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BRAT TAMER— dark! bucky barnes x brat! stark! reader

WARNINGS: alcohol, suggestive scenes, age gap, power imbalance, brat behaviour, dark themes, tramp stamp, harassment, swearing, SMUT.

MINORS DNI

You knew exactly what you were doing.

The moment you stepped into the Avengers Tower, heels clicking against the pristine marble floors, every pair of eyes flicked to you. Not that you cared. In fact, you reveled in it. The attention. The annoyance. The way your father, Tony Stark, ran a hand down his face the second he saw your outfit—if it could even be called that.

A tiny crop top, barely-there shorts, and heels that made your legs look like they went on forever.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered under his breath.

You smirked, flicking your hair over your shoulder as you waltzed past him like you owned the place. “Daddy, that’s not a very warm welcome,” you pouted. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Do you ever dress appropriately? Just once?”

You scoffed. “What’s the fun in that?”

Truthfully, you liked pushing his buttons. You’d been doing it for years, and it never got old. Tony Stark, billionaire genius, could handle aliens, mad scientists, and world-ending threats—but his own daughter? A nightmare in designer heels.

“Where’s Morgan?” you asked, though you didn’t really care.

“In her room. And don’t—”

Too late. You were already walking in that direction.

Tony sighed, shooting a look at Steve and Bucky, who had been watching the interaction silently. “I don’t know what to do with her.”

Bucky’s stare lingered as you disappeared down the hallway. You had that effect on people—especially men. And you knew it.

Morgan adored you.

Which was the problem.

She was ten, all wide eyes and admiration, soaking up every little thing you did like a sponge. And Tony? He hated it.

You sat on her bed, lazily scrolling through your phone as she rattled on about school, her friends, some dumb science project Tony was helping her with. You weren’t really listening.

“Can I do my hair like yours?” Morgan asked suddenly, eyes shining with hope.

You smirked. “You wanna be like me, huh?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

Tony’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “No, she doesn’t.”

You looked up to find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Morgan, go get ready for dinner,” he said firmly.

Morgan hesitated, looking between the two of you before reluctantly nodding and slipping out of the room.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s the influence you don’t want?”

Tony stepped inside, lowering his voice. “I mean it, Y/N. She looks up to you. I won’t let you screw her up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Relax, Dad. I’m not telling her to go rob a bank.”

“No, but you are showing up dressed like that,” he shot back. “Parading around like you have no responsibilities, blowing through money like it’s endless—”

“Isn’t it?” you cut in, smirking.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, kid. I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Nothing,” you said simply, standing up and stretching, the hem of your top riding up just to be provocative. “Because I don’t live under your roof anymore, remember?”

You walked past him, brushing against his shoulder as you left.

And just like that, you were gone.

Later that night, Bucky found you at the bar.

You were perched on a stool, sipping a martini, legs crossed, eyes scanning the room like a predator looking for prey.

He slid onto the stool beside you, silent at first. You noticed him, of course. How could you not? He was hard to ignore—tall, broad, that metal arm glinting under the dim lights.

“Well, well,” you mused, tilting your head. “Didn’t take you for a bar kind of guy.”

Bucky shrugged, eyes flickering over your outfit. “Didn’t take you for the kind of girl who needs attention to survive.”

You grinned. “Oh, but I do. What’s life without a little fun?”

“Fun,” Bucky repeated, tone unreadable. “That what you’re looking for?”

You leaned in slightly, resting your elbow on the bar, chin propped in your hand. “Depends. You offering?”

His jaw tensed. You were pushing. Flirting. Teasing. And you knew it was working.

“You think this is a game?” he asked, voice low.

You smirked. “Isn’t it?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Careful, sweetheart.”

You arched a brow. “Or what?”

He didn’t answer. Just took a sip of his drink, eyes lingering on you.

Breaking the Brat

Part Two

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Stark!Brat!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, bratty behavior, suggestive themes. Slow burn.

Bucky didn’t play your game.

That was the first thing that set him apart from the others.

Most men—especially the older ones—were predictable. Easy to manipulate. A bat of your lashes, a sultry smile, a teasing touch, and they’d trip over themselves to get what you wanted.

But Bucky? He saw right through it.

And that? That made you want to play even more.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” You leaned in, close enough that your perfume lingered between you. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

Bucky glanced at you, unimpressed. “You really think you’re a challenge?”

You pouted. “Aw, that’s cute. You think I’m easy?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “I think you’re loud. And desperate for attention.”

Your smirk didn’t falter. “And yet, here you are, giving it to me.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He just took another sip of his drink, jaw tight.

That’s what intrigued you the most.

He wanted to say something. Wanted to snap, to put you in your place. You could see it in his eyes. The restraint. The discipline. It was a game of tug-of-war, and you were determined to win.

“So, tell me,” you mused, twirling the olive in your martini between your fingers. “What does a guy like you do for fun?”

Bucky didn’t blink. “Nothing you’d survive.”

A thrill shot through you.

“You don’t know what I can handle,” you said, licking the martini off your lips.

His gaze flickered there, just for a second. A small victory.

Then, he downed the rest of his drink and stood.

“Go home, kid.”

Kid.

The word sent a rush of irritation through you.

You weren’t a kid. You were a woman. A woman who could make grown men fall at her feet. A woman who could ruin a man if she wanted to.

And yet, Bucky Barnes just brushed you off like an inconvenience.

How dare he?

You watched him walk away, the muscles in his back flexing under his shirt. He didn’t turn around. Didn’t give you the satisfaction.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something foreign settle in your chest.

Frustration.

The next few weeks were fun.

For you, anyway.

You pushed. Bucky ignored. You flirted. He scoffed. You touched, teased, invaded his space—nothing.

He was a wall. Unshakable. Unmoved.

It only made you worse.

You made sure to wear the shortest skirts when you knew he was around. The highest heels. The tightest tops. You batted your lashes, brushed your fingers against his arm, pressed close to whisper things that weren’t exactly appropriate.

Still, nothing.

But you weren’t an amateur at this game.

Men had limits. And you were going to find his.

Tony had given up on you. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

“Y/N, I swear to God,” he groaned, rubbing his temples as you scrolled through your phone.

“What now?” You didn’t bother looking up.

“You know exactly what. Do I need to spell it out? The credit card charges. The tabloids. The—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “The fucking tramp stamp!”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You like it?”

Tony clenched his jaw. “You got it two hours after I told you not to.”

“Your point?”

He muttered something under his breath before shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do with you, kid.”

Your smirk faltered. There it was again. Kid. First Bucky, now Tony. You weren’t a child.

And you were going to prove it.

That night, you went too far.

And that’s exactly what you wanted.

The compound was quiet. Late. Most of the team had turned in for the night, but you knew Bucky was still awake.

You found him in the gym. Alone.

He was mid-rep, lifting weights that made your arms ache just looking at them.

You leaned against the doorway, watching, a slow smirk tugging at your lips.

“Wow,” you drawled. “Those arms could do some damage.”

Bucky didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge you.

You stepped inside, the sound of your heels clicking against the floor.

Nothing.

You let out a dramatic sigh, strutting over to where he stood. “Ignoring me again? Starting to think you don’t like me, Barnes.”

He finished his set, setting the weights down with a quiet thud.

Still, he didn’t look at you.

You stepped closer, trailing a manicured nail down his metal arm. “I bet you could wrap this around my throat and snap it like a twig.”

That got him. Bucky’s head snapped toward you, eyes dark.

Oh, that was satisfying.

“You wanna test that theory?” His voice was low. Dangerous. A shiver ran through you. You weren’t stupid. You knew when you were poking a bear. But that was half the fun.

“I dunno,” you mused, pressing closer. “Might be fun.”

Bucky exhaled slowly. You could practically see him forcing himself to relax.

Then, he turned and walked away. Just like that. No reaction. No anger. No fire.

It was… disappointing. Until he spoke.

“You should be careful, Y/N.” You frowned. “Of what?”

Bucky stopped at the door, back still to you. “Of what happens when I finally stop holding back.” Then, he was gone.

You stood there for a long moment, staring after him. And for the first time, your smirk faded. Because for the first time, you wondered… Had you finally pushed too far?

It had been a week since Bucky’s warning. A week of silence.

You were used to attention—hell, you craved it—but this was different. The absence of Bucky’s usual snarky responses, his cold stares, his barely-contained tension—it was unsettling. You found yourself looking for him more than you cared to admit. You’d cornered Tony about it. “Where’s Bucky? He’s been MIA.”

Tony didn’t even look up from his work. “I don’t know. Probably avoiding you.”

“Really?” you asked, leaning against the counter. “You think so?”

Tony finally glanced up, his eyes tired but sharp. “Look, kid. I get it. He’s a good guy, but I’m not letting you run around playing your little games with him. Bucky’s not your usual prey.”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “I’m not a damn animal, Dad.” Tony didn’t flinch. “You sure about that?”

Two nights later, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

The Tower was dark, quiet—everyone else was either gone or asleep. You knew Bucky would be up, alone, in the gym. He was predictable like that.

You stood in front of your mirror, inspecting yourself.

A tight black leather jacket, a low-cut tank top that barely covered your chest, and black ripped jeans. Nothing too out there, but enough to make a statement.

Perfect.

You made your way down the long hallway, heels tapping softly on the floors, feeling the familiar rush of power as you approached the gym.

And there he was.

Bucky was lifting weights, his movements precise and fluid, his concentration unwavering. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you took the chance to observe.

He was different tonight. His body was tense, his jaw set as he worked through each set like a machine. But it was more than that. There was something in his eyes—something predatory.

And it made you want to push him.

You sauntered into the room, your presence noticeable, but Bucky didn’t look up. He kept going, each lift smoother than the last, each breath steady and controlled.

It was like you weren’t even there.

You didn’t like that.

“Why so serious?” you purred, stepping closer, your voice dripping with a flirtation you didn’t bother to hide.

Bucky paused for a moment, finally glancing at you. But he didn’t respond.

You took it as a challenge.

“You know,” you continued, sliding your hands down your sides provocatively, “if you need some motivation, I could give you a reason to work a little harder.”

Bucky didn’t move. He just stared at you, his gaze unreadable.

“Come on, Barnes,” you cooed, moving closer, your breath warm against the cool air of the gym. “What’s it going to take to get a rise out of you?”

This time, he spoke. His voice was low and measured, like a warning. “You’re treading on thin ice, Y/N.”

You smirked. “I like the danger.”

Bucky finally set the weights down, his movements slow but purposeful. He stepped toward you, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place—anger? Frustration? Or something more?

“Last warning, kid,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist before you could react, his grip firm but controlled.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “What are you going to do if I don’t listen, huh? Hit me?”

He didn’t answer right away. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his body. It was palpable, like a string pulled tight, waiting to snap.

“I warned you,” Bucky growled, voice gravelly.

Before you could respond, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath catch.

And there it was—the raw, unfiltered power.

You knew you were pushing him, but this time, you didn’t care.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft, but laced with a dangerous edge. “And I don’t think you fully understand the consequences.”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Try me.”

Bucky leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You won’t like the outcome.”

But you weren’t listening. You never were.

You let your fingers trail down his chest, teasing the edges of his shirt, pressing yourself closer to him. “You can’t tell me what to do,” you said softly, letting the challenge hang between you like a spark waiting to ignite.

His hand tightened on your wrist, pulling you away from the wall and turning you to face him fully. His blue eyes were dark, unreadable, like an ocean storm waiting to break.

“You think I’m just going to let you walk all over me?” His voice dropped an octave, as if he were tasting every word. “That’s where you’re wrong, Y/N.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rising between you, the crackling tension unmistakable. For the first time, you saw something in his eyes that made your heart skip—a flicker of something dangerous. And it made you want more.

“You think you can handle me?” you whispered, your lips inches from his. Without warning, Bucky kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was fierce—passionate, like he was claiming what was his. And you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, but the fire in his gaze only intensified. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he warned, his voice dark with intent.

You stared at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. And when you get burned, don’t come crying to me.” You shrugged, unfazed. “I’ll take my chances.”

The next morning, you barely slept.

Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Bucky’s cold, intense stare—the way his hand had felt on your wrist, the heat of his lips against yours.

It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed someone with that much force, but it was the first time you felt… controlled.

And you hated it.

You didn’t like being controlled. You liked to be in charge. Always.

So why did the feeling linger? Why did the thought of Bucky’s hands on you—firm, unrelenting—cause a flutter in your chest?

You shook the thought away, brushing your hair back as you stood in front of the mirror. It was just a kiss. Just a moment. You didn’t need to make it anything more.

You picked out an outfit: a tight red dress with a plunging neckline, heels high enough to make your legs look longer than they were. You liked the way the dress clung to your curves, the way it accentuated everything Bucky had noticed last night.

This was a power play. A challenge. And Bucky? He was your target. You stormed out of your room, determined to confront him.

The gym was quiet again when you entered, the hum of the equipment filling the silence. You saw Bucky, of course. He was always here, always training, always keeping to himself. But today, he didn’t look at you when you walked in.

Not at first.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, though. He could feel you, even without looking. The game hadn’t ended last night—it had only just begun.

You walked toward him, a calculated sway in your hips. You made sure to stop just behind him, letting the scent of your perfume reach his nose, just close enough that he couldn’t ignore your presence any longer.

“Morning, Bucky,” you said, leaning over slightly, letting the fabric of your dress stretch just enough to make him notice.

He stopped mid-set, his fingers wrapping around the barbell before he set it down. Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face you. His gaze was icy, but there was something more there now—a flicker of something darker. Something that told you he wasn’t as indifferent as he wanted to be.

“What do you want?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it.

You grinned, stepping closer. “I thought we could talk.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

You smirked, leaning in a little closer, lowering your voice to a whisper. “About last night.”

His jaw clenched. “I told you, Y/N—”

“You told me a lot of things.” You interrupted, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. “But you didn’t tell me you’d be so rough. So… possessive.”

He grabbed your wrist before you could pull away, his grip firm but not painful. “You’re pushing it,” he warned, his tone deadly serious now.

“Am I?” You tilted your head, pretending to be innocent, but you saw the way his eyes flashed, the tension in his body that told you he was on the edge. “I think you like it, Bucky. I think you like the challenge.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly. He didn’t let go, not yet. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”

A small laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, Bucky,” you teased, tracing your fingers down his chest slowly, “I don’t think I’m going to regret anything.”

This time, when you looked up at him, there was no teasing in your gaze. There was only a challenge. A dare.

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with each breath, like he was trying to calm himself. Then, slowly, he released your wrist.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he muttered. “And I don’t think you realize just how dangerous it is.”

You stepped back, keeping your eyes on him. “I can handle danger.”

Bucky stared at you, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something dark, something possessive, something that made your heart race.

But then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask he usually wore.

“Keep pushing, Y/N,” he said, his voice low, his tone deadly serious. “And I’ll make sure you regret it.”

You smiled sweetly, tilting your head. “I’m counting on it.”

The next few days were a blur.

Bucky was everywhere you went. He was there when you went to the gym, there when you walked past the training room, there when you entered the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly following you, but he was always within your sight. Always within your reach.

And it drove you crazy.

