#not that i would want to be like that bc the last thing i want is to be a person someone needs to be obsessed over fixing lol

[lovedahlia]

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY HEADCANONS ( 18+ ! )

. . . bc i'm feeling so incredibly mentally ill rn. lemme live in this fantasy. that i believe to be true & how my pookie beloved would BEEEEE. idc if u think it's ooc this is my canon.

ben greets you every time you see each other with a kiss on the back of the hand and some murmured words, like, "hey pretty."

he's constantly showering you with gifts.

flowers for when he does something bad, with a messy scrawled note that says "sorry for making you cry. kisses." or, "sorry i punched a hole through the door. love you." or, "not apologizing for beating that guy's face in. sorry it upset you though. kisses."

chocolates for when he comes over. two boxes, one for him, one for you, because he knows ( from previous experience ) that it irritates you when he'd steal from yours.

( it does not stop him still from stealing )

jewelry! every time he sees something that you would look pretty in! and he does the clasps for you.

he's a nuzzler. you made the mistake once of mentioning how his beardburn tickled and now he doesn't just aim to leave it between your thighs but he rubs his face on your neck and throat like a cat.

he's still gruff as fuck, but it's with more intent, now. he'll bend you over and throw your legs around and move you as he pleases but kisses each part along the way.

like. he puts your legs over his shoulders when you're pinned beneath him and kisses your ankle. he puts you on your hands and knees and trails little kisses down your spine.

don't get him started on hickeys. seriously. he bites.

the aftercare is so lovely with him :( he absolutely doesn't listen to your insistences that you're fine. he's already running a bath for you, WITH bubbles, even though it wastes your pretty soaps.

he just likes to be able to scoop some bubbles up and pile them on your head while you're in there <3 bc oh yeah, he is washing u. don't even try to argue.

long days = him not saying a word when he gets home = he's just immediately snatching you from wherever you are to drag you to the nearest seat so he can sit with you in his lap. many dinners have been burnt bc of this.

he likes when you play with his hair! it makes him feel like something gentle and kind and deserving of it, when you treat him so lovely. even though he only ever cares what people think of him with you, and only cares how he behaves in front of you.

praise <3 you could walk into a room and he'd be like "my pretty baby's so damn steady on their feet, my god." he wants you to have the biggest ego on the planet actually

he also likes to remind you of how well you take him when he's fucking you.

he WILL and DOES pay attention to your cues. you're overwhelmed? need a break? he's not questioning it. maybe he'll tease you that "you didn't need a break last time he was so rough" but that's all.

forehead kisses. he is tall. he is kissing the top of your head, your forehead, or your temple, whenever he damn pleases.

he has probably killed people for looking at you wrong or being mean to you. at the very least he threatens it, because how could someone be mean to you? you? his baby? the one who's never done a thing wrong in your life?

. . . of course my first post over here is me being soldier boy's biggest simp in the universe. kissin the ground he walks on. literally im there on the ground rn doin it do u see me.

tags <3 @figthoughts @honeyryewhiskey @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @aileenunfiltered @bluemerakis @deansbite @beausling @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @angelblqde i don't remember all my mooties to tag over here ... if u are forgotten pls take me out back n shoot me 4 this mistake.

property of the FLORALSCENTED franchise! © i do NOT give permission for my work or ideas to be used, rewritten, or reposted!

[pupyuj]

[cw: dom ive unnie line x sub wony, like deadass in-the-depths-of-subspace wony, g!p rei bcs idgaf, rei has a BIGGG unnie kink.]

genuinely tried to not make this drag on but the ideas just kinda kept coming 😭 i thought the annyeongz fic i'm working on rn would be the first and only idol x idol thing from me but ah... wonyoung ships are just too good for me to not write anything about them 🥰💞

wonyoung is never EVER beating the unnie’s girl allegations it’s actually so bad for her 😔 she just can’t help it okay!? whenever the unnies speak, something in her brain just rewires itself into making her a perfect, obedient little doll for them and them only 🫠 and she knows the unnies in question love her undivided attention anyway! 🤭 yujin, who is the leader and does expect said attention. gaeul, who is not the leader but is the oldest so any authority that she has on someone, even if it’s small, she will devour. and rei, who is barely considered an unnie but very much wants to be bcs she wants to feel that respect yujin and gaeul feed their ego with 😵‍💫😵‍💫

wony knowing yujin the longest… meaning she would a different level of whipped for her 😍 eyes never leaving yujin while the leader talks, always nodding and agreeing to whatever she is saying, doing whatever the leader wants done from her… most specifically when yujin gets wonyoung alone in some room to talk about how the latter sometimes spaces out during performance discussions and briefings 🫣 wony having to apologize for having a wild, naughty imagination… for thinking about having her hands all over yujin’s perfect body… for wanting to be on her leader’s lap getting pampered and pleasured like the little princess she is 🥺🥺 ofc more often than not, yujinnie would entertain this and give wonyoung the sex she has probably been wanting all day… but sometimes she has to put her leader cap on and punish bad behavior! 😤

and naturally, wonyoung just so happened to love the most common way of punishing disobedient subs—spanking! 💕 being bent over a table with the side of face pressed down and her hair gripped tightly by her yujin-unnie… her skirt on the floor and her panties brought down only to her thighs bcs yujinnie was so hasty and didn’t waste any more time before she started hitting wony’s ass 😮‍💨😮‍💨 wony having to bite back her cute whines and moans bcs yujin just so happened to drag her inside a room that did not have soundproofed walls… and it gets even better when wony arches her back for more, giving yujin a view of her wet pussy… so desperate to be filled up, but yujin was not giving into her own desire this time 🤭

spanking wony until her butt was red and her legs were twitching… and believe it or not, wonyoung came from all of that alone! and ofc yujin wasn’t too mean to her poor pretty girl—she made sure to give wonyoung’s perfect ass a good eating before they both left that room happier than ever 🥰

oh gaeul… the unnie wony adores the most 🥺 follows her around like a lovesick bunny, always hugging her from behind bcs gaeul is just so snug in wonyoung’s arms 😔💕 wony doesn’t know what it is about gaeul that just made her impossible to act… normal around her 😭 maybe it’s the endearingly lazy way that gaeul talked, maybe it’s gaeul’s pretty eyes that was always on wonyoung’s body, maybe it’s the rare moments where gaeul would take charge and boss everyone around… that last one gets wonyoung squirming in her seat every time she thinks about it 🤭 she does a lot of things on purpose to poke the bear that is gaeul’s inner strictness! giving the older girl bedroom eyes from across the table during meetings and if they’re sitting right next to each other, wony would tease her by caressing gaeul’s leg with her foot under the table 🫣 also wearing risqué outfits for gaeul to be the only one to notice that it’s inappropriate, intentionally making mistakes during dance practices so gaeul would be the one to correct her… the more the eldest gets visibly upset, the more wony considers her actions a great success! 🤭

all of that makes gaeul’s nightly visits to wonyoung’s room a lot more fun! but see, gaeul makes no mention of wonyoung’s actions bcs she knew that would only make wonyoung do them more… so the older girl settles with keeping her princess up ‘till dawn using her mouth 😋 seriously, gaeul will join wonyoung in her bed dead in the night, feel her up enough to get her soaked before finally burying her head in between her thighs… and it gets even better when gaeul makes wony work for her climax! slowing down on purpose to the point it frustrates the little princess and she flips the older girl over to ride her face 🫠🫠 in direct contrast to yujin who loves punishing wonyoung on the spot and jumping at every opportunity to do so, gaeul is smart and knows that it’s just what wonyoung wants so instead of giving her that, gaeul makes her beg.

but that’s okay, wony would do anything her gaeul-unnie wants! 🥺 ride her face until dawn? beg and beg for release? scream her name so loud that wonyoung would have to bite on a pillow? everything would be done, and done well.

and rei, the wannabe unnie of 04z 🤭💕 it’s cute when the members tease her about wanting to take care of the girls of the same age as her but it’s a very real desire, okay!? 😤 she wants to be seen as this mature and responsible member who can be just as reliable as gaeul and yujin… especially by wonyoung, who is a few years her senior when it comes to being an idol and being the picture of elegance and class 🤭 it’s so obvious rei wants to be fawned over as an unnie and wonyoung has a hell of a time entertaining her! 😋 during practices, when rei does something as simple as handing wonyoung a bottle of water during a break or being the one to wipe her sweat away with a towel, wonyoung always makes sure to say “thank you, unnie” very, very quietly before scurrying away with a smirk knowing she has just flipped a switch inside rei’s brain 😵‍💫

but oh, rei knows wonyoung can be a big tease sometimes... and once the princess is having fun, it's quite difficult to put her down so, rei likes to get a jump on things! 😋 forcing wonyoung down on her knees in the dirty bathroom floors, even binding her hands behind her back with a silk necktie rei just so happened to be bringing around during dance practice days, and making the pretty princess suck her cock with great difficulty bcs wonyoung always needed to take it slow or else she doesn't do well :( but she always wants to please her unnies... so she forces herself to do her best bcs if rei isn't feeling good then that would just hurt her pride! looking up at rei with tears of pleasure, taking up all of her length down her throat even though she was gagging... all of that just to hear rei's sweet voice call her a very good girl and tell her how much she was making her feel so good 🤭

rei having to cum all over wony's face bcs she looks the prettiest that way :(( and wony hates it when her makeup gets ruined but if letting rei do that means getting filled up her cock immediately after... well then, whatever 'unnie' wants, 'unnie' gets! 💓💓

[knavcsblade]

hear me out.

breeding with chlorine

i need f/f content for chlroinde like she sso pretty and fine and she has a gun that could go down my throat as she finishes inside me bc shes amazing like that!1!1! (sorry im rambling)

killshot.

