#also those more 'slow burn' horror

[harunovella]

feel my unconditional love ; t.u.

synopsis: being the fourth wife of tengen uzui must have been the world punishing you for being unmarried at the ripe age of 18; the last in your family to move on... or so you thought.

cw: alternate universe, fourth wife!reader, self isolation, arranged marriage, mentions of violence, near death experience, tengen is just such a good man and husband, reader just needs a big hug, angst, running away, slight slow burn, training, loss of virginity, oral, first time, love confessions, plot twist, happy ending, ambiguous ending, not beta read

wc: 9.4k+

an: my first ever tengen fic! I love this man so very much and it's a shame he's hardly written... a lil side note, the reader goes through mild depression but it isn't stated as such, she just isn't happy with the predicament she's in and is sort of on a self destructive path (self isolation/not eating out of sadness) but I promise there's a happy ending! if it's not your sort of thing, you are more than welcome to ignore the story...

p.s. this is only reader x tengen, the wives are only mentioned throughout the story and have minor interactions with the reader (sorry, not sorry, I want tengen all to myself)

The sound of rain pouring down from the evening showers and colliding with the veranda echoed in your head. You sat with your knees pulled in, gazing out into the dark of the night as the thunderstorm roared. Lightening flashed momentarily before the explosive rumble followed. It wasn't wise to be sitting so close to the rain as the gusts of wind caused the droplets to lightly sprinkle at you and the interior of your room... however, you didn't seem to care. The state of mind you were in wasn't a lovely one. 

It had been less than 24 hours since you became the fourth wife to the retired Hashira, Uzui Tengen. The sound of Mrs. Uzui from outside your room was unsettling and foreign to you whenever someone wanted to speak to you—whether to give you food or check up on you. After all, the second you became a wife, you practically locked yourself away from the rest of the world after, digging yourself deeper into the sorrow you felt. 

You were the youngest and last daughter in your clan who needed to be wedded off. In a family of five sisters, it was expected for you all to be raised into proper housewives. A life you despised. You never wanted this, any of this. You had avoided it for so long. All your sisters married fairly young, between the ages of 15 and 16... you, however, were 18 and managed to add some time. Solely because you were the youngest and everyone was so busy they had nearly forgotten about you... but that didn't last long. 

The moment your clan came to the realization that you were now 18, still unwed and doing nothing, they were quick on their feet. You weren't present for most of the decision making, only aware that a certain clan owed yours and this was the perfect way to clear up the debt. The details were never given to you, why it was that something was owed, but you were told the man you'd marry not only was practically one of the last of his clan, but also already wedded to three other wives. 

That left a bad taste in your mouth. 

How could your family allow this? Tossing you two a man with that many wives? Surely they must've cared some for you.. right? 

Apparently, they did not. 

You were unhappy as it was, but to be a fourth wife to someone? You've heard plenty horror stories of women in marriages such as those. Being used as nothing more than a tool to expand clans, long forgotten once they no longer could produce. Others dying and being disposed of during child labor (or while carrying a child). It terrified you, to say the least. Was that what you were going to end up as? Such a young woman with a who life to live... only for it to be taken from you just because you were seen as a breeding machine?

You cried for days before the wedding. You cried the day of. And you cried right after when you locked yourself up. 

Now? You were exhausted. Your eyes heavy, your body aching to rest, but you just couldn't... no matter what. Even though the ceremony was less than a day ago, you couldn't quite remember the last time you properly slept. You got no more than three to four hours of sleep. You barely ate, too. How were you still functioning? 

Days would come and go, and you'd be the same. Hidden from the others, not showing yourself during meals or, really, anything. The maids would come knocking but you'd never answer. Food was always left outside your door and it was almost always halfway full. You tried to eat, but everything was tasteless to you. The spiral you had found yourself falling into was deadly... even the other wives would try to speak to you, mentioning how worried they were. 

You didn't even know their names. 

Or did you? Maybe it was mentioned at one point. Who knows, you've been on autopilot for a while now. Information goes into one ear and out the other. What have you become?

"I'm worried for her..." Hinatsuru sighed as she sat besides Suma and Makio. "She hasn't come out of there and it's been two weeks..."

"She's hardly touched her meals, I can see the portions get smaller but the plates are never empty," Makio added. 

"Yeah, and ever time I ask her if she'd like to join me whenever I go to the hot springs, she never answers!" Suma frowned as Makio shot her a glare. 

"Why the hell would she want to do that if she's been avoiding all of us?!" The black and yellow haired woman growled as Suma's frown deepened. 

"I don't blame her," Tengen sighed as he was sat before them in their garden. "She was forced into something she didn't want. She's the youngest of her clan, people's mindsets change. Generations move away from the old ways. And I'm sure the idea of me having three wives already left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't raised in an environment like ours."

Eyeing the white haired man, Hinatsuru settled her hands on her knees, "maybe you should try and talk to her... I feel bad for the poor girl. She hardly knows anything about us and who knows what her clan has fed her. She's scared and I don't think she'd be willing to ever come out if we don't try... Especially you, Lord Tengen."

You were trying your best to eat a little more than you had the day before, no matter how much your body was refusing, even if it screamed for it just as badly. The sound a knock made you flinch slightly before you settled the warm bowl down beside you, muttering a small who is it? as you sat on the tatami matting. 

"It's me," though you didn't hear much of him, you knew who it was. There wasn't much male voices around anyway. "May I come in?"

Considering it, seeing as you haven't really seen or spoken to someone in quite some time—losing track—you gulped. "Okay..." you mumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of your kimono. 

Sliding the door open, unsure what to expect, Tengen peeked in and spotted your small frame in the corner of the room, tray of picked at food beside you as your gaze went out beyond the veranda. You were alive, obviously so, and you weren't... destructive. The room looked as if it was hardly even lived in, but by the looks of it, you managed to at least keep up with yourself. At least, for your hygiene. As much as you avoided everyone, he was told that you would leave the room rather late at night to bathe and clean up before going back to locking yourself in. However... you weren't eating much and it was a major concern. You did eat some, you managed to get food in your belly, but you never properly finished your meals. 

Feeling his lingering presence, you turned your head to face the towering man who was still at the threshold. There was clear concern on his face, the way he had eyed his surroundings with a faint furrow of his eyebrows... Then, he looked at you, and you were sure he noticed the dark circles and the subtle redness in your eyes from your lack of sleep and tears. You had gotten a little better within the time that has progressed, seeing as you were at least never truly bothered or forced to do anything... but you still struggled and you were still scared. 

"You know, you are more than welcome to treat this home as your own. It is, after all, yours as much as it is mine," Tengen spoke up, eyeing you, but you stayed silent and looked away. He watched as you pulled your knees in and gazed out at the stars. It was a clear night this time around. Looking down at your tray, seeing you ate a bit more than usual, Tengen took in a quiet, deep breath. "We are all here for you if you need anything..." At that, he left. Not a word uttered from you nor a look back. 

This was going to be much more difficult than he had thought. 

You were going to run away. That's what you decided when you nearly struck a month of being a married woman living in her own isolation. You were tired of being locked away out of fear and all that you filled your head with. You wanted to live your dream of traveling the world and being a free woman, no longer shackled to her family and the old ways of life. 

You were eating more, slept a bit more, maybe it was because you had been scheming to sneak away and disappear for good. Maybe you were excited. Maybe you've completely lost your mind. Whatever it was, it gave you enough courage to do what you were doing now. Since no one really forced their way into your space, leaving you be, no one was aware of what you had in mind. You also weren't aware either, as the world was so vast and you knew so little. But you wanted to do it. You wanted to run, to run so far, to see it all. To see what other lands were like. To feel the wind, to watch the ocean roll onto the shore. Everything and more. A life for yourself that you deserved. 

After all, what more could a young woman want? It wasn't like you thought of the consequences of such actions. You were begging to live in a vivid dream, away from the nightmare your parents brought you into. 

It wasn't hard to leave the premises of the Uzui estate. You managed to slip out late at night, later than when you'd bathe. You wore something more suitable than what you normally wore, clothing to allow for more movement. A small bag was slung over your shoulder and onto your back as you made your way out and nearly sprinted on ahead. You were foolish, that was given, but you wouldn't admit that. It would bite you on the ass for being so brainless... but that wasn't of your concern. 

At least, not yet. 

All you thought about was the cold, night air patting your exposed skin. How strands of your hair that flew from its braid tickled at your cheeks. The way you felt the grass crunch beneath your feet as the moonlight guided your path. You held a compass in one hand, deciding to go North West, in hopes to run into something along the way. 

As your feet pulled you along, you kept your guard up. Sure, traveling alone at night never was wise, but you weren't about to walk out of the residence in broad daylight for everyone to see. This was a huge risk you were willing to take, and, again... you were foolish. You were well aware of demons, aware that your husband was once a destroyer of their kind, so of course you believed yourself to be fine. Wasn't like you'd get caught up in a mess, right? What were the odds, anyway?

The trio decided to leave you your dinner again, all three wives deciding to make the effort into visiting your room more often than not to at least know you were alright and alive in there. None of them blamed you for how you felt... even if a month had passed. Hinatsuru was always the one to knock first and announce the delivery of your food, while Makio listed what was available on the tray, followed by Suma offering (once again) to go to the springs together. It almost became a daily routine for them, seeing as you were now one of them, they wanted nothing more but to help you feel at home. Or, at least, try to. If you'd let them...

On the night of your "escape" from the estate, Tengen felt the odd desire to check on you. It was something he did often, once a day at least—and, if not—every other day. He stood from his seat amongst his wives suddenly, excusing himself without an explanation as he aimed for your room within the Uzui grounds. There was a sense of urgency, and his gut instincts never failed him. 

Tapping his knuckles on your shoji, Tengen called your name. As the seconds pass, and he'd call your name repetitively, his tone became one of urgency. Slight panic began to build within his chest, his eyebrows furrowed as you didn't answer. No matter what, you always responded to his knocks. 

Sliding the partition open, Tengen searched the area before stepping in. Nothing was out of place, everything was as they were each and every time he'd visit. Taking a few steps towards the veranda and peeking out, there was no sight of you.

Sucking in a sharp breath as he felt his heart race, Tengen searched every inch of his home, places you'd usually be at this hour of night. Yet, you were nowhere to be found. 

Taking in sharp breaths as he clenched and unclenched his fist, he eagerly returned to his wives, words slipping off his tongue faster than he could process them, "she's run away."

"What?!" The three grasped in unison. 

"Where could she be?!" Suma shrieked. 

"It's not safe out there, especially at this hour!" Makio added. 

Frowning in worry, Hinatsuru placed a hand on the man's arm, giving it a small squeeze of urgency, "you must find her... she could be in danger right now for all we know."

You weren't bright. That was a given. You were still a teenager, though considered an adult, you just barely lived two decades of your life. Of course things would go bad for you, of course the universe wasn't kind to those who failed to use logic and took advantage. Now in a state of fear, you felt guilty. You should've stayed, right? It wasn't like you were being forced to do anything, all of those horror stories weren't true. At least, not for you. Tengen never forced you to procreate with him, his wives were constantly reaching out to you, everyone was so kind... yet here you are, running for your life because you chose to run away. A foolish child you were. If you died right now, it would be your fault. No one else to blame. 

Tears slid down your cheeks as you tried everything in your power to escape, to survive. What made you think this was a wise idea to run away, especially so late at night? You had no set of skills to protect yourself. You were raised to be a housewife, not wield a sword! You had no survival skills, only basic instincts. Of course you knew you had to do something to get away, yet all you could think about was to run and to hide. 

And running and hiding could only get you so far. 

You found yourself in the grip of a grotesque demon, ready to sink its sharp teeth into your flesh and rip you into pieces. To make you it's dinner. You were going to become another victim, another soul lost to the damned. You sobbed and begged for help as the multi-armed being gripped and felt nearly every inch of you, it's nasty slobbering echoing in your ears as it barred it's fangs. You shoved and kicked, thrashed and begged for a way out. Using your own teeth to bite down, it granted you a few moments of escape, reaching out for a sharp piece of metal scrap on the ground, stabbing it into the creatures eye. 

The shriek it released made you cover your ears and hiss in pain. Loud ringing bounced within your head as you tried to get back up on your feet to escape, but it was too quick. It latched onto your ankle and tugged you back as you kicked and shoved at it. It pressed its weight against you, nearly suffocating you as it trapped you beneath it, sinking its razor sharp teeth into your neck as a gruesome scream left your mouth. 

Kicking and slapping, trying to shove the demon off of you as your blood began to gush down your neck and pool beneath you, your vision began to blur. Your screams grew faint as your body fell weak. The moon was bright above you, no cloud to block it from your sight. It almost felt as if it were mocking you, reminding you of what you left behind; a home, a husband who wasn't trying to take advantage of you, and people who tried to reach out. 

Why were you so inconsiderate? Why must you be so selfish? Look where you ended up! Bleeding to death by the teeth of a demon, ready to devour you and no one would know. No one would figure out what had happened and the demon would live to see another night. Another victim. Another soul taken. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, begging, pleading to the universe, for one last chance. For freedom, freedom away from the hands of death. 

You apologized for everything, for your selfishness, for being ungrateful. You quietly begged and begged and begged for a second chance. For a way out of this, even if it was just to apologize to Tengen and his wives, to thank them for their hospitality even if you kept yourself rudely locked away for so long. 

Just one more chance. Just one more time to do things right. To live my life. 

Opening your watery eyes once more, the sound of chains and the sight of the demons head being sliced right off of its neck came into view. Your heavy eyes blinked a few times, wondering if you imagined it. Before you could process it, you were lifted off the ground, away from the demon that turned into nothing but dust. The distant sound of your name being called had you weakly searching for its source as you slipped in and out of consciousness. The sight of Tengen's face, mouth uttering words, was all you saw before your world turned black. 

The sound of nature was all you could process. Birds chirping as the wind rustled through tree leaves, hummed in the distance. Your body felt heavy, your eyes barely able to flutter open. This must be the afterlife. You must've died. As far as you could remember, you were bleeding to death at the hands of a demon. 

Forcing your eyes open as you took in deep breaths, you felt blinded by the brightness, lifting a weak arm to cover the glare. Your eyes began to adjust as you blinked a few times before lowering you arm. Everything slowly came into view. A familiar ceiling sat above you before three recognizable faces peeked at you. 

I'm alive?

A collective sigh was heard, relief washing over the faces of the women studying you before two of them stood up and rushed away. One stayed behind. Your vision was blurry, but you could make out who it was. 

"Oh, we were so worried..." Hinatsuru said in a breathy tone as she placed a hand on her chest. "Especially Lord Tengen..."

Before you could even try to respond, the sound of the shoji sliding open and rapid footsteps caused you to turn your head. A large figure knelt beside you, uttering for the women around you to give him a moment alone with you. Your vision was still quite off, but the more you blinked, the more clear it became for you. 

It was Tengen, the women that were once around you were clearly his other wives... and you were back in his home. Your home. Alive and bandaged up. How did you survive? You were sure you were going to die from blood loss if the demon didn't get to you. Slowly sitting up with a wince as Tengen carefully watched you, scooting closer as he kept an eye on your figure, you held your kimono closed as you gently touched your once wounded neck. 

"Why did you run?" Was the first question he asked, even if he knew the answer. 

"I didn't want to be a wife," you spoke, voice hoarse. "Never wanted to be another number... I wanted freedom for so long... I just wanted to feel alive..." You confessed as tears pricked your eyes, trickling down your cheeks slowly as you kept your gaze low. 

Gently, Tengen's hand cupped your cheek as his thumb wiped away your tears. A gesture so innocent, making your heart flutter within your chest. Something you probably would've flinched away from, if it wasn't for this man seemed to have genuinely cared for you. "I'm sorry for what you've been put through."

Shaking your head, you muttered, "it's not your fault. It never was. You've been so kind to me... and so have your wives... I was selfish to run away and not appreciate what I had. Though it was a life I didn't want... it was better than being held in a marriage with someone who could care less if I died the next day..." Sighing, you turned your head to look at him. "I didn't want to just be a wife... I've never wanted that life."

A small smile grew on Tengen's lips, the sweetest you had ever seen on any man. His hand reached up to caress your hair, gently stroking your loose locks before falling back and settling on your cheek. "I will come up with a plan."

"What?" You gasped, caught off guard as you stared at him and his maroon eyes. 

"I would never force you into something you don't want... but you are still my wife," he said as you blinked. "As my wife, I want you to be happy. Even if that means being away from me—"

"Lord—"

"Allow me to get to know you better and help you find your peace."

Gazing at him, you gave him a small nod. Little did you know the man you'd marry, would be one of the very few people you'd trust with your life. 

You started a new routine with Tengen as the weeks passed since your encounter with that demon. Your husband would visit you daily, joining you on the veranda as you shared small talk, truly getting to know one another. It was nice, to say the least, and the man you married was very intriguing. He practically gave you his life story, you learned so much about him; his clan, and his time as a Hashira. He was impressive. Skilled, intelligent, and beyond kind. You couldn't help but admire him for the achievements he's made in his life—for a man only in his 20s. 

On the other hand, you were still quite reserved. You broke out of your shell, little by little. As the two of you went on walks together around the estate, relaxing in the garden, you found yourself slowly opening up to him. With his wives, you were still quite timid, but you tried your best to be kind and acknowledge their sweet hello's and respectful bows—something they very much appreciated. 

On one of your shared moments with Tengen, an evening after dinner you had with him, alone on your veranda, you told him how you'd love to travel the world. Tengen had never seen you look so hopeful, a dreamy expression written across your face. He couldn't deny you of your dream, instead, telling you he'd help you figure things out. No matter what it took. 

A little over a month had passed and you were a different person. You smiled more and showed your face more often than not. Although still a bit antisocial and enjoying your alone time, you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy Tengen's company. Actually, you very much appreciated it. You liked having him around, so close to you. Someone you considered a dear friend, even if he was your husband. He was starting to take place in your heart, and the idea of you eventually making your way out in the world was a tad bit dreadful. Even if you knew he'd always welcome you home with open arms. 

You were growing attached. 

One day as you were sitting in the garden, piecing together a flower crown of sorts, Tengen offered you his golden plan: join you on your journey of freedom until you were ready to set off on your own. Whether it was a week or a month, he'd partake and make sure you could handle it. At first you were hesitant, not wanting to take him away from his other wives, but he insisted he'd do so (especially since he, too, was growing attached). He didn't want you discovering the world without any sort of self defense, either. Especially with demons lurking in the shadows. 

After much thought, you agreed with subtle excitement. The two of you planned out your upcoming travels and how he'd train you. Even with a missing hand, Tengen was still a flawless fighter. He truly was impressive—you would soon learn as your self defense training was going to be a big part of your days to come. 

"I will return in a few weeks," Tengen announced to his wives as he said his goodbyes. Hinatsuru always was the calmest, but Suma always took it the hardest—which lead Makio to scold her. It was nothing new to Tengen, but for you, it was quite the eye opener. 

Before you were ready to begin your journey ahead, the three women handed you little parting gifts. They gave you tight, warm hugs, and words of encouragement. They begged for you to visit often and to not stay too far for long. You thanked them for their warm hearts and hospitality, forever grateful for their kindness. 

Though this new chapter of your life may be terrifying, you were looking forward to starting it with Tengen by your side. 

You were skilled. Beyond skilled. Tengen didn't expect you to be so... easy to train. It was as if it were in your bloodline to be so graceful. The moment he allowed you to practice with weapons, seeing how you were a natural, Tengen made a mental note—one he'd eventually use to recall information that your clan was in fact once fighters. One of the reasons why you were married off to the Uzui. 

On one of your nights out before a fire, Tengen had informed you of what he knew about your clan's past. It caught you off guard, amazed it was in your bloodline even if it was practically a dead practice for your own family.... It was starting to make sense. When Tengen started explaining breathing techniques, and the many that existed—including his own that he had been teaching you—he wondered what your clan's once was. 

Nights continued to pass, you stayed in various inns in separate rooms, and sometimes you stayed outside. When it came to outside, you usually rested against a tree as Tengen kept watch, but as time passed, you grew more comfortable with leaning against him—same went for the inns. You slept on separate futons, but within the same room. Tengen easily caught on to how you grew more confident in your relationship with him; standing and walking closer to him, becoming affectionate with simple touches and grazes of your hand. It made him happy—happier. 

Especially when he started to realize how much he had been falling for you... Which made him wonder, were you starting to feel the same?

He tested the waters one day on your shared journey, surprising you with a small gift. You weren't sure how or when he had done it, but when he handed you a small box with a necklace in it, you were in awe... but what had you blushing was the fact that the jewel at the center was one of his very own that he once had attached to his headband during his Hashira days. 

You denied it at first, saying he couldn't give it to you, but Tengen insisted he wanted you to carry a piece of him with you. He so kindly placed the necklace on you, his fingertips grazing your skin as you shivered, body growing hot. A subtle silence grew between the two of you when you turned around to show him it, and the look on his face made you flustered. Sure, Tengen was an attractive man, but after all this time of getting so close to him and becoming so attached... it was hard not to feel a change in the air that you two shared. 

Ever since then, things haven't been the same. Not for the worst, but... it wasn't something you were accustomed to. You weren't used to this sort of attention nor the desire sitting within the pit of your stomach and the depths of your heart. It was an odd sensation, a feeling like no other. The way your heart raced when he looked at you, how your skin tingled whenever he touched you... the way your body reacted whenever he was closer than he should be. Sure, you were one of his wives and a lack of boundaries was expected, but it still had your whole being trembling. 

If you knew any better, you would realize that you had fallen in love. Not with his looks (though he was a looker) but with him. His personality, his way of being, his (not so) simple existence in the universe. Every little thing he did, whether it was for you or for others. How he handled you when it came to little things like taking shelter from thunder storms or making sure you were comfortable when you had to rest. You were one of his wives, it was expected, but there was something there between you two that you were sure was unique to only you two. And Tengen felt it, too.

Probably why your final night was so painful, to the point you both drowned yourself in (what felt like) endless sake and the warmth of the hot springs. Neither of you wanted to think about your last moments together until... whenever you made a return. If you decided to at all. This was what you wanted, to see the world, to be free... but after growing so attached, so accustomed to Tengen's existence by your side, you knew it was going to feel off. As if you were imbalanced. 

You were too deep in thought to even realize how close Tengen got as you sat in the soothing pool of steaming water. "I haven't had a night like this in forever..." he sighed, looking up at the stars.

Turning your flustered face in his direction, taking a moment to eye the stars above, your focus settled on him once again. Your eyes trailed his stunning features—gazing at his loose strands of ivory locks, those fucsia eyes... his sharp nose, the golden hoops on his earlobes... and those lips of his that settled in its usual grin. He was so handsome, it pained you to look at him. It didn't help that you two were sharing a bath and all you had separating you both was the water and the towels around your body. 

Tengen's chest was on full display, something you had seen a number of times as he was very proud of his physique; he always found a way to show off his muscles—not like you had a reason to complain, anyway. He sat there, in all his glory, arms spread out beside him as he leaned his back against the pool's wall. 

"It's lovely..." You spoke up, swallowing the small lump in your throat. You tried to look away, not wanting to stare for too long, but it was hard to... Tengen was just so handsome.

Lowering his focus from the dark sky that glittered with stars, towards you, Tengen watched as those innocent eyes of yours fluttered from his chest, to his eyes, down to his lips, then switched between the two. He couldn't help but grin. If you weren't making it so painfully obvious, he wouldn't have been there with you in that moment, sitting so close that he could almost feel your body heat instead of the warm water. "It is, but not as lovely as the view I have."

Flickering your eyes back up to meet his own, your heart skipped a beat as he so casually leaned in towards you and brought his hand up to caress your cheek. A subtle gasp left you before you looked away, flustered and trembling at his words, only for Tengen to gently keep your head in place. 

"Rather cheesy, wasn't that?" He winked as your heart dropped down to your feet. 

"Just— Just a tad bit..." you stuttered, eyes dancing between his own as he did the same to you. "But... But I like it..."

Smiling, Tengen leaned in a bit more, his nose just barely grazing your own as his voice came out smooth, almost a whisper. "Then, may I kiss you?"

Almost, as if without hesitation, you nodded. A breathy answer leaving you as you, yourself, grew closer to him, closing the gap between the two of you as his lips softly met your own. 

It started off so gentle, the sweet taste of his lips against yours. A small press before you parted, taking in a small breath before Tengen's hand held the back of your neck, fingertips entangling themselves with the loose strands that escaped from your updo. With a small tug, your lips met his once again, except with a different desire. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, pushing past and pressing against your teeth. Your own parted, allowing him entrance to slip through. Gliding his tongue over yours ever so expertly, involuntary moans left you as you felt the muscle press and slither against your own. 

Bringing you closer as his hand slid down to your lower back, you found yourself holding your towel closed while your other hand moved into his hair. Pressing against the back of his head and tugging gently, the two of you breathed each other in, panting and huffing in between kisses. You weren't sure what it was, maybe it was the sake... or maybe you just wanted this along. The gravitational pull you felt towards Tengen was something you never felt before, a tug unlike any other. It made your insides twist, your heart race, and a sudden warmth fill you. 

Shifting his kisses away from your lips as you tried chasing after them, he left small pecks against the corner of your mouth. Your cheek and along your jaw, down your neck until he found that sweet spot that made you tremble. He nipped and sucked at your smooth skin, leaving marks in his wake as he left a trail of hickeys along your shoulder and chest. 

Tengen moved dangerously low, open mouthed kisses against the swell of your breasts, up until the edge of your towel. Your grip tightened against the material as your other tugged at his locks, as if trying to pull him away, only for your back to curve towards him. You knew you should stop, even if the pool was private for the two of you, you had never done anything like this before. You were excited and nervous all the same, body so desperately desiring him after all those shared nights. 

Lifting his head and looking up at you with hooded eyes as your blooded rushed in your body, Tengen kissed your cheek before guiding you out of the water and back to your shared room. He kept his arm wrapped around you as he had you pressed against his side, kissing your cheek and along your neck. Tengen didn't bother to close the shoji behind him, his body already finding yours as the two of you lied against the tatami mat. He hovered over you, his large frame enveloping your own as he sweetly smiled down at you, "beautiful..."

Blushing, you took in a sharp breath before he placed a gentle kiss against your lips. "You're so handsome..." You shyly mumbled as Tengen let out a small chuckle. 

Lowering his head to nuzzle your neck, he pressed small kisses before lifting his head once again, "do you want to continue this?"

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded before cupping his cheeks, "yes... I trust you. You— You are my husband after all."

Eyeing you, seeing the sureness in your eyes even if you were trembling, Tengen kissed you once more before he sat up. With you settled between his knees as he leaned onto his heels, he reached for your towel. Eyeing you as you nodded he slid back before pulling open your towel, revealing your bare body. Naturally, you went to cover yourself, but Tengen caught one of your hands. "It's alright," he softly spoke, kissing your knuckles one at a time. "My beautiful wife..."

Lowering your hand, Tengen leaned down towards you, kissing down your neck ever so slowly. Then he kissed from one shoulder to the other, against either of your breasts, the valley between them, and along your stomach. He kissed your hip bones before licking a stripe up the side of your body, stopping at your right breast. Lifting his eyes to meet your own as you shivered, Tengen twirled his tongue around your nipple before bringing it into his mouth. A squeak left your parted lips as your chest quickly rose and fell. With every suck and nip, Tengen gave both of your breasts equal attention, leaving a trail of his saliva behind, a string connecting your left nipple to his lips as he lifted his head. 

The smile he wore made your heart race faster, a look of ecstasy written across his face... you could only imagine what his expression would be once he—

A yelp left you as his mouth was against your bare pussy, too lost in your hazed mind to even notice when he had moved down. Tengen pressed a kiss against your lower lips before his tongue parted your folds, a shiver running down your spine as it met your clit. "What I'd give to have both hands now."

"T—" before you could whine, his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves before moving to tease your entrance. Your hands slid into his locks as your legs wrapped over his  shoulders. Burying his face deeper against your aching cunt, you felt the way Tengen's open mouth began to devour you, tasting every bit you had to offer. The sweetness of your dripping heat that made him moan with anticipation as his hips bucked. 

Feeling his tongue prod your entrance as a whimper left you, Tengen's arms wrapped around your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled your leg further apart. Lapping up your excitement, teasing your clit, pushing past your entrance and devouring your sinful sounds. Your panting filled the air, your eyes nearly rolled back as your head fell towards the mat beneath you. 

He couldn't get enough of you; he couldn't get enough of the sounds you made, how your thighs pressed against his head and your cunt dripped for him. "Have you ever come before?"

Gulping, you shook your head, face burning in embarrassment. "N— No..."

Lifting his head enough, Tengen kissed your inner thigh, "there's nothing to be ashamed of, my sweet wife. It only means I'm lucky enough to be there with you to experience it—to be the reason."

Opening your teary eyes as you looked at him, Tengen gave you a reassuring smile before you felt one of his fingers tease your entrance before slowly filling you. Your heart skipped a beat, breath hitching as he pumped his finger a few times before adding another. His lips latched against your clit as his fingers massaged your inner walls, reaching depths within you that made your body shiver and shake. A feeling filled you, a burning unlike any other as your breathing grew rapid and moans became louder. 

A white hot heat filled you, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers nearly yanked at his hair. You were shaking as you came, Tengen continuing his ministrations before pulling out and lifting his fingers covered in your essence. Sitting up and spreading them to show you the mess you made, Tengen brought his fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping up your release before his lips met yours. 

You winced at the foreign taste the moment his tongue made contact with your own, a slow, sultry kiss before he reached to remove his own towel. "You'll be alright," he muttered against your lips as he sat up, bringing your legs over his thighs. His hand caressed your thigh as you were still processing the euphoria you just experienced. "We'll do this slowly, okay?"

Gulping, your hooded eyes fluttered open as they trailed down his chest, towards his toned stomach, past the patch of white hair that lead to his hardened length. Your heart dropped at the sight, a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes widened. "I— I... You— You are so big... I don't know if—"

"It's alright," he reassured, giving your thigh a small squeeze. "You'll be alright, like I said, we'll take things slow."

Nodding as your heart raced, Tengen brought his hand to his cock, giving it a few strokes, coating it with your juices before he aligned it with your opening. He could hear the way your breathing quickened, felt how your thighs pressed against him. He spoke softly, continuously reassuring you as he slowly filled you. With just the tip, your chest heaved and your hands tried clinging onto something, clawing at the mat beneath you. 

Pushing in further and further, biting his tongue as his body burned, Tengen took in shallow breaths at your tightness. The way you squeezed him, how your cunt was sucking him in... The sounds of your shared, heavy breathing filled the air, soon followed by heavy moans and skin slapping the moment he thrusted into you. Whimpers and cries of his name left your lips as your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin before clawing at his back as he hunched over you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close as he thrusted at a rhythmic pace. 

"T— Tengen— Too— Too big!" You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the dangerous stretch. The discomfort was overpowered by your pleasure. You weren't sure how much of him filled you, but you were positive he wasn't even all the way in. "Too— Too—" 

"It's okay, it's okay, my love... It's okay," he reassured, body breaking out into a sweat as his hips bucked against you, pushing deeper and deeper as you cried out. With each shift of his hips as he pulled out, your pussy sucked him right back in. "It's like we're... meant for... each other," he breathed, a hiss leaving his lips. He wanted to fuck you, fuck you deeply, fuck you until you couldn't walk... but he knew, he knew it was your first time. He knew this was your last moments together before you went your own way, and as much as he wanted to leave you with an everlasting memory of his cock imprinted on your cervix where no other man could possibly reach, Tengen stopped himself. He wanted you to never forget this moment, obviously so, but he also wanted it to be a moment you enjoyed as much as he did—especially for your first time. 

Thrusting in and out of you, pushing deeper each time as you squirmed and cried, begging him to move faster—telling him he was too big—your body wrapped around his and kept him sheathed within you. You felt your second orgasm building within you as Tengen's fingers rubbed circles against your clit. Your breathing against his ear was almost enough to make him come then and there as you shook in your release. Your pussy fluttered against him as your body practically went into shock. You felt it from head to toe, your body tensing around him as a cry left your lips, his name coming out as a desperate moan. 

Continuously thrusting his hips, ready to pull out, your legs wrapped tighter around him, keeping him deep within you as you milked him for all his worth. He weakly called your name, body shaking above your own as he nearly collapsed against you. "Sh— Shit..." Tengen grunted as he filled you with his seed, coming deep inside as you kept him close. 

Your bodies were already drenched as it was, but the sweat practically made you stick to one another as his massive body flopped against your own. You could barely breathe as it was, but with his weight against you, you nearly suffocated... and yet it felt so nice. You didn't want him to leave, you didn't want to leave. You just wanted to stay like that, there with him, in that moment. A moment so intimate, one you didn't want to end; one that you once feared. Now it was something you knew you'd never forget. 

Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip trembled. Your hands fell to your face as Tengen lifted his head to eye you. "Hey, did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

"N— No... It's not— It's not you..." you mumbled. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Hey..." he hushed you, kissing your tears away. "It's okay, it's okay... I'm sorry if you regret this—"

"No!" You shook your head. "Never! I— I... It's just, tomorrow we... we go our separate ways and— and I feel as if... I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" He asked, eyeing you with the kindest smile. "You are my wife, are you not?"

Nodding your head with a pout, Tengen nuzzled your neck before leaving a sweet kiss against it. "I am..."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, all that matters to me is that you're happy... and that you enjoyed it..." he said, almost questioning whether or not you did. 

"I did," you softly smiled. "I'm happy to have had my first time with you... I've never trusted anyone more..."

Grinning, Tengen shook his head, "I'm sorry for the man who follows after me.  Whoever wins your heart will never be like me."

"Tengen..." You whined, only to earn a chuckle from him. "I won't forget any of this, that's for sure."

"I'm glad," he smiled, gazing down at you, "because neither will I..."

Eyeing him as a silence filled the room, you reached up and caressed his forehead, ran your fingers through his hair, and cupped his cheek, "thank you."

Turning to kiss your palm, Tengen mumbled against it, "thank you."

"You'll always have a home with me," Tengen said as he stood in front of you, caressing your cheek as you leaned your head into his palm. "I can't say I won't miss you, because I know I'll be missing you dearly. We've grown so close... but I want nothing but the best for you. I want you to be happy, to find yourself, to live your life... But I hope some day, maybe you'll... come back to me..."

Smiling up at him, you nodded. "You've done so much for me, I don't think I could stay away from you forever. I appreciate you... and you have my endless gratitude."

Eyeing you, he sighed before leaning his forehead against yours, "if you ever have regrets... if you ever want to come back home... don't hesitate to reach out. I'll always welcome you back with open arms."

Sighing as you took a moment to enjoy his close proximity, you gently pushed back and cupped his face. "Thank you."

Eyeing you, Tengen gently kissed you before he stood straight. "I have one more thing to give you..."

Watching him with furrowed brows, he handed you one of his blades; the chain snatched and now dangling from the one he held towards you. "You— You can't."

"Please, have it. It'll only give me piece of mind knowing you have something to protect you... And also a way to never forget me... A way to eventually come back to me..." he said, handing it over. Tengen's swords weren't easy to hold, made for a man his size, but with one less attached... it was a bit easier to manage. 

"It's... big..." You said, earning a chuckle from him. 

"You can manage with big things," he winked as you blushed. "I have no doubts."

Sighing, you moved to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight for a moment or two, breathing him in one last time. "Thank you..."

Hugging you back, Tengen kissed the top of your head before you pulled away and turned to part from him. Just before you could get too far, Tengen caught your wrist and tugged you back to him, planting a deep, sentimental kiss against your lips. An ever lasting one filled with sadness. He let go, forcing himself to peel away from you as he slowly let go of your wrist, studying you and every bit of your face once more. "I'll always love you... you'll always be my wife and will always have a place in my heart."

Smiling up at him with tearful eyes, you gulped, "I— I will always love you." Not wanting to stay any longer as you knew you'd break easily if you looked at him for a second more, you turned and began your trek. 

Tengen watched with a heavy heart, waving as you turned for a moment to say your final goodbye. There was in ache in his chest, a sadness filling him. You left a mark on him, a big one at that. You would never be forgotten. As much as he loved and adored all of his wives... there was something about you that made his chest feel different. A love unlike any other. Something he feels as if he couldn't have... But he prayed. He prayed that some day... your paths would meet again. 

* FIVE YEARS LATER *

"Tenchi!" A voice called out amongst the many. Tengen found himself at a local market during his travels, visiting his beloved disciples, before returning home. "Tenchi!"

"I'm right here, mama!" A gentle, little voice came out as Tengen's focus shifted from the fresh produce before him, over to a small boy. "Look what I found!" Softly smiling at the sight of the youngling—easily 5 years old—hold up something with excitement, Tengen's eyebrows narrowed for a moment. 

That's oddly similar... He thought as his attention was settled on the whiteness of the small boy's hair that had a headband wrapped around it. "Okay, but only one, alright? And don't run off like that again, you had me worried..."

"Sorry, mama..."

"It's okay, baby."

Snapping out of his daze, Tengen watched as the little boy hugged the kneeling figure before him. He couldn't quite see who it was from the passing bodies, but as the woman stood up, the retired Hashira's heart skipped a beat. "It's..." his breath hitched as his eyes made contact. 

It was you. 

Blinking a few times at the sight, you sweetly smiled with a small wave, earning a bright one from him. Tengen didn't hesitate, he made a beeline for you, stopping and towering your figure as happiness filled his veins. "You... It's really you..." he nearly whispered. He hadn't seen you since you parted ways five years prior. It wasn't like you lost contact, you wrote him letters as he did the same to you every now and then. He was aware you were alive and well, as you were of him... but seeing you in the flesh? That was something else all together. Could he kiss you? Could he hug you? It'd been so long, he didn't know what his boundaries were. 

Smiling up at him, you felt the small figure tug on you as they hid behind you. Your son shyly peeking out from behind as he eyed the giant man standing before you. "It's me," you nodded, heart fluttering as you took Tengen in. How he hardly changed, still as flashy as ever. His hair had grown more, but it was clearly being maintained with the layers being trimmed. His eyepatch still bedazzled, his nails still painted... You couldn't expect anything less, this was Tengen Uzui after all— the supposed god of festivals. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Gotta live a flashy life, keeps me young," he winked as you chuckled. He reached for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he pressed a kiss. He didn't miss the blush on your cheeks or the way your eyes had slightly widened. There was no doubt in his mind that you were saving face, your reaction seemed composed. "It's really good to see you. How have you been?"

"Yeah... I'm good. We're good," you nodded as you moved slightly to present the little boy that clung to you. Tengen's eyes lowered to the white haired boy, instantly recognizing those eyes... His heart skipped a beat the moment he recognized those features... "This is my son, Tenchi."

"Son?" He nearly choked, catching himself as he kept his own composure. Of course this was your son, he should've put two and two together. But not once have you mentioned it before in your letters... And who else could possibly be the father if—

"Yes," you slightly smiled. "Honey, say hi."

Looking up, Tenchi clung to you as his grip tightened around you. He watched as the large man moved down to kneel. "Hello..."

"Hi, Tenchi," Tengen smiled. "I'm Tengen Uzui. The flashiest man on the entire planet. And a great friend of your mothers," he proudly stated as you blushed. A small gasp left little Tenchi. 

"I know your name!" He exclaimed as Tengen lifted his brows before smirking. 

"Oh? Is that so?" The man asked. 

"You are mama's hero! Her trainer and gave her that big sword!" The little boy gasped. "You are so cool! Mama told me so many stories! I want to be just like you, Mr. Uzui!"

Gulping as the sudden urge to tear up awakened within him, Tengen took in a sharp breath and smiled. It wasn't until then when he had the little boy now standing before him that he studied those eyes. Eyes that reflected his own... The same ivory locks, those bright eyes and that shiny grin. There was no denying it... "That's an honor, Tenchi. And I like your headband," Tengen grinned, lightly poking the little boy's forehead as you watched their interaction with a heavy heart. 

"Oh!" Your son blushed. "Just like you! Mama said you wore a headband when you were a— a Hash— Hash..."

"Hashira," Tengen finished with a kind smile as the little boy nodded. 

"Yes! I wanna be just like you! Protect my mama from all evil!" He proudly said with his little fists on his hips. Tengen couldn't help but let out a choked laugh, as if the realizations made had his heart aching. This little boy was much too like him. "I look up to you!"

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Tengen looked away for a moment before ruffling Tenchi's hair. "I think you'll be better than I could ever be," he said without an inkling of doubt in his words, then looking at you as you looked at him with woeful eyes. It was clear there was something weighing on you. 

Placing a gentle hand on your son's head, caressing his shoulder length locks that were quite similar to Tengen's, you eyed said man with a hopeful smile. "Would you like to come have dinner with us? There's a lot to catch up on."

With a racing heart, Tengen looked at you with a similar expression, optimism filling his chest. "I would love to."

#tengen uzui x reader #uzui x you #uzui x y/n #uzui smut #tengen x reader #tengen x y/n #uzui tengen #tengen smut #kimetsu tengen #harunovella writes; #uzui tengen x reader #uzui tengen x y/n #uzui tengen x you #uzui x reader

[lis-likes-fics]

Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

~

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

~

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fluff #reader insert #female reader #deaf reader

[harrywavycurly]

Trouble Next Door Part 25: We’re Gonna Be Fine

Masterlist: here

TW: Mentions of cheating and divorce

Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @makingmunson94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99 @munsonmecrazy

A/N: The slow burning has come to an end y’all can all breathe a little easier now✨

“Did you really just ring my doorbell?” “Uh yeah? It’s what people usually do when they arrive at someone’s house…it lets the owner of the home know they’re here…” “thanks smartass…I meant why didn’t you just come in like you normally do?” “Oh uhm…I just…I didn’t know if it was locked or not and…I know you watch too many of those true crime shows…that it would freak you out if you heard someone messing with your doorknob…” “Oh…right…well come on in dinner is in the over but I opened a bottle of wine if you’d like a glass?” “Sure…oh uh Dustin says hello..he’s going to call you tomorrow he said something about wanting to do a movie night this weekend.” “That would be fun…you have plans for this weekend?” “Not at the moment…” “well you do now…why are you just standing there? You can sit down you know? The couch won’t bite you in the ass or anything.” “I can’t do this.” “Can’t do what? Sit down? Do you have an ass tattoo that’s healing or something?” “What? No I don’t have a tattoo on my ass…I can’t do this…you and I…just acting like…like this isn’t the very fucking room that…that everything…changed in.” “Yeah..this is the room where I figured out my ex husband was cheating on me with my bestfriend’s wife.” “That’s not what I’m talking about…” “oh right…it’s the room that I decided I was actually done with him in..and signed all the dotted lines possible to make him my ex husband…right on that coffee table actually.” “That’s also not what-” “it’s also the room that Dustin told us he was going to college in…it’s the room Max told me she and Lucas were breaking up for good in…where Robin let me cry on her shoulder after telling her about Steve…it’s where you and I used to fall asleep in the middle of our horror movie nights and I’d wake up to the sound of someone dying…and it’s the room where just recently I decided everything is going to be okay…we’re gonna be fine.” “We’re gonna be fine?” “Yes.” “I don’t…I don’t know if we are…going to be fine…” “are you calling me a liar?” “What? No…no I’m just saying I’m not so sure you’re…right.” “So you’re saying I’m wrong?” “I’m saying you have the potential of being wrong…yes…because how…how can you say we are going to be fine when this…this doesn’t feel the same? It feels…weird.” “I can say we’re gonna be fine because…I’m in love with you Eddie.” “I’m sorry…what the fuck did you…did you just…say to me?” “Don’t be an asshole Edward James.” “Say it one more time please you know my hair blocks my hearing sometimes.” “I’m in love with you…I’m sorry it took me-” “Sorry sorry I didn’t mean to do that.” “You didn’t mean to kiss me?” “I mean…I didn’t mean to interrupt you…what were you saying?” “I honestly don’t remember…” “I do have that effect on people…causing momentary memory fogs…it’s just the power of the Munson charm…but it was something about taking you so long?” “Munson charm? Who’s been lying to you and telling you that you’re charming?” “Now who’s being an asshole?” “Anyway…I’m sorry it took me so long to realize how I felt…I just…wasn’t ready but if I’m being honest…I think these feelings have always been there I just didn’t want to lose you so…I didn’t say anything..and then Steve showed up.” “I get it…I really do…I love you…I don’t care how long it took us to get here…I’m just so fucking glad we’re here.” “I love you too…still think I have the potential of being wrong about us being fine?” “Yes…but only because we are going to be more than fine…we’re gonna be great.” “Was that supposed to be a moment where your Munson charm was supposed to make me all woozy and fall more in love with you?” “Did it work?” “No…now come on and help me finish dinner.” “Glad to see you being in love with me hasn’t made you lose your bossiness.” “You wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t exactly the way that I am.” “That’s true…”

#trouble next door #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #Eddie Munson x you fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson social media au #bestfriend!eddie munson #Eddie Munson #stranger things au #stranger things social media au #stranger things fanfiction #my little dungeon master baby #tw cheating #tw divorce #Steve Harrington #my little fluffy haired baby

[wolfstarshipping]

wolfstar wips

So I'm using the @hprecfest day 12 prompt "a WIP you're following" to post a short rec list of WIPs that has been sitting in my drafts for so long now I even had to remove a fic that had been finished in the meanwhile!

