#i mean i think he would notice right away if he did have a look at yuu since her hair is short it's hard for the earrings to hide

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I'm having a bit of a downtime. I feel so conscious about my appearance. May I have Quinn reassuring me that I look good?

My love, I'm sure you're absolutely stunning. Chin up, buttercup! 🩷

Quinn hadn't participated in practice today. While he caught up on some rest, you had decided to go into the city for a little retail therapy of your own. Only it hadn't quite gone the way you had hoped. Everywhere you looked, there was a girl you felt was prettier than you, looking at something you had been interested in for yourself. It was easy to look at her, then at yourself, and convince yourself that you couldn't wear it near as good as she could. Self-sabotage and insecurity were bullying you into a early shopping trip.

It didn't matter what you did, they were all beautiful while you felt like trash. What did Quinn see in you, you wondered on the drive back to his apartment. He could have his pick of any Instagram model he wanted, so why had he chosen you? You would beat yourself up the entire time, resigning to tears after parking his car.

You had returned empty-handed.

"What are you doing back so early?" Quinn asked, seeing you walk through the door unexpectedly. He had been in the kitchen making himself some lunch, and had he known you were headed back, would have made you something as well.

"I wasn't feeling it." Your eyes were still red as you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror by the door. Quinn was bound to notice soon enough. "I think I've got a migraine starting."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, babe. Do you have anything you can take?"

"Yeah."

He was genuinely being helpful, but you had blown him off and shuffled past the kitchen towards the bedroom. As he watched you go, your eyes down to avoid making eye contact, he knew there was more to it than the headache excuse. He'd let you go for now, not wanting to push you too much that you just shut down completely.

In the bedroom, you had gotten under the covers, hugging Quinn's pillow like you did when he was away on the road. You didn't want to cry anymore, but you had hurt your feelings so badly that there were no good thoughts left to give you even a drop of confidence in anything.

"Sweetheart?" Quinn asked, darkening the doorway some time later. You had almost drifted off to a nap when he called out to you, and could have faked being asleep, but you weren't trying to be mean to him.

"Yeah?" You mumbled into the pillow.

"Are you alright?"

"Sure."

You could hear him sigh from across the room and soon the feeling of him climbing in to bed with you would finally make you give him your full attention. He had laid his head against the pillow of his you were clutching. His pretty eyes waiting to catch sight of yours desperately.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked softly, his hand getting lost amongst your hair.

"Bad day."

"You seemed happy when you left." His brows pulled in slightly, trying to guess what had triggered the bad mood. "Did something happen while you were out?"

You bit your lip, pulling your eyes from his face. Why did he have to be so good at figuring out what was bothering you. "Just..."

Patiently, Quinn looked at you, his fingers giving you the gentlest scalp massage while he kept his hand buried deep in your hair.

"I just didn't feel like being shopping, that's all."

"Y|N, why don't you want to tell me?"

"Because it's a stupid reason," you choked out, eyes flicking back to Quinn's in haste.

His gaze softened, "Nothing is a stupid reason if it makes you feel like this, but I won't make you tell me. I just want to know you're alright."

"Why are you attracted to me?"

Quinn's expression twisted slightly. That was about the last question he would have dreamed you'd ask him. "What do you mean? In what way?"

"Why me over some model or something?"

He'd raise his head, propping himself up with his right arm. "I wasn't attracted to you because of your looks, sweetheart. That's just an added bonus. Do I come off that petty?"

"No, you don't. I just-- it's hard to not judge myself against all the other girls that could have my spot. I told you it was a stupid reason."

There was deep concern in Quinn's expression. There were few things he hated more than when you got down on yourself.

"As cliche as it might sound, looks eventually fade and no longer matter. What makes you, you, is your personality, baby. It's what shines through any amount of makeup or outfit. You can't fake a personality, not a real one. You know, as good as I do, that there are plenty of girls faking all of that just to get with any of us. They can't keep up the charade, and away they go, and another takes their place. Do you know how refreshing it was to meet you? How you genuinely smiled? That little snort you let out when you laughed at yourself for being nervous asking for that autograph? Do you remember how bad I blushed? I could hardly sign that jersey. I thought I was going to have to replace it because my signature looked like a fake."

You laughed softly remembering that day. He had been a little bit of a bumbling mess but it was so cute.

"You kept popping up in my head the whole rest of the day. Your eyes, your smile, hell, even that perfume you had been wearing. Drove me crazy all day. I see beautiful women everyday, but not a one of them are waiting for me back home like you are. I don't picture any of them waiting for me, wearing one of my t-shirts like you do. Each time I hear your voice when I'm away, I melt, because I get to hear it every--single--day."

You had been chewing on your bottom lip to keep the tears at bay and Quinn had noticed. The hand that had been lost in your hair moved to hold your face, and his thumb would coax your lip from between your teeth.

"You're the only person I have eyes for -- the others are just people. You're my baby, and I love you. They don't mean anything to me. You have my heart."

"Quinny~" you whispered, knowing everything he said was his raw, unfiltered truths.

"I mean it, all of it. You might think the other girls are prettier than you, but I don't. Not for a second. You're the only one I want."

You didn't know what to say. His ability to melt away any bad mood you were dealing with, soothe any hurt feeling you had, and reassure you through it all had been a natural talent. It was times like these that you didn't feel like you deserved him, but you'd never tell him that. You knew already that he hated when you put yourself down and when you thought you should have less. Instead, you'd try to be thankful for him taking the time to explain his reasonings to you.

"I'll reassure you more, if you want me to. I just need to know. I'll do whatever I can to make you feel better, just to keep stuff like this from happening. I just don't want you to shut me out, okay?"

You'd give him a nod. "I'm sorry to be this way."

Quinn smiled, "It's alright. Do you think I don't wonder why you put up with me half the time?"

"But I love you!"

"Exactly! Because I know you love me -- that you truly love me for me and not the other stuff-- I don't have to worry about anything else; I don't let the other stuff rule me. Does that makes sense?"

"Mhm," you nodded.

"And before you say it, you don't need to be sorry. Things happen, and sometimes we just need a little more to see what we've been overlooking."

The air went out of you like a balloon. Quinn's ways with words left you speechless more times than you thought he realised.

"If it would make you feel better, I'll take you out sometime next week and let you know how beautiful I think you'd look in anything you try on. Anything you like, it's yours. No limit."

"Quinn~"

"I mean it. If it makes you smile, I want you to have it."

"You make me smile."

He laughed softly, "You have me already, silly."

You'd roll over on your back as he climbed on top of you, lips hovering just above each other's. "Unless you're wanting something more. Then I can give you that, too."

[greynatomy]

the space between us

ingrid engen x reader

hi, it’s been a while

———

You met in the strangest way—one of those encounters that should have been fleeting but instead rearranges the entire landscape of your life. It wasn’t a grand romance at first, just a quiet unfolding, a slow realization that her presence fits into the empty spaces of your days. In hindsight, you realize it was never small. It was everything.

At the time, you didn’t know how brief it would be.

You met on one fateful day, losing your grip on your dog’s leash, he rushes to a person sitting at a cafe.

“Oh, hello little one.” She reaches down to pet the dog’s head.

“Benny!” You chase after him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to let go of his leash.”

She looks up to meet your eyes and you swear time stopped.

“Well I’m glad you did.”

“Y/N.” You reach your hand out. She gives you a smile, taking your hand in hers.

“Ingrid.”

It starts with a text. A ridiculous, unfiltered thought they send late at night that somehow finds you in the middle of your sleepiness.

“Did you know that your brain blends out a lot of noises your body makes?”

“Huh?” You reply, squinting your eyes from the brightness of your phone.

“If you were able to hear it, you would slowly drive yourself insane.”

You smile in the dark, the glow of your screen paints soft shadows on the wall.

“That would absolutely drive me insane.”

And just like that, a door is opened.

That night, you talk for hours. About anything, everything and nothing all at once. About her childhood fears. About the way you pick at your nails when you’re nervous. About how some songs feel like home even if you don’t know why.

“You ever feel like you’ve met someone before even when you haven’t?”

“Like déjà vu?” she replies, her voice drowsy through the phone.

“No. Like…fate.”

She didn’t reply after that, you heard the way her breathing evened out, knowing she fell asleep.

“Goodnight.”

The days that followed are filled with stolen moments, with messages slipped into the space of obligations.

You were on call again late at night. You knew she was half asleep but you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Anything.”

There was a moment of silence as you find the courage to speak.

“I think I’m scared.”

You can hear her bedsheets rustling. “Of what?”

“Of how much I feel this. How I don’t wanna lose you.”

There was another moment of silence.

“You won’t lose me.” she whispers.

You don’t reply right away, but when you do, your voice is barely there, your vulnerability can be heard.

“Promise?”

Ingrid promises, but sometimes promises aren’t enough.

The unraveling happens so slowly that you don’t notice at first. Maybe neither of you wanted to.

She signed with Barcelona, promising that nothing will change and distance is just a small obstacle.

But the texts become less frequent. The calls grow shorter. The easy and effortless way she once reached out to you becomes hesitant, uncertain. You tell yourself that she’s just been busy. That nothing is wrong.

But something is.

“Are we okay?” you ask one night, after yet another day of silence.

She hesitates.

“Yeah. I’m just… I don’t know. I’ve just got a lot going on.”

You want to believe her. But there’s a distance in her words now, something slipping through the cracks.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know.”

But she doesn’t . Not in the way she used to.

And then one day, they just… stop.

Not in a dramatic and catastrophic way. Not with a fight, not with a storm of angry words. Just a slow fading, like ink dissolving in water.

At first you make excuses. She’s busy. She’s tired. She had a long day. Everything will go back to normal again.

But it doesn’t.

You try once more, sending her a short message.

“Goodnight, sleep well. I love you ❤️”

It sits there, unread.

And you know.

The absence settles into you like a ghost. You still catch yourself reaching for you phone, expecting her name to light up your screen. Some nights you find yourself scrolling through old messages, rereading conversations that once felt infinite, listening to the many voice notes she used to send.

You tell yourself that it was brief. That it shouldn’t hurt this much. But it does.

Because it was real. Even if it was short.

Even if it’s over.

One night, much later, you find yourself looking up at the moon, remembering a moment a few days into her move to Barcelona.

“Oh wow, the moon is beautiful tonight. Not as beautiful as you, but still beautiful.” you tell her as you stand outside, earphones in your ears.

“Thank you.”

“How’s your moon looking like?”

“Beautiful.”

“Do we have the same moon? Wait. Duh. There’s only one moon.”

She laughs. “You’re so cute.”

As you look at the moon, you wonder if she’s thinking of you too.

If somewhere in the quiet of her own loneliness, she remembers the sound of your laughter.

If she ever misses you the way you miss her.

If she ever looked at her phone, just for a second, and almost reach out.

But she does’t.

And you don’t.

So, instead, you whisper a goodbye to the sky.

And let her go.

[becomesylus]

Distraction

“ caleb comes back after a long business trip, finally having him in your arms. a moment of glee courses through your veins until he gets a phone call from his colleague and takes him away from you. that can’t do, you have to do something about it… ’’

caleb x reader; 2.3k words

warning: porn without plot, slight exhibitionism (caleb gets fucked while on a call), hand job through cloth, blow job, reader wants attention, skull fucking, fingering, open ending

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

How long has it been since you’ve seen Caleb? You don’t know, but you don’t care at the moment since he decided to show up unexpectedly at your apartment in his uniform.

It was clear he came in after duty with his luggage in one hand and flowers held by his other hand, standing there with his anticipatory smirk and head tilt of endearment. You pulled him into your embrace, leaving him almost stumbling into you. The sheer glee that emanated through your system just to see your long-distance boyfriend was contagious as Caleb laughed at your eagerness as he kicked the door shut.

After placing the flowers in the vase, and him disappearing into your room, your eyes traced Caleb’s movement and you can’t help but ogle at his form with his uniform. The naturally relaxed and placid demeanor paired with the honorable and sophisticated style of the uniform is laced with badges and medals. Oh, were you at the edge of a cliff, ready to go and take him right there where you can get him to—

“hey?”

you snapped out of your thoughts before it went to a dangerous territory before looking at the source. caleb stood at the edge of the hallway, now in casual clothing, smiling at you as he notices your zones out face.

“you alright there?” he asked with a gentle tone, walking up to you in careful steps. He kneels down to your eye level where you're sitting, his necklace carelessly dangles down, swaying back and forth like a pendulum right in front of your face. God does he make you go insane without meaning to.

“yeah, I’m alright…"

Totally not thinking of riding you right here right now.

"Okay, I'll grab us some snacks while you go pick—" he stated as he got up from kneeling, only for you to jolt and gripped his arm. He turned around, head tilting in confusion as his trail of view went down from where your hand was placed up to your face that read multiple languages. You shocked yourself with this sudden move, but you had no room to speak as you wanted him even more.

You stood up from your seat, eyes maintaining contact with his lilac irises. He doesn't know what's going on with you, and frankly, you can't explain it verbally, instead, you pushed him down to your sofa before you got on top of his lap, making him gasp and groan at the sudden attack.

Once the shock subsided, he instantly began painting in his infamous cheeky smirk as his hands held your waist while your hands reached up to his face.

"So... that's what you're up to..." Caleb's voice rasped in intrigue as your hands began roaming from his face down to his neck. He shudders as your fingernails graze his neck, goosebumps pimpled up. Before you can reply back with your sly remarks, Caleb pulls you to crash your lips onto his, making you moan in contact.

The kiss was fervent and desperate from both ends like you were both holding back, and indeed you were. Long distance did more damage than good for both of your cravings yet right now it was worthwhile as your tongues danced around each other, finally reuniting for a blissful gathering. The sounds of smacks and moans escaped from both of your lips as it continues its rounds of passion.

You would pull away every now and then to grab a bit of air, but you were both addicted to each other. It was like your lips were magnets, hard to repel and let go of both polar ends. Both yours and Caleb have reign to move around and explore your aroused bodies, with him slipping past your shirt to strip it off leaving you exposed, much to his desire.

His thumb started playing with your bud, making you gasp and feel the heat emanating from your lower region. His lips migrated down to your neck as he continued to play with your clothed nipples, meanwhile, your hands did their fair share of traveling, aiming to get to their desired destination.

His attacks in your neck halted as he suddenly shudder and gasp out a moan as your hand traveled south and palmed through his sweatpants.

"Oh, ffuck...~" Caleb's curses came out with an erotic sigh as your hand began twisting and stroking through the fabric. You finally get to see his blissed-out state in the flesh and not through a screen, the beauty that is his fucked out face while his groans and whines began playing like they were music to your ears. Finally, some time you'd have to yourself—

bzzz bzzz

Caleb's phone vibrated, making you two halt your movements. He checked the phone, and he let out a whispered "shit."

"I'm sorry, doll, but I have to take this, I'll make it quick," Caleb profusely apologized, with his eyes pleading with guilt and his hand caressing your cheek reassuringly before he picked up the call. You couldn't be mad at him, of course, you couldn't, it wasn't his fault.

