Archive of Our Own ^beta

Aran was mostly harmless. Eccentric to the point of pain, sometimes mad and unpredictable, but ultimately just a cat showing its claws from time to time—a reminder that he had them and could use them if he wished. Most of the time, he chose not to.

What most people didn’t know about Aran? Even as the son of the Boss—almost like a mafia prince—Adam was a pacifist. If it were up to him, he would prefer to settle everything peacefully.

What fascinated and captivated Aran was beauty. Art, fashion, the shimmer of jewelry, and the elegance of the human body.

That was why they had gathered there. Aran was organizing another fashion show. He loved them. He relished the opportunity to invite important people, forcing them to bow to him, and then present his latest creations before them. He hated when anyone called him a copycat. His shows had to be unforgettable—etched into memory, yet nearly impossible to recreate.

This time, Aran planned to showcase his Diamond Collection. A collection of the future, one he had worked on with sweat and determination. A collection that, at Jessie’s suggestion, they had decided to expand with jewelry that carried its own story. The idea thrilled him. His jewelry—unparalleled in beauty, untouched by time, almost innocent like a newborn—would be displayed alongside pieces with history. Jewelry that had owners who were willing to die for it, who had fought desperately to reclaim it.

Aran knew that beauty was more than just jewelry. It was also the story behind it. And he intended to use that to his advantage.

+++

The models had arrived, everything was ready. Aran watched them one last time, making sure that the assigned jewelry matched and complemented the natural tone of their skin. He stopped at the last man.

His pale hair stood out against the overwhelming presence of brown and black. Models usually avoided dyeing their hair light, especially in these times when "naturalism" was taking over the scene. Aran halted in front of him, trying to recall if he knew him.

"I chose this man?"

He turned to his assistant, who stood beside him with a tablet containing all the information about the models. The man glanced down and nodded in confirmation. Aran pondered for a moment longer before stepping closer to the intriguing man.

He placed two fingers under the model’s chin, gently tilting his head upward. He looked truly... interesting. His face was long yet delicate, his lips chapped and thin. Aran couldn’t understand why he would have chosen him, especially for this particular show.

And then he saw it.

The man shifted uneasily under his scrutinizing gaze, running a hand through his hair. Only because of that movement did Aran finally catch sight of what must have drawn him to this model in the first place. A tattoo—dark lines covering his hands. Aran reacted instantly, reaching out and pulling the man's hand closer to his face. A small, playful smiley face stared back at him from the model’s skin.

He grinned at the sight.

Tugging at the sleeve of the man’s shirt, he revealed more skin, uncovering additional markings. More tattoos, more hidden beauty that must have captivated him before.

"What set did I choose for him?"

He turned back to his assistant.

"Hmm, a classic necklace and belt. He’s also assigned a gold ring from the additional collection."

The assistant answered matter-of-factly. Aran shook his head, dissatisfied.

"No, no. That won’t work."

Without the slightest hesitation, he stripped the model of his shirt. More tattoos adorned his chest, shoulders, and back, each one only deepening Aran’s growing appreciation.

"Give me the diamond set. Collar and cuffs."

He ordered, returning his gaze to the model, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"I'll make you a star."

He promised.

"Alright, the inspection is over. Go with your assistants to get ready. We’ll meet back here in an hour for the final check and jewelry distribution."

He called out to all the models. Within moments, each of them was joined by a smiling assistant carrying a cosmetic bag, ready to perfect every detail of their appearance. Everything had to be flawless that evening. This was Aran’s first collection of its kind, and he couldn’t afford for anything to go off plan.

+++

Joke had no idea what was happening.

They had snuck into Aran’s fashion show just as planned. Everything was going smoothly—until... Joke was suddenly pulled aside by an assistant assigned to his appearance for the evening.

The young woman was all smiles and full of energy. She also didn’t take "no" for an answer. She was clearly experienced in handling events like this.

Their hour together started off simple. She styled his hair with practiced ease, not even commenting on the fact that it was a wig. She simply tended to it with professional care, brushing and arranging the artificial strands as if they were real.