+18!

cw: transfem!clorinde x f!reader. overly descriptive. cunnilingus. edging. a little biting. gunplay. breeding/creampie. (half proofread)

wc: 2.3k

summary: lesbian sex and a little gunplay. tasty!

a/n: the whole gun thing awakened something in me that had been dormant for too long, so this is as self-indulgent as it gets too (horny jail). i love freaky requests, tbh

Now, how did you get into this situation with the Champion Duelist? The last few memories you had were of the tranquil conversation you both shared over warm tea at her home—before the world became a blur of desire and pure, unadulterated bliss.

Perhaps she was overly stressed at the moment—that job was utterly demanding of the poor woman, and everyone needs to blow off some steam from time to time. You simply didn’t expect the usually put-together Fontainian to be so… intense.

The sudden goosebumps on your soft skin managed to bring you back from attempting to recall any sorts of details, all due the faint caress of Clorinde’s gloved hand. “Look at me,” she purred as her digits trailed up the curve of your hip, “I want to see you.”

And her command would be followed, naturally. The attention she brought to your newly uncovered clit with her clothed fingertips was nothing short of maddening, and if that weren’t enough, the manner in which she palmed the swell of your breast threatened to draw a whimper from the depths of your throat. It wasn’t to her surprise that you’d seek to do whatever she said just to feel more contact—you were just so good for her, weren’t you?

She had managed to lay you on her plush bed what seemed like hours ago, even if it was only mere minutes that had passed by, just to unrobe you and have you exposed to her lustful gaze. Were you truly losing track of time already? The intimate moment had just begun, and she would make sure to enjoy it wholly, even if it felt like an eternity to you.

A low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through Clorinde’s chest could be heard from where she hovered over you, and it sent a shiver down your spine that couldn’t be concealed. With a hand between your parted legs and the other resting on your ribcage, she leaned closer to your ear to take in the aroma of your perfume mingling with increasing arousal.

“Squirming already?” Her words were dripping with a sensuality you weren’t quite used to yet, but was oh so enticing.

You were flustered beyond measure at this, your reaction being to shudder beneath the plump lips that now traced the column of your throat with vexatious provocation. Open-mouthed kisses were spread over your skin like sweet honey, leaving trails of saliva at their wake as she made sure to make her way through the valley of your tits just to turn you into that malleable mess she knew you could be.

Through the haze of the situation, you managed to feel the leather of her gloves against your inner thighs and hear her usually serene voice turn into a low grumble. “Keep them spread.”

Next thing you knew, Clorinde’s languid tongue glided through your slick folds to gather whatever evidence of your growing desire she could to sate her thirst, practically moaning against your cunt as her fingers massaged the supple flesh of your legs to keep herself grounded. 

Surely you could feel her gaze boring into your face, all to gauge your reaction to the way she so desperately began to eat you out like a starving woman, though you couldn’t meet her eyes. Your head had already lolled back into the pillows at the delicious chills she had caused you with a simple suck to the puffy bundle of nerves she had been teasing for too long.

You were putting on a show for the expert duelist now; moaning loudly at every slurp and obscene kiss, your hips surging upwards to grind against her mouth, arching your back to display the swollen peaks of your nipples. If only she hadn’t been determined to fuck you into oblivion soon enough, she would’ve found her own release right then and there.

And so her heavenly ministrations continued. Her trained digits dug into the moldable skin of your ass to keep you still as her nose now pressed roughly against your mound. Pleasure, white-hot and all consuming, radiated from your core and set your nerve endings alight at such lewd stimulation.

She kept her lips wrapped around your clit for some time, all to enjoy the tangy taste despite the obvious chaos of mixed fluids now dripping from you and her chin alike. She could tell you were close already, the way your moans turned frantic and desperate as your legs jerked around her head being evidence enough of the impending orgasm that threatened to wash over you like a tidal wave.

A wet pop suddenly drew you out of your blissful trance, and you instantly let out a whimper of protest as you now struggled to look down and meet those purple eyes through a pool of tears. She was already pulling away from your needy cunt with glistening lips and lightly flushed cheeks.

“Why? What are you…?” Your breathless words were cut off by Clorinde’s as she busied herself with spreading your legs further.

“Hush,” she started, sitting back on her knees to lower the new pair of deep indigo pants she had recently bought. “Don’t be so greedy.”

You were rightfully upset at her—she had taken that glorious climax away from you, which had begun to slowly subside only to leave you sensitive to any sort of touch. You were too far gone to realize, however, that her idea was for that to be the case from the very first moment she lay her hands upon you.

Out of sheer astonishment, a gasp was caught in your throat when her thick, hard cock proudly jutted out of her clothes. The dim lighting was enough for you to catch a glimpse of a growing bead of pre-cum dripping down the shaft, and now all resentment was gone. The aching need to be filled was back, and more intense than before.

All she had to do was line the swollen head of her dick with your sopping entrance to draw a wanton mewl from your mouth, and she knew she had you on the palm of her hand.

Using barely a third of her strength, she pushed your thighs up and apart to give herself leeway to plunge into you in a swift motion that forced you to take her entire length in an instant. Needless to say you moaned at the sudden intrusion, and despite the slight pain, you were so eager to take her that you instinctively fluttered around her just to welcome her. She stretched and filled you so perfectly.

“You’re so… tight,” she groaned through gritted teeth, her hands now propping her up as they found their spot on each side of your head against the mattress.

Your velvety walls now gripped her like a vice, and she was beyond the point of attempting to be gentle or teasing due the exquisite feeling of your pussy gripping her tightly. Your senses were utterly flooded, even the scent of shared arousal permeated the air, a musky and intoxicating aroma that left you both lightheaded.

Despite being thoughtful enough to give you short-lived seconds to get accustomed to her size, she set a pace with her hips that harbored all her pent-up need for pleasure afterwards. She hadn’t even fully rid herself of her uniform yet, but that didn’t stop her from pounding into you in a steady rhythm that quickly built in intensity.

The sound of the creaking of the bed and cries of rapture filled the room, mingling with those of the headboard banging against the wall as strands of Clorinde’s hair curtained your face. Her regularly neat ponytail had untidied due to her harsh motions, and you’d be foolish to believe this wasn’t the most bewitching sight you had ever witnessed.

Angling her cock just right, she managed to rub the most delicate spot of your insides that sent a flash of electricity down your stomach towards your cunt and made your toes curl. Your legs wrapped around her hips unconsciously, drawing her closer. In spite of being utterly hypnotized by the heat, she lowered herself to capture one of your nipples in her mouth and bit hard enough to make you yelp—she soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue, ripping a hard moan from your chest.

She rammed against your most erogenous zone with fervent enthusiasm, clutching the sheets beneath you in her fists at the overwhelming feeling pooling in her lower stomach. A sheen of sweat now layered your bodies as the physical activity grew rougher, more demanding, and through erratic movements and tensing of her muscles, the duelist got a sudden idea—she didn’t vacillate this once.

She always prided herself on being methodical, always taking steps back before making a decision. Her mind was numbed by the passion of the situation, however, so all inhibitions and hesitations were out the window. All she wished to do was turn up the heat, to make you moan and writhe beneath her in an orgasm you couldn’t control.

She unholstered her pistol in a deliberate, measured motion, the leather whispering as it surrendered its hold before she trailed it upward against your middle. Its muzzle now sat against your lower lip, forcing your eyes to widen at the obviously dangerous position you were in while she continued to fuck you like it was all the most common of things.

At your clear confusion, a wolfish smirk crept upon her face. Such an adorable thing you were, still moaning and clinging to her cock even when she held her weapon against you.

“Suck it,” she ordered in a murmur, voice strained though still authoritative enough to make you whimper.

The handgun was discernibly unloaded, and its safety lever was locked. With no true peril in the request, you immediately relaxed and limited yourself to wrapping your kiss-swollen lips around the barrel to present her the picture-perfect image she seeked.

She kept her eyes on your half-lidded ones, merely watching you coating her firearm in saliva that slowly started dripping down the corners of your mouth. Seeing you struggle to indulge her little whim while your cunt squelched as she plunged into it with single-minded focus.

It wasn’t long after that your muscles clenched and fluttered around her cock, trying to suck her deeper, to hold her inside you. You were so close, teetering on the brink of a mind-shattering climax. The coil of heat in your lower stomach grew tighter and tighter with each passing second, threatening to snap at any moment.

She wasn’t far behind either, and you could notice from the way her thrusts became erratic, as well as the hand that held the pistol in your mouth slowly began to shake. All she wished for now was for you to shatter into a million pieces beneath her to take in your beautiful, breathless form.

You only pulled away from the muzzle to gasp to moan for her, these wanton cries having shifted from mere mewls of pleasure into desperate, urgent ones. The meaning behind them was clear—you were utterly lost to the throes of lust thanks to her, and all she had to do was push you just a little further over the edge to have what she desired.

“Oh, no. You were being so good,” she cooed in faux disappointment, her dick burying to the hilt with each brutal charge. “Don’t stop now, my dear.”