Something rotten in Grimmauld Place by @plecotusauritus (8,802 words, Hamlet AU) This is a wolfstar Hamlet AU, need I say more?? I've never much cared or thought about Hamlet since I read it in school but this fic (almost) makes me want to reread Hamlet and I can't wait to see where the story goes next, I love the atmosphere this fic captures, the lovely writing style and just seeing all these characters we know so well fit into the plot of Hamlet is so, so cool!!

the oldest recipe for parsnip soup by @eyra (10.639 words, modern AU, christmas fic) Getting another fic by eyra for the holidays has been such a wonderful treat! I love the whole setting and the characters of this fic so much already, especially Sirius!! And the writing and all the descriptions are so, so beautiful, as always, highly recommend checking it out!!

Welcome to Aphrodite by @de-sire-blog & @rhabarberjunge (18.957 words, magical AU, secret identities) this is one of those fics I've read a while ago, but I keep thinking about it because I loved it so much. I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but the premise is Sirius finding a hidden, adults-only club that makes people's secret desires come true, and of course Sirius's secret desire is Remus... It's hot, it's fun, and it's incredibly angsty, I love it.

Stitched into My Skin by @squintclover (19.297 words, canon divergent AU, memory loss) I love the heartache and all the bittersweetness that comes with memory loss fics so much already, and I am so obsessed with the way it's been done in this fic. The premise of the fic is Peter casting a memory loss charm on Sirius on October 31st 1981, which leads to Remus raising Harry and randomly coming across Sirius years later, only Sirius doesn't remember him. I'm so intrigued by the first few chapters already and can't wait to see where the story goes next!

Marauder FM by @hollyivydruzy (26.402 words, modern AU, radio AU, enemies to friends to lovers) I know I've recced this fic before but I will never shut up about it because I love it, and especially this fic's Remus so, so much! It's an iconic, funny radio AU set in London, and I wish the radio shows from this fic were real because I would listen to Sirius's radio show every morning if I could. I just love the vibe of all of them working at the radio station together and the slow burn enemies to friends (to lovers) is so delicious!

The Patchwork of Us by @tracingpatternswrites (27.502 words, modern AU, enemies to lovers, co-parenting Teddy) This is such a lovely fic about Sirius and Remus navigating the difficult situation of co-parenting Teddy after Tonks dies, I love the domesticity and the enemies to lovers vibe of this fic so much!

The Picture of Sirius Black by @lynxindisguise (30.049 words, Dorian Gray AU) okay anyone who has ever seen my blog knows how much I love lynx's writing, which is why I am also obsessed with this fic, even though it's a genre I'm usually not that familiar with. It's a Dorian Gray AU, it's gothic horror but especially the first few chapters are also giving victorian romcom with murder sideplot vibes (and I mean this as the biggest compliment), this fic will make you laugh and cry and want to murder some of these characters yourself maybe.

Only Fools Are Satisfied by grumposaur (@pancakehouse) (38.353 words, modern AU, tennis AU). I really love the exploration of Sirius's family dynamics in the context of him being a professional athlete in this fic, and Remus with his tanlines and freckles is everything!!

Neon Moon by @krethes (47.698 words, modern AU, cowboy stripper Remus AU, Las Vegas) I didn't know how much I needed Remus to be a stripper and a cowboy before I read this fic, but now I do and I love him!! The whole premise of them meeting at a strip club while Sirius is out on James's bachelor party is so iconic, and the vibes of the fic are just overall excellent, highly recommend checking it out!

on another ocean by @colgatebluemintygel (118.148 words, modern AU, backpacking/interrail, friends with benefits) Where do I even start? This is an incredible fic, one of my all time faves, I've reread some of the chapters several times now and am so obsessed with this fic's Remus in his socks and sandals, driving Sirius crazy with lust. Also I will not spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it, but the scene in the budapest chapter in the club bathroom features one of my favorite Sirius moments of all time, across all universes haha.

marginalia by @spindrifters (266.547 words, magical AU, canon divergent AU - Grindelwald won, slavery AU) I'm having a hard time trying to put my love for this fic into words in just a short paragraph. This fic is so unique in its setting, and it's so beautifully written and asks & answers the question "what if Grindelwald had won?" in such an incredible, highly political and also very immersive way, if you haven't read it already I really recommend checking it out (as well as the already complete Tedromeda spinoff set in the same world, history books!!!).

Staying Strangers by 3amAndCounting (319,368 words, modern AU, texting fic, university AU). This is one of my comfort fics, I love a good texting AU, this is quite a popular fic anyways but if you haven't read it and like modern AUs & texting fics (though it isn't all just texting) go check it out!

#hprecfest2023 #wolfstar wip #wolfstar #fic rec #wolfstar fic #wip #rec list #wip rec list #also i put these in order of their lenght because whenever i do a rec list that's not just chronological from doing daily fic recs #i have a small crisis over in which order i want to put them #also i just KNOW as soon as i post this i will remember another wip i've forgotten to mention so PLEASE feel free to reblog this and add #more current wolfstar wips (either ur own or someone elses!) if you want to!!! <3

[mint-yooxgi]

Written in the Stars - Yandere!Idol!Yeosang X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Soft Yandere AU & Idol AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor, Slow Burn

Pairing: Yeosang X Reader (ft. platonic Ateez ensemble)

Words: 11,875

Warnings: Slow burn. This story is going to be very self indulgent on my part, so please bear with the first few chapters. Jongho is an over excited fanboy. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, I decided to just say 'fuck it' and post it anyways! I got too excited and just had to share, so I really hope you all enjoy what I have planned. I have SO much already for this series, and like I said in the warning, it's definitely going to be quite self-indulgent on my part but it IS based off my own dream, so... anyways, as always feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist

A low exhale escapes you through your nose as you stand in line waiting to board the plane. Absentmindedly, your thumb brushes over the front of your passport, your boarding pass tucked neatly inside. 

Shifting your weight onto your opposite foot, you adjust the straps of your backpack slung over your shoulders. Despite your best efforts to pack light, the heaviness weighs you down, feeling the corner of your laptop harshly digging into your shoulder blade. Perhaps you should have packed a few more of your books into your checked luggage after all. 

It’s not every day that you get to move to South Korea for approximately a year or more, depending on how well writing your next book goes. The decision had been meticulously planned out, seeing as your publisher has arranged a fairly large book signing in the heart of Seoul a few weeks from now. 

To say you were pleasantly surprised to learn how well your books are doing in South Korea is an understatement. You were more than happy to agree to it, especially when you have also been personally invited to perform a new piece of writing at one of the many award shows this season. It seems the organizers really appreciate your way with words, and want you to compose a short poem of sorts to encompass the emotions and influence different types of art has around the world.

It seems as if you’ve become a somewhat popular international author within the country, and you are more than happy to attend any and all events they ask you to. Subsequently, the offers were too good to refuse, and you’ve always wanted to move to Seoul for a few years. At least now you have a good reason to stay.

It has taken you years to get to where you are now, but being a well established international author has truly been everything you could have ever asked for. Writing has always been your passion, and you’re just glad that you can share it with the world. With a little extra on the side, of course.

Slowly, the line begins to move in front of you, and you blink to regain your focus. It looks as if they’re finally boarding for zone two, and you honestly just can’t wait to get settled in your seat and sleep. You’re hoping to at least catch a few hours before you attempt to work on a bit of your next book. The idea you’ve been mapping out is a big one, and you’re hoping the words flow just as easily for this one as all of the previous novels you’ve written.

The length of the flight has yet to be determined if it’s your enemy or ally.

Maybe you’ll just watch a few movies instead…

As more and more people advance, you can feel those familiar jitters of excitement coursing through your veins. Every time you visit another place, but especially when it relates to your writing, you cannot hide your eagerness. The adventures you can have are endless, and you honestly cannot wait to see a few of your friends again. Some, you’ll even be meeting for the first time. Well, if their schedules allow.

When you had arrived at the airport, getting through security after checking in had been a little heinous. 

First of all, you had a few too many bags, but since you’ll be moving to a completely new country, you need almost all of your things to take with you. Plus, you don’t want your new home to be too empty. You’re just grateful your mother will be sending along a few care packages with some of your bulkier items, like your favourite blankets and a few of your trinkets once you’ve gotten settled in.

Then, came security.

There seemed to be a rumour floating around that some celebrity or something was supposed to be on this same exact flight. A few overheard hushed whispers, and you determined the celebrities to be some Korean pop group. Though, you doubt that’s the case. Despite not really paying attention to the other passengers, you haven’t exactly seen any idols around.

Needless to say, security took longer with all the fans trying to sneak through.

At least you still made it to the gate with plenty of time to spare. You even had some free moments to browse the airport bookstore, noticing a small display of your own books near the front table. The way the workers had stacked your newest release in a mini-pyramid of sorts still makes you smile. The fact that you signed a few of the copies had made the workers’ day, taking a few photos with one of the girls who happened to be a big fan of your work.

Looking back on it now, you cannot help but to grin to yourself as you begin to make your way onto the plane. The worker who scanned your ticket seemed to look on you in awe, brief understanding lighting up their eyes after handing you your passport back. They probably recognized your name, if anything. The fact that you nodded back to them in acknowledgment seemingly made their day.

Truly, this is a dream come true.

Stepping onto the plane, you’re quick to find your seat. You made sure to pick the window of the very last row in premium, as you’ve always enjoyed watching the scenery as you fly. Take off and landings are your favourite parts. Plus, with no one behind you, you can recline without worry or fear that you’re infringing on someone’s personal space.

Luckily, it doesn’t appear that your seat partner has arrived yet, and for that, you’re grateful. Honestly, you hope no one actually sits beside you just so you can have a bit more space to yourself. Plus, it’ll make you more comfortable if you decide to actually get some writing done on the plane. 

You’ve always had a sense of paranoia about writing around strangers, given how often people like to snoop. The last thing you want is to be writing some steamy scene, or something completely gruesome, and offend the person you’re sitting beside. Though, you mainly only get that feeling when writing on your laptop.

Sliding your overstuffed bag beneath the seat in front of you, you settle into your own. Your purse gets shoved to the side beside your feet as you unceremoniously kick your backpack as far beneath the seat as it will go.

The joys of premium economy: much needed leg room, and better seating. Though, you can just hear your publisher’s voice in the back of your head, chastising you for not buying business class.

You huff lightly to yourself as you click your seatbelt on. Like hell you’re going to pay something ridiculous, like four grand, in order to have your own private podlike seat. That’s way too much for a one way ticket, and besides, premium is just fine. You’ve been lucky enough to fly it before, anyways.

Settling fully into your seat, you pull out your phone. Unlocking the device, you shoot a quick text to your family letting them know that you’ve just boarded the plane and are waiting for take off.

Of course, they reply quickly, telling you to have a safe flight and that they’ll miss you greatly. Most of all, though, to have fun on your new adventures.

A soft smile paints your features as you tell them that you’ll message them once you land, and if there’s time, phone once you make it to your new apartment. As soon as you see their response in confirmation, you’re turning your phone on airplane mode and grabbing your headphones out of your purse.

Movement from your left catches your attention, and you see a few people settling into the seats near you. You take a moment to assess your new seat buddy before turning back to your phone, plugging in your earbuds without another thought.

Looks like you’ll be sitting next to a guy for the entire flight. Not that you mind, but the last guy you sat beside on a long flight like this tried to talk your ear off about politics and how ‘kids these days don’t have the same respect they used to.’

The worst part? The man didn’t look that much older than you.

Oh well, it could have been worse. It could have also been like that one time you sat beside a lady who told you everything wrong with your first book, and what she would have done to fix it and make it better.

Holding your earbuds in one hand, you scroll through your playlist, searching for a song you want to listen to before putting them in.

From beside you, you can hear some hushed whispering in Korean, each voice distinctly male. The words ‘writer’ and ‘newest book’ catch your attention in-between the bustle of the other passengers boarding the plane, and you nearly let out a sigh.

Just as you go to place your buds in your ears, you hear a gentle voice pull you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me?” The words are low, cautious, as if he’s unsure of himself. Surprisingly, they’re in English.

Lifting your head, you shift your gaze to the side. The way your eyes blink in mild surprise, caught immediately off guard by who you see sitting beside you, is apparent. Ever so slightly, your breath hitches in your throat.

“Are you…” he trails off, brow furrowing as if he’s searching for the right word in English.

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a face peering out across the aisle from the row in front of you. His hands grip the seat firmly as he angles his body towards both you and the male beside you. Though, from the way his face keeps being blocked by more passengers boarding the plane, what he attempts to whisper to his friend goes unnoticed. At least, by the unsuspecting male. However, at the way you can hear the word ‘author’ lightly cut through the crowd, you grin softly.

“It’s alright, I can speak Korean.” You reply casually.

The way you see the male visibly freeze in his spot, body seemingly relaxing immediately after has you chuckling slightly.

“You do?” The surprise is clear on his features, but he’s quick to hide it in the next second.

“Not very well, but sufficiently enough.” You say. “My Japanese is better.”

You can see the way his brow twitches slightly in acknowledgement, that same look of surprise shining within his gaze.

“Anyways, my friend would like to know if you’re actually the author that wrote this book.” He says, lifting the object slightly in his hand.

An object of which you didn’t even notice before, too wrapped up in your own little world.

Sparing a glance at the book, a soft smile graces your features. For there, resting in his hands, resides a copy of your latest novel from the airport bookstore.

“I am.” You confirm with a small nod.

The male turns back to his left, seemingly having a silent conversation with his friend across the aisle. From his body language alone, you can tell that your seat buddy is slightly exasperated. Especially when his friend looks about ready to lunge across the aisle after the one sitting beside you asks him very lowly if he has to.

The announcement for final boarding call is heard over the speakers, the cabin crew now moving to secure the plane for take off.

You can only quirk a brow in amusement as your seat buddy heaves a tremendous sigh before turning back to face you.

That’s when you notice two more heads popping up over the seats in the middle section, one row in front of you. One sports bright, flaming red locks, while the other has a head full of black hair. They not so subtly peer over the back of their seats, looking in your direction as the one sitting right next to the aisle with bleached locks still has his eyes locked on you.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you; you probably get this a lot,” he sighs, and you can literally feel the death glare the male directly across the aisle from him is sending his way. “But do you think you could sign this for him?”

The plane begins to move. Briefly, you hear a flight attendant tell the three males in the row in front of you that they need to sit properly in order to prepare for take off.

Your brow quirks. “I thought I already did.”

This causes the male across the aisle to practically fall out of his seat as he reaches across to tear the book out of your seat buddy’s hands. You notice that he practically shreds through the front page in order to flip through to where your signature practically shines back up at him.

You notice a vibrant red beginning to creep up his neck as you chuckle lightly.

“I can still add a personalize message, if you’d like?” You lean forward slightly, looking directly past the male sitting beside you.

The way you visibly see the male perk up, practically throwing the book back at the one sitting beside you has a large grin pulling at your features. You can feel your own face heating from this interaction, heart pounding in your chest.

“Flight crew, prepare for take off.” The captains voice is heard over the intercom, and you realize you missed the entire safety demonstration. Not that you haven’t seen it all before.

“That would be great,” the male sitting beside you says, seeing as the other one seems too excited to speak for the moment. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smile, reaching down to grab a pen from your bag.

“Excuse me, Miss,” the soft voice of a flight attendant draws your attention to the aisle beside you. “Please remain in an upright position until the plane has left the tarmac.”

“Right, sorry,” you smile sheepishly, a nod to your head.

Turning back to the males beside you once the flight attendant walks away, you pat the cover lightly.

“I’ll sign this as soon as we’re in the air, okay?”Your voice is sweet, holding the book lightly in your lap.

“Thanks again,” the male beside you nods.

“Of course,” you repeat. “It’s not everyday an idol from one of your favourite groups asks you to sign something for them.”

Four heads whip in your direction: the male sitting beside you, the two directly across the aisle from you, and the one who had been turning around to face you one row up. The surprise is clear on their features, and you’d bet anything that the two you saw peeking over their seats earlier would be doing the exact same thing once again if they could.

“You know who we are?” The one from directly across the aisle sounds completely awestruck. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod gently in his direction, a small grin tugging at your lips. “Choi Jongho from Ateez.”

You swear that this man is about to faint from how red his face goes.

“Right now, though, you’re all just some guys on a plane,” you say. “And we all just so happen to be heading to the same destination.”

A slight whine from the row in front of them draws your attention.

“Joong, tell Yunho to stop kicking the back of my seat!” With the familiar intonation, you can just tell that it’s Wooyoung.

“Well, then stop hopping around.” Said male turns briefly towards his opposite side before turning back to continue observing this interaction between you and the other members.

You huff out a laugh, feeling as the plane begins to accelerate for take off. A moment later, and that familiar sense of weightlessness takes over, signifying you’ve left the ground.

“So, you’re a fan, then.” A statement, rather than a question comes from the man sitting beside you.

“For my part,” you hum, a tender smile pulling at your lips. “I saw you guys in concert a few years ago when you came to my city. You’re all incredible performers.”

You notice all four of them that are still looking at you become a little bashful at your words. Mutters of gratitude escape their lips as they bow their heads in your direction, and you are once again reminded of just how humble this group is.

“Then, you know who all of us are.” Again, another statement leaves the male beside you as he observes you with curious eyes.

“I do indeed know who you are, Kang Yeosang of Ateez.” You repeat your little phrase from earlier. A moment later, you shrug. “It’s like I said, though, right now you’re just some guy.”

A ding sounds, indicating the seatbelt sign going off once you’ve reached altitude. As soon as you hear it, realization flashes across your features, and you lean forward to grab a pen out of your bag.

“So, did you want me to address this to you, or is there a specific nickname you’d like me to use?”You direct your question towards the youngest member sitting across the aisle from you.

“Uh…” Jongho blinks, shifting forward slightly as he undoes his seatbelt. “Nickname?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Sometimes people like me signing a term of endearment from one of my books in front of their name, or even instead of their name. I can do that, or something else. Just nothing weird, like ‘Daddy’, or anything like that.”

A head pops up over the seat in front of you. “Someone’s asked you to sign a book for them addressed to ‘Daddy’?”

“Oh, hello, Song Mingi from Ateez.” You blink in mild surprise.

“Hello.” A subtle nod and an immediate look of meekness crosses his features. Almost as if he couldn’t help but pop up and join in on this conversation with you.

“I thought we were all just some guys to you right now?” Yunho quirks a brow at you from down the row.

“Listen, this is the only way I know how to-“ you search for the right word, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin all the while. A slight tilt of your head in realization is the only sign they get that you’ve thought of the word, “dispel my excitement for the moment. I’m pretty sure my heart is about to burst from how furiously it’s racing right now.”

You see Seonghwa poke his head around the edge of his seat to look at you. Only, you see him flinch in the next second, slowly shifting so he’s now peering over the top of his seat just as Mingi does.

Looks like Hongjoong didn’t like the fact that his sight was being blocked.

“I think the feeling is mutual,” at the way you see Yeosang motion towards Jongho with his head, you crack a grin.

“So,” you catch the last dregs of the glare Jongho sends Yeosang’s way before the youngest is meeting your gaze once more. “Nickname?”

Knowing grins tug at a few of the male’s faces around you, Yunho nudging Jongho teasingly in his side.

Again, the youngest shoots a pointed look at the male on his opposite side before turning to look at you. Red begins to creep up his neck as he averts his gaze to the floor before continuously flicking it up to meet your own.

“I’ve always liked ‘Darling’,” he admits, and you notice how Yunho nudges him teasingly while more of the guys shoot him knowing grins.

This time, it’s your turn for your cheeks to heat as you hum. “How fitting.”

Flipping open to the page with your signature, you twirl the pen in your fingers once. A moment later, and you’re scribbling out a message.

To My Darling Jongho,

The stars look up to you. Keep shining!

Signing it off with a ‘Your Fan’, you’re quick to add your name. However, before you hand it back to him, you add a little note at the bottom.

P.S. You have a lovely voice.

Adding a small smiley face, you’re quick to cap your pen and shut the front cover.

The moment you hand the book to Yeosang to pass back to Jongho, you notice a few of the other members sliding back into their seats. The youngest eagerly snatches the book back from the elder, opening to the page with your signature on it without a second of hesitation. The way you see him visibly shake in excitement, a large smile stretching onto his features warms your heart.

There’s a part of you that really wants to ask him about his favourite characters, and what he’s thought about your books, but you hold off for now. You wouldn’t exactly start a conversation with him otherwise, and you don’t want to bother him too much. Besides, he seems far too content to pull out the Korean translation of your previous book from his bag shortly afterwards.

Figuring he wants to read, you turn back to face the seat in front of you. Leaning down, you go to put your pen away, kicking your bag lightly back beneath the seat.

“Yeosang,” you hear a harsh whisper from your left. “Switch seats with me.”

A moment of silence where you notice the aforementioned male shoot a disinterested look towards Jongho. 

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Jongho practically seethes, a frown tugging at his features. “I swear to god, Yeosang, I will split you in half like an apple.”

“Yes, I’m sure your favourite author would love to sit beside a man who just threatened to snap me like a twig.” Yeosang deadpans, reclining his seat back as far as it will go.

You’re about to make a comment on the situation, torn between jokingly saying that that’s actually kind of hot, or telling them that you don’t mind at all, when a voice draws your attention from in front of you.

“So,” it’s Seonghwa, peeking over the top of his seat once more. His hands grip the headrest, and you cannot see his mouth, but the way his wide eyes shine as they look towards you nearly makes you swoon. “Who’s your bias?”

You notice that this catches all of the member’s attention, and you suddenly sink back into the seat you’re in. That is, until you quirk your brow, a teasing grin causing the corners of your lips to twitch upwards.

“My ult?” You tilt your head. “I think I’m very explicit about it being Lee Taemin.”

You can visibly see the way his shoulders deflate at your words, and you briefly look around at all of the males that now seem to be peering at you from over their seats.

“No,” Seonghwa practically whines. “Of the group!”

“Which group?” The expression you wear is nothing short of amused as you see Seonghwa begin to pout before you.

If someone had told you that you’d be making the Park Seonghwa from Ateez pout because you wouldn’t tell him your bias from his group, you would have laughed in their face. Even more so when you notice Hongjoong staring at you with a mildly pointed look in your direction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear that he’s almost daring you to say that it’s anyone else but him.

“Our group, of course!” He frowns, leaning the slightest bit forward to rest his chin on top of his hands as he watches you carefully.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San lean into Wooyoung from a row ahead.

“Has she answered her bias yet?” The male not so subtly whispers to the younger.

“Shh, not yet.” Wooyoung hisses back. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“Who’s your bias in Ateez?” Mingi is the one to ask you this time, and you shift your attention to him for the moment.

Again, your cheeks flare with heat.

“Now, isn’t that the million dollar question?” You breathe, letting out a chuckle as you grab your phone in your hand once more. “Nah, sorry boys. If you want that answer out of me, you at least have to buy me a drink first.”

“Is your bias your lockscreen?” Jongho asks, an eager gleam in his eyes as the males closest to you now divert their gazes to your phone held in your hand.

“My lockscreen definitely takes priority,” you grin knowingly, and you watch them all eagerly lean in to catch a glimpse of the photo. “Since I won’t have wifi for such a long time, I always change it to a list of things I should probably get done on the plane."

Clicking the side button reveals said list on your screen.

A collective sigh of defeat is heard from the males around you as you chuckle. Only, in the next moment, your brow furrows.

“Wait, how do you know I usually keep one of my biases as my lockscreen?” You turn towards Jongho.

“Lucky guess?” He shrugs, another blush creeping up his neck.

“He started screaming about it during one of your lives once someone translated your remark.” Yeosang casually states, shifting slightly in his seat to get more comfortable as he settles in for a nap.

You swear that were it not for the way another passenger walks by to use the restroom, Jongho would have lunged at the male sitting beside you.

Still, you cannot help the way your eyes shine in awe. “You watch my lives?”

Jongho avoids your gaze, fumbling over his words for the moment. His hands nervously toy with the pages of the book in his lap, and you nearly coo at how bashful he suddenly looks.

“When he can.” Yunho supplies for him with a soft smile. “Sometimes Hongjoong and I watch, too. It helps when Joong can translate some of the things you say.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the implication, and you cannot keep the hopefulness out of your voice. “You guys have read my books, too?”

“Even if it weren’t for Jongho ranting and raving over your writing, our other friends are pretty persistent.” Hongjoong replies, a soft smile pulling at his features. “You’re very popular back home.”

“Yeah, Changbin told me that Felix recommended him this book, so he just had to tell me about it.” Wooyoung supplies.

“Members of Stray Kids have also read my novels?” You say, though with how lowly you whisper it, it’s more to yourself in awe.

“I know! I was surprised, since Bin will barely even look at books half the time,” Wooyoung laughs, eyes crinkling in joy.

“You’d be surprised by how many of us read your novels.” Yunho hums, settling back in his own seat for the moment.

“Wow,” you breathe. “Honestly, it’s something I always think about, but I still never expect it. The only idol I know for sure that reads my books is Mark Lee of NCT.”

“Oh, yeah, we didn’t hear the end of that for weeks,” San calls out over his chair, shooting a look towards Jongho.

“‘Why can’t we get personalized signed copies of her books?’” Wooyoung imitates the youngest, nearly getting shoved out of his chair in response.

“I’d send her a full on review along with our albums if she gave me a chance,” Hongjoong laughs, receiving a harsh kick from Jongho to the back of his seat.

“Remember the one time he said he’d serenade her?” Yunho supplies, a fond chuckle falling from his lips.

Jongho instantly wraps his one arm around Yunho’s throat, pulling the taller man into his side as the elder hunches over uncomfortably. “Want to die?”

You cannot help the way you laugh, eyes falling shut as you lean back in your seat. Your one hand rests over your chest as you catch your breath, blinking away your tears of joy shortly after. The scene is much too comical for you not to react, anyways.

The moment your vision clears, you notice Yeosang having turned to face you. He wears a somewhat neutral expression, but his eyes are soft, a hint of awe residing within.

You chalk it up to him just being tired.

“You really said you’d serenade me?” Your inquiry is tender, nothing but a sense of wonder pulling at your features as you lean forward to look his way.

Slowly, he releases the chokehold he has on Yunho, nodding lightly all the while.

“That’s honestly so sweet, oh my goodness,” your one hand comes up to cup the side of your face as you tilt your head to the side.

The way Jongho’s eyes begin to shine as he meets you gaze says it all.

A moment later, and your attention is being drawn to the male peering his head over his seat in front of you.

“You like anime, right?” Mingi has an eager look on his face, arms crossed over the back of his seat as he rests his chin on top of them.

“I do indeed!” You reply, an excited gleam sparking in your gaze.

“Uh-oh,” Hongjoong says. “This is going to take a while.”

“Shut up,” Mingi frowns, turning his suddenly harsh gaze towards Hongjoong for a moment before turning back to you with an eager grin. “Which one’s your favourite?”

“Definitely Jujutsu Kaisen, but Naruto will always hold a special place in my heart since I’ve loved it since childhood.” You reply. “Haikyuu will also forever be my comfort series.”

You see him nodding along to your every word.

“What about you?” You reply, blinking lightly up at him.

“I really love Demon Slayer,” he replies, a giddiness to his tone.

“Oh yeah, the animation for that series is beautiful,” you nod along to his words. “I also remember when Atiny’s went feral for your Rengoku hair. Now, that was a look.”

You swear the male nearly tumbles out of his seat as his lips part in awe. A subtle blush begins to tint his ears, as he smiles bashfully in your direction.

“Thank you,” his voice is soft. That is, until his sharp gaze is locking on the male sitting beside you. “Hey, Yeosang-“

Pointedly, the male turns away from you, pretending to be asleep.

“I don’t think any of us are going to get him to move any time soon,” Hongjoong chuckles. “Anyways, sorry for bothering you.”

“Not at all!” You shake your head, a kind smile tugging at your features. “Honestly, this has made my entire week.”

“Likewise,” Jongho breathes, and you turn your smile towards him.

“Oh, wait,” you lean forward, pulling out your backpack and riffling through it in the next minute. Once you have what you’re looking for in hand, your eyes are lighting up, pulling the item out of your bag quickly. “The translation isn’t due to drop for another month, but they sent me some early copies. I’d like you to have this one.”

Carefully, you reach over a somewhat asleep Yeosang to hand Jongho the book in your hands. You can see his own shaking as he grabs the novel from you, a look of complete awe on his features.

“Thank you,” he meets your gaze. “I’ve been waiting for this one to drop since you announced it. It’s why I bought the English version.”

“I do that, too, with a bunch of my manga. I think I have at least four copies of volume four of Jujutsu Kaisen just for the one panel alone.” You chuckle.

“Not the cover?” Mingi quirks a brow.

“Oh, god no.” Your face scrunches in distaste. “Kakashi two-point-oh is most definitely not a character I like. I’ll stick with the original, thank you very much.”

From beside you, you notice Yeosang’s shoulders start to shake with mild laughter.

“Anyways,” you chuckle. “That’s a topic for another day.”

The way you see Mingi visibly pout as he sinks back into his seat has the corner of your lips quirking upwards. A second later, and you’re turning your attention back to Jongho on your left.

“I hope you enjoy the book, it’s definitely darker than some of the other ones I’ve written.” You comment.

At this, you notice Hongjoong’s brow quirk. “Darker, you say?”

“Twisted, if you will.” You shrug a shoulder casually.

“Hey, Jongho, once you’re finished with that, let me borrow it.” Hongjoong turns to the aforementioned male who already seems to have begun reading your book.

Jongho’s eyes flash, protectively hugging the novel to his chest. “Get your own.”

The two males begin bickering over your book, and you notice how the other members have all settled back into their seats. You decide to get comfortable in your own, leaving the conversation at that for now as you put in your headphones. A moment later, and you’re putting on one of your softer playlists to help you fall asleep. It works, too, for in no time at all, you’re succumbing to the realm of dreams.

Of course, it doesn’t last too long, for the flight attendants come around offering drinks shortly after. The meals are served following that, and then finally, you’re able to sink back into the comfort of sleep once more.

A few hours later, you wake to more hushed whispers coming from your left. It sounds as if Jongho is attempting to convince Yeosang to switch seats with him once more, much to the elder’s annoyance.

“I said, ‘no’,” Yeosang grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest.

“But I want to ask her about her new novel,” Jongho whines.

“Ask her some other time,” Yeosang huffs out a breath. “She’s sleeping.”

Jongho leaves it at that, but when you crack open your eyes to assess the situation, you notice he’s already almost halfway through the book you’ve given him. A large pout rests on his features as he pointedly flips back to the page he had last been on, continuing to read without another word.

After about another hour where you fall in and out of sleep, you decide that you’re too restless for the moment to succumb to the land of dreams. Adjusting yourself in your seat, you make sure not to disturb the resting male beside you. Leaning forward, you shuffle a few things around as you grab a notebook and a pen from your bag.

Might as well get a little bit of writing done.

The lighting inside the plane is low, but you’ll make do. The last thing you want is to disturb the people around you, and besides, it’s not like you can’t see anything. It’s no different than all of those nights you used to spend when you were younger sitting in the dark staring at your laptop’s screen as you wrote until the first glimpses of the sun’s rays peeked through your windows.

Turning to a blank page, you let out a small sigh through your nose.

Now, where to begin?

Quirking a brow, you smirk to yourself, putting the pen to paper.

Before you know it, two hours have passed and you’ve written a fair amount for the opening of your new book. Sitting upright reveals just how stiff your neck has gotten, bringing a hand up to gently begin massaging at the muscles as you stretch it out lightly. A moment later, and a few satisfying pops can be heard as you crack it, and subsequently, your back.

The way you notice Yeosang spare a look at you out of the corner of his eyes has  you smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

You begin to close your notebook before a final idea strikes you, scribbling the little note to yourself for later. Once done, you tuck it away, pulling out your laptop shortly after.

A brief silence settles over you as you place your laptop onto the little tray you’re using. That is, until a soft voice from beside you draws your attention.

“You have nice handwriting.”

Your entire body freezes, turning to blink at the male in shock.

“Do you always write everything out before typing it?” Yeosang meets your gaze, a mild curiosity lingering in his tone.

Slowly, you shake your head. “Not usually. I just prefer writing things out like this when I’m in public. I always feel like my screen is a giant ‘Look Here’ sign when I use my laptop. That, and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you with the light.”

“I thought I was ‘just some guy’ to you?” He quirks a brow, completely misinterpreting your words for the moment.

“You are.” You confirm. “I would extend the same curtesy towards anyone.”

“But not right now?” He quirks a brow, eyes briefly darting down to the way you open your laptop.

“You’re awake now, and I think I’ve earned myself a few episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen after actually getting some writing done.” You say. “Besides, my hand hurts from gripping the pen so tightly.”

“Oh?” The corner of his lips twitches upwards as he notices you stretching your writing hand out by curling and uncurling your fingers periodically.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Jongho nearly at the end of your book. His body is angled towards you, gaze flitting above the top of the pages every so often to check if you’ll notice him or not. At the way you smile tenderly his way, he’s quick to hide his face behind the pages once more.

“It’s a bad habit I have,” you shrug, setting up your screen with the first episode. “It’s one of the reasons I prefer typing. That, and both spellcheck, and the fact that I can type faster than I can handwrite.”

“I see.” He hums.

You blink, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all.” He smiles politely. “I asked, anyways. Think of it as the mere curiosities of a stranger.”

“Well then, stranger,” you grin slightly, a playful gleam to your eyes as you properly introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

An amused grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he introduces himself to you, following along with your antics for the moment. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“There,” you nod once, quite firmly at that, too, “Now we’re not strangers.”

“No,” he hums, “I suppose not.”

Turning back to your screen, you are more than content to leave the conversation at that. A moment later, and the familiar sight of the first episode of Jujutsu Kaisen pops up on your laptop, allowing yourself to connect your headphones before pressing play. You get about five minutes into the episode before you begin to feel eyes on you.

Shifting your gaze, you notice Yeosang glancing towards you, and then your screen every few seconds. Carefully, you shift your laptop in his direction so he can see the screen better, and you notice him stiffen slightly in his spot.

You chuckle lightly, silently offering him one of your earbuds.

You don’t even have to look at him to see the way he glances from that small item held in your hand, to your face and back a few times before accepting the offer wordlessly. A press of a few buttons and Korean subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen.

You can see the shock clear on his face as he places the bud in his ear.

“What?” You laugh. “Expecting English?”

He blinks. “Yeah, actually.”

“I think I mentioned my Japanese being better than my Korean,” you hum.

“Your Korean sounds fine to me.” He comments.

A warmth blooms on your cheeks as you divert your gaze to the screen.

“Thank you,” nothing more than a mumble escapes you.

“Why? Do you think you’re not speaking well?” He asks, the anime playing on in the background.

“I used to be friends with a girl who always harped on me for my pronunciation, so it made speaking all the more difficult for me.” You admit softly. “Which is really ironic, when she always complained about people correcting her when she was younger.”

“Harped?” His brow furrows. “How so?”

“She would always make fun of the way I would say stuff,” your nose scrunches in distaste as you recall the memories. “I would learn something new, and the first words out of her mouth would be something like, ‘you really think it’s pronounced like that? You sound like a Koreaboo.’”

His eyebrows raise significantly, “Koreaboo?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, turning your head to meet his gaze only to realize just how close he is to you due to the fact that you’re sharing headphones. A warmth blooms once more on your cheeks. “Ironic, since she wasn’t even Korean to begin with, yet she was correcting my pronunciation.”

“Was she a language teacher?” His brow furrows.

“Not even,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly.

“She sounds like a bitch,” he comments, shifting his gaze to your screen.

You spare a glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. “She was.”

“Well, I think your pronunciation is really good,” he says, somewhat nonchalantly.

You wish you could prevent the way your eyes light up. “Really?”

A soft smile graces his features. “Really.”

“Thank you.” Shyly, you avert your gaze back to your laptop, shifting slightly in your seat.

He smiles kindly at you in response, turning back to the show as well.

About two minutes go by before he’s breaking it again.

“So, how come you have Korean subtitles to a Japanese anime?” He inquires, a hint of curiosity leaking through in his voice.

“Well, back to the language conversation,” you begin, “I had always wanted to learn more than one, but every time I went to study, my mind just wouldn’t retain the information. Except for Japanese. So, originally, I wanted to learn Korean first, but it just wasn’t working out well for me. Another fact she harped on me for: my memory. Anyways, I realized I could remember things better in Japanese, so once I learned that, I learnt Korean from Japanese.”

Yeosang hums, clearly impressed. “I see.”

“It was easier to pick up phrases and stuff with Korean subtitles to my favourite shows, so I made the switch,” you go on to say, tapping the edge of your laptop with your finger lightly. “I still use English subtitles if my brain gets too tired, though.”

“Makes sense,” he nods. “Do you watch dramas?”

“On occasion,” your tone is light, a small hum to your words. “I’m really bad at finishing a series though. I tend to start one, and then not touch it for years before going back to it. I still think I have a few episodes of Goblin left. Which is really ironic considering I referenced the reaper in one of my first published series.”

“You did?” He sounds quite surprised, but curious, nonetheless.

“I did.” You confirm with a chuckle. “I make reference to a lot of things I like in my stories. Music, movies, shows, characters, you name it.”

“What’s the thing you reference the most?” He asks, resting his elbow on the arm of his seat in order to lean his head in his hand.

“Probably The Lord of the Rings,” you chuckle. “I love that series.”

“I don’t think I’ve properly seen it.” He admits.

“Really?” You look at him skeptically. “Forgetting that you’re just some guy for a moment, but you literally have a song called The Ring where you make reference to it in the final lines.”

The somewhat sheepish shrug he gives you makes you laugh.

“Alright, fair enough,” you grin. “If you ever get a chance, you should watch it. The extended editions, though. There’s no other way to properly watch those films in my opinion. You get so much more out of them that way.”

“Oh, really?” He hums, amusement dancing in his eyes as he quirks a brow.

“Literal cinematic masterpieces.” You continue. “There’s so many cool behind the scenes facts and tidbits I could tell you, but I don’t want to subject you to that right now.”

“Why not?” His question clearly catches you by surprise.

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” you shrug, blinking in the next second. “I do also have the movies saved on my laptop, but again, I won’t subject you to that. They’re long as hell, especially if you’ve never seen them before.”

“Ah, so binging them all at once isn’t a good idea.” He nods in understanding.

“Oh, no, you could totally do that, but it’s like, thirteen hours or so.” You say. “Definitely worth it if you make a day out of it, though, Watching them back to back really immerses you in the story.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then.” He smiles. “They’re based on books, aren’t they?”

The way your eyes instantly light up does not go unnoticed by him.

“They are!” You reply enthusiastically. “They’re honestly one of my favourite series both in film and on paper, but I wouldn’t go around recommending people the book series.”

“Why’s that?” He inquires, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.

“They’re dry as fuck,” you say, and you notice his eyebrows raising in amusement at your description. “Listen, they’re not for everybody. Even I usually take years to get through the first book when I read the series. It’s a very tedious journey, but if you enjoy fantasy, they’re a key staple to read. In any language. At least, in my opinion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles softly, and again, you can feel your whole body heating in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I tend to ramble about the things I really like.” You avert your gaze, fingers suddenly toying with one another in your lap.

“I don’t mind at all.” He’s quick to assure you, eyes crinkling gently in the corners.

A soft smile pulls at your lips as you keep your gaze fixed on your hands for the moment. You can still feel him looking at you for a few seconds longer before he diverts his gaze back to the screen.

The both of you sit in silence for a few minutes as the anime continues to play. By now, the second episode has started, and the corner of your lips quirks upwards as you watch the familiar interactions between the characters. You could probably recite both the original Japanese lines, and the English subtitles by now given how many times you’ve watched it.

A loud gasp from across the aisle draws your attention.

“Holy fuck!” It’s Jongho.

“What? What is it?” The somewhat panicked voice of Hongjoong reaches your ears as you see both him and Seonghwa leaning towards the youngest from the row ahead.

The younger male turns to you, his eyes wide and his lips parted in shock.

“You-“ he blinks, “I-“ he tightens his hold on the now completed book in his hands, “the twist!”

You grin. “I told you it was dark.”

“I just knew it. The way he was acting when he got back to the room was too suspicious.” Jongho mumbles, flipping through some of the pages to quickly reread certain lines. “It was there all along!”

“Some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten about writing is that plot twists shouldn’t catch you suddenly off guard. The best ones are hinted at throughout, and if the reader can pick up on them, you’re doing a good job of laying out the clues.” You chuckle fondly at how eager he listens to you. Even the others look on you in mild awe. “Granted, you don’t want it to be too obvious.”

“It definitely wasn’t,” Jongho shakes his head, as if to reassure you. “It was all paced perfectly.”

“Thank you,” a brilliant, albeit bashful smile takes over your features, and again, you feel Yeosang looking at you out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m glad to hear you liked it.”

“Liked it?” Jongho looks about ready to vibrate out of his seat from his excitement. “I loved it!”

