aureatesvn

[aureatesvn]

Economy//Jaebeom

Content: humour, fluff(?) if you squint

Model!Jaebeom has never been so confused.

Or,

An avid display of the frustrations of the rich (and supposedly famous).

People came and went like clockwork, each individual blurring into a mass flow of luggage and sweatpants and crying children, lord save him from the crying children. The airport was just a disaster waiting to happen, but he found an awkward kind of comfort in the timeless feel of the place. It was the same routine every time, arrive a few hours early, pass through security, don his trusty bucket hat and find somewhere to wait. With a book, preferably. This time was no different, aside from the… minor intrusion.

It had been less than an hour since he'd made himself comfortable in his isolated corner of the seating area, it was a nice spot and he was quite proud of himself for finding it, to be honest. He'd scoured almost a quarter of the airport (the quarter he was confined to), and it had taken exactly 38 minutes, but he'd eventually gravitated towards the large windows where the morning sunlight was streaming in from. A few moments later, he'd snagged the perfect spot. It was sort of a treasure-hunt type game to him, and he'd undeniable succeeded.

Unfortunately now he was feeling dozy, the warmth of the sun warming him, and the ebbing of people passing by allowing him some peace. It was the perfect setting for a nap, and he'd all but given up on trying to focus on his book. He needed a cold drink, which meant he had to go find a cold drink… He surveyed the area for any nearby cafés or bars, and was left with a single option he could make out if he squinted into the distance, that's where he'd have to go then. 

With a resigned sigh, he started collecting his things, unwilling to part with his spot, when a brilliant idea struck him. Possibly the best idea he'd had in his entire life, really. 

He returned the things to their original places, jacket across the back of the chair, bag (which he'd taken his phone and wallet out of) planted decisively on the seat. He considered leaving his hat as well, but eventually decided that was a step too far, and stepped back to assess his work. 

Well, the seat was indisputably taken, and anyone who would argue otherwise was either blind (in which case he'd happily offer up the seat anyway), or specifically looking to cause trouble. He possibly could have worried a bit more about theft and such, but as it was, he took it as a test of the upstanding airport security and didn't think much more of it. 

Happy with his spot secured, he smiled to himself and ambled his way to the café, peering back every so often to check no one was getting too close to his place. He had one or two stares at how he was forced to angle his head in a rather ostrich-esque way, but it was most definitely worth it. Eventually he was too far away to see, and focused on getting his drink and getting back as soon as possible. 

He was halfway back with his lime soda when he saw it. Actually, he'd seen it a bit before then, but had been in denial about the rather horrible turn of events, and so hadn't quite believed his eyes. He most definitely believed them now. As he drew closer, the scene he was nearing didn't get any less horrifying. In fact, when he was close enough to feel the need to cautiously side-step his way to his belongings, it was decidedly more awful than he'd anticipated from a distance. 

There was someone right there. 

Not on his chair, his things were still perfectly in place, untouched, but at the uncomfortably close distance of the very-next-seat along, there was a person. And all their things. 

He stood over his seat, trying to process the events that led up to this, not quite fully understanding how the obviously taken seat hadn't deterred this female (he thought she was female, at least) from making herself at home in the 2 seat radius surrounding the chair. Least of all, what had prompted her to sit right next- 

'Is there a problem?'

Yes yes yes yes yes absolutely, please leave.

'Sorry?' was all he could choke out.

She was looking up at him, but somehow managed to be looking down her nose, and he had enough sense in him to recognise she felt rich. Or maybe it was her small(ish) collection of branded items. Fendi? Jackson would have a field day. 

'I asked if there was a problem? I don't appreciate being ogled at.'

He was at a loss for words, he hadn't expected her to be so… brusque. Usually strangers at the airport interacted with a stilted politeness, lots of half-bows, please and thank yous, maybe she didn't get the memo? Taking a sip of his lime soda, he noted that Saint Laurent was also present within her collection. How ironic. 

'Ah, no, I wasn't looking at you, these' he gestures to his bag, 'are my belongings…'

He's not quite sure what he was expecting, but whatever it was, it absolutely wasn't for her to look possibly more offended than she had been before he'd spoken. Maybe she'll move if I upset her enough? 