You didn’t get what it was. You didn’t get why he was always near, always present. He wasn’t ignoring you anymore, but he wasn’t giving you the satisfaction either. He was… patient.

And that was something you weren’t used to.

You tried everything. You wore the sexiest outfits. You made flirtatious comments. You pushed every button you knew would make him snap.

But Bucky just watched you. Always watchful. Always calm.

The lack of reaction was maddening.

But it was that last night—when you were so tired of being ignored—that you decided to confront him. You were done waiting.

The Tower was empty again, except for you and Bucky. You knew he’d be in the gym again—he always was.

When you walked in, you didn’t say a word. You just walked up to him, grabbed his collar, and kissed him.

It was desperate. It was messy.

It was exactly what you wanted.

Bucky froze for a moment, not expecting it, but when he didn’t pull away, when he kissed you back with an intensity that sent shockwaves through your body, you realized—maybe this time, you weren’t the one in control.

Bucky’s hands gripped your arms, but he didn’t pull you away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving with more force than you were used to, his hands now roaming, pulling you closer.

When he pulled away, his eyes were dark, and his voice was low, husky. “I warned you, Y/N.”

You smirked, feeling a rush of power. “Yeah, well, I don’t listen.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile, but there was no humor in it. “You will. Eventually.”

Breaking the Brat

Part Six

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Stark!Brat!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, age gap, manipulation, power imbalance, bratty behavior, suggestive themes. Slow burn.

The days following that night felt like a tightrope walk—one wrong move, and you would fall. But there was something intoxicating about it. Bucky had made it clear he was done tolerating your behavior, but the power dynamic between you both had shifted. There was no going back, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

Bucky didn’t let things slide, though. You could feel his presence everywhere you went, like a constant reminder of your recklessness. His eyes followed you. The way he looked at you, all sharp edges and unspoken threats, had you on edge in ways you never imagined.

The next time you saw him, you weren’t sure how things would play out. It was a casual party at Tony’s mansion, the kind of event that usually left you feeling invincible. But tonight, something was different. Bucky had been quieter than usual, lurking in the background, watching you as you flitted from one person to another. You could feel his gaze, like a weight on your back. But you weren’t going to let it bother you. You were untouchable, weren’t you?

The music was loud, the room filled with the usual mix of celebrities, billionaires, and socialites. You could already feel your heels digging into the floor as you made your way to the bar, a playful smirk on your lips. You weren’t about to let Bucky’s behavior dictate how you had fun.

But, of course, Bucky was there. Watching. Always watching.

You noticed him in the corner, his posture stiff, his jaw clenched. He was talking to Steve, but his eyes never left you. Every move you made, every glance you cast, every word you said, seemed to send a ripple through him. It was driving you crazy, the way he had this hold on you. You could feel the tension between you both, building like a slow burn.

And then, just like before, you saw him. The older man, tall, graying hair, expensive suit. He was alone at the bar. Perfect.

You walked over, letting the sway of your hips catch his attention. He looked up, eyes widening as they took you in.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, a hint of admiration behind it.

You leaned against the bar, giving him a sly smile. “Just looking for someone to have some fun with. You seem like you might be a good candidate.”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass as he studied you. “I think I could be persuaded.”

The instant his hand landed on your waist, you knew you had him. He was eating out of your palm, just like you wanted. But then you caught Bucky’s stare from across the room. He was rigid now, his eyes narrowed, his face tense with something that could have been fury—or something worse.

You felt a thrill rush through you.

You led the older man to the couch in the corner, barely glancing back at Bucky. You wanted him to feel it. The jealousy, the frustration, the helplessness. You wanted him to see you as something untouchable, something out of his control.

But before the man could do anything more than adjust his tie, Bucky appeared in front of you, his cold gaze fixed on the older man for a split second before he turned back to you. His voice was sharp, barely contained. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

You looked up at him, your lips curling into an innocent smile, though you could tell from the vein popping in his neck that he wasn’t playing anymore. “I’m not done here yet,” you said, but there was no mistaking the challenge in your tone.

Bucky’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist with enough force to make you gasp. “You don’t get to make that decision.” He jerked you to your feet, dragging you past the man who was still trying to process the sudden intervention.

“Bucky—”

“You think you can flirt your way into whatever you want, don’t you?” His voice was low, each word like a warning. “You think this game is funny, but you’re out of your depth.”

You pulled your wrist from his grip, but the way he was looking at you made you feel cornered, trapped in a way that only fueled your defiance. “Maybe I just like making you mad,” you shot back, not even trying to hide the challenge in your voice.

“Is that it? You get off on making me angry?” His eyes darkened, the tension between you both thickening with each passing second.

You tilted your head, the playful edge in your voice never wavering. “Maybe I do.”

For a brief moment, the two of you just stood there, the silence crackling like a live wire. You could feel the pulse in your throat, the heat building between you both, thick and heavy. But just as quickly, Bucky’s expression shifted.

He grabbed your arm again, this time not in anger, but with a calculated force. He was done with the game.

Without a word, he dragged you to a private room, locking the door behind you. The silence inside felt suffocating, and you could feel the weight of his presence, pressing in on all sides.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was harsh, the words coming out through gritted teeth. You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed, still maintaining your playful attitude.

“What? He was just a little older than usual. What’s the harm in flirting with someone who can buy me anything I want?” Bucky’s eyes burned with frustration as he took a step closer, crowding you against the wall.

“The harm is that you’re reckless. That man was old enough to be your father. What the hell are you trying to prove?” You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the tension between you both crackling like electricity. But you weren’t scared—not even a little.

“Are you mad that I wasn’t flirting with you?” You raised an eyebrow, feeling the rush of satisfaction return. You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, and kissed his jaw softly, just enough to leave your lips tingling with the sensation of his skin. Bucky stiffened at the contact, his expression flickering for a moment before his jaw clenched.

“This isn’t a game, Y/N,” he growled. “You think you can toy with me like that? I don’t give a damn about who you’re flirting with, but don’t be reckless.” You smirked, stepping back slightly, letting your fingers trace the collar of his shirt. “So what, you’re going to punish me for having a little fun? You don’t get to control me, Bucky.”

You were too close to him now, too close to that dangerous edge. The way he was looking at you… it was like a warning. You could feel the tension in his body, in the way his hands gripped your wrists like he was trying to anchor himself.

“You’ve made your point, Y/N,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “But you’re not going to keep doing this. Not while I’m around.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall with that same cocky smirk. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Bucky stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You have no idea what you’re messing with.” His voice was tight, every word soaked with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “You think you can keep pushing me? Keep playing games with me? I’m not like the other men you’ve been with.”

You laughed, though there was a nervous tremor behind it. “Oh, I know. You’re different. You’re better.”

His lips curled into a dark smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Better doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you for much longer.”

And in that moment, something inside you snapped. You pushed off the wall, your hand reaching out to tug at his shirt. “Then make me stop, Bucky,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat.

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, with a low growl, his lips crashed against yours. It was harsh, unrelenting. His grip on your arms was firm, his body pressing you against the wall as if he were determined to break you.

And, in a way, he was.

Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. His metal fingers brushed your jaw, cold against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the fire burning between you. His touch wasn’t soft—it was controlling, deliberate.

You should have been scared.

You weren’t.

Instead, you smirked up at him, eyes glittering with mischief, waiting to see how far you could push him. “You gonna lecture me all night, old man, or are you just mad I got someone else’s attention?”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. His thumb traced your lower lip again, slower this time, like he was testing something—testing you. “That what you wanted? To make me jealous?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, even as your pulse betrayed you, hammering against your ribs. “Seemed like it worked.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. His grip on your chin suddenly dropped, only for his hands to find your hips instead. Without warning, he spun you around, pressing your front against the wall. The cold surface met your palms, your breath hitching as he leaned in close, his chest flush against your back.

“You have no idea what you’re playing with, princess,” he murmured against your ear, his voice dangerously low. “You think this is a game? Flirting with men like that, just to get a rise out of me?”

You swallowed hard, though you kept up the act, arching your back slightly, pressing yourself against him just to see how far you could push him. “You make it too easy, Sarge.”

Bucky let out a dark chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His metal hand gripped your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was reminding you of the difference between the two of you. “You think you’re untouchable ‘cause you’re a Stark? That daddy’s money keeps you safe?”

You turned your head slightly, your cheek brushing the wall, a defiant glint in your eyes. “So what? You gonna teach me a lesson?”

Bucky’s hand slid lower, gripping your thigh just beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers squeezed, just enough to make your breath catch. “Someone has to,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

The tension crackled between you like a live wire, thick with something neither of you wanted to name. His fingers flexed against your skin, as if he was holding himself back, teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Then, just as suddenly as he had pressed you against the wall, he pulled back.

You spun around, eyes blazing, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “That’s it?” you taunted, tilting your head. “All that talk, and you’re just gonna walk away?”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice quieter than before, but twice as dangerous, he said, “who said I was walking away?” The door clicked, signalling it being locked. His dark eyes found yours once more, he closed the space between you both.

His hands were gripping your body, and you pressed your chest into his. Your tongues intertwined and grinding your body against his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, he picks you up and sets you on the table, hiking up your dress to your waist. He pauses, “no panties? Naughty girl..” you squeaked when his cold metal fingers dipped inside your warm wet walls.

You gasped his name, as he pumped his fingers continuously. He added another finger, you whined at the stretch “Buck— its s’much”

“Shut up and take it, you were so desperate before now you crumble at my fingers?” He asked mockingly. He sucked on your neck, he didn’t care for being gentle, you didn’t deserve it— and you didn’t want it. You like the roughness, the control he had over you. You squeezed down on his fingers, your body twitching. “You gonna cum doll?” You moaned, “yes”

Right when you were about to he pulled out, staring down at you with a cold look. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. If you want to— beg me.”

Your eyes widened, really? He was making you bed for it? As if!

He resumed pumping his fingers, his other hand wrapped around your throat tightly— not enough to block air restriction. You would feel the knot in your stomach tighten, and right when you were about to cum again— he pulled out. You whined, “bucky..!”

“Beg or you don’t get to cum.”

You glared, not believing him. Until he did it again, and again. He was edging you and you were about to lose your mind. “Please.. bucky”

“Please what,doll?” He smirked, “please let me cum!” Satisfied, he thrust his fingers in once more, finally bringing you to an orgasm. You screamed his name, luckily the loud music outside prevented it from being heard from the party. “Good girl..” he kissed your head as you panted.

Then he flipped you over, pressing your head into the table. “Bucky!” You gasped. He slapped your ass, watching as it ripples. He gently touches the spot that he hit, it slowly turning a red colour. “I know you like that so don’t even try to hide it, doll” you whined once more, and without warning, he thrust inside.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth parts to scream his name. He fucks you senseless, listening as you get cock drunk— to stupid and fucked out to comprehend his words. Degrading you and he occasionally smacked your ass, his hips roughly snapping into yours. He gripped your hair, pulling your head back and pressing your back to his chest. He grabs your head and turns it to face him, kissing your mouth.

You feel yourself slipping, on the verge of climaxing again. “You look so pretty like this, doll” your makeup was smeared, cry’s watery and a bit of droll leaking from your mouth. You cum at his words. He continues thrusting, dropping your hair, and letting you fall on your stomach on the table once more. He threw his own head back, his cock twitching inside you before he came.

Ropes and ropes of cum, he pulled out with a pant, watching as your pussy was clenching around nothing, leaking of a mixture of both of your cums.

He smirks at his work, touching your ass before zipping up his pants. Whispering, “you’re mine, doll” before leaving.

You were breathless, and feel to your knees. You legs couldn’t stand— not without shaking. Still, you felt a sense of achievement.

This was far from over

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butchisrevolution · 3 days ago

Text

dolly dog man readthrough #5

PART #2

for whom the bell tolls

TRUST GET TO THE END OF THIS RAMBLE I GET RLLY NERDY

bro the behavioral modification therapy thing traumatized him

i've heard this is a common criticism of BMT but feel free to correct me

i feel as though this form of therapy may be unethical...

jesus. no wonder bro has problems with intimacy bro literally does not know what love feels like

lowkey saving this for myself bc i need to remember this

lowkey this is just my dad

anyways this is also not healthy obviously and another thing that would contribute to a personality disorder

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. YES HE IS. AND THIS IS WHY.

that fear doesn't come from nowhere, it was instilled in him by his dad from a young age

li'l petey my anarchist boy back at it again

oh baby

petey sees himself in his son so much rn and it's heartbreaking

HE TOOK EVERYTHING THAT'D BENEFIT HIM PRACTICALLY

BUT HE DIDN'T CARE FOR THEIR LOVE

BECAUSE HE CAN'T FATHOM PUTTING HIMSELF BEFORE OTHERS

it'd be too painful for him to confront his lifestyle choices, so he fell back into his old harmful habits and left his past behind

he's insistent on keeping this promise because his father never kept any of his promises

it's a recently opened wound, so it's his first impulse. distance himself as much as possible from his father's identity to distance himself from the hurt

THE COLOR THEORY THAT'S USED TO SET TONE IN THIS BOOK. IT'S SO WELL DONE

and now he sees what he's done in his son's mind from an outside perspective. he has cursed his son to the same fate as him, a nihilistic hopeless view on life. and he hates it. his son doesn't deserve that. he doesn't deserve to go through what he did. he's so young, he hasn't done anything wrong. through realizing this, he realizes that he didn't deserve it either, and that his view on the world isn't any more correct because of his own experiences, it's just a damaged unhealthy view of it. he deserves better too. he can create better things for himself, like love for his son

so that's what he does

he does what he can. he reinforces his son's value, which was damaged by his grampa. he inserts a more positive world view, to try and change what alterations he may have caused to his sons psyche

...

my shayla

THE SYMBOLISM OF THIS SCENE MAKES ME GO FERAL AND IS THE ENTIRE REASON I GOT INTO THIS FANDOM. THIS SCENE I FIRST SAW IN THE MOVIE AND IT'S JUST AS GOOD IF NOT BETTER IN THE COMIC

he's turning something seen as "bad" or "wrong" by society into something beautiful that will spark joy and serve a purpose. he lets himself walk through the mud to get home, he turns even that into a positive experience, letting himself feel wonder about his surroundings instead of repressing his feelings, turning them to stone cold logic. this represents his newfound effort in, not repressing his personality, but in learning to cope with it healthily and create a life worth living. a life with a purpose, something he denied himself for so long. it represents being given the chance of recovery as someone with a personality disorder.

i love this book so much

#dog man comics #dog man #dog man petey #lil petey #dog man movie #petey the cat #literary analysis #media literacy #media analysis

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jungkoode · 1 day ago

Text

死 KKANGPAE | #03 死

† breakfast and training †

"His eyes are the kind of dark that makes you forget there was ever light in the world. And you hate that you're starting to notice details about him."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.4k

rating: mature

content: training violence, weapons, strong language, sexual tension

☠ author's note ☠

HELLO MY FELLOW SLEEP-DEPRIVED CREATURES. Welcome back to another episode of "Kiki makes questionable life choices and writes fanfiction instead of sleeping"!

