#i dont do this often outside of tags so bear with me

[creative99writer]

alright - so I figured, I'd post a snippet of it first because it's still not quite finished, and I realized it is loooooonnng. Like, seriously long, and I dont' know if it's smart to post something so long like this on Tumblr in one piece. Also I can't quite figure out the end yet, because as I said, maybe I'll turn this into a short story, and not just leave it as a one shot.

Anyway - here it is (please bear with me, English is not my first language and I realize my style might not be everyone's cup of tea)

A Meeting in New York (sneak peak)

New York City, September 2024.

US Open Championships 2024.

The reports were crazy. There was no way she was going to come back. Or was she really? Nobody really knew. The reporters couldn't keep up with writing new stories about her potential comeback. It was completely out of hands - out of hands of everyone, really. 

Was she really coming back? After everything that happened? 

Jack wanted to roll his eyes at the commotion everywhere. He understood why to a certain extent there were so many reports about her. But it was still weird and annoying. She was just a human being, and he was pretty sure that she wanted to be left alone. Otherwise, she would have posted something - anything - on social media. But she hadn't in over six months. People basically only knew she was still alive, but barely even that. Someone who kept everything under wraps so much was almost certainly were private and wanted to keep her own peace, he was sure of that. 

And so Jack didn't really listen to the murmurs and the whispers and the guesses and the gossip and minded his own business. He could see the reporters outside the hotel, and that was already annoying enough. All because people thought she was going to come back? The lobby was busier than usual, maybe because it had been anticipated that maybe she was arriving today. He was waiting for a shuttle to take him to Flushing Meadows, his tennis bag and everything he would need, ready for the day, his brother, his dad, his coach and his physio relaxing in the plushy chairs in the middle of the lobby. The swanky New York City hotel was fancy and elegant and provided every comfort tennis players would need for a grueling Grand Slam tournament. It was a hot day and he wasn't necessarily looking forward to the heat that would be extremely present on the practice courts because the humidity and the heat often got to him. It was something he was working on, but it was a long process. 

He ran his long fingers through his hair, breathing out and sitting down in a plush chair himself. His hair was getting quite long, but he didn't want to cut it - he liked it the way it currently was. Jack's signature hat was laying beside him on the couch but he didn't want to put it on just yet. Later, when it was going to get heated on the practice court, he would put it on. But for now, he wanted to enjoy the cooling AC in the lobby. 

"The shuttle should be ready in ten minutes, sir." a young guy told him, the name tag letting Jack know it was someone from the US Open organizational team. "Yeah sure, thank you." Jack nodded at him politely, and settled comfortably in the chair. They had more than enough time to be at Flushing Meadows; in fact, they had been a bit early. And so he didn't really have a choice but to wait, and he pulled out his phone to text his best friend, Paul. Next to him, his older brother Ben, was typing away on his phone. "I think we're gonna be right on time for practice." Ben was still typing on his phone as he spoke. "What do you wanna do for dinner tonight?" he asked his little brother and Jack contemplated out loud. "Maybe something Indian? Or Steak? Maybe I can check on Instagram what's good." Ben nodded, still typing away, when their conversation got interrupted by commotion at the entrance of the lobby, the reporters suddenly getting louder. They looked up, the door opening and a figure stepped into the lobby, a hat and sunglasses covering her face. Jack, though annoyed, swallowed down a hint of anticipation.

Could it really be her?

[daphneh]

[ HIGHLY PRIVATE & SELECTIVE ] independent 𝓓aphne 𝓑ridgerton from Netflix's Bridgerton with influences from The Duke & I book as it is read. this blog will contain spoilers & mature content PERSONALS DNI

A Study In: being the eldest daughter, the meaning of love, how secrets can bind and break people, the art of understanding society, to follow your heart, to embrace others, the meaning of family despite tribulations, the power of womanhood. [ eurydice, 24+ she / her ]

mains & affiliates: TBA rules under the cut

[ 001 ] : this is a private + selective writing blog for daphne bridgerton from the netflx series: bridgerton, as well as carrying some influence from j quinns the duke and i, that being said my daph is also very headcanon based. this is a mutuals - only blog, please dni if i haven't followed you back. and dni if you are a personal

[  002  ]  :  BASIC RP ETTIQUITE IS EXPECTED. any form of hate, bigotry or nonsense will not be tolerated.  any form of racism, anti-semitic, ableism, aggressive posting / duplicate bashing, vaguing , petty callout posts. any gross behavior , i dont tolerate any of this on my blog spaces and will most likely block and unfollow in these situations.

[  003  ]  : the easiest way to write w me:  asks are always the easiest! i am pretty plot heavy despite this and often scream in the tags. on that note i do often ask for patience. i run a few other blogs and also work full time and i am getting married in less than a year so i am often VERY busy. just be polite about it!

mains / affiliated: i am open to both and while mains will always get priority in replies it is important to note in most cases those i am affiliated with are the other muses that daphne mentions as they are more integral and we have a closer relationship both ooc and ic i typically do not do exclusives there is one situation which i have made an exception to that recently but outside of that i typically dont but am open if the vibes are there

[  004  ]  : shipping in relation to this blog: while i am not expecting there to be a lot of shipping given that this rpc is based around a show with really heavy importance on the pre-established relationships. I am also incredibly partial to the duke and daph but am open with plotting to other things. i am also the biggest fan of daph being a girls girl and supporting every other character and am all about platonic relationships so bear that in mind!

[oo-li]

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

anyway memes for how this chapter had me feeling

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

(i couldve dreamed of this au </3)

long tags. be warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GENTLEMAN SAN SWOONING

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

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

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

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

rip newspaper ceo bozo u wont be missed /j

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

SCREAMING OVER MINGIIIIII OH MY GOD MY SHAYLAAAAAAA MY BABY

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

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

the diamond chandelier. melting thinking about mv san. sorry

KITTY :D

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mingi cursing had me giggling

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

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

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

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

yappa yappa over o7

like a waltz⎯ part 4: piqué.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click. Clack.

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

Click, clank.

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

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

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

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

“B-B-Boss.”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, about that –“ the other chuckled. 

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

Her heart rate jumped.

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

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

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

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

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

Click, clack, BANG.

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

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

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

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

His teeth gleamed and glinted with his snarl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maknae?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sent chills up her spine.

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

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

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

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

The man hummed low in his throat, melodically.

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

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

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

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

Her nod was preoccupied.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay. Good night…”

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

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

He nodded, bowing at the waist.

“Good night, YN.”

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

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

And yet he had said it.

-

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

“Are you alright, honey?” San asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, swanette?” he encouraged again.

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

“How so?” San asked inquiringly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone helped me,” she admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She laughed at that.

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

 -

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

‘Don’t do this please.’

She could read the pretty dancer’s lips.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young man knew the answer like a bitter liquor.

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

“Had a nice stroll?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YN.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

Semantics. It made her roll her eyes.

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

Julia finally sighed out.

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

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

-

The game. Julia had called it a game.

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

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

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

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

“Hello you two,” YN greeted.

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

“It was good.” she said.

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

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

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

She shook her head distractedly.

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled as she shed out of her feathers.

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

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

“Will you be there?”

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

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

-

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

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

Did she know her patrons?

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

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

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

“I have a question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a lot of you there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She already knew where this was going.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

And her stalker, of course.

-

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

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

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

Sweet, that’s what San was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?”

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

“For you.”

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

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

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

His fingers brushed over the jewels before he spoke again.

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

San’s fingers stroked over her hip.

“You’re staring, honey,” he teased.

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

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

Was he teasing her? Was he genuine?

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

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

Her cheeks flushed at that and she looked away.

“San!” she exclaimed.

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

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

-

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

“Hello, sweetheart,” he beamed.

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

“Hello Yeosang. Congratulations,” she returned.

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

“San,” he greeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sure,” she said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He puffed out smoke.

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

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

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

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

Imara never had this.

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

-

“Do you want diamonds?” San asked.

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

“No,” she let out a chuckle.

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay,” she said. 

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

“What do you truly want, honey?”

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

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

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

-

“Extra edition!” a newsboy cried out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung added.

They hadnt looked at the paper yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

San and Wooyoung’s eyes met once more.

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

-

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

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

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

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

Miss YN.

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

Yours,

Kim Yeosang

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” the other giggled.

“Will you be there?” she asked tentatively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

Her head tilted in curiosity before they walked off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She meowed at her again.

The piano stopped; the reverb humming out discordantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boss, er, sir – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello.”

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” she said instead. “Yunho.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Yeosang?” she asked finally.

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” she breathed.

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

“I play against Yeosang often,” he clarified.

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

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

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

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

“Will you not eat?” she asked.

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

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

“My entire life,” she admitted.

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

“Ballerinas are taught young,” she said.

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

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

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

“D-dancing?” she queried.

“Love.” he countered. “Passion.”

Her eyes blinked owlishly. “Oh.”

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

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

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

“Here he comes now,” Yunho whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Its alright,” she reassured him.

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

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

“I see that.” Yeosang rumbled.

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

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

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

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

She smiled at him; he was so cute.

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for the invite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Its in the family,” Yeosang replied.

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

“Its very nice,” she politely said.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeosang chuckled out, smiling sweet.

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho and Yeosang’s eyes locked.

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t,” Yeosang commented immediately.

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

“Cromer loves its gossip.” Yeosang commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it true? Should I be frightened?”

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

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

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

“On purpose?” she asked.

“Yes, darling.”

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

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

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

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

“So, you shot him? Just like that?”

“For your information, yes.”  

“That’s frightening.”

“Yes.” Yunho was beside Yeosang now.

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

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

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

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

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

She stared at them

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

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

“Yes.” He ensured.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a messy man, darling-doll.”

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

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

She liked it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey!” he exclaimed out in surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho huffed from across the long table.

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

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

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

San nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made her cheeks burn red, and Wooyoung giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jongho?” she queried softly.  

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a fast deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingi nodded steadfast before he offered her his hand.

“Shall we, baby-doll?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angry,” she told him.

“But not in pain,” he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he alive?” she mumbled.

“By Yunho’s grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” Jongho interrupted soft and earnestly.

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

[romanticrivalries]

https://www.tumblr.com/romanticrivalries/763671620035428352

your tags here, I agree with them so much. tho you’re better than me reblogging it onto your blog bc I can’t even bear to like it lmao.

I know people mean it as a joke but whenever I see takes like that, I just dont find them funny? the way people paint him these days are a little off imo. idk rubs me the wrong way

i try to adopt a 'who even cares' attitude regarding anything said online because a) it's never that serious and b) it rarely reflects the consensus that exists in real life outside of the social media bubble.

tbh, i would find the humor in it too if i didn't see those type of posts so often, especially on twitter, and didn't see new fans falling for those types of narratives.

i've noticed that these types of takes usually come from charles' fans/sebchal shippers, and i kind of understand why, because it places a lot of importance on charles' relationship with seb and his impact on the near end of seb's career. and yeah, i get it, everyone wants to uplift their fave driver.

i understand charles' fans finding that post funny, but i was somewhat surprised by seb fans thinking the same, especially because it could be discerned from the post that OP isn't quite well-versed in seb's career when they think "the concept of struggling was so unfamiliar to him" until 2019. people seem to forget about his 2014 season quite often (honestly same, lmao, i too like to wipe it from my memory.) i didn't appreciate the implication that he was a dick until he started struggling in his career. yes, he was quite ruthless and unapologetic about what he did to secure a win on track, but outside of it he has always been kind and empathetic.

i thought it was obvious, but i guess it isn't to many people in this fandom, so i'll say it: seb's concern with the environment and the world's outcome started way earlier than 2019, and it was because of his children and just him maturing with age and realising there's more to the world than the f1 bubble the drivers get sucked into. the only reason he wasn't outspoken about it was because he was being compliant with ferrari and their rigid traditional rules about brand imagery and how they want their drivers to present themselves. as soon as they threw him to the wolves, he decided to do whatever the hell he wanted, because what's the worst they could do--they'd already fired him.

i'm going to abruptly end this here because this has gotten too long and it's about to be 3 am. i'm not even sure how coherent my answer is.

[ninoochat]

Weekly tag Wednesday !!

