#''OMG that was exactly the feel i was going for'' from an author. then?

[velidewrites]

I need your author input on this because I’ve been imaging it lately. This is how I think it would go if you tried to pull the “omg your hand is so much bigger than mine, let’s compare” move on the vanbros: Vermillion would know exactly what you’re doing but plays along with a smug look on his face, Marcel knows what you’re doing and does NOT play along (he thinks it’s stupid), Sylas does not quite get it because no one’s been brave enough to pull stupid flirting moves like that with him before. Or perhaps I’m underestimating his rizz. I’ve been imagining him as being a bit rizzless (probably all went to Vermillion in the womb)

Absolutely obsessed with your mind Anon, allow me to offer some extra thoughts:

Vermilion — 100% plays along with it. “Is your hand really that small? Let me see.” You place your open palm to his own and, before you so much as blink, he interlaces your fingers and spins you around, your back suddenly pressed against the wall. “Got you,” he whispers against your temple, pinning your still joined hands above your head. “What now?”

Marcel — I actually see him playing along with it, too, but in an entirely different way 👀 Your curiosity wins as you press your palm to his gloved one, the leather surprisingly coarse to the touch. You want to ask him why he always wears those when you notice a sliver of smoke coil itself around your wrist. “What is that?” you ask, earning a soft chuckle, a non-answer that only makes your back stiffen. “Let me go,” you order sternly, but your voice wavers as the smoke begins its trail down your forearm, clearly heading towards your waist. “Relax,” he murmurs. “It will make everything a lot easier.”

Sylas — Two words: touch starved. “You’re not as clever as you think,” he says gruffly, making you retract your hand from his an inch, discouraged. Before you pull away, though, he catches your wrist, his grip strong enough to make you struggle. He guides your hand to his cheek, lips grazing over your fingers in a whisper of a kiss. Transfixed, your thumb studies the crescent of his bottom lip, and you swear you feel his whole body shudder at the sensation.

[tiredtriedfailures]

one thing abt me is i will read a character study/ character centric fic and leave a long ass beautiful comment that elaborates on authors focused points, they call me the noticer cuz i notice things, and itll get me a long ass response from the author

[lovieku]

TRUE LOVE ⋆ 정국

when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

⋆⁺₊❅. 5/6 from christmas & chill

pairing tattoo artist!jk x fem reader

genre fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l

warnings jk 24 | oc 24, jk thinks he’s too cool for love, oc suffers from a chronic case of “i can fix him”, she eventually does, oc simps HARDDD and jk only pretends to be unaffected, yea he’s a bit of a dick sometimes but he’s also Very funny, brief description of panic attacks, male masturbation, kissing, idk what else to add i just rly rly love them and will think of them for the entirety of xmas season

word count 10.2k

author’s note hi lovies 🩷 it’s my last time with c&c 🙁 i’m kinda emotional omg… it’s been such a fun, warm and lovely week, and i love each one of you for showing endless support to this project <33 i’ll keep trying to not disappoint… please tell me if you like this!!! thank u always and always 🩷 luv u <3

banner by the gorgeous @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

On the first day of December, your path crosses with thee Jeon Jeongguk’s after enough years for your brain to trip slightly before recognising him. But it would have been impossible not to—there’s likely a whole, well-preserved section of your thinking organ dedicated to that mortifying phase of high school, when your hormones turned life into an endless internal tug-of-war.

The moment your eyes widen at having him stand in front of you, you’re yanked unceremoniously into the past, brought back to buried, locked and left to gather dust feelings that have your teenage self’s screams echoing within you in a chorus of delight and cringe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is simply following his duties as a tattoo artist. When he catches sight of you next to his appointed client on such a breezy day, the cold December air starting to find its space even in the confines of his studio, he only nods his chin upward at you in slow recognition.

It’s awkward, at first. Only because you make it.

You’d volunteered to accompany Eunbi, your best friend, to get her first tattoo as an early Christmas self-gift. Your mission was clear: support her, hold her hand if the pain became unbearable (though you’re probably the least dependable person when it comes to making clarity in situations of panic, as seen right now), and be the first to bask in her excitement as she finally sees what she’s always pictured to be inked on the skin of her forearm. A blue whale tattoo, large enough to make you wince just thinking about the needlework.

You’d never go through something like that. Never.

And that’s exactly what’s showing on your face when you’re met with Jeongguk’s full sleeve of tattoos, leaving you rooted to the spot.

You’d always known him to be the different kid, the quiet one with forced sharp eyes that canonically listened to alternative rock and glared at anyone who dared approach, whether to tease him or befriend him. He’d convinced himself that no one could ever understand him.

See, you’d instead fooled yourself into thinking you were the exception. That you did understand him.

Fourteen-year-old you had gone through some weird phases, and the one that resurfaces now at the vision of his adult self is the one centered entirely around him. You unashamedly had the biggest crush on Jeongguk. To you, he was mysterious and edgy—in an effortlessly cool way.

You’d tried everything. Offered him your lunch more times than you were left with any for yourself. Even cut your bangs to have them fall over your eyes to mimic his fringe, dyed a strand in blue, overhauled your wardrobe to align with his back-and-grey one. None of it worked. He never noticed.

But, thinking of it now, there’s no way he didn't. He definitely did. How could any boy turn a blind eye to a lovesick girl’s heartfelt Valentine’s letter, a hopeless romantic girl who almost cried on the spot when she got rejected? Jeongguk just chose to willingly ignore it.

These are all valid reasons as to why your functions seem to slow down in his unexpected presence. And you’re not going to deny nor fake that his calm, almost detached demeanor doesn’t flow through your body and right to your left eye, making it twitch with a slight tremor.

Yet, you must also admit that your teenage self was onto something. Jeongguk has changed drastically but he’s also stayed the same. You think fourteen-year-old him would be proud of where he is right now. Two piercings on his lower lip and one on his eyebrow, intricate ink tracing up his muscled arm, his… muscled arms. Wow. And then, his studio. His own studio, a place for him and his passion, one that he made into his job. That’s undeniably cool.

Maybe just not cool enough for you to be gaping like an idiot as he moves with purpose, adjusting your friend’s arm to position the stencil he had prepared, perfectly fitting in the space she had chosen. His muscles flex with every shift, and it’s impossible for you to go past that with the way the black beater he’s wearing is loose on his torso, but still clinging on his chest.

Eunbi notices, of course. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed and in return she doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when your usual chatter dries up entirely, only gulping obnoxiously noisily and alternating that with nervous silences. Jeongguk, too, catches on.

He’d always known you as obnoxious and noisy. In, huh, a good way. Or whatever.

Jeongguk just agrees that you were (and probably still are, if the pastel yellow skirt softly flowing down your legs paired with a cozy cream sweater and the full toothed grin you shoot at your friend are any indicators) the pinpoint embodiment of his opposite. You’ve always been talkative, smiley, and friendly, eager to help and to receive help, not in the slightest ever turning down the opportunity to blabber on, and on, and on.

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever truly listened to a single word of your rambling back in the day, especially during those times when you’d bounce up to him and launch into enthusiastic rants about obscure alternative bands he himself hadn’t even heard of. He respected the hustle, though. He’d always wondered where you found the time and energy to immerse yourself in music like that.

He much preferred when you were less trying so hard to be him and mirror his tastes, more when you gave up on impressing him and simply stayed true to yourself, the girl whose heart belonged to Justin Bieber and One Direction. Truthfully, he fucked with them. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. His quiet, brooding image wouldn’t survive that revelation.

What he respected the most was your resilience. After all the times he rejected you and your awkward blurts of confessions, you still didn’t think it was enough of a reason for your villain origin story to take off, and instead remained the same frustratingly positive ray of sunshine you’d always been.

Now, as Jeongguk works on the tattoo in front of him, the very design that caused all these long-buried memories to rise back, his dark eyes flick toward you sitting on a stool in a near corner every now and then, a hint of confusion in his expression each time you take more than five seconds to reply to his small talk.

It’s just, you’re a bit taken aback. Since when does he do small talk? The foreign smoothness with which Jeongguk handles interactions is so far removed from the sullen boy you used to know. You’re not prepared for this version of him. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Enough time has passed for you to settle into the odd scenario, your current best friend and your long-standing high school crush in the same room. Slowly but surely, your curiosity sparkles again, and the signature tendency to let thoughts tumble out of your mouth unchecked returns to you naturally.

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Jeongguk snorts, eyes trained on Eunbi’s arm as he glides the tattoo needle with precise strokes that have his brows pinching and the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, a habit you remember from the past but one you’ve never found quite so distracting before.

Still, he multitasks and responds without missing a beat, “Wanna try?”

Wow. This is, like, the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. It spurs you on to do anything it takes to hear more of his voice, the sound of it definitely deeper than the shy tones you struggled to coax out of him ten years ago.

That is probably why you literally lie, “Hm. Maybe. I was thinking of getting one actually. In the future.”

Eunbi chokes on her spit, her chest coughing with the sudden, blatantly fake revelation, and Jeongguk promptly pauses, lifting the needle from her skin as his tattooist reflexes kick in. While your friend apologizes between a clearing of her throat and sinks back into the chair, she doesn’t keep from glaring at you, her expression screaming What the hell are you doing?

You deadpan. You’ll explain everything later and it’ll all make sense. And you know this will inevitably end up being added to the list of the many embarrassing facts she knows about you and threatens you with when she wants to go clubbing and you don’t.

Jeongguk uses the brief interruption to glance up at where you’re perched in the corner of his peripheral vision, just to square you up and down with a skeptical arch of his brow, “Really?”

You scoff, smoothing out the creases on your skirt as if the fabric is somehow responsible for the lie you just told, “Is that shocking?”

He hums, returning to his work with the buzz of the needle filling the studio again, his voice padded the more he gets closer to Eunbi’s forearm, “I just find it hard to believe such a princess like you could handle any pain.”

You gulp.

What you’re getting from this conversation is that Jeongguk has always had an idea of who you are in his mind all along. That he’s always perceived you in some way. As much as your inner fourteen-year-old is swooning at the attention, gobbling up each of the tiny crumbles he’s giving you, it doesn’t sit right with you. What exactly does he think of you?

“Test me.”

He shrugs, eyes fixated on the shade he’s perfectioning with black ink, “Busy now.”

“I’ll go pay for mine. I saw you have one last free spot today,” you announce, the words tumbling out with more confidence than you feel. You’re already on your feet before the sentence is fully formed, betraying the fact that your nosy tendencies had gotten the better of you earlier. You’d discreetly glanced at his appointment book when Jeongguk and Eunbi were finalizing her tattoo details and negotiating the final price at the desk.

He hums, head tilting slightly, “And I wanted to spend it bumming around.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to postpone that.”

You walked into this studio swearing you’d never let a needle even brush you.

Now you’re stretched out on a leather bench, Jeongguk leaning over you with a stencil in hand, gloved fingers moving with careful precision.

The design you’d chosen came from his portfolio—a delicate illustration of two butterflies in motion, their soft threads intertwining. You’d flipped through countless pages of bold skulls and intricate linework before settling on this.

The spot you’d chosen for the tattoo was the flat, firm plane between your breasts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a place you’d always liked. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nature hadn’t exactly blessed you in the cleavage department. Subconsciously, perhaps, you thought that adding something there might give the illusion of more.

“Tehe,” you can’t stop the breathy giggle that escapes as the cool paper brushes against your skin. Your hand is pressed to your bra, holding it in place as best you can, though the situation feels so surreal it’s hard to focus on anything but the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk glances up at you with a glare that’s more exasperated than angry before returning to the delicate task at hand, “What’s funny?”

Your voice wobbles, “I just— I tend to laugh during serious moments.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Sorry.”

With a small sigh, he smooths the stencil, and once it’s transferred he hands you a square mirror, waiting for your approval. You nod, the butterflies now perfectly poised in their eternal dance, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a moment.

The buzz of the needle fills the room as he leans closer, one gloved hand resting on the upper part of your chest to steady himself. He’s mere seconds from beginning the inking process when another laugh bubbles out of you.

Jeongguk sits back abruptly, dropping his pen onto the metal tray with an audible clink. Tilting his head, he levels you with a look of thinly veiled irritation. “I really can’t work if your chest keeps moving.”