But the caller picked the worst time and you had no one to place your anger at except him, which he consistently encourages you to do. While he was talking to his subordinate, Caleb noticed you getting up from your lap, his eyes essentially telling you "What are you doing?"

You paid no mind as you got down on your knees in front of your boyfriend. The anticipation and lust were eating you alive and you were going to lose it. You pulled down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to free his hard cock out of its restraints. Despite Caleb's stoic demeanor, his cock spoke otherwise—angry, excited and ready to be inserted in a warm place.

Caleb muted the call as he looked down at you, "babe, I'm in a call, you can't—Ha!"

His words were cut off by a gasp as you began kissing the base of his length and your hand began to teasingly graze from his balls up to his tip. You smirked as you hooded your eyes at him, your lips ghosting at the sensitive skin, while his face flushed even redder.

"Go on... don't let me stop you," You teasingly spoke as you smirked before you began kitty licking the head while maintaining eye contact. Caleb looks down at you gob smacked, yet he took your teasing demeanor as a challenge, so he smirked back at you as he began stroking your head.

"Colonel... Colonel, are you there?" The caller can be heard calling out from Caleb's phone. Your boyfriend, while maintaining eye contact with you, unmuted the call as he leaned back into the base of the sofa while you began to fully place his cock inside your mouth.

"I'm with you..." Caleb spoke eloquently as if you weren't giving him the best sucking of his life. The call carried on as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, while Caleb tilted his head to the side with a menacing smirk plastered on his face, looking like he has a plan.

You tried to tease him by pulling out and simply licking him up, especially at the tip, almost taunting that he couldn't do anything to please you and instead he has to take this important call.

"Oh yeah?" Caleb mused, you weren't sure if it was directed towards the caller or you, but it was in sync with him shoving your head down, making you choke at the sudden action. He held a grip on your hair as he began to thrust up to your head, creating choked sounds from your end. He bit his lips to not let out any moans and showcase any signs of vulnerability in front of his coworker, but the sight of you struggling to fit him entirely while tears rolled down your face made him get closer to the edge.

"Give me one second," Caleb said sternly, as he muted the call once again, and placed the phone to the side. He pulled your head off of his cock, making you gasp for your air. He took his cock that was lubed up by your saliva and began stroking it in a vigorous pace.

"Open up, you better take it and swallow it," he growled out as he found himself having a hard time speaking as the speed of his hand caused him to feel an electric sensation coursing through his veins. You obliged as you stuck out your tongue to not miss any drop of his essence out of your pretty, stretched-out mouth.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours..." He muttered before he began whimpering out more strings of curse words. With a few more pumps, he imploded like a volcano, and his sweet, white lava splatted all across your mouth and face, making him moan at the sight. He pants as he throws his head back while you swallow whatever load that landed on your mouth.

He rolled his head back down at you, still trying to catch his breath, seeing you clean up whatever remained of his pearly juice that you missed. He chuckles as he pats your head and whispers, "such a good girl... c'mere."

Despite a command, he pulled you in to kiss him, his cum still staining your mouth, his tongue tasting himself making him moan at the flavor combined with your lip balm. He pulled away, still craving more out of you, he pushed you down to the mattress and began pulling down your skirt and panties in a quick motion, making you giggle at his excitement. The cool air making contact with your bare pussy caused you to clench in sensitivity and excitement. Your eyes began to sparkle as he began to strip off his remaining clothing.

However, instead of proceeding, he turns to his phone and got back to the caller, making you scrunch your brow in confusion.

"Sorry about that, my... cat started to rummage around and make a mess," Caleb paused as he looked down at you. His voice was serious and cold when talking yet his eyes were blown with lust, they were ready to eat you up. You were, however, unsure what's happening, he wasn't doing anything and just talking to his colleague while maintaining an intense eye contact with you.

You realized, however, that he was doing mental calculations to pounce, as you were suddenly surpassed by his other hand being placed between your thighs and began playing with your slit. You let out a surprised moan, making you cover your mouth as to not let the caller hear you in this state.

Caleb chuckled darkly as the caller began asking if it was his cat acting up. Little does he know, the cat in question was writhing and whimpering in pleasure as he inserted both his middle and ring finger and stretched her out for him to fit inside her.

"oh, you have no idea..."

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Lean On Me

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: minor emergency room situation, injury, fluffy x100, allusions to smut, a lil more coach!steve harrington

author's note: definitely did not write this one clocked in at my desk…i just can’t stay away from these guys.  this is not proofread so please be gentle if there are any mistakes :) also, i’m no medical professional so i’m not exactly sure if this is how one would treat a bruised foot…just go with it. ALSO!!! I had to give our art teacher a last name, and the polls chose 'Ms. Heart.' cute right?

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 3.9k

Ms. Heart🎨: The kids are saying they saw Coach Harrington carrying you out to the parking lot…tell me they’re kidding

Mr. Munson🎸: “Carrying” is an exaggeration…

You see the “Incoming FaceTime Call” notification pop up on the screen of your phone and hurry to shut your classroom door.  Even though it’s nearing the end of the day, and this is technically your planning period, sometimes kids still like to come in and hang out in your classroom.  You had a feeling that Eddie wouldn’t want any students around to hear this call though.

Your anxiety is momentarily forgotten when you see his handsome face on your screen after answering the FaceTime call.  Even after almost three weeks of knowing him, it still surprises you how gorgeous the man is.  You’re focused on the curve of his sexy grin, but you can't help but notice the subtle winces peaking through it.   You can tell he’s in the passenger seat of a truck, Steve’s truck you’re guessing, and your theory is confirmed when the man in question grabs the phone from Eddie’s hands and puts it up to his face.

“Well hello there Ms. Art Teacher!  You’ll never guess what your guy got himself into now–wait a second,” he turns to look at Eddie with an appalled expression ,”Why is your lady’s name in your phone ‘Ms. Heart’?” 

Eddie snatches his phone back from Steve’s hands and can barely hear the sound of you laughing from the other end.  You and him both know that you put your names in each other's phones as your ‘teacher names,’ just in case someone were to see a notification and get suspicious.  You still have yet to go public with your new relationship, and Eddie is counting down the days until he can let everyone know you’re his girl.

“Will you stop calling her ‘my lady’? You sound like a douche.”

Steve lets out a triumphant laugh. “Yeah, right.  This douche is getting laid on the regular pal.  I’ll hear your opinions on my vocabulary when you can say the same.”

Eddie looks back at your face on his screen, noticing how you’re blushing at Steve’s words.  He throws you a wink, just to see your reaction, and he isn’t disappointed.  You turn even redder and throw your free hand over your face to cover your smile.  

Steve’s words don’t bother you exactly, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been devoting a lot of time to thinking about whether or not Eddie cares that the two of you haven’t slept together yet.  It’s not that you don’t want to, of course you want to.  You’ve been wanting to climb that man like a tree since the moment he first spoke to you at orientation.  There just hasn’t been time to even approach that topic with the school year starting and the craziness of it all.  

You and Eddie are smiling bashfully at each other through the screen when he grunts in pain.  The phone shakes at the same time, and you remember that Steve is driving Eddie somewhere.

“Fuck, man.  Can you try not to drive into every pothole you see?”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah sure.  Lemme just swerve around them and into all the other cars on the road.  Then we’d both be injured.”

Both? Both? Meaning one of them already is?

“Eddie?” you ask.  He can tell by the sound of the question that you're on the verge of panic, so he smiles at you through the screen.

“Yes, sweet girl?”  You can hear Steve’s fake gag in the background at Eddie’s use of the pet name for you, but it doesn’t stop the lovesick smile from trying to make its way onto your lips.

Eddie finds it particularly entertaining to try out all the different pet names on you to see which ones will make you blush the hardest.  He says he keeps an Excel spreadsheet so he can track the data…but you’re pretty sure he’s lying.  Okay, maybe 75% sure.

You point a finger at him sternly. “Quit trying to distract me.  Tell me what’s going on please.”  Eddie would have to be a fool to resist your sweet request, so he gives in. 

“There may have been a little incident while I was putting away equipment after 6th period…”

Steve guffaws, “Yeah, I’ll say.  Your man dropped a 40 pound speaker on his foot!”  Eddie’s hand slaps to his forehead with a groan, he had planned on breaking the news a little gentler to you, and perhaps in a way that didn’t make him look like a total idiot.

Your mouth drops in horror, “What?”

Eddie instantly jumps into trying to calm you down, “Honey, it’s really not that bad–”

“–I heard a crunch!”

“Steve!  Please.”

You take a deep, grounding breath.  “Eddie, just talk please.”

Eddie reaches over to smack Steve before speaking.  “Steve was in my classroom because we were planning on moving a couple speakers out to the fields for the game tonight.  The one I was carrying slipped and landed a little bit on my foot, that’s all.”  He tries his best to speak calmly to keep you from panicking, but it’s hard to ignore the throbbing pain in his right foot.  

“Eddie!  Are you okay?  How bad does it hurt?”  You wish you were with him instead of pacing around in your empty classroom. 

“I can barely feel it sweetheart, I’d rate it a three out of ten.”

Steve scoffs loudly, “Okay buddy, that’s not what it sounded like when I was carrying your ass out of school.��

Eddie turns to fix Steve with a glare, “I still had one foot on the ground, dude.  You were not carrying me.”  He turns back to look at your face through the screen, “He wasn’t carrying me.”  

You hear Steve laughing off screen and Eddie rolls his eyes.  You can’t help but to laugh a little too at the absurdity of it all.  “Where are you heading to?”

“We’re going to the ER.  Personally, I think that’s a little dramatic, but mama bear over here…”

Steve passionately chimes in, “It’s important to treat every injury with the same level of seriousness, even the minor ones!” 

“I actually agree with him on this one, Ed.” you say with a soft smile.  Eddie swoons internally.

He’s able to overlook your choice of Steve’s side due to your use of the nickname.  You’ve been a bit hesitant about using pet names with him the way he does with you, but you’ve assured him time and time again that it’s only because you’ve never dated a guy who actually liked any of that stuff before.  You’re working your way up to Eddie’s level of nicknames, and ‘Ed’ has been a recent development in that process.  Eddie loves it.  

“Gimme the phone man,” Steve’s hand juts into the screen expectantly, swiping the phone from Eddie’s grasp.  “Hey Ms. Artsy, do you think you’ll be able to give this guy a ride back home? Our first home game is in a couple hours, and the boys can’t play without their coach.”

You had almost forgotten about the football game tonight.  Your students had been amped up all day long about it, convincing you to help them paint signs to hold up at the game during class time.  You were planning on asking Eddie if he wanted to go, but you weren’t sure how he felt about attending a school event together.  The status of your relationship wasn’t necessarily a secret, but still not very many people knew.  

“Of course I can!  I just have to clean up a bit and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, teach.” Steve hands the phone back to Eddie, who’s been sulking in the passenger seat because he missed your face. 

You smile at him, “Hang tight, I’ll see you soon okay?”

Eddie smiles, “Okaayyy–!” His voice cuts off in a pained grunt before the call ends, leading you to assume that Steve had once again hit a pothole.  

-

You’re a ball of nerves as you pull in to park outside of the emergency room.  Thankfully, you’re the type of person who keeps their car relatively clean, but that didn’t stop you from doing a once over just to make extra sure there wasn’t any mess.  Why were you so anxious to drive with Eddie?  Maybe the stress from the past hour just has you wound extra tight.

Nervous as you may be, you can’t help but to walk with a bounce in your step as you approach the entrance.  Seeing Eddie is always the highlight of your day, and you couldn’t wipe the growing grin off your face if you tried.  You just hope he isn’t in too much pain, your heart lurches at the thought of him being hurt in any way.

Thanks to impeccable timing, you spot Eddie and Steve walking down the hallway you’ve just entered into.  You notice the papers in Steve’s hands, and the crutches that Eddie is already seemingly irritated by.  Your eyes meet as he looks up, and the crease between his furrowed eyebrows is gone in an instant as a smile lights up his face.  Steve can’t help but smile along as he watches Eddie hobble a little faster on his crutches towards you. 

God, he missed you today.  He loves the color of the top you’re wearing, the way your jeans hug your thighs, the curve of your smile, and he might just love you too, although he probably shouldn’t tell you that part just yet.  

Steve checks his watch for the hundredth time since he and Eddie had arrived at the ER, running a hand through his hair anxiously.  He hands you the papers the doctor gave them with care instructions and pain medication prescriptions before you can even say hello.

“Okay, team.  Kick-off is in thirty minutes, and I gotta jet.”  He looks to you, already in ‘coach’ mode.  “Here are the papers from the doctor, the do’s and don'ts for a bruised foot bone, care instructions, ya-da ya-da.  His prescription can be picked up after 6, there’s a pharmacy around the corner that’s open til 10.”  

You take the papers from him and nod your head, trying to commit all the information to memory.

“Wish me luck guys!”  Steve jogs away, fist pumping the air. “Go Tigers!”

You turn to face Eddie, the both of you wearing matching smiles and shaking your heads at Steve’s theatrics.  You move a bit closer to Eddie, yearning for a hug but not sure if it’s a good idea.

As if he can read your mind, Eddie grins, “Can a hurt guy get a hug? I’m not able to hug you back at this moment but I’ll make it up to you later.”

You step into his space and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest and breathing him in.  How does he still smell so good after teaching all day long?  

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, wondering the same thing about you.  How could someone’s hair possibly be this soft and smell this amazing?  This.  This is what he’s been waiting for all day long.  God, you feel so good pressed against him like this.  If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d let the stirring of his cock in his jeans distract him from the pain in his foot, but unfortunately the two of you are still standing in the middle of the ER.  

“Shall we?” 

“Yup!” You reluctantly pull away from his warmth and move to his side to walk with him. You notice him holding his black Dr. Marten’s boot by its laces in one of his hands, then you look down to see his right foot, heavily wrapped in tan bandages.  

“Be honest, does it hurt?” you ask as you take his boot from him so that he can have a better grasp on his crutch.

Eddie sighs, hanging his head.  “I mean, it’s definitely throbbing still.”

“Aw, you poor thing.” You reach up to brush a stray curl out of Eddie’s face, and he can’t help but to lean into your touch like a dog when you use that tone of voice.

You hope he’ll let you take him back to your house instead of his own.  The idea of taking care of him and doting on him has you smiling already.  

“Wanna go back to my house?” Eddie feels his ears perk up at the thought of getting to go to your house again. “I can take you back to yours to get some clothes and stuff, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you there alone when you can’t drive yourself.”

Eddie knows he wouldn’t necessarily be alone, but having Steve Harrington as a roommate often feels like living alone.  Not in a bad way of course, it’s just that Steve is rarely ever at home unless he’s with a woman for the night or hungover in the morning.  

