#and that brings up SO MANY FUCKING QUESTIONS???

[marzipanandminutiae]

I don't go here but uh

me: oh no so all the Black Widows had ovary-removing hysterectomies? are they on HRT, since they need to be conventionally attractive, conventionally feminine women and there's a risk of hormone changes compromising that? they also have increased danger of bone density loss, mood swings, pelvic organ prolapse, sexual dysfunction...you're going to get into that right? because I fully believe that a secret Soviet assassin factory would do involuntary, unnecessary hysterectomies, but they'd also want their Sexy Assassins at peak Sexy Assassin performance. and even the women who've gotten out probably don't want to deal with those symptoms if they come up. so are we going to see Natasha taking estrogen, or...?

Marvel: no, they just can't :( have babies :( and by the way they sometimes think they're monsters because of that :( but that's all a hysterectomy does and we would know because we are very smart cis men!!!!

[rosemariiaa]

~The Party & The After Party~

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— rosie’s note: why hello there..yes rosie wrote pazzi smut kill me this is the first and last okay it’s not that much bc i��m testing the waters, basically inspired by the song in the tile by the weeknd, happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚— themes: language, sexual content (public sex?), jealous p and az

𐙚— taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersbitch @makethemhoesmad @imaginespazzi @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful @elliesglock @azzibuckets @sierrale8ne @ldapper

The music pulses through the air, heavy and slow, pressing against Azzi’s skin like the heat of too many bodies packed into one space. It’s not really her scene—never has been—but Paige had convinced her to come, her voice coaxing, her fingers tracing slow, persuasive circles against Azzi’s wrist. Come with me, baby. Just for a little bit. I wanna show you off. She begged.

Azzi had rolled her eyes, but she’d come anyway. She always does.

Now, Paige is standing in front of her, still close enough that Azzi can feel the warmth of her body even through the buzz of the room. Paige’s fingers slip under the hem of Azzi’s top, just for a second, a quick brush against her skin before she pulls away.

“I’ma go talk to Lyss and Dijonai,” Paige says, leaning in so Azzi can hear her over the music. “I’ll bring us back some drinks, kay?”

Azzi nods, already missing the feeling of Paige’s body, the way she makes all of this—the lights, the noise, the people—easier to deal with. Paige’s gaze flickers over her, something soft beneath the smirk she always wears.

“You good?”

Azzi huffs, nudging Paige with her elbow. “Go already.”

Paige grins, her fingers grazing Azzi’s wrist one last time before she disappears into the crowd. Azzi exhales, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly hyperaware of how many people are around her, how many unfamiliar faces blur together under the neon glow.

She lets her eyes follow Paige for a moment, watching the way she moves—easy, fluid, like she belongs here. She’s already talking to her teammates, her hands gesturing as she laughs at something one of them said. Azzi lets herself relax. She can wait.

And then—

“Didn’t take you for the type to come to these things.”

The voice is smooth, edged with amusement, and when Azzi turns, there’s a woman standing too close—tall, brunette, unfamiliar.

Azzi straightens, her shoulders tensing before she can help it. “I’m not.”

The woman smiles. “Then why are you here all alone?”

Azzi shifts her gaze, scanning the room for Paige. She’s about to tell this girl that she’s not alone, that her girlfriend will be back any second, but when she finds Paige, she’s laughing.

With someone else.

A worker, by the looks of it. Some girl in a black T-shirt, grinning too hard at something Paige just showed her on her phone. And Paige is eating it up, laughing just as much, her head tilting back, her hand brushing against the worker’s shoulder like it’s nothing.

What the fuck?

Azzi’s stomach tightens, instinct curling in her chest, but she swallows it down before it can become anything sharp. She’s not doing this. Not here.

So she breathes in. Exhales.

And then she turns back to the girl in front of her, schooling her expression into something lighter.

“You never answered my question,” the brunette says, tilting her head. “Why are you here?”

Azzi lifts a shoulder, gaze flickering down for just a second before she meets the girl’s eyes again. “Why are you?”

The brunette smiles, slow and knowing, and extends her hand. “Name’ Sophia. I play for the Aces.”

Azzi takes her hand, brief and firm. “Azzi.”

“I know,” Sophia says, her grip lingering just a second too long before she lets go. “I’ve seen you play.”

Azzi hums, noncommittal, before letting her gaze slide past Sophia’s shoulder, back to where Paige is—

Watching.

Their eyes meet across the room, and Azzi can tell, instantly, that Paige has seen everything. The way Sophia leaned in just slightly. The way Azzi hadn’t immediately shut it down.

But instead of coming over, instead of pulling her usual hey, baby and wrapping an arm around Azzi’s waist, Paige smirks.

And then she pulls out her phone.

Azzi barely has time to process what that means before her own phone buzzes in her pocket. Her fingers hover over her phone as Sophia walks away to go get them drinks, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, disappearing into the crowd. Azzi exhaled slowly, the weight of the charade pressing against her chest. She glanced over to the other side of the room, where Paige was still leaning casually against the counter, her grin wide as the worker she was talking to laughed at something Azzi couldn’t hear. Paige didn’t look tense. Didn’t look bothered. Just relaxed, like she had the whole night ahead of her to charm whoever was in front of her.

But Azzi knew Paige better than that. The way Paige tilted her head ever so slightly, her eyes flickering back to Azzi even while she smiled—it wasn’t nothing. Paige was watching her. Testing her.

Azzi bit her lip and unlocked her phone.

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her chest this time. It was quick and soft, but it felt good. She slipped her phone back into her pocket just as Sophia reappeared, two drinks in hand and a bright smile plastered across her pale face.

“Miss me?” Sophia asked, stepping closer and offering Azzi one of the glasses.

Azzi took it with a polite nod, her eyes flickering back to Paige one last time. Paige was watching again,no surprise, her head tilted, her expression unreadable except for the faint smirk playing on her lips.

Azzi met her gaze evenly, raising the glass just slightly in a silent toast before turning back to Sophia.

“Not for long,” Azzi said smoothly, her voice steady as she let the weight of Paige’s stare roll off her shoulders. She took a sip of the drink and smiled at Sophia, keeping her expression just warm enough to keep the game going.

If Paige wanted to play games, Azzi could play too.

Sophia stepped in closer to Azzi, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the space between them. Her voice dropped as she leaned toward Azzi’s ear, her hand brushing lightly against Azzi’s arm. “Y’know,” Sophia murmured, “I don’t usually do this, but—”

Before she could finish, a firm tap on her shoulder interrupted the moment.

Sophia turned around, a touch of irritation flashing across her face as she asked, “Yeah?”

Standing there, towering over her by a good two inches, was Paige. The confidence in her stance and the sharpness in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t here for the bs. Paige didn’t say anything at first—just raised her eyebrow before muttering, “Excuse me,” and deliberately bumped past Sophia, sliding between her and Azzi.

Her hand found Azzi’s waist like it was second nature, her fingers pressing possessively into the fabric of her shorts. She leaned in close, her voice low but teasing as she asked, “You miss me?”

Azzi sighed, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. “Not particularly,” she muttered, but she didn’t move Paige’s hand.

Behind Paige, Sophia’s eyes widened in surprise. She stood there for a moment, clearly trying to piece together what was happening. “Wait,” she said, looking directly at Azzi. “I thought you were here alone?”

Paige sighed dramatically, turning around with an exaggerated eye roll. “Damn,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm. “You still here?”

Sophia’s mouth opened as if she was about to argue, but before she could get a word out, Paige cut her off smoothly. “Look, it’s obvious she’s not here alone. So why don’t you go ahead and find someone else to bother, yeah?”

There was a beat of silence before Sophia’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. She glanced at Azzi one last time, waiting for her to say something, but Azzi simply raised an eyebrow, silently sipping her drink. Defeated, Sophia muttered something under her breath and walked away.

Once she was gone, Azzi finally turned to Paige, brushing her hands off her waist. “What’d you make my friend leave for?”

Paige scoffed, crossing her arms as she looked down at Azzi. “Yo friend? You ain’t want her to stay. C’mon now.”

“Whatever,” Azzi mumbled, shaking her head. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Paige’s lips curled into a mock pout as she stepped closer, pulling Azzi back in by her waist. “Aw, you seem jealous, baby,” she teased, her voice dropping into a playful drawl. “Was it ‘cus I was talking to her?”

“Fuck off, Paige,” Azzi shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but the faint blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Paige tilted her head, her grin widening. “Baby, I wasn’t even doing anything.”

Azzi scoffed, setting her drink down on the table nearby. “Yeah? Sure didn’t look like it. You were having a grand ole time, laughing your ass off.”

Paige’s grin softened into something more genuine as she leaned back slightly, her hands still firmly on Azzi’s waist. “Oh, that?” she said, her tone almost amused. “You mean when me and the bartender were talking about you?”

Azzi frowned, her confusion flickering across her face. “What?”

Paige chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “She’s a fan, Azzi. She got so excited when she realized who you were. Said she’d been waiting all night to make a drink for the Azzi Fudd.”

Azzi blinked, her annoyance faltering. “What?” she repeated, quieter this time.

Paige’s smile turned softer as she continued, “She even showed me this old picture she had of you two as kids, y’all went to the same school I guess. You both had chocolate all over your faces. I couldn’t stop laughing, so I showed her one of mine from back then. It turned into a whole thing which kinda made me forget about our drinks.”

Azzi rubbed her face with her hands, a groan slipping out as guilt settled in her chest. “oh,” she muttered, dropping her hands to look up at Paige. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Paige interrupted, but there was no bite to her words. She pulled Azzi closer. Now their chests were pressed together, and Paige leaned down, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “You know I don’t want anyone else but you, princess.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her heart hammering against her ribs. Paige was so close, her breath carrying the faint scent of mint and Shirley Temple, her Dior cologne wrapping around Azzi like a second skin.

Paige leaned back just enough to meet Azzi’s eyes, her voice low and deliberate. “I think I’ve made that clear, haven’t I?”

Azzi couldn’t do anything but nod, her hands instinctively gripping the front of Paige’s shirt for balance.

The corner of Paige’s mouth quirked up, her confidence radiating as she murmured, “Good.”

Azzi swallowed hard, trying to pull herself together. “Let’s go,” she said suddenly, her voice firmer than she expected.

Paige tilted her head, her grin turning mischievous. “Go where?”

“To the car,” Azzi replied, already pulling Paige’s hand to lead the way.

Paige followed without hesitation, the smirk never leaving her face as she let Azzi guide her.

—

Azzi didn’t let go of Paige’s hand as they made their way through the crowd, her grip firm. She walked ahead, her pace steady, but there was an urgency in the way her fingers tightened around Paige’s. Paige followed with a smirk tugging at her lips, watching Azzi’s determination from behind, her ponytail swaying with each step.

When they reached the car, Azzi made her way to the passenger side, her hand still in Paige’s. Paige started to move ahead, her free hand reaching for the door handle. “Here, I got it—”

Before Paige could finish, Azzi spun her around, pinning her back against the car with surprising strength. The cool metal pressed against Paige’s back, but the heat of Azzi’s body in front of her erased it immediately.

Azzi didn’t waste a second. Her lips crashed onto Paige’s, her hands gripping the blonde’s hips as if anchoring herself. Paige’s initial surprise melted into something far more eager as she let out a quiet sigh, her hands instinctively finding their way to Azzi’s waist.

Azzi deepened the kiss, her fingers sliding to the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her closer as her tongue brushed against Paige’s lower lip before slipping into her mouth. Paige groaned into the kiss, her fingers tightening on Azzi’s hips before sliding lower.

“Damn,” Paige mumbled against Azzi’s lips, her voice slightly breathless. Her hands gripped the curve of Azzi’s ass through her shorts, and Azzi gasped softly in response, her breath hitching before muttering, “Fuck.”

Paige chuckled against her mouth, her fingers pressing more firmly as she whispered, “What’s that, princess?”

Azzi didn’t answer, too caught up in the way Paige’s soft lips moved against hers. Her voice came out as a broken mumble between kisses, “P…need you,” her words trailing off as her teeth grazed Paige’s bottom lip, her tongue following close behind.

She broke the kiss, her breath heavy as she looked up at Paige, lips swollen and slightly parted. Paige smirked, the glint in her eye making Azzi’s heart pound harder and her core wetter. The blonde leaned in, brushing her lips against Azzi’s ear, her voice low and teasing.

“Tell me, princess,” Paige murmured, her hand still gripping Azzi’s waist, keeping her firmly against the car. “How bad do you need it?”

Azzi swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on Paige’s shoulders. Her big, doe-like eyes met Paige’s, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she answered softly, “So bad.”

Paige licked her lips, the corners of her mouth curling into a wicked smile as she tilted her head. “Yeah?” she teased, her voice dripping with control. “Lemme make sure.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed in confusion, her breath hitching as Paige’s hand slid from her ass to the front of her shorts. Paige’s fingers unbuttoned them, slipping beneath the waistband and pushing past the thin fabric of Azzi’s underwear.

