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[bosbas]

Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning you’d ever had. 

A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You weren’t with child. You didn’t have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.

It was good news, right?

That’s what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably. 

It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. You’d be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someone’s real feelings.

What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.

To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence. 

“What is all this ruckus?�� he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting he’d care, you told your father, “My courses came.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Predictable. He wasn’t one to get involved with women’s issues.

---

You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.

It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door.  

What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadn’t seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.

As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you. 

Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day. 

“Oh!” you gasped, startled. “Um, hello, Anthony,” you greeted awkwardly. 

He just stared back, unmoving. He hadn’t been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.

“Daphne’s just inside,” he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

“No, I’m here to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?

He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.

“I- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,” you said, your voice wavering. 

“Oh,” he repeated. 

Was that really all he was going to say?

You cleared your throat stiffly. “And evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise we’d have heard the rumors by now.” A pause. “I suppose this means you won’t need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.”

It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face. 

“I suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.”

His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm. 

You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.

Blinking them away, you sniffed. “Anthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.”

“And yet you did.”

“I did,” you replied, feeling ashamed. “But you must know, the time we did have together-”

But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. “I’ll be moving into bachelor’s lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths won’t have to cross again unless there’s a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.”

You choked back a sob. “Is this truly the last time we’ll talk?”

“I can hope,” he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago. 

And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.

You were left crying outside of the Bridgertons’ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthony’s statement. 

That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later. 

“Oh no, my Y/N, what happened?” she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. 

You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words. 

Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.

“Why don’t we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about what’s bothering you?”

An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.

“It’s not your fault,” you waved away Daphne’s apology. “You only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.”

“But it was my idea in the first place!” she insisted. “And a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.”

“Which we are not done discussing,” interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way. 

“Regardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,” you reassured her. “What’s done is done. I’m only sorry he’ll be leaving home.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “He’d been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.”

Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. “Why don’t the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.”

Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day you’d had, you didn’t think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. “He told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.”

Violet gasped. “That can’t be right, he would never say such a thing!”

You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day. 

“I just can’t believe I ruined it all,” you cried. “It would have been so wonderful if only I hadn’t acted so carelessly.”

Violet tsked. “You wouldn’t have even looked at him in a romantic light if it weren’t for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.”

“At least I wouldn’t have a broken heart,” you said softly, wistfully looking out the window. 

“There is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,” insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful. 

“There’s nothing left,” you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. “I made the choices I made and I must live with them now.”

---

“Why is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?” asked Hyacinth suddenly one night. 

“Yes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,” complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.

“She does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,” said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her to stop coming,” said Daphne, glaring at her older brother. 

Anthony laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and it’s not exactly my fault.”

“Anthony!” exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.

A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthony’s study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her. 

“You’re not truly angry,” she stated, not even posing it as a question.

“Yes, I am,” Anthony insisted. 

“Your anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. “I am angry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings. 

“It’s not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they don’t work out.”

“What is the point then? If they amount to nothing?” Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out. 

It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didn’t stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.

And that was what killed him. He’d had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. He’d thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. He’d found his present and his future and everything in betweem.

But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it. 

It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered. 

“That is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You can’t go around life expecting to never be hurt. It’s a rare thing to feel that way about someone.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s rare. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Anthony!” Violet gasped, scandalized. “Love is not a curse.”

“It certainly feels like one.”

“You could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, it’ll do you no good to keep it bottled up.”

“I can’t,” insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. “I wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought she’d love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didn’t want to marry me,” he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried. 

“Why don’t you try talking to her again?” suggested Violet, rubbing her son’s back comfortingly. 

“I can’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “It’s for the better.”

—

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[littlefireball]

Heyy congrats for 500!!🎊🎉

So for your event, can you do san+e2l+werewolf au+smut please?? Thank you in advence 💜

ᴄꜱ|[ᴍ]|ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ꜱᴀɴ x ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴛ.ʏᴜɴʜᴏ)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ~(ᴜɴʀᴇQᴜɪᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ//ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ…ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏʟᴅ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ?ɪᴅᴋ ʜᴀʜᴀ)//ꜱʟᴏᴡ ʙᴜʀɴ//ᴍᴀɴʏ ꜰʟɪʀᴛɪɴɢ (ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ?)

ʟᴏɴɢ~ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴏʀᴀʟ|ᴅᴏᴍ & ꜱᴜʙ?|ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀʜʜ…?|ᴋɴᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ|ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ|ᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴘɪᴇ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ…(ʜᴍᴍ…ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀʏ. ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴢʏ ᴛᴏ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʟᴏʟ) (ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍʟʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.8ᴋ (ᴡᴏᴡ…ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇꜱᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ᴇᴠᴇʀ)

Summary: You had harbored a crush on Yunho for quite some time, even though they knew they weren't each other's destined mates. She thought her affection would persist indefinitely, unaware that the arrival of a woman would be the catalyst for her heartbreak. That is until your enemy, San appeared, reigniting the fire in her heart.

(a/n: This fanfic is really long lol. I originally wanted to shorten it, but there are a lot of things I want to add.  This is the plot that inspired me when I was playing c.ai. I like it so much that I have always wanted to write about it.  Although I don't think many people will read or like this article, I'll still post it🫠.  Also, I haven't had much interest in writing lately (again!). Inspiration is so fickle, and my traffic has dropped a lot.🥲  So these may be the last few fanfics (there is still a request that has not been written). Anyway, thank you all for your support.）

You find yourself perched on the soft, empty grass, your gaze tracing the movements of a tall figure in the distance. It's Yunho, the heir to your clan's leader and your childhood best friend. Each time his eyes inadvertently lock with yours, a flutter of excitement stirs in your heart, and a smile tugs at your lips without your consent. 

You had feelings for him, yet the harsh truth remains: he was not your mate. This reality became painfully clear in the first transformation, yet you refused to relinquish your hopes, clinging to this unrequited love. Perhaps this is your quiet rebellion against the whims of fate, even if it seems utterly foolish and pathetic.

"Hey, dumbass. Watching your favourite prince practicing?" Suddenly, an annoying voice pierced the air from behind you. Your wolf ears perked up, detecting the sound of approaching footsteps. Great, it was him again—the bully from the Wonderland clan, Choi San. 

You hated him. A Lot. He always treated you like some kind of plaything, constantly teasing you. It felt like he was a ghost, popping up wherever you went, almost like he was stalking you. You really wished you had killed him in last year's match. If you had just been a bit more ruthless, you wouldn't be dealing with this mess. But that's just a fantasy you tell yourself.

"No matter how much you like him, he won't like you back. Idiot" San said and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, resting his head against yours. God damn it…she really smelled good… He couldn't help but lean in closer, silently sniffing your scent. It drove him crazy. 

"Shut up and fuck off." You let out an annoyed sigh at the sound of his voice. Your blood felt like it was simmering, and the urge to shove him away was almost overwhelming. Yet, you remained still. The way his body was pressed so closely against yours left you feeling vulnerable, a sensation you were reluctant to acknowledge.

You want more…more…

He was all too aware of that. San's icy grip on your shoulder only grew more possessive, pulling you closer against him. His breath landed the nape of your neck, his lips tantalizingly close to your ear. 

"He's probably thinking of some chick from another clan." San grinned, relishing the way your skin felt against his. From the moment he laid eyes on you during the match, he sensed you were meant to be his, yet you never admitted it. Absurdly, your heart belonged to Yunho. It drove him wild with frustration. But honestly, San didn't have any real romantic feelings for you; it was just his alpha instincts and a fierce possessiveness urging him to make you his.

"He's not like you." You scoffed, trying to break his hold. "He's much better than you annoying asshole." 

"How do you know?" 

"That's common sense." 

"C'mon, you know nothing about me…" San chuckled smugly, clearly relishing every moment. It was like he could sense your anger and was just itching to provoke you further. "I bet you will find me more attractive than that guy…" His hand slid down your arm, locking around your wrist, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, which you tried to shake off.

"Look at you, still as cute as ever," he teased,  "Can't handle a little touch, huh, puppy?" 

This was really getting under your skin. Your face felt hot, and your heart was racing like crazy. Why did he have to be so damn attractive and annoying? You attempted to keep your cool, but it was nearly impossible with San so near. 

He slid his hand down a bit more, now resting on your hip. "You look adorable when you're all shy and flustered, puppy," San laughed, pulling you in even closer.

"Hey, you!!Enough─" "Hands off!!" Your sentence was abruptly interrupted by a voice you knew all too well, drawing your gaze to the approaching figure.

It was Yunho, the one who made your heart race.

"I take it that a Wonderland wolf isn't welcome here?" Yunho remarked, his tone authoritative yet playfully teasing. You gazed at him as if he were your hero, prompting an irritated growl from San.

"Tsk… Mind your own business," San retorted, tapping his foot impatiently, shooting him a frustrated look. He couldn't stand how your face lit up with relief at Yunho's presence. It should have been him who made you feel secure, the one you clung to, not this guy.

Yunho moved in closer, his grip tightening around your wrist as he pulled you away from San's grasp. A jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of disappointment as San's presence faded. Why did it feel wrong? You should have been relieved, yet the feeling of loss washed over you.

"This is my clan's territory. You have no right to lay a hand on my pack member without my consent," Yunho declared, looming over San, who instinctively took a step back.

"Tsk…so possessive," San retorted, attempting to stand his ground, but Yunho paid him no mind. "Now, leave my clan. I won't warn you again." Other wolves gathered around Yunho, their eyes fixed on San with a mix of disdain, as if he were an unwelcome intruder.

"Alright, alright," San said, raising his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips. "I'm leaving, no need for violence." He took a slow step back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before shifting back to Yunho, then he turned and walked away.

Yunho spun around, worry etched on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked. You smiled and nodded, reassuring him. "Yeah… I'm good…"

"Be careful next time, okay? He is not a nice guy, you know…" He ruffled your hair, smiling lovingly. You loved how he laughed which was making your heart skip a beat. "You know you're my best friend and I will keep you safe." 

"Okay…" You nodded, a blush creeping in. "Yunho, shall we hang—"

But before you could continue, a girl burst in. "Yunho!!" He looked up, shifting his focus to her. 

"Oh, hey, Jessica." He smiled awkwardly at her.

"What's wrong?Has something bad happened?I heard a wolf from Wonderland came here?" 

"Relax…relax…nothing happened." 

"Oh…thank god…" Jessica nodded with a smile. She was stunning, tall, and had gorgeous fur that made every wolf swoon. "Is this your friend?" Jessica asked, looking at you and pointing, which made you feel a bit uneasy. She was sweet and friendly, but there was always something off about her.

"Yeah…this is my friend, Y/N." Yunho looked at you quickly before focusing back on Jessica. 

"Ohhh!Y/N!Yunho mentioned you a lot." She giggled, trying to play the part of the sweet girl. You could only respond with a forced smile, clearly not thrilled to be around her. You understood her game; she was just flaunting how much Yunho chatted with her. 

Jessica seemed to enjoy your reaction, while Yunho appeared to be silently enduring the whole situation. He wasn't as energetic as he usually was, and definitely not as shy around a girl. It was obvious he had a crush on her too.

She glanced at the clock that was hanging from the tree, keeping an eye on the time. "Oh no! My first training session is about to start. I need to head out, catch you later, Yunho." She playfully messed up Yunho's hair before starting to walk off. Yunho stayed put for a moment, fixing his hair that had fallen over his eyes. He looked at you and let out a soft sigh.

"She's always like that…" Although he was complaining, you could see a small smile tug on his lips which made your heart tighten. He would never show this side to you. For him, you were just his friend, a normal member in his pack. 

"It seems you like that a lot, huh?" 

"Why would you ask that?" 

"Am I wrong?" 

"What?Are you jealous?" 

"Don't try to change the subject, Yunho." 

"Fine…I might have a tiny bit of feelings for Jessica." 

"Just tiny?" You forced a smile despite your heart was arching. 

"You're forcing me to admit to liking her more, aren't you?"

"Just be honest."

"Fine…I'll admit it…I do like her a lot." 

His words struck your heart like a sudden blow, shattering it with a force that left you reeling in pain. Yet, you stifled the hurt, attempting to sweep it under the rug. Confessing your feelings to him was out of the question; it could shatter the friendship between you two.

"Is she your mate…?" You asked tentatively. Deep down, you were aware of the truth, but a tiny part of you still clung to the hope that he might say otherwise.

"Yeah… I can sense it," he admitted, a hint of shyness creeping into his voice. 

Your hope was shattered. 

"But we haven't marked… you know…"

"Alright, I don't need the details." You joked, trying to keep things light.

"Me neither," He laughed. "I should get going now. Hope you find your mate soon." He turned and walked away, not glancing back, leaving you with a heart that felt like it was breaking into pieces.

He spotted her right away and rushed off to find Jessica, his face lit up with a grin that was a complete contrast to how he acted around you. It was like you didn't even exist; you were just invisible. Every single time you tried to talk to Yunho, Jessica would magically show up and grab his focus. All you could do was stand there quietly, watching them laugh and chat, completely ignoring you. 

A few hours later, you found yourself at the cafeteria, waiting for Yunho as you always did. The events of the morning still weighed heavily on your mind, but you tried to push them aside. However, the moment Yunho walked in, your heart plummeted. He was with Jessica again, their laughter ringing out like a melody, a perfect harmony that made your stomach churn. They seemed destined for each other, a bond that transcended any mark, hinting at a future you could only dream of.

"Hey, Y/N!" Jessica's voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to reality.

"Hey…" you replied softly, forcing a smile that felt more like a mask.

Her smile in return was laced with a sense of superiority, a silent acknowledgment of the power she held. You recognized it, but kept your thoughts to yourself. Then, your gaze fell on her necklace, its shape unmistakable—a piece that held memories of a shared childhood.

"oh…are you seeing this?" she said, deliberately playing with it. "Yunho gave it to me~"

"He gave you?!" The surprise slipped out before you could contain it. That necklace was a cherished gift from Yunho, one that you both had exchanged long ago. The realization stung, a mix of confusion and hurt flooding your heart.

"Yah yah yah. Who told me to lose the bet?" Yinho shook his head but a smile tugged on his lips. 

"Bet?" 

"Yes~ I thought this necklace was lovely, so I asked for it as a reward. He lost, after all. But I heard it was your childhood necklace? You don't mind, do you? We're friends, after all~"

"Don't mind?" A laugh escaped you, tinged with disbelief, but before you could voice your protest, Yunho interjected.

"She won't mind. And wait, did you just call me a loser?"

"Of course! Who else would it be?" Jessica teased, her laughter ringing out.

"Hey! Knock it off!" Yunho exclaimed, but they continued their playful banter, completely oblivious to your presence. 

You felt like a mere spectator in a scene that should have been yours, the necklace—a symbol of your past—now a token of someone else's affection. The weight of it all became too much to bear, and you decided to make a hasty exit. The image of them together twisted your heart in knots. As you strolled, you began to toy with your fur, trying to keep your mind  off things.

Tears started to form in your eyes as images of Yunho and Jessica kept flashing through your mind.  That heavy ache in your heart was tough to shake off. Sitting alone in the quiet park, you stared into the sky. The silence felt overwhelming as you couldn't help but linger on those feelings of loneliness.

You gently grasped the necklace that Yunho gifted you in your childhood, handling it with utmost care. Though it was merely a simple shell, it held immense sentimental value for you. Over time, it has faded and lost its once vibrant shine. As you gazed at it, memories of your childhood flood back, filling your heart with warmth, yet a twinge of discomfort lingers... You let out a sigh, sinking once more into a sea of contemplation.

"Oh~ Let me see who's there?" Suddenly, a voice snapped you out from the deep thought. You looked up to see a figure walking towards you, their features obscured by the shadows. But you knew who he was based on his scent and voice. You brushed away the tears that had fallen down your face, trying to pull yourself together.

"You again?" You rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh and turning around to avoid San's gaze. 

"You cry?" He teased as he sat next to you.

"Why you care?"

"C'mon, you can talk to me if you'd like." 

"Tsk…don't act like a nice guy." 

"Don't pretend you're not secretly happy to see me~" He leaned closer, his strong musk scent filling your nostrils and making your heart race again. "So, what's got you all down in the dumps? Something is bothering you?" His voice was a bit softer, not matching his usual cocky demeanor. 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as San got closer. "You don't get to ask me that," you protested, trying to keep up your aloof front. 

But he wasn't fooled, he saw through your tough act. He tilted his head slightly, studying your expression. "You sure about that? You look pretty upset, puppy." 

You felt your cheeks heat up a bit at his nickname. You hated how he always seemed to know just what buttons to push. 

"Don't call me that…" You huffed, trying to keep your cool demeanor. 

"Ah c'mon, I know you actually like it when I call you that." San chuckled, moving even closer to you. 

"Yeah right. Like you know me." You retorted, averting your gaze, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered you were. 

"You're acting like you hate it, but your face is already turning red~" He smirked, enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. 

"Shut up!" You muttered, still not daring to look at him directly. Damn it! How was he always aware of how his presence and words affected you?

"Oh, now you're just being rude." He teased, feigning hurt. "I was trying to make you feel better, and you go and act like a little brat." 

"I don't think so." You retorted. "You're just annoying me." 

"You're mad, huh? You're so cute when you're mad, puppy."

"I'm not cute! And I'm not mad." 

"Sure, you're not. You're just getting all flushed and stuttering for no reason." He moved his hand to poke your cheek, annoying you more. "You're such a bad liar, puppy." 

"I-I'm not lying and don't touch me. You're annoying. Why did I not kick your ass in the last match?" 

"Feisty one, aren't we?" He chuckled, rubbing your wolf ear slightly to make it twitch. "Let me guess…You are still thinking of that Yunho?" He said, his tone shifting to a more mocking tone. "It's kinda pathetic." 

Shut up. You know nothing about me." You snapped back, feeling hurt by his words. It was true that you still thought about Yunho a lot, but you didn't want to admit it to anyone, least of all San. "I'm not pathetic." 

"Really? Then why are you so hung up on him? You keep thinking about him all the time, it's foolish." 

"I…I'm trying…" You mumbled, looking down at the ground. "It's just…hard." 

"You've been saying that for a year now," San rolled his eyes. "Just stop moping around and move on. There are better wolves out there, you know." 

"I know that…But Yunho…he's…he's different…"

"Oh, please. He's just another guy. There's nothing special about him, puppy." He crossed his arm, feeling annoyed. "You're just stuck in the past. You need to move on." 

"I know that…" you repeated, your voice shaky. "But…it's not that easy. I…I can't just forget about him." 

"Oh, how hard you're trying to defend him," he mocked. "You're just going to keep pining after some guy who doesn't want you." 

His words caused your breath to hitch. It hurt, but it was true. 

"You don't know…you don't understand…" You looked at San, clenching your jaw as you were struggling to keep the tears from falling. 

San's eyes widened slightly when he noticed your red nose and watery eyes, but then his attention shifted to the necklace in your hand. A smirk crept onto his face as a mischievous idea crossed his mind.

"Yah~I don't know anything~" He suddenly stood up, looming over you with his tall frame. "All I know is that you're still into him and clutching that little gift he gave you." Before you could respond, he snatched the necklace from your grasp and started inspecting it.

"Hey!Give me back!! What're you doing!!" you shouted, lunging to reclaim it, but his height made it impossible.

"Is it a gift he gave you? How cheap~" 

"Shut up and give me back!You fucking thief!" You leaped up, trying to snatch the necklace back, but he dodged effortlessly. "Don't make me bite you!" 

"Oh no!The puppy is threatening me!I'm shaking in my boots!" San laughed at your threat, not taking it seriously in the slightest. "Try to get me, huh?" He started to run away from you after jokingly shielding himself from your grab. 

"Stand here!!" 

"No~stay back you puppy!" He couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips as he dodged your attempts to catch him. 

"Come back here!!" 

"Not a chance!You're not taking it back today, no matter how pretty you are." He continued to back away, though he wasn't actually trying to escape.

"You die when I catch you!" 

"Try hard, puppy~" 

You darted around the park, mirroring the playful antics of two exuberant puppies. With every sprint, a wave of joy surged within you, washing away the irritation that once lingered in your heart. The echoes of frustration faded, replaced by the sweet melody of laughter. 

Each time your bodies brushed against one another, a thrilling spark ignited, sending a delightful jolt through your veins that left you craving more. 

Seeing you laugh so gleefully made San's heart swell with affection. He found your happiness contagious, his own smile widening. He didn't know why but he wanted to see your smile more. 

"Ha!Catcha!!" You suddenly launched forward, leaping onto his chest and sending both of you tumbling onto the soft grass. "I told you I could catch you!" you declared, pinning his wrists to the ground as you settled on top of him, securing your hold.

"Oh no no no!Please let me go~~" He mocked, acting like a prey dramatically. You couldn't help but laugh at his words, totally forgetting you were straddling him, and the necklace. 

"Happy now?" 

"Uh huh. Looking at you underneath me is a good view. You know?" 

"You're cruel, aren't you?" He rolled his eyes playfully. Seeing your smile, San couldn't help but soften, his 'pretend' annoyance fading away. He smiled back at you, appreciating the moment of lightheartedness between the two of you. 

He slowly tucked your hair behind your ear, tracing a path along your jawline with his fingertip. "You know, it's cute when you smile like that," He blurted out before he could stop himself. His words and move made you two suddenly frozen for a moment as you realized how close you were, an awkward silence falling between you. 

San's eyes widened at his own words, realizing what he had just blurted out. He quickly tried to cover it up with a joking tone. 

"Ahem, anyway," he coughed awkwardly. "You're, uh, very flexible. It's not every day you see someone who can jump so high."

He felt his heart skip a beat, his cheeks slightly flushed as he avoided eye contact with you, not wanting you to see how flustered he was. You were still straddling him, and the realization of your proximity made his stomach flip.

"Yah, uh, can you get off me now?" San stammered, trying to play it off as a joke, but there was a hint of red on his cheeks.

His heartbeat quickened as your body was still on top of him, heat pooling in his core. He desperately wanted to flip you around and pin you down on the ground, but he managed to resist the urge. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his bearings. "So, er, are you gonna get up or what?"

You looked at San, feeling his flustered state beneath you. It was rare to see him so off-guard, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. 

You smirked, enjoying the chance to tease him. "Hmm, what if I don't want to get up?" you said, deliberately keeping your weight on him, reveling in his increasingly flustered state.

San's face continued to burn red, his heart racing as you kept yourself pressed against him, a smirk on your lips. Damn, you were enjoying this little game, weren't you? 

He tried to regain his composure, but the feel of your body against his was driving him insane. "Y-You're insufferable," he muttered, his voice wavering.

"Aw, come on, puppy~ You know you love it," You chuckled, loved seeing him so off-guard and vulnerable, it was adorable. You leaned even closer, pressing your chest against his. San's eyes widened at the intimacy of your position, his breath hitching in his throat.

"If you don't get off, I can't promise what I will do."

"Huh? Mind telling me?"

San let out a surprised gasp as he managed to flip you over in one fluid motion, reversing your positions and effectively pinning you down on the ground. 

He hovered over you for a moment, his heartbeat racing as he looked down at your flushed face. The feeling of having you underneath him sent a jolt of heat through his body, making it hard for him to form a coherent thought. 

His gaze darkened as he realized he now had full control over the situation, and he was enjoying it quite a bit.

"What–what're you doing?!" You gasped, taken back by a sudden change in positions. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked, his voice low and dark. "I'm the one in charge now, puppy."

"You…you…don't you dare to do something…" 

"Something huh?"

You turned your head away, avoiding his hot gaze as he leaned down more. Both of you were so engrossed in your playful teasing, neither of you noticed the newcomers at first. But the sound of clearing the throats snatched your attention, making you pause mid-step.

San, still in a joking mode, spun around to see Yunho and Jessica standing there, watching the spectacle with raised eyebrows.

"Yu…yunho??" You stared at him, a mixture of embarrassment and surprises washing over you. You couldn't help but freeze for a moment. 

"Oh? Audience huh?" San mocked, soon calmed down from the surprise. "Try not to disturb us?"

Jessica's eyes flicked between San and you, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. But she didn't say anything, just observed the two of you with unabashed curiosity.

Meanwhile, Yunho's expression was unreadable. He seemed to be taking in the scene silently, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a more thoughtful air.

The silence hung heavily in the air, the atmosphere slightly tense. San could feel the weight of their gazes,wondering what they were thinking. He subtly glanced at you, wondering if you were uncomfortable. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Yunho spoke up, breaking the silence. 

"Having fun, I see." His voice was nonchalant, betraying no particular emotion.

"Oh..yeah…um...just messing around, you know…" You said as you tried to get up, but San hold you firmly.

Jessica, however, was far less subtle, her smirk widening. "Yeah, definitely looked like more than messing around to me."

You tensed up at her comments, feeling your cheeks heat up further. San, different from you, shot her a glance, not appreciating the implications in her tone. 

"Are you jealous?" He mocked. "Jealous to the point of spying on us?"

"We were just taking a walk and stumbled upon you two lovebirds." She said, a hint of amusement in her voice. 

"Jessica," Yunho, who had been usually quiet, suddenly spoke up. "Could you give us a moment?" 

"Well, Jessica. I think you won't bother us, right?" San added. 

Jessica pouted a little bit at Yunho's stern look, but then her eyes flicked to San, a sly smile on her face.

"Of course, I'm a saint." She responded. "I'll just give you two lovelorn fools some…privacy…"

She gave you and San another smirk, making it clear she was poking fun at the situation. 

"Thanks for that." San rolled his eyes.

Yunho waited until Jessica was out of earshot before he turned to you two, his expression serious.

"I need to talk to you both about something…important…" he began, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by uncharacteristic seriousness.

"Okay, what's going on, Man?" San said, pulling away from you but still holding you firmly in his arms which made Yunho frown a bit. 

"It's…it's about what we just saw now…" Yunho said, his eyes flickering between you and San. "I couldn't help but notice…the way you two were interacting, it didn't seem…just friendly?"

"It's not like that…" you cleaned your throat. "We're just messing around."

"That didn't look like just messing around," Yunho raised an eyebrow, looking unconvinced by your attempt to downplay it. "You were being pretty…touchy-feely with each other."

"It's just like you and Jessica. What's the matter?" San snapped back, causing Yunho's eyes to widen. 

"That's…that's different…" Yunho was a little bit taken back. "She is my mate. And you, Choi San, is another wolf who doesn't belong to my clan. Now you are harassing my pack member."

"Ok wait wait wait- harassing?? Excuse me? Watch your mouth." San shot him a glance, pulling you even closer as his arm wrapped around your shoulder. 

"What are you doing?! You get off me." you whispered against San's ear quietly but San ignored your words and tightened his grip.

"Why do you care that much? Because she is your pack member? Pfff…shut it. She is my mate. That's not business to deal with what's mine."

"You…two are…?" Yunho's eyes widened further, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. 

You, meanwhile, just stood there in shock as you hadn't expected him to claim that you were his mate, especially not in front of Yunho. 

"Yunho…we–" 

"Do I need your permission to touch my mate? What a nosy guy."

"Permission for what?" Jessica suddenly appeared again, sidling up to Yunho and looping her arm through his. She glanced at you two and let out a knowing chuckle.

"Nothing. Just your little boyfriend being nosy." San let out a scoff.

"Oh really? And why's that?" 

Yunho, still looking a bit startled, just stood there silently, letting Jessica speak. He didn't know why. Knowing you had a mate caused him feel uncomfortable. You should hate San so much. But why? Why were you so close to him? Why were you his mate? 

"It seems you are blind, huh?" A smirk played on San's lips as he mocked Jessica. "Can't believe you have a blind mate, Jeong Yunho."

"Hey!! I am not blind… I'm just observant, that's all." 

"Then don't ask a question that is obvious already." 

"How was I supposed to know you were…together? You didn't exactly announce it to the world. And you, Y/N, don't you hate him? But what now? You suddenly fall in love with him? Do you like seeking attention??"

"What—" Before you could snap back, San suddenly cut you off. "Mind your words, bitch. Y/N just mad at me because I had pissed her off. But now, she forgave me. Right? Y/n?"

You knew San was lying but you didn't stop him at all. On the other hand, you allowed him to fight for you. 

"And we are not like you, attention seekers. We don't like showing off."

"Yah!! How rude you are!!" Jessica gapsed, feigning offense at his description of her. "You're  just jealous! Can you blame me? I'm just…popular and beautiful." she said, leaning her head on Yunho's shoulder, a hint of cockiness in her tone. Yunho just sighed but not saying anything.

"We don't have time to talk to you dumbass. It's just wasting our energy. Let's go, love." San held your hand firmly, tugging you to leave.

Yunho was still processing everything that had just happened. He watched as San leaded you away, his expression a mixture of surprise and mild curiosity. 

You followed San silently, feeling San give you a squeeze on your hand. 

"Is it that Jessica always acts rude to you?" San suddenly said, pulling you back from the deep thought.

"Huh…hmm…" You nodded. 

"You didn't fight back at all?" 

"I…how…?"

"How?? Huh?? Seriously? You can kick my ass countless times in the match but can't do it towards her? What's wrong with you?"

"Hey! It's different! She…she is Yunho's mate.. our future luna. How can I fight back?"

"Pfff…I'm an alpha too and you still kick my ass." 

"You're from another gang, okay? That's different…" 

"Tch…bullshit. You just like bullying me."

"Yah! When did I bully you?! You're the one who keeps messing me up!"

"Don't say you aren't enjoying it~"

"I.." 

San suddenly spun around, causing you to collide with his chest. "ouch..! What's wrong…?"

"Hey, dumbass." 

"don't call me that–" He lifted up your chin, making you look at him. A blush creeped in your cheek, heat spreading through your body as he leaned closer. 

"Listen. You're my mate. Mine. That means no one else gets to hurt you. I am the only one who gets to hurt you. Get it?" 

"Who said I am yours? Don't be…" He placed a finger on your lips to stop your words.

"I asked, Get it? Yes or no. Don't you dare to say no."

"You…You're insufferable." You rolled your eyes. "Yes..yes…I understand it. Happy now?"

"Good." He gave a small grin and playfully tousled your hair. He really enjoyed teasing you, even if it meant making you cry. It was pretty amusing to see a tough little wolf, who had taken him down so many times, whimper like a puppy. 

But then he thought about it. He only wanted to see you cry for him, not anyone else. He loved making you laugh, too, but only if it was because of him. A wave of protectiveness surged in his chest. He promised himself you would be his, no matter what. He wouldn't let anyone else take you away.

"And~~" He took out a necklace that Yunho gave you from his pocket, swaying it side to side in front of you. "I'll keep this. You can't keep it."

"What?! Give me back! That's mine!" You attempted to grab it, but he dodged and held you firmly against his chest.

"No no no~ I helped you to fight back that bitch! I should have a reward."

"Yah! Why you have to choose this!?"

"I chose what I wanted. That's it." 

"It's unfair!"

"Nothing's unfair, puppy." 

"I helped you, remember?"

"Fine. But why you tell her I was your mate? She must announce it to the world!"

"What? That's the truth."

"But we haven't marked–"

"Oh? That's what you mind?"

"Huh? That's not the point! it's…" He unexpectedly leaned closer and planted a kiss on your cheek. You were taken aback, your eyes going wide at the surprise. Your heart raced, and you could feel your cheek warming up again. For a moment, you just stared at him, completely stunned and at a loss for words.

"Wh–what was that for??" 

"Finished marking~" He winked and joked. 

Your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red at his teasing. You brushed your fingers over the spot where his lips had just been, still feeling that lingering warmth.

"Hey! Are you just claiming me as yours or what?" 

"Absolutely. You can't argue with that." 

"Ugh… You're insufferable," you scoffed, rubbing your cheek and pouting. "We have to act like a couple now… for everyone else's sake…"

"Is that a problem?" San tilted his head, a smirk on his face. "You should be thrilled to be my mate."