“You sure you want me at your place all weekend long?” Eddie’s giving you an out.  He’s fully aware that the two of you haven’t spent the night together before, and the last thing he wants you to think is that he expects anything from you. 

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ll be super lazy together.  We can watch movies, eat junk food, take naps…it’ll be awesome.”  You look up at him with a giddy smile and Eddie knows he would agree to anything you said. 

“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs against your forehead before pressing two kisses there.

“I parked just ahead in the front row, I didn’t want you to have to go very far but I can still pull the car up here if you feel like you don’t want to go that far.  You must be exhausted.”

He feels his chest warm, you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.  “I’ll be fine, baby.  I can make it.”  He has to work hard to focus on operating his crutches and not your sweet smile, it would be very un-cool of him to fall flat on his face in this parking lot right now.

He manages to make it all the way to your car, putting his crutches in your backseat and hopping over to the passenger side.  You make sure to open the door for him, not moving until you’re sure he’s safe in the seat and buckled up.  You hope he doesn’t think your hovering is annoying.

Eddie thinks your hovering is adorably sweet.  

As soon as you get in and start the car, Eddie asks to see your phone.

“Sure,” you fish it from your purse and hand it to him, “Passcode is 0102.  You gonna DJ?”

“Nope, your car, your tunes honey.  I’m just putting in my address so you know where you’re going.”

“I remember where you live, Ed,” you giggle.  “I’ve been to your place before, remember?”

Of course he remembers, you let him cook you dinner twice and both times you fell asleep in each other’s arms halfway through ‘Back To The Future.’  Maybe this weekend you’ll finally be able to finish it.

“Well, alrighty then.  I’m sorry I ever doubted you, my lady.” You laugh at his dramatics and reverse out of the parking space.

“You’d be wise to never do it again, good sir,” you reply in a medieval accent similar to the one Eddie spoke in.  He’s thankful that you’re distracted by navigating yourself out of the parking lot and not able to see the way his face flushes and his jeans tighten around his groin at your reciprocated dramatics.  You’re so hot when you talk nerdy to him.  You’re so hot all the time.

Eddie sits back and takes in the image of you driving, one he’s never seen before.  He chuckles a bit at how proper you’re sitting, back straight and hands at ten and two on the wheel.  

“Ease up, baby.  You’re not being graded right now,” he laughs.

You laugh along, a little embarrassed. “I know, I drive like a dork.”  You look over at him, exasperated.  “I just don’t feel prepared if I’m slouching or driving one handed!  You never know what could happen.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Steve “Mama Bear” Harrington,” he teases.

You scoff and roll your eyes, still smiling.

“Can you put on some music please?  Driving without it weirds me out.”

“Sure,” Eddie chuckles, opening up the ‘Spotify’ app on your phone. “Uh-oh, look who’s in the hot seat now.  Time to take a peek at your ‘On Repeat.’”

You laugh but hold your head up proudly.  “Peek away Mr. Munson.  I’ve got nothing to hide, I am who I am.”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” Eddie mumbles as he locates the playlist and hits shuffle.  He can’t believe his ears when the opening chords to ‘One Of These Nights” by Eagles play from your speakers.  His head snaps up towards you, and you can’t help but to burst out laughing at the bewildered look on his face.

“You know, I actually feel like a total asshole right now.  This is an amazing song.” He looks at you like he’s proud of you, and your chest feels warmer.

By the time the song is nearing its end, Eddie’s trying to catch his breath from attempting to hit the highest notes and you’re breaking your “ten and two” rule by clutching your stomach because you’ve been laughing so hard that it hurts. 

Eddie vaguely recognizes the next song as a showtune, but doesn’t comment on it because he’s too caught up in you.  

You, still laughing out loud with your widest smile and the setting sun outlining your silhouette in a golden-orange glow.  He can’t believe he’s in your car, that you’re driving him around, the goddess that you are.  You’re ethereal.  Other-worldly.  

You’re starting to look concerned.  

After coming down from your laughing fit, you turn to find Eddie staring at you with a dazed and confused look in his eye.  Being that he’s fresh out of the Emergency Room, you’re instantly a bit concerned for his well being.  

“Eddie?  Are you feeling okay?”

He blinks a few times before responding, “S-sorry, it’s just…you are so goddamn beautiful.”

Will you ever get used to this floaty warm feeling in your chest?  Luckily for you, he says this while you pull your car into his driveway.  You put the car into park, and lean your head back onto the headrest, no doubt sporting a smile that’s as lovesick as you feel.  

You look at him and whisper, “Thank you.”  Shy fingers reach out to take his hand that rests on your center console, and he’s quick to hold on tight.  Without breaking eye contact with you, Eddie brings your hand up to his mouth and presses two warm kisses to your knuckles.  He then uses that hand to pull you towards him, stopping when your faces are only inches apart.  

“Thank you for driving me,” he whispers, unable to look away from your soft lips.  

“You’re welcome,” you sigh, wishing he would just kiss you already. 

Eddie’s loving the effect he has on you.  He notices your chest rising and falling faster, the breathy tone of your voice, the darkness taking over your eyes.  

He finally leans in and presses his lips to yours gently.  This kiss is much softer than your first one, there’s no urgency or tenacity.  This kiss lets you know that there will be many more to come.  You can’t remember a time where you’d been handled any gentler than this.  Eddie’s holding your face like you’re a rare jewel, like you’re priceless and valuable, and he kisses you like he’s trying to worship you.  

It feels like your lips are dancing together, this feels practiced and choreographed and natural.  

You’re so going to fall in love with this man. 

He pulls away after what could’ve been five hours or five seconds, either way it’s far too soon.  Your mouth chases his lips, making him chuckle softly as he drops kisses onto your nose, cheeks, forehead and chin.

You smile, thoroughly enjoying being doted on like this.  

Eddie backs away once and for all, smoothing your hair out of your face with both hands, his smile matching yours.  

“So pretty.”

You blush harder, if it’s even possible, and let out a happy sigh.  

And with both hands on either side of your face, Eddie obviously uses this opportunity to smush your cheeks together so that your lips pucker. 

“Even prettier,” He leans forward and plants one on you, “Let’s get inside, I can hear my bed calling our names.”

He quickly corrects himself when he sees your eyes widen, “F-for a nap!  I’m tired, you’re probably tired.  Nap time.”

Eddie is sure he’s totally mortified you until he spots you trying to hide your bashful smile and pink cheeks as you undo your seatbelt and get out of the car.  Maybe you’d be into more than nap time?  Why the fuck did he call it ‘nap time’?  

You’re an idiot, Eddie.  That’s why.  She’s not going to fuck you while you have a stupid bruised and use words like ‘nap time.’

He’s still shaking his head at himself when you open the passenger door, looking at him expectantly.  Oh that’s right, you’re going to help him hobble to his own front door, because he’s an idiot who dropped a goddamn amp on his fucking foot.

Eddie hits his head backwards on the headrest with a sigh, “I feel so un-cool right now.”

The sound of your laugh eases his pain a little.

“You’ll live.  C’mon, big boy,”  You chuckle, smirking and looking down on him from where you stand outside your car.  

You open the door to the backseat to grab his crutches and your purse, and Eddie starts to question himself as he feels his dick twitch at your use of the new nickname.  Perhaps it’s something the two of you can explore down the line…he needs to stop thinking about sex with you or else he’ll pop a very obvious boner and scare you off.  

A quick recalling of the mental image that’s seared into his mind of Mrs. Bedson, the 57 year old choir teacher, bumping and grinding with the tennis coach at last year’s prom does the trick.  Eugh.  Eddie shivers at the memory.  

You pop back up with his crutches under your arm, reaching your other one down to help him up.  He doesn’t need the help, but he takes your hand anyway because it feels so right to hold it. 

You unlock his front door with his keys, and then the two of you head inside.  After placing your purse on one of the hooks in the entryway while simultaneously toeing your shoes off, you turn to him with a teasing smile.

“Nap time?”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah.  Nap time.”

TAGLIST:

@twihard28 @daveythorntonslocker @yujyujj @perfunctory-username69 @the-fairy-anon @micheledawn1975 @ches-86 @newsiesjathrine @josephquinnsfreckles @anukulee @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics @lokis-army-77 @loserboysandlithium @strangerstilinski @mystra-midnight @lesservillain @queenimmadolla @luveline @munson-blurbs @fairyysoup @urhoneycombwitch @oneforthemunny @rebelfell @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @eiightysixbaby @bettyfrommars @loveshotzz @lovebugism @carolmunson @rustedhearts @lonelysatellites

[obvithe-bestsoph]

No. 49 | "God, you're so fucking hot sometimes." PC2

masterlist requests

prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: suggestive, slight swearing

Why did you first fall for Pau? Because he’s cute, sweet, funny, and generally everything you want in a guy. But in times like this, you question that. There he is, just sitting on a lounger near the pool, looking hotter than ever. Sunglasses on, shirt off, hat backwards, tanned, biceps and abs on display. (picturing this:)

God, here you are, sitting next to his older sister and parents, just about melting into the ground over your boyfriend. When you had zoned out on his arms for just a few minutes too long, Irene nudged you, sniggering, but not in a mean way, more in a ‘you’re being so obviously whipped and not at all subtle’ way. 

You blink out of your rather lust-filled haze and look up at Pau’s face again, only to find him looking at you with that amused little smile of his. Usually quite shy, you blush and look away once more, only for him to pull you in by the neck for a second, to kiss the top of your head he then lets you curl up on your lounger and keep reading your book like you had been doing before.

You and Pau have always worked well together. You can both be shy and quiet, but also louder and more social, “ambiverts” as it gets called, a mix of introverted and extroverted. So some of you guys’ favourite dates you’ve had have been the quiet times cuddled up on his bed watching a movie, but you also both love going out for dinner and then a walk along the beach afterwards. 

Anyway, back to the present, the whole reason you guys are here on holiday in the first place, is in celebration of two gold medals in the most recent Paris Olympics, Pau winning for men’s football, and you for the Women’s Cycling BMX, hence the reward of a week in Ibiza. 

You glance up as Irene asks if you want a drink, you pass, but both of their parents agree and tell her they’ll go with her, meaning that you and Pau are alone for a while, so you go back to ogling your boyfriend. However, considering he’s no longer in a conversation with his father, he notices your staring almost immediately. “You’re really having trouble keeping your eyes to yourself today, hm?” he laughs. You blush and roll your eyes, “Shush. You just look nice today, is all.”

Teasingly, he starts to flex his bicep, but you are quick to push his arm down, until it’s back in his lap, “Put that down. No one else needs to see that.” now you’re laughing too. “Really? Because I think one person in particular does need to see that…” he teases once more, grinning. “Wait until we’re alone in the hotel room later, and then you can show me all the muscles you want, but right now, we’re in public, so calm down because I do not need to be thirsting over you when your papa is sitting right next to me. Sound good?” “Mmmmm, I think I’d rather just tease you all afternoon, actually.” “You wouldn’t.” “You know very well I would.” You glare at him slightly, fully aware that he would happily put you on edge for hours in the most innocent way possible. 

And so he did. Whether it was moving slightly so his abs looked better for you, flexing his bicep when his arm was around you so you could actually feel the muscle against your waist, smiling just the way he knows you like, putting his hand a little higher on your thigh than normal, occasionally brushing a single finger against where you want him, just in passing though, nothing that would really let you feel anything worthwhile. You were internally dying, arousal, in love, and screaming, you know, the usual mix for an 18-year-old girl.

It’s safe to say that the second the hotel room door was closed and locked, poor Pau didn’t have a second to breathe before you were on him, practically eating his face off while simultaneously ripping off his clothes. He realised then that his teasing throughout the day was now coming back to bite him in the ass, as he was going to need thoughts and prayers if he wanted to be able to walk properly tomorrow. 

He gets his second to breathe when you pull away as you do also need oxygen, panting and staring into those beautiful eyes of his. “God, you’re so fucking hot sometimes,” you murmur breathily, before pressing your lips against his again briefly, finally pulling away completely and walking towards the bed, without looking back, you call; “You better be following me right now, Cubarsí!” Pau quickly snaps out of his little daze, and follows after you, fully aware of what was being asked of him.

The next morning you woke up, naked, tangled in the white hotel sheets, the warmth of your boyfriend surrounding you, a heavy arm draped over your waist, it wouldn’t be incorrect to say you were very content and completely at peace.

[justbelievinginmagic]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BUT CLAIMING THINGS FROM SEONGHWA IS A BIG EYES IDEA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YN just wants to be star

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

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

yeahhhhhhh san wishes it was an easier answer than prima.

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

lolol about the newspaper guy!

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

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

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

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

everything reminds me of him. i love mv san.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

like a waltz⎯ part 4: piqué.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click. Clack.

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

Click, clank.

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

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

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

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

“B-B-Boss.”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, about that –“ the other chuckled. 

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

Her heart rate jumped.

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

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

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

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

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

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.”

[juullllssss]

Knightorder 141 x f!reader Part 4

In Health and Sickness

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

When your sister got the news of your new bodyguards she couldn't stop swooning over her new found luck. You had to remind her that she is already spoken for, her fiancé would not appreciate how she is talking about these men. But you had to admit that you could not stop the happiness coiling in your stomach. Now you would be able to see them more often, maybe even getting to know Simon and Price better.

The weather was getting colder during this time of the year, but you didn't stop your walks in the garden like before. With the company of one of the men at all time you were always in good spirits. With time you started to open up more, being braver to show your character in front of them. At one of these walks you mentioned how it was getting colder by the day, wrapping your jacket closer around yourself.

"Ya ken i cuid jus' make ya a scarf if you would lek? Am not that good yet but cuid try?" taken of guard you looked back up at Johnny, learning something new about him. Besides you were still getting used to his accent, even if he was trying to speak very clearly.

"You knit? I would not take you for the type." you wonder how he even started, it was not something men did typically.

Something in your gaze must have shown your wonder, Johnnys ears getting a pinch red, "Aye, if ya live with a bunch of Chaps ya hev to get creative summtimes, ti's good for keeping myself busy n'all."

You take pity on the men who seems a little bashful about his hobby being discovered, giggling a little about the shy look he is giving you. It is adorable how happy he gets when you agree to his offer. Naturally slinging a arm around your shoulder, happily walking along side you. You tense but relax after a second, noticing how he seems to smirk when he realizes. Even thru his vest you can fell the bulking muscles around your shoulder. You never were so close to a man, and Johnny was touching you a lot more often since becoming your bodyguard. You tried not to think to deeply about it, having seen him acting that way towards the other men of his order, as well.

