall, muscular body and longish hair. This must be the new bartender. You got up and approached him, trying to analyze your feelings about the situation before you addressed the man.

As you got closer, your temperature seemed to rise. Must’ve been the workout.

His warm denim blue eyes were gorgeous and that dark blond hair and reddish beard were thick and lustrous. Although the beard was a bit wild and wooly, there was no hiding the pink, full lips under that straight, masculine nose.

His body was lithe, but muscular, and you sensed his power. You bet he could pick you up and hold you upside down as that beard scratched the inside of your thighs to lick your…

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

You were objectifying your new co-worker.

That would never, never do. You vowed to be professional.

—-

Steve straightened up as you came near. The look on your face was hard to read. Whatever it was you were feeling, Steve felt like an intruder.

Even though he had the deed to this building in his bag.

“Hi.”

It was all he could think of to say as you stood before him because his mind was empty. With you up close, the only thing he could do was stare. Your scent was like a drug and your eyes were…everything. He gazed into them, a myriad of colors that were holding him captive.

Then that mouth started moving.

“Hello. You the new barback?”

“What?”

Steve leaned closer, pretending he couldn’t hear you, just to get nearer. It wasn’t entirely game; he was quite distracted by you.

The side of your mouth curled up in a sardonic smile and a sudden, funny feeling spread throughout his stomach. He gave you a side grin in response to your side eye.

“Are… you… new… here?”

“Yes, I am working in the bar. I’m Steve…ns. Grant Stevens.”

You extended your hand to him.

“Nice to meet you Grant. I’m Peach.”

“Peach?”

The word gave Steve visions. He stared at your lips, thought of your ass, imagined your juices dripping down his chin.

“Yes,” You smirked. “Peach.”

Steve was speechless.

“It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Since you’re new here and probably haven’t gotten paid yet, I won’t charge you for the private dance.”

Steve’s mind was moving slowly. Like he was drugged.

“That’s a stage name, right?”

Peach. It had to be a stage name. Yet it suited you so perfectly. Suddenly he wanted a taste test.

Steve licked his lips and your eyes followed his movement as you proceeded to not answer him. He unconsciously started stroking the back of your hand with his thumb and gave you his full smile.

You grew even warmer, from the friction of course, and blinked at him as if you were facing sunlight as you pulled your hand from his.

“Forgive me. I’m sorry for eavesdropping? Spying? Watching you dance without you knowing? Don’t know what to call it. But beg your pardon.”

—--

“Don’t beg.”

‘Dont beg here,’ is what you wanted to say.

You don’t know why the vision of this man on his knees for you flashed in your mind. Maybe it was his velvet baritone, or maybe it was the feel of his rough hand on yours that got you all bothered, as if his smile hadn’t already made you wet.

He was tall, a good head taller than you, even in your heels, and a looming presence. In a good way. You wanted to be enveloped by him. But you didn’t even know him.

You had to get it together, but the scent of his cologne was making your mouth water to taste him. You were weak for this man.

You hated this feeling, didn’t have time for it, yet you weren’t ready to end the conversation just yet.

“I mean, I felt some kinda way when I first saw you here, but hell, I don’t own this place. And neither do you.”

For some reason, Grant’s face did a thing. A weird frowny sad thing, but you barrelled ahead.

“You’re a worker, just like me, and you were just getting your work station ready, just like me. Solidarity, man.”

“Yeah. Solidarity.”

Grant cleared his throat.

“Great moves up there.”

—---

You grinned, blinding him this time. Steve’s discomfort that his ‘little white lie’ was spreading to you dissipated when you smiled at him.

He just knew that your smile could heal any ailment, if he were allowed regular doses of it for the rest of his life.

“Thanks, friend. They make me a lot of money three nights a week.”

You pushed off the bar and started walking back to the locker room as Steve chuckled at your immediate friend zoning.

“And if you like that, stick around for the show.”

You threw a look over your shoulder that made him want to follow you anywhere.

As he watched you leave again, Steve Rogers knew that he needed a little more time to figure this place out.

—----

Steve was concluding that Regine wasn’t the worst, but nothing extraordinary. The women in makeup and costume looked good and the tips were flowing; he could see how this was a money maker.

He had his suspicions about Sully, but he still had little evidence about the quality of the place. He needed to see all of the dancers.

Steve wanted to see you dance. For research purposes.

He was busy at the bar all night, so much so that Sully had to come by and made four money drops. This place made much more profit than was being reported, that much was clear as Steve’s eyes followed Sully back to his office with the cash.

He was about to follow him when you brushed by him, ensconced all in white.

“Excuse me. Gotta get to the stage, Comrade.”

Your wink distracted him from the fact that you were wearing a ten gallon cowboy hat and boots.

Wait.

Were those spurs?

Mesmerized, Steve leaned on the bar to watch your show.

The stage went dark while the guitars started. There were whistles and stomps from the floor, cries of Yesss! Peach! Go Peach! Ride me Cowgirl, and Pour some liquor on me honey tooooo! reverberated in the room.

These were grown men and women.

And by the time the first line of the song played, “This ain’t Texas…”, the crowd was in a frenzy and in the palm of your hand.

Steve suddenly understood the customer’s enthusiasm.

The way you moved on the stage, your props, the way your body captivated everyone in the place was astounding.

You were brilliant.

You were what made Regine extra ordinary.

—---

You were bone tired by the time 3 am rolled around and the club closed after two full sets. You’d made $700 dollars in tips, not bad for a Tuesday, considering that you didn’t do any private dances. You were yawning as you passed the bar and Steve stopped you to say goodnight.

“Hey Peach. You were fantastic tonight.”

He shook his head.

“It was the first time I’ve seen that prop used on a dance club stage…”

Steve’s eyes glazed over as he replayed the image of you spinning on the pole with the stick of the hobby horse between your legs.

You spared the handsome blond an appreciative glance and a tired laugh.

“Thanks, Grant. I try to be original. Hope you did well tonight.”

“I did pretty good.”

Steve smiled as he would if $500 dollars excited him.

“Hey, one of the customers at the bar told me to give you this. Said he was shy?”

You looked at him warily as you took the envelope. Inside was $1000.

“Holy Shit!”

You looked up and covered your mouth, your girlish piety endearing to Steve, who chuckled at you.

“There’s a stack in here.”

“Whoa! Cool.”

Steve tried to look as if he didn’t know there were exactly 10 hundred dollar bills that he’d put in there.

“Guy must really like you. Could it be a regular? A special friend? An ex perhaps?”

Steve was not being very subtle, but he didn’t have much time. You were smirking at him in that way again.

“My regulars are regular shmegular degular, and cannot afford to tip me one thousand dollars. Must be a high roller rolling through the A.”

You smiled, but decided you needed to be tough. You straightened and gave the most menacing glare you could manage.

Steve thought you were adorable.

“I don’t know who would have done this. I don’t have any special friends or exes in this city. I’m all work. NO play. In any way. Especially at work.”

You hoped your hard look worked. Grant was certainly watching your mouth as you spoke, so he must have caught what you meant, right? When his eyes flicked up to yours, your knees got weak so you decided you should go.

“‘Night, Grant.”

You turned and walked out of Regine, a certain warmth in your chest. Must the $1700 in your bag. Or the chicken wings. Nothing to do with the beautiful man you knew was watching until you got into your car.

Steve made sure that you drove off safely, and then followed you home as he thought about how efficiently you’d curved him.

Once you went into your apartment, Steve called Bucky and told him that he needed a little more time on this enterprise.

This one was a peach.

-----

Okay. I hope that you liked it! Let me know by reblogging please!

[thewayitalknj]

Since a few of you kindly asked for a Part 2, here you go! Thanks for the love!

Warnings - reader feels a bit insecure for a split second! Word Count - 2.6k

Part 1 | Part 2

You stare at him, cold blooded. So he did figure it out? You shut the door behind you and reach for the silk robe hanging on the back of the door. 

“Aw come on don’t cover up because it’s me-”

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

He makes a silly dance move, trying to be funny but definitely not helping. “What do you mean? I came for a private dance.” 

You finish tying a bow and cross your arms. “How did you know I work here?”

He gets up and walks towards you. He moves your robe off to the side and points to your birthmark. “This. I noticed it while you were dancing.”

You sigh and look back up at him. He stifles a laugh, “Ed, this isn’t funny.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a fucking dancer?”

“Oh yeah, because that’s a great conversation starter-” You notice him looking you up and down. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m hot or…some shit.”

“Well, I mean-”

“Look, I get off at midnight. We can go back to my place to chat afterwards if you want. But for now, you can hang in the dressing room. We won’t be back there until we close up anyway.” You open up the door and motion for Eddie to leave.

“...does this mean I don’t get a private dance?” You give him a stern look this time, “yes ma’am.”

As you enter your front door Eddie goes and takes a seat on your couch as you head to your bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. When you take a seat next to him just a few minutes later you explain everything to him.

You have been working at the strip club for over a year now. As much as you loved working at Family Video it just wasn’t paying enough. Bianca was a regular at FV with her family, and you grew a work-type friendship with her. One day she came in by herself and asked if you wanted to come to a charity event they were holding at the club. She immediately made it clear how odd it sounded about having a charity event at a strip club but assured you it was always a hit ; how the money went towards good causes in the city and the toy drives were always overflowing. You wanted to show your support so you went and had a fun time. Bianca introduced you to everyone, from her boss to her coworkers to regulars. It was a strange family-oriented work environment you never imagined. When Pam, the owner and boss, asked if you were interested at all in working for them you turned it down. But when bills started piling up and the holidays were around the corner you thought earning some extra cash would be helpful. So you went back, and was hired right from your interview. 

Pam explained how the club was run by women for women only. Everyone took you through training, first just as a waitress. You learned tips and tricks, and also had to come up with a fake name for security and privacy.

“Wait, so what’s your ‘fake name’?” Eddie asks using quotation marks.

“Lilith.”

“Why Lilith?” 

“It means ‘belonging to the night’. It’s also associated with meanings like ‘demon’ or ‘spirit.’”

“Well that’s badass. How did you come up with that?”

Look down at your lap. “Um, in one of your D&D books. The one you gave me about character building.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah…so anyway. I didn’t even think about dancing but Bianca asked me one day if I wanted to try it, so I did. Everyone thought I did a good job…I was on the next night and it just took off from there.”

“Why haven't you told anyone?”

“Because when Bianca asked me to come to the charity event I didn’t really know what to think about her being a stripper. I didn’t want to judge her, and I didn’t want people or colleagues to judge me. I really enjoy it. I have this new built confidence when I walk through those doors. We all really care for one another and root each other on.”

Eddie shifts himself closer to you. “What do you mean ‘new built confidence’?”

“Let me answer this with a question for you. How do you feel when you’re DM’ing at Hellfire?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, like I’m taking charge. Assertive. I know what I’m doing and I like how I make people feel afterwards.”

You reach and put your hand on his leg. “That’s exactly how I feel when I’m dancing.” You smile, shake your head, laugh to yourself.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just hilarious that we both feel the same way about two completely different scenarios.”

“Hm, true.”

“Can I ask you a question though?”

“Sure, anything.”

“...What did you think…about the dance…on your birthday?” You gulp.

“Psh, don’t you remember the way I was talking about you when I came here the next morning?” You nod. “Everything I said was true. I couldn’t get you out of my head. And then when I figured out it was you I just…had to tell you I knew. Couldn’t live with that secret, it would have driven me nuts.”

“How did you ask for me anyway? You didn’t even know my name.”

“I asked for the devil from the night before. The women who led me to the private room recognized me from when I was called up for the dance.”

You pondered, “Was she dressed in all silver?”

“...yes?”

“That’s Jade. She gave me a bit of a pep-talk, I almost asked her to go out instead of me.” 

Eddie looks at you muddled, “why didn’t you want to dance for me?”

“Because you're Eddie, you’re one of my closest friends and it just felt…I don't know, awkward.”

“Well, if I’m being honest your friend is very beautiful but,” he takes your chin and lines you up with his eyes, “I’m glad it was you.”

You smile, “I’m glad it was me too.” 

You stare at him for a bit, melting into his touch and his eyes ; and when your lips touch just seconds later without even realizing how close you were, you feel like you died and went to heaven. It was when his tongue slipped its way into your mouth that that confidence you talked about earlier started to kick in. You kick yourself up and straddle his lap, bringing your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself but never breaking the kiss. His hands find your hips, rings digging deep into your shirt, bringing them along to the slow steady pace as he starts with his own hips grinding up. You follow his rhythm and hum, starting to feel way too good.

And even though that confidence was built up for a few moments, your insecurities came rushing through. You part and separate yourself too quickly and mumble “no” ; Eddie looks upset as you stand up. “What’s wrong? Did I take it too far, I’m sorry-”

“No no it’s not you it’s just..me. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You stutter, tears beginning to paint your cheeks. “It’s just-you never did any of this before. And-now you find out I strip and we’re suddenly making out on my couch. I feel like I’m in some stupid rom com where I took off my glasses and suddenly you see me differently.”

“Hun, I can promise you it’s nothing like that.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude Eddie but I think you should go.”

“But-”

“I just need space, if that makes sense? Can I call you tomorrow or sometime later this week?”

“Yeah of course, whatever you need. I know this is a lot for you.”

“Yeah-yeah it is.” 

He walks over and kisses you on the top of your forehead before leaving. 

“And that’s basically what happened.” You swirl around in an office chair, disappointed in yourself. You were a mess, you spent the whole next morning thinking about Eddie and what happened. Today is even your day off, but you felt like you needed company so you made your way to the club for some hopeful reassurance you weren't taking this too far or overthinking.

“I think it’s sweet he’s giving you space, he understands your concerns and he’s respecting it. You don’t see that a lot nowaday..” Your other co-worker and current security cam watcher Leah has been listening to your rants all day. She just came back from maternity leave but wasn’t ready to dance, so her shifts have been bartending and security watch, mainly the private rooms from the cameras. When you arrived at the club no private dances were happening, so Leah took you to the security room for privacy. “I’m kinda glad you came though, I want to show you something from the night he was here.” She holds up a VHS tape and puts it in the VCR. You watch with bated breath as Eddie shows up on screen.

“What does-”

She puts her hand up, “Just listen.” You watch the footage, as Eddie paces the private room waiting for you to arrive. 

“Hey so, I’ve kind of liked you since high school and…no I can’t start with that.”

>>FF>>

“Finding out about dancing? That is just a perk that will come in the soon to be hopeful relationship…no that doesn’t sound right. Steve is a fucking idiot for coming up with that line.” 

>>FF>>

“So…wanna go out on a date? Bowling, dinner? …What am I, 14?”

>>FF>>

“Alright Munson, you got this. Just tell her you figured it out and that this doesn’t change how you feel.” Then he plops down on the couch and lays back just as you found him.

Leah stops the tape and looks back to you.

“He…likes me?”

“Guess he does. So much for your negative thoughts huh?”

“I can’t believe this. He’s never shown any signs of…anything.”

“Pft, guys are weird. It took my husband years to ask me out on a first date but I waited! Here we are three years later with a new house and baby. It was all worth the wait, and I’m sure this will be for you too.”

“But how can I make this right? I feel like I screwed it all bigtime.”

“Why don’t you invite him to our charity event in a few weeks? It’s how your story started. Maybe it’ll be a new chapter for him too. Show him instead of talking to him to make things right.”

You smile wide, “...Has anyone told you you’re a genius?”

“And I thought Mom-Brain was getting to me already. But I’ll take the compliment.” You give Leah a hug and head out to make a very important phone call.

Eddie (of course) agreed to attend the charity event, and even offered to pay full price instead of the family and friends discount. You went in a few hours earlier to help set everything up while Eddie arrived when the event began. You introduced him to your co-workers ; some already knew about what happened but for your sake played it off like they knew nothing, which you greatly appreciated. Eddie took a seat at the bar, wishing you luck for your performance later which he was secretly looking forward to. Just before heading to the dressing room you stop by the DJ booth.

“Hey Cassie, here’s my tape for my dance. It’s Track 8, and I go on at 11.”

“Got it. Thanks love!” She looks at the cassette and ponders to herself, “huh, who’s Corroded Coffin?”

Your turn couldn’t come soon enough. Eddie was only two drinks in, constantly looking at the clock waiting for 11 to strike.

“You okay babe?” Leah, (or in tonight's case since she’s working, Carmella), comes over to check on him.

“Huh-yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course, she’ll be on in a few. Excited to watch her?”

“Ohyeah-yeah,totally.Can’t wait.” He takes a large sip of his drink.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Can I be real with you for a second?”

“I’m a bartender, I’m here to lend an ear to your problems.” Leah leans in, “talk to me.”

“I’ve liked her forever, I’m just stupid and have never asked her out properly. And I don’t want her to think I’m asking her out now because of all this,” he motions his arms around the room.

“Well maybe she won’t think that.”

“But she does, I know she does. And I just feel like a fucking idiot.”

“Eddie, I can assure you by the end of the night you’re not going to feel that way.”

“How do you-” Just then the lights dim ; Eddie looks at the clock ; 11:00. 

Cassie takes the microphone and introduces you, “and now ladies and gentlemen one of our veteran and favorite dancers, Lilith!”

You take the stage ; back turned towards the crowd, grabbing onto the pole ; a beautiful black outfit snug to your body ; and your music hits the stereos, a loud guitar solo opening the song. 