The moment Paige’s fingers brushed against her, Azzi’s eyes widened, a soft gasp leaving her lips. She instinctively pressed her forehead to Paige’s shoulder, her entire body shivering as the blonde’s fingers explored her slick heat.

“Fuck..,” Paige muttered, her lips brushing against Azzi’s temple as her hand moved slowly. “You’re so wet.” Her voice was low and heavy, sending a shiver down Azzi’s spine. “Why’s that, huh?”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, gripping the back of Paige’s shirt as if to steady herself. “Because of you,” she mumbled, her voice breaking slightly as she fought to keep her composure. Paige tilted her head, her smirk deepening as she pressed her palm more firmly against Azzi’s clit, making the brunette gasp sharply. Paige’s voice was low, her breath tickling Azzi’s ear as she asked, “Who?”

Azzi’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of Paige’s shirt, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, her lips trembling.

“P-Paige,” she finally stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck… P-please, I need it.”

Paige’s smirk only grew, the sound of Azzi’s desperate plea sending a rush of heat through her. Without saying a word, Paige slid Azzi’s underwear to the side, her fingers finally feeling her completely.

“Shit,” Paige groaned, her head dropping slightly as she leaned closer. The slickness she felt against her fingers made her chest tighten, and she couldn’t help but let out a low, satisfied moan. “God, baby,” she muttered against Azzi’s lips, the words barely audible as she pressed a searing kiss to her mouth.

Azzi whimpered into the kiss, her hands sliding up to grip the back of Paige’s neck, holding her closer as her knees threatened to give out. Paige didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, groaning again as Azzi’s hips shifted slightly against her hand.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice dripping with both desire and satisfaction. “All for me, huh?”

Azzi could only nod frantically, her breath hitching as Paige’s fingers moved in tight circles on her, each touch igniting a fire that spread through her entire body. “Only for you,” she whispered, her voice breaking, as her eyes fluttered shut. Paige smirked into the kiss as she rubbed azzis clit faster, fingers sliding up and down her wet making Azzi moan into her mouth, her soft sounds vibrating against Paige’s lips and only spurring her on.

Azzi’s hands gripped Paige’s shoulders tightly, her breathing uneven as she tried to form words. “P-Paige,” she gasped, her voice shaky. “W-what if someone c-comes out?”

Paige chuckled lowly, brushing her lips against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “Don’t worry about that, baby. No one’s coming. Just… fuck—” she groaned, moving her fingers faster and Azzi closer, the heat and wetness making her head spin. “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered, her head falling forward onto Paige’s shoulder as her legs wavered. But Paige wasn’t about to let her go anywhere. Her other hand gripped Azzi’s waist firmly, keeping her pressed against the car as she dipped two fingers deep inside her without warning.

Azzi gasped sharply, her head snapping back as her lips parted in a soft cry. “Oh my god,” she whispered, her nails digging into Paige’s shirt as her body shuddered against her.

Paige’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as she watched Azzi’s reaction, her own breath hitching as she felt how tightly Azzi gripped her fingers. “That’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. She leaned closer, brushing her lips along Azzi’s jaw before whispering, “You’re so tight, fuck. Taking me so good mama.”

Azzi tried to respond, but all that escaped her lips was a broken moan as Paige began to move her fingers, slow and oh so deep . Her hips instinctively bucked forward, and she squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of Paige’s fingers.

“Look at me,” Paige demanded softly, her free hand tilting Azzi’s chin up so their eyes met. The intensity in Paige’s gaze made Azzi’s stomach flip, and her lips quivered as she tried to hold back another moan.

“P-Paige,” Azzi whimpered, her breath hitching again as Paige curled her fingers just right, hitting that same spot Paige was always so good at finding. “F-fuck… please.”

“Please what?” Paige teased, her voice a low rasp as she leaned in, her lips grazing Azzi’s. “Tell me what you need, princess.”

Azzi’s head tilted back against the car, her lips trembling as she gasped, “Need to cum.. Please, I—”

Paige cut her off with a deep kiss, her fingers moving faster now, her thumb rubbing tight circles on Azzis puffy clit, each motion making Azzi’s soft cries grow louder despite her attempts to stay quiet. Paige smirked against her lips, knowing Azzi was losing the battle of keeping herself composed. Paige could feel her tightening around her fingers, the brunette’s body trembling against her as her breathing grew uneven. Paige smirked, her lips brushing along Azzi’s jawline as she whispered, “You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?”

Azzi whimpered, her nails digging into Paige’s shoulders as her hips rocked forward, chasing the building orgasm. “Y-yeah,” she gasped, her voice shaky and breathless.

Paige pressed a kiss just below Azzi’s ear, her fingers moving faster, deeper, as she tilted her head to murmur, “C’mon, Az come on my fingers. You’ve been so good—so damn good. I wanna feel you.”

Azzi moaned, the sound desperate and needy as her head fell forward onto Paige’s shoulder. Her thighs trembled, and she could barely hold herself up as Paige’s words pushed her closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her tone low and soothing, though there was a roughness in it that only fueled Azzi’s need. “You feel how good you’re doing? I’ve got you.”

Azzi whimpered again, her grip on Paige tightening as her breathing hitched. “P-Paige,” she stuttered, her voice breaking. “I—oh my god—I’m—”

“Y’gonna come for me, aren’t you?” Paige murmured, her breath hot against Azzi’s skin. She pressed her thumb hard against Azzi’s clit, rubbing in time with her thrusts as she added, “Come on, baby, give it to me”

Azzi’s eyes squeezed shut, and her body went taut as a sharp cry escaped her lips. Her climax washed over her in waves, her hips bucking as Paige held her firmly, coaxing her through it with soft murmurs.

“There you go,” Paige whispered, slowing her movements but keeping her fingers inside Azzi, riding out every shudder and tremble. “You’re so perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

Azzi sagged against Paige, her forehead pressed to Paige’s neck as she tried to catch her breath. Her body was still trembling slightly, and she let out a soft, shaky laugh. “You’re too good at that,” she whispered weakly, her voice muffled against Paige’s skin.

Paige chuckled, sliding her hand out gently and holding Azzi close. “I know ,” she countered, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s temple. “C’mon, let’s get you in the car before someone really does come out here.”

[watermelonlovershigh]

can you please write something about reader maybe finding harry's stash of sex toys. maybe he uses them during solo play but she doesn't know about that because they're new to dating and he hasn't shared that with her because he's scared she'll judge him. but when she finds them she has a million thoughts running in her head. not knowing if they were for him or if he uses them on other people. with a cute ending of her being super cool with him using sex toys and doesn't judge him.

Finding Harry's Secret Stash of Sex Toys (SMUT)

AN: love, love, love this idea! it was fun to write. i may, key word, MAY write a part 2 to this. no promises though. keep in mind any mentions of sexuality is purely fictional and not real. hope you all enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback.

This story contains: periods, mentions of sex toys, sex, confrontation, anxiety, comfort, mentions of sexuality, fluff

{ boyfriend!harry - softrry - au!harry - bi!harry }

word count- 1,744

While searching Harry's bathroom drawers for a period product, you discover his stash of sex toys. After waiting about a week, you confront him with all the questions you have about your discovery.

You and Harry have been together for nearly two months. During this time, you've become well-acquainted with each other; however, they're still certain things that you don't know about one another. This isn't due to any effort in hiding information, but rather because those specific matters haven't yet been relevant in any of your discussions.

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

It's a Friday night, and you're at Harry's house for the evening. He had purchased a pizza, and the two of you were comfortably seated in his living room, savoring the pizza and sipping on wine. About an hour after eating, while watching a film, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In the bathroom, you realize your periods started and you didn't have any period products with you.

Knowing Harry is a mature adult, you promptly step out of his downstairs bathroom and make your way back to the living room to ask if he by chance had anything for you to use. Otherwise, you'll have to go to the twenty-four hour shop down the street. "Um Harry, do you have a pad or tampon I could use? I’ve just started my period and forgot to bring anything." You linger there, feeling somewhat awkward as you await his answer.

Harry turns to you and replies with a gentle smile, "Yeah, of course. You can go to my bathroom upstairs and look in one of the drawers by the sink. I generally keep period products there for when I have female visitors." God created men, and then he created Harry as an apology, you conclude. He's so fucking thoughtful.

With a sigh of relief, you respond, "Thank you. I'll be quick." You hurry up the stairs and proceed to his bathroom with urgency, fully aware that you're currently free bleeding. Upon entering, you close the door and search through the drawers of his vanity to locate the pads and tampons.

The first drawer you open is filled with floss picks and an electric razor. The second drawer holds additional rolls of toilet paper. However, as you open the third drawer, you're met with an unexpected sight that leaves you speechless. You were hoping to find something to assist your period, but instead, you come across a selection of dildos and butt plugs. When you finally open the fourth drawer, you let out a sigh of relief upon finding the items you'd been searching for.

You take a tampon out and make your way to the toilet to insert it. After you're done, you wash your hands and let your thoughts return to the drawer that's filled with sex toys. Harry has never mentioned having any of these types of items. Despite the many times you've had sex, he's never proposed the idea of incorporating sex toys into the mix. Perhaps, he uses them for his own pleasure, or he might enjoy using them on partners. But if that's the case, why hasn't he brought that idea up to you before?

You make your way out of the bathroom before Harry has time to become concerned and head downstairs to resume the movie together. Upon your return to his side, he asks, "Is everythin' alright?" You had a weird expression on your face that he couldn't quite place.

Trying to play off what you've just seen, you reply, "Yep, yeah, I'm fine. Let's finish the film."

For the remainder of the night, you don't bring up what you discovered in his bathroom drawer, but it never leaves your mind. If anything, you're just curious as to why he has those items. You would never judge his reasoning.

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

A week has passed since that evening you discovered Harry's drawer containing phallic-shaped items and butt plugs. You've been looking for the right moment to bring it up, which has now finally presented itself.

Currently, you're in Harry's bed, having sex. He's on top of you, pounding you into the mattress, while your hands rest on his perfectly round bum. As he begins to thrust more vigorously, your hands slowly slide closer to his crack, and when you accidentally graze his sensitive hole, Harry almost collapses on top of you.

Seeing how much pleasure it caused him, you do it again, this time with purpose. "Oh fuck!" Harry curses as you rub your fingers over his puckered rim.

Taking a deep breath, you bravely ask, "Yeah, does that feel good? Like having your tight hole played with?"

With his forehead resting against your neck, Harry affirms with a nod and softly murmurs, "uh-hu." He only confesses this because it's clear that you're open to touching him there; otherwise, he would've refrained from sharing such information due to his fear of being judged.

Eventually, you get lost in your own pleasure and forget about touching his bum. That is, until you're laid lax on the bed, muscles weak from your orgasm, with Harry laying on top of you. As you both try and catch your breaths, you bite the bullet and ask the question that's been on your mind all week.

"So.... does those toys you have in your bathroom drawer have anything to do with you liking your ass played with?" You really hope your question doesn't come off as rude or too invasive. You're genuinely curious.

Harry's body goes rigid at your question. Then he sits up slightly, looking down at you with confusion. "What?"

With a hint of anxiety in your voice, you explain, "Um, it's just, the other night, while I was looking for a tampon in your bathroom, I opened the wrong drawer and discovered several dildos and butt plugs. I was just wondering whether those items were for your personal use or you use them on other people. But just so you know, I'm not judging you in any way, just curious is all."

Harry falls back down and buries his face in your warm skin, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him at your accidental discovery of his sex toys. He usually stores them in his closet, but after cleaning them the other day, he had set them in the drawer to dry.

In truth, Harry does enjoy anal play. Ever since he began puberty and started to explore his body, he discovered the pleasurable sensations that can come from anal stimulation. A few years later, he recognized his bisexuality, which, although not directly connected to his enjoyment of anal play, is certainly a positive in the situation.

Unfortunately, he's only had a handful of male partners. Therefore, when he's not able to experience penetration from a real cock, he frequently utilizes one of the dildos he's purchased for himself.

When he was with women, Harry typically didn't mention his liking for having his ass played with, out of concern for being judged. There were a few instances in the past where they'd end up finding out, leading to a mix of reactions—some supportive and others quite judgmental. So, he opted to keep that aspect of himself hidden and relied on his toys for when he craved anal.

Now that you're aware of his secret, he's filled with dread at the thought of your rejection. Yet, he reckons that if you willingly touched his bum during sex, that implies you're not completely against it.

With his warm breath against your neck, Harry reveals, "Um..... yes, they're mine. When I was a teenager, I realized I enjoyed havin' my bum touched. I usually keep it to myself 'cause I've been judged for it before. So....... that's why I tend to use my toys when I am alone. Sorry for not tellin' you."

The quiver in his voice stirs a sadness within you. Him revealing his anxiety about your potential judgment and the criticisms he's endured in the past breaks your heart. You tenderly hold his face and elevate his chin so he can meet your eyes. "Harry, sweetheart, I would never think less of you for liking that. I suspect many men would enjoy anal if they gave it a chance."

You take a deep breath and continue, "I do have a question, though." Harry nods for you to go ahead, so you proceed to ask, "Have you ever used your toys with your girlfriends before? Like, have they used them on you?" If he's open to the idea, you would definitely be eager to make use of his toys on him. The image of fucking him anally with one of his dildos arouses you more than you care to admit.