Once more, you thank him lowly, that smile never leaving your features. A warmth blooms in your chest from his words, and the fact that you can see him immediately opening the book back to the first page to begin rereading it has a happiness unlike any other building within. The way Hongjoong starts to pester Jongho about letting him borrow the book has you wiggling your toes to expel some of your giddiness.

You’re just about to offer the leader of Ateez his own copy when a voice from your immediate left draws your attention.

“Who’s your favourite character?” Yeosang blinks once before turning his attention to you from the screen.

“Huh?” You blink back at him, clearly caught off guard by his inquiry. For a moment, you think he’s asking you about your favourite character from your new book.

“Of the show,” he jerks his chin in the direction of your laptop where you see episode two finishing up for the time being.

“Oh,” you tilt your head in acknowledgement, noticing a familiar male peering over the top of the seat in front of you once more. Your cheeks flare with heat. “Probably Sukuna, but Toji is a close second.”

At the way Yeosang quirks his brow at you, you’re quick to continue.

“Look, my taste in fictional men is questionable at best,” you comment, shifting slightly in your seat. “Don’t ask me why I have a thing for the psychopaths, but I do. Bonus points if they have red hair.”

You notice Hongjoong quirk a brow out in your direction of the corner of your eye, only for him to quickly turn to the male sitting to his left. A moment later, and he returns to his previous position, Wooyoung popping his head over the seat to grin smugly in your direction. You simply raise both eyebrows curiously.

“So, you like red hair?” The smug grin Wooyoung wears says it all.

“I enjoy the colour, yes, but it’s not my favourite.” You confirm, noticing how the male wiggles his brows suggestively at you. “The colour suits you very well, yes.”

“Good thing he’s not a psychopath,” Seonghwa mumbles.

“Debatable,” Hongjoong sighs, and you nearly laugh.

“Then, what are your favourite colours?” Yeosang inquires, blinking at you innocently.

“Hair wise?” At the nod you receive, you hum, thinking it over for a moment before answering. “For some reason, I definitely have an affinity towards bleached hair. I love the look of blond locks. Bonus points if it’s long and the roots are starting to grow in slightly. My absolute favourite is lavender, though. As much as I love Taemin’s blond hair, his lavender hair gets me every time. Jeonghan from Seventeen also had really nice lavender locks, and they were long, too. Oh, and special shout out to skunk dyes.”

The way they all stare at you has you immediately shrinking into your seat. Even more so when you see Wooyoung grinning at you like a maniac from a little ways away.

“Sorry, I’m rambling again.” You chuckle nervously. “Here I am talking to literal idols about this stuff when we’re not even friends.”

The boys all share a brief look with one another.

“We could be.” It’s Hongjoong that offers, the others nodding along softly in agreement.

To say his words catch you off guard would be an understatement, and you have just enough time to compose yourself so that you’re no longer staring at him, dumbfounded. 

A blink, and a soft smile pulls onto your features. “I’d like that very much.”

A phone is nearly flung at your face, were it not for the way Yeosang quickly catches it midair.

“Jongho, calm down!” Yeosang harshly whispers to the younger beside him, gaze sharp as he shoots a pointed glare towards the male.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Jongho looks absolutely mortified when you turn to look at him.

“It’s alright,” you chuckle. “Honestly, not the worst thing that has been thrown at me before.”

The way they all look at you in confusion at you has shrugging a shoulder casually.

“When I worked at a bookstore on the operations team, I can’t count the amount of things that either got thrown at me by accident, or fell on me.” You say casually. “Books are also much heavier than phones.”

“I would imagine,” Hongjoong chuckles along with you. “Do you have kaotalk?”

“I do,” you nod in confirmation. “Though, we might have to wait until we land to exchange information. No wifi and all.”

“Ah, right,” you see his head tilt in acknowledgement.

A small pout pulls onto Jongho’s features as Yeosang hands the youngest his phone back.

“Then, we’ll exchange information once we land.” Mingi grins widely, practically shaking in excitement in his seat.

“Sounds good to me.” You grin right back, heart racing inside of your chest.

If someone would have told you that you’d not only be on the same flight as Ateez, but befriending them on said flight, you would have told them to stop fantasizing. However, truly being in this situation feels so unreal, even as you watch them all settle back into their seats with smiles on their faces.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

Yeosang quirks a brow.

“For catching that.”

“No problem.” The corner of his lips twitches upwards.

“So,” you shoot a look at him out of the corner of your eyes, noticing how the anime has been continuing to play in the background this whole time. “Who’s your favourite character?”

“In this?” He motions to your screen with a jerk of his chin.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.” He replies casually, and your eyes nearly bulge right out of your head.

“You’ve never seen it before?” Your voice is full of disbelief as you look towards him once more. At the shake of his head, you’re quick to restart the third episode, muttering to yourself about talking over the show this whole time.

“It’s okay,” Yeosang chuckles. “I’m used to the chaos.”

You quirk a brow. “Are you, now?”

“Yes.” he deadpans, turning his head to shoot you a pained smile with a thumbs up in the next second. “I thrive in it."

You cannot help yourself. A loud, boisterous laugh escapes you, your eyes crinkling in joy. A fact which is only emphasized when Yeosang begins to chuckle along with you, only to steel his face and nod solemnly every time he notices you peering over at him.

The way he grins right along with you as you finally calm yourself down from laughing so hard says it all. Not even the way you can see Jongho flicking his gaze towards you from over his book, a clear pout on his features can pull you out of this moment right now.

For the rest of the plane ride, you either watch more episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen with Yeosang, or talk lowly with him. The conversations are somewhat short, but calm nonetheless. They mainly consist of one of you asking the other a simple question, and going from there. Truly, two strangers just passing the time and enjoying the other’s company, rather than sitting in silence.

At one point, you manage to fall asleep again, only to be woken up by the announcement that the plane is now beginning its decent into Seoul. The way you notice your laptop has gently been closed, your headphone wrapped up and sitting neatly on top of it makes you smile softly.

Stretching as much as you can, you move to put your laptop away. You keep your headphones out, just in case you want to listen to music for the last little bit of your journey. Then, once you’ve settled back into your seat, you turn your head to the side. 

Gazing out of the window, nothing but pure excitement shines within your eyes. It’s finally time, and as soon as you land, you feel as if everything will truly fall into place.

You can feel someone’s gaze on you every now and then. You figure it’s either Jongho watching you out of the corner of his eyes like you’ve noticed he likes to do, or Yeosang looking out of the window with you. Thus, you opt to sit back as far in your seat as you can, giving the male the perfect view to observe the ground getting closer and closer with each passing second. He’s probably missed his home more than you could ever imagine.

The moment the plane touches the ground, you cannot help the way your breath hitches in your throat. The small bounce of the wheels hitting the tarmac only serves to solidify to you that this is real. You’ve truly moved to Seoul for a year, and you have many adventures planned already to come. Starting with that award’s show, of course.

Turning your phone back on cellular for the moment, you’re quick to shoot a text to your family letting them know you’ve landed and arrived safely. It’s now early morning for them, so you’re not expecting a message back for at least another few hours. You also need to get a new data plan for the year you’ll be living in Seoul, so you add that to the mental list of things you need to do already forming in your head.

Five minutes later, and you’ve been taxied to the gate, the other passengers beginning to disembark. Honestly, you can’t wait to get off of this plane and stretch your legs. Your few trips to the bathroom did nothing to help. Besides, you can’t wait to get to your place and shower.

Holding your bags in your lap, you watch as Yeosang steps out into the aisle. Only, he pauses, motioning for you to go ahead of him.

“Ladies first.”

You smile politely, thanking him lowly as you step out of the row and begin to disembark the plane. You get about two steps onto the gate when Jongho steps in beside you, as if he was eager to follow you out.

“Holy shit, you are tall.” His awestruck voice reaches your ears.

An amused glance is sent his way out of the corner of your eyes.

“And the most common phrase said by males I meet goes to…” you huff out a laugh, seeing as he continues to scan you from head to toe, noticing how you stand a few inches taller than him.

A red hue begins to creep up his neck and onto the tips of his ears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“No, no,” you wave him off with another laugh. “It’s just funny when no one believes you are the height you say you are. Used to happen all the time when I tried dating apps.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho steps in on your other side, and you notice Yeosang walking beside him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the shorter male looks slightly irritated. Though, from the way you notice him loop around to begin chasing Jongho, you know that the younger must have done something before exiting the plane.

“Well, where I come from, it’s really common for guys to add their heights to their profile. Which is really funny, when they are usually the ones that lie about it.” You explain, heading towards customs with the crowd from the flight for the moment. “So, I always found it funny when I would tell the people I matched with my height, or when they would ask about it, only to not believe me. Then, whenever we would meet, I would be significantly taller than Jeremy who proclaimed himself to be ‘six-foot three’.”

You see Yunho nod beside you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Got even more prominent when I started doing signings and people would stand near me.” You comment. “Not to mention the guys that would need to ‘prove’ how tall I was whenever they would bring their books up to be signed. On the other hand, though, it’s really cute to see so many people get flustered by it. Female presenting people and non-binary people especially. Though, I will never forget the fans who always ask me to cosplay Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil Eight.”

“You’ve cosplayed Lady Dimitrescu?” Mingi attempts to hide his excitement with a clearing of his throat as he steps into the space once occupied by Jongho.

“I’ve thought about it,” you hum, stepping into the line to get through customs with him, Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho right behind you. Looks like the others are a little ways ahead already. “Maybe one day I will.”

“I fully support whatever decision you choose to make.” Jongho nods, enthusiastically.

“Just say you want her to step on you and be done with it,” Yeosang sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

The way the younger lunges for the elder has a laugh escaping you, especially when the two males start bickering and slapping each other’s sides.

“If you want me to step on you that badly, I have one condition,” you joke, stepping up to the front seeing as you’re the next person in line. At the way you seem to now have all four of their undivided attention on you now, you grin, feeling your cheeks beginning to heat. “Suffocate me with your thighs, first.”

Each male doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re being called over to the customs officer, but you definitely catch their stunned reactions. The way you see Jongho nearly fall over, his face turning bright red and looking like he might spontaneously combust has your shoulders shaking in laughter.

The other three aren’t fairing much better. Yeosang’s eyes look about ready to pop out of his head with how wide they’ve gone. Additionally, both Mingi’s and Yunho’s mouths part, subtle blushes of their own creeping to their cheeks before the eldest is clearing his throat. They don’t have much time to dwell on your comment, for they each get called up to their own customs officer to get through to baggage claim soon after.

Getting through customs doesn’t take too long, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of the terminal waiting for your bags to come through. You didn’t necessarily spot any of the other guys, but you haven’t really been looking out for them, either. That is, until you see a blur of red approaching you from the side.

Wooyoung hops right up beside you, stopping short as a look of complete shock crosses his features. “Woah.”

Sparing a glance out of the corner of your eyes, you notice his gaze scan your figure. He begins looking around the ground at your feet, as if to spot whatever it is you must be standing on to make you that much taller than he is. Once he finds none, his awestruck gaze is back on your face.

“Wooyoung, I thought I told you to wait for us,” Hongjoong’s exasperated voice reaches your ears.

Turning your head, you see all of the guys now walking towards you, a few of their staff in tow.

“I’m so sorry, has he been pestering you?” A male, whom you’re assuming is their manager, addresses you.

“Not at all,” you shake your head, a slight grin tugging at your features. “I think I might have broken him, though.”

At your words, all heads turn towards a stunned Wooyoung, his mouth gaping like a fish. He blinks a few times, a dopey grin tugging onto his features soon after as his face begins to turn as red as his hair.

“Wooyo, are you okay?” It’s San who asks, coming up to stand beside the male still blinking at you.

A second later and Wooyoung starts giggling like a maniac, “tall lady. Pretty, tall lady. Pretty and tall lady.”

“Okay, I think someone needs more sleep.” Yunho gently guides the muttering male away from you with the help of San.

“Sorry about him,” Hongjoong chuckles, stepping in beside you.

You notice Yeosang standing on your opposite side, not saying a word. Though, you can feel the way he glances towards you out of the corner of his eyes every now and then.

The terminal begins moving, signifying the start of baggage claim for your flight.

“Anyways, should we exchange Kaotalk’s now?” Hongjoong asks, his phone already held in his hand.

“Sure!” You reply, shifting to grab your phone out of your pocket. A few moments later and you’re holding your screen to him with your Kaotalk code on full display. “Here you go.”

The way his eyes light up has you smiling, and you notice the others all pulling out their own phones to add you as well.

“Feel free to message me anytime,” you smile, already feeling your phone vibrate in your hand with a new message.

However, before you can even check who has messaged you, a voice from your left catches your attention.

“Don’t forget about me.” Yeosang blinks up at you as you turn to face him.

You smile softly. “I could never forget about you.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’ve just made him blush. The way he averts his gaze, focussing so intently on your phone to make sure he’s added you correctly only confirms your suspicion.

A piece of luggage on the conveyor belt catches your eye. Just as you move to place your phone into your back pocket and grab your bag, you notice Yeosang stop you.

“Which one is it?” He takes a few steps towards the terminal, not even waiting for you to respond.

“The silver one, but I can grab it-“ by the time the words have left your lips, he’s already hoisted your bag from the belt and placed it gently beside you. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He smiles lightly. “I wanted to.”

You smile back. “I appreciate it.”

“Do you have any more?” He asks, eyes already scanning the moving luggage for similar ones to the bag he’s already grabbed for you.

“I have three, but I don’t expect you to-“

“Is this another?” He points to a larger silver hardshell case coming your way.

“Yes, but-“ again, before you can tell him not to worry about it, he’s lifting your luggage off of the conveyor and placing it gently beside your other one.

“Are the other two the same?” He asks, shifting his gaze towards you from over his shoulder.

“Same style, but red.” You blink, figuring you’re fighting a losing battle at this point if you keep telling him not to worry about it.

“Believe me, if I didn’t help you first, Jongho would have leapt across the room and done it himself,” Yeosang comments, pulling the first of your red bags off of the line for you.

The moment he wheels it over to you, you double check all of the labels, making sure these are indeed your bags.

“What about your bags?” You ask, noticing how he lifts your final bag off of the line in the next second.

“The staff usually handles them.” He shrugs, helping you wheel your bags over to a cart to help you start loading them onto it.

“Ah, so you wanted something to do.” You nod your understanding.

“Had to make sure all my muscles still work after a long flight like that.” He deadpans, the subtlest of quirks to his lips.

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to show off?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“Depends,” he hums, shooting you a look out of the corner of his eyes as you both head towards the exit. “Were you impressed?”

You laugh, fake swooning in the next second. “My hero.”

Yeosang quirks a grin in response. “Fine then. Your bags were super heavy to lift, and I demand compensation.”

“I never forced you to lift them!” Your mouth falls open, a scandalized look crossing your features.

“I could have lifted them for you.” Jongho cuts in, seeing as they’ve all now caught up to you for the moment. “I would have been more than happy to.”

You chuckle, but you cannot help the way that you notice Yeosang fall silent as the younger inserts himself in between the both of you.

“It’s quite alright,” you smile softly. “Yeosang helped me just fine.”

“Do you have a ride to your accommodation?” It’s Seonghwa who asks, blinking at you with wide eyes.

“I do, thank you.” You nod. “My publisher sent some people to pick me up.”

You see a few of them nod back in understanding just as you reach the exit gate.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now.” Hongjoong turns to face you, stopping just off to the side to ensure they’re not blocking anyone’s path.

“You guys be careful out there,” you say, looking over all of them briefly. “I’ve seen some wild videos of how certain people can act towards all of you at the airport.”

“You, too.” Mingi sends a firm nod in your direction.

“Well, hopefully we’ll see you around!” Wooyoung grins, practically vibrating in his spot in excitement.

“Not to be ominous, but I have a feeling you will.” You smile knowingly. “Like I said, feel free to message me any time. Keep in touch if you can, and don’t be strangers.”

“We will,” Hongjoong smiles back, the corner of his own lips quirking knowingly as Jongho begins to pout beside him.

“I’ll see you guys around,” with a final wave, you’re grabbing your two luggage carts and steering them out of the exit.

You don’t even have to turn around to know that they follow you out a moment later. Given the way half of the crowd begins to bustle, practically swarming the opposite ramp as Ateez exits the terminal, you have a definitive answer. However, what you don’t expect is for a few people to be there for you.

“Miss, would you be willing to sign this for me? And could I possibly get a picture, too?” A girl asks, holding a copy of your first published book out to you.

“Of course,” you grin, having already given your luggage to the people you were supposed to be meeting at the airport that your publisher sent. Once you take the book and pen from her hands, you turn to face her. “Who should I make it out to?”

You’re so caught up in your own little world, completely awestruck by the fact that a small crowd had come to greet you at the airport, that you completely miss the feeling of eyes glancing back at you from across the way.

The last thing Yeosang sees before being ushered out to a waiting car is you signing some books and taking pictures with a few fans, a radiant smile lighting up your face.

#yandere yeosang #yandere ateez #ateez scenario #ateez imagines #yandere kpop #yeosang scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop au #kpop imagines #yandere au #chubby reader #tall reader #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n

[fatallyfalling]

Bitter Water 0.07 ~ ♆

“ You were nothing like him. You were more. And maybe that scared him a little. “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

{{ previous part || next part }} {{ masterlist }}

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, ptsd, forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, unintentional self injury, alcohol, insinuation of suicidal thoughts, mention of aphrodisiac abuse, sexual abuse, etc

{{ word count }} 8.2K

{{ prompt }} Six months was never going to be long enough. You would have sooner dug your heels into the earth and bared your teeth than go back - but you have to keep them safe. You only ever wanted to keep them safe….. in the end you never could…

{{ a/n }} Markiplier voice: “Hi - It’s me! I’m not dead! Which is an awful surprise considering how many people wrote my obituary yesterday! PREEMPTIVELY! In case i did die! But i didn’t! so suck on that!” anyhoo - This is LONG but also get ready to cry <3

p.s.- I promise reader isn’t a crybaby they’re just traumatized 😭 I also apologize if this is a bit scattered, it’s been in the works for over three months now but i swear you’ll get more consistency from reader here on out akkfkskdkskd The ending is also a tad rushed i just REALLY wanna get into them being older so I can write with more substance IM SORRYYYY

They’re alive.

Two words. Three syllables.

This mantra kept you moving. You’ve been home for little more than a month, but the treacherous plague of the arena had left its permanent reminders engraved on your skin. Still, you were too often dragged back by those same claws, kicking and screaming, under the blanket of night to relive the horrors of the 67th annual Hunger Games, only to awaken with bitter copper coating your tongue and a twisted scream retching from your throat. You’d already lost count of how often your episodes upset Dorian and Callan. They were too young to understand the poltergeists that haunted your nightmares. The poor boys had even started running to your father on wobbly legs dragged down by sleep to rouse the gruff man, bleary eyes the size of saucers, as your cries echoed through the too-big house. It sputtered that vital flame still fighting to ignite inside your chest to see them cry because of you.

You hated yourself for it.

Marjorie had hobbled up the three steps to your porch on creaking knees, breathless and panting as your Father led her into the finely furnished house the first night the terrors returned. He hadn't even bothered for his brown leather duster to cover the mangled remains of his dominant arm. Sweat pooled on Marjorie’s brow as the elder gripped her threadbare shawl tighter around her shoulders. The panic on your Father's face was all she'd needed to follow the man home in the middle of the night. Your screams met the elder's ears first. Then Dorian and Callan came bounding out of the parlor to meet her with fearful eyes and tight hugs. "Please, help them, Nana!" The twins blubbered between tears. An expression heavy enough to resemble grief painted your Father's features as Marjorie connected her gaze to his.

"I'll see what I can do."

The unfortunate reality was that there wasn't much that could be done. Marjorie had even enlisted Mags’ help in deciphering a possible treatment plan for the traumatic stress that seized your mind, but any leads ended up inconclusive. A specially brewed tonic of chamomile and lavender before bed at least aided in closing your eyes to combat the insomnia you'd developed, but little could be done to keep you asleep. You had daily sessions with Mags to try and sort through the inner turmoil. But progress was slow going, and you rarely made it past recounting the first few weeks of life in the arena before tears bubbled and panic took over your chest, squeezing so tightly you feared suffocation. Marjorie suggested seeking a higher level of care for your condition, but Mags signaled things might only get worse for you to be removed from your loved ones again so soon. You'd agreed with your mentor. As harrowing as your experiences had been, all that mattered to you were the twins smiling faces and the warmth in their embraces, or the idle chatter over an evening meal about their latest school projects or primary school gossip. The normalcy helped in its own way.

Your father once tried to coax you into going to a local medical clinic on one of your better days. "It's just a check-up." He'd claimed. But after angry red scratches peppered his one good arm, and you were huddled in a corner far from the door like a wild animal set to pounce, the idea was left to rot amongst other failed attempts to heal your internal wounds.

As much as you hated to admit it, your episodes had only worsened since being back.

There were four things you'd learned to despise since surviving The Games.

1. Water

2. Closed Spaces

3. Finnick Odair

4. President Coriolanus Snow

Your aversion to water still clamped around your throat like a vice. But that natural, sometimes visceral, longing for the sea was a heavy weight in your chest. Water still brought painful memories to the front of your mind, with soap suds burning your eyes in the shower between ferocious blinks, but the salty spray of coastal air was too enticing to turn from. You still found yourself sneaking away from Victor’s Village in the wee hours of morning to the brine scented sands down a tall-grassed hill behind your house. Unlike your home, tucked away in a more secluded, woodland, part of town, the Village was right along the coast outside the edge of the port. You could see the lit up pier and ship docks down the shoreline in murky shadows over the horizon, occasionally illuminated by the ever turning lighthouse nestled amongst the cliffs younglings favored to dive from.

You’d ventured up to the cliffs a handful of times since returning to District 4. The wind was wild and whipped your hair this way and that with howling gusts up the face of the rocky mountain. Summer was nearing the end of its course, with crisper air wafting in from the ocean that sent shivers up your spine, and the hair on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand on end. You’d wander up at night, cloaked in shadow with whisps of moonlight curling over the planes of your face and arms. If anyone below witnessed the picture of your gauzy night clothes billowing in the wind amongst the shadows passing your face under moonlit clouds, they’d think they saw an apparition. One of the local myths, told only in hushed voices in warm taverns by rosy-cheeked, ale scented, fisherman out of Peace Keeper's earshot. You didn’t dare try to jump. However tempting the darkest reaches of your mind made the caress of its fingertips along the veil of your sanity, pawing the sheer curtain as if asking permission to flood your thoughts and set that roaring inferno in your chest loose, you stayed firm on the damp earth.

You wouldn’t do that to your family.

Days were easier than nights at least. You favored the large, second story bay windows of the grey dappled house, soaking up warmth from the sun and your personally home brewed tea. Your father had tried to replicate your recipes while you’d been away but Dorian and Callan loved to remind the poor elder that yours still tasted sweeter. Another thing the twins had missed in your absence. You’d taken it upon yourself to teach the younglings the simple brew in perfect replication, earning giggles of sheer joy from the boys and an eye roll from your bemused Father. You’d also begun a small collection of your personal recipes in a small leather bound journal gifted to you from your father to replace the old water damaged cards you used to keep the instructions on. Amongst freshly printing the terms you still tucked the old cards between the pages as keepsakes and tell of origin. You cherished the small book tremendously.

Cooking had also surprisingly became rather cathartic for you in a way. Doing something with your hands helped ease the nervous habit that created burning red crescents in your palms, especially when it came to kneading dough or fixing herbs to garnish meals. It had been an adjustment to fix more filling meals that made enough if not more for your small family. Instead of saving every scrap, or even skipping your own helping to allow the twins seconds, there was enough to feed everyone and then some for once.

The wealth that came with winning The Games was generous and easily enough to live well into the rest of your lives. But it also cast a heavy weight on your shoulders. Another permanent reminder of the spilt blood that coated your skin in phantom stickiness. Sometimes you wished nothing more than to be rid of the fortune, but the prospering health of your siblings always managed to chip away at the solid guilt cocooning your heart.

All you ever wanted was to provide for them and keep them safe.

Safe.

Three months have now passed since You’d arrived back in District 4.

Finnick Odair had kept his distance, if not attempting to avoid you entirely. Well - as much as he could with what shred of free will the boy had to spare. He was exhausted, and the knife that had carved out his bleeding heart from his chest had become a rudimentary ache. No matter how heavy the concealer his stylist’s applied was, dark circles and hangovers could only be hidden under playboy charm and pointy smirks for so long. Since Finnick’s announcement as a “Desirable” Victor four months prior, he’d felt the Capital collar and chain around his neck tighten and yank in whichever way Snow commanded with growing severity. Part of him was surprised there wasn’t bruising where the icy torque would have rested on his throat.

There was never a ‘day off’ for Finnick Odair. Not anymore. There was always a performance to be made, or an appearance at a party, or a sticky-fingered Capital elitist client spewing sultry filth in his ears that made the boy want to either be sick or run the lethal triple blade trident hanging in his bedroom through their gut several times.

The retched hunger of Capital elitist’s, heiresses, and whoever else was rich enough to pay the sharks prowling in shadowed corners of banquet halls or knew who to speak to in order to arrange an ‘evening’ with the ‘Prince of District 4’ was insatiable. Every minute detail of the Golden Boy’s daily life became scheduled, prepped, scrubbed, tested, ordered, dressed, touched, and pressed. There were no choices, no breaks, no compromises.

If Finnick Odair wasn’t perfect or spotlight ready for even a millisecond - people would talk. If Finnick wasn’t flirting or hanging on the arm of someone new every night they’d get bored. If there was no gossip, no allure to the honey-tanned playboy they’d lose interest and President Snow would bring down the iron fist poised mere inches over the carefully crafted safety net around Mags and the few people he dared hold higher than himself.

Cold water helped ease the pressure.

The freezing splash of droplets on his tanned skin was palpable. The opposite of sparks and flames which singed lapping, invisible burns through his veins and made setting himself ablaze more appealing than the possible friction of another persons touch for a thousand years. It was an expensive effort to not flinch away or recoil from groping hands. The most Finnick allowed himself under a mirror-practiced mask of feigned pleasure or pride was a minuscule flutter of muscle in his sharp jaw and the continuous picking at invisible lint from progressively more revealing tunics and netting.

Finnick didn’t want to think about what kind of scrap fabric or net he’d be forced to wear years down the line if the stylists were already pushing to show more skin on the Victor.

Scrubbing calloused palms down his mascara streaked cheeks, the taste of sea salt met his tongue. Poseidon’s waves had effectively washed the remaining remnants of gold luster from his neck and shoulders in the rolling shallows. Finnick took his time to savor a thorough inhale of the briney coast. He hadn’t bothered to venture back to his house in the Victor’s Village culdesac. He was lucky to have slipped away from the escorts Snow often ordered to be close by. Protecting the “merchandise”. Shades of navy and indigo painted the horizon with thin smears of pink where the endless sky met the waves.

The air was crisp, sending small puffs of white air into the atmosphere under tired breaths. Finnick had just barely returned from yet another unremarkable Capital function. He didn’t care that his luxurious trousers were now soaked to mid thigh in the frigid water, or that his fingertips had gone numb and pruned. He just wanted the memory of touch and the stupid damn gold dust gone.

“Damn it…” Finnick sighed. It was another exhausting effort to bite back the string of curses threatening to push through his teeth on pointed canines. To curse Snow, curse the Games, hell - curse all of Panem and the Capital for all he cared.

The boy let his sea-green gaze sweep across the coastline. Part of him wondered if snagging a boat from the docks and going off on his own would be worth it. Mags would never agree to it. Before the Games, Finnick would have accepted a quiet life as a fisherman, helping younglings and living off the daily catch.

But he wasn’t normal anymore. He wasn’t even a kid.

‘You’re just a kid.’

‘You’re both just kids.’

The memory pierced Finnick’s mind, drawing a crease between his brows and a wrinkle in his nose.

He wasn’t allowed to be a ‘kid’ anymore. He didn’t have a choice. Tearing his gaze from the sparkling lights of the bobbing sailboats sleeping in the far-off dock, Finnick’s gaze lifted to the spinning lighthouse on the cliffs. The weather stained roofing and salt eroded stones that made up the building left an eerie aura to the tower. Some of the older younglings (himself included) had spun ghost stories to scare the youngest kids around campfires on the dusty sands in mid summer.

He’d missed Summer.

The short cliffs were quiet much like the docks, a sleeping district soon to be awake in a matter of hours. There was a chilled breeze swaying the tall pine trees. Breathy smoke curled around the boy’s shoulders as he set himself moving. The frigid air and water had numbed his legs but he welcomed the cold. Late November didn’t freeze the coast but it sure as hell made things icy up here in the north. Wet sand sank and remolded under his leather boots. The boy had cast down his gaze towards the sand for only a moment in quiet contemplation before snapping back to the cliffs at the sound of a shrill cry.

“What the hell?”

Another sob ricocheted across the cliffs and swam over the shore through his eardrums. The sound was pained, and warrior instinct had his eyes scanning the cliffs over and over for its owner. Remembering he did in fact have legs, the boy put them to use, kicking up sprays of damp sand under heavy strides as he made a break for the curving paths that led to the summit. The specter of pale, gauzy fabric had been his only clue that someone was up there. Maybe he was an idiot for chasing danger, a fool for following the snapping thread in his chest like a second heartbeat. He’d remembered that scream as vividly as the day he’d witnessed you finish the Games.

His lungs started to burn halfway up as a haggard cough choked from his throat between ragged breaths. His calves barked in protest at the uneven terrain but he pushed himself harder. Already cycling through worst case scenarios the Victor had thrown caution to the wind well beforehand. Despite every fiber of his being screaming to stay away and forget. Forget the thread, forget the draw, forget the stupid hunger that made his fingertips twitch or the buzz in his ears get louder under your cold gaze.

He just had to get there. To you.

But why?

You were just another Victor. Just another cog in the grotesque clockwork of Snow’s empire. You were just like him.

You were nothing like him.

Maybe that was it.

You weren’t a career. You weren’t born and bred to kill. You weren’t him.

You were more.

And maybe that scared him a little.

Your name was a desperate prayer on Finnick’s tongue as he crashed onto the clearing he’d glimpsed your hazy form upon.

It was empty.

Maybe he was losing it a bit. Reckless paces that brought the boy peering over the edge on a tightened stomach that feared the possibility of what lie below dropped as sea green storms met empty rocks. You weren’t here. A vulgar curse huffed from his chest as damp hands fisted bronze waves as he paced around the empty clearing.

Maybe he was crazy.

But unbeknownst to the bronze-haired boy, your trembling form quickly retreating through the brush on bare feet that had the hemming of your nightclothes snag on stray twigs, growing caked in smears of mud by the second, said otherwise.

Six months passed too quickly.

The sun was a glowing smear between grey, puffy clouds. The weather had been dreary and damp for weeks now as winter set in. Maybe the sun had pushed past the clouds as a form of goodbye. A last touch of warmth before the metal tomb that stretched down the station platform before you swallowed you whole.

The Victory Tour was to begin in a matter of moments.

There was a cruel sense of comfort as you peered across the cobbled station at your family and the ever bustling Capital team featuring Thatcher Bellstone - your escort, and Hyacinth, your stylist from the Games, who was currently fussing with straightening jacket collars and lint rolling trousers.

Everyone had been dressed to the nines in typical Capital fashion. Callan and Dorian featured matching knit hats and handmade mittens, your Father bearing a new fur lined duster, and Mags had a cream colored muff to protect her aging hands that matched her coat.

And Finnick - God why was he even here?

His navy wool coat matched the emerald scarf hugging his throat in a neat knot. Black trousers and snow dusted dress shoes holding a casual stance as the boy’s bronze waves danced in the breeze. Your jaw set in annoyance. The two of you still hadn’t spoken, hadn’t interacted since the train ride six months ago. Vague glimpses of Bronze waves and liqueur coated chuckles had ventured through your cracked windows some nights but you could barely look at the fellow victor without wanting to punch him. The pleasure he seemed to take in being “Desirable” made your insides churn.

All cheshire smirks and no bite. That’s who Finnick Odair was. You’d stopped trying to decipher the hazy echoes of his cries that barely formed your name three months ago. How he’d even seen you on those cliffs that night was wild all on it’s own. Maybe you had imagined it - some half-baked, desperate, imaginary cry for help. Useless. Worthless.

He’d never care about you - maybe anyone - that way. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

Adjusting the dappled grey coat Hyacinth had dressed you in to match the twin’s, you averted your eyes from the Victor just as sea green irises flashed in your direction. You were thankful he wouldn’t be coming with. Finnick would rejoin your ensemble once the tour made it back to District 4 in a few weeks, but until then you’d be Peacock free.

Your senses felt wired with electricity as cameras flashed, with your knuckles burning under the vice-like fists you’d balled at your sides. You didn’t want to go, but you didn’t have a choice. It was tradition for the Victor of every Games to take a tour across the twelve districts and speak to the families of fallen tributes. The idea made you sick. You hadn’t won anything. You’d only survived.

Dorian and Callan were blubbering like sea sponges against your chest as you bent down to grip them tight. “It’s just for a little while…” You murmured while breathing in the love in their identical hair. The words were meek and your breath hitched on the end of the sentence but you bit down on the hiccuping sob prodding your throat and squeezed the boys tighter.

You’d said similar words before entering a death match mere months ago.

“Shh.. it’s gonna be okay, there’s plenty of tea in the ice box. Just don’t stress out Pa okay? Do your chores and be good. I love you.” You murmured between pressed lips, pulling back to look the twins in the eye. The boys nodded vigorously, giving tiny smiles between tear stained faces and red button noses. “We’ll be SO good!” Callan chirped with a small salute.

“That’s my boys.” You rasped, pulling down both of their knit hats over their eyes before quickly standing just as cameras flashed and elated shrieks echoed across the stones from the boys. Your heart squeezed as scruff brushed your cheeks while your Father came to envelope you in a bear hug with his good arm.

“Be good kid, be good..”

“I will, I will…” You nodded back, squeezing the man just as tight.

“Come, Come! We need to keep on schedule!” Thatcher clapped their burnt sienna gloves twice, calling everyone’s attention and causing the warm embrace of your Father to disappear as he returned to the boys a few paces away. The twins were busy ogling Finnick. Ironically, despite your disdain for the Darling, they’d taken a steep interest in the older boy as some “cool kid” much like how they referred to popular younglings at school. It made your eye twitch sometimes, but Finnick wasn’t mean or short with them. If anything he was kind and caring. Gentle. It was weird, seeing Finnick be gentle with someone other than Mags.

You tried to brush off the rising warmth in your chest.

Mags had soon appeared beside your Father, and the two silently communicated in hushed whispers from the man with Mags waving off his worries with gentle nods and heart warming smiles. They no doubt were discussing how to handle your terrors and your ‘zero alcohol’ rule they’d been enforcing the past months. You were thankful they didn’t let you sink too far, but sometimes the itch for that familiar numbness and sway in your vision picked at your brain a bit too harshly.

“Right! We have a tight - tight! Schedule to follow now. Smile for the cameras and let us be on our way dear. You’ll be back before you know it!” Thatcher bellowed between a phlegmy cough. Rolling your eyes, you gave everyone one last hug before standing in front of the bronze-haired Victor while everyone else filed onto the train or off to the side.

“Peacock..”

“Still using names are we? Didn’t know you liked me that much~” Finnick all but purred, earning another eye roll from you. “Shut up. Just - don’t corrupt my siblings while i’m gone. I can barely handle one of you, I don’t need three Peacocks running around.” You huffed with a wave of your hand. Finnick chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as his voice had all but deepened and matured further these past months. “Can’t say that’d be the worst thing, would it?” You felt the tips of your ears burn at the flirtatious tone in his voice and shoved his shoulder away before turning around to face the train.

“Goodbye, Odair.”

“Hey - just..”

You couldn’t help but stiffen as the boy turned you back to face him, a firm hand gently brushing your shoulder. The urge to punch him had your jaw setting all over again.

“Don’t sink. You’ll be back.” Finnick’s voice was soft, softer than you’d ever heard it and for a moment you felt as if a thread ran from your heart up to meet his fingertips on your arm. He was never gentle. Not like this. “Stop being weird, Peacock.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulder despite the burning you felt in your cheeks and swiftly turned and strode away.

You had to have imagined it. The softness in his eyes that made him look younger, more alive. The honey in his tone that matched something you’d only read about. There was no way.

None.

The metallic click of the train car doors closing managed to snap you out of your thoughts as you scrubbed a stray tear from your cheek. Hyacinth coming over to flit about a powdered brush to fix the small amount of cosmetics she’s applied to your skin earlier that afternoon. “It’s wonderful to see you again darling, absolutely wonderful.” The stylist chirps while brushing an airy kiss past each of your cheeks.

You feel a bit sick.

A lot sick - actually.

Time moves almost in slow motion for a moment as your knees buckle and next thing you know you’re on the floor hurling up the biscuit and pear jam you’d choked down that morning. Ringing starts in your ears and a shrill cry from Hyacinth has Thatcher and Mags bustling over to help as the room sways and your trembling hands become blurry behind tears.

You’d been caged all over again.

The tour took a little over two weeks.

Every day and different district you visited felt like an eternity. You’d barely been able to keep anything down as the haunted faces of fallen Tributes and their families plagued every waking thought. Hyacinth continued applying increasingly heavier cosmetics to try and conceal your pain. Your facial features had become gaunt from the retching with deep smudges of purple making homes beneath your dull eyes. You couldn’t stand looking out at the families of people you had or hadn’t killed and having the audacity to apologize and read a flimsy notecard scrawled in neat cursive by Thatcher expressing that their deaths somehow meant something. You’d been verbally assaulted by crowd members gathered in the District’s Judicial Complexes more times than you cared to count.

Liar.

Murderer.

Cheat.

Thief.

The colorful names they called you felt like repeated blows to the gut. And they somehow knew exactly where to hit. Part of you wondered how Finnick had done this. How Mags had done this. How any Victor of the Games had done this. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t handle any of this.

“I-I can’t… I can’t Mags…” You’d begged and pleaded with your mentor to let you not go on stage. Begged her to not make you face another grieving family while you stood there alive like some prize winning salmon. It didn’t matter how much you’d survived you were still a coward. You didn’t deserve to be here.

Coward.

You’d been a coward to hide. It didn’t matter that you’d survived, you’d still killed and fought your way to the end of the 67th Games. You were everything those hecklers claimed you to be and worse and you knew it. Mags gripped your shoulders tight and forced your eyes to meet hers. Her stare alone told you everything you needed to know before she wrapped you in her thin arms and squeezed tight. You didn’t have a choice in this. You understood she’d have done everything and anything to keep you from going out there if she could but she couldn’t.

By the time the tour reached District 7 you’d gone numb.

“Panem thanks your tributes for their bravery. A-and I thank… th-thank them for their sacrifice…” You stammered on the sentence you’d read six times now. You’d continued to stumble through it for the past six districts you’d been forced to speak in front of. A bottle hits the front edge of the stage with a shattering crash, and angered shouts rouse from the crowd as Peacekeepers force themselves forward in an ordered line, batons shooting from holsters and sharp-shooter rifles strapped across their chests. Your eyes squeeze shut as white gloves grip your under arms and force you away. The speech remains unfinished.

Heavy wooden doors slam behind you and gentle hands grip your face as your mouth contorts to an even deeper frown. The owners fingers are soft, but a tinge cold. Mags. Your eyelids crack and the flimsy, wrinkled notecard in your hands falls to the floor as you crumple into the elders arms. The embrace is short as Thatcher comes up to usher your team to the train as shouting starts to echo through the thick doors behind you.

Coward.

“Best we be on our way. Things seem to be getting a bit out of sorts here.” Thatcher chirps, but their face is solemn as your eyes meet. “Come now Dear,” They sigh. Your only reply is a meek nod. Hyacinth provides a small handkerchief to wipe your eyes and the mechanical maneuvers of the Capital train greet your party as the machine lurches into motion minutes later. ‘Just a few more days…’ You try to remind yourself as Mags helps guide you to the observatory car. You didn’t need the physical support but welcomed it as the two of you found places to curl up on the large, curved sofa. The seats were as plush as you’d remembered.

You’d managed to spend most of your down time here. The scents of damp earth and various florals were comforting. Except the stark-white roses, which had been removed from the various coffee tables to one corner of the room. You tried not to look at them. Your mentor laid a gentle hand to your knee as you curled up to peer out the window. Buildings passed and turned into tall trees, citizens working the lumber were only spotty blurs amongst the rush of the train. “It’s hard to keep doing this over and over Mags…” You sigh, sparing a glance to the elder before continuing. “It’s almost like reliving the arena over and over…” A small squeeze to your knee was enough to turn your attention from the window.

Mags’ eyes seemed far away. Although she maintained eye contact with you, you could tell she was somewhere else. Revisiting the countless tributes she’d mentored in the past no doubt. Her small smile didn’t meet her eyes like it normally did. A few hand gestures from the woman was enough to convey what a part of you was itching to ask.

“It never gets easier. Only tolerable.” You echoed. Mags nods, and your knee receives another small squeeze. Your response is a small hum, moving a hand to cover hers as your fingers gently interlace. You’d had quite enough of the tears and the pains overwhelming your thoughts. The past half a year had been harrowing enough. Maybe it was time to take something back from Snow. From the Capital. From the Games. From all of Panem. A muscle in your jaw tenses before you speak, “I-I want to get better.. learn to tolerate it.” You mutter.

“I’m sick of being useless. Of sitting, and doing nothing. I don’t want to show the Capital that they hold power over me. That they’ve hurt me. They’ve seen enough of my heart, it’s time they see something else.”

An echo of words from the train platform almost a week ago ebb their way to the forefront of your mind.

“Don’t sink.”

You wouldn’t sink. Not anymore.

A twinkle of hope appears in Mags’ eyes as spiteful determination sparks in yours. That flame in your chest sparking back to life with a newfound vigor. You’d be better. You had to be.

You will not die. You will survive. And you will float - not sink.

You don’t stutter through anymore speeches from them on. You wouldn’t let them see that they got to you. Even if you broke behind closed doors, hiccuping sobs on the onyx tile of your bathroom floor, you wouldn’t dare let anyone else see it from now on.

Coward.

Arriving back to District 4 was a monumental relief, even if it was only for a day. The twins were overjoyed, forgetting a certain Bronze-haired boy’s existence the moment you stepped onto the cobblestone platform. Your nickname is a shriek behind elated laughter as you kneel to embrace the boys.

“Sheesh, what have they been feeding you boys? You’ve gotten taller and it’s only been a week!” You quip behind a coy smile. Dorian simply shakes his head and clings to your arm while correcting you that it’s been longer than seven days while Callan hollers a retort saying you’re lying. “Nuh uh! We’re just the same!”

You’re dressed in the same dappled grey coat with the edition of a sage colored scarf as breathy puffs of white air curl through your conversations.