"Shut it, you jerk! It's so annoying!" Even though you were acting annoyed, deep down, you found it amusing to watch San stand up to Jessica.

"So you're not against it?"

"What else can I do? There's no other option…" you pouted and mumbled. "I guess we can fake it."

"Good! Trust me, being my mate is the best thing ever." 

"Enough already." You rolled your eyes. "I'm only going along with this because of Jessica."

"Huh? So she's your top priority? Not the whole 'lovey-dovey couple' act?"

"Who would want to pretend to be a cute couple with you?" 

"You do." 

"No, I don't!"

As you two bickered like kids, San realized it was time to head back to his clan. "Oh man, I've gotta go. Time really flies, huh?"

"Just go already."

"Don't you miss me?"

"Not at all."

"Ouch… that hurts."

"Just hurry up. The curfew is coming up."

"Okay, okay. Don't be so mean. See you tomorrow, my girlfriend."

"I really don't want to see you tomorrow." You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. But a small smile crept onto your face despite yourself. As he walked away, you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding in. "See you tomorrow…" 

—-----

Everyone in the clan was aware that you're San's mate. No matter where you are, you could feel the eyes on you, filled with doubt or even judgment. The Wonderland clan, which San was part of, had a long-standing rivalry with your Aurora clan. This all started centuries ago when there was a fight over territory, leading to a full-blown conflict. It's only been about fifty years since things started to cool down, and now the two clans face off in friendly competitions instead. 

Still, it seems like the tension between the two clans isn't going away anytime soon.

San never shies away from it. Ever since that day, he strides into your clan's training ground with a mischievous purpose. To him, you're merely a plaything; he delights in riling you up, only to lead you on a wild chase around the arena. Sometimes, he morphs into a wolf, snatching your weapon right from your grasp. The entire training ground has turned into his personal playground, much to the annoyance of your fellow members. 

With each of his antics, your reputation takes a hit. It's clear he's out to humiliate you! That guy holds a grudge because he lost the last match, and now he's determined to "ruin" you. Ah, you really hate him! But you couldn't deny it. Being his 'girlfriend' made you feel happier. 

You didn't know how to put this tangled feeling into words. Yes, you despised him, that was your firm belief this entire year. However, something was inexplicably different.

You would miss him, even feel a slight sense of disappointment when he didn't show up on time. As you reflected on this strange development, you couldn't understand how your feelings had so swiftly changed. You feel happy and relaxed when he's around, especially when he plays tricks on Jessica (such as burning her fur??). It's funny to watch how she freaks out and asks for help. 

Your emotions had become a convoluted, tangled mess. How could you harbor both hatred and longing for the same person? It was as if your heart had a mind of its own, and no matter how hard you tried, it couldn't help but yearn for his attention. You were baffled and angry at yourself for allowing these feelings to develop, especially when just a few months ago, you had loathed him.

On the one hand, your past distrust of him has made you suspicious of his behavior; but at the same time, a part of you has gradually become addicted to his company. It was irritating and confusing, so damn much.

Once again, the time for that "competition" is drawing near. As the most formidable fighter in your tribe, it's only natural that you'll be called upon to represent them in this event. However, your situation is quite awkward.

You now prepared your garment backstage and a knock echoed on the door.

"Come in." You said, finding Jessica entering the room.

"What you want?" You said, even didn't raise your head.

"Just come to see you~~" Jessica sneered, sauntering over as you organized your gear at the training grounds. "I never imagined you'd turn your back on our clan just to chase after a mate," She leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed, her tone dripping with mockery. "I'm not like you. I won't abandon my people. After all, I'm the future Luna."

You tossed the protective gear into your bag, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"Is that all you can say? Always going on about the future Luna?"

"Heh, that's way better than your situation, traitor. Plus, Yunho and I share a bond that you and San will never have. Honestly, I think San is just messing with your heart. You should really think about leaving him. Don't chase after anyone for attention."

"Don't pretend I'm you." You shot back. "Apart from being a future luna, you are nothing. Also, Yunho still didn't mark and knot you. You don't have any right to judge me."

Jessica glowered at you, her irrational growing. "I have every right to judge you! You're pretending to be San's girlfriend just to piss me off, but everyone can see right through the facade. You're cheap, attention-seeker, and pathetic!"

"You really just want the spotlight, don't you? You're upset because I'm getting attention. You don't want me to have anyone special in my life. It's like you're determined to keep me from getting anything good! You stepped closer, hands on your hips. "Honestly, you're just a jealous, attention-seeking brat."

"Well. Let me tell you something. You're not special, and this little act of yours won't last. San will realise that soon enough, and he'll drop you like the cheap bitch you are!!" Jessica huffed, but her mean words didn't hurt you at all.

"Then let me tell you something too. Yunho will see right through your act, and he won't even think about marking you, even if you're his mate. You keep messing up, and no one will ever really care about you. You think you're a big deal in the clan? They just see you as a joke." 

Jessica's face paled as your words sunk in. She tried to keep her cool, but it was clear that your words had hit her where it hurt. Her facade of confidence started to crumble, and a hint of vulnerability flashed across her face. 

"It's…it's not true! I'm the most popular and all the wolves like me!"

"Just keep doing your thing in your little bubble," you said, giving her a quick look as you moved in closer. "Soon enough, you'll see I was spot on." You nudged her shoulder as you strolled off, leaving her there, feeling a bit frantic.

But when you opened the door, you saw Yunho standing outside. He looked at you with a serious expression.

"Can we talk?" he said, his voice low and calm.

"Of course," you responded, gesturing for him to come in. "Take a seat."

Yunho followed you inside and took a seat opposite you. Jessica immediately ran to him, looping his arm as if she was almost crying. 

"Listen," he began, "about what happened with Jessica." You nodded, bracing yourself for whatever was coming your way.

"I wanted to talk about her. What you said to her... it was harsh."

"I know it was," you said, not meeting his gaze. "But I'm just defending myself."

"But you didn't have to be so aggressive about it," Yunho replied, his voice edged with a hint of impatience.

"Seriously? She can talk bad about me, but I can't? What's the logic?"

"It's not about logic…Y/N." Yunho rubbed his temple, sighing. "There's a difference between standing up for yourself and being cruel. You hurt her feelings badly."

"How weak is she then? Can't handle these words at all? Isn't she a future luna?" You were pissed off. You knew your words were too harsh for her, but what hurted you most was Yunho's reaction. 

Yunho shot you a disapproving look. "It's not about weakness. It's about respect and empathy. She has many flaws, but that doesn't make it okay to go after her like that."

"So what can I do, huh? Not defending myself?"

"You can stand up for yourself, but do it with respect. Treat other people like you want them to treat you. And don't let others get under your skin."

"Then tell your fucking mate first! Don't speak to me with respect when she never respects me at all. Such bullshit!"

Yunho's eyes widened at your words, clearly taken back. "When you become like this? Y/N…? You won't be that cruel…After you got close to San, you totally changed…"

"I wasn't changed. I'm just tired of being her punching bag. That's all." you shot back, your voice sharp. "She thinks she can do anything she wants and I'm fucking sick of it."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Tell you? Did you ever listen?"

"Of course I will listen. I care about you."

"Don't make me laugh. You know how many times you ignore me when Jessica suddenly pops up from nowhere?"

"I…I didn't realise…"

"You didn't realise??" you repeated, unable to hide your disbelief. "Jessica literally says your name and you turn around to answer her like I'm invisible."

"See? I said you were jealous!" Jessica suddenly chimed in. "You just want my Yunho's attention. But he's my mate! How dare you bother us! I know you are such a bitch who wants to steal everything from me! So I fight back and you hurt me like this!"

"What the fuck?! You–"

"Enough!" he said firmly. "Both of you, stop. Fighting."

Jessica looked sheepish, clearly caught out in her outburst. You, on the other hand, were still fuming. But Yunho's stern voice made you fall silent.

Yunho took a deep breath before speaking again. "Jessica, you had no right to say that, especially not like that. And Y/N, you need to learn to control your temper…you were not like that before…San isn't a good guy, you shouldn't be close to him…he…"

"Cut it out!! Don't you dare to talk bad to him." You, on the other hand, were struggling to keep your emotions under control. It was clear you cared about San deeply, and hearing Yunho speak about him in that way hurt.

"Y/N…" Yunho saw the look on your face and quickly backtracked. "That's not what I meant..." he said, trying to clarify.

"Then what do you mean?" you snapped back, your voice still tight with emotion.

Yunho sighed, clearly at a loss for words. "I just mean that San is...he's not the person you think he is."

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes. "Oh, and you know that better than me, right?"

"I just...I've seen what he's like. He's not good for you, Y/N."

"Shut up already. You know nothing about him. Yes, he is annoying as fuck, always acting like a child to tease me non stop. But he's the one who gives me happiness that you never give me. I don't need you to judge him" 

You cast a glance their way as you stepped out of the room. There was no use in saying anything further. You could tolerate their insults directed at you, but not those aimed at San. 

—--

The competition kicked off with a surge of excitement, as teams from various clans assembled on the battlefield, poised for action. The palpable tension between you, Yunho, and Jessica was unmistakable, drawing the attention of others, particularly San, who couldn't resist winking and teasing you with a mischievous grin. However, when he caught sight of your furious expression, he quickly realized something was amiss.

There was no time for him to inquire further. The bell rang, and chaos erupted as everyone scattered into the depths of the forest. The countdown concluded, marking the official start of the game. This was no ordinary contest; it was a high-stakes version of hide and seek. The team that was discovered would engage in a battle with their discoverer, with the victor earning one point, while the winning team would claim five points.

For the first several minutes, everything unfolded smoothly. But then, your team's fortunes took a sharp downturn, and many players began to fall. Your heart raced as you heard the grim updates about your teammates being eliminated through your headphones. You knew your team was stronger than this, so why did it feel like your position had been compromised?

Lost in thought, a familiar scent suddenly wafted beside you. Instinctively, you spun around and launched an attack. Yet, the figure before you effortlessly deflected your strike, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, feisty as always, huh?Puppy." 

"Choi San!!I know it's you!"

"Hm~You know my scent well huh?" 

Without hesitation, you lunged at him again. He dodged with ease, seizing your wrists and pinning them against the tree trunk.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa~ What's got you all riled up~?" San teased, leaning in to catch a whiff of your scent. "Why the anger?"

The memory of your earlier confrontation with Jessica and Yunho flashed through your mind, igniting a fresh wave of fury.

"You're the one who knocked my teammate down, aren't you?" 

"You're the one who took down my teammate, right?"

"Oh, so clever~ puppy~" San grinned. "You wanna know how I track them?" You just stared at him, waiting for his response.

"Your scent, puppy~ Your teammates carry your scent, making it super easy for me to track them down~ We've been together for so long, after all~" 

"What?!You…?!You…So you get close to me to know and remember my scent…?" 

"Hm~ There's nothing wrong with wanting to keep my mate's scent fresh in my mind~" San nodded, raising his eyebrows as he confessed. "And honestly, I can't help but use this to my advantage~"

"You jerk!!" You tried to shove him away, but his grip was too strong, and a part of you secretly liked it. He knew that, so he wasn't about to let you go.

"Pup~ That's just being clever."

"That's sneaky!"

You both were completely unaware that Jessica had been eavesdropping on your conversation. She had been tailing you, biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to exact her revenge. It was only the unexpected arrival of San that held her back. Now, however, she had all the justification she needed to strike. You had betrayed the team, offering your scent to the enemy, and it was only right that you faced the consequences.

"You traitor!!" In the heat of your argument, Jessica lunged at you, transforming into her wolf form.

"What the—" Before you could even process what was happening, San swiftly enveloped you in a protective embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he shielded you from Jessica's fierce attack, turning his back to her.

Ouch! Her razor-sharp claws raked across San's back, sending a jolt of pain through him, even with the protective vest in place. He staggered forward, pressing his entire weight against you, wrapping you tightly in his embrace.

"San—!" Your eyes locked with his, the playful banter replaced by a deep well of worry and concern.

"Just hold on." He cupped your face, planting a quick kiss on your lips before turning to confront the frantic woman. She had expected her attack to land, but to her surprise, it had barely fazed him.

"You..." Jessica stumbled backward, her eyes wide with fear at San's fierce glare. Shouldn't you be helping your teammate?! Y/N!!" Her voice was laced with desperation, but her expression was menacing.

"Is she the one who got under your skin, love?" San teased, his voice dripping with possessiveness and protectiveness. "Let me handle this."

"How dare you…" Jessica gasped, taken aback. "Y/N!! Are you really just going to stand there while I'm in danger? You're supposed to be on my side! Think about what this looks like to the whole clan!"

You remained silent, your gaze drifting to San going behind you. Yes, he might have used your scent to outmaneuver your teammates, but he was also the one shielding you. On ordinary days, he was playful, calling you his little puppy and teasing you endlessly... but beneath that lightheartedness lay a genuine concern and affection that was unmistakable. At that moment, everything crystallized. You cherished how fiercely he defended you and the joy he brought into your life.

You were falling for him.

"I'm not on the team. I'm on San's side." You responded, your voice firm. "Whatever you like, I'm sick of you!!Don't you dare to order me!" 

"That's right." San affirmed, stepping even closer. "She's mine."

"You've lost it... You've gone mad…" Jessica couldn't believe what she was hearing. Had you really chosen him over her own team?

"Enough already! You propelled yourself forward, charging at her with determination. But just as before, Yunho intervened, stepping in to block your advance. San swiftly caught you, guiding you down to the ground with care.

"What's going on, Y/N…?" Yunho stared at you, astonished. "She's on your team!"

"She never saw me that way! She was the one who struck first. Don't talk to me like that, Yunho!"

"That's enough." San's voice was firm, his gaze fixated on Jessica. "You've done enough damage for one night."

Jessica tried to protest, but the weight of San's expression told her it was useless.

Meanwhile, San's words struck a chord in Yunho, and his eyes flicked down to you, his concern growing.

"Y/N..." Yunho spoke up, his voice filled with confusion and worry. "This isn't like you. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing was ever like it should have been." San interjected, his voice laced with the weight of years of concealed emotions. 

Jessica's expression hardened at his words, clearly taken aback by his bluntness. "San..." She began, but he cut her off. 

"No more excuses, no more pretenses." San's words echoed with a determined resolve. "She's mine, whether you or our team realizes it." 

Jessica finally found her voice, her eyes flashing with fury. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh, I dare." San smirked, unyielding in his stance. "And I won't let go. She's mine, and I'll make sure she knows it." 

Jessica's expression darkened at his words, her jaw clenching. "You're a fool, San. You know nothing." 

"Perhaps I do." He shot back, a hint of a playful smile on his lips. "I know her better than anyone, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side."

"As if you've ever tried." Jessica gritted her teeth, her anger flaring. "You've always treated her like one of your conquests, your little plaything to toss aside when you got bored." 

San's expression darkened, his grip on you tightening protectively. 

"You have no idea what you're talking about." He shot back, his voice edged with a coldness that belied his growing irritation.

You swiftly broke free from San's hold and advanced, delivering a sharp slap to Jessica's repugnant face. The forest fell silent, everyone taken aback, until San let out a low chuckle.

"That's what you get. I'm done with you…" Your eyes locked onto Jessica, who was shielding her flushed face in disbelief, before shifting your focus to Yunho. "Two."

"Y/N…" Yunho stuttered, caught off guard. You removed the group badge from your arm, holding it up for him to see.

"You never stood up for me, did you?" You arched an eyebrow, scrutinizing him. "Every time you pointed fingers at me, claiming I should respect others, or accusing me of changing?! Haven't you changed? Do you even care about me? You don't! You weren't like this before! Ever since she came into the picture, you've changed completely!!"

"I..." He was at a loss for words, fully aware that you were right. It was he who had changed, not you. He had turned his back on you, he had stopped caring, he had driven you to this breaking point.

"I've had enough. I don't want to endure it anymore!" You hurled the group badge to the ground, signaling your departure from them. Your actions would be broadcasted to the entire clan through the conference's live feed, marking your exit not just from the team, but from the entire clan. Yet, you felt no remorse; your only concern was for San.

"Let's go." You grasped San's hand and led him away, leaving the other two in your wake.

You only paused once you had pulled him into a cabin, a place where the broadcaster couldn't intrude. You shut the door and immediately checked San's back, anxiety flooding you. Jessica's earlier attack had rattled you. If she had harmed San, you would never forgive her.

"Show me your back, okay? Does it hurt? Did she hurt you??" You said, unbuttoning his shirt with urgency. But San merely gazed at you with affection, relishing your worry for him.

"Hey, say something—"

He abruptly cradled your face in his hands, prompting you to gaze up at him. "Aw~ it warms my heart to see how much you care about me~ you know~"

You let out a frustrated sigh, your eyes rolling. "Can you just be serious for a moment? What if you end up getting hurt? You—"

Suddenly, he leaned down to press his lips against yours. San's kiss took you by surprise at first, but before you knew it, you were melting into the sensation. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you could feel the heat spreading through your body. He cupped your face, pulling you even closer, and deepened the kiss, causing the heat to intensify even more. 

He kissed you passionately, his tongue exploring your lips and searching for yours. You could hear him gasp against your lips, the sound growing louder and more desperate as he pressed you closer to him. His fingers gripped your hips tightly, as if he was fighting against the urge to take things even further. 

San broke the kiss, panting as he looked at you. "Goodness…" He mumbled, his breath shaky and uneven. "You drive me goddamn insane, you know that?" 

Before you could respond to his words, his lips found their way to your neck, nipping and sucking your skin to mark you as his own. "Mmmm…you taste so good, babe. I can't get enough of you." He ran his tongue over your lips again before slipping it into your mouth, dominating the kiss as he explored it. 

His hands wandered over you, his touch gentle but tinged with a hint of possessiveness. His fingers slid under your shirt, giving you goosebumps as he traced the curves of your bare skin. "God…you feel so good…I could touch you like this all day long and never get tired of it." 

He suddenly yanked at your shirt, making you gasp a bit. "I need this off, now." "San…" Your soft moan drove him wild. He couldn't hold back, quickly unbuttoning your shirt with a sense of urgency, some buttons popping off as he pulled at it roughly. Once the last button was free, he shoved the fabric off your shoulders and tossed it away.

"Much better." 

His lips found your shoulder, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and onto your chest. San lowered himself to his knees in front of you, his eyes still burning with lust as he looked up at you. He wrapped his arms around your hips, dropping a peck on your stomach. 

"Babe…I want to make you feel good…would you let me?" His hand reached the waistband of your pants as if asking for permission to pull them off. You could do nothing but nod, unable to find your voice as you were overwhelmed by the pleasure he gave you. San grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. 

"Good, dear. I promise you will never regret it." San positioned himself even lower, his lips inches away from where you want him most. Your pants dropped on the floor as he pulled them down, leaving you totally exposed to him. Without a warning, his face divided into your thighs, moving his lips all over your sensitive skin. 

The room was quiet, the only sound was your heavy panting and his lips gently grazing against your clit. His tongue flicked out to taste you, licking away the juices flowing out from the core. A soft moan and whimper let out from San's lips as he loved how sweet you taste, how your body squirmed under his touch. 

You couldn't help but arch your back, your fingers digging into the mattress as you tried to hold yourself together. "Please…there…more…" 

"More hm?" He grinned, kissing and biting a bit on your sensitive spot. 

"Fuck…" 

"Here?" He repeated, darting out his tongue to lick over where you needed him the most. No words came out from your mouth but only heavy breathing, he knew that's a point to bring you to the edge and he won't have mercy on it. He kept repeating the same move, but with a little more pressure than the previous one, enjoying how your moan became louder and louder. 

You couldn't help but roll your hips, pushing yourself closer to his lips as if your body was practically screaming for release. Just a little bit more, just more. He got the signals but he wasn't done with you yet. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible, to make you ache and squirm with need. San held back, teasing you with just enough touch to keep the fire burning, but not enough to push you over the edge. 

"San…please…let me come…" You needed him, a gasp escaping your lips to plead for him to give you the release you so desperately need, but he just smiled and continued on. 

"Patient, babe. Just a little longer…" He murmured against your skin. His lips danced over your flesh, never quite touching where you wanted them most. 

You tried to be patient but it was so hard when every bit of you was on fire. Your body was wound so tight, the tension building until you didn't think you could take much more. His tongue traced a path over you, slowly, so slowly, but it was enough to make you arch your back and gasp, your fingers clutching at his hair, tugging little. He started by taking his tongue to taste you, but then he began to move, the wet muscle working slowly, gently. 

"San…hmm…" Just when you thought it was too much, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and wanting for more. He just stood in front of you, a grin tugging on his lips. 

"Beg for it, babe. Tell me how bad you want me." 

"Hm…please…fill me…I need you…"

"Fill you huh?What do you want me to use to fill you up? My tongue? My cock? Or My cum?" 

"Everything…please…don't stop…"

"Everything?You can't be that selfish…dear…You can only choose one…"

"Please…your cum…I need it…just make me feel good…" 

"You ask for it." 

He suddenly pushed you down, positioning himself between your thighs. You could feel his hardened length brushed against your swollen and blushed clit, the wetness from the pre-cum on the tip causing you to squirm a bit. 

"I'll be gentle…at first…" He looked down at you, his eyes were dark and filled with a possessive desire. "But I can't promise what will happen later."

He inhaled sharply, the warmth radiating from you igniting a fire within him that he could no longer resist. With a decisive thrust, he entered you in one seamless motion. A gasp escaped both your lips, the sensation overwhelming as your body instinctively tightened around him, enveloping him completely.

You arched your back, eager to connect with him, your arms encircling his shoulders, drawing him closer. Each movement of his inside you felt like a claim, a possession that left you craving more. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the pleasure he was bringing to you.

San couldn't tell where he ended and you began, so lost was he in the pleasure of being joined with you. The way your body responded to his, the moan and gasp leaving from your lips drove him insane. His body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. 

"You're mine." San growled, his words almost unrecognizable through the haze of desire. "Mine to claim, mine to mark, mine to mate…" 

"Yes," You gasped, your voice little more than a whisper. "Yours, I'm yours." You wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, pulling him even deeper inside you, and you could feel the pleasure building inside you like a coiled spring ready to snap. You wanted to give yourself to him completely, to let him possess you in every way. 

"Take me" you pleaded, your nails digging into his skin. "Take me entirely." 

Your words like a trigger to him, your touches driving him closer to the edge, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. He moved even faster, deeper, driven by a primal need to claim you as his own. 

"Yes, honey. You're totally mine. He repeated, his voice ragged. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it." San lifted your leg over his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrusts. His hard tip directly met the sensitive spot, causing your whole body to tense up. 

"Oh god…don't stop…" The numbness and the excitement mixed together, driving you wild. You gasped and moaned his name over and over again as if it was the only word in your mind. Your hands were everywhere on his body, running over his chest and arms, nails digging into his skin. 

The tension within your body sent a signal to him, your soaked wall tightening around his fat cock each time he shoved to the depth. He knew that you just needed a little more, and he was determined to give it to you in order to push his big knot inside you. 

San leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. You kissed him back without care, arching up your torso as you gave him over completely. You were lost in euphoria, lost in the feel of him inside you. Everything was just overwhelming but perfectly balanced. 

A little growl let out from his tongue as he suddenly pulled himself almost all the way out of you, then surged himself back in. "San!!Fuck!!" "You…really…like it..don't you?" You both gave growls which were mixed with moans, and his grip on your hips got tighter. He began to move with more force, letting his instincts completely take over and he was no longer in control of his desire. He wasn't going to stop, not until he had taken you over the edge and pushed his knot inside. 

His eyes roamed on your bare body, enjoying the sight of your chest bouncing up and down from his thrusting. "Look how beautiful you are…only me can pin you like this…Am I right, Y/N?" He suddenly stressed his last words, like he was using all his strength in his lower body to push against your tight walls.  "Answer me." "Ye…yes…Only you…" You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing every breath from your throat. He penetrated so deeply that your entire body began to quiver, caught in the battle to maintain a steady breath.

"Come on. Louder, Y/N. I know how loud you can be." San grinned, slapping his hips right straight to the point you scream out his name loud. He tugged your wrists harshly, making your whole body left in the air. What you could do was wrap your legs around his waist, trying your best to steady yourself while he kept thrusting, thrusting and thrusting. 

The skin slapping sound mixed your high-pitch moan and his heavy panting, making other noises fade away. Your back met the messy mattress once again as he pushed you down and folded you in a mating press. There was no mercy left but only raw emotion. His tip collided with the entrance of your cavity as if asking permission to enter inside. 

"Hm…San…" "Let go," he whispered, his voice rough and gravelly. "Let go, and give in to me." "San…San…" "Come for me," He commanded one more time. "Now."

It was like a bolt of lightning, striking through your body and igniting your euphonia even further. You arched up towards him, your lips meeting his in a breathless kiss. Your body was shaking with the force of the release, juices flowing out like a spring and your wall stretched to allow San to push his knot inside in one go. 

"FUCK!!!" "Hold on, honey…" A cry escaped from your lips as he shoved in without mercy. Excitement and pain blended together and heightened everything between you two. He pulled you up, positioning you to straddle on him. The knot went deeper as the tip entered your deepest, a hot wave running through all over your limbs as his white hot seed filled the cavity. 

You wrapped around his shoulder with your arms, your eyes shutting tightly as he sunk his fangs inside your nape, releasing his pheromones. The primal drive to claim and possess you overwhelming his mind and body. He growled deep in his throat, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pushed forward, ensuring his seed creamed all your cavity. "God…it feels good…" He let out a low murmur against your neck, the heat spreading through his body as his sperm kept splitting out non stop, filling your cavity literally full. 

"San…it's…too much…" You breathed, still trying to catch your breath after the high. "I…I can't…" "Behave." He gave your hips a smack to silence you, his grip tight on your backside to keep you in place. The way your walls clenched around him, pulling him in deeper and sucked the sperm in drove him wild. He was obsessed with this feeling, the thought that you were entirely his, and he would make sure you must his, completely and utterly. 

"Fuck…babe…" He let out a long throaty moan before capturing your lips in a fervent, possessive kiss, his body pressing against yours in a relentless, commanding rhythm. "You belong to me now… eternally mine…" he breathed against your mouth, his voice a low, urgent whisper. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, his lips crashed against yours once more, his tongue delving into your mouth with a wild, primal fervor. 

As the pleasure subsided, the kisses became less passionate but instead tender and soft. He held you in his arms, slowly parting from your lips and pressing several soft kisses all over your face and neck. His touch was gentle and loving, different from his rough self. "You're beautiful…Everything about you is just perfect…" 

You smiled weakly, your body still trembling with aftershocks. "You're not so bad yourself," you managed to say, your voice a little hoarse. 

"Not so bad?" San asked, feigning offense. "Is that all you have to say to me after I just rocked your world?" A cheeky grin spread across his face. "I'm hurt, sweetheart. Hurt."

"You're not really hurt," you said, rolling your eyes at his playful pout. "You just like making a big deal out of yourself." 

San pretended to ponder this for a moment before speaking. "You might be right," he finally admitted. "But can you really blame me? I am pretty amazing." He gave you another cheeky grin.

You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling a bit. "I have nowhere to go now… but you knitted me…that means I'll follow you everywhere."

"That's my pleasure." San responds to you with a loving smile, giving you another deep kiss. "I'll never let you go from me."

"Is that a promise?" 

"That's a swear." He pushed you down on the bed again before drawing you into a passionate kiss. 

At this point, everything else fades into insignificance. Yunho and Jessica who once occupied your thoughts are now mere shadows; your heart is set on being with San, and nothing else holds any weight…

Oh... it seems the game has slipped your minds entirely as well.

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi

[midnight-mourning]

Sweet Seas

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 1💘💘

Starting out strong with some fish! And by strong i mean this is very syrupy sweet/fluffy, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Tempest coming in once again with the fish. How about a scuba diver yn with a houseboat? Fish boys trying chocolate for the first time with yn? Maybe catching special fish for them?

Word Count: 2498

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The wind sweeps up your hair through the open window, making you clutch onto your hat with your free hand. You glance back down to your map, making sure you're at the right coordinates. You swore this was the right spot. If it's not, you'll be a little more than stressed about it. Though, you're sure that if it came down to it, they'd find you before you'd find them again. 

Still, you'd only been planning on a brief trip back to land, just to refuel, stock up on food, and so on. And get your mail. Which there was lots of. Much more than you'd have thought. Though, it'd been a month or so, and with Valentine's day around the corner, you should have expected it. All your family and friends had sent their gifts early, like to make sure you'd receive them in time. 

One of the initial cons to living out on your little houseboat was the lack of proper communication between you and the outside world, but you'd made it work for the most part. Besides, at this point you don't think you could go back to a normal day job, pencil pushing at a desk all day. No thanks. 

Being out on the open ocean, documenting the sea life you came across up close and reporting back your first hand accounts, you'd take that any day. The crisp sea air, the sparkling waters all around you, the shining stars at night, it was perfect. 

A loud thump on the other end of the boat resounds throughout, just slightly rocking you. 

There was also the added fact of the matter that if you returned to land again, two certain someone's would be a little more than displeased about it. 

It had been an accident, coming across the two mers during your travels. You didn't even know they were real, much less that they could be giant sea creatures. All hiding down below the surface of that vast expanse. 

Why these two had decided to befriend you as opposed to making you a light snack, you still weren't sure yourself. Rather, after the initial shock on both sides, they'd seemingly grown rather fond of you, as you had them. Exchanging stories and laughter and the likes.

Both were rather large fans of affection and the likes, fighting over head scratches and forehead kisses. They loved to bring you things, as well, you'd noticed. Initially lots and lots of fish, though once you explained you had your own food they switched to things like shells or random human things that had sunk below. But also more fish—alive this time—for your research. 

You'd documented this in your own private research, especially their reactions to your reactions to the gifts. They always seemed to be seeking approval for some reason, and you were always sure to give it, but they seemed to be looking for something, more. You just weren't sure yet as to what. 

Another thump pulls you out of your thoughts. You grin to yourself, switching your controls to off so that you're now simply drifting along, and hurry outside. 

At first you don't see any sign of either of them. But then there's another thump, a little larger. This time you wobble on your feet and scowling as you scan around. Off to your left you see the edge of a yellow fin just barely peeking above the railing's edge. Another knock, and you hear snickering. 

You huff, but play along. "Well, I wonder what in the world that knocking could be. I sure hope I haven't run along a reef."

"Do it again, again!" You hear a not-so hushed whisper from the yellow fin's direction. 

Again, the boat rocks. You're not impressed. 

You sigh, turning as if to head back inside. "I guess I have no choice but to turn back then. What a shame, I was so excited to see the boys too." 

You stomp as if to head back to the controls and wait, listening. 

"They're, they're leaving!" Panic now. 

Another voice, harsher in its whispering. "It's a trick! They would never."

You hear an argument begin to form and you make your way to the railing, peeking over with a smug smirk. 

"You know, if you're going to pull a prank, maybe speaking in a language I can understand isn't your best idea. And also hiding a bit better would help too."

Both the mers in the water whip to look at you. 

"Told you." The blue and white one grumbles, though he appears undeniably relieved.

The sunny one ignores him, instead jumping up to grab the railing to meet you eye to eye. It forces you to step back to avoid getting headbutt by his much larger face. Water splashes all around him, and the resulting swells rock your boat, Sun oblivious as ever to his own strength and size. 

"Sunbeam! You're finally back!" He chirps, causing you to laugh. He sets his elbows on the railing, looking at you expectantly. 

You shake your head and reach out to give him scratches and such. You swear you think you hear him begin to purr as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. "And you're already begging for attention, color me surprised."

Moon makes room for himself beside the other mer. "To be fair, it's been several days."