“Sorry,” you blurt again, turning your head to face the wall. You clamp your lips together tightly, mentally scrolling through every sad memory you can conjure. Think of something awful. Your childhood dog dying. Okay, maybe not that sad—

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Always smiling like you live surrounded by flowers and rainbows,” Jeongguk’s mutter vibrates against your chest, warm breath fanning over the cold skin, distracting you from your no-giggling mission.

The unexpected observation has your brows furrowing in a mildly offended frown, and banter is ready on your tongue. “You’re just the same too, Gguk. The emo boy who thinks he’s too cool for a smile.”

“I’m not an emo boy. The fuck,” he scoffs, kissing his teeth and murmuring more of his indignation under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I can teach you.”

The whirring needle glides across your skin with a slightly firmer touch, making you hiss softly under your breath. He seems unbothered by the reaction, and instead bothered by your words, “Teach me what.”

“How to smile a bit more,” you reply, your voice laced with mockery as you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the wall. The smirk playing on your lips is triumphant; he walked right into your little jab, hehe.

Your mind is already racing, piecing together the beginning of a sarcastic rant about how his perpetual scowl probably contributed to his mysterious high school persona. For the sake of his ego, you won’t add how it worked in his favor, how more than one girl (your own self) found his untouchable vibe completely irresistible.

Even though, thinking back, he looked ridiculous. His big, round, slightly scared-of-the-world eyes truly didn’t belong with the heavy black eyeliner.

But before you can get a single word out, Jeongguk straightens his posture, pulling away from your chest. With a practiced motion, he tosses one of his gloves onto the counter behind him, his expression cool and indifferent. “It’s done.”

“Done?!” you exclaim, tilting your chin down to look at your chest. You go slightly cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of the design now inked onto your skin. Forever.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even feel it.”

Jeongguk seems equally done with small talk, transitioning into a professional explanation of the tattoo’s aftercare step. His tone is calm but clipped, and you can’t tell if it’s his usual demeanor or just reserved for you. He also hands you a small tube of cream of which you’re not sure the use of, too enthralled by the vision of his colored sleeve this up close.

And still laying on the leather bed, you almost reach to trace one of the many lines with your finger before he interrupts, “You can pay with Yoongi at the entrance.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt as Jeongguk turns his back to you, his focus already back on cleaning his tools. You still are not over, “Thank you, Jeongguk. Can I— huh. Can I get your number?”

He pauses mid-motion, just long enough for the silence to stretch thin and taut. Turning around to study your features, he stares you up and down with knitted brows and a hostile kind of confusion painting his expression. “… For what exactly?”

“In case anything happens with the tattoo.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, then turns back to what’s keeping him so occupied with a noncommittal grunt, “Huh. Sure. Yoongi has my business cards at the desk. You can ask him. Have a good day.”

With Eunbi practically dragging you out of the room, you don’t have the chance to say anything more, though your chest burns with indignation. It’s not that you expect him to fall over himself at the chance to catch up, but the sheer indifference is maddening.

Should you pretend you don’t care either? You could. But really, who are you fooling? You still have those old diaries buried somewhere in your closet, their pages crammed with his name written in looping, lovesick cursive. That little girl in you never truly died.

On the fourth day of December, you finally text him. It’s about your tattoo, of course. There’s not much else to say to him, but when his only reply to your picture of the healing process is a yellow thumbs up, you find your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Words start forming before you’ve fully processed them, and before you know it, you hit send.

You [3:39 p.m]: btw u still friends with kim tae?

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: Yes

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: He’s my best friend

You [3:43 p.m.]: ohhh, cool

jeongguk [3:45 p.m.]: You want his number?

You [3:46 p.m.]: no… i’m good with yours ☺️

You can’t help but giggle at how his typing bubbles appear and then fade for a whole minute, biting your lower lip with a sheepish grin, savoring the silent victory. You’re doing this for your fourteen-year-old self, who would’ve squealed at the thought of making Jeon Jeongguk flustered. But you’re a different girl now. You’ve changed. No man could ever reject—

jeongguk [3:48 p.m.]: If there’s nothing else about the tattoo then 👋

“Hmph,” your frown is so pronounced that you feel your chin aching and your wrinkles prematurely deepening. Well, this is not the first time you come face first with his sour antics. Only now, you’re prepared.

You [3:48 p.m.]: yall hanging out soon? let me join

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: Why lol

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: He barely even remembers you probs

You [3:50 p.m.]: who would not remember me

jeongguk [3:50 p.m.]: The only thing i’m now remembering about you is how I couldn’t stand your ass

You gasp, hand coming up to brush against your parted lips. With a huff, you hastily click at your keyboard, “Mean. Sent. Ugh.”

On the sixth day of December, your persistence pays off, and you find yourself at a random bar you’d never been to before, seated with both Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Between Jeongguk’s cigarette breaks—forcing the three of you to brave the cold outside—and brief moments in corners of the cramped place where the music feels muffled against the walls, you manage to catch up with Taehyung. The rest of the time though, the noise inside is so deafening that it makes any kind of meaningful conversation impossible.

Even more when a random girl slides into the booth next to him, capturing his attention entirely, leaving you and Jeongguk in paradoxical silence.

The tattoo artist has been glued to his phone with his head down for the last 20 minutes, and now you alternate between observing his side profile, roughened by the piercings and a more defined jawline, and analysing the weird dynamic that is beginning to form between Taehyung and the girl, sitting in front of you.

Alone with your thoughts and, well, the pulsating music, you feel yourself getting unreasonably closer to symptoms you know all too well, that threaten to have you spiraling. You shake your head, forcing it to stop. There’s no reason for anxiety to visit you at such an inconvenient time.

But of course, the little voice in your head starts listing all the totally valid motives why this is indeed the perfect time for it to visit you.

The bar feels suffocating on your skin.

Your dress clings too tightly.

The couple facing you is shamelessly close to making out.

Jeongguk sighs in visible boredom.

You shouldn’t have come. Hell, you shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. A smarter version of yourself would have brought Eunbi for balance, for comfort. But in your foolishness, you thought this could be an opportunity for you and Jeongguk to catch up. Instead, you feel foreign to him, foreign to this pub booth, and the air begins to feel foreign to your lungs. You’ve never liked bars, clubs, or places with loud music.

You sniffle, looking down at your lap. Then up at the ceiling. Then around the room. It keeps spinning and booming with volume that only adds to the feeling of helplessness. Quick, quick, quick.

What are five things that you can see?

Five. Your gaze falls on Taehyung and the girl, their lips and tongues clumsily entangled as they laugh between sloppy kisses. No help there. The air catches harder in your throat.

Four. Your empty glass, its smudged rim a reminder of the single drink you had, now sitting uncomfortably in your stomach.

Three. Your scuffed heels, their tips worn to the nub despite your best efforts to hide it with a marker.

Two. The swirling lights above the bar, dizzying as they flash brighter and brighter.

One. Jeongguk’s tattooed hand on your thigh.

His fingers dig into the skin, shaking you alarmedly, with a force you’ve never known from him, not even when it came to stopping your shaking stomach as you were laying on the studio’s leather bed.

Head snapping up to face him, you’re met with a perfect resemblance of how you must look right now. Wide eyes, knitted brows, nose flaring and exhaling, and you try to follow the movements of his mouth, but they jumble together annoyingly in your brain. You lean closer, narrowed orbs still fixated on his lips to try and read them. Are… you… ok—

“___, you’re scaring me. Hey, hello? Are you okay?”

Jeongguk moves from your thigh to your shoulders, jolting you gently but firmly from the fog that is threatening to cloud up your brain. The sudden clarity hits you, but you still stumble forward, your weight toppling over his chest. With it, your head dips rapidly, hurtling toward the sharp edge of the table, and before Jeongguk knows it his instinct snaps and he catches you promptly.

The next steps blur together. You vaguely register the boy next to you standing up and pulling you along with him, his broad shoulders supporting one of your arms while his inked one secures around the small of your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Then, it’s nothing but brief flashes. Jeongguk pressing a water bottle to your lips. Sitting you down on the stairs outside the pub. Holding your hair back as you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Cracking a smile to make you laugh, showing off his tattoos in exaggerated detail like it’s the grandest tour of your life. Opening the door to his car and gently easing you into the passenger seat, ensuring the seatbelt clicks into place.

Inside his car, you slowly feel your senses come back to you.

At a redlight that you recognise as the one near your apartment complex, you muster a small and hoarse thank you. Jeongguk only hums low, eyes fixated on the road and fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Before a sheepish smile can make its way on your lips and spread across your face, your head twitches back as your brows furrow. Your thoughts suddenly catch up with you, “Hey, how do you know the way to my flat?”

His gaze briefly flicks toward you in annoyance, then back to the road. “You literally just told me.”

“Oh.” A beat passes before you giggle softly. “Don’t remember.”

Jeongguk mutters something intelligible under his breath, and next thing you know he’s turning down your street and slowing in front of the building that matches the number you gave him. Given your current state, he begins to question if that is even the right one.

“This one!” You point at the tall front gate with an almost childlike excitement, back shifting slightly from the seat as your grin stretches wide. Jeongguk grimaces. Why the fuck do you look like you’ve been reuinted with your home after years apart, as if you weren’t there just a couple hours ago?

“Right. Huh, you good with going back on your own?”

“Yes. I’d hate to bother you further. I’m sorry for this, I… was getting better, I guess.”

The sad confession doesn’t land with the weight it should, softened by the smile painted on your lips and the chuckle you let out as if it were nothing. Jeongguk’s eyelid twitches, unsettled by the unnecessary happiness that always seems to drip from you, even when it doesn’t belong.

“‘S okay. Have a good night,” he awkwardly bows his head, waiting for you to exit the car. When you stay still, he clears his throat, adding just to fill the silence, and perhaps because he means it, “Huh, and make sure to rest a lot.”

You take a moment, maybe longer than you should, to study his features up this close. You particularly fixate on the way his eyes dart everywhere but never land on yours. Then, with your signature toothy grin, you bow back and open the car door, leaving with a string of thank yous, and get home safe, and I’ll text you, and please, reply to me, and bye.

Jeongguk has to fight a smile of his own.

On the tenth day of December, you realise you want him. Even more badly than your fourteen-year-old self ever did. Which is frankly insane.

You don’t know if it was the natural way he looked after you during your episode, or his dry sarcasm as he actually started replying to your random updates throughout the day.

But no, it was definitely the selfie he sent you after what he said was a long day. Messy hair, tired eyes, a hint of a smile. You’d struggled to even gulp down your saliva when the picture popped up in your chat, and maniacally stared at it with eyes glued to the bright screen before sending one of your own. He had replied with Cute. followed by Your hair pin is cute.

That is why you find yourself facing… Yoongi? If you remember correctly. The guy at the front desk of Jeongguk’s studio.

You beam at him, and what you’re met with instead is a confused stare. You inhale, “Hi. Is Jeongguk in?”

Yoongi scratches his head, muttering, “He’s busy with a client.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” you wave off his concern. “Can I wait here?”

The boy hesitates, looks unsure the more your interaction develops, and he glances between you and the empty waiting area. He relents with furrowed brows, “Sure… Huh, It’s a back tattoo, so it’ll take him a while.”

You shrug and plop yourself onto the leather sofa, seemingly unfazed, “I like waiting.”

Crossing your legs, you take in the studio’s atmosphere, eyes drifting to the dark walls lined with framed artwork and certificates. You spot Jeongguk’s name on many of those.

For the next fifteen minutes, you try distracting yourself by flipping through the stack of tattoo magazines on the coffee table. You wince at inked heads, faces, butts, and even… more private parts. Deciding this world is definitely not for you, you slam the book shut.

By the time an hour passes, you’re fighting a battle with your lack of sleep. The third yawn you manage to stifle, but the fourth escapes before you can stop it. Yoongi, seated at the desk, doesn’t bother hiding his unimpressed stare. Still, he’s polite enough to offer you a glass of water, a coffee, or even a chance to join him for a cigarette break.

You decline all of it, though your throat does feel dry.

Maybe you should have planned this with a bit of rationality. Or at least gotten more sleep. Now, your every blink is slower, eyelids batting to shut and taking longer to flutter open again. Hm, this feels nice. You’ll just let them rest for a bit longer. And longer. And a bit more.

The next time you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face is inches away, his warm hand resting firmly on your arm. You jolt upright with a startled yelp.

“Jeongguk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an unmistakably mocking smirk. “Hey. You don’t have a bed?”

