#no but I really do mean this literally bc

[loveanddeepsecrets]

Aftercare after surgery 🦷

How the LADS men would care for you right after you get your wisdom teeth removed.

tags: sfw, fluff, gn! reader, Sylus, Rafayel, Caleb, Zayne, & Xavier x reader

word count: ≈1,045

Caleb

He'd be the most entertaining knowing how you bore easily. From card games, to video games, to tv marathons, the first few days of recovery fly by.

Insisted you get the procedure done in Skyhaven so you can recover at his place, it’s a lot roomier anyway

Is in stitches laughing on the ride home as you both joke around while you’re still high from the anesthesia

Bought a special recliner for you to sleep on the first night post op

Very attentive caretaker; routinely fluffing your pillows, changing your gauze, and refilling your glass of water 

Likes the challenge of cooking a “no solid foods” meal

Is absolutely teasing you over how swollen your cheeks are

Still makes a point to tell you how beautiful you are

Boy, can this man YAP 

He knows he can be quite chatty, but can’t resist annoying you a little when you can’t talk back. “…There was that one time I lost a bet with Gideon, but that’s a story for another day. I’ve been talkin’ your ear off for 10 minutes.” “mmph..” “What’s that? You wanna hear more about the bet?  Okayyy pipsqueek…”

Massages your temples when the pain meds wear off before you can take them again 

Ends up falling asleep next to you in the giant recliner during a Food Network marathon 

Rafayel

Raf’s probably the most smothering of the five since he admits he’s not the best at taking care of others and would be mortified if he had any part of your recovery not going well. He’s a lavish man after all, your comfort is important to him.

You resting anywhere other than his California king bed is out of the question!

Is incredibly gentle and soothing when changing out your gauze; lots of words of encouragement

Constantly checking in to make sure you’re comfortable 

Tries really hard not to laugh when he uses bags of frozen vegetables as cold compress on your cheeks. Says you look like a cute puffer fish 

Keeps forgetting you shouldn’t talk for the first 24 hours but then gets mad when you try answering him when he asks you something 

Is really excited for the next couple of days when you can eat more solid foods. He’s been meaning to make you a special fish soup he discovered on one of his exhibitions abroad 

Drew a tiny sketch of you as a sleeping puffer fish during your nap

Would literally fan you if you felt too hot 

Loses kitty cards on purpose 

Since he has you bedridden, he bought several magazines to take silly quizzes bc “That’s what they do in the movies, yeah?”

Zayne

Easily the most equipped to take care of you in this situation let’s be fr. He’s firm, yet gentle and your downtime is quick and painless.

Has you on a tight schedule: nap, rinse, gauze, meds, nap, rinse, eat, gauze, repeat

You don’t even bother trying to speak. He already had a white board and marker placed on your nightstand when you got home from surgery

Has you pick whatever drama you want to watch when you finally slept off the anesthesia 

Is even more lenient with the amount of sweets you can have since smoothies are the only “healthy” meal you can eat right after surgery 

Is really all cuddles outside of the strict routine of dressing your wounds/taking meds

Shadow puppet show (again 🥲)

Lots and lots of kisses! Cheeks, forehead, eyelids, nose; he just wants you to get better

Places his hands on your cheeks and uses his evol as a cold compress just this once

Secretly counting down the days til he can properly kiss you again 

Is still a workaholic and reviewing reports on his laptop, but takes your temporary silence as an opportunity to listen to some of your favourite music together. In a way, it’s like you’re still talking to him

Xavier

He's no medical professional by any means, but he's not as clueless as he lets on. When it comes to your safety and well being, he takes looking after you pretty seriously. Under his care, you get the most sleep you've gotten in your life.

Sets up the pull out couch so you won’t have to walk around as much

Still brought you flowers and a “Get well soon” card, despite the fact that he’s the one taking care of you 

Thinks you look especially cute with swollen cheeks and surrounded your sleeping form with plushies mid nap 

Is especially proud of himself for making you breakfast and dinner— it’s really hard to mess up instant oatmeal and mashed potatoes 

It takes everything within him not to poke your cheeks and say “chubby bunny”

Chooses to play collaborative 2-player games bc he knows you hate it when he lets you win

Gets in bed to join in on your (med induced) naps

Has you snuggle his waist as you two look through comic books

Follows along with your mushy diet because he’d feel so bad eating solid foods in front of you

Thought refrigerating a face mask would be a relaxing alternative to cold compress packs (and of course he tried one too)

Sylus

Full on princess treatment. Quite literally wouldn’t let you lift a finger. It’s as if you had hip replacement surgery.

Refuses to let you walk, even after the anesthesia wears off. He carries you to any and every room

He knows it’s a minor surgery, but it didn’t stop him from buying the fluffiest pillows, comfiest weighted blankets, plushiest robe, and smoothest silk eye mask 

Brushes/ plays with your hair while you sleep 

Despite your temporary dietary restrictions, you still eat like a Michelin inspector thanks to his private chef

Spoon feeds you 

Is the only LI aside from Caleb who can understand your muffled speech 

Programmed Mephisto to set reminders to take your meds and switch out you gauze

Tucks you in *every time* you decide to lay back in bed

Turned one of his rooms into a spa. Dark, yet calming from the soft lighting of candles, crystal singing bowls from a white noise machine, and aromatherapy 

Relishes in you earnestly needing his help

Bought out a full service salon for the next day to give you every service they offer

fic dividers by: saradika-graphics, adornedwithlight, strangergraphics, & natimiles-edits

Thanks for reading all the way through :) Any interaction is greatly appreciated!

[spacelazarwolf]

People really think dogwhistles don't work on them but then completely believe that when people are complaining about "trans men shouldn't have access to women's spaces" they mean something other than medical services, domestic abuse support, and the like. Unfortunately I have seen this happen over and over for literal decades at this point. (1/2)

literally!!!!!! i do not give a flying fuck abt being unwelcome in the radfemmy “safe space” where ppl talk abt how one gender is just inherently evil but it’s not transphobic bc they’re saying gender and not sex, i give a flying fuck abt being shut out of resources where i literally do not have another option.

medicaid offers special services specifically for “women and children.” if i try to access those resources, am i going to be allowed bc there’s an f on my id or rejected bc i don’t look or sound like what they think a woman should look or sound like?

[marscantread7]

Idk where I'm going w/ this but mdni😭🙏🏾

But like, basically js imagining u finally convince all the LIs to have one crazy orgy w/ u. Like, honestly here's what I'm thinking.

Rafayel and Sylus would be like a little jealous and confused bc like??? 😭⁉️ ur my girl, wtf do u mean an orgy w/ 5 other men, two being ur childhood best friends???? But they live w/ the mindset of "if u like it, I love it ig" and they'd agree to it. They're both some really horny, freaky fucks and not to be on that cuck shit, but they'd lowkey really enjoy watching u get fucked by the other guys bc they're js freaky like that idk. And ngl, Rafayel getting passed around too, Sylus having the honor of fucking the brat out of him first😛😛😛

Caleb and Xavier would flat out refuse bc??? Bitch do u even know me😭⁉️ I'M CRYING AT THE SCANDALIZED LOOK THEY'D GIVE U. Like??? Bro ur insane for even asking that, genuinely. But then they think on it, and they're like actually tweaking out, Xavier crashing out the worst, but then it's like... lowkey it might be kinda hot... bc like... idk they freaky like that too. Like honestly, as long as they can constantly touch u at any point or u touch them, they might be able to handle it. I can imagine Caleb and Zayne bumping heads for whatever bs reason, and Xavier side eyeing Sylus the whole time. Rafayel and u wondering wtf these niggas got beef for when y'all not even naked yet😭⁉️ I imagine Xavier would also be passed around too tbh.

Zayne would honestly be the most chill w/ it. Like, "Is this what u really want?" And ur js like, "I mean, it'd be cool to have u all in the same room, doesn't necessarily have to be sex." And he js shrugs and is like, "Nothing against ur other friends, but I think we should all use protection." And u readily agree😭🙏🏾 anyways, Zayne would be chill w/ all of them. He thinks Rafayel is a little annoying, and he doesn't quite know where tf u found Sylus at, and he's almost asked to check Xavier's vitals like 20 times within the first fice minutes, but they're cool. Where his problem lies is Caleb... bc why is bro tryna size him up??? Buddy we were childhood friends too what😭⁉️ I think Zayne would eventually get sick of it and put Caleb in his place bc let's be honest... Zayne topping in that relationship, let's not be dumb...