"Don't act like you didn't follow me as far as you could." You scoff, switching to give the lunar mer pets now, much to Sun's displeasure. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Moon tsks, but revels in the attention just as much. "You certainly acted like it."

"Oh, did someone have to find food for himself for once?" You coo, planting a kiss to his cheek as he grumbles. 

Sun whines, either from lack of attention or being called out, hard to say. "It was terrible, Sunshine! Just the worst."

"Well you're both still alive and well, so I think you fended for yourselves just fine." 

Their shared grins all but confirm such, and you sigh as you step back again. "You're lucky I like you both so well, otherwise I wouldn't be sharing the candy I got while I was gone."

They watch as you enter the nearest door, snatching up your Valentine's gifts and coming back out to the deck to sit and open them. 

"Candy? Nothing like that sharp stuff from last time, right?" Sun scrunches his features. 

You chuckle. "No, no pop rocks this time,"—You hold up a heart shaped-box—"Chocolate! I think it's fish-safe." You examine the ingredients list, muttering more to yourself. "At least I think so."

You open the package and pop a chocolate into your mouth, savoring it. "Man, I love Valentine's day. Here, go long." You pick out a piece and raise your arm. Sun checks the memo, and mouth wide, you toss the chocolate his way. His jaw opens and snaps shut in an instant, and as he chews the—relatively small piece in comparison to himself—his eyes widen. 

"Good right?" You ask, doing the same for Moon. 

Sun nods rapidly, with Moon humming in agreement. 

You continue to indulge and share, opening your letters and valentine's cards. 

"Why are all your letters red and pink?" Moon asks, features quizzical. 

You snap your fingers. "Shoot! I didn't explain what Valentine's is, did I?"

Both mers shake their heads. 

You briefly give a rundown on the holiday, the traditions, and so on. They listen intently as you explain, soaking up all the information they could, as usual. 

"So when someone gives things like chocolate, cards, and so on, that means they're saying they love the recipient, right?" Sun questions slowly, uncertain. 

You nod, tossing another candy his way and eating a piece of your own. "Pretty much!" 

At this both mers turn to each other, voices hushed as they speak in that tongue you've not even begun to try and decipher. They seem rather excited about whatever it is they're talking about though. 

You're about to inquire as to what they're discussing when Sun suddenly disappears under the water, leaving you with just Moon. 

"Oh, leaving already?" You're surprised, you'd have thought they'd hang around longer since you'd been gone. 

Moon chuckles, there's an atypical lightness to it. "Not quite. How would you feel about a swim, Sweetfin?"

"As long as it's not too cold." You say, standing up with a stretch. "Give me a few to put this all away and change."

"Take your time." He drawls. 

You head inside, put everything away, and get into your wetsuit. When you walk back out on deck, you're flabbergasted at the sight before you. 

In a—rather large—pile are an assortment of 'treasures' as the mers had insisted upon calling them. Dozens of shells, sea glass, and more was piled up on your deck

 Before you can say anything there's a splash and Sun emerges from the water with even more to add to the pile, beaming upon noticing you. 

You're bewildered. "What's all this?"

"You got us something, it was only fair that we return the favor! Though, we've been trying for some time now, but it's good to know that's how it works with humans! Not that it matters now, but still."

Your brows furrow. "...How what works with humans?"

"Courting of course! If we knew it was a mutual exchange of gifts we would have been more patient." Sun chuckles

It takes a moment, then it all clicks into place for you. That's what all the gifts had meant. They'd been, trying to—your face starts to burn. Partly from embarrassment, partly from your own foolishness for not realizing sooner. You're also, incredibly flattered. You'd had a bit of crush, but had brushed it off because it seemed improbable that they'd feel the same. 

You shake your head, nodding as you start putting on your diving gear. "Right. Makes sense. My um, apologies for not responding sooner." You notice then that Moon's missing. "What happened to Moon?"

"He's waiting down below, we have something we want to show you." 

You glance up, eyes narrow. "What's 'something'?"

Sun's smirk reveals nothing. Hand tracing the water as you hop up onto the railing. "Something you'll really like, that's all."

"Well now I'm a bit suspicious, but I guess I'll go along with it." You adjust your goggles and your mask.

Once you're situated, Sun offers his hand to gently lower you in the water, coming face to face with a snicker. "Good. You weren't going to have much a choice, Starshine."

You shoot him a glare, but allow him to lead you down into the depths. You swim across large reefs brimming with fish, around vents and past seagrass forests. It stops being familiar territory after a bit, the terrain becoming rockier, and semi barren. At a certain point, Sun looks back to you and points to your tank, then down. 

You give a thumbs up, and he nods. 

You end up at the entrance to a massive cave, and after a moment Moon appears from the cave mouth. He and Sun chitter back and forth to each other, then Moon takes your other hand and they both take you inside. Upon entering, it's initially pretty dark, save for the glow of their eyes and fins. But going deeper a glow starts to appear all around you, and the cave grows wider until it opens up wider. 

Looking up, you can see there's an air pocket in space above you. You're not too far below the surface, and the boys seem fine as they break the water, so you do the same. Peeking out above the water, you find a massive open space, filled with various trinkets and the likes. On the ceiling above you, various plants emit a soft glow, similar to the glow in the water around you. 

You swim over to the edge of the pool, and with a bit of help, hop up onto it.

With a bit of hesitation, you remove your mask and are—thankfully—pleasantly surprised to take in a bit of breathable air. 

"This is, beautiful..." You look all around you. "How'd you find this place?"

Moon snickers, getting partly out of the water to sit next to you. His arm pulls you into his side and you feel your face warm again. "It's our home. You've shared yours with us for so long, it's only right we share ours."

"S-share?"

"Only if you'd like. Whenever you'd like." Sun rests his head in your lap, grin sharp. "Though we're hoping that will be often."

You put a hand up to hide your face. All this because of some Valentine's chocolate. You're not opposed, but you do feel overwhelmed, and guilty for not catching on sooner. Not to mention having given nothing in return beside a few measly pieces of candy. 

"Is everything alright, Star?" Moon asks. 

You nod. "It's, great, trust me. I just feel awful that you've been working so hard to... impress me, and I've gotten you nothing in return." You put up a hand as they start to take up for you. "No, really. I gave you a couple of tiny bits of chocolate! I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise. Whatever you'd like, consider it done."

"It's not necessary." Moon scoffs.

You shake your head. "It is!"

You bicker back and forth, then Sun clears his throat, grabbing your attention. 

"Well, there is something you can do..." He trails off, then looks but looks up to you with puppy eyes. 

Immediately you know exactly what he's thinking. "Oh, you're serious aren't you? They're an endangered species!"

"You said borderline! Pretty please? I'll give you the prettiest pearl I can find!" Sun takes your hand, kissing your wrist then snuggling into it. It doesn't slip by you how Moon's hold on your waist tightens just a tinge. Neither does the slight grin that flashes across Sun's features for a moment as he continues his actions.

You shake your head at their antics. Honestly, how you didn't catch on sooner is beyond you. 

"This is supposed to be my gift to you, silly. I'm the one in debt here." You sigh, folding near immediately. "Fine. But only a handful, that's it. If you eat them all up, there won't be any left."

Sun cheers, and Moon chuckles. "It's appreciated, Sweetfin."

"Told you they'd give in eventually." Sun snickers and you gasp. 

Moon's laughter rumbles against you. "You were right, I shouldn't have doubted their adoration. Or the tenderness of their heart."

You scowl at the two of them, grumbling as they coo and fawn over you to make up for their deceit. In all reality, you don't mind too much, you feel it's justified considering they've been trying so long to make their feelings clear to you. 

And now, you'd make yours clear to them.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @rosescarletful for the adorable little prompt! I had a lot of fun with the environments for this one, and making the fish very flirty and such hehe ^^

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

[db0xtae]

Winning the Breakup | Chapters 12 & 13

- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader

��� 𐙚 ̊. Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N's journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Warnings : None

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. WC : 2,129

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Previous Chapters : 10 & 11

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. A/N: Hope you guys enjoy!!!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Chapter 12: The Fallout

The days following Y/N and Minho’s emotional confrontation felt like walking on a tightrope. Everything had changed, yet nothing had. They still sat with their friends at lunch, exchanged playful banter, and texted late at night. But there was a tension between them now—unspoken but palpable—like a string pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.

Y/N found herself hyper-aware of Minho’s presence in a way she hadn’t been before. The way he smiled when he caught her staring. The way his voice softened whenever he said her name. And the way his hand lingered just a second too long when they brushed past each other.

By Friday, the shift in their dynamic hadn’t gone unnoticed. At lunch, Q, ever the observant one, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Alright,” he announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “What’s going on with you two?”

Y/N froze mid-bite, her eyes darting to Minho, who raised an eyebrow in mock innocence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Minho said smoothly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh, come on,” Kitty chimed in, pointing her chopsticks at them. “You two have been acting weird all week. Did something happen?”

“Nope,” Y/N said quickly, her voice higher than usual.

Yuri smirked. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.”

“I’m not lying!” Y/N protested, avoiding Minho’s gaze.

“Sure,” Q said, drawing out the word. “But just so you know, if you two are hiding something, we’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah,” Kitty said with a grin. “We’re like detectives. Very nosy detectives.”

Y/N laughed nervously, desperately trying to change the subject. “So, Q, how’s Jin doing? Didn’t he have a big race this week?”

The distraction worked, and the conversation shifted to Q gushing about his boyfriend’s recent victory on the track team. Y/N exhaled in relief, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that their friends weren’t going to drop this anytime soon.

Later that day, Y/N was heading to the gym for volleyball practice when she bumped into Jin.

“Y/N!” Jin said, flashing her a bright smile.

“Hey, Jin,” she said, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag. “Congrats on your race!”

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Q won’t stop bragging about it, though.”

Y/N laughed. “You know he’s your biggest fan, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jin said, his smile softening. Then, his expression turned curious. “So…what’s up with you and Minho?”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. “What do you mean?”

Jin tilted his head. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. Q mentioned it, and honestly, I’ve noticed it too. You’re closer than usual.”

“We’re just friends,” Y/N said automatically, though the words felt hollow.

Jin gave her a knowing look. “If you say so. But just so you know, Minho’s a good guy. A little stubborn, maybe, but he cares about you.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. “Thanks, Jin.”

“Anytime,” he said with a wink before jogging off toward the track.

Practice was grueling, as always, but Y/N threw herself into it, grateful for the distraction. She loved the way volleyball demanded her full attention—the thrill of the spikes, the precision of the serves, the camaraderie with her teammates.

After practice, as she was toweling off, Hana nudged her with a sly grin. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Y/N turned to see Minho leaning against the gym doorframe, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, walking over to him.

“Thought I’d walk you home,” he said casually.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you offer to walk me home?”

Minho shrugged. “Since now. You coming or not?”

Despite her better judgment, she smiled. “Fine. Let me grab my stuff.”

The evening air was crisp as they walked side by side, the silence between them surprisingly comfortable.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here, you know,” Y/N said after a while.

“I wanted to,” Minho said simply.

She glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat. It was moments like this—when he dropped the sarcasm and teasing—that made her chest ache.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Are you still scared?”

Y/N looked down at her feet, kicking a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “A little.”

Minho stopped walking, turning to face her. “Y/N, you don’t have to have everything figured out right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

She met his gaze, her chest tightening. “I want to try,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to try. With you.”

For a moment, Minho just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made her heart flutter.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not giving up on you.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, and for the first time in weeks, the weight of uncertainty lifted.

As they continued walking, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a promise—a step forward into something new and terrifying but undeniably real.

By the time they reached Y/N’s house, the tension between them had eased, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

“Good luck at your game next week,” Minho said as she unlocked her front door.

“You’ll be there, right?” she asked, surprising herself with how much she wanted him to say yes.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his smirk returning.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Goodnight, Minho.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

As she closed the door behind her, Y/N leaned against it, her heart racing. For the first time in a long time, she felt like they were moving in the right direction.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Chapter 13: The Game Changer

The week leading up to the big volleyball match was filled with excitement and nerves. Y/N was determined to make it a game to remember—after all, her team was counting on her. But something felt different. As much as she threw herself into her training, her mind kept drifting back to Minho. To their conversation. To the fact that they were both finally acknowledging the unspoken feelings that had been there all along.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it felt to be with him now, even though the air between them was still thick with unspoken emotions.

She’d never been good at navigating relationships. She was blunt, honest, and didn’t have the patience for the games that others played. That was why she’d always preferred the straightforward world of sports. There were rules, a clear goal, and, most importantly, a definite outcome. But now, everything felt murky, and she wasn’t sure how to play the game.

The day of the match arrived, and the entire school seemed to buzz with excitement. It was the final game of the season, and everyone was eagerly anticipating the showdown between KISS and their long-standing rivals, Han University. The atmosphere in the gym was electric, with banners waving and students cheering, their energy infectious.

Y/N’s team was getting ready in the locker room, adjusting their uniforms and psyching themselves up. Despite the pressure, Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her as she laced up her sneakers. This was her element. This was where she belonged.

“Alright, Y/N,” her coach said, clapping her on the back. “I know you’ve got this. Lead the team, and we’ll get the win.”

Y/N nodded, determination lighting her eyes. “We’ll win. I promise.”

As she made her way to the court, she spotted Minho in the stands, sitting with the rest of the students. He flashed her a smile and gave her a thumbs-up, and her heart did a little flip. Even from a distance, his presence was comforting. It was like having a silent support system in the middle of all the chaos.

The game kicked off with a roar of excitement from the crowd. Y/N’s team was on fire, their coordination flawless as they spiked, blocked, and served their way through the first set. Y/N played with a focus and intensity that had earned her a reputation as one of the best players on the team. Every hit, every jump, every dive felt like an extension of herself. The ball sailed over the net, landing perfectly in the opponent’s court, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Y/N grinned, but there was a small part of her that couldn’t help but glance at Minho, watching him as he cheered with the others. She caught his eyes, and in that brief moment, everything else around her seemed to fade away. It was like there was only the two of them, locked in some silent understanding.

The match progressed, but as the score tightened, the pressure mounted. KISS was up by one set, but Han University wasn’t backing down. The tension in the gym was palpable. The team huddled during a timeout, Y/N’s breath heavy from exertion.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” her teammate Hana said, tapping her on the shoulder. “Just one more set.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes narrowing in focus. “We’re not stopping until it’s over.”

The final set began, and it was nothing short of intense. The points came faster now, each team scrambling to land the decisive blow. Y/N could feel her muscles burning from the exertion, but she pushed through, determined to lead her team to victory.

As the final point neared, everything seemed to slow down. Y/N found herself at the net, poised to receive a powerful serve from Han University’s best player. She positioned herself perfectly, ready to leap and spike the ball back into their court.

And then—time seemed to freeze.

There, sitting at the edge of the stands, Minho was standing up, his eyes fixed on her. The way he was watching her—his expression soft, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more intense—was enough to make her lose focus for a second. The serve came at her fast, and she barely managed to leap in time.

But she did it.

The ball flew over the net with perfect precision, and the crowd erupted into a frenzy as it landed in the opponent’s side. The whistle blew. The match was over. KISS had won.

The gymnasium exploded with applause. Y/N’s team rushed to congratulate each other, their faces flushed with excitement. Y/N was lifted into the air by her teammates, laughter and cheers filling the air.

But in the midst of the celebration, her eyes found Minho once again. He was grinning, a proud look on his face as he clapped for her. And for a moment, she could’ve sworn his gaze softened just a little.

After the game, Y/N made her way over to the bleachers to meet Minho, her heart racing a little. The adrenaline from the match still buzzed through her veins, but there was something else now—something warmer, something more complicated.

“That was amazing,” Minho said, his voice low as she approached. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replied, breathless. “Couldn’t have done it without the team.” She paused, then added, “And… you cheering me on from the stands didn’t hurt either.”

Minho chuckled, his smile softening. “I was just making sure you didn’t get distracted by someone else’s bad serves.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. Then, his expression grew more serious. “You know, you’ve got a knack for making things look easy.”

Y/N looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a brief second. There was something unspoken in that look—something that made her heart beat a little faster.

Minho opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden arrival of the rest of the group interrupted him. Kitty, Q, and Yuri were approaching with grins plastered on their faces.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on with you two?” Q asked, his eyes darting between them. “You’re acting all… squishy.”

Y/N blinked. “Squishy? What do you mean?”

“You know,” Q said with a mischievous grin, “like you’re not sure whether to kiss or to fight.”

Minho and Y/N both froze, their faces turning bright red. “What?” they both asked in unison, and the whole group burst out laughing.

Yuri rolled her eyes. “You two are terrible at hiding it.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow. “You know, you could just admit it already.”

Y/N and Minho exchanged a quick glance, both of them flustered.

“Maybe,” Minho said slowly, “we should take this one step at a time.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. The night ended with celebrations, laughter, and plans to hang out over the weekend.

[anika-ann]

Grace. Grace.

GRACE, oh my goooooood 🥺😭💕

Your reblog has been sitting in my drafts for a while, because I don't even know how to repond to such gift beyond getting all weepy and incoherent but immensely and indescribably grateful🥺

Where do I even start??? Probably by saying thank you, even as that doesn't even hope to encompass the magnitute of feelings this comemnt-reblog brought me. Thank you so so much, for reading and for taking time to write a magnificent reblog that makes me feel like I'm a novelist whose work is being analysed by a very kind literary critic🥲 I can't believe you divided your journey through reading into parts, Grace, I can't even-- 😭😍

Ehm. Me too, I will put my response under cut because of spoiler and because I need to react to SO MUCH PRAISE 🥺 Also I feel like it is absolutely crucial to mention that your comment is damn poetic and like a work of art in its own right 💕

Alright, first of all, I am absolutely delighted you related to the reader easily and that the character and role of nature as the only solace translated so well by you and for you 🥺 That was truly important for me, because the way our little bird feels about nature drives her actions and I need characters' decisions and behaviour to make sense. (Also it's always so wonderful to meet a fellw nature lover who feels the same as me).

TBH, just to know everything would be okay, I'd climb a damn mountain and jump into clueless waters myself if I can.

This is insanely relatable and I'm glad we came full circle 🥲 But I did giggle when reading you liked the apple peel curling into an A 🤭

The snowflakes as "prompt and warning" somewhere in the corner of her mind whilst still waving it off for the fact that nothing can be as worst or as capable of some ugly human minds!

That's just facts but thank you so so much for noting that line 🥺

Holy Fireplace!!!! The way you described Andy surely warmed me up real good, alright!

Hehehe, GOOD. I needed that 🤭 I'm so so glad it worked well for you as contrast and thank you for your praise on the drowning scene it fought me with vigour

It had me sniffing, love. This was simply and poignantly perfect

This has me sniffling. I can't believe a piece of my writing was called poignantly perfect 😭 and a 'marvelous play with words' 🥲

Oh, he had more than a clear idea how better she was feeling! Doesn't he? 😏🤭🤭

...and this made me cackle 🤭I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm an innocent baby and a saint.

And the little bits of introspection she has about her insecurities, relating to Andy, and the back-and-forth just add so much beauty to the whole thing. It makes the story you, Anika! 🥹🫶🏻

'scuse me, I'll just:🥺🥺

I laughed when I found myself nodding at this. It’s absurdly real, though! But how would you ever know that, Anika? You’re fucking gorgeous (healthy friendly flirting stating facts)😍🥹🩷🤭🫶🏻

You beautiful human, you'd better known I'm kissing you on the forehead at least for this an blushing (#healthyfriendlyflirtingrules). Also thank you for appreciating me trying to spill real-life facts of how our world works 🥲

In retrospection, how did you manage to transition from strangers to that TENSION? DARN GOOD JOB! OH. BOI. THE TENSION's got me wheezing and making ugly whimpering noises!

I drugged her to make it happen

Girl, guuuuuurl, thank you so so much for complimenting the tension I tried to built 😭💕 I'm am ecstatic you found the tension believable and while sort-of coming out of nowhere, not coming out of nowhere 🥺

Also, I am happy to serve horny feels 😂 As it is with many fics, self-indulgence is the way and this story has not left me unaffected 🤭 I had to take you down with me ✨

WHAT THE GIANT ICEBERG!!??!!??!!

*blushes and giggles*

I'm crying. Oh no, I want to hold him so badly and comfort him. I know I’m all messed up in the head, or maybe it’s just you writing this so well that I’m aching to comfort him.

If I have the tinniest credit for making you feel that way, I feel like n absolute WINNER

Oh, OH! IT MAKES SENSE!!! The Flashes...IT ALL MAKES SENSE!!! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

*dances a victory dance because god did she try hard not to make it obvious from the start but slid a hitn ehre and there to all dost to connect and MAKE SENSE indeed 😭* But also - all my love to your nerdy (affectionate) brain 😁💕

You’ve shown the powerful shift between them. My gawd, I’m still grappling with that… his vulnerability, her assuring him, the tattoo…

Thank you, thank you, thank yoooou for remarking 🥺🥲 It's such a gift to have a sweet attentive human notice all the little things I tried my best to weave through 🙏

This reblog-comment, all the praise and love threaded through had, does, and will continue to shine tender light into dark days 💕

I already established that thank you is not enough, but my brain is, again, a useless much of goo and blushes that I don't know how else to express my gratitude. Sending hugs and kisses and love and I hope your days are at least half as kind to you as you are to others 💕

Walking Back Into My Own Myth - A.B.

Type: long one-shot, significantly AU, supernatural elements

Pairing: sorcerer!Andy Barber x reader   Word Count: 22,2k (🥹)

Summary: They warn you not to wander the woods alone; but the woods feel more like home than the house you grew up in. They warn you not to confuse your head with childish tales of supernatural; but sometimes fiction feels more real than your own life. They warn you not stay alone with a man you just met, let alone in his house; but sometimes danger lurks in unexpected places. Sometimes, one can rely on the kindness of strangers. ... Or can they?

Warnings: soft dark, NSFW, 18+, smut (unprotected sex, oral, fingering); softdark but rather soft I think (come on, it’s me, also sort-of redemption arc?), dubcon, sex pollen and non-consensual ‘drug’ use, orgasm control, allusions to praise kink, possessiveness; supernatural elements, near drowning, mention of a dead animal, arseholes relatives, allusions to mostly emotional (past) abuse, minor injury and blood, language and SO MANY words and so much smut; 'little bird' as a term of endearment

A/N: Alright. First of all, this is one of rare occurrences of me writing softdark, so be warned. Second, this story is a callback to a perfectly innocent lovely event by @yenzys-lucky-charm back in autumn, specifically to this post. And third, I do realize that 22k fic is a massacre. I believe it flows best when read as a one-shot, but if you are understandably intimidated by that, there is a heart divider approx. in the middle where I feel taking a break is most suitable. At your convenience. Enjoy 💕 A/N 2:Dividers by @saradika-graphics 

The frozen leaves were crunching under your boots, a soothing sound between your harsh breaths and huffs and occasional curses interrupting the otherwise peaceful song of the woods; rustle of the glazed grass, soft creaks of the branches bowing to the wind, a barely audible clinks of sharp snowflakes having created a beautiful harmony.

A harmony much needed after you had just left the utter chaos of a family gathering which, as usual, ended up in drowning the holidays in a cesspool of negativity. And as it often did, the negativity seemed to revolve around you.

You didn’t know what you had been thinking, coming here. You had a life outside of this small town, a mostly good one too; you had no reason to visit your hometown whatsoever, year after year, naively hoping for a change. But family was family, your mother always said; one did not turn back to their own blood, even if they had become the almighty big city girl.

As if. As if you were that.

The said big city was now finally feeling at peace as she had walked out of the door, having had her fill of lousy loud human beings, turning to the quiet of nature instead.

The one place where you all truly came from.

The one place that loved you no matter what.

The one place where you had never been and never would be judged.

You had always been drawn to woods, even as a little girl.

To the quiet place to hide from the overwhelmingly loud world, from boys pulling your hair until your eyes watered for their fun, from other girls cutting it for the very same reason, from teachers waving it off with kids can be a bit cruel, so what?

Of course you kept escaping. The embodiment of the cliché of a small town since young age; the designated weirdo. The one who’d rather ran through the woods than the few streets and newly built clothes store; the one who was more interested in fairytales and myths than videogames; the one fascinated by pagan tales from the old continent and local legends than the Bible. The very definition of pariah; side-eyed by peers, looked at through fingers by the adults and elderly. No matter how much you had moved towards normalcy to be approved of during the years, the small-town folk, as always had put the label on you having used the special kind of glue they were experts at making. It stuck.

And so did your love for the woods.

Hikes became your hobby, the woods your only solace. The safest place on Earth; for which many gave you strange looks still, more so since you had moved to a big city that offered but a daily walk in a minuscule patch of greenery.

Naturally, parks weren’t the same as here; here, in the woods, you felt like you could finally breathe.

The only reason why you had chosen the city was your job; your job and the visceral need to leave the very people you had just left in the house far behind. The city was but a jungle of steel and glass and concrete, constant noise and raging sea of people crushing your soul; but if there was one thing you hated more than the suffocating atmosphere of a city, it was the small-town gossip and narrowmindedness. 

You only came back to your hometown once a year, for Holidays. And every year, you regretted it.

The constant jabs from your family, about your job, your tiny apartment you finally moved into after years of having to cohabitate with various unique personalities; about your hair and make-up, about your weight, wrong no matter which side of the scale it leaned to. The never-ending biting remarks about being unable to keep a man. And all that, followed by offended comments that you couldn’t take a little teasing.

Mocking was the right word. Goddamn bullying.

So no, you could not take a joke like that; especially when they were twenty in a row.

And you had tried, you truly had. You nodded and chuckled and complimented and helped around the house, but nothing was ever done right. And you suffered the mocking, because in the end, those people were your family and family loved each other and maybe you were indeed a little too sensitive. So you kept trying, year by year. You had been to Sunday school as a kid, despite despising it, really – so for Holidays, you joined everyone in their prayers, coming to midnight mass, participating in traditions. Like a good girl; like a good daughter.

You accepted the family hypocrisy too and participated in that silly and very much non-Christian tradition of theirs, of all single family members throwing apple peels into water to reveal the first letter of their future spouse’s name; every year, despite the game being rigged, an utter nonsense, if for nothing else then for the fact that everyone ended up with an O or C or U, because, well, that was what apple peels looked like. Ironically, all your siblings and cousins had actually married someone whose name started with the very letter they had received in their ‘prophecy’, a little too self-fulfilling for your taste; but you congratulated them anyway and kept throwing the apple peels in too.

And you did it wrong, again; a scandal. This year, your apple peel curled mysteriously enough to a create a form resembling a cursive A, the first in family history. You always had to have something extra, didn’t you? God.

You loved your family; you did. You told yourself you did, because no one was perfect and unconditional love was bull. But you had never felt so completely alone and unloved as when you were with them.

You wondered why that was; and the answer was clearer than the skies on a freezing December night. The tears that stung in your eyes had little to do with the wind growing icier and sharper; it had everything to do with clearly being an unlovable person.

If you never came back from your walk, they probably wouldn’t even notice. Not until they felt like humiliating someone, again, and suddenly realized their favourite target was missing. Who would be their next victim? Probably you. The joy of talking about someone behind their back was a great substitute to laughing to their face, you supposed.

You scoffed and sniffed, shaking your head as you resumed walking. The short trail you had set off to – slightly underdressed, you had to admit – looked different than usual this time of year. Indeed, only the frozen over, crunchy leaves instead of snow; not even winters were what they used to be. You should have never come back.

As the falling snow finally seemed to stick, rather pieces of messy ice than soft snowflakes, you made the executive decision to stay away from your relatives and this town next year.

This year would be last they ever they’d ever see you.

Arriving to the clearing among the trees brought a genuine smile to your lips, the first one in two days. The sight of the lake – too small to become a favourite destination of families during summer heatwave, hugged from afar by tall white birch trees and caressed by long leaves of grass and reeds with a single old willow tree offering a sanctuary to a little girl wishing to enter other worlds through reading – moved something deep within your chest. A memory of peace, nostalgic longing for days when life had been easier – but it hadn’t.

You gulped, letting you heart lead your steps. Pulling out hands from your pockets, your fingertips grazed over the white bark, flexing gently as if to grasp the harmony of the old days where escaping the judging looks by getting lost in old myths still appeared like a plausible solution to all problems. Brushing over the thin branches of the willow tree, you could almost feel the summer breeze toying with the leaves, protecting your ears from the echo of scoffs and cries. Stupid fairytales! Pick a real book for God’s sake at least! Learn the Scripture instead! Blasphemy! Fables for silly children! You’re messing and confusing your head with those childish fantasies!

One corner of your lips rose higher, a memory of just how much fonder you grew of the stories with every speck of dirt people threw at them. Folklore, was the right word. Old wives’ tales. Legends. A touch of magic from times when people still believed in it and wrote their faith into traditions that could be sacred and bloody all at once. How was that different from drinking the blood and eating the body of Christ?

The hypocrisy of a small town.

You too, were a bit of a hypocrite, you assumed; you badmouthed the apple peel tradition, only to dive with fascination into myths and traditions of another; but those, those were yours to explore, yours to cherish. Not pushed at you.

You remembered sitting in the willow’s shade, much smaller at the time, reading with batted breath the stories of crime and punishment for toying with forces beyond human compression, with life and death. A series of stories passed by word of mouth, gathered and weaved into simple poems; a tale of two sisters walking in the death of a night on Christmas Day to a frozen lake, wishing to glimpse their future in the water surface. You recalled the moral of this particular story too; it was better not to know; in the story, one of them learned about her upcoming marriage, the other about her own death. Was it truly something one wanted to know…?

Perhaps there was morbidity to it, but it used to fascinate you; the mystics of it all, the morals, the question of what if you had that chance. What would you do? Would you, too, be seduced by a mirage of your dead beloved to walk to your near demise? Would you give in to the temptation of riches at expense of a life? Would you risk gods’ punishment for wishing to know what only gods were meant to know, your future?

Would you?

With a bitter chuckle, you crouched by the lake, fingers carefully caressing over the thinnest layer of transparent ice.

Years and years ago, even a month ago, you would say it was not worth it to tempt fate. It was better not to know, to be content with what one had at any given moment, to only keep on hoping for a happy ending rather than to learn about an inevitable tragedy; such was the message of the old tale, sticking with you firmly your whole life. 

Then, two weeks ago, your cheating dick of a boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, naturally – graciously gifted you a broken heart as an early Christmas gift on top of everything else barely kept together with your weak hands.

Would you like a glimpse of the future, a speckle of hope, looking at you from the water surface? Yeah. Hell, you might jump into the ice-cold lake if it meant someone would tell you everything was going to be okay.

A shiver ran down your spine as a gust of cold wind blew, weaving snowflakes into your hair; a prompt and a warning, you would have thought several years ago, a childlike faith in the supernatural.

But there was no supernatural. Oh no, humans managed to punish themselves and each other just fine on their own, sometimes without a crime preceding it.

With another chuckle – because what was the worst thing that could happen? You’d see your own face staring back? – you pressed against the thin layer of ice, surprised by its firmness.

“What the-“

You leaned into it further, pushing harder, more bewildered by the resistance than anything; a distant sound of a creaking wood reached your ears, the wind playing in the branches.

An echo of a voice.

A soundless whisper of your name.

Your head snapped to the direction of the almost haunting voice, nothing but the clearing and the woods surrounding you.

“I’m losing my mind…” you muttered under your breath, sighing, turning back and pressing against the ice once more.

The sudden loud crack took you by surprise, your feet slipping as you retreated your hand too quickly, losing your balance.

The next thing you knew, a scream was dying in your throat as you gulped for air, the freezing water gripping you neck to toe, your suddenly heavy limbs feeling like having to move through thousands shards of glass.

Your body spasmed painfully at the brutal temperature drop, even your lungs burning from the seemingly colder air.