"There've been one or two times I shared my likin' of anal with ex's who were particularly kind and acceptin', which I appreciated. But in most cases, my partners didn't last long enough after discoverin' my interest in anal play to allow the use of toys during sex. S'also why I keep my sexuality a secret. 'Cause people can be so judgemental."

"Sexuality?" you question cautiously, allowing Harry to explain at his own pace.

"Um yeah, think I was sixteen when I realized I liked boys and girls. So I reckon m' bisexual. But I've only had two male partners. S'why I have so many toys. But I wouldn't say my sexuality has anythin' to do with my likin' for anal, just a bonus I suppose."

You hold Harry tightly in your arms, hoping to express your appreciation for his courage in confiding in you. It's clear that he feels a sense of safety in doing so.

You become aware of his current vulnerability; he's still without clothes, his soft cock positioned between your legs, your bare body surrounding him. The love you feel for Harry is so big that you struggle to find the right words. You also refrain from voicing it aloud out of fear that it may be too early in your relationship to utter such sentiments. So instead, you mummer against his ear, "Thank you for telling me, Harry."

He's on the verge of tears due to your exceptional acceptance. Harry has long struggled to find a girlfriend who fully acknowledges his sexuality and kinks. In his past relationships with boyfriends, he was often judged for his enjoyment of hetero sex, while his experiences with girlfriends led to criticism for his interest in gay sex. This constant judgment made him feel as though he could never succeed in love. However, with you by his side, there's a chance that you'll offer him the love and acceptance that he's been longing for.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! some people who've requested to be added doesn't allow me to @ you. please check your settings first.)

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722 // @mema10 // @harryswifee // @jewelaponte // @fruity-harry // @triski73 // @chronicallybubbly // @prettygurl-2009

My Masterlist Masterpost

[madamechrissy]

Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x F!reader Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Oral (f and M recieving), fingering, teasing, kissing, explicit sex, multiple rounds, creampie, cum drinking, dirty talk and LOTS of feelings

💜 Word Count: this chap - 7.3k

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea. Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other?

No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️I know these two were dumb asf lol, but they are finally getting this together! I hope you enjoy their ending! ✨️

Chapter Five 💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜

Chapter Six- Final

When you show up dressed as Princess fucking Leia to Choso’s house the next Friday, well he almost cums in his pants again on sight. You’ve got the space buns, you’ve got the white robes, but underneath he sees an insane replica of her bikini, and you know Choso’s first crush in history just so happens to be her, so now he’s questioning your cruelty.

How does he keep taking it slow when you’re so perfect?

“I… you… huh!?” He’s mumbling, you smile then, tilting your head, stepping inside with a big bag in tow.

“We are having a Star Wars Marathon, and look!” You pull out lightsaber chopsticks and ramen packs. “And, gourmet dining. I don’t have a rockstar budget, you know.” You tease, starting to get everything together, so comfortable in his kitchen he’s baffled by you.

Choso’s tattooed hands come to rest on your waist as you start up the water on the stove, feeling the soft white material under his hands, you turn and look at him, a pretty smile breaking his heart. “You are perfect.”

“No…” You shake your head, nervous now, a blush decorating your cheeks, feeling the warmth spread as his palms press against you.

“God you are, look at you? Am I lucky or what?”

“It’s ramen Choso. Oh, I did bring over some cheap wine for later.” You’re trembling as he cups your jaw, the water is just starting to bubble when he’s kissing you again so deeply, taking your breath away. “I should dress like Leia more.”

“You just being here is everything. I missed you all week.” You exhale, kissing him once more, as he lets you go, and you start to put the ramen in, setting the timer. “You belong here, don’t you think?”

“Yeah?” You ask, voice soft and sweet as you turn to him, and he can’t stop the dopey grin on his face.

“Yeah. Are you staying the night?” He asks, not hiding the excitement in his eyes or voice at the thought of holding you all night.

“Well of course, we have many movies to watch, you know. Before we go and watch the latest tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t let you go anywhere like this.” His husky declaration shocks you, when he gently opens the white robe, baring you to him.

“You w-wouldn’t?” You whisper in response, surprised and far too excited by his possessive tone. Choso exhales, tracing the curves exposed on your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes, the fire building in your core

“I’d let you do anything, you know. But I’d be insanely jealous.” You’re kissing him again, bare skin pressing on the soft black sweater he’s wearing, your fingers curling around the strong biceps of his arms, heat pooling in your tummy.

“How slow are we taking things?” You tease, repeating his question yesterday. “I could suck him slow?”

“Jesus…” You’re giggling as the timer goes off, turning your attention to making you both bowls as he wills his cock to stop pulsing, picturing you in this outfit on your knees is wrecking him. “You’re torturing me.”

“You did too, Mr. eats me out on a wall and leaves.” He groans and covers his face when you start seasoning the ramen and giggle at him.

“Don’t remind me, hurt so bad jerking it after.”

“Did it?” You smile and he glares.

“You’re enjoying my pain?”

“Just a bit. Oh god, remember this was like all we ate in college?”

“That and pizza, yes, but… this looks yummy. And these!?”

“I got you a pair, don’t worry.” You grin and turn on the little red lights for his pair, yours are blue. “We can battle after!”

“You’re so-”

“Nerdy, I know.”

“Adorable.” You’re blushing again, sitting next to him in his little kitchen, slurping up noodles with glowing chopsticks, the simplicity of the beauty in such a silly moment moves him so much he has to pause. Taking in how the sunlight filtering from the window is making your skin and hair glow.

“Thank you, Cho. I wanted today to be… like how we were before… but also different.” You peck a little kiss on his lips, smiling against them when his hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“Princess Leia though, where’s this from?”

“A convention last year! I think… Yuki wouldn’t let you go?”

“Ah, I remember now! Is it uncomfy?”

“You want me naked.”

“Yes.”

You both laugh softly, but you shake your head. “Let’s get some movies down, Cho bear.”

You’re on the couch next to each other later, two movies down, the beginning of the third starting, music you’ve heard a million times, you’re suddenly a little uncomfortable with the wig, taking it off and letting your hair fall. He laughs at how messy it is, gently moving to fix it, brushing his fingers through it, your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels.

“Today is amazing.” He murmurs then, and you sigh, nodding.

“It’s just what we needed, I think… to get back to us.” You smile softly, lashes casting shadows across your cheeks as you lean in, kissing him sweetly.

“I missed us, so much.” He whispers, choking up then on his emotions, you sigh, nodding and kissing him over and over, soon his hands are on your bare waist, the warmth making you feel that pressure between your thighs.

“I like us even better now.” You say softly, between kisses, as he pulls you on his lap, thighs on either side of him, grinding and watching his head fall back in pleasure, as you plant sweet kisses along his throat.

“I like us better too, mnh…” He’s pressing up, his clothed cock hitting you now, when there is a knock on his door. “Ugh, they need to fuck off.”

“Don’t answer?” You tease, he grins, the sight melting you, and kisses you as the knocks persist, untilyou both ease back a bit.

“I’m coming.” He shouts, then mumbles, “Well I wish I was.” He pouts and you giggle, trailing a finger down his front slowly.

“You will tonight, promise.” Choso lets out a little purr as you stroke his silky black hair, he’s kissing you again, earning another soft cry as the knocks persist. “Go get it, may be important?”

“It better be.” Choso stands up then, as the knocking continues, frowning when he’s met with the sight of Yuki in tears.

The woman he thought he saw a future with, the one he felt so much for, is crying right on his doorstep, you tense then as Choso falters, you see the pretty blond like you’ve never seen her, she’s always been a tough girl, or so you knew of her. She buries her head against Choso’s chest, shoulders shaking, and his hands don’t touch her, they stay up in the air.

“Yuki, what…”

“He’s not who I thought he was. Cho, I miss you so much.” She cries now, sniffling, and Choso grimaces, easing her off him gently.

“Listen, I’m sorry really but-”

“Should I go?” You ask then, and Yuki blinks a bit as she takes in your costume, then looking at the movie playing, then back at Choso.

“You’re not going anywhere, angel.” Choso says then, and Yuki gasps, when he steps back, putting his hands on your shoulders, and Yuki curses softly.

“Shit… You two…”

“Yeah, we’re together now.” Choso says softly, making your own eyes well up with emotions, you thought for sure with Yuki here he would maybe want a moment with her, or something to give him closure, but no.

He’s choosing you.

After so many years of the both of you missing this moment and that, having these high school crushes and college infatuations, missing each opportunity you could have had, to be so much more. But now, you have each other, finally, and you’re so scared that something can break this, so precious and new.

“You all can have a moment to talk, I can step out?” You offer quietly, and he shakes his head again. “Cho, maybe it’s good to… have closure after what happened between you?”

“Don’t need it, though, I’m past it all, long past.” He says again, but you kiss his cheek, looking at Yuki sadly and gesturing to her.

“Maybe she does.” You walk by and Choso tenses again, Yuki gently touches your arm, sniffling a bit.

“I was a whole bitch to you, I am sorry. Make him happy, hmm?” You nod with a small smile, as you step out for a moment, feeling the air hit you.

“I absolutely will.” Choso is now left with his ex and her sad brown eyes, but he’s more anxious of what you will think, hating that you’re even outside, especially after the lack of trust between you two before. He does not want anything to mess it up, even if he does feel sad that Yuki clearly is hurting, it’s about as sad as Choso would feel for any human being.

“Yuki…”

“Listen, I just needed to say that I am sorry for how I left things, you didn’t deserve that shit.”

“I forgive you.” He says softly, to her surprise. “It’s in the past now, and maybe… for the best.”

“I see that now.” She swipes at her tears, sighing and shaking her head. “What I said wasn’t true though, about you.”

Choso smiles just a bit. “I know it wasn’t.”

“You really forgive me!?”

“I never expected an apology, but of course I do. I think it was all just… meant to happen how it did.”

“Look at you all confident, hmm? I like it.” Choso sighs, running a hand through his hair as he thinks of you.

“She helps me with that. Also I mean, I clearly did have feelings before for her, so I think I see now how that could be worrying, even if we were blind to it. But I do promise that I was never unfaithful to you in any way or-”

Yuki cuts him off, shaking her head. “I know Choso, I didn’t think so not for a minute. But the connection you two have was intimidating to say the least, still, I took it too far.”

“Thank you for apologizing, Yuki. Really, I hope everything turns out good for you.” Choso gets a big hug then, she sighs, looking up at him, he lets her hug him but he doesn’t really reach back, aside from a pat on the head that makes her smile just a bit.

“You’re too sweet for this shit ass world, Cho. I hope you’re happy too.”

“I have her, I will be.” He says with a dopey grin, and when Yuki steps outside, she lights a cigarette, looking over at you with a knowing smile.

“That boy is madly in love, hmm?” 

“I don’t know if he is yet… but I know I am.” You murmur, you know Choso really adores you, but you all still haven’t gotten there yet. Yuki sighs, blowing smoke up and over, looking back at the door.

“Oh, he is.” She waves goodbye and you step back inside nervously, the warmth inviting, and you worry somewhat, as you don’t know if this affected Choso, but he immediately checks on you, cupping your face after you shut the door.

“I’m so sorry she came over, are you okay?’

“Cho, it’s fine, really. I think it’s good if anything.” Choso blinks then, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

“Good?’

“Yes, because you both get closure. You were very serious about her.” Choso exhales, nodding then.

“Yeah, I was but do you know who I fell for before her?” You blush now, shaking your head as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Let me tell you a story, then, of the day I met this girl.”

“Will I get jealous?” You tease, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“No, because she is you.”

“Hey, watch it.” Choso shoves a boy out of the way who was being so mean to you on your first day in seventh grade. You nervously bite your lower lip, clinging to your stack of books as this stranger defends you.

“What, ya like her or something?” The boy sneers, and Choso’s brows lower over his eyes.

“So what if I do, leave her alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll deal with me.” He shoves forward, already towering over everyone you’ve seen so far in the school, you watch with nervous eyes as another boy comes up near him, tugging at his friend’s sleeve.

“That’s Choso, you don’t understand…”

The boy looks at his friend, then at Choso and sighs then. “Fine.”

“Apologize, while you’re at it.” Choso says through his teeth, and suddenly the boy looks at you very apologetically.

“I’m s-sorry…”

“It’s okay.” You murmur, as they run off, leaving you with this tall, dark haired boy with violet eyes. He looks down at you then, opening his mouth, then closing it.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, and you instantly melt, you instantly feel so safe though you barely know him. Something about his warm, concerned gaze, and his pouty lips.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You say softly, smiling as you step a little closer, and so does he, and you inhale this calming scent he has, closing your eyes for a moment, as he inhales your sweet scent, something fruity he thinks like strawberries.

“I’m Choso.”

You smile and open your eyes, telling him your name softly, as the lights softly pool in from the bright windows behind your head, and he thinks to himself then, you look like an angel.

“Of course I remember that day, you were my knight in shining armor.” You say then, as the memories wash over you both, Choso sighs, his hands gently brushing your still messy hair back.