You sit up, forcing Jeongguk to step back and straighten to his full height. Your neck cranes upward to glare at him, brows furrowed in what you hope is an intimidating glare, though you sport a pout that is all but menacing, “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue, turning back to round the desk and fiddle with the appointment book, clearly unbothered. You take the moment to rub your eyes—only to remember, too late, that you’d worn makeup. A quick glance around reveals how much has changed since you last let your eyelids flutter open. The lights in the studio are dim, the hallway is dark, and every door is shut. Yoongi is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of you in the deathly quiet space.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your parted lips, “Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry. I was probably really tired from yesterday.”

Jeongguk hums, focus still locked on the book in front of him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask why you came here in the first place, and doesn’t acknowledge your apology. Ugh. This is humiliating.

Before you can stand, you feel something heavy draped over your body. It’s a jacket. Definitely not yours, since you never took it off. At least not consciously. No, this is a worn black leather one on which his scent lingers. You tug it closer, puzzled, and then look up at him, holding it out. “Did I steal this in my sleep?”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Ew, are you a sleepwalker?” Locking the till, he strolls over to you and plucks the jacket from you, casually slipping it on. “No, I put it on you. Wanted to see how long someone could feel safe enough to pass out in my studio. Thinking of turning this place into a daycare. I’ll have you play in the morning, get some lunch, nap time...”

There’s a beat of silence in which his sarcasm lingers in the air, and you stare at him, unamused. He shrugs, smirk unwavering.

You huff, “I regret coming here.”

“Yeah, why did you come here?”

Smoothing down your pink wool sweater, you stand up to stretch with zero shame. Then, fluttering your lashes at him, you assert with a smile, “You’re coming with me to the Christmas markets. This Sunday.”

Jeongguk groans like the idea physically pains him, “Oh, I would fucking hate that.”

Ignoring him, you zip up your puffer jacket and rock on your toes, “Pick me up at seven, okay?”

He glares, unimpressed at your excitement, before heading toward the entrance and pulling a hefty set of keys from his pocket, “I don’t even remember where you live.”

You hurry after him, following him outside and shuffling closer in your coat at the cold air hitting you. Watching as he locks the door and pulls down the rolling shutter with its red-and-black skull graffiti, you chirp, “You’ll have to text me for that.”

Jeongguk rises up again, giving you a slow once-over. He seems distracted by your hair before snorting, “You’re talking like I’m the one who spent their afternoon napping in my studio just to drop this bomb and leave. Couldn’t you just text me this?”

You shrug innocently. He sighs, reaching out for you, “Do you need a ride hom—”

“Bye!”

You spin on your heel and skip off in the opposite direction before he can let his own greeting out, waving a gloved hand behind you. Jeongguk stays where he is, arm still held out.

Do you even have a car? He hopes so—it’s freezing out.

With another sigh, he shakes his head and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. Why are you so fucking weird?

On the fourteenth day of December, your arm is looped tightly through Jeongguk’s as you stroll through the Christmas markets, burying your face further in your scarf to shield against the icy air, and with each few step you gasp at things that the boy next to you finds utterly unimpressive.

You stop at nearly every stand, eyes glowing with the warm Christmas fairy lights strung all around, effortlessly picking up conversations with the vendors and melting even the most stoic faces with the scrunching of your nose at every grin and the exaggerated nods following descriptions of their crafts.

Through all of it, Jeongguk remains put at your side, his arm linked with yours and a subtle pout on his lips. When you tease him about it, he simply shrugs, and you figure it’s just his natural expression. You find that oddly endearing.

He still humors your enthusiasm, offering low hums or murmured praise whenever you exclaim you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for everywhere, and he offers to pay every time, the gesture so casual that he doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

When you bow to the nth seller, clutching yet another bag of sweet treats tightly to your chest, Jeongguk exhales and resumes slow walking beside you, “I don't like these places.”

You glance up at him, fluffy hat almost slipping off before he promptly secures it back on your head with a gesture so smooth you hardly notice it. You instead wonder, “Then why are we here now?”

He slips his hand into his pocket, “Because you threatened me.”

“With a really good time.”

“If this is your version of a good time, you might as well kick me in the balls. That probably feels better.”

You gasp, halting in your tracks to glare at him. When he lets a small chuckle topple out of him, you think you might forgive him. No, you’re more than sure with the way his smile lingers. You sheepishly look away, muttering, “Don’t tempt me, emo boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh yes, you are,” you interrupt, snapping your face back to his. Clearing your throat, you prepare your best imitation of him, exaggerating a frown and lowering your voice, “I’m so different, I hate Christmas.”

Jeongguk scoffs, pulling you tighter to him when a scooter unexpectedly zips past you. You yelp, instinctively shuffling closer to his arm. He continues the conversation casually, unaffected, “That’s the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. And also, I never said that.”

Releasing the breath you held for a moment too long, you uncertainly keep your slow stroll going, only narrowing your orbs at him, “It’s written all over your face.”

“I love Christmas.”

The admission is small, his voice soft and almost reluctant, like it pains him to reveal something so simple and obvious as loving Christmas. When you lean your chin on the puffed arm of his jacket, he doesn’t look down at you, his gaze fixed ahead, guiding the two of you through the chaos of the busy street.

You chirp, your steps stumbling, “Really?

Only then he shifts his attention to you, steadying you with his other arm wrapping around your figure in what seems like a hug, before he lifts you up by the neck of your coat and retreats just enough to face you. His lips press into a straight line as he nods, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes the more he stares in yours, “Yeah, really. I just don’t like… crowded spaces.”

You can’t help but think back to what happened just a week ago. The exact reason why the spirals in your brain wouldn’t stop twisting and tangling is now slipping from his lips in a voice that quietens as he seems to grasp the delicacy of his own confession.

He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. Drawn-up brows over wide and sparkling eyes—the only part of your face visible beneath your scarf—stare at him with something too tender, too focused, that makes him uneasy. He turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears red not only from the cold, and pulls you along toward another stand, an almost nervous distraction.

It’s your turn to frown. Maybe the one that’s permanently plastered on his face tonight isn’t just a reflection of his usual sullen demeanor. With a knot tightening in your chest, you can’t help but feel like you dragged him into something he truly hated, and that he wasn’t just pretending to.

What if this isn’t just your evil inner voice talking? What if this isn’t just overthinking, but the factual truth of your current reality? He’s hating every second of this but still enduring it because— you catch your breath with a long and strained inhale, because—

“Hey, dimples. You okay?”

Jeongguk moves to stand in front of you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, a stance eerily reminiscent of that night you were just thinking back to. He nods at you, “Breathe with me, hm?”

You find yourself quickly adjusting to his comforting aura, drawn in by the reassurance in his eyes trained on you, never wavering, watching closely as you begin to mirror the measured rise and fall of his chest, your breathing gradually syncing with his until the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

When you feel your feet touching the ground again, you offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just…” You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes landing on a colorful stand, “Wait here a second, okay?”

Jeongguk lets you slip away, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He takes a few hesitant steps closer, careful not to crowd you but unable to tear his eyes away from your next actions, how your grin comes back on your lips with unpracticed ease, lighting up your face as easy talk flows between you and the seller. A few coins trade hands, and soon you’re holding two churros, their chocolate-dipped ends threatening to drip onto the ground.

You don’t hesitate, biting into one of them before it has the chance to make a mess, and with a quick nod of your head you motion for Jeongguk to follow. He does so, only after taking the churros from your hands, and letting you seek his warmth again with an arm snaking under his. He’s only letting you do this because it’s fucking cold, no other reason.

You walk, and walk, guiding him along until you find a quieter corner, away from the bustle, where you two stand isolated from the rest. The dim lighting casts a softer glow, and the distant hum of chatter and music fades into a gentle background noise.

Glancing up at him, you flash a playful smile before leaning in to bite another chunk of the churro he’s holding, your laughter spilling out as he grimaces in exaggerated disgust and pulls the sweet out of your reach. You settle onto a nearby bench, patting the empty spot beside you invitingly.

Jeongguk is unsure of what this means. He takes slow steps towards you, handing you your churro—which you take eagerly, already chewing on it—before tilting his head back in mild confusion, “But… you wanted to visit the markets.”

You shake your head, your bug eyes meeting his as you speak around a mouthful of sugar and chocolate, “There’s no point if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

The look you’re giving him is one he’s seen countless times before—familiar, and annoyingly reminiscent of ten years ago. It’s the same look that, he’s convinced, is solely responsible for making his knees weak and his fingers jittery, no longer something he can blame on the cold. You’re unbelievably frustrating.

He clicks his tongue, looking away, “You’re fucking weird.”

You giggle, humming, “If weird is a synonym for whipped, then sure.”

He has to fight the twitch of his lips. Fakes a gag instead. You chuckle louder. Only then, he hints at a smile, “C’mon. Let’s go check out some other stuff.”

“But—”

He interrupts, pulling you up by your forearm, “I’m hungry.”

The next hour you spend wandering around is made of Jeongguk’s small, imperceptible ways of cracking: his pout less prominent, more replaced by lips pulled into a tight line or in a mildly pursued scowl as you ask him which beanie looks better—the pink or purple one; his so evident sarcasm as he comments on how the old vendor was totally flirting with you, or when he mockingly adds to your over-the-top excitement every time you spot a dog. All in all, he’s more relaxed. More himself.

You then find yourself standing in front of the churros stall from earlier, the warm scent tugging you closer. Without hesitation, you ask the lady behind the counter for another four churros—this time with extra sugar. You add two thank yous.

To fill the waiting, you pick up casual conversation with the woman, until she pauses mid-sentence, wrinkled hand coming to rest over her heart as her gaze flits between you and Jeongguk, her crinkled eyes lighting with a sudden fondness and a quiet, content smile finds its space on her chapped lips, “You two look perfect together.”

Jeongguk snorts, “Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you, auntie!” You chirp, and your grin is so wide it squeezes your eyes into crescents. You accept the first churro she hands over, biting into it and talking through it, “These are delicious. Is the recipe a secret or can you share it with me?”

The woman laughs, clearly flustered by your energy, and leans in with a conspiratorial expression, though she gives in pretty soon, “It is a secret, but… Oh, c’mon. A pretty lady like you deserves to know.”

You burst into chuckles, joined by auntie’s own rolling and carrying a contrasting warmth to the cold air. Jeongguk, for his part, stands slightly to the side, observing. You still cling to his arm, even as the vendor reaches over to gently smooth her fingers through your curls, complimenting the way they frame your face. You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation, but there’s a dimpled smile stretching on your cheeks that gives you away.

Before you leave, the lady points to Jeongguk, voice growing earnest, “You, handsome. I can see you’re a good guy, so you probably don’t need my advice. But treat her right, yes?”

Jeongguk stills for a second and stumbles over an awkward nod, managing to force a smile that has you stifling a laugh under your scarf. You tug him away with a cheerful wave to your new friend, promising her you’ll come visit again before Christmas.

Once you’re at a safe distance, he mutters, “Why did you not tell her that we’re not together?”

You tilt your head considering his question, “It’s not like she knows us. She looked like she adored you. I didn’t want to ruin that for her. Maybe seeing a young couple like us really means a lot to her.”

Jeongguk observes how the more you explain, the more you’re convincing yourself as much as him, eventually solidifying your reasoning as you nod, muttering some more under your breath. He scoffs, looking away to hide his lips twitching.

When he turns back he’s frowning, though it doesn’t quite match the way he lets you hook arms again, your pastel pink bag hanging from his shoulders. Still, he sulks as though the mere thought of your observation has him shivering, and not with the cold, “We’re not a couple.”

Jeongguk barely gets to let his unnecessarily petty comment out before you drag him with an unusual strength over to another stand, his voice not even touching your ears, “Oh, let’s go over there, Gguk!”

On the twenty-first day or December, you send him a picture of your tattoo.

You had been talking non-stop ever since your… date? Or was it just a hangout? Whatever it was, it’s been a week, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling at a fucking screen too many times a day for his linking. It’s irritating. Even brings his phone with him to the bathroom in case you text him. Not because he cares. No, it’s practical. What if you ever had an emergency and he was the only one who could help?

Most of the time it’s just you sending TikToks, but he clicks on the links with the same urgency he’d reply to a genuine plea for help. He doesn’t really want to think of the reason why.

Now, this picture—it catches Jeongguk off guard.