Anyways, let's js say evb would leave w/ e/os numbers and a gc would be made, private messages would be sent, secret link ups that really aren't that secret bc all these niggas suck at lying😭😭😭 especially Rafayel. "Hey raf! I didn't give u that hickey?" "A turtle bit me." "Okay man."

And if this ends in one giant poly relationship then well. Uhm. Idk man, that's between y'all and God or smth idk💀💀💀

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

Oh yeah, and in this, u don't have an established relationship w/ any of the boys. Ur literally friends w/ all them and js so happen to be a little more than friends and u decide to spice things up😛😛😛 js silly thoughts that I have😭😭😭 ik some of these might be ooc, but it's js lil headcanons and thoughts LMFAOO

[rats-secret-stash]

Welcome to my BG3 (male romanceable companions focused) ANTI-SIX-PACK RANT /HEADCANONS

[Warning - bad English and possibly incorrect interpretations of characters] [It’s just my headcanons, based purely on vibes. I also want to make it clear that I enjoy and respect various other hcs and portrayals of these characters (and i’ll probably draw them in various ways too). Do not fight me, i’ll cry lol]

WYLL

I’m a firm believer in Wyll being the only male companion with a (fairly) well-defined six-pack

He spent years training and he’s a son of a Grand Duke – so he probably ate well and learnt how to take care of his body properly

I also think he cares about the way he looks (/he’s aware how it can affect the way people perceive him) – so his muscles would be formed partially by practical use (fighting, training) and partially by some conscious muscle-building exercises. In other words, he’s the only male companion I can imagine doing planks and sit-ups in front of his tent lol

However, when I say “well-defined” abs, I mean a nice healthy balance between muscle and fat. None of that dehydrated “flexing 24/7” bullshit

ASTARION

I’m not sure if vampires sustain the body they had before being turned, and i kinda like this idea bc it could explain why Astarion looks like he’s in a good shape when we meet him in Act 1

However, my hc is that his body changes and gets healthier as the game progresses

In Act 1, he should be really thin. And I mean sickly thin. He was starved and tortured for centuries, and I can’t imagine him doing sit-ups in the kennels and working on a six-pack while barely surviving all the physical and psychological torture

After being tadpoled, he finally gets some freedom and is able to eat regularly (especially if Tav/Durge lets him feed on them, which is especially important in Act 2 where there aren’t many animals or alive enemies that he could feed on) – Astarion would get healthier and finally gain some weight

But still, I can’t imagine him doing core workouts in front of his tent. Let my boy rest.

He’s got some muscles (with emphasis on “some” bc that 8 in strength is.. you know), he builds them while doing all that rogue sneaking and killing – but overall he stays slim

Slim BUT (and i’ll die on this hill) he gains some softness. He finally gets that extra roll of fat on his stomach, a little bit of body getting squished by the waistband of his pants. He’s finally healthy and healing

Now we’re getting to the part where I start to scream at Larian for the crime of giving these men six-packs

HALSIN

What do you mean – we get a BIG elf, BIGGER than average elf should be, a man who resembles a BEAR, a man who often QUITE LITERALLY IS A BEAR(animal) – AND YOU DON’T MAKE HIM LOOK LIKE A BEAR(man)??? WHAT DO YOU MEANN??

Putting a high-definition six-pack on this man is a crime.

He should look like a bear, like the hammer-throwing athletes, like Thor in God of War, like a man who can lift a whole ass log while helping build a new shelter for his community. I need him strong. I need him big. I need him huggable. I need him to look like he would survive the winter

He should have strong arms (let’s ignore the fact that he has 10 in strength and that even Shadowheart is stronger than him)

He has muscles, build by physical work and for practical purposes – but they’re hidden under a healthy amount of fat

This man is not hitting the gym to form a six-pack. He’s got shit to do, place to be and people and nature to guide and protect

But, he wouldn’t overindulge in food – he believes in balance and all that, and I think he might view overeating as a waste 

But still, the fat is there bc.. bc it just is, let him eat dammit

GALE

Larian when I catch you. Larian you cowards.

Why does his 8-strength ass have a six-pack. For why. What was the reasonn??

He doesn’t even have to move a finger to do anything, he can magic everything. Fighting? Magic. Having to move the couch in his room? Magic. Telekinesis probably.

This man doesn’t need a six-pack and you can’t tell me he was doing core workouts in his wizard tower – he’s been too busy reading and researching and mastering his spells and romancing a goddess (COUGH or rather being groomed cuz that power imbalance is nasty COUGH)

Also, he mentions food a couple of times, doesn’t he? He can cook, he likes to eat – that’s canon bc i said so. He looks like he enjoys his dessert after dinner. AND HE CAN AFFORD IT. If he can afford all those books, he can afford some snacks too

That being said, if we were allowed to have a fat romanceable man, it would be Gale. He doesn’t need to be slim, he doesn’t need to be ripped. There is nothing in his lore that would justify that (imo) – let his stomach be soft, amen.

(However, I also kinda like the idea of Gale using some sort of illusion spell and that his six-pack is magical lol. Imagine, the rest of the party finding out that this whole time he’s been wasting a spell slot and his concentration ON A SIX-PACK SPELL)

FEMALE ROMANCEABLE CHARACTERS

When it comes to the girls, I can see all of them having well defined muscles and six-packs – they’re all physically strong (or at least stronger than the guys) and they all have a history with fighting/training 

I can also see them without six-packs – especially Shadowheart and Karlach (a bit more on it below)

LAE’ZEL – has the least body fat. I think her muscles should be the most visible. This is the only character who is allowed to have dehydrated muscles, and that's purely because of the way githyanki look

KARLACH – probably didn’t have a chance to rest and eat properly while in Avernus and then while being on the run. I think she could (similarly to Astarion) gain some weight throughout the game – she would finally have a chance to rest, eat and heal a bit. Also, she enjoys a nice meal and some beer

MINTHARA – I have to admit that I don’t know much about her. But she gives me the vibes of someone who likes a routine and takes their physical appearance very seriously (in a military-way, not fashion-way). I can see her building her muscles through fighting but also through purposeful exercises intended to keep her body lean and well built.

SHADOWHEART – she could have a six-pack, I’m down with this hc BUT. I can also see her having more curves and softness. Yes, she had to go through training – but she also can use spells in fights… so it should be fine for her to be softer

In conclusion – let them eat, let them be hydrated, let them look like people and not marvel superheroes

Doodle of Astarion going from starved and newly freed to eating better and getting chubbier

Controversial, but i'm six-pack hater. Out of romanceable male companions only Wyll should be allowed to have defined abs. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[directdogman]

Can we have a bit more characterization on Lola? do you have a personality in mind for her

Sure, she did have another scene in the game, but it was cut with a few other Dietown scenes. (If Markiplier ever plays Dialtown, I lose a bet with Nathan and have to add it to the game + offer Michael Rosen a wad of cash to voice Nathan. Sorry. Off topic.)

Lola's very headstrong and stubborn. She bores easily and is always always looking for something new to do due to her restlessness. She's someone who has to keep moving and other characters often struggle to keep up with her. She's really into music (it's part of her job, after all) and listens to crazy avant-garde music bc she's burned through/gotten bored of anything standard. There was a tiny connection to this in that cut Dietown scene.

She's also pretty unflappable for the most part and generally is pretty desensitized to just about everything. She has a very blunt way of speaking that causes her to come into conflict with other people sometimes, though there's rarely intended malice on her part (due to how hard it is to offend her, she assumes naturally that everyone else is the same and then is shocked when it isn't the case.) That disconnect between her thoughts/words is partly what inspired her name, as the name Lola sounds quite cheery/pretty, but means 'sorrows'.

The scenes I wrote didn't show her too much but did touch on the above characterization slightly, because Randy's cowardice REALLY bores her on their date (prompting the Madame Mediocre event) and her cut Dietown scene involved her being really unfazed about the world ending and there being demons everywhere, and she delivers the twist ending line pretty cheerfully, despite how horrifying it is.

Another tiny nugget I mentioned earlier, a scrapped scene from the basegame was gonna mention that Lola and Karen had previously dated briefly, since both are shown to be single/looking to date not that long before DT takes place.

Basically, I figured her tendency to use very blunt/literal language would make her (on the surface) compatible with Karen, but that it'd also eventually drive Karen nuts (like Gingi is able to during the earlier scenes in Karen's route) and lead to them breaking up. The result was gonna be a strange scene where both Randy and Karen encountered her, she greeted them both, and they each simultaneously realized that they shared a past partner, who they might've even mentioned to each other, but never realized was the same person.