“Uncorrupted just as you ordered.” Finnick quips with a dramatic wave of his hand and a slight bow as he approaches. Your eyes roll in annoyance but you can’t help the slight pull at the corners of your mouth. “My hero,” you deadpan as you rise, picking up Dorian and setting him on your hip. Finnick is dressed much the same as when you last saw him, though his bronze waves are more tousled than usual. His scarf is tied tighter around his throat, but you still catch the tinge of red and purple smears under his jawline. A tightness seizes your chest as Finnick seems to notice your stare and adjusts the knitted material.

“It’s nothing.” The boy claims, but a crease draws his brows in, and his tanned fingers pick a piece of invisible lint from the lapel of his navy coat. “Hm,” You hum in response, averting your own gaze back down to the twins as you feel an awkwardness rise in the air. You clear your throat while scrunching your nose and wetting your lips a moment before moving to say hello to your Father. Finnick remains rooted to his spot, but you can sense the Darling’s eyes lingering on your form as you retreat.

The rest of your visit to District 4 runs smoothly. There isn't much of a speech to be given, rather a small banquet is held in your honor instead. You dread parties, and a painful twist in your stomach squeezes as you sit through the meal that night under the beaming lights of the Judicial Complex auditorium making your head start to spin. What a part of you wouldn't give for one of the many glasses of champagne floating around, but based on the daggers Mags sends your way each time you reach for one of the crystal glasses has you quickly retreating and second-guessing your decisions. Finnick is somehow glued to your side much to your dismay. The boy looks almost like a prince. His pine-colored poet's tunic is cut low, almost to his navel, with black, slim-fit trousers with knee-high laced boots to match with a shimmer of iridescent luster sprinkled across his clavicle and the highest points of his cheeks. The miniature rendition of his famous trident rests around his neck again as well. Part of you wonders if Hyacinth and the boy's stylist were in cahoots behind the scenes as your equally pine-colored ensemble matches the elegance of Finnick's outfit a bit too well. You weren't fond of form-fitted clothing but had become rather desensitized to the matter following Hyacinth's frequent choices to show off your figure. Your garment tonight was a form-fitted silk gown that featured a high slit up your left thigh and an open back. The sleeves were off the shoulder and flowed in a balloon-like fashion before gathering once more at your wrists. Inky, strapped shoes with a short heel could be glimpsed at your feet as well. part of you wondered if Finnick had caught on to the whole ordeal but by the carefree, cheshire smirk on his rosy lips you couldn't tell.

Finnick had caught on the moment you'd stepped into the auditorium.

It felt as if he’d been set on fire. Sparks shot like lightning up his arms and across his chest as he couldn’t help drinking you in from across the room. That excruciatingly tight thread in his chest started to fray.

Finnick tried not to think about it.

He couldn't. He shouldn't.

'Shit...'

The closeness as you sat beside Finnick absentmindedly picking at your plate, not even a foot away had the boy so overwhelmed he couldn't think, only sparing a glance your way every now and then while trying to casually drape himself over his chair. The effort to keep a smirk on his face and a carefree aura was suffocating. What the hell was wrong with him? You’d sat next to or across from one another plenty of times. He'd seen you dressed up like this plenty of times.

Okay - maybe it had only been on screens but that was besides the point.

He had to get a grip. He'd already heard the rumors of there being something between the two of you from the Games starting to stir again amongst the elites as the end-of-tour banquet in the Capital district edged closer in the coming days. You didn't need more to stress over. especially not regarding him. You may have been able to keep a mask of chemical calm when dealing with everyone around you but he could see the shadows under your eyes and the limpness in your hair. Your hands still trembled, and your lower lip remained puffy from biting it. He'd learned your anxious habits from quiet observation. He had plenty of his own tells he was well aware of himself.

Finnick silently cursed himself again.

You were lucky enough to sleep in your own bed for the night, though Dorian and Callan insisted on joining you as if they were attention-deprived puppies. You welcomed their embraces as they nestled close, but knew you'd end up in a corner of the mattress without any blanket to keep warm as the boys occupied the majority of the bed space available. But you didn't mind. Nor did you want to leave them again so soon. But the tour had to be finished. You rested easier that night than you had in weeks, despite the bed-hogging of your siblings.

The morning was met with a quiet breakfast and another teary-eyed goodbye. Then it was back on the train and on to the final three districts. Homes of the Career Tributes.

This time around, Finnick had joined your party of escorts for the last leg of your journey. He claimed he had some occupations to fill and favors to uphold but didn't offer more explanation than that. He'd also opted for wearing higher-necked shirts and sweaters around the train, which you had found unusual compared to his normal attire, but didn't bother to question. It was his business and therefore you needn't bother with it. Pretty Peacocks had Pretty Peacock things to do, you supposed.

The remaining districts were as troublesome as the last eight. District 2 was especially harsh, considering the blade you'd driven through the chest of their male tribute in the final moments of the Games. The district of luxury held nothing back as the family spewed filth your way for your cowardness in killing their son. You couldn't manage to keep your dinner down that night. You didn't stay in your personal quarters either, opting to remain in the Observatory car instead.

You hadn't missed the dazzling limelight of the Capital district.

You especially hadn't missed the pawing hands of the elite citizens.

The gala outside of President Snow's mansion was beyond anything you'd seen previously. To say the vibrant lights and overstuffed buffet tables were overwhelming would be an understatement. They were downright outrageous. Between the high-pitched caws of heiresses and the phlegmy coughs and sticky fingers of brokers and other top-class citizens and staff, you felt your skin practically buzzing from the overstimulation. You wanted nothing more than to slip away or melt into the floor. Peacekeepers lined every alcove and doorway on guard. But there wasn't any concern for the groping hands or lingering touches as you tried your best to squeeze through the crowd. Thatcher had disappeared almost instantaneously, swallowed up by the sea of brightly dressed vultures. You felt your breath grow hyper as your eyes darted around in search of anyone to hold onto and ground yourself. Finnick could be spotted across the swell of dancers in the hall hanging on the arm of two squawking elitists. The Darling was dusted in a similar luster you'd seen at the banquet in District 4, except in much more excess as the boy wore an organza tunic the color of his eyes that left little to be imagined. His trousers were bone white with chestnut dress shows. The Darling was equally adorned in dainty, golden chains as he was glitter and smudged lipstick. Your own cheeks burned at the blatant display.

What on earth was he doing??

Your eyes locked for a mere second, your bewildered gaze pleading, if not begging but the victor paid you no mind as pointed, too-white canines flashed in scandalous conversation with the people around him. You were utterly stranded.

Someone gripped your backside suddenly, earning a yelp and the urge to whip back and punch but instead, you whirl, backing straight into someone's shoulder. Amid the swirling music and voices, you felt tears spring to your eyes, threatening to spill as a gloved hand catches your waist and you're steadied on your feet. Your deep aqua gown whispers on the tiled floor (yes, another secret match to finnick's ensemble) and you're sputtering apologies quicker than you can think. You had to get out of here.

"It's quite alright Dear. A bit overwhelmed are we?"

"I- uhm... I'm so sorry, s-sir." You stutter as you behold the man standing before you. Snow white hair slicked back, with a neatly groomed beard and stark white suit has you gulping down the lump forming in your throat.

President Coriolanus Snow is standing in front of you.

You wish nothing more than to be shot dead right then and there. The creator of your horrors, of the hardships across the districts and the killing games children are forced to play in, was standing in front of you with his hand on your waist. A wolf in sheep's clothing. The devil himself.

A string of colorful profanities cycles through your mind as you're only able to blink in horror and feigned surprise. Any confidence or spite you thought you might have leeches from your mind as your skin blanches.

"I've been meaning to have a word with you. You did quite well in the Games this season, and have caught the interest of a few...clients, of mine. Not to mention the Mockingjays flittering about with rumors of a certain Darling, hm?" The President's tone is hollow. His steeled gaze bores into your own and you can't form the words to reply before the gloved hand at your waist slides up your torso and over to the back of your arm as the older man begins to guide you. The crowd instantly parts and conversations nearby halt, obviously eavesdropping on what the President of Panem has to say.

"Let us move away from prying ears. Gossip is a terrible thing." The President drawls as he pats your elbow. You swallow hard with a meek nod, sucking your lower lip between your teeth and feeling the taste of copper coat your tongue. You bit too hard.

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you pass a very unbothered Finnick, his cheeks and honey-tanned skin are flushed as his overly dilated pupils pay you no heed. Something was wrong. very wrong. The Darling reeked of champagne, mint, and something you couldn't place, and strong. The heiresses on his arms were speaking in hushed, sultry tones, and were tugging at his barely-there tunic. The boy wasn't fighting back. Your stomach drops to your toes as you can only sense the growing fear coming from the crease between his brows and the muscle fluttering in his jaw.

The greenhouse the President brings you to has bile rising to your throat. Every pot, bed, soil flat, and more was covered in white roses. The sickly sweet scent had your skin crawling and nose scrunching, despite the tang of fear on your tongue and the gnawing pressure squeezing your chest. Snow gestures for you to sit on a stone bench near a small fountain. The water gurgles as it threatens to overflow the basin it waters. Snow takes his place beside you, a gentle twist in his torso that sends whispers of his blazer over his silk shirt.

"You put on quite a show in the Arena my Dear. Playing soft and subtle but outlasting the wolves and striking like an asp in the end. You caused quite a stir amongst high-profile viewers. There have been whispers of intrigue about you. Many people covet a doe amongst a pack of wolves. Soft and sweet - like a lily among a field of thorned roses. Something to control," Snow begins. You feel miniscule compared to the powerhouse of a man beside you. You worry he can scent the fear seeping into your bones as you clasp your hands together like a vice to hide the trembling.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't quite follow."

Snow chuckles. Chuckles. The sound makes you wish to crawl out of your skin.

" Certain individuals feed on control. On submission. Complete - submission." The President's eyes grow dark and feel yourself shifting away, though the attempt is futile on the small bench.

"I'm saying people want you. You're - Desirable."

Desirable.

You'd heard the word only in hushed whispers less than a handful of times. Mainly when Finnick was involved. This couldn't be good. An awful nausea settles in your stomach as the President makes his proposal.

"Predators enjoy the hunt of their prey. The thrill of the hunt. They want a new Desirable Victor. Yes, they've had their shiny new Princeling to enjoy and ravish. Mr. Odair, if I'm not mistaken. But with your victory and spectacular display, they crave more. So I'm offering this," The mention of Finnick's status holds a venom that solidifies the sickness in your gut. If you could run far, far away right now, you would. And you'd sure as hell hunt down the vipers coiled around Finnick and take him with you.

"Become Desirable - or those fetching siblings of yours, and dear old Father, and everyone you hold dear, will be punished. Severely. What are their names? Dorian? Callan?" The President squints his eyes, crow's feet becoming pronounced around the corners of his eyes as your throat goes dry. Horror shoots through you as your heart all but shatters into a million pieces.

"Maybe I should throw in your dear Peacock, hm? The Capital would adore a star-crossed scandal. Trading their prince for a heartbroken princess?"

"P-please..." You murmur, the word barely audible.

"There's no room for discussion here. They'll be dead by morning if you don't accept. For the greater good of Panem and the strength of the Games, Dear."

Your vision blurs as defeat slashes your chest. Your limbs feel like jelly as you feel blood drip down your chin from the bite on your lip and a dampness coats your cheeks.

"Let them live..." You squeak.

Shame filters through the horror and disgust you feel. But you have to keep them safe. You'd lay down your own life sooner than any of theirs. Always.

A white glove smudges the blood from your chin, a crimson stain coating the President's glove as he accepts your agreement and gestures for you to stand. You do.

"Smile for the cameras Dear, tonight will be grand."

You can't bring your lips to move. Another tear slides down your face.

President Snow wipes the stray tear from your blanched cheek as a vile grin adds to the wrinkles on his face. You say nothing as the Predator guides you away from the greenhouse and up to the balcony overlooking the party. The President clears his throat and the room falls silent.

Finnick is nowhere to be seen through the crowd and panic surges through your chest.

"My dear citizens of the Capital, and all of Panem. I have a very special announcement to make this evening. As you know, we are gathered here tonight in honor of the Victor of our 67th Annual Hunger Games. " Snow's voice booms over the gala. Your insides churn as he continues to announce the sentence to seal your fate. You'd lost an even bigger game than you thought imaginable. You can’t find Finnick anywhere. A part of you wants to scream.

"May I present to you my dearest subjects, the doe who won against all odds. They prey who vanquished the beasts. Your new desirable," Snow bellows your name with a venom that makes you fear vomiting right then and there. You weren't a Victor, you weren't a survivor, you weren't even considered a human anymore. You were a product. You were a doe staring down the maw of a starving wolf.

You were nothing.

Mechanical shutters fill your ears as flashes blind your vision. You’re supposed to be smiling. Things will get worse if you don’t smile. But all you can feel is the bile rising in your throat and your leaden tongue refusing to move. The sickly scent of roses invades your senses as gloved hands pat your trembling ones that grip the President’s suit jacket like a vice. You don’t dare move an inch.

There are two things you've learned to despise since surviving The Games.

1. Liars

2. President Coriolanus Snow

{{ taglist }}

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[neobubz]

Prey (M)

Word Count: approx. 23k Pairing: fem reader x jaemin Warning(s): mature audiences only, explicit language, horror, sex, smut, kidnapping, abusive relationship, dubcon, slow-burn, story telling Preview: Sighing in bed your heart still hums with the smallest tickle of desire. The feeling of Jaemin’s arousal still prevalent against your core. Biting your bottom lip you hold back the urge to relieve yourself of this yearning. It’s strange. You’ve only known him completely for two days and yet you feel like you’ve known him a lot longer. His caring nature the complete opposite of your ex. The way his lips tug up slowly into such a bright smile has little butterflies soaring through you.

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

Stumbling around a corner you grasp onto the sharp concrete edge. Not even out from the underground labyrinth you’re exhausted, hurt, and wanting this game to end. Glancing down at your ankle it’s already showing signs of bruising. Having tripped down the last four steps when you heard the familiar sound of chains being dropped to the floor behind you, you landed hard on your ankle.

“Princess!” A sweet voice calls out to you from far away. “Come out; come out, wherever you are!”

“Shit!”

Limping forward you do your best not to put too much weight on your ankle. You needed to get as far away from that jackass as possible. Spending a week on the run you’ve managed to stay away from him. The only time coming into any form of contact was when you headed to a safe room that was provided on every floor.

Each floor has a special padded room where there’s a bed, bathroom, and table for you to eat and rest. Every morning you’re woken by an alarm. Giving you time to eat a meal that is dropped off to you by a dumbwaiter and time to shower and change into a fresh pair of clothes — white leggings, white socks, white shoes, and a white sweatshirt — before being let loose to try to make it to your designated exit, the front gates.

Each time you’re given a month to try to escape. The first attempts you failed ending up getting caught quickly. Not knowing the layout of the house, not aware of the rules you kept failing every time. Now, more aware of your surroundings and more aware of the rules you’ve made it a whole week without being caught once!

Feeling victorious you slip into a small room that leads you to the next floor through a secret passageway. This house has many hidden rooms and secret tunnels that have both helped you escape your captor but also led you straight to him. This particular tunnel will lead you to the massive library, one that always reminded you of the Beast’s library in Beauty and the Beast. Huge bookshelves that you need one of those tall ladders to reach the top shelf. Three individual floors stocked with books from multiple generations that grew up here.

Crawling up the staircase trying to be as quiet as possible you hear the thud and clang of chains through the wall. Holding your breath and keeping still you try not to make a sound — terrified that somehow the man after you will have the ability to pull you through the wall. To claim what little hope of freedom remained.

“Where could she have run off to?” His sweet voice sounded as if he was right next to you. “What do you think, Nana?”

Internally groaning you remain still. Nana, the female Doberman who hates your fucking guts is helping him.

Of course she is! He never plays fair!

There are exactly three Doberman’s on the grounds. Nana is the only one you know by name since she’s the only one allowed inside. The other two, guard the outside, only knowing them as ‘The Boys.’

When you first arrived you were chased to the front door and almost mauled by the two guard dogs. The truth is, it was Christmas time and you were finally going home after three years of working through every holiday — climbing the corporate ladder. Your father understood your determination to reach your goal of Vice President, while your mother — she wanted her baby home, saying that she’s missed you time and time again.

On your way to your parents’ house your car decided to break down on the side of an old back road. The highways congested by a terrible accident had you hitting your GPS for an alternate route. Well, that is until your GPS gave out and you were driving blind. From your memory you were just five hours shy of your old town. Having traveled all day you planned to camp out at a hotel before setting off for the rest of your journey.

When your car broke down, you tried to find a signal to call for a tow truck. You tried to call home and perhaps get a ride from your dad who would be more than willing to make the journey. No signal. Trekking for miles you ended up deep into a wooded section trying to find a tall hill to try again. No signal.

Hours passed, your feet blistered from the stupid heels you decided to keep on from work —taking them off you start walking on the forest floor bare footed.

Your phone reading 2AM had you slumping over a huge boulder when lights sparked on in the distance. Lights meant people! People meant help! Help meant getting the fuck out of here and back home!

Making a dash towards the lights you pray they don’t go out. Stomping on twigs, branches, rocks, you pay no mind to the stinging pain in your feet. The only thing you wanted was to get some help and possibly some food. Making it to the source of the lights you find yourself in front of a huge gate. Well, several gates to be exact. All with beautiful ornate designs and what look like chains looking them up tight.

“Fuck!” You curse. “Come on, don’t do this to me!” You look around frantically for a call box, a way to contact the owners. “Shit!” You stomp when there’s nothing in sight.

Walking around the side of the house in search for a side or rear entrance. With the size of the estate there has to be a place where a groundskeeper lived, or someone patrolling that will be able to help you. And that’s when you see it! The golden opportunity! A door through a stone wall is sitting wide open.

“Jackpot!” You rush over. Peeking inside you call out before entering. “Hello? Hello?!” You take a step onto the property. “Excuse me! Hello?! Is anyone there?”

Not a single sound. No owls hooting. No wolves howling far off in the distance. No crickets or other woodland creatures making noise to signal their presence. Nothing.

Fog covers most of the ground blocking your view completely after 20 yards. Keeping close to the wall as a guide back to the door, you take your first real steps through the property. Finally, hearing a noise, you recognize the whinny of a horse.

Walking towards the sound you see a stable with a beautiful black horse sticking its head out. “Hey there,” you giggle, walking up to it. “What’s your name?”

Sticking out your hand, you allow the horse to give you a little sniff. Amazed at its reaction when it nuzzles against your hand you spot what you believe is its name on the front of the stall door. ‘Minnie.’

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Minnie.” Sighing you try to peer through the fog. “If you’re here that means someone’s here to take care of you.” Giving the horse one final pat you depart.

“Hello?! Please! I need some help! Is anyone here?” You call into the night.

Just then a bark sounds off through the fog. Minnie behind you starts to whinny loudly almost as if shouting out to you. Flittering between the barking that is now getting closer and sounding to be more than one dog and Minnie you start to head back in the direction you came from. Rushing towards the wall you keep one hand on it while you head for the door.

“Eh?!” You scream when you find the door has since been closed. “No! This…This is the door I came through!” You yank on the doorknob. “Hello?!” You bang on the wooden door. “Hello?!”

The barking grows louder sending you straight into a mad dash away from it. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” You try to find your way through the fog. “Please! Call off your dogs!” You cry into the night. “Please!”

Finding yourself in front of the tallest wall you’ve seen in terms of a residence you head for what you believe is the front door. “Sir! Madam! Anyone! Please!” You beg at each window. “Please! I’m not here to hurt you! I’m in need of help! Please!”

Low growling halts you in your steps. In front of you coming out of the fog are two large Doberman’s. Thanks to a childhood friend growing up you know the breed of dog — sadly, it’s a breed you want nothing to do with. Lowering their body, they start to growl. Teeth baring, saliva dripping — looking a lot like Cerberus, minus one head.

“D-Down…” you gulp. “I’m a friend…” you try to reason with the snarling beasts. “H-H-Help!” You screech. “Please!”

The dogs slowly start to approach you, backing you further away from the front of the house. Keeping your movements slow you keep a safe distance from them. Well, safe enough to make an attempt at escaping.

“Good dogs,” you try to placate them. “Very good at guarding the house… Such good…boys?” You question the genders.

One of the dogs lunges towards you which sends you off running towards the back of the house screaming like a banshee. Tripping over things that are sprawled out on the lawn you’re almost eaten alive but you manage to get to your feet fast enough. Rounding the corner heading to the front of the house you see a silhouette in the window.

“Please! Call off your dogs!” You shout banging on the window as you pass by it.

Rounding the next corner you leap up to the front porch ringing and banging on the door for dear life as the two dogs approach you slowly. Their fangs ready to tear into you. Your heart pounds in your ears as each step they take draws you closer to the end. Flashes of your childhood and of all the times you called your mom where she pleaded for you to come home plays before you.

Tears streaming down your face you call out for help once again. One of the dogs snaps at you, their face mere inches from your own. Using their body they force you to lie down on the ground, the other hovering close by.

“Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just want to go home!” You cry.

And that’s when it happened. A loud whistle breaks through their snarling and both dogs back off of you sitting down near your feet – whimpers coming from both of them, their ears, and heads lowering almost as if in shame.

“Wh-What?” Your head arches back to see someone barefooted with another Doberman at their side.

“You’re the reason for all the noise?” A young man asks looking down at you with hooded eyes like he just woke up.

“Please! Please!” You scramble to your feet and reach out to him only to have the dog at his side block him. It too baring its fangs. This one however strikes more fear in you then the two behind you combined.

“Nana!” He shouts and the dog backs down. “Who are you? Why are you on my property?”

“Please…” your head starts to spin. “I need…” the world before you starts to darken. “Help…”

Everything turns black.

Slowly your eyes start to open. Blinking away the sleepiness your head feels thick and foggy. As if you’ve been sleeping for far too long. Your body aches as you start to come alive.

“What in the hell happened?” You ask yourself trying to sit up. Quickly holding onto your head the room starts to spin and your legs and feet ache. “Why am I so sore…?”

“Ah! You’re awake!” Startled you turn to the person who just spoke and see a young man holding a silver tray in his hands. “I thought I saw you moving more and figured you’d eventually wake up,” he smiles coming closer to you. “I just finished making some of my grandma’s homemade chicken noodle soup. I hope you’re hungry, there’s a lot of it!”

“Wh-Who are you?” You croak out sounding like a toad.

“You must be thirsty,” placing the tray down on a small stand near the bed you currently realize you’re in, he grabs a glass of clear liquid. “Drink up.”

Looking at the glass and the young man you shake your head in protest. ‘Rule number one, never accept drinks or food from strangers’ — your moms voice rings in your ear.

“It’s just water,” the young man laughs taking a good swig of the liquid. “See,” he holds out the glass.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You continue to croak.

“Sorry how rude of me. My name is Jaemin Na,” he chuckles. “And you’re currently in my downstairs guest room.”

“Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” You stare at him confused your head pounding. “You fainted last night — this morning, actually.” He quickly corrects.

You whisper, “I fainted…?”

Just then a large dog saunters into the room, a Doberman by the looks of it. In the split second it took you to identify the breed flashes of earlier spring forward. You running and screaming while two large dogs chase after you. Monstrous beasts hovering over you snapping at you, keeping you pressed against a wooden porch. The dog standing next to Jaemin notices the change in your demeanor and starts growling.

“N-No!” You crawl away from it in the large bed.

“It’s okay! Nana, go and play,” he urges the dog away. It doesn’t move but starts to whimper. “Nana!” He says in a stern voice. The dog takes one more look at you and you’d swear on your life it looked like it rolled its eyes before leaving the room. “Sorry, she’s a sweet girl but she doesn’t like anyone but me. She’s been like that since she was a puppy.”

“Three dogs?” You ask.

“Yes. There are three Doberman’s on the property. Nana is a guard dog for inside, and the boys, they guard outside. Now please, have some water. You need to hydrate.”

Eyeing the man in front of you every nerve in your body is on edge. The whole ordeal a little too strange but at the same time you were trespassing on what is most likely private property. You should consider yourself lucky your brains aren’t currently splattered on the ground, or that the dogs didn’t just tear you apart and eaten you for a midnight snack.

“My car broke down,” you whisper taking the glass. “I need to call for a tow truck. May I please use your phone?”

“Yes, of course. If you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing back here? No one is ever on these backroads.”

“There was an accident on the highway. I tried to bypass it and then my car broke down,” you take a sip of the water to find that it was indeed just water. Nothing strange smelling or tasting in it, you hope.

“I heard about that on the news last night. A huge 20 car pileup, consider yourself lucky you weren’t a part of it,” he sighs. “These roads including the highway gets pretty dangerous this time of year,” he gets up going to the tray. “Especially with the oncoming snow.”

You choke on your water. “Snow?!”

Nodding, Jaemin puts down the lid and heads over to long heavy curtains with tassels. They look like they’ve come straight out of gothic movie. Pulling the curtains open you see snow currently falling onto the ground.

“N-No!” You scramble to your feet but hiss when your feet make contact to the floor.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jaemin sighs holding out a supporting hand. “I don’t know what you were doing but your feet are pretty messed up. Why didn’t you have shoes?”

“My heels,” you look around the room.

Scratching the back of his head Jaemin reaches underneath the bed. “These?” He holds up a pair that looks like it’s been through the shredder.

“M-My shoe…”

“Nana got a hold of them last night. I guess when you were being chased you dropped them. I tried to get them away from her but…yeah…I’m sorry. I hope they weren’t expensive. I can reimburse you!”

Sighing you crawl back into the bed provided for you. “No, they were just an old pair of shoes. It’s fine.”

“I don’t know how quickly a tow truck will be here. Do you have any belongings in your car that I can get for you?”

“I have a suitcase and my purse,” you tell the young man. “My cell…” you whisper. “My phone!!!”

“It’s right here! I managed to grab it before Nana did any damage to that don’t worry.”

“Thank goodness. I need to call my parents too.”

Nodding, Jaemin brings over the tray smiling proudly. “Why don’t you eat something first, I’ll get the first aid kit and get you all bandaged up and then you can go and make those phone calls while I head out and get your things?”

“Jaemin, please, you’ve already done so much as is. And I want to apologize for trespassing. I saw lights and I —”

Shaking his head he gives you a beautiful white-toothed smile. “It’s alright, really. I’m actually happy. I don’t get a lot of guests out here. It’s nice to have someone to talk to aside from the dogs.” Leaning into you he holds his hand up like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Between you and me they’re terrible communicators.”

Laughing for the first time since you left for your parents you smile at the lame joke. “Sadly, most animals are.”

“Well, I’ll let you eat. If you need anything I’ll be right outside in the other room.”

Jaemin turns to leave and just as he walks out of the room you call out to him. “Thank you! Jaemin…” your voice becomes small. “I really do appreciate this.”

“My pleasure,” he bows his head in your direction.

Glancing down at the warm bowl of soup that is really starting to make your mouth water you glance to the door. Hearing the TV turn on and the weather being put on you suspect that he isn’t trying to see if you take a bite or not. ‘Rule number one, never accept drinks or food from strangers.’

“Sorry mom…” you whisper before digging into the soup.

The first bite has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. A shiver rushing over your body at the scrumptious taste. Bite after bite you let the warmness of the soup coax your soul into tranquility.

Feeling like your life isn’t in danger by some creepy person you take a look around the room. The bed your in is quite large, most likely a queen with pretty plain covers — soft pink almost white, with matching curtains and pillows. The room overall feeling quite feminine. A chair sits off to the corner next to the window, a potted plant most likely fake behind the chair and a cute little reading corner to escape into the worlds of literature.

Across from the bed is a dresser and on top a mirror with scarce items around it. Tissues, small plants, and a few books for what you guess is aesthetic purposes mostly. To your left a nightstand and lamp rest with an old magazine from a few years ago. The room is quant but nothing to special. Just as one would expect of a guest room.

As you’re finishing up your soup Jaemin knocks on the door. “If you think you can make it, the phone is in the living room.”

“Oh, yes!”

“And I’ll take this,” he comes forward taking the soup bowl. “How was it?”

“The best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever tasted hands down!”

Giving a shy smile Jaemin nods. “Granny was known for her cooking. This was something I always wanted when we’d get snow here. Just makes everything cozier.”

“Are you here alone, Jaemin?”

“Yeah,” he lets out a deep sigh. “My parents are in the city a couple hours away. They never liked it here but me, I loved it. Everything is just slower when you’re out here. No one’s running into you on the streets. The air is cleaner. It’s quiet and of course the best part, no annoying neighbors.”

He walks out of the room with the tray continuing to talk. “I came out here a few years ago on a whim. I had to leave the city or else I was going to go crazy. I was only planning to stay for a couple of weeks but those weeks turned into years.” He walks back into the room. “And I haven’t regretted it since,” he holds out his hand for you.

“Not having annoying neighbors would be a dream,” you take hold of his hand. “I have this one neighbor who insists on singing terribly every night at around 8PM,” you groan. “I wouldn’t mind if he was half way decent but when he tries to hit those high notes it’s like a cat getting run over.”

Helping you out of bed, Jaemin wraps a secure arm around your waist. “If I’m being honest I wouldn’t mind a neighbor or two. Being out here is nice but it can get lonely. Would be nice every blue moon to talk to someone. Even if the only thing we talk about is the weather or sports.”

Assisting you across the floor you’re now aware of how badly you tore up your feet last night. The adrenaline from running away masking any pain that you should have felt.

“I want to apologize for my dogs. I did get them to be guard dogs but I didn’t think they’d have you running around and hurting yourself.” He peers down at you.

“It’s my fault. I’m the idiot who walked onto your property in the dark. They probably thought I meant to hurt you,” you laugh. “I am pretty tough when I need to be.”

Laughing at your joke Jaemin’s hand tightens around your waist. “I’d better be careful. I haven’t found a wife yet and I’d rather not have my face messed up before then.”

He sets you down on the couch then grabs the throw blanket that was on the back of what you assume is his chair. “Hard to find someone out here?”

“Talk about impossible,” he places the blanket over your lap. “That is unless I want to be a sugar baby with a granny as my sugar momma.”

Trying not to laugh you turn from him. “That’s unfortunate,” you let out a small giggle.

“Yah!!” He chuckles. “I’m not kidding! It’s granny city out here! You would think when someone gets old they’d want to be near hospitals and everything else that will help keep them preserved. No, these grannies are rough and tough.”

“Poor Jaemin,” you pout as he brings the phone over to you.

“Tell me about it,” he pretends to cry.

“A landline,” you smile gently. “Haven’t seen one of these in a long time.”

“Well the cell service out here is spotty. This baby is great if you ever have an emergency.”

Taking a seat in his chair Jaemin quiets down as you dial your childhood home number. This isn’t what you wanted. You wanted to surprise your parents with coming home for the holidays. To just pop up on their doorstep and practically give your mom a heart attack because she was so happy to see you. Now…Sighing you wait for someone to answer. You’ll have to ruin everything.

“Hello?” Your father answers.

“Dad?”

“Baby! How are you? What are you doing calling in the middle of the day? Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I, umm…” you start to twist the coiled cord around your finger just like you did back when you were a kid and had to talk to family you really didn’t want to. “Dad…you see…”

The couch dips down beside you. Glancing over Jaemin urges you to tell him what happened.

“Dad, hold on for just a second.”

“O-Okay?” He asks worried.

Covering the mouthpiece you let out a staggered breath. “What are you doing?” Jaemin whispers.

“I was planning on surprising my parents this year. They didn’t know I was coming up. They thought I was working through the holidays.”

“Wow that is a surprise,” he pauses to think. “Mind if I talk?”

“Y-You?”

Nodding Jaemin takes the phone away from you. “Sir? Yes, hello. My name is Jaemin Na and I’m sitting with your beautiful daughter right now. The reason she called you,” he glances down at you his lips turning up into a smile. “Is because she wanted to ask if you’d join us for Christmas.”

“WAIT?!” You whisper shout at him.

“You see sir,” he chuckles. “Well, your daughter and I have been getting rather close,” he winks dramatically. “I thought it was only customary to meet her parents and we can all get to know each other before, well…” he stills his body becoming stiff.

“What did he say?” You nudge Jaemin.

Gulping Jaemin nods, “y-yes sir.” His voice cracks. “Th-Thank you, sir.”

“Jaemin!!!” You whine.

“Yes, I’ll put her back on.”

Handing the phone back to you, you watch Jaemin lean back onto the couch looking like he’s seen a ghost. “Dad what did you do to him?!” You shout.

“I’m so happy, baby,” he sniffs. “Your mom is already packing her things as we speak.”

“Really?! You’re coming?!” You grab hold of Jaemin’s knee out of excitement.

Looking down at your hand Jaemin really looks at you for the first time. Seeing your beautiful hair shining in the ray of light permeating through the window. The pure joy on your face as you talk to your father. It’s been years since he’s seen someone genuinely happy. Ever since his granny passed the world seemed dull — with you here beside him, he cracks a smile, it feels like his grey world is starting to find some color again.

“Yes, okay, yeah I’ll put Jaemin on. I love you too daddy! See you soon!” Holding out the phone you whisper address to Jaemin.

“Oh, yes, sir, the address is…”

Waiting until Jaemin hangs up the phone you hit him hard on his leg. “Ahhhhh!!!” He shrieks. “What was that for?!”

“What did you do Jaemin?! Why are my parents coming here for Christmas?!”

Rubbing his leg he pouts. “I was thinking on my toes. Plus, you can’t possibly think you’ll be able to trudge through the snow all the way to your car with your feet as bad as they are!”

“They’re not that bad. See!” You stand up and take one single step on your right foot. A wave of pain rumbles through you. “Shit…” you whisper stuck in place.

“Told you,” Jaemin grabs your hand pulling you down to the couch. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to. The house is big enough for your parents and then some.”

“But what about you? Won’t this ruin your Christmas plans?”

“What Christmas plans?” He scratches the back of his neck chuckling. “My parents are too busy rubbing elbows with every other rich person in the city. The parties are always the same and always boring. I’ve been skipping out on them since I was 14. I normally spent my Christmas’ here with my granny.”

“When did she pass?”

“A year before I came to stay here. I would have come sooner but it felt wrong to just show up here with her gone.”

“D-Did she pass here?” You look around spooked at the thought someone died here.

“Nope. Dad shoved her in a nursing home. Don’t get me wrong it was a ritzy place but it wasn’t home for her.”

Your shoulders falling as you relax; you reach over giving Jaemin’s knee a little squeeze. “I’m sorry about her passing and I’m sorry your parents didn’t see a long time ago that Christmas should be spent with your family not with snobs.”

“Thanks…” he places his hand over yours. “Seriously with your parents and you here it’s going to make this a pretty awesome Christmas.”

“A part of me wonders if you didn’t set this up so you wouldn’t be alone,” you squint.

Avoiding your gaze Jaemin starts to smile coyly. “Alone? Who’s alone? I have Nana…”

“Yeah…you’d have spent it alone,” you shake your head. “I guess in a weird way I’m glad things happened the way they did last night. I don’t want to think for a second someone as sweet as you is spending Christmas alone…”

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

“Hmmm…maybe she went into another room. Let’s go, Nana.”

Hearing the dragging of a chain as well as Nana’s bark farther off into the distance you slowly let out a breath you were holding. Doing your best to remain quiet you head up the staircase that will lead you to a painting in the library. Little by little you tread carefully.

Determined to make it out of this hell hole you move like a cat up the stairs. When you reach the top of the stairs, you take a huge breath in. This is the furthest you’ve made it in a while. Looking straight ahead at the wall, you carefully unhook two clamps. There was a secret about the painting in the library. Behind it there were holes in the wall that allowed you to see out through the eyes of the painting.

Standing on your tippy toes, your ankle throbbing as you do, you peer into the library. Only able to see a few feet in front of you and a little to the right and left, you can’t see anyone.

Excited you grab the doorknob ready to rush out of this tunnel and make your way to the front of the house. Because for once…

You made it! You actually did it!

“Gotcha!” A voice behind you snickers as strong arms wrap around your waist.

“No!!! No!!!!!” You scream thrashing in your captors arms. “Get off of me! Get off!!!!”

“Now, now, princess.” He laughs doing his best to attach the chain to your collar. “You know the rules. Rule 5, ‘If I catch you, you need to come quietly.’”

“Get off!!” You start to cry reaching for the door to run away from him. “Please!!!”

“Maybe you’ll be a little smarter next time.”

Turning your body away from the door you come face to face with the man that’s kept you locked in this home for lord knows how long. His once black hair now dyed silver, dark brown eyes, a beautiful smile that once made your stomach soar with butterflies, now it only makes you churn with revulsion. He leans into you placing his forehead onto yours.

“I’ve missed you this past week,” he nuzzles his nose with yours.

“Please…just let me go…” you beg.

Wrapping his arms around you tighter he holds you flush against his chest. “You know I can’t do that. Now, come on. It’s time for dinner.”

Letting go of you, you try to make a beeline straight for the door but are yanked back when he pulls hard on the chain. Immediately the air is taken from you. Your head thrashing forward as you’re pulled back — straining against the already tight collar. Choking, your gasps echo in the staircase. Falling forward he keeps a tight grip on the chain — ensuring you don’t hurt yourself and you can’t get away from him.

“Princess!” He snarls. “What have I told you about doing that?! I don’t want to hurt you!” Rubbing his forehead he thrashes his arm down yanking you forward. “Rule 7! ‘If you try to resist I will have to make you submit!’” He roars. “I don’t want to hurt you! I love you! But you keep breaking the rules! They’re there for you so you don’t get hurt!”

Taking a few collective breaths he attempts to calm himself down. It’s understandable that you try to resist. If the roles were reversed — he pauses, thinking. The corner of his lip tugs up into a smirk before his tongue glides across to the same corner. If the roles were reversed he’d be happy that you’ve kept him the whole time. Doing his best to please you.

The idea of him kneeling on the ground in front of you. Collar on tight and your hand having a firm grip on the leash — smiling proudly at him. Running a hand through his hair and filling his head with compliment after compliment has him ensnaring an arm around your waist, his lips dangerously close to your own.

“I need you,” he whispers his breath hot on your face. The faintest hint of his favorite brand of coffee wafting around the two of you.

“N-No…” you cry out trying to tug on the collar. “Please…I’m hurt…”

He becomes rigid. “Hurt? When?”

“On the stairs earlier.”

Turning his head away another round of fury courses through him. The thought of plowing into you long gone in the blink of an eye. Rule 2, ‘if the party being hunted finds themselves hurt they are to call out the safe word: red, or push the red button at one of the safe rooms. Signifying that the game is over.’

“Do you hate me that much,” he mutters.

“Wh-What?”

His head lowers until the front fringe of his hair covers his eyes. “You’re hurt…you should have let me know…”

“I didn’t want it to end.”

Honesty is your greatest ally right now. It’s true. Rule 2 clearly states that the game will end until you’re fully healed. You’ll be locked back in your room with nothing but your thoughts and a few books to keep you occupied. Then as customary the game will start over. You being placed at the starting point again! This has happened two times before.

The first time you were on bed rest for what you figured was a month. Still able to see the rise and fall of the sun it was easy to keep track of the days. After you were better you were blindfolded and taken to another part of the house for the game to start all over.

The second time was a much bigger injury. You had gotten cut deeply by a broken shard of glass. Bleeding profusely you thought that you were going to die. Nana was the one who found you on the floor in a pool of your own blood. She sounded the alarm and that is when Rule 2 was issued.

“Why didn’t you want to end the game? Do you hate me that much? Do you want to leave me that badly?” The man in front of you tugs on your chain tilting your neck up so he can peer into your eyes. “Don’t you get it?” His hands start trembling. “I’m in love with you. I’ve never felt this way about someone in my life! And all you can think of is leaving me! After everything I’ve done for you.” He turns around yanking you back down the steps.

“Pl-Please!!” You cry. “I just want to go home!”

“You are home!”

“I want my parents!” You start to wail clutching onto anything that you can to stop him from taking you back into that room. “I want my own bed. I want to go to my job! I want to see my friends! If you love me why can’t you let me go?”

Stopping at the bottom of the staircase you see the chain go slack in his arms. “You were going to leave me…” he whispers. “After I helped you… After I took care of you…”

“Did I ever say I would leave permanently?!” You attempt to march up to him. “Did I ever say I wouldn’t call or stop by?” You growl. “You are the one who put that in your head! Not me!”

“Would you have called?”

No. You think to yourself. Yes. Your mind quickly changes. Maybe? You sigh. There is no clear answer.

“I couldn’t lose another person.” He pulls you flush against his chest, arms wrapping around you, his face burying into the crook of your neck. “I finally found the light with you.”

“Please…” you try to pull away from him but he just wraps his arms around you tighter.

“Why can’t you love me like I love you?”

Because you’re a psychopath! Your brain screams. A twisted son of a bitch who’s dead set on never letting you out of his clutches!

But your heart…He leaves a few kisses on your neck heading up to your jawline. Your heart is fickle. Your heart is unfaithful. His hand leaves your waist and wraps around your neck, holding your head in place. Your heart…He peers down at you. Tears threatening to fall as his lips meet yours. Your heart is in love with him…

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

Sighing on the couch you snuggle in Jaemin’s blanket. Taking in his scent you smile. The smell of laundry detergent, soup, and face lotion — in other words…fresh. Glancing up at his silhouette walking past the huge bay window he gives you a quick wave before heading over to shovel the walkway from the main entrances of the gates. And he needed to shovel a path to the garage where his truck is. Since your parents are coming over in just two days the house needs a little sprucing up. A little Christmas cheer. Not to mention, a shit ton of food to ring in the celebration.

Sadly, your feet are still messed up so you can’t help Jaemin with shoveling. The moment you mentioned it he put his foot down hard saying he would never allow it in the first place. So, here you are inside by a nice fire in front the TV. According to Jaemin, this house is primarily or was primarily a summer home. So that also means there are no Christmas decorations.

After the phone call with your dad the two of you planned out everything. You would get the bare minimum of decorations, a small tree that you quickly decorate, a few lights and candles for outside and inside; as well as some holiday plates.

Giving you ample time to rest up, you’re itching to get up and try to get to work to help in any way possible. Jaemin being the sweetest man you’ve ever encountered when he offered his home to you and your family. You just needed to find a way to pay him back for his kindness.

The front door opens and a rush of cold air wafts inside the cozy house. Bringing the blanket up to keep warm you glance in his direction. “How thick is the snow?”

“Not bad at all. Already did the first gate, the path and now I’m about to head out to the second and third gates. I forgot the key. Granny was extra precautions when it came to security.” He sighs. “But she also made it harder for herself and everyone else.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do? Maybe start the car and warm it up?”

Coming from the kitchen back to the living room, Jaemin leans over the back of the couch peering down at you. Craning your neck back you giggle at the goofy face he makes.

“Just rest, okay?” He places a chilly hand against your cheek. “We have plenty of time to get this place ready.”

“I just feel useless right now. If only I wasn’t stupid and changed into my sneakers I would be able to help.”

Doing something unexpected Jaemin places a chaste kiss on your forehead. “You’re not useless. You’re doing so much right now.”

“I am?”

Nodding he walks away from you heading for the door where Nana waits for him. “You’re bringing color back into my life. And I can’t thank you enough for it.” With that Jaemin walks back out into the chilly air.

Color?