Eddie thought his eyes were going to fall out of his sockets, immediately recognizing the solo as his own. ; And when you turned your head to face the crowd making eye contact with Eddie and giving him a wink, he knew he was done for.

He watched you in awe, he couldn’t believe someone in a strip club was dancing to his song. But in this case it wasn’t just anyone, it was you. Someone he’s known almost his whole life, someone he’s been trying to ask out for way too long but had doubts because of his own stupidity. When your performance was over he whistled from his seat and immediately turned to Leah, “are any of the private rooms taken?”

When you exited the stage and headed back to the dressing room you were met with cheers and hugs. Everyone loved your dance and gave you your praises. 

After a few moments of celebrating and thank yous, Leah came in, a smirk across her face ; more or less as a ‘I told you so’ look. “Room #2. Go, now” The girls all gave a collective “ohhhhhhhhh”, as you rolled your eyes and left.

Eddie is standing in the middle of the room this time. You shut the door and lean up against it. You're the first to speak up ; “So,” you start to walk closer, “what did you think?”

“Don’t come any closer.” 

You stop, baffled at his words. “Why?”

“Because if you come any closer I’m going to lay you on this couch and do unthinkable things to you.”

You blush, hard. “You sure you wanna do that with a security camera in the corner?”

He looks up at the camera and waves, “free entertainment, no?”

You chuckle, such a typical Eddie answer.

“Well-”

“If you wanna know what I thought, I’m seriously never gonna get you out of my head now. How the hell am I going to ever perform that song without thinking straight?”

You look down shyly, rocking on your heels. 

“And as much as I would love to give your friends some content, I do want to do this whole thing right.” He brings himself to stand right in front of you, “let me take you on a date, a proper one. Pick you up, dinner-”

“Maybe…bowling?” He brings his head to the side, giving you a bewildered look.

“I mean, if you want too-”

“I’m joking, but dinner would be great.”

“Cool-cool. Can I pick you up tomorrow at 6?”

“Sounds like a date.” You stand more on your heels, placing a small kiss to his cheek and leaving him alone in the room.

Quick Notes - Didn't expect this to get as much love as it did so thank you again! Reblogs are appreciated! :) also yes I have an idea for a Part 3 but we'll see!

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Even if Shadow doesn't become a Wachowski, do you have any headcanons for whenever he gets together with the family?

Hi Honey!❤️✨

Of course! I’m more than happy to come up with some fluff for you!

Shadow makes it a point to visit the Wachowski family whenever he feels a bit lost. Which is often for the nomad. He stands at the driveway and watches them through the window and quietly hum a song under his breath. It wasn’t until Sonic noticed that Shadow was standing from afar and watching them for three weeks. Sonic was quick to welcome him into the home and let him know that he’s cared for.

The only time that Shadow ever sleeps is if he’s at the Wachowski house. He sleeps for twenty to thirty hours at a time before he’s well rested and ready to go on his next adventure.

At most, Shadow spends two or three days at a time with the Wachowski before he goes off on his own. No one knows where he goes, but he sends a post card whenever he gets to his next destination. Sonic knows in his heart that it’s him fulfilling a bucket list of sorts.

And speaking of bucket lists: if the adventure feels like it needs a companion, Shadow turns to Sonic. He doesn’t verbally invite him, it’s more of a smirk. Sonic knows that look all too well and quickly accompanies him on the adventure. Tails and Knuckles come if they are up for the adventure as well.

Tom and Maddie are well accustomed with how to approach each of the kids with tender love and care. Any time Shadow is around, Maddie does her best to make the house cozy and lower lights. She makes him comfort dinner while providing him a space to unwind when needed. She also makes it a point to offer him gentle choices when needed. For Tom, he lets Shadow know that he’s not upset with him (anymore) and encourages him to follow his heart. At first it took Shadow by surprise that Tom and Maddie welcome him—he feels that he doesn’t deserve it—but he grew to enjoy their company and kindness after they’ve continually welcomed him in.

Tails and Knuckles were very cautious around Shadow at first, even to the point of questioning if having him at home was a good idea, but Sonic was quick to advocate to them that Shadow was redeemed. They’re still weary of him, but slowly open up to him.

Tom and Maddie troll G.U.N. any time they question if the Wachowski family has knowledge of Shadow’s existence. There is never a direct answer, as well as plenty of jokes. Shadow thanks them for keeping him safe.

Shadow is known to sneak in through the window or teleport inside the Wachowski home late at night. The first two that are always aware of his existence is Sonic (he eagerly hugs him) and Maddie, who makes him a hot chocolate to welcome him.

Tom definitely took Shadow out onto the lake and had a long talk with him. Shadow doesn’t disclose the conversation that he and Tom had on the boat. All that he said was “coming to Jesus” moment and quickly shuffled away from everyone, implying that he received some sort of fatherly advice like Sonic does. (Think of it like this, “mess with my family and I kick your butt.”)

Much like what she does for her kids, Maddie made Shadow a crochet blanket to wrap up in for when he visits the house. His blanket has very stylized flower patterns on it with earthy colors. Shadow likes to bundle in it like a burrito when he’s by himself.

Tails and Knuckles are still weary of Shadow dropping in on occasion, but have grown to trust him in the end. That makes Sonic incredibly happy.

Tails has offered several times to clean and maintain Shadow’s air shoes for him when they’ve looked worn down. He allows Tails to tweak them with his mild supervision.

Knuckles almost always challenges Shadow to a rematch whenever they meet up. It’s usually in the backyard where the rest of the family (and Wade when he’s bored) can watch. The fights are usually called off when the boys start using pine trees as baseball bats to swing at one another.

Sonic and Shadow like to spend every night together on the roof looking at stars when he visits. They don’t say anything, they watch. Although the silence is usually broken whenever they see the broken moon and cackle.

And finally, Shadow is greatly appreciative of the kindness that the Wachowski family has shown him. He’s grateful for them and wishes nothing but happiness and love for the family to experience for years.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:14 pm]

(cw: f!reader, alcohol consumption, smoking, sexual conversations, reformed fuckboy Jae)

a/n: this is set BEFORE Jae and Sweetheart are an official couple. Think a couple weeks after wtfbf/very early days of them being together like still official but no titles… also I’m really proud of the recent angst! Go me!!

You were still getting used to these frat parties. Now that you and fratboy!Jaehyun were together, you tried to make it a point to be here to… support him? No, he didn’t need support. You just wanted to be around him… even if he constantly smelled like beer and there were too many people around you. You weren’t the biggest fan of these parties, but you were still so lost in the sweet, lovey-dovey haze that you would do anything for Jaehyun at this point.

He had his arm around your shoulders while you both made conversation with the group of guys around you. Yuta was telling you about how he’d dyed his hair red and made a mess in the bathroom while Johnny and Jaehyun laughed about something stupid. The can in his hand was empty and the cup in your hand was half empty, the jungle juice was too strong this time and you didn’t like it. You wouldn’t say that of course, not wanting to offend these guys that had, so far, welcomed you to the group with open arms.

“I’ll go get you another one,” you told Jaehyun after Yuta had wandered off to smoke outside. He smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your temple before you wandered to the kitchen.

It was a mess as it usually was during parties, bottles covered every surface, the floor was sticky, crushed chips littered the floor and the counters, and the fridge was stocked with various cans of alcohol. You grabbed one of Jaehyun’s go to beers and cracked it open, wiping the excess that splashed onto your hand on your jeans.

You made your way back to Jaehyun who you could see was throwing his head back with a laugh. He’s so handsome when he laughed. Well, all the time actually.

“God, he’s hot.” Your brows furrowed, did you say that out loud?

“You should totally try to get him back!” You heard. Right… so you hadn’t been the one to call him hot.

“I mean he’s been kind of taken by some girl, and I’m a total girl’s girl, but sometimes I just miss him, you know?” The first girl sighs dreamily.

“You miss him in your pants more like!” Her friend snorts.

“Well if you knew the things that man was capable of you’d miss him too. Ugh! He used to do this thing with his tongue! It made me come like right away!”

You felt sick, like you had to take a very hot shower and scrub your skin until this disgusting feeling was gone. You knew his reputation- of course you did. It was one of the first things Kira had told you about him, that he was known for sleeping around.

Since you’d been together, he’d never given you reason to believe he was still seeing other people. He’d never even so much as looked at other girls. The guy he was with you made you just kind of… forget that he was a playboy before he was with you. And what a reminder this was. It was like a slap in the face.

You trudged back to Jaehyun, forcing the beer into his hand with a faraway look in your eye. How many girls here could say they slept with him? How many of them were as recent as the day you met him? How many of them were staring at you with envy? How many of them knew things about him that you hadn’t even thought of? Well, not seriously.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of, sweet girl,” Jaehyun told you, his hot breath fanning over your ear.

The next words poured out of your lips before you could stop them, “how many girls have you slept with here?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth in shock from your own words. Johnny’s eyes widened while he motioned to the other guys to back away slowly. Jaehyun’s eyes didn’t leave your face, studying you with his brow furrowed.

He stayed silent, as he gripped your wrist and dragged you upstairs. The same girl as before nudged her friend with her elbow and you could hear, “lucky girl. We know what’s going to happen.”

You wanted to gag. You wanted to scream. Disgusting! It was gross! You felt dirty.

The door to Jaehyun’s dorm clicks shut and he turns to you with a serious look in his eye, “what are you trying to get at with that question, sweets? What do either of us gain from me answering that? Do you think I’m cheating on you? Is that what you’re really trying to ask me here? Because I’m not! You’re the only girl I’ve even looked at since we started hanging out. I only like you!”

You feel your breathing speed up and your throat tighten, “and I believe you! I know you like me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t always like this. You haven’t been in a committed relationship—or situationship— for a long time!”

“Just because we don’t have titles doesn’t mean this is a fucking situationship. You mean more to me than some cheap fuck and you know that!” Jaehyun exclaims angrily.

“So the other girls here were cheap fucks!? The girl I just heard talking about you doing something with your tongue that made her come instantly? The girl I heard last week that described your dick with entirely too much detail? Or the other girl that was telling her friend about how she licked that birthmark on your neck and bit it until you came? How do you think all these stories make me think of you? The way you talk about them?”

“What do you want me to say?! I can’t control what they say! I’m not going to apologize for what I did before I even knew who you were! If you’re calling me a slut just say that!” Jaehyun yells with exasperation, throwing his arms out.

“I didn’t say that! I’m not asking you to apologize! Ugh! You’re not listening to me!” You argue, tears beginning to stream down your face with frustration and helplessness, you just can’t put your thoughts and feelings into the right words the way you want. “I just— Jaehyun I like you. I really like you. I come to these parties because you want me here, I come to the frat house whenever you want me to, I force myself to be in situations I don’t particularly like because I like being around you. When I’m in these situations I end up hear things about you that I don’t like.”

Jaehyun sighs tiredly, dragging a hand down his face, “I’m sorry you hear these things, sweets, I really am, but I can’t control what people say about me. If I could, then I’d make sure you never heard about any of these encounters ever. I’m not that guy anymore.” He cups your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb, “I promise you, you’re the only girl for me and I mean that shit. I’m serious about you, sweet girl, you make me want to be better. You bring out a side to me that I haven’t seen in a while, a side that I missed. Only you bring it out of me.”

You can feel yourself melting into his warmth, leaning into his touch, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I wasn’t trying to slut shame you or call you out or anything like that.”

“Well, I’m sorry I got so heated in the first place. Look, I know about my reputation, alright? Hell, I lived it and I can tell you it’s true. Those girls don’t know me like you, I never wanted them to. But I really am trying for you, sweetheart. I’m trying really hard to be the guy you deserve and I’m really sorry you had to hear that nasty shit. Next time, just tell me and I’ll have them kicked out alright?” Jaehyun tells you, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, “in a couple weeks we’ll be old news and everyone will forget.”

You sigh tiredly, your rush of heightened emotions come crashing down to leave you feeling exhausted. Somehow you find it in yourself to flash him a smile and jokingly push his shoulder, “you better pull some new tricks out of your sleeve when we finally sleep together, and I want to see that tongue thing!”

Jaehyun laughs deeply, pulling you onto his bed while tugging you into his tight embrace, “whatever you want, sweetheart, whatever you want.” And he means it. Just like you find yourself doing things that are out of your comfort zone, he finds himself doing the same. He would have never gotten through this argument with anyone else, but with you he did. And if making things work with you means that he has to forget ever even glancing at anyone he’s slept with, then he’d do it. He’d do it happily. He thinks, rather happily, that he’d do anything for you.

[lucygraysboy]

“oh, don’t you worry. you can keep tellin’ me how sorry you are. i don’t get tired of hearin’ that,” billy playfully teases, hoping to coax some sort of a reaction out of lucy gray — have her throw a pillow at his head, smack his arm or pinch his thigh. he has to breathe some life into her, and if it takes making a fool of himself, that’s not a high price to pay at all. “that’s very kind of you,” his heart skips a beat when her warm hand touches his, peeling his fingertips away from the bruise, and he just has to say something stupid to hide it, “almost as kind as last night’s offer. though, not much can top that.” laughing, cheeks growing hot, he’s still gets embarrassed when he thinks about it but at the same time thinks it’s quite hilarious and refuses to miss the opportunity to torment her. “blueberry pie. that’s a good one. what else do you like?” probably anything that doesn’t taste like squirrel and swamp potato stew, the voice in the back of his head counters.

“i don’t think there will be any consequences for you, lucy gray. we’ll have this conversation when you feel better, but… i’m serious. it’s not like they’ll send you back to twelve or straight to the capitol. they’re rebels. they’re welcoming to refugees. we could spend the winter there, and then try to come back here for another summer?” he shyly offers, his demeanor changing from playful to serious in a matter of seconds. they won’t survive the winter here. not without provisions and with her so malnourished, the infection in her leg threatening to return and spread. “i don’t know you all that well yet, but reva blue did tell me you’re the feistiest of all rainbow songbirds. her words, not mine.” his features soften every time she lets out a laugh, a wave of warmth spreading throughout his chest. she’s so beautiful when she laughs. 

“oh, that’s very generous of you but i don’t need it. i’m fine with just the stew.” he shakes his head, figuring he can go a day or two without bread. he’s a strong, well-fed man. his biceps alone seem to weigh more than her entire body. it would be unfair to share that loaf. he won’t take a crumb from her. “that actually wouldn’t make me feel better.” even if it’s only playful, it feels wrong to put another human being on a leash. “it’s not that i don’t trust you and think you might wander off to die in some bear’s den, alright? i just think you should give your body a chance to recover and regain some strength. let me do somethin’ nice for you. i promise, i’ll bring you a lot of different sticks to choose from.”

“i know i said it already. but i’m sorry,” i just thought you were the more … terrible version of yourself, she’d like to say but bites her tongue. if he’s really his twin, then she has to respect that he’s his own person. she can be cautious, extremely so, but she can’t just judge and deem him as such. “if i had some ice i’d put it on you and mend you.” since he’s been doing all this mending on her and she feels bad at the noise he makes when he reaches up to touch it. instinctively, lucy gray reaches out of her cocoon to pull his hand away from it so he doesn’t disturb it and cause himself more pain. “mhm.” smiling in amusement at her mama having to wrestle her in getting her out of the blueberry pie. “oh, that so?” nodding in interest, thinking that’s sweet of him to offer her to come to thirteen and bake a pie with her— her favorite kind, too. feeling bad fear has her feeling like she has to say no, to stay behind here and rot away. “well, maybe i’ll have to stop in after i think about all the consequences i might face.” about being caught, but at least she’s being honest with him. “feisty? …i’m not that feisty, am i.” lucy gray speaks in playful offense as shock raises her brows, another soft laugh sounding from her letting him know she doesn’t mean it. “but i don’t want to eat the whole thing, i want to save some for you.” telling him the reasoning why, watching him wrap reva blue up in her own cocoon. glad he doesn’t notice it’s because she feels horrible lookin’ with her hair. and smiling at the way he takes care of her teddies like they’re real people, that’s a tender side she hasn’t seen from anyone. and in return, she’s just staring and watching him in awe. “i won’t go far, i’ll even let you put me on a long cord if that’ll make you feel better.” or he could simply just pick out a few sticks, but she’s too stubborn to let him.

[justbelievinginmagic]

like a waltz⎯ part 3: emboîté.

pairing(s): ateez ot8 x fem!reader; this chapter is heavily woosan x reader with some reader x yeosang & reader x hongjoonnngggg. 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: Having a patron for the first time in your ballet career, you knew things would change but certainly not so fast. With your dues paid, extra change in your pocket, you are slowly pulled into Wooyoung and San's orbit - outside of the ballet opera house! 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 if i think itd be cool to include, this world has it earlier than irl), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, polyteez, MATURE topics, allusions to sex work in ballet, allusions to exploitation in ballet, implied sexual themes, stalking, voyeurism kinda, guns, strong language, angst, fluff, flirting, suggestive topics, lies, manipulation, medical drugs, traumatic foot injury, unequal power dynamics, injuries, alcohol, smoking, lots of smooches, threatening situations, pain, reader discretion advised, +18 readers only. let me know if there are any more tags i should add. a/n: hi! another chapter im posting and running away from lol. it took so long to edit this chapter and i am so sleepy. this chapter had developed far from its timeline. im happy with the beats butttttt i had wanted to add in more yunho and jongho by this point but it was feeling a smidge rushed. next chapter will have some yunho for sure!! let me know what you thought!! word count: 15.9k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

emboîté ; french pronunciation: [em·​boî·​té]; ‘fit together’

Things had changed after that night.