Her free hand found your clit once again, rubbing quick, merciless circles on the sensitive surface just to gauge a reaction out of you—good thing you were overly generous.

The intense stimulation became too much a few seconds in, and the reaction your body had to it made her tense up. Your legs began to jerk and push her closer, inner walls clamping down like a vice around her thick length as your back arched clean off the mattress. An expression of pure pleasure etched on your face, snapping the thin string of saliva that still connected your lips to the barrel of her gun.

Clorinde’s experience sent electrifying shocks of ecstasy through your veins, forcing you to finally find the climax you’d desperately accept. Due to the way she had denied you of it earlier, this one was overwhelming you beyond belief.

You let out a silent scream of rapture as your body writhed beneath hers, juices gushing out around her cock to dampen her pants and dripping down onto the bed below. You were clearly drowning in a sea of pleasure, consumed by the sheer intensity of your release, and the duelist only followed close behind.

Your release crashed over you like a cold tidal wave, sweeping you away in a torrent of mind-numbing bliss as the intruder that had brought you there continued its relentless assault to extend your crescendo even further.

You were too lost in the precious ache between your legs to even look down, though a guttural moan caught your attention. Clorinde’s own climax hit her once your cunt squeezed her persistently enough to milk her of every last drop of cum she could possibly deliver. Thick ropes of hot release painted your inner walls white, the pistol long forgotten among messy sheets just so she could tightly hold onto your hips and fill you up properly.

She pulsed and throbbed inside you as her head fell back with a shuddering gasp, exposing the column of her throat for you under the candlelight. Your gaze was still clouded by the slowly ebbing orgasm, though you could���ve sworn the way in which drops of sweat dripped down her temples and neck were about to make you beg for more.

Slowly, with muscles still spasming, she drew back just to take a better look at the new artwork she had created—you. The creamy ring you had left encircling the base of her dick sent a shiver down her spine, though the sight of you spread out and thoroughly fucked was one she wished to commit to memory.

She wasn’t the type to be openly vulnerable, however. “My new pants are ruined,” she muttered as she gave your trembling thighs a soft squeeze.

She knew that next time, she’d have to ravish you fully bare, and she couldn’t wait.

[oo-li]

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

anyway memes for how this chapter had me feeling

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

(i couldve dreamed of this au </3)

long tags. be warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GENTLEMAN SAN SWOONING

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

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

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

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

rip newspaper ceo bozo u wont be missed /j

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

SCREAMING OVER MINGIIIIII OH MY GOD MY SHAYLAAAAAAA MY BABY

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

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

the diamond chandelier. melting thinking about mv san. sorry

KITTY :D

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mingi cursing had me giggling

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

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

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

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

yappa yappa over o7

like a waltz⎯ part 4: piqué.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click. Clack.

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

Click, clank.

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

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

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

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

“B-B-Boss.”

“Where is it?”

“Oh, about that –“ the other chuckled. 

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

Her heart rate jumped.

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

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

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

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

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

Click, clack, BANG.

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

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

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

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

His teeth gleamed and glinted with his snarl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maknae?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sent chills up her spine.

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

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

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

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

The man hummed low in his throat, melodically.

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

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

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

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

Her nod was preoccupied.

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be okay. Good night…”

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

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

He nodded, bowing at the waist.

“Good night, YN.”

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

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

And yet he had said it.

-

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

“Are you alright, honey?” San asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, swanette?” he encouraged again.

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

“How so?” San asked inquiringly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone helped me,” she admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She laughed at that.

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

 -

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

‘Don’t do this please.’

She could read the pretty dancer’s lips.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young man knew the answer like a bitter liquor.

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

“Had a nice stroll?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YN.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

Semantics. It made her roll her eyes.

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

Julia finally sighed out.

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

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

-

The game. Julia had called it a game.

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

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

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

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

“Hello you two,” YN greeted.

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

“It was good.” she said.

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

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

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

She shook her head distractedly.

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled as she shed out of her feathers.

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

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

“Will you be there?”

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

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

-

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

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

Did she know her patrons?

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

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

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

“I have a question.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a lot of you there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She already knew where this was going.

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

And her stalker, of course.

-

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

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

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

Sweet, that’s what San was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?”

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

“For you.”

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

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

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

His fingers brushed over the jewels before he spoke again.

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

San’s fingers stroked over her hip.

“You’re staring, honey,” he teased.

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

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

Was he teasing her? Was he genuine?

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

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

Her cheeks flushed at that and she looked away.

“San!” she exclaimed.

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

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

-

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

“Hello, sweetheart,” he beamed.

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

“Hello Yeosang. Congratulations,” she returned.

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

“San,” he greeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sure,” she said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He puffed out smoke.

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

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

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

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

Imara never had this.

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

-

“Do you want diamonds?” San asked.

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

“No,” she let out a chuckle.

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay,” she said. 

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

“What do you truly want, honey?”

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

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

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

-

“Extra edition!” a newsboy cried out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung added.

They hadnt looked at the paper yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

San and Wooyoung’s eyes met once more.

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

-

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

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

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

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

Miss YN.

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

Yours,

Kim Yeosang

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” the other giggled.

“Will you be there?” she asked tentatively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

Her head tilted in curiosity before they walked off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She meowed at her again.

The piano stopped; the reverb humming out discordantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boss, er, sir – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello.”

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” she said instead. “Yunho.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Yeosang?” she asked finally.

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

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

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

“Why are you here?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” she breathed.

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

“I play against Yeosang often,” he clarified.

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

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

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

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

“Will you not eat?” she asked.

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

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

“My entire life,” she admitted.

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

“Ballerinas are taught young,” she said.

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

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

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

“D-dancing?” she queried.

“Love.” he countered. “Passion.”

Her eyes blinked owlishly. “Oh.”

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

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

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

“Here he comes now,” Yunho whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Its alright,” she reassured him.

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

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

“I see that.” Yeosang rumbled.

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

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

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

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

She smiled at him; he was so cute.

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for the invite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Its in the family,” Yeosang replied.

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

“Its very nice,” she politely said.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeosang chuckled out, smiling sweet.

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho and Yeosang’s eyes locked.

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t,” Yeosang commented immediately.

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

“Cromer loves its gossip.” Yeosang commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it true? Should I be frightened?”

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

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

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

“On purpose?” she asked.

“Yes, darling.”

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

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

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

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

“So, you shot him? Just like that?”

“For your information, yes.”  

“That’s frightening.”

“Yes.” Yunho was beside Yeosang now.

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

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

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

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

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

She stared at them

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

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

“Yes.” He ensured.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a messy man, darling-doll.”

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

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

She liked it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey!” he exclaimed out in surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yunho huffed from across the long table.

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

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

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

San nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made her cheeks burn red, and Wooyoung giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jongho?” she queried softly.  

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a fast deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingi nodded steadfast before he offered her his hand.

“Shall we, baby-doll?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angry,” she told him.

“But not in pain,” he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he alive?” she mumbled.

“By Yunho’s grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” Jongho interrupted soft and earnestly.

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

[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.

[beneathsilverstars]

OKAY... i think for dagger ending au i'm putting the game events in a very specific order.... siffrin finished kingquest before the friendquests because they were focusing on one quest at a time, because if they tried to look for too many things at once they wouldn't do a very good job looking for any of them? like wait i remembered to look for x in that room but i forgot to look for y, umm i think i have no idea which rooms i actually searched for what.

so he locked in on kingquest first, with loop hangout part way through it. and then he poked around for stuff to read in the forgotten language now that he could read it, but he didn't know enough about wishcraft to make sense of it. he did go into the locked star room, but didn't read the diary (bc he won't until after friend quests bc the stars make him sad). so he was pretty stuck on loop quest at that point, so he finally turned his focus to his friends: first mira, then bonnie, then odile — and happening upon the right papers to find that familytale took a whiile — and ofc finally isabeau.

then the perfect family run didn't work and they were devastateddd. what now!!?! they went through the house a couple more times with friend quests completed, got sick of those and switched to just skipping around the house checking this and that. finally they went all the way back to dormont again to talk to loop in person, and the two of them decided they should try checking the forgotten language books again. the ones they found didn't make much sense, but one of them was in the secret library right? maybe there's others hiding somewhere in there too? (<- said in the tone of someone who is checking the freezer for their phone because hey, why not try it now that we've exhausted everything that would make sense.) and that's why siffrin was planning to loop straight to floor 2 — they had a mission, and they were done doing everything in dormont, it doesn't help, it's just manipulating their family for their own benefit.

and that's where we get the au divergence!

so in that final run through the house, siffrin knew that the king had mentioned wish craft, but nothing else about it. they were taking their time and having the long versions of conversations and rereading everything (outside of dead-ends), which includes:

the craftonomy book - they discuss how the king is using time craft, which would normally kill someone

the newspapers - they discuss the king's origins and the stars on his armor

the sparkly diary - they discuss the forgotten island, and siffrin asks isabeau to try saying it

the letter - siffrin talks about running away from home, and trails off

and, now that siffrin has completed the friendquests and is checking every single little thing for the first time since then, he finally opens up the star room's diary and has his family read it for the first time! since they haven't read the forgotten language books about wish craft, isabeau and odile dismiss it as fiction. siffrin, though, feels like he understands wish craft better. and in this au, where he's been feeling very stuck but now suddenly desperately wants to stay in this version of the day in a deeper way than ever before, he starts to wonder if there's a way he could make a wish to get out, somehow. but he still has no idea how wish craft works.

and then he doesn't need to follow up on that, because that's the last loop!

also, here's the sus points they got, in addition to yknow the whole conceit of the au and the effects that would have on their behavior the next day.