Thank you @transsexual-dandelions @atthedugouts @mickeym4ndy im doing it this time ^^

Name: Mina/Sara/Nin/depends where and when you catch me online

Age: 39

Location: satan's pubes south of france

top sheet, yes or no?: of course

how many stuffed animals do you own?: one bear i bought for myself 22 years ago

the names of your pets (and the explanations behind them): they're all dead and im done with pets i cant take any more loss

favorite color: green/yellow/purple

Any tattoos? no, i wish i could but it's the permanent nature of it all... id have gotten a cat and that stupid fucking libertines tattoo in carl barat's handwriting

how you transport your belongings (purse, tote, hands, pockets, etc.): i got a small murky green cross body bag. i hate that pockets are too small because i really never have more than my phone, keys, earbuds and my wallet. since i have the bag i also have a pack of kleenex and some bandages because my feet always blister but i could go without.

the last movie you watched: challengers

how long does it take you to get ready in the morning?: 5 minutes and it's mostly me cursing at my fucking curly hair that i hate with every fiber of my being

favorite weather: when i dont have to be outside? dark grey apocalyptic thunderstorm and heavy rain/wind. end of the world type shit. best sleeps of my life. when i do need to be outside: dark grey, light or no rain, gloomy.

relationship status: ready to jump ship

ice cream flavor of choice: rum raisin/mint chocolate chip/pistachio/praliné

first fandom: fandom as in being obsessed with the media and talking about it with friends at recess? probably batman the animated series (1992). i was harley quinn my bff was the joker and this one white boy in our class was batman. except the plot everyday was us villains "torturing" batman. like we'd have him lay down on benches and pretend he was tied up and we'd fake drop acid on him and chemicals from empty bottles of water. it was all good fun we didnt bully the guy i know how it sounds lol we had notebooks to write back and forth as our characters and we'd chase each other

how many books have you read this year?: 0. i used to be so ashamed but now im like it is what it is. in 2022 i got a kobo and i made myself read 9 books. last year i read 2, then i quit again :/

first 4 words of your last notes app entry: i dont use one i use ✨ paper and pens ✨

and finally, if you had to change your URL tomorrow, what would you change it to?: something unrelated to fandom because i know ill change too often or something related to ian and mickey because i am weak

Tagging anyone who wants to i guess

[azumasoroshi]

joined a haikaveh server but the only thing i talked about for the first ten minutes was shizaya. im truly hopeless at this point

on the bright side i have learned that i was NOT the only one who thought the shizaya alters (tsugaru, psyche, roppi, delic, etc) were canon and made by narita himself, and i am therefore NOT an idiot :D

[iantimony]

tuesday!

listening: like everyone and their mother i listened to the new hozier songs this week. they're fine! i dont have any particularly strong feelings about them either way yet, i think i need to relisten to them a few times for it to really get processed, but they were good enough that i'll certainly listen again. i also went and relistened to wasteland, baby because of it and that album still slaps. also, this cherry wine cover:

is very good. i also relistened to the staves' album dead & born & grown because i realized i have windows facing west hehe. what else...my partner's citypop playlist was my music for driving home from the airport on sunday? i wont link that one i'm not sure if it's public or not. and then gym playlist this week was just one of the spotify-made mixes that kinda slams tbh, very early-00s to 10s metal/emo music lol

i've also gotten back into twilight mirage after a bajillion years. it's good! none of the characters really stick in my head besides tender sky and fourteen fifteen unfortunately but hopefully as i listen more they'll become more distinct entities in my head.

reading: i finished the birthday of the world while i was visiting my grandma for spring break!

"solitude": hmmm. this one was interesting. it left me with a lot of questions but i think that might have been the point. 6/10.

"old music and the slave woman": i think i might have benefited from more background, i was mostly able to piece together the factions but i definitely had to puzzle over it a bit. apparently there are a lot of links to stories in another collection, four ways to forgiveness, and i'm thinking that i might have wanted to read those first. 4/10.

"the birthday of the world": title story! felt very different from all the other stories in the book, probably because this one and the following novella are the only two set outside of the hainish universe. i liked it. no strong feelings in any particular direction, i don't think. 5/10.

"paradises lost": the novella! i LOVED this one. i dont know if i was somehow exposed to it as a kid, or i learned about generation ships as a story concept from somewhere else, but i often thought about writing a short story about what religion on a generation ship would look like and turns out what i was envisioning already exists. the concept of the cult of bliss felt very realistic and almost obvious in hindsight as something that was bound to happen. i know it's left open on purpose but i reallllly want to know what happened to the ship after it left. i really loved the themes of this one. 9/10.

watching: i watched an episode of the mystery show 'vera' with my grandma when i was visiting lol. it was cute! very kitschy, genre fodder! i liked it! i was very confused because the closing quip/shot seemed to be about the titular character...shoplifting a jacket or something???? like she asked her coworker if she looked any different and he was like ? and she was like ok great and the final shot is her sitting in her car seat and annoyedly ripping the tag off her jacket, so like, ???? not sure if that's a Thing that people know just from watching a lot of it but shrug.

making: iiiiii did not work on my knitting project at all LOL but i did make my neocities site! here she is! still very in progress but hey :D

misc: trip to visit grandma/s and family went fine! everyone is doing well. back to the grind this week.

oh so the gift from my SO: he likes metalworking and similar things so he made me this necklace!

it is, apparently, titanium with embedded sapphire ball bearings! the ball bearings glow in the dark after UV exposure and they're the prettiest shade of teal, it's also a very satisfying fidget texture-wise. he asked me a few months ago what my favorite constellation is and i went "......cassiopeia i guess?? why???" "oh no reason" this was the reason. it's very nice i love it so much

finally, ive started noting down my workout stuff on my dreamwidth page as well! i thought it could be cool to keep track of what weights i'm using over time, what exercises i like and don't like, etc. so that's on there tagged as gains. huzzah

[jschllatt]

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 | 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭

Prompt: HIIIIIII i hope you are doing well !!!! i love your writing sm and would like to make a request !!!! i would love something in which schlatt n reader are both streamers/youtubers and have been friends for a while but they both like eachother and dont wanna ruin it ? and one of them finally makes a “first move” after like yearsss of being friends ?! sorry it’s not super specific but :( it can be any length of your choosing, whatever you feel up to writing !!! thank you and u are da best !!!!!

Warnings: Swears

Words: 1229

Not too sure if I like this one so feedback is much appreciated :)

You had a big problem. 

It was the type of problem that nagged at your brain all day, reminding you of your predicament even when you tried to ignore it. It dominated your focus, making it difficult to even think properly no matter what you did. What exactly was your problem? The answer was rather simple: you had fallen for your best friend, Schlatt. After years of friendship, you found it difficult to keep your feelings strictly platonic—Schlatt was simply too charismatic, too funny, too attractive. It seemed as though your feelings had hit you like a truck, and they only deepened as time progressed. You debated confronting your feelings head on by confessing your love to Schlatt, though you feared its outcome. He definitely didn’t like you back—not in that way. You two had been friends for years and you were going to ruin it just because you had caught feelings for him? No way. 

And so, you avoided your problem until it got out of hand. 

It was around two a.m. when you started streaming, your bright room a stark contrast to the darkness outside. You hadn’t streamed in a few days and decided that there was no better time to do so—you weren’t even close to being tired and you figured a majority of your streamer friends were still online, anyways. 

“Oh, Schlatt’s awake.” You observed quietly once you opened discord, noticing the green dot displayed next to his icon. You tried to hide your excitement as you messaged your best friend, a small smile on your face as you typed, hi schlatt <3. Seconds later, a ping signalled his reply, to which you laughed at as it read, fuck off. That was expected. You were just about to respond before your phone began to ring. Looking down, you saw Schlatt’s contact lighting up your screen. Feigning annoyance, you asked your chat rhetorically, “Oh God, what does he want?”

Answering the call, you tried to keep your expression neutral as you were met with Schlatt’s stoic expression. He remained silent for a few seconds and you interrupted the quietness by saying, “Hello?” He continued to ignore you, staring at the screen blankly, and you were just about to speak again before he yelled, “Go to sleep.” 

“Only if you come here and make me.” You replied somewhat flirtatiously, instantly regretting it—you feared what your chat would look like when you dared to glance at it. “Okay.” Schlatt chirped, then hung up. Chuckling softly, you rolled your eyes, muttering to your chat about how annoying he was. You couldn’t help but smile, however, once you realized that was Schlatt’s way of showing he cared—it wasn’t the most straightforward way of doing so, but you recognized his intentions nevertheless. You tried to conceal your adoration by changing the subject, talking to your chat about random things. A lot of your viewers had chastised you for being up so late, but you assured them that it was common for those who streamed for a living to rely on two hours of sleep. Time passed, and your chat began to flood with surprised exclamations, all regarding Schlatt—had he joined your stream? Your question was answered just moments later. 

On my way.

“Real funny, Schlatt.” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes at the dono displayed across your monitor.

It was quiet once again. Your chat had eventually become interested, for the most part, in your new content rather than Schlatt’s presence, which you were grateful for—you couldn’t bear to think about the man any longer without letting your mind wander. Did he really care about you or was he just trying to be funny? Even though the two of you had been best friends for years, he was quite difficult to read. It wasn’t often that he was serious with you. Sure, the two of you had your fair share of deep conversations, but Schlatt had always found a way to be sarcastic or humorous in most situations. 

Sighing, you tried to focus on your stream. Minutes passed, and your viewers could tell that you were off. They interpreted it as you being tired, to which you used as an excuse to end stream. “I’m sorry, guys, I am tired. I guess Schlatt was right.” You chuckled halfheartedly, hoping your viewers couldn’t sense your disappointment as you mentioned your best friend’s name. Luckily, they didn’t, and you were quick to end your stream with a dejected sigh. Snap out of it, he’s your best friend—nothing more. You found it hard to listen to your thoughts, and plopped down unceremoniously onto your bed, frowning. Why did you have to catch feelings for him? You shut your eyes and tried to push your thoughts away, focusing on the sound of gentle breeze that swept through your window. The night was rather warm and its gentleness offered you solace. However, after a few minutes of peace, your tranquility was interrupted by a knock at the door. You felt panic arise in your chest, startled by the sudden noise. It was nearly three in the morning, who in the world could have possibly been at your house?

Schlatt. 

As you looked through the peephole in your door, you observed your best friend standing on your front steps, his expression one of amusement.

Shit. He was really here? He wasn’t joking?

Ignoring the onslaught of anxious thoughts that flooded your mind, you swung the front door open. “What are you doing here?” You asked quietly, confused as you met his eyes. He smirked at you proudly before chuckling, “I told you to go to sleep, you said to come here and make you. Here I am.” You looked at your best friend incredulously, shocked that he took your words so seriously. “I-I was kidding, I didn’t think you’d-”

“Yeah, yeah, well it’s too late now.” Dumbfounded, you stared at Schlatt in response, gesturing for him to come in once you gained your composure. Schlatt towered over you once he entered your house, a smug look on his face as he observed your shocked self. “What? Surprised I can actually keep a promise?” You huffed in response, crossing your arms as you raised an eyebrow at him, “Yes.” Schlatt snickered and plopped down onto the couch, looking around your living room. “Nice place you got here.”

“You’ve been here before, idiot.” You countered, sitting down beside him with pursed lips. The rapid beat of your heart was not helping your case as you tried to remain calm, sitting so close to Schlatt that your knees were touching. The two of you sat in an awkward silence and you glanced over at your best friend curiously. Instantly, he met your gaze, staring at you with a ghost of a smile. Your eyes flickered down to look at his lips briefly, and you noticed Schlatt do the same, taking in your appearance with adoring eyes. Soon enough, you both had leaned in until your faces were inches away, practically sharing the same breath as you continued to stare at each other shamelessly. You were about to close the gap between the two of you before Schlatt mumbled smugly, “Go to sleep.” 

Leaning impossibly closer toward his lips, you grabbed a hold of his sweatshirt, tugging his body into yours as you countered, “Just shut up and kiss me, idiot.”

~

Tags: @ialexabsuniverse @esylwen @quack42069 @mayberii @dreamiewrites @moonamor @kalliblast @forbidden-sin-bin

[wri0thesley]

Nat... 👉👈 since requests are open can I please request some Gojo fluff? If you need a little inspo maybe like, reader and him meet after they were abroad for a mission or something? I'm in love with this funky man and I just wanna give him kiths

sweet tooth - gojo x reader, sfw, 2.5k

the early bird catches the worm. or the cake, you guess.

(just a lot of talking about food tbh . . . i dont get to write pure sfw fluff much, thank u for letting me indulge in my jjk brainrot NFJVND. gn reader! )

You know as well as anyone how little free time a jujutsu sorcerer has. You’ve spent most of your past few years rushing around from place to place, calling it a good night’s rest when you manage to fall amongst your coverings before the clock strikes three in the morning. You think this probably has to go double for somebody in such a constant state of being needed as Gojo – but still, he’d shown up outside your room this morning, bright and early, and said; “We’re going out!”