When you both get back to your room Simon is already there. Ready to take over guard for the evening and night. He greets you again with a nod, like always. Johnny excuses himself, not without sharing a emotional gaze with Simon. You couldn't fully decipher the tension between them. When turning to go into your room is when you have an idea. Since some time now you wanted to get the change to talk to Simon. To hear that gravely, deep voice addressed towards yourself. This could be your chance. "Sir Simon, why don't we share a cup of tea?" You notice him tensing, his gaze towards the ground. "That would not be appropriate for someone like me, my lady." For a moment you freeze, seeing how offering something like that might be taken as an offence. "I didn't mean it in ill will, i just wanted a moment in company." for a moment you are afraid he might still take offence. For a moment he is silent, then you can see his mask shifting...a smile? "I didn't take offence my lady, but i am not of noble birth, just like my brothers in arm." For a moment you had to let the information sink in. His brown eyes seeming to see right trough you. Giving you a moment to understand. "Even more impressive seem your Achievements." This in turn takes im aback, to often where the Imitate reactions of pity or embarrassment. With this it seems like Simon is taking something into consideration, slightly tilting his head while studying your form. It got you shifting slightly from on foot to the other. "Then how about this, i sit while you enjoy a cuppa, may lady?" The unfamiliar word takes you by surprise, but you still get the message. He really agreed. You have to hold yourself back to just clap your hands happily. Not wanting to spook him away again.

One of the Maids brings you a cup of tea. You enjoy the floral aroma and the relaxing warm of the cup on your hands. You had offered Simon a seat but he refused, saying he was comfortable standing. You let him be, slowly understanding how some of his actions, kind of rude on first glance, where really just showing what an upright and honorable men he was. You fully enjoy the conversation you are having. At some point you realize that Simon is quit a Fan of the darkest and driest Humor you have ever heard. In the flow of your exchange of pointless jokes about the latest drama and gossip in the royal court, is when he surprises you with a unexpected question. "What animal would you never trust in your life?" For the first moment you laugh, not sure what to make of the question but Simon doesn't elaborates further. So you think for a little moment. "Mhm, i think possibly a wolf." His gaze stays on you. "Why is that?" You look back at him, it seems as if he is really interested in your answer. "When i grew up our nanny told us a lot of fairy tales, i was always scared of the big, bad wolf." You trail and after a moment of silence Simon talks again. "Yes i can see that, my nanna told me a lot of story's, too. But I liked the ones with the little fairy's the most..." And just like that the flow of the conservation picks up again. With Simon's position and his ability to blend into his surrounding you are not surprised how much information and gossip he has heard from the nobles. What does surprise you is how much he likes to gossip about it as well. At the End of your talk you know exactly who is having an affair, who is an alcoholic, in debt and many other things. You already dread the day you have to meet these nobles again, hopefully you are able to keep a straight face...

The next morning you wake up with your whole body feeling heavy, your head is pounding and you can feel how dry and painful your throat is. You wish now you had worn warmer clothes over the last few days. The scarf from Johnny would have helped, too. Over the next few days it doesn't get better. According to the doctor you developed a fever, slipping out and in into a half Waking state. You barely register how your bodyguards slip in and out of the room. At some point you could swear you felt Price's hand on your cheek. At some other point there were Kyle and Johnny standing next to you watching your form, talking to themselves in small voices. Maybe the fever makes you see things because why would your bodyguards be with you in the night? They are lingering at the edges of your vision, sometimes you think you are feeling their hands on you, on your face, your hands, your neck.

When you wake up days later, the sun is already high in the sky. Nobody is in your room. You look towards your nightstand, a glass of water together with a empty bowl sitting there. And next to it is something unexpected. You pick the little wooden figure up from the nightstand. It is smooth to the touch, showing the time spend on carving it. Finely made, a little wooden wolf is laying in your hand.

[cryingpariah]

I know that we (Usopp Nation) love to discuss the multiple different ways the eventual meeting between Usopp and Yassop could go but today I wanted to discuss how I think the Strawhats would react to Usopp having/wanting/feeling like he needs to meet his father but hesitating for [Insert reason here].

Luffy: Likes Yassop obviously and would be excited to see him again! But our emotionally intelligent king would pick up on Usopp's vibes and just outright ask him what’s wrong. Would respect his decision to go or not go. If it’s a no though, he'd go and break the news but do it much too bluntly (“Yeah, Usopp didn’t want to come!”). Honestly the whole time there he’s unintentionally making Yassop feel like the biggest piece of shit.

Zoro: Pretends to not care/not have an opinion when he in fact has plenty of both. Zoro's just not the kind of person to care about blood connections, not his own anyway, so he'd probably veer on the side of not going but acts neutral. Regardless of Usopp's decision though Zoro is there to make sure he sticks to it, no wussing out! If he says he’s going he’s going, even if he’s got to hide behind Zoro the whole walk there.

Nami: Usopp's BFFL. She’s there to hype him up! No shitty absent father is allowed to make him feel like shit! She’s helping him get ready, picking a killer outfit and hairstyle for him, everyone knows looking good is the best social armour! If he decides not to go she’s still dressing up him but this time to go and paint the town red! If he does want to go she’s heading there right alongside him! Even if it looks like she’s engaged with something else best believe she’s keeping a hawk eye on Usopp.

Sanji: Guy who is so anti biological father. Is staunchly against Usopp going but tries to hide it behind neutrality and fails miserably. Ultimately though having had some emotional catharsis with facing his own father he’ll accept Usopp's decision no matter what. Absolutely tags along and brings a dish because he was raised a proper chef. (“Oh this? It’s Usopp’s favourite. Not that you had any way of knowing.” *faux polite customer service smile*)

Chopper: Little fella is CONFLICTED. On one hand he’s literally only heard good things about Yassop from both Usopp and Luffy so obviously this guy must be great! But if that was true why did Ussop look so..scared? He decides to approach this from a doctor perspective first by sitting Ussop for a checkup and letting him ramble all his thoughts out. If Usopp decides not to go Chopper's making an official announcement that Usopp's got ‘can’t-leave-the-boat-disease and has to stay for his own good.

Robin: Notices Usopp's discomfort immediately and whisks him away. Sits him down with a cup of her secret stash of soothing tea and lays down all the facts for him. Yes, he has no obligation to go see his father just cause he’s here. No it doesn’t make him a bad person if he doesn’t want to. Despite how wildly different they are, she’s the best at understanding his feelings right now and all that come with it. If he decides to not go, she’ll go in his stead to explain (and also to make sure Yassop doesn’t try to go himself).

Franky: He’s about as emotional as you’d expect. He’d probably be encouraging Usopp to go, not for his dad but for himself. His dreams of being a ‘proper man’ and ‘brave warrior of the sea’ means he shouldn’t live or die with regrets or what ifs. Regardless of Usopp's decision, Franky just wants to make he won’t regret for one reason or another. Will tag along and hype up Ussop to anyone and everyone.

Brook: Like Robin he’s taking Usopp somewhere else to calm down and think. He’s also playing him some soft violin to relax to. They don’t talk much, just let the music guide them for a bit. In a moment of violin driven vulnerability, Brook would tell Usopp that regardless of what does or does not happen, he has a place and a family right here, and that won’t ever change. Places neutral but would prefer if Usopp stayed and didn’t risk getting hurt.

Jinbei: Probably knows Yassop on a semi-causal level and therefore knew of Usopp long before FMI. Was really stunned upon hearing this would be Usopp's first proper meeting with his father. Jinbei's got plenty of sage of advice and can wash away Usopp's parental insecurities by reminding him of who he is and how any man worth a damn would be proud to call him his son. Stays behind if Usopp goes but only because he’s worried of overstepping if he does.

BONUS! (Argue with your mama, your daddy and your congressman Vivi will be the final Strawhat!!)

Vivi ft Karoo: They’re absolutely gobsmacked. Vivi's the one that brings out some latent anger Usopp doesn’t even realize he’s been holding in. I can definitely see Vivi wanting to go even if Usopp's not, she’s very confrontational after all but she defect to what Usopp wants ultimately. If he does want to go she’s right there with him and is totally throwing some shade Yassop's way. Karoo is there as a supportive friend and a quick exit strategy if Usopp needs it.

[goodlucktai]

could you please do prompt number one with the a team duo? (raph and leo!!!) i just think leo is in need of big brother love sometimes <3 prompt number one: "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, c'mere." (btw, ur writing is amazing im literally blown away every time!!! tysm for all the writing u do)

dialogue prompts

1. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.”

x

Something bad happened to Leo in the prison dimension. In the minutes—the minutes—between losing him and getting him back, something bad happened to him.

“This isn’t right,” Casey had said that first night in the medbay, staring at the X-rays on the illuminator as if he could change them by wanting it hard enough. “These breaks aren’t new. They can’t be.” 

“He wasn’t running around with a spiral fracture in his tibia before the alien invasion,” Donnie replied tersely, more high strung with every second his twin remained limp and unresponsive on the infirmary bed. 

Mikey was glued to Leo’s side like a miserable orange barnacle, Splinter rarely venturing more than two steps away at a time. April had been torn in two with worry for Leo and worry for her mom, and had only been convinced to leave when S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N pinkie-promised to feed live updates to her phone at the top of every minute. 

If Leo had woken up even for just a minute back on Staten Island, it would have been a reassurance his family could stack all their hopes on. Instead, the brother they dragged out of the void had about as much life to his limbs as a ragdoll. His head lolled in Donnie’s hands like something out of a horror movie—and Mikey’s breaths started to shudder, and Raph thought for a fleeting, hysterical second that the world had ended, after all—and then Donnie found a heartbeat. He showed a weeping Mikey where to find it, their fingers pressed in the soft hollow of Leo’s throat where the carotid artery pulsed loud and clear. Raph kept his own hand there for the entire trip home. If that stubborn heart stopped he didn’t know what he would do. He didn’t know what he would do. 

“But the bone has already formed a hard callus,” Casey said. “I know sensei and my uncles healed faster than mom and Aunt April did but still. Leo shouldn’t have reached this stage of healing for another week at least.” 

Donnie’s face, already stormy, reached a level of dark anger Raph had never seen before. He studied the charts on the wall without speaking, memorizing them. Ninpo sparked around his fingers like he was only barely resisting committing violence, and only because the desired target was well beyond his reach. 

“What does that mean?” Raph asked hoarsely. His hands were squeezed tight between his knees so no one would see if they started to shake. 

“It means that either Nardo broke his bones in about eight different places a week ago and no one noticed,” Donnie said in a brittle deadpan, “or that monster put its hands on him in the prison dimension and Leo healed from it somehow.” 

“But he was only in there for like, for like ten minutes,” Mikey warbled. He sounded heartsick and confused and too young to carry the weight of the world on his shell. “We got him right back out, we—we didn’t leave him in there long enough for all that.” 

“I have a theory,” Donnie said, and then didn’t say anything else. He dragged a chair over to Leo’s bed with an unholy screeching sound, tucked his head against his twin’s at what couldn’t have been a comfortable angle, and started to tap around on his phone. 

“Okay,” Casey said at length, recognizing an immovable object when he saw one. He turned to Raph instead, a child-sized soldier whose mission wasn’t quite finished yet. “Raphael, could I look at your eye?”

He had finished cleaning Raph’s eye and patching up his shoulder and moved onto wrapping Mikey’s hands when Donnie surged up from his chair so suddenly that everyone in the room jumped. His phone crunched into two distinct pieces in his hand, military-grade case and all, and he flung them away. 

“Woah, hey,” Raph said, “Dee, are you—” 

“I ran diagnostics on Leo’s gear,” Donnie said. It was his flat, toneless voice, the one that meant he was feeling so many things he had to shut something down to prevent a total systems failure. “The timestamps didn’t make any sense. So I ran them again. And again. And everything seems to be indicating that Leo was in the prison dimension for over three hundred hours.”

No, Raph thought. He stared at the shape of his little brother in that bed, at the vivid black and blue bruises on his face—noticing for the first time the faint yellows of much older ones around his neck. 

Horror crept up Raph’s throat. 

Please, no. 

“What?” Mikey blurted, sounding as hysterical as Raph felt. “What? No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t have. It was only—”

“For us, thirteen minutes,” Donnie said bleakly. “For Leo, thirteen days.”

Since then, Raph has learned a lot more about temporal differentials and post-captivity recovery than he ever wanted to know. Donnie made four different PowerPoint presentations that the entire family was forced to sit through. All of them are budding experts on several subjects that they might otherwise not have been, studying as feverishly as undergrad students cramming for a final, desperate to be helpful. 

So this is Raph’s fault. He knew better.

If he’d taken even a second to think before following the unmistakable sound of a turtle falling out of bed into Leo’s room, before lunging over to the crumpled-up form of his little brother on the floor, he would have recognized the blackout for what it was. He, of all people, should have seen it. 

The episodes are few and far between, but only because Leo is rarely left alone when he’s awake, and sleeps even less than he did before. It’s easier for him to keep his head straight when he’s ensconced in a turtle pile, or curled up in Splinter’s lap for reruns of really bad soap operas that he mumbles along to in Spanish, or keeping Mikey company in the kitchen, taste-testing everything that gets pushed his way (handily supplementing all the meals he only picks at, Michelangelo is a genius for discovering that work-around). 

It’s when he’s asleep and the nightmares come knocking that they have to worry. If Raph had known he was in here taking a nap, he would have made sure Leo had company. He probably would have curled up around the slider himself, giving Leo’s highly strung subconscious a hand,  soothing him back to sleep before the bad dream could dig its hooks into him and yank him awake. 

But the sleepiness probably hit him in a sudden burst, the messy pile of pillows and stolen purple blanket too tempting to resist. He must have curled up to rest his eyes and drifted off. 

And he woke up alone, in the dark. The shape of someone much bigger than him looming above everything else. Raph knew better. He did. Of course a cornered animal was going to bite. 

“Fuck,” he breaths out, white hot pain shooting up his arm from where Leo had buried his teeth a moment ago. It hurt, but it had nothing on the way his heart was breaking. 

He’d seen Donnie lash out like this a few times before, overstimulated and fully ready to bite whoever was stupid enough to put their hands on him, but not since they were kids. Mikey used to handle all fits of temper by hiding in his shell and closing the little hinge to keep everyone else firmly out, grumbling ticked-off turtle noises until he was left alone. 

When Leo was little, on the other hand, he wanted attention when he was feeling bad—he wanted to be picked up and held and would cry and pout until he got his way. Whether he was feeling upset or angry or scared, the solution was always more or less the same.

There’s no recognition in his eyes now. Leo has never looked at Raph this way before, even when Raph was the Krang’s puppet, even when Raph had him dangling by a strangling grip on his throat—even then, Leo didn’t look at him like he was a stranger. 

He had to fight like this in the prison dimension, didn’t he? He had to tear survival out of that place piece by bloody piece.

Raph hates that he had to do that and loves him for it in equal measure. 

“It’s okay, Leo,” Raph murmurs. “You did just right, okay? You stayed alive. However you have to do that is okay. You got mixed up just now, but it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have scared you. Raph’s so sorry.”

Leo is staring at him, eyes wide and glassy. All the gold in them is edged out to black, pupil swallowing iris whole. There’s blood on the corner of his mouth. He smacks his tongue, tasting it. Like the worst version of giving him ice cubes to hold or peppermint to smell, it grounds him, bringing him back to the present moment. 