Then, her focus shifted to his face. She darkened his lashes with mascara, making his eyes instantly more alluring. Next, she dusted his cheeks with blush, giving him a healthy flush. Finally, she turned her attention to his lips, outlining them with a dark pencil before adding a touch of color and sealing it all with a layer of gloss.

Joke watched her work in the mirror and had to admit—she knew exactly what she was doing. He knew he looked good on a regular day. He knew that when he was Jessie, he could enhance his best features to make himself look even more attractive. But… her work was undeniably better than anything he had ever done himself.

When Joke thought they were finally done, the assistant once again made him sit down in front of the mirror.

"Do you have any birthmarks, bruises, or… I don’t know, hickeys, love bites, or anything like that?"

She asked, slightly embarrassed but still entirely professional. Joke shook his head, and she let out a small sigh of relief.

"Okay, then you can go ahead and undress. I’ll wait and check with you to make sure everything looks right."

She decided.

Joke was… in shock for exactly thirty seconds before the assistant cleared her throat, urging him forward without words. Eventually, after a few minutes of struggling with his pants and shoes, he stood before her… completely naked.

The woman nodded, carefully examining his body.

"Great tattoos. Aran is going to love them."

She finally said before leading him out of the dressing room. They joined the rest of the models, who were already waiting with their assistants by their sides.

"Ai!"

Aran called out excitedly as he approached them. Behind him followed another group of people, each carrying a box that looked like it contained priceless jewelry.

"Alright, I’m glad we’re all ready."

He said, as if the complete nudity of the models didn’t faze him in the slightest. Joke swallowed hard, taking in everything happening around him.

"So now… let’s dress you in diamonds."

Aran called out excitedly, and his people stepped closer to the assistants who were already helping the models get ready. In front of each model, a box was opened.

Inside Joke’s box, resting on a crimson satin cushion, lay a thick belt encrusted with diamonds. His assistant took it out and, without hesitation or asking for permission, wrapped the strand of diamonds tightly around his neck, fastening it securely. She then turned back to the box, pulling out two heavy bracelets—though they resembled cuffs more than jewelry. Joke exhaled sharply as he felt the cold metal base pressing against his skin. Within moments, his other wrist was also encased, the weight and restriction undeniable.

Joke took a small step back, testing the heft of his new adornments. He didn’t even want to think about how much all these diamonds must have cost. Swallowing hard, he felt a cold sweat creeping over his bare skin. He quickly slid on his futuristic glasses the moment he spotted Jack entering the room with the other security guards. He gave a slight nod of thanks as his assistant finally stepped away from him.

"As you can probably guess, what you're wearing is worth more than half the city—along with its residents."

Aran spoke again.

"For that reason, so we don’t all have to live in fear tonight, I’d like to introduce you to your personal bodyguards for the evening."

He gestured toward the newly arrived men, each dressed in an elegant, classic black suit. They approached without hesitation, following his orders as if they were spoken by their father.

Joke felt… dizzy.

He blinked rapidly, trying to refocus his vision, but it wasn’t working. Everything in front of him, everything around him, seemed slightly blurred. He knew people were moving. He could sense that things were happening, but… none of it felt like it involved him.

It was as if… his body and mind had somehow split apart. As if his body no longer belonged to him.

He forced his lungs to take a deep breath, but… his lungs barely filled halfway before the air rushed out with a loud wheeze—so loud even he could hear it.

That was the only sound. The whistle of escaping air.

Ba-dump.

A heartbeat?

Yes, he could hear his own heartbeat. It sounded so… sad. So slow.

Joke could feel it—the sluggish rhythm of his heart, its sound blending with the sharp hiss of air slipping from his lungs.

None of this made sense. Nothing made sense.

He wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes, but he forced them open again at the sound of hurried footsteps rushing toward him.

"Are you alright?"

That familiar voice—so unmistakable—called out to him. Jack stood before him. His beautiful, wonderful Jack, always right where the people he wanted to protect were.

Joke finally felt different. He felt relief wash over him from the inside out.

"Jack…"

He whispered hoarsely, feeling the last of his strength leave his body.

+++

Jack stepped into the room where the models were preparing for Aran's show that evening. He would never admit it to anyone, but he definitely preferred being part of Aran’s events over terrorizing people into repaying their debts or spending hours listening to Boss complain about his lack of control over the situation.