It doesn’t even look like it’s about the tattoo. Not really. It feels like an excuse, a flimsy pretext for you to show yourself to him. The tattoo—the one he himself inked—is there, yes. But it’s not at all the main focus of the photo that tightens his grip on his phone.

You’re wearing a thin, pink tank top with delicate lace trim, the straps barely clinging to your shoulders. Your fingers hook under the neckline, tugging it down just enough to expose the tattoo nestled between the soft curve of your breasts. The angle of the shot is deliberate, he can tell. Your back arches slightly off what he assumes is your bed, and your face is cropped out, save for your glossed lips, full and slightly parted, catching the dim light.

Jeongguk blinks, hard. Then again. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, the low light of his phone screen doing little to soften the image burning itself into his mind. His eyes dart upward, scanning his surroundings, just to make sure everything is in place. The shop is empty, the door is closed, the hum of quiet settles over the space.

Looking down, the picture still stares back at him paired with a single message.

Annoying [11:39 p.m.]: do you think it’s healed? idk about this stuff, need your help 🥺

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what this is. He alternates between the photo and your words, jaw ticking and tightening more with the seconds flowing.

It’s almost cruel, the way you’re testing him like this. He tries to push the feeling down, to reject the buzz of heat pooling low in his stomach. You know him well enough to be aware that he won’t reply to something like this. A stupid, unnecessary message. The tattoo is healed—he told you that a week ago, clear as day. There’s no reason for you to ask again.

What’s the purpose of this?

He gets a distorted idea when he shifts uncomfortably in place, the dull ache tightening his pants almost unbearable now.

Jeongguk groans and locks his phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that will put an end to this. He tries to refocus on his tasks, the last ones before he clocks off. Cleaning needles, tossing used stencils.

But his heavy balls keep sending desperate, silent prayers to his brain, to please let them have this. Just this once.

It’s been a bad day. Two of his appointments canceled last minute, leaving him to sit around bored. The last client showed up drunk and wouldn’t stop trying to flirt with him. His coworkers were loud and distracting, and to top it all off, the heater broke, leaving the studio freezing cold.

It’s been such a bad day.

So, would there be any harm? It’s not like anyone will know. Not you, not his friends. He’s the only one that will. And he’s far more willing to live with this dirty secret rather than with his hard dick straining achingly in its confines.

Jeongguk abruptly snatches up his phone again, unlocking it to the same picture that caused him to brush the device aside just minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, thumb hovering over the screen. You won’t get no reply to him. But if you knew what he was up to right now, you would probably geek. Tease him, with your warm smile that digs dimples in your cheek, hopping on your toes to poke at his chest playfully, with those perfectly manicured hands of yours.

“Shit,” his free hand is already pushing the jeans down along with his boxers, and he drops his weight onto the nearest stool as he grips at the base of his thick cock, eyes devouring the image of you in the empty chat.

He doesn’t zoom in. That would feel too shameless. But he finds it oddly better like this. Is it weird that your text, so innocently worded, is turning him on? That the simple idea of you needing his help is enough to have his hips jerking?

What could you possibly need his help for? Fuck. The different ideas that pool his mind have him squeezing harder at his stinging tip.

Jeongguk focuses on your dainty hand, slim pointer finger snaking under the collar of your flimsy shirt to show yourself to him, and your small boobs spill from the sides with a delicious, soft swell. He hisses when he pictures that same hand working on him instead, his warm mouth stuffed with your stiff nipples, visible through the sheer material.

He can’t help the loud groan leaving his lips, wrist flickering up and down in a motion that feels sloppy way too soon, hips jutting up to fuck into his tight fist. Throwing his head back, he sees you even behind closed eyelids.

He pictures your delicate figure sprawled on his bed, long lashes batting up at him as you sheepishly hide with your cheek to your shoulder. Can clearly make out how you’d sit on his lap instead, unsteady breath fanning over his lips, using his long shaft to make yourself cum. The whole time, he sees the tattoo on your chest, the one that is forever on you, eternally a reminder of him.

When he lets his head topple forward again, his bright screen still stares at him, only because a new message pops up in the chat. He startles, and his cock throbs in his hand.

Annoying [11:52 p.m.]: oh, and i miss you.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse is strained through a loud whine, and only followed by more of his full moans filling the room. His brows knit as his hand moves rapidly, palm collecting the precum spreading embarrassingly fast on his tip and rolling it down his length.

He focuses on your parted lips, the soft curve of your breast, your hard nipples begging to be sucked and spit on. Your last text has flashes of your bug-like eyes staring up at him seizing his mind.

That’s what undoes him. He’s delirious as he lets out his every sound, freely, unchecked, not caring about how loud he is, whimpering as he gets closer to his climax. When he thinks of those eyes locking with his, kneeling before him, eager and willing to swallow his every drop, he cums. Hard.

Jeongguk pumps everything he can out of him, and it’s messy—spilling over his hand, staining his clothes, pooling on the floor. His chest heaves with the effort, and the sensation of abandon he feels is so pleasurable, energy drained but leaving him with a lightness that threatens to make his cock hard again.

Fuck. He can’t afford that happening if you’re not the one attending his needs. This won’t be enough, not until it’s you. He’s insatiable.

Jeongguk needs to hear your voice.

It’s an instinct, and he bends to it. He’s careful, making sure not to tap on the FaceTime option, because if you were to see him right now it’d be glaringly obvious.

When he looks to the side, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror, and he visibly grimaces at the way his cheeks are flushed, the pearls of sweat coating his forehead causing his bangs to stick uncomfortably to the skin.

Guilty doesn’t even begin to cover it.

With the phone to his ear beeping to eternity, he hesitates, contemplates ending the call before you can answer. But just then, you do.

“Jeongguk! Is everything okay?”

Your voice is familiarly soft, but there’s a trace of concern. Blinking, he brings the device closer again and gulps thickly when he can make out your panting breaths. He clears his throat and puts on his best nonchalant act, “Huh— Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… You just never call. Or text first. This is weird. You sure you’re okay?”

Oh. Is that really what it is like?

Jeongguk never realized this was how he came across—so detached that a simple phone call feels out of character. Your naive honesty hits him square in the chest. God, he needs to get better at this. The irony stings: he just fucking jerked off to your picture and the simple thought of you, while you’re on the other side thinking he’s just a careless piece of shit who doesn’t even know how to call.

The long stretch of silence registers in his brain, and he coughs to buy time, “Yes, I’m sure. I— huh,” he thinks of stuff you usually ask to keep the conversation flowing. Not out of courtesy, but out of genuine interest, the curiosity that makes people want to open up. He’s still not used to that. Still finds it weird.

“How… How was your day?”

It must be equally weird for you because it takes you a longer beat to reply. In that quiet moment, he clenches his eyes shut and feels his jaw tick with shame. And embarrassment. And this icky feeling that makes him feel too mushy for his liking. Hell, what is he doing? He’s never been like this, he’s not supposed to be like this.

But you recover quickly, as you always do, and you smooth over the moment. Fix it all for him like you were born to be just that. Make him feel like he fits in ways that have him exhaling shakily.

Jeongguk senses a foreign drumming in his stomach, and it’s warm but odd, and he loves it but he doesn’t want to.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, cheekily under a mistletoe, Jeongguk realizes he wants you. There’s parts of him that probably knew way sooner. But the parts of him that didn’t, fighting tooth and nail to suppress the mere thought, are just now finally surrendering.

Jeongguk has always found you admirable, back in high school. You had this determination to you. Not only when it came to him. It shone particularly when you catered to others, always finding ways to help, to mend, to offer yourself with nothing less than a fully toothed smile.

But he’s also always thought you two were—and still are—too different to work. He can’t be what you want, let alone what you deserve: someone who can match your enthusiasm and unwavering smiles, your frustrating positivity; someone who sees the world the way you do. No black, no grey, no shades in between. Just bright, hopeful white. Blinding white.

It’s the white making him dizzy, shifting his perspective, having him believing the opposite of what he’s always known. Pushing to be a little more egoistical, deceiving himself that he’s right for you. Because he wants to be. He oh, so selfishly wants people to know he’s the one who finally gets to have you, the one gifted with such a light, unfairly deserving of all the love you carry into every room you walk into.

Just a few days ago, during another one of your increasingly frequent phone calls, you asked him what he was doing for Christmas. He could have lied, come up with something on the spot.

But with how you so easily, and always coax the truth out of him, he let it slip. He told you he’d be alone, words subtly heavy. But they didn’t have the chance to even drop their weight before you were already inviting him to your friend’s party, insisting that he would be the most welcome.

And he’s here, and he sits beside you, and every time you laugh you lean your weight over him, and the room vibrates with the energy you fill it with, and each one of your friends is so enamoured with you, and for reasons he can’t fully understand it fills him with a sense of pride that shouldn’t belong to him. But it does, and it comes with so many other feelings.

You don’t push him to talk. You never force him into the spotlight when he takes a step back, quietly observing, choosing to stay in the background. Because you read him like it’s in your nature to do so, your soul seems to intuitively melt with his, and it intertwines in such a tight knot that he feels it constrict his throat. He knows he’s still alive because his heart is beating, just a little faster with each time you flash your dimples at him.

“Dimples. What are you doing, hm?”

Now, he’s in front of you, a small smile on his lips as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to dangle the mistletoe over both your heads. You’re struggling just a little, your hand unable to reach high enough, and the fake plant awkwardly brushes his hair, the tickling sensation causing his nose to scrunch. You laugh.

Looking up at your swinging movements, you lose your balance for the slightest second. Jeongguk’s hands move instinctively, catching you promptly by the waist to steady your body. But even after that, he doesn’t shift, his warm palms stilling. And when you face him, he’s closer and his chest brushes against yours. From this proximity, he witnesses the Christmas lights painting a galaxy of their own in your orbs.

You beam, “What does it look like? We have to kiss now.”

Jeongguk stares in your expectant eyes, brows wiggling and all. The more his mouth keeps in a straight line, the more the wiggling slows. You eventually come down from your tiptoes, letting the mistletoe fall to the side, tilting your head.

He snorts, looking away briefly to hide an embarrassingly wide grin behind his hand. When he turns back to you, your pout is enough to have him scrambling to meet your gaze.

“On one condition, though.”

You chirp, “Yeah?”

He licks his teeth, reserving you with a smug look, “Admit that you were scared to get your tattoo.”

Your smile vanishes in an instant, your expression falling into mock offense. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel, pretending to walk away from him. Pretending, only because you know he won’t let you. And you’re proven right when his fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you back with enough force to spin you into him. Suddenly, you’re pressed so close you can feel the heat radiating from him. Your chin nearly touches his chest as you glare up at him, narrowed eyes meeting the mischievous glint in his.

He bites a smile, lips twitching, “C’mon, princess. You wanted to act all tough and shit, but I could feel you shaking.”

Your scoff is loud and incredulous, “You’re such a bitch.”

He only shrugs, “You want my kiss, no?”

“Oh my god,” groaning, it’s your turn to face the side to hide a grin, “Are you always this cocky?”

His chin tilts upward slightly, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, “Say it.”

You whip back around to meet him with a seriousness he hardly ever sees on you, and you even clear your throat, channeling every ounce of the determination he knows you for, every drop of resolve that makes you you. “Yes. I was scared shitless, Jeongguk.”

Foreign excitement brims out of him, not before his eyes widen just a fraction, and his nose scrunches the more he leans closer to you, inches from you, swinging side to side with exaggerated mockery and a grin splitting his face, “See! I knew—hmph.”

There’s no other second to waste.

The condition has been met, and now all the requirements for you to claim what you were promised, your reward, are there. Even more when kissing him means catching him mid-taunt and silencing whatever teasing remark he had ready.

Your lips touch his in effortless ease, breaking the air as they press together. It’s tentative at first, almost uncertain as you feel Jeongguk remain still.

But it doesn’t take him longer to move, mouth molding against yours in a sickeningly sweet hug, tasting each other with quiet curiosity, taking your time to adjust and melt, instructing your bodies to imitate the dance.

Your arms lock around his neck, his stronger and tattooed ones circle your waist, and the way you click together feels so right, almost too perfect, so perfect it scares you. When you arch yourself further into him, even the non-existent space between you unbearable, he accompanies the motion with his wide palms gliding along your back, squeezing you into him, feeling the curve of your hips.

The soft whine that scratches your throat and vibrates against his lips betrays you, along with the useless effort to contain the intensity of what you’re feeling. The emotion disarms you, the sound gasping in your chest, but in Jeongguk’s arms it feels safe to let go.