Sitting up on the couch you work up the nerve to stand. Wanting to sit closer to the window to keep a close eye on Jaemin — in case of an emergency, you make it to your feet. After the phone call with your father Jaemin brought out the first aid kit and wrapped up your soles in gauze.

Gently you decide sliding your feet across the wood flooring would be easier on you than stepping for the time being. Sitting at the window seat you wrap yourself up in a cocoon and watch the man that has opened his home to you. Far off at the second gate he pushes the snow around easily. It really does look like the light fluffy kind. The complete opposite to when it was falling on the ground a few hours ago.

Nana and the other two dogs roll around and play in the snow. Nana close to Jaemin, the other two further away from her. He was right when he said she doesn’t like the male dogs. Chuckling, your eyes rest on Jaemin.

What did he mean when he said you’re adding color to his life? Was his life that grey before?

Looking around the living room there aren’t many pictures. There’s one of a family but it looks to be way older than Jaemin’s parents. There is however, a small boy with his arms tightly around a woman in one picture, next to Jaemin’s chair. The boy an exact resemblance to Jaemin. If he’s here all alone and his parents in the city, it’s clear that they’re not close.

“I’m sorry, Jaemin…” you whisper.

You needed to make this holiday special for him. No longer being about your parents coming out to see you, you trudge over to the phone. Quickly dialing your parent’s number you keep a close eye on the door.

“Hello?” This time your mom answering.

“Momma, hi,” you smile brightly.

“Baby!!!” She screams on the other end making you move the phone away from your ear. “Okay, what all do we need to bring? I’ve packed and repacked and I can’t decide what we need!”

“Maybe enough stuff to stay through the New Year?”

“The New Year?” She mumbles. “Is that okay with Jaemin?”

“I haven’t asked him yet but I’m sure he won’t mind. He’s been here all alone for a couple of years.”

“Alone? You never visited?”

“Visit? I just met him, why would I visit?”

She pauses on the other side before belting out the loudest yell you’ve ever heard. “Honey!!!! Get your butt in here now!!!” She calls for your dad. “Sweetie I’m going to put you on speaker phone, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

You hear whispering and shuffling going on in the background before your dads voice rings through the phone. “Baby,” he whispers.

“Hey dad…”

“Now… tell your father what you just told me about you and Jaemin.”

“I told mom that Jaemin and I just met.”

“Just met?” Your father sounds surprised. “Wait, he never said…”

“Darling I think your father jumped to conclusions. He thought this whole thing is because Jaemin is going to pop the question.”

“What was I supposed to think?” Your father grumbles. “A man invites a woman’s family over to his place for the holidays and it’s a little out of the blue and not to mention our baby girl was talking about getting back into the dating world after that last jackass.” He spats.

Clenching the phone tightly the image of your ex resurfaces. Your father wasn’t wrong when he called him a jackass. Cheated on you left and right to the point you were terrified that you might have gotten an STD/STI when you started to feel unwell. Thankfully, your tests were negative and it was merely the flu, but you were terrified for a good while.

“How did you just meet him?” Your mom probes.

“Last night my car broke down around 2 miles from his home. I was trying to find a few bars so I can call for a tow but then I saw lights in the distance and well here I am.”

“He hasn’t…” your father whispers. “You know…”

“He’s been a perfect gentleman. I’m the one who did something wrong,” you snicker looking at your bandages feet. “Which is why he thought about you guys coming down here instead of me driving up there.”

“What happened?”

“I got chased by his guard dogs. Two Doberman’s had a good workout because of me. Sadly, the kitten heels I was wearing didn’t make it through the wooded area and I was just walking on my bare feet and of course tore my feet up.”

“Baby!” Your mom gasps. “Please go to the hospital!”

“I’m fine.”

“What if you get an infection?!”

“I’m fine, mom, really. They’re just bruised and scratched up. Jaemin has already cleaned and bandaged my feet. I’m in incredibly good hands here,” you twirl the cord around your finger as a gentle smile creeps across your face.

“Ahhhhh…” your mom giggles. “Is he cute?”

“Cute?!” Your dad shouts.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” you giggle like a schoolgirl. “But the reason I called was —”

Hanging up the phone you jolt around as the front door opens up and you hear Jaemin calling for Nana. Kicking off the excess snow off his shoes he steps inside face bright red.

“We’re good to head out!”

“Why don’t you sit down and rest for a little. I have something I need to talk to you about.”

“Am I…” he walks over to the couch a terrified look on his face. “In trouble?” He asks.

“That depends. When you talked to my father did he seem extra happy about something?”

Stilling, Jaemin’s head slowly turns away from you. “I-I don’t know what you mean?”

“Well, I made another call home to tell my parents to bring a little extra something and when I did my mom revealed that my dad had the impression that you and I were a couple.”

Jaemin jolts up holding out his hands. “I swear!” He starts speaking quickly. “I didn’t intend to give him the wrong impression. I was going to tell him about what happened and then all of a sudden he’s calling me son, and saying I can’t wait to meet you. And then he warns me that if I hurt you I’m as good as dead and I’m sorry!”

Finally letting yourself laugh you shake your head. “I’m not mad, Jaemin. It was funny to hear what happened. Don’t worry my parents aren’t mad at all either and knowing them they’ll apologize again and again for the misunderstanding.”

Falling down onto the couch Jaemin lets out a huge exhale. “So, I’m not going to die?”

Smirking you nudge his arm. “At least not yet you aren’t. Oh, and if it’s alright with you I told them to bring extra clothes to last them up till the New Year.”

“New Year?” Jaemin asks.

“When you were talking about being out here all alone for Christmas I had an idea. I took time off of work until the second week in the New Year and well,” you reach over placing a hand on top of his. “I thought we can spend time with you for Christmas and the New Year so you’re not alone.”

Staring dumbfounded Jaemin’s eyes tremble. Gulping deeply you watch his adams apple bob up and down before he reaches out to you pulling you towards him. Smashing his lips onto yours. His hand wraps around your neck as he slowly moves his lips across yours. Not knowing fully what to do you sit there stunned.

What shocks you even more is when you find your own lips moving along with his. Feeling you returning the kiss Jaemin starts to use his body to push you back onto the couch. A small squeak from you has him smiling against your lips.

What is going on?! You freak out.

Not being the crazy party girl type you don’t even give your number out to strangers when you’re at bars with your co-workers. Yet here you are, kissing a complete stranger. Staying at his house. Inviting your parents over for the holidays! Who the fuck are you?!

But the better question is…why does it feel so good to kiss, Jaemin?

Trying to get a better angle a chuckle leaves you when you hear Jaemin’s coat rustling around. His smile starts to spread across his lips and with one final peck and a growl he sits up.

“Stupid coat,” he unzips and rips it off of him.

“Well that was unexpected,” you tease.

“I’m sorry about that. I mean I am and I’m not. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“I did kiss you back so I wouldn’t say I was uncomfortable,” you sit up staring at the young man before you.

His chest rises and falls as his tongue skates over his lips. His eyes going from yours down to your lips and back up to meet your own. His cheeks flushed from the cold and perhaps from your small make out.

Jaemin is truly a very attractive man. Dark black hair that isn’t too short or too long. A nice medium length that you can run your hands through. The sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. Even now as his lips start tugging up into a grin you can’t help but to smile as well. He’s just that type of person that can make others happy and smile just by smiling himself.

Leaning into him you grab him by his neck yanking him towards you. “You haven’t answered my proposition at all,” you say against his lips.

“What was it again? I think I forgot,” he drags his lips across yours tempting you.

“Is it okay for my parents and me to stay here and celebrate the holidays with you?”

“Hell with the way I feel right now you can all move in!”

“Then I guess we have some major shopping to do,” you let go of him and stand up.

Grabbing your waist his eyes widen. “Be careful!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a system now!”

Sliding your feet across the floor as if you’re a figure skater you make it to the guest room without feeling any pain. Doing a little twirl you end with a ‘ta-dah pose’ to which Jaemin gives you a round of applause. Even in the corner of the room where Nana has decided to stand — as far from you as possible, you swear you see the slightest wag of her tail. Perhaps it really was a great thing ending up at Jaemin’s.

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

Lying in bed you stare up at the white ceiling. The game ended a while ago. The triumphant feeling you had of almost escaping has turned you into a hollow shell. No longer eating or drinking, you’ve put yourself on the ‘self-harm’ list in your captors’ eyes.

Sitting in a chair in the corner he turns another page in the novel he’s been reading for the last day and a half. He hasn’t left your side at all — well, except when he makes your meals, but even then…you tug on the collar around your neck jingling the chain that he holds loosely in his hand, alarming him. You’re still kept within saving distance.

“Have you decided to eat yet?” He asks going back to his book.

“No.”

Exhaling, he slams his book shut. “Why are you doing this? You need to eat. You need to drink.”

“Let me go and I will.”

“If I let you go you’ll run away and call the cops.”

“Of course I will!” You scream. “You’ve kept me locked in this fucking house for God knows how long! I want to go home! I want to be with my family! Why can’t you understand this?!” You start thrashing your body around on the bed.

“Stop! Stop!” You completely lose control of yourself. Throwing your hands around wildly you end up scratching your face, blood trickling down your cheek. Upon seeing you he springs up from his chair rushing over to you and grabs your arms. “For fucks sake stop!!” He climbs on the bed straddling your lap. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

For a brief second you pause to stare him dead in the eyes. “Good!” You spit venomously.

“What?!” He whispers.

“I’d rather die than spend another minute here with you!”

As fast as lightning your wrists are gripped tightly and thrown over your head. Putting all his weight on you, causing you to not only moan but gasp from the lack of air — you’re unable to move. Yanking, you try to get him to loosen his grip. Twisting and turning your body in any direction you can you try to throw him off. When nothing works you release the most guttural scream.

“I never wanted to do this to you!” He screams down at you. “When you…when you said yes,” his voice becomes a whisper. “I was so happy. I thought finally someone who sees me has come into my life. Someone I can call mine forever…”

“Yet you locked me up! That isn’t love!”

“You were going to leave me! Don’t lie to me!” He pushes against your arms, his grip tightening.

“I said I needed to go back home. I needed to get back to my life and my job. That never meant goodbye forever!”

“Yes it does…” he whispers.

“When I said yes, I meant it! At that moment I meant it with every fiber of my being! When I said I needed to go I didn’t mean forever. We would have talked as much as you wanted. You could have come out and visited me and vice versa, but you took all of those possibilities and threw them out the fucking window!”

“Your home, what does it look like again?”

“What?!”

“Your home in the city…”

“Who the fuck cares now?! They probably threw all my shit away!” A tear trickles down your face.

There’s no doubt in your mind that all your things have been emptied out of your apartment. There’s no way in hell your landlord would just allow you to skip out on months of rent. Hell, you don’t even have a job anymore most likely. All that hard work — years of staying away during holidays to grind out another win for the company wasted because of the man currently top of you.

“You still have your apartment.”

“What?”

“I’ve been paying the rent this whole time.”

“WHAT?!” You scream.

“I’ve also invested in your company and have talked to your boss and he thinks you’re working exclusively on a deal with me at my home office. You’ve been given a pay raise since then.”

“Get off! Get the fuck off of me!”

This time listening to you, he slides off of you sitting defeated at your side.

“What in the hell are you talking about? How did you invest and why hasn’t my boss wanted to see me? What about my family?!”

Sighing he glances your way before looking away again. “My family owns half of the city where you work. In other words were filthy stinking rich. I was supposed to take over my father’s company but I chose to venture off on my own – small business dealings with tech companies here and there. It paid the bills and brought in the connections I needed to stay in my father’s good graces.

“Your wallet,” he fiddles with his fingers. “I looked you up. Found you on the company website and looked into the company as a hole. The two days I was gone after our fight,” he finally looks up again. “That’s when I went and took care of things on your end…

“As for your family,” he looks at you with the darkest gaze you’ve seen him wear since your huge fight that started this mess. “You’re the one who told me you’re a workaholic who doesn’t visit much. When they called me to see how everything was I said that you’ve been busy and I haven’t heard from you for a while. This mess,” he points to you. “You did yourself.”

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

“Can you hand me the last bit of tinsel?” You ask Jaemin.

“Are you sure we need more? The trees starting to look like it belongs in a flapper movie.”

“Yes, this area here is boring. It needs a little sparkle!”

Handing you the last chunk of tinsel you do your job of decorating the crap out of the tree. This is your favorite thing about Christmas. Decorating the entire house and tree until everything looks like you’ve stepped into a tiny Christmas village. Sadly, due to time constraints and the fact this isn’t your home — only sticking with the utmost crucial of decorations. One, being mistletoe that is now hanging at the entryway from the kitchen to the living room – two, a Christmas playlist setup to fill the house with cheer.

Garland was placed around the front door, the entryway above the mistletoe, and on the staircase upstairs where your parents would be staying — and you even found cute mini already decorated Christmas trees to put in their rooms for some added cheer.

There were stockings hung over the mantle of the fireplace, but the best part of all…

“When do you want to start wrapping the presents?” Jaemin holds your hand as you step down from the small step ladder.

“Uhh, I guess we should get it done now. I’ll be cooking for most of the evening to help get as much food done as possible.”

“Is Christmas normally this extravagant at your house?”

“Which house?” You smirk. “My place in the city or my childhood home?”

“Both.”

Grabbing the bag of presents you got for your parents and even Jaemin, you go to your corner of the living room – already telling him that their backs will be facing away from each other the whole time so they won’t see anything that will ruin the surprise.

While shopping for your parents Jaemin asked what you wanted. You tried to tell him nothing that this holiday is about him but he kept looking at you like ‘if you don’t tell me what you want you’re going to get something you REALLY don’t need.’ Settling on a book you wanted to get eventually, Jaemin went off on his own to find you something special.

Having asked him what he wanted he said anything that catches your eye he’ll gladly accept. Talk about vague.

“My house in the city for the last couple years I’ve barely had time to decorate during the holidays. I make a goal every year to start as soon as December hits but I always end up putting up a fake tree and that’s it.”

“This coming from a woman I had to pull away from the decorations or else this house would end up like Santa’s workshop?!”

Laughing you start cutting some paper for the gift you had already purchased for your mom.

“I’ve been trying to earn this huge promotion at work. It will allow me to work from home a lot more and have more flexible hours. It gets really lonely being so far from home so I was thinking of getting a pet. A dog or a cat maybe. I’m not sure. But, I don’t want to think about leaving it at home all the time. I want to enjoy having a pet.

“Then there is finally going out on dates, meeting Mr. Right, marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. I want to have a good job that allows me to have these luxuries. Sadly that means I’m always working overtime even around the holidays.”

“What kind of job do you have?”

“I’m the chief of my department for marketing. I started out as just a regular floor employee but I worked my ass off for the past seven years and slowly worked up to being chief. What I want is to be up on the main floor with the big wigs.”

“Big wigs? President and Vice President?”

“Shareholders too.”

“Ambitious, I like that in a woman.” He states with a slight smirk in his tone.

“And what about you Mr. Na? What type of job do you have?”

“I’m an investor. My dad owns his own company and I go out looking for things we can invest in to expand our outreach. It’s not a demanding job and I do most of my research at home.”

“Seems nice,” you sigh. “But then again, getting the companies to listen to you is pretty grueling work.”

“Tell me about it. I tried to get this one company to sit down for five minutes with me, took me over a year. My father really wanted to do business with them. It was get this meeting or start looking for work elsewhere.”

“Damn, if he wanted the company why didn’t he contact the person himself?”

“‘You need to learn how to handle tough situations, son. One day you’ll be taking over the company. You need to be firm, strong, and know the business inside and out.’” He speaks in a gruff voice. “What he truly meant was, get your ass up and start contributing or I’m going to kick you out of the will.”

“Anything in particular you wanted to do more?”

“I wanted to be a doctor. My uncle used to let me shadow him whenever I wanted. It was awesome! The rush of people coming in. The split second decisions you have to make. Having someone’s life in your hands. Just thinking about it makes my heart beat faster. But the best part is helping people in need. That isn’t what my father wanted to hear so bye bye medical school.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaemin.”

“It’s in the past. I make a decent living and technically, I did help you.” He peeks over his shoulder the same moment you look over yours.

“You sure did,” you give a reassuring smile. “Now let’s focus on the task at hand. Because next up is cooking!”

For the next two hours you and Jaemin work nonstop to wrap every gift. Trying to keep small talk to a minimum you sit in a comfortable silence between the two of you. Being here with Jaemin feels like a breath of fresh air. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Maybe it’s because for once you’re not focusing on the grind and appreciating the time you’re having to just slow down, but it’s nice. And Jaemin is amazing company and a generous man and host.

When the holidays end and you have to go back to your life, you peek over to see him sliding another gift off to the side. You’re really going to miss him.

The rest of the evening you spend bossing Jaemin around in the kitchen. He learned all about the foods your parents like. Hearing story after story of how you almost burnt down the kitchen, also how you almost electrocuted yourself, and the failures and triumphs of your cooking ventures. When everything that was cold is cooked and put away in the fridge you stretch your back hearing it crack loudly.

“Come over here,” Jaemin pats a spot on the couch. “You’ve been standing for hours. It’s time to rest.”

“I think you’re right.” Skidding your feet across the floor you plop down next to him. “It’s been a while since I’ve cooked that much. It felt nice.”

Grabbing your legs he hoists them up to his lap making you squeak in surprise. “If you could have one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?” He asks starting to rub your tired aching legs.

“Hmmm…” you lay back and enjoy the soothing massage. “I suppose I’d want lemon pepper chicken. Well, anything with chicken.” You laugh. “My dad used to make fun of me and say with all the chicken I ate growing up he’s surprised I haven’t sprouted feathers and started laying eggs.” Chuckling along with you, Jaemin heads down to your ankles which feel especially sore. “And you?”

“What I made you yesterday,” he smiles. “It’s simple, easy, never goes out of fashion and it’s just too damn good.”

“Ahh yes, granny’s famous chicken noodle soup! What was she like?”

Pausing he leans back for a second his arms resting on your legs. “She was the sweetest person on this earth. She loved animals and sometimes I felt she loved them more than people. She used to say animals are easier to read then people. They don’t hide their motives from you. If they don’t like you they show it. If they want to eat you, you’ll know. If they love you,” he glances your way and for some reason the smile that spreads across his face has your heart skipping a beat. “They’ll never leave you.”

“That’s really beautiful…”

“Yeah, but don’t let all that fool you. She was a hard worker. Went out and worked at the polls when it was voting time. Helped some lawmakers get into office. Even worked with a former president on an ecologically friendly venture. She was a real badass. Her true passion lies in helping people. Believe it or not she wanted to be a doctor too, but her father forbad it.”

“What?! Why?!”

“‘Women can’t be doctors. They’re job is to take care of their families.’” He starts to massage your ankles again. “My great grandpa was a bit of a misogynist,” he chuckles. “So, when my granny had my dad and uncle she told them repeatedly, whatever you want to do in life I’ll support you. I think she thought at least one of them would go into the more eco-friendly territory as she did but both of them had other plans. My dad…” he grimaces.

“He likes money. ‘Money can provide for the family, for you, and for others.’ He loved his mom and respected her but he also thought she was making poor decisions and leading too much with her heart. He is a born businessman. My uncle, at least he got my granny’s love for helping people, however,” he laughs. “He likes helping the rich clients try to keep their youth if you know what I mean.”

“Cosmetic and plastic surgeries?”

“Oh yeah,” he shakes his head. “When he started off he was in the ER but when I was around 16, he switched out and went where the money is. I think it’s because my aunt spends it all on designer brands. She’s a shop-a-holic.”

“If I met your family what do you think they’d think of me?”

Pausing Jaemin looks to you slowly. “Exactly what capacity are you meeting them in?”

Shrugging you smile. “Any type I guess.”

“As a friend they wouldn’t really care. The only thing I believe they’d say is to not be seen too much in public with you as it would give the wrong impression of my relationship status.”

“Damn…”

“If it were, uhh, as a girlfriend,” he unconsciously slides his hands around your calves gripping the other side — making you inhale from the sudden movement, goosebumps decorating your skin. “They would like that you’re ambitious, that’s for sure,” his grip tightens around your calves. “But I do have to ask, what do your parents do?”

“My mom is a retired school teacher and my dad is a truck driver.”

Immediately looking away from you his grip becomes even tighter alarming you. “It wouldn’t matter if you were the love of my life. They wouldn’t accept you because you’re not from a well to do family.”

“So because I’m not from some rich family they wouldn’t give their blessings on this hypothetical relationship?” Nodding Jaemin side glances your way. Lips drown into a pout he looks like a small child whose toy was just taken from him. “I’m sorry your parents are like that. Monetary reasons shouldn’t dictate over a person’s true feelings for someone. Has there been someone in the past they didn’t approve of?”

Shaking his head no, Jaemin unravels his grip on you. “I’ve turned down every person they’ve brought forward. My father got so angry he asked me point blank if I was an ass chaser.”

“Ass chaser?!” You stifle a giggle.

“Just because I despised every woman they threw at me doesn’t mean I’m gay! Which I’m not! I love women and I’m not interested in men!” He grumbles.

Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder you draw his attention back to you. “From that kiss you gave me I can 100% tell you’re no ass chaser.”

Letting out a huge exhale his hands run through his hair a look of dread on his face. “I need to apologize for that. I was just really excited. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or to imply anything. I mean we don’t even know each other and —”

Sliding your legs off his lap, you lean forward and put a finger over his lips. “It’s fine. There is no need to apologize. Besides, it’s been a couple months since my last relationship. It was nice to be kissed again.”

“Your last boyfriend…what was he like?”

“Total punk rocker type. You know the chains on his pants, tight black distressed skinny jeans. Studded leather jacket. The emo hairstyle with gauges and piercings.” You roll your eyes. “Believe it or not I fell for the boy in the band. How lame is that?”

“I didn’t know men were still in their teenage angst phases.”

“I mean he loved everything about the clothing and music. I didn’t judge because I mean you like what you like. I fell hard for him. He pulled me up on stage, was holding me, touching me, and then kissed me in front of everyone. I was so stunned when they took me backstage — I didn’t even realize I was put in his dressing room.

“He told me that he saw me out in the audience and thought I was beautiful and wanted to talk. It was weird. I mean here I am in a strangers —” pausing you start to laugh. “Fuck! I’m in the same situation!”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t even know the guy, he kissed me, and then we talked for hours.” Leaning into him you smirk. “Sound familiar?”

Forcing back a smile Jaemin exhales deeply. “Yes, yes it does. How long did that relationship last?”

“Eight months. He found himself another pretty girl at a show and fucked her. I walked in on them when I went to surprise him.” Scoffing you cross your arms over your chest the memory filling you with rage. “That was the only time I left work early. Hell, the only time I put anything over my job. I was crazy for this guy.

“He was exciting! Made me see a different side of myself I never knew I had. I grew so much in my own confidence and started speaking up and speaking back to people. His ‘stick it to the man’ attitude was contagious. Believe it or not, it made me a beast at work and how I earned the respect of the big wigs in my company.

“For once things felt like they were going in the right direction. So, when the last stop on their tour was at a club near my work, I decided to surprise him. It had been a month since we had last seen each other face to face. We talked on the phone and stuff but we were really busy.

“So, I show up and head to the dressing room to find him balls deep in some whore! Like are you kidding me?! I left work early! I didn’t pull an all-nighter like I normally do. I dressed up for him. Had on my sexiest heels that he liked and what do I get instead…him shoving his dick in some random ass woman.”

“What did he say?”

“‘Babe! It’s not what you think!’ It’s not what I think?! Can you believe that! I threw the gift I bought for him at him. Called the woman a whore, and stormed out of the building. Threw all his shit into a box, left it at the lobby of the building I’m at and told the front desk by no means is he allowed to go up to see me.”

He shakes his head sighing. “I’m sorry…men like that…they’re pigs. I would never do that to the person I’m in a relationship with.” His voice becomes soft, “especially when the person is as beautiful as you.”

“Thanks,” you slump down into the couch. “But let’s not fool ourselves. At the end of the day we’re all made of the same cloth. All we need is to have the right person come into our lives at the right time and it’ll fuck everything up.”

“NO!” He shouts startling you.

Before you realize what’s going on you’re pushed onto your back — Jaemin hovering over you, his body settling between your legs. Staring up at him in both confusion and something else you’re eyes search his face for answers.

“I would never look at another person! Never!” He growls. “As long as you’re mine and I’m yours there’d be no one else. No one!”

Wrapping your hand around his neck you yank him down to you into a lip lock. A deep groan rumbles in his throat as the two of you fight over dominance. Teeth clanking against each other’s, the kiss growing wet and hot as it continues. Laying more of his weight on you, you feel something hard rub against your womanhood. Gasping against his lips, he uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

Succumbing to the feeling, he roams your mouth leaving no corner untraced. His lips moving across yours seamlessly as your tongues dart in and out of each other’s mouths. Lifting your head up, you manage to catch his tongue between your lips and start to suck on the taut muscle. Giving just enough of a taste to inform him of what else you could do with your mouth.

Growling, he pulls back and you gasp for air. With one arm propping himself up, he uses his other hand to wrap around your neck — gripping tightly. Thanks to your ex, you’ve learned that choking is a huge turn on for you. The feeling of being at someone’s mercy, begging and pleading under them.

Looking up through cloudy eyes, Jaemin’s jaw tightens as his chest rises and falls his brown eyes now dark with lust. Trying to speak his grip tightens more making your hips involuntarily bucking up to his. Eyes rolling back into his head from the friction your clothed core felt against his growing bulge sends shivers throughout you.

Leaning down to you, his hand still around your neck he plants a hard kiss against your lips. “You deserved better. The bastard!” He growls nipping your bottom lip so hard it bleeds. “He should have worshipped the ground you walked on.” He slides his tongue over your bleeding lip.

“Jaemin~” you moan his name loudly.

“You’re so beautiful…So fucking beautiful…” he forces your head back giving him access to your neck.

Wrapping your legs around him you lose yourself in the feeling of his kisses. Sliding his tongue across your jugular he opens his mouth biting down on your throat. Again, your hips buck up to meet his — this time the grind against his groin grabbing his attention.

“We should stop,” he runs his teeth across your neck nipping and sucking on your skin.

Lifting your hips once more you protest the notion. “Don’t want to,” your legs wrap around him tighter.

Sucking on the side of your neck his hips roll into yours. A cry comes from you as you cling to him. He wasn’t even inside of you and yet you’re falling apart by the seams.

“Your parents are coming tomorrow morning. We need to get some rest.” His hips move against yours again clearly stating that though his mouth says one thing his body is on the same side as yours.

“I’m not tired.”

With one final grind of his hip into yours, he pulls away from you despite your desperate attempts at keeping him locked in your arms.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he reaches behind him grabbing one of your legs and prying it off of him. “I just…” he smiles down at you. “I respect you too much to do this.”

“To fuck me?” You pout.

“I would never fuck you,” his hand goes to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip where you give it a little bite. “I would make love to you. We just got caught up in our emotions. Trust me, tonight is not the night for this.”

Your legs go limp as the burning passion inside of you starts to simmer down to something subtle. A warm cozy feeling like snuggling up on the couch with a cup of coco – snow falling, a sweet romance movie playing on the TV. He respects you. He doesn’t want this to be a onetime fling. A deep thud in your chest has your stomach doing summersaults.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I like it.” You confess.

“All the better reason not to jump into bed with each other.” He gets off of you and holds out his hand. “Now let’s get some sleep.”

Sighing in bed your heart still hums with the smallest tickle of desire. The feeling of Jaemin’s arousal still prevalent against your core. Biting your bottom lip you hold back the urge to relieve yourself of this yearning.

It’s strange. You’ve only known him completely for two days and yet you feel like you’ve known him a lot longer. His caring nature the complete opposite of your ex. The way his lips tug up slowly into such a bright smile has little butterflies soaring through you.

His strong grip that he had on your neck, you reach up wrapping your hand around your neck — activating the lust within you. Unconsciously your hips buck into the air, a whimper passing your lips. For fucks sake the man isn’t even in the room!

Growling you roll over onto your side, shove the thick quilt between your legs and force yourself to get some sleep, if it’s even possible with salacious thoughts of a naked Jaemin on top of you filling your head.

Turning on the shower Jaemin steps inside feeling the cool water wash over his burning skin. His mind reeling with the image of you underneath him. Clinging to him, pulling him closer to you. In that moment he wanted you. To hear what your cries of pleasure would be like. Knowing that it was him who made you feel so good.

“Why didn’t I just let her?” He grumbles placing his head against the wall of the shower.

Reaching down, his hand wraps around his length. Sliding his hand up his shaft, Jaemin grits his teeth. He’s still hard even after a few minutes of calming himself down after your steamy make out. This is ridiculous! The mere thought of you has him hardening on the spot.

“She wanted you! Stupid!” He growls pumping himself in his hand. “She was begging for you!” His grip tightens. “You could already be deep inside her!” His hips buck forward a groan echoing in the shower.

Closing his eyes an image of you on his bed starts to appear before him. Your beautiful body laid out waiting for him to tend to your every desire. How you’d open your arms for him, begging to feel him on you — to kiss every inch of your body, and treat you like the queen you are.

His hand moves faster up and down his cock. He pictures you squirming underneath him as he kisses his way down your body. Fondling, kissing, licking, sucking, and biting on your breasts, and nipples.

“Shit!” He groans slamming his free hand against the wall.

Seeing how your chest would rise and fall as he worked you over with his mouth. Tasting you, savoring you, falling deeper for you. When you finally come undone for him, how he’d slurp up every last drop of your juices — his face wet from your arousal.

“Fuck! Fuck!” His hand moves like lightning as he builds himself up to come.

But what he would love the most, what he’d crave the most is to be inside of you. How you’d need to adjust to his size. The tightness of your juicy pussy choking his cock from the intrusion. Seeing your face when he slides into you, how your lips would part and the slightest ‘ahhh~’ being released.

All building up to him making love to you slow and deep. Keeping his eyes locked onto you, his gaze penetrating deep into your soul as you both become one. Then, as he feels himself ready to come you whisper the one thing he wants to hear the most.

‘Come inside me…’

“Ahhh!!! Fuck!!!”

White strands splatter onto the shower wall and floor. A mixture of sweat and water drip down Jaemin’s body. His skin reddened from exertion. Breathing heavily he strokes his length until the last drop of come drips to the floor.

“Shit…” he whispers a ghost of a smile decorating his face.

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

Staring at the empty bowl of soup you exhale deeply. Shoulders slumping over, tired lifeless eyes staring at the bottom of the bowl. Another fight lost. Your stomach and body not strong enough to withstand the hunger strike you put yourself in.

Placing the bowl on the cart you avoid the obvious satisfied gleam coming from your captors eyes. Of course he’s happy. His princess finally gave into what he wanted…AGAIN!

Frustrated you fall back onto the bed. “You don’t have to be so dramatic,” he chuckles next to you. “I’m not smiling because I won. I’m smiling because you’re eating again.”

Giving him a huge eye roll you turn to face the blank boring overly sterile white-tiled wall.

“Come now,” he sits next to you, hand on your hip. “Was it at least good?”

“You know it’s good.” You reply sharply.

It was a stupid question. Of course it was good. His granny’s homemade chicken noodle soup. Every time he made it you could never resist. The only problem is that it takes you back to when he wasn’t this monster. When he actually cared, or so you thought.

“Princess?”

“I’m not your princess.”

His hand on your hip tightens. Pressing his buttons has been both a fun game of yours lately. Seeing how far you can push him to the edge without causing yourself any damage. If he was going to make you play his game you were going to have him play yours.

“You are my princess,” he tugs on your hip urging you to turn onto your back. “And you know what, I’ve been a neglectful boyfriend.”

Giving in just a smidge you turn onto your back, but you don’t make eye contact. “Not my boyfriend. You fucked that up.”

“I know. Let me make it up to you.”

Scoffing you turn your head away from him. “Not a chance. I don’t believe in second chances. Once someone shows their true colors there's no going back.”

“But there is one way I know I can make it up to you.”

There’s something in his tone that makes your head turn in his direction. A secret promise that only he knew of. Side eyeing him, you find his eyes slowly going dark. A light smirk coming to his face as he peers down at you. Quickly turning away from him, you go to turn your whole body when he climbs on top of you, straddling your hips.

“Not so fast,” he chuckles. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Fuck you!”

Throwing his head back the most sinister laugh comes from him. One you’ve never heard before that sends shivers down your spine.

“No princess,” he bends his body down, lips pressed against your neck. “I’m going to fuck you.”

Shrieking, your face turns to his. Eyes wide your body starts to burn with both fear and what you hate to admit…desire.

“What?!”

“It’s been over three months,” he pecks your lips. “I think we’re long overdue. Don’t you think?”

“No!”

“Mmmm, are you sure?” He presses soft kisses from your cheek down to your neck.

Biting back a moan you try to roll him off of you. “Yes! I’m sure!”

“Funny,” he falls off to the side but wraps his arms around you so you roll over with him, half your body dangling off of him. “I was thinking we’d switch things up a bit. You’ve never been on top before.”

And he fucking does it! The seed has been planted in your brain. The last shred of dignity gone with two simple words on top.

“You’re lying.” You challenge.

Motioning for you to crawl on top of him you eye him skeptically. This had to be a trick. Another one of his sick twisted games. He’s never let you be on top, not even when he was somewhat sane. There had to be a catch, a hidden motive.

“I’m not. Do you know why I’ve preferred to be on top?”

“You’re a man with a fragile ego,” you deadpan.

Sucking his teeth he stares up at you unamused. “No, my sweet princess.” Reaching out he grabs the chain hooked to your collar. “It’s because I love seeing the look on your face as we make love. That’s why. I don’t want to miss a single moment of how beautiful you look while I’m inside you.” Tugging on the chain you find your body unconsciously moving you on top of him.

“I’m pretty sure you’d still be able to see me even if I were on top.” You try to keep up your act but your mask starts to slip.

“No, it wouldn’t be the same,” he pulls you more until you’ve completely climbed on top of him. “Depends on how good it feels your face could be buried in my neck. I don’t want that. I want to see my princess. How she takes me inside of her,” he pulls your face to him giving your lips a small kiss. Not lingering but more of a soft press that always without fail has you leaning in for more.

“Should have just said that you know.”

Smiling he wraps his arms around you, keeping you locked in place. “I’m a man with a fragile ego,” he teases. “Don’t you remember how it all began?” He lifts his hips to meet yours. “How badly we wanted each other?”

You quirk a brow. Desperately fumbling with the mask you’ve chosen to wear so you don’t have the urge to grind down onto his lap. “Before you turned into a psychopathic kidnapper?”

“Mmm kidnapper perhaps, psychopath no.”

“You make me play that stupid game!”

“We don’t have to play it you know,” he grinds against you once more carefully waiting for a reaction.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious. If you don’t want to play it, we don’t have to. However, we can always play another game instead,” his hands go from your waist down to your ass giving it a good squeeze as another roll of his hips sends shivers down your spine.

“A-And what game is that?”

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

Sitting across the table from Jaemin you can’t help the smile plastered on your face. Seeing how well your parents are getting along with him. How he’s not shying away from your father’s prodding questions about his private affairs. Little by little he’s proving to be the real deal — a gentleman through and through.

“I just can’t thank you enough for what you did for our daughter,” your mom reaches out, touching his hand. “If anything ever happened to her we wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves.”

Placing his hand on top of hers he smiles gently. “I’m just glad I could help her. Plus, she’s brought more joy into this house. I should be thanking you guys for raising such a wonderful person.”

“Jaemin!” Your mom squeals. “Stop you’re too much!”

Laughing, you all enjoy the Christmas Eve meal you’ve prepared with Jaemin’s help of course. But, it was your father’s special gravy that you were dying to consume for the past couple of years that topped the meal off. Ever since you were little you’ve wanted to know what his secret ingredient is, but he has yet to share it with you — likely for the fact if you knew you’d stop showing up for holiday meals altogether in his eyes.

“So, Jaemin, where are your folks? I find it odd they aren’t here.” Your dad eyes Jaemin up and down, sizing him up.

“Dad, really?” You glare.

“It’s fine,” Jaemin smiles your way. “My parents are a couple hours away. Honestly, I’ve never spent the holidays with them. Even when I was with them I was never with them. They’re socialites and I hated everything to do with that so I just ended up staying here with my granny.”

“You’re parents are socialites?” Your mom gasps.

“Must be rich to afford this place,” your dad adds gruffly.

“My father owns several companies and my mother is a former model.” This time it was your turn to gasp. Chuckling he shrugs sighing. “I don’t bring them up since people will automatically judge me and think I’m stuck up, or that they aren’t good enough to be around me. It’s been like that my whole life. So, I keep them a secret until I get to know people — still, I end up losing 90% of who I tell.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

“People can be like that. Best not to waste any time worrying about the shoulda coulda woulda’s and focus on what is in front of you.” Your dad pushes his plate from him. “Speaking of right in front of us, how about dessert?”

“I’ll get it!” You spring up eagerly.

“Let me help you sweetie,” your mom follows you into the kitchen.

When your parents arrived you saw from the carrying container that your mom made her famous pumpkin pie! At least it’s famous in your home. Grabbing a knife you all but carve half of the pie just for yourself when your mom smacks your hand.

“No way,” she nudges you away and takes your place. “You do that every time. When will you learn?”

“Old habits die hard I suppose. Plus, it’s been years. I think I deserve a bigger piece.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be years if someone came home more often.”

“I know, and I promise I’ll try to visit more it’s just with this promo —”

“Promotion, we know.” She sighs slicing up the final piece of pie. “But sweetheart we’re not getting any younger and we want to see our daughter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So, Jaemin, huh?”

“Leave it to you to go from scolding me to talking about boys in less than five seconds.”

“It’s a gift,” she licks the knife. “So, what’s the deal between the two of you?”

“There’s no deal.”

“He’s obviously smitten with you. Have you guys kissed yet?”

Quickly you grab two of the pumpkin pies and head straight for the dining room. “Mom! Gosh! Stop!”

“What did I say?” She shouts behind you.

The rest of the evening was spent sitting by the fire and your parents filling Jaemin in on your whole entire life — a few objections and clarifications coming from you to make sure that what was stated was in fact the truth. Your mom always one to sensationalize some of your more interesting childhood moments.

When the clock strikes 11PM, your parents decide to call it a night while you and Jaemin finish up Miracle on 34th Street. Snuggled up on the couch closest to Jaemin’s chair you find your gaze bouncing between the TV and him. His eyes fixated on the movie rather blankly.

“I’m sorry about them,” you gain his attention. “I hope they didn’t bore you with all the baby stories.”

Smirking, Jaemin leans so he’s facing you instead of the TV. “Quite the contrary, I loved hearing about you as a kid. Especially the frog story. Seems you’ve wanted to be a princess for a long time,” he teases.

Pouting you turn away from him in a huff. “So I kissed a frog when I was 4! It’s not my fault I thought the story was real…”

You wait for a reply from Jaemin, something smart or another teasing joke but when you hear nothing you look over to see he has since disappeared from his chair.

“What the…” you whisper.

“If you kissed him,” a voice says in your ear making you jump. “Like you kissed me I’d be surprised he was still living.” He sits down next to you.

Your whole body comes alive the moment he looks into your eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel like you should run away and save yourself, and another part that makes you want to succumb to whatever he demands of you.

“This might sound weird and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’ve wanted to kiss you all day.”

“Y-You have?”

Nodding Jaemin tucks some of your hair behind your ear, his eyes locked on yours. “All… day.”

“Wh-Why haven’t you?”

“I wanted to make sure I had permission to kiss you first. I’ve been doing it impulsively these past two times that I at least want to make sure I ask at least once.”

“You may ask,” you say in a trance.

“May I kiss you?”

Leaning into him your lips hover over his. “Yes you may.”

Going into his million-watt stunningly smile, Jaemin reaches out to you. Hand wrapping around to the back of your neck while his lips gently land on yours. Just like last night your body tingles with excitement and desire, but the kiss already feels different.

Slowly, Jaemin moves his lips across yours almost lethargically. His grip on your neck keeps you in place as he takes his time kissing you. Savoring every movement of your lips modeling together, no matter how small.

Pulling back for just a second he gazes into your eyes with such a look of fondness you melt on the spot. This is what it feels like to have a genuine partner. And with the way he’s looking at you like you are the heavens and earth to him, this is what it feels like to truly like someone soul deep.

“I could kiss you forever,” he tilts his head before diving back down for another kiss. “You have the softest lips.”

Giggling you cave in to the moment. Enjoying every ounce of admiration Jaemin is showing you. From the sweet nothings he whispers in between longer moments when he has to take a breath. To the sparkle in his eyes when he looks down at you. Though you’ve only just met him there is something so amazingly fantastic about him.

“Oh, and by the way,” he kisses you slowly once more. “Merry Christmas,” he smiles against your lips.

“Christmas?” Turning your head you find that it’s 12:01AM Christmas Day. “Merry Christmas, Jaemin.”

“This is the best Christmas by far.”

“Same here,” you reach into him wrapping your arms around him. “I hope you have many more amazing Christmas’ to come.”

“I hope so too,” he wraps his arms around you pulling you with him.

Landing on top of him you both end up in a fit of laughter. Not bothering to look back at the movie you snuggle into his warm inviting embrace until sleep takes hold of you.

Christmas came and went in the blink of an eye. Christmas morning your mom pulled out the works and made everyone cinnamon rolls, a tradition in your household before you opened up gifts which you were super happy to find out that your parents bought some gifts for Jaemin.

Nothing too fancy just some candles and things everyone needs around the household and when you had mentioned he had three dogs, well that meant dog toys — which surprisingly, Nana loved A LOT!

You however went and got Jaemin a matching set of pajamas with yourself and your parents, another tradition you had growing up. All day on Christmas you wear the new set of pajamas and then there is the family photo that is taken, this time with Jaemin’s arm wrapped around your waist.

What you didn’t expect was to get extremely personalized gifts from Jaemin. Every conversation you had with him was heard. Gifting you your favorite snacks, the book you mentioned, a CD you wanted to get but hadn’t gotten around to getting it. But the real amazing gift is when you opened up a box that had an expensive brand of perfume inside.

You tried to tell him you couldn’t except it but he said he thought it would be perfect for you and that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The following days after Christmas your father and Jaemin started to get really close to each other. Your dad giving him advice about tending to the land and the horse — having grown up on a farm for most of his life his advice was apparently welcomed with open arms. While they were getting acquainted your mother was tending to you and helping you make a speedy recovery.

It was nice to be taken care of again something you missed while being on your own. Whenever you were sick or unwell mentally, emotionally, even spiritually — you missed your moms loving arms, her words of wisdom, and caring touches. She even seemed to enjoy doting on you again as well. The best thing, was just talking to her again, face to face instead of over the phone.

“I didn’t want to bring this up,” your mom blows across the fresh coat of paint on your fingers. “Have you thought of Jaemin being your next boyfriend?”

“Mom!”

“Don’t mom me! I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. I haven’t seen you look at a boy like this since Chris. Maybe it’s time to forget what’s his name and find the happiness you deserve.”

“I don’t think about Erik at all. Why would I? He cheated, I was hurt but I moved on months ago.”