[wthub-locaaa]

It’s easy.

Garrick Tavis x reader

Authors Note: Heyyyy!!! this is the very first thing I’ve ever written… Like ever ever. I’m super in my Garrick feels rn and it is criminal how little stuff is written about my man! So I wrote this really quick bc I needed this in my life. Sorry if this is shit I literally don’t know what I’m doing lollll. K thanks byeeeee!!!

*** Character relationships are as follows is the Fourth Wing books. y/n relationship w/ Garrick is pre established. Garrick and y/n are in the same type of dragon mated bond as Xaden and Violet. Reader is in same year as Violet.

TAKES PLACE DURING IRON FLAME AND MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS TO FIRST TWO BOOKS (sry not sry🤍)

Warnings: Fluff fluffy fluff Garrick, Suggestive content literally once, Oren being a gross man

Word Count: 3k

——————————————————————————

It’s easy, how Garrick and I work. Sadly, our life got a little bit more difficult when Garrick graduated. But we knew it would be okay. I could have never imagined ending up with such an amazing, loving man.

Of course he is still rough, and mean on the outside. The sweet, soft side of him is reserved for me and me only. I had the biggest crush on him when first year started. Of course there were more important things to think about, like surviving, but at threshing I got lucky enough to bond with Ailís. She is a large, Green swordtail dragon who is mated to Chradh, Garrick’s dragon.

After threshing, Garrick made it his life mission to train me and keep me alive for the obvious reasons, but he quickly learned that I was already a pretty good fighter. Quick and skilled in hand to hand combat. My use of a dagger could use some work, but my skills with a sword are pretty impressive if I do say so myself.

After many late nights in the sparring gym and talking through our bond, we grew closer and closer and feelings grew stronger and eventually we became a public couple. Even if it was due to him professing his love to me during a rather uncomfortable situation.

_____________________________________________

I was sitting in the cafeteria enjoying my breakfast surrounded by my circle of friends.

“I cannot believe that you both bonded to dragons that are mated. Like it’s a bit weird..” said Ridoc.

“Oh for the love of gods, would you please leave them alone, it’s not like we get to pick what dragon bonds to us, Ridoc” said Rhiannon, ever the reason in our circle of friends.

“Yeah, Ridoc. We thought Riorson wanted to kill Violet, so you really think she would have willingly choosen Tairn if she knew who he was mated to? It’s almost like they chose us” I said, laughing as I finished up my breakfast.

“Oh, like it hasn’t all worked out just how you planned. Tell me what do you and Mr. Tavis REALLY get up to during those late nights sparring sessions” Ridoc quipped back mockingly kissing the air.

“Oh get a grip Gamlyn” I throw my napkin at his head and I steal a glance toward the leadership table to see Garrick already looking at me with a smirk as if he could hear our conversation.

“what are you smirking for Tavis?” I ask through our bond.

“oh nothing, just enjoying the memories of last night. Tell Gamlyn I said thanks for the reminder” Garrick replied back.

I scoff back, smiling as the memories come rushing back to me. Sadly, my peace was all too quickly interrupted by none other than Oren. I really wish Violet would have just killed him at threshing.

Oren walked right up to our table and the conversation quickly died and we all stared at him like he grew wings.

“And i thought this day couldn’t get any worse.” mumbled Ridoc as he dramaticaly slammed his head on the table to ignore any bullshit that Oren will say.

“I saw your challenge with Kai yesterday L/N, you’re looking strong out there on the mat.” Oren said with that disgusting smile on his face. Staring at me like he’s trying to look through my riders leathers.

“Thanks I guess.” I say as I try not to shift in my seat to show how uncomfortable his presence made me. I can feel Garrick staring all the way from the leadership table, as I glance around Oren’s head I can safely say that if looks could kill, Oren would be dead.

“You should really come train with me sometime, ya know I can show you some moves that they don’t teach us” he said as he blatantly looks at my tits.

“I think I would rather eat dragon shit, but thanks for the offer!” I say in a sarcastic, high pitch. Violet stifles a laugh next to me.

“Like you would ever be able to give her advice, we all know she is one of the strongest fighters on our year.” Says Rhiannon.

As if you could see the frustration bloom from his neck, his face turns an angry red at the rejection and covered laughter that is coming from our peers who are overhearing the conversation at hand. Right as he opens his mouth to shout something back at me he is quickly cut off-

“Why don’t you quit embarrassing yourself and go back to you seat Oren, she already has the best teacher she can get. And I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop looking at what is mine.”

Oh shit, he just said that.

Color quickly drains from Oren’s face as he turns around to face the broad chest of Garrick.

“Yours, just because you two have mated dragons does not mean she is yours” he says back, trying to sound more confident than he looks.

“It’s not because our dragons are mated you idiot, She. Is. Mine. My girl, the woman I love. Did I get it through your head yet? My girlfriend, not yours, not anyone else’s, mine. And If you don’t stop looking at her like she’s your next meal then-“ Garrick lowers his head next to Oren’s ear to whisper something. Surely threatening him to not approach me again and promising very bad things if he does.

Oren turns and runs out. “I think that is the fastest I’ve ever seen him run.” Liam laughs out.

“So I’m your girl” I say looking directly in Garricks beautiful Hazel eyes.

“Well, of course. Wouldn’t have it any other way beautiful.” He says and I turn to mush.

“Oh my gods, would you two find a room before I throw up all over my breakfast.” Ridoc says.

I take a quick look around, forgetting we are in the middle of the cafeteria with literally everyone watching this scene unfold. Rhiannon and Violet have knowing looks on their faces like they’ve been waiting for this public confirmation of our relationship.

Garrick realizes we have everyone’s attention and quickly recovers. “C’mon, lets go.” He says through the bond and nods towards to door and I get up and follow him out.

_____________________________________________

Thankfully, when he graduated, Garrick got placed at the same outpost in Samara as Xaden. Those boys have been attached at the hip since they were young and I couldn’t imagine them ever getting separated. Luckily for me, this also means that I get to take a little getaway with my best friend Violet every other week so our dragons can have their time together.

It was hard adjusting at the beginning, but now that we are over two months into this arrangement we have settled into a routine. Sometimes not even getting one whole day together is the worst so I try my hardest to get out of Basgiath as quickly as I can when it is my weekend to travel with Ailis to Samara. And that is where I am now.

Sitting in battle brief, Sawyer has already elbowed me twice to quit bouncing my leg, but I can help it. I am so ready to get out of here and see Him. Sometimes these weeks away from each other can feel like forever. I spend majority of this class staring at the clock. As soon as we get dismissed I am running to Violet and dragging her out of the classroom.

“Ow, ow would you calm down? what is going on?” Violet yells trying to get me to slow down. But slowing down would mean wasting time.

“Listen, I’m low-key dying to see Garrick and I know you miss Xaden too, whether or not you two are in the middle of a fight. But classes are done, so lets get out of here and go see our boys!” I say practically dragging her with me to our dorm rooms.

“We can’t go, we don’t have leave until tomorrow, and you know half of the professors are looking for any reason to punish me.” She says

“Listen, Ailís wants to see Chradh and I know Tairn wants to be with Sgaeyl. If any of the professors have an issue with us leaving AFTER classes are done for the week, tell them to take it up with our dragons. Ailís has told me many times, as I’m sure Tairn has also told you, that dragons do as they please and do not respond to humans.” I say trying to convince her.

I can tell she is in conversation with Tairn. “Plus it’s a long flight and both Xaden and Garrick will be on patrol when we arrive. I would personally like to get the flight out of the way so I can get a good nights sleep and wake up to a bed with Garrick in it.” I try my hardest to convince her how amazing this sounds.

“Alright, fine. Let me go get my stuff packed. We have to be quick before Varrish finds out and comes to stop me.” Violet says.

“I’m already packed, I thought about this last night. I’ll come help you, and we can get out of this place!” I say, happy that she is on my side in this. An eight hour flight on my own would have been so boring.

We race up to her room and Violet pulls me through the wards on her door. We quickly pack the necessities and I rush across the hall to my room to grab my already packed rucksack, and we are off. Running like a bats out of hell, we race to the flight field, trying to avoid any and all people of authority to keep us from getting stopped on our mission.