Not only were her ballet company fees paid each week with a check bearing the prettiest signature from San’s hand, but, soon after, Wooyoung had invited her out on an outing. As in, outside.

Outside of the ballet. Outside of work. Outside of being the role of patron and protégé.

“He asked you to go out of the ballet house?  Julia with the red hair queried with a cocked brow, uncertainty in her tone.

It made a flicker of worry cross over the YN’s face as she stretched, preparing for the triple show they had that day. But, that was short lived as one of the loudest gossipers known to man chimed in with a screech.

“You’re going on a date?!” Tiny exclaimed, sliding into the conversation in a dramatic splits.

Her eyes were lit up like spotlights, loving the new development for her favorite ballerina to bug. The young girl kicked her feet in excitement, the noise drawing the attention of the other ballerinas warming up – if they hadn’t already been drawn in by her screeching.

A date she had said.

No, no, no. Dates were for romance and this wasn’t … Was he seeking romance? He was her patron… or well, he and San were. In itself, that was odd according to the other proteges. Sharing a protégé… never ended well. Typically, it failed within a few days. Jealousy, envy, annoyance, lack of money. Usually, they have all of that as they leave the budding ballerina in the dust, without a penny.

But Wooyoung did flirt with her. Wooyoung hadn’t suggested being her patron, not really, even if he had visited for nearly a month and a half religiously. San had. Wooyoung did press the occasional kiss to her cheek. He did… like her, he had said so. But didn’t all patrons say that. Was it more? Could it even be more if she wanted it to be? Why did the idea of a date with him send butterflies fluttering in her stomach, icy hot excitement coursing through her veins. Giddy.

But, she’s seen each ballerina with a patron fall into this. The idea it was something more. Julia, Mina, Imara, Lali, even the current belladonna of the ballet – the prima ballerina – had once thought her patron was her love. And it had always been proven wrong.

“It’s an outing,” she insisted to the others. For her own heart.

“It’s a date!” the younger screeched again. “What are you wearing?” her hands slapped to the wood floor.

She hadn’t even thought of that! Oh gosh. What did she have that could even impress? She’d wear her pearls, of course. But what of her dress? What was the newest thing nowadays? Was it rouging your knees? Or the Gibson Girl hairdo? Was that out of style? Was she out of style once she was out of her scandalous costumes and caked on make-up? Most things YN had were upcycled from scraps, occasionally the old costume the costumier discarded, or her mother’s old dresses revitalized by embroidery. It wasn’t anything like the ladies of the upper class with their haute couture from far beyond here. She could doll a dress up with some flowers she supposed. 

“Don’t wear anything red!” another girl exclaimed, revealing herself to be listening in. “Red is bad luck.”

“No, its good luck,” one ballerina said aside.

“Wearing black will look like you’re mourning,” said another older girl while applying her rouge.

“But he always sees you in white, so don’t wear that,” chimed in another.

So, the entire ballet knew apparently about her date now and all of them were listening in and giving advice. Theirs words overlapped one another in conflicting, contrasting advice.

“Wear what you like,” Imara insisted from nearby. The long-featured ballerina offered a reassuring nod.

“Is this normal?” YN queried quietly towards her, although, it wasn’t for an attempt of privacy. Every girl was listening and watching her now with keen eyes.

The few girls with patrons glanced at one another, brows raised.

“I’ve never been invited out of the boudoir,” Julie said firmly, glancing aside as she leaned into a stretch. “And its not wise to be out and about with them.”

“Nor I,” Mina agreed.

“So, it’s…” YN trailed off with a furrowed brow. “Strange?”

“Kid,” Julie sighed out; her tone making YN feel like a child, begrudgingly and uncomfortably so. She hated not being trusted to make choices. Belittled. Underestimated.

“Everything about you and your new patrons is strange. Their appearance in town, them both sharing you… you.”

It felt backhanded; like she wasn’t anything special. It reminded her about how so many thought she wasn’t worthy simply because she was the eldest of the ensemble, simply because she hadn’t risen to starlet yet.

Yet now she had two patrons. No one had that. For once, she nipped that feeling of oddness, of nervousness, of embarrassed scrutiny about her relationship with Wooyoung and, now, San in the bud, and refused to let it bother her. She’d embrace it she said. She was special. She was special. This was special. Even if it wasn’t a date… It was just an outing. He hadn’t said date. It was an outing, she proclaimed. Not a date… an outing. Or was it a date? It drove her mad, her thoughts going in circles just like her own pirouettes on stage. Just like her stomach when he touched her oh so sweetly.

He wanted to see her more though… that’s all that matter, right?

-

San and Wooyoung were attached at the hip when they were in the boudoir. They walked through the Opera House like they owned the place. And while their movements weren’t in sync, they flowed into one another easily like they could read one another’s minds. Wooyoung would flitter this way and that around San, talking about anything, but San would redirect him, hands on his shoulders or lithe waist, and smile in agreement.

As they approached her in the boudoir, she heard the very-end of their conversation.

“I swear, if it were you, it’d be done like that,” Wooyoung encouraged as he snapped his fingers in emphasis.

“Wooyo,” he hummed low, smiling at him fondly. Dimples pierced his cheeks. His arm swept over the other’s shoulders, squeezing him close. “I’m done with all that. Captain’s orders.” It was a firm reminder. Steady.

“Captain’s orders,” Wooyoung mimicked back, sneering a bit. “Captain is keeping his best fighter ou-“ his words trailed off as his sights were set on his ballerina. No longer in her tutu but in her ordinary clothes. “Swanette! You’re already in your dresses.”

“Disappointed?” she teased and flirted.

She had hurried tonight – hoping to finish wiggling out of her costume before their arrival. San swinging by the bar to grab his customary drink had given her a smidge more time. Her body ached more than ever. Her legs felt crackly and pained. Her head pounded with worry. It’d been a long day and, with the ever-present chill in the boudoir, she worried she was getting sick. And she couldn’t get sick… ever.

Wooyoung insisted on her to spin, gesturing in reverence, as if she was still dressed up in dripping fake jewels. Her day-dress was a simple frock – a dark black drop skirt with embroidered berries at the hem. Her hair was still in it’s too tight bun, but she had grown used to it now after two shows. It didn’t help her headache she was sure but, alas, she did what she could in the time she had.

She spun in a gentle circle, only to easily get swept into Wooyoung’s arms.

“Gorgeous as always,” Wooyoung whispered, his cheek pressed against hers almost like a cat nuzzling their owner to claim possession of them. His warmed cheek squished and nuzzled, hot minty breath wafting over her.

“And disappointed? Never, because we can steal you away for the rest of the night now,” he hummed into her ear before pressing a quick peck to her temple, nearly catching the corner of her eye. She shivered in surprise. Kisses were still new and sent her heart racing and body trembling.

He pulled back, hands rubbing up and down her goosefleshed arms. “Chilly, baby?”

Baby! Her eyes widened in surprise. If only he knew! San laughed nearby, drawing her eyes.

“Hel-Hello, San,” she greeted, flushed and smiling.

San nodded, smiling so sweet that his dimples remained on display. They looked like cat whiskers in the golden gas-light of the boudoir.

“Hello, honey. Beautiful performance… You tired?” he drawled out.

San always asked these questions since his arrival in the boudoir. He was utterly observant. He was caring and kind and all things sweet despite his looming almost dangerous aura. It made her feel safe as Wooyoung shifted her this way and that, half dragging her along to a nearby settee. San followed along, hands reaching into his pockets to pull out and light a cigarette. The flame of his custom lighter illuminated his face for a brief moment before he pulled the cigarette away, eyes shut as he inhaled deeply.

His brows furrowed; his face statuesque. Beautiful. He was so beautiful. Her heart thrummed as she felt Wooyoung’s chin rest on her shoulder, bringing her back to her body.

“I’m okay,” she replied, voice forcibly light. She was tired; he had hit it on the nail. But, the other ballerinas warned against telling their patron that. Any truth about exhaustion, sickness, health. Tired ballerinas get hurt. Hurt ballerinas are a waste of money.

Blowing smoke out aside, he watched her carefully as Wooyoung plopped down, dragging her down to sit beside him. He took another puff of his cigarette.

“Honest?” he pressed once more, smoke billowing from his mouth.

She didn’t answer him, but instead pressed hand to the spot next to her.

“Join me?” she asked as he stood hovering above them, almost protectively shielding them from view.

Wooyoung watched their interaction with intrigue. He knew his San. He knew how strategic he was – in different ways from the rest of his ‘brothers.’ San’s gaze was a force of nature, his form accompanying it as he leaned over them ‘til he and she were eye and eye. Slow and steady. He did not sit yet. He pulled the cigarette from his lips. YN flinched gently, preparing for him to blow his smoke in her face. Some boys got a laugh out of that, rude and crass. But the smoke seeped from his nose like a dragon, slow and controlled, as he kept eye contact with her sincerely, if not a bit intense.

“YN. Honesty, please.” San encouraged. “If I’m asking, I am interested.”

Wooyoung squeezed her waist. “Sannie doesn’t pull punches; he likes no nonsense. He’s…soft like that.”

It was a tease.

“I’m not soft,” he retorted to Wooyoung, smile returning, before his gaze settled back on YN. “I care.” He emphasized.

Her lips pressed together, glancing about the boudoir. The other girls had warned her not to. Everything – even in the boudoir – was a show, just as much as the ballet was a show. But here he stood, staring with soft brown eyes. Gentle yet burning brown eyes.

He says he cares.

When had she and her patrons followed the unspoken rules anyways.

“I’m a bit tired; my--,” she admitted, quietly before glancing aside. “The cold doesn’t help the joints.”

His eyes warmed, pleased, as he ground out his cigarette into the polished wood floors without a care in the world before he sat, sandwiching her in-between him and Wooyoung. Closer than he had ever been. He was so warm like a furnace.

“Our girl is so cold,” San frowned. “We can’t have that.”

Her cool skin worried him, and he joined Wooyoung in warming her up with soft touches and a close embrace. Her cheeks were a rubied red at their shared attention. Wooyoung and San’s eyes locked above her head. Wooyoung had a flare of surprise in them before he smirked.

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung jested, glancing at her rosy cheek. His finger rose to stroke it delicately. “She looks warm to me.”

Her cheeks warmed ever more and she hid into the one she was more comfortable with after weeks of meetings. Her face pressed into Wooyoung’s expensive suit that smelt of a tangy-woodsy mix of Wooyoung and San’s colognes intertwined. San grinned at her actions. He liked her blush. Like how she let them make her blush so helplessly.  

“We’ll just have to warm you up, honey.”

While the rest of the night was full of fleeting touches, they maintained one truth: respect. San was careful with her, always meeting her gaze before touching over her arms, her waist. Wooyoung was more lax, pressing kisses to her cheek every so often; each one sent her stomach into a whirl, and heat burned at her face.

They certainly warmed her up.

-

Walking home was always a cautious event. Performances took hours and, after entertaining San and Wooyoung in the boudoir, it was late into the evening. Even if they encouraged her to leave earlier than usual, it was deep into nightfall.

In the chill of winter, the walk felt longer. Previously, on some nights, Wooyoung would insist on taking her home, but, once San joined him in attending the shows, it seemed they left together most times. She wondered if they had an automobile… or did they take a carriage? She imagined a car. Something sleek and metallic. Leather interiors with that new polished smell.

And warm.

Her body trembled as she continued her path, hugging her old coat closer to her body. She was hyperaware, glancing this way and that as she exited the prettied town-center with their big banks, busied offices, shiny nickelodeons, and grand opera house. Her side of town was less glamourous with its stacked upon stacked apartment buildings, looming factories suffocating the last remaining cozy homesteads, and broken cobblestone streets. The scent of smoke and smog and gasoline overpowered the light aroma of winter breaking through the city of Cromer.

While the town center quieted in the evening, the streets around home never did. There were folks walking to and from work; some went to the mines or docks for early shifts; others were crawling out of darkening bars with the reek of alcohol on their mouths. Alley-ways shifted with figures and shadows. It wasn’t unusual.

So, she had to be aware as she wandered between flame-lit lamp lights and crossed busied streets. When there was a commotion that sounded frightening, she’d jump and quicken her steps. But, even she eventually grew lazy, grew comfortable, as she saw her apartment front. Quaint despite its chipping paint and old bricks.

A wrought-iron fence kept the small shared garden of the multistoried complex private; the dirt was barren with the chill of winter inching in and less time from the occupants of the apartment to spare with their new jobs in factories. Not many were able to work from home, like her mother had once done with her mending business. Still, it was weeded and prepped from spring when it did come.

The newest edition was the mismatched, criss-crossing collection of wires and cords that decorated the exterior of the building. Trailing in and out of each apartment’s windows and down its façade in a haphazard mess. With those ugly wires came electricity. Electricity, that admittedly was a new cost that was difficult to find the coin for and was often unusable from blown fuses across the crowded streets. But, seeing her bedroom window lit with an electric lamp, warm and waiting, made her sigh out in relief. Home. Comfort. Warmth.

Distracted, she never noticed the tall figure trailing her. Not close, no, he was far from her, but he was watching her. A sparkle in his grin grew as he saw her own smile light up at the sight of her house.

Cute.

Finding a home with the shadows, he tucked his hands into his pockets, hiding his expensive rings and Rolex watch from view as he leaned against the brickwork and kept his dark gaze on her. Watching her closely. He watched as she unlocked her front door and shut it tight behind her. He watched as the movements of her cast shadows of her feminine form against the curtained windows of what was her living room, her kitchen. Lights one by one flickered off as she climbed the interior of the flat to her room. He waited. Watching.

He stayed until he saw her dark silhouette, one that matched his in the shadows, reach her bedroom, taking off her coat, her dress. He watched her undo her hair, one pin at a time. Eyes looking up and down her illuminated skin whenever she got too close to the window. Drinking her in like a fine whiskey. Until the curtains were drawn tight, and her electric light extinguished.

She was safe at home, only then, he proclaimed as he crept towards the docks of Cromer.

-

Wooyoung hadn’t come to the ballet that night, the day before their ‘outing’, their ‘date’, their whatever you’d call it. And at first, it sent a zing of fear. It reminded her of the weeks without contact. But, when she entered the boudoir, she saw the little letter resting on the vanity. Waiting for her patiently.

Wooyoung’s handwriting wasn’t as neat or as pretty as San’s. It was clunky, a mixture of uppercase and lowercase. Nothing like a typical upper-class man’s hand. But it was his. In his way, he reassured her that he’d be there on her doorstep, tomorrow afternoon at golden hour, 5:30 pm sharp, to pick her up for their adventure. Wait in anticipation to see him once more, he had written. She swore there was even a spritz of his cologne; the paper seemed to ache of him.

Cocky. Ever so Wooyoung.

San had come to watch her regardless, watching attentively from Box Number 8. She liked sneaking peeks at him during the performance. Like Wooyoung, his gaze rarely left her form, but his eyes were different. It was an admirable look. Wooyoung was entertained by her she knew that. But San… she wasn’t sure what was different, but it was.

That night after the show, he came to the boudoir and, rather than approach her with boldness in his step, he sat upon a settee – a pristine gift box sat beside him. And waited. It was a startling difference to Wooyoung’s eagerness. And at first, YN’d scurry to him, but he simply smiled up at her, almost cat-like with his eyes shutting in content.

“Take your time, honey.” He encouraged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A small yet somehow powerful hand encouraged her to turn on herself, almost doing a small pirouette with him pulling her strings, and was urged to go back to the vanity across the boudoir with a gentle pat on her lower back. Uncertain eyes jittered towards him; pouty lips licked in confusion. A ‘but’ was about to tumble out of her lips when he let out a soft rumble. His hands urged her again like a mama bird nudging a birdling out of its nest.

“Go; it’s late and chilly,” he cooed out, soft and slow. “Get dressed into your skirts, get comfortable – then we can talk, honey.”

Honey. That was what he was like. Slow, tantalizing, sweet. Comforting like a drizzle of honey in your tea. There was a patience in him that Wooyoung didn’t have. He was okay with waiting.

YN was still unfamiliar with his behavior, so used to Wooyoung’s familiarity to balance her and guide her with San. Back at the shared vanity, the other ballerinas looked between her and her patron. A touch judging, a lot confused. Still, she obeyed him. Her dress was shrugged off to reveal her bared shoulders and cinched corseted waist for only a moment as she tugged on her dark skirts and matching blouse. Her makeup was thick and cakey from sweat and reapplication but, with no running water in the boudoir unlike the private dressing rooms, she was forced to keep it on or risk smearing it about unattractively. If she was alone, she’d attempt it, but her eyes flashed to see San once more through the mirrors. Waiting. Her head ached with the pricks of a million-and-one hair pins. Her fingers prodded at them, scratching satisfyingly, but she didn’t let her hair down. It’d take too long. He was waiting.

Waiting.

That wasn’t normal.

Her eyes kept glancing into the looking glass, in any of the mirrors that framed the entire boudoir in. Everywhere she looked he was there. Tapping his glass with his finger, licking his delicious looking lips. At every turn, as she returned her costume and as she slipped her pointe shoes off and replaced them with sensible heels, she was always looking to see if San was still there. And he was.