Can we talk about how I wrote like three different versions of the gun scene before my perfectionist brain was satisfied? And by satisfied I mean "fine whatever just post it I guess." Don't @ me about gun accuracy, I play Call of Duty sometimes that's research enough (ㆆᴗㆆ)

Also yes, I am absolutely living for the whole "oh no they're training together" trope. Sue me. Or don't, I'm broke. All I have is caffeine and the ability to make my characters suffer. Speaking of which - Jeon in combat mode? chef's kiss My boy is out there being all professional and grumpy while Y/N is just trying her best not to get shot. We love that for them.

PSA: The whole "Cookie" thing was totally self-indulgent and I regret nothing. V is here to cause chaos and honestly? Goals.

Special shoutout to my cat who watched me write this at 3 AM and judged me silently. You're the best beta reader a girl could ask for, even if your only feedback is knocking my coffee over.

See you next Tuesday, you beautiful disasters! Remember: sleep is for the weak and fanfiction is for life.

crawls back into writing cave while mainlining espresso

Kiki

�� socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Mornings in the castle hit different. Through your window, the sky's doing that thing where it can't decide if it's still night or already dawn—all soft blues mixing with hints of gold. Everything's quiet, like the world's holding its breath.

Then your alarm goes off.

"Why did we agree to this again?" Yunjin whines from her bed, fumbling to shut up the annoying buzz. Her pink hair is a mess, splayed across her pillow like cotton candy gone wrong.

"Croissants," you remind her, stretching until your joints pop. "Fresh, buttery, heavenly croissants."

"Not hungry." She burrows deeper into her blanket cocoon. "Too early for hunger. Too early for existing."

You swing your legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor. "What happened to yesterday's 'new me, new goals' speech?"

"That was yesterday's Yunjin. Today's Yunjin chooses sleep."

With a snort, you pad over to her bed. It's literally two steps away—your shared room is cozy like that, with just enough space for two singles and matching bedside tables. You give her shoulder a gentle shake.

"And what's tomorrow's Yunjin gonna think about that?"

"Tomorrow's Yunjin's problem," she mumbles, death-gripping her blanket. Smart girl. She knows your next move would've been stealing it.

"Then it's tomorrow's me problem too!" You can't help but laugh, and it finally gets her to peek one eye open.

She lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh. "Fine. Fine. You win."

Your shared laughter is soft, comfortable. It's weird how quickly Yunjin became your person here. Maybe because she's as new to this as you are—no pressure to measure up to badasses like Chaewon or keep your guard up around intimidating figures like V and Jeon.

She joined two months before you did. For her, it meant saying goodbye to having her own room, but she says it was worth the trade-off. Girl's a mess when it comes to sleep schedules, but she keeps your shared space spotless and her determination is s̶c̶a̶r̶y̶ impressive. Like, you've seen her practice seduction techniques until 3 AM, and now here she is, dragging herself up at dawn for... well, croissants and self-improvement.

There's something genuinely good about Yunjin. She's always there—to help, to listen, to just be. Five months in and everyone in Seduction already adores her. Yeah, she's clumsy as hell during physical training, but her mind is sharp. Nothing gets past her—it's like she's got a built-in lie detector.

After yesterday morning's... incident, you're extra grateful for her company.

You both grab your digital cards from your bedside tables—can't go anywhere in this place without them. They're basically your whole identity here, determining which doors open for you and which stay firmly shut.

The castle corridors feel endless this early. Most members are probably still sleeping or doing whatever gang members do at dawn. Your footsteps echo softly as you and Yunjin make your way to the cafeteria, keeping the conversation light.

"Have you had breakfast here before?" you ask, watching her stifle another yawn.

"Once." She nods, her pink ponytail bouncing. "Got up at 10 though. Wasn't worth sacrificing sleep for."

You can't help but smile. "Early breakfast hits different. You'll see."

When you reach the cafeteria, Yunjin taps her digital card against the scanner. The light blinks green, and suddenly your nose is filled with the heavenly smell of fresh pastries. Inside, only a handful of early birds are scattered around the massive space. Makes sense—most people here prefer their beds at this hour.

Your eyes do their usual sweep of the room, casual and practiced. But then something pulls at you, like a magnet finding true north. Your gaze locks with dark, piercing ones.

Jeon.

"Oh, that's Jeon, right?" Yunjin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Guess he likes mornings too."

You nod, still watching him from the safety of the doorway. Something about the distance makes you feel almost safe. He's got that thing about him—that unmistakable aura of authority that even 6 AM can't dim.

"Damn," Yunjin says after a beat, blunt as ever. "He's hot."

"Let's get food," you mutter, rolling your eyes and heading for the pastry section.

You and Yunjin load up your plates with a bit of everything, especially those famous croissants. Finding a quiet corner, you settle in to enjoy both the food and each other's company, pointedly not thinking about piercing dark eyes or brooding corners.

You try to look casual as your eyes drift back to Jeon for the hundredth time.

He's sitting there, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee like it's his lifeline to sanity this early in the morning. The sight of those tattooed fingers curled around plain white ceramic does something to your brain that you'd rather not examine too closely.

"You know, I heard something interesting about him." Yunjin's voice makes you jump. S̶h̶i̶t̶ Great, she caught you staring.

"Oh?" You tilt your head, hoping your voice sounds more curious than guilty.

Yunjin leans in conspiratorially, her pink hair falling forward as she drops her voice to barely above a whisper. It's kind of unnecessary given how far away Jeon is, but there's something about him that makes everyone speak in hushed tones.

"Apparently, he's got this whole... ritual thing going on. Every single morning, without fail, he makes sure he's the first one to get fresh coffee. Like, the first cup from a fresh pot."

Your eyes track back to that cup held between ink-covered fingers. Now that she mentions it, you've never seen him drink anything else in the mornings. The way he's savoring it, eyes closed and expression almost peaceful, makes you think Yunjin might be onto something.

"Every day? He's literally the first one here?" The mental image of Jeon lurking outside the cafeteria doors, waiting for them to unlock, is both hilarious and weirdly endearing.

"From what I've heard. Maybe it's a power move?" Yunjin suggests with a soft laugh. "You know, asserting dominance through caffeine consumption."

The idea of someone as intimidating as Jeon—co-leader of the Assassination Division, member of the Council of 9, literal professional killer—climbing the ranks of one of South Korea's most dangerous gangs just to secure his morning coffee makes something bubble up in your chest.. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing too loud.

"Imagine that being his master plan all along," you snort. "Join gang, become assassination chief, get first dibs on coffee."

You both dissolve into quiet giggles, but the moment shatters when something shifts in the air. It's like thorny vines suddenly wrapping around your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You don't need to look to know who it is.

"Mind if I join the fun?" V's voice slides over your skin like honey laced with poison, playful but with that edge that makes your hair stand on end.

His arms drape over your shoulders without warning, caging you and Yunjin in what should be a friendly gesture but feels more like being trapped. Your muscles tense automatically. There's something about V that keeps you perpetually on edge—like admiring a rose only to remember it's got thorns that could draw blood.

Yunjin manages a wobbly smile, but you can tell she's as unsettled as you are by his sudden appearance. "We were just... talking about coffee."

"Coffee?" V drawls the word like it personally offends him. He pulls back, throwing his arms behind his head in that carelessly graceful way of his, but stays close enough that you can smell cinnamon. "Boring. Now, this new training program? That's something worth discussing."

His eyes glint with mischief, reminding you of a cat playing with its food. "I'm keen to see what you girls bring to the table. Should be... intriguing, don't you think?"

The way he says it makes your skin crawl. There's nothing overtly threatening about his words, but the undercurrent is clear—the Assassination Division isn't known for playing nice, and V seems to view the upcoming cross-training as his personal playground.

"I'm sure it will be enlightening," you say carefully.

V's energy is infectious, but not in a good way. More like a disease you're trying not to catch.

He chuckles, and those thorny vines around your lungs squeeze tighter. "Oh, I'm sure it will be. And don't worry, yours truly will be there to add a little spice to the mix. Can't let things get too dull, can we?"

Before you can respond, his attention snaps to something—or someone—across the cafeteria. With a dismissive wave that somehow manages to feel both elegant and insulting, he strides off as suddenly as he appeared.

You exchange looks with Yunjin, both of you sagging with relief once he's gone. She looks as drained as you feel, like V's presence alone sucked all the energy from the room.

"Well, that was... something," Yunjin says, and you could write a whole essay about everything packed into that single word. Her pink hair is still slightly disheveled from where V's dramatic entrance messed it up.

"That's one way to put it." You try to shake off the phantom feeling of thorny vines around your lungs. V's presence leaves you feeling like you've been through some kind of emotional washing machine—tumbled around and wrung out.

"But oh my god." Yunjin's whole face suddenly lights up like she's remembered something amazing. The whiplash from her mood shift almost gives you vertigo.

"What?" You ask, though part of you already knows where this is going. Yunjin might be shy and perceptive, but she's also a total simp when it comes to pretty faces.

"He is SO handsome?" Her voice rises with genuine awe. "Everyone kept saying he looks like a prince, but I thought they were exaggerating. They were not."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if you were even in the same conversation just now. Sure, V's gorgeous—that's kind of his whole thing. The dangerous beauty, the dripping poison. But after feeling his aura wrap around you like a boa constrictor, 'handsome' isn't exactly the first word that comes to mind.

"Did you miss the whole creepy vibe?" You keep your voice low, even though V's long gone. Some habits die hard in this place. "He talked about the training program like he's planning to turn it into his personal episode of Squid Game. With popcorn."

"Yeah, but like..." Yunjin waves her hand dismissively, "have you seen his face? Those cheekbones? That jawline?"

"The way he's probably plotting our deaths as we speak?" You counter, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. Trust Yunjin to focus on the aesthetics while completely ignoring the red flags. It's kind of adorable, in a concerning way.

"Doesn't change the fact that he's eye candy," she says with zero shame, stabbing her fork into her breakfast. "Like, premium, expensive, imported chocolate level of eye candy."

"True," you admit, finally taking a proper bite of your croissant.

And it is true—V's got that whole ethereal beauty thing going on, like a masterpiece painting that happens to be slightly cursed. The kind of face that belongs in museums but also probably comes alive at night to terrorize security guards.

But even as you acknowledge V's obvious appeal, your eyes betray you, drifting back to that other corner of the cafeteria. Back to dark eyes and hurricanes.

Back to Jeon.

It's not like you mean to look.

It just... happens.

Like your gaze has some kind of magnetic programming that keeps pulling it in his direction.

Which is s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ inconvenient because the last thing you need is to get caught staring at one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae while you've got croissant crumbs on your face.

The rest of your morning slips by without V popping up again to make your skin crawl. You try to focus on getting ready for what's coming, but your mind keeps drifting to the upcoming training.

Working with Jeon and V's division? Yeah, that's not anxiety-inducing at all.

When you step onto the training field outside the castle, the change of scenery hits different. After being cooped up in the gang's concrete maze, the open space and towering trees feel almost surreal. The cold morning air bites at your lungs—a wake-up call you didn't ask for but probably need.

Today's not just another training day. It's your first cross-training with the Assassination Division, and the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with one of V's knives.

Your stomach does this weird flip-flop thing as you walk towards the gathering crowd. Working with Jeon after... that incident? Not exactly on your bucket list. The memory of your last encounter sits heavy in your chest, making each step feel like you're walking through mud.

The Assassination Division is already there when you arrive, looking like they stepped out of some action movie poster. Some look ready to murder, others look ready for a nap. But it's Jeon who catches your eye—impossible not to, really. It's like the air itself is swirling around him like a storm about to break.

He's got that look on his face—you know the one. All business, no bullshit, could probably kill you with his pinky finger.

No sign of V though.

Makes sense, when you think about it. Those two aren't exactly besties—more like two wolves forced to share the same territory. Their whole approach to killing is different as night and day.

Jeon's all about precision. Clean shots, minimal mess, maximum efficiency. He's the type to plan every detail, calculate every variable. Need someone taken out from two buildings away without anyone even knowing what happened? That's his specialty. The human equivalent of a surgical strike.

V though? He's chaos incarnate. Gets up close and personal with his kills, leaves a message written in blood if he feels like it. He's the guy you call when you want someone dead and don't care how messy it gets. Planning? Fuck planning—V works on pure instinct and improvisation.

The crowd goes quiet as Jeon steps forward. The atmosphere shifts, less like a raging storm now and more like the heavy air before thunder breaks. When he speaks, his voice does that thing where it demands attention without actually raising in volume. And despite everything��despite knowing better—you find yourself leaning in slightly to catch every word.

"Your state of mind is everything in this line of work," he says, dark eyes scanning the crowd like he's reading everyone's potential in real time. "A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death."

The task he lays out seems simple enough: shoot the cardboard target, hit the center, don't mess it up. But as you watch others take their turns, that knot in your stomach keeps getting tighter.

The gun feels wrong in your hand. Not that you haven't held one before—basic training covers that—but this is different. This is him watching, and somehow that makes your palms extra sweaty.

Then your turn's up.

Walking to the mark feels like crossing a minefield, every step measured and tense. Your heart's going so hard you can barely hear anything else.

Focus. You need to focus.

But Jeon's standing right there, making the air thick and hard to breathe. Your finger hovers over the trigger, but doubt creeps in like poison.

The target blurs in and out. You can feel Jeon watching, that heavy gaze picking apart every flaw in your stance. The pressure builds in your chest until you're sure something's gonna snap.

Just a bit longer. You need to be absolutely sure before taking the shot.

It's not like Seduction gets much practice with actual weapons—your arsenal usually involves batting eyelashes and strategic flirting, not bullets and gunpowder. So it's no wonder the gun starts slipping through your sweaty fingers.

You tighten your grip. A surge of determination hits you like a shot of adrenaline. Come on. It's just cardboard. You've handled way worse situations than this. You can do this.

Your finger starts to squeeze the trigger—

BANG.

That... wasn't your gun.

You flinch, turning toward the sound before you can stop yourself. Through the corner of your eye, you catch smoke curling from Jeon's pistol.

He's standing there looking bored, arm extended like this is just another one of his daily mornings. The gun fits his hand like it was molded for him, an extension of his body rather than a weapon.

When your eyes snap to the target, there it is—perfect shot, dead center, because of course it is.

A̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ Show-off.

You lower your gun, lips pressed tight. His gaze sits heavy on your shoulders, hurricane pressure bearing down until you want to scream. His face gives nothing away, but those dark eyes say plenty—and none of it's good.

"If you're not quick enough, you'll get killed." His voice cuts like ice. "Let that be a reminder for everyone else."

The words hit like a slap. Heat rushes to your face—anger, embarrassment, frustration, all mixing together into something that makes you want to either punch something or crawl into a hole. Preferably punch him, but you're very aware of everyone watching this little show he's putting on.

Both divisions are staring, and you've never felt more like a fish in a very small, very exposed bowl.

Your eyes meet Jeon's, and suddenly breathing gets hard. His stare hits different—those dark eyes boring into yours like he's trying to read your soul, pupils blown wide in a way that makes your stomach do weird flips.

That silver lip ring catches the light when his mouth twists into something s̶e̶x̶y̶ condescending. He opens his mouth—probably to tear into you some more—but then—

BANG.