“Have you moved on? Burying yourself in your work doesn’t equal moving on. It’s okay to have liked him sweetie. We’ve all fallen for the boy in the band at some point.” She exhales deeply placing your hand down on your lap. “Have I ever told you about Dominic?”

“No~” you lean into her intrigued. “Who is Dominic?”

“My middle school and high school crush. He was gorgeous!” Her eyes flutter by the mere memory of him.

You’ve heard all about your moms ex’s before your dad. Your mom being such a beautiful woman it didn’t surprise you she had a lot of boyfriends and short flings, but this man, she’s kept him a secret from you. No doubt someone she wanted to keep to herself for as long as possible.

“He has gorgeous green eyes with the smallest fractals of yellow in them that sparkled in the light. Dirty blonde hair that reached past his shoulders — granted he was tall and skinny, but when he stood next to me I couldn’t think of anyone or anything but him. It was like tunnel vision in the best possible way. The only sound I heard was his voice. The only person I saw was him. It was amazing and terrifying all at the same time,” she laughs.

“Did you guys date?”

“No. We didn’t.”

Well that explains why she never brought him up in terms of her exes.

“You see,” she continues. “There was this one time on our middle school field trip to the capital where he asked to speak to me alone. I could have sworn right then and there he was going to say something in the lines of a confession. The strangest thing is that at that particular time I didn’t know what my feelings were. I knew I liked being around him. I looked forward to the class we had together but I guess my brain didn’t formulate that I was head over heels with this guy.

“Anyway, he brings me off to the side away from everyone and he’s twitching and fiddling with his fingers. He was so cute,” she giggles making you giggle. “It’s not often you see men nervous like that so remember those moments because they’re super funny and warm to look back on.

“So, he opens his mouth and says ‘I have something to ask you…’ and just when I moved closer to him because he was speaking so softly I could barely hear him my friend shows up saying she wanted to show me something. Right then and there he went from being super nervous to almost relieved and waved me off. To this day I want to know what he wanted to ask me, but I never found out.”

“So when did you realize you liked him?”

“Our second year of high school when he was constantly throwing remarks to a mutual friend of ours. It wasn’t jealousy, more like annoyance. She was dating this guy off in the military — spraying love letters with her perfume so when he read it, it would smell like her, she was so cute. Well, everyday he’d come in and it was starting to irritate her and me as well. She’s my friend, I had to stand up for her. So I did.

“He got embarrassed told me he was going to kill me and how, and that was how our friendship ended. But my feelings weren’t so easily broken. For the next two years I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him with heartbroken eyes. I liked him so much. I even wonder sometimes if he was technically a first love, but it wasn’t meant to be.

“It took me years to get over him but once I let him go I met your father and have been happy ever since,” she cups your cheek in her hand. “Sometimes letting go of someone you really liked is the hardest thing in the world, but it also opens yourself up for something new and wonderful.”

Just then a knock is placed on your door, Jaemin standing in the frame. “Your dad wanted me to ask if the two of you would like to go out for dinner tonight.”

“On New Year’s Eve?” Your mom growls already standing to storm off and find your dad. “Does this man have no sense of tradition?! I’ll be right back sweetie I need to have a word with your father!”

“May I come in?” Jaemin shuffles back and forth on his feet.

Squinting you enjoy his sudden nervous behavior. “It is your home you know.”

“It is,” he runs a hand through his hair. “But you are staying here for the time being and this is your room.”

“Get in here,” you wave him in.

Just as Jaemin sits down on the edge of the bed you hear your parents going back and forth arguing about dinner.

“Is it always like this?” Jaemin inquires.

“Nope,” you start painting your other hand. “I guess my dad thinks the pizza and Chinese food drivers will get confused trying to find your place. Probably wants us to pick a buffet style place where we can get a little of everything.”

“Pizza and Chinese?”

“Yeah I only ate pizza as a kid, well that and chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, the usual kid stuff. My parents wanted something more elevated but I refused. So from the time I was 8 till now they have Chinese and I have pizza on New Year’s Eve.”

“You guys have so many traditions,” he resituates himself so he’s looking at you. “I’m a little jealous.”

“Play your cards right and you won’t have to be jealous,” you wink.

His eyes light up with shock and hope. His body leaning forward, face mere inches from yours as he smiles brightly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I don’t know. What do you think I’m saying?”

Closing the gap between the two of you his lips land on yours. Again, your body bursts to life. Your heart races as your body warms up instantaneously. Wanting to wrap your arms around him you keep your still drying nails away from him.

Jaemin’s lips move across yours slowly. Taking his time to savior the kiss you’ve been itching to have. The past few days you’ve found yourselves only able to steal pecks and glances — your parents having an uncanny ability to pop in at the drop of a hat, limiting anything from progressing.

“I think you’re saying you like me,” he cups your cheek in his hand.

“What if I am?”

“I’d be the happiest man on earth,” his lips find yours again.

“We’re staying here —” your moms voice causes both Jaemin and yourself to break apart quickly, but not quick enough. Folding her arms across her chest your mom eyes the two of you. “Well what do we have here,” she teases.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry I just…” Jaemin stands up frazzled. “It won’t happen again I —”

Holding up her hand he stops talking. “I think my daughter would be upset if you stopped kissing her,” she giggles. “It’s fine, Jaemin.” She walks up to him. “You’re just the kind of man I think my daughter needs in her life. So, what to do about dinner?” Her eyes bounce between Jaemin and yourself. “Your father and I will head out and pick up the food. That should give the two of you some time, alone…” she winks.

“Mom! Stop!”

Shrugging she leans in giving Jaemin a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun,” she whispers to him. “Darling!” She calls out to your dad. “Get the car started we’re picking up the food!”

The rest of the night the four of you spent together watching the New Year’s Eve celebrations on TV. Nothing serious happened after your mom left a few more kisses before Nana made her presence known to both of you. So Jaemin took her outside for a little playtime while you finished getting ready for tonight. Another tradition you had growing up was to get dressed nicely to ring in the new year.

Now, as the clock ticks down to midnight you can’t help but look around at everyone smiling and laughing. You didn’t expect this at all when you started your trek to your parents home. To end up in another home with such a kind and accommodating man.

Perhaps your mom is right. It’s best to let go of your past to open yourself up to something new and wonderful.

“5! 4! 3! 2!” Your parents and Jaemin start to shout.

Maybe it’s time to move onto him…

“1!”

Everyone starts to cheer. Your mom popping her little confetti before your father wraps his arm around her giving her a big kiss. Squinting in both disgust and admiration for the love they still have after all these years you look to Jaemin who is just smiling fondly.

“Go on!” Your mom pulls away from your dad. ��You both need to have a new years kiss.”

“Sweetie,” your father warns.

“Oh hush,” she waves him off coming over to you. “Bring in the new year in hopes of finding new love,” she lifts you off the couch, pulls you to Jaemin and plants you down next to him.

“Mom, really,” you shake your head.

“Not like the two of you haven’t kissed before.”

“WHAT? Whe—” Your father shouts but is cut off by a kiss from your mom.

“I’m sorry about her,” you turn to Jaemin.

“It’s okay. If she didn’t bring you over here I was going to come to you,” he takes hold of your hand. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

“She’d really like that too.”

“Mom!!!!” Chuckling Jaemin stares at you lovingly. Waiting for you to give him the green light. “For goodness sake, Jaemin.”

Pulling him into you by the neck you smash your lips together. A huge smile playing across his face as his arms wrap around you, holding you close to him.

“Happy New Year,” he whispers against your lips.

“Happy New Year, Jaemin.”

An hour later your parents called it a night both too exhausted to keep their eyes open any longer. Heading upstairs to their designated room, you wonder if you should head to bed as well. But when you feel Jaemin’s gaze on you something within you or the air changes completely.

Hearing your parents' voices fade off into the distance the couch dips down next to you, Jaemin’s form extremely close to you.

“Finally,” he chuckles. “I was wondering when they’d call it a night.”

“You were?”

“Mmhmm,” he leans into you with the cutest grin plastered on his face. “I have an important question to ask you.”

“And what is this important question?” You lean into him your lips a few inches apart.

“I know we haven’t known each other for a long time but I was wondering,” his eyes drop down to your lips before bouncing back to your eyes. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?”

“For real?” You ask a little shocked by the question.

It wasn’t that you didn’t see this coming — you 100% saw it coming it’s just the timing and the new year, and you’ll leave in just two more days…when will you see him again? How long will it be before you feel his lips on you when you leave him? A sharp pain stabs at your heart with just the thought of being separated from him.

“Yes for real,” he chuckles holding your hand in his. “I really like you. I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone this fast or as much in my whole life.”

“What about your family? I thought you said they wouldn’t approve of me?”

“I could care less what they have to say about you. I like you and that should be good enough for them.”

“So we’re really doing this?” You giggle.

“Only if you say yes,” his hand goes from yours to your neck.

“Yes! Of course!”

Pulling you to him, Jaemin crashes his lips onto yours. Long gone are the gentle kisses from earlier where it felt like he was trying to savor every last second the two of you could share. In its place is a different beast altogether. A thirsty hungry creature that is devouring your soul little by little.

“Lean back for me,” he whispers on your lips, voice husky.

Doing as instructed you lay back until your head touches the pillow behind you. Parting your legs, Jaemin slides between them, his body pressing against yours. Instantly you feel something hard press against your clothed core. Heat consumes your body into wanton flames of desire.

“I’m going to need you to keep your voice down, okay?” He asks you a smirk laced in his voice. “I don’t want your parents to hear at all.”

“J-Jaemin!” You squeak when he grinds his hips into yours. “Th-The bedroom!”

Shaking his head he lowers himself to you. Lips brushing across yours. “I want to finish what I stopped the last time, right here on this couch.”

“B-But the bedro —” He cuts you off with a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Let’s play a game,” he kisses you again before moving down to your jaw.

“A game?” You sigh into the feeling of his lips on you.

“Mhm,” you arch your neck when his lips kiss a line around your décolletage. “I want to see how quiet you can be while we make love.”

Grabbing your leg he yanks you closer to him a loud squeak spilling from your lips. Covering your mouth with your hands you stare wide eyed. Fear racing through your veins you chant in your mind for your parents to have their door closed and to already be settling down for the night.

“Shhh,” Jaemim chides. “If you’re too loud they’ll hear.”

Legs spread wide for Jaemin to comfortably nestle between them, he starts to grind his hip into yours. Tightening your grip on your mouth you do everything in your power not to moan. Moving his hips into yours gently your hands slowly fall from your mouth. Light gasps leaving your lips.

“You have a choice,” Jaemin whispers. “We can skip the foreplay and get straight to business or I can eat you out until you see stars.”

Snickering your eyes squint with intrigue. “Think you can actually make me see stars?”

“Oh my little princess, I know I can.”

“Then how can I say no?”

Having stripped you of your shirt, bra, and pants your now left in just your panties. Clothing tossed off to the side, Jaemin rips his shirt over his head — broad chest throwing you into a world of lust. Not thinking that this type of body would be underneath the clothes Jaemin was wearing you reach out — sliding your hands down his chest.

“This is unexpected,” you purr.

“Come here,” he gestures with his finger.

Sitting up you lean forward and are wrapped in Jaemin’s insanely thick strong arms. Chills rush over you as he showers you in kisses. Lips moving across yours hungrily. His tongue slipping in and out of your mouth making you weak in the knees. Consumed by his lips on yours you don’t even notice that he’s resituated you so your back is against the cushion — his body sliding down onto the floor between your legs.

Holding his face in your hands he growls against your lips, nipping your bottom lip.

“Get comfortable, okay?” He asks against your lips. “And remember try to be quiet.”

Sliding your hips down to the edge of the cushion, you rest your back against the back of the couch. Legs hiked up at your sides, Jaemin leans in giving your lips a small kiss before working his way down your body. Stopping at your breasts, he wraps his lips around your erect buds giving each side a little suckle before heading south.

Body already burning from his touch, his lips, his intense gaze on you while he heads for your pulsating bundle of nerves — you start panting when he slides his fingers across the front of your panties. Gripping the fabric of the couch you jolt away from his fingers, already far too sensitive.

“What’s wrong?” He chuckles. “Why did you move from me?” Wrapping his arms around your hips he pulls you back down to him. “There we go,” he mumbles face smack dap between your thighs. “Much better.”

“Jaemin….” You whine.

Body twitching in anticipation you use your finger to bite on when Jaemin starts to rub over your panties. Trying your best not to moan out into the night.

“You’re so wet,” Jaemin pulls back his hand marveling at the string of wetness that soaked through your panties and onto his fingers. “My beautiful princess is so wet for me,” he smiles brightly. “Such a good girl.”

Eyes rolling into the back of your head at the strangest compliment you’ve ever heard — Jaemin pulls your panties to the side before giving your soaking folds a good sniff.

“Mmmm,” he grunts. “You smell so good…”

His eyes fixed on yours Jaemin opens his mouth ever so slightly and gives your sensitive bud an open mouthed kiss.

“Ahhhh!!!”

Again, Jaemin kisses your bundle of nerves. Clamping your hands over your mouth, your hips start to move up to his lips in dire need to feel him on you again.

Slipping out his tongue, Jaemin licks over your clit gently. Your body jerking away at the initial lick, but his arm that rests on the side of your hip keeps you steady. Once more he licks over you tasting your juices. Pulling back his lips glisten against the light from the fireplace.

“You taste so good, princess.” He kisses your clit. “Now be good for me and keep your voice down, okay? I don’t want to have to try and explain this to your parents.” He winks.

“Jaemin…” you breathe out unsteadily. “Please, the bedroom. I can’t…it feels…”

Shaking his head he swipes his tongue up your folds again making you jerk. “Wouldn’t matter,” he chuckles. “You’d still be a moaning mess when I’m done with you. Out here,” he gives you a dark look. “You need to be quiet. It’s part of the game.”

Eyes closed tightly your hands grip onto Jaemin’s hair. His mouth like a suction cup is glued to your pussy. Licking and sucking over every inch of your soaking folds. The slurping sounds echoing through the silent house. Soft whimpers that you wish were loud screams of pleasure bounces off the walls in the living room.

Jaemin wasn’t kidding when he said he’d make you see stars. With how hard he’s sucking against you, to the way his tongue skates across your clit — his fingers ramming inside of you, your all but in another galaxy completely.

Pressure builds up in your lower stomach. Body covered in goosebumps, you shiver when a particular swipe of his mouth sends a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Fuck! Jaemin!” You cry out.

Sucking as hard as he can Jaemin rises from your pussy with a pop. “I could live between your legs,” he growls nipping your inner thigh. “You taste so good. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Jaemin, please…the bedroom…” you try to crawl away hoping if you could at least get away from him for a second you could lead him to the room you’re staying in and lock the door.

Grabbing the sides of your panties, Jaemin starts yanking them down your body. Lifting yourself up he removes the last bit of clothing off of you and sends it flying to somewhere in the room. Now exposed to him, he wraps both arms around you.

“Brace yourself, princess.”

“Wh-Wha?!!!!!”

You scream out. Actually scream! Jaemin’s mouth moves across your pussy like a hungry beast. Nipping at your puffy folds your quiet whimpers and whines grow louder the rougher he is with you. Sliding his fingers inside you, Jaemin curls them until your pulling away from him, back arched and a moan wanting to be let free.

“Come for me, princess.” He mumbles against you.

“Jae…Jae…Jae…” you start to chant.

Toes curling the pressure in your stomach charges forward like a bull. Eyes crossing and fluttering you start pressing down on his fingers as if trying to push him out of you — this very action sending you over the edge.

With Jaemin’s mouth suckling your clit and his fingers coaxing the most powerful orgasm of your life, you start lifting yourself up from the couch. His arms wrapping around you securely, but his mouth never leaving you.

“I’m…I’m…” you breathe out quickly. “I’m…FUCK!!!!” You scream. “I’m coming!!!”

No longer worried about how loud you are, you ride out the best toe curling, pussy throbbing, slick dripping orgasm of your life!

“Sweetie?!” You hear your fathers voice from the top of the staircase. “Is that you?”

Pulling away from you quickly, Jaemin lifts you up, gathering you in his arms. Legs like Jell-O he has to practically carry you out of the room. Using the walls and chairs to help keep you up, you’re taken into your room.

Just as your door closes you hear your fathers footsteps coming down the stairs. Pushing you against the wall, the familiar sounds of a belt and zipper being undone, Jaemin pulls your hips back until you're hunched over. That’s when it hits you. The feeling of Jaemin’s dick sliding between your legs. Slicking his cock up with the juices still dripping from you.

When he’s nice and slicked up, with as much tenderness as he can muster, he slides into you.

A low guttural groan quakes in your throat at the feeling of his cock pushing past your entrance. Hissing as you adjust to his size, Jaemin kisses down your back.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Your father calls from outside your door.

Jaemin takes this opportunity to slide his cock out of your pussy before slamming back inside of you. Squeaking you scramble to get away from him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Your dad goes to open the door.

“Better make it sound convincing or your dads going to see me buried in this sweet pussy of yours.” Jaemin whispers behind you.

Again, he slides almost the whole way out of you before ramming into you. Doing this on purpose you try to compose yourself. This isn’t something your parents need to hear let alone see. Bracing your arms on the wall you try to predict Jaemin’s next deep thrust.

“I’m…” you breathe in feeling him slide out. “Fine!” You quickly answer before Jaemin has a chance to ram into you. “I stubbed my TOE!” You fucked up your timing and end up moaning.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Real-ly!!!”

Sensing you try to get used to his movements Jaemin picks up the pace but keeps the thrusts nice and deep, making sure to go as deep as your pussy will allow him.

“You don’t sound okay.” Your fathers voice quivers with fear.

“Real-ly…I’m…fine…” you say with each thrust. “Go back…” your body curls when Jaemin’s cock rubs over your g-spot. “To bed…” you whimper.

“Do you need me to get Jaemin?”

“NO! Seriously, I’m fine. Go back to bed! Good night dad!”

Silence comes from the other side of the door. Jaemin keeps fucking you from behind, the back of your hand making your whines softer so your dad can’t hear you.

“Okay…” he finally says. “Good night…”

Knowing full well he doesn’t believe a damn word you just said, it doesn’t bother you at all. You’ll deal with his questions later. All you want is for him to leave so Jaemin can fuck you properly.

“Love you, dad!” You throw out for good measure.

“Love you too sweetie…”

Slowing down his thrusts, Jaemin pulls you back flush against his chest. His hands grabbing hold of your breasts. Fingers pinching your nipples, making your hips buck forward.

“Good job princess…” he whispers against your ear.

“Jaemin…” you moan his name.

“You’re mine now,” he growls against your neck. “All mine!”

Chomping down on your neck, Jaemin waits until your fathers footsteps sound farther away before he pushes you forward, grabs hold of your hips, and rams himself in and out of you.

Choking on your moans your cunt is used to get him off. Holding onto the wall, anything you can reach, you keep yourself steady. Jaemin grunts behind you while spewing the sweetest and filthiest explicitives from his lips.

“That’s right princess,” he growls. “Clench your sweet pussy around my cock.”

“Jaemin!!!” You cry.

“Fuck!” He slams into you one last time before pulling out completely.

Falling forward your pussy clenches around nothing. Missing the way his cock feels inside of you, you turn around to see him staring you down. The only source of light in your room is the bright full moon shining through your window.

“Come here,” he holds out his hand.

Leading you to the bed, Jaemin kisses you gently as your back rests against the covers. Crawling on top of you he settles between your legs. Pumping his dick between his hand a few times, he slides back into you.

Curling at the feeling of being filled again, you open your arms for him. Putting more of his weight on you, Jaemin leans forward connecting your lips together. Going back to his deep thrusts, he takes his time finding his own release. Your lips move across each other’s with haste but also tenderness.

Sliding your fingers up and down his back, you start to feel goosebumps appear on his skin. Smiling against his lips, Jaemin pulls back just enough to peer into your eyes.

“You feel so good,” he pecks your lips.

“Jaemin,” you pull him back down to you.

“Yes, princess.”

Leaning up you whisper in his ear. “Fuck me.”

Without being told twice, Jaemin’s hips slam into yours. Chasing his release he no longer hesitates to give you the best fuck of your life. His cock hitting places you’ve never had hit, you cling to him — nails digging into his back leaving behind marks, and your legs wrap around him keeping him in your grasp.

Jaemin’s deep thrusts start to become erratic. His hips slamming into yours vehemently you keep your moaning to a minimum by burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Shit!! I’m going to…” he grunts.

“Inside me! Inside me!” You chant.

“Fuck!!!”

“Fill me up,” you bite on his shoulder.

Thrusting into your soaking cunt one last time, Jaemin growls lowly in his throat. Filling you up completely with his come.

“Shit…” he hisses.

With a few more thrusts of his cock, he makes sure every last drop of his seed has coated your insides. Breathing heavily, your bodies covered in sweat, he peers down at you.

“That was amazing,” he chuckles.

Giggling you exhale deeply, your walls clenching around Jaemin’s dick. “You’re telling me!”

“I still can’t believe you said yes,” he lowers his forehead to yours. “I truly am the luckiest man in the world.”

“I’m all yours from now on, Jaemin...”

▽ ⓟ ⓡ ⓔ ⓨ △

Pulling away slowly from your captor you do your best not to make a sound. Your body sore from the multiple rounds of fucking you just endured. Wobbling across the room,

heading for the bathroom to relieve yourself you grab your clothing on the way back to the bed that was sprawled all over the floor. Sliding into your shirt and underwear you go to put on your pants when strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“No, don’t.” He whispers against your neck.

“I’m cold.”

“Then let me warm you up.”

“Haven’t you had enough fun to last you a lifetime?” You taunt.

“Princess, I haven’t even begun to have fun yet.”

Pulling you up against him his bulge pokes against your lower back. Truly an insatiable man, your legs start to quiver. A perfect match the two of you. Solely based on your carnal sexual desire for the other, you take a deep breath to calm your beating heart.

“What? Want another round before you leave?”

“As many as I can get.” He slips his hands under your shirt going straight to your breasts. Grabbing them harshly you moan into his touch. “I’ll never stop loving the sound of your voice.”

“Only one more time, okay? It’s already hard for me to walk.”

Snickering he pulls away, spinning you around until your flush against his chest — bulging muscular arms wrapping you in a warm bear hug.

“My apologies. I just can’t seem to control myself when I’m inside of you.”

Going to your tippy toes, you slither your arms out from his embrace and wrap them around his neck. “I want you to make love to me. Nice,” you peck him on the lips. “And slow…” you move to his cheek. “And deep…” you nip his chin.

“Fuck!!”

Sprawled and completely passed out beside you, covers only concealing his lower body you stare at the man who has kept you away from your family and life. Doing your part for the past two weeks of being his little princess, his doll, who taunted him but also yearned for him — you’ve managed to secure part of your freedom.

Laying on the ground of your bed rests the chain that is normally hooked to the collar around your neck. Smirking you watch as this sick twisted creature breathes peacefully in his sleep. Hair mussed and over his face. Your nail marks painting his skin, he has no worry in the world.

Reaching behind you, you grab your pillow. Thoughts of your family rush past your eyes. Your mom and dad who you haven’t seen in so long. Who you’re only allowed to talk to with him in the room — parents totally clueless that they’re baby girl has suffered without their knowledge. Your job, your life, your apartment that you apparently have waiting for you out of arms reach.

Gripping the edges of the pillow you start to shake. Blood boiling inside of you as rage takes over you. Eyes watering with tears you’ve wanted to shed for so long clouding your vision just as darkness consumes you…

Your feet smack against the cement flooring of the downstairs labyrinth. Turning corner after corner you head as far away from that monster as you can. Their lifeless body making you stagger every time you find yourself going higher and higher to salvation.

Bursting through the first set of doors, Nana, perks up. Her eyes squinting at you. It’s been a few months since you’ve seen her. The last time when your captor caught you trying to escape into the library. Taking him up on the offer of not participating in his game anymore, you were kept in your room for what you assumed was a couple of months. The psycho himself spending most of his free time down there with you.

Gulping, you try your best not to alarm her. The last time you saw her she actually didn’t try to maul you. Your presence in her home apparently starting to grow on her.

“Nana,” you call her. “He’s down there. Go to him.” You point.

Standing she eyes you like she’s peering into your very soul. She wasn’t like the two idiots who guarded the house. Nana is the smartest dog you’ve ever come into contact with.

“Go on girl, he wants you,” you say as happily as you can while your body is seconds from breaking down.

Walking up to you slowly, she passes by before heading down the stairs. Waiting until she turns the corner you slam the door shut keeping her down there and out of your way. The moment she realizes her master is dead she’ll come for you. You know it!

Making a bee line through the hallways you’ve grown to know through all of the games, you take the quickest and easiest path to the main floor. In the hallway hangs a painting of a boy and girl playing outside. The boy pushing the girl on a swing. It’s a beautiful painting that initially had you marveling at it quite a few times. But what lies behind the painting is a staircase that takes you up to the ground floor.

This path you tried to take multiple times in the past but you were always caught. The reason being, it’s the easiest and most obvious choice. This time however, you don’t have to fear. No one is coming after you. You’ve made sure of it.

Coming through another painting on the ground floor, one that is of your captors’ beloved grandmother, you walk through the hallway that leads to the library on the far end of the house. Dashing though the vast room, you say goodbye to all of the books you’ll never read. You sprint through the hall until you’re passing the room your mother and father slept in when they were here — when you were safe and not held captive by someone you thought cared for you.

Rushing down the stairs you almost fall when you land onto the main hallway. Your heart pounds in your ears and head as you burst through the front doors and into the bright sunlight. Shielding your eyes, you hear the familiar barks of the two guard dogs. However, unlike last time they don’t charge at you. They just stare you down, eyeing you the same way that Nana did.

“N-Ni-Nice boys,” your voice trembles. “It’s m-m-me…don’t you remem-ber?”

Slowly you walk past them but they follow closely behind you. Clenching your eyes tightly you round the right hand side of the house heading straight for the barn. Memories of how you got onto the property come flooding back to you.

Finding your trek to see the horse as boring, both of the dogs halt their movements and go back to the front of the house.

A shaky breath passes from you and like a bat out of hell you run to the door that leads out into the huge forest hillside. Yanking on the doorknob, tears start to pour from your eyes. Of course it’s locked! Of course!!!!

Turning back to the front of the property you know that there are several gates that you’ll need to get through in order to leave. And that’s when it hits you! Reaching around to the back of your neck, you unbuckle your collar. Hanging nicely through the hook where your chain goes, is a key.

‘Now, to be sure that you’re given proper incentive to participate, I’ll add this to your collar.’ Your captor loops his index finger under the fresh new leather collar around your neck, pulling you to him. ‘This is a key that will get you past the gates. You’re free to go if you make it out of all three and step over the property line. Do you understand?’

Gripping the key in your palm you make a mad dash to the first gate. The guard dogs now on full alert start barking behind you. Not paying them any mind you rush to the first gate. Shoving the key into the lock you struggle to open it. The dogs barking growing louder, has you turning back to see them approaching you quickly.

“Shit! Shit!”

Trembling against the lock you manage to open the first gate. Quickly going through you close the gate behind you just as the dogs rush it — bodies slamming against the gate like rabid animals.

“I’m sorry!” You cry. “I’ll make sure you guys are all found. I promise!”

Noticing there’s a lock on the other side of the gate, you struggle to keep the gate closed long enough to secure it. But once you do…you slowly back away from it. Seeing as the coast is clear and you no longer have to worry about the two ferocious Doberman’s snarling at you, you run to the second gate and repeat the same thing.

The third gate however, you breathe out unsteadily. Is what seems like half a football field away.

“For fucks sake!!!” You scream. “Come on! You’re almost there!” You pump yourself up.

Slowly you run to the final gate. Lungs burning, your throat dry as a desert and muscles aching with fatigue you trudge through what you believe is the early summer sun. Your skin prickling under the heat, you find a slight comfort in the feeling. Being trapped inside for so long you almost forgot what the sun felt like against your skin.

Finally, nearing the last gate your body starts to break down. The adrenaline that was pumping through your veins starting to dissipate. Staggering up to the gate you grip it as you try to keep your body upright. Your stomach convulses as if you want to throw up.

Honestly, for what you assumed is a couple of days, you’ve felt a weird queasy feeling. Not wanting to eat any eggs for breakfast, made you have to tell your captor that it made you nauseous. On one occasion having you running to the bathroom to relieve your stomach.

Shaking your head you rid yourself of the memories. Sliding the key into the lock, the beautiful sound of the gate opening sends chills throughout your body.

“I did it…” you whisper. “I really did it…”

Tears pour from your eyes like a waterfall. Your body finally gives out and you collapse to the ground. Finally you’re free! You did it! You beat that sick psychopath at his own game! You won!!!

Clambering to your feet you take your first step towards freedom when the gates close with a loud slam that has you springing back.

“Wh-What?!” You rush to the gate trying to push it open. It doesn’t budge. “No! No! No!!!” You yank against it.

“Did you really think you’d get away that easily?” Darkness blacks out your vision completely at the familiar voice coming from behind you. Paralyzed with fear the only sense still functioning, your hearing.

“The pillow, now that was an interesting choice.” He chuckles. “I must commend you for that one. However, I think my supberb acting skills should really get a round of applause.” His footsteps draw closer to you.

“You should have checked to see if I still had a pulse, my naughty princess. Always, and I do mean always…check for a pulse. You thought you got me there for a second.” He let’s out the most maniacal laugh you’ve ever heard. One that breaks you out of the darkness and back into reality.

“Here’s what you did wrong,” he spins you around. “You switched up your game. That’s what tipped me off first. You’ve been pushing me away from the moment I locked the doors and gates to you. Barely even letting me touch you,” he slides his arms around your waist, yanking you to him harshly. “Then, all of a sudden you want me to fuck you. You want me to fill you up with my come,” again he laughs in the most disturbingly unhinged way possible.

“Come now, you should have eased into this new act of yours. Granted it would have meant you’d be under my control for much longer, but at least I wouldn’t have suspected anything.” Pressing his forehead against yours he kisses your nose.

“Even if it meant fighting against death itself I would never leave you.” He whispers. “Want to know why?”

Shaking your head no, your body starts to give out. Hope leaving you. There’s nothing left for you to live for. Nothing left for you to fight for, to keep you here. He isn’t going to let you go. You’re going to die here. You know he’ll just make up some lame ass excuse. Hell, he’ll probably make your death one for the books. An elaborate plan that has no flaws whatsoever. Fool proof.

“Come on, guess…” he pouts.

“I don’t know, Jaemin…”

After all this time you finally utter his name. Attempting to keep the two personalities separate for as long as you possibly could you finally face reality that Jaemin is the monster and the monster is Jaemin. And you… like the prey you are, you fell right into his trap.

“You’ve been sick lately haven’t you?” He asks.

“And…”

“My dear princess use that smart brain of yours.”

“I’m tired…” you snap.

“Now, now… just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you have to be so snippy with me. After all, this is a joyous occasion!” He hugs you warmly. “We’re going to be a family!!!”

Through your self pity daze you hear the words: pregnant, joyous, and family.

Pregnant… your brain clings to this word. Pregnant…Pregnant…Pregnant…

PREGNANT!!!

“Wh-What?!!” You scream.

“Isn’t it wonderful news?! At first I thought it was just a stomach bug. But when you kept turning away from the eggs, and saying that you felt queasy, and even throwing up a few times. That’s when I decided to call my mom. Boy is she beyond pissed, but screw the old bat! Of course we’ll do a pregnancy test to be sure, but baby!!!! We’re going to be a family!!!”

Jaemin holds the sides of your face while he smothers you in kisses. Your brain malfunctioning. No! This can’t be true! You can’t be pregnant! You just can’t be! He’s lying! You’re just sick! That’s it! No! No! No!!!!

“Oh princess!” He pulls back looking down at you lovingly. “I promise we’ll never be separated, okay? We’ll be together forever! Ahhh!!! We should quickly plan a wedding! We need to do things properly! Can’t bring our precious baby into this world unwed!”

Turning behind him you see all three dogs wagging their tails happily. “Do you hear that guys?! I’m going to be a dad!!!”

As if clearly understanding him all three dogs bark with glee.

“Now, come on…” he giggles happily. “Mama,” he uses a new nickname. “Let’s get you out of this sun and cleaned up.”

Pulling you away from the gate you look behind you as the last bit of solace leaves your body completely. You’re never going to get out. No matter how strong you think you are. No matter how smart you think you are… You look up at Jaemin who’s babbling about everything they need to do to for the baby and the wedding. You’re never going to beat him…

NEVER….

S E Q U E L-C L I C K.H E R E

#jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin fanfic #jaemin horror fanfic #nct dream jaemin #jaemin nct dream #kpop fanfic #neobubz #na jaemin smut

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Hunting Party announcement!

okay maybe this isn’t the oneshot I promised but it’s gonna be good I promise-

SO! As of recent, I finished up the revised outline to The Sea Prince’s act one, named Hunting Party! The plot has a lot more going on and I’m in love with this story so much more. This means sooner or later the prologue will come out! As soon as it does, we’ll come to the next important thing;

Beta readers!

Preferably, I’d want three! I have one already, so two more would be great!

What do beta readers do?

They help give feedback and act as a sort of test audience! I’ll need it with all the things packed into this storyline ehehe. There’s a lot in store! I’d want to make sure I’m giving off the right impression with my writing and the like.

I will give the summary of The Sea Prince (and Act One!) under the cut, and as a treat, here is a doodle I’ve made of Act Two Scott and Martyn, they get little changes in their designs <3

There’s one doodle under the cut that has blood (it isn’t red, but blood is blood!) so here’s your warning for it!

THE SEA PRINCE.

In a world full of deadly, man-eating sea monsters there are specialized teams of people who’s job and legacy is to eradicate the horrors of the deep. Monster hunters, hunters for short, are funded by guilds to personal employers to seek out the dangerous beasts and let the sea live in a peaceful, monster-free environment for the animals and humans to thrive.

A notorious hunter group, the Canaries, are led by brothers Joel and Grian Solidarity and are personally funded by His Royal Majesty as one of the best hunters the kingdom has to offer. Such luxuries give them the access to powerful weapons and a rivalry with the best naval commanders, known as TIES. These two groups are summoned to a meeting as the King sends them on their most daring commission yet; find and capture a sea prince.

Sea Princes are, by nature, mythological. They don’t exist. They’re hunter stories meant to scare children and keep the population from wanting to explore the seas, if not for the very real monsters that infest the waters. Capturing one, not to mention proving they exist would be a challenge. This is the King they were working under though, and if he says to find a sea prince and capture it, they’ll do it. Besides, if they were able to, they would be put down in the history books.

Martyn always believed they existed. A child born from hunters, stories about their bloody past and murderous rage haunts and excites him. From the god-like treasure they hide underneath the waves to the feuding war against the mermaids, he’s made it his goal to kill a sea prince. It’s what he wants the most after all.

Well. There was also Scott.

Scott Major is a beautiful man who works in a tavern, never in his life has he been out to sea. Martyn swears to him that once his life goal is complete, he’ll stay. The call of the sea is somehow always there, as if it was right in front of him. Martyn risks his life every single moment he boards the ship, but he always comes back in one piece. He has to.

He can’t risk losing Scott too.

ACT ONE: HUNTING PARTY.

Being sent on a mission to capture a sea prince, the Canaries and TIES form a bet; whoever finds evidence of a prince first can lead the mission. Agreeing under pride, they set out. Martyn has his heart set on fulfilling his dream, but it doesn’t look like Scott is too thrilled with the idea. He’ll understand.

What the hunters don’t know is that their goal charters out of their control and they are forced to seek refuge on an island everyone believes to be cursed. The Scarlet Witch haunts the isle, and every hunting ship that enters will never exit.

They’ll be the first to prove that wrong.

Elements/ general themes the story will contain;

- Nightmares

- Sea horror (monsters attacking ships, fear of the ocean, those types of things)

- fights and injuries (they bleed!)

- character death

- slow burn. really slow burn but a lot of flirting and sweet moments between the two

- worldbuilding

- found family

- there’s likely more to which I’ll add unto!

This story has become a very big passion of mine and I’d love to be able to tell this with the most clarity and enjoyment I can provide! If you’re interested in becoming a beta, I’d like you to comment under the post or reblog it to why you’d want to beta read it and the like :D it’s not a first come first serve basis and it will be open until I finish the prologue, which is in about a week or two from now. Goodluck in applying! I and @mewhoismyself are going to look through what you guys got, but no pressure, seriously! <3

With the beta readers and synopsis out of the way, here’s some sneak peeks to the next batch of designs along with some sketches I made for Act One! I wonder if you can figure out the context behind those words ;)

Just some minor changes with Martyn and Scott! Scott’s hair is more red tinted and darker so he’s more ginger, while Martyn is more clean-shaven! Maybe he has some stubble the next time I sketch him, but he looks more youthful here! I also realize that these are all the winners, but it does make sense with how important they are to the story :0!

Now, unto the designs! Can you guess who’s who?

Super excited to finish this batch and work on their lore; I’ll finish this before the prologue!

And that’s all i got for now, I hope you’re all just as excited as I am as the project gets to come to life after all these months. Act One is coming soon!

#the sea prince au #limited life #limited life smp #life smp #life series #trafficblr #traffic series #scott smajor #smajor1995 #smajor fanart #dangthatsalongname #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #inthelittlewood #majorwood #mean gills #coral kids #pearlescentmoon #grian

[spacexseven]

sorry for the late reply! And to answer some of your questions in the tags, it’s actually all three. A “final girl” is a basically a trope that means a character (usually protagonist) that is “pure, feminine, and the victim” during a horror film. They’re usually a victim of chance or have a distant past connection to the killer. Be it their intelligence, connection, or simply pure luck, the final girl is able to avoid death until the end where: 1) they survive to the end and defeat their killer 2) they escape or 3) they die regardless. I was thinking of killer! yan bsd, but I was also intrigued with a victim/final girl! bsd. An example of an idea that’s currently plaguing my mind is Final Girl! Nikolai. I liked the idea of a serial killer targeting magician/or whimsical (maybe ability users) people and choosing nikolai as target. cat and mouse chase, and they end getting the drop on him (how? idk). Its kinda a slow burn horror, but regardless nikolai fights back. this is a gist and example. Tuna, i’m so sorry about throwing this ramble dump at you. 🙈 this is just an idea, nothing you actually have to do. im just happy sharing this with you - 🦄

ahahahaha....there was a lot i had to say about this, but i kept it as brief as i could because i Might...might do a series/oneshot w this au. Maybe &lt;/3 thank you for sharing this gem of an idea i am very excited to dig in nomnomnom. tagged under 'sk reader au 🐟'

gn! reader, is a serial killer & implied to have an ability that can 'collect' other abilities. can be read as a yandere reader.

cw: stalking, murder, violence

ability users are fascinating little things.

especially when they try everything in their power to stay alive. it's a wonderful sight, to see those that always stood above regular people, to see those regarded as gifted, desperately attempt to survive. there was something intoxicating about holding power above the same ability users that were feared by all.

but your interest was less in the users and more in the ability itself.

there was a lot you hoped to learn about abilities, regardless of the type. there must be a reason as to why some were sentient, why some were so much more powerful than others, why some were uncontrollable, and the best way to learn, was of course, through the ability itself. you were willing to do anything to satisfy your curiousity, even if it meant the user had to die for their abilities to join your collection.

you had fond memories with all of them; flawless made for an exhilarating fight, always a step ahead until you sunk your claws into the frightened figure of a dark-eyed ability user, rashōmon was unique, the dark mass almost besting you, but, in the end, you stood victorious over a sickly body—even if you hadn't gone after it, this was an ability that wasn't meant to survive for long, and you liked to think that it was for the best that it joined you instead of disappearing with its user. and of course, discourse on decadence was unforgettable. you remembered it belonged to some goverment agent who was hot on your trail—it was the closest anyone came to stopping you—and your most recent kill.

usually, you didn't like picking favorites. each ability was fascinating and unique in its own way, but it was undeniable that one in particular stood out to you.

the overcoat was an interesting ability. at first sight, it appeared quite simple, but you had viewed it in action too many times to know just how frightening it was. how easy it was to turn it into a lethal weapon—to reach in and twist out a limb or to drain out the blood from a vein. the seemingly unlimited potential of the ability, however, was only one of the aspects that intrigued you.

generally, you've never cared for the users as much as you did their abilities. while you enjoyed the brutal torture you made them suffer, and you liked hunting them down, they always came secondary to their abilities. you didn't care to know their names or their personal stories. despite all that, a name—nikolai gogol—had made his way on your list of targets, scrawled next to his ability.

it'd only take you a minute to identify nikolai in a sea of people.

whether he had the scar over his eye showing or hidden, whether he was wearing glasses or colored contacts, no matter what wig he wore or how ordinary he tried to look, you would immediately be able to point him out. no disguise, no false identity could hide him from you—you know this because he's tried, many times now, to fool you. but you've always known it was him, from the slightest strain of his voice when disguised, the unsettling blankness in his gaze when he looked at you, the subtle upturn of his lips when he approached you. you knew it was him from the way he titled his head when asking you a question, the way he said your name, and even the syllables he stressed when he spoke.

he approached you first as a police officer, then as a detective, a local politician, and even an assassin. You had already noted down each encounter you had with him, the details of each false identity, and what you had learned from it. it was a feat in itself that nikolai had survived so many encounters with you. perhaps it was because of your growing obsession with him,

(somehow, you always knew that your last victim would be nikolai. he'd be a fitting end for your legacy, as the ability user who had been watching you from the very start. the only ability user you could see as more than a shell for his powers. the only one who escaped you once.)

initially, you believed that nikolai followed you around for self-driven justice, to punish you for your crimes. (the policeman getup convinced you of that much), but instead of lunging at you, he watched, enraptured, as you stole the perfect crime, and he followed you closely as you stalked the user of falling camellia, doing nothing to stop you either time. and every time after that, be it walking past him in the busy streets of yokohama or meeting him as your taxi driver, nikolai had yet to try and expose your crimes and exact revenge. he never held a blade up to your throat, never used the very frightening ability of his on you.

his passivity, however, did nothing to quench your bloodthirst.

it was you who attacked him first.

you're no stranger to hunting down your prey. it was something you anticipated now, the sound of footsteps making their way around corners, the sight of shaking shoulders and trembling hands as they hid behind walls, the way fear consumed them when you finally cornered them; you relished in the hunt as much as you did the result.

nikolai doesn't make it much of a hunt. he's quick, with his coat fluttering around him. his footsteps, you remember, are light and quick, his breathing staggered as he laughed wildly. he snatches up your gun with a hand through his coat, and shoots blindly. there is despair consuming his mind, no panic climbing up his spine. his heart rate accelerates not out of fear, but out of thrill, and he looks at you with unrestrained elation. this was no hunt, nikolai wasn't hiding from you—this was a chase. just as you approached a dead end, and you think you can finally, finally, shove him into a corner, nikolai turns to smile at you one last time, before disappearing into a flurry of his coat. as you stand alone, a dark glove laid on the floor ahead of you catches your attention; his glove might have caught on a jagged end and fallen, you think. after cleaning up his mess, you silently pocket it, still haunted by that uninhibited look and that devilish grin.

nikolai is everywhere after that, taunting you.

he sits across you from the train, he takes your order in a restaurant, he applauds you from a distance, after watching you drag away yet another body, congratulating you on another successful kill.