On Christmas day, you crown a youthful fantasy, the kind you’ll look back to even when you’re older. Jeongguk feels like he’d be the right person to stand by you to do so.

When he reluctantly detaches from you, his face keeps at a safe distance that’d allow him to go back and taste you, not before resting his forehead on yours and whispering, “Merry Christmas.”

You giggle. “Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

[velvetydream]

꒰ : 🍃 [ A fox's heat ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Due to an unfortunate event your boyfriend started to act weird, you should soon know why.

Pairing : Tighnari x fem! Reader

Word count : 1.9K Words

Genre : Smut with plot

Smut content ➵ Breeding / Mating Kink, Possesiveness, Praising, Raw (Wrap it up people), Knotting, Petnames

Authors note : I love Nari sm omg

It was a quiet morning; Tighnari was out with Collei, and you decided to sleep long before getting ready slowly, eating a nice breakfast, and cleaning Tighnari's workplace before helping the forest ranger outside. The sun was shining down today, but luckily, the trees of the rainforest cast some nice shadows to be safe from the heat. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you talk calmly to a new forest ranger, assuring he wasn't going to die from the fruit he ate. The poor boy came from Mondstadt and never saw the fruits or vegetables from Sumeru, probably.

"Master Y/N! We need your help!" Colleis's shrill voice screamed for you; immediately turned around to catch the young girl running to you, your warm hands on her shoulders. "Collei? What happened? Calm down, darling, and explain." It was strange that Tighnari wasn't with her, so something must've happened, you just hope that stupid man didn't decide to eat some unknown mushrooms again. "Master T-Tighnari he.. We found this flower patch we had never seen before. He picked some up and started to inspect them, and then he fell unconscious! Cyno is with him now, but..! I don't know what happened." She was rambling again; she always was when something happened to her friends or anyone, actually. "Okay, my love, calm down, lead the way, and we'll bring him back here; you two, come along!" Calling over two more forest rangers, Collei quickly started to lead the way; it was a short walk, but luckily, not too far away.

Upon arriving, you could see the fox-eared man sit up, arm on his knee as his hand holds his head. "Nari! What happened? How are you feeling?" Crouching down in front of the man now, you could see the blush on his face; oh no, was he getting a fever from those flowers? Maybe an allergic reaction. "He sat up shortly before you came, he hasn't spoken a single word since then." Cyno stood behind you now, explaining the situation to you and making you nod. "Okay, let's bring him back. Cyno, could you help carry him, please? I think he starts to have a fever, probably some reaction to the flowers; I'll have to make some medicine to hopefully wear the effects off." Cyno nods as he picks Tighnari up, the arms of your boyfriend around Cyno and the other forest ranger now. Still not talking, his eyes in a haze, this was definitely bad.

Looking down as they get a few steps away, you crouch down to touch the flowers despite Collei's protest, but they have no effect on you; they smell rather pleasantly. "Are you sure it's a good idea to touch and smell them?!" Collei was obviously worried about you, which made you chuckle, shaking your head. "It's fine, I'm pretty sure they won't affect normal humans but Tighnari.. it must be because of his fox genes.. Let's take some with us, but please you take them, I want to inspect them some more without exposing Nari further to them." Collie nods as you quickly plug a few flowers before Cyno's voice calls you to catch up with them. "Comming!" Running after them now, you worriedly look at Tighnari; his whole body was slumped over, his tail dragging after him as his breathing was rather hard.

"Good, please lay him down here Cyno, put that on his forehead. I'll start the medicine." Handing Cyno a bowl with ice cold water and a rag as you start to gather everything to hopefully ease the symptoms. If you knew what flower that was and what exactly the effect they had on him, you could make something much better, but this will have to do now. "Nari, open up; this will make you feel better.." His glazed eyes look at you and then the medicine as he shakes his head, trying to roll away from you onto his side just to groan in pain. "Stubborn fox, seriously, you're a forest ranger and practice medicine yourself, yet you refuse to take this.." Groaning now, your hand grabs his shoulder harshly as you push me onto his back, sitting down on his stomach to pin him down, his body thrashing. "N-No! Stop!" Finally, he spoke, yet that won't get him around the medicine. "It's your own fault to go inspect and try everything you don't know." You tell him, as your hand grabs his chin, pushing your thumb into the corner of his mouth; he opens it, his sharp teeth shining as you let the elixir trickle down into his mouth, making him swallow by holding his chin up and mouth closed.

"Is that how he always takes his medicine?" Cyno stands beside the bed now as he watches you stand up as Tighnari falls asleep. "Yeah, he hates to take them; either I put them into his food or drink, but then he sometimes notices and throws it away, so I mostly settle for this way." Wiping some sweat from your forehead after fighting the fox, you put the washcloth onto his forehead and the blanket back over him. "Well, I'll go check on Collie; make sure to take care of him." Cyno closes the door after himself after you bid your goodbye, looking over to the sleeping fox now, hoping the symptoms would soon wear off.

Getting back to your studies now, you open the book where you left off as you start to examine the gems you have found, trying to determine what they could be. Lumine even brought some last time she visited from Liyue and Inazuma which was such a great find.

Immersed in your studying, you didn't notice your boyfriend waking up, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you. Standing up on wobbly feet, he walks over to you, his arms laying around your shoulders immediately, as his face hides in your neck, jumping a little from surprise. "Nari! You're awake, how are you feeling? Is the fever going down?" Looking over your shoulder, he was still beet red, his eyes half-lidded and still hazed. "You smell so sweet.. My beautiful mate.." He groans into your neck, before meeting your eyes. Oh fuck. "Nari.. Don't tell me.." He groans softly from the way you say his name, confirming your suspicion even more. "Need to breed you full till you can't walk anymore." His sharp teeth graze your neck, over the mark he had left long ago, marking you as his mate. "Help me.. Please.. It's so hot I.. I can't take it anymore.." He whimpers.. he never whimpers. Those flowers must've triggered his heat to come early. Normally, it should've still been a few weeks at least, but something must've been with these flowers to trigger it.

"Alright, let's take care of you.." Standing up, Tighnari starts pawing at your clothes desperately, pulling your shirt off of you, before attaching his lips to your soft buds, moaning from the feel of them in his mouth. "So soft.." He moans before he pulls his own shirt over his head, revealing his porcelain skin to your eyes, pushing you onto your back on the bed now before he already pounces on you. "I'll make you feel so good, breed you full till you carry my cubs." Kissing down your neck, small little moans escape your mouth as your hand's card through his soft hair, softly scratching his ears. "I love you so much you're so gorgeous.." He mumbles against your skin as he kisses down to your chest and to your stomach. Softly pulling your pants and underwear off of you, his soon following the pile on the floor.

"Have to prep you first so you can take my knot, my love." He whispers against your stomach as his fingers softly glide through your folds, circling your clit a few times softly before moving down as he pushes two fingers into you carefully, your body arching from the feeling of his fingers. They hit just the right spots inside you, hitting the soft gummy spot perfectly. "You're so gorgeous, my darling; how beautiful you'd be all swelled up with my cubs." Moaning from his words now, your walls tighten on him as more slickness coats his fingers from the arousal. "You would like that, right? Have little cubs of our own, running around.." He kisses your neck softly, as his fingers work you open for his knot to come.

"I think you're prepped enough, mh..?" He pulls his fingers up to his face and sucks them clean with a moan before looking down at you as he pushes himself up a little bit. "Ready my love?" Nodding as an answer, he alines his length with your entrance as he starts to softly push in; his size made you arch and moan every time; he was so big, especially now that he was in heat. His head rested on your chest for a while, giving you time to adjust before you tapped his shoulder blade softly to signal him to start moving, which he didn't waste any more time and did. His thrusts at first were slow and deep but grew in pace quickly. Tighnari was never able to last long once he was inside you, but he would last for many rounds, making sure he bred you perfectly full.

"M-My love.. ah.." He kisses your chest softly as he starts to suck the left bud into his mouth again, his right hand coming up to play with the other one. "N-Nari.. oh archons.." Moaning softly, you could feel his length start to pulsate meaning he was rather close, you yourself close to the edge. "Come my beautiful mate~" He murmurs into your ear as his fingers softly circle your clit making your back arch as you drift into the pure bliss of your orgasm. Meanwhile, Tighnaris's thrusts were getting sloppy as he felt his knot swell before emptying his load in you, his knot preventing anything from escaping as it locks him into you for a while, his body softly laid down half on you to make sure he didn't crush you.

"Beautiful.." He mumbles, brushing a few strands from your face, still connected to you, his hand rubbing softly over your stomach and down, knowing exactly you were right now filled with his cum. Exhausted, you drift off into sleep as Tighnari pulls the blanket over you two, planting many kisses on your cheek and temple before the door opens, making him groan and growl possessively. "Okay, dude, I'll leave you be in a bit, I just forgot to give her these gems; seriously, don't go too hard on her." Before Tighnari could throw a book from his bedside table at him, Cyno disappeared again.

Later on, you wake up with many blankets and pillows around you now like a nest, your body cleaned, and a new pair of underwear on you; as you look behind you, you see Tighnari finally asleep without a blush, finally calm. It would definitely take a few rough days for his heat to be over, but you were used to it and loved to help him. Hand rubbing softly over your stomach now as you look down, hopeful that maybe finally, after years of being together, you'd get pregnant.

[mindless-existence1]

Hiii!! I wanted to request a shadow x fem! reader who in the movie verse is a college student that found shadow and now partly takes care of him. Knowing shadow, he’d still be a loner but I’d like to think having an another younger female influence in his life could help him with Maria’s passing. I also think it’d be super cute if she taught him gen z/modern things. He’s just too precious in the movie omg☹️❤️

Authors note: I love Shadow he's my boy. Also I didn't come up with how they met so this is just them hanging out in readers apartment watching a movie together

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment in Green Hills wasn’t anything fancy—just a modest space with a small kitchen, a worn but comfortable couch, and a TV that sometimes acted up. But it was home, and apparently, Shadow thought so too.

The first time he came over, it had been an unexpected visit. You’d found him on your balcony, his crimson eyes scanning the street below like he was waiting for something to go wrong. You’d invited him in, unsure if he’d accept, but he had.

Since then, Shadow had started dropping by when he needed to escape the chaos of the world—or his own thoughts. Tonight was one of those nights.

He was sprawled on your couch, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softened by the dim light of the TV. You had a movie playing, some action-packed thriller that you thought he’d enjoy. But Shadow seemed more interested in quietly existing in the moment.

“Popcorn?” you offered, holding out a bowl as you curled up on the other end of the couch.He glanced at it skeptically. “I don’t understand humans’ obsession with this.”

“You say that every time, and yet you always eat it,” you teased, shaking the bowl slightly. Shadow’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile, and he reached out to grab a handful.

As the movie played, you got caught up in the action. One scene showed the protagonists making a mistake that ended in a dramatic explosion. You couldn’t help but comment, “Oh man, those guys are cooked.”

Shadow’s ears twitched, and he turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowed. “Cooked? They’re not being prepared as food.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation. “No, it’s slang,” you explained. “It means they’re done for, like there’s no coming back from that.”

He frowned, clearly processing your words. “Why use a term that implies food preparation instead of saying what you mean?”

“Because slang is fun, and it makes language more expressive,” you said, grinning. “Besides, it’s just how people talk sometimes.” Shadow huffed, leaning back against the couch. “Humans are strange.”

“And yet, you keep coming here,” you shot back with a playful smile.Shadow didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the screen, but the corners of his mouth softened just slightly.

“Your apartment is… peaceful,” he said finally. Your chest warmed at his words. Shadow wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his feelings, so every little admission felt significant.

“Well, you’re always welcome here,” you said, nudging his leg lightly with your foot. “Even if you think popcorn and slang are weird.” He didn’t reply, but his crimson eyes flicked toward you for a moment, a quiet gratitude in his gaze.

By the time the credits rolled, you were explaining another piece of slang—this time, “vibe.” Shadow looked vaguely unimpressed.

“So, when someone says ‘good vibes,’ they mean a positive feeling or atmosphere?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly.“Exactly!” you said, grinning. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

He shook his head, muttering something about “unnecessary complications,” but you just shook your head with a small smile. As the night wore on, you found yourself leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away, simply letting you stay there as the quiet hum of the TV filled the room.