Everyone drops like puppets with cut strings. Pure instinct.

It's instant chaos. Voices rise into a crescendo of shouts and commands, bodies moving with practiced urgency.

It's kind of beautiful, in a messed-up way—how quickly personal beef gets shelved when shit hits the fan. One minute Jeon's looking at you like you're dirt on his boot, next second he's barking orders to keep everyone safe.

Your heart's in your throat as you scan the crowd for a flash of pink hair.

Yunjin.

But Yunjin's nowhere.

The sea of faces blurs together—no Kazuha, no Eunchae, not even Sakura. Even Chaewon's vanished, which is weird because she's usually got this sixth sense about danger.

Another shot cracks through the air. Your fingers tighten around your gun until your knuckles go white. Your eyes keep drifting to the treeline, where shadows dance between patches of dark green.

A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death.

His words echo in your head, which is ironic considering how not calm you feel right now.

Fuck it.

You're moving before you can second-guess yourself, legs carrying you toward the forest. Maybe it's stupid, but you need space to think. To be calm, like he said.

Plus, the trees might give you cover—an advantage you desperately need right now.

The forest swallows you up. Sunlight filters through leaves overhead, painting everything in shifting patterns of light and shadow. Every step crunches on dead leaves, making you wince. So much for stealth.

V wouldn't be happy.

The chaos from the training ground fades the deeper you go, replaced by normal forest sounds—birds chattering overhead, small animals rustling in the bushes. It's almost peaceful, if you ignore the whole possible death situation.

You spot it then—a ridge overlooking the training ground, hidden behind thick bushes. Perfect vantage point, if you can reach it. The climb makes your muscles burn, but you manage. Up here, you force yourself to breathe slow and steady, trying to quiet your racing heart. Your fingers trace the gun's cold metal like a lifeline.

Your back hits the tree with a thud. The bark scrapes against your spine through your shirt, but you barely notice. Every nerve in your body is focused on that rustling sound behind you.

Footsteps.

Your breath catches. They're quiet—too quiet to be some random person stumbling through the woods.

No, these are the steps of someone who knows how to move silently. Someone trained.

Adrenaline floods your system as you press yourself flatter against the tree. Your fingers tighten around the gun until your knuckles go white. Through a gap in the leaves, you try to catch a glimpse of whoever's approaching, but the foliage is too thick.

Friend or foe?

The question pounds in your head with each careful footstep drawing closer. Your mind races, too many possibilities—it could be an enemy, could be another member searching the area.

Could be death or salvation walking your way.

The steps are almost upon you now. Your breathing goes shallow, controlled. You might be exposed up here, but they don't know that. Surprise is your only advantage right now.

Shoot or strike?

The dilemma tears at you. A gunshot would alert everyone to your location. And if it turns out to be an ally... F̶u̶c̶k̶ No. Hand-to-hand is safer. Quieter. Less explaining to do if you're wrong.

Your muscles coil tight as a spring. When the footsteps are close enough, you launch yourself from behind the tree in one fluid motion, aiming to take them down hard and fast.

Instead, you slam into what feels like a brick wall.

Oh.

It's Jeon.

His reflexes are insane—before you can even process who he is, he's already moving. The air sweeps around you as he twists, disarming you with embarrassing ease. Your gun hits the ground with a clatter that seems to echo through the whole forest.

Recognition hits you both at the same moment. That flicker of shock in his eyes quickly turns to his usual look of disdain, because of course it does.

Then—a misstep.

Your ankle rolls, sending white-hot pain shooting up your leg. You stumble, sucking in a sharp breath. His grip on you loosens just slightly, and something that might be concern flashes across his face before his usual cold mask slips back into place.

"You okay?" His voice is gruff, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

"Just perfect," you snap back, because fuck his concern when your ankle feels like it's on fire and your pride hurts even worse.

He just stands there, staring at you with those dark eyes that see too much.

"What the hell were you thinking?" A pause, one eyebrow lifting. "You have a gun, don't you?"

You almost laugh. Because of course. If you'd shot at him, he'd be lecturing you about trigger discipline. Attack hand-to-hand, and suddenly you're an idiot for not using your weapon.

You seriously can't win with this man.

"Well, good thing I didn't use it on you then." The words come out lighter than you feel, dancing between playful and pissed. "And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be back there playing commander?"

"That's what deputies are for." The casual way he says it makes your teeth grind. "Besides, I dispatched a team to check the gunfire. Just my luck, running into you instead."

"Pleasure's all mine, chief." You load the title with all the sarcasm you can muster.

"And you?" His dark eyes study you like you're a particularly puzzling target he can't quite line up. "Any reason you're out here instead of following orders?"

"Didn't get any orders to follow." You cross your arms, ignoring how his presence makes your skin prickle. "And that ridge over there?" You jab a finger toward the overlook. "Perfect vantage point. I was trying to be strategic before you showed up."

He actually grimaces at that, like your logic physically pains him. But before he can open his mouth to deliver what's surely another lecture, you add:

"Just my luck, running into you instead."

The words—his own words turned back on him—hit their mark. His eyebrow twitches just slightly, and satisfaction blooms warm in your chest.

Score one for you.

But before you can inwardly celebrate, he grimaces. He actually grimaces before he opens his stupid mouth again.

"That?" His voice drips with condescension. "You think that's prime real estate for observation?" The asshole holds back a laughter. "Alright." He says, and you ponder the merits of hitting him with a rock.

But then he begins walking, and you trail after him, partly because s̶c̶r̶e̶w̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ he's wrong and partly because... well, where else are you gonna go?

"Remind me again—which one of us specializes in persuasion and observation?" You can't keep the annoyance from your voice. His arrogance is starting to give you a headache.

"And which one of us is known for sniping?" He tilts his head just enough for you to catch the silver flash of his eyebrow piercing. "You think I don't know a thing or two about picking vantage points?"

"Just because you can shoot from far away doesn't mean you know the best places to shoot from." The words come out sharper than intended. "What works for a sniper might not work for surveillance. They're different skill sets."

"How so?" He doesn't even bother looking back now. "A lookout's a lookout, smartass."

Your hands find your hips. "You know what? Ask me that again when you sit in on our cross-training. Might learn something useful."

"Learn from an ensign?" His tilt is mocking. "No—learn from you?" He lets out a low chuckle that makes your teeth grind. "Pretty sure it works the other way around."

"Forgot about Flower?" You can't help the snark in your voice. "She's a chief too, and I'm sure she'd love to put you in your place."

The exhale he lets out is so exaggerated it has to be for dramatic effect. "You're insufferable."

"Feeling's mutual, chief."

You trail behind Jeon through the darkness, trying to ignore how his mere presence makes the night air feel electric against your skin. The silence wraps around you both, broken only by your footsteps until—

A rustle in the underbrush.

Before you can react, his hand clamps around your wrist. No warning, no words—just the firm press of tattooed fingers against your pulse point as he yanks you behind a massive rock. You crash against him, bodies colliding in a mess of limbs and s̶h̶i̶t̶ startled breath.

You open your mouth to tell him exactly what you think about being manhandled, but his finger presses against his lips. Shut up. His eyes scan the darkness beyond your hiding spot, focused and lethal.

And suddenly you're way too aware of him.

The moonlight paints him in silver and shadow, highlighting things you've never noticed before. Like how his eyebrow piercing catches the light—two tiny beads of silver that draw attention to the way his brow furrows in concentration. Or how that lip ring glints when his mouth sets in that stern line you know too well.

There's a scar on his left cheek—barely there, really. Just a whisper of a mark that makes you wonder what story it tells. Your eyes drift lower, catching on the small mole decorating the left side of his neck. It's such a delicate detail on someone who radiates danger, like finding a flower growing through concrete.

But it's his eyes that f̶u̶c̶k̶ y̶o̶u̶ u̶p̶ catch you off guard. Dark and deep, framed by stupidly long lashes that flutter when he blinks. They're beautiful in a way that makes your chest tight—and isn't that just f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ fantastic? You didn't need to know that about him.

This close, you can see the tiny lines at the corners of those eyes. They speak of sleepless nights and heavy choices, of burdens carried too long alone. Watching him like this—he feels different now, less like a storm trying to drown you and more like standing in summer rain.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut: you're seeing Jeon. Not the cold-as-ice division chief or the intimidating Council member. Just... him. Human.

Complex.

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist like an iron band. If anything, his grip's gotten tighter, and you're caught between wanting to yank free and being weirdly aware of how warm his hand is against your skin in the cool night air. It's hard to tell if you're feeling trapped or protected.

The footsteps draw closer—deliberate, confident. Not someone trying to hide.

You watch a muscle tick in Jeon's jaw, the kind of tiny detail you wouldn't normally notice if you weren't pressed so close to him. It's fascinating, in an annoying way, how he can look so calm while radiating such intense energy.

His eyes flick to yours for just a second, but it feels loaded with... something. Like you're suddenly partners in this mess, whether you like it or not. It's more communication than you've had in all your previous conversations combined.

The rustling gets louder. You hold your breath. Jeon's gone statue-still beside you, but you can feel the coiled tension in him. His dark eyes snap to a spot in the trees, then back to you with unnerving intensity.

"Shoot there."

You stare at him like he's lost his mind. "What?"

"There." His voice is barely a whisper, rough with urgency. He jerks his chin toward whatever he's seeing that you're apparently missing.

"You want me to shoot a tree branch?" The skepticism in your whisper could cut glass. "Seriously?"

"Just do what you're told." The words rumble out of him like distant thunder, crackling with impatience.

You give Jeon a look, but arguing isn't an option right now.

The gun feels heavy as you line up the shot. Your finger finds the trigger, and for a split second, everything goes quiet. The bang echoes through the trees, making your ears ring. You watch as the bullet hits exactly where Jeon wanted—that innocent-looking branch that apparently wasn't so innocent after all.

A net explodes from the darkness like some kind of ninja trap, shooting toward the approaching figure. But whoever it is moves like water—fluid, impossible, beautiful in a terrifying way. The net hits empty ground with a sad little flutter while your brain tries to process what just happened.

Beside you, Jeon goes still. If you weren't pressed so close, you might have missed that tiny hitch in his breath—the only sign that this wasn't part of his plan. His eyes narrow just slightly, that crack in his perfect mask making your stomach do weird flips.

He pushes you back against the rock, putting himself between you and whatever's coming. The stone digs into your spine, cold and rough through your clothes.

Then everything happens at once.

A shadow vaults over your hiding spot, moving with deadly grace. Gunshots crack through the night, and suddenly Jeon's shoving you down, his body covering yours. The world spins into a blur of motion and sound, your pulse drumming so loud you can barely think.

When reality settles back into focus, you watch the figure reach for their mask. Your fingers tighten on your gun, waiting to see what kind of threat managed to dodge one of Jeon's traps.

The mask comes off.

Oh for fuck's sake.

V's grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Paintball night!" he announces with way too much glee for someone who just scared the shit out of you.

Relief and irritation war in your chest. Of course it's V. Who else would turn a simple training exercise into their personal dramatic performance?

You watch Jeon's shoulders drop, but the annoyance is written all over his face. His jaw's so tight you can practically hear all the curses he's not saying.

Always the professional, even when he's irritated.

V's eyes dances with delight as he watches Jeon simmer. "Don't look at me like that, Kookie," he coos, lips curling into that signature smirk that makes you want to take a step back.

Cookie?

You blink, trying to process that nickname. Looking at Jeon—all dark clothes, silver piercings, and intimidating tattoos—the last thing that comes to mind is anything remotely cute or sweet. The mental image of him buying cookies from some terrified boy scouts makes you bite back a laugh.

Now that's a story you'd pay to hear.

Jeon's eyebrow shoots up in that way that somehow manages to say f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ more effectively than actual words. His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, jaw working like he's physically holding back whatever he wants to say. He's irritated.

"I'll give you some advantage," V sighs dramatically, thorny vines wrapping around your lungs even from this distance. "No fun beating you when you're unarmed." The words drip with amusement, like this whole thing is his favorite game. "See ya."

With one last unsettling grin, he melts into the darkness. Because of course he does. Dramatic asshole.

You're still sprawled on the ground, processing what just happened. Leave it to V to turn a regular night into some twisted paintball training session. The man's idea of "improving stealth skills" is giving everyone heart attacks.

Beside you, Jeon's muscles finally uncoil from their battle-ready stance. He looms over you, and you can't tell if the expression on his face is more annoyed or relieved.

"You gonna get up or what?" The words come out gruff, but there's something else there. Something that might be concern if you squint.

Then his hand appears in front of your face. You stare at it for a second, surprised. It's weirdly bare compared to his tattooed arms, and you hesitate before taking it. His grip is firm but careful as he helps you up.

The whole night feels surreal —one weird training session bleeding into another. You glance at Jeon as he stretches, working out the tension in his shoulders.

The mystery of "Cookie" tugs at your curiosity, but one look at his face tells you now's not the time to ask.

Some mysteries are probably better left unsolved.

next | index

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 20 hours ago

Note

hi - do you have any fics with scenes like the one in "but the world won't stop turning" where derek time travels and meets his mom? in this one she knows it him by scent (in her time he's 7-ish) and they just have lunch and talk bit. it's very bittersweet. i was hoping there might be more like it?

Hi anon. Let's see.

But The World Won't Stop Turning by thepsychicclam

(1/1 I 19,906 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek glances at Stiles, who is watching him with a curious expression.

“Oh shit,” Stiles exclaims as comprehension dawns on him. “Everything makes sense now. Derek, I know what the witch did, she cursed you with – “

But before Stiles is able to finish his sentence, everything fades away and Derek is surrounded by darkness.

***

A Chance Worth Taking by ash_mcj

(1/1 I 1,885 I General i Sterek)

When Derek woke up, he thought he was in a dream.

There were posters littering the familiar forest green walls that he hadn’t seen in years—Star Trek, Black Eyed Peas, even a Destiny’s Child one he had completely forgotten was on the back of his bedroom door that he’d stolen from Laura’s wall when she’d left for college. A burgundy and white letterman jacket was slung over his desk chair, bold letters spelling his surname and his basketball number across the back with Beacon Hills Cyclones Basketball on the lower half.

This wasn’t possible—this room had burned to ash years ago, and his nightmares almost never featured such simple scenes as this one. There were no foreboding feelings, no sharp smell of smoke, no guilt-inducing screams.

And just as he was about to dig his clawed hand into his thigh in an attempt to wake himself from this maybe-dream, he remembered. ___

[or: with the help of some magic, Derek and Stiles go back in time—giving them the opportunity to save not only their future pack, but also the first one Derek lost]

Days Like These. by Missy_Moo

(6/23 I 8,801 I General I Sterek)

Derek and Stiles mated right after Stiles finished highschool, they had been trying for a baby ever since. Unfortunatly nature was against them and everything they tried had failed. Until their third and final round of IVF, they were pregnant! Deaten finds the spell to send Derek back to stop the fire on the very same day that they find oout about their pup. Now its Dereks choice, his new family or his old one.

Or where Derek goes back in time stops the fire, forgets about Stiles and has to find his mate all over again. While Stiles pouts his way through a virgin mary style pregnancy.