“I thought as those lights hit you, you were an angel.” You gasp, eyes locking on his, lips parted.

“Huh!?”

“Yeah, it’s where the nickname came from. You were so sweet and beautiful… and I felt this protective instinct. I couldn’t even explain it, but it was there.” You gulp now, nervously swallowing with a dry throat, as you stare into the swirling storms of his eyes. “I knew it then, even though I was a silly kid.”

“Knew what, Cho?” You murmur softly, breath caught in your throat when he leans down further.

“I knew I loved you, I knew it then. That anyone who would dare hurt you I’d take down, but then… I hurt you.”

“No, baby, no…” You’re crying now, blinking back tears as does he, and he shakes his head.

“I did, I did… I hurt you. The one that I love.”

“You love… me?”

“God yes, I always have angel. You’re it for me, even if I’m not sure I deserve you.” He whispers, and as his eyes swim with tears, so do yours, you cup his face as he leans down, and a fire burns within you.

“Then let me tell you, about a boy I fell for, hmm?”

“Will I get jealous?” He whispers back.

“No, because he is you.”

You looked nervously all around the cafeteria, you didn’t know anyone at all, and you were fearing you’d be all alone. A new girl in a new town, you fall upon the face of the boy who had saved you earlier, thinking just how cute he was, with his dark hair and pale skin, and lidded lavender eyes.

He catches yours then smiling warmly, a little turn of full lips that did things to your tummy- butterflies.

Choso gave you butterflies.

He waves you over, and you smile softly, as you sit next to him and his friends, your thighs brushing against each other as you sit your tray down. “Hey, angel.”

“Angel?” You ask softly, and he just smiles.

“Yeah.” You knew it then, when he shares his chocolate milk with you, when he fills you in on the details of this school, as his warm smile invites you in, and he begins to share everything he knows about the school, as you both lean so close.

It became an every day thing, lunch together, then breakfast, then he was even meeting you in front of your house to walk to school together, you all dropped his little brother off at elementary on the way. It was perfect, so perfect, like you’ve always known him, your first and only best friend.

One day as you’re under a cherry blossom tree, he yanks a petal and puts it in your hair, and that was it. You knew it then, that you’re in love with this boy.

Choso holds his breath, gulping then as you spill it, everything in your damn heart and soul. “I knew then that I loved you. And it just grew, Choso, it just grew even when I had my infatuation, and you had yours. Something in me always knew that I needed you in my life. And I almost lost you.”

“Angel, you’ll never lose me.” He says hoarsely, tears welling up in his eyes as he leans down so low, his big hands taking over your waist.

“I love you, Choso Kamo. I am in love with you.”

“And I love you, I’m in love with you. I have been, for so long, god don’t you know every song is about you.” 

“No they can’t be.” You whisper, shaking your head as emotions overwhelm you, as you can barely breathe.

“They all are, every one of them. It’s you. It has been you.”

“Choso…” He kisses you then, plump lips over yours, and you exhale and fall into it, still in your princess Leia costume, a million memories pouring in both of your minds as you meld into each other, as your words soothe the hearts that have been wrecked for so long.

“I love you, I love you Angel. I do. I have.” He sniffles then, pulling back, and you’re swiping away his sweet droplets of tears, trembling as he sees your own pouring down your cheeks.

“I can’t believe this is real.”

“It is, god it is. Though you’re a dream.”

“Cho…”

“You are. You are.” Choso eases off the white robes, leaving you in this insane bikini that’s wrecking his psyche, he can’t stand just how beautiful you are in it, kissing you over and over, as he now touches your hips, your waist, the nape of your neck, and your body responds.

“Please.” Is all you manage, and he moans, picking you up suddenly, pressing your back against the door, feeling the cool wood against overheated skin. Your legs wrap around his narrow hips, as he presses against you, and you both taste the salt of your tears melding.

“Please what, angel? Tell me.” He says, his voice husky, and you gasp out as he presses his heavy erection against your clothed clit, clinging to his soft sweater and whining out.

“Make me yours.” Choso moans now, carrying you to his bed eagerly, lips not leaving yours, his eyes closed but he knows it, knows the trail to it, only opening them when you bounce gently on his bed, and he takes you in.

“You’re mine.” His husky declaration just serves to make you soaking wet, you whine out, nodding and arching your hips up, making him more and more hungry for you.

“All yours, Cho bear.” Choso exhales and kisses down your throat, easing down the straps of your bikini, leaving trails of kisses and bites along your delicate flesh, and you’re reaching up for more, whimpering in desire. “Mnh!”

“You’re so beautiful, god look at you.” His big hands tremble, as his blunt nails press into your skin, and he kisses down the slopes of your breasts, rising and falling with each breath. “I want to cum inside you, make you all mine.”

“Y-you do?” Your eyes shoot up to his, as he nods eagerly, his lips parting while he slips your bikini top off fully, your breasts bouncing gently and making his cock throb harder.

“God yes, only if you want me to. I wanna fill you so good you drip me for days, hmm?” Your eyes dilate so big Choso can’t even see your irises.

“Y-yeah?” You whisper, making him chuckle a bit.

“You’re precious.”

“What?” You try to glare, but he’s sucking on your nipple now with his hot mouth, and your hands are entangling in his dark hair.

“I wanna ruin anything you think you had before.” His darker tone excites you further, you’re biting your lower lip nervously, heart racing.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles up at you, easing your bottoms down your thighs, which tremble as your breath quickens, soaking wet pussy bare to his hungry gaze, making his cock twitch in his pants. God he can’t wait to sink inside you again, stay there, always he thinks.

“Let me…” You lean up taking his shirt off, revealing his strong, perfect body for your eyes, his every muscle, his every line. “You’re so gorgeous, Cho.”

“You’re gorgeous, angel. You’ve always been.” He kisses you again, both of you bare from the belly button up, his heavy hot chest pressing on your soft breasts, and you’re both feeling it, feeling the heat, feeling the love, feeling the desire.

Your hand snakes down to his bulging crotch, stroking him over his pants, making him hiss out your name, his eyes rolling back for a moment. “Oh my god…” He reaches down then to touch your wetness, making your pussy just drool all over his fingers. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

“When am I not?” You tease softly, whining out as he rolls his finger against your little clit. “Cho, I need you.”

“Patience.” He teases, but you’re shaking your head, throbbing.

“I need your dick.” He snorts then, grinning down at you.

“Aren’t we having a romantic moment!?”

“No, you’re a munch and you will just eat me out, and Cho I love it but I need your dick.” He’s laughing loudly now, earning your glare.

“I want to fuck you so bad I can’t think, don’t worry.” He murmurs, watching you gulp, pushing you back down on the bed, spreading your legs and kissing down your stomach, leaving a wet trail down to your pussy.

“Y-you better gimme it.” You whine then. “But… god you’re good at that!?”

“I enjoy your sweet pussy all over my face.” He huffs, ending you as you watch with wide eyes as he licks you, a gentle swipe of his tongue making you arch up and moan, making your toes curl.

“Cho, oh god, cho, please, more, I need more.”

“Mm, I’ll give you more, baby, I’ll give you everything, I promise, just let me have my time, let me enjoy you.” He licks you again, from your hole dripping arousal up to your twitching clit, as you dream about that cock he’s pressing against the mattress. “Oh your taste.”

You're crying out as his tongue laps you up, drinking your wetness so loud and wanton in his room, when two thick fingers curl inside your walls, all slick and gummy and pulsing. You're dying for him, it's been two months without him inside you fully, all because you both had been so foolish. But now you need it, even as you feel an orgasm building.

“Please, wanna cum with you in me.” Your sweet murmur ends him, he whines out then, kissing you when he leans up, as his cock springs free, and you hastily rub his leaky tip on your folds, making you both shudder.

“I'll give you anything you ask for, Angel.” Your eyes lock then, as his tip sinks inside you, stretching and filling you slowly, you’re crying out as his piercing presses along your spot, nails sinking into the strong muscles of his arms. He gasps, pausing there, just a bit.

“More, please.” You’re begging, and he sinks further inside your greedy, soppy little pussy, you’re shattering from just that, when he stuffs you full, pushing all the way inside until he’s bottoming out and rolling his hips.

“Oh m-my god…” He whimpers softly, feeling as you’re throbbing around him, grinding his dark hair on his pelvis right against your clit, you’re cumming then and there, walls fluttering as he holds a breath. His eyes darken as he watches you, lips parted, studying your every movement.

“Cho!” You’re whining  out his name, and he moves then, strong sure thrusts, you’re falling apart for him, so beautiful, your brows scrunched together, your eyes dilated and lidded. He kisses you then, his tongue ring clicking against your teeth, you suck on it as he shoves so deep, stretching you so much, too much.

“Fuck, angel. You’re too perfect.” He whispers then, before he’s pulling out and you’re whining in indignation.

“Back in! Ah!”

Choso flips you then, on your tummy, making you moan as your ass arches back, you’ve never been like this, when he’s prone over you, licking a stripe up the side of your neck to your ear, sending shivers as his other hand wraps your throat. You feel him pressing inside you from this angle, so deep you feel him everywhere, you’re lost in him as he wraps all around you.

His scent in your nostrils, his lips on yours, his cock slipping so deep you feel him everywhere, head falling back against his chest, his weight pressing you into the mattress intoxicating. He’s lost in you then, as he kisses you and squeezes your pretty neck ever so lightly, as his other hand slips down to your hip, sinking his cock further in your tight little cunt.

“God, you feel s’good, angel… f-fuck, feel you.” He’s breathless, your ass arching up for more of his thrusts, each smack of his pelvis jiggling your ass while his leaky tip is shoving against your cervix.

“Ngh!” Is all you can manage, blinking rapidly as one hand clings to his wrist, thumb brushing over his pulse, your other gripping his soft blankets. “Harder, please, ngh!”

He moans now, shoving in so deep. “Choke harder?”

“Mhm!” You’re nodding, sobbing at how good he feels inside you, like he’s just supposed to be there, all while he makes you a sniffling mess under him, squeezing your throat harder with his big hand.

“Tap me if it’s too much.” You nod and he squeezes even more, fucking into you so good, his piercing dragging again just as your vision darkens, as he’s sucking the oxygen and filling you all with him.

You can’t get enough of this feeling, like you’re floating, everything so fuzzy as you’re dripping down Choso’s thick, veiny length, and you hear more and more of the lewd squelching along with ringing in your ears. Your orgasm rushes through your body, passing through every sensitive inch, he releases your throat then and you gasp for air greedily, pussy drenched.

“Love you…” He murmurs in your ear, and your eyes flutter as your walls tighten around him again, pathetic little cries falling from your pretty lips.

“L-love you…” You whisper back, as his pace slows, and his hot lips press sweet kisses up the side of your neck.

“Wanna fill your pretty pussy up, c-can I?” He asks softly, you nod quickly, flipped on your back again, thighs pressed up against your breasts by strong hands. You gasp at it, as his cock slides back in your pussy, so deep like this, balls slapping against your ass while he looks at you, every emotion in your eyes reflected in his. “You sure, angel, it’s okay?”

“I want you to cum in me, please.” Your whispers end his resolve, you feel too good, you’re just too pretty, your cunt is gripping him so tight, he’s losing himself over you, fucking you faster and faster, leaning forward and pressing his weight on your thighs, making him slam your cervix. “Ah!”

“Gonna cum so deep in you, angel, hmm?” You nod weakly, tears in your eyes of pleasure when he finally pushes in, jerky rhythm, his own eyes rolling back as he finally busts inside you, no barrier between you both.

“Oh my God!” You’re cumming just from that, from his warm cum filling you to the brim, pulsing inside you so much, you feel him throb as he cups your face, kissing you as you drink his moans in.

“F-fuck, s’perfect… oh it’s s’good angel…” Choso’s exhaling against your lips, and the intimacy is just enhanced as he pulls back, and his eyes are so dilated they look black, his tongue flicking over your lower lip as you’re so full of him. You’re trying to catch a breath, when it all overwhelms you, and the tears start to fall from your eyes, down your cheeks. “Are you alright!?”

“Yes it’s just… I’m really happy.” He exhales in relief, kissing you deeply, taking a hand and entwining your fingers, before leaning up on an elbow, kissing away your salty tears.

“I worried I was too rough or…”

“No, no, I loved it.” He kisses the marks he left on your throat, exhaling and tickling your skin with his hot breath, you’re clinging to his strong muscles, feeling them bunch and roll as he gently kisses along your jaw.

“That was the best moment of my life, aside from our first time.” You giggle, shaking your head as he pulls up, a big grin on his face.

“No way, what about all your shows?”

“Nothing is like cumming inside you.” His husky tone wrecks you, you’re kissing again, sore little pussy pushing his cum down and out of your hole, making him hiss a bit at the sensation. “Fuck…”

“Mnh, y’know I should clean you up.” You tease, turning and flipping him on his back then, kissing down his chest, his tummy, he gasps, big hands wrapping your tendrils, still messy from the wig and now the lovemaking.