We make it to our dragons just in time. I scale up Ailís’ leg and get in my seat in record time and we are off. I start laughing at how crazy giddy I feel thinking how in less than 8 hours I will be in Samara with access to my bond with Garrick again.

—————————

We arrive in Samara with time to spare, my guess is the dragons missed their mates just as much as I missed Him. I reach out to the familiar hum of my bond with Garrick and I feel the confusion coming from him.

“What’s going on, how are you close enough for me to feel you?” He said through the bond, clearly at a loss for words.

“I flew in silly” I responded.

“But you weren’t due in until tomorrow?” He questioned.

“I know, but Ailís wanted to see Chradh and I really missed you this week so we left after classes got done. I brought Violet with me. I know you’re on patrol and it’s late so I’m just going to drop my stuff off in your room, get a shower, and go to bed. I’m tired.”

“Sounds good honey. I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you.” He says, I can feel the happiness through our bond.

“I missed you too my love. Now focus on patrol and come find me once you’re done working.”

“Of course. Sleep tight darling”

I walked with Violet through the outpost to the dorms where the boys rooms are. Conveniently placed two doors down from the other.

“I’m going to head bed, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” I asked Violet, each word coming out quieter than the last. As it hits me just how exhausted I am.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around at some point tomorrow. Do you know how Xaden knew I was here? He usually partially blocks me out during patrol. He says he doesn’t want to get distracted.” She asks.

“I’m sure he felt your bond get clearer, but I already told Garrick everything and I’m sure her relayed the message to Xaden that we were both here and safe.” I say back leaning on Garrick’s door.

“Oh, okay.” She says like she has a lot on her mind.

“Hey I know it’s late, but if you need to talk to me about it, I’m always here for you. You know that right?” I tell her.

“Yeah I know. I sometimes wish Xaden and my relationship could be like yours and Garrick’s. There is just so much secrecy between us right now it can be exhausting and you guys make it look so easy.” She says.

“Oh honey, Xaden is complicated, he is trying his hardest to keep you safe. It takes time, but I promise you that your relationship can be easy too. I just try to remember Garrick has his secrets for a reason and I’m an open book. He would figure out mine before I knew them. It gets easier, I just trust that what he keeps from me, he does it for a reason. And if he needs to tell me he will. I trust him, there is a lot going on outside of Basgiath and I don’t need to know every little thing. As long as he is safe and comes home in one piece, that’s all I care about at the end of the day.” I say

Violets listens, giving me a little “mhm” after I finish speaking like she is mulling over my words in her head. I walk over and give her a hug. “I promise it will get easier, just give him a little time. Get some sleep, it’s super late. The boys should be off patrol by 5 a.m.” I tell her.

She nods and goes into Xaden’s room.

I turn around and unlock Garrick’s door with my lesser magic.

I quickly drop my rucksack in the corner and walk into his bathroom. I get undressed and step into the shower to wash the grime of the flight off of my skin. I step out and towel off, walking back into his room. It’s so late. I look at the clock that is sitting on his desk. 3:09 a.m it reads, at least he’ll be done with parol soon.

I rummage through what I packed in my bag to find that I didn’t pack any pajamas in my haste to get here. I walk over to his armoire to see if I can steal a shirt for the next few nights I will spend with him. I’m sure he won’t mind. I quickly grab the first undershirt I find and throw it on. It is big on me, hanging down to mid thigh, I don’t even bother finding bottoms.

Wearing his clothes definitely doesn’t help the longing that is clawing at my heart. “Less than 2 hours.” I mumble to myself to keep my spirits up. I pull back the covers on his bed and slip into my designated side. Overwhelmed by my senses, everything smells like Garrick. His shirt that I’m wearing, his sheets, his blankets, his pillow. It’s all Garrick.

My emotions heightened from exhaustion, I silently let a few tears drop from my eyes. I do not wipe them away, but enjoy the feeling of them falling down the mounds of my cheeks. Back at Basgiath, it’s not often that cadets are allowed to feel our emotions, it makes you look weak, so it is nice to let myself feel for the first time in months.

I close my eyes, taking long, deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

The next thing I know I hear a familiar rustle of the door handle and soft feet padding along the floor. I feel the bed dip as someone sits down. Not just anyone of course, but Him.

“Garrick” I croak out.

“Shh, you need to rest sweet girl, you’ve had a very long day.” He replies in a soft, smooth voice that he reserves just for me.

“I’ve missed you so so much” I say, feeling a boulder lodged in my throat as my emotions rise again as he lifts off of the bed, putting his weapons in their respective places.

“I know, I’ve missed you too. You gave me quite a nice surprise by arriving early, not that I’m complaining. I always sleep better when you’re in my arms.” He says as he takes off the clothes he was wearing on patrol and walks over to the bed in his boxers.

Garrick pulls back the covers to climb into bed, “stealing my clothes now, eh?” He says with a playful, yet tired tone. “Forgot my pajamas in my dorm, I was to focused on getting here.” I said with a yawn. Each blink getting heavier and heavier.

“I don’t mind, you wear it better than me anyway” He pulls the covers over us and grabs me by the waist pulling me impossibly close to his chest. He is laying on his back as I lean on his chest listening to the lull of his heartbeat.

“I could spend forever like this.” I say.

“And forever is what you shall receive my beautiful. Anything you need I will do my hardest to give it to you. No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.” He says as if we have eternity to spend in each others arms.

“Damn I would try to find something equally romantic to respond, but my brain isn’t working at the moment.” I say, overcome with love and warmth and sleep.

Garrick lets out a breathy laugh as we lay entangled in each others arms, legs intertwined, totally content. “Sleep tight my beautiful, I will be with you when you wake.” He says lowering his head to press a light kiss to my lips. Running his fingers through my hair, then tracing the curves of my nose to my eyebrows, and down running his thumb across my lips. He continues this motion for a while before my breaths even as I fall into the most peaceful sleep I’ve had all week. Sleep follows him not long after me. And as a man true to his word, we are still wrapped in each others embrace when I wake.

[rococo-sonata]

SMALL THEORY ABOUT BSD CHAPTER 121 ^_^

okay so people are saying that dazai may have been created by the book bcs of that thing atsushi says, i was kinda mixed about it tbh but if we connect it with natsume's character it makes so much sense

we have literally nothing about dazai's life before he's 15. he's a child in the mafia, and it seems like it's all he has ever known. like he was born there. kinda like sigma just appeared one day. dazai is supposed to have parents canonically but did we ever see them or hear something about them more than they're just dazai's parents? it's possible that it was just written in the book that dazai has a family when he was created, but they just don't exist in reality. also all his completely over the top abilities, like the way he controls his heartbeats, his intelligence etc. all his capacities seems purely utilitarian. like he was made to help and be useful. like sigma was.

just no longer human in general. it stands out from every other abilities just like irl dazai was like alienated from others, his ability is a good metaphor for that. so is dazai so alienated and can't connect with other bcs he was made with the book? the fact he knows about the alternate universes too like there is a thing not normal about this guy he can't be human

and that fact would be a great parallel, bcs with what i heard (bcs i didn't read stormbringer), chuuya thinks he's not human be in reality is. and dazai would be the one who's not human in this theory (like his ability name...no longer human...oh mah gah)

and who follows dazai since his 15. and also happen to be an author. natsume!!!! i mean what if natsume is the book's author. he's described as the author of the book that made oda want to stop killing and start writting. that book, maybe it's the book that created dazai. and that would be another parallel. bcs dazai saved oda just like he saved him after.

it's really that phrase natsume said that make me think it may be true

also fyofyo ripped the page it does not mean dazai doesn't exist anymore. he ripped the page. not the book

btw i don't remember if we know who wrote sigma, so if someone can tell me please! if we do not know maybe he was wrote by natsume too? idk

so every mains seems to have something to do with the book, atsushi's tiger is the bookmark, dazai is the main character, ameno gozen is shaped like a pen, sigma is a secondary character maybe??? can't wait for when we learn kunikida is the ink or something🙏/j

maybe i'm forgetting a lot of details and making up things don't hesitate to correct me but it would be so so cool imo

[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.”