He hadn’t mentioned that you were still clad in pyjamas, your hair still a mess about your face, eyes still sleep and shadowed. You had jumped out of bed at the knock, of course – you’re used to being needed at the drop of a hat – but there is nothing at all in the way Gojo is looking at you to suggest there’s any kind of danger brewing.

He got in last night at the same time as you, after an exorcism had dragged on longer than expected – you know this. So how is his skin still glowing like moonlight, his voice still so bright, his hair still falling over his blindfold in that effortless perfectly-styled-without-being-styled way?

If he’s slept, he’s gotten the same hour and fifteen minutes you’ve gotten.

“Not even a warning?” You sigh, stifling a yawn. “I haven’t had time to clean my weapons or anything--”

“Woah!” Gojo’s grin doesn’t fade, but he holds up his hands as if he’s trying to avoid a savage attack. “Just you and me. No curses, promise. You won’t be needing those.” He cocks his head to the side. “Unless you wanna try and take me. I think you’d lose!”

Your brow furrows. You know you’d lose, and so does he.

“Have you seen the time?” You ask him, instead. You don’t question why or how he’d gotten into the hallway to stand like this outside of the room you’re renting in Tokyo for a while. You’ve learnt after knowing him for a while that what Gojo wants, he gets – besides. If he’d sweet-talked your landlady into letting him in, you couldn’t blame her for falling for his charms.

He sticks his head into your room and turns his face towards the clock on the wall, ticking merrily away, mocking you. You had hoped, after last night, the next time you saw a clock the hour hand would be well past twelve again. He pulls back.

“Now I have.”

“. . . aren’t you tired?”

Gojo shrugs, maddeningly. Half of what he does is irritating to the highest degree – the other half makes your stomach do strange somersaults that you try and push away. Getting a crush on Gojo Satoru is just going to lead to disaster. Although at this point, you have to admit to yourself that it’s more a case of ‘having a crush’ – there’s not much denying it, when he twinkles at you like this.

“You’ve gotten a good hour of beauty sleep,” he chirps. “Not that you need it. Let me take you out!”

You’re still focussing on the compliment, slipped into his words as if it’s as simple as breathing, when he enters your room full-on and is opening your wardrobe.

“H-hey,” you say, weakly. He’s rifling through the rack without a care in the world. “I—I can dress myself--”

“It’s quicker if I do it,” he replies, pulling out one of your favourite shirts. “Here, catch--!” Your reflexes allow you to not make a fool of yourself in front of him. “The colour of that one’s pretty! It’ll look nice on you.”

You’ve had more clothes piled into your arms before you can blink. You guess that Gojo must know his way around clothes – you’ve seen some of the brands and price tags of things he wears – but you can’t help but be a little flabbergasted by just how casual he is about everything. Maybe it’s the fact that your brain is still short-circuiting after being woken up earlier than you were expecting.

He finishes and walks over to you.

“I’ll wait outside.”

“W-what a gentleman,” you manage, and he throws his head back and laughs, and the laugh feels like it lodges warm in your chest. “After waking me up, bursting into my bedroom--”

“I’ll pay for everything,” he promises. He saunters out of your room, pulling the door closed behind him, calling; “I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

You stand there for a few more moments, still struggling to process the whirlwind that is Gojo’s presence in your life – half joking, half serious, half making you think that maybe you stand a chance, when he calls through the door;

“I can’t hear you moving!”

You jump. You wriggle out of your nightwear, your cheeks heating up, as you snap back;

“You said you were going to wait out there, not that you were going to press your ear to it and listen like some kind of stalker--!”

–

You stare in confusion at the fancy window in front of you, decorated with swirling cursive in gold. From outside, you can see into the establishment – the white scrollwork chairs, the cake stands, the menus standing up in their pale white leather covers. The early morning sunlight from outside is reflecting off a perfectly organised display case teeming with tiny little perfectly formed cakes.

“If you were craving something sweet,” you say, eventually, “surely there was an easier way to get it than this.”

Gojo grabs your arm cheerfully, pulling you towards the entrance of the patisserie.

“Well, I got the first sweet thing I was craving,” he ticks it off with his other hand. “But then I had one of my patented brainwaves.” He elbows you. “Put them both together!”

“I’m not feeling very sweet after you interrupted my sleep,” you mumble, but you know that there’s no real bite in your words. You hope Gojo doesn’t notice the reaction that you have – you know he’d never let it go. You often don’t know how to respond to his flirting – he has a reputation, after all, and you are just . . . you.

“We had to get here early, anyway,” he says, as he stands before the counter. The man in the apron and chef hat behind it recognises him immediately, lighting up – you wonder how much money Gojo spends on expensive patisserie. Everyone knows he has a sweet tooth. “They sell out of some of the best stuff well before ten!”

Gojo knows exactly what he’s doing as he points out various desserts from the display case, the man falling over himself to get the – frankly absurd amount of sweets – carefully packaged up for him. You’re not surprised, knowing Gojo, about the cute animal-shaped cakes that he chooses, the smiling bears and cats with ears made of sliced strawberries. You’re a little more surprised by all of the fancier pieces he chooses that you don’t recognise, but you don’t have much time for dwelling on it.

Spoils in hand, you peer further into the establishment to choose a table.

“Nah, don’t worry about that,” Gojo says cheerfully. “We’ll find somewhere outside to sit. It’s such a nice morning!”

You don’t miss the grin he shoots you as he says ‘morning’, the sidelong tip of his head as if he’s waiting to see if you’ll scold him again for interrupting your sleep. You do no such thing, content to be pulled along behind him again as he goes off in search of a place to enjoy his spoils.

People just tend to be pulled along by Gojo’s magnetism, you’ve discovered – and you are, hopelessly, no different.

He finds a quiet bench in a shady corner of one of the local parks; the only other people going past occasional elderly, walking their little dogs. He pats the wooden frame of the bench next to him, smiling.

“You’re not going to make me eat all of this by myself, huh?”

“It’s enough for eight people,” you say, sighing and resigning yourself to your fate as you take the place. He’s lucky you have a sweet tooth too; if he’d brought someone else, they’d probably be shirking back in horror at all the sugar. “You could probably eat it by yourself anyway.”

He pouts.

“I want to share it with you,” he says, cajoling – his fingers hover over one of the smaller cakes, a perfect bite-sized morsel. You try not to think about the elegant lines of his fingers and the power behind them as he plucks it up and offers it to you. “This one’s really good.”

You bring up your hand to take the sweet from him, but he laughs as your fingers bounce away from him, not quite able to get a purchase.

“Let me feed you,” he says to you, and blood rushes to your face all over again.

“I—I can feed myself,” you say, swallowing thickly. Gojo’s smile, on full, sculpted lips, makes butterflies crash into one another in the pit of your stomach.

He brings the treat to your mouth and he’s right, it does look really good. It’s a neat little roll cake, small in Gojo’s fingers, with the green colouring so many sweets you’ve eaten in Japan have been – you hope it’s not matcha, knowing the flavour will surprise you and Gojo will probably laugh, but you open your mouth in defeat and let Gojo pop it in there. His fingers linger a little too long against your lips, his expression fluttering so quickly you don’t quite catch it.

If you didn’t know better . . . you’d say that he had just fought back a blush.

“Is it good?” He asks, and his voice sounds a little strangled. You bite down on the cake, the juice of the strawberries coating your tongue – it is matcha, but the flavour is offset by the sweetness of the vanilla and fruits, and you’re glad about it. You nod enthusiastically, and he laughs.

“I told you!” He taps your cheek. “I know what I’m talking about!”

“You’re so smug,” you tell him, unable to hold back the laughter that’s bubbling out of you. Alright, maybe he woke you up too early and maybe he’s dragged you outside and maybe he’s been haunting your daydreams for months now, but . . . you think he means well. And you can’t deny that the sun is shining and the cakes are really delicious.

“If you were me,” he says, stretching out his arms over the back of the bench, “you would be smug too.” You shake your head at him, but he has a satisfied smile on his face. “Feed me one!”

“Are you going to let me?” You ask. “Or are you just going to bounce it away with your Infinity to make fun of me?”

You hover over the selection yourself, considering what to choose for him. In the end, you go for one of the mini slices of mille crepe cake, reasoning with yourself that even if it’s unusual to be eating so much cake this early, at least crepes are a traditional breakfast. Gojo obediently opens his mouth wider as you lift the slice.

You falter.

“You really want me to feed you?” You ask him, unsure. He laughs, grabbing ahold of your wrist – you almost start as he takes a bite from the treat, his lips tantalisingly close to your fingers. Another bite, and the cake is gone (you’ve never seen slices of mille crepe so small – but then again, judging by the eye-watering amount Gojo paid for his spoils, you’d never be able to afford to buy from a place like that).

“Mm,” he smacks his lips together. “It’s good.”

You swallow, noticing that there’s a smear of the cream between layers at the corner of his mouth. Gojo notices you staring, and quirks his lips into a smirk. “You’re staring,” he says. “I know I’m gorgeous, but--”

“You’ve got . . .” You say, awkward, motioning to his face. Somehow, it feels too intimate to lean forward and dab it away yourself – he’d asked you to feed him, after all. If you did it of your own accord. . .

“Huh? Oh,” He moves one of the arms casually draped over the bench to his face, and you think he is going to wipe it away – but instead, he hooks his thumb under his blindfold, pushing it up casually so the light hits the swirling colours in his eyes.

You’ve seen them before, of course – you’ve seen Gojo at work, after all – but they’re still a surprise, a bright moment of swirling starshine dropped on you when you’re least expecting it. Your stomach does that flip-flop again, the one that you try so hard to ignore – but when he’s looking at you like that, curious and smug all at once, you don’t really know how to handle it.

You’re glad you’re in a secluded spot. There’s nobody to see the embarrassing display of you not quite knowing what to do with yourself.

“You can get it,” he says to you. “I don’t mind.”

“I—”

“Look.” His other hand rises, cups your face, thumb ghosting across the same spot on your cheek that he’d tapped earlier. “I left icing sugar on your face. I’ll get that, and then we’ll be even.”

(Did he do that on purpose, you wonder? You wouldn’t be surprised.)

Your hand is trembling as you reach for the cream. You try and force your fingers to be still as you lean in closer to him, eyes concentrated, as you wipe the little splotch of cream from his mouth. You’re so close you can see galaxies in his eyes, the fan of white lashes, the way that his throat bobs when he swallows as if he’s nervous--

Nervous? Gojo? That can’t be true.

“I got it,” you breathe, though you don’t move. Your faces are so close together. You could lean forward, just a bit, and meet his lips with your own. Gojo’s eyes stay trained on you, not faltering in the least. His thumb is still on your cheek. Your own finger hasn’t moved from the corner of his mouth.

“Wanna know what it tastes like?” Is that a falter, in his voice? You’re stuttering all over the place, but Gojo--

“I’m not gonna put that in my mouth after it’s been on your face,” you tell him, without moving. Your heart is beating ten to the dozen. Gojo’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says – and he breaks the distance himself, and suddenly he is kissing you. The hand on your cheek cupping your face into his, the other hand going about your waist, holding you tightly against him like he’s been wanting to do it since the moment he woke you up that morning.

(The mille crepe cake is delicious, you find out, from the lingering taste on his lips. Next time you two go there in the early morning rush, Gojo buys two slices.)

[valberryy]

oh, eurydice (it's an awful sound). — venti

de l'autre côté de l'eau, comme un écho. / tu dis que c'est la fin du monde, c'est ton silence mon eau profonde.

um,, idk what to say cause i dont want this to b my venti summoning post but. anyways. also tagging @starfell-traveler look i finished it!!!! b proud of me /hj

pairing: venti x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions/descriptions of alcohol & blood/injuries, major character death, it's just heavy angst i'm sorry

one.

Venti still remembers the first time he heard you laugh, warm and clear and bright, like the chiming of cathedral-bells.

In those golden days when he was getting used to his new face, he often found himself wandering—much to the chagrin of his friends. If he wasn't in one of the many taverns of the newly-built Mondstadt, he was wandering these new, free lands.

And that was how he met you, the spritely scion of house Gunnhildr, who had strayed away from your envoy with a bottle of wine and leaves in your hair. He noted the mischief dancing in your eyes, the sunlight dappling on your skin, the way your mouth formed a small "o" when you saw you were not alone.

Your eyes had lit up when you caught sight of him. "Oh, my lord!" you called, "Fancy a cup and a chat, perhaps?"

Venti stood still for a moment to ponder your request, but at the sound of you popping the cork off the bottle and pouring it into a cup you had brought, he found his resolve weakening. He took a seat next to you as you pulled a stray leaf from your hair, taking a sip from your cup before passing it to him.