“I’m convinced I’m in some dream.” He whispers, you smile, shaking your head as you lap at the cum, his and yours, white and sticky along his tip, still having cum oozing out of his little hole as you drink on it, moaning. “Mmh!”

“You taste so yummy.” You whisper, sucking him semi hard, feeling him thicken and pulse in your mouth again, as Choso looks down at you in wonder, teeth sinking into his lower lip, his big hands gripping your hair and pulling.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He whispers in wonder, tears still on your lashes in droplets, before pulling you up to him, and you’re leaning down, kissing him deeply, tongues dancing when you’re grinding against his cock. “Need you again.”

“Again?” You whisper in wonder, as you lean up and peer down, finding him throbbing, heavy and hot against your slick cunt, you cry out, head falling back then as his hands grip your waist, sliding his cock up and down between your slick folds, over and over.

“Again, please, I can’t get enough of you.” Choso whispers, voice soft and husky now, violet eyes glittering when he watches his own cum pour out of your pussy, slick against his again throbbing cock. “L-look at it, pretty, so much.”

“You did cum a lot, hmm?” You tease, gasping when he lifts you like you’re nothing, pressing his tip back in your entrance. He nods, pressing in, making you whine as he’s so deep, so thick, so full. “Want me to ride you?”

“Please, god yes.” You both giggle breathless, and you start to ride him then, you lift yourself up and down his cock, feeling him fill you so deep, so much, as your arousal pools down at his base, across the muscles of his abdomen as you whine out, head falling back, giving him the best view of your pretty breasts in his face.

He grabs a breast now, sucking on a nipple, his other hand gripping your ass and dragging you down his length, making you so sensitive. Choso slips a hand down your tummy, now playing with your clit, making you whine and whimper with every touch, with every pump of his cock, until you’re weak and trembling.

“Come here, pretty, lemme help.” He murmurs, your hair falling to the side of you both like a curtain, dancing along his skin like silk as he takes over, planting his feet on the bed as your lips smash together, your nails digging into his chest as you cling to hang on while he fucks up into you.

Your walls tighten around him, and the feeling is exquisite, so intense that you feel like you’re going to break apart from the pleasure. You are moaning right into his mouth, tongues messy and dripping saliva, as you feel the pressure in your lower tummy about to let go.

“Cho!” You whine, and he moans, cupping your face with one hand, exhaling as he studies you.

The room is filled with the wet sounds of your sex, your breaths mingling with his as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, urging you on, telling you how pretty you are, how good you feel, how much he needs this. And you do need this too, fuck you need it.

Nothing before matters, nothing matters right now but losing yourself in each other, in this connection, this perfect blend of obscene sex and sweet love making, his snaps of his hips hitting just so in slick walls. The way he brushes your hair gently but then pulls at it, the way you’re trembling around him, breath catching and eyes rolling back in your head.

A heady mix of pleasure and love fills you both, you can’t stop saying it, and neither can he. “Love you f-fuck angel…”

“Love y-you, baby…” You’re whining out the words as he busts another hot load so deep in your greedy pussy, and god she sucks it all up too, even as she’s pushing his white sticky cum down his cock. He grips you bruisingly, whimpering right in your ear while you tremble over him, and he slows his movements.

“God I’ll never get enough of you.” Choso murmurs, and you blink rapidly, more tears falling.

“Neither will I.”

You both kiss, over and over so hungry, until he pulls out and sees the mess you’ve both made, taking some of it with his fingers, pressing the cum back into your little hole, you gasp. “Sorry, angel, I want it to stay in there.”

He flips you on your back, smirking then, not sweet little Cho bear, no he’s devious, watching you squirm. “Ah-ah! Too much!”

“Just a little more, hmm? Be a good girl.” You’re gasping as your oversensitive pussy is stuffed more full of him, before he sucks you both off him, moaning, cheeks hollowing as he does. “Choso you’re a whole freak.”

“Only for you.” He blushes all cute, like he didn’t have his hand around your neck, like he wasn’t pushing cum in you, making the conundrum that is your boyfriend just that more enticing. “C’mon, let’s shower.”

“Yes please!”

Soon he’s washing you up gently, eyeing little marks with worry. “Are you sure I wasn’t rough with you?” He asks with a frown, fingers touching every spot with the fragrant suds of the body wash, as you rest your head against the tile wall, smiling, so fucked out it’s adorable to him then.

“Oh no, we could… be rougher.”

“And I’m the freak, hmm?” He presses you against the shower wall as you giggle, breathless, the hot water pouring down on both of you, filling the room with the hot steam that sinks into the breaths you take.

“Maybe we both are.” You drag him down for a kiss, your lips working over each other, his big palms pressing against your back, shocked when he’s hard again, pressing on your tummy. “Oh?”

“He won’t stop.” Choso mumbles, lucky you can’t tell his blush from how reddened the shower has his skin. “You must be sore?”

“I could go again.”

“Oh?”

You grin, as he lifts you up. “Oh.”

*****

Two months later

You and Choso Kamo have been inseparable, even more so from when you were best friends growing up, now you can’t keep your hands, lips, anything to yourselves, the public displays of affection certainly embarrassing all your friends, especially Yuuji, despite how happy they are for you. Even now, Choso is kissing you as they’re prepping their guitars and drums.

“Come on you two.” Megumi grumbles, and Yuuji rolls his eyes as Choso just yanks you even closer, pressing you against his chest.

“Choso, we’ll-”

“No, more kisses.” He cuts you off, and picks you up now, as your arms wrap around his neck, and you’re giggling breathlessly.

“You have a show!”

“I’ll give em a show.”

“Choso!” You’re breathless as he eases you down, and then he takes something out of his pocket, a key with a little baby Yoda keychain, you blink then. “What is this?” You ask curiously.

“My house key. I made one for you.” He clips it on your little bag then, sighing as you blush, the color making your cheeks so pretty before the lights darken in the club they’re at, still behind the curtains.

“You did?”

“I also cleaned out my entire top drawer.”

“Choso…”

“Also you could absolutely leave your place and move in, when you’re ready, but I know that’s crazy for now.”

“It is insane!”

“You basically live there anyway.” You do though, it’s not too often you’re even home anymore. “But we can wait for that step, for now… this baby yoda key can be my symbol of affection.”

“It’s perfect.” You say with a soft laugh, grinning up at him as he holds you in his arms, wrapped around you so tightly. “I accept your declaration of affection, my dear Knight.”

“Ah, my lady makes me so-”

“Can you two please stop?” Yuuji asks, and earns Choso’s glare. “It’s so corny, the nerdiest couple imaginable.”

“I can still kick your ass, kid.” Choso earns Yuuji’s tongue sticking out, but he kisses you once more before you hop down, grabbing a drink at the bar, and you almost burst out in laughter when you see it.

Gojo and Amber.

You snort so loud you earn her immediate smirk, but Gojo looks back at you and gives you a lazy smile. “Hey sweets.”

“Gojo, didn’t expect you here.”

“Mmm, your boy toy has good music.” You roll your eyes, sighing as he steps close to you, leaning down. “If you ever wanna make him mad again-”

“Yeah, no way. But… have fun with her.” You shove at his chest and he sighs, pouting.

“What a heartbreaker.”

“Whatever.” You laugh and shake your head, as Amber clings to Gojo’s tall, lithe frame, when Utahime walks in, you run up to her, hugging her tightly. “You made it to the show!”

“Of course I did. Ooh, cute keychain!” Her dark hair falls over a shoulder, as she toys with it.

“It’s a house key.” You whisper, Utahime grins.

“I’m so happy for you! Yuck, is that Gojo!?”

Gojo shoots Utahime a grin, wiggling his brows as she flips him off, scowling over at him. “Hey Hime.”

“Oh hell no.” She drags you into the crowd, and you’re laughing quietly. “He’s a walking venereal disease. A key!?”

“Yes, isn’t it cute?” You’re sipping your drink now, as the lights shine right on the stage, and you see him, the love of your life, and he smiles right at you.

“Dedicating this song to the girl who I don’t know what I’d do without.” He says your name, and the light shines on you for a moment, you pay no attention to anything however, it’s all you and Choso then. “I wrote this song for you back in middle school, my emo era.”

“You’ve left your emo era?” MEgumi quips, earning the entire crowd laughing as CHoso rolls his eyes.

“Well it wasn’t a phase I guess.” Yuuji teases, earning more laughter, you’re smiling so big your cheeks hurt, when the light passes, and Utahime clings to your arm gently, whispering her excitement.

“Middle school me was especially emo. So, I found this…” He pulls out a note, it looks well worn out, soft notebook paper of years past. “About this girl, and I decided I needed to update it, so how’s a new song sound?”

The crowd is cheering, and your heart is racing, as memories of you both back in middle school come to the forefront of your mind, of a boy who defended a girl, of a girl who was steadfast in her friendship. Of a boy and a girl who adored each other, but never said the words out loud, of a boy and a girl that now stand across from each other in a crowded venue.

Of you and Choso Kamo.

His melodic voice starts singing those words, and your eyes shut for a moment, it’s as if you see him back then, confessing his words to you, it all blends in this perfect, beautiful moment.

She’s an angel with a halo,

I’m a boy with broken wings.

But everytime she smiles I know,

That my heart, oh it sings.

“It’s a whole emo love story.” Utahime murmurs, you grin so big then, as he proceeds to sing, and when his song is done and they’re all cheering for him, he hops off the stage and pulls you in his arms, kissing you for everyone to see.

“I love you, Cho bear.” You murmur, as he cups your face.

“And I love you, angel.”

That night you couldn’t wait long enough to get home, which resulted in Choso fucking up into you right in the leaned back seat of his mustang, and two people may or may not have seen you even through some tinted windows, and it may or may not have really irritated one of them.

Amber cried that night, but Satoru snorted in laughter.

You both were two busy to notice, not when you’re grinding on his cock so deep inside you, as he’s clutching you your hips, crying out while your pussy tries to take him, stretching to accommodate, and his tongue ring is flicking against your lips, as you pant, sweaty in the hot car. Your ass hits the radio at one point, and you both laugh, so breathless.

“Is th-that our… s-song from… prom dance?” You manage to breathe out, and Choso groans, kissing down the slopes of your breasts, leaving slick, wet spots reddened from his mouth.

“It is, p-perfect, isn’t it?” He looks up, taking one of your hands and kissing them, picturing how pretty that ring is gonna look like, but you’ll just have to wait for your birthday for that surprise.

“You’re smiling so- ah! Up to s-something…” You cry out as he presses his thumb against your twitchy clit, making you scream out right in this parking lot.

“You’ll find out soon, just cum for me, pretty, hmm?”

“Yes, yes… mmm!” You’re shattering over him, and in the sweet aftermath he kisses your closed eyelids, sighing.

He can’t wait to have a forever with you.

The End

A/N: I KNOW two of these chaps were so angsty, but these two were dumb asf lol. I hope you enjoyed his storyyy - Choso is not my main jjk man I write for so this was very new to me lol <3

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[trustmypoison]

Ateez confessing to their best friend

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘‘Can you please do a headcannon of ateez confessing to their bestfriend that they have a crush on them?‘

Hongjoong

I think there would be an unspoken tension between you two that you’re afraid to address. When you think about it, there always has been. It’s something you dance around for a while until you just can’t. But you’re visiting him late in the studio one night and you both are looking at something together, sitting close, and then suddenly you’re kissing. When it’s time to come up for air, he feels quite a bit of confidence in saying, “I guess we should talk about that.” 

Seonghwa

He’s stunning and you’re not blind. Neither are a lot of other people. The thing is, he turns down people left and right. You don’t think anything about it at first, but when an idol that everyone chases after asks him out and he says, “Oh thank you, but I’m not interested,” you just have to ask. When you bring it up, he initially shrugs it off. When you ask if he’s already interested in someone, he flushes and says “It’s not important.” It’s only after a little arm-twisting that he finally admits he’s interested in you. He’d feel a lot of fear about this moment but would be so, so relieved if you returned his feelings. 

Yunho

You both already act like you’re dating so why are both of you surprised?? (I’m sorry, all I can see is the friends to lovers fic I wrote for him.) This sort of creeps up on him in a way that once he realizes how he’s always looking for and reaching for you, he can’t unsee it. I do think there would have to be an external force that would compel him to confess. Like if you were asked on a date by someone else and you asked his opinion, he would find himself saying, “I’d really rather you not.”

Yeosang

So fucking casual!! So casual in fact that it feels like it came out of left field. He just straight up asks you out and you have this horrible moment of confusion before the panic sets in, because you can’t ask something like that so casually after years of friendship!! But he does and he accepts that it’s a shock for you, but he really just wants to get it off of his chest. He’d totally go back to normal if you didn’t like him like that, but if you did? Not so casual anymore because the relief is obvious!! The casualness was totally fake!!

San

He’s so touchy that this is another one that to strangers you look like you’re dating. But the thing is, he’s touchy even when no one else is around. So imagine cuddling up to him on the couch and he goes in to kiss your cheek like he’s done a million times. Naturally (and stereotypically) you turn your head at just the right time that he ends up kissing the corner of your lips. He likes to see you flustered and acts like he doesn’t understand why. “That was a little close, don’t you think?” You’ll laugh nervously. He’ll shrug in a strong attempt to be casual and ask if that’s a bad thing. If you question if he actually would want to kiss you, he says, “Yes of course,” in an instant. 