When picking up the Circle Key, choose "What's up with the circles?" and then "The Universe."

Activate the switch in the Death Corridor.

Enter the right side hallway on the first floor proper with Siffrin 20 or more levels above the rest of the party.

Interact with the first tear in the right side hallway.

Interact with the dictionary in the locked Storage Room.

Bump into the counter in the Kitchen after already bumping into it five times in previous loops.

Interact with the cutlery closet in the Break Room in a loop without Odile's Friendquest completed.

In the right side hallway at the row of tears, choose either the Age Alliance or the Beauty Alliance.

When reading the Sparkly Diary in the Library, choose "But can you try and say it anyway?"

Choose "Wow, a secret passage~!" when opening the path to the Secret Library.

Interact with the book on shields on the very right bookshelf in the Secret Library.

Open the star-shaped door using Memory of Memories.

Interact with the orrery in the room behind the star-shaped door on the same loop as looking at the newspapers in the Writing Dorm on Floor 1. 

Interact with the hair-covered door before obtaining the KeyKnife.

notably this doesn't include any of the points you get by skipping conversations or events, interacting with equipment you already own, or reading the forgotten language books on wish craft. and without that last one, no sus event.

[butchisrevolution]

dolly dog man readthrough #8

grime and punishment

THERE'S SOME INSANE SYMBOLISM IN THIS ONE

also yes i skipped a readthrough and yes it is in my drafts, im publishing it later bc i had problems with the image files

this is a metaphor for life and having the autonomy to choose your own path and this is probably gonna be the theme for the rest of the book

im guessing

all of grampa's experiences with others in life have been transactional, likely since childhood, to the point that he is unable to see others in any way other than a means to an end

while his son, petey, fits an NPD diagnosis almost exactly, grampa seems to fit an ASPD diagnosis almost exactly.

anddd

andddd

this is the most open he has been about his feelings. and its in an altered state

this is a metaphor for people who avoid therapy and medication, instead opting into dependence on recreational drugs to regulate and process their emotions

petey hangs onto the hate towards his father because it's the only thing he has left with him in relation to his father. giving up the hate would mean giving up his father, and deep down he still just wants to be loved, so he settles for what he's given

being a witness to abuse is really hard, especially when you're trying to explain it to someone who wasn't around to see it, someone younger. you want to protect them from the harsh knowledge, but you want them to understand your pain. it's even harder when you have to watch your other parent simply take it, settle with the abuse, because they feel like there's no escape. it makes you lose hope and really shapes your expectations for what life will look like for the worse.

OH FUCK. SHIT

side note: the composition of these frames is really nice... in the second frame, his son's speech bubble comes from behind him, as if it's sneaking up on him. the sizzling of the pan goes off the page to the right, continuing as his son talks, but it abruptly stops once he finishes the sentence. it literally shows the room going quiet.

in the last frame, petey is super far behind him. there's a divide between him. it's as if li'l petey is fading into the background and an invisible barrier, petey's memories, is brought to the foreground. a divide between them, really showing how different their experiences of life are.

i also appreciate how the color changes of the background went through these panels, starting a deep angry color, fading to a more neutral, some tension with the yellow, and then desaturating as the question is asked.

silhouette comes in clutch every time. this entire scene is genuinely a cinematic masterpiece

i appreciate that they took the time to show that even when there's tension between them he still makes sure to take care of li'l petey

sickening page

this was created so beautifully.

the third panel is absolutely stunning, the symbolism managed in the imagery in such a simplistic comic is incredible. the bottled weeds from earlier in the book on the counter, the weeds that li'l petey specifically referred to as dying, which ended up symbolizing resistance in struggle... in this scene, it means both of those things at the same time. there's a duality.

also, the buds of the weeds being white i assume symbolizes grief and loss. outside, it's dark, the world is a dark place, but they've made a loving home together, which is why the walls are still multicolored. petey is struggling with issues from the past, but this time he's not alone and he can't give up. it's a lot of mixed feelings, just like the mixed colors on the wall.

he has a point, the little anarchist has a point

ACAB chief my beloved

he just does it for the fun of the game

i feel like im witnessing a Socratic seminar in comic form

to hate or not to hate

or smth

YEAH TELL EM LI'L PETEY SET THOSE BOUNDARIES

bro needs to stop parentifying his child !!

I KNEW THAT WAS GONNA COME BACK.

shitt bro...

let go of your baggage or it will only weigh you down

also i rlly liked the artistic decision to make petey's outline glow more when hugging his son so cute

fun fact this is actually a DBT crisis skill called "Pushing Away"

when there's nothing else you can do to make a situation better, you're allowed to give yourself the benefit of retiring from it. you're not required to stick it out for every problem in your life. you are allowed to have peace of mind

and now grampa has no choice to accept the situation for how it is. it's settled and boundaries are set. he can't wriggle out of them. it was a direct, neutral statement with no judgement. when you're in the wrong, sometimes that's the hardest thing to sit with. if someone tells you something you did with no judgement and you feel ashamed because of it, you can't blame it on the way they said it, you can only blame it on what you did.

PERFECT DBT SKILLS. PERFECT BOUNDARIES SETTING.

yeah this is essentially what people are saying when they try to make you explain your boundaries

if you fight enough with someone they may forget their footing and adjust their boundaries, but you don't have to fight, you don't have to explain your boundaries, you can just set them and leave it.

real shit bro real shit

IM FUCKING TWEAKING HOLY SHIT

that bottle again,,,,

after years of struggle he lets his inner child finally feel and see. he travelled his path and now he's ready to share his resilience with the rest of the people in his life, ready to reconnect in a new way, instead of hiding his resilience in private, ashamed, as if it's a show of weakness. he's learnt the strength of being open

YOU CAN COLOR IT ANY WAY YOU WANT......

FIEND! FIEND! FIEND! FIEND!

so THISSS is the sauce they put in this book...

EACH BOOK KEEPS GETTING BETTER AND ALSO MORE HEARTBREAKING

IM GONNA GENUINELY START TWEAKING

DAV PILKEY WHAT ARE YOU

[pupkinpumpkin]

Oh fuck I completely forgot

K, so, in Asunder, there's a scene where Lord Seeker Lambert comes to Evangeline's room and gives her 4 vials of lyrium for her trip

Later on in Asunder, when the team is coming back from the Western Approach,

1) Evangeline (Or Rhys, I don't remember who) notes that it's been two weeks since they left

2) When Rhys tries to convince Evangeline to run away with him, she shows him 3 empty vials and 1 full vial of lyrium (I think, the 4th vial might also be a bit empty). She says she's addicted and will be useless in a week. She also repeats this later on to Wynne

So we can conclude:

- Once a Templar is addicted, it takes about a week for the withdrawal symptoms to come in. Evangeline doesn't abuse the stuff though, and she shows a lot of restraint, so this might be the wait time for an average Templar, but it's probably much shorter for a Templar who's actively abusing lyrium

- We have no idea if Evangeline's taking lyrium one vial at a time or taking micro doses, but three full vials of lyrium are gone in the span of two weeks, meaning she's taking this shit pretty regularly. To my knowledge, we've never had an idea of how often Templars are taking lyrium, so this is great information to have

I can't remember fully where it's said, so correct me if I'm wrong, but Cullen, when talking about becoming a Templar, says that after their Vigil, they get a philter (a box of stuff that prepares the lyrium), and their first draught of lyrium, so Evangeline probably has this on her during her trip and philters are needed in order to properly take lyrium

Now for the iffy part

- In Origins, Alistair says he's never taken lyrium. This is a lie, but probably one he didn't know about

- The Joining requires lyrium as an ingredient, so Alistair definitely ingested at least a little bit

- Alistair is able to use his powers as a Templar for an entire year

As much as I'd like this to mean Templars definitely don't need to be taking lyrium as often as they do, there could be multiple reasons for this

- The amount of time lyrium works for a Templar simply got retconned and they do actually need to take lyrium often. Boo

- Bc The Joining changes a Grey Warden forever, it's possible that the lyrium is now permanently in a Grey Warden's veins just like the taint is, meaning Alistair could use his Templar powers forever if he wanted

- Alistair is just the Maker's specialist little boy and gets to be exempt from things like withdrawals because of his family's bloodline.

Also, in the Silent Grove, like 8 years after Origins I think, when Alistair, Varric, Isabela, and Maevaris are surrounded by mage occultists or whatever, Alistair uses his Templar powers. Someone asks him how he did this, and he just says something like "I knew we were coming to Tevinter so I decided my Templar powers would be useful, so I got back into practice"

We never find out what this means

Whether he decided to take a little bit of lyrium, or is just cool enough to not need it, is up to anyone

We also have no idea how long Cullen is able to use his Templar powers in Inquisition since I'm pretty sure we never see him in action besides in his personal quest when trying to find Samson, but he'd literally have no reason to use Templar powers on other Templars, so who knows?