[chvoswxtch]

romcom- headcannons (request a director’s cut to make it spicy)

i just wanna see how matt reacts when you accidentally say that you love him for the first time

matthew "abandonment issues & touch starved" murdock would short circuit so let's talk about it

headcannon below the cut

moonstruck starring matt murdock

i'm going with college matty for this one bc he's cute and I said so

let's just say the two of you have been dating for awhile. matt knows that you care about him. he can hear it in your voice, he can feel it in your touch, he can literally hear your heartbeat, he knows how your body reacts when he's around, like he knows

but matt "my dna is made of catholic guilt and I don't think i'm good enough for anyone and deserve nothing good in this world" murdock is not someone who communicates his feelings (at all) very well. so even though he feels it, he doesn't say it, bc he doesn't know how, but also bc he's worried it might freak you out

but even though he has those heightened senses, he can't read your mind. so he doesn't know that you're waiting for him to say those three little words first, bc you don't wanna freak him out either

so both of you are kinda tiptoeing around it and finding ways to say it without saying it

but one night, you're in matt's dorm, and you're helping him study for a mock trial. he's supposed to be taking it seriously, but the two of you have also been splitting a bottle of wine, so he's making up bullshit arguments on the spot that are making you laugh, and now you're both just playfully arguing bc you're both stubborn

"objection-"

a loud laugh bubbles in your chest, and your stomach aches from laughing so hard

"what do you mean objection? no, bullshit. I was right and you know it."

matt's amusement fills the entire dorm as he nearly doubles over, shaking his head and trying not to spill his wine on his sheets from his shoulders shaking from his full body laughter

"you can't say bullshit in court, you'll get held in contempt."

rolling your eyes with a grin, you lightly shoved at his shoulder and took a sip of your wine

"i'm gonna hold you in contempt for being a pain in the ass. what kind of law firm are you running here?"

matt's sightless gaze fixes in your general direction, his soft lips spreading into that stupid charming cocky grin that makes you feel dizzy, his dimples deepening in his cheeks

"a really good one."

rolling your eyes again, you let out another soft laugh as you brought your wine to your lips

"I love you."

as soon as the words left your mouth you froze, and so did matt. they just slipped out. you hadn't meant for them to, even though it was true. and now they were hanging heavily in the silence. you'd seen how matt had almost stiffened, his grin disappearing, a concoction of surprise and shock on his face

the words had caught him off guard, and for a second he thought maybe he had imagined it. the way you had frozen up too clued him into the fact that those words had slipped out on accident. but he was less focused on the fact that they had just slipped out and more focused on the fact that you meant it

your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest now, like a hummingbird was stuck in your ribcage, but it had been steady before. when those words came out of your mouth, it was with ease and conviction. it was real

the longer matt was silent, the more your panic began to rise, fear spreading through the branches of your nervous system that you might have just fucked this all up. your brain scrambled to come up with damage control. setting the glass of wine down on his nighstand, you swallowed thicky and turned to face him fully

"you don't have to say it b-"

matt didn't give you a chance to finish that sentence. as soon as you started speaking he reached over to set his own wine glass down and then grabbed your face to capture your lips in a deep kiss

the emotions building up in his chest were so strong, so overwhelming, it would've brought him to his knees if he wasn't sitting down. you loved him. you loved him. he was kissing you like he wanted to devour you, and he did

breaking the kiss for just a moment, he panted against your lips he murmured a husky whisper

"I love you."

he wanted to say so much more. he wanted to tell you everything that was in his heart, everything he's been holding back. but matt was a man of action, and he wanted to show you instead

pushing you to lay on your back, matt settled over you, taking his home between your hips, prepared to spend the rest of the evening showing you just how much he loved you

[pikamusume]

over a year since i first played outer wilds, so have a mini art dump ::3c

some sillies to start off:

^ i find the idea of the hatchling using the time loop for shenanigans funny, including crazy ways to try and convince others and bring them to notable places as quickly as they can, just to see their reactions. (my hatchling is a speedrunner in that sense)

more art under the cut \/

^ 'yeah sorry they didn't have bAtHrOoMs at dark bramble.'

look. feldspar has been away for a long while. some hc literal years. girl they stink. (realistically they *do* practice hygiene with what they can but i doubt they brought extra clothes for their impromptu 'vacation')

^ holding back tears emoji wheres esker

^ meme. related to the 'pick up chert' mod.

^ wondering how glasses would look on a hearthian. one of the achievements seems to depict them with 4 lenses, so…

^ figuring out how i wanted my cherb to look (i am still not satisfied)

^ hanging out (bc the two have animations that involve leaning against a wall)

halt!

beyond this involves shipping (hal x hatchy). if that isn't your thing, i suggest u move on. have a pleasant day o(￣┰￣*)ゞ

they sicken me... *continues to draw them* (second drawing is sort of a sequel to [this] previous post of mine)

---

sooo the game means a lot to me <3 it helped bring me out of my art block of 2 years. according to steam i first played it on november 26, 2023? before i beat the base game on january 13, 2024. then i bought the dlc and finished it again on febuary 2, 2024! what really hooked me in the first time around was the soundtrack (which made me sob)

also sorry for shipping in the existential space game community LMAO

ty for viewing (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[the-unconquered-queen]

I had a realization about my Blades MC x LI dynamics which means absolutely nothing but has been living rent-free in my head all day regardless. Here goes:

TyrilMC/AerinMC - Lovers who happen to be best friends

MalMC - Best friends who happen to be lovers

Ramble I had to add under a read more because it was originally going in the tags before I realized I was approaching 30 tags with no end in sight (it's gonna show):

Look, I can't speak for y'all's MCs and pairings and playthroughs, but that's literally how it is in mine. And I'm not favoring one type of dynamic over the other, it's just a difference I've noted and this is how I finally put it into words. And I can't speak for all LI/MC dynamics either, which is why I'm limiting this to the LIs I personally romance.

I was just thinking that Mal's scenes often feel like they have a bit more of a friendship element to them even when they're romantic compared perhaps to the others, if that makes sense? I mean, MC is literally said to be Mal's best friend regardless of whether you're on his route or not, whereas for my other two LIs, there is definitely a strong friendship, but it feels like it is strengthened by their relationship with MC.

The more obvious example of the two is Aerin. Lbr, who is his best friend if not MC. And I feel like being on his route emboldens his being intimate with MC, and I'm not even referring to physical intimacy, just in an opening up kind of way, an expressing himself more freely kind of way. 'Cause if you're not on his route, there's no real reason for him and MC to be particularly close as a duo within the larger group, and they are not portrayed as one by the book either. MC is often not even particularly nice to him outside of his diamond scenes. So while my MC does genuinely enjoy Aerin's company, I know their bond is harder to justify on canon alone if they're not dating.

And then in Tyril's case I think his romantic relationship with MC really propels their specific Kilvali, even though I think there'd be a special kinship between them regardless if he and MC are the only elves in the party (which is the case in my pt) and they nevertheless would grow closer by virtue of him being a link to MC's lost culture and heritage that he enjoys teaching her about, but I think their love is what makes them such a close duo and therefore reinforces their friendship. I mean, consider how long it took for Tyril to recognize his relationship with MC as Dinvali vs how much longer it was for Kilvali, even though they had a blossoming friendship before it turned sexual.

Meanwhile, with Mal, it's like their relationship was the natural progression to their friendship, making it the other way around for MalMC—as in, their friendship strengthens their relationship. Because if I take away all romantic elements of my MC's relationships with them and leave only the platonic—and also strip personal headcanons about their dynamics and personalities to focus on what the books actually wrote (because, for example, you can hc an MC who has basically the same personality as Tyril/Aerin which is why they get along so swimmingly, so maybe a sarcastic, blunt MC for Aerin or a cool, sort of stoic MC for Tyril, who then is a perfect fit for their respective LI, but that doesn't mean that's how the writers wrote MC, who, like it or not, does still have a canon personality that is closer Mal's and not much like the other two), anyway yeah, so strip all of that and Mal would likely be the one of the three MC is closest to. I think that canon MC personality is a big reason why the MalMC dynamic is pretty effortless, while I feel like if I don't make the active effort to include TyrilMC/AerinMC in my playthrough (with romance being the more effective method imo, bc it leads to coded moments instead of just vanishing entirely as soon as a diamond scene is over), the game will not do it for me and they will not be as prominent.

And this is something that I think works for these LIs' personalities! Because Tyril and Aerin are more reserved characters who need to be close to someone (in this case, through a relationship) before they are comfortable letting loose and truly being themselves. As in, you have to get past their initial lack of charm to get to their actual charm. Whereas Mal is the opposite because he is very charming and charismatic right off the bat, so you don't need to tease that out of him, but it's within the relationship that he can be more real, such as him admitting to MC after a b1 hookup that (before her) he wasn't used to wanting certainty, a home, and someone to share it with, plus the rest of that vulnerable conversation. So then, instead of Mal starting out more serious and having the relationship show him how to let loose, he starts out casual and the relationship emboldens him to be serious, I think is a way it could be put.