As he half heartedly checks himself for thinking such a thing, she swivels her head back and forth between him and his things, the sunlight glinting off of her hair.

'They're,' she points at his seat, 'yours?'           

She points at him, disbelief written across her face. They stay like that in silence for a few moments, at an impasse.

He coughs awkwardly and takes another sip.

'Yes…?' 

At this point he's thinking it maybe wasn't worth it, and it would be easier for him to just find a different spot, without the oddly confrontational scenery.

'Are you sure?'

He chokes on his lime soda. Through spluttering and coughing and the highly unpleasant burning (fizzing) at the back of his throat, he resolutely decides he's not letting her chase him away from his spot. He got there first anyway. 

Fighting mindset truly in place, he sets her with a condescending smile, and drawls out his question like he would to address a rather irritating child.

'You don't believe that the bag and jacket that I put on that chair, walked over to collect, and said were mine are… mine?'

He sees the realisation dawn on her, and fights the urge to laugh (not because he wanted to be polite, but because his throat was still tingling and he was sure he'd end up coughing again if he laughed at her). She pouts and waves a manicured hand between them, shaking her head.

'No, no, it's just people travelling... economy… tend to…y'know...have...' 

People travelling eco- What?

He blinks at her, once again unsure what to say. 

'WAIT- Not- Not that economy is a bad thing or anything, that's not what I meant-'

A part of him is relieved that there are obviously people out there who are far worse than him at meeting strangers. The other part of him is bitter that he had to meet one of them. He's certain the ice in his soda has melted at this point, and curses her for (if nothing else) leaving him with a diluted room-temperature drink.

'Look, I'll just take my things and-' he spots a relatively empty block across the seating area from them, and gestures to make sure she sees. She blinks up at him owlishly, as if waiting for him to go, and he sighs tiredly. The polite thing to do is to offer to move instead. 

After approximately 15 seconds, he gives up, collects his jacket and bag, and trundles over to the less sunny, less quiet, and overall less comfortable seating block. 

He spends the next two hours trying to lose himself in his book, checking the flight status and complaining to the guys about the awful encounter.

At roughly 11:45 he finally hears the boarding announcement,

Flight KE418 to Seoul will be boarding shortly, please proceed to gate 117.

And by some sheer luck, he finds himself at the very front of the queue when the man at the desk starts checking passports and boarding passes. 

He practically skips his way down the corridor to the plane, buzzing with excitement. He's almost home. The flight attendant smiles at him, checks his pass and escorts him to an aisle seat, and when he takes off his hat to push back his hair, there's a barely noticeable twitch of her lip to show that she recognises him before she disappears to attend to another passenger. 

He sinks into his seat, browsing movie options on the monitor, and is just about to put headphones on when he hears it.

'Oh, thank you, sorry, this seat? Thanks…'

That voice did not go with that meek tone at all. 

He looks up to see her nervously shuffling down the right-hand aisle, and slowing down when the attendant does, one seat ahead. Please no, let me have my flight in peace, lord if you have any mercy…

'This is seat 04, if you have further requirements or any issues, just let us know.'

As it turns out, the lord didn't have any mercy free today. 

He takes in her slight frame over the divider, made to look smaller by her hunched shoulders and clasped hands, before realising she's not yet sat down because she's been staring at him. Great, now all he had to do was figure out if she recognised him because she'd chased him away earlier, or because she'd seen his face in a magazine. Or both. 

He decides to take initiative, and smile politely at her, bowing his head. She's already slowly turning a deep pink and, somewhere in the back of his head, he thinks she's quite cute when she's flustered. 

With that thought, he decides he's in a good enough mood to tease her, and acknowledges that there's no way she won't have recognised his clothes (if not his face) from earlier.

'So, economy huh?'

[aureatesvn]

Infatuated//Jaebeom

Content: suggestive situations, character death

Serial killer AU;

There's a four step plan to follow; 

it's simple really.