So in all, we've basically no clue how often Templars NEED to take lyrium and no official date for how long their powers last after they stop taking it, but we do know ~generally~ how often they're taking it, which I don't believe we knew before

I personally like to think that Templars could just take lyrium like once a year but the Chantry likes to have them on a leash so they make them take it way more often so they get addicted because the Chantry is terrible

But ya, that one line made me spiral

[jjjjeonww]

ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) selling my moots!! ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

got tagged by my lovely anna ( @chenlezip ) to sell my moots!!! (please take them. i beg you.) starting off withhhh...🥁🥁🥁!! ⋆˚࿔ @hanniescookie 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... NOT FOR SALE. ( i will never sell my angel/my wife. ) pros: ⭑.ᐟ everything about her. ⭑.ᐟ EVERY. SINGLE. THING. cons: ⭑.ᐟ NONE!!!!!!!!!!!! ⭑.ᐟ i fear she's perfect and ethereal!! (a v good fear.) ⭑.ᐟ i wanna marry her. ⭑.ᐟ ...actually she'd sell every loved one of hers for jeonghan.. ⋆˚࿔ @starstrawb 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... every last cent you have. pros: ⭑.ᐟ does silly dilly willy quizzes w me🤍🤍 ⭑.ᐟ WANTED TO BECOME MY JOSHUJI!!! YAYAYAYYAY!!! ⭑.ᐟ sends me gm and gn texts <3 ⭑.ᐟ will listen to you yap!!! cons: ⭑.ᐟ our timezones. ⭑.ᐟ she's too sweet. it disgusts me. ⋆˚࿔ @gyubakeries 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... $0.99 pros: ⭑.ᐟ CARING AF!!!!! ⭑.ᐟ will listen to you yap pt2 !! ⭑.ᐟ will suddenly drop random lore ONLY if u drop random lore too!! ⭑.ᐟ if she yaps about mingyu, you better drop everything and listen. cons: ⭑.ᐟ will ruin you with her angst! ⭑.ᐟ and her fluff! ⭑.ᐟ SHE GETS A 0.99 ONLY BC OF GLIMPSE OF US GYU. she ruined me my god.

⋆˚࿔ @kwonienana 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... FREE!!! no pros, and no cons. she is available for kidnapping until she releases a part two of unsent!woozi. ⋆˚࿔ @wonkierideul 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... your whole lifespan! pros: ⭑.ᐟ she's a silly willy <3 ⭑.ᐟ literally has the cutest voice !! ⭑.ᐟ SHE'S SUCH A SILLY CUTIEEE ⭑.ᐟ (i love our vms hehe) ⭑.ᐟ the absolute LOVE OF MY LIFE ⭑.ᐟ pls i will never leave kie ever :( cons: ⭑.ᐟ if you have a shitty mic, dont become moots with her. ⭑.ᐟ CALLED MY PERFECTLY FINE CAPABLE GREAT QUALITY MIC SHITTY?!?! ⭑.ᐟ you could be yapping about the most emotional thing and she'd be like "you should hold my toes" ⭑.ᐟ SENT ME A WHOLE PARAGRAPH ABOUT WHY HOLDING TOES IS SO VULNERABLE?????????????? ⭑.ᐟ FORCES ME TO DOWNLOAD APPS?! ⭑.ᐟ secretly rlly freaky (not in THAT way.) ⋆˚࿔ @kissbyoon 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... $979543625045926345923845923475234523452345 pros: ⭑.ᐟ when i slid into her dms SHE MATCHED MY FREAK RIGHT AWAY ⭑.ᐟ a silly willy, just like kie!!! ⭑.ᐟ said the italian language is sexy (yes. thats a pro.) cons: ⭑.ᐟ TRAUMATISED ME WITH A HORRIFYING REEL. (!!!) ⭑.ᐟ would do anything for jeonghan.... ⭑.ᐟ SAID SHE WOULD BLUSH IS JEONGHAN GIVES HER A SIDE EYE?????? ⋆˚࿔ @seokminfilm 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... $21800 pros: ⭑.ᐟ will do any request u ask her too!! ⭑.ᐟ lowk just a chill guy ⭑.ᐟ SHE PUT ME AS ONE OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS IN HER FIC!!! :((((( ⭑.ᐟ (you havent answered my question. was mingyu down bad for yuna or not...) ⭑.ᐟ will make your heart melt!!! cons: ⭑.ᐟ idk man ⭑.ᐟ OH OH OH IDK WHERE MY DOWNBAD DK FIC IS 😀. ⭑.ᐟ yeah thats a con. ⭑.ᐟ giving u the silent treatment btw. ⭑.ᐟ i hope you're RYING right now. ⭑.ᐟ makes fun of my spelling errors.... to all my other moots: IM SORRYYY FOR NOT TAGGING!! maybe i'll do a part two <3!! to my moots i mentioned here: i hope you guys dont mind the tags!! and pls pls pls dont come after me... it was honestly rlly hard to think of cons... my mind was blank cause you all are so perfect!!!

[freyito]

you asked for gallagher asks and as an official gallagher simp and death denier i am here to oblige. how about gallagher finds someone flirting with reader while they were waiting for him and gallagher gets all pouty and jealous as he picks them up and takes them away bc theyre his partner dammit!! i am a firm gallagher is a clingy baby in a relationship believer

✭ pairing(s): gallagher x gn reader

✩ inspo: Real Man by beabadoobee

✧ a/n: i took a little bit of a different direction with this... but its still jealousy all the same :D!! i, too, think he's clingy... but also like scary dog privileges and all that yk...

also! i have a strawpage now!!! i mainly made it for my selfship blog (that i'm still regrettably working on) BUT ITS THERE!!! ITS A THING1!! and also ASKS ARE OPEN NOW!!! YAAAAAY!!! remember to read my rules for asks... and since this seems to be a common theme, i DONT write for fem reader :), just gn and male. i also dont answer nsfw asks on this account.

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, the guy is a creep, mentions of alcohol, guard dog gallagher -> puppy gallagher p much, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.4k

ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴍᴀɴ

He finds it laughable that some people would even try. Gallagher knows full well what the people of Penacony are like, and yet he never expected for such things to happen. Or, for him to get as jealous as he did. Even if it was clear that you were the apple of his eye, when you and him were very clearly having a nice little conversation– about a date, no less.

Now, he understands that a lot of people– even you, when he first met you– thought Penacony was the perfect paradise. Underneath all that glitz and glamour, though, it was the lowest of the low, the highest population was the sleazebags. Assholes who would swoop in and try and charm their way to your heart, only to run off with all manners of things you wouldn’t want to part with. Or, they would try to use you, take advantage of your better heart. The smarter ones stayed around the longest, sucked you dry of all your possessions, wealth, and even kindness, and left without a word to find their next victim to drain.

But the bolder ones of that population; those are the ones that truly pissed Gallagher off. Like the asshole in front of him, leaning in so close to you that you could smell the alcohol on his breath, hurling all sorts of pick up lines and sickening names at you that bordered on insults. There was no way this man was that bold. The fact that he’d look over at Gallagher every couple of seconds, the fact that he would even include Gallagher in such talk was horrendous.

‘You’ve got quite the fine catch, here.’

‘Come now, I ain’t as bad as he is, I promise.’

‘I can make all sorts of dreams come true, sweetie.’

‘I’m sure your man here wouldn’t mind sharing a little…’

If Gallagher wasn’t on the clock, he’d make sure this man would get his jaw rearranged. But he isn’t a brute, and he’s much more sophisticated than that. Though, he believes if he shows this man mercy, he’d go find some other poor soul to harass. Then again, it is also his job to make sure such things like this get punished. How unfortunate for this man to have no Bronze Melodia to read him his last rites.

With a superficial grin and barely restrained anger, he leans over the counter and catches the man’s attention. He doesn’t say much, if at all anything. He really only gives the guy a look, furrowed brows, a scowl, and the man quickly got up from his seat and ran off with his tail between his legs. 

Once Gallagher’s sure the man has given you two enough space (and is avoiding anyone else in the bar), he looks over at you with a much more docile, gentle smile.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice a low, near comforting purr. He reaches for your hand and takes it in his own, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I’m fine,” You nod, “I just think he could definitely brush his teeth better.”

“Well, if you want me to kick him out, I don’t mind doing that,” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Or worse. Whichever you prefer.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I promise,”

“Okay, okay. But the offer still stands,” He looks back over to where the man ran off too, finding him huddled in a booth, as far as possible from the bar. Yet, the man was still nervously staring over at Gallagher, his earlier bravado completely dissipated. Gallagher meets his eyes for a moment, and he can see the man flinch.

You follow Gallagher’s gaze for a moment, before he cuts you off with a kiss to your cheek. You open your mouth to say something, but he catches your lips with his, pressing a borderline sensual kiss to your lips. You don’t protest, and melt into the kiss. You could ask yourself why he was doing this, seeing as he was a man who would stop PDA at holding your hand. Usually, the kinds of kisses were reserved for your privacy… or when he wants to make a point.

When you pull away, you feel your head spin a little. Gallagher chuckles and squeezes your hand, looking back over to the booth. Before he cna gauge the man’s reaction, he realizes that Siobahn has rounded to the bar. 

“Oh, shift change, perfect!” He hums, pulling away all too quickly to greet Siobahn and clock out. You raise your eyebrow as he does so, downing your drink and standing up. 