How brazen of you, he mused.

While cherry wine, in his opinion, could never hold a candle to the dandelion wine he had grown fond of, it tasted all the sweeter coming from you.

You had laughed at this sentiment of his, clear as the water from the lake nearby. "Is that so?" you asked. "Perhaps I'll bring some more of this kind especially for you, dearest bard."

Venti responded with a playful pluck at his lyre-strings. "I'd prefer if you called me by my name, young master Gunnhildr."

"And what would that be?"

Just as he was about to respond, the two of you caught wind of voices yelling out your name, and you flinched. "That must be for me," you said. "I shouldn't have expected to be able to hide forever."

He helped you stand, stretching out his arm to pull you up—your hand was soft and warm against his own, and the "thank you," that rolled from your lips made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to.

"I'd love to see you again," you said, and he smiled.

"You talk as if this is goodbye forever!" Venti joked. "We can meet here again, if you so wish."

"Then it is done," you said, and squeezed his hand as if in confirmation of your new arrangement.

And with the lightest press of your wine-stained lips to his cheek, you had run off without another word—only the sound of your distant laughter and, "Sorry, sorry! I'm back now, mother!" left in your wake.

two.

That promise had soon become habit, and habit a new way of life—one wherein you would sneak away from the rest of your family to rendezvous with Venti in the forest, to share wine and song and sweet, honeyed words alike.

(And as time wore on, you pressed your wine-stained lips to more places than just his cheek, and the cheeky bastard would have you do it again, and again, and again.)

"What d'you reckon your family would say if they figured out you were sneaking away for this?" Venti mused, "Like a hero in a romance novel."

With a laugh, you lay your head over his lap and smiled when his hand came to rest in your hair, his fingers gently playing with the strands. "Scold me, I suppose," you said. "There are worse fates than not being allowed outside for a month, my love." 

You plucked a stray dandelion out of his hair, blowing the seeds to the wind. 

"Hmm? And what would those be, I wonder?"

"...You're so infuriating, Venti," you grumbled, and he simply laughed and took another sip of wine—elderflower this time, tasting like spring upon his tongue. "I can't even dare imply that I want to be with you forever without you teasing me for it—what kind of lover are you? Hmph."

He paused, a teasing grin growing on his lips despite your previous words. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

An odd noise left your throat. "I mean," you said, "unless you want me to take your surname instead? ...Now that I think about it, Venti Gunnhildr doesn't quite sound the best."

A laugh, first from him, soon followed by one of your own. "Your family won't allow it, would they? But if the fates allow…there's nothing I'd love more than to be with you," he said. Gently he untangled his fingers from your hair, weaving his fingers between your own instead. "That is, if you want it too?"

A world of just you and him, a life where he would never have to stray far from your side—perhaps this was what Amos so desperately craved for, in those days. Venti watched as you removed the signet ring from your pointer finger and fit it snugly on his own, admiring your handiwork and smiling up at him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

three.

Somehow it felt odd to see you in clothes other than the casual attire he had always seen you in. When you were seated upon your horse like this, dressed in richly-dyed leathers and embroidered silks with your family crest hanging proudly from your breast pocket, you seemed much less like the cheeky [Name] that would pluck his lyre from his hands to play your own tune, and more like the young scion of house Gunnhildr that the rest of the world saw you as.

"I'm sorry, dearest," you said, your voice thick with regret. "They only told me about this last night, so I've had no time to tell you… And father wouldn't let me refuse, so—"

Venti laughed, "When did you become such a worrywart? It's only one round of hunting, right? I'll be waiting for you back here."

You huffed, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Then I'll be sure to hurry on back to you."

He pulled you back down for another kiss, square on the lips this time, before letting you go. "Don't miss!" he said, calling after your horse, to which you turned and yelled back at him,

"If I do, it's your fault!"

He laughed, settling down beneath a tree and closing his eyes. You'd be there to wake him when you returned.

When Venti awoke, it was not to your hand shaking his shoulder but to a thud and the worried whinnying of a horse. His eyes snapped open as you groaned, one hand clutching your stomach and the other propping you up. When you caught his gaze you smiled weakly, too much blood in your teeth and not enough light in your eyes.

"I'm back, dearest," you said, and he had stumbled over to catch you before your arm gave out.

He pressed down on your torso, where three large gashes ran down from your chest down to your stomach, large and jagged as if from the claws of a bear. You groaned in pain and he pressed a kiss to your hand in apology, your skin pale and clammy in a way that reminded him too much of harsh, cold winds and a boy with his lyre. 

"You should've seen me, Venti," you breathed, "I shot it right in the throat…are you proud of me?"

"Very," he said. "I'll always be proud of you."

You laughed, broken and pained and sad. "Good," you said, "good." Then you looked up at him, the tears welling in his eyes, the reality of his fate—your fate—finally looming upon him. "Don't look at me like that, love," you cooed. "Please, smile for me, okay? Sing for me…can you spare me at least that much?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "All of that and so much more, dandelion," he said. "Please…"

"So much more, huh…" you mused. "Then, how about one last kiss before I go?"

"...You talk as if this is goodbye," he says, but doesn't protest when you pull him down by the collar, your red-stained lips pressing weakly against his—

—But instead of the sweetness of wine, there was only the sharp bitterness of your blood in his mouth.

four.

"How far would you go for me?" was something Venti had thrown around a lot, never expecting you to give him a straight answer—not with how you shoved his shoulder and said, "Just because there wasn't a ceremony doesn't mean I'm not your spouse, Venti. Wouldn't the answer be obvious?"

But he still recalled the first time he had asked you and the first time you answered, your fingers tangled with his and your head buried in the crook of his neck. Your voice had been softer, gentler, lacking the playful edge but just as genuine as always, "From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest to the highest peaks in the sky," you said, "Until my hands wither away into dust."

"Maybe you're the bard instead of me, love," he had said, then.

In this new world without you he found himself clinging to whatever remnants of you he could—the dappled sunlight in the forest, the slightest sting of alcohol going down, the glint of your family crest on the ring that adorned his finger.

One of his many laments was how he could never mourn you in the way he felt you deserved—he had not the power to turn back time, lacked the dominion over anything static and permanent to immortalise you with. He only had his lyre and his voice and his winds, and all he could do was paint the skies grey in his grief, have the gales sing requiems that you would never hear.

From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest peaks in the sky he would go for you and back—and if the darkest depths of this world contained the secret to getting you back, perhaps even a mere spirit on the wind could bear the trek through the dark. 

(After all, Venti knew in his heart of hearts that you would have done the same for him.)

The heart of the Abyss wasn't a land of mindless bloodshed and fire—it was cold and calculating, like a predator lying in wait. It was this place, in the depths of Teyvat and in the winding depths of their palace, that he knew could somehow bring you back to him. 

"Are you the one for whom the skies wept, bard?"

Venti swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I am," he said. "I want a deal."

The person before him raised an eyebrow, canting their head to the side. 

"One life," they said, "and no second chances."

Cold, and calculating, and inevitable—but still he would try. Venti owed you at least that much, no?

five.

He squeezed your hand as you trailed behind him, muttering to himself: don't look back, don't look back, don't look back. No matter how much he longed to hold you, to see your face and feel your skin beneath his, he kept his gaze to his feet as you both moved onwards into the dark.

(When he saw you again, just as beautiful as the day he lost you, he dropped his lyre to run into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck and surrounding himself with only you, you, you. 

"Venti," you said, and he nearly wept at the way his name rolled from your tongue. "Let's go home.")

You squeezed his hand back, so gently that he almost couldn't believe you were really there. "Why don't you sing me a song, dearest?" you quipped. "Anything you like."

In spite of himself, in spite of the cold around him and behind him and in his own hand, he smiled. "Have I ever sung you the one with the mist flower and the sparrow?"

He heard you huff behind him. "That one again? You know how bad I am at hitting the notes in that!"

"Hmm, sure, sounds like an excuse to me…"

"Venti!"

He laughed and squeezed your hand again, as if to remind himself—you were here, and he was taking you home, and you would be able to feel the sun on your skin and taste wine from his cup in the way you had always loved. He would be able to write you songs and guide your hands across his lyre, and he need never stray far from your side.

You need never go somewhere where he couldn't follow.

"We're almost there," he said, resisting the urge to turn around to smile at you. "There's a bottle of wine waiting for us. It wouldn't do us any good to leave it for too long, you know?"

He squeezed your hand again, but you didn't respond.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. His footsteps hastened, quicker and quicker until he was near-running towards where he knew the surface lay. Had he been tricked? Were you never there all along? Had you gotten lost, or fallen, or left, and left some other person in your stead?

Anxiety clutched at his heart like brambles, and Venti found his mind wandering back to those days with the wintery winds and the friends he had lost to the storms. Not again, he prayed, please, never again.

He ran until his legs ached, ran until the first drop of sunlight finally kissed his skin, and he let go of your hand to turn around—

—to see your face still shrouded in darkness, your eyes wide, your hand still reaching out for him.

"What?" he breathed, "No, please, I can't lose you again—"

You smiled, and though your teeth weren't coated in blood and your body was free from any wounds, Venti's heart had sunk even further than when he had caught you that day. 

"No, love, please, I'm sorry—"

"Venti," you said, "I'll see you again soon, okay?"

"Please—"

"I love you." 

With whatever time you had left, you reached out further to brush the tips of your fingers against his cheek. "Smile for me, okay? Sing me one last song…" 

And before he could reach out to you again, you had once again gone somewhere he couldn't reach. 

(Yours was a song he sang without end, even when all of Mondstadt had forgotten your name—and even when he felt like he didn't deserve to bear your memory. 

On days when he uncorked a bottle of cherry wine or caught the Acting Grandmaster's eye, Venti found himself staring down at the ring you had placed on his finger in those golden days—and if he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to it the way you had done to him, he swears he can still hear your laugh, warm and clear and bright.)

[shoutaaizawas]

I know youre probably busy but I was thinking maybe 👉👈 you could do a fic bakugo x reader where you ask bakugo out he rejects you and starts being mean to you only for you to get sad and distant and the other students start hating on bakugo fir hurting you (Pls take ur time ur probs busy you dont have to do it right away

thanks for your patience~ i always love writing for bakugou

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → sorry

summary: bakugou rejects your confession in a panic but quickly regrets it and tries to make it up to you word count: 1,541 tags/warnings: light angst with a happy ending

Bakugou Katsuki was not a boy that earned a lot of attention from girls, more often than not girls were scared off by his demeanor. But you weren’t scared off by him. If anything his fiery spirit was endearing in a way. You had a crush on him but you hadn’t yet worked up the courage to tell him.

He was your friend, as much as anyone was friends with Bakugou. You hung out with him in groups and even spent time with him studying or training. A part of you was scared that if you told him how you felt it would ruin the relationship. You didn’t want to lose him as a friend.

It was one day when you heard that another student was interested in him, that you decided that you needed to say something. The last thing you wanted was to miss your chance and for someone else to date him.

You decided to make him his favorite dessert, he wasn’t big on sweets but he mentioned once that he really liked chocolate chip banana bread. You spent all night trying to get the recipe perfect. You placed it in a nice tin to keep it safe and attached a little note to it.

It was after class, you were heading back to the dorms to study with Bakugou. You thought it’d be best to get it over with. You stopped on the path as you walked beside him, pulling out the tin with the dessert in it.

“What are you doing?” He asked turning around.

“I-I wanted to tell you something.” You said. What you hadn’t expected was for there to be a good amount of other students around when you did this. It was too late now. You held the tin in your hands nervously playing with it. “Bakugou, I really like you. More than a friend and I was wondering if you’d go out on a date with me.” You said holding it out in front of you as an offering.

Even though your nerves you saw Bakugou’s expression change a few times before he spoke.

“Why would I be interested in an extra like you?” His biting tone cut through the silence.

“Oh.” Your voice was quiet. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Bakugou. No, don’t cry not now in front of everyone. The metal of the tin rang out as it hit the ground loudly. You swallowed painfully before running off in the direction of the dorms.

Bakugou stood there staring blankly at the space where you stood moments before. He could hear snickers from the students around him. He turned around to glare at them and they ran away. He kneeled down picking up the tin you had dropped. Opening it he saw his favorite dessert and his heart dropped. Grabbing a piece he was shocked at how good it was, it was even better than his own recipe. There was a note on top of the container.

Bakugou,

I hope you enjoy this, I know my baking isn’t as good as yours but it was made with love.

Every passing moment he felt more and more like a monster. The teary look on your face haunted him.