Part 2

She's not quite sure how it got to the point where he was seducing her, but it was an interesting turn of events that she didn't find herself too upset about.

Jae doesn't suit him at all…

Mysteries had always been her biggest weakness, and Jae, with his charming expressions and honeyed tones?

Well, she'd never been one to deny herself anything.

Minutes faded into an hour, which rolled over into two, and before she knew it, enough half-truths had slipped from her mouth to prompt him towards;

'It's late, I should get going,' 

a glance, 

'would you care to join me?'

She's not entirely surprised, and yet-

'Join- Join you?' 

His lips curl into something of a smile, it, he, exudes danger. It's alluring…

'Mm, join me, 

unless you have other plans of course?'

He's standing now, ready to leave, a hand out for her to take, and really, she doesn't have much of a choice, antecedent feelings of  infatuation catching up to her.

If her lack of hesitation surprises him, he doesn't let on, leading her out the enveloping warmth of the bar, onto the tarmac pavement, and down the adjacent alleyway.

'You're not going to murder me are you?' she jokes, tilting her head back to take in a glimpse of the night sky, through the gap between roofs.

He tightens his grip on her hand ever so slightly, eyeing the rubbish skips as they pass them, and then her relaxed figure;

'Here? In this alleyway? How uncouth you must think I am...' 

He has a sense of humour then,

she ponders at how vulnerable she must seem, as they exit the alley and draw near what she presumes is his car.

He gives his keys a small toss, before deftly unlocking the ride, sparing her a tilt of his head, and opens the passenger side door.

She takes a calming breath and, with the help of his proffered hand, climbs in.

No turning back now…

//

The journey was slow torture, the anticipation eating her up, her mind running on overdrive.

Eventually, after multiple traffic light stops, turns down familiar, then unfamiliar roads and swallowed attempts at small talk, 

they pull into a driveway.

Spacious, he must be well-off.

'It's quite isolated here?' she probes, hoping for at least a sliver of information. 

Both exiting the car, he manoeuvres himself close up behind her, one hand at the small of her back, the other already opening the door to his residence.

'Like I said, I enjoy my own space…'

The irony doesn't escape her, as his breath, warm against her ear, causes her to shiver.

'Cold? Come, let's get you inside,'

His scent envelopes her, and, even in such a tense state, she savours it as he nudges her through the entrance and seals it behind them.

//

The second he shuts the door, he feels her tense against his hand.

Tsk, now this won't do.

He spins around, bracing his arms against the wall, and traps her with his frame.

'You're not scared are you?' 

She trembles under his gaze, he presses closer.

'Are you?'

A strangled eep escapes her- almost a whimper, he presses closer still.

Attempting to back up, she has nowhere to escape from his invasion of her space, his eyes, pools of viscous ink, boring into her, his breath fanning her cheek.

She realises now, what the mystery surrounding him sought to conceal.

He's sinister.

She realises, and yet she doesn't struggle when he moves to press his lips against hers, softly, at first.

It's a leisurely seduction of her wits, as he nips at her lower lip, wiling her into letting her guard down, before it runs into something more demanding. 

And she enjoys it, hands sliding into his hair, gently tugging, her body trapped, flush against his and the wall.

He takes full advantage of their positions, breaking the kiss, only to attach himself at her neck, and she does whimper now, mixed in with breathy pleads, as he bites and soothes recurrently. 

He pauses, lips pressed up against her pulse point, to chuckle darkly at how completely helpless she is under him. 

Absolving them of their outer confinements, he feels the heady rush of anticipation.

She's dazed and a quite a bit distracted as he pulls away to tug her up the stairs, but not enough to miss the very empty picture frames along the stairwell. How odd.

They ascend, and all he can think about is how it would feel to finally have her in his hands, skin against skin, feeling the slow beating of her heart. 

Lust clouds their perception.

He guides her a little impatiently into a bedroom, and it's noticeably vacant of character, no personal belongings strewn about. She analyses, puzzled, he's just very meticulous with his items?

There is little time to consider though, as he takes her into his arms again, only to rushedly  hoist her onto the bed, and position himself over her.