In these moments, you knew Shadow found something he didn’t often allow himself: peace. And for as long as he needed it, you’d always make room for him in your little corner of Green Hills.

[bvidzsoo]

Your worst mistake...

ᨒ District 4 ✧ one of Panem's wealthiest districts, plays an essential role in bringing the bounty of the sea, victors: Mags Flanagan, Annie Cresta, Finnick Odair

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: stylist!Choi San x victor!female reader

ᨒ Warning: gore, descriptions of murder, beheading (sort of, mostly implied), violence, blood, weapon use, injuries, ptsd, slightly suggestive, co-dependency, probably unhealthy attachments, slight weight shaming (don't do that!) ᨒ Word count: 25.7k ᨒ Rating: mature, nc-17 ᨒ Genre: Hunger Games!au; forbidden love!au, set before Katniss and Peeta became victors ᨒ Summary: Your innocence was stripped the day you were reaped for the 73rd Hunger Games. The life you had known, and the joy of living well were all just forgotten aspirations. The Games were cruel and terrifying, and they changed anyone who emerged as a victor, who took the crown and returned to the living. And was all that pain, terror, and haunting memories worth it? Was it worth living a life as a monster? Perhaps, yes, it was, if a man was determined enough to show you what tenderness and love meant, that to him you had never changed. But that man was Choi San, a stylist from the Capitol, another gem adored by the masses, so, could he really love you?

A/N: And.it's.here! Hello, my lovelies, happy weekend, I hope you can unwind with this little story. ^^ It's a happy end, that I can promise (or is it haha, jk don't worry). This became so long that I thought it would never end, it really tried to kick my ass. You don't exactly have to read Mingi's part first, but I'm just letting you know it exists and it happens before whatever goes down in this story, some new dynamics are introduced through this story that you don't get to see in his :)). Let me know if I have to add anything else into the warnings and pls take them seriously, our MC is a victor and there are sequences where she's in the games, so yes, there's murder and blood and stuff, although I don't think I made them too descriptive, stay mindful still. Also! The MC is eighteen and San in his early twenties, just wanted to clear that up. I hope you enjoy and lmk what you thought, I love hearing your thoughts! I can't wait to write Yunho's part, that one is going to be a handful omg hihi divider

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was cold, the surface beneath sturdy and slippery almost, my body pressing heavily into it. Nothing made sense, I couldn’t open my eyes, I couldn’t call out for help, and it felt like I was endlessly falling into the void. My lips parted but apart from a pained whine nothing managed to come past, vocal cords heavy and aching from the lack of hydration, from having screamed too loud and too much. It was hard to breathe, something was pressing down against my chest, heavy and cold to the point my heart started pumping blood faster, my eyelids fighting against my brain as I tried to open them.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

The burn in my left calf was excruciating, I tried to hold onto something, fingers flexing, trying to reach for anything to no avail. My head was thumping painfully and my nostrils stung from the sanitised air I was breathing in, mouth parting when a violent cough shook my body, forcing me to turn onto my right side. Feeling nothing underneath me all of a sudden, my eyes flew open with a loud gasp, fingers curling around the edge of the surface I was lying on. Cold, hard, metallic tables were all around me, the white lights blinding as they made my head ache more violently.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

Another harsh cough shook my body and I started trembling as I realized just how cold I was, the gown I was wearing was thin and almost sheer, making me whip my head around to search for clues as to where I could be at the moment. I could have sworn I was in the Arena just seconds before, dirty ground shaking underneath my feet as I tumbled to my knees, an arrow slicing my calf open as my arms burned as I mustered up my last power and threw the axe ahead. There was a sickening crack, but I couldn’t see as my vision was darkening, my body begging for a good rest. Perhaps it was finally over, perhaps the suffering would be gone if I let go now.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

But I realized I wasn’t in the Arena anymore as my right arm burned where different IV drips entered it, liquid entering my body and making me shudder as the sight of the tubes made me feel sick to my stomach. My chapped lips hurt as I tried to lick them, trying to sit up and call out for help, but my head was too dizzy and my body complained at every minuscule move as I rolled onto my back, whining again as pain surged throughout my whole body. I couldn’t breathe for a second, lungs heaving for air as another violent cough tore through my throat, making my eyes widen when I felt liquid trail down the side of my face.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

My fingertips were red when I lowered them, my skin covered in goosebumps as my eyes fixated on the white ceiling. Was this what others called Heaven? Was I dead, or perhaps tethering on the line between life and death? This year was my last entry to the Hunger Games, I shouldn’t have been reaped, but that’s not how these games worked. I gulped, eyes filling with tears when I realized I would be the Capitol’s slave now if I survived this last trial, wired up to machines in a white place that made my body shake and call out for a name that only brought more pain than protection. San.

“The winner of the 73rd Hunger Games is the female tribute from District 4. Congratulations, Miss Kwon, your journey was long and strenuous, you may rest now.” I tried to fight it, to tell them to let me go, to let me succumb to nothingness, but the pounding in my head worsened and the lights only became brighter, all force and will leaving my body as I lay limply on top of the metallic table. A weak attempt at a cry for help left my lips as my eyes succumbed to the haze coating my mind, kidnapping any thought and free will.

I was nothing but a pawn in a greater game.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

I was back home, in District 4. The ocean was by my feet as I blinked my eyes open, confused and disoriented as I looked out towards the never-ending water, lips trembling when I realized I was home. I inhaled shakily as I crouched down, fingers reaching out for the oncoming wave. The water was cold and soaked the ends of my white dress, my feet sunk into the wet sand now, steady but nerves shaky as I raised my wet hand to my nose and lips. I was home. The water was still as salty as ever and it smelled of home. My heart lurched as I shakily stood again, gripping my dress tightly as I stepped towards the water, wondering whether the waves would engulf my whole being and turn me into foam, returning me to where I had come from.

My eyes stung the longer I stared out towards the horizon, the sun hidden behind white clouds. The beach was eerily empty apart from myself and the seagulls, and I took a shaky breath when the bell of a fishing boat chimed out in the distance. My heart felt less heavy, less afraid of a future that promised certain death. I was home and I was free, I was myself again, I could pick up where I had left off, and I could live the life I always wished for. I could get inside my father’s fishing boat and go out onto the water with him, I could collect pearls and braid pretty bracelets and sell them at the day market, I could roam the busy streets again and I could see my loved ones, hug them and tell them how much I had missed them.

But I had learned that our lives were never predictable, no matter how much we planned and how much we thought ahead, something—or someone—always managed to stir it up, it would always find ways to disturb the mundane and change your whole perception of an ever-changing future. I didn’t hear him, the waves were loud and downed out all sounds beside my breaths, and I gasped when I felt strong arms circle around my waist, pull me back into a strong chest, cold nose buried in my neck as hot breath fanned over my skin. I froze for a second, scared and uncertain, wondering who would hold me so dearly, so lovingly, so tenderly despite the power he held in his hands. And then it clicked, his honey-like cologne mingling with the salty air of the ocean, I knew it was him. It was San.

Muscles tensing and body freezing, my eyes widened as my mind didn’t know whether it wanted to turn around and hide against him, or push him away and run as far away as possible. In the end, the longing and burning want had won the battle as I grabbed his warm arms, exposed as he wore a sleeveless tank top, and I turned in his loving hold, facing him. His tan skin seemed to come alive under the evening light of the tired sun, and his face remained void of worry or fear as a single dimple appeared on his cheek when his lips pulled to the side. His naturally sharp and small eyes became even smaller as they creased with his smile, turning into nothing but friendly and loving slits as San hugged me closer to himself.

“I have missed you,” His deep voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, soft and careful as his expression didn’t falter, “You returned to me.”

I gulped, hands shaking as I wondered whether this was a dream, San’s presence was too strong for it to be something made up by my mind. I had never held him like this before, it would’ve been impossible to dream of a man that was never mine to begin with, “San.”

“Yes, my love—”

“San.” It seemed like I couldn’t say anything else, hands raising as I gripped the collar of his tank top tightly, yanking him down as my eyes ran over his features, looking for any tale-tell sign that he wasn’t real. But he was here, he was holding me, he was smiling at me, and his eyes held kindness as he raised his hand, cupping my cheek as his thumb swept over my bottom lip once, then twice.

“I’m here, my love, forever here.” And unable to hold back anymore, I grabbed him by the nape and pulled him down, pressing his red lips against mine, hungry to claim what should have been mine from the beginning. It felt like anything I had previously experienced, his lips were warm and they seemed to sit perfectly against mine, careful but eager to explore my own lips as if he were a starved man. I gasped as I felt San pull me against his body, tilting my head back for better access, our lips parting as we took a second to gasp into each other’s mouths. It felt freeing, it felt safe to be held like this by him, to be loved and to know you had someone waiting for you, someone you could return to no matter how much life had changed you.

“Don’t leave me, please.” I managed to whisper when our lips parted for another breather, close enough to brush together when one of us spoke. San hummed, running his fingers through my short hair, a motion that was calming and assuring that he was here with me and for me. He smiled again and nodded once, nuzzling his nose against mine as I finally felt the tension ease from my muscles, letting me enjoy my freedom. I would never have to return to the Arena or the Capitol, Snow couldn’t do anything to me now. But as if my words were heard by some deity, or President Snow itself, the sky darkened unnaturally fast, waves high as they crashed against the shore, forcing San and I to move away, closer to the rocks and the pathway that led down to the beach. My eyes furrowed as I faced the ocean, the sky menacing as lightning struck in the distance, and I turned my head to look at San when I felt him release me.

His expression was one of ease, as if nothing bothered him, as if the weather seemed normal to him. He chuckled as his eyes settled on the horizon, “There’s something soothing about a storm, don’t you think?”

Storms out on the ocean were terrifying, but I couldn’t find my words as the wind tousled his dark hair, his white clothes clinging to his sturdy body as I tried to hold the skirt of my dress down. It was cold, I could see my breath and that was unnatural too, but I couldn’t peel my eyes off San, enraptured by the vision of him in the eye of a storm. He didn’t look out of place here, by my side, in District 4. His beauty might have been over the top, but with all the makeup gone, he looked like he could belong here, with the people of the district. Cheeks warming at the thought, I opened my mouth to answer his question, but two things happened at once. Thunder cracked loudly, making me flinch as it shook the ground and made my ears ring even after it was over, and San’s eyes suddenly steeled, arm reaching out as he aggressively pushed me back.

My eyes widened in confusion as I watched his stance become defensive, small eyes turning dangerous as he sneered, the cross necklace hanging between his pecks just a show since people like him believed in no gods, they were the gods, “San?”

But when his mouth opened, lips curling into words, no sound came out, just a loud gasp and small eyes turning so wide they could’ve popped. Confused for a few more seconds, I yelped when something warm sprayed onto me, dripping down the side of my face as it covered my hair, face, and even dress, slowly dripping down. Half of an axe stuck out from the back of San’s head, lodged in perfectly to kill him not quite instantly but certainly painfully. Something gurgled left his mouth, something I couldn’t understand as his body shook, eyes becoming hazy when he fell to one knee. My body shook as I stood frozen in shock, our white clothes coated in San’s hot red blood, dripping and tainting our hands. I couldn’t do anything as I watched his limbs grow heavy, his skin turn sickly pale until nothing was left of the man, just a lifeless body which was now crumbled into the sand, seeping red everywhere around us.

I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t even see anymore as the metallic scent of blood invaded my senses, making me gag before I could stop myself, throat tight as bile rose higher and higher. No, who had done this? Who wanted to strip me of my last thread of happiness? I couldn’t lose him, not San. And before I knew it, a scream so loud it ruptured my vocal cords tore through my throat, blood pooling in my mouth until I couldn’t breathe and feel anymore. Not San too, what did they want from me? I yelped as I felt cold knuckles pressing against my hot cheeks, chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to push at the hands, body shaking and mind reeling.

“It’s alright, hey,” The feminine voice was gentle, but I couldn’t calm down, where was I, “Y/N, it was just a bad dream, it’s alright, I’m here now.”

I didn’t understand. What was a bad dream? Where was San? Where was I? What’s happened to me? What’s happened to everyone?

“Focus on my voice,” The feminine voice spoke up again as finally the darkness was replaced with a faint golden glow, forcing my eyes to adjust to the light and my surroundings, “You’re back in the Capitol, in your room at the training centre, you’re safe. It’s me, your mentor, Joohyun.”