Aside from personalities, it's possible that the timelines play into this as well, when you think about it. Yeah, all three of these LIs have stated at different points throughout the series that they were attracted to MC upon meeting her, but Mal was the one who was a friend the longest before the dynamics took a turn for the romantic. Because while Mal's and Tyril's relationships with MC were both taken to another level that night they had their first kisses in the lodge, Mal had been traveling with MC longer (consider how long it takes the group to get from one location to another off-screen) and therefore had more time to grow platonically before something else was added to the mix.

And Aerin, of course, took the fastest track, given that MC could kiss him the very day they met, and, if romanced since book 1 (which is the case in my playthrough) at no point has their relationship ever been solely friendly as a result, and even when they grow back together in book 2, MC learning to be friends with him post-betrayal happens simultaneously as MC and Aerin rekindling their past romance. Considering his characterization, I'd like to point out that Aerin seems to have an easier time with romance than friendship, as (so far—shoutout non-VIPs) he doesn't really show hesitance when it comes to being with MC romantically (aside from worrying—completely reasonably, may I add—that she wouldn't want him after the stuff he's pulled) and does often take the lead in that regard, but it's the idea of budding friendship that sent him running for the hills. Even now, as of b3 ch 11, he's said he's "not there yet" about his closeness to the party, but didn't even hesitate before proudly introducing MC as the "love of his life" to his mother. In his case, it's definitely the relationship helping the friendship progress.

To finish this off, I'm not saying all of this stuff I've been pointing out is exclusive to the romance routes. Certainly someone who's not romancing these LIs can have moments in their playthroughs where they let down their guards to their MCs, but I feel that, within my playthough in which they are romanced, this is how their dynamics appear, and this recontextualizes scenes and dialogues that any player can get outside of their romances. So yeah, I'm not trying to minimize whatever friendships other people's MCs might have with these LIs and I'm definitely not implying that either friendship or romance is inherently better or more profound than the other. But just that ever since I came to the conclusion that the MalMC friendship feeds and elevates the MalMC romance while the TyrilMC/AerinMC romance feeds and elevates the TyrilMC/AerinMC friendship, I feel like I'm seeing their dynamics in a new light.

[waytootiredforthistoo]

I just KNOW Barty would be one so insufferable his first month at work. He'd be like one of those kids sent to site to shape up, clocking in fuckin 4 hour shifts, spending half of it on the phone with Evan, and by then end of his first pay period he'd get his ass kicked (verbally) by the guys on site bc they're like, I know this is a joke to you, but this is my rent. I got kids to feed man.

But I also feel very strongly that he'd actually shape up a lot. He'd realize that he's actually pretty capable. They'd realize that he's actually really smart. Like, he'd get half way through the project, he and his dad would have it out, and Reggie would be like, great, okay, that's it. You got his attention, you're quitting now, right? And Barty would be like? What?? Fuck that, we have a 3 am pour tomorrow. I can't hang my guys out to dry like that! Like, he'd get into it.

(Also Evan as a site wife is so funny, I'm cackling bc he would)

I feel like Sirius would work under an LLC name (I mean, he'd have to for Reg to not see it on the docs bc you KNOW that boy reads everything), and it'd be some sappy shit like Lionheart LLC after Reggie.

And if there is one thing I know it's that Regulus would be so stingy with his stamp. Like, James would be asking for the tiniest changes and Regulus would do a full work up EVERY time (as he should), but like, he would refuse to give even a tentative probably yes until he could do the math about it. Getting him to stamp something would be an all day affair,, I love him.

literally everything you said is perfect,, this will be all i think about for at least a week

i’m aware this is my very personal niche and you won’t care BUT

Architect James who is known for being an engineer’s absolute NIGHTMARE because all his designs are planned from the aesthetics viewpoint not the construction one

Engineer Regulus who always found comfort in maths, and who loves a challenge so fine if nobody else at the company will work for this jackass he will- oh my GOD HE’S AN ACTUAL NIGHTMARE

“you need a column there”

“what? no that ruins the whole view”

“the ceiling caving in will ruin the view”

Incredibly rich (thanks Alphard) Artist Sirius that hires James to design an art gallery for him, also makes sure to pay james to lead the entirety of the construction so Sirius won’t need to be involved

ahem regulus not knowing he’s working for his estranged brother

also james and sirius having meetings, sirius who loves anything artistic adoring James’ designs, prongsfoot friendship my beloved

finaLLY James and Regulus find middle ground on a design james likes and regulus can actually confirm wont crumble to the ground, Sirius approves it and so starts the construction phase

contractor remus working w regulus and james on site, who is missing a construction worker. enter barty that wants to have a “humble” job just to piss off his politician dad. besides it’s a good workout reggie so how bad can it be?

supportive stay at home boyfriend Evan who, like Barty has enough money to not work but unlike Barty has no desire to sweat his day away, so he just visits from time to time to drop off baked goods for the crew (yes he bakes wonderful french pastries)

sirius absolutely will randomly visit the site bc he is bored and impatient, somehow always misses regulus but does meet remus. doesn’t mention the fact he is the owner of the building they’re working on and therefore his boss

food truck cook Peter who is friends with remus and always has him let him know what new project his crew is working on so he is always there on site for lunch time

meanwhile marketing genius Mary and graphic designer Marlene working w Sirius to promote the gallery. fellow artist lily getting mixed in bc her art will be displayed in the gallery too. photographer dorcas gets involved later on

[alice-after-dark]

Me everyone doing a head canon of Vox being rich in life or child abuse of being a child actor: okay sounds fun

Also me who has a more darker version of the 1950s especially during the Cold War. In terms of espionage and mind control: what if Vox was an alexample of human experimentation. The CIA literally did Project MKUltra on citizens and foreigners alike and sent them to detention centers. Vox hates his brainwashing abilities bc it reminds him of what he had to suffer through and a constant reminder that he does not have the charisma to sell products. Just a push in the right direction.

I mean whenever he gets out of control his eye flares involuntarily. Without control. Also his mechanical body can represent the loss of control over his life. The loss of autonomy when he glitches. Reminds him of the pain of the experience in his human life.

Maybe if he was released he got a job as a television broadcaster. The Trust Us brand was US propaganda he just internalized. He has no respect for governmental bodies he just wants power because power is given to you by pain and not be people.

Sorry for rambling and if it doesn’t make any sense.

Oh friendo, you are speaking my language.

I think it is absolutely criminal how little this fandom truly gets into the historical stuff. There's so much potential! While yeah, I do think the usual headcanon of wealthy Vox or child actor, etc. sounds fun and does work very well for him, there's just so much potential here. It's the 1950s, man!

Trigger warning for abuse, loss of autonomy, and other canon-typical triggers.

I actually have random notes about a Vox-MKUltra idea around here somewhere lol It's so cool! Like he literally has brainwashing abilities and is from the 1950s, how has no one brought this up yet?! I love your take on this, it's such a cool idea! And the whole idea of the mechanical body being a representation of the loss of his autonomy and free will? How he is a commodity himself? Genius.

That would be so cool about the propaganda. Like ngl your post is really making me wonder if there's not some actual truth to what you're saying. Even without the MKUltra angle (though it's very cool so I prefer it with lol), being a TV host or something similar in the 1950s probably would have seen him peddling some propaganda with everything going on. Makes a lot of sense why he would be very good at it now.

Thank you so much for sharing!

[zmediaoutlet]

was scrolling through your tags and saw "i wonder if he and dean argue abt gas money" and i feel like dean is in charge of their finances. like maybe there's more to be said about that topic like winchester money or lack there of, that maybe you have opinions about? i'd love to hear them.

love your writing, btw ❤️

Dean is definitely in charge of their finances, altho what "finances" means in the era of "we know how to hack credit agencies" is a little fuzzy. (Someone pointed out a laptop screenshot where Dean emails Sam and says that Sam "owes him gas money", which is both a) endearingly dumb and in character, and also b) YOU SHARE MONEY, DORK. THERE IS NO MONEY. [Dean: "It's the principle!" me: I repeat, dork.])