Normally, he finds an excuse to stay just a little longer, just one more drink, and so on. But now, he’s keen to leave. Which you don’t mind, but you can’t help but wonder why he’s like this. Either he wants to get off the clock as soon as possible so he’s not liable for what happens to that man, or he wants to whisk you away from that man’s sight and make sure you feel better. Both are quite endearing, in their own ways.

He rounds the bar counter, coming to your side and placing a hand on the small of your back. He ushers you out of the bar with a soft ‘c’mon’, making sure to stay close to you. You were practically hip-to-hip with him, every now and then his hand would reach for your shoulder and pull you in closer when someone looked at you for a second longer. It’s kind of cute, the way he’s protective of you. At the same time, he feels more like a clingy puppy, nosing his way into your hand when you give someone else too much attention.

When you two get home, Gallagher scoops you up in his arms with a grunt of effort, he makes his way to the couch. You don’t even have time to react, all your mind can come up with is a giggle as he sits down, setting you down in his lap. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder, hands splaying over your stomach.

“Mh, just like how it's supposed to be,” He murmurs, an air of… nostalgia in his voice?

“What do you mean by that?” You tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. In turn, he hides his face in the crook of your neck, muttering something you can’t quite catch. His stubble paired with his words succeeds in only making you laugh, squirming in his arms.

“Noooo…” He whines pitifully, pulling you up closer against him, like your squirming was an attempt to get away. “Lemme just hold you. For a minute. Max. Please?”

“I never said you couldn’t, you’re just–” You squirm again, reaching up and cupping his face. “– making it impossible to sit still.”

“M’sorry,” He apologizes for no particular reason. After another moment of hiding in your neck, he finally pulls away and leans back against the couch. “Y’know… I could’ve punched him. Probably still can, bet that asshole’s still at the bar.”

“I told you it was fine, I’m fine,”

“I know, but the offer still stands. I could find him in an hour. Or less.”

“Well I appreciate the thought, but I’d rather you not resort to violence,”

Gallagher tilts his head further into your palm, looking back up at you as if to verify that what you said was true. You simply look down with a smile, and his face softens, accepting your answer.

“Okay. But you know if anyone does anything like that you can tell me, right? Even if I'm at work and you’re… shopping, or whatever, you can call me. I can play the hero. I’d like to, you know,”

You laugh and lean back scratching at his scruff. This earns you a soft ‘hmph’ in return, eyes closing with satisfaction. He’s happy if you’re happy, it’s always been this way. Gallagher knows the beauty he holds in his arms at this very moment, and that knowledge gives him quite the ego boost. He’s a humble man, and he always does his best not to let pride or anything of the sort go to his head. But he can’t help it when some people get too cocky, when he’s able to chase them away with just a look. Not that it was enough for him– clearly, he had to make his point– but there is a certain pride to keeping one’s lover safe, and letting someone so bold know just who your heart belongs to.

© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | strawpage | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[witchyliterature]

PLEASE PLEASEEE could you do like unreciprocated love w touya i’d be so grateful 🙁🙁 maybs based off of the song chest pain by malcolm todd or promise by laufey either oneee! n i have no idea what format it could be so whatever you think fits best :)

this is actually my first time writing proper angst sooo IDK. i chose promise bc i know that song better which made it easier to write to. i think this was ok? I REALLY DONT KNOW but yeah. anyways, it’s post war period, rehabilitated touya au, mentions of death, reader is a little mean to touya but one could argue it’s justifiable (depends on perspective, idk im just the author yall). did a normal one shot format cus i can only do 10 images on mobile and i knew i wanted this to be a lot longer (it’s only 1.6k words but still). touya living with shoto canon cus i said so. use of the name dabi but only for metaphorical comparisons. gender neutral reader. hints to musician dabi (like one line). uhhh yeah i think that’s all, HOPE U LIKE

promise; touya todoroki

dabi was never a romantic.

the bubbling burnt feeling of hatred consumed him wholly and swallowed any other emotion - he was a vessel for hatred, for not only did he carry his own, but also his family’s who couldn’t express their own feelings toward endevour.

yet, touya found out he was.

after the war and a long rehabilitation process, he had realised there are other things to life, hatred was not the only emotion in sight, it was not the only emotion he deserved.

so when touya found out that he had feelings for you, the only friend he had ever made by himself after the war that didn’t have any villainous intent, he had been terrified.

he couldn’t explain it at first, why his heart would leap when speaking to you, or why he tried to hard to impress you when you both went to the gym, or even why he had made a song about you and all the lyrics sounded oddly romantic.

then, when even his socially inept brother could tell that he had some form of feelings for you, it finally clicked.

so then, he made a promise, to distance himself until these childish feelings resolved themselves.

touya didn’t deserve to love or be loved, not after all the destruction he caused or all the suffering he made others feel - even his own family.

for 16 days, he avoided you like the plague. airing your calls and texts, avoiding you at work (which was damn near impossible) and when he did have to talk to you, he kept it short and sweet, even then, his palms got sweaty and his smile would grow double its size when you were around.

but, at some point, he broke his promise.

he didn’t exactly understand why he did, he just saw someone that looked like you when he was walking home from work and decided that enough was enough.

shoto had hyped him up, telling him that this was going to be fine, you had to have want him as well after everything, or at least you would give him a chance.

touya’s confidence was built, he knew what he was going to do, he was going to ask you out.

on call though, he was still a shy little boy on the inside of it all.

leading for him and shoto to be sat on the kitchen island seats across from one another, calling your number while putting you on speaker.

“touya! oh my goodness, here i thought you were going to end our friendship! what’s going on, why have you been ignoring me?” your sweet voice rang through, it felt like he could see your small cute pout as you said that, hand on hip attempting to look serious.

“i would never, i’m sad you would think that.” touya chuckled.

“yeah well, ignoring me for 16 days is really something, you know?!” you laughed.

“my deepest apologies, you can burn me at the stake if you truly want to.” touya responded smugly.

“i would but that seems like it would turn you on.” you scoffed, he laughed in response.

“alright then, but you won’t get to know why i called you.” touya sighed playfully.

“do tell oh great touya takamani!” you said with faux respect.

that was the last name he told you, the one the government gave to him. they allowed him to keep his first name since not many people remembered him at touya anyways, as well as to allow him to keep at least some part of his identity.

“listen, you’re like really stupid sometimes, and it gets me angry sometimes. you talk way too much and you love spoiling movies for me.” touya stated.

shoto looked at him confusingly, touya flinched as he realised he was just insulting you and you were remaining silent.

“wait- i- ugh, i didn’t meant it like that. i had this whole other part to it but…” touya stammered.

“it’s ok, i know you didn’t mean it. you’re terrible at talking about your feelings but, i’ll be patient with you, i always will be.” you said calmly.

shoto looked at touya shockingly, he had met you once or twice and understood… the physical attraction to it. but hearing you talk to his brother in such a fashion made him realise where touya’s love for you come from.

touya’s own heart fluttered tremendously at that, you were always paitent with him. even now when he has ignored you for over two weeks and you never shouted or screamed, you just, waited.

“i just mean that, those traits are things i don’t even hate. i love them, and you, i love it all.” touya blurted out, his legs bouncing with anticipation while shoto gave a thumbs up.

“aw, you’re so sweet! i love you too, touya!” you responded.

“no, i mean it as though, i love you… romantically. i want to go on dates with you and take you to your favourite places and think of a future with you. in fact, i don’t even care what we do, i just want to be near you while we do those things. i.. don’t exactly understand how these things go, ive never been in a relationship or have seen a successful one other than my brother’s friends but even then i don’t really see them. i’m willing to try, as long as im yours, im willing to do anything you want me to.” touya had explained, his gruff voice softening out as he spoke.

as he spoke, it felt like you could see the starts twinkle in his eye, the ones that only show themselves when he looks at you with that look. full of love and hope, with his heart raw and beating on his sleeve. yeah, you could imagine it vividly.

and you hated it.

you hated how you can see him gazing in his house dreaming of a future with you, or how you can imagine his blushing while thinking of you, or those moments in work where his eyes are stuck on his figure and you pretend to not acknowledge it.

because you did not want him to think of you that way, you never desired to be his and you never held out hope of you two being together past friendship.

and you didn’t care if that hurt him.

“touya, i hope you’re not serious.” you laughed pitifully.

shoto and touya froze.

“i-i am?” touya responded slowly, as though he knew what was coming. he was in the danger zone and the alarm bells with ringing violently as he pretended that they were just precautionary measures.

“i know that you’re dabi.” was all you said in response.

touya’s eyes widened, his breathing quickened and his hand ran through his white messy hair.