Blood of my Veins, Bone of my Body by DaoOfGay

(4/? I 10,679 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale was a stupid and very proud teen. He always regretted the words he told the one that was his Soulmate... That day was the day he threw away his chance at happiness while pushing someone down a path of no return.

He regretted it so much...

Now, at such old age, he lived a lonely life. His friends, family, and others he loved- he pushed them away slowly, and he didn't even notice it. So, as he died alone, all he wanted was to go back...

"-rek, tell me this freak is lying and that you two aren't Soulmates-"

He hadn't even come to his senses- everything was so weird, but when he heard those words, his entire being screamed and he opened his mouth to say: "Of course we're Soulmates-"

There was only silence in the school cafeteria.

Back to the Beginning by erraticallyinspired

(7/? I 18,532 I Teen I Sterek)

"The last thing he can remember is turning his back to Jennifer-Julia. It was stupid, of course, because she was the Darach and knew perfectly well how to handle werewolves. [...] He has to be dead."

Jennifer knocks Derek out in the elevator, but he doesn't wake up there.

A Simple Wish by monkeyihihji

(5/5 I 23,022 I Teen I Sterek)

In less than seven days, his girlfriend had randomly broken up with him and kicked him out. He was forced to move back home to a family that seemed to not really want him. His bed was too small. And his former childhood best friend--who he just figured out he was in love with--was with someone else. Happy Birthday, Derek. It was a great week, really. The candle flickers and seems to mock him. He takes a deep breath and blows.

"I wish I could go back and fix this whole mess."

Time To Say Goodbye by matildajones

(1/1 I 34,323 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek finds an older version of himself at his front door, along with Stiles, a boy from the future.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #time travel #anon

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justbelievinginmagic · 2 days ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BUT CLAIMING THINGS FROM SEONGHWA IS A BIG EYES IDEA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YN just wants to be star

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

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

yeahhhhhhh san wishes it was an easier answer than prima.

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

lolol about the newspaper guy!

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

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

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

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

everything reminds me of him. i love mv san.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

like a waltz⎯ part 4: piqué.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click. Clack.

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

Click, clank.

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

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

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

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

“B-B-Boss.”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, about that –“ the other chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

Her heart rate jumped.

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

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

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

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

Click, clack.

Click, clack, 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.”

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miwiheroes · 7 hours ago

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guys i got a really long ask from a mil even and im reading it knowing exactly what to say but i cba because they sent me over 900 words

i'll just say this:

Just because El has superpowers and likes having them doesn't mean that those should be the only things that Mike expresses his love about her

Mike cares about El and it is immediately assumed by multiple characters (Lucas and Nancy) that that must mean he is in love with her.

Mike says "in that moment i knew" as in: in that moment. okay?

Will's van scene was literally there to move the plot of Mike saying I love you to El forward. Him saying 'You're the heart' made him remember the speech (that was actually Will's feelings) which made him say I love you. What will happen when he finds out those were Will's feelings? Also -- he doesn't say 'maybe if i had said something different, she would have taken me with her' in the end he says 'maybe if i had explained myself'. Then Will goes onto saying that the truth can hurt people and Mike nods.

Will has expressed multiple times the pain of feeling like he can't be in love. He has expressed multiple times the idea of being in love with Mike forever.

Will is speaking about his own feelings in the van scene (bro i cant believe i have to say this oh my god) They could apply to El, yes, but Will doesn't truly know everything just as you said. Mike may find out that Will was speaking about himself.

El looks pretty angry to me tbh (when he calls her superhero again) also note the lightning strikes and how many times the directors want you to see how Will is feeling.

8. Vecna was weakened by Nancy and that team. Vecna completed his mission of opening the four gates in Hawkins. Max managed to survive because she remembered happy memories from El and Lucas. (aka the scenes where she says 'theres more to life than stupid boys' but okay)

9. "Did she talk to you at all?" "Not much."

yeah that got longer than i thought and i said 'i cba' oh well

#byler #byler endgame #stranger things

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lonely-ey3s · 2 days ago

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With All My Love : Chapter 12 | love letters - part one

Chapter 12 : Love Letters pt. 1

Pairings: joel miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

Word count: 12.6k

Chapter Summary: Joel prepares to ask you a very important question today that he's been preparing to ask you for the last few weeks. Will you pick up on what's going on with the shift of energy and routine or will you be utterly surprised?

Chapter warnings: Chapter warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI), public-ish sex, unprotected piv, anxiety, flashbacks of traumatic memories (for both reader and joel), mentions of PTSD anxiety, FLUFF, joel being an absolute lover, soft!joel, use of Spanish but with translations, lying to partner (justified), use of y/n, parental abandonment, domestic abuse/assault, some angst?, if i missed any lmk

A/N: enjoy my loves ❣️

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist

Saturday, October 23rd

Joel had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep due to the amount of nerves and excitement he was feeling. Today was it.

He had everything planned to the T, this wasn’t going to be some spontaneous “Will You Marry Me?” in the middle of nowhere. No, you deserved more than that. He put so much thought and effort into this that Maria teased him for the absolute attention to detail he had possessed in this process.

Sarah had been involved with everything behind the scenes, the same with Maria and Tommy. Elena even helped by distracting you and asking if you’d go get your nails done with her and Maria, her treat. You had no idea it was deliberate, you didn’t even think to assume something was up, Joel told you she wanted to get to know you both more and that was her love language.

You had no idea of the plan; everything had been kept so airtight that when Joel mentioned he had plans this weekend, you just thought after the week you had gone through with Reggie’s passing and your PTSD that Joel was just giving you extra attention.

Your alarm went off around 6 am to just get up, however, you snoozed it and rolled over, falling back asleep.

Joel turned on his side and watched you sleep, with eyes full of love and adoration. He watched how your lips would curl involuntarily into a small smile as you slept, how you’d hum when you were dreaming, and Levi was right, you did a cute little leg kick when you were deep in sleep. Joel laid there and thought of every possible scenario he wanted to have with you.

How it would be to hear a baby cry in the morning to wake up instead of that god-awful alarm tone.

How beautiful you’d be with his baby in your womb, how you’d glow. He wanted that more than anything, to give you a baby.

He thought about what your wedding might be. Would you want something big or small and intimate? He couldn’t wait to become your husband and you would be his wife. His wife… that had a ring to it.

He thought about how he wanted to give you everything you ever needed in this world, he thrived in taking care of you, but there was something about vowing to do it for the rest of his days that put a jolt of joy into him, vowing to you, swearing his life to you.

Since you had come into his life, he looked at everything from a completely different angle. Things that used to feel like he was suffocating or drowning felt warm and refreshing. He was cold, reserved, and just moving through life before you, trying to get to the next day. He now experiences the day and is always conscious of being in the moment. He wants to remember everything from the way you laughed at something so simple to the smile you gave when you looked at a pretty flower on the sidewalk.

You stirred in your sleep and crunched your nose sighing deeply as you adjusted to lay closer to Joel.

He smiled and softly traced his fingers up your arm and then back down, feeling your soft skin on his fingertips.

He whispered as he kissed your temple, “Mi corazón late por ti…” (My heart beats for you…)

You snuggled closer to him and smiled softly, taking in a deep breath, keeping your eyes closed, voice soft with sleep, “Say more things in Spanish…” you giggled.

He chuckled, and looked at you, continuing to trace his hands up and down your skin, “Tienes una sonrisa hermosa...” (You have a beautiful smile.)

You blushed and hid your face for a moment in the pillow.

Joel kissed your cheek, “¿Puedo ver tus ojos?” (May I see your eyes)

You shyly looked up at him, smiling, “¿Cómo dices? Brown eyes?”

He laid his head down on his pillow while keeping eyes on you, “Ojos marrones…” he smiled.

You nodded, “Amo tus grandes ojos marrones…” (I love your big brown eyes)

Joel chuckled softly and blushed, “Gracias, mi vida…”

He moved his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, studying the freckles on your cheeks, memorizing the constellations.

You blushed under his gaze. You looked at his features, gently putting your hand on his chest, then looking at his lips before looking up at his eyes, he was doing the same, and you blushed a little more.

He wasted not a moment, putting your chin in his grasp and pulling you towards his lips, kissing you gently once before pulling back for a moment, “I’m so in love with you…” before crashing his lips onto yours, kissing you more deeply and passionately.

He pulled you closer by taking you by your waist, pulling you against him. You put your leg over his waist and maneuvered yourself to straddle him, never leaving his lips.

He sat up with you on his lap and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, meeting it with the other hand that was gently kneading your other hip, grinding your hips slowly onto his cock, devouring your lips.

You comb through his hair gently, pulling him closer gently, breathing heavily and heated as his lips move from your lips to your neck, chest, and shoulder, feverishly littering you with his kisses.

You giggle when his stubble runs across a part of your neck more sensitive than the rest, making him grin against your skin, “Ticklish there?”

You nodded, smiling, “Seems so…” you giggled and leaned back a little to look a him, “Don’t get any ideas…” you smiled and put your hand on his chest to hold him back, eyes narrowing.

He grinned and grabbed the back of your knees and moved so now you were on your back, making you giggle as he went to kiss and tickle that spot, also moving his hands to tickle your sides, making you laugh and squirm as you tried to push him off, “Joel! Stop I’m gonna pee!” you giggled under him.

He chuckled which turned into a laugh when you said that and he pulled away, smiling as he hovered over you.

You slowly stopped giggling and looked up at him, smiling lovingly. He moved down to kiss you when Sarah knocked on the door, making him sigh and lean his head against your shoulder, groaning quietly.

“I’m making breakfast! Wake up!” she shouted then ran downstairs to the kitchen.

You chuckled, “Wonder what the special occasion is…” you smiled and put your hand on his cheek, pulling him to your lips, kissing him gently, whispering against his lips, “Whatever it is, it can wait 5 minutes, yeah?” you gently kissed him again, biting his bottom lip and pulling on it softly.

He groaned and nodded, settling between your legs, cock rock hard, leaking precum as he quickly pulled his boxers down and moved your panties to the side, “Oh baby 5 minutes is being generous… te he estado deseando toda la mañana…” (I’ve wanted you all morning…) he growled before sinking deep into you, growling as he leaned back in to kiss you deeply as you moaned against his lips.

—

Ok, it was more like 10 minutes, but he couldn’t get enough of you this morning and you wondered what had gotten into him.

You came downstairs to Sarah cooking a whole spread of breakfast items. She had pancakes, bacon, toast, and eggs ready to go on plates to serve yourself at the counter.

You looked around and then came up and kissed her head as she was turning over pancakes, “This all looks amazing, what’s the occasion?” you chuckled.

She smiled and looked back at you, “Does there need to be an occasion for me to cook you guys breakfast?”

You held your hands up defensively and shook your head, “No ma’am…”

Joel came down shortly after dressed in a cream-colored henley that was a quarter button-up, dark wash jeans, and his nice boots. “Smells great baby girl, thank you!”

He came up and kissed Sarah’s cheek then came up and put his hand on the small of your back, kissing your shoulder softly.

You blushed and loaded some food onto your plate before going to sit at the table, waiting for the others to join you before eating a bite.

Joel got a cup of coffee for you and set it by your plate, kissing your head softly before grabbing his plate and cup of coffee and sitting at the table. Sarah came a moment after with her plate and glass of orange juice.

The three of you ate together for the next hour. It became a routine every Saturday to at least eat one meal together, catch up on the week, and plan for the one following so that you all were on the same page, however, today’s felt different and you couldn’t put your finger on why. You felt like something was going on that you didn’t know about as you kept catching Joel wink at Sarah or Sarah make a statement that might mean one thing to you but to Joel, it meant something entirely different.

You got up to clean your plate when the garage door opened and in walked Tommy and Maria, “Somethin’ smells good!” Tommy bellowed from the garage before walking up the steps into the kitchen.

“I cooked breakfast! There’s some leftover on the counter, help yourselves.” Sarah looked back at the two of them smiling.

It wasn’t unusual for Tommy and Maria to show up out of nowhere, they did surprise visits constantly, but they usually kept to themselves on Saturdays as they knew that was a day for you three to spend together after a crazy week.

You rinsed off your plate, Maria came by you as she piled some pancakes on her plate, “Hey, you wanna go dress shopping with me for a few hours? I have that job interview on Monday and need something to wear…” she smiled and nudged you gently.

You looked up at her “Uhm, I think Joel had plans for us today…” you smiled.

Joel stood up and smiled, “My plans aren’t til later baby, you can go shoppin’ if you want…” he came over and kissed your cheek, putting his plate in the sink to wash it.

You looked at him and then Maria, “Oh, ok. Yeah, sure, wanna go after this?” you smiled.

She nodded, “Yeah, what time should I have her back here?” she looked at Joel and took a bite of some bacon.

“4 pm at the latest?” he smiled and walked away drying his hands on a paper towel and then putting it into the trash.

You smiled, “Do I need to change for these plans or is this dress ok to wear?” you had on a new floral sun dress you had found while thrifting last week. One that Joel mentioned he wanted to see you in as soon as possible. You thought today would be a good day to wear it considering you guys are going out.

He smiled brightly, “You look breathtaking in anything, anything will do for where we are going…” he came over and pecked your lips.

You blushed and nodded then cleared your throat, “I’ll be home by 4 then…” you looked away shyly and filled your mug up with some more coffee.

Reader’s POV

Maria finished up her breakfast and then you two left.

You went to the mall first and she dragged you to a department store to pick out a few pencil skirts, dress shirts, formal dresses, and other things like cardigans, sweaters, and shoes.

You were sitting in the dressing room in the waiting area when she came out to show you the outfit she had put together. It was some corduroy brown pants with a white button-down and then a sweater over it, very comfy but yet professional in your opinion. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, “Thoughts?” she asked smiling and turning to look at the angles.

You were lost in thought, messing with a loose thread on the chair you were sitting on.

“Y/N?” Maria chuckled and turned towards you.

You snapped out of your thought and looked up at her, “Hmm?”

She smiled, “Where’s your mind?”

You bit your lip and looked down at the thread, “Just in my head… don’t mind me.” you sighed softly then looked up and put on a smile, “I like that outfit, maybe you could add a cute belt? Wear those cute flats you got the other week?” you suggested trying to change the subject.

Maria nodded, agreeing with your suggestions, “I like that idea, I’ll look for a belt.” she turned back towards the mirror and then bit the inside of her cheek, “What’s goin’ on in that head?”

You shook your head, “Nothin’ just… somethin’ feels odd about today, but I can’t put my finger on it – like I feel like I’m missin’ something or forgot somethin’...” your foot began to bounce, an anxiety tick you’d developed subconsciously.

Maria looked back at you, you were starting to pick up on the energy that everyone was most likely exuding today from the excitement of what was going to happen. She shrugged, “Hmm, I’m sure it’s nothing, just an off day?” she smiled at you, trying to keep you at bay.

You nodded and took a breath, smiling softly, “You’re right, it’s probably nothing.” you cleared your throat and sat up to focus more, “Have we tried on that pencil skirt yet?”

She shook her head and started heading back to her changing room, “That’s next…” she closed the door.