Lounging back, broad-shoulder and broad-chest, making the settee look smaller with his large muscular form. His eyes shut as he swirled his drink in a crystalline tumbler. He hadn’t left. Was he bored? Was he going to leave if she wasn’t quick enough? Why was he so odd compared to the other patrons who were all up on their protégés as soon as the performance was done?

In the mirror, she could see Julia in the arms of her Lord, still dressed in her costume. Mina’s was buried in the side of her neck, leaving whispers and hickeys, as she tried to wriggle out of her outfit. Some new patrons, young men with some money to burn, were talking to the youngers. All the men were occupied. Except for hers.

But San still sat, waiting patiently.

He was going to leave, he had to, he had to. The men would get frustrated. Why wasn’t San? She sped up, buttoning her blouse up and tying the ribbon in a bow on her front as she walked his way. A smile painted on her face.

“Two minutes, and 8 seconds,” San recounted, his head tilted back unmoving, as she came to stand in front of him once more.

Her chin shifted a mimicry of defiance as she swallowed. San sighed out through his nose as he shifted up. Feline eyes opened to meet hers with their burning warm. Like embers in a fireplace. Was he angry? Should she had stayed? Been faster?

“Honey.” He cooed the sweet nickname for her once more with warm affection. His hand reached out for hers, pausing until she shifted her hand to rest into his gloved one. A thumb rushed over the back of her hand soothingly. “When I say take your time, I mean it.” He raised her hand up and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Did you enjoy the show?” she said in divergence. He steadied her with a gentle gaze. He squeezed her hand again.

“I mean it, YN,” he insisted seriously. “And yes, I did. You did beautifully.”

She nodded softly. His hand tugged her closer with a questioning brow, his other hand shifting to make sure her skirts didn’t tangle as she sat beside him.

“I’ll take it slower next time.” She promised as she crossed her legs.

“Good girl.” He praised.

His words sent a zing through her.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Better now that I’m with you.” He flirted.

“You and Woo have the same flirts,” she teased.

His eyes crinkled. “Well, we both flirt with one another often.” He admitted.

Her cheeks flushed at his comment – did it mean what she thought? They were awfully close for best friends. “Where is Woo?” she asked.

“Sad to see just me?” he prompted.

She shook her head quickly. “I’m happy to see you. Just wondering where or what he could be off doing.”

He smirked, adjusting how he sat to wrap an arm around her waist. “You looking forward to your date?” he teased.

Date. He said date. It was a date! When was the last time she went on a date? Her stomach danced with butterflies. San’s smile grew, cat-like, as if he could feel the excitement bounce around in her bones.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Good. He’s excited, too.” San reassured, thumb going up and down her waist. “Would you like to go on a date with me too, honey?”

Her ears burned at the thought of two men sharing her, but she nodded softly. Because she did want. She wanted San and Wooyoung. San was intriguing and kind and attractive. Different to Wooyoung but not better or worser. Her shame burned her ears just as red as her blushing bashfulness.

He grinned wider.

“What would we do?” It was strange to be asked these things as if her time wasn’t one he paid for, as if she wasn’t going on a date with his best friend tomorrow.

Still, she replied.

“I’d want to get to know you more,” she said truthfully.

He was interesting but she knew so little of him. He leaned forward, a different sort of magnetic energy pulled her closer.

“Ask me, honey.” He urged. His dark eyes met hers. He pulled her a smidge closer. “I’ll answer most anything.”

So, she did. 

She asked about his favorites, things that she had learned at first about Wooyoung. Safe things, easy things. He liked purple. He liked cats. He favored sweets over savory things. He liked the seaside. He said he’d take her to a pier when it warmed up. He favored dancing over singing. Eventually, she asked:

“What’s in the gift box?” She eyed the box beside his feet.

San grinned. “It’s from our Wooyo – and me.”

Our. Our. Our. He liked saying that, she noticed. His hands left her form to hoist it up, onto her lap. It was heavy.

“Is it for tomorrow?” she asked tentatively. One of the ballerinas said their patron liked getting things for them to wear.

“Open it and see,” he encouraged instead of answering.

So, she did. And inside was the most soft, warmest dark jacket she had ever seen. It was fluffy and furry on the inside. It looked like it was made of the darkest midnight black fabric she had ever seen, a soft metallic shine to it. There was no tag or name brand. Was this custom made to her?

It was large, but not oversized. It smelled of warm pineapple, something sweet like jasmine flowers, a musky woodsy oak, and a hint of sea-salt.

“Oh, San, it’s beautiful,” she cooed.

“And warm,” he said with a chuckle. “Let me help you.”

He stood, offering his hand like a gentleman to her, before sliding the dark coat over her shoulders. He fixed her hair delicately.

“Beautiful; fits you like a glove.” He hummed appreciatively, fixing the top button so it was snug. “Perfect for cold nights walking home.”

That night she walked home warmer than ever with a tropical scent engulfing her. But it was also the first night she had felt frightened in a long time.

There was fighting in the streets. Figures punching and spitting and yelling. No, the city had never been perfect. There were rougher parts and her side of town was certainly not protected from turf wars between adolescents and old families claiming land.

She was used to walking fast and not looking down alleys in case there were things she shouldn’t be seeing. But it felt different today. She was used to punks fighting between themselves. That was normal, but today they were all frightened it sounded. The group all cowering and whispering and biting out words, scared.

“Please, please, I promise – I’ll--!”  

YN was in the wrong place, wrong time, she knew it deep in her stomach as she peered around a corner only to see a tall figure pressing a gun against another’s jaw. Shadows cast over him, hiding their face from view, but when she heard the shadowed figure asking ‘where the fuck his money was’, she quickly looked away and scurried away. Unknowing, that there was a shadow figure of her own trailing after her, glancing down the alley way at the scene for a moment too long.

The equally tall figures’ gazes rose and locked for a moment. One with his ringed fingers holding a lit cigarette, the other with his ringed fingers gripping the gang member’s hair harshly. The man on his knees whimpered, pleading for help as the barrel of the gun pressed deeper into his temple. Her shadow man glanced nonchalantly at the crying man before looking back at his captor. A glitter of a smirk shined as the man with the cigarette raised his fingers to his head in a casual lazy salute. The captor snorted out a low rumble of a laugh before her shadow-figure left the alley.

“No, no, please help, please!” He didn’t listen; his sights were back on his doll. His long legs allowed him to catch up easily, always keeping her in his sights once more. He abandoned his cigarette once he came to a stop in his familiar alley-way. A polished boot crushed down on the cigarette butt as he fixed his rings casually, tracing over one in particular.

He watched as she entered her home and locked the door with a click. He watched until he saw her in her window once more, like he had most nights now. But there was one difference. She, in her sweet little nightdress with her hair pooling around her so temptingly, came into view of her window. He pushed back into the shadows, dark eyes drinking in her figure. How did San and Wooyoung control themselves around her? He wasn’t sure.

Looking out onto the dark, foggy streets of Cromer, she swallowed nervously. YN hoped she hadn’t been spotted as she entered her home. She closed the curtains with a swish as if they’d protect her. Stretching her limbs this way and that in nervousness, she tried to push those images of violence from her mind and keep her mind focused on something better.

Tomorrow. Her date.

-

It was Friday, a rare day off for the opera house. And the day of her and Wooyoung’s date. Date, date, date! It was all she could think of since her eyes flickered open. Last night’s fearful encounter nothing but a nightmare compared to the excitement buzzing through her.

“Do you think he’ll bring flowers?” she asked her mother as she dusted herself with powder.

“He should,” her curt-mouthed mother chimed. “It’s only proper.”

“Oh, I hope so!”

She had been dolling up for most of the day (after aiding her mother in some sewing assignments for the factory; they gave her way too much to handle YN thought…). First, she had a scalding hot bath where she splurged and used a long-saved gifted bottle of floral body oil. Her hair was washed and dried by the fireplace. Her closet was a proper mess as she chose between this dress and that. She debated going to get fresh flowers from market to help spruce up her old linens, but, after counting her coins, she realized she didn’t have enough to spare. Her pearls would have to make due.

Her new jacket from WooSan rested on the sofa beside her.  It still smelt of that strange cologne, not San’s nor Wooyoung’s. She wouldn’t need it today. Luckily, there was no snow outside. She’d know after all. She kept peering out her windows, waiting, waiting, waiting. When sunset began to peak over the buildings, she held her breath. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

She was oddly excited. She hadn’t expected the genuine excitement. Would he be romantic and bring a bushel of flowers? Or would he see this as nothing? Where would he take her? The park-side, a restaurant… what if he was joking, what if he didn’t show?

No, no. San knew she was excited. Wooyoung was excited, too.

When she heard the knock at the door, she jumped from her spot on the sofa, abandoning the book she was barely reading.

“Coming,” she called as she crossed the small living room to open the door, the locks clinking and clattering as she did so.

Wooyoung’s outfit was more casual than she had seen at the opera house, but he still reeked of expensive fabric and his heavenly cologne. Dark linens and his hair slicked back attractively; he smiled at her with a boyish expression. The same one she remembered him flashing the day they met. Somehow it did more to her heart now than then. Perhaps, because this one felt genuine. This one felt like a boy she had met and was trying to win her heart, jittering with nerves. His hand went to fix his perfect hair and she smiled a megawatt smile.

And while this wasn’t the first time he’d seen her bare-faced, hair-down, in her drop-waisted day-dress, he stared at her like it was. The pale sky-blue dress complimented her faintly rouged knees and white silk stockings. Her hair rested in carefully done wave-curls – her mother had sat with a red-hot curling iron helping form the curls one by one into pretty sections.

“Hi,” she greeted.

“Hello, my beautiful swanette,” he breathed, enamored. He reached for her hand to press a gentle kiss to her gloved knuckles. Gentlemanly. Her heart swirled like it was a record in a player, swooning for him ever more. It felt like a romance novel; it felt like a dream.

“Hi,” she said again, sweetly.

He smiled against her knuckles, eyes flashing to meet hers with a Wooyoung-coyness.

“This is him?” she heard her mother crow from behind her.

YN’s shoulders jumped a bit. She hadn’t thought her mother would want to meet him. Despite her help with preparing, her mother was oddish. A mixed case of approving and disapproving. She liked that her daughter danced but didn’t like that she didn’t work. She liked that she was going on a date but didn’t like it was with a man from the boudoir. She didn’t quite approve of the boudoir’s politics, but she knew he was paying for her fees now. It made her worry.

Wooyoung’s grin only grew as he peered over YN’s shoulder.

“Hello ma’am,” he greeted politely, bowing his head. He kept a hold of YN’s hand, guiding her a step hi way to face her mother with him.

Her mother, firm-faced, glared at him before diverting her eyes to the bashful looking YN.

“You take care of my YN?” she queried, crossing her arms.

“I do,” he said easily. “I think she’s wonderful. Talented, too.”

She made a hmph noise in the back of her throat, glancing between the pair again.

“Be safe,” she pressed with a hand pushing YN forward. “Be smart.”

“I’ll take good care of her,” Wooyoung promised as he squeezed YN’s hand in his and pulled her towards him fully. His hand swept her arm into his properly as he offered a smile to her mother once more as the door closed.

There were no flowers she noted, not even a single rose, and she couldn’t help the buzz of disappointment from fizzing over her. Still, the smell of him and the excitement she had brewing with her kept her optimistic.

“Let’s go, my swanette,” he beamed, patting her arm linked with his as he led the way.

“What are we doing, Woo?” she asked, and her excitement made him beam.

 “It’s a surprise,” he teased before stealing a kiss on her cheek.

He took her to a cinema, a nickelodeon where they looked at the moving pictures from viewing boxes. It was mostly excuses to huddle close together and giggle at the provocative films. One even featured a couple kissing on a train scandalously – he quickly tried to mimic it, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Scandalous for the public eye but sweet for her heart. He loved to hear her giggles ring out. 

As they sat in the darkened theatre of the cinema, the black-and-white film jittering as the projector rattled along. A live band played a lively tune, a made-up soundtrack to the film. Still, he held her hand and kept whispering in her ear. Sweet things, compliments, comments about the film. He was talkative even in the fairly-full theatre. He didn’t mind the curious glances or the whispers. In fact, it was like YN was the only thing in the world for Wooyoung. Everything else was secondary. The film barely held his attention; only she did.

“Woo, are you even watching?” she whispered to him, giggling undertoning her words.

He grinned at her, leering down at her as he fussed with her pretty hair. “I’m watching you.”

She smiled glancing aside, her gaze leaving the film about a train. So many things in film were about trains apparently.

“Pretty,” he chimed, tucking a curl around her ear.  His hand cupped her jaw and redirected her gaze. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Wooyoung was intense in everything he did. But it was a pleasant intensity. Like gravity. The magnetic pull between him and her felt natural. Like she was his Earth and he was her moon.

He leaned close til their noses brushed, til they shared the same hot breath.

“It’s fun,” she whispered to him. “Being with you.”

He smiled and leaned ever closer. 

“I like being with you. I like you, YN.”

Their mouths locked for the first time beneath the loud clink-clanking of a projector of the cinema, highlighted by its glow.

It wasn’t anything hot and heavy, but she could taste him on her mouth for the first time, breathe him in so close. His hand cupped her cheek, pulling her ever close like he could devour her. He wished he could. He wished he could lick into her mouth, pull her over his lap, muss her hair and make her lips flush as red as the lipstick she wore at the ballet.

But Wooyoung knew it wasn’t the time yet.

Still, each press of his lips to hers felt addicting to her and made her body hotter than the projector’s lamplight.

-

“Extra, extra!” A newsie cried as she passed him on the streets; his voice piercing her ear with its loudness. “Man shot dead after sports match – conflict uncertain! Suspect jailed.”

“Who’s the suspect?” a woman with a much too large hat babbled at the boy.

“Buy one and see, Miss!” he encouraged.

Such a good salesman, YN snickered as she passed by. She wondered if maybe one of the girls at the ballet would buy an edition. A man killed at a sports match… must’ve been a rich man if it was being reported about. She wondered what happened. A bet gone wrong perhaps?

A breeze made her shiver and pick up her pace towards the opera house.

-

There was a large bushel of flowers on her vanity the next performance. Wooyoung’s handwriting graced the letter.

‘Thanks for the date, beautiful swanette. See you later.’

She nearly melted. How did he know she had wanted flowers? It was fate, romance, everything. He was such a gentleman.

He and her were different. San, her, and him.

Yes, she felt it.

-

Wooyoung and San were interesting when they were in the boudoir together. They had their own magnetic energy that couldn’t be denied. They were close. Closer than normal men. But when it came to her, it felt like their interest on her was equal. A shared obsession – their eyes would lock onto her and never falter once in the boudoir (unless it was to give one another knowing looks.)

She was looking forward to their visits. Some of the girls asked if the date led to more, but it hadn’t. Wooyoung was the perfect gentleman. San was the perfect patron, paying her fees for the pair of them. For the first time, she had money to spare in her pockets. More days trickled by and each visit brought her closer and closer to them. Nights of whispers about the city, the gossip Wooyoung loved to hear about, about her, and shared embraces that left her buzzing.

She’d dreamt about them a few times. San’s touches became more teasing, daring as he kept his bespectacled gaze locked on her as his hand grazed over her waist. Right after Wooyoung pressed a kiss to her. Burning eyes, burning hands. Her dreams were wild that night.

-

Box #8 was full once more. It had Wooyoung and San in clear view, but it was harder to spot the others. When she could, it was only blurred visage. A strong nose peaking from beneath opera glasses. Sparkling rings on someone’s hands. A gleam of a smile.

At intermission, it was just Wooyoung and San; walking side-by-side as San whispered something, a grin forming on Wooyoung’s face. Wooyoung was mid-reply when he approached her.

“I said it should be something less known, so it’d be—” 

“Hello, you two,” she greeted, her skirt a full thing of feathers for the next act.

“Swanette,” Wooyoung lit up, easily swooping her into an embrace per usual. Except now, he pressed a kiss to her lips, sweetly.

“Wooyoung!” Her surprised cry of his name came out muffled against his lips.

He giggled before turning so they faced San. “Sannie, I think we should go out all together.” He argued.

“Soon,” he agreed before he greeted her. “Hello, honey.”

“Who’s with you tonight?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Wooyoung chuckled lowly, swaying her this way and that.

“I told you she’d ask,” he hummed. “She’s a jealous vixen.”

He buried himself in her neck and she let out a giggle knowing he was simply teasing her. Teeth grazed over her neck, and she jolted in his arms, shrieking quietly. Her hands raised to her mouth.

“She’s not; she’s inquisitive.” San corrected, watching the display with a pleased expression.

“Curious about a lot of things,” Wooyoung whispered tauntingly. As if he knew her brain. Her cheeks flushed red.

A low rumble of twin laughter mingled in the air as San stepped towards the pair in embrace.

“They’re our friends,” San countered. “Yeosangie wanted to visit you, but he has a match tomorrow. He insists on practicing the night before. He could only stay so long for the performance.”

“And the others?” she asked, curiosity lingering on her face.

San’s gaze flickered to Wooyoung’s for a long moment. Wooyoung nodded. “Seonghwa is in attendance. He won’t be able to visit. He sends his warmest regards.”

“Which one was he?” she queried, brow pursing.