Why did he say that? He liked you too but he never expected you to feel the same way. With all the people around he panicked and did what came naturally to him, he was mean. He knew he should apologize and explain but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He went to the training gym and took his frustration out there.

“I know you can be mean sometimes but you had no right to do that to her,” Mina said, approaching him as he sat at his desk waiting for class to start. He couldn’t reply before she continued. “She really likes you, the least you could have done was let her down easy.”

Mina stomped off before he could say anything to defend himself. Not like there was anything he could say to defend himself.

You were nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day.

The rest of the week he got dirty looks from his classmates, even Kirishima had given him a disappointed look in the cafeteria before sitting down at your table to eat.

He couldn’t bear to look at you, even with the other students flocking to your side to cheer you up, you still looked so sad and it was all his fault.

“Man, that was really messed up,” Denki said walking beside him to class. “You know you could have just said you weren’t interested.”

“Shove off Pikachu.” He growled before walking ahead.

He knew how bad he messed up, he couldn’t sleep at night, he could barely eat. All he could think about was how sad you looked. He had to make it up to you but how?

“On one condition,” Kirishima said. “You never hurt her again.”

“I didn’t mean to in the first place, okay. I don’t like seeing her sad.” Bakugou replied. “I just need your help to make it up to her.”

“Alright but I’m holding you to it.” He said.

Bakugou had a plan and he hoped it would work. He was cooking all of your favorite foods. Then he would set up on the balcony of the common room a table with candles and you could eat together. Or by yourself, if you decided not to forgive him. All he needed from Kirishima was for him to bring you out there.

You had one of the worst weeks of your life. Every day you were both too embarrassed and too sad to leave your room. You got away with one day but you knew you couldn’t sacrifice your learning for some guy. Even if it was Bakugou Katsuki.

Your friends had been amazing, staying by your side, bringing you food and anything else you need but it only could do so much. Time would be the best solution, Momo told you. You knew she was right but you just wished it would hurry up and make you feel better.

It was a Friday night and you were sulking in your room listening to sad music once again. You weren’t expecting a knock at your door. You sighed it was probably one of your friends hoping to cheer you up but you just wanted to be alone right now.

“Kirishima?”

“Hey, I need to show you something.” He said.

“I’m really tired, Kiri. I just want to stay in my room.” You told him.

“Please, it’s important.” He said. The genuine look in his eyes guilted you into following.

As he led you to the common room balcony you thought you might scream if Kirishima made you leave your room to show you another cute frog outside again.

What you didn’t expect was a nice table covered in a white cloth with flowers and candles. Even more so was Bakugou standing there with a guilty look on his face. Before you could question Kirishima he was gone.

You looked at Bakugou before turning to leave.

“Wait, please.” You were shocked to hear him say please. It made you pause. “Just let me explain myself and I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“Okay.” You said more curious than anything else. What was he up to?

“I didn’t mean what I said. I was caught off guard and there were all those people there and I spoke before I could think.” He said.

“Yeah, imagine how embarrassing it was to be rejected like that in front of everyone.” You said. You knew it was unheard of for Bakugou to apologize but it would take more than that to earn your trust again.

“I know, I know. I feel horrible about it.” He said, rubbing his forehead. “What I’m trying to say is- I’m sorry.” The words came out quite but he did in fact say he was sorry.

“Okay.” You said, not quite sure what to say.

“Not just that but I feel the same way.” He admitted. “I like you too and I want to go on a date with you.”

You were even more stunned, he felt the same way?

“I made your favorite food, I can leave.” He said opening the metal cover over the plates. It looked amazing and smelled even better. “You can eat with Kirishima instead if you want.”

Bakugou started to head for the door but you caught him by his wrist

“No. Stay.” You said. “This can be our first date.”

Bakugou smiled. Not his usual cocky smirk or the smile he gave when he was about to beat someone up. The soft smile stopped your heart for a moment.

You sat down together at the table.

“I would have worn something nicer if I knew this was going to be a date.” You laughed. He smiled at your joke.

“You look better than anyone else I’ve seen.” He said. You hadn’t expected any of this but you really weren’t expecting Bakugou to be so smooth.

Things weren’t always going to be easy with Bakugou but he knew how to show he cared when it mattered most.

[skullstarz]

Hi pretty baby, you got me hooked and now you cant get rid of me 😌

But next request,,, you know dadzawa 👀 well what if one day iida is watching sweet lil baby eri and they're out at like a store or something and iida has a crush on reader and they see her (or them! Inclusivity) and hes blushing and stuff so eri runs off to the reader and iida is panicking meanwhile eris complementing the reader and then iida finds them (whether they say they like each other is up to you, also sorry if this is like too detailed or something lol) (and I'd like this to be a long hc or fic pls but dont force yourself I wont get upset tehe ily)

corner store crush

-> iida tenya x gn!reader

hemlo i hope you enjoy :00 so i wanted eri to kind of know the reader prior so uhhhh lets say reader has a younger sibling that goes to school/daycare/wtvr with eri. basically eri knows reader's younger sibling so reader is a familiar and comforting face to her aaaa

warnings: none

word count: 1.2k words.

alternative title: iida tenya is bae

check out my masterlist for more of my works!!

iida wasn’t the type to mess up so bad like this. frantically searching what felt like the biggest store ever for eri, he now understood the true weight of his feelings for you- how the mere sight of you is enough to have him tripping and stumbling on his words. 

aizawa being not so used to this dad thing was in a bit of a predicament. typically, mirio would babysit, but he was off doing 3rd year activities at UA, which left aizawa stumped. he trusted mirio to take care of eri, and after getting punished for yet another incident midoriya wasn’t a good choice either. thinking about who would be good for keeping eri safe and being responsible, he landed on what felt like a sane, decent choice- iida tenya, 1a’s class rep. 

taking care of the teacher’s child wasn’t quite one of the responsibilities of the class rep but aizawa didn’t have much of an option. leaving eri to iida in a hurry, he was running off to do his hero work. the instant aizawa left, iida noticed eri’s eyes started to tear up. here he was, basically a complete stranger, trying to cheer this poor kid up. to any child, as much as iida is friendly, he’s also some big scary dude with sharp features and a tendency to flail his arms around and raise his voice.

that’s when he had an idea. he took her into the dorms where midoriya was cleaning away, not willing to receive another lecture on how his actions have consequences. “deku!” eri smiled and waved, running towards him, happy to see a familiar face. her excitedness only lasted a short while though, bakugo quick to holler obscenities at izuku, asking why he was the only one cleaning.

much to iida’s dismay, eri’s face went back to its previous frown as they sat in silence. another idea came to iida’s mind and soon he and eri were making their way to a store nearby, hoping to find some random teddy bear or a bunch of ice cream to make her feel better. eri, having seen that iida was midoriya’s friend, felt a bit more comfortable holding his hand as they crossed roads and as she jumped in puddles (which often wet iida’s probably expensive pants). 

reaching the convenience store, the pair sighed at the feeling of the air conditioner and iida felt it was safe enough within the building to let go of eri’s hand. turning around to grab a basket for whatever heaps of snacks and trinkets the two would buy, his eyes widened.

eri gasps and points “look, its y/n!” iida was probably 70 different shades of red and pink before looking away. “yes it’s y- y/n, but let’s not bother them. come, let’s find some stuff.” he motioned for eri to follow him and he walked away towards the frozen aisle, forgetting to check if the child was actually tagging along. 

well, she wasn’t. the blue haired boy only realized once eri hadn’t replied to whether she’d want a popsicle or ice cream cone, turning around to just see the colorful chip bags on the other side of the aisle. oh no. 

he looked around, still not seeing eri and he scolded himself for letting himself get distracted by... you.... oh. he cursed at himself, today not being the first time you had him making mistakes... nor was it one of the first ten times. it was an almost daily occurrence at this point, his feelings for you only deepening with each time he saw you, which was every single day, multiple times within the hours he’s awake (and asleep, if he’s being honest, it isn’t rare for you to show up in his dreams). 

the sound of what seemed like eri’s giggles snapped him out of this trance he found himself getting lost in and he quickly went to searching for the missing girl. thankfully, it seemed like she was still in the store. trying to avoid you as much as possible he searched every area you were in and... nothing. what hadn’t occurred to him is that eri knew you- and eri was holding your hand as you stood in the same place he was before he realized she was lost, figuring out which ice cream to get her.

walking towards the entrance of the store, he decided waiting there would be the better option out of either that OR freaking out and calling the police in a panic. he knew eventually she or (in a worst case scenario) her kidnapper would have to walk through those doors to leave. 

that’s when he sees you, in all your glory, and completely fails to realize you and eri were hand in hand in the frozen aisle as eri complimented how amazing and nice you were and how “the nice guy” with her really liked you. you were a bit confused, but grabbed her an ice cream either way and started unknowingly making your way towards him, still looking over at eri as she followed you. 

“there he is!” she points directly at iida, who you liked, staring right at you. attempting to look away, he saw eri and let out a relieved sigh. “there you are, eri! i was worried! what would i have done if i couldn’t find you? what would you have done if i had left and you were still here, lost?!” you chuckle and placed her hand in his so he could grab it. “no need for all those hypotheticals, she’s right here and perfectly fine” you ruffle her hair.

eri couldn’t help but notice the blush on both of your faces, and how you two couldn’t make eye contact for more than a second. with a mischievous smile on her face, she looked at the boy and tugged his shirt “iida, you should tell big (sis/brother)-" she paused before continuing her words as whispers in his ear "that you like them" she looked at you as she pulled away. “tell me what?” the three of you stared at each other in silence and iida thought of every possible, terrible, outcome for a split second before gulping.

“after i drop off eri, would you like to-” he hesitated, searching for the right words “spend some time together?” nodding eagerly, iida and eri’s trip to the store continued, you joining in. once eri was picked up and the two of you got some time alone, you shared some comfortable silence sitting outside of the dorms on the grass. 

“eri told me you really like me” you say quietly yet with a smile, not looking at him out of embarrassment. “perhaps.” he says coldly, worrying that if he put any amount of emotion into his words, he’d be even more embarrassed. “perhaps?” you question, before he clarifies, “yes, i do like you.” you cant help the grin that you make at his words, letting the upper half of your body fall, rolling over to face the ground as you bury your face in your arms.

“i like you too” you let out weakly, not trusting your voice to not give away how happy you are. feeling a nudge on your side, you look up, before being surprised by the big smile on his face. “im happy, then.” 

the two of you were a blushing mess, two fools finally realizing the other likes them just as much as they did. you had eri to thank for being smarter and much bolder than the two of you were. 

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

One 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, meet cute scenarios, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language 

Word count: 3.9k 

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO

homebody noun 

: one whose life centers around the home. 

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Grocery stores are a cursed place. Horrible. You might have guessed that if there were to be a special layer of hell to be reserved for you (which you sure as hell wished there wasn’t) it would likely be a grocery store. 

Firstly, they are one of the messiest places that you could ever experience. Have you seen the ways that those beige-y grey floors get caked with dirt and smudges from who knows what? Have you seen the dirt and grime that hides under those produce shelves? Secondly, why is it that everyone always feels the need to get so close to eachother crammed in those isles? Why is it that you have to do that awkward shuffle when your cart and someone else’s cart gets in each other’s way and you have to do the “no you go first” and “no, you go first.” 

You prayed that you had been good enough in this life to escape some kind of grocery-store induced hellscape. 

Partly it was Bomi’s fault. Temperamental nuisance. Three days into her newest bag of cat food and she suddenly decided to go on a hunger strike. The internet  had told you that perhaps she just didn’t like the flavor. Little did the internet know that you had nearly already tried every other flavor there was, even the expensive ones. 

You stared down to your crinkled up list filled with the ramblings of an attempted grocery list and other absentminded doodles. 

DONT FORGET STUPID NEW CAT FOOD 

Under the reminder, you had drawn an angry little cat face with Bomi’s characteristic calico facial splotches. 

“Damn cat. You’re lucky that I still love you.” You uttered under your breath. 

The wheels of your cart screeched as you turned the corner into the pet isle. Of course, you were the lucky one that had to pick the cart that had only three functioning wheels and whined like your mother over the phone. You cringed to yourself, bearing through the sound and the two glances from a mother and her child throwing an obscenely large bag of dog food into their totally normal cart. 

You didn’t need to, but you mouthed a tiny “sorry” to them as you passed them. 

The tall metal racks appeared to touch those flickering fluorescent lights above them as you perused them, glancing over all of the brands which you had undoubtedly purchased one time or the other. 

Tuna, salmon, tuna and salmon, tuna and veggies, salmon and veggies... 