Joohyun, yes, I knew her. I shoot up in a sitting position, gripping her hands frantically as my mind felt scrambled, all over the place while I still couldn’t quite breathe, “Where—what happened? Why am I—San?”

My mentor just sighed and beckoned me over, pressing my head against her chest despite my reluctance, “You won the Games, Y/N, you’re the new victor of District 4. It’s going to be okay, I promise, I’ll be there for you and so will be everyone else who knows what it means to win the Games.”

“But San?” I asked in a whisper as I finally relaxed against Joohyun, letting her cradle me against her chest as if I were a baby who needed soothing.

“San is…here.” Joohyun spoke calmly but her tone was strained, “You’ll see him tomorrow, you need to rest now, Y/N.”

I hummed, mind filled with the image of San’s lifeless body lying at my feet. It made my lungs constrict and I gripped at the sheets, trying to prevent a panic attack as Joohyun sighed, gently pushing me back by the shoulders, “You should have some water first.”

I nodded and took it from her wordlessly, downing the cup of water as my throat felt parched, my eyes burning from how dry they were. Joohyun watched me wordlessly as I fiddled with the cup in my hands, breaths regulated but my mind still wasn’t present, lost in the vividity of the bad dream.

“I know you won’t be able to sleep, but you must try.” Joohyun spoke up when she realized I wouldn’t say anything to her, she looked tired, older than she was, as if the Games had worn her out too, “It might feel suffocating at times, but you’re not alone in this, so don’t be afraid to reach out. Your interview, it’s…tomorrow, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stall it, President Snow wants you up and running for the public as soon as possible. You gave everyone quite the scare when you passed out, the Capitol thought they wouldn’t have a victor to celebrate this year.”

“Maybe it would have been better like that.” I found myself muttering as I looked down at the cup in my hands. Joohyun gulped, looking towards the huge windows that had been darkened so the city lights wouldn’t bother me. I missed the ocean, I wanted to go home. With sadness ridden in her eyes, Joohyun leaned forward and took the cup from my hands, patting them gently before she stood.

“I’m glad you returned.” She said quietly, eyes avoiding mine when she looked up, “The real Games start only now, Y/N.”

I didn’t know what her answer meant, but I didn’t want to find out as my mind screamed for me to sleep, my muscles protesting when I reached out for the remote control to change the blackness of the window into one of the ocean that resembled District 4 rather accurately. Alone in a room that bore only unpleasant memories, a reminder of the life I was stripped of, I lay on my side, facing the sparkling blue water foaming at the top as the waves crashed, and I couldn’t help but hum to myself a lullaby that only the sailors of District 4 knew.

            I wasn’t ready. My heart thundered in my chest as my makeup artists fluttered around me, making sure everything was perfect, eyeshadow staying in place as my skin felt like melting off by how much product had been put on it. I stayed silent and parted my lips when Mingyu, an intimidatingly tall man, leaned down to tap a red-coated thin brush against my lips, coating them in a sickening red as I watched myself through the mirror. It reminded me of all the blood I had to spill in the Arena, of my own blood that seemed to constantly cling to my body, the smell reminding me of the monster I had become. I flinched when Hinata’s hand patted my bare shoulder encouragingly, a small tiara now placed on top of my head, nestled into the unnatural bun she and her assistant, an Avox, managed to somehow pull together despite the short length of my hair.

I felt cold despite the warm temperature of the room and my throat seemed to constrict each time I tried to respond to the people surrounding me, who were genuinely happy to have me back. I hadn’t had the chance to grow close with them as we only had a few days to prepare for the Games, but I appreciated the effort they put into making me look presentable. After all, their job mattered a lot since they had to make me look desirable to the public, for the Capitol. And still, as the white fabric clung to my body tightly, a net-like brown fabric draping down from my hips well below where the skirt of my dress ended, I was reminded of my stylist’s gentle touch anytime he had to dress me. Today he wasn’t here to help out, to soothe my nerves with quiet words and a sharp gaze that was filled with regret but also admiration. The desperate need to see San was maddening as Joohyun stormed inside the dressing room, her eyes slightly wide as she was panting. She wore an elegant white suit, matching her petite form well.

“Is she ready?” She addressed the team still fussing around me, Mingyu, now frowning as he added more blush to my cheeks, spoke up.

“Last minute touch-ups, Flickerman can wait another few minutes.”

“But I’m afraid President Snow can’t.” Joohyun’s voice dropped as Mingyu stiffened, looking over my head at Hinata, who looked just as displeased as her teammate.

“Fine, but I still need to clip the pearls—”

“I’ll do it.” The room fell silent as I stiffened in my seat, eyes widening just a little bit as the man that’s been haunting my every thought since I had met him appeared in the doorway. I gulped, watching Joohyun’s expression settle into unease as she nodded towards the door, Mingyu and Hinata stepping away from me as they understood Joohyun’s implication, “Leave us alone.”

“Don’t take too long, San.” Joohyun’s voice held a warning and I gripped the edge of the seat harshly, long fake nails sinking into the leather. Hinata offered San a smile as she handed over the pearls to him as she passed by him and it felt like all air left the room when the door closed behind San and only the two of us remained inside. I gulped, eyes boring into his through the mirror, and I couldn’t help but let the harsh words tumble past my red-stained lips.

“I hate you.” A beat of silence passed as I stood, still watching San through the mirror, taken aback by his beauty and elegance in the white suit he wore, highlighting his sharp features and tan complex. His blazer was low cut and placed everything the Capitol found desirable on display, his pants long enough to obscure his shoes, and his coat was long too as it hid his large build fairly well. My breath caught in my throat when San took a tentative step further inside the room, grip tightening around the pearls.

“I know.” And as always, his tone was soft and his face was ridden with guilt and worry, and I couldn’t hold back anymore as my mind screamed at me to move towards him, to touch him, to feel him. It was maddening how much I yearned for the stylist, for a man who was from the Capitol, for the first person who had faith in me and encouraged me to never give up, even when the odds seemed to be against my favour. I gulped, licking my lips as I came face to face with him and the need to hold him was strong enough to make me cup his cheeks, watching as his eyes fluttered closed. He exhaled loudly, jaw clenching when I stepped closer, and before he could open his eyes and I would get lost in their depth and warmth, I pressed my lips against his hungrily. I hadn’t given in previously to the want, I feared that if I did so, I would be a dead woman the second the canon went off in the Arena. And I hated myself because I was ridden with regret the whole time, thinking back on what we could’ve had in the few days that I had before the Games. And I hated myself even more for wanting to return because of him, because of San, to hold him and be held, to kiss him and be kissed, to be his if he wanted me too.

His lips felt warm, a little wet as I couldn’t control myself and sped up the kiss, our lips smacking together loudly as San finally touched me, gripping my hip harshly as he yanked my body into his. It felt unreal to be so close to him, to feel his body warmth and to smell his expensive and sweet cologne, to inhale the air he exhaled. His lips were just as eager as mine, parting in invitation and moulding perfectly against mine when I considered pulling back, remembering Joohyun’s words, but San chased after my lips like a starved man, a whine leaving his mouth when I finally caved in and let my tongue press against his tentatively. Something fell to the floor and then I felt San’s other hand hold onto my nape as his tongue lapped at mine, pushing and pulling, exploring my mouth as he held onto me like he was afraid I would disappear, and I could’ve sworn he’d consume my whole being until nothing was left of me. I didn’t want him to let go, I was afraid if he did the door would open and Peacekeepers would yank us away, and tell us that we’d be punished for our actions. But my lungs were on fire and I felt tears prick at my closed eyes and I couldn’t let Mingyu and Hinata’s work go to waste, so with a gentle hand against his exposed chest, I pushed him away, making San gasp.

I gulped, struggling to find my breath as San’s forehead came down against mine, arms moving so that I was in his embrace now. A shuddered breath left my mouth as I clung to him, fingers gripping his coat' tightly at his sides as we remained silent, basking in the other’s warmth and scent, which had become familiar by now.

“I was afraid,” San muttered lowly, gulping as if he had to pause to collect himself, “so afraid I’d lose you.”

I shuddered, the horrors of the Arena still fresh in my mind as I could still see the lifeless faces behind my eyes whenever I closed them. Hands slightly shaking, I blinked my eyes open when it felt like my lungs tried to prevent me from breathing and I looked at San’s perfect face, forever mesmerized by his beauty.

“I fought really hard to come back,” I whispered, my heart clenching when San’s eyes opened, boring into mine sharply, “I wanted to survive so desperately, I—I had to come back to you, I—what had you done to me, San? Why do I want you so badly?”

San gulped, eyebrows furrowing as his jaw clenched again, and I knew I must’ve said the wrong thing because his face became devoid of any emotion, however, his embrace only tightened as he shook his head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I was just trying to be supportive, I didn’t mean to make you—care for me.”

“Do you not care for me back?” My voice sounded weak, and I hated the disappointment that followed when San failed to answer me. I nodded wordlessly and untangled my tight grip from San’s coat, trying to step back, but San hadn’t released me yet from his embrace. He looked conflicted like he didn’t know what was right to say at the moment, and I preferred him not to say anything if he was so uncertain.

“I care for you, of course, I do.” His voice was a whisper as he leaned forward, lips brushing against my ear and it made goosebumps appear on my skin, “But it’s dangerous, I shouldn’t care and neither should you.”

I knew this, of course, I did, but I couldn’t help it. Not when he was the reason I stood here, alive and frightened beyond my mind about what the future had in store for me. Joohyun was right, the Games were just starting and I was defenceless in front of an enemy that could destroy me just with simple words.

“Let’s not keep President Snow waiting, hm?” San’s arms disappeared at once from around my body and I shivered, taken aback by the sudden change of temperature as he had an easy smile on his lips, dimple on his cheek. He crouched down and grabbed the fallen pearls, standing in front of me with a professional look on his face. The first time I had seen San he was at the train station, ready to welcome the tributes of District 4 with a wide friendly smile on his lips and a stance that screamed confidence. He was dressed to the nines, in burgundy satin pants and a sheer black blouse tucked in, a cropped fur coat draped around his wide shoulders. His already sharp eyes were accentuated even more by the dark purple smokey eyeshadow and his lips were a burgundy red, matching his pants and his nails, which resembled blood as they were tainted in peculiar patterns. I knew I couldn’t trust the man, he was just a flashy asshole from the Capitol, only here to doll me up and make me look desirable to the public, and probably for his own sadistic tendencies. But I was wrong, San was a soft-spoken and emotional being, eyes expressive even when his face remained blank.

He was the first one to tell me I was stronger than I looked, that he saw the shimmer in my eyes turn into fire when it came to survival. He told me he would bet on me if he could, that he knew I had it in me to become a victor. He said he wasn’t ready to let me go just yet, not when he had never met someone quite like me before. Apparently, my eyes were big and full of wonder, eager to discover more despite my predicament. And the night before the Games, when I couldn’t sleep and felt on the verge of a panic attack, he stumbled through my threshold in a drunken stupor, confessing his adoration for me and his desperate need to have me, to hold me and truly know me. I couldn’t promise him anything, but I told him I’d try to return, that I’d do my best to come back to him, then he broke down crying and as he hiccupped while I held him, I heard him mutter that he’s never seen anyone as radiant and beautiful as me before. And he doomed me from that second on, because all I wanted moving forward was for him to hold me when I returned.

The sheer fabric was sparkly as the beads were sewn into it and it sat loosely around my shoulders, chest and back, stopping just above my stomach. It felt heavy as San walked around me to clip the back together, adjusting it until it sat against the rest of my dress the way it was supposed to. San’s designs were beautiful, I had been sceptical of them at first, but when I realized he didn’t intend to make me something the Capitol would lust over but rather admire, I grew to trust him and thanked him for making me feel beautiful if even for a fleeting moment, “Hold onto me.”

And he offered me his arm as we both faced the door, my hands trembling in fear as San pushed it open, walking us towards the stage with flashing lights, the TV anchor’s voice all of a sudden booming as he spoke into his microphone. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it as I felt frozen, holding onto San for stability when Joohyun and the rest of the makeup team appeared next to us. Joohyun’s eyebrows were furrowed when she looked at us and she gently coaxed my fingers away from San’s coat, holding my hand instead as she guided me towards the stage, just to where the backstage wall ended. It caught Caesar Flickerman’s attention and his eyes lit up at once, a high-pitched sound escaping his throat as he faced the audience with eagerness.