“On my left,” Wooyoung commented. “Yeosang and San are like two peas in a pod around one another. Can’t unglue them from each other”

He hushed Wooyoung’s comment by coming close and squeezing his best friend’s neck and crowding her in pleasantly. There was a faint smell of coffee and vanilla… and popped champagne.

“He’s jealous,” San teased. “He likes attention almost as much as you do, hm?”

Her cheeks flushed and San smirked. Sighing out, he wrapped a hand tentatively around her waist, squeezing reassuringly.

 “They’ll visit soon, I’m sure. They’re busy is all.”

Wooyoung pressed a kiss to her temple and she swore she saw San inch forward to do the same before he stopped himself.

-

“Imara?” she asked during practice between plie-ing on the barre and stretching their legs.

“Yes?” the other girl replied, offering a smile.

Ever since she’d gained patrons, she had noticed a change. A nicer tone towards her. Not quite respect but something more. It was strange. Still, YN smiled and continued her question.

“Do you know of a Seonghwa in society?” she asked.

Despite all their shared experience with the upper-class, some were more aware than others. Most ballerinas acted on the edge of the rich, floating like asteroids in their orbit. Some were comets, pretty to watch for a moment but a fleeting fancy. The only ones with more insight, a more hands-on experience with the rich were those with a patron. Proteges particularly were informed about high-society, usually due to the drunken rambles of their patrons.

Imara paused, leaning further into her stretch. “Last name?” she prompted.

“Kim? Or-or Jung?”

YN had yet to find out why Wooyoung had given her a false name… or how the newspaper had a false name.There was a low hum as the woman shifted this way and that.

“No to both… but-“, she clicked her tongue. “I’ve heard of a Park Seonghwa from Dohyunnie—I mean Mr. Kim.”

“Oh, what have you heard?” YN queried; intrigue piqued.

“Nothing that amazing,” Imara snorted. “Just that he was doing business with him. Dohyun sounded frustrated though. But he’s frustrated most days now.” Her face fell into something of concern, of care. One might even say love.

Park Seonghwa? Hm…

-

“Hey, honey.”

San was waiting for her outside of the Opera House back against the wrought-iron street lamp. Snow dotted his perfectly coifed locks like it was salt-and-pepper hair - a sneak peek of what was to come down the line for him. It made her think of things too domestic and too fantastical for a dancer. Waking up to him, children running between their legs. Home. Love. Family. Things that were too taboo to think about considering their relationship.

Her dancer friends were always quick to remind her that he was paying for her.

But now, on a non-show day, she was surprised to see him waiting outside for her. Rehearsals weren’t too long or intensive, especially once they were performing a show for as long as they had been, but still YN wondered how long he had been waiting.

“San!” she exclaimed, padding up to him with a grin. “How long have you been out here?”

Her hand went to wipe at the accumulation of snow on his coat. He smiled at her fondly.

“Not long,” he reassured.

“You’re covered in snow,” her voice relented, pouting at him. “If I’m to be honest, shouldn’t you be?”

She teased him easily and he grinned, almost a side-smirk as he fixed her, their, coat to make sure it was buttoned up all the way.

“I guess so. That’s how these things work, hm?” he teased back.

“What things?” YN couldn’t help but clarify.

“Relationships.” He replied back. “Right?”

It made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. Relationship. That meant… not just a business relationship, right? But what of Wooyoung? Did he know? Was this alright? Her stomach bubbled with nervousness, worries but also a wave of excitement.

San had always been straightforward, so the fact he danced around the topic made her nerves only grow. But… she wanted it. She wanted him. Guilt and intrigue and want clashed in a whirl. Like snow tumbling in the air.

“Right,” she replied, her voice soft. There was a gentle tremor of excitement, nervousness, anticipation.

His fingers that had just made up her coat’s buttons shifted to tuck hair behind her ear. She didn’t flinch at his icy touch. “And in relationships, they can… kiss,” he stated, warm fingers trailing up her neck to cup her jaw.

It was then she realized his face was blushed not from the cold, but bashfulness. Shyness. Him – shy! It baffled her, but the more she was around him, the more she learned how soft he was. Like Wooyoung had warned. He was soft and caring and gentle. Loving.

San leaned in closer, head ducking and shadowing her from the flame-lit lamp light. His breath was visible in the chill, fanning over her face in a whirl of warm mint and medicinal rosemary.

“They do,” she replied equally gentle at his touch.

He cupped her cheeks, his hand surprisingly small and yet she felt so sturdily safe in them.

“May I?” he asked, eyes meeting hers.

She nodded, a quiet noise of agreement breathed out as he got closer and closer.

Their kiss was something slow, not like Wooyoung’s and hers. Hot and eager beneath the equally warm projector a cinema. San’s kiss was slow like he had all the time in the world. It was cold out in the snow, but the icy chill felt nice mixed with his hot breath fanning over their locked lips.

They kissed for far too long beneath that lamplight, a figure across the streets watching on as he always did.

-

She barely slept a wink that night. Her worries about her and Wooyoung and her and San… and honestly San and Wooyoung! Was she wrong for kissing San? He had seen Wooyoung press kisses to her cheeks. They both had manhandled her and stroked her and tickled her. They had been closer in some ways than a simple kiss already. Her body was comfortable with them; she liked their attention, their warmth, their presences.

Oh gosh, what if this ruined everything?

But, they – San and Wooyoung - had to talk? San didn’t seem like someone who would go behind his best friend’s back. And Wooyoung had never objected to San’s careful gaze and wandering hands. Wooyoung could never keep his mouth shut either! She tossed and turned in her bed, obsessing and worrying, until she simply stood and switched on her lamp.

Her shadow, watching from the alley way with a lit cigarette in between his teeth, twitched. What was she doing awake? She’d be exhausted. He frowned. The shadow of her form paced this way and that in the dark of night. Worrisome.

And he worried for her. He worried for his doll, biting at his plump lips, chewing on them before bringing his cigar back to his lips.

-

In front of the grand Cromer Opera House, a newsie cried out. “Disappearance by the docks! Four workers never check out of their shift! Details are shocking!”

“How shocking, kid?” one of the ballerinas countered as they approached the building, arms crossed.

“Extremely so, Miss.” He exclaimed.

“You said that last time and there was barely anything added to the story!” cried out the ballerina beside YN, her arm interlaced with hers. “Just a stupid name that we didn’t even know – some Yunho fellow!”

“I don’t make the stories; I just sell them,” he argued, hands raising.

“Sell them that’s for sure,” she huffed. “Not today, Jack. You aren’t getting any of my coins.”

It almost made YN laugh if only the content the boy had cried out about wasn’t so alarming. Disappearances? There had just been a man shot a few weeks ago and now disappearances. Mother had mentioned disgruntled workers at the factory as of late too. With pay being as it is, some of the younger girls got into worser things, her mother said.  And the gangs had been acting up. Memories of the man’s deep voice in the alley way threatening the young boy made her shiver.

Even if her mom didn’t quite support her as a ballerina, always saying it was an easy way up to fame despite the many nights of pain and many, many years of empty pockets, she had to admit now that she was relieved YN wasn’t working beside her in the textile factory. It seemed like things were up to no good in this town.

YN sighed out tiredly as she walked up the steps of the opera house only to blink in surprise. On the framed poster outside the opera house, there was a new notice. Swan Lake’s performances were coming to a close – so the ballet could prepare a new show for its patrons of the arts. What could it be? No one, not even the girls knew yet.

-

The show had been canceled for the day and for tomorrow! A shock for the ballerinas already prepared for the early afternoon matinee performance. It was then they were dismissed, claiming there was a gas leak.  Some said they were being kicked out for a new owner to tour. Other girls said it was for deciding the leads for the next show.

Nonetheless, YN felt herself sag in relief. Maybe she’d get some shut eye.

-

A surprise day off was rare. In fact, she couldn’t remember an unplanned day off since she was 10. But it didn’t mean lazing around all day. No, she was prepared to help her mother with extra orders.

Bright and early, she was awake, more rested but certainly still worrying about her patrons. Her lips had been bitten raw in anxiety, but her mind was set to try to not think of them today. Not getting to talk to them yesterday felt strange and it didn’t help her worries still ate at her like a leech.

Her hair was tied back in a pretty braid, her outfit simple, as she exited the front door with a large basket of orders from her mother, ready for delivery.

“I’ll be back, ‘ma!” she called. “I’ll try to be back before you leave for your shift.”

There was a call back in agreement, hard to hear over her mother’s sewing machine whirling with her steady foot-pedaling. Turning, she was met with a surprise.

“Swanette,” Wooyoung crowed out from the nearby sidewalk, his hands wrapped around the gate as he grinned up at her.

“Woo!”

“Are you free today?”

It was still strange to see Wooyoung outside the ballet. Her bare face burned and felt sticky, wrong. She was used to the stage-makeup hiding her flush of nerves. Her hands fiddled with her outing gloves, half shifting her basket to her arm. “Today, I was supposed to-“

“She is, Mr. Wooyoung,” her Mother crowed out from the window – pushing it open.

“Mother,” YN insisted, looking her way.

“I can handle the orders for today; go – before you’re old and grey,” the woman tutted.

Wooyoung laughed out, hyena-like, as his hands banged against the gate in excitement. “Mother’s orders, sweet swanette.” He added.

Her sharp look only made his bright grin grow.

“Go,” her mother pushed once more. “Leave the delivery by the door.”

Huffing, YN hopped up the steps of the apartment. She placed her orders down and grabbed her hand bag. She slid her nicer heels beside the door on, leaving her old shoes there in its wake, and tip-tapped down the apartment’s steps.

“Thank you, Miss,” Wooyoung chimed out to her mother. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“You better,” her mother replied before snapping the window shut.

“She’s lovely,” Wooyoung said to YN with a grin that she could only describe as a cat who got the cream.

“You like her, because she played into your plot,” she teased.

“And she raised a gem like you,” he flirted back.

A gem… was she? She felt her multiple days of anxiety cling to her back like a sleep-demon on someone’s chest. Heavy and painful.

With grandiose, he offered his arm her way. She took it with ease. It surprised her how even in her worrisome she felt comfortable so close to him. A part of her wondered if the neighbors were watching as she walked along their rickety pathways with a man who could buy their land twice over.

“What are we doing today?” she asked quietly.

A date was something she could predict. A visit to the cinema, or a diner, or even the sea-side pier amusement park. But a day outing…

“I must attend something dreadful,” Wooyoung sighed out dramatically, his arm squeezing tighter around hers. In this open public, he was the picture-perfect man, no wandering hands up and down her waist. No cuddling embraces. No kisses that left her breathless. It was strange that she missed them.

“What?” she feared.

“A tennis match featuring my dear Yeosang.” He sighed out. “Tennis is so boring, you know?”

She did not know, unfortunately.

Glancing over his dresswear, she noted his fine linens; was she not dressed enough for this? Her outfit was a sensible attire, not at all as seductive as her costumes at the ballet and not a smidge high-end. It wasn’t even like her day-dress she wore the last date with the ultramodern drop-waist and frills. She was in a simple deep purple skirt, down to her ankles, sensible heels, and her dark blouse was high necked with his pearls looped around it as an accent. The only whisper of wealth. Would they think she was some whore? Wasn’t she? She was jumping between patrons, jumping between San and him.

“Little swan,” he nudged her with his hip. He had been yapping along and she hadn’t caught a word.

“Sorry,” she apologized quickly, shaking her head as she tried to push down the feeling of being used. Wooyoung didn’t think that. Didn’t look at her like that.

“Sannie will be there, too. But he may be preoccupied.” he continued. “Tennis just doesn’t have the thrill of other sports - don’t tell Yeosang that.”

That made her chuckle.

“What sports do you like, Woo?” she asked, trying not to think of San and his warmth and his medicinal cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and his slow kisses.

“Boxing.” It was an immediate answer. “And horse-racing. I’m starting to like baseball, too. Aurora had no stadiums, but Cromer’s is nice.”

All brutal in her mind. She knew of a few girls who dated boxers; their lovers’ faces were bruised and beaten most days. At least with tennis, there was no gore.

“I’ve never been to a tennis match,” she admitted. “Or many sports games.”

He wouldn’t judge her; he hadn’t yet. Instead, his eyes lit up.

“Lucky girl,” he hummed. “You’ve got me as a perfect guide then.”

“What should I expect?” she asked.

“Long boring minutes,” he lamented. “But it’s less sports-focused for us. Think of it like a show.”

“In what way?” she retorted.

“The audience, us, are all there for different reasons, right? Some are there to watch the performance; some are there to watch the audience, hm.” He added.

“Do rich people do anything except people watch?” she mumbled.

Wooyoung crowed out a laugh. Her face burned. She shouldn’t have said that in front of him. “Some,” he countered. “But we are here to people watch today. That’s the fun of sports like this.”

-

She was sandwiched between Wooyoung and San – who had met them at the gates of the tennis court. One of Wooyoung’s hands pressed on her knee as he turned in to face her, occasionally whispering things in her ear. San’s arm was warm around her shoulders.

What she couldn’t ignore were the looks. On stage, she yearned for the attention, the limelight. But now with the elite’s gazes all zoomed in on her and her patrons… her face felt hot. A hand fiddled with her pearls. She looked away from their repeating blank stares.

“Shh,” San cooed after a few moments.

Her eyes flashed to him. He looked cool and casual in his dark fitted vest and pinstriped pants. A white silk shirt was open beneath it and rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tan skin. San’s glasses were absent from his nose for the first time. It made his attitude seemed stronger; the flat planes of his face sharp. But his eyes were still a soft brown, soothing her as his hand rose to rub at her shoulder blade.

“You’re okay.”

Her stomach whirled. Was she so transparent? Her tongue peeked out to lick her lips.

“I’m okay,” she tried to reassure him.

Her fingers played with a pearl, tip tap tapping it. San smiled at her, encouragingly patient. His other hand placed his drink down; the crystalline glass clanking onto the table as he did so. He reached for her hand, fingers caressing down her phalanges and stopping her fussing.

“Honey,” he hummed. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her face felt warm.

“I’m not,” she whispered, eyes flickering to watch as he stroked up and down her fingers soothingly.

She could feel Wooyoung’s gaze on them; he lifted his drink to his curled mouth. His fingers tightened on her knee, almost warningly.

“I’m not,” she repeated looking over at Wooyoung.

He cocked a brow as he swallowed down his liquor; his gaze directed her back to San silently. San’s gaze had hardened enough that she pouted. His grasp was still ever gentle as he tugged her hand away from her necklace and interlaced their fingers with a questioning tickle of his fingers against hers. She let him.

“I can read you like the back of my hand,” he told her, squeezing their entwined hands. “Ignore them. They don’t matter.”

She glanced up at him, questioningly. How easy they could say something like that? Approval meant everything.

He sighed out a bit, leaning closer. “They don’t. I promise.”

All that matters is them; a subtle reminder. She nodded mutely; his eyes crinkled at her before he raised the back of her hand up to press a fond kiss to it. Her eyes flashed to Wooyoung to see his expression but he barely blinked at the action, his thumb going over and over her knee.

San had begun to ask a question: “What’s wrong—”

Thwack! The sound of a black-leathered tennis ball hitting the clay-court’s floor dragged her eyes away from her patrons and back to the action for a split second.

Yeosang swung and made another point with ease. Wooyoung cheered from her side, excitement lighting up his face as the Chair Umpire announced Yeosang’s point. Her gaze was drawn back to his visible excitement. Despite Wooyoung’s dramatics, he seemed eager when there was winning on the line.

Her gaze shifted from her patron back to Kim Yeosang. The athlete was lean; his muscles only showing when he made a swing. Bulging from his white tee, his triceps and biceps were built. His hair was long, half tied up in a small ponytail. Even so, there were strands of dark-brown hair that flickered in front of his face. Every now and then, he’d blow the tresses away with a huff.

“The other opponent hasn’t even made a point,” YN commented. 

“Yeosangie hasn’t lost a match in a long time,” Wooyoung revealed. “He’s the Champion of Ateez.”

San snorted out as if Wooyoung had said something funny. His hand adjusted hers in his as he took another long sip of his drink.

Yeosang had turned to grab a cup of water presented to him; theyd reach a pause in the game apparently. He took a deep sip of the drink. His biceps flexed, drawing her eyes over the muscle down to his elbow up his forearm to his pretty mouth. His Adam’s apple jumped every so often beneath his damp tawny skin as he swallowed over and over. Stray droplets dripped from his pouty lips, carving rivulets down his chin, down his neck, over his chest. She had to stop herself from looking him up and down even more.

YN wondered if this was how San and Wooyoung felt at the ballet. Watching another so intently, she took in everything of Yeosang. The tousled look of his sweeping hair, sweat that dripped down the side of his face, the way the sun glinted off his bared collarbones, the way his eyes looked as he opened them from drinking.

His eyes weren’t like San or Wooyoung’s – even from this distance, she knew that. He had a strange forcefulness in them, an intensity she usually only saw when someone furrowed their brow at you. A darkness, a cruelty, a seriousness. He glanced back at his opponent. His face was unsmiling. Cold, cruel, calculated.

“How long has he played?” she asked her duo. Her eyes hadn’t left him as he returned to his spot on the court.

“A while,” San answered. “He had been training since childhood and quickly rose in competitions.”