She's a mess underneath him, flushed, with shallow breaths and swollen lips, and he can't help but marvel at how easy it would have been to miss her, in that crowded bar.

He dips his head to steal another kiss, as his eyes find hers, and his hands find their grasp on her neck, where the markings he'd left not moments earlier were starting to colour.

It's a shame no one would ever get to see them.

She has a flash of panic, before dawning realisation, as his grip tightens and she struggles for air, this was not part of the plan.

Her hands yank at his wrists, and she feels herself grow light headed, her struggling growing more frantic.

And he's strong but- 

She's more experienced.

The bed isn't wide enough to prevent her from hooking a leg down the side and using the momentum to roll them over, throwing him off her and onto the floor, 

He's taken aback, of course. 

Stunned, confused, and if he's being honest, a little fearful.

He's also on the floor for a moment too long, and she seizes the opportunity to stand over him, resting a foot on his windpipe.

As he moves to grab her, she applies pressure and raises a brow. 

Choking, he slams his hands back down.

None of her marks had ever been as difficult as him before.

She knew it had been far too easy to initiate contact, to gain his trust.

She hadn't known that it was because he had also been marking her, and by the time it became clear exactly what kind of dangerous he was, it was a little too late to pull out.

Still, she had been expecting a little more foreplay before he lept right into things, and was a tad disappointed in the turnout.

He struggles under her step, and she finds a certain kind of beauty in the cinematic parallels of it all.

'You know, I did tell you I was a people person too… though I suppose it's a good thing you didn't believe me?'

His eyes widen a fraction, and she winks down at him,

'Not that it matters, I would have had you either way, Jae.'

He's frenzied, hands that had been previously wrapped around her neck now squeezing her ankle, hoping to break it?

She steps harder, he squeezes tighter, his airway now fully restricted. 

His desperation grows, as he feels himself grow dizzy, he counts in his head,

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteenfourteenfifteensixteenseventeeneighteen...

until-

The grip on her ankle slackens.

She kneels over him, enamoured with his eyes, such devastatingly beautiful eyes.

It was a shame she had to leave him here, but it was no more than what he had planned for her.

As she leaves, 

she wonders at whose home it had been.

//

Infatuation;

An intense but short lived passion or interest for something, or someone.

[aureatesvn]

Infatuated//Jaebeom

Content: mentions of alcohol consumption, unintended slightly dark humour

Serial killer AU;

There's a four step plan to follow; 

it's simple really.

Part 1

They make eye contact, a split-second in the rush of people commuting, she almost doesn't notice. 

Almost.

But his eyes are intense, enamouring, and instead, she wonders at how easy it would've been to miss them.

He averts his gaze, she thinks nothing of it. Why would she? 

//

It's not until the next day, as she prepares to retire for the night, that the memory of the brief interaction crosses her mind.

As much as she tries, the rest of his face eludes her, and she's left with the impression of a striking regard, framed by dark locks... 

She hums to herself, smiling softly.

She'd always been a romantic, and who was going to stop her fantasising about a relatively tall, dark and, as far as her imagination was concerned, handsome stranger?

A deep release of breath and many trains of thought later, she drifts off.

//

A week later, the same junction crossing, she's alert, scanning faces, as she'd done the day before, and the day before that.  

Not that she wants to interact with him per se, not yet anyways, more that a little visual stimulation goes a long way in fuelling her growing infatuation, and she's idle enough to have time for an infatuation nowadays. Besides, what's the harm in a bit of people watching?

'Excuse me, miss?' 

She's drawn back to herself by a hand resting on her shoulder. Turning, she assesses the owner of said hand, and double takes. His eyes, they're-

'My apologies, I may be mistaken, but are you lost?' 

She freezes, mind racing to come up with a reason, any reason why she'd be stood at a crossing that he'd seen her at before, looking lost. Maybe he doesn't remember? 

'Actually I'm waiting for someone…'

He's visibly perplexed, and for good reason, who plans to meet at a road junction with plenty of surrounding cafés? 