"next time," he smiles at you, all coy and enticing, "i hope it's me."

you hope so too, but you don't let him have the pleasure of knowing that. the scowl on your blood-streaked face sends him spinning away in giggles.

it wasn't the next time, but after a few more dead bodies and many more warnings about your work are played on the news, you meet nikolai again. nikolai gogol is no easy prey, but you're not one to be bested twice. this time, you don't let him run. you're finally on top of him, blood pooling out of where your knife was stuck in his thigh, his coat ripped off him and abandoned somewhere else. it would be so easy to kill him now, so easy to watch him bleed out and claim his ability as yours, but for the first time, you hesitated on delivering the killing blow.

this time, it's not the ability you're after, is it?

#anyone interested for a spinoff w yukito ayatsuji hunting down this reader? #on a serious note thank you anon ^^ this really brought a spark to me which i haven't been feeling in a while #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #yandere nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #yandere reader x nikolai #is he yandere actually i dont know myself #sk reader au 🐟 #yandere reader 🐟 #nikolai 🐟 #drabble 🐟 #ask 🐟 #anon 🐟 #🦄 anon 🐟 #bsd 🐟

[idolomantises]

talking abt that one thing in velma thats on my mind a lot for the past few days (that turned into a big incoherent rambling about gay rep in media)

i'm seeing jokes about how the queer representation in mystery inc being so much better than the queer representation in velma and honestly it makes me want to go on a whole tangent about my thoughts on queer representation nowadays vs the more subtle examples decades prior.

There's this weird debate that goes on online about what is "good" queer representation, and one of the most notable and honestly annoying examples is that queer representation has to be so subtle that you could easily miss it/ignore it. i've always hated that take because its a claim mostly said by straight people who are uncomfortable with seeing characters who are openly queer and/or state their identity, but they present it as some sort of push for subtle and nuanced writing. personally i do prefer it when a character just, identifies as how they are without explaining their identity, but that doesn't mean flat out explaining your orientation is inherently bad representation. its why i will always defend the very clunky and awkward high guardian spice scene. it is absolutely poorly directed and written, but that doesn't make it "bad representation". however, I do consider the character who explains that he's trans bad representation because he is flat, uninteresting and very clearly a creator self insert. he doesn't feel like a well rounded character who's also a trans man, but just an incredibly sanitized example of trans representation.

i have many, many issues with helluva boss/hazbin hotel and i do genuinely find some depictions of queer characters just flat out offensive (you can argue with me about how angel dust being written like your average 90s gay stereotype is woke actually because he has trauma, i dont care), but i do admire and appreciate that the series doesn't want to sanitize its queer characters, even if its done poorly. though i could go into a whole rant about how i find it very telling that female characters that are queer are far less sexualized or allowed to be problematic compared to their queer male counterparts.

anyways back to velma. that show does something that i've always found pretty irritating in queer representation which is just this weird lack of faith in its audience. characters can't have a slow burn anymore. internalized thoughts, anger, frustration, longing. you have to immediately know that two characters are gay for each other, even if they're lifelong enemies. its like when modern horror movies open with the gore because they're scared people are going to be bored or leave early. there's no subtlety or chemistry between daphne and velma, they're just lovers because idk, its two girls who hate each other and who doesn't love that.

then i think about how mystery inc handled velma and her sexuality, how she was allowed to be well rounded and nuanced before you slowly realize that "oh, she doesn't like boys". i know her whole thing with shaggy is controversial among fans but i always loved how she does do something pretty unlikable but not immoral. yeah, it is shitty to force shaggy to choose between her and his dog, but i can understand her line of thinking and empathize with her. and i do like how they become friends in the end despite their awkward break up. It's always fun rewatching it and realizing that their incredibly awkward and cringe relationship was meant to be awkward and cringe. it was supposed to be weird and difficult to watch, because those two weren't meant to date each other. you could see how hard velma was trying to make the relationship work despite the fact that you never get the vibe that either character was full invested in it, unlike daphne and fred's relationship.

then you had velma and her relationship with marcie, which started off as sort of a catty rivalry (not full on attempted murder, i mean holy shit hbo velma) that slowly grows to where you're completely convinced that these two did gradually like each other. and i do really enjoy stuff like that, more subtle writing like that. which doesn't just apply to queer rep btw, my favorite ships are relationships that feel understated, something you have to really dig for and pay attention to. its why i consider bubbline the best f/f representation in cartoon. because its subtle, but not too subtle where it feels out of no where when they kiss, and nuanced in ways that enhances the relationship AND characters.

there's a good amount of relationships i see in cartoons where the creator, who is usually queer themselves, often wants to depict queer relationships, but is weirdly adverse to depicting the uglier aspects of that character, and refuses to add subtlety to it. steven universe is a show i've always felt conflicted on its handling of queer representation because on the one hand i appreciate writing lesbians that are messy, traumatized and make constant mistakes. but on the other hand, the show goes out of its way to ignore these issues and/or make excuses for it, making the decision to make these characters messy and complicated genuinely baffling (this is also one of the big issues i have with catradora and stolitz).

it makes me think back to my own work too. i really enjoy making fluffy, easily digestible gay content for my followers and myself because it puts me in a good headspace. But even now and then i like exploring those little nuances too, because i don't really enjoy stories with little conflict. Because of that acknowledgement of how satisfying it is to write fluffy, queer rep, you end up putting yourself in other creator's shoes. you're so used to media that either dehumanizes gay people or tells people that they don't exist that you push yourself to make the most in your face queer rep you can but its at the cost of an interesting and subtle characters. characters that don't really have arcs or places to learn and grow.

With bugtopia i made a joke about how i want some of my queer rep to feel like you're being queerbaited. It's not literal, obviously, but mixed in with characters who are already married and in same gender relationships, i really want to write dynamics that feel subtle enough for a bit of a slow burn. even if you know they're going to end up together, to at least value the characters on their own before centering them on their relationships. queerbaiting is something that deserves all the criticism it can get, but it is embarrassing when queerbaiting feels genuinely more interesting than actual queer rep because queerbaiting has that factor of "maybe they won't get together" that adds that bit of intrigue, vs so many shows that repeatedly hammer in your head "don't worry guys, they're gonna be lesbian lovers".

mystery inc (and many other shows) being forced to keep a relationship obvious while subtle to get through censorship really forced creators to be creative with their storytelling and not center characters around their relationship and identity. but nowadays i think shows like to take the easy way out. for me, i always thought the most impactful example of queer representation in steven universe is "Rose's Scabbard". I genuinely don't enjoy that episode because it's a good example of the show thinking that trauma is an excuse for shitty behavior, but i cant deny that an entire episode of pearl breaking down and finally accepting that she wasn't the center of rose's world. it's the crew being forced to be creative and push through censors to telling a compelling story about a traumatized lesbian slowly realizing that she basically deluded herself into thinking she was someone's savior.

I think it's silly to try to place good queer representation in one box. like subtle queer rep is good, but also queer rep where a character flat out states that their gay. where I think it falls apart is when it either reinforces stereotypes without properly deconstructing or expanding on them, makes the characters so overly kind and non-controversial that the relationship is just boring, or try to make your messy and complicated characters but the narrative refuses to hold them accountable or at least acknowledge that they're doing something wrong. and to clarify on that last part, i'm not asking for some hays code nonsense where every bad person goes to prison and/or promises to stop being a bad person again. i mean the narrative doesnt just fucking sugarcoat their behavior. i don't want to see helluva boss ignore the fact that stolas made blitzo call him out for only using him for sex and then pathetically rush to justify their relationship by giving them a bizarrely sanitized and sweet backstory. and i don't want to see catra literally end the fucking universe and only do something good because she's straight up out of options and the show just decides that that was her redemption and she doesn't need to do anything to atone for what she did (including repeatedly abusing and verbally berating adora).

anyways velma has none of those interesting qualities and i'm pretty sure daphne and velma kissed because the creator is a weird pervert who thinks two girls kissing is hot.

#txt #i was thinking abt knocking off some of my longer posts on my tumblr but ya know its tumblr. its made for a blog #twitter isnt really a good place to write think pieces because its not really made for thinkpieces #i really enjoy expressing my thoughts on discourse and media but i don't want to over do it because ya know. you guys followed me for my ar #not my 2434334th post about why i think helluva boss is a bad show #but i've been thinking about sometimes prioritizing what i want to do vs what people want to see from me. so now you're getting #a long ass rant about why i think velma showing two teenagers kissing by episode 2 #encapsulates the overall issue with modern queer rep

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 4 TEAR DROP vs. BACKDRAFT

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for TEAR DROP:

"yuno kashiki enthusiast here anyways tear drop propaganda WE BALL

let's start off with the lyrics! holy fuck, i'm so glad yuno finally got to say what she's wanted to say!!

and she fully shows the fact that she does compensated dating through the lyrics ("the wanted wanting the wanted")

and even if it sounds like she's scolding the audience for the song, she's also scolding her clients! they only perceive her as a certain type of character and deciding that's all she is. She's upset that we decided based on how "naïve" she looked instead of her actual crime (to be honest, I could write a whole analysis into why her murder is perfect for her character anywa) and she doesn't care what will happen to her, she needs her opinions heard

also kinda rap section?? banger fr

THE VISUALS!! GOOD LORD THE VISUALS!!! THEY ARE SO BANGER!!! they're really pretty and gosh i literally don't know what to say, the scene where vampire is in the background and it transitions to yuno sitting on her bed... the pink tinted glasses (YES FUCK I LOVE THAT MAN!!!!) THE COAT!! THOSE INBETWREN SCENES i'm obbing

AND THE INSTRUMENTAL!! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU ALL LISTEN TO THE INSTRUMRNTAL OF HER SONG THERES SO MANY SMALL DETAILS!! SIRENS, TEAR DROPS RAHHH THE CLAPS/CLICKING TJE TECHNO PIANO GUITAR??? THE INSTRIMENTS I CANT NAME I THINK THEY ALL HAVE SOME READON OF BEING IN THE SONG AND I WILL FIND OUT IN AN ANAKYSIS POST I JUDT LOVE IT AUEUEU

literally tear drop is the banger ever i listen to this shit religiously thank you for listening to my tear drop propaganda"

---

-Yuno’s voice. Enough said. -The imagery in the MV is brilliantly used, and doesn’t shy away from the horrors of Yuno’s line of work. -Vampire cameo!!! -Almost Lo-Fi vibes to the instrumental?? I can’t really explain it but it’s a vibe and I’m 100% here for it,

---

"For teardrop: The pink aesthetic in the MV as a whole makes it super nice to look at :D"

Propaganda for BACKDRAFT:

"Backdraft may be a minute shorter than Bring It On, but it’s still over three minutes long, and it makes up for the lost minute with a complex form. The “Pressure! Pressure!” might be the only part that truly repeats.

At the beginning, Fuuta is showing off, acting cool. Then the music slows down as he ponders his verdict. Then the music picks up the pace again and gets more and more frantic as the consequences of his actions catch up to him.

See that structure in the three distinct verses that sound nothing like anything else in the song: cool, contemplative, and “oh no, what have I done”.

The “chorus” (burn burn!) never stays the same. You’ve got the “cool” first chorus. Then you have the muted second chorus as it sinks in that Fuuta’s victim was a middle-school girl, which leads into the tense final chorus (which is twice as long as the first) as the victim and Fuuta both burn.

The instrumental and the spoken-word from the beginning combine in the end, changing the mood of the stanza from confident and showy to panicked and desperate.

And the words… You can hear the wordplay in the last stanza, even if you don’t understand it.

Appreciate this chaotic masterpiece of a song."

---

- Fuuta being very cocky at first before realizing how fucked he is (it is kinda funny) - The use of spray cans and overall graffiti symbolism, it’s so good - The multiple eyes and people off camera showing how paranoid Fuuta has become, it’s really well done without being obvious - The name backdraft meaning when a fire deprived of oxygen gets a sudden influx of it. A kind of metaphor for what Fuuta did. Then it being shown through a spray can explosion, aaaa it’s really cool! - Fuuta’s overall look changing, being more realistic on how he actually looks contrasting Bring It On’s idealistic version of himself - Es at the end!! The only time Es shows up in a prisoner’s MV!!! And they looks so damn cool - Also the entire eye thing referencing the audience, he perceives us lmfao

---

"Back draft is incredible because it not only has great visual symbolism with the use of the spray cans but its visual symbolism shows a progression from ‘Bring it on’. In ‘Bring it on’ the channelling is glorious , fuuta is surrounded by people and fuuta idealised himself (taller , better teeth , better posture ect) , the people he cancelled were portrayed as these powerful rpg monsters but now in back now the channelling is portrayed as vandalism a crime as destructive , the ally is empty we only ever see others as hands or his victim fuuta is alone and fuuta is no longer idealising his appearance and his mind is now portraying his victim as a harmless cutesy drawing. This shows a change in how fuuta views his crime between T1 and T2. It wasn’t glorious, it wasn't justified , he was at fault. The fire being recontextsied as something out of control , all consuming and out of control which is the opposite of how it was portrayed in ‘Bring it on’ we really see how the vote has changed fuuta."

"There are so many things in the song that show a progression "

-“ deliciously scorched till your mouth waters” > “I don’t want any more”

-fuuta spray paints the camera hen as the end es spray paints him/the camera

-the pressure graffiti changing

"There’s so many interesting details like the applause towards the start of the song , the personality in the subtitles like them going from “Burn , burn!” To “burn , burn?” But the pressure’s punctuation mark stayed the same:   “pressure , pressure!” , the way FIRE is the only word in full caps till LIES. The thumbs down fuuta does during “the fights up here! Come up to the ring and face me!” Part which is like his T1 art , the way the lighting changes from green towards the start and becomes red by the end (stop go colours) , The way fuuta is constantly interacting with the camera , spray painting it twice and kicking it."

"Backdraft actually makes amazing use of the camera , things are often shown from the (camera)audience’s perspective rather than us seeing the events removed. We are there like we are the ones doing it/looking through the eyes of the person doing it. When fuuta/the others spray paint the graffiti of his victim and the ice gorilla it's from the audience’s perspective , we don’t see them do it, we see it like we are doing it. When the spraypaint can explodes it's like it’s exploding in our face and then when es spray paints fuuta at the end they are spray painting the camera(audience). "

"Backdraft makes the most references to the voting system and uses it well to make the audience re-examine if they really are any different. Aren’t we using little information and inferences to hold people accountable for crimes we have no stake in? Aren’t we causing unintended harm? Aren’t we judging them from the safety of our screens? "

"And on a more silly level"

-ARTHUR CONANT GOES SO HARD IN THE VOCALS!!!! COME ON LISTEN TO BURN BURN AND TELL ME THIS MAN ISN’T GIVING IT HIS ALL!

-cat mouth fuuta :3 how can you not love cat mouth fuuta?

-lowpolydog designed amazing graffiti 

#milgramtournament #milgram #fuuta kajiyama #kajiyama fuuta #yuno kashiki #kashiki yuno

[failed-inspection]

Dead On Arrival: a Rain World AU

hii hii! I had this AU concept bouncing around in my head for ages, the basic summary can best be described as "What if Spearmaster was friends with Artificer before the events of Arti's campaign?"

Time has passed since The Incident, and Spearmaster Cannot help but blame themself, those angry words of their recipient still haunt their mind, knowing that the message they delivered had caused the death of someone, brougt a slow and painful demise to another, and had burned the bridges between their creator and the one closest to them... They had so much people relying on them, and they failed, they sometimes still visit the surrounding facility areas, maybe as some sort of self inflicted punishment, reopening the wounds of memories, maybe as a bittersweet reminder of what could have been, regardless, during one of these travels, they come across a family of three, a maroon Slugcat and their two pups, at this moment in time, Spear is aware that they're considered an anomaly amongst slug kind (maybe they went to OE at one point as they were traveling), and expected some sort of negative reaction, instead, the other slugcats just seem... curious, not afraid, not disgusted, curious, this in one way or another, this leads to the slugcats interacting, which leads to them hanging out more and more, at one point, becoming relatively close, Arti's pups enjoy playing with Spearmaster despite how unusual they are, and Arti is happy to have a supply on spears whenever it was time to hunt, of course, spear would always return back to Suns, but whenever they visited the facilities, the family would always be happy to see them again.

Eventually, Spearmaster felt comfortable enough with Arti to open up about The Incident, about how they were tasked to deliver a pearl to help their creator's friend, only for things to take a turn for the worst, they ruined their creator's life, their friend lost everything, and they failed to save the one person who needed it most, leading to her death.

Arti doesn't quite understand the loss spearmaster has experienced, since they admit they hasn't faced such a loss like this, but they try to reassure them that things will be fine, they'll be here for them, despite everything, they don't have to grieve alone, one day they talk once again, before Spear goes back to Suns' can, and Arti and their pups go along their very way.

Remember how I mentioned Arti didn't understand the loss? That's because they didn't lose their pups yet.

This is the last time Spearmaster ever sees Arti's pups again, their lives had been later taken in freak incident, when one of them got a little too curious about a golden pearl within the scavenger tolls...

Eventually, time passes, and Spear and Arti see each other again, this isn't a warm, welcoming reunion by any means, as Spear found out about their current murder spree, to add salt to the wound, they also learned about how Pebbles, (who in their eyes, is the very one that lead to the death of Moon and stuff like that, how they feel about pebbles is very complicated and might need it's open in depth look but regardless considering their previous experiences with Pebbles his actions here REALLY don't sit well with them) tasked them with exterminating the scav population in his city, Spear is... rightfully horrifed! This wasn't the slugcat they once knew, the one they considered a friend, they honestly felt pretty betrayed in a sense... maybe Artificer is in the middle of a killing spree as Spearmaster runs into them, maybe they're too blinded by grief so that their attempts to get them to stop, that they don't have to do this... This only makes them see more red, maybe they end up fighting physically, maybe one of them ends up fleeing, whether it be in anger or horror.

Either way, Just like the bonds of the two iterators Spearmaster was made to help in the first place, history repeats itself, and the bridges have burned once again.

because I'm evil, the pearl the pup tried to take is the same pearl that held the instructions for removing the self destruction taboo in this AU <3

#rain world #rw spearmaster #rain world downpour #rw au #rw artificer #lex rambles #my art #I'M HONESTLY STILL VERY PROUD OF THIS AU!! #rain world au #rain world spearmaster #rain world artificer #rw fanart #rain world fanart

[punch-love]

Could you give us some of your fic recs as well? 🙏🏼

I've been waiting for this ask. * is for all time favorites.

Classics/Required Reading:

Between Apollo and Arachne. / He is Soundless From Afar. / Blood Sickness. by elastic honey (infernoconcealed)

I got into this fandom specifically because of this author. I think all of their work is incredible but, these three are my favorites and also the first bookmarks I ever made. I like the ways they explore their dynamic, and they often explore darker scenarios between the two of them with a lot of heart and nuance.

How To Get Physical by Wilt

I like their writing as much as I like their art, but this one in particular is a consistent re-read for me. It's a trans Peter written by a clearly trans writer, and it's soft and kind and good-hearted in a way that really, really sells the history between them.

Up to the Sun (Full Speed Ahead, Mr. Parker) by SleepsWithCoyotes

The first AU I really enjoyed and also one of the best. Eldritch horror Wade that goes from a massive tentacle creature to an off-putting mercenary that gets attached to Spider-Man. It's great. The whole verse is great.

for the wrong reasons by orphan_account

This is one of my favorite Wade character studies of all time. He gets hit with a truth serum and ends up at Peter's apartment. It's sad and complicated and perfect, and I've read it more than a few times.

gunpowder and firewood / steel and flint * by periodically_puzzled

This is forever one of my favorites. It's the best first-person POV in the fandom hands down and is just so fucking good. It's got everything, idenity porn, grindr, complicated explorations of emotional manipulation, bromance, and it's so very funny.

Snake Oil by BunsofHoney

This was so good that my writing group chat temporarily re-named our chat after it. Peter is a preacher and Wade is a possessed snake oil salesman. It's very good, and also you will learn something about the 20s as it is immensely well researched.

Blazed (Smoking Weed is Gay) * by GreendaleHumanBeing

This is one of my all-time favorites. Peter is coping with his midlife crisis by being a huge stoner, and Wade has mellowed out and joins him for long smoke sessions. It's very slice of life, intimate, slow burn friends to lovers. It's one of those reads that just feels really, really good and relatable.

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) by Sarah_Sandwich

A soulmate/slice of life work that really will make you feel something profound by the end of it. I read this one at four in the morning and didn't sleep until I was finished with it. It made me feel something big.

Dog Years by androgynousdouche

This is the only unfinished work on this list but man, is it a hidden treasure. They really build a foundation for the relationship and the intimacy between these two is so....it's really good. I wish it was finished, but even though it's not, I still think it's worth the read.

Porn:

Tip of the Tongue * by TimidTurnip

I think this is probably the work I go back and re-read the most. It's got everything. Peter Parker's insane oral fixation, his inability to come to terms with his own bi-sexuality, homies who are mean to each other dynamics, and worship based blow jobs. It's great. You should read it.

i could show you and stop (don't stop) by jilliancares

I think this is probably two of the most infamous smut works in the fandom but they both really, really deserve the hype. The first is the eating out fic of all time specifically for me but also for a lot of other people and the second is my favorite situational porn.

Meeting Minutes */ Pitter Patter by WhoopsOK

These are hands down the best watersports fics in the entire fandom. I've read the entire tag, I would know. The first has Peter being hit by a truth serum and telling his fantasies to Wade who intentionally does not sleep with him, and it's hot and good dynamic wise. The second is just a very hot scenario where Peter pisses in Wade's mouth while he works behind the counter. Great stuff.

a luxury few can afford by three-fingered (calciseptine)

I love the way this author writes them so much. It's fun and fresh and so good at building up some good old-fashioned tension. It also has some great character study moments inbetween blow jobs (my beloved)

Fucked Up Shit:

she's not going to die today / Songs for the Zombie Apocalypse / Need You Like A Gun To The Head * by (zerospoons_onlyknives)oprime

I also consider these classics/required reading but they are all very dark and go places that fans of the classic dynamic might be surprised by. SNGTDT is the best and darkest soulmate AU you'll ever read. SftZA is not only an incredible zombie AU but also one of my personal favorite pieces of zombie fiction period. NYLaGttH is one of my favorite smut fics of all time and one I often re-read (the title should be taken literally)

twisted, baby by jilliancares

The Peter "adrenaline kink" Parker work. It's dubious and intimate and exhilarating in a way that never gets old.

tap out whenever by periodically_puzzled

also known as "the fic that triggers me so bad that I've never commented on it despite reading it eight times" this is like. One of the darkest works in the fandom, hands down and if you can relate at all with the content, will put you in some sort of headspace. It's excellent. It's horrifying.

Because You're Mine *- WaterMe

I absolutely love this one. It's a sex-pollen turned non-con work that is very dark (mind the tags) but if you want to go there, this is the place to go. I always come back to it and find something new to appreciate. Also the only second person work I've ever enjoyed/felt affected by in the way I think second person is supposed to do. (honorary mention by this author: their Arbor day fic)

Sinking by coveryourheads

This one is hard to describe, but if you're interested in some really nuanced work on sexuality, this one will sit with you for a while. Peter and Wade are in an intense D/s relationship that is both abstract and personal in ways I've never really read about before.

#mailbox #spideypool #long post #listen I don't care that this is long I have a lot of love in my heart #rec list #making a pinned post soon and this will probably be on t #fic rec

[caw4brandon]

TMA: Horror By Sound

A long while ago, I discussed about the interesting values of Audio content. Heck, I even talked about it in a [Video Here] Audio content, despite being considered as old media is emerging from the corners of the internet in the modern era.

With how things are moving at such a fast pace. A quick and secondary type of medium is bound to rise in popularity. Let's discuss;

- Statement Begins -

< The Magnus Archives > is an audio podcast/drama following an archivist at the Magnus Institute, London. The recordings follow Jonathan Sims who recently took over the position of Head Archivist after his predecessor, Gertrude Robinson mysteriously passed away.

What started out as a typical job of filing documents and old cases spiraled into an unusual turn where Jon and his Archival Assistants; Martin, Tim and Sasha are haunted by a grotesque monster as written in the statements.

As of now, the show has a total of 5 seasons and as the seasons progress. The monsters become more aggressive and frightening against the character's lives and their psyche.

- What's Your Greatest Fear? -

The series has the characters deal with entities that feed on the fears of the victims. From the typical fear of the dark to specific fears such as, spiders, filth, heights, closed spaces, and eventually, death itself. Each fear manifested itself onto the victims in various ways that feels personal.

At the end of the statements, Jon or the others will provide their thoughts on the case and report their findings in reality. Often dead end trials where either the victims have long died or went missing.

The series as a whole, has an ecosystem of connections to the manifestations. From the cursed books of Jurgen Leitner to a cast of active creatures hunting for prey to feed upon and tear into madness.

Aside from the main cast, there are also reoccurring characters that joined the show as well. There's former Paranormal Investigator; Melanie, former officers; Daisy and Basira and a few others.

The show takes a slow burn approach, learning the truth as Jon improves. Having the unknown beings creep deeper into his life inch by inch till he is no longer himself.

We get to see him get exhausted, frustrated at his lack and the comical failure of his preparation against the monsters knocking at his door with the conspiracy that he is but a pawn at the bigger game of these Abominations.

The show also shows a number of audio manipulation, adding to the creep factor. Such is when the creature; The Stranger appears by distorting sound and echoes when they speak.

- Statement Ends -

In a disturbing way. The show seems to suggest that we, the listeners are the very monsters that is affecting the characters. Our constant need for more brings the characters descend further and there is nothing we can do about it but listen.

I've talked in the past about how [ASMR is Sound for the Soul] with the ability to simulate soothing tingles and tell a story with one sided conversations. What TMA does is to do the secondary.

Telling a story by second hand accounts. The way how some of the statements feels can get under your skin. The use of words and the annunciation of the statements feels like something is pulling the statements closer to the audience. Simulating a different kind of tingle.

It sometimes feels like we are prying into closed conversations. Listening to the deepest and darkest parts of humanity without the characters noticing.

As of now, I caught up till Season 3 but it seems like Jon will be getting involved more and more to the beings at the threshold.

What I think TMA does really well is not making horror out of typical fears. It relies on those fears and amplifies its ability to make one cripplingly terrified at things we have yet to understand. Reaching out of the tape recorder and into our world in an unpleasant way. Yet, you can't help but click to the next episode.

Recording Ends

#the magnus archives #rusty quill #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #melanie king #basira hussain #alice tonner #daisy #elias bouchard #hp lovecraft #the eye #cosmic horror #eldrich horror #monsters #fear #statement begins

[mint-yooxgi]

{4} - Written in the Stars - Yandere!Idol!Yeosang X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Soft Yandere AU & Idol AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor, Slow Burn

Pairing: Yeosang X Reader (ft. future Ateez and Skz ensemble)

Words: 12,502

Warnings: Slow burn. Minor fatshaming, oc gets called a bitch a few times (not by anyone important), minor assault and uncomfortable/inappropriate comments made towards the oc. K-Drama moment. I think that's all This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: It's been literally forever since I updated this omg, but I hope you all enjoy this part!! I'll edit it tomorrow after I wake up, so please excuse any mistakes. I'm super tired and not feeling the greatest at the moment because of it. Anyways, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Disclaimer: It's not often this chapter where this applies, but the following is important to note:

"This represents a line spoken in Korean."

"Bolded represents a line spoken in English."

"Bolded and italics represents a line spoken in Japanese."

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Placing the mug onto the table in front of you, you pull out a chair and sit down.

“I’m serious!” Winry laughs. “Rumour on the street is that you and Yuta are dating! After those images of him holding your hand at that award’s show went viral, it was the talk of the town.”

Letting out a puff of air, you run a hand over the top of your head. “It must not be a very popular story. Mark hasn’t said anything about it to me.”

“Maybe he’s jealous.” She shrugs, taking a sip from the mug you’ve already provided for her.

Immediately, you start laughing. “I highly doubt that.”

“Yuta is your biggest wrecker in NCT,” she shrugs casually.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.” You reply.

“You told him that Ten is your bias, but not the fact that Yuta is your wrecker?” Winry quirks a brow.

“Essentially,” your shoulder lifts nonchalantly in confirmation. “Also told him that he was my first NCT bias cause he wouldn’t stop complaining about it.”

“Damn,” she breathes. “Boy must have ascended when you told him that.”

“You’re blowing things out of proportion.” You shake your head teasingly. “They’re just my friends.”

“Are you sure they think that?” She quirks a brow. 

Only, before you can respond, her phone rings. 

“I’m so sorry,” she grins sheepishly, checking who the caller is. “It’s Wyatt.”

Understanding passes over your features. “Well, aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Are you sure?” She looks genuinely hesitant to.

“Of course! He’s your significant other, after all!” You encourage her to answer by motioning towards her phone. “You haven’t talked lately cause of his business trip, right? Please, be my guest!”

A grateful smile tugs onto her lips as she stands from your kitchen table. Not even a moment later, she’s pressing accept on the call as she retreats into your living room for a bit more privacy.

You watch her disappear around the couch, noticing how she tucks herself away in the corner by the balcony. Her voice is low, so you can’t really make out what she says, but from the expression on her face you can tell just how happy she is to be talking with him. You smile.

Shifting your gaze to your hands, you pull your mug in closer to yourself. A moment later, you bring it to your lips, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate you’ve made. At least it’s cool enough for you to drink now.

Pulling your phone out of the side pocket of your leggings, you decide to distract yourself for the time being. You don’t want Winry to feel as if she has to rush her conversation with her significant other. After all, they haven’t spoken in over a week, let alone seen each other recently. With their busy schedules, you can’t even remember the last time she spoke about seeing him.

Scrolling through Tumblr, you check your notifications. 

Despite being a published author, you still maintain some of your blogs from before. The sentiment is far too great for you to give up now, and you enjoy it too much. Besides, it’s fun to post little pieces here and there on your old writing accounts. When inspiration strikes, it strikes hard.

There are only a few select people that know you still do this. Well, more than just a few. Still, it’s quite fun to see new readers message you asking you if you’re really who they think you are, only for you to reply that you are not. It’s like a huge game of detective for your followers that are convinced you are who you say you are not, but don’t have any proof. Of course, you use an alias online now, but regardless, you don’t think you could give up your blogs, even if you tried.

“Sorry about that.” Winry’s voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

Locking your phone, you place it beside your mug on the table. "No worries at all; I don’t mind.”

She smiles, but from the way she begins to fidget in her seat, you can tell that she has more to say.

You quirk a brow.

“Wyatt came back a few days early. He said he wanted to surprise me, but when he got back to our apartment, I wasn’t at home.” She begins.

You hum in acknowledgement.

“He said he had a surprise he wanted to give me, and that he wanted to take me out for the day.” She continues. “I told him I was spending time with you.”

You take another sip of your drink.

“Of course, he seemed a little disappointed, but he understood-“

“Winry, if you want to go spend the day with your significant other, don’t worry about me.” You reply.

“But we planned for us to spend the day together…” She counters, shoulders twitching as she fiddles with her hands beneath the table.

“I know you want to see him.” You smile assuringly. “It’s been, what? Two months?”

“Almost three.” She breathes out, whole body stilling as she stares at the top of your kitchen table almost absentmindedly.

“Then, by all means! Go! Spend the day with him!” You motion for her to stand. “We can always reschedule. Who knows when you’ll get to see him like this again.”

“Are you sure?” Hopeful eyes meet your own.

“Positive.” You nod, quite enthusiastically. “Go have fun with Wyatt! We saw each other last week, and I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

It’s as if a tension lifts from her entire body. “You’re the best!”

You laugh, watching as she scrambles to her feet and towards the front door. “I know.”

“I owe you. Big time for this.” She says as you follow her to the front. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

“I need to run a few errands, anyways.” You wave her off, holding your mug delicately in your one hand. “Gives me an excuse to go do some things I’ve been putting off before tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, your signing is tomorrow, right?” She finishes slipping on her shoes.

You nod.

“We’ll be there.” She states, rather firmly.

“You don’t have to-“

“Nonsense!” She shakes her head. “I’m coming to support you, and I’m dragging his ass along with me, too. Payback for this little ‘surprise’.”

The two of you share a small laugh.

“Okay, well, say ‘hi’ for me, and have fun!” You smile, holding the door open for her as she exits your apartment.

“Will do!” She calls over her shoulder as she heads down the hallway. “See you later!”

Waving your final goodbye, you shut the door softly. As soon as the lock clicks into place, a small sigh is escaping your lips. Well, there go your plans of spending your day with your friend.

Oh, well. It happens.

Stopping off in the kitchen on your way back to the table, you’re quick to place your now empty mug in the sink. A few steps later, you’ve moved over to grab your phone off of the top of the table, shifting to put Winry’s glass into the sink as well. 

Leaning against the counter, you scroll through your phone. You do have a few things you could get done today, but you weren’t really planning on doing them until later. Perhaps you can find a café or something when you’re finished, and get some writing done.

A sudden message from Jongho in the group chat catches your attention. It appears that they’re all at the dance studio for practice, as he’s sent a selfie to go along with it. Only, you can tell he was really sneaking a picture of the two males doing… whatever it is that they’re doing in the background.

You:Please tell me that’s some kind of elaborate stretch I’ve never heard about and not choreo for your next comeback.

You: And if it’s neither… Damn, you guys really get it on in the studio? I heard some of you were freaky, but I didn’t think you were that bad

Mingi: BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

You honestly laugh at how many emojis this man uses.

Seonghwa: Why? Are you interested in what goes on during practice?

Yunho: Wanna watch?

The side eyes Yunho sends you have you quirking a brow.

Jongho: Uh-oh, now the hot Cheeto is mad.

Another picture is sent, this time of Wooyoung angrily storming towards where you believe Jongho to be sitting. You can see both Mingi and San laughing in the background of this one while Hongjoong just looks exasperated.

Wooyoung: If you’re gonna sneak pictures of me in compromising positions to send to our sexy author friend, at least make sure to get my good side.

Jongho: What ‘good side’?

Wooyoung:Do you see? Do you see the harsh words I have to put up with from my junior everyday?

Yeosang: To be fair, he’s not the only one wondering

At the pondering emoji Yeosang uses, you cannot help but send a few laughing ones of your own.

Wooyoung: NOT YOU, TOO!

Wooyoung: First, you break my heart by giving me false hope that I’m your bias. Then, you won’t even tell me that I’m your wrecker. And now, you LAUGH at my MISERY?

Wooyoung: You are a meanie >:(

You:Wait wait wait

You: I knew that, but how did YOU know that? :0

A slew of laughing emojis are sent from a bunch of the guys, you smiling down at your phone. This short interaction has really served to boost your mood, and you cannot help the way a few chuckles escape you as you read their continued banter back and forth.

Hongjoong: You should come hang out with us sometime during practice. At least that way I know Wooyo will behave.

You can practically hear the whine Wooyoung is sure to let out in response as you read this message, and you cannot prevent the way your lips quirk upwards.

Seonghwa: Yeah! The staff seem to like you, and our manager already said it was okay.

A moment where you see a few of them typing their responses.

Wooyoung: Besides… you’d get to watch us dance~

You: Be honest, is this another one of your attempts to figure out my bias?

Hongjoong: No! 

Hongjoong: Most definitely not! 

Hongjoong: Why would you think that? 

Hongjoong: I would never!

You receive a photo from Yeosang of Hongjoong intensely staring down at his phone, his ears clearly bright red as he pouts.

Yunho:Betrayal…

You shake your head in amusement.

You: As long as you can guarantee I won’t be in the way, or be too much of a distraction… I’ll think about it.

Several various cheering emojis are sent to you by some clearly overexcited males (Wooyoung, Mingi, and Jongho), while the others are able to type out their excitement with small phrases.

San: Since we’re now all apparently taking a break… what are you up to currently?

You: Me? Well, I was supposed to spend the day with a friend, but something came up, so now I’m going to go run some errands. Might find a café of something and do some writing.

Hongjoong: Did you even get any sleep last night?

You: Hey! Of course I did! Besides, you’re one to talk. I woke up to five messages all an hour apart. You were up WAY later than I was. You need more sleep than I do!

Hongjoong: It’s not my fault I do my best work at night.

A meme is sent from you of a man in a purple shirt pointing his finger in the air while saying ‘you got me there’.

You: I swear, one of these days I’m going to knock you unconscious and FORCE you to sleep

Hongjoong: That’s rich, considering YOU are practically always awake when I am

Another meme is sent from you of a stuffed bear wrapped in a blanket burrito while laying on a bed. A knife peeks out from the blanket. The caption reads something along the lines of, ‘I will sneak into your house and replace all your drinks with sleepy time tea. You will be forced to breathe in comforting scents which soothe the mind, and as you fall unconscious, the last image you will have is of me smiling over you with a nice warm blanket tucking you in. This is a THREAT.’

Wooyoung: If this is how you threaten people, then I want IN

Mingi: Oh, oh! Threaten ME next!

You: You would not BELIEVE how many times my one friend sends me this, especially when it’s like, five am my time, and they’re just sitting down for dinner in their time zone.

Hongjoong: You drive a hard bargain…

Yunho: My god, I think he’s actually listening for once…

Seonghwa: I have been trying for YEARS-

Hongjoong: It only works if she’s the one to do it.

Wooyoung: I’d listen, too, if I had a pretty lady always telling me what to do.

San: Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re an obedient sub.

Wooyoung: LIKE YOU WERE THINKING ANY DIFFERENT!

The cackle that escapes you nearly causes you to drop your phone.

Mingi: Wooyo’s got a point…

You: Am I suddenly in the wrong group chat?

Yunho: Nope, same one. You should see how mad Jongho looks right now.

A photo is provided by Wooyoung this time of the youngest sitting against the mirrors with a frown on his face. He hugs his knees to his chest as he stares down at his phone.

Your own brows furrow in confusion, but before you can respond, Yeosang beats you to it.

Yeosang: Will you all stop fucking flirting with each other?

You nearly drop your phone.

San: Oop- we’ve gone and made Yeo mad

Wooyoung: Just cause YOU’RE not her favourite doesn’t mean you have to spoil OUR fun, Sangie.

You: Woah, woah, woah, who said he’s not my favourite?

This seems to shut all of them up for a good few minutes.

Seonghwa: Yeosang’s your bias?

Another minute of silence.

Yunho: You seem to have incited a war.

Another picture is sent. A pile consisting of Yeosang, Jongho, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong all seemingly rolling around on the floor is shown. San stands to the side with Mingi, the former attempting to pull the pile of males on the floor apart while the latter laughs.

You send some side eye emojis along with a few laughing faces.

You: You guys are really THAT desperate to know who my bias is?

Mingi: Does that mean Yeosang ISN’T your bias?

A shrugging emoji is all he receives from you in response. For now.

You: Any one of you could or couldn’t be my main bias. 

You: Like I said, you have to buy me a drink first ;)

Wooyoung: Why can’t you just tell us? :(

A sigh escapes you, thumbs hovering in the air over the keyboard as multiple of them seem to agree with Wooyoung’s inquiry.

You: It’s just a personal thing I have. 

You: I don’t mind telling other people, but when it comes to the actual people it involves, it’s a different story. I don’t know how much my opinion of each of you matters, but I’ve never really enjoyed picking favourites when that choice is told to said people. I don’t like the connotations of multiple people getting their hopes up that I’ll pick them as my favourite, only to choose someone else. I don’t like disappointing people, and I also am all too familiar with the feeling of not even being someone’s last choice. If I tell you who I bias, it will most likely be at some point when we’re one on one. If you’re still interested at that point.

You:I just-

You: Did that make sense? I can try and explain it better if you need me to.

Yeosang: We understand. Don’t force yourself to do something that makes you uncomfortable.

Wooyoung: Don’t worry! We’ll stop bothering you about it.

Yunho: Wooyoung… just agreed to stop pestering someone…

San: It’s a Christmas miracle!

Jongho: He’s still pouting about it in the corner…

A photo is received showing both Hongjoong, Mingi, and Wooyoung all standing dejectedly in the corner.

You: Damn, are you guys going to start growing mushrooms like Tamaki from Ouran now, too? I didn’t realize my opinion of you mattered so much.

You: If it makes you all feel any better, I think you’re all wonderful people. I thought that before I met you, and getting to know you all has only solidified that fact.

Quite a few typing bubbles appear onscreen. A moment later, you’re flooded by emoticons either blushing, screaming, and, or crying happily with hearts surrounding them.

Seonghwa: You’re a great friend

A soft smile caresses your features as you read his comment, a subtle heat rising up your neck. At the way the others all emphasize Seonghwa’s message, you cannot help the way your heart begins to flutter inside your chest. Truly, his words mean the world to you, and the fact the others agree with him is simply icing on the cake.

After sending a quick response to them, you decide to actually get out of your apartment for the day. It takes you no time at all to grab your one notebook, some writing tools, and your laptop, just in case. Packing everything into your one small cream coloured tote with the Skz Zoo characters on it that you got from their one concert, you head towards the door.

Slipping your shoes on, you grab your purse, slinging that over your opposite shoulder. You do a quick check in the mirror to make sure you still look okay before slipping out of the door. The faint clicking sound of the lock sliding into place is starting to become a familiar comfort to you every time you leave your apartment, walking down the hallway towards the elevators in the next second.

The ride down to the main floor is a bit slow, you focussing on your phone the whole time. Naver Maps rests open on the screen, doing a quick search of the area to find the best stores for what you’re looking for. Already, you have a mental list of what you need to get, and you figure doing that before settling down in a café to write will do you some good. That way, if you get on a roll, you don’t have to worry about cutting your time short to pick up what you need.

Stepping into the lobby, you send a polite greeting to the security guard behind the front desk before exiting the building.

The moment you step outside, you head over to the bus stop. Sitting on the bench, you wait for the respective bus to come, plugging in your headphones all the while. At least you can take your time now, and maybe explore the area a bit more when you get back. If you’re up for that, that is.

Half an hour later, you find yourself at a small shopping centre. You don’t need much, but you do need to get a few new replacement pieces of makeup. Then, you figure you can check out the bookstore before finding a place to work on your novel.

The night of the award’s show, you managed to finish off both your favourite shade of red lipstick, as well as your liquid eyeliner. Normally, you don’t wear makeup very often, but since you have a bunch of events coming up, and no personal stylist, you figure you should at least look somewhat put together. Not that that ideal will last long.

Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Entering a few different cosmetic stores, you search around for the best deal. The first one you went into was sold out of the liquid liner you like to use, anyways. You swear by it, as it’s application is the easiest to deal with. At least, in your opinion. That, and it dries quickly, and isn’t prone to smudging.

Perhaps you should also get a pencil liner while you’re at it…

Standing in front of the display with your favourite shade of red lipstick already held in your one hand, you look over all of the options. It appears as if this store is having a sale on their eyeliner, the words ‘buy one, get one half off’ practically glaring back at you from the sign.

Your eyes light up as you spot your favourite liquid liner. Almost instantly, your hands reach out to grab one of the last two on the shelf. Then, comes the hard part. Picking a pencil liner to go with it.