She hummed. There was a trickle of envy in her veins; she wanted that. She bet he hadn’t had to play up to men and women; he didn’t have to feel like an object. Even if the men with her insisted she wasn’t.

“Go Yeosangie!” Wooyoung cheered, almost disruptively. All eyes flashed to them. Yeosang included. But instead of annoyance like YN had expected, he smiled.

Wow, his smile. Her breath was stolen at the sunshine bright grin that he offered. He looked sweet then and there before turning to face his opponent once more. The grin fell and he was once more a cold calculating persona. A star turned icy.

The game began again with the opponent whacking the tennis ball towards Yeosang’s side. Yeosang was quick, agile, as he slid to hit the ball back.

Back and forth, back and forth.

After some time, she realized how Wooyoung could find this boring. He had grown antsy, already. He’d shifted in his seat, glancing around the stadium with intrigue. His mouth began to chatter once more, especially when all that was left in his glass was ice.

“Do you know anyone about, swanette?” he asked.

His hand had shifted from her knee to rest around her waist, casually. Occasionally, he fiddled with her skirt’s belt loop teasingly, but was mostly stagnant. He tapped her waist at his query; his many rings clinked delicately against one another with the motion.

Licking her lips, she felt San squeeze her fingers softly, almost reassuringly she realized. Gazing across the tournament’s audience, she recognized some familiar faces.

Henry Young, the police chief of Cromer, sat across the court in the shade, discussing something with a tall suited man. The bespectacled man looked red-faced, puffy cheeked as he argued with the other.

Her gaze shifted from him over the sea of folk. Her eyes widened at the sight of Julia, red hair piled upon her head and dressed in some gaudy purple dress. Lord Frederickson was returning to her side with a sly smirk. What the fuck? She said she never went out with her patron. Her brows crinkled, her lips frowning as she glanced away.

Why did she lie?

There was Kim Dohyun who often was all over Imara at the boudoir. He now stood beside his wife, a bedazzled silken lady with two small children tugging on her arm as she drank her champagne.

“Yes,” YN admitted. Her chin gave a soft nod towards the bank conglomerate of Cromer. The man had smiled brightly at a friend before leaning in to whisper something to his wife. Who smiled at him with glee and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Did she know that he was pressing kisses to Imara’s cheeks just a few nights ago? Did she know that he spent nearly a fortune for Imara’s dues? That she almost had enough to have her own dressing room? Her own solo?

“He’s cheating on his wife,” she said coldly under her breath. “Yet she doesn’t even know.”

Dohyun chuckled at something another one of his cohorts said as he adjusted his wife’s hand on his arm. YN glared.

“They all do it,” she muttered, glancing aside. For once, she wished she had taken up Wooyoung’s offer for alcohol.

San sighed out lowly. “I don’t understand men who do such things,” he admitted, taking a sip of his drink. His thumb rubbed soothing circles. “Unless she is aware.”

“I doubt it.” she admitted. “Imara would be in on it; she knows everything about high society.”

“I’d never do that to the ones I love,” Wooyoung said solemnly. Seriously.

His grasp tightened on her waist as he shifted to sit closer. San hummed in agreement. They watched as the man captured his wife’s mouth in a kiss, curt and aggressive. They’d seen him do the same thing to the pretty featured dancer at the boudoir.

There was a flicker of a question in the back of her head. How were they okay with sharing her then? Was it not the same thing? When Wooyoung kisses her under the glow of a cinema’s projector, was it not cheating when San pressed a warm smooch to her lips beneath the lamp post outside the opera house?

She licked her lip and tentatively tried to phrase her dangerous query. “San kisses my hand,” she stated. A simply edge into her question – a question that held more gravity than a simple kiss to her hand.

There’s a pause.

Wooyoung laughed out, his eyes crinkling as his attention shifted from the crowd to her. His affection burned in his chest. He wished he could press kisses over her cheeks. He was tempted to do so despite being in the public. San hummed in his chest, almost purr-like as he shifted his position to sandwich her tighter between them.

“I know that,” Wooyoung laughed. His eyes flickered to San and back to her. “I know everything, pretty girl. I thought we made it obvious. We know and share everything.”

Her cheeks burned a bit at the thought of them talking of her but San simply grinned.

“You are so sweet, honey.” He cooed close to her ear. “Wooyoung knows of our shared kisses. I know of your little rendez-vous at the cinema as well. Everything is alright.“

Her burning cheeks were only tripled as they both chuckled and daringly pressed twin kisses to her natural-rouged cheeks.

“Cute.” Wooyoung fussed.

She giggled out as they continued to tease and flirt under their breaths; half paying attention to the match and half paying attention to the folk watching their fancies. Soon, there was a chiming bell, ringing out to signify the end of the match. Their attention was stolen once more, letting YN breath out a shaky breath. San chuckled mischievously. The Umpire rose from his seat, declaring Kim Yeosang the winner.

“Finally,” Wooyoung sighed out, his arm leaving her waist for a moment as he stretched in his seat before rising to his feet.

“Let’s go visit our beloved Yeosang,” San encouraged, patting her hip before rising as well.

The two men walked ahead of her, pushing between the crowds easily. In fact, she realized that the crowds practically parted for them and half-swallowed her. It isn’t until her fingers slip from Wooyoung’s that they paused.

“Baby!” Woo chimed out, looking her way to catch her getting squished between men and women who wouldn’t even glance her way. Rough jabs and pushes made her huff out.

Wooyoung pushed back at a figure who had just shoved past her, losing the edge of respectability and gentleman flair. When the fine-suited man turned in outrage, his face paled at the sight of Wooyoung’s furrowed brow – the picture of an angered god in a Renaissance painting but the man who was shoved looked at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry,” he pleaded, bowing his head.

“You better be,” Wooyoung’s voice was unlike anything she had hear. Scolding, firm, and unwavering. Gone was his boyish charm and instead was a soft of cruelty she saw Yeosang carry on the court. But when he shimmied over to her, an arm went to her bicep ever so gently. Wooyoung’s dark eyes grazed her up and down with care. He couldn’t care less about the groveling man except to send him another dirty look. His darkness faded as he looked back at her each time.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Just lost you,” she said simply, a smidge shell shocked.

“Never,” he whispered back soft as cotton candy, taking her hand in his again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she reassured with a furrow of her brow.

He smiled at her, warmly, squeezing her hand. “I’m your guide, aren’t I?” he teased. “I’ll keep you closer this time.”

He tugged her close to him, almost inappropriately so for high society, but he only let out a crow of a laugh at her surprised face. Just as suddenly, he had her arm in his, polite and proper as always.

“C’mon, let’s catch up to Sannie,” he encouraged, squeezing her arm.

Now, he kept her by his side, close and tight. The ocean of people parted for both of them to reveal Yeosang, patting his forehead dry with a pristine white rag and San smiling and cooing over the athlete.

“You did a good job today!” San beamed, cheering the other on.

Yeosang nodded, almost timidly, but offered the larger man a close-lipped smile.

“It was a good day.” Yeosang agreed. “You win anything?” he asked, offhandedly.

Yeosang’s voice matched his face; not dainty but tender. It held a deep tone that seemed warm and pleasant despite its quietness. He spoke not with a booming haughtiness but a humble hum. His very voice encouraged people to shut up and pay attention – just in a different way.

San rubbed his neck, adjusting his suit a bit. “I wasn’t in charge of betting today,” he admitted.

Yeosang’s eyes widened, his brows jumping with the motion. “Oh. Who else is here?”

He leaned in close to whisper something that she couldn’t catch as they approached the duo. Wooyoung’s arm was strong around her.

“Congratulations,” Wooyoung praised.

“I lost you both,” San crowed out as he pulled away from Yeosang – the athlete flinching at the noise. At that sight, San cooed out an apology, a thumb pinching the other’s ear affectionately.

Yeosang tried to dodge away from the other but couldn’t and he succumbed to his babying. She hadn’t seen San baby someone so much – even with Wooyoung, it was a different sort of coddling. Like a firm hand keeping him on track.

“How dare you leave us?” Wooyoung dramatically whined.

San played into his dramatics, apologizing for abandoning them. It made her giggle a bit at their shenanigans, their comfortability. It made her nerves lighten at meeting a new person. Yeosang’s gaze had laid solidly on her the entire time, calculated, and intrigued.

“Yeosangie,” San started, his hand going to pat the other’s back. The well-awarded athlete’s brows raised as if at attention, flickering his gaze between him and her. “This is Miss YN LN.”

“Hello,” he greeted, properly. His hand outstretched and she shook it politely. His hands felt rough against hers but not unpleasant as he squeezed her hand as he pulled away. Yeosang smiled.

Yeosang looked at her like he did his opponent – despite his smile shining brighter than any paparazzi’s camera flash. He looked at her like she was a challenge. Butterfly wings fluttered against her rib cage and she wasn’t sure if it was excitement or red flags warning her to stay away. With her rose-tinted glasses, she ignored it and continued talking to him. Wooyoung’s comforting form was still with her even if San had disappeared at the beckoning of a bulky gentleman she had never seen before in a pin-striped suit bearing a firm facial expression.

Their discussion was led by Wooyoung; babbling on about the game, about the winnings that had been announced via the loudspeakers, about how Yeosang deserved much more. He went on bragging about the athlete, much to his blushed cheeks. His cheeks so red made her only find him more charming. The sun shifted in the sky as they all talked.

“I’ll be right back, Swanette,” Wooyoung promised, arm vacating her waist and leaving her feel exposed. “Yeosang here will keep you company while I try to find our Sannie. He’s been gone for far too long.”

Both Yeosang and YN had little to no time to say anything before Wooyoung had disappeared into the throngs of the upper-class.

YN chuckled faintly, her hand raising to tuck hair aside. “He did this during San and I’s first meeting, too. Left us alone.” she admitted bashfully, a sense of déjà vu crashing over her at the thought.

Yeosang’s laugh felt false, a distict “het-he” of a giggle. “He’s like that. But he’s right,” the tennis star reassured. “You are safe with me, YN.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you,” she praised. Licking her lips, she tried to push down the anxiety of talking to someone new. Despite the boudoir teaching one to say ‘yes and-‘ to any requests, she wasn’t quite sure what was appropriate outside in upper society.

“You were the first tennis match I’ve seen,” she admitted, searching for something to discuss.

“Oh?” his eyes lit up. “And what did you think?”

“You are very good,” she chuckled. “The other man had no chances of winning.”

Her praise seemed to make him stand taller, proud of his accomplishments. “Thank you.” He waited a beat. “I feel like we are similar that way. Skilled, dedicated, caring. I’ve never seen someone perform like you do. Forgive me for never greeting you before or after a show; things have… been untimely.”

“You mean your games,” she added nodding. “Wooyoung told me you’ve had to leave in order to prepare – I understand. Especially after today’s performance --- match… game?” she corrected herself from using ‘show’ terminology.

Gosh, she felt like a fish out of water. Especially without her Wooyoung and San. Hers… she had never thought of them like that… but it felt like second nature.

Her Wooyoung and San.

He laughed again and this time she realized his giggle was not forced but natural. A little het-he escaped him and his hand rose to cover his mouth, muffling his giggle. It was cute. She let out a giggle of her own, laughing at her own mistake.

The initial awkwardness faded away as they both laughed and sighed out their nerves.

-

Far into the crowd, Wooyoung felt a form press against his back, firm and hot. If it wasn’t for the wave of medicinal herbs burning at his nose, he would’ve elbowed them in the gut.

“Sannie,” he cooed out, wriggling a bit. “I was looking for you.”

“Yunho had a lot more to talk about than business,” he sighed, his nose buried into Wooyoung’s shoulder.

Wooyoung gave the other man’s hands a squeeze, reassuringly. Silently giving him support.

“About YN?” he guessed. 

“Yunho wants to meet her,” San said into Wooyoung’s ear. “Alone.”

“Why?” Wooyoung countered with a frown.

Shifting in his lover’s embrace, he glanced over San’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of Yunho walking away from the tournament. Jealousy clung to his bones like a disease. He already was getting used to sharing his swan with San – and while it wasn’t unfavorable or irregular for the men to share things, he liked having his dates and time with YN.

“Not that he’ll take away the coins we use; Captain would never let him, but -” San reassured, massaging the back of Wooyoung’s neck reassuringly. He leaned forward, whispering into his ear.

“But he is curious why we are spending money on some doll.” His lips pressed to the shell of Wooyoung’s ear.  

Wooyoung didn’t like that, teeth baring and eyes hot. “She’s not some doll.”

“I told him that,” San retorted quick. “She ain’t.”

Wooyoung settled at that and shut his eyes, head twitching as San’s fingers dug into a tight muscle deliciously painful.

“Not Mingi?” Wooyoung tried to pitch. Mingi, despite his cold demeanor, was the softer of the duo.

“Captain’s orders,” San stated, resolute.

He sighed out at that, growing limp in his San’s embrace reluctantly. San continued to massage the fine knots at the back of his neck. 

“How?” Wooyoung followed up after a few moments.

San glanced over at the sight of their dancer, talking to Yeosang easily as the man covered his mouth in a giggle. He had an idea.

-

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Wooyoung asked as they strolled along.

She smiled over at him, bright, as she hugged his arm. “I did. You made it seem like it’d be like pulling teeth. Yeosang was nice!”

More than nice, he was charming. After WooSan left them alone, they had kicked it off, falling into conversations about their childhood devotion to their individual crafts. She learned how he began playing tennis at age five and was shipped from Aurora to Hala to Paradise growing up to compete and train. He was in the limelight alone for so long and while he was good at conversing and playing his part he was dreadfully shy. He admitted it bashfully to her and she felt a wave of comradery.

She liked him. Almost immediately.   

Wooyoung huffed dramatically, liking how close she was as she teased him.

“It is when you aren’t there,” he lamented. “I swear, it’s a boring affair once you do it a couple million times. And Yeosang isn’t always trying to impress us, pretty girl.”

She laughed and he smiled. There was a comfortable lull in the air as they continued their walk. The sun was beginning to set and, while the sky was a frosty shade of grey, there was no snow on the ground or in the air. Few folks were out braving the chill but, with Wooyoung closer to her and San’s oversized coat over her shoulders, she was warm.  

(San had chastised her about forgetting the gifted jacket, but she saw as he preened as he took off his over-coat with much dramatics. Flexing and shifting his tie around his neck to tempt her, she swore. His jacket swallowed her up pleasantly and she saw his ears burn red. He liked her in his things. He imagined her in a fur coat; he fixed his tie again, swallowing hard.)

“Thank you for inviting me.” She breathed after a moment. Her chest felt lighter after everything. “It was better than sewing and delivering things all day.”

“I’m glad I did,” he replied gently. Even if his mind was circling over how he was going to have her meet Yunho, he decided to do what he did best: live in the moment. He’d figure it out how to handle his lovers’ piqued interest. “You seem happier. I can always get you out of trouble, or into trouble.” He jested his arm tugging from hers to wrap around her waist, inappropriately for the public eye (But, there was no one about, Wooyoung decided. Besides he wasn’t for rules anyways.) His fingers tickled over her ribs making her laugh out and cry out his nickname in giggles.

A picture-perfect snapshot of young love, so the figure from the alleyway thought. Ducking his head, he crept out of his spot after the couple passed by. His dark coat blended in with the brick walls and the steam that pillowed out of the nearby apartments’ heating unit hazed him. The dark silhouette of a man watched as they continued along for a moment before turning on his heel and walking the opposite direction. The only evidence of him ever being there were his footprints in the snow with the impression of the name brand emblemed into the snow.

Faith.

-

San looked like some statue from the Renaissance. Carved in ivory. Laid back on a gold-gilded sofa, he was draped in an all-white attire, long pants with an open-vested shirt that revealed more golden skin than it hid. Ever since their kiss, she swore he wore more tantalizing outfits – was this his way of flirting?

He grinned at the attention of the other ballerinas; each one eyed him up, but were unable to approach. If they did, they learned he would openly ignore them. The only one he had an eye for was her. Only YN could approach him. And that’s what he wanted in the end.

Unlike Wooyoung who would wait at her vanity, San wanted YN to search him out in the boudoir. Willingly. And when she did, he had a flare of butterflies dancing in his chest. He took a deep swig of his drink, eyes half-lidded as he watched her in her little feathered tutu.

“Hello honey,” he smiled, resting the drink on his outstretched knee as she approached. “Looking gorgeous as always.”

“Thank you,” she said. With a gentle hand outstretched, he encouraged her to join him on the velveteen sofa. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, sweet and warm.

“How much time do you have to spare?” he asked, feline-like eyes not even glancing at the nearby grandfather clock in the corner of the foyer de la danse.

“As much as you’d like,” YN said. The words were what the other girls insisted their patrons adored. Attention and control.

San’s lips twitched.

“Do you have other things to attend to before Act 2?” San queried.

“I’ve changed already – with Wooyoung, it takes twice the time,” she admitted.

Wooyoung, while he kept his hands to himself and his eyes averted when she changed, loved attention. He loved to talk talk talk about nothing and when he caught her attention shifting to things such as her makeup or her hair, he’d insist to doing it. While applying her lipstick, he’d steal a kiss, staining his mouth red more often than not. While charming and kind, it slowed her process down. With San, she had been prepped for Act 2 in a matter of minutes and now well had all the time in the world (approximately twenty minutes.)