What would it be that Bomi would tolerate this time? Was it grains that she didn’t like? Wet food? 

Merely looking at the prices for the canned cat food sprung such a headache that you wished you hadn’t looked at them at all. But, if it was what your princess would eat... 

On the highest shelf, your gaze caught a brand that you hadn’t seen before, so you summoned your strength to stand on your tip-toes, stretching up your arm as far as you possibly could, teetering just a little... 

“Al...most--” 

“Here, I can get that, let me just--” 

“--Oh no, it’s fine, I can reach it, thank you--” 

“--It’s alright, I’ve almost got it...” 

His elegant fingers got tangled up with yours. Had your determination been any weaker, he would have snatched it up all himself, but...

He chuckled a little. “Are you sure?” 

You turned your head to affirm, “Positiv--Minho?” 

“Y/n?” 

You had finally had the little can in your grasp, only to feel it slip out of your fingers in your shock. 

The terrible sound of the aluminum can hitting Minho’s head and glasses bonked between your fumbling arms, working just too slow. 

“Ssss-OW!” 

Minho’s hand went immediately to rub at the top of his head with eyes tightly shut. 

“Oh my god!!! Are you okay?” 

Instinctually you swooped in to see if any harm had been done. 

“Ah-I’m fine, don’t--I’m fine.” 

Your neighbor patted down his head, trying to craft a smile for you under his painfully crossed brows. 

“Are you sure? I-I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid and clumsy, don’t you think that you have a concussion or something?” 

He laughed out a sharp chuckle, then winced at what the action did to his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you sure about that?” If he could have heard, he would have noticed your heart anxiously beating at a hundred times per second. 

“It’s okay, really, I’ve had worse things thrown at my head.” 

“What the hell could be worse???” 

“You don’t want to know.” He maintained his hopeful grin. 

Even after being assaulted by cat food, he was still just as beautiful as you remembered. 

“Oh! Your glasses!! Where did those go??” 

Frantically, you spun around, shoving your cart aside with another startling screee. Quickly you found them nearest the bird seed. 

“Here. Here you go, I hope that they’re not broken.” 

“Mm-doesn’t look like it.” Minho inspected them. 

“Oh thank God.” 

He huffed out one more little scoff-sounding laugh. “At least you’ve got the cat food that you wanted now. 

“Yeah, but at what cost?” 

“I said don’t worry about me.” 

Minho fluffed his hair back into place, likely hiding another rub to his throbbing head. 

What even does one say to someone who you nearly wrecked with cat food? 

“You uhh--what are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, getting cat food.” Minho snatched a bag of food from a lower shelf. “With three mouths to feed you tend to run out pretty fast.” 

“Oh! I-uh...can imagine.” 

“Weird shopping here like I live here now...never thought that would happen. I’m still getting used to everything around here; never knew that I would end up back living with my mom...and at my age.” 

“Don’t-don’t feel bad! It’s a nice area around here! At least I think, and it’s a... nice grocery store...” 

You did not think that it was a nice grocery store, but it seemed like the right thing to say. 

Minho smiled back at you warmly, just as he had done back on your doorstep, tabby cat in his arms. You had wanted to see it again. 

“-Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around here more often too then.” He took the cat food can--his ex-assailant-- to drop into your cart. 

“I guess so...and sorry, again.”

“Really don’t worry about it!” Minho rolled up his hands into little sweater paws on the handle of his cart. “I’ll see you later then.” 

“See...you...” 

Your words trailed behind him, seeing as he had already started wheeling away. As soon as he was out of an earshot, you cursed yourself out terribly--another habit you had developed since living alone; you really were your only company. 

“God, Oh god. Now he thinks that I’m a recluse and a wreck, oh god--” 

“--Hey! Watch where you’re going!!” 

An old man with a newsboy cap griped before you nearly collided with him and his cart full of diet sodas. 

“Sorry!! I’m so sorry!” You bowed profusely in apology while removing yourself from the isle as fast as you could.

Grocery stores really were your own kind of personal hell. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The cold metal of the bus stop sign dissolved into your sweating forehead while you watched the springtime sunset fade out before you. It really was pretty, and it was just enough to distract you from how weighed down your backpack and numerous reusable bags felt. Had your hands been free, you would have taken a picture. 

What time is it even? 

Your watch was restricted by the number of straps around your wrists. Sometimes stepping outside of your home and onto the sidewalk was draining enough to make you feel like scurrying back inside. Big trips like this however, had you falling asleep in those uncomfy plastic chairs in (also) disgustingly messy buses. 

To your right, you heard the usual hum of the number 10 bus wheel up. 

“Wait! Wait!! Hold the bus!!” 

Hurried footsteps came patting behind you, followed with shallow running breaths. 

Hair bopping and cardigan flopping a little like wings behind him, Minho sprinted to the doors. 

“Take a seat ma’am.” The bust driver snapped you out of your embarrassment over seeing him one more time than you would have liked. 

“Ah-sorry, I will.” 

You shuffled your way near back of the bus and attempted to hide your face behind your bags decorated with none other than flowers and cartoon cats. 

“Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.” You chanted under your breath while your neighbor looked for a seat. 

“Y/n? Heh, I just keeping running into you don’t I?” 

“Minho!!!!” You piped, just a little too animatedly. “Huh! Didn’t figure I would see you here...too...” 

Minho slid into the booth across from you. “I mean, it makes sense, we’re going to the same place basically.” 

“Don’t you...have a car or something?” 

“I do, but I figured that the grocery store was close enough, although, I didn’t really factor in how all of this would weigh a ton.” 

“Hm, I never really do as well.” 

A pair of older lades glared over at the two of you, clearly displeased that you were disrupting their peaceful bus ride. Minho cowered under their piercing and aged brown eyes, then stealthily slid into the seat next to you. 

His washed out jeans brushed up against your leggings, and you felt your hairs stand on end. If there was someone out there who decided if you went to a hellscape grocery store, they must have also been able to mask the smell of your sweat. You hoped that they were listening to your pleading requests. 

“It’s a really a nice evening isn’t it?” 

Minho peered out your window at the little shops and bustling streets beside you. The sidewalks were decorated with little skinny trees here and there which had just started to bloom with the buds of leaves and flowers. There was a peaceful air about the scene that reminded everyone that the cold would soon be gone for good, and the sky swirled into pinks and purples. 

“Oh! Yes, yes it is.” 

You tried your best to ignore the fact he was leaning into you slightly. 

“So. What else do you do besides be a cat parent and a part-time chucker of canned goods?”

You wanted to crawl in a hole once you saw his adorable grin once more. “I-I have a job, a couple actually.” 

“A couple? And what are they?” 

“I teach online college courses in creative writing and English.” your glasses fell a little down your nose bridge, so you adjusted them accordingly, “I also edit for a small publishing company--but that’s more of a side thing.” 

“That’s...a lot of writing and things like that.” 

“Well, it’s what I went to school for, and, I don’t mind...although my mother--” 

“--Have you written anything yourself? Anything that I could read?” 

You felt your cheeks set ablaze with heat. “You?! Oh no no no no.” 

“What?” A mischievous grin overtook Minho’s adorable one. “Do you write provocative content?” 

“No! I do not!” Your tone turned more defensive than you had intended. 

“Well, what do you write? Even if you did write that kind of stuff, I wouldn’t mind. Provocative contents are trendy these days.” 

“I didn’t even say that I write in the first place!” 

“I just assumed seeing as you seem to do other things in this field...so, what do you write?” 

“It’s embarrassing, and I don’t owe you the knowledge!!” 

Minho reached over your fuming body to pull at the bus cord, letting out the little stop requested tune. 

“What is it that you do then?” 

“Something boring and business-y that you wouldn’t care to know about. It’s definitely not as interesting as what you do I’m sure.” 

Your neighbor gathered up his bags while the bus slowed to the stop. 

“You coming?” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[19:07] 

me: seung, i’m such a fool. you will not believe 

seungmo: should I even guess? what? Bomi yack during your online lecture again? 

me: no, worse. 

seungmo: i’m listening. 

i guess i don’t really have a choice though don’t I? 

you’re just gonna tell me anyway aren’t you? 

The cat in question purred in your lap, permitting you your usual one hour of cat-attention a day like she would during the evenings. After your day of embarrassment, you had hunkered down on your favorite place on the couch, swaddled in blankets with the TV playing some nature show that you had been trying to pay attention to. Somehow, the thought that Minho living just doors away made it all seem even worse; you were bound to see him again. 

You bit your lip and started tapping away at your phone screen, regaling the entire tale to your best friend--who frankly had enough of your awkward “you-isms.” However, no matter how socially insecure you were, Seungmin appeared to stick by you. In fact, it was one of your “you-isms” that had brought the two of you together. 

Four years ago at that pet shelter where you had got Bomi, Seungmin was there too looking for a dog. It was Bomi’s skittish self that leapt out of her cage and into Seungmin’s arms when his dog started barking. Bomi had nearly destroyed Seungmin’s sweater by the way that she had clawed into him. Of course, you took her crime upon yourself and insisted on buying him a new sweater. After an exchange of phone numbers, he hadn’t gotten bored of you yet. Bomi had always liked him more than you--the traitor. 

[19:18] 

me: ...and then he showed up on the bus, just as I had thought that I had escaped, and then started berating me about what I do for a living. 

seungmo: are you sure he wasn’t just asking questions, NOT berating? 

me: it felt like it. 

seungmo: and why are you telling me all of this? 

me: bc I wanted you to give me some comfort?? or reassurance?? isn’t that what friends do? 

seungmo: what do you want me to say? I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing? get over it? stuff like that happens to you all the time y/n, I don’t know why you are making such a big teal of it. 

*deal of it. 

me: wow, you’re being of such help. 

seungmo: you’re overthinking it. as always. 

me: but i’ll have to SEE HIM again. 

Seungmin’s little three writing dots disappeared, and you waited in silent anxiety for what he would say next. 

[19:24] 

seungmo: you’ve got a crush on him don’t you 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The evening sky had darkened, and you felt the air temperature begin to drop. It wasn’t unbearable however, and you had prepared yourself well with your giant sheep-like blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The cold wire chair that you sat in was undoubtedly pressing shapes into your bare legs crossed up on it, but you never seemed to mind it. 

Bomi yowled behind the sliding glass door to your backyard, so you allowed her to exit, making her a much happier cat. The two of you enjoyed these nights together deeply--they almost felt like a brief escape from life. Bomi would sneak around the edges of the fence, sniffing and looking rather suspicious when her green eyes would glow in the light of the house. Your glasses likely looked the same reflecting the light from your computer screen. 

You took one more sip of tea, then opened up your internet. A couple clicks, and you found the notification screen on your page. 

hearts: 267 

shares: 19 

comments: 21

Your eyes scanned over the little paragraphs that some of your readers had written for you. It made your heart swell with immense joy seeing the way that they had analyzed and picked apart every little part of your prose and how they would write IN ALL CAPITIAL LETTERS about how excited they were for your next chapter. 

~

I can’t wait for the next chapter! I’m DYING to know what was in that chest!! I really hope that Bomi can trust Davers. He just seems a little shady to me >////< 

YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS. The fact that Bomi could fight off the dragon while Blaze was confessing his feelings for her??? I could never lollll 

 P L E A S E protect little Herbie. He’s such a cutie. I wish that hedgehog companions were real, I would take one with me everywhereeeee 

N/n, your writing is so so pretty!! I felt like I was right there in the scene with them! The way that you described the enchanted fountain had me drooling ahhh you’re such an inspiration to me as a writer!!! 

Blaze fanclub?? i’m trying to see somethin’ 

~

“If Blaze were real, I’d be the president of that fanclub.” You laughed out to yourself. 

Suddenly, you found you thoughts shifting from your dreamy Blaze to someone much less fictional. 

Crushes on boys who were real was much better than one’s who weren’t. It was nice admitting it to yourself at last. 

“Ahhhh” You sighed out, doing a little happy dance in your seat, then opened up the chat box to return to the replies. 

After responding to as many as you could, you opened up a new chapter. 

Chapter 22 

Blaze wiped off his sword, stained with the steel blue blood of the dragon, still steaming with heat underfoot. His disheveled deep black trellises were coated in his own sweat but it didn’t make him look any less dashing--per usual. 

“Princess Bomi, you still haven’t answered my question.” 

Bomi sheathed her own sword, then inspected her wooden shield for any more damage. For a moment, she thought that the claw marks made it look even more beautiful and intimidating. 

“Blaze. You know that I can’t talk about romance at a time like this, have you forgotten that the kingdom as stake?”  