That’s when you notice another person shifting closer to you almost timidly.

Turning your head, you see a person somewhat hesitantly standing a few feet away. Their appearance is slightly androgynous, their black hair falling to their shoulders in a semi-wolf cut. Every now and then, you see their gaze darting to you almost nervously, their eyes lined with black liner.

“I like your hair,” you hum, purposely focussing on the display in front of you as you pull one of the two options you’ve been looking at off of the shelf. “I think it suits you nicely.”

Almost instantly, the person’s eyes light up despite them averting their gaze, “Thank you.”

You blink, as if realizing something.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m completely blocking the display.” You step to the side, smiling politely at the person beside you.

Timidly, they smile back, taking a step in closer to the display.

Reaching your one hand forward, you pull the other pencil liner you’ve been considering off of the shelf to compare it to the other one in your opposite hand. Your brow furrows, looking over each one of them carefully and attempting to find out what the difference is between the two brands.

“I personally like this one better.” A voice from your right draws your attention, and you notice the person beside you glancing down at the liner in your right hand. “It last longer, and if you want to go for a smokey eye, it blends really nicely.”

“Really?” Your voice sounds hopeful.

“Yeah!” They smile somewhat shyly. “Though, if you don’t want it to smudge, then I would go with the other one you’re holding. It’s more of a gel pencil, if that makes sense.”

Softly, you nod your head. “I don’t usually wear a lot of makeup, but I never fuck around with my eyeliner.”

“Oh, yeah. Eyeliner can practically smell fear.” They joke.

A small laugh escapes you, and you notice them chuckling along, too.

“To be honest, I’ve never really been into makeup, but I don’t mind it every now and then.” You admit, sparing a glance down at the products held in your hand.

“I love it.” They say, only for their whole body to stiffen in the next second. It’s almost as if they said something wrong, for they glance towards you in what you can only assume is fear in the next moment.

“That’s so cool!” You grin, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I really love the way you’ve done your eyes today. It really makes them pop.”

Instantly, their shoulders relax and they shuffle a bit from foot to foot. “Thank you.”

“When I was younger, I was always obsessed with different coloured eyeliner.” You say, putting the one pencil liner back onto the shelf since you’ve decided to go with the other one for now. “Never used them, but I would always beg my mom to buy them for me.”

“I think my mom nearly had a stroke the first time I asked her to buy lipstick for me.” They voice lowly, as if sharing a precious secret. “She was a little hesitant at first, but when she saw how much I loved it, she couldn’t resist getting me more. Now, it’s like a recurring joke between us for her to get me a new shade every year for my birthday.”

“I love this for you!” You grin widely. “That’s honestly the best.”

“I’ve always wanted to work in the film industry for a few years now, but it’s quite competitive even getting a foot in the door.” They tell you.

“I can imagine.” You nod sympathetically before your eyes are widening as if you’ve just realized something. Then, quickly, you’re introducing yourself, seeing as you haven’t bothered to yet.

“I’m still working on that name stuff, but for now you can call me Zed.” They say, bowing slightly to you.

You bow back.

Ten more minutes are spent talking with Zed in front of that display. You even manage to go on your brief makeup is gender neutral rant after they express the same ideals.

“Everything is gender neutral if you’re brave enough.” You comment lowly, adjusting the strap of your purse over your one shoulder.

“Here, here.” They mock toast you with the few products held in their one hand.

“By the way, you mentioned being a makeup artist, correct?” You meet their gaze.

“Yeah, you’re correct.” They nod once in confirmation.

“This may be really weird considering we just met, but if you’re free tomorrow morning, I have an event I need to attend, and I would love someone to do my makeup for me. I’m not the greatest artist myself, and I would definitely pay you for your work!” You begin, somewhat shyly.

“Sure! What time would you need me to be at the place?” They ask.

Five minutes later, and you’ve exchanged contact information with them after explaining the details.

“I thought you looked familiar.” They mumble, almost to themselves. “I heard about that speech you gave two weeks ago, it was all over the news. I just didn’t realize that that was you.”

“Yep!” You chuckle, grinning widely from ear to ear. “That’s me!”

“Is that why you’re picking up products today?” They quirk a brow.

“One of the reasons.” You confirm. “I have the rest at home, but you’re more than welcome to bring whatever you think you may need tomorrow. I know it’s super short notice, and we just met, but I really appreciate you agreeing to do this for me.”

“Hey,” they shrug, “work is work. As long as you’re serious about it, that is.”

“Of course!” Comes your immediate reply. “You’re also welcome to message me anytime! I really enjoyed talking with you today.”

“Me too,” they smile.

“Thanks for the recommendation, by the way.” You wiggle the pencil liner held in your hand.

“No worries at all.” They chuckle. “You looked like you were struggling, and I’m always happy to help.”

You begin to make your way towards the cash line with Zed in tow. Except, you notice them holding only one liner in their hand, as opposed to the two they had earlier.

“Are you not going to get the other one, too?” You tilt your head curiously. “It’s buy one, get one fifty percent off.”

“I don’t think two is in the budget for me right now,” they chuckle, somewhat embarrassedly. “Money’s a little tight between jobs.”

You pause momentarily, turning right back around and pulling the other product they had been looking at off the shelf before grabbing the other one that’s still held in their hand.

“What are you doing?” Their voice is a little frantic as they follow closely behind you.

“Buying something for my friend.” You reply, somewhat matter-of-factly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You don’t have to!” Immediately, they begin to protest.

“Think of it as a small ‘thank you’ from me to you in advance of tomorrow.” You reply, stepping into line with them beside you. “Besides, I want to.”

They purse their lips slightly, shuffling from foot to foot before muttering out a low thanks.

“Don’t even worry about it!” You smile at Zed. “It’s my pleasure.”

Idly, you continue to chat with them as you wait to be cashed out. As soon as you’re done, you hand them their items while standing just outside the store.

“Thank you so much.” They breathe, almost in relief.

“Really, it’s no problem.” You smile, tucking your own items into your tote bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Just text me the details as soon as you can, and I’ll be there!” They reply eagerly, tucking their own products into their back pocket.

“Of course!” You wave as they begin to take their leave. “Talk to you later!”

The moment they’re out of sight, you cannot help but smile more to yourself. They were so nice, and you honestly loved every second of that interaction with them. If only more people were like them.

Adjusting the strap of your tote, you turn back to face the other shops lining the space. There’s really only one other store you’d like to check out before leaving to find a café soon.

On the way to the bookstore, you quickly text all of the information Zed will need for tomorrow to them. They reply quickly with a ‘thanks!’ And some excited emoticons.

Again, you grin to yourself, happy to have made a new friend.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, you spot the bookstore at the end of the row. The sign is bright, and you can see a bunch of people milling about the one section near the front. Despite this not being the store you’ll be having your signing in, there seems to be a large display of your books in the middle of the store. Luckily, your picture doesn’t seem to be anywhere near the table like the last bookstore you had visited.

Shuffling passed a few people, you’re quick to head over to the manga section. There’s a volume of Tokyo Ghoul in Korean that continues to elude you no matter how hard you try and find it. You really just want it to complete your collection at this point, and it has one of your favourite characters on the front.

Crouching down to look on the bottom shelf where you see the different volumes of the manga you’re looking for residing, you’re quick to scan them all. Your eyes practically light up as you see the one you’re looking for, only a sharp gasp coming from down the row draws your attention.

The sound of quick feet approaching you causes you to look up to see a girl and two guys rushing over to you.

“Hi, oh my gosh, are you the author of this book series?” The girl excitedly holds out a copy of the second novel in your first published series.

You blink up at her owlishly, “Uh…”

“You’re so cool! I really admire your work!” She squeals, drawing even more attention to yourself from the people around you.

“Thank you,” you smile politely.

“Anyways, I’m so sorry for interrupting you.” Her face immediately goes bright red as she averts her gaze. “Do you think I could get a quick picture before I leave?”

“Sure!” Slowly, you stand back to your feet.

Handing her phone to one of the guys behind her, the girl steps into your side. A wide smile is on her face as she throws up a peace sign, holding your book proudly on display. You immediately mirror her enthusiastic expression, heart warming at how happy she looks.

After a few pictures are taken, she’s turning to you once again.

“Thank you so much!” She bows lowly, nearly hitting her head on the table beside you with a full display of One Piece on it. “Again, sorry for bothering you!”

You have just enough time to mutter a ‘not at all’, before she’s giddily hopping away with the two other males in tow.

Turning back to the shelves of manga, you go to crouch down once more to pull the volume of Tokyo Ghoul off of the bottom.

“Hello, My Love.” A voice says from above you.

Figuring the person is talking to someone else, you opt to ignore them for now. Instead, you reach out to finally pull the volume off of the shelf.

A harsh clearing of someone’s throat is heard as a shadow looms above you.

“I said,”they say, much more firmly this time as they nudge you, not very gently, with their foot, “Hello, My Love.”

The sudden push causes you to stumble slightly, steadying yourself on the bookcase in front of you.

Turning your head, you peer up at the person, a slight frown tugging at your features. Quickly, you stand back to your feet as you see a male staring at you quite expectantly. He appears irritated, the corner of his lips tugging downwards, standing slightly shorter than you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“My bad, I didn’t realize you were speaking to me.” You incline your head in apology. “But please, don’t call me that.”

His brow quirks, clearly amused by your response. “Aren’t you into that shit, though?”

“Excuse me?”To say you’re caught off guard by his sudden attitude would be an understatement.

“You write about all that sappy romance stuff.” He replies.

“That doesn’t give you a right as a stranger to invade my personal space, or say something like that. I don’t know you.” You blink at him.

A puff of air escapes his nose in annoyance. “But you’re that author chick.”

“And?” Your brow furrows even further, taking a small step away from him.

“Come on, Baby, don’t be like that.” He sighs, his jaw twitching.

“You’re the one that approached me.” You counter. “And, please, don’t call me that.”

“You’re different than I thought you’d be.” He states, giving you a once over. “Bigger.”

“I’m sorry?” You recoil slightly, appalled by the sudden disgust on his features.

“I said you’re beautiful.”A sly grin pulls onto his features as he takes a step closer to you. “You’re not like other girls.”

You blink at him, quite rapidly at that in your state of shock. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, I think you know, Petal.” His eyes are suddenly hooded as he takes another step into you.

“Don’t call me that. Please.” You manage to slip around the corner of the table you’re standing beside.

“Why are you being so difficult?”The man mutters to himself, shaking his head. 

A call of someone’s name from the side draws both of your attention, and you see two more males staring intently at the one standing closest to you. The way they wear smug grins on their faces as they give you pointed once overs says it all.

“I’m getting there.” The man before you snaps at the two others.

“Did you want something?” It’s your own voice that seems to draw his attention back to you.

“Oh, look at you! You can speak a bit of Korean!” His tone is nothing short of condescending. “That’s wonderful!”

“I have nothing to say to you.” You state, rather bluntly before move to turn away from him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Where are you going, My Dear?” The way he drawls out that nickname has a shiver of disgust running down your spine. The fact that he snatches your wrist in his hand has panic seizing your entire body.

“Please, stop calling me those names.” You yank your wrist out of his hold. “Don’t touch me, either.”

“Come on, Darling,” his eyes flash, “don’t be like that. I only want to please you. To show you my devotion-“

“Get away from me!” You begin to scramble away from him, noticing you’ve started to draw some attention from a few of the staff members working in the store.

The two other males suddenly turn and begin to head towards the exits while two staff members approach you.

“What’s wrong with you?” There is nothing but ire on his features as he spits out these words at you. “All I’m offering is a chance for you to recreate those sex scenes from your books with me. A once in a lifetime opportunity, if you ask me. It’s not like people are lining up to be with you, anyways. You should be grateful I’m even giving a fat bitch like you attention.”

“Is everything okay here?” An older gentleman with a name tag interrupts, looking between both you and the male before you.

“I’m sorry to cause a commotion, Sir.” The way you immediately incline your head in respect to the elder male clearly catches him off guard. That, and the fact that you actually answer him in proper Korean. “This man won’t leave me alone, and is making me extremely uncomfortable. He’s making rude and inappropriate comments towards me, and thinks he’s entitled to assault me.”

The woman standing beside the male gasps, recognition flashing in her eyes. Her one hand comes up to point at you, “You’re that author from the award’s show!”

This draws the attention of a few more people standing around you, whispers being heard as a few more people recognize you from the display of your books a few tables over.

Politely, you smile at the woman, nerves skyrocketing as more and more attention is brought upon you. Again, you incline your head in respect as she looks slightly younger than the man, but still older than you.

“You said this man was bothering you?” She immediately turns a sharp gaze to the person standing closest to you.

“I was just leaving.” He huffs, purposely brushing past you and bumping quite harshly into your side. “Fucking bitch.”

Eyes follow him all of the way out of the store as he rejoins his two friends in the hallway.

“Are you alright?” The older gentleman turns to look at you.

“Yes, thank you.” You once again bow to him. “I’m sorry, again, for causing a disruption.”

“It’s not your fault.” The lady shakes her head, immediately wrapping you gently in her arms and guiding you towards the back of the store. “Come with us, we’ll call security and have them escort you in case that man comes back.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” You smile lightly, seeing as she sends a kind one back.

Looks like you’re not getting that volume of Tokyo Ghoul today, either.

Sitting in the staff room at the back of the store, you let out a long sigh. You clutch your tote close to yourself, purse resting between your feet on the floor. Your phone resides in your hands, and you scroll aimlessly through Tumblr while you wait for security to reach the bookstore.

Opening your messages, you’re quick to type one out.

You: Why do people feel entitled to another person?

Placing your phone upside-down on the table before you, you let out another sigh. Not even a moment later, you pick your phone back up.

Jongho: Did something happen?

Mingi:Is everything alright?

Hongjoong: Are you okay?

Your eyes widen at how quickly you’ve gotten responses, but that’s when you realize: you texted the wrong chat.

You: Shit, sorry! Wrong chat! Just forget I said anything.

Wooyoung: You message something as ominous as that and expect us NOT to be worried?

Yunho: Jongho’s already putting his shoes on.

You: Wait, does that mean you guys are done with practice for today?

Seonghwa: NO, we are NOT!

You:… you guys don’t wear shoes when you practice?

Yunho: We do, it was just a figure of speech.

San: He meant that Mingi and Yeosang are holding Jongho back from racing out the door as we speak.

You: Damn, this reminds me of my wondrous ‘protection squad’ days.

Seonghwa: Protection squad days?

You: Nevermind. Like I said, just forgot I said anything.

The door opens and in walks security. You take a few minutes to describe what happened and what the man that assaulted you looks like before the two guards are escorting you out of the store. One walks in front while the other walks behind you.

“We’ll lead you to your car, or the bus stop, and stay with you until you leave.” The one says to you.

“Thank you very much, I really appreciate it.” You bow slightly while walking.

The guard simply smiles at you from over his shoulder in response.

Once you’re on the correct bus on your way back to your apartment, you finally allow yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. Pulling out your phone, you check your notifications.

Immediately, you’re greeted by tons of worried messages from the boys, and even a few from some Stray Kids members. Looks like Wooyoung told Changbin, who in turn told Minho, Hyunjin, and Seungmin.

You: I promise I’m fine, just an uncomfortable encounter at a store.

Another round of messages are sent to you by the Ateez members, and you reassure them yet again.

You: Well, I could go for some boba now as a pick me up. Any of you know a good place in the area? The one by my house just closed for renos.

You notice a few of them typing a response before the first one comes in.

Yeosang: There’s one in the back alleys near Sinsa that’s really good. I’ll send you the address.

A moment later, a link to the Naver page is uploaded to the chat by Yeosang.

You: Thank you!!

Wooyoung: Daaaaaaamn Yeosang, you had that ready and LOADED

San: Don’t hate the man just cause he was prepared.

Yunho: Well, WE may have to prepare HIS funeral now

A photo of Yeosang being held in a headlock by Jongho is sent to you almost immediately after that message gets sent.

You laugh, a smile pulling at your features as you shake your head at your phone.

You: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.

A few more messages are sent between all of you, ending with you wishing them luck with the rest of practice. They eagerly tell you to come visit them soon, to which you reply that you will.

Twenty minutes later, and after switching buses once, you find yourself standing outside of the little boba shop Yeosang recommended to you. It has a cute little awning over the door, a soft pink in colour, while large windows line the front of the shop. It doesn’t look too busy, from what you can see, but the menu has a variety of options and you are more than eager to try them.

A small bell jingles as you enter the shop, the worker behind the counter smiling politely at you as you approach. Luckily, you already know what you want to order from looking at the sign outside, so you manage to do that fairly quickly. 

Five minutes later, you have your glass in hand as you seclude yourself in a corner seat. There’s a half-wall with plants resting on top of it to your left, while an open view of the store sits to your right. You’re directly across from the entranceway, but you cannot see the order counter, nor the worker anymore. Two more tables sit to your right, a small hallway stretching down after that towards where you’re sure the bathrooms reside.

Your tote rests on your left between your body and the wall, while your purse is on the booth beside you to your right. Considering you have a wall behind you, and there aren’t very many people in the shop, you feel comfortable enough to pull your laptop out. Once you’ve set everything up, you’re taking a sip of your drink while staring at the document you had been working on last night.

Scrolling back up to the top of the chapter, you begin.

Editing what you wrote the previous night takes some time, but by the time an hour has passed, you’ve start to write more for the chapter you’re currently on. It took a little bit of time, but you finally know how you want to end this particular scene, and you’re challenging yourself to see if you can finish it before you finish your drink.

Unfortunately for you, you’ve always been a fast drinker. Especially when you haven’t had much to drink all day.

The sound of another glass being placed onto the table before you draws your attention from your screen.

“Sorry to interrupt you,” it’s the worker you ordered your drink from before. “I saw your speech from the awards show when it aired, and I just wanted to say I really admire you. Thank you for everything you do! I didn’t want to say anything before since I was on the clock, but my shift just ended and I noticed you hadn’t left yet, so I wanted to say something before I went home.” They smile shyly, “and give you a refill of your drink. Work hard, and have a lovely day!”

“Oh, thank you so much!” You smile back at them as they clear your empty glass from the table. “That’s so kind of you!”

A nod is all you get in response as a soft blush begins to dust their features. Not even a moment later, they turn away, leaving you on your own once more.

Another hour and a half passes by with you furiously typing away at your laptop. You’d like to say that you hardly get distracted, but there seems to be this one person who has been constantly walking passed your table in hopes for you to notice them. The first few times, you glanced up, eyes being drawn to the movement given how close they were to your table, but by the fifth time, you started to ignore them.

That is, until they decided to actually approach your table.

The conversation was short, and awkward. They kept stuttering over their words, not to mention they kept interrupting you while you’re trying to work.

That’s the one thing that irritates you no matter what. Nothing is worse than being in the middle of writing a scene, deep in the flow of words, only to be interrupted or distracted by someone. Really, you know it’s not their fault, but you still cannot help your annoyance at the situation. Once or twice, you can brush it off, but the third time they do it, you’re a little blunt with them when you respond. You don’t mean to be, but alas, it happens.

Approximately fifteen minutes go by without another interruption, and you manage to finish the scene you’re working on. You’re almost done with the current chapter, and all that’s really left to do is round it out, and edit the final product. To say you’re happy with what you’ve done would be an understatement.

This time, when you notice someone approaching your table, you don’t even bother to glance up. You figure it’s that person coming to bother you again, so you opt to continue typing away at your laptop, staring intently at your screen.

The sound of two glasses being placed onto the table has your ears quirking, even more so when you hear the chair across from you scraping against the floor.

A tremendous sigh escapes you, “Look-“

Your words die in your throat as you see the person now sitting across from you. They wear a black bucket hat, strands of what appears to be newly bleached hair sticking out from beneath the material. They blink at you with somewhat wide eyes, freezing in their movement of pushing a brand new cup of boba towards you.

“Yeosang?” You keep your voice low, blinking at him in mild shock. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles faintly, resuming his motion of pushing that one drink towards you. “Practice ended early.”

It is then that you glance at the time, seeing that it’s starting to become late into the afternoon. You honestly haven’t been keeping a close track of time while you’ve been here, only truly registering how long you’ve actually been writing for.

Softly, you close your laptop. “Aren’t you worried about being spotted?”

“Not here.” He shakes his head. “It’s actually a really common spot for a lot of us. The staff are discreet, and not many people know about it.”

Briefly, that interaction with that one worker earlier who brought you your second drink flashes through your mind. You smile in understanding, “I see.”

“Are you okay, though?” He blinks a few times, innocently. “You seemed irritated when I got here.”

Your eyes quickly scan the shop, not seeing that person who kept bothering you earlier in their spot by the windows.

“Better now,” you reply, honestly. “Just kept getting distracted, is all.”

“I thought you didn’t like using your laptop in public?” He quirks a brow, taking a sip of his own drink.

“When I’m up against the wall, anything goes.” You shrug, and almost immediately, he starts choking on his drink. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

He waves you off, hitting his chest with a fist lightly. 

Soon after, he clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Good.” You chuckle faintly. “Last thing I need is your fans coming after me for choking out their favourite member.”

“I think you should be more worried about Wooyoung.” He comments, a hint of irritation on his face.

Your brow furrows, “Why?”

“He’d be next in line.”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

“I-“ you blink rapidly a few times, swallowing the sudden dryness in your throat. “Are you implying Wooyoung wants me to choke him?”

“He’s not the only one.” Yeosang replies, a slight bitterness lingering in his tone. “Mingi has spent many a night ranting about how he wants to be suffocated between your-“

Yeosang seemingly catches himself in the last second as he spares a glance at you.

Your mouth hangs open in pure disbelief, blinking at him in shock. You hands rest on the table before you, a vibrant heat rising to your cheeks. Of course, you can most certainly incur where Yeosang was going when he was speaking just now, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“Sorry.” He averts his gaze, somewhat embarrassed.

In the next moment, you’re shaking your head.

“No, no,” you manage to organize your thoughts, clearing your throat, “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“What? Surprised that some idols have horny fantasies, too?” He quirks a brow, slight amusement shining in his eyes.

“Oh, no.” Your nose scrunches as you shake your head mildly. “If they read my books and thoroughly enjoy them, that fact doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“Then, why do you look so shocked?” He tilts his head slightly in inquiry.

Your lips pull back in a tight smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m curious, though.” He blinks, taking another sip of his drink.

You reach out to grab the full glass, noticing how the drink appears to be the same one you’ve been drinking since you got here: matcha milk tea with pearls.

“You’re aware I am a fan of Ateez, correct?” You look at him somewhat expectantly.

“Believe me, I’m well aware.” He nods along with your words.

From the way he still stares at you, with those wide eyes, has you exhaling lowly.

“Let me put it this way,” you take a sip of your drink, noticing how the label said it had been made with soy milk. In the back of your head, you wonder if he knows you’re lactose intolerant, or if it was just a personal choice on his part. “How would you feel if you suddenly found out Emma Watson admitted to having sexual fantasies about you?”

Yeosang freezes right before your very eyes, nodding slowly as realization crosses his features. Then, as if making another connection, his brow furrows.

“You find Mingi attractive.” The statement is a bit blunt as he says this, grip tightening over his drink.

“I thought I told you that I find all of you attractive?” You quirk a brow playfully at him in response.

“Right.” He nods, seemingly in recollection before halting all movement once more. “But you desire Mingi.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that hint of bitterness is back in his voice again.

“I desire many things, Yeosang,” you begin. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to indulge in them.”

“But you would if he offered?” He places his glass a bit firmly back onto the top of the table.

“Probably not.” Your face scrunches slightly as you consider his words. “I don’t know him like that. I don’t know any of you like that, and it takes a lot for me to be intimate with another person in such a way.” You meet his gaze. “Are you familiar with the term demisexual?”

The way he blinks at you blankly is answer enough.

“It means a person has to have a strong emotional connection with someone before experiencing sexual attraction.” You explain.

He shakes his head, still not quite understanding.

“It means I don’t do hookups.” You add. “Hookup culture is not for me.”

Understanding crosses his features as his lips part slightly, a soft ‘oh’ falling from him in the next second.

“On top of that, I am also demiromantic.” You continue. “Meaning the same thing, only this time it’s considering romantic attraction. It takes a lot for me to fall in love, and it takes a lot for me to be intimate with someone.”

“So, you wouldn’t-“

“No.” You shake your head, cutting him off. “I may have desires, Yeosang, but there is a huge difference between reality and fiction.”

His eyes narrow slightly at you in response, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“You’ve fantasized before? About your bias?”

You nearly spit out your drink as you go to take a sip. Coughing a few times, you rub at your chest, noticing how he hasn’t torn his eyes off of you for a single second.

“I’ve fantasied more about my own characters.” You admit once you finally manage to get your breathing back under control.

“That’s not a ‘no’,” he hums, brow quirks slightly in amusement.

“Why? Suddenly curious about whether or not I’ve fantasized about you?” You turn the question back on him, noticing how he begins to splutter almost immediately.

The way red begins to slowly creep up his neck has you laughing.

“I’m just kidding.” You reach across the table to pat his hand gently. “Though, I could have sworn you were about to ask me about my Ateez bias again.”

He averts his eyes only briefly, “no.”

“I mean, if you want to know, I don’t mind telling you.” You shrug. “We are alone, and you did buy me a drink.”

You can see the sudden eager gleam in his eyes as he leans the slightest bit forward in his seat. His lips part, and you hear the breath he takes before his shoulders seemingly deflate. 

You quirk a brow.

He shakes his head, somewhat dejected. “I’d rather not.”

The way he suddenly looks tense before you has you cautiously trailing your gaze over him in response. You’re about to ask if he’s sure of not, but at the way he shakes his head, almost absentmindedly as his hand tightens around his drink once more is all the answer you need.

So, you decide to change the subject.

“How was practice?” Your soft inquiry seems to manage to pull him out of your thoughts.

You take another sip of your drink as he responds, a gentle tug of his lips upwards as he recounts the way Hongjoong had to chase Wooyoung at one point to continue learning the new choreography.

“You should have seen the way Jongho practically lunged at his phone each time it pinged.” Yeosang half rolls his eyes. “He thought it was you every time.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement, swirling the contents of your drink around in your hand. Honestly, your heart warms at the thought of Jongho being so excited to message you that he literally jumps at his phone every time.

“I thought you guys said I wouldn’t be a distraction?” You tease. “Just imagine what it would be like if I was actually there.”

“You think Mingi’s bad for using his pelvis during concerts?” Yeosang shakes his head, almost exasperatedly.

You laugh, tossing your head back as your eyes crinkle at the sides.

Again, once you manage to calm down, you notice Yeosang staring at you exactly like he did that first day you met him on the plane. Though, again, you brush it off.

“Well, I know for a fact the Mingi Stans are not complaining.” You grin. “You should see the amount of videos my friends who bias him send me of him when he does those things. It’s fun watching them freak out over it.”

“But you don’t?” He quirks a brow.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” You shrug casually. “I have my own selection of videos and pictures of my biases that ruin me in the best ways.”

“Ah, so you’re not immune.” He nods in understanding.

“Oh, most definitely not.” You snort. “I am just as…” you hum, searching for the right word, “feral as some of my friends. You just haven’t seen it, yet.”

“Are you offering to show me?” He quirks a brow.

“Depends.” The corner of your lips quirk upwards deviously. “When’s your next comeback, again?”

Yeosang leans back in his chair, observing you carefully. “You know, now that we’re friends, I think you should hype us all up more.”

“I can do that.” You readily agree. “Next comeback, I’ll give you all my live reactions. Well… within reason.”

“I look forward to it.” He grins.

“If the other guys get weirded out by it, then I’m blaming you.” You point an accusatory finger at him playfully.

“I’ll take full responsibility.” He raises his own hands in front of himself, almost as if in mock self-defence.

“You better,” you joke. “I don’t wanna lose my new friends that quickly. I really enjoy talking with you guys.”

Yeosang’s lips twitch upwards faintly in the corners, almost involuntarily. “I enjoy talking with you, too.”

“Oh?” You quirk a teasing brow. “Even when we flirt in front of you? Which we weren’t, by the way.”

Yeosang’s lips part, mouth opening and closing in protest despite no words escaping him.

“Nah, I’m just kidding,” you playfully pat his hand that he still has resting on top of the table. “If I ever make you uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to tell me. Boundaries are important, especially when they’re your own.”

“I will.” He smiles faintly.

“Same goes for if I start rambling too much, or if I’m being annoying, or if-“

“You’re not annoying.” The suddenness that Yeosang cuts you off with surprises you. “Why would you think you’re annoying?”

“I, uh-“

“Who told you that you’re annoying?” His brow furrows, clear confusion on his face. There’s something else there, you can see it shining behind his eyes, but you’re unsure of what it could be.

“Just a general comment,” you smile, somewhat tightly at him in response.

“Oh.” He seems to calm down, if only slightly. “Well, don’t think that you’re annoying. You’re not. I enjoy talking with you, and I enjoy listening to you speak.”

You blink in mild shock, a shy smile pulling at your lips as you avert your gaze.

“Thank you, Yeosang. That really means a lot to me.”

“Don’t be afraid to be yourself around me.” He swirls the content of his drink around slightly. “I quite like the real, unfiltered you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you cannot help the way your back straightens. However, before you can so much as thank him again, he’s clearing his throat.

“So,” he stares intently at the contents of his drink. “What’s your favourite colour?”

You think this is probably the most talkative you’ve ever witnessed Yeosang to be, and to say you’re caught off guard is an understatement. You both continue to ask each other questions, laughing and getting to know each other better as the time continues to pass around you.

Before you know it, another hour and a half has passed, and you notice that the sun is beginning to set in the distance. Though, that’s not the only thing you’ve started to notice.

For the past twenty minutes or so, you’ve spotted two girls sitting a little ways away from your own table. They constantly peer over towards you, whispering quite loudly to each other while staring between both you and Yeosang. 

You’re starting to get worried. The last thing you know he needs is word to get out that he’s been seen out with a girl. The setting could heavily imply a date, and that fact alone is enough to have you swallowing nervously. He doesn’t need a scandal, and you would hate for that to happen, especially since you consider all of Ateez to be your friends now.

“I’ll be right back.” Yeosang whispers lowly as he pushes his chair out from the table.

You find you can only nod in response, watching as he disappears down the hallway to your right for the moment.

Carefully, you observe the girls after pulling out your phone. Resting it on the table, you begin to put your laptop away, cleaning up your mess to appear as if you’re getting ready to leave. Every now and then, you glance to them, straining your ears to attempt to overhear their conversation.

“No, I’m positive that’s him.” The one says. “I saw this online forum post about how this place is common ground for a lot of idols, especially him.”

“It’s hard to tell since he’s wearing a hat, and not looking in our direction.” The other replies, not as lowly as the first girl who spoke. “Besides, why would he be out with someone like her?”

The first girl shrugs. “Maybe it was a dare, or a private contest.”

“He seems to be having a good time.” The second one bitterly mutters.

“He could be pretending.”

“He’s not that great of an actor.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Some fans they seem to be, considering how they seem to be acting right now. Still, their conversation worries you.

“We should follow them when they leave. It looks like she’s packing up, anyways.” The first one whispers again to her friend.

Your heart drops, and you find yourself grabbing your phone. You do your best to appear casual as you open your messages to send one to Yeosang privately.

You: Bad news. It looks like those two girls sitting behind us might have recognized you. They think we’re on a date, but they’re not 100% convinced you are who they think you are.

You just hope he sees your message before he comes back out.

A moment later, you see he’s replied.

Yeosang: We should leave then.

You:Great plan!!

You: Except that I overheard them saying they’re going to follow us to find out if you are who they think you are. You’re lucky you’re wearing that hat.

You: Wait, I have an idea.

You: Call me crazy, but I think we might be able to fool them into thinking that they’re wrong about who you really are.

Yeosang: What do you have in mind?

You: Keep your head down when you come back out, and then just follow my lead.

Yeosang: That sounds ominous.

You: I know. You’re going to have to trust me, though. Can you do that, Yeo?

It takes a moment for him to respond, and you cannot help the way your one finger taps at the side of your phone nervously as you wait.

Yeosang: I trust you.

You: Heads up: I’m about to get up close and personal with you real quick. I won’t purposely do anything to make you uncomfortable, I promise you that, but if we want to make this believable, we’re going to have to act like a couple.

Again, it takes a moment for him to respond, and you can feel your heart positively thundering inside of your chest. Anxiety floods your veins, and already you can feel your palms beginning to sweat. You just hope you look calmer than you feel.

Yeosang: I trust you.

You: Alright. Wait another minute and a half or so, and then come back out. Make sure all of your hair is tucked beneath your hat, too.

Placing your phone onto the top of the table, you’re quick to reach into your purse. Digging around beneath your wallet, you manage to pull out the case you’re looking for.

You place it onto the table, right next to your phone.

Turning to your opposite side, you rummage around in your tote bag. A small black box is pulled out, and you’re quick to open it. A small tube of lipstick falls into your open palm, and you toss the now empty container back into your tote.

Grabbing your phone, you make a show of using your reflection to apply the shade to your lips, making sure it’s evenly applied before you’re standing back to your feet. Then, you’re reaching over to grab your bags, slinging your purse over your one shoulder while you hold onto the tote in your hand. Once your other hand is free, you grab your phone and slide it into your back pocket before grabbing that case from on top of the table. 

Luckily, as you had been talking with Yeosang, he had already managed to finish his drink. He also took the liberty to return the empty glasses to the front, so all you have left is to give your final glass back to the worker behind the counter.

A few steps later, and you do just that, your tote hanging off of your arm lightly. You can just feel the gazes of those two girls following you the whole time, and just as you cross the small space of the boba shop, you see Yeosang appear from the back hallway. His head is angled downwards, pretending to look at something on his phone, and you notice how his hair is now completely tucked beneath that hat of his.

Purposefully, you make a show of skipping the rest of the way over to him eagerly.

“Kyungmin!” You giggle, pulling him closer to you by his wrist. A gentle kiss is placed onto the side of his exposed cheek, a red lipstick stain now painting his skin. “Let’s go get tteokbokki! I’m hungry!”

Quickly, you begin dragging him out of the shop, handing him both your tote bag to carry, and that small case held in your hands.

“Don’t forget to put your glasses back on. I know you hate them, but I think they make you look so handsome!” You purposely stand on his right side, blocking him as much as you can from the two girl’s view. Luckily, your height practically swamps him, his figure hidden quite easily behind your frame.

Yeosang is quiet, nodding faintly to your words as he walks beside you. He’s already tucked his phone into his pocket, opening up the case with your glasses inside seamlessly. He’s quick to slip them on as you step outside, wrapping your one arm around his shoulders as you walk down the deserted back alleys.

Unfortunately, you can practically hear the two girls scrambling after you once you get a certain distance down the street.

Subtly, you lean into Yeosang’s side.

“They’re still intent on following us.” You whisper lowly as you pick up your pace.

“What are we going to do?” There’s a slight panic to his voice that you notice almost immediately.

“Do you trust me?” Your eyes dart to another, more secluded alleyway you can see up ahead.

Yeosang swallows thickly before nodding his head.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve pulled him into that side alley. Your left hand rests beside his head, blocking his view from the entranceway, but also ensuring his face is covered should the two girls come rushing around the corner.

“We don’t have much time, but we have to make it convincing that we’ve just been making out.” You say, quite bluntly as you lean into him.

You swear Yeosang’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“We can’t slip up now, and the staging is important.” You bring your right hand up and lick your thumb, moving to smear some of your lipstick in the next second. “I’m really sorry it’s come to this, but I think it will work.”

Yeosang’s eyes briefly dart downward, and you assume he’s now staring at the stain of red on your thumb. He swallows thickly. “I trust you.”

Moving as precisely as you can, you begin to smear some of that red on your thumb on the corner of his mouth.

“I’m really sorry for doing this, I swear to you I’m not just making you do this for the adrenaline kick.” Your words are rushed, and you swallow the dryness in your throat. “Luckily with my height I can cover you, but you’re going to have to make it look like you’re grabbing onto me. Most people are startled and embarrassed if they catch a pretty heated pda session. I’m going to bet they won’t stick around to find out afterwards.”

He nods his understanding.

“I’m going to put my knee slightly between your legs, okay?” You keep your voice low.

“Okay.” Yeosang replies, somewhat breathlessly.

Any second now.

“Grab the back of my neck with your left hand, and angle your face towards mine. Put your right on the back of my waist. Slip it lower if you think it’ll be more believable.” You instruct, giving him an impromptu lesson on stage kissing and angles. You may not actually be pressed against him, but it most certainly will look like you are, and that’s the most important part.

Instantly, his hands are on you, and you feel him pull you closer. Whether it’s subconscious or not, you don’t know. All you do know is that his right hand rests just above the curve of your ass, and your breath hitches slightly from his touch.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your blood rushing through your veins as your anxiety continues to skyrocket. You just hope beyond everything that this works.

You hear the sound of feet hitting the pavement, and a sharp gasp followed by a loud exclamation of ‘oh my god!’.

Slowly, you turn your head to face the opening of the alleyway, seeing the two girls standing there. Red is clear on both of their faces as they splutter in their spots, shifting their gazes everywhere around the alleyway but at you.

Your eyes narrow, irritation shining on your features as you glare at the two girls for ‘interrupting’ you.

“What?” Your voice is nothing short of sharp as you finally speak.

The two girls remain silent, attempting to stutter out an answer.

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen him in two months, and I’d really love to spend some time with my boyfriend.” You snap, a prominent frown on your features.

“We’re so sorry!” The one girl immediately bows to you, quite clumsily. “We just thought-“

“What? You thought what?” You cut her off, shifting slightly so your head is turned more towards her while your body still covers the majority of Yeosang’s.

You can feel his grip tighten over you, but you choose to ignore it for now.

“We thought he was Kang Yeosang from Ateez.” The other girl replies, somewhat ashamedly.

“And that gives you the right to stalk us?” Your gaze narrows once more. You scoff. “Why would Kang Yeosang from Ateez be out at this time of day? Here, of all places? He’s probably at a schedule or something. He is an idol, after all.”

That’s when you realize: these girls don’t recognize you. For that, you’re grateful.

They remain quiet.

“You hear that, babe?” You purposely turn back to Yeosang. “These girls think you look like an idol! I told you you were handsome! I don’t want to hear another doubt about yourself come out of your mouth again.”

The way you’re leaning into him makes it look like you’ve placed another kiss onto his cheek. Yet, only you and he know that your lips never grace his skin.

“We’re sorry for interrupting.” The first girl bows clumsily to you again, shoving her friend back the way they came.

“I told you it wasn’t Yeosang!” You can hear the one friend harshly whisper to the other.

“You were right.” You hear the other sigh. “Besides, he wouldn’t be caught dead with an ugly bitch like that, anyways.”

The moment you hear their voices fade away into the distance, their footsteps no longer resounding against the pavement, you’re breathing a sigh of relief. A light smile paints your features as you turn back to face Yeosang, immediately moving to step away from him.

Only, the feeling of his hands tightening around you has you clearing your throat, seemingly snapping him out of whatever daze he seems to be in.

“You can let go now.” You mumble lowly.

“Oh.” Immediately, his hands retract, as if burned. “Right. Sorry.”

You notice Yeosang shifting slightly back and forth on his feet, a frown soon marring his brow as he looks down at the ground.

“Thanks for trusting me,” you smile at him, rummaging around in your purse for that pack of tissues he gave you that one day at rehearsal. “I’m so sorry for invading your space like that and subjecting you to be my fake boyfriend just now. I swear to you I wasn’t just doing that to cop a feel, or say you’re my boyfriend, or anything weird or creepy like that.”

“It’s alright.” He smiles assuringly at you. “I didn’t mind at all.”

Heat immediately rises to your cheeks from his words, handing him a few tissues so he can wipe the lipstick from his face.

“I’m just glad it worked.” You breathe a low sigh of relief.

“Me too.” He smiles, rubbing at his cheek with a tissue.

Still, he swears that he can feel the tips of his fingers tingling from where they had just been pressed against your skin. His heart absolutely pounds in his chest, and he can’t seem to erase the feeling of your body barely pressed against his. Really, he wouldn’t have minded if you actually touched him, but then again, he thinks he probably wouldn’t be able to stand right now if that had been the case.

“So,” your voice catches his attention, a light smile painting your face as you adjust the strap of your purse over your shoulder, “You hungry?”

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere yeosang #yeosang scenarios #yandere ateez #ateez scenario #kpop scenario #yandere kpop #kpop au #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #chubby reader

[transmechanicus]

Mankind is incapable of sorcery. This is not a value judgement or an act of prideful gatekeeping, but a statement of fact. On levels genetic, morphologic, and cognitive mankind is constrained in ways that prevent their inherent biological application of magic. They lack crucial genes shielding them from the potent radiation of extradimensional forces. Their joints are too restrictive, their number of limbs too few. The spectrum of their senses is far too narrow, and rare is the human mind that can comprehend the complex underlying theorems required to do more than poorly imitate the might of sorcerers of other species. Many a human fool has sought to grasp at magic and has been twisted by bone breaking, gut wrenching gravitic forces as their flesh burns and bleeds from within.

The motions of witches and spellcasters are not entirely an act of control, but also rather the expression of self distorting and intractable forces being exerted in exchange for miracles manifested by complexity of one’s mind. This lesson was slow in taking for humans, but it was one they overcame with typical determination.

First was the creation of the psycho-frame, a device that could divert the locus of magical catalysis to an artificial point, allowing humans to cast magic through more resilient and adaptable proxy constructs. Following several centuries later was mankind’s first artificial witch, an AI synthesis of machine learning and simulated replicas of human brains.

This latter creation revolutionized human control of magic, allowing its use on a significantly expanded and coordinated scale, as well as its study and analysis by their symbiotic machine organisms for the first time. It was not long after that humans began utilizing magic as their primary means of FTL, being less resource intensive than the temporally compressed accelerators they used prior. Now every interstellar ship had a meadow of proxy sorcerers on its bow, exerting the will of a God Machine at the vessels heart, tearing open reality to carry mankind to vistas far and grand.

There upon those distant horizons they found such beauty, but in far greater frequency horrors beyond count. Beings evolved from their first fusing of cells in parts of the galaxy saturated by dimensional bleed and convinced of their cultural and biological supremacy as masters of witch physics. Cities arranged upon worlds for the conduction of sacrificial spells by entire planetary populations. Planetary bodies were torn asunder from systems away, and the flow of time upon stars and their orbits was twisted to send human populated worlds towards disaster at the will of alien cult magi. Moon sized inter-system super predators blasted lightning and neuron burning insanity at any human ship that dared enter their conception of territory, hunting mankind’s vessels like fish in a vast black sea.

There was no counter to such things, not that could be mustered quickly or reliably. Ship designs were altered from the colossal Void Arks carrying entire cities of military, governmental, and civilian crew, to stripped down Witness Frigates run only by a Demigod class AI and a brave few humans to accompany them in mankind’s efforts to chart the stars. Only when a system was thoroughly explored and catalogued directly would any further Arks be sent. So into the black were sent thousands of unblinking mechanical eyes and beating hearts.

What do you think they found?

#my stuff #writing