Winchester money is an interesting one! In the way-way back there was this big sprawly meta conversation about their interaction with class that really went all over the place, but what's interesting about it to me is that they are no-collar while coding blue-collar middle class. Like the old middle class, of limited debt and home ownership but still being on a modest salary and with modest tastes. Maybe a vacation once a year, etc. Not that that was their exact situation, but it's the social bracket they occupy. Note that Sam was desperate to get into the white-collar strata and really tried hard to play at that, especially in s1, but like a lot of the jumped-up masses he was more bougie nouveau riche than actually part of that set -- note how he couldn't order a glass of wine in Provenance (which happens to be one of my most hated scenes in the whole series, but that's not Sam's fault, lol). He makes fun of Dean's blue-to-no-collar tendencies but he's irrevocably part of them, and luckily he grows up mentally enough over the first few years that we don't get as much of that college kid crap, just home from school and making fun of Mom's casserole for not being what the kids in the city think is cool. You like the casserole, kid. Stop fronting.

But Winchesters-and-money really takes on a whole other valence because they're free of it. Like obviously in latter years once the credit cards get perfect (I guess that's as of the introduction of Frank and/or Charlie) it means nothing, and I'm glad of that bc we actually don't need to think about it, it's a solved problem. But when they're younger, there's the literal in-the-moment needs of food/gas money/clothes/where are we gonna sleep tonight, and they're very hand-to-mouth. But the way they're hand to mouth is like... fine. They don't have to worry about a mortgage. The Impala certainly does not have insurance, and neither do they have health insurance. There is no retirement account and there are no debt collectors knocking. They're free of the credit/financial system in a way almost no one else is, because they're also completely free to steal and pirate their way through life. Not least because it's the moral choice inside the textual universe -- they have to be free to save the day, so who cares if they're fucking over some random person's credit history.

It does a really interesting thing to their characterization. They're not stuck in the backbreaking poverty of e.g. the characters in Shameless. They aren't struggling to pay bills because they don't have bills. There's in-the-moment urgency but once that moment has passed and there's food in their bellies and gas in the car and Sam's got a new pair of shoes without a hole -- they don't really have to think about it the way most would. It's almost more of an aesthetic than it is a foundational shaping. That said, you do have to solve those moments as they come because there's no savings cushion, either, so either you get the new cards from the PO box or you figure out how to scam someone or you, you know. Do whatever else Dean might've done, to make sure there was food on the table.

[stew-skys-husband]

watched the outsiders musical a few nights ago (slime tutorial bc I'm broke lol) and was ugly crying at midnight so bad I freaked out my brother-

anyway eating the drywall thinking about Darry and how much he's separated from his brothers...

like obviously the fact that he has to be their parent and cant have that same uncomplicated sibling relationship Pony and Soda have with each other, but also even his name?? like. "Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr." <- very much A Name. dare I say a normal name. and then "Sodapop" and "Ponyboy". like tf is that nonsense??

the age gap too!!! soda and pony are two years apart, and pony is a year ahead in school and soda's a dropout, so they're really close age and grade wise. and then there's darry! four (? I think) years older than soda!! he's literally Not as close with them as they are with each other!!!!!

and ofc the fact that he befriended the socs, he was kinda a part of their group, whereas soda is a hardcore greaser and even though pony is a little less so, they beat up his best friend and he probably blames them for johnny's death.

also I think he's a lot like Pony, in ways im too tired to articulate. (*cough including queerness cough*)

anyway sorry for ranting so much I just love darry to pieces and I wanted to ramble to someone abt him

Thank you so much for sharing!!!

-"I think he's a lot like Pony" I think that Darry looks like their dad, soda looks like their mom and Pony looks like Darry. Pony and Darry's relationship is so much more important to me than Soda and Pony's because I can relate to it more. Like I know that at some point Darry pushed Pony aside to hang out with Soda or his own friends and that led Pony to believe Darry hated him. Something I've learned is that when you have siblings, you'll be at each other's throat when you're under the same roof but once one moves away, you'll become best friends. It's the same thing with them. They're so much like each other and that's why they can't stand each other, but the love the other so much but can never say it to their face.

-The greaser gang aren't Darry's friends, but Soda's. Darry's friends were the socs, he was friends with Paul and Bob and Chet and Brill and Trip. He saw them like how he sees the greasers, and then they hurt Johnny, and then they hurt his baby brother. He's stronger than me because i would've been the one to kill Bob.

-And with Darry being isolated: he didn't have someone to look up to comfort himself when their parents died. He didn't have the time to cry because Soda needed someone there for him. Because Pony stopped talking and he didn't know what he could do. He works from dusk till dawn and when he comes home, it's all trashed and nobody did their chores and they're all out partying or going to the movies and he's left alone. When he tries to protect and look out for his brother, he's brushed off as overprotective. And then, when he slapped Pony. He didn't mean to. It happened and suddenly he was 7 again waiting for his momma to scold him for not being careful with Pony. Because Pony was small and didn't understand everything he understood yet. And Darry staying up all nights, trying to tell himself it's okay but he can't.

-Can we mention again that their parents died on his birthday because Pony forgot the frosting? They BOTH have to live with this and look each other in the eyes and tell each other it's not their fault.

-this is me acknowledging that Darry and Pony are both queer and also the thing you said about names (although I hc that Darry chose Soda's name and that Soda chose Pony's name. IT MAKES SENSE)

[theothernads]

Rewriting this bc i feel that after exploring other users and analysing the language and vibes given off, I totally see both sides. I get that we should NOT listen to zionists and support them in any way, shape or form. but, I have done some scavenging and I found that Jiah (okwonyo) said to another person that if they like a song, they should illegally watch it — so pirating it. Which, I agree with! If you want to read a book, watch a movie, listen to a song that you like, pirate it! I totally agree. BUT, if one uses it as a fic title, does that necessarily mean that another is SUPPORTING Zionism bc of that? It feels a little out of proportion to me😭😭

Next point, I read through multiple text messages on the screenshots. The first one is how apparantly, Jiah, and many other users use Ariana Grande lyrics, some other ppl that are neutral/zionists, but she seemed to have not addressed that point? So, does that mean EVERYONE is now supporting zionists bc they used a lyric even though you know they support Palestine?😟 and how do THEY know that the user listened to the music on an official platform, like yt, Spotify, etc. What if they listened to it through pirating? Since that seemed an appropriate way to listen to things. Since boycotting is still ongoing.

Okay, but fine, we shouldn't use lyrics from a proper zionist! Fine, let's NOT separate the art from the artist — the way Jiah approached said users, assuming they only talked about Palestine when it was to defend a zio is CRAZY. To me, anyway. Instead of just talking about the issue, which was the lyrics, she then jumped to assumptions that said users have never talked abt Palestine, never reblogged abt Palestine, but when I scrolled down, I saw that there were reblogs. I don't know what the responses were to the anons given by the accused users, but the text messages are really giving passive-aggressive 😭 and if she really wanted to let user know of why she has a problem with the lyric used as a fic title, then she should have plainly said "I think it's inappropriate" and explain why, but she then went on to insult her lack of common sense, say that if she uses a lyric, she is supporting the zionism. And that we should NOT separate the art from the artist. But, the thing is, can we give the same energy to EVERYTHING else. And, she said u should listen/watch through pirating so whats the bar here???

For example: using ENHYPEN members as romantic characters, isn't that separating the art from the artist/CEOs? Also, using IVE, NJEANS, ENHA lyrics that BELONG to HYBE and other neutral/zionist companies — are we not separating the artist from the art then? Because, I totally agree with separating the art from the artist, but if you're going to use that angle to shit on someone's fic title, can we keep the same energy everywhere else? In some cases, this is not being done. Another example — using spiderman AU, Harry Potter AU and changing it so that the ENHA boys replace the MC — but we know that those companies, I.e, Marvel, JK Rowling are problematic in their stances of Palestine, and many other world issues, so does that mean if a creator uses that universe in their own way, does that mean one supports zionism? That they are helping in the funding of a genocide? It's quite a serious assumption.

I think the way Jiah approached it by jumping to conclusions on why they are indirectly "supporting" zionism was quite unneeded, though i understand why she felt she needed to address this. All she needed to say was that "I think the song, fic title for this is quite inappropriate and weird, and here is why," but she didn't. Instead, she said she lacked common sense, that she said she was supporting zionism because of using a word💀 and then said she would block her. The thing that rubbed me the wrong way in that approach was that she didn't try to hear the user out. The user said that she literally was in class and responded because she didn't want to get blocked without giving out HER side. The user has also said that she could have articulated her points better but couldn't because Jiah was about to BLOCK her. Like, huh? And, what really twists my brain is that she texted another user, saying she could pirate the song, but then... she condemns them when they use the word of the song as a fic title? That really felt off to me.