You cleared your throat, “How are things going with you and Tommy?”

“Good! We had a conversation the other day about how we both feel about marriage, which was surprising.” she came out with the pencil skirt on, keeping the top the same.

You chuckled lightly, “Why’s that surprising? Did you not think he was the marriage type of person?” you looked at her skirt, “I like that with maybe the button down you have on under, but the sweater is too much.”

She nodded and took the sweater off, leaving the button down on, she began tucking it into the skirt, “I don’t know, he just seems so comfortable where we are, never thought he would talk about that so soon you know?” she looked at herself in the mirror after finishing the tucking, “You’re right, it was too much. Do you think heels would look good or flats?” she arched her foot up to give the illusion of wearing a heel.

You adjusted in your seat, “I think heels help with the definition of the pencil skirt, flats would make it look too blah…” you smiled, “Wait, what do you mean so soon? You guys have been flirting longer than Joel and I have, hell, you guys are ahead in more ways than I think we are. Doesn’t shock me he’s brought it up.”

She nodded and turned towards you, popping her hip out, “Yeah, I guess.” you bit her lip and grinned, “Have you and Joel had that talk yet?”

You let out a small chuckle, “We’ve brushed over it a couple of times but I’ve always known Joel to eventually want to settle down, you know? It’s just something we’ve not needed to ‘talk’ about, you know?” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down shyly, “It’s just something that I think he’ll ask one day and I’ll gladly say yes to.” you blushed and smiled down as you messed with the hem of your dress before clearing your throat and looking back at her, “But I don’t think that’s happening any time soon. I think he doesn’t want to ask too soon, he’s always worried about moving too fast, you know?” you softly chuckled, rolling your eyes jokingly.

Maria nodded and returned to the dressing room, smiling a little too widely to be around you, she spoke from behind the curtain, “Yeah. He does seem to worry about that.” she paused “But I think we can both agree, Joel seems a bit more domestic than Tommy.” she said, hearing you hum in agreement.

She pulled her phone out and texted Joel:

M: How’s it going so far? Still need her out til just after 4 pm?

J: Yes please, I’ll call when you can head here.

She changed and came out in another skirt, this one lighter gray, and changed her blouse.

“This color or the other one I tried?” she came to look in the mirror.

You looked up from your phone and smiled softly, “I like this one with the other blouse and maybe a jacket?”

She nodded, “Wanna go find me one while I try a few more things?”

You stood and nodded, “Sure thing.” then walked to go find some jackets that would match.

As you were browsing you couldn’t help but overhear a couple in the aisle over arguing, borderline fighting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You said that I could pick out an outfit, so I did. I didn’t know that it wasn’t on sale, it was in the sale rack, so I just assumed…” she pleaded.

You heard a man lower his tone and then a small yelp as he grabbed onto her arm tightly, “Oh you assumed? I don’t fucking care, put it back or I’ll make you and it won’t be very fun...” he threatened through clenched teeth.

She nodded fearfully and he shoved her towards the rack, making her stumble over her feet.

He scoffed, “You’re so fucking clumsy.” he mocked her like he hadn’t just shoved her almost into the damn rack.

You zoned out for a moment, thinking back to about a year ago when a similar scenario happened between you and Charlie.

2 years ago

The waitress had just left with your orders and you knew the second she left and his fake smile dropped you had done something wrong.

“Did I say that you could order fries with your burger?” he leaned forward as he growled at you from across a booth.

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking then quickly responding, voice meek and quiet, “I’m sorry, she asked and you didn’t say no so I assumed it was ok…” You looked down to avoid eye contact, beginning to pick at your cuticle nervously.

“You assumed? So I guess you’ll just assume that I’ll be paying extra for the fries? You assumed that too, right?” he bit out through clenched teeth, gripping the edge of the table.

You felt people’s eyes on the two of you, watching as he dragged you through the mud with his tongue, begging for someone to say something, offer a hand, or help, but no one said a word.

They left you in that booth to be torn apart by that monster.

You swallowed, “I… Charlie, I’m sorry. I’ll have her send them back when she gets here.” you didn’t dare look up, too afraid to say or do anything more than keep apologizing.

“No. It’s fine, you’re fat ass can have the damn fries. Shouldn’t have expected anything less from a pig.” he scoffed and leaned back, tracking a swig of the beer he had.

You kept your head down, continuing to pick at your cuticle, leg bouncing up and down anxiously, trying to focus on the soft sound of the music playing overhead.

About 10 minutes went by before she returned with your food, you looked up and put on a fake smile, “Excuse me, I’m so sorry, I misunderstood you when you asked if I wanted fries, could you please remove them from our bill and my order? I’m going to barely be able to finish the burger… let alone fries too.”

She smiled and nodded, “Of course hun, just give me a sec to fix that for you.” she took your plate and walked away, coming back less than a minute later with just your burger.

Your stomach growled at the absence of the fries. You would have really loved them in addition, as he had you on a hunger strike for the last 3 days, but you didn’t want Charlie paying for something he didn’t permit you to add onto the bill. You smiled softly and thanked her.

She walked away and he scoffed looking at you, “You’re pathetic.”

You kept your head down and ate the burger as quickly as you could, not only due to the hunger you were experiencing but if he had to wait for you so you both could leave, you don’t know what else would happen on top of the punishment you were most likely going to get due to the first incident.

Before you could make it back out to the car after you both had finished he had smacked you across the face in the parking lot and shoved you up against the door of his truck, grabbing you with his hand by your jaw, “You ever pull that shit again and I’ll fucking kill you, do you understand?”

You looked at him with eyes filled with nothing but fear, nodding quickly, “Yes… I understand.” tears started to form in your eyes.

He let you go but didn’t get into the car until he backhanded you across the face again, leaving your cheeks red and stinging.

You snapped out of it when you heard a small sound of a slap landing on her skin, which could only mean one thing with how he was speaking to her.

You peeked over and saw her touch her cheek, tears falling as she felt the sting. He crowded her space, his fist balled, muttering “You’re such a fucking bitch…”

You knew if he wasn’t in public this would be a lot worse.

That was all you needed.

In times like these, when this had happened to you, you prayed someone would say or do something, offer to help you, stand up to Charlie. It meant more for someone else to say something than the person being abused, bystanders meant something.

You made your way to the front of the store and cleared your throat for the attendant’s attention at the counter, “Hi, could you please put in a call to the police? I just witnessed a man hitting his girlfriend, threatening her, and she has other indicators of further abuse…” you spoke softly and calmly.

The attendant nodded and pulled the phone out quickly, calling. You leaned against the counter to face the exit and texted Maria:

Y/N: Something came up, they don’t have any jackets here that’ll match, we can go somewhere else. I’m at the front when you’re ready.”

Maria came out a few minutes later and came up to you, “Hey, what’s going on?”

You kept your eye on the couple and explained what you witnessed. She nodded and paid for her things before coming to stand by you.

The cops showed up less than 5 minutes after that and came up to the store attendant, “We got a call about a domestic abuse and assault allegation?”

You cleared your throat and stuck out your hand for him to shake, “Hi, I had the store call. I witnessed the altercation and would love to give you my statement.” you smiled softly.

He nodded and shook your hand, then pulled out his notepad to gather information.

While he gathered your statement the other officer went over to talk to the couple, he pulled the man aside and began questioning him separately. Instantly, the man was on the defense, making stupid excuses and lies.

You explained that you had witnessed him hit her and threaten her. You mentioned you were a domestic abuse survivor yourself and know the signs. You also noted to him that she had bruises on her arm which you knew meant this had been happening for some time, indicating that this is a pattern of behavior.

The store attendant cleared her throat and noted that they found the altercation on the security cameras, further supporting your statement.

He nodded and had the attendant send the evidence to his office via email then looked at you, clearing his throat, “Mind if we take down your contact information in case we need you in any court proceedings?”

You shook your head, “Not at all, I’m happy to help.” you gave him your information then looked at him, confused, “Wait, you’re arresting him, it’s that easy?”

He looked at you sadly, understanding you hadn’t had the same treatment done for you, “Here in Texas we take any form of abuse seriously, I’m sorry if you didn’t get the same treatment where you were, ma’am.”

You nodded and chuckled, “That’s refreshing to know.” you teared up and looked down, “You have no idea how much relief that brings me to know this woman has a chance to get out.”

The cop nodded and held out his hand, “We’ll call you if we need anything else, but you’re free to go. We’ll handle it from here.”

You looked up and shook his hand, thanking him.

He walked away and you let out a shaky breath, watching them cuff the guy and the girl looked relieved as she spoke to the officer that took your statement.

Maria touched your arm softly, “Hey, you ok?”

You nodded, “Yeah… I just… I don’t know why but it just hit me, I’ll never deal with that with Joel.” you had a few tears fall, “That part of my life is over… thank god...” you let out a small laugh.

Maria smiled and squeezed your arm, “He loves you so much and for the time you were with Charlie, I’m sure Joel will make up tenfold.”

You looked at her and nodded, chuckling as you wiped tears coming down your cheeks.

You cleared your throat after a few moments of composing yourself, “Let’s go find you a suit jacket, yeah?”

She nodded and took your arm, “How does the thrift store down the street sound?”

You perked up, “Now you’re speakin’ my language…”

–

She knew that taking you to the thrift store would not only be for her but you’d find things for yourself as well. If you knew any better you’d pick up on how she knew this would keep you busy which was her goal today with you. Keep you out of the house and away from Joel while he puts everything together. You spent more than an hour there, you found some suit jackets for Maria, all looked amazing on her.

She also found some really cute belts to go with some of the outfits and some really cute bags as well.

You found yourself a few outfits as well in case you had some interviews coming up, there were some very business options, and some more business causal options, but you found things that brought you such joy.

You also snuck over and found Joel some nice shirts and even found him some cowboy boots in his size that you couldn’t help but grab. You couldn’t wait to get home and show him. Maybe he could wear them out tonight as they’d go great with the outfit he had on today.

You left and went to another mall plaza across town as Maria had said she wanted to find some more options plus you both loved shopping, and you had time to do whatever you wanted as you saw it was only 2 pm.

After a few more stores and hours of shopping, she found a few options for the interview and then some more for if she got the job. You were at the checkout when you saw the time, it was 5 minutes to 4 pm.

‘Shit, we lost track of time.’

You pulled out your phone and sent a text to Joel:

Y/N: Hey cowboy, I’m going to be a little late getting home, lost track of time. We are just checking out and then should be home within the next 20 minutes. I love you. <3

There were those three dots shortly after as he was typing a response then a message popped up from him:

J: No worries, sweetheart. Just take your time and get here safely. I love you too.

You helped her carry all the bags to her car, packing them into the trunk and packing the back seat with the remaining.

You were driving out of the parking lot when Maria’s phone started to ring from her purse, you pulled it out and saw it was Joel, “Do you want me to answer for you since you’re driving?” you asked looking over at her.

She nodded, “Yeah, could you?” she looked to the left and then right to pull out of the lot.

You answered the call, putting it on speaker, “Hey sweetheart, we are about 15 minutes away, we just left the mall.”

Joel smiled at you answering, everything was going to plan, and he chuckled, “Uh, yeah, about that... I went and ran a few errands with Tommy… and the truck broke down, can you and Maria come and grab us? A tow truck is coming to get the truck to take it to the shop. You and I will just grab a ride home from them to our plans?”

Maria nodded and looked at you, mouthing ‘Where are they?’

“Oh shoot, yeah, we can. Where are you guys?” you asked with slight concern in your voice.

He tsked his tongue, acting confused, “Uhm, stuck somewhere rural, we took a back road trying to avoid traffic. I’ll send Maria a pin of our location so she can put it into her phone, yeah?”

You nodded and looked at Maria, she nodded. “Yeah, that works. We will just see you soon.”

He smiled, nodding, “I’ll see you soon, mi vida. Drive safe, take your time, no rush.”

You smiled and nodded, “We will. I love you.” you said softly.

He softly answered back, “I love you too.”

You hung up the phone and then pushed the address he had texted Maria, “Damn, 26 minutes away, what the hell were they doing?” you chuckled and handed the phone to her to help navigate the way.

She chuckled and bit her cheek to stop herself from grinning, “I have no idea, guess we’ll find out soon enough…” and then turned right at the next light to head that way.

Joel’s POV

After you and Maria left, it was like a green light went off. Tommy and Sarah dropped what they were doing and ran into the garage. They got the supplies he had gathered and hid over the last few weeks, pulling them out of hiding.

He had gathered fancy pillows, nicer blankets, and fairy lights, as well as small candles to create an ambiance.

Sarah ran upstairs and grabbed a box of photos and the other supplies she had hidden in her room that she and Joel made together over the last few days when you weren’t around, these three had a game plan, they were eager to execute.

There were a few errands they still needed to run and do before they were to set up at the location. Joel had to run to a florist to get some flowers he had ordered and then also needed to run to the local diner you both loved to eat at when you’d go out to run errands or just for some good comfort food as he was also going to set up a picnic.

Tommy packed everything into the truck and then came in, “We have everything?” he said slightly out of breath.

Joel pulled out his phone and looked through the list he had made, checking things off as he went down, then nodded his head, “Ring and gift, then that’s it. I’ll meet ya’ll in the truck.” he put his phone in his pocket then ran upstairs while Tommy and Sarah went out to get into the truck.

He got into the closet and pulled out a big box hiding behind a pile of clothes that he had wrapped in some brown kraft paper that had ‘Mi Amor’ addressed in pen on it, and wrapped with a nice deep green bow that Sarah had helped him tie.

He then knelt and pulled the lockbox out from under the bed, entering in the combo of 0720, pulling out the ring box, smiling brightly as he opened it up once more to look at it and teared up. For a moment he stopped and was thinking about how you’re going to react to all of this, he couldn’t wait to make you his fiance and then wife.

He locked the lockbox up and slid it back under the bed, then grabbed the box on the bed, put the ring box in his pocket, and headed down to the truck to join Tommy and Sarah. As he walked down the stairs he thought about how in this house, that bedroom, not too many years ago, he never would have thought a ring would be in his pocket and he would be proposing to the love of his life today.

—

14 years ago

Sarah was no more than 6 months old, Joel had come back home from work after getting a call from Rachelle that he needed home, and that it was an emergency.

He rushed through the front door, panicking as he ran upstairs, “Rachelle, what’s wrong? Where’s Sara-” he stopped seeing her packing her bags in the bedroom, moving back and forth from the closet and dresser to the suitcases on the bed.

“I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore Joel,” she said as he shoved some clothes into the duffle bag she had opened on the bed.

Joel came over, “What do you mean? I… I don’t understand.” he started to walk back and forth with her.

She stayed quiet, continuing to gather her things.

Joel sighed, frustrated, “Will you stop and talk to me?” he moved in front of her, trying to get her attention.

She maneuvered her way around him, “There’s nothing to talk about. I just needed you home so Sarah wasn’t alone.” she grabbed a bag from inside the closet that contained her sentimental items.

“Wait- what do you mean? You… you can’t leave. You can’t leave Sarah… she needs you. I… I need you.” he followed her as she walked back from the closet to the bed.