Your heart thundered in panic, beats so wild the poor muscle might actually burst or simply give out, your temples pulsing with its frantic echo. Your vision blurred with black blending into all the white surrounding you.

This was what encounter with death looked like; ice-cold, sharp, pale and hopeless.

You were going to die and your heavily flailing limps barely keeping your head above water would not be enough to save you. You were going to drown. A bastard child of a sob and desperate gasp for air tore from your lungs, the ice cutting through your skin and flesh.

Then, the haunting call of your name again, closer, warmer.

Come to me.

I need you.

Fight.

You hungrily bit for more air, your head spinning, the voice growing louder with every word, urgent, but soothing all the same, like a helping hand extended.

Don’t you give up.

Come find me.

It might have been God; might have been the spirits of the woods. Most likely, it was the shock making you hear imaginary voices.

Your fists clenched despite feeling like your knuckles were being grazed by razors, a deep cut not drawing blood but making it turn into ice instead. Still; you pushed against the water, feet kicking madly, the tears springing from your eyes as burning as lava in comparison to your skin.

Another kick. Push. Arms so heavy, and so, so cold, thousands of knives piercing your flesh, tearing a desperate raw cry from depth of your lungs.

You squeezed your eyes shut and screamed again, pushing with all your remaining might, throwing your arms around.

Solid surface. Crunchy leaves. Your dug your numb fingers into the stiff ground, grabbing nothing but dirt but pulling and kicking out at the same time anyway.

A minuscule motion; your chin, your neck, on the solid ground. Not thick ice – earth. The woods. Your best friend.

A pathetic cry of laughter burst from your ribcage, shaking violently as you forced your muscles – not even feeling like your own anymore – to keep pulling. To keep kicking out, an absurd imagery of your ex’s face being behind your feet causing you to choke out a brief bark of laughter again and pull. And again and again, your shoulders, torso, legs, sagging against the frozen land.

Your body shook beyond your control as you tried to roll over, your boots making a pathetic splashy sound that barely reached your ears over the pounding in your head. Your chest was expanding and deflating rapidly as you laid on your back, slow blinks against the still falling snow and the sight of grey skies. Every single cell in your body screamed in pain, every motion like a fresh stab wound, but you couldn’t stop; you couldn’t stop shaking.

Whatever survival instinct you had took over as your hands pushed pathetically by your lower back so you could sit up and then scramble to your feet.

The process of standing up seem to last an eternity and half, the temperature dropping further; and when you did stumble to your feet, standing on legs that bent to the wind almost as much as the leafless branches, you nearly toppled over and fell head first back into the lake, your vision blurring.

Whether the water surface would show your future was the furthest thing from your mind; it was just the cold. Brutal, deadly cold. That and warmth.

That, and the strange kind voice, perhaps your very own guardian angel who seemed to love you, the only being in this goddamn universe, whispering in your ears.

Come, my love.

Keep walking.

And you did. Dry sobs erupting from your throat, boots practically freezing to the ground in between every step, exhaustion and the unforgiving cold etched into the very fibre of your being, you dragged one foot along the other, step by step, the miniature distance walked mocking you harder than all your relatives combined.

But it wasn’t their voices you heard; this one was sweet. Like a hot chocolate with whipped cream and pinch of winter spices on top, warming your frozen bones; like what you imagined a hug by a fireplace felt like, a kiss to your temple with affection without pretence. Like gentle palms cradling your face before his lips touched yours, tasting like true love; like a burning touch to your bare skin, dragged so softly, teasingly, before finally giving you what you desired.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

Keep you safe.

Dark spots danced in your vision, making you dizzy, your heavy eyelids slipping shut; your knees, quaking so hard they could no longer carry you, buckled and sent you plummeting.

Your palms met a rough surface as you flailed your arms out, barely caught against the bark of a tree, scraping your skin enough to draw blood. Your eyes snapped open, another ragged sob tearing from your achy throat.

And that was when your vision cleared despite the blur of tears.

A light.

A cabin. A small house; a cottage? Who the fuck cared.

It was an occupied house; warm light spilling from one of the windows, smoke coming out of the chimney, a promise of everything your body desperately cried for. Almost feeling its warmth radiating all the way to your numb fingertips, you gritted your teeth, strength you never thought you possessed poured straight into your veins, having already almost frozen over.

In the very back of your hazy mind, it occurred to you that you had never seen the house despite your numerous hikes; then again, you had no idea where you had walked, left being right and right being left, the only one certain direction being forward.

Again, who the fuck cared. You had never seen a cozier place in your lifetime; a lifetime that was soon going to end should you not will your useless legs to keep moving forward.

Reaching the porch staircase, you grabbed onto the beautiful wooden railing for balance, propping up to make the step.

And missing it.

You sagged against the railing, barely catching yourself before hitting your head. You propped back up, forcing your leg to rise higher, one step, two steps; the one remaining as tall as the Everest.

You sobbed again, lamenting the absence of the warm honey-like voice. Where was it now, huh? You were so close and needed another nudge, another-

The door of the house opened cautiously, revealing an outline of a figure, inviting light spilling around him; a tall, broad man, his face, the most handsome features you had ever set your eyes on, twisted in a frown and a flicker of horror.

For a beat of motionless silence, it flashed through your slippery mind who of the two of you appeared more frozen in the absurd scene; another beat, light and delicious warmth pouring from inside the house, like an oasis in the middle of a Siberian dessert.

And then he was moving, without a word, only sucking in a horrified breath as his hands slid under your arms and lifted your near deadweight with little effort, helping you not only to overcome the last step, but also the endless distance from the stairs into the doorway.

The interior was warm enough to make angels weep, enveloping you like a loving hug; but his touch felt like a central heating poured into your veins, his grip firm and certain despite the ice patterns having grown on your clothes surely cutting into his skin. Perhaps all alarm bells in your head should be ringing as he kicked the door shut behind you, leaving you alone in the middle of godknowswhere in a stranger’s house, a stranger who was now leaning you against the wall as your legs gave out at last and fought with the zipper of your coat no less, but they didn’t.

No alarm bells; all you heard was his gentle whisper.

“Let’s get you out of these.”

Zipper torn away, hands sliding under the fabric to peel it off of your violently shaking body, your teeth kept clattering.

“I’ll get you warm in no time.”

Your sweatshirt next. Your boots. Your socks; a cry of pain escaped your bluish lips, his warm hands gently enveloping your foot to allow you bask in his warmth.

“I’m sorry, I have to do this. We need to get all these off.”

Your shirt followed.

Your body, as if on instinct, moved slowly but willingly in tandem with him, small motions to aid him rid you of the cold until it didn’t.

You could feel the change of temperature bite into your icy wet skin, a lick of sharp pain; an instinct led you to reach out back for your clothes to fight the once again brutal change.

He grasped your hands, easily gathering your wrists in one palm, a gentle but uncompromising grip.

“No--- no! Look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked.

The squeeze on your wrists and the direct question finally pushed you from mindless haze to blurry reality.

It dawned to you that yes, climbing back into cold soggy clothes would not help.

Jaw quivering, teeth still clattering, you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, only following his order. And oh, were you looking, the reality creeping in slowly, but gaining sharp edges just as a brief smile passed his lips.

“Good.”

That he was. Good.

And incredibly handsome.

Not but a few years older than you, dark well-trimmed beard complimenting his sharply cut features, elegant nose girls must have swooned over as much as over the surprisingly warm blue of his eyes and his slightly messy hair combed up in a way that called for your fingers to run through it. His shoulders and arms, while not enormous, gave impression of being able to carry you without too much issue, lean waist and long legs with muscular thighs making him look like some sort of a fever dream of yours; or in this case, a brain-freeze dream.

“I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the bathroom, alright? I’ll start a bath for you,” he explained, his hands already sliding under your body – and gods, was his touch like a taste of heaven, so deliciously and thoroughly warming against your painful goosebumps – rising to his full height and delivering on his promise as your hands automatically reached to wrap around the back of his neck for stability.

He did not even flinch at the icy touch; he did not even blink at the fact he was now carrying a woman, a perfectly vulnerable woman, stripped to her underwear sticking to her stiff nipples, so cold and soaked through that the fabric might as well be non-existent, completely see through because of course you had chosen white today. But he just kept walking. His gaze roamed, perhaps growing slightly darker, but mostly focused on your face and the path.

He truly must have been a figment of your imagination.

The cloudy droplets remaining on your skin seeped into the lovely light blue of his henley, a shaky apology spilling from your tongue, earning you another smile and a shake of his head, the former turning softer when you stuttered out a ‘thank you’ as well.

Without a word, he set you down once he reached his destination – bless the floor heating feeling like prickly heaven against the soles of your feet – moving to the bathtub and starting the water as you simply stood there, wrapping your arms around your body for both warmth and keeping your non-existent modesty. As he tested the temperature, he checked up on you from the corner of your eye, a swift head-to-toe glance before he took a small bottle by the tub, adding a few droplets to the water. Soon, the bathroom was filled with pleasant smell of fresh blossoms and herbs.

“We can’t have the water too hot as not to shock your system, but this essence can work true magic, believe me. Come on.”

An absurd idea of being thrown into the water and having your head held down under struck you, freezing your feet to the floor.

He remained stood straight by the tub, tall and large and so much stronger than you, hovering. His concerned eyes met yours, suddenly wide with fear.

A warm voice; a haunting whisper.

Come to me.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

A shudder rocked your body, still trembling with the cold having seeped deep enough to reach your very soul.

Come, my love.

I need you.

“Can you hear me, little bird?” a voice cut through the fog of your mind, causing you to wince, an image of a baby swallow of all birds flickering in your vision.

A hazy memory of the innocent sweet creature having fallen from its nest, your own small hands, hands of a curious child, tenderly holding it in both palms as you lifted it back to its home. There you go, little bird.

A sharper memory, hands stained with dirt as you covered the small bird in its shallow grave, having found its wing torn away just as a group of boys were running away from the lake, with a burning hope in your heart that the bad luck meant to follow those who kill a swallow would catch up with them. Your tears felt cold on your cheeks, so cold against the white-hot anger of having seen them hurt an innocent creature, a breathy whisper of sorrow and compassion on your lips. There you go, little bird. No one can hurt you now.

“I’d never hurt you, little bird. I promise.”

You blinked, eyes refocusing on his sincere features, his hands raised in the most universal gesture of meaning no harm.

What an odd phrasing, you thought. What an odd nickname. Endearment, really.

Another shudder ran down your spine, but your feet began moving on their own volition, shaky steps towards the bathtub, the man’s steps, in return, retreating to give you space.

Something in your heart trembled softly at the gesture, the smallest of relieved smiles in the corner of your lips, one he hesitantly reciprocated.

“I’ll leave you now. I will only bring some dry warm clothes and leave them by the door, okay? I’ll wait so you have time to get in,” he assured you. “I’ll knock and I won’t look.”

“W-why?”

The question fell from your lips before you could think twice about it, earning you a sad smile speaking of just how profoundly he understood the duality of the question.

Why wouldn’t you take advantage when it would be so, so easy?-- - Why do you, hell, everyone, think I am not worthy of staying for and looking?

“Because you deserve better, little bird,” he said, sincerity threaded in the simplicity of his words.

You deserve everything, the echo of the warm voice washed over you, fresh tears stinging in your eyes.

“Stay as long as needed. We have all the time in the world.”

With those words, he finally left the bathroom and closed the door. The key remaining in the lock from the inside; you could easily deny him access and force him to place the clothes outside. It would be a wise thing to do, too, to protect yourself, especially with how vulnerable you had already revealed yourself to a stranger, a much larger man who could choke the life out of you or take whatever he pleased.

So why did you want him to come here, to check up on you, to come closer and look, the thought awaking an entirely new kind of heat inside you?

You shook your head, peeling off your ice-cold underwear and climbed into the tub as fast as possible, even as you knew it might hurt at first, the reward only coming after a while.

Instead, an entirely different experience awaited you.

You couldn’t supress the moan of pure bliss as the water enveloped you and warmed you through in an instant with what could only be described as love; tenderly grasping your frozen-through flesh, caressing your skin in a way none of your lovers had ever bothered, leaving not warmth, but heat in its wake, your muscles relaxing and stringing with anticipation all at once.

You observed the water, not having even stilled yet, with mute wonder. Your skin, having earned grey undertones, was back to its natural colour without a tinge of pain, having you swallow a cry of relief. Essential oil or not, your stranger had not exaggerated; this indeed felt true magic.

It was a mere bath; but it felt so sinfully good your body turned pliant in an instant, your adrenalin-filled mind clearing and fogging in bliss.

Carding your fingers through the water curiously, it felt as if the water returned the affection tenfold, caressing your skin all over again, slow and sensual. A circle on the water surface with your middle finger felt like an invisible soft touch up your inner thighs, a teasing that left burning need in your core, so painfully out of place and oh so right and addictive. Swirling your hand in the water playfully; a sensation of hot lips attached to the apex of your thighs, firm and hungry.

“Good--- heavens-“ you sighed, head tipping back, your lips parting with a gasp, something in the back of your mind tingling with danger.

Having nearly died – and the realization should be like a bucket of ice-cold water, a terrible pun intended, but it was nothing short of exhilarating instead – you did not retreat from the danger, sinking into it instead.

The delicious warmth inside you only grew as if a reward, your fingers gliding through the water again, a breathless whimper on your lips as you felt a delicious stroke deep within your sex. Another curling touch to the water; a curling pressure against your special spot, stars flickering behind your eyelids.

“Fuck-“

Come, my love.

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you-

A knock shattered your illusion; you grabbed the edges of the tub with a gasp, blinking open your eyes not having realized you had closed them, sinful images of the very man who now stood behind the door dissolving and yet remaining torturously vivid in your mind.

“Everything alright, little bird?”

“Y-yes. You can come--- come in,” you stuttered, heat of embarrassment washing over you like a tsunami.

God gracious-

What kind of a crazy person were you?Who in their right mind, no matter how scrambled from near-death experience, would lust and touch themselves – but were you? It felt like someone else did, and gods, did you love that feeling, needing more – who would do this, right in the bath that the kindest stranger, so respectful of their privacy, ran for them? Imagining him, no less, his large warm hands gripping you as if he never wanted to let you go, needed you more than air-

He slowly opened the door ajar, a careful, respectful peek inside the room as he slipped a pile of neatly folded clothes through the crack, his gaze finding yours.

“I hope you’re feeling better, little bird.”

Oh he had no idea just how much better. He couldn’t have and yet, something in his gaze sparkled, something dark akin to amusement, so alluring, quickly replaced by a flicker of contentment once you nodded, not trusting your voice, again. It was only then when you realized you were still slightly above water and perhaps, whether he wanted or not, he did get a peek of your breasts.

Not that he commented on it. Because out of two of you, he was apparently the decent one.

“Good.”

Without any prompting, he moved back.

He was already closing the door, when you blurted out the question. “Wait---! What’s your name?”

You gulped as he paused, his gaze meeting yours again.

“Andy. You can call me Andy.”

You tested the name on your tongue, a sweet treat you found yourself wanting to taste over and over.

He rewarded your efforts with a smile, one that had air catch in your throat.

He had smiled before, a heart-stopping curl of lips on an exceptionally handsome man. But now, for the first time, his smile reached his eyes; warmth like no other spread through your veins, a longing settling in your chest as the door closed and you were left alone – and wanting – once more.

The clothes were too big for you, sleeves and pantlegs too long, unsurprisingly; and unsurprisingly, they were as just as Andy said, warm. And very soft and comfortable, with tones of a scent that made your head spin in the best way, tempting you to bring the sleeves up to your face and breath in deeply just before you rolled them up.

They were just a pair of sweatpants, a henley and a sweatshirt, boxer briefs and a pair of fluffy socks; but they felt like home.

And so did the space.

Andy had carried you up the stairs; a beautiful staircase made out of light wood with traditional sturdy railing, offering a view of the ground floor. Sneaking from the bathroom however, it was not where you headed straight away, your eyes drifting towards the other two door at your level, your stomach making a funny flip; perhaps an office or a guest bedroom and his bedroom. The tingle in your fingertips as your hand reached out of its own volition for the doorhandle was almost unbearable; you had to clench your fist hard enough for your nails to leave moons on your already scraped palms.

You shook your head at your own creepy urge to explore, turning a sharp right towards the stairs instead.

Heading down where you could hear clinks of dishes, you took every step slow, fingertips brushing over the railing; it almost seemed to pulse with warmth of life, causing your breath to catch. Or perhaps it was the view of the ground floor.

When Andy had brought you inside, your vision was still rather blurry, all your attention focused on not dying of hypothermia and on the handsome stranger sent to you by heavens itself; now, when you had the opportunity to appreciate the interior, you did.

The living room seemed as if cut out from a lifestyle magazine, except it didn’t, little details making the scape appear actually lived in. A quilt thrown over the armrest of a small sofa, a pillow or two on each of the pair of armchairs in earthly tones of green, large enough to hide in comfortably with a book, the stony fireplace inviting for cosy winter evenings; the three books balanced on the coffee table in a hazardous stack whispered of how Andy might have spent some of his evening exactly like that. Four bookshelves filled with readings of various length, in between several pieces of art on the wood-panelled walls, not expensive on a first glances, but perhaps all the more loved. A pair of wide windows offered the last remnants of daylight, aided by the warm fire of the fireplace. Multiple plants to compliment the earthly tones and woodwork; and yet what made you smile was the abandoned empty cup, whispering of this place being someone’s home.

Resisting the urge to linger and perhaps examine just how soft was the quilt and how comfortable the armchair would be, you followed the noise to the kitchen; rather spacious as well, tuned to slightly darker colours than the rest of the house, the light entering from large windows prevented it from being too dark in daytime, the lamplights immersing it in warmth at nighttime. The wide counter stretched along two walls as well as the cabinets, creating enough space for variety of dried herbs, teas, spices and other casings as well as several basic appliances, the workspace almost robust in comparison to the dining table with three wooden chairs and soft emerald cushioning.

There seemed to be so much love and attention poured into the space, much like into the cozy living room, that couldn’t but you wonder which of the two were the true heart of the house to Andy.

As you entered and he turned to you with a smile, you couldn’t but believe it might be the kitchen, for he looked as if he belonged; and with an unfair pang of jealousy, you realized it was also hard to believe he lived in his home alone.

Then why did he give you his clothes, a voice in the back of your head questioned. Why did you see no photographs of a lovely wife or family? Why did he look at you from head to toe and back, meeting your gaze with his smile growing, a content, almost possessive glimmer in his eye?

You were losing your mind, you were sure; and the unfairly handsome stranger was the cause of it.

As he was the cause of you liking the fact all too much, the flash of a memory of how good it had felt to play with the water, imagining his hands mapping out every inch of your body, made you shiver and your breathing waver.

You needed to get a goddamn grip on yourself.

But how could you, when his warm voice washed over you, a gentle deep timbre, friendly, resonating in your ribcage?

“Hey. Good enough fit?”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, clearing your throat as your voice came out rather choked. “Thank you, Andy. I can’t repay you enough.”

“Nonsense. Come sit down,” he beckoned to the table lightly, taking a wooden tray with two cups of tea and a teapot and setting off the same direction. “I don’t know about your tastes, but I think this tea could be just what you need.”

You smiled hesitantly, your heart swelling at his offer. He had already done so much for you, helped you in, ran a downright magical bath for you, lent his clothes to you; sitting down and stealing more of his time felt like an imposition, taking all too much with no way to repay him indeed. And surely, he had so much better things to do.

But it would be impolite to refuse, you argued with yourself as your steps instinctively followed him, as you pretended it wasn’t the way the muscles on his shoulders and back shifted under the thinner navy shirt he had changed into hypnotized you, his mere presence, a certain quiet charm, tempting you to stay. And if was asking you to linger for a while longer… yes, it would be very impolite and you’d be your worst enemy.

After all, tea sounded like a wonderful idea for your suddenly parched throat.

“’Kay.”

His smile with a crinkle in the corner of his eyes was like a caress on your cheek, ending with his fingertips under your chin to tip your head back for a kiss.

You needed to get a grip on yourself. Fast.

As you sat down across the table from him and he set one of the cups in front of you, the strangely sweet herbal aroma washing over you as well as his attentive gaze, you caught yourself wrapping your hands around the cup not only for warmth, but for steadiness as well.

Your heart seemed too unsteady in the face of the handsome man, skipping a startled and entirely too pleased beat when you took note of him doing the same with his cup – almost comically small in his large hands – revealing an absence of a wedding ring.

Come to me.

Come, my love.

I’m all yours.

Heat flushed your face at your observation and at the painfully clear echo of a sweet voice, your head snapping back up.

Andy observed you with certain kind of curiosity in his blue eyes, wordless intensity that almost made his irises appear darker. It had your heart hammer in your chest with everything but fear. It was magnetic, almost coaxing you to climb over that damn table separating you and-

“Thank you,” you blurted out, nodding towards the tea, taking a quick centring breath and then cleared your throat. “You have a lovely home, Andy.”

“Thank you. It took a while but… I did make it into my own space.”

My own space, he said. A deliberate or coincidental choice of words?

Was he telling you, between the lines, that there was no one else and that he had noticed your ogling and didn’t mind, welcomed it even?

Or was it subtle reminder that you were but a guest invading on his own space and peace and his hospitality was nearing if not already overcoming its limit? People did not choose to live secluded like that on accident.

Mostly, you reminded yourself self-deprecatingly.

“Thank you for letting me into your home. I promise to be out of your hair soon,” you assured him. It earned you a disapproving frown.

“Nonsense. I’m glad you’re here. It’s pretty cold outside.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, lowering your gaze briefly. “I just… I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Meeting his eye again at his thoughtful hum, there was something infinitely warm in his features; it travelled through your veins, a shot of ecstasy of being wanted spreading into every cell in your body and making you feel light and anchored at once.

“Don’t worry, little bird,” he said, one corner of his lips rising higher in almost a smirk as your breath caught at the endearment rolling off his tongue with what could only be liked to indulgence. “That’s impossible.”

He held your gaze, your heart thundering in your ribcage, minute breaths coming out short by the minute as he seemed to lean in closer, stealing oxygen from your lungs, heat pooling in your belly. Fuck, he was so close, tempting lips framed by the beard you just knew would be soft and just the right amount of harsh against your skin, against the intimate flesh of your thighs-

“What happened at the lake?”

You startled in your seat a little, hands twitching, a powerful painful skip of a beat of your heart, the intimate bubble having grown around you popping with a loud snap.

“W-what?” you breathed out. “How did you know-���

“It’s the only body of water nearby,” Andy responded, voice perfectly levelled, oblivious to the cold fingers of fear creeping to the back of your neck. He smiled even, despite the concerned lines on his forehead. “Suppose you didn’t decide to get a dip in the fountain and walked all the way from the centre of the town.”

I’d never hurt you, little bird, I promise, his earlier words echoed in your head, followed by another almost haunting promise.

I’ll keep you safe.

And then, a sultry one:

I’ll keep you.

“Oh.”

You laughed nervously, shoulders slumping.

It felt so silly to be thrown off guard by his question; it made perfect sense he’d figure out you were by the lake. And you had to admit, that quip of his was quite funny too – as much as it was clear he added it to put you at ease.

“Eh, sorry,” you muttered, unsure where to look, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Your hands found the cup again like a salvation; a steady point and the ideal excuse.

Taking a sip, you were shocked at the alluring taste; sweet with just a hint of something savoury, tingling on your tongue and sending pleasant heat all the way down your spine, euphoria exploding behind your eyelids. You didn’t remember closing your eyes but when they fluttered open, you imagined this was what seeing the world in colour for the first time after years of being blind felt.

You took another sip almost instinctively, certain it had to only be the first impression, sweetly warm liquid a blessing for your body; but it tasted just as delicious, striking every chord of your senses just right and beyond.

“Good?”

You refocused your gaze on Andy, his eyes firmly set on you, an almost mischievous twinkle in his irises.

“Like nothing I’ve had in my life,” you said bluntly, earning a chuckle and – was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he lowered his gaze a took a sip as well?

“Uhm, thank you. It’s one of my favourite blends I’ve ever made.”

That stunned you.

“You’ve made this? That’s incredible.”

Granting yourself another taste, you then set the cup down almost religiously. Andy watched you do so, a pleased smile in the corner of his mouth, having returned to holding your gaze, expectant.

Right. He had asked you a question before you experienced a little taste of goddamn Eden on your tongue.

You taste like Eden on my tongue, honey.

A shiver ran down your spine, your mind scrambling for the ice-cold memory of the lake, so wistfully distant and yet digging its claws into you all over again.

“And uhm, to answer your question. I just… I was by the edge, slipped and fell right in,” you said, shrugging it off to hide a different kind of shudder, freezing water as if beginning to pool at your feet, slowly swallowing your ankles and creeping up ad up…. “I didn’t-- the ice wasn’t too thick and I just--- it was… I barely made it out.”

You didn’t realize your hands had started to tremble as your voice trailed off, vision blurring slightly, until a warm hand covered it, steading your hold on the cup. The air had grown too thick in your lungs, making it difficult to breathe in; and then it was gone along with the water, with just a few words and a lingering touch.

“I’m glad you did,” Andy whispered, voice as gentle as his touch. “I’m glad you found this house too. That you’re safe.”

I’ll keep you warm.

I’ll keep you safe.

Concern. Care. A ghost of a promise you had trouble grasping, a voice so close to your ear you could almost feel the warm breath on your skin, but you knew that should you turn, you’d only see air. So you didn’t.

And you could not keep looking forward either, not anymore. Unable to bear the sincere weight of Andy’s words, you instead glanced at his hand enveloping yours so easily, so naturally; so right. As if it belonged there and always had.

But it didn’t, did it?

Your hands, you – didn’t seem to belong anywhere. Never had. No one had ever wanted you to stay. No one had ever cared enough.

Not until Andy.

“Well at least someone is…” you muttered absently, swallowing the sardonic chuckle.

And how pathetic was that? Not of him, but of you? A complete stranger, taking you home like a stray nearly-drowned kitten on Christmas Day, because no one else wanted you and he was the only one to give a damn.

Gods, how sorry he had to feel for you? How fucking lame was it of you to have even thought of him such sinful thoughts when all he must have seen was a-

A gentle press to your hand had you squeeze your eyes shut as to keep the tears suddenly gathering at bay.

“Hey now. What do you mean by that? I’m sure there are plenty of people who worry about you, family, friends… a partner,” he added after a brief hesitation and was that not a case on point.

Of course he was hesitant.

Why would there be one? Who would want you as their partner?

You scoffed.

“Sure,” you echoed.

Heavy silence settled over the room, suffocating and itching, only interrupted by your slow wavery breaths. Andy’s hand remained over yours, as motionless as he seemed overall; a scene frozen in time.

Was he judging you? Resisting the urge to laugh at you? Pitying you? Or did he feel nothing at all, so profoundly disinterested now that you slipped so carelessly, opening up?

That was how things always were, weren’t they? Once façades began to crumble, once people started to reveal true colours, they were vulnerable to judgement; and with the mystery cracked like an old toy, the intrigue was lost, along with their interest.

Was that what was happening now? All the kind care, all the sweet words Andy had said, losing meaning because they never held one in the first place?

Swallowing thickly, you looked up, unable to bear not knowing, preferring to tear off the band-aid at once.

A lump grew in your throat as you caught his eye, worry etched into his expression, a soft frown above an even softer gaze. Compassionate. Gentle. And laced with an inexplicably deep understanding.

He might as well be staring into your soul.

And you didn’t know how; but suddenly the dam just burst.

And you told him all, barely pausing to take a breath.

You told him about having been the pariah all your life, about feeling so alone, only finding solace in nature and fables and myths, at never being enough, for your family, for your friends, colleagues and boss… and clearly for every single one of your boyfriends since two of them had simply left and the latest one hadn’t even had the decency to leave before jumping into someone else’s bed.

About being but a side character to your own story, because no one ever believed you could be important enough to be the lead. And perhaps not even you; not anymore.

But the funny thing was that as the words spilled, you didn’t sob once. As if someone had untangled your tongue and the coil of pain in your chest at once, you went through tender, achy points of your life as if you were listing important plot points of someone else’s story, someone you did not even care for, really.

You wept silently, voice hoarse but steady, tears of not pity nor rage but cold comfort streaming down your burning cheeks.

You sipped your tea in between and all you felt was relief; speaking these things to a man who was basically a stranger, a stranger who showed you more kindness than all people you know had in a year and judged you less than all your past company combined,was incredibly liberating.

It felt like letting go. It felt like dropping dead weight you hadn’t realized you had been carrying, just so you could rise to greatness.

And something unreadable in Andy’s unwavering gaze whispered with tender determination that he believed that was exactly what you were meant to do for some reason.

His thumb ran over the back of your hand, having relaxed in his grip, turning it over to caress the sensitive skin of your wrist, sending a pleasant tingle all the way down to your toes.

“You deserve so much better than your family’s poison, little bird. As for those assholes, the last pathetic piece of shit in particular… well, I bet he doesn’t even realize what’s he lost, he’s just that daft.”

Normally, you had tendency to defend Jason when anyone bad mouthed him, the habit sticking for days after he had revealed himself to be a lying cheating bastard; but now, you remained quiet, a corner of your lips even rising up in a genuine smile as Andy’s finger seemed to draw a nonsensical pattern over your skin as if he wasn’t spitting profanities. Your gaze, tears having already dried, lifted to meet his.

You felt warm; so thoroughly warm as if your bones had been never known a day of summer, achy in the constant cold, until now.

Until this strangely charming man whose silence could speak volumes, whose words felt like a balm to your soul; because unlike when spoken by others, his words threaded lace as tenderly as a spiderweb around the wounds in your heart, cradling it with gentleness and a promise of steadiness.

You couldn’t put your finger on it; something about Andy made you want to believe. And to give in; to anything. To give in to something you hadn’t even realized you had buried and was now creeping its way out to the sun, eager to bask in his comfort and praise.

And gods, the quiet powerful outrage in his voice made your heart flutter, your core stirring with heat and whispering that ‘pathetic’ was the last thing that came to Andy’s mind when looking at you. The heat having taken permanent residence deep within you had nothing to do with the warmth of the bath or the tea and everything to do with his ever-present touch, the rich timbre of his voice, his undivided attention.

“And you’re never alone, little bird.”

Gods, he was handsome; almost maddeningly so. He must have chosen secluded life, you thought; attractive people like him had it easy, people agreeing with them left and right, tripping over their feet to be in their social circle and tend to their needs, bask in their light.

And he was quiet, respectful and so incredibly inviting, making you open yourself up and wishing to be seen, because being seen by him meant being appreciated; it was too much to resist.

“I’m sorry I sprang all this on you,” you said, so dully in comparison to the power behind his own words, but as you did, you realized you should be apologizing. In fact, you should be going; it was getting dark and as lovely as Andy’s attention was… burdening him with your past was the least attractive thing to do and the crawl of embarrassment found its way out onto your skin, your hand retreating from his. “I… I don’t know what got into me. I should go; I definitely am overstaying my welcome at this point.”

Andy tilted his head, brows creasing; not in quite in anger, only discontent. 

“I told you; that is impossible. We haven’t even finished the tea,” he pointed out, already reaching to pour you another cup. “And I’m glad you got this out of your chest, it feels like you needed that. And I was happy to listen… as much as I feel like someone should teach your asshole ex how to treat a woman as precious as you.”

You gulped at his last words, the flutter in your heart inevitable at his praise, your exhale slow and shaky as Andy’s fingers carefully found your hand again once he finished serving the tea. You hesitated in retreating your hand again, the touch almost electrifying.

You were flattered; so awfully flattered and absurdly needy for this man and his attention which seemed to go way beyond what you could imagine in your wildest dreams.

It would be so easy to be convinced to stay a little longer, perhaps explore what turn the afternoon, evening or even night might take; which was why you had to leave. Because this was not you.