San chuckled lowly, his thumb brushing over her waist gently almost questioningly. Behind his spectacles, a brow raised. Tap, tap, tap. May I? She’s learned his silent questions; his gentle ways to check with her what she was thinking before initiating anything. She scooted a bit closer. His smile was genuine, soft, and warm as his arm wrapped around her waist more. He pulled her half onto his lap; the smell of his cologne encompassing her. He smelt warm, like a forest on fire, with a hint of something medicinal biting at the back of her nose. Familiar yet dangerous.

If there was one major difference between her two patrons, it was this; San always asked of her rather than did for her. His touches were always slow and deliberate and never pressing. Not that Wooyoung was overtly so, but he was less careful. He’d leap before asking, taking her rouge pot into his hand to dab it on her cheeks softly. San would ask, would lean close, and would smile his sweet smile. “May I?” San’s voice rumbled and she couldn’t help but feel her heart tremble in her chest. He’d pull his leathered gloves off with his teeth before warm fingers would smear the red over already-blushed cheeks. He’d always take pride in her flush.

As they sat, he liked to listen to her. He’d take sips of his drinks, occasionally offering her a sip. Sometimes she’d take a gentle taste, her lipstick leaving a red halo on the rim. His lips would cover that ring with a smirk as he took his next gulp.

“Wooyoung distracts,” he admitted. “He used to distract me a lot when we worked together.”

“How did you two meet?” YN asked, legs slung over one of San’s legs.

San’s hand stroked over her waist. “We met as kids. Got into trouble together, but we ended up alright.” He hummed. “Yeosang was there, too. We weren’t as talented as him… skilled.”

YN still smiled, trying to imagine a tiny Wooyoung, Yeosang, and San running through the streets… would Aurora have the layered upon layered apartments like Cromer or was it open sands? Their skin was a tawny gold in the gas-light of the boudoir, but were they even warmer in the golden sun of Aurora’s beaches?

“How did you get into all of this, honey? Woo said your mother is a factory worker?” He didn’t mention her father. “How did a pretty girl get looped into the ballet system?”

It was a shame it was seen so negatively in his eyes but, after their discussion the night they met, she assumed San saw all of this as false glitz and glamour for the obscene. Even if he did compliment her talent and strength often.

“I started at the age of three. My mother was a seamstress for the Opera occasionally. I’d cause havoc… bug the performers. It was then I started to practice with the others. I thought it’d be easy to become like the Prima Ballerina. She seemed so beautiful and happy and strong.” YN commented. She wondered if the childhood hero ever suffered under her Madame or a patron. She tried not to imagine so. Her childhood dream could remain spotless for now.

Flexing her toes in her pointe shoes and lifting her leg from his lap into an arabesque, she giggled temptingly. “It’s much harder.” Her leg was at eye-level with his gaze. She was sure the others were glaring daggers at her back. She was acting scandalous, but with him there was nothing to scandal. He’d look at her with reverence, regardless.

If he looked close at her leg, he’d see bruising from practices or whacks from the Madame’s cane. Like always, he proved himself to be observant, more observant than Wooyoung she thought. Giving her a single glance, his fingers wrapped around her ankle, encompassing it. She didn’t jolt or yelp or shift. Her eyes stayed locked on his as he placed his glass down to press a supportive hand over her back now. His fingers danced over her leg; his hand glided up her calf, over her knee, and barely grazed her thigh. Just a faint tip, tap, before his gaze settled back onto her. It sent gooseflesh over her in a whirl. Intimacy. He was stroking her skin with such teasing lightness as if it was any more respectable.

His eyes were intense. Intriguing and magnetic and kind. Despite his bulky form, despite the hint faint scarring she could see over his masculine face, he didn’t frighten her. 

“Your pretty skin bruised is the last thing I want to see,” he commented lowly, thumb brushing over a particularly large splotchy patch of green-purple skin on her knee. Guiding her leg higher and higher, his gaze watching hers as he pressed a soft kiss to the skin, as if his lips could heal her. It made gooseflesh burst forth on her legs obviously now. He took in the sight with silent approval.

“Do you ice your legs?” he asked as he lowered her leg to his lap.

“I try,” she admitted, voice trembling from her wooing. “We all do, but when practice or a performance goes over, I can’t ice them until late at night or in the morning.”

He frowned at that. His thumb brushed over her knee again before lifting his hand to grab his icy drink once more. “If you need to ice while we talk, you will,” he insisted. “All I want you is healthy and happy, honey.”

He tutted, eyes glancing aside as if remembering things he didn’t share.

“You need to ice it as soon as the injury happens.” He added. “From now on.”

He raised his glass, finishing his drink. The ice clinked against the crystal as he lowered it to the sofa before he reached inside to grab the ice cube with his bare fingers. Picking up the large ice cube, he pressed it against her bruised skin suddenly. YN jumped against the cold, against the sudden chill that made more goosebumps rise to her skin. Her arms and legs were covered, on alert. Yet he didn’t even flinch as the frost bit at his fingertips.

He hummed, watching as her eyes squinted shut in shock from the cold. As she shivered… maybe in pain. San had smiled, shifting the now-melting ice cube over her large bruise in a slow circling motion.

“It’ll feel better soon,” San reassured.

-

Pain crashed up her legs in an icy cold torment. Stabbing, hot yet chilling pain. Both ankles were in casts, elevated by firmly place pillows, but, in her agony, she shifted this way and that. She couldn’t help the whimpers that overtook her. Like an ocean, she was swallowed up by the pain as she was thrusted awake.

“Oh, angel,” there was a soft, almost sing-song of a voice.

A cool hand brushed over her hot forehead soothingly. In her delirium, she could barely make out his face. Just a blur of familiar slicked hair and familiar eyes. Sweat tumbled down her face; baby hairs sticking to her skin. Tears poured of her flushed cheeks, over-heated and sticky. Everything was blurry. She was all sweaty. He swept them away with deft hands.

Somehow in her whirlwind of pain and tears, she could still smell him despite congestion in her nose.  That tropical aroma that followed him around like Aurora was chasing after him. Hot pineapple sweet and pungent, thick jasmine blossom rotting in the summer sun, the stink of sea salt tangled around her throat. She let out a cry as a particular sharp pain shot up her left leg; she curled inward, moving her legs. It only forced out a wail as they stung with agony. Any movement hurt. How could the pain be that bad? Something had to be wrong. It hadn’t been like this before.

“Yunho.” His name was spoken firmly, almost a bark.

“He’s on this way, Captain,” Yunho’s voice reassured. A hand pushed aside the covers over her feet. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Someone rearranged her legs, whispering apologies as they did so. Her cries made their chest ache.

“She’s on medicine,” San’s voice was a sob. “I gave her it myself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the soft voice of their Captain cooed to the distressed muscle of the gang. There was a sniffle.

“San, Mingi.” his tone was one of a leader; solid and firm and focused. “Go to Seonghwa; he’ll need you. Keep Wooyoung away.”

He hadn’t stopped caressing her forehead. Her eyes blinked blearily up at him. Full of tears, full of pain, his face remained cool and collected. Almost clinical in the way he looked over her. Pain was no stranger to him.

Yet in her eyes, he looked angelic, she swore. Like something from a Renaissance painting, haloed by the light of the roaring fire. Her delirium painted him in a cherubic way. An angel coming to save her. Protect her as he tugged her into his arms, cradling her broken burning limbs. Soft round cheeks she had loved to press kisses to. She couldn’t process his furrowed brow, his dark eyes. Just her Hongjoong.

“Joong,” she murmured, her voice cracking.

Even now, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m here,” he reassured, voice loving.

She felt aflame, a woman on fire. A fever crashed through her.

“Hurts.” She whined out.

“I know, I know,” his gentleness felt foreign. He was always gentle with her; why did it feel like a farce? How did she end up here? Her mind was a blur. She heard him bark out another order, another command. “Bring me that damn doctor now! Jongho, do you have it?”

Her throat closed up in a gasp as she trembled in his arms; a sharp stab to her waist was barely felt compared to the pain radiating up her legs. Blink, blink, her eyes could barely make out Hongjoong staring down at her. A look of disappointment, fear, and anger hazed any love for a moment even as she tried to find his name in her mouth. Lips moving in the shapes of his vowels and consonants failingly until exhaustion washed over her once more.

“Joo—n—ng” His nickname faded from her consciousness as she felt her entire body, sluggishly slow, fall into a honeyed rest.

“I’ve got you, angel. It’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

[emometalhead]

It's time for my annual New Year's post!! I hope everyone finds peace and fun as we enter 2025. Sending good vibes all around 🩷✨️.

As per tradition, I want to express my gratitude for my lovely friends here. (In alphabetical order by url.)

@awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands - Alessia!! You are such a sweetheart. You are such a caring, kind person, and you're so beautiful inside and out. I am extremely lucky to have you in my life. You are a wonderful cheerleader for my successes, and I can only hope I provide the same enthusiasm for your life. I'm so proud of you for completing your schooling earlier this year, and I'm even prouder that you were able to dedicate your time to subjects that interest you so greatly. Your talent, creativity, and determination are inspiring. You are going to do amazing things, and I hope this coming year brings lots of joy and success. Love you 🩷🩷

@born-to-lose - Hiiii Mel 😘. Here's to many more concerts, musical discoveries, and fun flirtatious moments in 2025. You deserve all of the best and most enjoyable experiences in life. You're so smart, so talented, and so dedicated to your passions. I am in awe of you, always. It's actually so rude that you're so lovely and incredible. Also you're hot. Like girl, what can't you do? Love you forever 💍. I'm excited to see what this year will bring for you. I hope it's lots of joy and success in your endeavors. You're creative, talented, have great taste, and you're such a likeable person. I know you'll amount to great things, and it is so cool to have a glimpse into your life.

@day-trippin-dreamer - Tina!!!!!! I tell you all the time how much I love you and how amazing I think you are. It still bears repeating. You are one of my favorite people, and your friendship means more to me than you'll ever know. I am giving you the biggest virtual hug. Thank you for being there for me for so many years now. I know I can always count on you when I'm down, and I can always count on you to be just as excited as me when good things happen. Also you have such good taste, and it will always be an honor to be your friend and mutual. Here's to another great year of friendship, and hopefully lots of lovely lovely things in your future. ILY ✨️🩷

@doctorqueensanatomy - Hello my dearest, Sheamus! We've been friends for a few years now, but the way in which our friendship has blossomed this year has been so beautiful to me. I live for our life updates and spirited conversations about media, the effects of Capitalism, our regional quirks, and literally anything and everything else. I'm eternally grateful for you. I so badly wish I could snap my fingers and transport across the world to hang out with you. I'm always impressed by your thoughtfulness and ability to talk through situations. You are so smart, brilliant, and fun. I hope you know how much I love you. May this coming year bring us even closer. 🥰🥰

@duffmckagans - Hi Kelsey!! 😁 I'm so glad you're back on here!! Your presence brings a calm and bright energy into my life. We have had such a good few years of friendship despite the chaos surrounding both of our lives. After a bit of separation this year due to the aforementioned chaos, I hope 2025 will bring us closer than ever. I love how easily you understand my insane ramblings and the one million connections I make between media I love. You are so incredibly smart, insightful, and creative. I'll never stop being in awe of you. I also appreciate your willingness to be petty and dramatic with me. Multifaceted queen lol. Seriously though, I love you a ton, and I'm so happy you're in my life. I hope 2025 brings you stability and success. I'm always rooting for you.

@idontwanttospoiltheparty - Hi Fiona! I know we don't talk a ton, but your presence on my dash is always greatly appreciated. I love your takes, informed nuance, and analysis. It is clear how much thought you put into everything you care about, and that is admirable. I hope you know I genuinely take time to read and process everything you post, because it is always interesting. I hope this coming year is a positive one for you. I can't wait to see what you do or create next, and I'm sending good vibes your way. 🥰

@inquisitiveheretic - Hi Lee!! You've been around less this year, so I have really had to pay attention and appreciate when you're on my dash. Idk if you'll even see this, but I hope you do. I am wishing the best for you! I hope you're thriving irl. You will always be a person I hold a lot of respect for. It's been a long while, and I miss our chats. Just know even if we don't speak at all, I am always rooting for you. I hope lots of great media and interesting analysis comes your way in 2025. ♡♡♡

@losers-yurio - RYLIE!! I have no clue if you'll see this lol. I'm including you anyway. I will always always always be so grateful that we met. You will always be my first true Internet friend, and I'll never be able to explain the impact you've had on my life. I'm so grateful for you. It seems like you're absolutely killing it in college, and I'm so proud of you. You're such a kind, funny, and beautiful person. What an honor it is to even peripherally be in your life. I'm sending hugs and good vibes forever and ever. Here's to a wonderful new year ✨️✨️✨️

@nocturnal-light - Lynne, you impress me every single day. You're a great artist. Your drawings and crafts are always so cool, and it is an awesome thing to see. Your skating is so gorgeous. I'm so proud of you for everything you have accomplished with your skating career, and I'm so happy for you to have opportunities to do what you love. You are a ray a light, and I hope you know how much I adore you even though we don't talk too often. I hope you have a great 2025 full of music and fun. 🩷🩷

@no-fxn-club - Frankie!! Frankie!! Frankie!! You have no clue how often I think of you. Everytime I see cows, I think "Frankie would love them". Everytime I see a post where someone refers to a soda as a coke, I think of you. Everytime I listen to The Used or Set It Off or hear a southern twang, I think of you. You mean so much to me, and it is such an honor to know you. You have the best sense of humor, great taste in music, such a streak of creativeness, and it all cumulates in you being one of the best people I know. I am wishing you (and all your pets!!) a lovely, lovely 2025. 🖤🖤🖤

@only-a-heartbeat-away Hi Harlow! I think a lot of our interests have diverged, but I still have so much joy about us being mutuals. You're a really great person, and I love that we can still connect despite being in so many different fandoms. I love your passion about the bands you love, and I hope you discover even more cool music in the new year. I'm sending good vibes your way!! 🩷

@rebelrollerqueen - Hey Ren!! You haven't been around as much lately, so I hope you see this. I'm so proud of you. You are so intelligent, determined, and expressive. Your hair, makeup, and fashion are always above and beyond. Your taste in music is so good. Plus, you're a genuine, kind, and loving person. I don't care how old you become. I'll always be happy to be your Internet Mom. Seeing you grow over the last few years has been a beautiful thing, and I can't wait to continue seeing you move forward and succeed in life. Love you so much!! ♥️

@sohardlovingyou Hi Jori!!! You're my pop girlie icon forever. I love how tuned in you are to all the celebrity gossip and internet drama, and I love how happily you cheer on the people you're a fan of. Your blog is always a source of joy for me. It is so fun seeing your takes, and it's even more fun with how often our opinions overlap. You're such a fun person, and you're also gorgeous!! The whole package!! I hope you're winning in life, and I'm sending all the best vibes. May 2025 help us live out our poppiest fantasies. 💅🩷

@therockywhorerpictureshow - Hey Ella! 🥰 You're such a lovely presence on my dash!! I love getting little glimpses into your life. You have such adorable dogs. You are a baking icon. Seriously I want to eat everything you post 😭. If I ever find myself out East, I will seek you out for hugs and baked goods lol. You're so damn pretty it's actually crazy, and you're so sweet too. Just a lovely person overall. I'm so glad we're friends, and I hope 2025 brings you lots of good things. I'm so proud of you for going to school this year. It is an impressive and scary thing. You're pushing through and doing great. I hope you know I'm rooting for your success in all avenues. Love you!!

@xx-key-xx - Key, you're such a legend. You are the 2000s it girl of my dreams. You're so damn cool, and I love how much you're absolutely killing it. Your fashion, hair, and makeup are inspiring. I'm always happy to hype you up, and I can't wait to see what 2025 brings you for. I'm sending all the good vibes and energy your way. Let's party like it's 2005. 😎 Love you, icon!!

[loredrinker]

The Distinct Eras of Solas's Existence

Solas’s life isn’t one-dimensional. He’s lived through three distinct eras of existence, each defined by transformation and struggle. What draws me to his story time and again is the tension between detachment and connection, immortality and change, and the weight of eternal choices.

Because Solas has lived through such vastly different phases of existence, each has forced him to adapt, rethink his perspectives, his morality and confront the consequences of his actions.

This constant cycle of transformation and resilience is why I believe he is capable of change.

I'm looking at his journey through 3 eras of his existence: 

Pre-Veil: Becoming a man (lyrium crafted) and living before creating the Veil.

Uthenera: Veil newly created. Centuries of slumber and existence in the Fade. 

Post-Veil: Waking in modern Thedas, reengaging with the world, joining the Inquisition, and culminating in Veilguard. 

First off: this post isn’t about the concept of Solas learning what it’s like to have a body for the first time. While I’m sure that experience was equal parts traumatic and exhilarating, that’s a post for another day. 

I’m also steering clear of the horrors and wars of Solas’s Pre-Veil existence - we already know he suffered terribly, made devastating choices, and carries immense regret. The blood on his hands and the weight of those decisions are undeniable. 

Lastly, I’m not entertaining the idea that Mythal had him bound or wielded some magical power (like a geas) to control him (you can read more here). To me, that narrative diminishes the complexity and the writers say you can interpret it how you want. I see their bond as one rooted in duty, loyalty, and complicated and twisted by shared choices. Every awful thing they endured and enacted together only deepened their connection, forged in the fire of mutual commitment and consequence. It's still a chain in it's own right, but a different kind.