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi perched at her usual spot in the window, eyes fluttering closed before she would take her nap that would last for nearly the whole afternoon. You would have been lazing with her, but that would have to wait another hour or so: with your newest paycheck, you had decided to deliver some new flowers to yourself for your garden. 

The little array was spread out before you: yellow and purple pansies, pink tulips, fuchsia and baby pink peonies, and dainty while lilies of the valley were arranged where you had planned to adorn your front lawn. The aroma of the flowers lingering in the air was enough to make you feel as if you had transported yourself to the very magical gardens that you would be writing about that evening. 

A pair of songbirds chittered past, carrying their whistles behind them. For a brief moment, the sun shone directly onto your arms spotted with dirt and filled your whole body with warmth. Nothing was more peaceful than this. You took to work, crackling them out of their plastic pots, and digging at the earth in holes to hold them down. After a while, you felt the dew from the grass start to soak into your work-jeans, but it was a welcome little cool feeling. Next, you popped up to hose them down with your little attachment that made the water cascade like a rain-shower. You admired for a moment how the water would create little rainbows from the spray. 

“Ahem, uh-hi there!” 

You choked out a gasp before swinging around, aiming the hose like your sword to the startling voice. 

“STAY BACK!!’ 

You pointed the stream directly at them, only in your horror to see your neighbor, trademark cardigan and all, soaking wet from your weapon. 

“GOD! That’s cold.” 

The fabric hung onto him, adhering to every part of his body which was much more toned than you had expected.

Minho looked absolutely bewildered as the water dripped off his frame with sad little pat pat pats on the concrete sidewalk. 

“Oh God. Oh God. Minho, I’m so so sorry. I-I can’t believe that I keep doing this to you--” 

You nearly felt like crying, but for fear of embarrassing yourself further, you decided to turn around quickly in search of your rags. They were garden rags, but dry nonetheless. 

“Here, here, I-I think that these should help.” 

You dabbed at his body, although it was clear that this wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

“Stop, stop,” He pushed your hands away. “I just live next door, I’ll live being a little drenched.” 

“You realize that's an oxymoron right?” Your nervous hands continued dabbing. 

“A what??” Minho kindly laughed at your frantic hands. 

“It’s a...writing thing. Sorry...” 

“I really need to be careful around you don’t I?” 

Your mouth crinkled into a flustered line. “M’sorry.” 

“Can you quit apologizing?? Here, I came over to give you these, my mom made some extra side dishes so she wanted me to bring them over to you.” 

“Oh.” He handed you the little bundle of Tupperware containers. “Thanks.” 

“She also, or--I mean--I wanted to invite you over so that you could meet my cats...and! my mom. My mom too.” 

“You want me to come over?” 

“I did mention that I wanted to a little while ago didn’t I?” 

“Oh! You did...” 

“Does next Saturday work? Around 5?” 

“I-I can do five.” You brushed your muddied hand across your sweating brow. 

Minho scoffed, “You’ve...got something...on your...” 

“Oh! Oops.” You tried your best to wipe off the dirt, but you didn’t know you had only made it worse. 

Minho squeezed out his soaked sleeve to carefully raise it to your forehead. “Here, like this.” 

This close to you, his brown eyes deeply shone with the color of coffee, chocolate, the bark of forest trees after a spring rain, and a million other things that your writer brain could compare them to. 

“There. It’s all gone.” 

For a moment, you wondered if you really had fantasized him, or if he really was real. For you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was some kind of figment of your imagination: they usually were. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[1 missed call, Mom, 09:12] 

“Y/n are you there? Why is it that you never pick up your phone? I’ve told you so many times that you should pick up when I call. What if it’s an emergency? What if someone’s died?? Nevermind, I wanted to call and tell you my friend’s daughter is getting engaged and I’ve been invited to the bridal party. I think that you should come with. It’ll be good to get you out of that house. 

Why is it that you haven’t gotten yourself married yet? You know that you aren’t getting any younger?? Either way, call me back. You’ll need to bring a gift too. Its impolite to show up without a gift. 

Ah, I almost forgot. Your brother got a promotion at work; I’m not sure if he’s told you. We’ll be having dinner to celebrate this weekend. Can I count on you to be there? 

Also, how is the job search going? Your father has some more connections for you to speak to. You need to take advantage of every one of them. You’re so close to getting something that really matters. I can feel it. Ah, I just feel like you’re wasting away there sitting at that computer with those silly classes. It’s like, barely any contribution at all. You could be making so much more money. 

Anyway, call me back once you hear this. 

love you sweetie, talk soon. 

i know that its tuesday and i said I would publish on mondays shhh just pretend I published this yesterday ooP 

[allywritesmanythings]

You Got It Wrong (Matt Casey) Part 2.

Summary: After Y/N and Matt get into an argument, she leaves for her sister's wedding.

Words: 1293

Requested:

Prompts:

A/N or Warning: can you guys like comment more? Love the support but would love yall more if yall commented lmao. I'm tired and I dont care about going through it and fixing the grammar and spelling. So I'm sorry for that!

Tags: Tags: @intergalxtic @babyfannii @corebore123 @halsteadsway @bethii1 @littlemaatta @disneyismyworldforever @nhcwdw

Since your punishment, you barely talked to Casey or Herrmann unless it was Fire related or a job related which sucked but you were mad at them still. You were mopping the floor in the break room when you saw Casey walking towards you. You made no eye contact as he walked up to you. "Y/N, how long is this gonna go on?"

"I don't know what you mean Lieutenant? I have still two weeks of chores. Your punishment,"

Casey sighed and shook his head. "Not what I meant," and walked off.

"What's going on here? Why are you doing chores, is this the rookie's job?"

You looked up at Ritter. "Yep, but since I didn't answer the radio on during the apartment fire, Casey and Herrmann have me on chores duty for the next two weeks,"

"That's why theres tension between you and Casey. I just thought it was sexual,"

You playfully shoved him. "RITTER!"

He laughed and walked off. "You know it's true,"

"It isn't but okay,"

---

You were outside washing the truck and laughing with Gallo when Casey walked up to you two. "What's so funny?"

You stopped smiling and looked away from him. "Nothing, Lieutenant,"

Casey looked over at you and then at Gallo. "Gallo, can you leave me and Y/N alone?"

Gallo nodded and dropped the rag in the bucket and walked inside. "Y/N, stop cleaning and talk to me,"

"You can talk to me while I'm doing this because I have to get this done,"

"Drop the rag and look at me, that's an order,"

You turned around and threw the rag in th bucket. "Yes, sir,"

Casey looked at you. "You got to stop this,"

"Stop what?"

"You're giving me grief over punishing you. I'm your superior,"

You just stood there. "I'm not giving you grief, Casey and exactly. You're my superior and I'm treating you as such,"

"No, you're not-"

"Okay then Casey. Tell me how to behave or what to say because obiviously, I can't do shit right according too,"

You started to walk off. "If you don't drop the additude, I will add more weeks,"

"Yeah, well, what's stopping you?"

MATT'S POV

Matt stood there watching her walk inside the firehouse as he sighed. This girl was doing to drive him insane. He didn't know what to do or say around you anymore without you blowing up on him. He walked into the firehouse and went to the common area and sat next to Mouch. He groaned and rubbed his face. "What going with you?"

"Women,"

Mouch laughed. "Don't think age stops those problems cause they don't,"

-

The day went on but Casey didn't see you. He walked up to Gallo and Ritter. "Have you seen Y/L/N?"

Ritter and Gallo both looked at each other and then to Casey. "Ask Boden,"

Casey was a bit confused as to that answer but he nodded and walked towards Boden's office and knocked on the office door. "Come in,"

"Have you seen Y/N?"

He nodded. "Not since she requested a transfer this morning,"

"Wait what?"

"She said that since she couldn't seem to do anything right here, she wanted to try another firehouse and after talking to her for an hour,"

"This is my fault,"

"What do you mean?"

"Well Herrmann and I put her on two week chore duty for not repsonding to us durnig the apartment fire and then right before she came to you, we got into an arugment and I made her feel like that. Like she can't do anything right. I got to fix this,"

Casey pulled out his phone and started to call you. "Calling her won't do anything good. She's driving to Michigian for her sister's wedding and she turned off her phone,"

"I thought that wasn't for another few weeks,"

"Well, they changed it, its on Sunday,"

"That's still like a week away?"

"I told her to take the week off to think about if she really wants to transfer,"

"I know this is short notice but can I have the week off or at least a few dats and I will try to have convince her not to transfer,"

"She one of the best firefighters we got. I dont want to lose her to another house. Take as much time as needed. I'll call you if we need you,"

Y/N's POV:

You sighed as you parked in your paren'ts driveway and you just sat there, wishing this was going to go different but you know what was going to happened the moment you stepped into that house. You turned on your phone and it started buzzing as you missed a lot of texts and calls. Mainly from Casey but you ingored those and went to yours, Gallo's and Ritter's text.

Gallo: Seriously? Why'd you turn off your phone.

Ritter: How would we know if you die or not?

Ritter: Turn on your phone already?

*3 hours later*

Gallo: Its been three hours, Ritter. She hasn't answered. I think its time to call a search party.

Ritter: I think so too.

You chuckled and replied to them.

You: I just pulled into my parents' driveway. I'm alive and fine.

Ritter: See, Gallo? I told you not to worry.

You rolled your eyes and looked up and saw your dad looking out the window. You sighed and decided that it was time for you to go see your family. You put your phone in your purse and walked into the house. You eldest brother walked up to you and gave you a bear hug. "We were wondering when you were coming into the house, you were park in the driveway for hours,"

You moved your arm to hug him back. "Yeah, well I had turned off my phone while driving and I was repsonding to my friends that thought I was dead or had been in a serious accident,"

After getting hugged by you older borther and your dad, you noticed that your mom wasnt in there. "Where's mom?"

"She's doing a errand, she will be back soon. Sit. Sit. Tell us. How is it living in Chicago? Those fires keeping you so busy that you can't come and visit us more often?"

You looked at your dad. "Yeah, pretty much. I'm surprised my boss let me get a week off."

What I really wanted to say was; "No. Mom is the reason I stay away. I cant handle her nagging me all the time,"

"So do we know who the lucky guy that is marrying our baby sister yet?"

They all shook their heads no. Your sister had kept this relationship a secret for a year before telling us that she was in it, even then she has kept who it was a secret as well. We at frist were worried it was someone that was really bad for her but she was a good girl who knew how not to get in trouble. "Not yet, we are suppose to meet him tomorrow,"

---

It had been about four hours since you gotten home, your mom came home about an hour after you got here and as you expected started on you about your love life but thankfully your eldest brother came to your defense and got her off your back. You were going to stay at a hotel but your parents have convinced you to stay at the house. You were walking towards your car and saw a car pulling up. You immdietely knew whose car it was and you walked up there, confused, as the door opened. "What are you doing here?"