Was it?

Andy’s fingers interlaced with yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “If I had a woman like you, I’d cherish her every day. I’d treat her like a damn queen.”

You couldn’t explain it; the sensation came as sudden as lightning from clear skies and just as powerful; his words like a tender kiss to your throat, right over your carotid, your eyes fluttering shut, your breath stuck in your lungs.

A hazy image of a living room, a cup with a couple of swallows drawn in thin lines on the coffee table, fading into a blur as the focus shifted on one of the armchairs; you sprawled in it like a queen indeed, one hand laid on the armrest in a fierce grip as your fingers interlaced with those of another, the other hand tangled in his hair.

Bare thighs held apart by Andy’s shoulders wedged in between, a large hand pressing firmly against the flesh of your inner thigh as if burning a brand, his tongue licking deep into your pulsing channel, his beard the most delicious burn against your sensitive folds, his groans and your moans mingling in music of eager lovers, head thrown back with your throat raw from the cries of his name.

“Andy, please-“

The potent jolt of pleasure in your core snapped you back to reality with a gasp on your lips, furious blinks focusing your vision back to Andy’s face; there was a gleam in his eye, but it was his smile, so genuine as he squeezed your fingers reassuringly, so damn gentle and completely unaware of how aroused and wet you were, that had you feel a pang of shame in your gut.

What was wrong with you-

“Like you deserve. You deserve so much better and so much more, little bird.”

You deserve everything.

I will give it to you.

You’re mine to keep and cherish-

“Thank-- thank you,” you stuttered out, head swimming with the echoes of the poignant image, swearing you could feel brands tenderly burned into your skin where Andy had touched you, a tingle in your core as he tasted you so indulgingly, an echo of his beard burning your intimate flesh--- except Andy had not done either of these things outside of your messed-up head.

“Nothing to thank for, little bird,” he said, a lopsided smile adorning his lips even as his brows creased in a soft frown. “We’re missing something here. How would you feel about cookies with your tea?”

Staying for another cup of tea was a terrible, wonderful idea.

Basking in Andy’s presence with his attention focused solely and so unwaveringly on you flushed your cheeks with heat and kept stirring the barely containable explosive attraction to him; but worst of all, it lowered your inhibitions bit by bit, your confidence, as shaky as it was these days, growing under his touch and seemingly genuine interest.

Interest in you.

You had long abandoned the idea of him viewing you as completely pathetic; and with each inch of space between you disappearing, your heartbeat was picking up. With each half-smile, with every question about what you considered the most boring cliché parts of you, you were being pulled into his orbit, intrigued by the lack of sharing information about himself all the more.

“I’m not all that interesting, little bird,” he said when you asked. Instead of an answer, you were gifted another inch of distance erased, his stormy blue eyes boring into yours. “I’d rather hear all about you.”

He was a beautiful puzzle; and the more enigmatic he appeared in comparison to you as you stripped a layer after layer of yourself, the more you craved to figure him out.

And with every entry into his mind kindly denied, you found yourself craving to explore him in the physical world then at least.

To feel the muscles of his arms shift under your palm, to confirm his lips tasted as sweet as the tea he had been drinking with you, to find out just how much of a mark his beard could leave behind when his lips trailed down the column of your throat, over the sensitive skin of your thighs. The need burned within you, causing you to shift in your seat several times already in search for friction, your body almost beyond your control as you turned your still connected hands so your smaller one covered the back of his, most of your willpower focused on not slipping your fingers under the hem of Andy’s sleeve to brush your fingers over his forearm, the very forearm you could almost feel pressing against your throat softly as he pushed you against the wall and drove into you with wild abandon, over and over until your knees could not hold you-

“Give me something, Andy,” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as you felt your breathing quickening again with the unholy images painted in your head. “What do you enjoy doing? What is your favourite meal, favourite colour, season even… scent or taste?”

Oh honey, you know my favourite taste.

I’ll have you taste it on my tongue once I’ve had my fill.

A scorching shudder rushed down your spine, your hand automatically reaching for your cup as your throat turned dry for the n-th time in Andy’s presence.

“I enjoy working with herbs,” he admitted after a while, an absent, fond note to his voice. “Essential oils. Natural remedies. Teas and… others--- What?”

For the first time in a while, his words did not provoke a visceral reaction; not the kind that kindled the crackling heat within you. Rather curiosity and admiration, your smile softening without your permission.

“I know you said you’ve made the tea… hell, probably the essential oil for the bath too.” He nodded in confirmation, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “It’s just… I would have never guessed. You…”

“What is it?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, worried you’d offend him not by your thoughts, but by your clumsiness. But a squeeze on your hand encouraged you gently, having you lick your lips as you gathered your scattered thoughts.

They all seemed so scattered in the past hours, gathering only for all of them to be pulled to Andy and the intense stormy gaze of his.

Storm. Danger and freedom. Freedom to be.

“It’s silly, you just… you seem like the kind of person whose mind is always racing. This… quiet force, keeping to yourself, intelligent, so strictly rational,” you tried to explain, already feeling like you were failing.

“Are you saying I’m a madman for my interests, little bird? A charlatan?”

Something flashed in his eye, but not angry; challenging almost, tantalizing, making your breath hitch.

Try me, honey.

Oh? Look at you, giving up so easy.

Giving yourself up to me.

You shook your head, both to erase the sultry voice in your head and the sinful images it painted and to deny Andy’s words.

“No. I’m saying many people would argue that trusting herbal remedies and nature’s healing power is everything but rational. But-“

“But you are not one of those people, are you?” he finished for you, a slow smile spreading on his lips, just a hint of condescending that seemed to pull you in closer despite your better judgement. “You know better than that, little bird, don’t you?”

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

You gulped, willing your lips curl up in a smile. “I do. That’s why I keep coming back from the city. Nature will always feel like home.”

Andy hummed, a satisfied smirk that felt like a lick straight up your core settling on his lips, causing your free hand to curl in a fist at the sudden blissful assault on your senses--- gods what was happening with you?

“Speaking of power… you called me a quiet force. What did you mean by that?”

Caught off guard in more ways than one, you cursed the slip of his--your tongue.

“Well, I didn’t mean that as a bad thing-”

“Explain it to me then, little bird,” he coaxed, gaze hypnotizing you, seeing so deep you were sure he was becoming aware of the effect he had on you, if he hadn’t known the whole time, that goddamn smirk of his almost wolfish, a taunt you desperately wanted to respond to as your body had been for hours now. “If it’s not bad, what is it?”

It was obvious it had to be the opposite then; but he wanted you to say it. There was no denying the heady tension in the room, setting your skin aflame; there was no denying he was flirting and he was not at all subtle about it anymore and yet, the cold silver of insecurity whispered to you that you should hold back, hold up the last defence before he could destroy you completely.

“Sometimes… there’s power in silence,” you whispered, honestly and yet evasively. “It makes words even more powerful then.”

He considered your words for a moment, gaze flickering down to your lips, your tongue instinctively flicking out to wet the sudden dryness.

“So you’d rather we sit in silence?”

But you make such beautiful noises for me.

Don’t hide from me.

Let me hear it all.

You were going to suffocate.

You were going to suffocate if Andy’s hand didn’t move, didn’t grasp your wrist and pulled you up, his body colliding with yours so your lips could meet and he could drink the answer straight from your mouth just for his other hand to sneak between your bodies to tease and taunt you with his fingers, sliding so easily into your sweatpants, his clothes like a claim on you, more of a claim to have them pool at your feet as his fingers finally breached you-

Your breaths were coming out short despite your efforts to slow them down, your core pulsing as if you had been kept on the edge of bliss for hours, knowing the feeling all too well despite never having had a lover attentive enough to bother with even five minutes.

“Not-- not quite. I like… talking to you.”

“Mmm, me too. Why is that?”

You shrugged with a shaky smile, shifting in your seat and rubbing your thighs together as his voice, that damn voice, Andy’s and the sultry one in your head sounding just like him, felt like a relentless teasing in its own right.

“I--- I like hearing what you have to say. And I… like your voice. It’s warm… gentle.”

And sinful. Powerful.

So powerful you could command me to get on my knees for you and I would, without a single thought, stripped bare if you wished so, lips parted for you and awaiting, dripping down my thighs like I am now, pleading for you to use me, basking in your possessive touch, gentle or rough or both, crying my voice hoarse when begging for more-

The potency behind your own thoughts had you jump to your feet with a loud scrape on a chair that seemed to barely rattle Andy as you slipped from his grasp, his gaze simply following you, the smile remaining on his lips.

“I should go-“

He straightened in his chair, forearms leaning onto the table, his sleeves riding up just an inch, the silver of skin causing your head spin with the urge to touch it, to lead him to lay it over your own throat as you’d walk backwards toward a wall-

“Stay, little bird. It’s already dark and… don’t you want a reprieve from the chaos, from the terrible behaviour of your relatives?” he questioned, both reasons somehow seeming like but an afterthought. “You should stay. I have a guest room if that’s what you’d like.”

But I don’t think you do.

I think you want something else.

All you need is to ask, honey.

Ask and I’ll make sure gods themselves hear your cries when you shatter for me over and over and still beg for more.

“I-“

He reached out for your wrist, long fingers circling it easily and pressing just a little.

The touch rushed through you like a wildfire, whiting out your vision.

A large sculpted body covering yours, lips drinking hungrily and sharing the sweet tangy taste on his tongue as you whimpered, craving more and more and more. One hand circled around your wrist to keep your hand pinned next to your head, his free hand roaming, pinching, squeezing, until it settled on your hip, grabbing firmly to guide you as he thrusted into you, so deeply and fully, his tongue wickedly exploring your mouth and swallowing your every plea to never stop, his name the only thing in your mind and on your lips, your other hand fisting the sheets as you desperately tried to meet his thrusts halfway; to have him reach deeper, to own you, to mark you, to make you his, only you, only him, always.

The pleasure pulsed within you as strong as if you were just there, nearly causing your knees to buckle, your hand barely catching onto the edge of the table.

And all of sudden all you could see was Andy’s face, smirk wiped off to make space for concern as he towered over you, one hand firmly holding yours while the other carefully rested on your hip to support you.

“Are you alright, little bird?”

No. No you weren’t.

You were losing your goddamn mind and he was not helping and you should go whether it was dark or not, because if you didn’t, you’d grab Andy by the hem of his stupidly ordinary shirt that was hiding the most delicious body and you’d kiss him deep, begging him to do to you all the things your mind had conjured in his presence, pleading him to have you however he’d like, to use your body in the most depraved ways he could think of.

“I’m fine,” you choked out, stepping back hastily and on instinct beaten into you – verbally and more than once literally – since childhood, you grabbed your empty cup and walked to the sink, feeling Andy’s worried and bewildered gaze on the back of your head as you started the water.

The worry etched into his gaze just before you escaped his grasp – so genuine and kind – made you wonder just how out of your mind you were.

How much of the flirting you had imagined as an aftermath of hearing a voice so painfully similar to his giving you promises dripping with sin? How much of it had been real? Your own body was your worst enemy, betraying your attraction to the man who hadn’t hesitated to help you, respectful when he had had all the chances to take advantage---

Just how much of his actions had been sincere, nothing but selfless aid to a person in need, that your brain had twisted into a desire of his to mirror your own?

Your hands trembled as you washed the cup, the echoes of pleasure still travelling through your body, now soured with doubt and fear of your own wild imagination.

Andy’s warm presence behind you made your breath hitch, tension building in your back as all your body called for was to drop the damn ceramics and lean back to his front, rubbing like a cat in need of affection, to grasp his hand and lead it to the apex of your thighs and just press to relieve some of the painful throbbing. He reached around you to stop the water as you stood taut like a bowstring about to snap, feeling his breath fan over your cheek, your lips parting to taste it on instinct, eyes falling shut.

Please, you wanted to whisper or scream, not sure what you would beg for. Just please.

“No, little bird… queens don’t do the dishes. Less so when they are guests in my house.”

You gulped as you felt him take the cup from your now motionless hands, setting it down carefully to the sink, the heat radiating off his chest too much to bear.

“I’m… not a queen.”

The words were meant to be filled with humour, self-deprecation even, but you barely spoke at all, throat almost too tight to get the words through.

“I will treat you like one,” he promised, a tempting rumble in his chest, his lips mere inch from your burning skin, his beard scratching it just slightly, sending you spiralling into madness. “If you let me.”

Let me, honey.

Let me break you in ways you didn’t know you always yearned to be broken and then put you back together.

Ler me claim you.

And fuck, you should go.

You really, really should go, but as you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the window, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as if you had a fever, his presence the problem and the remedy at once, you couldn’t will your feet to move.

As if trapped in his orbit as he watched you in the reflection too, eyes as dark and burning as coal, his gravity pulled you in; you turned your head towards him, hesitantly meeting his gaze, instantly finding yourself trapped in it.

Scorching heat licked at your core, spreading through your veins like a wildfire when his fingers traced along your jaw, lips hovering so close to yours as if still asking permission and yet, his thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth as if he was the one who couldn’t contain himself. You shuddered violently at the simple touch, your muscles clenching harder as not to fold and lose your last crumbling defences.

Why resist, little bird?

You’re already mine, aren’t you?

Always have been.

“Stay, little bird. Stay and I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated… loved on,” he coaxed, gaze flickering to your lips having pressed in thin line to contain the whimper threatening to spill; his thumb brushed over your lower lip and tugged lightly, leaving no hope for the next needy sound not to escape. Gods, the spark of lust in his eye, the satisfied drop in his voice at seeing your body betray your desire, gravitating towards his. “That’s it. Let me show you how precious you are. How beautiful… how tempting.”

He released your lips from his touch only in favour of skimming his own over your mouth, nothing short of a temptation, as if you weren’t already seduced by the sweet promise alone.

Shock of pleasure rippled through you at the barely-there contact, images flashing though your mind anew, Andy kneeling between your legs as you lied sprawled in the armchair, your body trapped under his so sweetly and torturously as he filled you like no other, his lips devouring you as you laid facing him on the very bed, bandaged hand on your hip, his dextrous fingers sneaking to tease you open for him, his hardness pressing against you, his name a breathless plea falling from your lips.

And as the mirages dispersed, the throbbing need stayed.

“Please,” you heard yourself whisper and for the second time today, the dam broke, letting all you had been keeping for what felt like eternity spill out without control.

The second his lips fully pressed to yours, you were lost and felt finally found.

Explosive desire all but set you aflame as his hand moved to your hip to spin you just so he could corner you against the sink, his other hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you steady.

And fuck did you need to be kept steady, because his lips didn’t explore carefully; he devoured you right away, your desperate whimper swallowed by his tongue licking into your mouth, your hands having somehow scrambled to grip the fabric of his shirt and fisting it as you pulled him even closer, every inch where his body touched yours a salvation by hellfire; every empty space between you like icy winds. 

Coming out for air felt like drowning in the frozen lake all over again, body only warmed by Andy’s lips tracing a burning path down your throat, the zipper of your hoodie tugged down, fabric pushed aside to reveal the painfully stiffened nipples under the thin fabric of the henley, a satisfied groan vibrating against your carotid as Andy cupped your breast a flicked his thumb over the hardened peak.

He might have as well relentlessly played your body for hours, the surge of pleasure causing your hips to meet his in a frantic search for more, your head spinning. You were burning. You were burning and you were cold and you were going to lose your damn mind unless he spun you around, tore your clothes away and filled you up with his cock this very fucking second-

“Andy, please-“

“Please what, little bird?” he chuckled darkly, the scrape of his beard and the huff of air against your throat unfairly spine-tingling.

His hand sneaked under the henley, fingertips brushing over your belly, over your ribs, squeezing your flesh higher and higher, his other hand carding into your hair and not quite tugging, but keeping it in a firm enough grip to prevent you from escaping the assault of his mouth on your throat.

As fucking if you wanted to escape this-

“I need you,” you choked out, feeling the desperate tremble in your body.

Somewhere back in your mind was a small voice wondered how you had never needed a man like this, wanted yes, but not like this; you craved him. For this, for his touch, for his mouth back on yours, for a single point of contact you’d claw your way out of hell.

You released the dead grip you had on his shirt just to slide under the fabric and the pulse in your core at finally truly touching him was nothing short of unholy and you needed more.

“Oh honey. What do you need from me?”

He rocked his hips against yours, his hardness pressing briefly against your mound and you whimpered, your knees nearly buckling.

Yes, yes, yes, again-

“Maybe this?” he suggested huskily as he repeated the motion against your arching body, a cry escaping your lips, feverish words you no longer had a control over spilling as the all-consuming fire licked at your insides.

More, more, more-

“Yes. Please--- touch me, take me-- make me yours- please”

Andy stepped back, your body suddenly feeling freezing cold, his hold on your hair easing so you could face him as he stared straight into your eyes – the perfect picture of desire personified with crimson lips curled in a smirk and irises almost swallowed by how wide his pupils were blown. Absurd fear of him rejecting you now, now after he had given you a taste, filled your lungs like icy waters, reluctantly melting as his broad palm made its way down your front torturously slow, fingers almost absently tangling in the laces of your sweatpants as he stopped just so far from where you needed him the most.

He held you gaze just as you held your breath in anticipation, his fingers sliding under the hem of your sweats, under the waistband of the boxershorts and lower and lower as he spoke, the sight of him hypnotizing like eyes of a predator to a willing prey.

“Oh little bird, that is exactly my intention,” he assured you, barely audible over the roar of blood in your ears, your whole body vibrating with need. Please, please, touch me- “But I’ve been a good host, haven’t I? So I think--- fuck, you’re drenched for me, so fucking needy--- that it’s time for me to feast and taste as much of you as I want.”

You didn’t quite hear him over the whine crawling out of your throat as he dipped his fingertips in your slick only to quickly retreat his hand and leave you so torturously empty again.

But gods, he kissed you and you could breathe again even as it wasn’t enough, his grip on your hip steering you to move, to walk backwards, your vision a blur, all your senses swallowed by Andy; his hot lips and skilled tongue, demanding touch echoing your own, grabbing you, searching almost frantically for places he hadn’t explored yet, mirroring your own greedy hands, your sweatshirt lost somewhere on the way as he steered you to the right, your nostrils full of his scent and the sweet aroma of the tea indeed having lingered on his lips—and suddenly you were stumbling and falling, soft landing in Andy’s arm as he lowered you to one of the armchairs, pulling at your sweatpants and boxers at once, his touch finally back where you craved it more than anything you ever had in your damn life, his name a broken prayer on your lips.

And then his lips were gone from yours, trailing down your neck, a graze of teeth that made you see stars, his thumb circling your sensitive bud and causing your hips to jerk into his hand, a sweet chuckle dripping of sin filling your ears.

“So responsive, little bird, so needy… don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need,” he vowed, your eyes opening half-mast only to witness him retreat and sit back on his heels, his hands planted on your knees, mouth attaching to your inner thigh just above your knee, a poor substitute to the taste of heaven his thumb had offered you.

He was tormenting you; he was tormenting you, denying you what you craved, not only stalling but stalling further, his mouth leaving hot wet trail up your drenched inner thigh, the sensitive flesh burning under the soft scrape of his beard, your legs spreading in mute yet urgent plea. And still, he continued indulgingly slow; your hand twitched as to move and give yourself some relief, but an instinct warned you that it could only prolong your torture.

“Andy-“

He smiled at you from where he had just pressed a bruising kiss to your flesh, eyes dark as the night itself, glimmering in the dancing flames of the fireplace reflecting on the goddamn mug you had spied earlier too, reminding you of how his lips had touched the edge of his cup with indulgence, how he had met your gaze as if he had known, as if he had known already he was about to drink from you.

It was not enough; nothing was enough, and you shifted in his grip, your hips sliding lower on the chair, core pulsing in emptiness.

“Please, please, Andy, don’t keep me waiting, I need you-“

One of his warm palms sprawled over your lower belly, pressing hard to keep you still, his tongue licking a languid stripe up your skin glistening with your juices, and he was so so so close-

“Fuck, honey, you taste so sweet… such a vision, begging for me so prettily.”

You didn’t recognize your voice as you sobbed in frustration of being praised in vain when he didn’t touch you when you NEEDED IT--- and then you were throwing your head back as wave of ecstasy washed over you, Andy finally flicking his tongue over the cut of you.

You grabbed the armrests with such vigour you might worry about breaking it had you not been delirious with want, hips bucking forward and this time, Andy had mercy on you – he groaned at the taste of you, licking with indulgence, twisting his tongue just right, his hold on you easing as the pressure inside you built and built and you were meeting his advances with enthusiasm, your hand finding purchase on his hair, to ground yourself, to beg him to continue without words because you had no voice.

You were tittering on the edge of release, every single cell in your body singing praise to Andy’s name for the waves of bliss almost reaching you, when his hand found yours and tore it from the armrest, fingers interlacing with yours and squeezing.

You would have never thought that could be your undoing, but it was.

Stars exploded in your veins and you tasted stardust on your tongue, a raw cry torn out from your throat, your back arching as white-hot pleasure shot down your spine and curled in your core with the heat of supernova being born.

And it wasn’t stopping. Andy wasn’t stopping, instead he pushed harder against your hips as you writhed against the overwhelming sensations, his tongue curling and breaching you, tasting the very depths of you and your cries were a breathless plea to the gods to have mercy on you and to Andy to give you more and more and more-

His pleased groan resonated in your bones, the force of bliss nearly shattering them to dust for the winds to take; but instead, Andy’s grip on your body moulded them into something torturously  beautiful and divine, the sound pulled from your lips nearly unhuman as you fell apart, the world tilting from its axis and balancing on the only steady point of the damn universe, on his hold on you, his tongue gathering proves of your undoing with lustful glee, his thumb drawing circles and swirls over your hipbone in silent approval.

By the time his mouth finally retreated, you were shaking, chest rising and falling in rapid successions, your vision blurry with tears as he rose to his feet and released your hand in favour of cradling your wet cheek, the forefinger of his other hand following the salty path of your tears, painting your swollen lips with them tenderly.

Even with vision unfocused, you were all too aware of the straining fabric of his pants, of the lustful glimmer in his eyes, lips shining with your arousal curling in an almost sweet smile.

“You’re stunning when you fall apart for me, little bird. Even more so than I imagined,” he declared softly, so painfully softly you couldn’t but whimper at the praise, the sound muted as his thumb pressed against your lips much like back in the kitchen, this time pushing its way inside your mouth, gaze zeroing on the eager reaction of your body.

You sucked his finger right in, almost blinding desire bursting in your belly, a carving for just a taste of him, for feeling the weight of him in your mouth as you’d swirl your tongue around him, heady aroma of sex filling your head. You needed. You needed to feel him and your hand acted without your permission, reaching to stroke his hardness, to move to kneel in front of him right there and feel the hard floor against your knees because it wouldn’t matter, it would be fucking privilege to-

Andy’s hand landed on your shoulder, light but firm, his eyes still feasting on you hungrily sucking on his thumb with a heart-stopping smile, tongue sneaking out to lick his lips as you still reached to feel the weight of him in your hand at least, moaning around his finger as the true craving – to have him fill you where it mattered the most – rocked through your entire body.

“So eager, little bird… but not now,” he retreated his hand from your mouth, gently slapping away your hand from him and pulling you to your shaky feet instead, body flush to his, lips on your ear. “You asked me to make you mine and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

You weren’t sure how exactly you got upstairs between stumbling on your boneless feet, your greedy hands and all-consuming assaults of his lips on yours; but what you were all too aware of was how whenever his lips detached from your mouth, you were already missing them as if it had been eons, and when he released you from his hold in order to strip his pants and boxers and to rid you of your top, it made your body cry for his attention all the more.

You had but a glimpse of his length and it made your mouth water, your core pulsing in desperate emptiness all the more painful when he sat on the edge of the bed and you could finally take him in your hand, appreciating the smooth warmth length, precum leaking, inviting you to stroke him and sink onto him right away.

“Come to me, little bird,” he husked, tugging at your wrist to have you straddle his thighs, hand like a burning brand landing on your hip, already pushing you down as if you needed encouragement.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer when you felt the head of his thick cock catch at your entrance, hips bucking in foolish need to take him all at once, to have him fill you to the brim.

“Yes, little bird, I’m right here… look at me.”

His broad palm cradled your cheek, sliding along your jaw to grip just a little too tight and force you to meet his hungry gaze even as your own irises must have glazed over when you slowly begun sinking down on him, satisfaction and greed shooting through your veins and curling in your lower belly, your thighs shaking with effort to hold yourself back.

Until you couldn’t.

With a desperate whimper you pushed your hips flush to his despite the slight tinge of pain, the reward of white-hot pleasure all-consuming, Andy’s groan like the sweetest melody and a soothing caress down your back.

Fuck, he was breath-taking and you could die right there and hell you would die if you didn’t move, didn’t feel the deliciously thick length of him drag slowly through your pulsing walls, driving into you again and again, filling you like no other, slow, fast, deep, sloppy, it didn’t matter, you just needed more, you needed to move, bracing on his broad shoulders, nails digging into his bicep, you needed-

He pressed firmly on your hip to keep you still, your cry of despair at being denied swallowed by his mouth, his smile wicked and addictive, only feeding your desire to feel him more, your muscles straining as you fought to rock your hips just a little, needing the smallest friction like your life depended on it.

And Andy wouldn’t let you.

With strength beyond comprehension, he held your middle in a cage, his mouth having never ceased to devour you as his free hand slid from your face, fingers trailing over your collarbone to your breast, fondling all too briefly as you tried to arch into his touch, before he moved on over your belly, pads of fingers circling in the slick dripping down his length, a languid caress where you were connected like a bolt of lightning down your spine urging you to try and thrust forward only to remain achingly still, a whimper pushing past your lips.

It bordered on cruelty; your core pulsed with such force it almost hurt, every cell in your body as if on fire only Andy could quench but instead continued to tease you, groaning into your mouth as he indulged at the sensation of being sheathed in your throbbing warmth.   

The relief when his fingers retreated was a punishment all the same, the second his touch disappeared your body crying for it to return. His lips detached from yours just as his palm sprawled over your lower belly, so full of him, his voice a rumbling siren’s song as you felt sweat running down your back from the tension taunting your muscles.

“You feel me, honey? Feel how deep I am?”

He watched you with hooded gaze, predator boasting at catching his prey in a deadly trap she so willingly crawled into, your core spasming at the hunger in his dark eyes hypnotizing yours, half-mad with the animalistic desire.

“Yes-“

With a satisfied hum, his hand retreated again, causing you to whimper because no, that was where you wanted him to touch you, you wanted it everywhere, you needed him to keep owning you—

“Fuck-“ you sobbed as his fingers trailed over your throbbing clit, your walls clenching around his length, your abdomen trembling with effort to fight his grip and chase your release. “Andy, please, I-“

“Oh, but this isn’t just about you, honey, is it?” he scolded you gently, hoarse voice dripping sin and satisfaction as he returned to petting the apex of your thighs, the sensitive flesh gripping him like a vice and it was just not enough. “I wonder how long you could keep still on your own if I asked you, how long until you’d beg me-“

Not a second longer was the answer, more so when he twisted his hand so wickedly that long fingers continued teasing your entrance while his thumb circled your clit, agonizing need rushing through you like an electrical current, your whole body arching and yet staying so painfully still, writhing in his hold, tears of frustration gathering in your eyes.

“Please, please, please, please, Andy, love, please-“

His fingers stilled, ceasing their torture and yet it felt like denying you further until just as your sob pushed past your lips, his hand gently cupped your face, so painfully tender it had your wet eyelashes flutter, a sudden reprieve as Andy’s gaze seemed to trapped you outside of time and space and your own body; it felt like a sip of fresh water on an unbearably hot day, his damp fingers tracing the lines of your face, something flashing in his gaze, something you could not hope to comprehend but felt so achingly soft.

“Gods, you’re a vision, little bird, so beautiful… so thoroughly and undeniably mine, aren’t you?” he whispered, something akin to reverence in his voice as he continued to brush his fingertips over your skin as if committing you to memory.

And then he was kissing you; your breath caught at the unspeakable delicacy of the kiss, even his beard feeling softer as his lips carefully danced against yours, almost meekly, as if you could dissipate into thin air if he pressed too hard. The disparity to his previous advances was staggering, your heart fluttering, tears gathering in your eyes for an entirely different reason. He was just so damn soft.

“Andy…”

His smile against your lips was just as delicate as his kiss, your heart stumbling in your chest when you found him observing you with glassy eyes, his thumb, still carrying the heady aroma of your juices, brushing over your lower lip lovingly.

“I’ll give you everything I have, love… can’t seem to deny you,” he mused, one corner of his lips twitching up, his hand slowly sliding down your body, appreciating every inch of flesh in its path, his touch growing firmer as he went, his lips nearing yours again, his deadgrip on your hips releasing at last, speaking his next words directly to your mouth and angling the world from its axis all over again. “Take what you need, little bird.”

The words cut through you like a bolt of lightning, burning through every fibre of your being at once, the violent desire having been building through the past hours slamming into you at once, twice as hard, impossible to contain.

A breathless scream tore from your throat.

You cried out Andy’s name, your body acting on an animalistic instinct of chasing pleasure now that it finally could, nails digging into his shoulders for support as you rocked your hips against his with wild abandon, head thrown back in ecstasy every drag of his length through your tight walls sparked anew, coil rapidly tightening and undoing in your belly as it wasn’t nearly enough, never enough, more, more, more-

“Fuck--- that’s it, honey, keep going-” he groaned, hand stroking your back slick with sweat, his other hand gripping your ass cheek to guide your movements just the tinniest bit to your mutual pleasure.  

And you listened, chasing an unreachable peak, grasping at Andy’s neck, moving closer to his still maddeningly clothed torso, bouncing up and down, grinding your pelvis against his and it was not enough, not with your hands so firmly planted on his shoulders when your thighs alone quivered with exertion, a rare catch of his shirt against your clit nearly making you see stars and pushing them away from your reach all the same, fingers fisting his shirt in breathy outrage.

“Andy, please-“

“I’ve got you, honey.”

Next thing you knew your head was spinning, your body achingly cold as you were tossed on the bed on your back, Andy’s touch gone; and then he was hovering above you, his warm body completely bare at last, stretching over yours as he sheeted himself in your heat in one single thrust, stretching you to your limit again and feeling like heaven and hell combined.

His mouth captured your needy whimper when he once again remained all too still, one of your hands, having started to explore the god-like body of his, grasped at the wrist and pinned next to your head in an exhilarating display of control, leaving an ounce of it for you too as you jerked your hips against his, over and over, unable and not wanting to stop for even a moment, because you could feel it at your fingertips, the taste of pleasure unparalleled awaiting you when you’d come around his cock and felt him spill inside you.

The thought alone had you writhe under the soothing and yet frustrating weight of Andy’s body, his kiss tinged with amusement before he released your lips, setting them free to chant his name.

“Patience, little bird. I told you I’ve got you.”

And by gods, he did. He did, pinning you to the mattress and driving into your tight channel over and over at almost punishing pace, his hand sneaking between your bodies to swipe up the juices smeared all over your and his thighs and toy with your swollen bundle of nerves, blinding pleasure lighting you alive.

“Yes-“

“You feel like fucking heaven, honey. Will never have enough--- come for me. Give it to me, show me you’re mine-“

Falling apart felt like scorching heat consuming your body, burning every single cell in its wake, a shuddering breath of Andy’s name like a prayer rising from the ashes back to life, his spent filling you to the brim just as you were being reborn.

And so was your need.

You had never felt anything like it, the crushed seeds of logic in your mindless haze whispering of how this shouldn’t be possible, how you should be beyond sated but with every taste, with every peak, each more powerful than the other, your thirst was not quenched but rekindled, your limp body craving more, more, more; more of this, more of Andy, more of anything and you would die unless you’d get it.