“you do? damn i was-“

“don’t play this off as a joke. listen, i didn’t care that much when i first learned a couple months ago. i valued our friendship despite your past, but expecting a relationship between us is downright delusional. even if i were to give you a chance, it would never last. that war you started because of your own daddy issues caused a lot of my families death and financial issues, i can respect the change in behaviour and i don’t mind keeping you as a friend but i could never love a villain.” the sting of your venomous words seeped into touya’s bloodstream and stopped the rhythmic beat of his heart.

he felt dizzy and lost, he heard you speak again but it became a blur as his vision started to blur from the sting of tears the bullied its way out of his eyes.

touya was angry, sad, heartbroken and anything else under the sun. worst of all? he couldn’t even blame you. you were well within your right to reject him for that reason and he hated that.

the familiar bubbling started to boil in his gut again, his default emotion to any bad situation that was all consuming and ever so comforting in its perverse ways.

it was like a hug from his father, Lord knows that he never received that when he was younger much but the one time he did, the one time affection was shown to him, it felt like this. touya felt like everything he ever despised, all the darkness within his enveloped him within its grasp.

it was reliable, trustworthy and never lied him.

love wasn’t, it was sickening and tight on the heart. it was faulty and pretended to be there for you in times of need, but, like everything in life, was just a trick that got him vulnerable enough to make him tick.

touya finally locked back into reality, realising now that shoto and you were arguing. he has never seen his stoic brother that angry, but he didn’t know why. why would he defend the very villain that ruined his childhood? dabi was the very thing he seeked to destroy and it’s not like dabi and touya were that seperate.

touya was just dabi with a false sense of security.

“it’s fine, honestly. sorry for bothering you y/n, hang up sho’” touya suddenly spoke.

shoto hung up the phone quickly, placing it down as he looked at his brothers eyes. once full of life, stars and love looking exactly like it did eight years ago.

“are you-“

“i’m fine.” no he wasn’t, of course touya wasn’t, but what more could he do.

he shouldn’t have broken his promise, he should’ve stayed away and listened to dabi - the anti romantic voice in his head telling him to stay away.

because now touya realised now more than ever, that while it hurts be something, it was worse to be nothing with you.

[brainscrems]

I’m so fucking sick of ADL apologia. They’re not “trying to play nice and avoid targeting by the regime” THEY ARE ACTIVELY ENCOURAGING TRUMP AND HAVE BEEN QUIETLY SUPPORTING HIM FOR FUCKING YEARS!!!! The ADL, when faced with a choice between two candidates, a nazi who will let israel get away with whatever war crimes it wants, and a woman who’s not a nazi, has a jewish husband, is a big supporter of the jewish community, and hinted that she maybe, might hold israel accountable for war crimes, decided neither was the best option. Oh, except they also gave an award to the son-in-law of the nazi during that election year. For the fellow jews who see this, ask yourselves, when was the last time you saw the ADL criticize the republican party platform at all? When’s the last time you saw them call out the growing threat of nazism on the far right? When’s the last time you saw them point out the terrifying similarities between action and word of the republican party’s rhetoric towards immigrants and that of the nazi party’s rhetoric to jews? When was the last time the ADL talked abt systemic antisemitism that doesn’t fit their bs narrative of “the left wants all jews dead, while the right says some bad things sometimes but they mean well”. And, also ask yourself, “When was the last time they used their name as the largest jewish advocacy organization to claim that a nazi who just gave a nazi salute, has spouted nazi rhetoric for years, and also gave that nazi salute while giving a speech that sounded like it came right from adolf hitler’s own fucking mouth?” Cause i don’t remember the answer to those first few question, but I sure do remember the answer to that last one.

This is not a defense of left-wing antisemitism. As a leftist jew I see that shit day in and day out and it’s driving me fucking insane. I know what we’ve faced this last year and a half. This is about the ADL being unreliable and actively harming jewish interests. Cause let’s now talk about what the ADL DOES actually say about the left. Cause, yea, leftist antisemitism is fucked. Yea, the ADL calls it out. Yea, the ADL gets it wrong sometimes, and that would be expected of any organization. The issue here, is they’re getting it wrong ALL the time about the right, because they don’t bother to call it out at all. I posit they just throw spaghetti at the wall when it comes to leftist antisemitism and then they see what sticks. Their internal guidance, from an outside perspective, is it’s fine when the right-wing ethnonationalists in control of the government do a nazi salute, but when leftists do it to be edgy cunts to weaponize jewish trauma for their political causes it’s bad. Let’s be clear, they’re both bad. But it’s the difference between violent edgelord trolls and someone who actually wants to be the next hitler. What’s worse? The ADL thinks the college kids are a bigger threat than the people in charge of the entire US government. This is a systemic issue with the ADL.

Now, why this matters. The ADL has been slowly moving this way for a while. It just REALLY stepped up since october 7th because it gave them fertile ground to push what they want. But this isn’t new. The ADL has been tarnishing its reputation w goyim by overeprorting antisemitism on the left, and thus alienating even the more moderate left, and underreporting on the right. If the only people outside out community who have any trust in the ADL are republicans fascists and centrists who enable them, the people who it never bothers to call out, how can they continue to effectively represent us at all? The left thinks everything they say is bullshit because it’s boy who cried wolf with them. They call out everything bc they want to discredit the left. The right thinks they’re great bc they would probably let them get away with a sieg heil. This leaves us with the largest jewish advocacy organization in the US being only trusted by either nazis, or people who refuse to wake up and smell the fascism.

So. If we, as a community, want our voices heard we MUST disavow the ADL. We have to discredit them. We have to say they don’t represent us. Because. Keep in mind. 80% of jews voted against trump. The ADL knew it would look like this because they know what the american jewish community looks like. Yet, still, withheld endorsing the candidate who was, again, running against an actual nazi when it might have swayed some of the right-leaning jews. They did, however, EFFECTIVELY endorse trump by giving his son-in-law an award during an election year. Yk. The one that helped him in his first term to enact his shitty racist policies. I can’t think of any reason for this except that they wanted trump to win but knew an open endorsement would lead to a complete loss of faith from the jewish community. So. I’m here begging you. Stop buying their fucking bullshit. Their interests are not yours. They have abandoned us so they could have a president willing to let israel do whatever it wants without consequence. They have chosen to provide plausible deniability for an open nazi, as anyone who does a nazi salute while giving a far-right nationalist speech is. Do not trust them. Do not quote them. Do not donate to them. There are other jewish organizations and we should start trying to get their names out there to goyim. They ARE sometimes right about leftist antisemitism, but their motivations for calling it out are political, as evidenced by the passes they give the right. If you want our voices to be listened to on this issue start quoting other jewish orgs instead. They are less well known, but we have so many in the US. We, as a community, need to disavow these pieces of shit willing to give cover to nazis. For the sake of our credibility and for the sake of waking up the nation to the nazis we have in power.

[pumpkinsy0]

Ermmm any curly and Angela interacting w Dallas hcs pls

u already KNOW🗣️🗣️🗣️

•curly hates dally bc he steals tims attention, duh already said it before, but angela doesnt rlly have a specific personal reason for hatin dally, normally she would write guys like him off but she thinks hes wayyyyyy too involved in her life for him to do that + shes sick of hearing about him from sylvia, they want him GAWN

•sometimes tim tells curly (and if its not too dangerous for her, angela) to do something for him for dally they will procrastinate the hell out of it purposely until tim basically yells at them to do it, even when doing it its begrudgingly

•idc whhaaattttt u think, under nooooo circumstance will dally hit on angela like EVER even if its to get back at tim for hitting on sylvia. but lets say it does happen, he would gave to be drunk off his mind and even then it doesnt last long. angelas never giving him the time of day and is whooping his ass, THEN curly and tim do it, and tim will always be livid over it

•pony jokes that curly just has a crush on dally he doesnt wanna admit, the whole “boys bully u cause they has a thing for u” idea, and curlys held himself back from shoving pony very roughly into a metal pole countless times, he just hopes dally never hears it cause dallys especially not gonna take him seriously then especially

•when tim was walking around looking for dally for messing up his tires, curly was actually w him trying to find him too!! just at a different part of the drive in so u didnt see him. he wanted to see dally get his shit rocked and tim did end up fighting him, curly was just the instigator 😭😭 he could not waittttt to tell angela

•dally got bit by curly during the shepards vs curtis rumble, that bite got a lil infected and for weeks dally wouldnt shut up about it to tim🙄🙄 angela and tim were proud of curly, a lil concerned, but proud overall❤️curly was just a menace that whole rumble tbh he put up a good fight

•angela helps to patch up tim after a fight and unnnfortunatellyyyyy dally is aware of this so when he gets beat up near the shepards house he goes to her to get patched up. after bribing her is ONLY when she helps him, does she go rough while doing it as her way of rebellion??? yep!!!! dally complains a lot but he knows to shut his mouth before she kicks him out, plus he wants to get in and out before the shepard parents come home

•they make dallys life a living hell, but i don’t think they would ever rat him out to a straight up ENEMY of his/police officers, against what ppl want u to believe they dont want him dead

•when dally was part of the shepard gang, he kept coming over to their house even though NOOOObody else from the gang rlly does and he loved messing w curly and angela, he was like that annoying order brother u GENUINELY didnt like, he forced himself into that role. im talking eating their food, busting into their room without knocking, leaving clothes around etc etc, just an aggravating freeloader

•dally would sleep on the floor and as revenge curly and angela would “accidentally” kick and step on him, dally would get annoyed enough to get the point and leave so he never stayed longer than 2 RARELY 3 days

[nestinqomega]

hi hi!! can you explain what it’s like being an omega?? I never knew this was a thing until now but I think it seems cool.

hi ! i will try my best !! i don’t know how good of an explanation i’ll be able to give bc i find it hard for me to describe a lot of parts of my identity, but i hope it makes sense :)

also obligatory disclaimer that all omegas have different experiences and may feel/identify differently than i do !