Aran was usually harmless. Eccentric and completely insane—yes. But Jack, more than anyone, knew that, in the end, the guy wasn’t a real threat. He preferred—hell, he even enjoyed—taking part in the fashion shows and other events Aran organized. Most of the time, he could actually relax, enjoy good food, and experience a rare moment of peace.

No one dared to cross Boss. And that meant no one was stupid enough to mess with Boss’s only son, either.

Jack had handpicked the guards accompanying him that night, selecting only the ones he trusted for the job. When they entered the preparation room, the models were nearly ready—just waiting for their assigned bodyguards and the jewelry provided by debtors.

Jack frowned as he took in the sight before him. The models that evening… were practically naked. Miles of bare, unhidden skin stretched before him, and it stung his eyes. He turned his gaze downward, fixing it on the floor instead.

That was when he heard it—the crude, inappropriate remarks from some of the other guards about the models' bodies.

Jack stopped mid-step.

The movement was so sudden, so absolute, that the men walking behind him instinctively froze as well.

"If I hear one more disgusting comment," Jack said coldly, "or if I see any of you disrespecting Khun Aran’s models, you’ll face the consequences."

His icy gaze swept over them, and the self-assurance on their faces quickly evaporated.

"Anyone who doesn’t behave properly tonight will be my training partner tomorrow. Understood?"

His voice was calm but heavy with unspoken threat.

The response was immediate. Every man nodded, heads slightly bowed in submission. Without another word, they hurried toward their assigned models, moving with newfound discipline.

Jack’s eyes flicked toward Aran, who, as always, greeted him with a simple nod. They weren’t strangers to each other.

Having worked for Boss for so long—and being one of his best men—Jack had spent weeks, even months, escorting Aran to fashion shows, parties, or on a whim, to another city for a shopping spree.

Jack would rather work with Aran than with Boss. But his preference didn’t matter. He had no real say in his fate.

He simply followed the orders of the man who held his life, his future, and his destiny in his hands.

That was the same reason he was here now—to protect the valuables during the fashion show. Jack knew that Boss cared far more about the old heirlooms borrowed from his debtors' vaults than the diamond necklaces, which were worth multiple times more.

He swallowed hard, realizing that he too would have to hand over his most precious possession—the only keepsake from his parents—to someone else. A faceless, nameless model, trusting they wouldn’t lose or damage it. The only consolation was that even a single diamond from Aran’s collection of necklaces or bracelets was ten times more valuable than his ring. The thought that if anyone attempted to rob the fashion show, their target would most likely be the diamond collection, provided some small comfort.

He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the models. His gaze landed on the only man with light-colored hair.

He looked…

Familiar. But that wasn’t what truly caught Jack’s attention. The man looked unwell. His lips were almost blue, and his chest was rising and falling far too quickly.

Jack chastised himself for letting his eyes wander where they shouldn’t and forced himself to focus on the man’s face. He wanted to look at him more, to take in every inch of his skin. He wanted to…

He scolded himself for the strange thoughts. He had never thought this way about any other model at Aran’s previous shows.

Without hesitation, he moved toward him, stopping just a step away.

"Are you alright?"

He asked, trying to keep his voice calm—even as his heart pounded in a strange, incomprehensible rhythm. He didn’t want to sound harsh.

"Jack…"

The man murmured weakly, just as his entire body swayed.

Jack instinctively reached for him, catching him before he could collapse. He helped him lower down slowly and safely onto the cold floor. The man showed no reaction to the chill—his hands only tightened around Jack’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Joke…"

Jack whispered, recognizing the man’s voice.

He glanced around, noticing that their little scene had definitely drawn attention.

"Get me a blanket!"

He shouted at the first person his eyes landed on.

Then, he focused entirely on Joke, gently stroking his cheek. Finally, he removed the futuristic glasses from his face, revealing wide eyes and dilated pupils that swallowed all the brown in his irises, turning them into a deep black abyss.

An abyss Jack nearly fell into.

"Hey, hey! Are you with me? Joke? Can you hear me?"