You could barely focus your gaze on Andy’s face hovering above yours, a bliss having flushed his cheeks pink and his eyes with tantalizing glimmer, his fingers tender as he pushed your damp hair from your face.

“Please…” you rasped, not recognizing your voice anymore, blood rushing past your ears wildly. “More.”

His smile was soft, a gentle press of his lips to your forehead and the slightest rock of his hips against yours pulling a desperate keen from your parched lips.

“Do you want to be truly mine, little bird?” he asked, his voice grave and raspy as his breath fanned over your face.

“Yes!”

“Truly? Bound to me?” he continued, the words not carrying any meaning, his voice, gods, his voice, like a caress over your inner thigh, like a touch of bliss somewhere deep within you, in your very soul, a promise of endless pleasure. “You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect… and I’ll be yours…”

Anything. Anything, just more, more-

“Yes- Andy, please.”

A peck to your lips, then another to your cheek and one to the corner of your mouth; each sparking a flame licking at your womb, causing your muscles to spasm, your hands, now free of his hold, grasping at him, nails dragging down his back, urging him to move inside you, your hips buckling pathetically as all your energy had been burned out while your need pulsed with life within you all the more.

Please, just-

“Bless you, little bird, I waited for you so long and did not even know… tell me you want me.”

“I want you-“ you sobbed, vainly pulling yourself up to be flush against his body.

“Need me-“

“Need you. Only you- please.”

“As you wish, little bird.”

All of sudden, a flash of ice-cold clarity cut through your haze, an agonizing stutter of your heart in your ribcage.

The low lights of the bedroom reflected on the blade which seemed to materialize in Andy’s hand out of thin air, a gleam of determination in your lover’s eye.

Wincing helplessly under his heavy weight, you squeezed your eyes shut, your life – a good life, not bad at all –flashed before your eyes, a muffled cry of confused want and utter terror escaping your lips as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

You could feel him shift above you, inside you, the smallest motions sending almost nauseating desire through your body still, tears of overwhelm gathering in your eyes and spilling over as your heart fought for every last beat you’d be given in this life.

You were going to die.

It was the most absurd thought flying through your head, a painful chuckle almost tearing through your lips; you were about to die, mad with arousal for you own murderer and should anyone ever learn, you were going to turn into inspiration for a cautionary tale for the very books you had been reading since you were a child. Or perhaps those on serial killers.

You didn’t want to die!

“N-no, please, please, Andy-“

It was pathetic. Voice hoarse from having pleaded him to fuck you, for more and more and more; it was almost a foreign voice and yet undeniably yours, somehow still laced with devastating desire not to live, but to be ruined by his cock over and over, still thrumming deep within you.

A low grunt and a hiss; droplets of thick warm liquid landing on your forearm, coppery smell tickling your nostrils.

You couldn’t help it; you always had been morbidly curios, hadn’t you?

With a shuddering inhale, you cautiously blinked your eyes open, heart once more skipping a painful beat, your hand twitching to cover your mouth.

Features twisted in mere discomfort, Andy glanced from his right palm – from the crude deep cut on his own palm – to your face, grimacing as if only now his pain registered, eyes wide with something other than lust and satisfaction for once.

Compassion?    

“Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll be gentle and I promise it will hurt for but a second,” he rasped, your body turning rigid with horror. “Stay still for me, love.”

And you did.

Mutely, with but shaky breaths on your part and his, his grasp on your left wrist was shockingly tender as he laid your hand on the sheets, staining your skin with crimson, his blood seeping into the fabric below. His gaze held yours just as gently, something apologetic and warm in the thin ring of blue around his blown pupils.

You inhaled sharply at the sting of pain, a whimper of Andy’s name pushing past your trembling lips and then it was gone. From the corner of your eye, you could see the blade, having appeared so suddenly, disappear just as fast.

Andy’s thumb stroked the heel of your palm, his lips curling softly in a smile, the hand which had held the blade moving to cradle your cheek.

“Are you ready, little bird?”

As the fear slowly dissipated, you left the forgotten hunger for his body creep in slowly, blooming from your core through your belly, your chest, through your limbs all the way to your fingertips and toes, warming every single muscle, every nerve ending, tingling in your lips, growing and growing with every rapid beat of your heart, a shudder rushing up your spine at the gentle onslaught of want.

A single beat of your heart, two, three, four- and then it slammed into you with force of a star being born in midst of chaos, back arching, muscles straining with instinct to continue chasing the carnal pleasure, hips thrusting up as you felt Andy stiffen inside you again with a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re ready, love,” he hummed, lips slanting over yours, stealing your breath, every minute roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy through your system bordering on pain he drank straight from your mouth.

His hold crept from your wrist to your hand, fingers interlacing, palm sticky with blood pressing against your own wound.

You wailed.

The guttural sound rippled through you just as you hit another peak, Andy’s thrusts stuttering with a curse on his lips as your walls gripped him in a vice, your whole body spasming with paralyzing waves of euphoria, tears springing from your eyes.

Your body floated. You’d swear, had you had any control over your lips, that your soul ascended to another plane of existence. Nothing held you chained to earth anymore. You felt free and weightless and full of light, all-consuming but so so warm and soothing you felt a sob tearing from your chest, a distant sensation of your lover – your lover, your love, your everything – spilling inside you, his lips pressed to your throat, his weight on you, his gentle hold on your hand the only things grounding you and wrapping you in an overwhelming feeling of safety. 

Your name, softly spoken; whispers of little bird, tender pets to your hair.

Growing aware of your body trembling in aftershocks, whatever unbearable pressure you distantly remembered crushing you finally released you from its clutches. You opened your heavy eyelids, a blurry image of a stunningly handsome man, Andy, all you could see; and you were at peace with that.

He still held your hand firmly in his, leaning over you, worried gaze roaming your features as you felt your chest heaving with slow ragged breaths.

“Andy…”

“I know, little bird… it was almost too much, wasn’t it,” he whispered, your heavy eyelids slipping shut again, a tender kiss landing on them.

“Mmm… ‘most,” you echoed, exhaustion settling in every fibre of your being now that feeling of deep contentment washed over your body, cleansing you of the insatiable hunger.

“That’s my pretty little bird.”

A brief peck to your forehead was the only warning you got before Andy’s warmth slowly lifted from you, oh so carefully sliding out of you, a vague sensation of your nose scrunching in discontent reaching your brain. He squeezed you fingers too, you thought, but his voice sounded as if from miles away.

“I’ll be right back, honey.”

His retreating steps were the last sound you heard before sleep took you into its merciful arms at last.

You didn’t feel the careful touch of a warm cloth washing away the proves of intense love-making from your most intimate flesh, nor the kiss to your hipbone. You didn’t feel another cloth wiping away the blood from your hand, couldn’t see Andy’s pained frown at the shallow cut on your palm, nor you could hear the hoarse whisper as he traced his fingertips over your wound, erasing it without trace, a weak smile passing his lips.

No one but him could see him even as he felt thousands of judging eyes on him when he walked back to the bathroom, washing the blood off of his hands and tearing away a strip of clean cloth to wrap around his own palm, tightening it more than necessary with every tug, the throbbing pain only justified; a fraction of punishment that should be inflicted on him, a lump growing in his throat as he dreaded and couldn’t wait to walk back and lay on his bed, sharing it with someone after endless years of solitude.

Leaning his hands on the sink with a shaky exhale, he hung his head low even as something so light and beautiful thundered in his ribcage, fingers flexing, the fresh wave of pain pushing him to look up. The face starring at him from the mirror was one of a selfish monster; a selfish monster craving love just like any other being with hot blood pulsing through its veins.

He just wanted to love and be loved. Was that really so wrong of him?

It didn’t matter anymore; he’d made his choice and made yours as well.

Stepping back into the bedroom, he found you sound asleep, somehow having turned to your side, facing the door as if you eagerly awaited his return and the dreams took you too early. The frown on Andy’s face softened, something sweet humming in his heart, the lump in his throat releasing just a bit at how peaceful you appeared.

Circling the bed, he stretched alongside your body, propping on his elbow to feat his eyes on you.

You glowed with wild beauty, hair a soft tangled mess around your head, skin still flushed, kiss-swollen lips parted, bare skin of your tempting body enticing him to touch.

My little bird.

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you warm.

You deserve everything and I will give it to you.

You are mine to love and cherish and protect.

With a sigh releasing the immense pressure in his ribcage, he brushed his lips over his fingertips before bringing his forefinger to the side of your neck. Drawing tender lines, his touch trailed to your nape, down your neck, over your shoulder blade and shoulder, a swirl of ink left in its wake reaching gently over your collarbone almost to your breastbone. Curls as delicate as your soul, thin petals of wild flowers and trees; and surrounded by the beauty of nature, a little swallow.

Content with his handwork, pressing a soft kiss to your nape, Andy laid himself behind you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush to his chest, your soft warm body moulding into his perfectly as if it was always meant to be.

He draped covers over you both to keep you warm as he had promised.

Slowly pulled into consciousness by fingers carding through your hair as gently as if threading through dreams, you felt your lips curl in a brief smile, the sensation of a warm firm body wrapped about you protectively rousing you from your sleep with finality.

Just as slowly, the events of yesterday came back to your memory like an echo, echo of freezing-cold water, all-consuming need and overwhelming relief found in Andy’s arms, in Andy’s bed.

That was where you were, feeling just as relieved; just as light even as sleep still weighted your body, delaying your movements and making them sloppy, your hand landing ungracefully on Andy’s chest, his quiet chuckle causing you to purse your lips and finally will your eyes to open.

The first sunrays were peeking through the bedroom window, casting light to the warm space, illuminating Andy’s form from behind and giving his tousled hair almost supernatural glow; and yet it was nothing compared to the soft glow in his eyes as he watched his fingers toy with your hair, as his gaze met yours, dreamy, with a tinge of concern.

“Good morning,” he husked, voice warm and gentle like a cup of coffee on a cold winter afternoon.

“Gd mornin’,’” you muttered in response, causing a brief smile pass his lips, before his brows drew together, his dark blues roaming all over your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek.

It was a little unnerving, the attention, your awareness of just how much of a mess your appearance had to be after a long wild night spent tangled in the sheets insistent in your mind; and the fact you were still completely naked save for the duvet Andy must have covered you with did not help your case.

He did not seem to mind.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a changed woman,” you replied without as much as a thought, only to be surprised how true the words were.

You did feel different; transformed, for the lack of a better word. A huge weight you hadn’t been aware you had been carrying seemed lifted, aches and worries in your heart and mind soothed, the only ache remaining being a pleasant reminder of last night. One brief flash of fear; a memory of a blade and blood, yours and Andy’s – but where you could see a cloth wrapped unceremoniously around his hand, you realized you could flex both of your hands without as much as discomfort.

Before you could ask – why your hand carried no mark while Andy’s carried a potentially still bleeding mark of something you did not understand and yet seemed to understand better than yourself – he spoke, hesitance lacing his voice.

“Well… you are. You are mine,” he whispered.

The thought sent a surge of warmth through your chest, a smile unwittingly spreading on your lips. Feasting your eyes on the man who had indeed made you yours quite thoroughly, his unfairly handsome features made you almost oblivious to how quiet and shy he sounded; and how fast his heart thundered under your palm.

“You’re bound to me now, little bird, as I am to you. Forever.”

Forever mine.

Forever yours.

You blinked, unsure what he meant and yet; the sincerity and gravity of his words left no doubt that he was sharing a profound truth. A quiet, powerful presence of an ancient entity not to fear but certainly respect hummed in the depths of your ribcage.

In your silence, Andy moved his hand so the pads of his fingers now lad tenderly over your collarbone, instinctively drawing your gaze, air catching in your throat in awe.

Dark indigo-like ink adorned your skin, stretching from the curve of your shoulder as far as you could see over your collarbone and cleavage, a breathtaking piece or art; a love letter to nature etched onto your body in simple precise lines without shading. You heart raced in your chest as you reached out cautiously, fearing the tattoo you did not remember getting might disappear.

It did not; but images filled your mind, images of your bare body standing in Andy’s bathroom, your back to the mirror, glancing over your shoulder and marvelling at the intricate pattern, delicate leaves and swirls as if protecting a small bird; a swallow.

The astonishment stayed within you as your gaze refocused on the inked skin of your chest, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. You would say with certainty you had never stood in the bathroom like that nor admired the tattoo; and yet, you were absolutely sure, somehow, that this was what your back now looked like, this was what you would see if you walked to the mirror and made the image true.

Your stomach fluttered, a tingle of caution; and still, no matter how much you tried to make sense of why, you were not scared. Curious, rather; fascinated even.

Glancing up at Andy, you found him watching you closely, his eyes brimming with careful hope and expectation of a blow to his face at once.

“How?” you breathed out, his unhappy grimace deepening.

The sight twisted your heart.

You were lost; and yet it seemed he was the one needing guidance and support and all you yearned for was to give him exactly that.

As you placed your hand on his cheek, already missing the sensation of his heartbeat, his eyes fluttered shut, a shaky inhale rattling his ribcage. He nuzzled into your touch, a soft scratch of his beard against your palm. His hand slid to your waist, fingers flexing briefly as he met your gaze, his eyes a storm of emotion.

“A bonding like that… requires three elements of a body; saliva, seed and blood. Once exchanged, along with your consent and with the drop of potion in your tea… we belong together now, little bird. And… there’s no force on the earth that could tear us apart.”

Your pulse skyrocketed at the gravity of his words.

It sounded terrifying; it sounded definitive.

It sounded wicked.

And it sounded right.

It should scare you, a low voice whispered in the back of your mind, but it was drowned in the melody of your heart finally finding peace.

Forever. No force on Earth that could tear us apart.

The echo of the voice having been with you ever since you fell through the ice and nearly drowned washed over you sweetly; if felt like coming back to a safe harbour after years and years spent on a raging sea.

You didn’t understand technicalities; you did not understand at all. But you understood how the fact this was right was everything that mattered.

That and the fact Andy was watching you now, perhaps even more overwhelmed than you, awaiting your reaction to the confession because that was what this was. A confession. No matter what his words would have said, the weight of his transgression was written in his cerulean eyes.

And your heart ached and called for his.

Sliding your hand to his nape, you shifted closer, slow enough to see his eyes widen and lit up with hope before you brushed your lips over his, a pained sound in the back of his throat almost making you stop; until his fingers flexed in the flesh of your waist and gripped, pulling you flush to his chest, free hand sliding under your cheek to angle your head and deepen the kiss, your lips parting in invitation and a plea.

Like a spark of life to your body; like a drop of the most precious of wines on your tongue. Exhilarating. Addicting.

“Oh little bird…”

The soft cautious voice turned warmer, lighter and heavier with desire all the same as both his and your hands began to roam, every touch like sunbeams shining from within your bones, your body arching against him in instinctive search for bliss.

“What if they come looking for me?”

Andy smiled as you blurted the question s, licking into your mouth instead of an answer and making you keen, the hold on your hips encouraging you to meet the roll of his own.

“They’ll never find you, love. This house does not exist in the earthly realm, not for most of the year… don’t worry, little bird.”

That piece of information should worry you, yet you could not bring yourself to care enough; instead, the tingle in the back of your mind whispered of earthly plane and other realms, of forces beyond comprehension, tales remembered from childhood of unhuman entities coaxing people into their grasp with a promise of what their heart craved.

Feeling the thunderous heartbeat under your palm, the warmth and firmness of Andy’s body, there was no denying how wonderfully alive and human he was; and yet, words of potions and bonds and forevers were telling a different tale.

“What are you, Andy?”

Another smile, mischievous as his touch trailed down your chest over your belly, along your hipbone, grasping the back of your thigh to lift it so he could slot one of his muscular legs between yours, the delicious friction against your rapidly dampening core causing your thoughts to scatter.

“Does it matter?” he whispered to your ear, teeth nibbling under your earlobe, drawing a whimper from your lips.

No. No, it did not. The one thing he was was devious, his lips chaining one kiss after another along your throat, your head thrown back as your nails dug into his back.

“I’ve had many different names, little bird. The only one that will ever matter to me is the one falling from your lips as shatter for me again.”

The image was almost palpable, Andy’s soft hair in your fingers as he lifted you towards the stars and yet; another question, much more urgent, cold fingers of doubt creeping along your spine, threatened to put the flames of bliss igniting in your body out at once.

Forever was a long, long time, no matter how much of a hyperbole Andy could have used.

And in your experience, men did not love for even half of it or less and chose their forever with much more care than he had.

“Why me?”

Andy’s body turned rigid for a moment, safe for his head snapping up to search your gaze, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to decipher your tone.

You willed yourself to hold his serious gaze even as your heart raced, worried you had overstepped; worried you might get what you bargained for. Heartbreak.

Whatever Andy found in your gaze – be it pride or desperation – it drew a sigh from his lips, his touch retreating from your intimate flesh in favour of grasping your hand and linking his fingers with yours.

“The moment you fell into water… I knew you were mine and always had been,” he said slowly.

Your breath hitched, threading uncertain waters again, in more ways than one.

The moment you fell into water… he knew. Whatever that meant. The moment you fell-

The moment you heard him for the first time. The voice, even as it had been veiled with mystery at first, the voice you later recognized as his own pleading for you to fight. The very moment…

“I… I think I heard your voice,” you whispered, certain you’d find laughter in his eyes, because what you were saying was absurd, a figment of imagination of an extremely stressed mind, but there was no trace of it. Not at all.

Warmth, yes. Humour? Not in the slightest.

“Yes, that’s possible.”

“But… how? Why?”

Sighing again with a gentle squeeze to your fingers, he let his other hand wander, soft pads of his fingers brushing over your skin, following the lines of your tattoo with his touch and sight alike, speaking lowly, almost absently.

“Time is an illusion, little bird. An elaborate one, but only an illusion. On Christmas Day, the veil surrounding it is the thinnest – that is why people who come to the blessed lake on Christmas Day and cut though the ice do glimpse their future. Those who fall in… they literally soak their body in the ability.”

“Ability…?” you echoed weakly, your breaths coming out shorter as intangible weight settled in your chest. “Ability to… glimpse into the future? No, that’s not--- not-”

Flashes. Images of you looking over your shoulder, a precise picture of a tattoo you had yet to see, Andy kneeling between your legs as you laid sprawled in the armchair, his body draped over yours, hand pinned next to your head, his bandaged hand on your hip as his lips devoured you on this very bed-

“Little bird?”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out, your head spinning as the images replayed in your head, over and over, hazy and yet sharp, details you could have not imagined, not truly. “I-- yesterday, I saw these… flashes, I was sure they were-”

You gulped, cheek flushing with heat at the admission, your gaze fixed on Andy’s chest, unable to meet his eye until his fingers slid under your chin, tipping your head back just a bit, his gaze intrigued – and serious.

“…fantasies.”

A little smirk passed over his lips, a flicker of mischief that soon gave way to something softer and graver. “But they weren’t, were they?”

You shook your head, even as the glaring truth was only now dawning to you.

“I saw this too. I think? Maybe. Your injured hand… and I think I saw-- I have a swallow on my back, don’t I?”

His eyes widened, a speckle of pride in his gaze as he slowly nodded.

“Yes. I’m sorry, little bird, I know it’s difficult. From what I know it is hard to make sense of these images. Those who bath in the lake at the sacred time…” he trailed off, a frown twisting his gentle expression, another sigh leaving his lips. “If they survive, they are bound to fall into madness, the strain on their mind too great.” 

Your heart stopped.

It must have, because the sudden stab of ice-cold fear tore straight through it, blood crystalizing in your veins.

You couldn’t breathe. A few words and the icy waters of the lake surrounded you all over again, filling your lungs with thousands of needles, the glassy shards all around you pulling you under, pulling you down, down, down-

“But--- but does that-“

And just as fast, a warm firm grip pulled you back up, a protective cage of hands cradling your face, gentle and steady, your vision reducing to pair of fiery blue eyes.

“No. No, because you are mine. We are far from the earthly realm and you are bound to me the most potent way there is. And if, if that’s not enough, I will find a way to protect you even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

I’ll keep you safe.

I’ll keep you.

I’d never hurt you.

You’ll be mine, mine to love and keep and protect and I’ll be yours.

Your heart was soared, tears gathering in your eyes at the warmth radiating from Andy’s palms alone. There was no space for doubt left whatsoever. His blazing determination would scorch the entirety of the earthly realm he had spoken of and leave nothing but ashes if it meant keeping you safe.

And that, that was exactly what made no sense; because you had not encountered a single human being in your whole damn life that would feel a fraction of the affection Andy seemed to harbour for you in less than a day.  Nothing was as real as his hands on you, as the sweet ache in your body from yesterday, and yet this, this could not be real.

“Why? Why of all people, why would you choose-”

“I told you,” Andy said, just as passionately, pleading for you to understand. “You fell and I knew better than anything that you were mine and always had been.”

You didn’t understand. But perhaps you did. Or you would.

Perhaps that was what he meant when he said time was an illusion; right now, you did not know, but you would and that was all that mattered, because you might as well know already.

Your head spun, pressure building behind your eyes and yet you could not tear your gaze away from the soft storm in Andy’s eyes.

Let me, honey.

Let me and I’ll teach you all you need to know.

“So what… it was fate?” you muttered, the words, yet again, absurd to your own ears.

Andy smirked, the expression so out of place and so perfectly fitting to his handsome face your stomach made a little somersault. Releasing you from his grip, he simply continued to cradle your cheek as his other hand began to toy with your hair, his smile softening as you felt yourself relax at the tender yet playful action.

“Fate is a series of deliberate choices, little bird,” he said, letting the strand of your hair fall only to wrap another one round his finger. “I… I made my choices, some of which I am not proud of, and you made yours. You chose to come back to your hometown. Chose to escape the family gathering. Chose to walk to the lake and try your luck looking at the water surface with shy hope – because years ago, when you were still a child, you chose to read a particular book of legends.”

With every word, your heart was picking up again, hammering in your ribcage, your mind latching onto pieces of information Andy could have guessed but spoke with unshakable certainty.

But then, the look in his eye was painfully tender you shuddered at being at the receiving end, thoughts scattering again, reducing themselves to one single thought.

No one. No one had ever looked at you like that.

“Much like you chose to help out a little bird back to its nest when only a child yourself. Chose to release a spirit of a baby swallow mere days after, perhaps even unwittingly calling luck upon yourself that would once find its way to you.”

“How- how do you-”

“I told you. I knew when you fell. Because I got to glimpse beyond the veils of time too,” he explained gently, letting silence stretch, allowing you to process the information that was nothing short of absolutely overwhelming. Mind-blowing.

He had seen; he had seen parts of your life no one even knew about, moments you barely remembered. He knew about a small, meaningless act of kindness years and years ago, he knew-

The sudden realization stuck you like a lightning, a choked sound born in the back of your throat, a breathy whisper.

“Little bird…”

“Yes,” Andy confirmed, just as quiet, gaze glimmering with affection as his fingers moved from caressing your hair to your shoulder, reaching behind you, blindly following lines of a tattoo you knew were there and now knew why. A small swallow amongst the leaves and swirls. “And that’s your why. All these images of your life, past, presence, even future, flashing before my eyes. They showed me all of you. Who you were, how good, how sweet, an innocent soul with faith in forces of nature and beyond… you were perfect. You are perfect, little bird. And I couldn’t let you-- not when I knew what might happen if I--- I knew you were to be mine and I wanted to be yours. I steered you, just a little and I knew it was wrong of me to meddle with your life and I knew I should have let you go… but even when I did, your steps lead to me still and then you were here, and I-”

Your fingers silenced his laments, confession and declaration all at once, a simple touch to his lips working like a charm, his eyes falling shut.

Your heart was beating so vigorously you were sure it would beat its way out of your chest.

There was so much to process, so much to feel, so much to understand and thread through; but at last, you understood two things.

One: this truly was meant to be, be it fate or series of choice or divine intervention.

Two: he needed to stop.

“You saved me.”

Andy shook his head, taking your hand into his and holding it to his chest, lips barely moving as he whispered.

“No and it’s not that simple. My voice and enchantment might have helped, but you saved yourself. And since the moment you did, since you came in, I’ve done things, wicked things to have you-“

You recalled the scorching need for him, the bath, the tea, his touch eliciting visions, little puzzle pieces falling into place, even as the image remained all too incomplete; the puzzle of him, a simple man with something extraordinary throbbing in his soul, a lonely man craving love beyond what you could possibly imagine, tortured way beyond what he had brought upon you yesterday and had soothed all the same and you couldn’t.

You couldn’t but forgive whichever transgressions he had committed if he was beating himself over them and his original intentions were threaded by something soft and pure.

It was your turn to cradle his cheek and wordlessly ask him to look at you and trust you.

Obeying, Andy hung onto your lips, two two pools of cerulean sadness awaiting judgement and asking forgiveness all the same, almost absurdly so, because you had a feeling that should he want to, he could have made you mad for him all over again, a drop of a potion, a flick of a hand, and you’d have no choice but to succumb to him.

But he didn’t.

It only solidified your decision.

“No, Andy. You saved me… your very own little bird,” you added with a smile tugging at your lips. “And maybe calling a little luck upon yourself in the process, I suppose. I—whatever you have done… it only sped up what I would have felt for you either way. And… if I was meant to be yours, if I am yours… then you were meant to be mine.”

A shaky inhale. You had never imagined a man of his built would spoke in such small vulnerable voice, but he did. A single word, tinged with careful hope:

“Yeah?”

“Oh Andy…”

Actions speaking louder than words, you pulled him for a kiss, soft, slow and deep, the softened flame of your desire flaring up again, this time with no doubts or unspoken questions.

His lips tore away from yours with an urgent plea.

“Show me, love.”

“Was trying to,“ you muttered, confused and a little hurt, only for Andy to shake his head and bring your hand to his lips, a tender kiss to your fingertips sending a tingle of electricity rushing through your body all the way to your toes. “Andy, what-”

“Think of us… of a pattern, a mark… much like your tattoo. If I am yours… where would I carry your mark?” he whispered, the fervour in his voice making your heart stutter in your chest.

Oh Andy.

You did not need to think for long; there was only one choice, truly.

As he squeezed your hand, enticing you to touch him as if that was enough to make the pattern appear, his gaze eagerly followed your movements as you carefully brushed over his sternum.

With a breathless chuckle on your lips, you watched the ink of a familiar colour – the colour of your eyes, you realized, only slightly darker, much like your own tattoo mirrored a darker shade of Andy’s eyes – draw a line of the pattern on your mind, perfectly matching your own. Over his collarbone; over the mass of his shoulder; over his shoulder blade.

As you retreated your hand, content with your handiwork, you caught Andy’s soft, so achingly soft gaze, zeroed on your awed smile.

Whatever he was – whatever he was beyond yours – he carried something good and beautiful in his very core.

“Thank you, love.”

A gentle kiss to your fingertips, another little jolt of energy; as he placed your palm over his rapidly beating heart, no ink spilled anymore. Before you could marvel at that, he captured your lips with his, a brief kiss before he sighed with emotion so profound you felt your eyes prickling with tears again.

“I think you saved me, little bird. And I will spend forever by repaying you.”

You didn’t know how long forever was. You didn’t know what awaited you, even as you soon might get a glimpse of it, but one thing you knew for sure.

“There’s no rush, love… we have all the time in the world.”

And in the earthly realm, just as Andy said, as soon as the clock struck midnight on a Christmas Day, the house disappeared from view; along with the woman, once a superstitious kid, carrying her to a happier realm she may never, ever leave.

And with the house was long gone, invisible and untouchable to mere human senses, the only trace of her left was but small droplets of blood on the white bark of a birch tree; giving birth to unearthly crimson blossoms as soon as the first spring sunrays caressed it with its warmth, the ices of the lake melting.

Complete masterlist

Andy Barber and misc masterlist

Phew... You did it! You finished reading!

If you find some time and energy, please, let me know if you enjoyed 🥺 Honest. This is one of my rare soft dark babies and I'm nervous as hell posting this and I obviously spent a lot of time on this one, so... hoe with me? 🥹

Thank you for reading either way 💕

BTW, the book referenced in the story is very much real and used to be one of my favourites as a teen. It’s Kytice by K.J.Erben (translated as A Bouquet of Czech Folktales, I cannot tell if it's a good translation as I haven't got my hands on it; or biligual version simply called Kytice).

P.S. everything is a oneshot if you post it in one go 😌🤭

[changingplumbob]

Introductions: Callie - Part 1

Ciao, welcome to Dating Deanna! I'm Devin Villareal and I will be your host. My younger sister Deanna is hoping the paradise that is Tartosa will set the stage for her to find true love. Without further ado, let's meet today's contestant.

Callie Santos

The experience of being on a TV show is not for everyone but Callie is doing her best to put her socially awkward trait on the back burner. While not a fan of small talk, she is ready to step out of her comfort zone.

She may be a little, or a lot, clumsy. But no broken bones- this year.

(Have we taped down all the cords? You sure? We do not want to have any injuries people.)

Callie can be squeamish, acknowledging she's first up on a chair when a mouse makes an appearance. Not to worry though, no mouse holes in the villa and most bugs will stay outside.

Devin: Buongiorno Callie. Welcome to the show

Callie: Thanks *squeals* Sorry, sorry, I thought there was a spider

Devin: Did you apply for the show or did someone do it for you?

Callie: Hmm, ahh, I applied myself!

Devin: Does anyone know you'll be on the show?

Callie: No, it'll be a real surprise! Anyone that knows me will be shocked that I had the confidence to try this out.

Devin: It can be fun to shake expectations. Now I have to ask, how are you feeling about meeting Deanna?

Callie: A little nervous, a lot worried, and just hoping everything goes alright!

Devin: *smiling* I think we have similar enough dresses that some of my luck can go with you. Through the doors when you're ready. Break a leg

Callie: Thank you Devin

[factual-fantasy]

Heya Factual! Hope things are going as good as they can on your end! Sorry it's been a bit since my last Ask, I got sick AGAIN and have been out of commission for a while now. But at last I have returned! Sorry to see your still having some technical troubles- really hoping you can figure it all out!

Also, I wanted to thank you! While I was sick, inspired by your art, I decided to give Sky a try on mobile (just got a new phone), and while I'm still super early in the game, it seems really cool! I'm not sure how linear the game is, but I figured I'd ask, as a veteran, do you have any advice or pointers for a beginner? Anything of interest I should check out or invest in? (Oh, and also, sorry about the color swap disappointments, sounds like a real bummer!)

And lastly, unrelated, I really liked the Pomni and Gummigoo art you did a few days back! I really like both of them together, and would love to see more of their story later down the road! Though I was wondering, you mentioned Max and Chad both stuck around in your AU too! Any cool redesign or story ideas for those two? Do they stick with Gummigoo, or have they branched out over time into the other friend groups?

(Color swap disappointment post) (Pomni and Gummigoo post)

Hello! Oof, sorry to hear that you got sick again <:(( But I'm glad you seem to be feeling better! As for my tech issues I have gotten a new chord for my tablet and have downloaded a fresh FireAlpaca. So far none of the screen glitches have come back and FireAlpaca is working perfectly! :))

Also thank you! :DD I'm glad you liked it!! :}} And while Chad's ref sheet is done, Max's is still in the sketch stage. I just haven't gotten around to finishing him <:/

Now their friend groups.. I was thinking that not many circus goers really vibe with NPCs all that much. So the number of people who they can make genuine friendships with is limited.. that being said I think Chad and Max would find a solid friendships with Gangle and maybe Zibble and uhhh... Ms. Wiggles..? Maybe? :0

Gangle has a soft spot for NPCs thanks to Bella and respects them more than others. So out of the 3 I think their friendships would be strongest with her.

Now sky.. ohhh boy prepare for a wall of text <XDD (Note there is a little spoiler for something in Golden Wasteland!)