Raph watches Leo realize where he is and what he’s doing, sitting on the floor in the corner of the room with blood in his mouth. 

“Raph?” he says, small and scared and sixteen years old. 

“It’s me, I’m here,” Raph says, too fast, “you’re safe, Leon.” 

Leo’s eyes drift lower. He clocks the teeth marks in Raph’s arm and starts to cry.

“Shit,” Raph says, scrambling forward frantically on hands and knees. “Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.” 

Leo spills willingly into his hug, like it’s ten years ago and he’s had his heart broken by an argument with his twin and nothing on earth could possibly console him but he was willing to let Raphie try. 

Except Raphie knew all the tricks. Raphie knew that tearful little turtles just needed to be squeezed tight and rumbled at and snuffled until they couldn’t help but giggle. 

It isn’t such an easy fix this time. Leo’s shoulders shake like he’ll never stop crying, his wet sticky face smearing salt and blood where he has it crammed in the crook of Raph’s neck. He clings as if he’s half-afraid something or someone is going to wrench him away. 

Not in this lifetime. Never again. 

“I’ve got you,” Raph tells him. Heart settling now that his little star is in his arms, safe and sound. They could come back from anything as long as they had this much. “Raph’s always got you. Don’t be scared. Don’t be sorry. We’re okay.” 

[slippinninque]

😏Spat😤

Jatemme Manning x blackfemreader

In which you look for a get-back.

warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+, cursing, soft!dark!Jatemme, chaotic!reader, jealousy, light mentions of violence

When the last man you laid your eyes on ran away, it was then you decided another drink was in order.

All night you’ve been avoided. Men who took the chance of coming up to you quickly excused themselves once they got a good look at you.

The ones you approached were weather at first until they inevitably became spooked before hightailing it to the men’s room. There was only so much you could take and your ego was beginning to bruise.

Like, you get it but damn. Did they have to run like that?

You slunk back to the bar and ordered the stiffest cocktail on the menu.

The mirror back-wall of the spirits showed your pouty expression. All around you were smiles, dancing, and a good time for all. You were done up perfectly for the night, ready to be shown off around the club your man owned. A silky, mid length maroon dress with heels matching with the black flowers in your hair. It was a hit if any of the yearning looks caught from the corner of your eye were to go by.

Just not enough then? Again. Damn.

You were too busy checking the time on your phone to notice someone slipping into the seat next to yours, but you glared into the mirror once you felt a playful elbow to your arm.

“How are you doin’, beautiful?”

You snorted, looking away from the man who smelled as good as sin and looked even better under the low lighting. You turned further away, annoyed, when he used his shoulder this time to bump-bump-bump you some more to get your attention again.

“C’mon, you still mad at me?”

“Is a frog’s ass water tight?”

You heard him laugh. When he laughed a little bit too long, you went to hop off the stool with the rooftop on your mind. A hand shot out, it’s held on your wrist firm enough to keep you in your seat. Your eyes narrowed as you were pulled closer by the stool-leg.

“Can I help you, Jatemme?”

“I said I was sorry, baby.”

“Not as sorry as I want you to be.”

“I am, listen, I should have thought about how it made you feel. If it’s not cool with you, it ain’t cool.”

Seriously? Just because he tucked all the condescending away doesn't mean you couldn't feel it in his tone. You raised your half-glass towards an eavesdropping bartender and gestured for another, “Oh no, it’s fine! You already told me, she’s so-and-so’s little sister, right? So no problem.”

Jatemme smacked his lips, looking over his shoulder when there was a rise in the normal ruckus of the lounge. You turned and scanned the crowd yourself, looking for a flash of a familiar blue jumpsuit. The same one you spotted lingering around Jatemme after your disagreement.

Henry was a connection Jatemme dealt with from time to time when he came into town from Philly. Apparently Henry’s little sister was the type to come up to men to talk about how big of a crush she has on them and ask to wear their chain for the night.

“It’ll be my birthday tomorrow–you can’t tell me no!”

So, you were the one to tell her grown ass ‘No’. Jatemme apparently thought the whole exchange was funny and even went as far as to pretend that he was lifting his chain over his head. That's when you turned around to look for a ‘tat’ to go with his ‘tit’.

Though, after that terrible hour of trying to attract anyone willing to take a wee little risk… it didn’t help your attitude.

Jatemme’s nose ran teasingly along your earlobe and you jerked away, narrowing your eyes at him. Jatemme signed and leaned back, utterly unfazed.

“So, when will this be over with, hm?”

“Once I get my lick back.”

Jatemme snorted and slapped the bartop. The eavesdropping bartender wandered a bit further down,“I thought you saw–ain’t no 'lick back'. Streets are too scared of you, baby.”

“You think Henry would be here since his sister is?”

Jatemme's smile was all teeth,“You know what, I hope he is…” Oop. Sorry to you, Henry.

The drink finally came but Jatemme claimed the first few sips first before pushing the glass over to you fully,

“Oh, so you're grown now? I thought you only drank brown at home?”

“Well, I am in a mood….”

You locked gazes with a nice looking, tall man further down the bar who gave you an appreciative nod. You smiled back and it nearly worked. Then, you watched this man nearly swallow his tongue as he doubled back away from whatever expression Jatemme was making over your shoulder.

A heavy hand spanned across your back, warm and possessive as he whispered into your ear.

“You really think any nigga in here is gonna risk his life for that pretty little smile?”

“Risker niggas–that’s what I need! You’re right, I’ll try leaving the city to see who’s feeling adventurous enough to try and get me to smile.”

“I wish you would–

You turned and met his eyes, your faces only inches apart. Jatemme’s jaw was tight and boo-hoo you didn’t care. The effects of your drink was making you bolder but your mind was set. You finished the drink in your hand and moved on to the next one. It was a bit warm, but it would do just fine.

Jatemme dropped a kiss onto your shoulder and pressed the tip of his nose behind your ear, “I let you have your fun, didn’t I?”

You shivered. One of his knuckles traced down your spine, lightly and you turned to face him finally, “You did,” you confirmed, “But are you as frustrated as I was, yet?”

Jatemme asked back, “You think I’m not going to bury every single last one of them niggas that you went up to tonight?”

“That’d be a waste. You know I barely got more than two words out of them.”

“Mmn. All the same, it’d make me feel better. You must have thought they were cute or some shit…”

Yes. While it was absolutely true that Jatemme loved you and would never hurt you, he still absolutely would threaten you with the wellbeing of others. A nasty form of play that you’ve gotten used to, that sort of doesn’t bother you as much anymore.

A chuckle slipped out but you fixed your face.

Since he found time to sound playful about it, Jatemme was only warning you. Maybe. You never doubted Jatemme’s ability to deliver, either, so you weren't too sure how the odds were evening in his head.

Still, you felt like you were owed justice from the situation with Lil’ Miss.Birthday Girl.

Were you really ready to carry on? Was it even worth it anymore with suddenly more than just your ass on the line? Sighing as you poked your lip out a bit, you looked into the vanishing ice of your drink.

“You hurt my feelings.” You told him. Jatemme said something you didn’t catch, but you did lean into him when he pressed a kiss to your cheek. A little.

“I see that now. I won’t play like that again,” he promised, “I forgot how much of a handful you can be when you get jealous.”

You scoffed and was ready to turn away again, only for Jatemme to be quicker. He pinched your cheeks together and kissed you. Heat flared across your body at the treatment, knowing that it was a display for those watching just as much as it was for you.

Your traitorous heart finally getting what it wanted, Jatemme’s attention, you felt your mood begin to settle.

Jatemme was right, afterall. Even if you were serious about finding someone dumb enough to take your hand, they wouldn’t have made it to the parking lot by the end of the night. Were you done?

While you were thinking, Jatemme helped himself with a hearty sip to your drink, “I especially had my eyes on the one that touched your shoulder, he thought he was slick.”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”

You knew exactly which man he was talking about. The man claimed that there was a fruit fly coming for you and he waved at your shoulder, if his fingertips brushed your skin–you wouldn’t tell Jatemme that.

He had a pretty smile and drugged his feet as his friends came to collect him from your web. That one lingered for a while, catching sight of at least one of your other targets fleeing from you. You wondered where he was now…

“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go back over to our booth, you’re going to finish your drink and get some food in you. I want to see you dance a little, show off that pretty dress for me. After that…we’re going to go back home and I’m going to fuck that little attitude into a bigger, better one. How’s that sound?”

It sounded like a great time, is what it sounded like. You asked yourself again, Were you done? Now that you’ve had him wrapped around you, bold women and skittish men were far from your mind.

“Sounds fine, I guess.” You made a show of sighing and getting onto your feet. Delightfully, you felt the room sway a bit. Jatemme was taking your hand and everything was so solid.

“Why do I put up with this, I wonder?” You bit your lip at the feel of Jatemme’s hand running along your behind, his tone fonder than the words it was used on.

“Hm, probably ‘cause you don’t want to wonder how someone else will put up with me.” You skipped ahead to get out of his reach and threw over your shoulder,

“You’re going to keep this up all night, aren’t you?”

You squeaked when a mean pinch came to your left cheek, you swatted at his hand behind you but it only went and gave your other cheek the same. The pinches kept coming and then your giggles began spilling over, Jatemme pulling you close with an arm around your shoulders to lead you back to where you belong.

--------

✨Ending notes✨: A little something for our Love 😘 I've been missing messing with Jatemme for a little bit lmao! Tell me what you think of this little spat, thank you so much for reading!!! 💕💖✨

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful

@miyuhpapayuh@mogul93 @kindofaintrovert @blowmymbackout @kindofanenigma

@8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile

@ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk @hunnishive

@notapradagurl7 @harmshake

[sinnabarmoth]

Mistakes Were Made

Prompt: You make the mistake of letting Xavier and Sylus meet and an intense instant rivalry between the two is born, now you're stuck between them.

Content warnings: Adult language.

Length: 2k

How did things turn out like this?

That’s all you could think as you sat in a cafe with your co-worker Xavier and the leader of Onychinus on either side of you.

~~~

It had started a couple days ago when you mentioned to Xavier that you were chasing down a lead regarding illegal protocore testing in the N109 zone. Xavier had insisted on going with you in case there was danger. It didn’t matter how much you assured him that you had everything in hand, that your inside informant was reliable, he wanted to come with to get it. So you had scheduled a time to meet with Sylus but had hoped Xavier would accidentally sleep through it since his sleep schedule was just as abysmal as Sylus’s.

It didn’t work. So you drove into the N109 zone with Xavier. You asked Sylus to just send one of the twins since you had a co-worker with you. He didn’t listen.

“Is that your informant?” Xavier asked, gesturing to the man leaning against a motorcycle.

You sighed, “Yes. That’s him. I can just talk to him myself.”

“No. It’s fine. We’ll talk to him together.”

“Great…” you walked over. Sylus looked up as you neared, the sly smile on his face dropping slightly when he saw Xavier.

“Hey, you said you had a lead?” you said, hoping to just get in and out.

“That I do, kitten. But first shouldn’t you introduce me to your friend?” Sylus said, gesturing to Xavier.

“Kitten?” you heard Xavier mutter.

“I told you I was bringing a co-worker.” you told Sylus through clenched teeth. “This shouldn’t be a surprise, especially not to you. Y’know, since you apparently know everything.”

“I didn’t know who your co-worker was.” Sylus continued to glare at Xavier. “Not that I would since you never mention him.”

“Funny. Until yesterday I didn’t know that she had an informant in the N109 zone.” Xavier said with similar barely concealed malice. “Not that I expected her to have anything nice to say about some back alley crook that operates out of this place.”

“Back alley crook?” you could see Sylus’s eyes flash with warning as his evol threatened to come out.

“Okay!” you clapped your hands together, stepping between the two of them. “The lead? Please.”

Sylus dropped his gaze from Xavier down to you. “Of course, sweetie. Right over here.” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and turned you toward the bike as he pulled up something on his phone. You watched the CCTV footage he had lined up, taking note of the street signs so you knew where to check out.

As you were watching the footage you hadn’t even noticed his arm sliding down from your shoulders to rest on your hip. He did stuff like that all the time so you never thought much of it until Xavier cleared his throat loudly. You turned to see what was wrong and saw he was glaring at the arm around you.

“Oh uh…” you shrugged Sylus’s arm off and went back to Xavier. “I know where we need to go now. Let’s head on over now while clues may still be fresh.”

“Right.” Xavier looped his arm through yours. “Well, thank you for the lead…I never actually got your name.”

“Skye,” Sylus lied with practiced ease. “And you are?”

“Xavier.”

“Xavier…sounds otherworldly. Almost alien. I mean, how many Xaviers does a person meet?”

“I think it’s a fairly common name. Nothing strange about it.” Xavier said.

“If you say so.” Sylus turned to you. “And are we still on for our outing to the arcade this weekend, kitten?”

You could feel Xavier’s gaze boring a hole through your head though you refused to turn and acknowledge it. “Uh, maybe. Depends on how fast we can wrap up this case. Bye and thanks again.” you tugged on Xavier’s arm and sped away.

Xavier had still been staring hard at you. “So, your informant is a rather strange man.”

“Yeah. He’s just like that but he’s harmless I swear.”

“And you make plans to hang out with him at the arcade?”

“How about that lead huh? Let’s get going and get this case wrapped up so we can go get hot pot!” you said loudly, ignoring his question in hopes of him dropping it.

~~~

Days passed since that meeting with Sylus and Xavier was not dropping it. He kept on asking how you had come to know “Skye” and why exactly you were close enough to be hanging out as friends. You kept answers short and vague so he didn’t learn that you were actually friends with the leader of Onychinus. It was not helped though when Xavier asked if you really were going to hang out with him that weekend.

You tried to assure him that you two were pals and nothing more and in your haste to try and sweep everything under the rug you had accidentally invited him to go out with you and Sylus.

You arrived at the arcade, Sylus was already waiting there and Xavier had come in with you. You had told Sylus about accidentally inviting Xavier before this happened and made him promise to be on his best behavior. Whether he actually listened or not was yet to be seen. Knowing Sylus though, probably not.

“Hey Skye,” you said with a tight smile, “Ready to win some plushies?”

“Of course, kitten.” Sylus looked past you at Xavier. “Nice to see you too. What are you planning on doing while we’re at the claw machines?”

Xavier’s eye twitched. “I was planning on also using the claw machines.”

“Ah, well, you have fun. Come along kitten. I’ve been eyeing one of the classic machines for a while now.”

“Oh, just one of the classics. Don’t feel like having a challenge?” Xavier said, keeping you by his side with his arm linked with yours.

“Well, I was scoping out the machines for plushies that she doesn’t have yet. The challenge has nothing to do with it since I have nothing to prove.” Sylus answered, eyeing the way Xavier was keeping you next to him.

“How about we just skip the claw machines for now and play something else?” you said. “They have four player way racing over there. We could all do some racing and maybe come back to claw machines later.”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.” Xavier smiled brightly and started walking away with you in tow. Sylus followed after.