Long post below. Everything below the cut is my imagination and interpretation.

Pre-Veil (Roughly 8,000-10,000 years – Time with the Evanuris / Rebellion Wars) 

I’m certain Solas’s time in Elvhenan wasn’t solely defined by war and rebellion. He served as Mythal’s second-in-command, likely handling battles and strategies, but he was also immersed in politics and court intrigue. His role was probably a combination of strategist, diplomat, and advocate for fairness and balance among the elven people. 

We know he enjoyed life in the courts, as he reveals at the Winter Palace in Inquisition: 

"I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events." 

He wasn’t just an observer of Elvhenan’s grandeur; he thrived in it. Heady - intoxicating. With a core essence of wisdom, Solas would have fully embraced the era’s philosophical debates, artistic endeavors, groundbreaking inventions, and empire-building. When he refers to “our great cities” and “our deepest mysteries” during his confrontation with Elgar’nan, he speaks as being a part of Elvhenan’s beauty and innovation - not separate from it.  

Solas’s Independent and Rebellious Nature - Hot Blooded and Cocky

Solas was far from a submissive figure, even in service to Mythal. He was independent, rebellious, and stubborn - “unmanageable, even by Mythal’s reckoning.” (I love this line from Elgar’nan. Even Mythal, who knew Solas best, was scratching her head at times because she couldn't control him – and also why I don’t buy the geas concept.) This fierce individuality is one reason the Evanuris gave him the name Fen’Harel. 

A Sensual and Spiritual Man 

Solas strikes me, based on the games, as someone deeply connected to life (how could you not be when you see spirits as people too), both spiritually and sensually. His conversations in Inquisition and Veilguard hint at an appreciation for the world’s beauty and experiences. He loved dancing (Inquisitor: Do you have any interest in dancing? Solas: A great deal…), savored food and drink, and created beautiful art and music. This isn’t someone detached from his physical form or the material world - he immersed himself in its richness. 

A man who composes music and paints intricate frescoes, full of symbolism and emotional depth, usually has a vibrant inner life – which makes sense for wisdom.  His art and creations are tools for reflection and introspection, ways to process his choices and regrets. But where did this come from? Did he learn these skills from a spirit? Was he taught by a wise elf or an inspiring companion? I love the mystery of these glimpses into his life - they humanize him and add layers to his character. 

Solas wasn’t a solitary figure either. He built connections beyond the Evanuris - with spirits, other elves, and likely even lovers (Ghilan’nain, anyone?). Far from being a lone wolf, he seems to have been actively engaged in the cultural, social and political dynamics of his thousands of years. His relationships, creations, and experiences paint the picture of a man tied to life, even as his long painful journey eventually pushed him toward isolation. 

Witnessing the Fall of the Evanuris 

But life in Elvhenan wasn’t all beauty and splendor. Solas witnessed firsthand how power corrupted even those who began with noble intentions. He saw the Evanuris rise to tyranny, and the defeat of the Titans - a major regret of his - became a foundational moment. While it enabled the empire’s growth and stunning cities, it came with immense moral cost to Solas. 

The Rebellion and Isolation 

Solas eventually reached a breaking point. When the Evanuris’ tyranny became unbearable - when they wouldn’t listen, not even Mythal - he walked away. He forged his own path, leading a rebellion to free the elven people. 

During this time, his relationships likely narrowed. He tells Rook it took him centuries to build bonds during this time (but he still built them). Playing a long game of strategy and sacrifice required isolation, though key connections, like Felassan, remained. Mythal’s murder drove him into despair, and he became even more isolated, pouring himself into planning the ritual that would change everything. 

The Creation of the Veil 

The Veil was a desperate solution to stop the Evanuris and the blight, but something went horribly wrong. It didn’t just destroy the world he knew - it reshaped reality. The Veil severed the Fade from the world, altering existence forever. And for Solas, it left him shattered. His physical body remained in the world he destroyed, while his spirit/mind retreated into Uthenera. 

Uthenera: The Dreaming State (1000 years) *In Trespasser Solas says he lay unconscious for millennia, millenia is 1000 yrs)

During Uthenera, his long sleep, Solas existed in a liminal, dreamlike state - a place between worlds.

It’s striking that he entered Uthenera at the exact moment the Fade was severed from the physical world. The mental fortitude required to withstand such a monumental shift and prevent his total annihilation - or even a psychological collapse - speaks volumes about his strength. Solas’s power is undeniable, but for me, this also confirms that he is a deeply reflective man, one who cultivated a strong mind to endure such force, isolation and emotional cataclysm. (All New Faded for Her - now I must endure - again.)

From this vantage point, he could witness the catastrophic aftermath of his actions: the loss of elven immortality, the severing of the Fade from the physical world, and the corruption of spirits into demons. He saw the rise of humans, the fall of empires, and the continued oppression of his people. Each new event added to his layers of guilt and grief. If the Fade reflects emotion, can you imagine Solas’s overwhelming feelings during this time? His emotions would have rippled through it, shaping the dream realm itself. 

In the Fade, Solas remained detached, able to observe and reflect without directly engaging in the chaos of the broken world. He likely encountered the demons and maddened spirits born of his actions, forcing him to navigate this unfamiliar, broken Fade. 

Perhaps this is where his greatest fear - dying alone - began to solidify. Without the complexities of relationships or the challenges of the waking world, his isolation left him emotionally detached and vulnerable to increasingly rigid thinking. After centuries of war and rebellion, his retreat to Uthenera may have offered recovery, but it also severed him from the connections that had once grounded him in “humanity”. 

It’s assumed that during this time, Solas began to shape his plans to tear down the Veil – to fix his mistake. It also seems that it’s during this period at some point that Felassan reconnected with him, leading to yet another tragedy. Unlike Solas, Felassan had lived in modern Thedas for a time. He had built relationships, forged bonds, and seen the value in the world as it was. He urged Solas to give this new world a chance. But Solas, entrenched in his painful guilt and unable to let go of his vision, refused - killing his friend and brother-in-arms, adding yet another layer of grief and regret to his already growing burden. I wonder - Solas killed him in this detached state, in a highly emotional Fade state - could Solas have killed him physically face to face? 

For Solas, time in the Fade didn’t march forward as it did for mortals. What probably felt like yesterday to him was ancient history to the rest of the world. This disconnection from the flow of time would only deepen his sense of detachment, a gap he could only begin to bridge when he awoke in a world utterly changed from the one he remembered. 

So eventually he does wake up – a year before the Inquisition. 

Post-Veil: Modern Thedas – 14-16 years (Inquisition to Veilguard) 

When Solas woke up in modern Thedas, it was a world that had moved on without him - alien and unrecognizable. The magic he revered was now feared, spirits were seen as monsters, and elves were fragmented and oppressed. It was a rude awakening, and Solas had no choice but to reengage with life, relearning how to "be human" in a world so far removed from the one he knew - in a world that he broke. 

Solas initially tried to reconnect with the Dalish, but they rejected him (interesting how one of his first actions upon awakening was to seek connection...hmm). Then came the disaster at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Corypheus, and the Anchor. Suddenly, Solas had a path: join the Inquisition, study the Anchor, observe the one who wields it, and figure out his next move - all while avoiding personal entanglements. 

Fail. 

Connections in the Inquisition 

Despite his best efforts to remain detached, Solas formed bonds with the Inquisition’s members, particularly the Inquisitor (in my world, low approval doesn’t exist for me but I won’t torment you either with my Solas Lavellan love).  

The exact timeline of the Inquisition is debated. While most agree it spans 1.5–2 years, there’s also an old fantastic post by @threestories that argues for closer to 4–5 years (complete with a detailed spreadsheet and timeline goodness). Either way, it’s plenty of time for Solas to weave himself into the lives of those around him – and for them to sneak their own ways in. 

During this time, Solas wasn’t an aloof observer. He shared meals, debated philosophy, laughed, argued, and played cards and continued painting. He fought alongside people like Blackwall, Iron Bull, and Cole, relying on them for survival. Solas is not the powerful being he once was. Weakened, he’s forced to navigate the world in a more vulnerable state. I believe this humility provides him with new insights and forces him to see value in collaboration and diversity once again (reflections of Elvehnan). 

The messy, imperfect beauty of life began to creep back into his perspective. Living and fighting beside mortals for this period of time forced Solas to confront the reality of their fleeting but rich experiences. It wasn’t something he could experience in the detached safety of the Fade. If romanced, his love for the Inquisitor only deepens his inner conflict, tearing him between personal connection and his mission. (He possessed knowledge beyond any mortal, yet even the Dread Wolf could not foresee what it would mean to fall in love - sorry, couldn't help myself).

Yet, despite these connections, he remained steadfast in his mission. After Corypheus’s defeat, Solas leaves. But he wasn’t quite done; he wanted the Inquisitor to know the truth of who he was. Two busy years followed, leading to one final reunion - a moment where we see a shift in Solas’s perspective. His relationship with the Inquisitor was important enough that Solas set this whole thing up. There was a part of him that would love to be turned away from his path, but not yet.  

The Decade of Isolation 

After Trespasser and his final goodbye to the Inquisitor, Solas retreated into a new kind of isolation - active but distant. For ten years, he worked through agents, manipulated events, and positioned himself for his ritual to tear down the Veil. This period seemed to harden him. If he was in love, he made the painful decision to try and sever that bond, he forced Cole to forget him so Cole wouldn’t follow him - Solas hardened his heart to a cutting edge, and put that pain to good use.   

And then, he killed Varric. 

The act wasn’t premeditated - it might even be argued as accidental - but it wasn’t without weight. Solas never intended to kill Varric, and we see the regret flicker in his expression, his eyes turning down for a moment. Yet, the symbolism of that moment is striking. If Varric embodies persistence - whether it’s the refusal to give up on life, friends, or hope - then his death by Solas’s hand reflects the cost of Solas’s mission. In hardening his heart, he’s cut away the very persistence Varric represented. 

But then came Rook.

Conduits and Catalysts

Forced to interact with Rook and the team, much like he was forced to interact with the Inquisitor and the Inquisition, Solas once again found himself entangled in the lives of others. What makes Rook interesting to me is their role as a conduit. While Solas is trapped in the Fade prison, Rook becomes his connection to the outside world. For someone who had been isolated again for a period of time, being compelled to engage with another person is significant.

Rook and Solas's conversations may seem simple at first, but they force Solas to talk, to reflect, to bring up memories, people, and choices he thought he had left behind. Regardless if he's lying to Rook, these conversations would stir things up for him, peeling back the layers of detachment he has built. They compel him to think about his past, his connections, and his mistakes - reminders of life beyond his mission.

When Solas finally escapes the Fade prison, he doesn’t retreat back into isolation. Instead, we find him fighting alongside the people of Minrathous and then eventually Rook and the team. While his goal remains focused - defeating Elgar’nan and tearing down the Veil - he’s participating in life again.

Even amidst the chaos of battle, Solas can’t help but connect. He talks with the team, echoing the camaraderie of his time in the Inquisition. In one of my favourite moments, he and Emmrich share a brief but mutual appreciation of spirits - on a battlefield, no less. It’s a small yet powerful reminder: no matter how much Solas tries to harden himself, connection finds him. And maybe, just maybe, he still seeks it.

If Solas’s experiences prove anything, it’s that he struggles to stay detached.

Solas’s Shifts 

The bonds Solas formed through his long life were personal. Sure, anyone can argue they weren’t, pointing to his lies and the secrets he kept while plotting the entire time. And yes, he absolutely had an agenda. But whether you played a high- or low-approval Inquisitor, Solas admits he grew fond of the mortal people in the Inquisition. These connections gave him new perspectives on this modern world, connections forged through the shared intensity of battle and survival, and filtered through his reflective, intellectual, and philosophical nature. 

And no, I don’t believe the Inquisitor alone could have swayed him from his path. His growth wasn’t tied to a single relationship or event. While his time with the Inquisition may seem insignificant compared to his millennia-long existence, it planted the seeds of change. I maintain that the foundation for his change was established in Inquisition. As I’ve said before in this post, his eventual shift at the end of Veilguard wasn’t an overnight revelation but the accumulation of these disruptions to his worldview (warning, that post is totally Solavellan). Rook, as a conduit and mirror, brought their own voice as well as the voices of Solas’s past back into focus, reflecting and reminding him of what he had learned.  

By the end of Trespasser, Solas went from planning total destruction to preparing a host of spirits to preserve as much life as possible in Veilguard. You can call him a liar if you want, still question this morally grey choice, but this is a fascinating shift to me.

Enter Sola's Fourth Era

And now, we stand on the edge of Solas’s fourth (and likely not final) era of existence. How will he step into this stage? As a broken, beaten man forced into submission? Or as a man of wisdom, finally able to see another way forward?

This is why, for me, the only ending that feels true to Solas’s arc (as I see it) is the Atonement ending and the only one that exists for me. It aligns with his defining trait: choice. It offers him the agency to forge his own path, just as he did when he walked away from Mythal and the Evanuris.

Whether Solas enters this stage alone or with his heart is up to the player, but the ending feels significant regardless. He returns to the Fade, not in the detached slumber of Uthenera, but with his eyes wide open - awake, active, and ready to face what comes next.

And yes, I’m a sucker for redemption stories.

A Journey of Growth 

The Inquisitor once called him a terrible liar of the heart, and I think it speaks to the core of who he is: wisdom seeking connection. At his heart, Solas is driven to reflect, connect, and understand - even when those impulses clash with his mission. 

Solas’s life isn’t a straight line, nor is it defined by detached indifference. Instead, we see a complex web of relationships, regrets, and moments of growth. His post-Veil life shows us that even an immortal can be shaped by the mortal world. While his immortality makes change slow, it doesn’t make it impossible. Every person he lets into his life - whether reluctantly or intentionally - leaves a mark. Figures like Felassan, the Inquisitor, Cole, Varric, and Rook all serve as mirrors, reflecting his flaws and his potential. That's the beauty of relationships - we are all reflections of each other.

For Solas, change isn’t the result of one grand revelation. It’s a slow, deliberate process, shaped by his experiences, choices, those around him and the experiences they shared together. If his journey proves anything, it’s that even the Dread Wolf isn’t bound by fate. 

[syninplays]

Arnas Finnr casually posing at home and being a hottie <3

[malizanu]

Korra: So... You're saying you felt incapable of protecting those you love and the weight of this failure made you run away, use a different alias, fight at illegal rings... all that while having hallucinations? Vi: Yeah Korra: That's rough, buddy

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[kittlyns]

I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day

[gnometa233]

Possible Hot Take but most people's problem's with gender as a whole would be gone the minute the majority of the world population gets rid of gender roles and sexism. Lol

[heywriters]

Details That Convey Intimacy

Developing fictional relationships that feel authentic takes more than dialogue and grand gestures. Every detail below can be used to show platonic, familial, agape, or romantic love depending on context.

cooking a meal for someone, bringing them food, or spontaneously sharing a snack

sharing body heat/warming someone with outerwear like jackets and scarves

fanning them with something if overheated

getting a cold/hot drink for them

offering to carry something, whether it's heavy or just a jacket, to lighten someone's load or free up their hands

more below the click!

changing the subject of a group conversation that will be personally discomforting to someone in the group

making sure to include someone in a group conversation, especially if it's a topic they have special knowledge of

waiting for someone to catch up when the rest of the group has walked ahead

remembering preferences/allergies ahead of time when preparing/ordering food

planning trips, whether in a pair or as a group, that provide something positive for every individual to enjoy

procuring personal healthcare items like sunscreen, moisturizer, lip balm, pain relievers, or a snack and keeping them on hand for that friend who frequently needs them

making room for someone in a crowded vehicle or on public transit

making room for someone under an awning or in another limited space to help them avoid bad weather

warning or wordlessly covering for someone with a wardrobe/cosmetic malfunction

remembering a small luxury someone mentioned they enjoy, and getting it for them the next time it's convenient

running an errand for someone to make their day easier ('importance of errand : depth of relationship' ratio should be explored)

escorting someone to safety in a sudden unsettling event

escorting someone who is drunk, sick, infirm, injured, or emotionally compromised

asking if light, noise, or other sensory factors are bothering someone and taking steps to make them more comfortable

getting gag gifts for someone to show you reciprocate their sense of humor or quirky self-expression (not everyone does this, not everyone appreciates it, and some people predominantly express love through humor and gag gifts; works well with some characters more than others)

holding someone's hand or arm as reassurance, especially when they are afraid*

using their body to block someone from wind, rain, or heat

picking up a dropped item, or carrying a train or other dragging garment for someone else

returning a recognizable possession to someone who may have lost it

This is an inexhaustible list as humans have many ways of showing love for each other. If you are writing spec fic with non-human characters, you can play with variations on these by remembering three core values the "lover" has to consider:

physical comfort of others

emotional comfort of others

social reputation of others

I'd add "sensory comfort" though I think it's tied to physical and emotional comfort.

Please do not try and force any of these into the mold of the misogyny-based "Love Language" trend. Human emotions and expressions of love are diverse and endless.

*While hand holding can be construed as romantic, in reality it varies. Some cultures do not see this as romantic, and some individuals only mean it as a sign of support or compassion. Same goes for long embraces and kissing, both can be done platonically and of course naturally between close family members or friends.

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