i think it honestly probably started before i ever even knew anything about the omegaverse, let alone the misce community; when i was young, probably elementary school, i would get confused about why people acted certain ways, sometimes - in the sense that it felt like everyone was over complicating things. that being said, finally getting diagnosed in my late teens as very neurodivergent probably sheds some light on a few of those feelings

that THAT being said, i know it was more than that because i found myself always coming back to the idea of “why don’t people act more instinctual or like animals?” because i always knew humans are animals. i felt so out of place because i’d want to lean into those more instinctual/animalistic urges and it was always frowned upon

on top of that, as someone who’s AFAB, my relationship with with gender has always been a winding road too. i never quite felt like any of the other girls, i always felt like i was looking through a window - girl adjacent. a looooong way down the line (in the last couple years) i finally realized i fell somewhere in the demigirl area.

however

the first time i read a fully fledged out omega character (years ago) i had this moment of “oh my gosh that’s me!”

i couldn’t tell you who that character was now (i read a lot lmao), but ever since then, i’ve always felt this intrinsic connection to omegas, and always wishing i could exist there, in whatever au i was reading about because i felt like that was the only place i could feel like me and others would get it

finding the misce community was like a weight off my shoulders and a breath of fresh air - i’d finally found my people !!!

the specific characteristics that i feel like align with my identity as an omega are hard for me to pinpoint cuz they just feel like me, yk?

but i guess i’ve always been nurturing - towards people (especially kids and babies), plants, animals, anything in nature really, even objects

i love caring for people and being cared for in return, in a deeper way than a lot of people i know irl do

i’ve always been creative and absolutely LOVE crafting, specifically creating things for the people i care about. especially crocheting - i feel so happy and warm and fuzzy when i make a crochet plush or household item or knick knack for someone :)

things like scent/scenting, nesting, and vocals like purring have always felt like something connected to me too, in a way that was just like “oh yes, duh!”

i’m also very very particular about touch - who, where they’re touching me (both on my body and in what setting), how, why, etc. it’s a weird balance of aversion to touch but also craving touch that i still struggle to grasp, and that’s something i feel like is part of my own personal omega identity

there’s a lot of stuff i’m probably missing (i know there’s at least 1 thing i’m gonna realize i missed), but i hope this answered your question and was helpful ?

if you have follow up questions or questions about specific things i’ll do my best to answer those too :)

[wine-cult]

This is actually something we naturally pay a lot of attention to! We are hyperautoanalytical, for reasons related to Autism, OCD, BPD and also trauma-related hypervigilance. Plus we have a collective special interest in etymology. And we go through life with Such intention that most folks can't even see.

Collectively, there are things we all do:

We are required to all use UK spellings, even if the individual is specifically American [which they're not happy about but this is enforced by the brain via much discomforts if they try to use US spellings]. Anything else here, the brain allows to be optional.

We prefer [square brackets] instead of (parentheses) because we find things easier to read that way.

We also do tone tags as [./tag] instead of just /tag for the same reason.

We usually italicise any titles, and, unlike our usual text acronym behaviour [ex: omg], capitalise titles that are in their own font, acronym or not, such as BMC [Be More Chill] and EPIC: The Musical.

We also capitalise and use apostrophes on certain specific acronyms like DM's, MAP's, TERF's, PDA, MOGAI and LIOM, AD and BCE, etc.

But specifically do not capitalise certain other acronyms like omg, wtf, lol, lmao, idk, idc, iirc, ab, smth bc, and "etc." itself. We're also very particular about including the period after "etc."

More to the last point, we will specifically avoid using these at the beginnings of sentences if we want the sentence to be capitalised.

We also refuse to capitalise keyboard smashes, and try to avoid any solitary instances of hh, hhhh, kkk or xxx [h, x and k are all letters we sometimes use alone for onomatopoeia]

We collectively use o.0 and <3 a lot.

We use an apostrophe for 'cause, because... we do.

Ellipses are generally only 3, and if they're 2 or 4 or more, it is intentional and means something.

On the mismatch of AD and BCE, we've only known BC to mean "before Christ", and while we don't have a problem with Jesus [we don't worship him but he's cool], we just. no. He's just one guy, deity or not. If it was defined by the birth of Lord Hypnos, who we do worship, we still would prefer Before Common Era. "After Death" though makes no sense and also is made up, it's ad domini, and we believe the creators of the calendar deserve the respect of AD continuing to be used, because they did a good job so the Latin can stay. Plus we don't like "common era", especially in comparison to BCE, nor do we like BC alone due to "bc" being short for "because".

Other than all that, even though there are of course many similarities, we definitely do type differently. Although there are too many of us to be able to really identify us in this way, the differences still are there.

Rosalie prefers to be able to properly use the Oxford comma.

Riley uses every abbreviation and shortcut available and ends every phrase with ellipses.

My zizi Andromeda uses Emphasis Capitalisation a Lot for Everything, All of the time.

My sibling Ivy uses a lotttttttttt of exclamation points.

Jester makes sures to use all the proper spelling and punctuation and also it comes through that it's emotionless.

Odysseus, when he was solely Máxime Le Mal [mixtive] felt self conscious saying "ze" instead of "the" but avoided using any contractions. He stopped avoiding it after absorbing the source of Odysseus though.

Terry and Avery, who are fictives of the same American Southerner, both spell in accordance to their accents. Yer instead of your/you're, cain't instead of can't [not "cain" though, even though they pronounce it that way, since that one could easily be misunderstood] replacing a lot letters with apostrophes, such as bein', liter'ly, 'cept etc. Although the apostrophe isn't always used, particularly for -ing words, since there are so many, so they'll just drop the g without replacing it [Avery especially but Terry too].

Fin capitalised names [but not all proper nouns] and "I" but avoided sentence capitalisation. It also critically under-uses commas.

Raine avoids any and all capitalisation, including for "I", proper nouns including names, and anything else. Even xyr display name on PluralKit is lowercase. Xe also avoids apostrophes iirc.

Hale and Troy² I can quote on things they noticed about their own typing...

And there's certainly more! There are hundreds of headmates and also not everything is easily explainable dnakwndjfns. Plus ofc there are typing quirks too.

It's also important to note that we tend to mask a lot more on a platform like Tumblr in this way. On Discord, we can much easier express our own individual typing styles comfortably and freely. On Tumblr, as a platform that functions very differently than a chatform, we feel the need to express more proper grammar and spelling, as well as find a balance between 'overly excited' and 'emotionless therefore comes across as mad', both of which are how we general tend to be. I don't think this is plurality masking though, it's very much Autism masking.

-- Eowyn (zhe/it/they/ask)

question 69: would you say any of you have different typing styles and/or make different choices about whicj words to use and how to phrase things? or is it mostly the same?

[beneathsilverstars]

dagger ending question: how did the villagers within earshot react, and do they also check in on siffrin? thinking like, tutorial kid and running one

hmm, let’s see, who’s nearby, where is he.. somewhere that siffrin would assume is adequately out of the way for a minute of privacy, but if he’d actually thought about it he woulda realized there’s way too high a chance of someone walking through…

i think the best option here is the path to the clocktower, across the broken bridge and right around the corner. the villagers never go to the clocktower, the party has it all to themselves — but siffrin you silly goose, that means everyone in the party walks that path at least once a loop. and since siffrin is usually the last one still running around town and did the friendquests the last several times they looped to dormont, they forgot when exactly odile finishes her shopping and brings everything back to the clock tower, if not interrupted.

unfortunately. this means the closest villagers are the kids. but if they start hollering “what’s wrong??” as they run over, odile can go ah fuck and yell back for them to turn around and go get mirabelle right now because someone’s hurt. and if they don’t all go, or when they bring mirabelle back, the kids can be told to guard the bridge and make sure no one bothers them while mirabelle is working! sometimes the best way to stop a kid from doing something is to task them with making sure no one else does it.

hmm.. bonnie is nearby too… perhaps far enough to be out of earshot of the initial shouting, but they’d probably see the kids rush by with mirabelle and run over to see what’s going on. so maybe actually mirabelle sends bonnie to get isabeau! again, distracting them with a genuinely useful job. and when they get back, the kids say nuh-uh you’re not allowed past the bridge, and before bonnie can clobber them for it odile comes over and swaps out with isabeau and talks to bonnie. says siffrin got hurt, but mirabelle is healing them, and the best thing odile and bonnie can do now is stay out of the way and plan a really good dinner.

ofc bonnie asks what happened, but odile is not about to explain what she actually saw, and does not have a cover story ready either, and would rather not come up with something on the spot before she has more information, including.. siffrin’s status once mirabelle has done all she can. so she just says they’ll have to wait until siffrin is healed to get the full story. bonnie is very upset, esp bc odile won’t tell them how bad it is other than “mirabelle got to them quick, so hopefully they’ll be just fine.” which is not very reassuring but odile doesn’t want to say more and then be wrong about it. bonnie probably ends up deciding they’re even more mad at siffrin now so they don’t care ANYWAY but like they’re saying this with tears on their face.

and then yeah the villagers who saw mirabelle run by would have been talking worriedly, maybe starting to congregate by the bridge. running one, tutorial kid, smug one, maybe even fishing one and daydreaming one. odile just tells them one of the other saviors got hurt but mirabelle is taking care of it, if we need any help we’ll ask, otherwise go away, stay out of it. she’s being a lil snippy but who could blame her. and though the villagers are very curious they know when to back off… and go gossip w the other villagers instead, lol. they’re probably worried about what this means for the whole defeating the king thing. 😔