But he isn't in a place to question, so he feigns understanding and gives a low chuckle;

'Ahhh, I see,' she winces as he shuffles awkwardly infront of her, hair falling from behind his ears to obscure his eyes,  'I'm sorry, I'll get going then, have a good day miss.'

A noticeable lilt, how intriguing.

She gives an indistinguishable noise of affirmation, and he gives her a last, long look, before crossing. 

She watches him as he makes his way down the street, before losing him, like the last time, in the sea of commuters.

The rest of her day is, if she's being honest, entirely unremarkable.

//

It's by chance really, the next time they meet.

She, somewhat intoxicated, him, on a little novelty search. 

He scans the bar for anyone of interest, his gaze shifting from person to person, until his eyes are resting on her. Unexpected, what are the chances? 

Under the dim lights, he discerns she's already had more than a few drinks, the managed air about her slipping. Approaching her, he catches the attention of the bartender;

'Water, thanks.' She doesn't turn to look, catching him off-guard when she muses,

'Water is a bit of a dangerous choice of drink at a bar, don't you think?'

He takes a seat, resting his forearms on the counter, and angles his head towards her, flashing a smile, 

'I don't drink, it involves health complications I'd rather avoid, unfortunately.'

She's looking at him now, eyes a tad unfocused, hands cradling her glass,

'I think- I think you should possibly reconsider the benefits of coming here then, mister…'

It strikes him, at that moment, exactly how drunk she is. That explains her seemingly new-found self surety.

She leans towards him unsteadily, peering up at him, and tilts her head. Cute. 

'I like your eyes... They're dark…'

As she squints, he raises a brow;

'Dark? I should hope so, they ha-'

'You- your hair is pretty…' 

He huffs in amusement, resigning himself to humour her ramblings.

She's nothing like he expected, but maybe it's the alcohol? 

It's too easy for someone to get close to her like this, take advantage...

He takes a moment to look at her, languidly taking note of a tinted pout, furrowed brows, she's attractive. Of course he knew what she looked like, they'd met before after all, and he didn't forget faces, but now, in this setting...    it's different. 

Interest fully piqued, he turns, giving her his full attention, and she beams, 

'Do you have any pets?'

An odd strain of conversation, even for someone under the influence…

'No, I'm more of a...people person, one might say-'

'Oh, so you have housemates instead? That's quite nice, it gets lonely living by yourself…'

She trails off again, absentmindedly swirling whatever alcoholic concoction she's been nursing since he arrived. 

He brings his own glass to his lips and takes a sip of water, before clearing his throat; 

'Actually, I prefer my own space, it offers privacy, and certain issues in my schedule mean I need the room.'

She blinks up at him owlishly, having shifted so close he can feel the warmth of her leg against his through his slacks. 

'So you live alone? So do I! Except I don't like it very much, I'm a people person too,' 

He ponders at how easy it is, almost too easy. But it was never beneficial to look a gift horse in the mouth, and a bit of information goes a long way in reassuring him as he angles himself towards her, their noses almost touching.

'I dont- I- what's- name?' She manages to squeak out, before breaking their eye contact, in favour of closely observing her own hands.

'Is that so?' 

She shivers slightly, irises dilating as his response signals a change in the tone of their conversation. 

He allows a slow, provocative smile curl to grow on his lips, keeping his eyes intensely trained on hers. So far so good...

'You're quite the interesting one,' he hums, already thoroughly enjoying toying with her;

A wink, a flash of teeth,

'My name? I suppose you can call me Jae…'

[aureatesvn]

Bath bomb//Yugyeom

She's winding down for the day, and after the multitude of taxing commissions she'd had to finish that eve, it's nice to finally relax.

Slipping into her tub, She sinks into the soothing brew of petals and bath salts, wiggling her toes in satisfaction. 

She submerges herself fully, before resurfacing, fixing her hair out of her face, and adds a sunset bath bomb, the shimmer enough to bring a fond smile to her face.

Humming in satisfaction, she hears the soft fizz of the sphere giving the water a howlite tint, and a cloud of milky froth.

As the fizzing comes to an end, she swirls patterns into the water with a finger, abstract spirals forming a opalescent construct under the glow of flickering candles

She'd heard humans nickname their insubstantial imitations 'fairy portals'. 