Mingi

This is totally an overnight realization. One day, he wakes up and sees you that day and thinks, “Uh when did I become attracted to them??” His attitude will do a 180. He’s totally avoidant, and when he can’t avoid you he’s totally awkward. You actually think you might have done something wrong and one of the group members has to step in. The problem is that he’ll have let this go so long that you’re mad by the time he’s ready to talk. He has to confess and grovel. 

Wooyoung

He confesses so many times in so many ways and you really think he’s joking. It’s funny to him at first because he thinks you’re just a little dense. But over time, the confessions get increasingly more serious and you still aren’t getting it. This will be to the absolute delight of his members to watch him struggle with this. Eventually, he’ll reach a breaking point and just pull you into a kiss because it seems words just aren’t working. His head might explode when you ask, “Wait, are you into me???” and he’s just like, “Yes!!! I kept trying to tell you!!!”

Jongho

Another stereotypical moment, but bear with me. You have a bad partner that just isn’t treating you right and you’re upset for the millionth time. He’s almost scolding you when he says you shouldn’t put up with that sort of treatment and you can do worlds better. But you might be a little jaded that all relationships are like this. If you express this, he’ll just snap and say, “I wouldn’t be like that.” That’s most certainly something that he can’t back out of now. Not that he wants to because bitterness about watching you suffer in your current relationship has been building for a while and he has a lot to say. 

[ranikyani]

Omg?? I have so many questions… this is soo good! Demon!Terry? Is he a Demon? Is he an angel? Do he work for the Devil? Fuck going on around here?

He had a thing for snobby pretty bitches, knocking them off their high horses and filling them with dick was his speciality and little miss Eva was his newest obsession…how fun.

Well aright now Terry gawddamn. Shit.

I own you from here on out. Forget your family.. they never loved you. Forget your friends.they never offered you any solace. I can bring you that and so much more. If you just let me in.

Fuck & so it begins. It’s a shame she finna get turned out like this when all she really wants is love. Why does he want her aura to be red? What does this mean!?

I thought of this gif when Eva peeped the walls bleeding & saw the eyes glowing in the corner.

How you see some shit like that & just let this man keep fucking you into the mattress sis!? At least he’ll let her sober up before committing to this contractual agreement. I’m just tryna figure out how we go from you leaving flowers on her desk to fucking dragging her to hell!?

This was good! Plsss keep me tagged 💕

Deliver us from Eva

Pairing:Terry Richmond x Eva

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine), smut, love bombing

Summary: In a rush to stake her claim in the bedroom, Eva unknowingly signs a deal with the devil…

A/N: This will be strictly a one shot.(telling myself this bc ik how I am😗)

—

—

“Stuck up boujie bitch that thought she ran the office”. That’s what they all thought about Eva, but if she didn’t…who would? They were all dunces and lacked the overall beauty and intelligence that she held and quite frankly she wouldn’t apologize for it. Just a bunch of losers who couldn’t kiss her ass if it was engulfed in flames. She was just a young hot babe that overly excelled on the job yet they dwelled on the fact that she used work as a fashion show and the hallway as her runway..they simply couldn’t take her. But the newest work tea had her interested heavily…somebody had a crush on her. Well that explained all the little gifts being left on her desks, the bouquet of lilies, the little letters that explained how much they loved her work ethic and especially her radiant beauty. Well at least someone admired her hard work…and she had a feeling who that someone was.

She had noticed his affections…but everyone knelt down for her and kissed the ground she walked on. How was she supposed to know the difference? Terry Richmond was exactly Eva’s type. Tall and pretty with brains and strong arms that looked like they lifted twice her weight on a daily. His hypnotic puppy dog eyes would flick towards hers during group meetings, cheeks high and mouth upturned with a smile and she’d get suspicious of him and turn away with a roll of her eyes. He could try working that spell on another woman in the office, they were easier than her anyways. The fawning and gossiping made her gag on a daily, he was only ever cordial with the other women in the office and yet they acted as if he’d offered up his face as a seat. Pathetic.

But Eva still had an itch inside that needed to be scratched. She wouldn’t deny herself pleasure for one second. She wanted to ride that pony right off into the sunset, and she hated him for making her feel that way. If she only had to snag him and use him to get herself off then so be it..men did it all the time. A nice plan was settling in real fine in her head, the brainstorming room was Terry's playground it seemed, he spent more time in there than anyone and it showed. His business proposals for companies looking to work with theirs and diagrams were exceptionally detailed and straight forward. A man about his work. She knew where to find him and reapplied her dark brown lip liner to her plump lips. She sealed it with a clear gloss before puckering her lips and stuffing her compact mirror back into her purse, time to work some magic.

Terry had heard her coming before he saw her. Heels clicking to a beat so familiar to him that he could hunt her down in a building full of people. He had a thing for snobby pretty bitches, knocking them off their high horses and filling them with dick was his speciality and little miss Eva was his newest obsession…how fun. His matte black MacBook sat in front of him and he read through important work emails meticulously, a little bit of work before the play. She was getting closer now, just outside the door. Forcing his eyes to stay glued on his laptop screen, he tried to ignore her presence as she sat directly next to him. Notes of raspberry and saffron wafting into his nose. His ears began to ring and his foot tapped quickly underneath the table and she made it all worse by speaking to him in that sultry tone.

“I know your little secret Terry.” He paused his scrolling and arched a brow at her. Ahh so she had been receiving his gifts. Good.

“You have a crush on me, though I couldn’t really blame you.” There it was again, that air of arrogance. He liked that shit.

“Do I now..what makes you so sure?” He turned to her, giving her his full attention now.

Her full lips sat slightly open and her dark silk pressed hair fell around the cleavage that peeked from her blouse. Almond shaped eyes zeroed in on him suspiciously as she let his question sit with her. Fresh gel manicure tapping gently against the table brought his eyes downward where he watched the pretty manicured hand move to its own beat.

“Because I like you too. Believe me that was hard enough to say so don’t give me that look.”

“And just what do you like about me, Miss Eva…you ignore every other man’s advances so why me?”

“Because you’re smart and pretty..and I wanna fuck you.” Hmm a bit bolder than he’d expected but he’d bite.

“You wanna fuck me or do you wanna get fucked, there’s a difference mama choose wisely.”

The chair she sat in rolled closer and he was practically breathing in her whole existence. Her minty breath warm on his forearm as she dropped her hand onto his bicep, stroking against it like a sweet pampered house cat.

“I don’t discriminate, I’ll take whatever you’re offering and double it.” She was overconfident in her ability to overtake him and that stirred something deep inside him. Women didn’t usually challenge him this way and he was teetering on the edge of showing his hand…in due time.

Terry knew her type. Overly confident and arrogant to compensate for what she was actually lacking, he had clocked her months ago. Simply watching for an entry point into her head..to infiltrate her mind and body like a parasite. To control her. She had the workings of a good little sex slave…something to own and degrade. Something to tear down and build back up in his image.

“What if I’m not offering anything, what if I just wanna take. You willing to give lil mama?”

And willing she was. She had no idea what she was agreeing to..what she’d have to do to be down with him. The dark sinister side of him loved the art of ambush. The ability to play it up and source information about his prey while they stood in front of him. She craved something that he could only feign to give her, and he saw that present in her mind.

Terry didn’t know the true extent to his abilities or the origin of them. He assumed that they had been passed down through his bloodline..generation to generation. He knew things about people before they ever told him, he felt those things. Felt their turmoil and longing all around them, how it oozed from their pores like perspiration. And Eva was no different. She was desperate to feel any inkling of what she thought was love from people, underneath the facade she was heavily distraught by the lack of sympathy and kindness in her life. No one truly looked under her hard exterior and analyzed why she acted the way she did, said the things she said. But Terry would give her some justice tonight even if he was the only one that benefited from it.

Rushed lip locking and the sound of ripped garments filled his bedroom. There was no time to slow down. Not when her aura glowed blue with need and despair and not when his most carnal desires were coming to the forefront. There was wickedness at play there in the room, the lights turned down casting a warm glow over heated melanated skin and a tango of bodies that would frighten the gods. Terry withdrew his hand from her hair, the thick tresses so tightly bound that his knuckles rubbed against her scalp. And like a moth drawn to a flame, his brawny body carried itself to his dresser drawer. His guilty pleasure and the only white bitch that he had ever craved like air in his lungs —coke. It rushed through his senses like a dream, centering him and abusing him all at once.

The mini ziplock rested on the dresser as he snorted his first line of the night. Head thrown back in pure bliss as he felt the instant euphoric rush to his bloodstream. His back was to his dresser as he beckoned her to come to him.

“Do you partake?” A question so simple and yet she stared at him like he had two heads before shaking her head no.

“You do now… you’ll love it. It’s everything you’ve been missing I promise.” Her compliance meant little to him as he held the line up to her nose.

“Nice and slow, there you go.” He swept a thumb under her nose, gripping her chin gently in his hand. He wanted her fluttering around his space like a butterfly fresh from a chrysalis.

Her bare body twirled and wiggled in front of him like his favorite after hours show. Notes of Australian sandalwood and Haitian vetiver filled the space in his room, that intoxicating perfume that relayed signals to his olfactory bulb everyday. When she turned her back to him, hands thrown in the arm, he noticed the tramp stamp on her lower back. Heaven is what it read, but he had plans to take her someplace a little hotter, someplace she couldn’t come back from. A great satisfaction it would bring him to take her down so low he would be the only thing grounding her when he was finished with her.

He pulled her buzzing body to his. Naked chest to naked chest. His hands focused her whipping head forcing her to stare into his barren eyes, blown out pupils barely leaving room for the pretty brown he saw on a regular. He wanted all the signs of her snuffed out…aura slowly changing from blue to red. She placed her arms around his waist, lacing them together before she pressed her lips to his. A green light. An ok to wreck this helpless soul.

His mouth drooled and leaked for what seemed like the thousandth time already. Mustache and goatee drenched with pussy juice, he was getting his protein for the week and then some. Tongue curling around her clit to suckle it roughly while two of his fingers dig into her clenching hole. Her thighs had begun to bruise from his hold on them and the pain she felt from it made her moan and cry out loud. Euphoria wasn’t the word to explain what this was. This was splitting her mind in two, throwing her out and stuffing Terry inside. Did he love her? He had too, that’s what he had told her just minutes ago wasn't it? She wasn’t hearing things, couldn’t be.

“Fuck I love you too. Take it.. it won’t matter without you.” She was crying out those words to him, giving him something to hold over her. But what was she offering..,her own life perhaps?

Wild colors burst behind her eyes as she orgasmed again. Legs shaking and quivering in his tight hold, while she let him wipe tears into her hairline. He stood over her hand gripping her throat so tightly that her heart raced in fear that he wouldn’t let go.

“Love?That’s what you need right..what you’re missing? That’s what I’m giving you right…that feeling you feel right now, that’s the kind of love I offer Eva.”

Love? This newfound love made her heart race and beat rapidly in her chest, it squeezed and rattled against her ribcage begging for reprieve from his hold..the hold she felt all over her body. She wanted it tho, people never made her feel anymore, just made her realize how much she wasn’t. And when his body came to lay over hers, dick positioned just above her entrance she began to truly see.

“I own you from here on out. Forget your family..they never loved you. Forget your friends..they never offered you any solace. I can bring you that and so much more. If you just let me in.”

Her verbal consent unleashed something. And before she could protest in fear he sank deeply into her, and her mouth was caught in a permanent ‘o’ as he pistoned into her quickly. She cried quietly in his ear as the walls bled around them, her eyes wide in horror. It gushed all around them and she wiped her forehead feeling a drop splash there.

“Shh shh, there’s nothing there. It’s the drugs playing tricks on you I swear.” His deep voice cooed into her ear. His reassurance didn’t go far.

Her nails sank deep into his back as he bottomed out in her pussy. The lewd notices that came from between them were not even enough to pull her focus from the wall behind them. A pair of yellow reptilian eyes stared at them through the blood and she shrieked in terror pointing at the wall.

“He won’t bother us baby..he just likes a little show. You don’t mind now do you?” The unsettling grin on his face chilled her bones, but the fucking never stopped. He never stopped. Not when the headboard snapped in two, and not when she screamed bloody murder as another orgasm ripped through her body.

She made the mistake of shutting her eyes and when she opened them again she was watching herself and Terry on the bed. Her body stuck to the ceiling in a sort of lucid dream. She saw it all, the way he lifted her body and continued fucking her as he stood facing the wall now and how the Eva on the ground stared right up at her. Terry followed her line of sight and blew kisses up at you… the real you. Or maybe that was the real you, but how could you be sure. When you raised your hand hers raised too, and when you subconsciously asked her to wink at you she did.

Then came his voice, the lightest whisper in your loud mind. Softly pulling you back into your own body, and when your wet eyes fluttered open again viridian eyes met yours. Your body smelled fresh and clean like you had been bathed and your silky tresses sat wrapped securely under a scarf. Confusion set deep in your features and a pounding migraine to make matters worse, yet answers were all you needed. And like your mind was being read he provided one.