Jack asked, but Joke only let out a faint groan. Jack watched him closely, trying to understand what was happening, trying to figure out what had caused this so he could help.

Then, a glint of light at Joke’s neck caught his attention.

His fingers brushed against the jewelry. A thick band of diamonds. A collar. There was a diamond collar around Joke’s neck. Jack swallowed hard at the sight. He quickly reached behind his neck, trying to undo the clasp.

Aran approached, stopping just half a step behind Jack.

"What are you doing with my star of the evening?!" he demanded, irritation lacing his voice.

Jack turned to face him, their gazes locking. The boss’s son took another step back.

"Did you ask for his permission before putting that on him?" Jack asked seriously.

"That’s the assistants’ job," Aran replied with a shrug, but Jack could see the flicker of genuine concern in his posture.

At that moment, the woman who had gone to fetch a blanket returned. Jack unfastened the necklace, handing it to Aran without a word. The young man took it, standing close to the pair curled up on the floor.

"Jack…" Joke murmured again, his gaze sharpening slightly.

Jack cupped the back of his neck, rubbing it soothingly, doing his best to be an anchor for him. The situation was far from ideal, but he had no choice.

"You sent him into sub drop," Jack said, his tone reprimanding.

Aran shifted uncomfortably.

"Can I do anything?" he asked at last, attempting to be useful.

Jack hummed softly in thought, still focused on Joke, trying to pull him out of the dangerous headspace he had fallen into—one triggered by whatever deep emotions were tied to that collar around his neck.

"If you don’t know his DOM, then I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do. Just delay the show a little, give me some time. I’ll try to…" He nodded toward Joke, who was now trembling slightly.

Aran gave a small nod in return, accepting the request. He passed the diamond collar to the assistant who had been helping with Joke’s preparations earlier.

"Joke… hey, sweetheart? Can you hear me?"

Jack asked in a soft voice, gently trying to ground him. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close as he shifted to sit on the floor himself, settling Joke onto his lap. He pressed Joke’s bare body against his own, clothed in a suit, shielding his nakedness beneath the warmth of the blanket they had been given.

Joke trembled in his arms, his fingers digging into Jack’s shoulders, pulling him closer and closer, as if he wanted them to become one.

A single, quiet tear slipped from the corner of Joke’s eye, carving a path down to his chin before breaking free and falling, leaving behind an invisible, delicate trace on his skin.

"Everything's going to be okay. I've got you," Jack reassured him.

Joke let out a deep sigh, drawing Jack’s attention. He looked at him over his shoulder, watching every subtle shift in his expression. Joke’s wide, panicked eyes softened, his eyelids lowering, the tension in his face easing. His breathing, once erratic, began to slow until, after a few more moments of Jack’s quiet reassurances and steady embrace, he was finally able to breathe normally.

"Thank you," he murmured at last, opening his eyes and meeting Jack’s gaze. A smile stretched across his face.

"I don’t even know what just happened, but thank you for helping me," he added, trying to pull away. Jack let him go without resistance.

With Jack’s help, Joke slowly rose to his feet. He gave him a small nod of gratitude.

"You don’t have to thank me," Jack assured him.

"Do you feel up to continuing the show, or should I tell Aran to find a new model in your place?" His voice was calm, serious.

Joke hesitated for a moment. He didn’t feel great, but… they couldn’t waste this opportunity. His absence could mean they would never get the chance to steal the debtors’ jewelry. They wouldn’t get the chance to steal Jack’s parents’ wedding ring…

He gave a firm nod.

"It’s fine. I can do it," he agreed.

Jack watched him carefully for a moment, then gestured to the assistant, who had been holding the diamond collar all this time.

"Will you allow me to put it on you?" Jack asked.

Joke instinctively reached for his neck, rubbing it lightly. After a moment, he lowered his gaze and inclined his head in front of Jack.

Jack stepped closer, gently placing two fingers under Joke’s chin, lifting it up.

"Don’t lower your head. Not for anyone, Joke," he commanded, his voice steady.

The collar encircled his slender neck. As Jack fastened the exquisite piece of jewelry, he pulled him into his chest, his fingers brushing against Joke’s skin.

Joke swallowed hard at the sensation.