How quaint. 

Obviously non-functional, but a commendable pass, aesthetics wise that is, at a modernised dæmon rift.

He emerges, head first, greeting her with a grin and a playfully scrunched face, before bringing his hands up to latch onto the bath edge and pull himself through the gateway, onto her bathroom floor.

Kim Yugyeom. 

She likes to think of him as her counterpart, their magicks intertwined since she'd been a witchling, not that she remembered that event, as young as she'd been. 

He's always been part of her life,

whatever she needs, whenever she needs it.

He plants himself cross-legged next to her bath, listening to her natter, occasionally interjecting and passing her toiletries upon request;

'You used the bath bomb again? 

Ahh- you could've just opened up the arch rift,' he waves his hand in the direction of her mirror.

She giggles at his complaining,

'I know, but I was in the bath anyway, and the potion makes the water a pretty colour…'

'But it means I have to stretch and roll onto the floor to get here,' 

He huffs and drops the crystalline soap into her outstretched hand.

Their back and forth flows easily, and quicker than she can count, she starts to prune up. 

Carefully he helps her out the bath and wraps her in a fluffy towel, patting her dry before following as she makes her way into her room.

'The sun's just risen Gyeom, mind drawing the curtains?'

He collapses onto her bed,

'You know I like the sun, can we leave the blinds like this for a bit before covering them up? Pleeeeease? I haven't tasted sunlight in an age,'

'I need to sleep though…'

She humours, giving in when he pouts.

Daemons are, on majority, sweet and playful companions to have around, when one is in the mood. 

Unfortunately they're also hooked on the taste of sunlight, and so Yugyeom  is always very easily distracted by her window.

They lie, sprawled on the bed, basking in the warmth of the sun filtering in;

'Do you ever feel like staying?'

'Always,' he answers without hesitation,

'but I know this world isn't as beautiful as it feels from your room.'

She has a contemplative look, as she turns her head to face him.

Concerned, he queries,

'What's wrong? Your anima motus feels… off today.' 

'Nothing, I'm just tired I think…'

She inhales deeply through her nose, as he sits them both up, resting his forehead against hers, their eyes shut. 

It was a calming technique they'd developed before she could control her magick surges, a way to allow him to help her balance her emotions.

All the tension she's been holding is released, and as it trickles out of her she finds herself regaining her centre, her mind a little less heavy than it had been.

She curls into his arms, face buried in the crook of his neck.

He smells like her bath salts, a vanilla-rose fusion that eases her senses, and his body envelopes her, providing the security in familiarity she craves.

She knows he takes this form to comfort her the most, his voltus impermanent in his own realm. 

And it works, she adores it, how he encompasses her, lets her rely on him, 

at least whilst they're together.

She'd heard that not all companionships were as domesticated as her and Gyeom's, but she enjoyed it like this, and he didn't seem to think much of it.

'What's on your mind?'

'A lot of things…'

'Yeah?'

'..but mainly that I've been missing you.'

He holds her closer, still wrapped up in her towel, chin resting on her slightly damp head, and muffles, smiling,

'I've been missing you too.'

[aureatesvn]

Énouement//Jinyoung

The Eve. A glimmer of what could have been, reflected in the city lights, a projection of long forgotten dreams and aspirations, lost in the haze of weariness manufactured by time. Resting, considering, vision clouded by your own breath, a subtle irony you muse,. And you sink. 

Sunset. An easy scene to close at, you think. But not yet. A scene that nudges you into a wave of ambient nostalgia. A state of melancholy, not quite sad, but rather regretful you would say. Through the push and pull of muted emotions, you drift.

Noon. Languid comparisons of goals and achievements under a parasol, shaded from the influence of the ever burning sun. You accept, you acknowledge...and yet? Held in this stream of thoughts, unable to move on, there is no struggle, but you tire. 

Sunrise. You are content in passing of time, for what reason would you have to awaken? What good would awareness bring when the world itself has no agenda? Your mind is left to wander, given freedom to explore a landscape of intangible rivulets.