Alrighty, so when I got this ask I sat down and made a list of every little nugget of sky advice I could possibly think of. Until eventually I took a step back and realized that a lot of it wasn't really solid advice or pointers <XDD so I cut the list down into somethings that I either wish a veteran would have taught me when I was a moth. Or things I found out too late and missed out on something or anything like that. Plus some advice I've tired really hard to beat into other moths heads for their own good but they never understand me in game <XDD

First off. Seasons, reoccurring events and non reoccurring events. Its important to know the difference between the three for this advice.

Seasons are limited-time themed events that come with the option of purchasing an Season Pass, which allows players to access extra Cosmetics and Expressions during the Season in exchange for an in-game purchase.👇👇👇

~~~~~

Special Events (also called Holiday Events). These are limited-time events introducing new cosmetics themed around real-life celebrations. Most Special Events recur annually. Some of these events take place in the Secret Area, accessible from the Vault of Knowledge. They are separate from, but may overlap with, Seasonal Events and Double Currency Events.👇👇👇

~~~~~

Non-recurring Events (or Short Events). These events are special or unannounced events that do not repeat or return due to their special characteristics. This list also includes events that have not been confirmed to return nor have a history of recurrence.👇👇👇

~~~~~

Alrighty, got that all processed? I hope so <XD Now onto my advice.

1: Collaborative in app purchase items (items you need to buy with real money) will never return. Let me explain.

In sky there is a reoccurring event made by sky called days of fortune. (Its basically a Chinese new year event) Its going on right now actually! :0 This event has come back once a year every year. And the cosmetics that you need to purchase with real money have come back every time too.

However, the Cinnamoroll collaborative event? That event and all of the items it brought with it will not reoccur.

You have to be careful and check every event and make sure its one that will return. If its a collab season like Cinnamoroll and you don't buy the items? They will vanish and you wont have the chance to buy them ever again :( I learned my lesson the hard way when I didn't buy the fox plush and the yellow scarf from season of the little prince years and years ago. 😔 Up to this point the little prince's in app purchase items have not returned since.

This goes for collaborative seasons as well. Season of the little prince, season of aurora and season of moomin, etc, will not have their in app purchase items return. Be careful to know which is which during the event/season so you don't regret anything!

Another note about non returning items: While individual spirits that you can relive the memories of, can return as traveling spirits once every 2 weeks.. any items that the guide of that season offers will be unavailable after the season ends. 👇👇👇

Also speaking of traveling spirits, here's some advice I had to figure out myself. As someone who has every single traveling spirit in the game? As long as you have 200 candles, 40 hearts and 20 ascended candles? You will be able to afford all the cosmetics from ANY traveling spirit that shows up. If you keep a nice candle run schedule this wont be too hard to keep up with!

Also note about traveling spirits. They can take a looong time to return. When I first started playing I bought out half the items a traveling spirit offered before he left. I knew he would come back so I wasn't upset. But it took 2 REAL LIFE YEARS. 2 WHOLE YEARS for him to FINALLY come back. So this is why I advise you be really careful with the 200🕯️,40💝 and 20🧨. It would suck a lot if a spirit showed up that you really liked!.. Only for you to not afford it and have to wait a year or two to see it again <XDD

Now currency. Sky tries to make out that ascended candles are the most valuable currency. This is a load of bologna. By far the most valuable and sought after currency is hearts. You can go and get ascended candles by yourself all you want. But hearts have to be given to you by other players in one way or another. Which makes them EXTREMELY hard to get for some people. My advice is to hoard those things like your life depends on it. Try to have a stock pile of at least 30 to prepare for any temporary and expensive items that may come your way. Don't go and blow them all on the home spirits like I did <XDD

Now candle runs.. a lot of players will tell you you have to do a candle run through the ENTIRE GAME to keep up with sky's bonkers prices. Which is sometimes true... However, I have recently discovered this candle run route on YouTube that has helped me loads! I modified it a little and don't do the turtle thing, but if you're worried about runs that take hours this could be very useful to you! About a week or soo of keeping up with it and I'm almost at 400 candles! :)))

Another thing I want to advise is the whole ultimate reward thing in the home constellations. (Random google images)

The game will tell you that if you ascend all the spirits in a realm constatation, that it'll unlock the "ultimate reward". Which is that question mark in the middle. Typically this means you just gotta buy every single item from every single spirit in that constellation and the reward will be unlocked.

THAT IS NOT THE CASE HERE!! You do NOT have to buy the VERY EXPENSIVE tier 2 capes that some spirits offer. Just everything else. So repeat you buy everything the spirits offer, but you DO NOT have to buy the super expensive tier 2 capes in order to unlock the ultimate reward. Save your hearts, you're welcome! XDD

Now the Golden Wasteland advice. As a veteran I NEED to teach you HOW to burn down this plant in wasteland.

This plant is in the last area before the temple in wasteland. Not to be confused with the GIANT PLANT that's in the area infested with Krill. This is the smaller one after it. And there has been DOZENS UPON DOZENS of times a moth has come by to help me burn it down and not known how to do it. I've sat there for 20 minutes each time trying DESPERATLY to communicate what order to burn the plant down but they never get it. So I shall teach you!

Hopefully that little comic got my point across! XD

Another word of advice is to check out nastymold on YouTube! She is a very sweet and soft spoken YouTuber that plays the beta version of sky. She gets all the updates early and makes short videos explaining everything you need to know about any events or seasons. If you're ever confused about anything or are afraid you may miss out on something in an event, just check out her channel! No doubt she's already covered it and explained it for you so you don't miss nothing!

Now my last word of advice for you is this. Take the game slow. Really soak up your moth days and take your time playing it.

Many veteran players are heartbroken that they let another veteran drag them through their moth days and didn't really get to explore or experience anything naturally for themselves. And other veterans just miss their moth days in general. When the game felt huge and there was so much to explore and so many things to save and grind for.

I don't think I'm like that personally, I'm way more relaxed as a veteran knowing I understand how the game works and I'm not missing out on anything. But I can understand missing those moth days feeling like a kid running around and seeing all the beautiful things for the first time.

So just take things nice and slow. Soak up the game at a nice pace. if there's an event that you'd like to partake in but don't understand it just watch nastymold. She always has a sweet little video that tells you all you need to know without really dampening your moth experience. You can only be a moth once.

Well that's all the actually practical advice I had on my list. I hope you find some use in this wall of text XDD thanks for reading and see you in the skies! 💞🕊️

[jinx-s-things]

Hey! 😘

This is my first ever request so sorry if it sounds weird. So I seen your post about starting Anora fics and I totally think you should

Ani x musician reader!!!

Like the reader is performing with their band or something like that then Ani notices the drummer and is instantly attracted.

That’s just an idea though you don’t have to write that if you don’t want to

Crazy little thing called love

Anora x musician fem!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of sex other than that I think it’s alright

Notes: I did change the reader to a guitarist instead of a drummer also thanks for the request.

The colourful lights were pulsing throughout the whole club as the loud music was thumping. Over in the corner in the dim light was Anora giving a lap dance to one of the men on the black leather couch’s. It was a shitty job but it’ll do if she can pay the rent.

The tinsel in her hair fell across her face while her dark black hair was all over the place. Most of her makeup was sparkling and matched with her acrylic nails.

-

You stood outside of the club, the neon sign flashed in your eyes, cars drove swiftly past. You and your band walked in the door getting ready to set up. You were glad to get in from the chilly weather as it was freezing this time of night.

Once everything was set up the lights slowly flashed a nice shade of pink and purple as music started to play. You couldn’t help but notice a lady in the background talking to a man. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

She suddenly turned around and looked directly at you and a slight smirk appeared on her face along with a wink. ‘Had you imagined that’ you think to yourself, but you must have been so lost in thought that you didn’t even realise your band mate was now aggressively taping you. “Get it together Y/N, we might actually get payed this time” they whisper to you.

For several months you and your band have been playing at college gigs and not one single penny. You had lost hope this was gonna be the last time you ever play with your band at all before you leave. No money, no job barely any food it was awful.

It was a shame you did really enjoy being up on stage but there was no way you would manage to pay bills. Your apartment was atrocious anyway.

The whole thing went surprisingly well although the whole time you couldn’t take your eyes off of the dark haired lady that was now dancing on the pole.

Once the gig was over and everything was packed up some of your band members started to head out. You were just about to go when all of a sudden a hand lightly grabbed your shoulder. “So you must be the guitarist” they said, noticing the guitar hanging around your shoulder. You turned around and realised it was her. “Yeah I am” you answered not really knowing what to say. “You got a real smooth melody going on” the dancer spoke in a quiet tone, seductive even. “Thanks really appreciate it” Now you were face to face with her you could see how stunning she was.

She then spoke “I’m Ani, you?” Her smile widened as you blushed suddenly becoming shy. “Y/N”, you muttered. “Nice name, why don’t we get a private room to ourselves” Ani says, you nod and let her take your hand.

“First time here I guess?” She asks seductively while caressing her hands all over your breasts. “You guessed right” but before you could say anything else Ani pushed you onto a couch.

“Just lay back and enjoy baby”

-

It had been a couple of weeks but you hadn’t heard from Ani at all it was clearly just a spur of the moment, but what did you expect however she done it for free?.

You quickly pushed that thought away for now and got ready to go on stage. Things were going well enough and finally our band started getting recognition.

More crowds started arriving making their way to the little venue. We still were performing at small gigs in bars or usually clubs but it yet you grow nervous. “What are you going to do if you get famous one day?” You thought now getting angry “Yeah right”, sighing you slowly walk onstage.

The stage was very little since it was only a jazz club however it still managed to look spacious . Lights were a mixture of red and orange making it seem warm, Hushed chattering filled most of the room. On stage it was dim but you could just make out people in the audience.

While playing all you could think of was Ani, Ani, Ani! She drove you crazy. From one of the nearby tables you could see a lady by herself though that wasn’t uncommon but for some odd reason this intrigued you.

Ani could only focus on you the whole time, she didn’t mean to disappear from you but she got nervous . She sighed hoping that you would notice her. It had been a bad couple of days or even weeks she couldn’t tell anymore. Imaging a more better life preferably with you kept Ani positive.

She moved closer so she was more in the light cause she seen you looking in that direction. You closely look once more and immediately your eyes lit up.

After the performance was over you scurried down the stage, heart racing like never before running towards Ani. You paused when you got to the table, a small smile appeared on your face however still quite confused also maybe annoyed. “What are you doing here?” Ani stood up, “I came here to see you” she answered “look I’m sorry for disappearing like that from you, I knew from the first time that I seen you I had to get to know you . You don’t need to accept my apology but I just wanted you to know that I love you even though it has been a short time. Thinking of you kept me happy and I hope you feel the same.”

She took a deep breath out clearly feeling better after getting that off her chest . You blink not knowing what to think, the apology made your heart flutter . She looked up at you with a shy look on her face, nervously waiting for you to speak. You sigh and place an arm on her shoulder, “I forgive you” you say.

There was a feeling between the both of you. In that moment you knew you had to go for it. Slowly you leaned closer and gently grabbed her waist while lips touched. Ani’s lips felt soft as silk you never wanted to part from it and her scent was intoxicating.

Finally parting lips, warmth blossomed in Ani’s chest as did yours. They both smiled at each other feeling calmer than ever.

[justbelievinginmagic]

ahhhh i love replying and seeing your comments!!!

i love love love woosan, i think theyre sweeties and im happy you are feeling like in love with them. they really are painting being with them as shiny. thats also such a good question - how are they handling yn being hurt?? theyre so down bad... i wonder why they havent been seen hmmhmhmhmhmhhmhmhmhmhmhmm lolol ;)

And yessss it was Mingi!! Mingi is so down bad, hes totally being stalking her for like weeks/months at this point and boy is like obsessed. i dont have any secret surprises regarding that - he just liked her vibes lol and heard a lot from woosan. he's also a soft boy so i think he found her and dancing and everything romantic.

jongho is sooooo polite, hes BEST BOY. and omg i love that you noticed that bc i really wanted to emphasis hes like being a lil creeepyyyy. like how does he know her nameeeee? i went back and forth wonder if he should even say his name but i feel like he would bc this is their yn!! lol

i also need yunho lol - even though yh was one of the more difficult characters to write so far. im so used to soft boy yunho irl! im also really happy you enjoyed the eerie vibes of the mansion. i referenced the mv and oldie mansions like hearst castle for inspo. and this is the "ghost mansion" after all! the butlers are scary! i wanted to incorporate how the mv had all these masked men without the mask part - i hope i portrayed that vibe!

also thats so interesting what you think about the yunho conflict!! id take anything yunho does/says with a grain of salt. he's sus for real (just like all the guys tbh - theyve promised over and over to keep her safe but we know what happens in the end).

woosansang are down bad, in deep. i think theyre position of in the kim family allows them to be though. i havent touched on this that much but woosansang are the more socialites of the family - but we will learn more about the others. especially with the introduction of sh and hj soon!

i love the present day scenes, its such a whiplash back to reality. its fun seeing how this devotion turned so deadly. jongho is baby. hes the spoiled baby boy who is a bit warped by seongjoong tbh. but he loves yn.

and hmmm, interesting noticeeeee. she tried leaving but why? we have some time til we see the answers to that but its definitely an interesting notice!

i cant wait for matz!!! i love matz and they totally do have more aura than yunho! theyre the kingpins; the queen and king of the chessboard for sure! i love what ive had wrote so far for them!!

thank you again for reading and commenting!!! these comments bring me so much joy!!!!!

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.”

[cloverapple]

hiii! i came across your blog yesterday, and i love your advice. that's why i feel like you would be the best person to ask these questions that I've been having for the longest time (sorry, long read ahead).

I've studied LOA for the past 2 years or so, and even though i have a good understanding of it, there are some things that always trip me up when it comes to shifting.

how do i deal with waking up to the 3d? yes, by assuming that you are in your dr and that you shifted last night. that's the most logical answer. but even though i know that, sometimes it is a lot easier said than done. for example, a few days ago i wanted to manifest shifting by simply deciding i could shift on command and that i am there. i could be 100% sure the day before that it would happen. the whole day, and even a few days after that I'd stay in that state of being a master shifter, and i would feel amazing because of it. but it's like there always comes a point where i wake up to the 3d and i get discouraged (yes, i acknowledge that i am manifesting that reality by saying this, but i finally have to get this off my chest). my thoughts get all messed up and i start spiraling, returning to my previous state. i start questioning myself a bit and feel down. the main reason for that being time.

it took me so so long to figure out this issue about myself. I'd be like: how long is it gonna take? when will it happen? i know i have it in the 4d but when will it appear in the 3d? having it in the 4d isn't enough, i need to have it in the 3d right now. stuff like that. i find it very difficult to formulate my thoughts, but basically I'm in a spiral of:

watching a video/reading a post about LOA/shifting that reminds me of how easy it is -> applying LOA to shifting/any desire in a way that feels good for a few days at most -> starting to question myself after a few days because it hasn't shown up yet in the 3d (which is caused by me forgetting the role the 3d plays and how LOA works) even though i did everything "right" (e.g. letting go of control or the outcome, deciding, not wavering, etc.) -> falling back into a state where i question how i can shift, what i am doing wrong, etc. -> repeat

how can i break out of this cycle?

i think the main problem here is time and in general the 3d.

i know that the 3d is not a measure of my success, only made up of my current assumptions etc. i know that. but it's like i forget it once i step into the state i wanna be in and stay there for an extended period of time.

i always hear people say that "time isn't real" but i still don't really know what that means, how to apply it or how to internalize it. i really need that mental "click" to finally understand it and use that concept in my favor. because my problem is that with manifesting/shifting, after a while i start asking questions about why it's taking so long the 3d. for example, most nights i fall asleep with the assumption that I'll wake up in my dr (while letting go of control and not wavering) the next morning. but when it doesn't happen eventually, i start to question why, because since time comes from consciousness aka me, it should work in my favor.

I'm honestly so lost right now and i would really appreciate some help because I'm spiraling again. I've known about shifting since 2020 but only realized how ridiculously easy it is after joining tumblr this year and yup, i acknowledge that i am desperate to shift, preferably right now. it's not something i admit to anyone or myself because that's basically continuing to tell a story i don't want to experience (a surefire way to fail), but it is unfortunately the truth as of right now.

thank you for reading, i know this was a lot to get through!! (*^^*)

So pause for a second, because I’m going to tell you something I hope to ingrain in the mind of everyone who sends me an ask—and that you need to remember before reading everything I’m about to say:

YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO SHIFT. The ability is inside you right now. The moment you read this, your mind already knows how to shift. Everyone does.

The moment you accept this, you solve half of your problems.

And then you tell me, "But if I know how to shift, why isn’t the 3D reflecting that?"

Well, yeah. You painted the house, and now you’re sitting there watching the paint dry.

Look, watching the 3D closely and looking for results isn’t a problem for some people. Some can assume, “I’m already in my DR,” open their eyes, and BAM—they’re in their DR.

Some people assume, “I will shift tonight,” and just like that, they shift that night.

Some people let go of their DRs, stop putting them on a pedestal, and they shift.

Some people clutch their DRs close to their heart until their knuckles turn white—and they shift.

It sounds a lot like you’re forcing yourself into a method of applying the Law of Assumption that doesn’t serve you. Why?? If you recognize that your issue is focusing on time and constantly checking the 3D, work around it. Remove time from your shifting journey.

I don’t like assuming I already have something, then checking the 3D and not seeing it there. Hell, I can shift on command, and yet, if I were to lay in bed right now and tell myself, “I’m in my DR,” I guarantee you I wouldn’t shift. Why? Because that doesn’t work for me.

My dude, change the way you affirm. If affirming in the present (“I already shifted”) doesn’t work for you, change it! Say, “I’m going to shift.” If even that hasn’t been working, let go of implementing time into your affirmations.

Change “I’m going to wake up in my DR in the morning” to “I’m going to wake up in my DR at some point because I KNOW I can shift.”

Change “I’m in my DR right now” to “I can’t wait to be in my DR.”

Remove time from your affirmations and assumptions, because that’s clearly the problem here. Instead of trusting that you’ll shift tonight, trust yourself because you already know how to shift. Or trust your mind because it knows how to shift. Trust your awareness because it knows how to shift.

“I fall asleep with the assumption that I'll wake up in my DR (while letting go of control and not wavering) the next morning.”

If this were completely true, you wouldn’t be sending me this ask. You wouldn’t be doubting yourself as much as you just did in everything you typed. Truly letting go means releasing the need to see results in the 3D.

So, take time out of your assumptions. From now on, say “I will shift.” Or say, “I already know how to shift.”

Your brain then goes: “……???….uh….” looking at the 3D all confused “When? We haven't shifted!”

And you tell it, “It doesn’t fucking matter because I’m going to shift eventually.”

Now, let’s say hypothetically, one week passes and you haven’t shifted. One month passes, and you haven’t shifted. Two months pass, and you haven’t shifted.

And then you come back and say, “Clover, why the heck haven’t I shifted yet? It’s been (insert amount of time). You told me to remove time as an expectation, so why haven’t I shifted yet??”

And I’ll smile at you and ask, “So you’ve been counting the days?”

Let me tell you something about letting go—and hypothetically, ignoring the 3D.

Treat your ability to shift like your fortune. You have a fortune sitting in your bank account right now, and you’re rich. Do you think a rich person checks their bank account every hour to confirm they’re still rich?

"Well yeah, Clover, because a rich person’s reality already reflects that, they’re sitting in a mansion with all their riches."

Your fortune, what makes you rich, is your ability to shift. You already know how to shift. Shifting isn’t something you learn how to do, just like breathing isn’t something you learn how to do. Just like chewing isn’t something you learn how to do. It is an integral part of every human being. If you have awareness, then the ability to shift exists within you.

You don’t learn shifting—you learn yourself.

You learn what makes you shift. What makes you manifest easily. What makes you assume easily. What kind of affirmations your subconscious doesn’t argue against. What makes your self-concept skyrocket.

Because everyone is different, everyone shifts differently. What works for Person A might not work for Person B. What works for Person B might not work for Person C, and so on.

Even my reply to you, it might not resonate with you. But that’s not my fault, and it’s not yours. If that's the case, your job is to look elsewhere—and, in the best-case scenario, look internally because that’s where the answers always are.

Let’s go over your fix options because I just yapped a lot:

YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO SHIFT.

Remove time from your affirmations and assumptions. Removing time from your shifting process makes it so you have nowhere in the 3D to look.

Stop paying attention to the 3D and pay attention to yourself because what’s going to shift is your awareness, not the damn 3D. Every time you catch yourself thinking, “Oh, but it’s not showing up in the 3D,” remind yourself:

A) You already know how to shift.

B) Shifting is something you can do.

C) It could happen at any moment, so why should anything else matter?

If you were promised a million bucks from a 100% trustworthy source, would you spiral?

One more thing before I wrap this up:

It could be that actively using the Law of Assumption isn’t what works best for you. Maybe you work better with visualizing. Maybe you induce the feeling of being in your DR or being a "master shifter." Maybe subliminals work better for you. There is a world of options out there, and it is completely useless to force yourself to do something that's only bringing frustration in the end. Because there is no singular way to shift. There is no singular way to manifest. And sometimes—for some people—while the Law of Assumption is always true, focusing on it directly isn’t what serves you.

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Thirty

The café was a whirlwind of movement, noise, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The morning rush had hit full force, and the line of customers stretched nearly to the door. The hum of conversation mixed with the steady whir of the espresso machine, the sharp clatter of cups against saucers, and the occasional hiss of steamed milk. It was the kind of organized chaos that made my stomach twist with nerves.

I stood behind the till, my fingers hovering just above the touchscreen as I mentally prepared myself. Despite working here for a few weeks now, the pressure of handling orders quickly—and correctly—still made my pulse race. The fear of making a mistake in front of a growing line of impatient customers was real, and as more people poured in, that familiar sense of dread curled in my stomach.

Before I could let it get to me, a pair of warm hands landed on my shoulders, kneading them gently.

"Come on, you got this, girl," Serena's voice came from behind me, light and teasing but undeniably supportive.

I let out a breath, rolling my shoulders as she gave them one last squeeze. "I really hope so. Otherwise, I might just throw this register at someone."

Leah, who was stocking pastries nearby, snorted. "Please do. If someone complains about the oat milk one more time, I’ll pay you to do it."

Cyrus grinned, adjusting his apron as he leaned against the counter. "I'll film it. We’ll go viral. ‘New café employee snaps—customers beware!’”

I chuckled, shaking my head. These three had been my saving grace since I started working here. What had started as awkward introductions and polite small talk had quickly turned into inside jokes, shared complaints about customers, and lunch breaks that felt more like therapy sessions. I was lucky to have them.

But right now, I had a job to do.

Taking a deep breath, I turned my attention to the first customer in line—a middle-aged man in a sharp navy suit, glancing impatiently at his watch.

"One flat white, extra shot, and a chocolate croissant to go," he said briskly, not even looking up from his phone.

I quickly tapped the order into the till. "That’ll be £5, please."

He barely acknowledged me as he tapped his card against the machine, the beep signaling a successful payment.

"Thank you! Your order will be ready shortly," I said with my best customer-service smile, though I doubted he even heard me.

The next customer—a woman in a bright yellow sundress—offered a much friendlier smile. "Hi! Can I get an iced caramel latte with oat milk and a blueberry muffin?"

I nodded, my fingers moving across the screen. "That’ll be £4.80."

She dug into her purse and pulled out a five-pound note, sliding it across the counter. "Keep the change!"

I smiled, grateful for her kindness. "Thanks! Your order will be ready in a few minutes."

As the line moved, my nerves gradually settled, and I found myself slipping into a rhythm. Order, payment, smile, repeat. By the time I glanced up at the clock, it was almost noon—finally time for our break.

Leah clapped her hands together. "Alright, team! One-hour break before we lose our sanity."

Cyrus groaned dramatically, tossing his apron onto the counter. "Too late. I lost mine halfway through that guy who ordered seven modifications to his drink."

Serena laughed, pulling her curls into a high ponytail. "You mean the one who wanted ‘just a hint of vanilla but not too much’? Yeah, he nearly broke me."

We flipped the "Closed for Lunch" sign, quickly shutting everything down before collapsing into our usual booth near the back of the café. I sighed, letting my body sink into the seat, savoring the rare quiet.

Leah stretched her arms over her head. "Alright, since we actually have time to talk like normal human beings—remind me what you guys are studying again?"

Cyrus leaned back in his chair. "Computer science, unfortunately. I swear, my brain is just numbers and error messages at this point."

Leah smirked. "Yeah, yeah. You say that now, but wait until you're making six figures and too busy coding in your fancy office to even remember us."

Cyrus placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. "Excuse me. I would never forget you guys—especially if you all bring me free coffee in my fancy office."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Typical." She turned to me, resting her chin on her hand. "What about you, AJ? You never told us what you studied."

I hesitated for a moment before taking a sip of water. "Car design."

Cyrus nearly choked. "Damn, girl! So whatchu doin’ in a place like this?"

Leah immediately smacked his arm. "Cyrus! You cannot just say that."

I let out a small laugh, though my fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of my glass. "No, it's okay. It didn’t work out, so... here I am. Trying to take another shot at life, I guess."

Serena reached across the table, giving my hand a squeeze. "Good on you, girl. As you should."

Leah and Cyrus nodded in agreement before, in perfect unison, all three of them threw their hands in the air and shouted, "Period!"

I burst into laughter, shaking my head. "You guys are the absolute worst."

Cyrus grinned. "But you love us."

Before I could respond, the café door swung open with a soft chime, but it may as well have been a thunderclap with how suddenly the energy at the table shifted.

The air seemed to thicken as Adam stepped inside, his presence somehow eclipsing everything else. His dark eyes flickered toward me just for a second, barely even a glance—but it was enough to make my breath hitch. There was something about the way he looked at me, sharp and assessing, as if he was searching for something yet unwilling to let me find anything in return. It wasn’t just indifference it was deliberate, like he was making a point to keep his distance.

And then, just as quickly as his gaze had landed on me, it was gone. He strode past our table, heading toward the back with effortless confidence, his movements controlled, precise. Today, he was dressed in a fitted black t-shirt that clung to the sharp lines of his frame, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the tattoos running along his forearm. Dark jeans, slightly worn at the knees, completed the look, along with a silver ring on his middle finger that caught the light as he ran a hand through his tousled dark hair.

I didn’t realize I was still staring until Serena nudged me with her elbow, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

"You sure he doesn’t like you?" she teased, eyebrows waggling.

I scoffed, finally tearing my gaze away from the door Adam had disappeared through. "Trust me. I don’t think dislike even covers it."

Cyrus waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, don’t take it personally. Adam’s just weird like that. He barely talks to anyone unless he has to."

Leah leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Yeah, it’s part of his whole bad-boy persona. Gotta keep up the mystery, you know?"

Serena nodded, grinning. "Right? The whole I’m too cool to care act. Classic."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "Well, if it’s an act, he’s seriously committed to it."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Trust me, he’s like that with everyone. You’re not special."

I forced a small laugh, trying to play it off, but something about that didn’t sit right with me. The way he looked at me—it wasn’t just indifference. It wasn’t casual, either. It was something. And maybe it was just my overactive mind reading into things, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that his coldness toward me wasn’t the same as it was with everyone else.

I forced myself to shake off the lingering thoughts of Adam and turned my attention back to my friends. Serena was still smirking at me like she knew something I didn’t, and Cyrus was watching me with a raised brow, like he was waiting for me to admit something.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Cyrus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Nothing, nothing. Just wondering how long it’s gonna take before you admit you’re at least a little curious about him."

I let out a dry laugh, picking at the edge of my napkin. "I’m not curious. I just—" I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Notice things."

Leah scoffed. "Oh, you notice things? Sounds a lot like curiosity to me."

Serena grinned, resting her chin in her hand. "Mmmhmm. And what exactly have you noticed, AJ?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that he stares at me like I personally offended him in another life? Or that he won’t even acknowledge me unless he absolutely has to?"

Cyrus let out a low whistle. "Damn. Enemies to lovers arc in progress."

Leah burst into laughter while I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. "Please. No one is in the ‘lovers’ category here. Let’s not get carried away."

Serena hummed thoughtfully. "I mean, you have to admit, it is kinda weird how he looks at you."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head. "It’s not just avoidance. If he didn’t care at all, he’d just ignore you like he does with most people. But he looks at you, AJ. And not just a glance—like, really looks at you."

Cyrus nodded in agreement. "She’s right. You can feel it when he walks in. It’s like the air shifts. And you’re the only one he does that with."

I pursed my lips, replaying the moment in my head. The way his gaze had lingered for that extra second before he walked away. The sharpness in his stare, like he was sizing me up—or maybe warning me away.

But why?

I shook my head, trying to push the thought aside. "Look, I don’t know what his deal is, and honestly? I don’t care. He doesn’t like me, fine. I’ll just stay out of his way."

Leah arched a brow. "You sure about that?"

"Absolutely."

Serena smirked. "Alright, alright. We’ll drop it. For now."

I sighed in relief, leaning back in my chair. "Thank you."

But something told me they weren’t going to let this go anytime soon.

And if I was being completely honest with myself neither was I.

Leah leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table with a sly grin. “Anyways, now that we’ve established the undeniable tension between you and our dear Adam—”

I groaned loudly, throwing my head back. “Leah, please—”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, fine! I’ll let you live... for now. But I do need to know something.” She tilted her head at me, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Has a beautiful girl like yourself ever been in a relationship?”

Serena gasped dramatically, slapping the table. “Ooooh, yes, excellent question. Spill, AJ!”

Cyrus smirked, rubbing his hands together like he was ready for some juicy gossip. “Yeah, come on, don’t be shy. We need all the details.”

I sighed, feeling heat creep up my neck. “I hate you guys.”

Leah winked. “Love you too, babe. Now answer the question.”

I huffed, playing with the edge of my napkin as my mind circled back to my college years causing me to debate how much to say. “Alright, fine. I’ve been in one real relationship.”

Serena gasped, eyes wide. “One? That’s it?”

I gave her a look. “Yeah, and trust me, one was enough.”

Cyrus leaned in, eyes gleaming with interest. “What happened? Did he cheat? Were you secretly a spy and had to break up for his safety? Please tell me it was something dramatic.”

I laughed. “Nothing that exciting. It just… didn’t work out.”

Leah raised a brow. “That’s a very vague way of saying something happened.”

I sighed, tapping my fingers against the table.  "It was in college and we were together for a couple of months. I really believed we were going somewhere.” I paused, swallowing the slight lump in my throat. “But then, we fought a lot and things got hard, so we thought it was best if we just parted ways.”

Serena’s face softened. “Damn. That’s rough.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s whatever. It was a long time ago.”

Cyrus frowned. “Still, that sucks. You gave him months of your life, and he just dipped? That’s messed up.”

I forced a small smile, but his words hit deeper than I expected. You gave him months of your life, and he just dipped? My fingers tightened around the edge of my napkin as something heavy settled in my chest and my mind wondered back to my time with Jungkook, completely forgetting about my college relationship.

We had never officially been together. There were no titles, no grand declarations of love. But the way he kissed me, the way his hands found me in the dark, the way he whispered my name like it was something precious—it all felt like more than just nothing. He acted like I was his. And for a long time, I let myself believe it.

The way he always found a way to pull me close, his breath warm against my skin as he murmured things I knew he never meant. The late nights where we blurred the lines between friendship and something else, something more, until it was impossible to tell where we began and ended. And then, just like that, he was gone.