I went on bywons or okwonyo and her page, and she said "I am calling them what they are" and that she is not blowing it out of proportion— (along those lines)

You're assuming they're supporting zionism bc of a lyric? Ur literally "calling them out", making them "take accountability", and calling them "supporters" of zionism because they used a lyric...

I think it's just grown out of proportion. There was no need for her to say she was gonna block them because she doesn't want to be associated with them without hearing them out? Huh? But, she uses Enhypen as the characters in her oneshots?. Heck, even i do! But that doesn't mean I support zionism because I used Enha, NJ as my characters, who are under zionist companies. You know? I also saw boyfhee (i think that's the user) and she said appropriate points! She's also Muslim, and so am I! But, the thing is we are not talking about the whole picture here and how MANY users have used lyrics from problematic people, and heck, are using Enha as their characters. And there is a different between educating someone, and then bashing someone and assuming where users stand on Palestine when they clearly know WHERE they stand. To doubt them over this, over a mistake, is quite crazy to me😭 and anyone would be quite upset if they were assumed to be supporting a vile group of people.

(And we love Jake for apologising, our King fr)

I know now the LDRay is a proper PROPER weirdo, but if one enjoys the song through pirating, they are NOT supporting LDRay bc they are not giving them views. In the same way if one uses a lyric, does that mean they are supporting LDRay, or are they just liking that part of the song?

Overall, I think the main problem was the fact that Jiah approached it wrong (though, I understand her point) with her passive aggression, and said users could not communicate it properly because they were blocked. And, seriously, just educate. There is no need to raise this issue when users have repeatedly showed their support for Palestine 😐 and assuming they haven't done things for Palestine. It is just that, can we flame everyone for using a lyric, a person since nearly all of Kpopblr is basically using someone from a problematic company? Hm.

Okay, that's my stance lmao😭 I understand both sides, it's just the approaches from both was a miss and we shouldn't use such assumptions basically.

it's weird how you aren't speaking out for the fact that you are using a zionist for your fics. shouldn't you be apologizing or at least acknowledging it? the lack of maturity you have 😭 girl just deleted it and didn't even apologize for it.

perfect timing actually anon! i have a whole post drafted on it in my google docs but i can assure you it's not me apologizing for defending myself against writers accusing me of such things. while i do acknowledge my mistake of not being educated enough on lana del rey and her practically begging the president to fund the genocide, i hope you guys do realize that equating me to being a zionist from this situation is just as insensitive and ignorant.

i urge you guys to read my side on this & understand why me and my two other mutuals are upset.

hi guys! as you all know (or assuming that many of you know) that recently i am being accused of supporting zionism/being called a zionist in general by multiple writers on tumblr. before i go on to defending and dropping screenshots of what actually happened & going on to explain my side of the story, let's take a look at the definition of zionism & why it is absolutely NOT okay to throw it around so lightly.

ZIONISM is not only the general term of supporting israel, but also the term that supports the national ethnic cleansing of palestine, which equates to killing all muslims. (defined by @pshbites or more known as kaia & her other muslim friends who grew up knowing that this is what this word meant.) 

READ ANOTHER DEFINITION FROM JEWISH VOICE FOR PEACE (LINK): “While it had many strains historically, the Zionism that took hold and stands today is a settler-colonial movement, establishing an apartheid state where Jews have more rights than others. Our own history teaches us how dangerous this can be.

Palestinian dispossession and occupation are by design. Zionism has meant profound trauma for generations, systematically separating Palestinians from their homes, land, and each other. Zionism, in practice, has resulted in massacres of Palestinian people, ancient villages and olive groves destroyed, families who live just a mile away from each other separated by checkpoints and walls, and children holding onto the keys of the homes from which their grandparents were forcibly exiled.”

i also urge you to check for more information on kaia’s blog & her personal take on this.

so, now that we know what it means & why it's such a loaded word, let's take a look at what the situation at hand looked/looks like:

the other day i posted a sunghoon fic titled “ultraviolence” inspired by lana del rey’s song (it's now changed to “pictures of us, which was my original title for the fic but thought it didn't quite fit the vibe). now, why is this a problem? because i'm apparently “promoting” an artist that begged the president to fund the genocide in gaza, when NOWHERE in my work stated that you should stream lana’s song, become a fan of her’s, and also support/fund a genocide. 

while i do admit that i handled the “anons” (and i put in quotes bc i know for a fact they were ppl who i knew sent them in) terribly and also explained my own personal thoughts and feelings on this topic badly, my words should not be twisted and blown out of proportion to the point where people can freely accuse me of being part of such a horrible and disgusting group of people.

however, that's only the general situation. the real problem for me was when yesterday morning at exactly 7:22am (this timestamp is important for what i'm about to say later on), okwonyos or better known as jiah, texted me, letting me know that she saw the way i responded to the anon & accused me of “actively supporting” someone who “begged the president to fund the killing of millions of children, women, and men of palestine.” (see screenshots below)

now, you guys may think that she's only doing what's right & willingly called out a mutual for not having her morals straight, but to be blankly accusing someone of being a zionist when i've been it clear that i stand with palestine & basically saying i'm stupid does not sit right with me. 

her saying that she “isn't going to try and make me gain common sense” was so off topic & so unnecessary to bring up & could've left it at me having my own take on separating the art from the artist, which to many people on blr, “does not exist.” but if separating the art from the artist does not exist, then shouldn't we boycott enhypen too? shouldn't we also stop writing and supporting enhypen too? because last time i checked enhypen, and along with many other groups/artists, are underneath zionist companies. so with that logic, should we just stop consuming content from enhypen and our favorite groups/artists all in all? because if we are going by this logic, then we’re ALL zionists and we are all PROMOTING zionism. 

another thing is when she says “it's weird that you barely talked about what was happening in palestine until it was to defend a zionist.” ??? defending a zionist WHERE exactly? i told the “anons” i received a day before this conversation that i am not a hardcore lana del rey fan, and again, nowhere did i say that i was defending lana & her actions of again, wanting the preseident to fund a genocide. keep in mind also, that she DOES NOT know me personally & that i was NEVER close to her nor did i EVER consider her a FRIEND, so she (along with other writers) has no right to accuse me of “not speaking up about palestine” enough. 

so the fact that im being known as a supporter killing innocent lives of people in the enhablr community when the fact is that i've spoken up about it numerous times in my personal life & have encouraged many people in my life to donate and spread the daily click all because i don't “reblog enough” about it sits weird to me. not only that, but it also gives me the vibe that many writers on tumblr—weather it's true or not—thinks of this genocide as a trend and does it as “preformative activism” for the sake of not wanting to lose followers. (kaia’s post touches more on this too)

now obviously, i did reply to her message and did go back and forth with her for some time while i was present in school. me, being offended & GREATLY angered by her choice of words & going as far as associating me with such people, rightfully called her out on it & brought up the fact that her saying that isn't “cute” or right at all. but clearly, this was all read wrong & i wasnt able to explain or expand on it properly because i was simultaneously also in my homeroom speaking with my friends! 

and i know, someone is going to bring up the fact that i shouldn't have responded immediately or that i could've responded later in my day, but keep in mind that if i didnt, i probably would've been blocked anyway without getting the chance to explain myself properly. i cant help but feel that they messaged me purposefully during that time because they know i would be defenseless either way. 

im going to tell it straight now and say that i know i am in the wrong for not being able to explain myself properly & not touching on these points more in the moment, but i had absolutely NO time throughout the day to explain myself as i was blocked almost immediately by everyone, which says a lot, especially when one of the mutuals who blocked me right after that conversation was close to me & who i even considered my friend. 

besides that however, i will say this once more & once again that i am NOT what numerous people on tumblr think i am & none of you guys know me at all personally either. you guys can believe what you want about this situation, but i urge you all to get to know both sides at the very least before following what bigger writers say. im not doing this to maintain my following or even gain more followers, i just don't appreciate people calling & associating me with a group of people that i am so against. i don't at all appreciate people assuming they know me and my character all so well when absolutely none of them have ever bothered to reach out to me and even get to know me. 

but yes anon, go ahead and tell me how immature i am & say it with your full chest how i am a zionist for simply using a popular song that everyone has heard one way or another as my title on my fic!