“Deals with the devil are best made sober…shall we try again later?”

@luvrsluxe @slvt4her @rawflwrs @thabiddie23 @blyffe @notapradagurl7 @sk1121-blog1 @dimepiece09 @playgurlxoxo @zillasvilla @23jammy @pocketsizedpanther @kenshisluvrgirl @brattyfics @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @melosliving @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @kirayuki22 @alyssawritcs @becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @simplyzeeka @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @hotgrlcece @miyuhpapayuh @uzumaki-rebellion

[lexirosewrites]

A sequel to my nugget #4 ficlet from last week

Baby Jim is a sweet little guy, he starts sleeping thru the night much more quickly than his siblings did, rolls over fast because his siblings r always showing him how, but then... he starts teething at 8 months and it's like a dam is unleashed, for the first time the tried & true teething tricks steddie used w their first 3 pups aren't working the same & poor baby Jim is up at all hours crying in pain & his crying makes the older siblings cry bc they can scent the pain his milky baby scent, then because he isn't sleeping he cries more & eventually it makes Steve cry from exhaustion & frustration & feelings of not being a good mother to his pup & Steve crying makes Eddie cry & the whole house devolves into a weeping mess, the other parents of the party also find themselves at a loss because their own advice doesn't help for very long

Enter: Mrs Amelia Harrington. She divorced Richard not long after steddie registered their mating and reconnected w her son rebuilt their relationship and is now the extravagant well traveled grandmother who always brings gifts for her grandchildren & child & son in law, and she might live in Vienna most of the year now but she still makes time to visit at least once a year. Well Steve warns her about the teething issues on the drive home from the airport & Amelia simply hums.

They get everything inside & poor baby Jim is crying not long after she arrives, she asks what they've tried & Steve starts crying as he explains: Jim rejects every teething toy they give him after an hour at best, his parents scents don't help for long enough for Jim to sleep properly, he spits out the cold pacifier almost immediately, and practically throws any clean wet washcloths across the room.

Amelia hums more before she nods, says she figured Jim might have started teething & she had a feeling he might struggle the same way Steve did, and then turns & rummages thru her luggage before coming back with a spoon tht clearly had begun as a beautiful piece of silver but was now bent in curious ways. When eddie & Steve try to ask she simply shushes them, says she will explain in a bit and goes about chilling the spoon in the fridge then scooping Greek yogurt into it. Amelia asks to hold baby Jim who hasn't really stopped crying & when he's situated comfortably in her arms she pops the cold spoon of yogurt into his mouth & a miracle happens: baby Jim gums at the yogurt & chews on the spoon long after the yogurt is gone, in fact he doesn't seem to want to let it go, steddie have never seen him treat any of the teething remedies they'd tried up to now like this.

Amelia explains: Steve was the sweetest baby, slept thru the night more often than not, rolled over quickly but crawled by pushing himself around in silly ways for awhile, he liked laughing & giggling & ate with no issues, but then he hit 7 months & began teething in earnest & her sweet baby was suddenly in pain she couldn't fix. He rejected all of the rubber toys she bought for him to chew on, he spit out cold pacifiers, & she felt at the end of her rope. (Richard was of course no help during this time & even got a hotel room for himself alone till Steve got thru the worst of it, fuck Richard Harrington all my homies hate Richard Harrington) Then one day she was exhausted & alone in tht big house & just wanted him to eat some yogurt but he was rejecting all of his baby spoons & she didn't have many clean dishes at tht particular moment so she just said "fuck it" opened up the heirloom silverware she'd inherited from her grandmother (tht she'd gifted to steddie as a belated wedding/mating/house warming gift) pulled out one of dozens of small spoons & fed him w tht, but then he simply wouldn't let the spoon go & he even began chewing at it & teething on it in a way he hadn't w anything else. So Amelia didn't question it beyond calling a friend from college about the safety of silver for a teething bby, who said it would b fine after she tested for lead (found none & learned it was pure silver) tht silver is non-toxic, hypoallergenic, & naturally antimicrobial. Steve preferred his spoon over all his other teething toys but would settle for a rubber toy shaped like a donut while the spoon was being washed.

Through this whole explanation baby Jim was the most content they'd seen him since he began teething, even asking with his hands for more yogurt which grandma Amelia happily gave him. Soon enough she was laying baby Jim down in his crib for a nap with the spoon in his grip.

Steve is teased mercilessly for approximately 3 days abt being such a fancy rich baby he would settle for nothing less than pure silver as a teething toy. And that Baby Jim is truly the most dramatic & theatrical of all their nuggets because he demanded the same

(Amelia came from generational wealth, old money but Indiana money. She traveled a lot & met Richard not long after college & was often disappointed in him but didn't divorce him bc he was skilled at love bombing her specifically. Steve traveled a lot too as a kid & then as a teen he'd summer in Europe w his mom. I just like the idea of this)

(Might b sending in an ask abt nugget #5 a little bit later but i must complete a chore in my home first)

silver spoon pups🤭

[runninriot]

was tagged by the lovely @sidekick-hero to share a snippet of something out of context 🖤

   “Why do you even care?” There’s no bite in his question, none of the frustration and anger he feels inside. Eddie sounds pathetic, like he’s desperate for attention, for someone to tell him he’s worth the struggle.

   “Because,” Harrington takes another step forward, “I know you can do better. And I hate to see you throw away your life for nothing but an act.”

Eddie swallows roughly, feels his heart rate pick up. Mostly deaf to his words, he can only focus on the movement of Harrington’s pretty pink lips. It’s distracting, and it must be obvious, because one hand comes up to grab him by the back of his neck, giving him no other chance but to look into a pair of green-speckled eyes.

  “Always pretending it’s all about ‘fucking authority’ when the real problem isn’t authority, it’s you not being able to follow the simplest rules.”

Eddie feels heat spread where the broad palm is splayed across his neck. Heat pooling in his lower half, too, where something stirs, and pulses, and rattles at invisible bars.

This is bad. He should probably tell the older man to let go, should bring distance between him and the coach, but he’s stuck. Feels trapped despite having every possibility to step back, walk away, run if he must but he can’t.

Because he doesn’t want to.

   “Make me,” he grits through his teeth, fists curled at his sides to keep his hands from trembling.

   “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Harrington chuckles, low and vibrant, and Eddie can barely swallow the noise that tries to slip from his throat.

    Fuck. FUCK!

Why is this so hot? Doing things to Eddie he won’t be able to hide much longer, not if his body betrays him.

   “Want me to tell you what to do, is that it?”

    No.

    Yes?

Eddie’s mind is reeling; he’s fighting for clarity, needs to get level, needs to get out before he does something stupid.

   “What makes you think I’d listen?”

    Shut up. God, you fucking dumbass, just SHUT UP!

That has always been Eddie’s problem, hasn’t it. He just can’t keep his big, stupid mouth shut. Has heard others complain about it so many times before but did he learn? No. So, here he is again, talking himself into trouble rather than out of it. And this time, he can't even blame anyone but himself.

   “Don’t challenge me, Eddie.”

    Oh, but he does. Can’t stop himself from taking yet another step forward. One step that brings him way too close to the man whose hand suddenly tightens in his hair, pulling enough to make it sting.

   “This is your last warning.”

There’s something dangerously dark in his voice and his eyes but not enough to scare Eddie off, to make him stop. He should, obviously, but he can’t shake the feeling that they both want something else instead.

It’s stupid, risky, wrong. So, so wrong. But when has Eddie ever made smart choices?

   “I said- MAKE. ME.”

tagging (no pressure, all love) @steddie-island @steddieas-shegoes @adverbally @yesdangerpls @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe

@hotluncheddie @mugloversonly @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86 in case you want to share something 🖤

[dapper-lil-arts]

You mentioning the Big Mac comic made me removed just how much I love that story lol. It’s one of the only times we get a sense of real interiority for his character and it’s just fun to see him play off of so much of the supporting cast.

I especially love the running gag where he’s just effortlessly pulling mares left and right without even trying (including Luna? Maybe? Now THERES a ship for the ages).

It’s even funnier when you consider the fact that he was canonically a chatterbox when he was younger, so his whole romantic arc throughout the series is basically “man tries shutting the fuck up for once in his life, immediately starts drowning in women” lol.

Anyways, all that preamble to bring you to my ACTUAL question:

Which other(s) of the non-main and/or background characters do you Headcanon as having ungodly amounts of game? Just having others swoon over them without even trying?

I always assumed Maud’s romance game was untouchable personally (pulling Mudbriar, Starlight, and hell probably Trixie too lol).

HARD MODE: Can’t say Sunset.

Yeah that comic run is so cute, it shows a little slice of life of a festival day in ponyville and it feels so loving and fun and just cute, everyone is having a good time and enjoying themselves, even Luna! And I love that Big Mac, the big farmhand handsome quite man pulls so many bitches. Honestly I wish Applejack got the same treatment, she really really fucking deserved it, but the show is allergic to having the protags have any romantic relations.

Women literally fighting for him in the background. Good.

WOMEN REQUESTING AFFECTION, PERFORM EVASIVE ACTION

I wasn't gonna say Sunset bc she's not a sidecharacter 😎

Also I'm not sure I even agree with the idea of Maud pulling a lot of bitches, I think it makes more sense for her to be someone that pursues that a lot, but rarely gets lucky because people are 'off put' by her. I feel like she and every Pie sister would suffer of this exact issue, tbh. Sure, Pinkie might get more bitches than the average because she's much more outgoing than the other Pie sisters, but even still, how many people could even stand Pinkie on average? Most ponies hate all the noise she makes in canon and are always annoyed when she's around. By all means both pinkie and maud got lucky... Limestone and marble didnt.

But about your question, honestly, that's a hard one. If nothing else, most of the show is like. So loveless and sexless when it comes to romance, and the little romance that is there tends to be incredibly monogamous. Like, I'd LIKE to say that Cadance should be a love madwoman that has dated dozens of stallions and mares but thats just unrealistic to all of her canon.

I'd like to say applejack, I've done dozens of jokes where every femme in a mile radius can sniff her out and wants to get closer, but still. Again, tragically goes utterly against canon. Even saying that a more obscure character like Raven Inkwell regularly visits gay bars is tragically reaching... So sadly I don't think I got an answer.

[oo-li]

help. i would reach 30+ tags if i tried typing it all into the tags so. prepare for the yappa yappa outside the tags …. ( 𖦹‸𖦹)..

anyway memes for how this chapter had me feeling

ajsgsjgshdgbd hi i fell asleep yesterday reading this chapter (best way to sleep icl. if only i dreamed)

(i couldve dreamed of this au </3)

long tags. be warned.

to start: WDYM I WAS THE FIRST TO KNOW HOBGJOONG MADE THE COAT (kicks feet blushing)

the pineapple scent. idk why but it fits him. i enjoy it and each scent u assign to each member :3

next order of business: thinkibg about the end of last chapter and showing off softy san !!!!!! i wanna smother him in blankets and tell him its okay

also. giggling over how he drinks in this au knowing irl hes as much of a lightweight as me :3

ALSO ALSO. THE ALLEYWAY SCENE ??? im trying to like figure out who was there. like its gotta be mingi bc of the voice but who came out of the car ? hwa or joong ??

question is if swanette will remember the voice of who exited the car....

AND JONGHO MY BELOVED OUGH !!!!! i wanna bump into him on the streets meet cute style (delulu)

the maknae whisper !!!! such a good setup for us to know its him before he gives his name to swanette

AND I WAS WAITINF FOR HER TO FREAK BC JONGHO KNEW HER NAME BEFORE SHE EVER TOLD HIM !!!! safe in bed line !! so good !

wooyo offering to lace her up. melting. swanette is stronger than me lol (AND THE UNLACE LINE 🫠😵‍💫😵‍💫)

angel between two demons. the foreshadowing to the fucking first part of first chapter i fear.

side note but swanette fidgeting often is very relatable and me core so i really enjoy reading lines where she does repeated actions to soothe

as someone who stims with their necklace and clothes often. its just a very nice thing for me haha

speaking of reader being unhurt. remined me of the san icing her legs moment. blushes like a slut. ㅠㅇㅠ

WAIT I ALSO REALISED THEY MIGHT HAVE WAITED UNTIL SHE FELT NEEDED TO BE WALKED HOME BEFORE THEY STARTED TO DO IT REGULARLY ???

like yeah they dont feel the need to walk her home every night bc jongho n mingi watch over her and could protect her if needed

but idk. maybe its both good and a bit toxic of them ? toxic in the way of waiting for her moment of weakness ?

icl i wanna read this ignoring all potential toxicness in their bond with her but i fear that would ruin many beats of this story. sigh.

then again this isnt a sunshine and rainbows story. sorry maybe this tag wasnt nedded in my rambling ^^;

ANYWAY WOOYO JOKING TO COMFORT HER !!!! giggling and wiggling like a schoolgirl !!!

wtf was the restaurant scene. what was that. i know it means smth bigger but what !!!!!

tall and taller ??? our twin towers ??? WHAT DID THEY DO. DID SWANETTES HATE FOR CHEATERS BRING THIS TO IMARA AS A BUTTERFLY EFFECT TYPE SITUATION ?????

oh my god brat wooyoung teasing the fuck outta mingi. screaming over his touches longer longing. OH HOW I ADORE HIMMMMM

the S ring ? huh ??? do they have rings from seonghwa too ? couple items with seonghwa ? (delulu)

EVEN JONGHO HAD SEEN SWANETTE PERFORM IM SCREAMING OVER THIS SOBBING !!!!! i love baby bear soooo much ugh

oughhhh Julia. i do NOT like her. also im grateful the fellow members in the dance company dont realise san and wooyo love her bc i just know how much drama thatd bring

the foil of woosan. exploding. extrovert liking quieter cosy dates while the introvert likes outings. explodes pt2

i also love how wooyoung visibly lights up when swanette shows she listens and remembers what he tells her :((((

«San's gift of the coat» oh swanette. may u soon learn Joongie made it for u

ALSO ???? does the coat mean more than just joong quote unquote claiming her ? does her love her like woosan ?

has he been to a performance and no ond has known ????? i have many questions...