You had thought that the racing would be a good idea but very soon the guys started competing even worse than they had been bickering about the claw machines. The second one race ended they were starting another, calling for another round whenever one of them came in behind the other.

Oh this was a mistake. All of this was such a mistake.

“Is he cheating? He has to be cheating somehow!” Xavier said after Sylus passed him again.

“Sweetie, tell your co-worker that instead of focusing on me he should be focusing on driving better.”

“I am just focusing on keeping up with the both of you! Don’t drag me into your petty little feud.” you snapped, cursing as you took the corner too sharply.

“We are not feuding. Feuding would imply that there was a some kind of competition.” Sylus said. “For which there isn’t because I believe that win belongs to me.”

“One more game.” Xavier demanded.

“Well you two have fun with that.” you got up. “I’m tired of sitting here, I’m going to go back to the claw machines.”

“Excellent idea, kitten. I was thinking I was done with this game too.”

“So was I.” Xavier shot from his seat. “Which machine do you want to play?”

“For the love of…” you muttered.

You went off to the claw machines, ignoring both of them as you approached a machine and put in a token. Xavier and Sylus both offered to play for you to get whatever plushie you wanted but you glared at both of them. “I’m perfectly capable of playing myself. Thanks though.” you forced a smile and went back to focusing.

They were getting on your nerves a little. If they didn’t stop fighting you were going to end up ditching the both of them. Maybe you could call Rafayel to hang out instead or go bug Zayne at work.

For a while they both seemed to reach a truce as you played the claw machines. They had each disappeared at one point and when they came back both of them had arms full of plushies from different machines they must have played at. You looked at the giant pile of plushies before you and sighed. How were you meant to get all these home?

Thankfully the arcade was willing to give you an extra large bag to put all the plushies in. It was still awkward to tote around, and you felt embarrassed dragging it into the cafe after you left the arcade.

Which is where you were now. Sitting between Sylus and Xavier who silently glared daggers at each other over your drinks. “So…anyone see any good movies recently?” you asked, trying to get some kind of conversation started so you didn’t need to sit in silence.

“I did see one last night.” Xavier said. “I fell asleep on the couch and it woke me up with some loud explosion. I woke up worried a Wanderer was attacking the building at first.”

“Haha,” you laughed, imagining a bleary-eyed Xavier snapping awake ready to fight. “Did you end up watching the movie after it woke you up?”

“Well I couldn’t fall back asleep so I watched the rest of it. It was okay.”

“Only okay?”

“It was a Hunter inspired movie and I kept getting sucked out of it by how inaccurate it was to actual Hunter protocols.” Xavier said with a shrug.

“I get the same way when this one has us watch mafia movies.” Sylus said, pointing to you.

You turned to him wide-eyed and whispered. “Why are you mentioning mafia movies?”

“Do you know a lot about organized crime, Skye?” Xavier asked. “Then again, considering how she knows you that shouldn’t be so surprising. Although, hearing that you two have watched movies together is surprising.”

“Is it? We do spend quite a bit of time together when I’m not helping her chase down leads or fight Wanderers. There is a reason we had plans to go to the arcade today, just the two of us.” Sylus said pointedly.

“Kill me now.” you muttered under your breath.

“Seems I am learning a lot today. One of which is that my partner seems to have poor taste in new friends.”

“Xavier!” you snapped. “Don’t be rude.”

“He’s been rude the entire time!” Xavier retorted, gesturing to Sylus.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But do not blame the fact that my kitten would rather spend the entire day with me whereas you had to impose yourself on our outing.”

“Okay that is it!” you yelled at both of them. You stood up from your seat and turned to look at both of them, hands on your hips. “You two are going to stop bickering and making snide comments to each other! You are both my friends and I like spending time with both of you. But if you continue to be assholes to each other about it then I’m not inviting either of you out with me ever again. Do I make myself clear?”

Sylus and Xavier fell silent, watching you with a mixture of shock and regret. “Yes ma’am.” Xavier said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry for getting carried away.”

“Apologies sweetie. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Sylus said, offering you a smile that you shot back down with a single glare.

“Good. Now the both of you apologize to each other.”

At this both of them looked ready to argue but you only continued to glare at them. “I mean it. If you two don’t apologize to each other I’m not spending time with either of you for at least a month. Now turn to each other and apologize.”

For a minute you didn’t think they were going to do it. They were making a point of not looking at each other, frowns etched deep on both their faces. Thankfully they knew to take your threats seriously and begrudgingly turned to one another and muttered some half-assed apologies. At least it was something.

“Good.” you sat back down with a small huff. “Now, who wants to play kitty cards?”

Xavier and Sylus looked at each other. “Best two out of three, winner gets to play with her?” Xavier suggested.

“You’re on.” Sylus grinned, that competitive edge coming back.

You only sighed and sat back as they started their game. You could only wonder how long this tenuous peace between them lasted before they ended up throwing teacups at each other. In your head you made a mental note to keep your guy friends as far away from each other as possible.

[maroonshirt81]

Am I No Joke to You?

9k carcar os

Carlos also knew Oscar didn’t hate him because he had asked him outright, and the answer had been, “Yes, Carlos, I have a dartboard with your face pinned to it right above my desk. You never noticed?”

(He had secretly checked. There wasn’t one.)

Unfortunately, the only conclusion left to draw was that Oscar simply didn’t find him funny. And Carlos refused to believe that.

---

or: 5 times Carlos failed to make Oscar laugh and 1 time he succeeded

___

(extract:)

“Maybe you just rub him the wrong way,” Lando suggested, sitting on the edge of the table in their office break room like he had never before heard of the concept of chairs.

“But you always make fun of him, and he’s all ‘heeheehee!’” Carlos objected, scowling at the new coffee machine, which looked more like an airplane dashboard, with random blinking buttons and different levers.

“Maybe,” Lando continued, “you have to learn to rub him the right way, yeah?”

“I do not plan on rubbing my paralegal in any way, Lando,” Carlos huffed.

“Maybe you should?”

Carlos turned away from the futuristic machine to throw Lando an incredulous look. “I hope you are joking.”

“Dead serious,” Lando said, looking—in fact—dead serious. “I actually think he likes you.”

“I think it’s time to take you to the vet again,” Carlos mumbled, turning back to the coffee machine, which unfortunately hadn’t magically turned less complicated in the last five seconds, even though Carlos’s need for coffee had just skyrocketed.

“Look, mate—some people are just like that,” Lando continued cheerfully. “When they have a crush on someone, they become all mean and playfully judgy. He probably wants to look cool in front of you—can’t really do that when he’s giggling like a schoolgirl at everything you say.”

Carlos decided the best course of action was to ignore Lando and his crazy conspiracy theories that no one but his therapist should ever hear spoken out loud.

“This thing should come with a robot barista!” he said, pressing a few random buttons. Thankfully, he heard Lando dissolve into giggles behind him, so any further advice was successfully silenced for now. “What did they expect, putting this into a lawyers’ break room? Intelligent people? I get paid to talk for a living, not push buttons. We even have an elevator guy!”

Lando’s giggles evolved into a full-mode laughing fit, which Carlos knew he would not recover from for the foreseeable future, so Carlos was free to fall into his rant for an appreciative audience. The shrieking laughter was already attracting other people—the door to the break room opened to reveal Alex and… Oscar.

Perfect.

“Hellooo?” Carlos sing-songed, knocking against the coffee machine’s top. “Maybe it is voice-activated?” He grabbed one of the random handles and spoke into it like a microphone, “One espresso, please, Mr. Machine.”

Lando let out a howl. Oscar was stone-faced as always.

“Look at this!” Carlos ranted, pointing at a temperature gauge. “Why does it have a speedometer? Am I supposed to regulate the speed of the coffee flow myself?” He yanked one of the levers and blanched when it actually came off, turning to give Alex and Oscar a guilty look, as if he had just realized they were witnesses to his crime. “You saw nothing!” he said, hiding the lever behind his back. “I am serious! If you rat me out, I will bring you down. I know some good lawyers!”

Alex laughed, like any normal person would.

Oscar looked like Carlos had just recited a bad rendition of Hamlet in front of the class. But not only that. He was also coming closer, until he was standing right in Carlos’s space, reaching around him to grab the broken lever. And then, as if he had done nothing else his entire life, he pushed the lever back into its place, grabbed a clean espresso glass from the cupboard, put it under the machine, and pressed a button, upon which a stream of delicious-smelling espresso flowed into the glass.

Carlos, too stunned to speak, had kind of forgotten to give Oscar some actual space to work his magic and was now standing so close, he could count the moles on his cheek.

Oscar turned to look him straight in the eye and said, “You see. There’s a button that says ‘espresso’ on it. What you want to do is—you push it.”

Carlos silently gawked back until the machine stopped whirring. Oscar held his gaze. When Carlos didn’t say anything, he finally turned back to the machine. “You know what?” he said, pushing the same button again. “Let’s get you a double.”

Lando’s laughing fit was reaching the stages of teary breathlessness, squirming on the floor red-faced and weak, and Oscar looked way too proud of himself as he pushed the espresso glass, filled to the brim, into Carlos’s hand.

“Maybe you’d understand the coffee machine better if you actually got your own coffee from time to time instead of making your paralegal get it for you?”

Carlos grabbed the almost overflowing cup and shuffled over to the table, sinking down into his chair with a thousand-yard stare into the warm brown of the espresso foam.

“Anyone else want anything?” Oscar asked the room. Carlos assumed Alex shook his head because all he could hear was Lando wheezing, followed by the whirring of the machine as Oscar made his own coffee.

“All right, back to work,” he announced a minute later. When Carlos finally looked up, he saw that Oscar had stolen his #1 Boss mug and was silently toasting him before walking out of the room.

“Oh my God,” Alex snorted as the door closed behind him. “He is hilarious around you, Carlos!”

“Yes, you two should have your own show!” Lando agreed from the floor, still wheezing for air. He started to pull himself up by the table leg, his flushed face appearing over the surface. “Are you seriously making him get your coffee?”

“It was one time!” Carlos said darkly. “By accident.”

“How do you make someone get you coffee by accident?” Alex inquired.

“He was getting chummy with Verstappen, so I needed him to be busy.”

“Ah,” Lando coughed as he plopped his ass back onto the table’s edge, continuing his boycotting of chairs. Then, out of nowhere, he turned to Alex. “Hey, do you see Oscar’s Insta stories every Sunday?”

Alex looked just as confused about the sudden change in topic as Carlos. “Huh?”

“Yeah, every Sunday, he posts the same picture of the view from the lookout at the top of the mountain with the caption #cyclinglife or something equally lame.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen it,” Alex said. “Why?”

“Yes, why are you telling this story to Alex like it’s not clearly aimed at me?” Carlos asked, frowning.

Lando shrugged, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a grin. “Just to have plaulsibl—uhm. Pausible—shit! Plaulauli—fuck, it’s getting worse…”

Carlos gravely shook his head. “How you finished your degree, I will never understand.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lando snorted. “That’s why you’re the one talking in front of big audiences, and I’m the one holding the clients’ hands and making them laugh. Who needs to know how to say ‘palausible denybility’ anyway?”

“This is why I keep my accent,” Carlos declared. “Because it makes me pronounce English better! Listen!” He took a deep breath and moved his hand like a conductor as he slowly spelled it out for Lando.

“Plau-si-ble De-nia-bibli—FUCK!”

Lando collapsed right back onto the floor.

[sh1ggyluvrr]

Unexpected. (Shigaraki x f! Reader)

Tomura has been acting weird and you've been feeling weird so you decide to take a pregnancy test… No quirks AU! Part 2, Word Count: 1.7K

TW: Pregnancy sex, a little bit of breasts/tit play, breeding kink, other then that it’s pretty vanilla in my opinion…

A/N: I’m so sorry this tool so long—very very busy as usual..

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

Pregnancy was not easy for either of us. I knew I'd have a difficult time but this was preposterous. Upon the first trimester, my diet was completely out the door. I'd be dining on any weird and outlandish thing my mind could think of, eating it down like it was my last meal on Earth. My mood plummeted over the span of a few weeks. Tomura was wary of my moods and my cravings. No matter how odd my meal suggestions were, he'd do his best to accommodate me. There was no judgment when feeding me. He gave me tons of space.

I didn’t have a reason to be remorseful, Tomura was doing a lot for me but I still felt… impatient. One slip-up would have me yelling at him. One petty mistake had me fuming and throwing a tantrum. Of course, I'd come to my senses a couple of hours after and realize how shitty I was treating him—but I couldn't control it. I'd get angry for a few hours, cry, eat, sleep for 2, then do it all over again. I was already tired and regretting my decision to keep this spawn of Satan. I think Tomura realized this and decided to take a different approach to caring for me.

He had just gotten home, he was harboring bags of groceries. He took them inside and laid them on the kitchen table. I heard when the door opened and made my way downstairs. “Did you get it? The food I mean….” I said, standing beside him as I looked down at the bags. He nodded, his hand made its way around my waist then his lips made contact with my cheek.

“What are you doing??”

“Being affectionate… like what you said.”

“Stop it, I don't want it right now.”

“Oh, well I couldn't help it. You look so good now that you’re showing…”

I looked down at myself. I'd been so moody lately, that I hadn't even noticed the development of the baby. I pouted, my face becoming that of annoyance. I scoffed a low ‘Whatever’ as I rummaged through the bag for the snacks I had asked for. I took them upstairs, not bothering to make any further conversations with him. At the moment, I didn't care for bonding or affection whatever he wanted to refer to it as, I wasn't having it.

I eventually finished my snacks and threw the empty wrappers in the trash can that was placed beside the bed. I yawned, finally feeling drowsy. My thoughts ran through what he said earlier. ‘Was I already showing?’ I lifted my shirt and looked down at my stomach. I poked at it, no movement. Of course not, it was too early for any of that. I pouted, and feelings of sadness and emptiness rushed over me. I was being such a pain to the one person who was there to help me. I didn't realize the door had been pushed open, revealing Tomura’s figure. He stood there for a moment before I met eyes with him. Tears streamed down my face, the alarms going off in his brain upon noticing the glisten in my teary eyes.

“I'm sorry… I’m being such a—a brat I..”

He walked over to the side of the bed, and it sank under his weight. He placed a gentle hand on my exposed stomach that did, in fact, have a small bump in it. “There’s no need to apologize… I understand it's the baby messing with your hormones,” he murmured in a humbled tone. His hand then trailed up to my face to wipe my tears away. I sniffled, too ashamed to make eye contact with him. His finger made its way under my chin to lift my face. His lips made contact with my soft ones. I didn’t fight nor did I cuss him out. I melted in against him. My lips moved against his.

My hands found their way to his torso. He broke the kiss, his lips making their way down to my jawline and then to my neck, planting sensual kisses against my skin. I made small noises at the contact. He moved his face a few inches away from my skin, and his voice came in a low breathy hum, “Are you sure…?” I nodded without having to think about it.