She scoffed, “Joel, Sarah will be fine. She takes formula and is at the age where she doesn’t need a mother…” She shook her head as she put the back in the suitcase, “...and I… I never wanted this life Joel… you did.” she rolled her eyes and chuckled coldly, “I didn’t want this but you did and I was convinced that I could make it work, that if I tried, I could do it, but I… I don’t want this. I do not want to be a mother, I had dreams.” she looked at him, eyes numb, “...I’m leaving to pursue them.”

Joel looked at her and searched her eyes, “Rachelle… Sarah will need you all her life. She… we are a family. I love you, I’m sure what’s going on is somethin’ like postpartum depression, like what the doctor suggested. Please don’t do this…” he tried to take her hand but she pulled away from him and turned to walk down the hall to get some other things.

Joel stood there for a second, his heart racing, mind feeling like it was moving a million miles a minute, he snapped out of it hearing Sarah cry in her crib.

Rachelle walked past her nursey and sighed, sounding annoyed by the crying, “I… I can’t. Joel?”

Joel walked into the nursery and picked up Sarah, cradling her softly, “Shh it’s ok baby girl. Daddy’s got you.” he softly rubbed her back.

He held her close to him and rocked back and forth, humming softly as he watched Rachelle walk in and out of the bedroom, his heart slowly breaking.

He knew Rachelle was struggling and that she was having a hard time bonding with Sarah, but he didn’t think this would ever happen. He did everything he could to help her, to support her. He worked extra jobs so that they could afford child care every other day, but working longer hours meant he wasn’t there as much when she did have Sarah by herself. It felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Sarah drifted back to sleep so he gently put her back in the crib and walked out, gently closing the door enough to leave a small crack.

“What can I do or say to make you stay? I’ll do anything. Tell me, I’ll make it happen.” he said as he came into the bedroom.

“Joel, you’re not hearing me. I’m not staying.” she closed her suitcase and started to zip it up.

“Rachelle, you can’t leave…” he spoke softly, trying to stay calm, “Sarah needs a mom. She needs you. I thought we said we would figure this out, we would do this together… we made her that promise in that hospital bed, you remember?” he came up stood behind her, “Please…” he pleaded.

She took a breath and shook her head, tears falling, “Promises can be broken.” she turned around and looked at him, “Especially when it’s what’s best for everyone involved.”

Joel shook his head and tears started to form, he went past frustrated to disbelief. Something snapped when she said that.

He scoffed and jutted his jaw, “How is this best for everyone? You’re leavin’ us for your benefit!” he shouted, pointing at her.

She nodded, “Yes. I am. I’ve made my peace with that.” she said emotionless.

Joel took a breath and turned around, chuckling in anger, “I… is there someone else?”

She remained quiet for a moment then sighed, “What if there is? It’s not like we are… married or anything… we are more like co-parents than partners since Sarah was born, Joel.” she said quietly, making any excuse she could come up with.

Joel turned around and began chuckling coldly, blown away, feeling his anger brewing up, “Are you kidding me? How in your right mind do you figure that Rachelle?” he chuckled, “I… I’m sorry, but me fucking you almost every other night and us talking about potentially getting married the other week doesn’t say ‘co-parents’ to me!?” he began to raise his voice.

She looked down, avoiding his eyes, “I… I’m sorry if you’re feeling confused.”

Joel chuckled, “Confused? Confused doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feelin’ right now!” he slapped his hands against the side of his legs in defeat and shook his head, “I… I don’t even know where all this is comin’ from. You never gave me any indication this wasn’t what you wanted! You said you were scared, but that’s what everyone says when they get pregnant by accident! Other than that, you’d never said anything, at least to me!?” he began processing things, concluding that no matter what he said or did, it was never good enough for her. Tears threatened to escape down his cheeks.

She stood there, staring at the ground, feeling nothing about what he was saying, she was disconnected long before now.

“What… what about your parents? Do they want anything to do with her if you leave because if you’re done, that’s it, you’re done, and they are too. I won’t subject Sarah to that life of half her family not loving her fully.” he said bluntly. “…you don’t get to show up one day and be the Disneyland mom that abandoned her kid and then comes to her senses years later and tries to be involved.” he pointed at her, narrowing his eyes, tears falling now, “You don’t get to abandon our daughter and then come back as nothing happened, that’s not fair to her.” he ground his teeth, anger festering.

Rachelle nodded and sighed like she was tired of the conversation, “That’s fair. I won’t come back.” she picked up her suitcase and duffle bag and began to walk out of the bedroom.

Joel shook his head and began breathing heavily, then followed after her, “What do I tell her huh? One day, she’ll ask where her mom is, what do I tell her? Do I break her heart and tell her that mommy never wanted her? Tell her that mom packed her bags and left us?” he bit at her as she walked down the stairs in front of him.

“You tell her whatever you think is best Joel, I really don’t care.” she shook her head, determined to get out of the door.

Joel let out a breath, shocked by her response, and stopped walking, standing at the bottom of the stairs as she touched the front door knob, “So that’s it? Not even going to tell her goodbye?”

She looked back at him and clenched her jaw, shaking her head, “Goodbyes are for when you’ll see the person again, goodbyes aren’t forever. This is forever. Like you said, if I walk out this door I’m done.” she looked back at the door and opened it, “I wish you nothing but the best Joel. For both you and Sarah.” she softly said before walking out the door and quietly closing it leaving Joel standing there, alone, confused and heartbroken.

—

The house and his life had a warmth to it now, Rachelle left a coldness to it when she left, sucked all the life and joy out of him for a long time that night when she left.

He barely recognized the person he was when she left them. Joel wished he could tell that young man at the bottom of the stairs, crying as he held his baby girl in his arms, feeling alone and abandoned, ‘Just wait, someone will come along to make you the happiest man alive.’

If there was one thing he would change about the relationship you two had, it would be that, for both of your sakes, you both met sooner. You wouldn’t have been with Charlie and he would have had more time with you.

Maria had been sending him small updates over the next couple hours, letting him know how you were doing, what they were doing, just keeping him informed of the mood of the day as something everyone was concerned with was your mental health so close after Reggie’s funeral. To everyone’s surprise, you were doing better than expected, which is all they could ask for.

They had run to the florist and got white roses and baby breath to decorate with and then ran to the diner about an hour before you were due to show up and got your meals from the restaurant, putting them in a cute wicker picnic basket Joel had found at a thrift store he went to with Sarah to gather things to decorate with knowing how much you loved the mall details and also loved little things that had character from the thrift stores.

The three of them went to that lookout that Joel talked about in those messages when you were away at Delta 42. He told you that you’d look at the universe while he’d hold his. In his mind, there was no better place to propose to you.

Joel parked by a tree that overlooked the city below and Tommy started to hang those fairy lights above. Sarah opened the tailgate and started helping Joel fix everything, laying out blankets and pillows to create a cozy space.

Joel then hopped out of the truck's bed, and he and Sarah started lining up battery-operated tea lights and placing about a hundred around the truck on the ground.

Sarah looked up at him, “How are you feeling?” she smiled softly.

“I’m feeling a bit nervous, but like an excited nervous, you know?” he chuckled lightly.

She nodded and chuckled with him, “I still can’t believe you’re asking her to marry you, it’s crazy that a year ago it was just you and me.” she looked down at the container she had and pulled out photos she had gathered of you and Joel, the three of you, and some of you and Sarah throughout the months, starting to wrap them around the tree as she had put them on a long string for this purpose.

Joel nodded and clicked his tongue, “I never thought I’d ever get married, if I’m being honest. I don’t think Tommy or I ever thought we’d find anyone to take on our asses.” he softly laughed.

Sarah chuckled, “I guess it took a special kind of girl for you both to find, right?” she anchored the photos and then stood up and looked back at her dad who was chuckling and nodding.

She dusted her hands off and then looked around, the sun was starting to set and everything looked so beautiful. She could tell how much thought and effort Joel put into this and knew you’d feel so special by all of this, “It looks great Dad…”

She came over and hugged him, “I’m so happy for you. I love you.”

He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head, “I love you too baby girl. Thank you for all your help and support with this.”

She smiled and then looked at the time, “Time to give Maria the call?” she winked.

He chuckled and nodded, then pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

You watched out the window as Maria drove, noticing that you had no idea where you were going.

“Jeez, these two really went out to the middle of nowhere…” you chuckled.

You began driving up a dirt path and became confused, looking around you, muttering under your breath, ‘What the hell…’

Maria continued to drive, keeping her eyes peeled out, and looked around as she drove. She approached the top of the hill and smiled as she saw Tommy and Sarah standing on the side of the road, they waved and smiled.

She pulled off to the side and opened the door, getting out, you followed and looked around, “Hey… where’s Joel?”

Sarah smiled and nodded up the road, “He’s just trying to fix something before the tow truck comes, he’s just up the path a little further.”

You looked at them all and nodded, “I see. I’ll go check on him, and see if I can help.” you smiled softly and started making your way up the path.

Tommy smiled and cleared his throat when you were far enough away not to hear, “Like a mouse falling for the cheese in a trap…” he chuckled.

Maria and Sarah started to tear up as you kept walking.

—

When you got the the top of the hill you saw the truck and Joel sitting on the edge of the bed, you giggled, “Joel?” you started to walk up to him, “What? What is all this?”

He immediately jumped off the bed and started walking towards you, smiling brightly, “Surprise darlin’!”

You chuckled and blushed, the amount of effort that went into all the details you could see was mind-blowing and made your heart race, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He met you a little more than halfway up the path, and pecked your lips lightly, taking your hand in his to lead you to the truck, “Come ‘ere…”

You smiled as you followed him, wrapping your hand around his bicep as you walked with him, “I… I am so confused what’s the occasion?”

He kept walking and when you two got to the truck and lifted you to sit on the edge of the bed by your waist, making you giggle softly, “Can’t I just surprise you with grand and elaborate things like this?”

You looked down at him and gently took his face in your hands and leaned down, softly kissing him a few times before pulling back, “You can… it just… still knocks me out of orbit that you love me this much sometimes…” you blushed and gently caressed his cheek.

He took a soft breath in and then hopped up to sit next to you, “Well, I do have one more surprise so get back into orbit…” he winked and chuckled.

You smiled and looked at him, “What do you mean one more surprise?”

He leaned back and pulled the box that was wrapped out from behind him, “This is for you, mi vida…” he looked at you lovingly.

You gasped softly and bit your lip, trying to keep tears from falling, “Joel… what is this? What…” you shook your head, “Why?”

He smiled softly, “The only ‘why’ there ever will be is because I love you…” he leaned over and gently kissed your cheek, “Now open it, baby…”

You looked at him then at the box, then back up at him, “I… I just…” you chuckled, starting to tear the wrapping paper carefully, to reveal a box, you smiled, and opened the box which had a backpack in it and then a letter on top of it saying, “Open the backpack first then me <3…”

You set the letter to the side of you and looked at Joel, “What is this?” you pulled the backpack out of the box and gently put the box aside, then looked for the zipper. It looked like a backpack that opened somewhat like a suitcase so you laid it flat and opened it up to find a Nikon camera, multiple lenses, an SD card case, and a few other accessories, “Joel… I…” you shook your head, smiling widely, feeling overwhelmed by emotion, you teared up, “This cost a fortune baby… I…”

He scooted closer to you and gently cupped your cheek, “Before you say anything else let me just say a few things…” he gently caressed your cheek, “You deserve this. I don’t want to hear how expensive it was or how you can’t repay me… this is me taking care and supporting you and your dreams.” he kissed your forehead then nose and chuckled and when you did, tears streaming down your face.

He continued, “I already booked you with Wendy, she’s contracted with you. She also has a few other friends who want to hire you.” he tucked a strand behind your ear, “I want you to do something that you love and you love taking photos, this…” he looked down at the bag, “This is the least I can do is help you get what you need to get started, my love.”

You shook your head and chuckled, smiling widely, then leaned in and captured his lips in a deep and slow kiss, putting your hand on his chest softly.

He kissed you a few times before gently pulling back and pecking your lips, you whispered, “Thank you…” you leaned your forehead against him, keeping your eyes closed.

He leaned back in and kissed you once more, you could feel his heart pounding in his chest as your hand rested there. Yours was also pounding but for an entirely different reason, you smiled against his lips and then gasped excitedly, “Oh, the letter!” you giggled and turned around to grab the envelope, carefully opening it.

You pulled out the letter and unfolded it, smiling softly at him and then at the paper as you began to read:

Mi amor,

I think that continuing to write each other letters is a great idea and would love to do it with you. I, too, miss the excitement and thrill of seeing an envelope from you. Sarah will tell you that on days that I didn’t hear from you for quite some time, and before we had Skype to talk to each other– I’d sit there every morning and watch for the mailman to come only just to run out to the mailbox the second he left to look for your letters.

I was smitten with you so early on now that I look back on it. I think within the 2nd or 3rd letter, I had developed feelings for you. I wanted nothing more than to protect you, to take care of you. I couldn’t believe that you felt the same way when we finally admitted it– and here we are.

I constantly think back to the first time I heard your voice when Tommy and Maria had Skyped each other that one time and you and Z came in giggling. I sat on that bed and fell head over fuckin’ heels in love with you the second I realized it was your voice. I have never felt so sure about someone in my life. After Rachelle– I kept my heart very guarded and under a lot of protection, never feeling that someone would come along and completely sweep me off my feet, I never believed in love after she left.

But you swept me off my feet. You made me believe in love again.

You instantly made everything brighter, made everything warmer, and feel more alive. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve brought to our lives, and my heart.

But–- I can try to make it up to you, make you as happy as you make me. I want to spend my life with you. I want to take care of you. I want to support you. I want to give you everything you’ve given me- peace, love, and happiness for the rest of our days. I've never known a peace like the one I have when I'm with you, mi vida.

Not too long ago, I made you a promise that one day I’d marry you, and I’d like to make good on that promise today.

With all my love,

(hopefully your fiance) Joel

You moved the letter down into your lap after reading the last sentence and found him on one knee in front of you. Instantly your eyes were misty with tears as they began to fall, softly letting out a chuckle.

He smiled lovingly, his eyes clouded with tears and cheeks rosy, holding up a ring box, nervously letting out a shaky breath before softly speaking your name, “Will you marry me?”

You put your fingers over your mouth as you begin to quietly giggle, met his eyes, nodding frantically, and let out a soft chuckle as tears continue to fall down your cheeks, speechless.

You put the letter to the side of you and quickly slid down and off the tailgate of the truck, meeting him on his knee, taking his face in yours gently, smiling and giggling, nodding again and whispering “Yes…” as you brought your lips to his in a searing passionate kiss.

He chuckled against your lips and kissed you back, putting his hand on your cheek as well, pulling back after a few kisses, “Yes?” he smiled against your lips, clarifying.

You chuckled, which turned into a giggle, “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.” you gently caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, looking into his eyes, you both smiling brightly.

He gently took your left hand and pulled his gaze back, with shaking hands as he was so nervous and excited, took the ring out of the box and put it onto your ring finger, it fit perfectly.

You looked down at your hand and saw the ring, “Joel this is… it’s beautiful.” you touched the ring with your other hand, fixing it to be straight.