Casey walked out of the car and looked at you. "Trying to convince you to stay with 51,"

[stressed-crow]

i didnt exactly get tagged, but @lieberts​ said the “whoever wants to do it” thing (like 4 moths ago but i just found it in my likes) so here i goooo

also i tag @krchov​ @cowardlylearningtobebrave​ @feathereddamsel​ @gruntie​ and @luwucifer-s​ but like, only very vaguely. feel free not to~

1. MUSIC TAG MEME 

Rules: Post your first twenty songs in a playlist on shuffle

Mama (My Chemical Romance)

Stigma (BTS)

Man Who Sold The World (Nirvana)

End of Spring (ONEWE)

Love Maze (BTS)

I’m so afraid (Holland)

Dear my friend (agustd)

O-O-H Child (The Five Stairsteps)

Go Go (BTS)

Time is Running out (The Muse)

Movement (Hozier)

Les Passants (Zaz)

The Witching Hour (ODJBOX)

Feelings (Hayley Kiyoko)

0X1=LOVESONG (txt)

YAYAYA (Stray Kids)

Empire (Of Mice and Men)

Problems (Mother Mother)

Question (Stray Kids)

Kill Your Heroes (AWOLNATION)

(i do not take any criticism on my music taste, least of all a costructive one)

2. Rules: MAKE A NEW POST, bold what applies to you and tag whoever you want to get to know better.

APPEARANCE 

I’m an I-need-to-pull-the-driver-seat-all-the-way-in kind of a person // i wear glasses or contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing  // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo  // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i wear makeup // i don’t often smile // i am pleased with how I look // I prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backward

HOBBIES & TALENTS 

i play a sport // i can play an instrument  // i am artistic  // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault // i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own (if it was like... chill wildreness. i mean i can get a fire going and shit like that i cant fistfight a bear or whatever) // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks // i can do a handstand

RELATIONSHIPS 

i am in a relationship // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long-distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online

AESTHETIC 

i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sunrise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colors // i find mystery in the ocean (i dont like it tho the sea scares me) // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season

MISC 

i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift  // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least one dog // i have a cat ---------

3. THIS OR THAT TAG GAME (1)

sage green or baby blue | moon or stars | paperback or hardback | piercings or tattoos (i want a new one... both piercing and tattoo) | drawing or writing | saturn or jupiter | line without a hook or mr. loverman (what does this mean??) | ancient greece or ancient egypt | prague (yo i live here thats wild) or amsterdam | dark academia or light academia | indie aesthetic or cottagecore | stargazing or late night drives | strawberries or watermelons | rings or necklaces | extrovert or introvert | dragons or griffins | ocean or mountain | silver or gold | dawn or dusk | creative or free spirit | early bird or night owl | cook or bake | dagger or sword ---------

4. THIS OR THAT TAG GAME (2)

indoor plants or gardens // cloud-watching or star-gazing // water or fire // paperback or hardcover // running or hiking // sleeping with socks or without socks // fruit or vegetables // hanging plants or succulents // dark wood or light wood // handwritten or typed // instagram or pinterest (i dont do either) // braids or pigtails // books or movies // oceans or meadows // forests or fields // sweet or salty // ice cream or chocolate // hoodies or sweaters // long hair or short hair // piercings or tattoos (new!! both!!) // summer or winter (both suck) // boots or sneakers // cars or motorcycles // curls or straight hair // castles or cottages // sunny days or storms // reptiles or birds // disney or nickelodeon (am european) // strawberries or watermelon (im using this opportunity to pick the other one yes) // essays or posters // phones or laptops // glass or stone // dark or light // photos or paintings // circuses or theaters // reading or writing // dogs or cats // poetry or novels // monsters or ghosts // thrift shops or libraries // fiction or non-fiction

5. Post one picture from my camera roll (no new downloads) to sum up my personality! u get two bcs they are v good

6. 30 QUESTIONS TAG GAME 

RULES: Answer 30 questions and tag others

Name/Nickname: lucy 

Gender: female 

Star Sign: leo

Height: 170 cm 

Time: 22:04 

Birthday: july 1  IS WHAT I WROTE INITIALLY bcs i cant fucking read and thought it just said “date” lol anyway its 11th of August

Favorite Bands: bts, stray kids :)

Favorite Solo Artists: sunmi, taemin :) and hozier i cant betray him 

Song stuck in my head: la la la la vie en rose

Last Movie: def some horror movie but i forget which lol

Last Show: probably the untamed lmaooo did not even finnish it 

When did I create this blog: december 2013 apparently 

What do I post: kpop babey 

Last thing googled: i gotta fact check lots of shit for work so probs smting sports related (but make no mistake i dont know a single thing abt sports) 

Other blogs: what for i dump everything here

Do I get asks: no

Why I chose my url: self-explanatory

Following: 100

Followers: ???

Average hours of sleep: about 8 hours 

Instruments: none 

What am I wearing: pink pajama shorts with kitties, black shirt torn beyond decent wearability and this dark green... jacket,,, hoodie...thing.

Dream job: village witch 

Dream trip: me @ japan: 

(i was supposed to go study there starting winter 2020 :) im abt to lose my fucking mind :) so yeah you get a dead meme for this) also new zealand, iceland, and going back to sweden sometime

Favorite food: pizza bithc its versatile, also cereal coz im a child

Nationality: czech (rip) 

Favorite song: black swan (bts), levanter (skz), take me to church (hozier), noir (sunmi) (those are from the top of my head current favs theres way more but here u go)

Last book read: MIMOZEMŠŤANÉ V ČECHÁCH (= aliens in czechia) by idk, some married couple thats probs wanted whatever xfiles had but low budget, its pure nonsense, best read of this year, dont regret a single second

 Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: magnus archives bich i dont give a fuck; middle earth to blaze it with hobbits; i wanna be one of those lil shaky-head-tree-things in mononokehime

[just-another-haikyuu-blog]

Best friends.. but more💕

Takanobu Aone × fem!reader

Tags: NSFW,, biting,, daddy/princess petnames,, heart break

Tw: drinking, drunk sex,,

Word count: 1800+

Im a wee bit drunk atm if yall find any grammar errors or would like tags or tws I could add message me and let me know. Other than being drunk Im also new to tagging stories so sometimes I don't pay attention 😅

NSFW under the cut♡

It was sometimes rather odd being best friends with Aone. Everyone else in your class and well the whole school seemed to think he's so intimidating. Which is kinda funny considering its based on his height. When in reality hes just a big ol teddy bear.

You were rather glad no one really knew him like you did. Still he wasn't very talkative when you two hung out but you could tell by his body language that he always had a good time. Especially when you two played games together. Who would imagine this very stiff, quiet guy actually gets angry when he loses at video games. It wasnt very noticable until he'd always makes an excuse to go get snacks every time he would lose. You caught him quietly fuming to himself in the kitchen after a couple times. Which turned into many times of sneaking out of his room just to watch him and having your heart race trying to make it back so he wouldn't know that you essentially were stalking him in his own home. It was then you realized maybe your feelings toward him were for more than just friendship. A thought you'd never have expected to have towards your best friend. So you shook it off everytime you felt it a little more not wanting to hurt your relationship.

After graduation things stayed the same mostly. The only real difference was after you two had gotten jobs and places of your own and it was a bit harder to spend time together. So when you two had time to spare you were either at his house or him at your apartment. It was never abnormal for you two to stay the night together. Most of the time you'd drink and play games together. Which really wasnt very often lately because your boyfriend didn't like another guy spensing the night.

It didnt matter how many times you told him that Aone is just your best friend and nothing more. He never believed you. Finally after countless texts and calls of Aone asking to come over you decided to go to his place. You got drunk and vented to him about everything, eventually passing out. Being the sweet guy he is Aone helped you to the couch and covered you up. The very next day you woke up to multiple calls and messages from your boyfriend. It was clear he was pissed but you shrugged it off and stuffed your phone in your pocket. You explained the situation and Aone offered to drive you home. It didnt seem like too big a deal that was until you made it home. Your boyfriend standing next to his car outside your place. Seeing you with Aone made him furious. "I guess Im gonna go sort this out. I'll text you later." you said before exiting the car.

Immediately your boyfriend dragging you up to your apartment. Not even two seconds inside and he berates you with questions. "Were you at his place last night? Is that why you weren't home this morning? Did you fuck him? I cant believe-" you stopped him right there and told him plainly "No. I didn't fuck him. I missed my best friend and I got drunk and passed out. If it werent for that I'd have come home last night." None of it seeming to have any bit of a difference to him. He shook his head with a deep scowl on his face, "We're done." he said and walked out the door. You didnt try to stop him and just let him go.

It took a while for the sadness to hit but when it did you got pretty depressed because you actually really liked the guy. But in the end you werent going to give up your best friend time for some guy no matter how much you liked him.

A couple days after the break up you had went out drinking with your work and got absolutely shitfaced. Thankfully one of your coworkers got your phone. "Dont worry y/n I called a friend to come get you. He should be here any minute." You were barely coherent to what she said and ended up face down in your food crying.

Aone finally showing up, and everyone being in awe of his demeanor towards you. They all drunkenly tell him how good a boyfriend he is. He didnt correct them, just thanked them for calling and said that he'd take care of you. He rubbed your back and leaned down to say "Y/n Im here to take you home. Hop on my back Ill carry you." Your coworkers cheering him on yet again for being so sweet. You being wasted beyond belief got entirely too excited at the idea of a piggy back ride. It took a couple tries but you eventually got on his back.

The walk to his car was kind of cold and your nose was especially suffering. "Aoneee~ my nose its- *hiccup* c-cold." You said right before you snuggled your face into his warm neck. The smell of him almost making you melt. You leaned up into his ear "aoneeeee," you said with such a pouty tone, "A-o-ne Ivee got a seeecret.. I think I might like you.. e-even in high school." You lean back down to nuzzle your face into his neck not noticing how much the tall silent man was blushing. He didn't really say much back and honestly you didn't really notice from how drunk you were.

You hadnt even realized that at some point he had put you in his car. He decided to just take you back to his house since it was closer. You ended up falling asleep blabbering about how hot you were and trying to take off your clothes. Pulling up you were still out of it and thankfully clothed since you were too drunk to get them off. He picked you up and carried you inside up to his bed. Normally you would sleep on the couch but with how things were tonight he'd take the couch.

He laid you down and gathered up a tshirt and some of his sleeping pants, which were way too big. He woke you up enough to have you change clothes and tuck you in. "If you need anything at all Im right on the couch." He stood up to walk to the door. Only to have you grab his hand and pull him down over top of you. "don't go." You said in barely a whisper almost whining. Looking down at you in this way causing his body to react to you like it never has before. Almost making him leave immediately, seeing as how you werent in your right mind, but the way you tugged at him he let you win. He moved over to the other side of you whispering back "okay but once youre asleep im going to the couch."

He laid there looking at you thinking about what you had said when he picked you up and this overwhelming feeling of wanting you filled his mind. You in search of warmth rolled over to cuddle your back against him. Your body kind of going on its own at this point from your drunken and slightly horny state. He had no idea what to do and felt a panic wash over him before you grabbed his arm and wrapped it around you. Feeling the neediness of how his hand held your waist your ass began grinding against him. His hand gripping you tight trying to keep his composure forcing a low moan out of you and the words flowed out of your mouth, "Aone please♡ touch me please." Thats all it took for him to break. You could feel both hands now on your waist pulling you into him grinding his hard cock against your ass. Every thrust and his tightening grip forcing a moan out of you.

The pants he gave you slowing riding down leaving you in just his shirt. He freed a hand to roam over your body and leaned down just barely breathing over your neck before running his tongue along your skin to find the most sensitive spot. You gasped at how good it felt. A little further he thought, just a nip right there in that sensitive little spot. Grabbing your hips as you grinded against him begging for more. "Pleasee Aone more.. bite me more mmm please" gasping between every word. He obliged and sunk his teeth into you. He immediately felt your body tense up as you moaned for more from him "Aone♡ fuck- fuck me please."  "You sure?" He said back. Your hand reaching back to grab his lengthy throbbing cock "yesss~ mmmm fuck you're so big" stroking it listening to his quiet moans in your ear turning you on even more. Enjoying the feeling of your small hands fondling him so needily. Pushing him so close to his climax he had to remove your hand before wound up cumming all over your backside. The pleasure overcoming his mind he rolled you over to your back legs falling off to either side of him he looked you over as you watched him pull off his shirt, his muscles gleaming from all the sweat. "Fuck.." you gasp breathlessly.

"Like what you see, princess?" His words like honey to you. "Mmm fuck yes daddy, I like every.. last.. bit of what I see~" Barely able to get your words out before he thrust his big throbbing cock inside you. "Mmf♡ fuck~ oh fuck~~" Your moans fueling his lust filled mind as he went harder just to see your expressions as the pleasure took you over. Your words jumbled as you barely were able to get out anything between moans. The squelching between your legs at every thrust on top of the low moans coming from his lips driving you mad as you felt him hitting the deepest part of you. "Mmmf♡ i-i.. fuc- i-mmmm im cu-" your moan cutting you off as you came all over his thick cock. The feeling of your walls tightening around him sending him over the edge he grunted grinding himself deeper inside you painting your insides in his juices. His moans stifled by your mouth as you pulled him down into a deep kiss. Neither of you having the want to move just laid there intertwined. Exhaustion taking over you both passed out almost simultaneously.

You woke up to an empty bed and your clothes folded neatly on the dresser. Only remembering bits and pieces from the night before but enough to know what had taken place in this bed right where you were laying. Your face as red as a beet you pulled the covers up over yourself, almost wanting to squeal. You heard the knob twisting and you laid back down pretending to be asleep. You could hear him walk in closer and closer until it felt like he was right over you and your eyes snapped open. His face directly above yours he leaned forward and kissed you and scooped you up with the covers you were rolled up in. Your face hot and embarrassed as to the suddenness, " Wh-what are you doing??" He smiled down at you continuing on, "Don't worry princess, Im just taking you to the bathroom so you can clean yourself up.. unless of course you want to continue last night?" Every bit of the night before flooded your head as he sat you down. You almost couldnt believe it. Slightly embarrassed you knew if you didn't take this chance now you'd hate yourself for it later. Dropping the blankets you pulled him into the bathroom. "You helped make the mess now you can help clean it." A tiny smirk crossed his mouth and you knew you were going to get way more than you bargained for.💕