He gently laid me down on my back before resuming his attack on my neck. I could tell he was leaving big hickies across my neck. “I’ve been missing this…,” he murmured against my supple skin. He placed his hands under my shirt before lifting it over my head. I hadn’t been wearing a bra because of how sensitive my breasts had become. His lips came down on my collarbone then on my chest, then down to my breast. I flinched as I felt the contact. A small moan left me, his lips latched onto my sensitive nipple.

“You’re so sweet… You taste so good..,” He breathed out against my chest. I groped a handful of it and squeezed lightly; I whimpered in response. “Not too rough… they’re—sensitive,” I whined, shuffling a bit under him. He didn't listen, he just continued to suck and grope my tits. “I can’t wait till you start lactating… I’d be suckling off of you for hours, lavishing in your sweet milk,” he huffed out, his breath tickling my nipple.

He placed a wet open-mouthed kiss on my nipple before moving down to the bulge of my stomach. “You’re so full… I wish you could be full like this all the time,” he groaned out. He caressed my stomach softly, uttering the word, ‘Perfect’ while planting a few more kisses on my small baby bump. He made his way down to my inner thighs, spreading my legs apart. He planted a small kiss on my clothed core. His hands made their way to the waistband of my shorts and pantied—gently pulling them down, revealing my soaked cunny. A small string of slick separated as he discarded my undergarments; placing them somewhere on the floor.

His lips made contact with my sensitive clit. His lips latched onto the small bud and sucked on it. “Tomu-! Fuck… please, be gentle…,” I moaned desperately, my hands instantly made its way through his light blue frizzy hair. His head bobbed as he licked on my clit, sucking it gently every now and then. His lips moved down to my cunt. His tongue plunged into my opening and I moaned out his name. My back arched and my head sank into the mattress as desperate moans and pleas left my mouth. “Tomura…I—it feels too good…”

He made a quiet grunt against my cunt causing me to twitch, my walls contracting as my climax drew closer. “I can’t let you cum yet, baby—I haven’t gotten my fix just yet.” He sat up, his hands working to take off his belt. Once off, it, along with his undergarments, were thrown on the floor. He leaned over me once more to place a gentle kiss on my lips, his hard twitching tip making contact with my aching cunt.

“Inside… Don’t tease me..,” I whined helplessly, moving my hips to get a better feel of him. “Patience, baby…,” his voice was like silk as he spoke in my ear. He guided his cock against my entrance—slowly rubbing his veiny girth against my slick-covered pussy. “Mmh…please, fill me up, I need it…,” I begged before he interrupted my whining, “Seeing you beg while you’re already filled with my baby, makes me want to breed you over and over again…,” he slurred as his lips made contact with my skin once more. Small whiny noises left his lips as he rubbed his heat against mine.

I cried out as I felt him plunge inside of me with a sharp thrust of his hips. He groaned out as my gummy walls enclosed around him. “Your pussy is so tight—it’s gripping me so desperately,” he kissed my cheek again. His thrusts were slow and long. I squirmed under him as he continued to slowly plunge his length inside of me. Sweet nothings left his lips; his breathing became labored.

He placed his lips over mine, giving me an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss. I wrapped my arms around his upper body so he was lying atop me. His cock continued to thrust into my soft walls. I arched my back off of the bed, moaning his name. Tomura took that as the initiative to plunge into my pussy faster.

“Mura…please— ah—I feel…so full-!”

I moaned out, gripping the messed-up blankets around us. Low groans and desperate moans left him as well. His cock was soaked in slick and I could tell he was close. My pussy twitched in response to his noises. He paused for a moment, his length twitching inside me. I placed my hand on his arm, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’m close too…cum inside of me—I’m already full of your baby…”

I continued to rub his arm, nodding my head at him. He moved inside of me one more time, shaky breaths leaving him once more. My hips twitched and I bit my lower lip. My legs wrapped around his hips forcing him to plunge inside me one last time before I came. My arms gripped his back—my nails plunged into his skin. He whimpered right in my ear. His eyes shut as I felt his muscles tense and his cum filled my womb.

After a minute or two I felt him relax on top of me. We were both out of breath and sweat. He was beginning to get heavy so I pushed him off of me. He rolled onto his back beside me.

“I’ll help you clean up..”

He offered, I shook my head in protest. I turned on my side to face him and cuddled on his side.

“We can clean up in the morning… Stay with me.”

He smiled before kissing the top of my forehead. His arms made their way around my body. The heat that radiated off of him along with his heartbeat lulled me to sleep.

“Good night, my love…”

[loveandmurders]

Never forget: ya're a Sinclair (Sinclair brothers x adopted Sinclair sister!reader - Part III finale)

And here we go for the last part of this little series. Let's be honest this is my favourite chapter, the ending makes me feel so good.

You can find the imagine and the other parts of this series here :

A little imagine // Part 1 // Part 2

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings: no proof reading, jealous and overprotective!Sinclair brothers, mentions of sickness, death and blood, very morally grey reader, mentions of the Sinclair brothers desiring you, a few strong words, violence feels a little bit too good

The next morning, you were a little bit surprised to find the three men already settled at the kitchen table. They were so deeply focused on their conversation that they didn’t hear you coming. 

“What’s up?” you asked and they all jumped and looked up at you.

“Ah hello, darl’” Bo hummed as he got up for his good morning hug. Your two other brothers did the same. They all hugged you a little bit longer and tighter than usual. 

You noticed they didn’t answer you right away, so you quietly started to eat before Vincent started to sign to you:

“What do you want to do about your “family”?” he asked and you felt how tense they all were, waiting for your answers like lions ready to jump on their prey. 

They had always been very protective of you, but it felt different than usual. A new kind of fire was burning through their veins. You could tell they were ready to destroy everything if it meant keeping you theirs. You were reassured because it meant your parents were wrong about you - you were loved and lovable -, but you were also quite curious about this.

“I don’t really know. I kinda just want to let the karma deal with them. I mean, Lydia will die if I don’t do anything, and her husband’ll lose it without her. Being that powerless will destroy him.” you replied with a little shrug. 

The night had brought you a lot of peace, especially after having spent the evening being cuddled and looked after by the Sinclairs.

“There is still the other one” Bo groaned and Vincent and Lester quickly nodded their heads in agreement with that

“The other one? Sean?” you hummed with a raised eyebrow. You had to admit that it was amusing you a little bit to see them acting like that. “You’re jealous?” you teased

“Ya ain’t needin’ anyone else in your life but us. He’s a threat to this family” Bo replied, his eyes seemed darker than usual.

So that was a yes.

“He is no threat” you tried to reassure them

“If ya ain’t lettin’ us kill him, then he is” Bo argued back and you were a little bit stunned.

“So it’s not about what I want to do to them, it’s about what you want to do to Sean” you replied “I don’t care about him” you said, even though a little part of you still wanted to know more of him “But I do care about you, and my parents would quickly know something happened to him. They would call the police and the lead would easily drive them to Ambrose. I can’t let you do something that stupid.” you tried to reason with them.

“We can find ways, do ya think we’re idiots?” Lester asked and you were a little bit taken aback that even Lester was so eager to have Sean dead.

“They know about Ambrose, even if they don’t know where it is. Yet. Look, I know you’re good at killing and smart, but this is very unnecessary. Sean is no threat. You’re the ones I love.” you said, getting a little bit worried now

“Of course we are” Bo smiled but it didn’t fully reached his eyes

“Look, I need to go to work. We’ll continue this conversation tonight.” you said, trying to get away from this for the moment. 

You stood up.

“Lester’ll drive ya to work this morning, and I’ll come get ya tonight” Bo said. 

And it wasn’t a question. You watched them all, in complete bewilderment. It was the first time they were acting that way, the first time they didn’t care about your freedom as long as it meant you were safe and by their side. You could tell how thin the line between siblings and lovers was getting now. You didn’t know what to say; you wanted to argue back but it was obvious the three men wouldn’t back off.

“You don’t trust me?” you finally asked

“We don’t trust him. And we want ya to be safe.” Lester tried to smooth things out

“Somethin’ wrong with that plan, love? Maybe ya wanted to spend some time with Sean without tellin’ us?” Bo asked, he wasn’t hiding his paranoia or jealousy at all

“Of course not” you simply shook your head; you didn’t want to upset them any more they already were

“Then it’s settled” Bo hummed and you found yourself nodding. 

You looked at Lester

“Do we go?” you softly asked and Lester got up. 

You kissed the twins on their cheeks before leaving the house with Lester.

You settled in his truck without a word, and Lester started the engine. After a little while of driving, Lester couldn’t stand your silence so he put a hand on your knee. His eyes never left the roads.

“Hey, sorry ‘bout that. It’s just that ya’re very important to us. And we don’t wanna anyone hurtin’ ya… Or takin’ ya away from us.” he tried to explain. You nodded

“Of course and I really appreciate it. You know, I was worried that… I don’t know…Maybe that you’d agree with my parents or that you’d want me to join them. And you are clearly showing me that you won’t do this but… But isn’t it a little bit extreme?” you replied

“In no world, we’d’ve wanted ya to leave us… Or to let ya leave us. We’d go crazy without ya, ya know. And I'd like to admit we are overreactin’ but… But it feels right knowin’ we are keepin’ ya safe by our side” Lester sent you a quick glance as he felt his cheeks reddening. 

You were speechless. If Lester was behaving that way, you couldn't even imagine what the twins were thinking or feeling about all of this. 

“I didn’t except any of you to react that way” you admitted

“We love ya” Lester said as if it was explaining it all

“I know” you smiled and relaxed. “I love you the three of you too”

One thing was certain, the little voice inside your head, the one that had tried to remind you that you were unlovable and unloved, shut up. You thanked Lester for the ride as he parked in front of your work and kissed his cheek. He happily hummed and let you go. 

You barely had the time to settle in your office before receiving a new message from Sean. He told you how sorry he was. He wanted things to be fixed, he wanted you to be part of the family, no matter his mother’s conditions, no matter if you didn’t want to help her. He said he saw things in you he would like to discover, he said he needed to take care of his sister, he promised you a happy life. Of course, you knew he was trying to manipulate you. You wondered if you shouldn’t delete his message because if your boys ever read this, they would lock you up inside Ambrose. 

You did that, just to be safe.

Days passed, Sean tried to contact you again and again, while the Sinclairs tried to convince you to kill everyone over and over again. They wouldn’t do anything without your consent, but it was driving them crazy. 

In the meantime, Lester and Bo drove you to work and back home everyday. They were all a lot more attentive to you, a lot more demanding for affection as well, and a lot more gentle. You were really caught up between two families, both sweet talking to you to hide how dangerous they were. But only one truly loved you, and you knew it. You didn’t mind the way the Sinclairs were acting toward you, in all honesty. It felt nice; you were really their little matriarch. The price was they were completely terrified you would leave, even though you clearly said you didn’t want to do anything with Sean or the rest of your biological family. But as long as you refused them to be killed, the Sinclairs weren’t able to fully believe you.

You knew you needed to make a decision at some point; and yet it felt too wrong to kill them all. To kill Sean. You couldn’t be angry at him for having your parents’ love: it wasn’t his fault if you had been abandoned. You weren’t too sure how long things would stay like that.

And it seemed that fate decided it was enough after a few weeks.

You were at work when you received a message from Lester: He found Ambrose 

You didn’t understand what that could mean; or you didn’t want to understand. You closed your office door and dialled Lester’s number.

“Hey” he softly whispered as he answered his phone right away

“What’s going on?” you asked, biting on your bottom lip

“Sean. I met him on the road. Thought he was a tourist but I understood who he was when he asked me where Ambrose was. I asked him why he needed to go there and he said that he was pretty sure that his sister was still livin’ in there, even though he couldn’t find the place on the maps.”

You stayed silent, you didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to say. You felt a lump in your throat and then you became very nauseous. You felt tears in your eyes too. Lester worried over your absence of reaction. He called your name twice before you went back to reality.

“This can’t be happening” you said

“Bo and Vincent won’t kill him without your consent” Lester said, thinking you were afraid of what was going to happen to your brother. “I warned them about his arrival. Bo will probably just talk to him, to try and drive him away from you.” Lester continued

“I… Look, I’m coming over” you finally said

“The twins can deal with this. I can promise you…” Lester started but you cut him off

“No, no. Ambrose… Ambrose can’t be stained with his presence” you finally whispered, without even realising what you were saying before hanging up.

You quickly got up and grabbed your stuff. You went to your boss and told him you really needed to go, that something happened to your family. You had never left work like that and your look of pure distress convinced him you were saying the truth, so he let you go. Actually, you would have let him fire you if it meant being allowed to go to Ambrose right away.

Ambrose had always been your safe place. You were happy to come back home every night, to spend time with your real family, to be away from reality. It was your bubble. And you couldn’t let anyone other than the Sinclairs go there. You felt a new kind of panic you never felt before. The thought of Sean in your home was making you feel awfully sick. Bo had been right, the man was a threat to your family, to your happiness, to Ambrose.

You couldn’t let this happen.

You drove to Ambrose and when you arrived and saw Sean’s car parked near Bo’s shop, some crazy thoughts washed over you. You had thought that you were simply going to give Sean some money for him to leave. But now you started to feel pure anger and disgust. No, it couldn’t be so easy for people so cruel to you. They couldn’t win. You went into Bo’s shop, grabbed a screwdriver and punctured two tires of his vehicle. 

“If he wanted to come to Ambrose that badly, he won’t ever leave it” you whispered to yourself. 

You put the screwdriver back to its place before opening one of the counter drawers. You found the small gun that Bo was hiding there, just in case he would need it with the tourists. You put it in your pants and walked toward the house.

You found Bo and Lester sitting at the kitchen table with Sean. Vincent was listening to the conversation from behind the basement door. He just wanted to jump and kill the man, but he knew he couldn’t do that without your approval. Sean smiled at you when he saw you. You licked your dry lips. Bo was trying very hard to be his charming self but he only dreamt of destroying Sean. Lester was just there to make sure the twins didn’t kill him, even if he wanted him dead too.

“What are you doing here?” you asked Sean who smiled even more

“Wanted to meet your family. You spoke so much of them. I thought it was important for them to meet me as well, so we can all be friends.” the man replied

“You shouldn’t have come” you simply said and Sean arched an eyebrow at you. 

You heard the basement door being opened and you saw Bo and Lester sitting up. The three men noticed how strained your voice was. There was something dangerous about it. Even Sean felt it.

“Look, I’m sorry if I upset you. It was really not my point.” he said “Truth to be told… I hoped your family and yourself would understand that you are needed. Mom… Mom is at the hospital right now, but if we can’t pay, they won’t keep her” he explained and real tears appeared in his eyes. 

“So you came here, instead of staying by her side” you snapped

“They had lost hope in you, but I didn’t. You are my sister” Sean replied and you let out a very dry laugh at that.