“It’s been in my family for a couple of generations… it only felt right to make you my wife with it.” he gently took your left and hand brought it to his lips, kissing it.

Wife. His wife. That would be a thought and title you’d never tire of hearing him refer to you as.

You blushed and looked at him as he held your hand against his lips, your smile growing, “I love you… I love you so much…” You touched his cheek gently with your left hand and brought your lips to his, slowly and deeply kissing him.

He put his hands on your waist and slowly stood with you, wrapping his arm around you to pull you close, against him, continuing to kiss you deeply.

After a few moments you pulled back to look at him but then looked past his shoulder, something catching your attention, seeing someone in the distance with what you think is a camera, you chuckled nervously, “Honey, who’s that?”

Joel looked behind him and smiled then waved his hand over, beckoning them to come to you guys, “I hired someone to capture this moment for you…” he looked at you then a young man came jogging up.

“Congratulations!” he smiled brightly, shaking Joel’s hand.

You looked at Joel and teared up, “You thought about that too?” you smiled softly.

He looked at you and then shyly to the ground, “I wanted this to be perfect… the smallest details mattered and I know how much you love having things like this documented.” he then looked up at you and kissed your temple.

The young man smiled and cleared his throat softly, “My name is Eddie, it’s so lovely to meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” he took your hand and shook it, smiling softly. “I was just wondering if I could take a few close-ups of the ring. And then if you want, I can gather some of you both?”

You nodded hearing some of what he said, feeling completely overwhelmed. You chuckled, “Sorry, I’m still in shock. You just tell me where to be and what to do.”

He nodded and let out a light laugh, then captured some photos of the ring, some with Joel’s hand holding yours, some with your hand on his chest, and some back in the ring box.

While he was taking some photos of the truck and scene, you stepped away somewhat with Joel, completely in your own little world, you looked up at him, still in his arms, “I can’t believe all of this, I… I don’t even think I’ve seen half of the details quite yet. How… how long have you been planning this?” you combed his hair back softly.

He held you close by wrapping his arm around your waist and having his other hand splayed against your hip, rubbing it softly, “Officially… I got the ring at the beginning of the month but I’ve been putting the plan together since we got home from that dinner we went to.” he rubbed his nose against yours softly.

You smiled and looked up into his eyes, blushing, biting your bottom lip, “You’re going to be my husband…”

He chuckled softly and nodded before whispering, “And you’re going to be my wife…” then capturing your lips gently and kissing you deeply, beginning to tangle his tongue with yours.

Eddie turned around and captured some photos of you two talking then a few of you kissing each other. He cleared his throat softly, making you and Joel shyly pull away.

You hid your face by hiding in his shoulder. Joel chuckled and looked at Eddie, who chuckled as well and came closer.

“Alright you two love birds, I’m going to leave you to enjoy the moment, I’ll get you these photos within the week.” he put his lens cap on the camera.

You turned around and smiled, “Thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me to have this captured. I’m so excited to see your work.” you moved forward and hugged him softly.

He smiled and hugged you back, then pulled back and chuckled, “Congrats again. Can’t wait to see the wedding.” he winked.

You went back and settled against Joel as he pulled you in by wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing your shoulder softly, you blushed, “We can’t either.”

He smiled and nodded, “Ya’ll have a good night.” he began walking down the hill where you had come from.

You smiled and looked at the truck then saw the photos wrapped around the tree and unwrapped yourself from his arms, walking up to take a closer look, studying each one, smiling at all the memories captured.

Joel smiled watching you before he got into the bed of the truck, and opened up the picnic basket, “You hungry sweetheart?”

You turned around and bit your lip, hiding your grin, “Starving!” you got up into the bed of the truck and sat next to him, putting the blanket he was under, over your lap as well.

He pulled out the food he had ordered, “Thought the occasion called for something old fashioned and reliable.” he handed you a styrofoam box and then opened his as he opened yours, both had your favorite sandwiches and salads from the diner called ‘Franny’s’.

You hummed and kissed his cheek, “Exactly what I was craving… thank you, cowboy.”

He nodded and leaned over, kissing your temple.

You two began eating in silence for a few minutes, then you covered your mouth as you chewed, “You said this ring was in your family… how many generations does it go back?” you then leaned your head against his shoulder and looked at the ring sparkle as the fairy lights above you hit it.

Joel ate the last bite of his sandwich before he nodded, “It goes back 3 generations, we will be the 4th.”

You smiled, “Does this mean one of our kids gets it when they grow up? Sarah’s partner for her?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “No one gets it unless you want to give it up or I replace it.” he softly took your hand in his and tangled your fingers with his.

You nodded and stayed silent for a moment, then giggled, “Oh shoot, this means you beat Tommy to it!”

He joined you in chuckling and nodded, “Indeed I did…”

You smiled softly and put your food aside then wrapped your around his bicep as he continued to eat, “You know, what’s funny is Maria and I just talked about the concept of marriage with you two today while she was trying outfits on.” you rubbed your thumb absentmindedly against his arm, looking at the view of the city slowly starting to light up as the sunset.

“Yeah? Tommy’s talkin’ about marriage?” he hummed as he took a bite of his salad.

You nodded and smiled, “Maybe we’ll have a double wedding…” you teased.

Joel shook his head and chuckled, “We are not having a double wedding, my love. You’re havin’ your own damn day...” he leaned over and kissed your head.

You smiled and blushed, nodding, “Understood.”

“Big or small wedding?” Joel said after a few moments of silence.

You hummed, “Define big?”

He chuckled and leaned you both back, laying against the pillows as it started to get darker, “I think like everyone at the barbeque is big…”

You nodded, “Big then. I want every one of those people there.” you smiled and let his arm wrap around you, moving your head to lay on his chest, hearing his heart beat at a steady rhythm.

“What about you, what would you like?” you said softly.

“I want a big one, everyone there that’s supported us.” he kissed the top of your head, “That or we elope with just the two of us, two witnesses and Sarah… no in-between.” he chuckled.

You giggled, “Elope?” you moved your head to look up at him, “Goodness, you just put a ring on my finger, slow down Romeo…” you joked.

He looked down at you and licked his lips as he looked at yours, then moved slightly, enough to move so he had access to your lips, “Can’t blame me for wanting you to be my wife sooner than later, can you?” he leaned in and captured your lips in a slow deep kiss.

You blushed and cupped his cheek, kissing him back, gently pulling back, “No, I can’t.” you bit your lip, “I like being called your wife, has a nice ring to it.”

He smirked and gently nudged your nose with his, “Yeah? Mrs. Miller, my wife, has a nice ring to it?” he hovered over your lips, teasing you.

You blushed a deep shade of red and nodded, humming, “Just like calling you my husband has the same sweet ring to it.” you reached up for his lips, only for him to pull back and look down at you with eyes dark and full of lust.

“Call me that again…” he looked at your lips, hungry.

You grinned and took your hand that was cupping his cheek and ran it slowly down his chest, then pulled his belt loops gently, teasing him back in any way you could, you took your time and said sultry and slowly, “My husband…”

He growled and leaned down, capturing your lips in his, kissing you deeply and slowly, both of you started to breathe heavily and excitedly. He trailed his hand down your body and brought your dress up your thighs, moving down to kiss your neck and shoulder, “Can you take this dress off for me baby?” he said against your skin, lightly biting the skin on your collarbone.

You gasped and let out a soft moan before nodding and sitting up a little, pulling the bow that kept the top part tight and then sliding the straps off your shoulder, looking at Joel as you did this, biting your lip shyly, “Can I have my fiance help me with this part?”

Joel sat up and kissed your shoulder as he gently put his fingers on the straps and pulled them down your body. You wore no bra so your nipples instantly perked from the chill in the air that surrounded you now.

He continued to push it down your chest and torso, getting to your hips, he pulled his lips from your skin and looked up into your eyes, “Lay back, mi vida…” he said breathlessly.

You slowly lay down on your back and arched your back a little to accentuate your breasts when he had you lift your hips to take your dress off fully, blushing, leaning up onto your elbows, “Your turn…”

Joel bit his lip and stared at yours as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, “God you’re so beautiful…” he couldn’t help but get in between your legs and connect his lips to yours in a hurried heated kiss, pushing you to lay flat on your back.

Your hands moved to his belt as you kissed him, tangling your tongue with his as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, to bring you closer.

He moved his lips to your jaw and then neck as your fingers pulled at his belt buckle, eventually working that to open and then unbuttoning and zipping his jeans and eagerly tugging his pants and boxers down his ass and midway down his thighs, gasping as you felt his length press up against your core, which he realized was bare, no panties, which he would have remembered if he took any off, he pulled back and kissed up your jaw, “Dime mi vida, ¿me estoy volviendo loca o no usaste bragas hoy?” (Tell me mi vida, am I going crazy or did you not wear any panties today?) he said with a strained, horse voice.

You smirked and leaned up, kissing him once slowly and deeply then sucking on his bottom lip and pulling it as you disconnected and laid back down against the pillow and kissed his chest, trailing kisses up his neck, “No te estás volviendo loco, mi amor…” (You’re not going crazy)

He let out a deep groan and his eyes rolled back as he smirked, letting out a deep chuckle, “Mmm, you’ll be the death of me with how naughty you are, querida…” he began to grind himself through your folds, holding himself steady in between your bodies.

You carded your fingers through the thick locks of his hair and held him against your skin as he began sucking love bites into your chest.

After spending sufficient time marking what was his he pulled back and looked up at you, “Come ‘ere…” he leaned down and captured your lips with his, kissing you deeply and with much love and passion. He kicked his boots off of his feet and discarded his pants as well, before he lined himself at your entrance and went to push in when he pulled back, making you moan softly.

He grinned against your lips, making you move your lips to kiss his jaw and neck, “Baby, please…” you begged, “I want you…” you gently started sucking love bites into his neck, near his pulse point, grinding your hips down to try and slip him into you with how he was perched at your entrance.

He grunted once you started marking his neck, “Oh f-fuck…” his skin prickled with goosebumps at the sensation of your lips against his neck.

He swallowed and gave in, slowly burying himself deep into you, making you inhale sharply, moaning, “Joel…” gripping onto his shoulder and hair, “Fuck you’re deep…”

He stopped when he was fully in and cupped your cheek, “Eyes on me…” he panted, “Keep your eyes on me mi vida…” he put his forehead gently against yours and gripped hips gently, beginning to thrust himself in and out of you, slowly, softly grunting and groaning.

You smiled and moaned, softly confessing, “The second you and I are married…” you gasped at a change of angle as he opened up your pelvis by putting his hand under your knee and pushing it up, cursing under your breath, lip quivering at the burst of pleasure you were feeling from this angle.

He grinned, “Keep going, the second we’re married, what do you want my love?” he cooed as he started to slowly sped up his pace, grunting through clenched teeth.

You panted and chuckled, “F-fuck… I…” your mind began to feel like mush as he was beating against that soft spot deep within, you began to talk in gibberish, feeling the warmth of your release starting to gather deep in your core.

He leaned down and kissed your pulse point, “Tell me baby… talk to me…” he kissed your neck then softly nibbled on your earlobe before saying lowly, “What can I give you when I’m your husband?”

You gripped his shoulder and held onto his hair, tugging gently as that built your climax up quickly, you arched your back and panted quickly, “Oh fuck, oh fuck… don’t stop…” you pleaded, biting your lip, whimpering.

He gently nibbled your jawline and growled, “Mmm fuck… that’s a good girl, cum on my cock…” he felt you begin to tighten around him, he gripped onto your leg tighter to hold you there, and took his other hand, gliding it up your body to grip your nipple between his thumb and finger and gently pulling towards him.

The coil deep within snapped and your head went back as your body arched off the bed of the truck, moaning loudly as you came around his cock, pussy pulsing and clenching as waves crashed down over you.

Joel grinned and praised you, “That’s a good girl, you feel so good when you cum around my cock…” he kissed your chin and throat when your head was back, trailing his nose down your chest before taking one of your nipples between his lips and sucking it gently.

You panted, chest heaving up and down as you came down from your high, combing your fingers through his hair, mumbling, “God you’re so good to me, taking care of me…” you closed your eyes and swallowed, feeling like you were floating as your orgasm settled down.

Joel pulled away from your breast with a pop and came to meet your lips, kissing you deeply and slowly, keeping a slow but deep rhythm of his cock inside you, humming as he pulled back after a few moments of devouring your lips, “Can you tell me now what you want, mi amor?” he kissed your chin gently, panting as he started to speed up his movements.

You looked at him and cupped his cheek, pulling him to kiss your lips in a searing passionate kiss before barely pulling back and whispering against his lips, “Quiero que me pongas un bebe…” (I want you to put a baby in me) you panted against his lips, moaning as he kissed your cervix with a deep thrust he did in response to your confession.

He grinned against your lips, “No me tientes (Don’t tempt me), my love, I’ll do it tonight if you want it that bad.” he grunted and began to speed up his hips into your core, gripping onto your hip and leg tightly.

You moaned as he continued to crash into you, continuing to kiss that spot and your cervix over and over, inhaling sharply, eyes rolling back in pleasure, “Don’t stop, god please… f-fuck!” you cried out in sweet pleasure, starting to grind your hips against his to create more friction in an attempt to break that coil that kept teasing you like it was going to snap.

He grunted and he moved his hand to press against the back window of the truck to steady himself over you, “Fuck baby, fuck…” he panted, sweat lightly coating his skin as he groaned in pleasure feeling you suck him deep into your core, “God… fuck…” his eyebrows furrowed. He shut his eyes for a moment, feeling that deep pull behind his navel, before opening his eyes and smiling down at you, moving his hand off the truck and cupping your cheek, “Fuck I love you, I can’t wait to marry you… see you walkin’ down that aisle in a gorgeous dress…” he groaned feeling a warmth start to move up his spine, “I can’t wait to vow my life to you… to take care of you for the rest of our days…” he panted. His hips became erratic as he softly whispered weakly as he laid his forehead against yours, “No puedo esperar a ser tu marido y tú, mi esposa.” (I can't wait to be your husband and you, my wife.)

You leaned up and whispered, “Come for me, my love.” then reached up and kissed him deeply as he whimpered against your lips, cumming deep into you, hips stuttering, his knees giving out, chest heaving.

He pulled back from your lips and cried out as you rocked your hips a little, milking him for everything he could give you, “F-fuck…” he leaned his head against your shoulder and chuckled softly, “God I love you…” he kissed your shoulder weakly and turned to kiss your neck.

You softly giggled and traced your fingers on his back, tracing love letters into his skin with your fingertips as he lay against your body, humming softly.

After a few moments, he slowly sat himself up and hissed as he took himself out of your warm core, and laid beside you, chest still heaving but slower, you leaned your head against his chest and looked up at the sky, the stars now visible and shining brightly.

He looked up at the sky with you and after a few moments you both saw a shooting star shoot across the night sky, you gasped softly, giggling excitedly, “Quick- make a wish!”

Joel pulled you closer in his arms and softly traced his thumb up and down your back, leaning his lips down to kiss your head, saying softly, “Don’t need a wish baby, I’ve got everything I could ever wish for right here…”

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