SCREAMING OVER THE NECKLACE BEING TUGGED !!! GOOD LORD SAN YOU WANT ME DEAD 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

side note i realised i feel like im annotating a physical book with this /pos enjoy the yapa yapa rii ramblings

«hes mine just as wooyoung and you are mine» SOBBING THATS A DREAMMMMMM

one hug from yeosang would literally fix me. im not joking.

side note the way you write is so delicious i love how it perfectly blends in her thoughts and actions into the narration... its delightful truly

GENTLEMAN SAN SWOONING

:( swanette wanting to be a star like yeosang :(((((

«there was an element of strength in him deeper than attitude» YOU TELL EM !!!!

ouch ouch ouch !!! i dont like the foreshadowing of san's discontent with the prima ballerina answer !!! :(((

not much to add to yunho in the headlines other than swanette being so innocent... ough it works so well for the story and it isnt annoying or nothing !!! adore it

rip newspaper ceo bozo u wont be missed /j

shaking the bars of my cage !!!! yeosang wanting to eat dinner with her !!!!!!! im in love. yeosang i love u

SCREAMING OVER MINGIIIIII OH MY GOD MY SHAYLAAAAAAA MY BABY

the figures in the upper window !!!! our matz !!!!

oh the tooth gems... i wonder if it holds a special meaning within ateez's hierarchy in this au

the diamond chandelier. melting thinking about mv san. sorry

KITTY :D

wait sorry i was rewatching the mv bc of the piano mention and im gonna explode. im gonna send an ask dw dw

the mv okay. FUCKIN YEOSANGS FLOWR OUTFIT GRAHHH (pulls at my hair) jongho with the cat and the piano !!!! you nailed the car too w mingi omg ?

MINGI IN FRONT OF THE DESK ??? IS THAT WHERE YUNHO AND HIS SCENE AT THE TABLE COMES FROM ???

gotta lock back into the story. sorry. (i didnt lie with my yapa yapa)

barking over iomt hongjoong mention. sorry. daddy? sorry (death by pans and pots)

ngl yunho scattering ashes on the table cloth gave me a bit of an ick 😭

he was curious about her. growls. didnt he think she was some doll >:(((((

okay. the whole dinner. (wipes sweat off brow and sighs in relief) yunho intimidating. hes the guard doggggg

oh my god but yeosangieeeee and mingiiiii my princesses. my babiesssss

god i love my yeowoosan. i do. i wont lie any longerrrr

mingi cursing had me giggling

ALSO JONGHO MY BABYYYYYY BABY BOY BABY !!!!! :D

the time jump.... kitty z we love u dont take it personally pls :(

oughhhhhh its gonna be hard waiting for the next chapter this is so good !!! ill make sure to rb again when i reread the chapters hehe

till the next update or when i reread them !!! pls take care haley !

yappa yappa over o7

like a waltz⎯ part 4: piqué.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click. Clack.

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

Click, clank.

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

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

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

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

“B-B-Boss.”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, about that –“ the other chuckled. 

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

Her heart rate jumped.

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

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

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

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

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

Click, clack, BANG.

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

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

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

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

His teeth gleamed and glinted with his snarl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maknae?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sent chills up her spine.

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

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

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

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

The man hummed low in his throat, melodically.

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

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

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

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

Her nod was preoccupied.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay. Good night…”

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

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

He nodded, bowing at the waist.

“Good night, YN.”

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

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

And yet he had said it.

-

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

“Are you alright, honey?” San asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, swanette?” he encouraged again.

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

“How so?” San asked inquiringly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone helped me,” she admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She laughed at that.

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

 -

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

‘Don’t do this please.’

She could read the pretty dancer’s lips.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young man knew the answer like a bitter liquor.

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

“Had a nice stroll?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YN.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

Semantics. It made her roll her eyes.

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

Julia finally sighed out.

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

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

-

The game. Julia had called it a game.

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

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

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

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

“Hello you two,” YN greeted.

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

“It was good.” she said.

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

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

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

She shook her head distractedly.

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled as she shed out of her feathers.

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

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

“Will you be there?”

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

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

-

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

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

Did she know her patrons?

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

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

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

“I have a question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a lot of you there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She already knew where this was going.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

And her stalker, of course.

-

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

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

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

Sweet, that’s what San was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?”

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

“For you.”

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

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

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

His fingers brushed over the jewels before he spoke again.

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

San’s fingers stroked over her hip.

“You’re staring, honey,” he teased.

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

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

Was he teasing her? Was he genuine?

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

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

Her cheeks flushed at that and she looked away.

“San!” she exclaimed.

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

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

-

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

“Hello, sweetheart,” he beamed.

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

“Hello Yeosang. Congratulations,” she returned.

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

“San,” he greeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sure,” she said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He puffed out smoke.

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

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

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

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

Imara never had this.

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

-

“Do you want diamonds?” San asked.

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

“No,” she let out a chuckle.

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay,” she said. 

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

“What do you truly want, honey?”

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

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

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

-

“Extra edition!” a newsboy cried out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung added.

They hadnt looked at the paper yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

San and Wooyoung’s eyes met once more.

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

-

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

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

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

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

Miss YN.

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

Yours,

Kim Yeosang

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” the other giggled.

“Will you be there?” she asked tentatively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

Her head tilted in curiosity before they walked off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She meowed at her again.

The piano stopped; the reverb humming out discordantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boss, er, sir – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello.”

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” she said instead. “Yunho.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Yeosang?” she asked finally.

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” she breathed.

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

“I play against Yeosang often,” he clarified.

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

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

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

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

“Will you not eat?” she asked.

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

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

“My entire life,” she admitted.

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

“Ballerinas are taught young,” she said.

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

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

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

“D-dancing?” she queried.

“Love.” he countered. “Passion.”

Her eyes blinked owlishly. “Oh.”

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

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

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

“Here he comes now,” Yunho whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Its alright,” she reassured him.

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

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

“I see that.” Yeosang rumbled.

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

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

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

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

She smiled at him; he was so cute.

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for the invite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Its in the family,” Yeosang replied.

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

“Its very nice,” she politely said.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeosang chuckled out, smiling sweet.

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho and Yeosang’s eyes locked.

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t,” Yeosang commented immediately.

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

“Cromer loves its gossip.” Yeosang commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it true? Should I be frightened?”

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

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

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

“On purpose?” she asked.

“Yes, darling.”

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

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

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

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

“So, you shot him? Just like that?”

“For your information, yes.”  

“That’s frightening.”

“Yes.” Yunho was beside Yeosang now.

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

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

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

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

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

She stared at them

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

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

“Yes.” He ensured.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a messy man, darling-doll.”

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

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

She liked it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey!” he exclaimed out in surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho huffed from across the long table.

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

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

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

San nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made her cheeks burn red, and Wooyoung giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jongho?” she queried softly.  

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a fast deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingi nodded steadfast before he offered her his hand.

“Shall we, baby-doll?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angry,” she told him.

“But not in pain,” he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he alive?” she mumbled.

“By Yunho’s grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” Jongho interrupted soft and earnestly.

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

[lavender-tea-fling]

it's not fair (how much I love you)

Chapter 1/1

Summary:

They are in the process of making dinner when Rook finally gets the nerve to bring it up. “Vhenan?” Emmrich looks up from the onions he is preparing, a pair of lab goggles pulled over his eyes to shield them from the sting. Rook finds it so comically adorable he can barely stand. “Yes, dear?” “You’ve been doing a lot of wedding planning lately.” Rook comments lightly. Emmrich looks puzzled. “Am I not supposed to?” He says, taken slightly aback. Ah, fuck. That came out wrong. “No, no, you’ve been doing a wonderful job.” Rook pulls him away from the cutting board, raising himself onto his tiptoes to kiss the very tip of Emmrich’s nose. “I was simply wondering… well. Why?” Or: Emmrich throws himself into wedding planning following his engagement to Rook. Rook, who would be equally as happy to make out over Elgar'nan's rotting corpse, has questions.

Ship: Emmrich Volkarin / Rook Ingellvar

Warnings: None

Rating: Explicit

Notable Tags: Domestic Bliss, Fluff and Smut, Transmasc Rook, Wedding Planning, Laughing during Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Many thanks to @sunny374940, this would not have happened without you!

Part 6 of my series, if i could hold you for a minute!

[corporationsarepeople]

On what to do now

(Shared by Ben Lowe on Bluesky)

A dear friend of mine asked me:

"Ben ... serious question: What the fuck do we do? We ordinary citizens without access to any real levers of power."

I wrote him a lengthy reply which he said he found helpful, so I thought I'd share it.

"Hey friend, it's indeed a dark time. This is fascism which relies on people being frozen with fear, and thinking they are powerless, and thinking they are alone.

One thing I’ve been trying to remind people is there is very little you can do, but that does not mean there is nothing you can do.

The Talmud says that when a wedding procession and a funeral procession come to an intersection at the same time, the funeral must yield to the wedding.

Because above all, we who are alive should celebrate life and being alive, and that we are still here in the world.

So the very first thing you can do is make sure people around you aren’t overwhelmed, that they can breathe, that they have sources of strength, that you find and recognize and allow moments of joy.

The second part is to refuse to be powerless. Look around your community. See the people and institutions that fascism threatens, and take steps to protect them. On a day to day basis, one of the most important ways of defending against what is coming are also some of the most mundane.

Yes, go to rallies and yes make calls and be visible and take actions of direct resistance. That all matters.

But between those moments, if public transit and libraries go unfunded, coordinate to give people rides and volunteer or loan your books. Tutor or pick up trash or perform public music.

Weave the world you refuse to allow to be taken away from you.

And prepare yourself now to help people who will be singled out by malice or neglect. Think about what you can do for them. And meditate on what you will commit to and how much danger you are willing to put yourself in. Will you hide people in your home? Will you stand in front of police?

Will you still speak up if we’re told we’re not allowed to?

These are impossible questions, of course. But we should all ask yourselves in earnest, now, what the person we hope each of us is would do in those situations, and make commitments before those moments come.

Finally, do not allow those around you to believe any of us is alone. Community saves lives. Connection brings hope.

As someone who has spent many years singing with others, I've seen the combination of tone in harmony is only part of the beauty; so much of it is the feeling of shared creation, of being a part of a whole that, once joined, cannot be meaningfully separated into its constituent parts.

Help those who begin to despair understand they are not alone, that you love them and that their existence matters. And do everything you can to prevent the growth of hatred and dehumanization in those around you.

It is so easy to give in to hate, to stop trying to understand the other. Even as resistance may mean bearing witness to true darkness, we cannot stop seeing the humanity in those around us.

This will be hard, but we aren't going to build a better world after this until we're able to do so.

And there will be better things after this. It is on us to lay that groundwork, even now.

And while it's completely unclear today what that will take, the one certainty is that it will require not just hope but faith in humanity to bring that world about.

Faith in other people is an act of defiance, and they can't make you stop if you refuse to.

Sending you love and hope and stubbornness from Brooklyn."

(And I'm sending that to all of you, too.)

Benjamin Lowe

benjaminlowe.bsky.social

[arson-09]

Tamsand is so canon to me that i forget they technically arent canon. Sjm wrote some of the strangest, most homoerotic lines and scenes between those two and im just a bystander reading like 🧍🏻🧍🏻

[dellovestorant]

What. a. fucking. idiotic. question.

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[sprucestairs]

hhhhhh I need to properly reread Percy jackson again. This post brought to you by the fact I was about to make a post about a scene I very vividly remember of Will Solace trying to convince Pollux not to keep fighting with his good arm broken before Percy manages to convince him not to bc he promised Dionysus, then thought to myself "huh maybe I should fact check that- I mean I did also convince myself that Travis stoll died in this battle when he actually just went to college." And guess what? That scene ✨️didn't happen.✨️ Pollux was trying to convince Percy to let him rejoin the fight very half heartedly, while propped against a tree, and Percy was just like "hmmmm... no"