I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away before it could drag me under.

Leah reached over, squeezing my hand gently. “Well, it’s his loss. You’re a catch, AJ.”

I smiled, squeezing her hand back. “Thanks, Leah.”

Serena smirked. “And now you’re single and thriving.”

Cyrus wiggled his brows. “And possibly on the verge of an enemies-to-lovers romance with a certain broody boss.”

I groaned, covering my face. “I knew you were gonna bring that back up!”

Leah laughed. “We never let things go, babe.”

Serena nodded. “Especially when they involve a hot, mysterious man with tattoos.”

I peeked at her through my fingers. “You think he’s hot?”

She scoffed. “AJ, please. He’s objectively attractive. Doesn’t mean he’s nice, though.”

Cyrus chuckled. “Yeah, he’s got that whole I hate everything aesthetic down. Respect.”

I shook my head, sighing. “You guys….”

Cyrus glanced down at his phone and immediately cursed under his breath. “Shit! I was supposed to sort out a few boxes in the back five minutes ago.” He pushed back his chair so fast that it screeched against the floor, nearly toppling over in his rush to stand.

I chuckled at his panic. “I’ll do it.”

His head snapped toward me, eyes widening. “Wait, really?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, no problem. Anything to get away from you guys and your weird obsession with my love life.”

Leah, Serena, and Cyrus all erupted into laughter.

“We still have half an hour of break left,” Leah teased, wagging her eyebrows. “So don’t think you’re off the hook.”

Serena grinned. “Yeah, we’ll be waiting right here, ready to interrogate you again.”

I rolled my eyes, smirking. “Right. Well, have fun with that. I’ll be back.”

I stepped into the storage room, immediately feeling the temperature drop slightly from the café’s warmth. The space smelled of coffee beans, cardboard, and a faint trace of cleaning supplies. Rows of metal shelves stretched across the room, stacked with inventory, and I spotted the boxes Cyrus had been talking about tucked away in the far corner.

I walked over and got to work, grabbing each box one by one and placing them on the shelves. It took longer than I expected—the weight of them had my arms burning after a few minutes but I kept going, determined to finish.

After about ten minutes, I reached the last box. It was heavier than the others, and the shelf it needed to go on was just out of reach. Still, I wasn’t about to back down. I stood on my tiptoes, stretching as much as I could, gripping the sides as I slowly pushed it backward. My muscles strained with the effort, but after a few seconds, I thought I had it secured.

I exhaled in relief, smiling to myself.

Until I heard a soft shift.

My stomach dropped.

Then before I could react, the box tilted forward. I squeezed my eyes shut bracing myself for the impact but it never came. Instead, I felt something solid in front of me, a warmth that wasn’t there before. When I slowly opened my eyes, my breath hitched.

Adam. He was right there, standing impossibly close, his tattooed hand gripping the box effortlessly while his other was braced against the shelf beside my head, effectively caging me in. His sharp jaw was tense, dark eyes locked onto mine, his entire frame towering over me like a storm about to break.

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how small the storage room felt.

"Uh…" My voice came out weaker than I wanted. "Thanks?"

Adam didn’t answer right away. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable—but something burned behind his gaze. Anger. Annoyance. Frustration.

Finally, his lips parted, and his voice came out low and sharp.

"Do you ever think before you do things?"

I blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

His jaw clenched, and he yanked the box fully onto the shelf like it weighed nothing. The movement was forceful, controlled—but I could feel the irritation radiating off him.

"You could’ve gotten hurt," he snapped, his voice edged with barely contained anger.

I scowled, crossing my arms. "Well, I didn’t."

His jaw tightened further. For a second, I swore I saw something flicker across his face—something deeper, something raw. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a cold, hard mask.

He finally stepped back, creating space between us, but the tension between our bodies still lingered in the air.

"Just be more careful," he muttered, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.

I stared at him, frustration bubbling in my chest. He didn’t turn around. Didn’t even look at me. And then, just as he reached the door, he threw his response over his shoulder, voice low and cutting.

I stood there, heart hammering, breath uneven, the weight of his words pressing into my chest. But no matter how hard I tried to shake it off, I couldn’t ignore the way my skin still burned where he had been close.

Jungkook’s POV:

The boardroom was a pristine, almost clinical space—modern, minimalist, and impersonal, just like every other meeting room he had ever been forced to sit through. The long glass table reflected the glow of the overhead lighting, polished to perfection, not a single smudge in sight. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city skyline stretched endlessly, neon lights flickering in the distance, but Jungkook hardly noticed.

The room was filled with people—team principals, engineers, sponsors, and a handful of other drivers—all engaged in animated discussion about the upcoming season. Voices overlapped, some eager, some calculated, some skeptical. Pens scratched against notepads, the occasional sip of coffee punctuating the conversation.

Jungkook sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest. He was here in body, but his mind? Somewhere else entirely.

He should’ve been paying attention.

Everyone else was.

“The new FIA regulations mean we’re looking at adjustments to the rear wing, which should increase straight-line speed—”

“Yeah, but won’t that mess with high-speed corners?”

“The simulations show slight understeer, but braking zones will compensate.”

Jungkook barely heard them. Their words turned into white noise, a distant hum that barely grazed the surface of his awareness. He stared at the blank notepad in front of him, the pen in his hand motionless. His coffee sat untouched beside him, steam curling up into the cold air, dissipating just as quickly as his focus.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

The question pressed against the inside of his skull, but he ignored it. He was the reigning champion. The next season was already looming over them, and this meeting was crucial for strategy, for preparation, and for solidifying his dominance on the track.

And yet, none of it seemed to matter.

Not the data. Not the numbers. Not the talk of performance upgrades and tire compounds.

He had everything—success, fame, money, power—yet an unsettling emptiness coiled in his chest, growing heavier by the day.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, willing himself to focus but was snapped out of his haze when an unfamiliar yet so painfully recognizable voice sent a jolt through his spine.

“Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Aylah—”

His breath caught. His entire body went rigid as his head snapped up.

His chair scraped against the floor, the sharp noise cutting through the room like a knife. His hand nearly knocked over his coffee as he sat up straight, eyes locked onto the woman standing at the front.

His pulse hammered against his ribs.

It can’t be—He didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.

For a split second, hope surged through his chest so violently it almost hurt.

And then—reality hit.

She had different hair. Different eyes. Her stance wasn’t the same. The voice was similar but not identical.

It wasn’t her.

His throat tightened as humiliation crashed over him in waves.

The room had fallen silent.

Every single person was staring at him.

Confused expressions. Raised eyebrows. Someone muttered, “What the fuck was that?” under their breath.

Jungkook clenched his jaw, cursing himself internally as he forced his muscles to relax, leaning back in his chair like nothing had happened.

Fucking idiot.

His heart was still racing, but now it was out of frustration—at himself, at the stupid hope that had flickered alive just to be snuffed out immediately.

He wasn’t this weak. He wasn’t the type to dwell on shit like this.

She’s gone. Why the fuck would she be here?

He exhaled sharply, the weight in his chest unbearable. Without another word, he pushed his chair back and stood abruptly.

“I need a minute,” he muttered, not waiting for a response as he strode out of the boardroom.

The fluorescent lights of the bathroom were harsh against his skin, too bright, too exposing.

Jungkook braced his hands against the sink, shoulders tense as he stared at his reflection.The man looking back at him barely resembled the version of himself he used to be. Bloodshot eyes. Prominent eye bags. Shadows lingering in the hollows of his face, making him look older, more exhausted.

He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in weeks—because he hadn’t. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his grip tightening slightly as frustration simmered beneath his skin.This wasn’t him.

He didn’t lose sleep over people. He didn’t get caught up in feelings. He didn’t miss people.

And yet—

Why does she still feel so close?

The thought alone sent another wave of irritation rolling through him. He exhaled harshly, turning on the tap and splashing cold water onto his face, blinking rapidly as the icy shock cut through him.

Get a grip.

As he made his way back to the boardroom, his hand hovering over the door handle, voices from inside caught his attention. Low murmurs. Whispering.

“Yeah, heard his designer quit.”

“No way.”

“Yep. Walked out. That’s why he’s been so off his game, he’s gonna lose without another car like that.”

Jungkook froze.

His fingers twitched against the door handle.

“Shit, his loss. That car was insane.”

Then—

“How much you wanna bet they fucked and then he tossed her aside?”

Rage ignited in his veins. His breath left him in a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching so hard it ached.

For a brief moment, he considered walking in there and breaking someone’s nose. But what would be the point? It wouldn’t change anything. No what they thought. And certainly not the fact that they weren’t technically wrong. He had tossed her aside.

So, instead, he turned on his heel and walked out of the building without another word. The moment he stepped outside, the crisp night air hit him, cooling the fire burning in his veins, but not enough to extinguish it. His shoulders were tense as he stalked toward his car, the rhythmic click of his boots against the pavement barely audible over the sound of distant traffic.

Then, with one swift motion, he yanked open the door to his Lamborghini Aventador SVJ, slid into the driver’s seat, and slammed it shut. The second the engine roared to life, a sharp thrill ran through him—the kind that came not from excitement, but from the promise of escape.

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tight, his foot pressing down harder than he should as he peeled out of the parking lot and onto the open road. The world outside blurred into streaks of neon and headlights as he weaved through traffic, the powerful engine growling beneath him like a caged animal desperate to break free.

Faster. He needed to go faster.

Needed to outrun the anger, the frustration, the goddamn ache that had been clawing at his chest for weeks. The city lights flashed past in a feverish haze—skyscrapers illuminated like constellations, billboards flickering with advertisements he didn’t bother to register, the glow of red taillights streaking through the darkness like falling stars.

His thoughts raced just as wildly.

Aylah. The whispers in that fucking meeting room. His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white, his jaw aching from how hard he was clenching it. They don’t know shit.

They didn’t know how he had spent the last few weeks unable to sleep, haunted by the ghost of her voice, the phantom touch of her fingertips against his skin. Didn’t know how the race felt off without her there. Didn’t know how he still fucking saw her in the crowd sometimes—only for the illusion to shatter the second he blinked.

Didn’t know how he couldn’t step into the design company without expecting to see her, leaning against the workbench, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she examined the car. Didn’t know how badly he wanted to hear her voice, even if it was just to tell him off for being an idiot.

The thought alone made something snap inside him. With a sharp inhale, Jungkook slammed his palm against the steering wheel, a growl of frustration ripping from his throat.

The sound echoed in the enclosed space of the car, but it did nothing to ease the tension clawing at his ribs. Nothing did. His foot eased off the gas slightly as he reached the outskirts of the city, where the skyline melted into rolling hills and empty roads. He didn’t know where he was going—just that he needed to get away.

And so, when he finally reached a familiar overlook—a secluded spot high above the city, where the lights below looked like scattered embers in the dark—he pulled over.The moment the car rumbled to a stop, he exhaled sharply and leaned back against the seat, tilting his head against the headrest.

Silence.

Only the sound of his own uneven breathing filled the car, mingling with the distant hum of the city below. After a long moment, he pushed open the door and stepped out.

The night air was cool against his overheated skin, the wind carrying the faint scent of rain. He leaned against the hood of the car, eyes locked on the horizon as he took slow, measured breaths, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as frustration curled through his muscles.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his stomach twisting when he saw the notification.

Jade: Where are you?

His jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he locked the screen and shoved the phone back into his pocket. A bitter laugh escaped him.

Of course she knows.

She had been hanging off his arm for weeks, showing up at every afterparty, slipping into his bed like she belonged there. But no matter how much he tried to lose himself in her, no matter how much he let her touch him, whisper his name—

She wasn’t her.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he stared out at the city below.

“For fuck sake just give me a sign.”

A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the darkness for a fraction of a second. Jungkook flinched as the deafening sound echoed across the hills. Rain poured down in thick sheets, drenching him within seconds. His shirt clinging to his skin, droplets sliding down his face, his wet hair falling into his eyes.

He let out a breathless laugh, shoving his hair back as he stood in the middle of the storm. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he tilted his head back, eyes locked onto the raging sky above. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, barely above a whisper.

“So this is what love feels like.”

His fingers curled at his sides.

A bitter smile tugged at his lips as the rain pounded against his skin, cold and relentless. He let the weight of the words settle over him, let them sink into his bones, let them carve themselves into the spaces she had unknowingly left behind.

Then, with a hollow laugh, he whispered into the storm—

“What a fucking joke.”

[what-have-i-unleashed]

counting stars

oops forgot about this for some reasons.... hey pspspsps @qin-qin16 come get your food i promise this has no allergies at all :3

“how do you like the stars?” killer asks color as they both lie in the grass, staring up at the night sky. killer has his arms folded behind his head, a contemplating noise in his throat before he continues.

“i know you’ve got some poetic stuff to say about it, hippie boy. something about hope, love, destiny, or whatever.” he plucks and rolls a blade of grass between his fingers, then flicks it away. “me? i hate them so much. i don’t think i’ve ever told you, huh?”

silence. killer takes it as a cue to keep talking.

“they all look so bright and near each other in the sky. but the reality is, they’re just there all alone in the vast universe. distant. cold. burning their last embers of life on their lonesome. or worse, existing in vain while a black hole slowly consumes them. nothing pretty, really.”

color still doesn’t speak, leaving killer to simmer in the cold night air. normally, this would be the part where they argue. color would insist that there is beauty in the world, that there is meaning if you just look hard enough. and then it would devolve into some self-righteous rant about the goodness in people, about how killer is never beyond saving. all misguided belief that killer has tried to beat him out of again and again to no avail.

it is kind of cute actually, how much color actually believes in it.

killer will never admit it though. because that would be a weakness, and weakness is a liability, something to be gutted out of in order to survive. in this world, it’s kill or be killed. and yet, some people don’t seem to get the memo – color being one of them. always reaching out to killer, always trying to drag him towards an ideal life that doesn’t exist. killer should feel annoyed, but it actually feels kind of nice, knowing there is someone who cares for him this much to put up with his flaws. to be willing to reforge him back into a shape they desire. even if it’s futile. even if it’s stupid.

to be loved is to be changed, after all.

and maybe, he’s just started to be primed for change right now. a steel knife thrown into a furnace ready to be reshaped.

“you know…” killer hums. “we’re enemies, so i never tell you this. i like having you around, i think. you make me feel real.” his hand searches for color’s. it’s as cold as his, but it makes him feel warm inside. “when we try to kill each other, i never feel more alive. i have someone who cares enough to look at me, at my ugliness. so… thank you.”

the breeze stills.

“say something, damnit.”

killer turns his head.

color lies there, in the grass, his face slack, his body unmoving, specks of dust flowing around him. no twitch. no soul beat. nothing. just stillness. silence.

the eternal smile on killer’s face doesn’t fade, but it turns sharper, more rigid. he waits, expecting color to stir, to light up his eyes and confirm this is not just a dream. but color doesn’t. color never will.

the wind whispers through the soft grass, brushing against killer’s cheeks like a caress of something long gone.

“oh.”

his voice comes out flat. emotionless.

he should feel something. he should feel many things. grief, regret – anything really. but there is just... emptiness. a hole in his chest where something should be. and yet, nothing comes out.

is he broken?

he looks back up at the stars. they shine just as brightly as before, as if mocking him. as if taunting him with their brilliance, with the fact that the light of his life has been snuffed out.

one more reason to hate stars, really.

"guess you finally gave up on me after all."

[cantfightmoonlight]

"Fair, but what if they speak english real nice and slow?" She offered up in Friends defense. "Oh. I hope I'm not one of those people. I don't try to be. I guess I've just never been all that good at sugarcoating things. That's nice of you though. I guess for me, I don't really feel like I have much to lose by not telling the truth. But, I also don't really have many people or any people outside of Nico. So, that may be part of it too."

"You know you do look like someone who can read," She smiled. A bright and warm smile as she found herself beaming up at him. "You volunteer in the library? That's cool. What do you there? And thank you. It's probably the nose. I had it done when I was eighteen." Her uncle had always told her she would look better with her nose done and he must not have been wrong. "You're really easy on the eyes though too," She promised him. "Kinda. Yeah. I wonder why that is. Wait- did you say date? Oh, um, okay! Sure! We can go on a date," She nodded along happily. She couldn't remember the last time she had been asked on a date before. But, dates were supposed to be fun, weren't they? "Sort of? It's kind of a long story though."

"That would be fun! We can have the pups go on a date too. Luna's super friendly. Sometimes too friendly. She still thinks she's a puppy, but she's huge now and I'm pretty sure she'd plow down a burglar to give them love," She let out a small laugh at the thought. "They could try? You might tear the sleeves though. But, then again, that could be a look. Good for you. I've been told I'm not very good with manners or keeping my elbows off the table, but I try. You should talk to Jonah. I've heard he loves submarines and he seems like he reads too."

"Oh," Her face drooped as she thought back to the camp retreat. "I quit my job after that," She mumbled quietly under her breath. "That's sweet of you to say, but it doesn't change the fact that I was bad at therapy. I'm learning I'm not that great at most things."

"Huh?" Her brows creased at the mention of Nico. "What kind of rivalry? Like they didn't like each other?" She asked, already preparing herself to hate this unknown woman on the simple principle that she didn't get along with her best friend and nothing else. "You're not wrong there. I can bench a lot too! I might even be able to lift you," She assessed, if only because of super strength, but she could certainly try. "Do that again. The song? You're a really good singer."

Efe shook his head back and forth. "I mean, I like friends. I like having friends in real life. What I don't like is six rich friends who all look the same and have no real problems," he replied very seriously, giving a short nod of his head. "Hmm. Yeah, yeah. That makes sense," Efe smiled, cocking his head to one side. "Well, sometimes I think brutally honest people might like it more for the brutality than the honesty. I'm not saying you're one of those people, of course. But sure. I try to be honest. I tell people good things I admire about them because that's true too. I'm not always good at it." Efe wrinkled up his brow. "And yeah, sometimes people do things that hurt themselves, and they don't wanna hear it from me. So. I try to tell and give them what they need instead." He shrugged.

Efe smiled. "Can I? I read a lot. That's it. There's this program at the library where I volunteer to...but, well, never-mind. It's true. You're beautiful." He swayed back and forth with her, meeting her eye. "Ah, well, I'm just me. Thank you, though. I don't try to be a good guy because a lot of those kinds of guys are the worst, right? Which sounds like something one of those guys would say, so pretend I didn't. But, yeah, I'm asking you on a date. A real date. One that we keep in touch after maybe if it goes okay? What do you think? But, oh...uh, why? Did something happen? I left town for a while, and it was...well, I don't know what it was."

Efe smiled. "Luna should meet Badger. That's my dog. He's pretty well-trained except when he's not." Raising an eyebrow, Efe broke into a laugh. "Yeah, the car wash bod is why I end up as July and August. What, are they gonna put all this in a parka? Come on. I work out." He wrinkled up his nose. "Manners. Respect for your elders. Good citizenship. That kind of thing. Nerdy as hell. I read books about submarines." He grimaced before allowing the smile to grow more sincere. "I think you're great. You helped organize that whole camp, and...look, I know a lot of people were weird as shit about it. But how many of them try to do do things for the good of all their neighbors? That counts for something."

Efe gave a low sigh, shaking his head. "He had this, like, rivalry with my ex-wife. So...they were weird. And that made me weird because I was on the outside of it," he explained. "But he's cool." Efe broke into another laugh. "Maybe not buff the way I'm buff, nah, but...come on, we'd look pretty good on a beach, huh?" He rolled his eyes with this joke before beginning to sort of half-sing the song, forgetting some of the lyrics and mumbling along the way. "See, you're talking clubs. I'm talking middle school dances and other people's weddings, I think. You know what other song I don't get? 'Piano Man.' That dick's just singing about what a loser everyone else but him is."

[wanderingblindly]

hi liquid i have a very strange ask beware

my friend asked me to make a powerpoint presentation to explain the basics of F1 (like rules, race weekend schedule, etc.) when i asked if she wanted me to include a list of all the 2025 drivers, she said “yes, i need to know name, age, nationality, and which other driver they have a homoerotic relationship with”.

and now i’m spiralling because like which ones do i tell her about?! because obviously there are endless rpf ships between the drivers, but in terms of drivers being actually incredibly weird around each other in real life?? i’m thinking brocedes (obvs) but not sure which other relationships i should analyze for her entertainment.

basically if you have any suggestions i would love to hear them thank you in advance ❤️❤️

HELLO I really wanted to go through and find individual clips but if I’m honest — the state of My City has been hell and it’s taken more out of me than I thought. I hope this is an adequate response even though it’s not up to my usual (neurotic) snuff :(

Ok so obviously there are a million ships, but I think there are two main categories: those who are compelling based predominantly on Lore™️, and those based around their F1 behavior specifically.

For the Lore, the obvious choices are:

1. Brocedes

There’s so much here…. Nico’s inability to eat anything but their favorite cereal before the deciding race of 2016. The theme of yellow in their helmets (started in karting, Nico ditched the yellow when their relationship when sour, Lewis has retuned to the yellow now that he’s left the team where they fell apart). The story of them on keke’s yacht, promising to make it to f1 together. Them sneaking out for ice cream ((Nico’s wife now having a vegan ice cream brand.)). You could analyze this for years. Years.

2. Lestappen

Though all these fuckers have raced each other for ages, Charles and Max are weird in how often their paths intersected despite not always racing in the same category. One that specifically comes to mind is Max recommending Charles for the seat that he left open when he moved up the ranks; this vocal awareness of and respect for his craft is brought up often when people show them racing wheel to wheel.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the second category, too:

1. Maxiel

it’s objectively INSANE how often Max and Daniel joked about making out. Like at some point — AT SOME POINT — you have to wonder why they’re both so comfortable with that bit, right? Beyond their weird behavior, their dynamic is extra interesting when you consider that Daniel was Max’s first Red Bull teammate: he was almost too young for f1, a bit socially odd, terrifyingly talented, and yet here’s this gregarious man that laughs at everything he says (yet has to remain wary of his threatened career)…. Formative experience.

2. Carlando

This one fascinates me threefold. First of all, there’s their online history. Baby baby baby Lando was constantly in Carlos’s comments and mentions as he moved up through the ranks — he clearly idolized him. To the second point: baby rookie Lando has him as his fucking teammate. Young and naïve, giggly and infatuated Lando got so close with Carlos so quickly, it’s almost nauseating. And then after they were no longer teammates!!!! Carlos is still one of the first people he seeks out to celebrate with (Singapore 2023 hug, forever famous,,,) he goes out to dinner with his FAMILY (Mexican gp 2024,,,,), it’s insane.

They’re clearly still so connected to each other despite no longer having any formal ties — they can’t break their orbit. (Also, why did we stop talking about Brazil 2023 when they rented a house together and everyone’s pretty sure they cheated either with each other or the same model????? Hilarious)

3. Landoscar

This one is fun to analyze for the progression and the new dynamic it presents. Lando’s always been the junior teammate despite being the number one driver — and he acted accordingly. But now he’s in a leadership position after a weird inter-term implosion, and it’s just Some Guy??????? But the way they warm up to each other, the way Oscar starts to understand how to read Lando during their PR videos, THE HESITANCY AND DELICACY OF ONE OF THEIR FIRST TOUCHES (Silverstone fan stage 2023), the way that they allude to their private interactions without ever actually showing them????????

They’re infatuating to analyze in the same way that a Victorian romance is — the details are so small and drawn out that it makes everything feel heightened, scandalous.

4. Piarles

The TRUE childhood friends to lovers angle is criminally underrated in this fandom; we get an approximation from so many of the drivers, since they all grew up racing, but Charles and Pierre went on family vacations together. Pierre calls Charles nicknames that no one else does. He constantly brings him up in interviews, they’re always gossiping before races, they hang out at private events in the off season!!!!!!!

It’s further compelled, I think, when you consider the different level of notoriety they have. Pierre is often out of the spotlight, he has nowhere near the cult following that Charles has garnered. When it comes to someone you’ve known and loved your entire life, how do you deal with that, you know????

[mscryinglighting]

hello, would you do an alex turner x musician reader? she's just as famous with a solid fanbase, and they get a lot of media attention and even called a power couple of some sort. yet behind closed doors they're like any ordinary couple that love each other the most and doesn't care about what other people say about them? basically lots of fluff. i hope this makes sense! <3

Between The Chords

Alex Turner x musician!reader

Word count: 1.1K

a/n: Thank you sm for this request!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The paparazzi's camera flashes momentarily blind you as you exit the airport, arm in arm with Alex, you try to speed walk through attempting to reach the car in one piece, all while the shutterbugs yell things like:

“Do you think you’ll be up for a BRIT this year?

And

“Y/n, any thoughts on the criticism of your new single?”

“These paps seem tame enough, non invasive especially for LA’s standards.” You thought, though their relentless camera flashes were starting to turn your mild headache into a full on migraine. You were fairly new to the scene, your debut album having blown up a little over a year ago, Alex on the other hand was slightly more well versed in the music industry, maybe that was what drew you to him -his experience- he’s become sort of a lighthouse keeping you afloat among the madness.

After what felt like an eternity you finally reach the car. Alex, ever the gentleman, holds the car door open for you, once you’re in he climbs in next to you, his fingers naturally finding yours, intertwining them as the car eases forward.

“God, I have such a headache,” you groan, burying your face against his neck.

“Oh, me poor baby,” Alex teases, smirking. “Need some Aspirin?”

“Shuddup.” You grin despite yourself. It’s like his superpower—making you smile through anything.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The hum of the engine and the faint rhythm of raindrops against the windshield make the drive almost peaceful. Alex’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of your hand, his warmth lulling you into a half-daze. Before you know it, the car slows to a stop outside your place.

“You alive, love?” Alex murmurs, squeezing your hand.

Barely. You just want to crawl into bed—but with him, of course.

Inside, the familiarity of home washes over you. Despite four months of touring, you both fall into your usual routine like no time has passed. Instead of unpacking like a responsible adult, you strip down and slip into a pair of Alex’s boxers and his hoodie—your real post-tour uniform—before heading downstairs.

Alex is already in the kitchen, and you watch him from the couch, your favorite spot for early morning and late-night admiration.

“Whatcha makin’?” you call, arms draped over the back of the couch. The open layout of your home—a design choice you hadn’t realized you’d love so much—means you get a perfect view of him moving around the kitchen, a bonus you fully take advantage of every time he makes breakfast shirtless.

Alex returns from the kitchen, a steaming mug in hand. “Doctor’s orders,” he jokes, handing it over with a lopsided grin. “Drink up before your headache gets worse.”

You take a sip, the warmth spreading through you. “When did you get your medical degree?”

“Oh, love, I’ve been a specialist in you for ages,” he quips, nudging you playfully.

“Stop it.” You blush bashfully, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before reaching behind the couch to pull out his guitar. “Mind if I play some tunes?”

“Now?” You raise a brow, amused. “You just survived an eight-hour flight, and you still have energy for this?”

“Yes, now while I still have my gorgeous muse beside me.” He starts to strum out a tune on his guitar, his fingers moving with practiced ease until he reaches the F Major, the one chord that always seems to trip him up.

You’re playing it wrong,” you say, watching him fumble with the chord.

“I am Alex Turner, y’know.” He says smugly while still trying to perfect the chord.

“Then act like it,” you tease, playfully nudging his shoulder. You set your mug down before briskly taking the guitar to show him how it's done. 

“Look,” you say, shifting closer, “put your index here, and your middle on this string—like this.” You guide his fingers into place, your hands lingering over his.

He looks up at you, his eyes glinting under the warm glow of the lamp. “What would I do without my genius of a girlfriend?”

Alex strums the chord again, this time getting it right transitioning into a melody. It’s slow, almost hypnotic, and then he starts singing—low and soft, just for you.

You rest your head against his shoulder, letting his voice wrap around you like a warm blanket.

“You falling asleep on me already?” Alex murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair.

“M’not,” you mumble, but your body betrays you, melting further into him.

He chuckles. “That’s what they all say before they start drooling on me hoodie.”

You swat at him weakly. “I do not drool.”

“Right. Just like I don’t mess up F Major.”

You groan, hiding your face against his chest. “I regret helping you.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice is warm, teasing. “And you love me.”

You huff, but your sleepy smile gives you away. “Yeah, yeah.”

Fame could be loud. But moments like this? This was what really mattered.

Speaking of fame, the airport paparazzi pictures have already been posted to social media, both your fandoms were going absolutely berserk over the images. Since Alex was a grandpa about social media you had to read out all the comments to him. Well maybe only the nice ones.

“Wanna hear what the internet has to say about us?”

He hums, strumming idly on his guitar. “Oh, go on then. What’s the verdict?”

You clear your throat and read dramatically, “‘Rock’s Most Stylish Couple Spotted in L.A.: Y/N Stuns in Casual Chic While Turner Keeps It Classic.'"You glance down at yourself—his hoodie and boxers, your hair still slightly messy from the flight. “Casual chic, huh?”

Alex looks over, eyes flicking lazily across your outfit. “Yeah, proper high fashion, that.”

You snort, scrolling down. “Oh, this one’s good—‘Alex Turner and Y/N Y/L/N prove once again they’re the definition of couple goals.’” 

Alex smirks but doesn’t look up from his guitar. “Ah, well, hate to break it to ‘em, but we’re actually a disaster behind closed doors.”

You roll your eyes, scrolling further until a tweet makes you burst into laughter. ‘Alex and Y/N are real-life couple goals. If they ever break up, love isn’t real.’

You turn to Alex, raising a brow. “No pressure or anything.”

Alex finally stops strumming and squints at your phone. “They’re putting that much faith in us?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you tease. “Apparently, we’re single-handedly holding the concept of love together.”

Alex sets his guitar aside and tugs you closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “Well then, guess we’ve got no choice, love.”

You grin, leaning into him. “Guess not.”

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a/n: Hope I did this amazing request justice! I had so much fun writing this, and I truly appreciate all the love and support. Also, part 2 of ‘The AM Effect’ is in the works—I can’t wait to share it with you all soon!

[gothamite-rambler]

Most people who read the DC Valentine's day comic: Oh my God 'replacement'?! Oh my God 'too female', oh my god it's the bas side of fanon! No!

Me after reading it to see what the big kerfuffle is (abridged, massive spoilers):

Huh, I love how Batman isn't the main focus and is pretty chill in this.

He's just being a hero and aww he let Ivy and Harley have Valentine's day in his plant house? I love that.

Oh my goodness... Victor, you got that for her? God, I hope you guys get together someday! 😢

Huh, this is an interesting team up, Dick, Roy, Wally and... Garth. I have to google garth later and my god the ass on that man too, thank you DC! Lol.

Garth knows how to win the ladies over. I love it.

Roy has lian in this? YES! DC... you actually did a good thing with him.

Seriously though I like this one isn't about dating, but friendship. Valentine's day does have many layers... I don't get camping though. But you boy enjoy Rhode Island.

Ahhh! Tim and Bernard together love it ❤️

Oh we've arrived at the meme'd page... skipping lol.

Okay Damian needs advice for a date with Flatline... not loving the robotic way he talks, but he's being nice to Tim... fifty percent of the time.

Oh my God, comic we get it, yes Tim is bi and dated women! This is not how you mention that.

Oh come on comic, you couldn't make the Russian restaurant date him and Bernard? I see what people mean when they say they just mention this dude's girlfriends for plot. Like Bernard is bi too. I don't see his former partners... I kind of want if they were from that cult, but still!

Ahhh Red Hood! My baby! He's cool.

Huh, odd way to bring Stephanie in, but I love her as lady KGBeast.

Lol the real KGBeast showed up. Beat him up guys! I know what he did to Nightwing!

'Replacement'? *eye roll* come on comic, I feel like they would move past that type of insult.

Oooh anti-valentine's day party with Steph and Cass? Sign me up... I see what you're doing comic. In my headcanon they have two years before they get together.

Aww Damian and Flatline are cute together.

Aww Tim and Bernard!

Aww StephCass.

Eh, for what it was I'd give it a solid 7 out of 10. This wasn't as cringe as ya'll made out to be. With romance comics it's going to have that, and it was there and I did cringe, but there was gems in that cringe. For what it was, I didn't hate it. Like I love comics and superhero comics, but Fanon aside, I'd buy a copy of the comic and hang it on the wall :)