“So they don’t know you’re here?” you asked and Sean shook his head

“Mom’s out of it today and dad’s completely focused on her. He thinks I’m trying to get a loan from a bank.” Sean said.

He was hoping to sound pathetic enough for you to feel bad and to help him out. But he simply signed his death warrant. You walked closer to the table, right in front of him. You quickly grabbed the gun before aiming at him. 

“Wow, wow, okay, Y/N, what… what’s going on?” Sean panicked

“I’m a Sinclair, you piece of shit. No one harasses me, no one fucks with me and no one comes into my home uninvited.” you said “You thought I’d be an easy prey, hmm? You thought you could come here and make me feel trapped in my own fucking home?” Sean got up and tried to beg you. “You are the mouse here, and I’m the cat. And since you so wanted to play with me, I’ll play with you. I’ll give you 5 minutes head start”

He didn’t have time to understand, you simply shot him in the thigh, twice. 

The sound of the shots was deafening but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the blood instantly spreading through his clothes. You enjoyed his scream of pain as he fell to the ground. You enjoyed how he tried to run away.

Bo and Vincent were ready to rush after him, but you called them and sat down. They looked back at you.

“I said he had 5 minutes head start” you told them as you put a timer on your phone “Don’t get me wrong, ya’re amazin’ and incredibly hot, but even with two bullets in the leg, he can manage to drive” Bo told you with urgence

“Not without two working tires” you smiled and the three men watched you as if you were their queen, desire for you rushing through their whole bodies.

Sean finished in the House of Wax, Lydia died in a pathetic motel room, Mark killed himself the next morning.

And no one ever mourned them.

[storytowrite]

Seven deadly sins (OT8 x F! Reader)

-> Sin Four: Envy |Kim Seungmin|

Genre: Suggestive, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1067

Warnings: 18+

Summary: Y/N performed every one of the deadly sins and that's means that she's going to hell.

----------

You woke up in bed alone. You were still in the third room, however, there was no Hyunjin by your side, with whom you had spent... actually, how much time? You had lost count long ago.  But was it actually that important? 

You finally decided to get out of bed and look for Hyunjin. After all, he couldn't have gone far, right? In the end, he himself invited you to the third room and, as a host, he should look after you. 

You looked around the room. There were definitely more women in it now. This surprised you a bit. Why so many of them? Did Hyunjin also invite them, just like he invited you? 

Last night Hyunjin made you feel special, but now, seeing so many beautiful women around, you begin to feel insecure. You didn't like the feeling. Your gaze finally located Hyunjin, who was sitting among the other girls and joking with them. 

You heard his laughter. One of the girls put her hand on his thigh, and another whispered something in his ear, which made him laugh. You squint your eyes. You didn't like it one bit. Why would Hyunjin turn to some girls after such a good, intoxicating night? You were overwhelmed with jealousy. Hyunjin's laughter began to become louder and louder. And you began to be eaten up more and more by envy. You didn't like the fact that he was sitting among other women. That he was letting them touch him. You decided to confront him. 

“Hyunin?” You started while standing in front of him. “Can you explain to me what all this is supposed to mean?” 

“Hm? What do you mean?” He asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. “What do you have a problem with, my muse?” 

“What do you mean, what do I have a problem with! You spent the whole previous evening with me and now...” You started, but he didn't let you finish. 

“Love, you are not my girlfriend. You let your emotions get carried away and now you are suffering the consequences. Not my fault.” He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. Well, he didn’t care about you. 

You looked at him in disbelief. Last night he was definitely saying something different from what he represented now. You watched as the women around him became bolder and bolder in touching him and whispering sweet nothings. Hyunjin apparently liked this, because his face expressed satisfaction. 

You boiled inside. How could he treat you like this? Like some kind of thing? You watched the view in front of your eyes for a while. One of the women sat down on Hyunjin's lap. You clenched your jaws with jealousy. 

“Are you okay?” You heard suddenly next to you. You glanced at the owner of the voice. A tall man, not much shorter than Hyunjin, appeared right next to you. 

“No, it's not okay.” You burbled, watching as the woman on Hyunjin's lap began placing kisses on his neck. 

“Ah, you've fallen victim to Hyunjin's charm.” The man spoke up with a slight smile that you didn't notice. 

“And what do you know?” You snorted, rolling your eyes. 

“Believe me, beautiful, I know.” He smiled warmly at you. “I'm Seungmin, and you, jealous?” 

“I'm not jealous.” You denied and turned toward him. “I am Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Would you like to join me?” He asked, offering you his arm. 

“Huh? Join where?” You asked slightly confused. 

“You'll see.” He winked. “I'll take you where few people have the opportunity to enter. What do you think? You'll make them jealous.” Seungmin said this loud enough that the women surrounding Hyunjin looked at you. 

“Ah yes? Then let's go.” You agreed. 

Seungmin smiled and, giving you his arm, led you to the exit of the third room. On your way out, you looked over your shoulder some more and looked towards Hyunjin, who, despite everything, did not look happy. 

Seungmin led you to another room. This one was black with green accents. You looked around you. It was the first time you had seen such a vibrant color combination. You liked it. You were in the fourth room. 

Appetite grows as you eat. Getting to the fourth room was easy. You spent a great time with its host, Seungmin. Seungmin was funny and intelligent. His comments were always on point. His stories were entertaining. You could listen to him forever. 

However, some doubts and questions began to arise in your mind. How did you get through four rooms in one evening, out of seven, when for years you couldn't even advance to the second room? 

You began to have some doubts. Something wasn't right, however, you couldn't tell what exactly. How long had you been at the club actually? How much time had passed? A couple of hours? One day? Several? You were so preoccupied with it all that you couldn't tell. You lost track of time. 

And yet, you longed to find out what the other rooms looked like. You longed to get to the seventh, or even the eighth - which was probably just a rumor, but your senses said otherwise. 

“Hey, Seungmin? Can I ask you a question?” You decided to ask your host. 

“Huh? Sure, what's the matter Y/N?” He glanced at you from over his drink. 

“Actually, I have a few questions.... First, how long have I been here? Have I lost track of time? What time are you closing the club?” 

“Oh beautiful, it's hard to say.” The man glanced at his watch, which you hadn't noticed before. “It looks like you've only been here a few hours.” 

“Hm? How is that possible? I'll give my head cut off that I've been here more than a day.” You said, puzzled. 

“I don't know anything about that, Y/N. Our club was recently opened.... Maybe you drank too much?” Seungmin suggested. “Or maybe just not enough?” He smiled slightly. “I'll ask Changbin to take you to our special bar. Only the lucky ones can go in there. The others here, if they see you crossing about that door will be boiling with jealousy.” He persuaded you. 

You looked at him and contemplated. Your doubts began to fade. In the end, you felt pride, greed and desire inside you, and the envy of others made you want even more. You were hungry for new experiences.

----------

-> Masterlist <- Lust | Gluttony ->

Taglist: @dinogal97 @velvetmoonlght

[thedemonrincelovesgege]

✨//They live with each other//✨

Hualian. tgcf

@samairuart -the author of the art

The doors of the modestly decorated throne room slowly swung open in front of a young man in red robes. Confident and unhurried footsteps echoed in the great hall. The clink of the chains on his boots shimmered and somehow vaguely resembled the clink of crystal. Her raven-black hair was long and spilled over her shoulders, and her small bangs slightly covered her eye patch. His facial features were refined and slightly pointed, giving the demon an extraordinary beauty.

The footsteps subsided, and with them the chime of chains on boots. Mayor Hua was scary in battle, but the horror did not come during the battle or even before, fear rose to the throat as soon as you saw his face and gaze, which were so beautiful, mysterious and confident in all their actions that it made you uneasy. There was only one person who liked his look, not even a man, but the God of War.

– Gege, how are you feeling?-

–San Lan!

A young man in white robes walked briskly towards Hua Chen.

–What happened?

The voice was worried, even though the prince was trying his best not to show it.

– Nothing to worry about, I just had to visit someone. I didn't think I could stay so long, I'm sorry.

His single eye squinted slightly, and a satisfied smile spread across his face. He watches, studies, notices, all this was read in his gaze, but not a drop of remorse. That's a kid. Suddenly, one of the silver butterflies landed on Xie Lian's neat nose, and then another on his forehead, another on the top of his head, ear, and the edge of his lower lip, all of them began to gently tickle his face, which caused the serious pug to immediately dissolve, and a smile flashed across his lips, even though his eyebrows tried to hold up to the last Discontent.

– Do not frown, otherwise wrinkles will appear!

The demon made a very fake and childish face and said, although at the moment the imp was once again trying to trick his beloved and not engage in calligraphy as a punishment, instead of hugging his beloved. Xie Lian sees it perfectly, and even so, she can't help but succumb to his tricks.

–That's a fox!

The young man spoke, lightly tapping his demon's chest, and then hugged him, nuzzling his chest. The butterflies on his face fluttered up and began to circle around them smoothly and serenely. Hua Chen hugged the prince's shoulders, pressing his ear to the crown of the prince's head.

– Does Gege want to have a snack?

– Wouldn't it be bad, what would you like?

– How about noodles with pork in soy sauce?

–Then let's eat it.

Xie Lian quietly pulled away from Hua Chen, glancing briefly into his eyes.

– And don't think that if I'm not upset now, it means that there won't be any calligraphy practice in the evening. We agreed.

Hua sighed, clearly feeling defeated.

–Of course, Your Highness, I will work hard!

Many people don't show any respect by calling Xie Lian that way, and some even mock him in this way, but from the mouth of the demon, this title sounded soft, with love, affection and reverence, only from him Xie Lian liked to hear it.

In response, the prince only nodded, continuing to hug the demon's shoulders tightly. Hua Chen just smiled kindly and took out the dice. They don't usually travel short distances this way, but right now, both of them didn't want to let go of each other. Before they had time to eat, they moved to the dining room of the house of bliss, where after 20 minutes there were large portions of noodles with pork in soy sauce, several salads, large portions of meat dishes and a small saucer with mantou. Each time, such portions, volume and variety of dishes surprised, but so touching.

Xie Lian was lost in his thoughts again, this happened quite often during Sang Lan's absence, the whole last month was not so bright, at some point he got so used to his husband's presence, and is it possible to call it an addiction? Yes, it's definitely an addiction.

–San Lan, tell me something.

– What does Gege want to hear?

– You've been gone so long, what have you been doing, what happened to you?

– Everything is fine, I had to visit Chernovod, I thought for a couple of days at most, I did not think that I would be so late. Did Gege miss me?)

There was a light chuckle.

"You have no idea how much.". I thought about you every day, there wasn't a minute that I didn't want to plunge into your arms. More..Don't leave me for so long without warning me or taking me with you, I'm able to help. As it was, I couldn't even talk to you through a spiritual connection! I was so worried!

– I did not expect such a revelation, I am so pleased that Your Highness thought of me.

Hua Chen rested his cheek on his hand, smiling sincerely and looking at his prince.

–Mmm, what else did my gege do?

"My"...He's having fun. He's flirting. Awaiting a response. Ahahah, it's getting fun for His Highness too.

"Since that's how it turned out, I don't mind having some fun either."

–"Your gege?" Ahah, "your gege" walked through your domain, remembering his beloved husband every second.… What else should I have done?

Hua Chen's smile became even wider and softer, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

–Your Highness... the demon moved a little closer, almost whispering Xie Lian's title.

- Yes?

–Your Highness, you have no idea how much your husband has missed you..

He spoke very softly, resting his head on his shoulder.

It seems that after meeting with San Lang, the prince lost the last drops of shame, otherwise, he would not have become even more excited, showing complete shamelessness.

– Is it really worth behaving in such a way in the presence of the Crown Prince?

This very "prince" grinned, teasing his demon, he's picked up his habits.

Hua Chen's single eye lit up with mischief, the grin did not leave his face, he only lifted his head from the prince's shoulder and looked at his treasure again.

–And how should I behave in front of Your Highness?

– And what do you think is necessary?

It was clear from the look that Hua Chen was extremely happy about such a conversation, Xie Lian had long noticed that his husband had such a special "thing" that worked flawlessly, immediately igniting a fire in his eyes.

–I don't think it's appropriate for Your Highness to dine in the House of Bliss." Would you like to go back to your palace? Your loyal follower will accompany you.

The demon's voice seemed to have become more velvety, although he spoke softly, but everything was clearly heard.

"I want to." Let's go back to the throne room.

Hua Chen stood up, gently touched Xie Lian's hand and took out the dice. A moment later, the couple was in the throne room, where they had met just an hour or two ago. Hua Chen, continuing to gently hold his prince's hand, escorted him to the throne itself. The clink of chains on boots echoed through the hall, as Hua Chen tenderly and tenderly saw Xie Lian off, taking care of every little thing, a familiar warmth spread in his chest.

At first glance, one might think that this was not a throne room, but a simple but spacious room for receiving a large number of guests, it was not very richly decorated, but the small gilding on the snow-white walls and the expensive light wood floor clearly indicated that the hall did not belong to a simple rich man. The throne was also specific, not the way we used to imagine it. It was something like a couch made of light wood with masterly carvings, it was upholstered in expensive fabric, and the simple patterns on it were artfully embroidered with gold thread. Yes, the hall was not very rich at first glance, but the small details gave not so much grandeur as comfort to its owner.

Hua Chen sat his spouse on the throne, and he took two steps back and bowed respectfully.

–Your Highness, allow me to present you with my humble gift..

With these words, the Mayor had a golden hairpin with beautiful flowers on his palm, the petals were decorated with precious stones and metals, a small chain with leaves hung from the end, and at the end of the chain was a stone that looked like a dewdrop.

–...I thought it would suit you very well.яяяяяяяя

"Oh, San Lan.. She's so beautiful, you take care of me so much, it makes me feel kind of uneasy.

A short, ringing laugh came from his mouth.

"It's the least I can do for you." Can I help you pin up your hair?

Hua Chen looked straight into the jasper eyes, full of tenderness, gratitude and love, he did not want to look away, all these glances were beautiful.

– Of course, come to me^^

Xie Lian spread his arms, waiting for a hug and smiling tenderly. Hua Chen completely melted away, the lights in his eyes turned into raging flames in an instant.

Hua Chen came closer and knelt down to his beloved, so that he could hug him more comfortably. Clutching his treasure in a tight embrace, he inhaled the light, slightly alien scent of a Ghostly City and a blooming garden.

The best.

The best.

My favorite

Xie Lian, still with perfect posture, gently hugged the demon, stroking his back and running his fingers through the black curls.

They live in happiness.

They live in happiness

They sat like that for a couple of minutes, until Hua Chen reluctantly got up and walked behind Xie Lian, gently running his fingers through his brown hair. The prince smiled easily, it was immediately clear that he was not so much braiding as playing. It reminded him of their first day at the monastery of the Water Chestnuts. After weeks of worrying about each other, they found peace again in a gentle embrace.

Being together, they live, but do not exist.

They live in happiness

They live with each other.