“Don’t let them see.” Joohyun’s voice was harsh as she turned her head to look at me, “And remember, you are lucky to be alive, for having been offered this chance to participate in the Games, and you are proud and honoured to be standing on this stage again.”

I took a shaky breath as I nodded my head, Joohyun’s words from this morning still fresh in my mind. The Capitol wasn’t allowed to see the turmoil in my head, the struggle, the fear and the pain which hid just underneath the surface. I had to keep up a strong front, to smile and gloat about my victory as if all the lost lives meant nothing to me, as if killing all those innocent children didn’t bother me at all. My throat tightened and I tried to grip Joohyun’s hand harder, but Caesar was calling out my name and the crowd was roaring loudly, and before I could even think about running back to the dressing room, a warm hand on my lower back pushed me forward.

The lights were blinding and the cheers and claps deafening, and I froze when I felt the TV anchor’s cold fingers graze my arm, run down to my wrist and then hand as he raised it to press a swift kiss against my knuckles as a greeting. I didn’t flinch, and before all the fear could swallow me whole, I plastered a big smile onto my face, laughing gently when Caesar lowered my hand from his face but still held onto it once he noticed I was wearing really high stilettos.

“Oh, my!” He exclaimed as if he was a child who just got their present on their birthday, “You look absolutely gorgeous, Miss Kwon.”

I chuckled and looked away abashed as he led us towards the two fancy armchairs, “Thank you, but it’s mostly thanks to my makeup team and my stylist—”

“Ah, yes!” He exclaimed before I could even finish my sentence, and I was glad I could hold onto his hand for stability because my ankles threatened to give out once I faced the crowd, “Choi San! What a man he is! Everyone loves him, I bet you do too, Miss Kwon?”

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, but harmless, and I took my seat once Caesar gesticulated towards it, “Yes, he’s really good at what he does. His creations are breathtaking.”

“Well, yes, he certainly overdid himself with this mermaid but sailor-like outfit,” Caesar took a deep breath before he faced the crowd, smiling so widely that it must’ve hurt, “Don’t you just love it?!”

And the crowd cheered, some even standing up to clap, to stick out more as I tried to continue to smile in a way that looked thankful but also abashed. Caesar was referring to my outfit, but I wished to be invisible at this exact moment. My hands shook but I hid them by interlacing my fingers and lowering them in my lap. Silence finally settled upon the room and I gulped, perhaps too loudly, because Caesar chuckled as he looked back at me amused.

“Well, look at our mermaid—can I call you that?” No, I didn’t want to be called a mermaid, I didn’t want to be associated with a mythical creature that was innocent and pure.

“You can call me whatever you wish,” My voice was warm and dripped with honey, I tried not to look surprised by myself, “I do look like a mermaid, don’t I?”

The crowd cheered again and I let my smile widen as I looked towards them, thankful for the blinding lights as I couldn’t see their faces. The people from the Capitol made me sick with their over-the-top extravaganza and the ease they could live with, I didn’t want to see them.

“Well, Miss Kwon, now that we’ve settled that you are our little mermaid,” Caesar leaned in with a worried expression, lips downturned and eyebrows furrowed, he looked genuine, “Tell us, how do you feel?”

I gulped, suddenly the silence making my skin itch as everyone waited for my answer. I smiled as I tried to look back to where I knew Joohyun stood, but then her words rang through my mind and I leaned back in the chair, trying to look casual, “Well, how am I supposed to feel? I just won the Games, Caesar, and it wasn’t easy. I’m on cloud nine, actually, I got a good night’s sleep and now I’m ready to tackle whatever the Capitol throws my way next.”

“Brilliant!” Caesar shouted, making me flinch, but I laughed as the crowd cheered once again, I could see the camera zoom in on my face, so I made sure my smile was wide and as genuine as possible, “You have a way with your words that just keeps me on my toes, you know, Miss Kwon? I bet the people love it too! Tell us, is there anything you cannot wait to do now that you’re out of the Arena?”

I took a deep breath as I faced the camera, my next words genuine, “I miss my parents and I miss the ocean, so I cannot wait to return home, actually.”

“Ah, yes,” Caesar had a compassionate look on his face as he reached out to pat my hands reassuringly, “District 4 became a richer district thanks to your contribution to their victors’, I bet they can’t wait to meet you.”

“And I cannot wait to meet them too,” I gulped, hoping I sounded genuine to those who were watching us, “I’ve always looked up to our victors, they are strong and brave and they’ve made our District shine every chance they could.”

“And now you are part of them too,” Caesar had a cheeky grin on his face as he mirrored my stance and leaned back into his armchair comfortably, “But before you return, you’ve still got a few days in the Capitol. Aren’t you just excited to meet everyone at the party?”

I was dreading that moment, but I tried to look as enthusiastic as possible as I perked up, sitting up straighter, “Yes! I’ve heard of these parties ever since I was a little girl, I cannot wait to meet everyone. And I’m also overly curious about my outfit too.”

“San will certainly overdo himself again,” Caesar was beaming as he spoke of my stylist, everyone in the Capitol was head over heels for San, “I am so excited to see what he has in store for us, do you reckon he’ll wear something pompous himself?”

I chuckled as my fingers tightened against each other, “Well, when has he not?”

The crowd and Caesar laughed and I smiled too, wanting to glance back to where I knew the team was watching me, but my body felt stiff as suddenly Caesar turned serious, licking his lips as he crossed one leg over the other, “I bet everyone would love it if we talked more about our beloved San, but this day is about you, Miss Kwon, and I have to mention your amazing kills. You have a sharp precision that’s hard to miss and even I was amazed by them, despite having seen many Games before. What’s your secret? I bet no one expected you to pick an axe as your weapon of choice since you are from District 4.”

“I—” I gulped, my body suddenly becoming cold as my mind reeled at the vivid memories flashing behind my eyes. The scent of blood, the vision of tearing flesh and the screams that haunted my nightmares, it was too much. My heart was pumping blood fast and my ears were ringing as the lights became too bright, Caesar's voice seemed distant when he called my name and I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but then I remembered Joohyun’s words and I knew I had to keep it together, it was all for the show, “Well, first of all, thank you, Caesar. I am honoured that you think so highly of my skills, I cannot say I worked hard to gain them, but I did train as much as I could before the Games, you know? My father is a fisherman so I would often help him out with cutting up the fish, I—I just associated the axe with a butcher’s knife.”

“Fascinating.” Caesar's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he paid close attention to my words, and I resisted the itch to scratch at my neck, which felt on fire, “You keep on impressing me every time you speak, you’re truly full of surprises, Miss Kwon, we haven’t had a victor like you quite in a while.”

“You’re too kind.” I averted my eyes and realized they were burning from being too dry, the lights made my head thump and the corset was too tight around my torso, I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Nonsense,” Caesar chuckled and then grinned mischievously, “Before I let you go enjoy your victory, let’s rewatch my favourite kills! They are truly marvellous.”

I gasped quietly as a small screen suddenly appeared in front of us, and Caesar clapped his hands, the lights dimming as the video was played on the big screens behind us as well. My eyes fixated on myself in the video, on the frantic look in my eyes as I grabbed the axe from the Cornucopia and flung it towards the way too young child when he tried to sneak up on me. My jaw clenched and I flinched every time I watched the axe I was gripping tightly make contact with human flesh, drowning out the gasps and cheers of the crowd as well as Caesar's elated yelps whenever I took out someone again. It felt like my own personal hell to watch myself kill someone, to watch the lifeless look in my eyes, the elated expression on my face whenever the canon went off. I was covered in blood, it was matted to my hair, and it had ruined my clothes too, but I failed to notice it as I roamed around aimlessly, eyes cold and crazed as I searched for my next victim. I looked desperate, I had felt desperate, and it made tears gather in my eyes when the footage shifted to my last kill, the one of which I barely had any recollection of, but my body reacted so viscerally that I feared I would empty my stomach’s contents right in front of everyone.

I continued looking at the screen but I wasn’t seeing anything anymore, my brain had given up on my surroundings, on what was happening to me and around me. I was there, merely a shell of who I used to be, and I didn’t want to see even one more second of the monster that slayed everyone without remorse on her face. At last, Caesar finally clapped his hands and the lights were strong again and he was squealing and yelping, but I couldn’t hear anything. I felt hands grip my arm and help me stand, then it was raised in the air and everyone cheered again, people standing up as they clapped loudly for me. Caesar's shrill voice called my name again and announced me as this year's victor, and when it was time for me to finally get off the stage, I turned emotionlessly and gave a last wave to the camera as I tried not to tumble while I walked to where I knew Joohyun stood at.

“And thus, I had been Caesar Flickerman, thank you for your attention and see you really soon, don’t forget to tune in for the Hunger Games’ lotto that I’ll be hosting in just a few hours!” And then my legs finally gave out as a sob tore through my throat, knees shaking as I fell to the cold ground, making everyone gasp as Joohyun sprung towards me, hissing at the staff to bring me a blanket and for the lights to be turned off so that nobody would see us. She called my name but I couldn’t hear her, the dress was suffocating and my face felt heavy with all the makeup on it, I needed to be somewhere far away from here. I gripped the beautiful pearl top and gave it one tug, making it fall apart and spread all over the floor as Hinata and Mingyu gasped, crowding around me. My hands were trying to undo the corset before anyone could react, and then I felt a warm presence behind me grip my arms painfully, shaking me to the point I had to look up in a daze.

San’s face was coated in worry as I exhaled ragged, only now realizing that I was hyperventilating, “Don’t make me wear white—I don’t—San, I don’t want to wear white ever again, please.”

He kneeled in front of me, and with a sharp nod of his head Mingyu and Hinata were gone, only Joohyun remaining close by with the blanket in her hands, eyebrows furrowed and gaze sharp as she watched San collect me in his arms, “I know, my love, no more white. I promise. “

I couldn’t bear to see something so innocent and pure get tainted by blood again.

            Being at the Victor’s Party was possibly as bad as being forced inside the Arena. It was filled to the brim with pompous Capitol people who drank until they couldn’t stand on their feet anymore, eating until they had to throw up just to eat some more. Their voices were loud and they were constantly laughing, clinking their glasses together and asking me to exchange quick words with them, which would turn into an excruciatingly long conversation that made my skin itch and my disgust show as I struggled to control my facial expressions. I wanted to go home, I couldn’t stay any longer in this wretched place, and I could’ve cried in happiness when I noticed Finnick Odair, District 4’s youngest victor, approach me with a charming smile. He was, surprisingly, covered from head to toe, his dark blue suit tailored to his body, enhancing his sun-kissed complex, his blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. He looked handsome and he knew it as he carried himself with a confident aura, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips always pulled to the side into a smirk or an amused grin. I had never spoken to him before, but he was a very popular victor and so I knew him from seeing him from time to time on the TV or at the market back in District 4.

“My, my, my,” Finnick’s tone was amused as he came to a stop next to me, towering over me, much like San, “you’re hounding our victor and you aren’t even ashamed of it.”

As if Finnick had just said the joke of the year, the five people surrounding us broke out in loud laughter, throwing their heads back as Finnick threw me a sneaky glance. It wasn’t hard to miss the irritation he managed to mask well in that split second and I felt myself relax for being seen, for being understood by such an important person. I would’ve never guessed Finnick hated the Capitol just as much as any other person from the districts, but it was reassuring to know he wasn’t so different from us after all.

“If only they were just hounding me,” I muttered bitterly as the other five were still busy giggling behind their champagne glasses, my eyes fell on Finnick, “and not asking me to bed them as well.”

Finnick’s jaw ticked but he didn’t react to my comment as his smile became wider when the lady standing next to him touched his arm, Finnick gave her a flirtatious look. Her eyelashes were unnaturally long and she reeked of alcohol, her lips pink and way too plump, but Finnick didn’t flinch away, instead he reciprocated her flirty look, “I hadn’t seen you in a while, Odair.”

“Such a shame, isn’t it?” He said with sadness in his tone, and I watched him curiously as the lady rubbed his bicep for a second too long.

“Are you free tonight?” Finnick’s smile stayed in place as he pretended to think, then leaned closer to the lady and lowered his voice.

“I might be,” The lady’s cheeks flushed instantly as she averted her eyes, “Have you missed me a lot?”

“Yes, so much.” She bit her lower lip provocatively and I averted my eyes as I felt bile rise in my throat. My empty glass was suddenly snatched from my hands and replaced with another one filled to the brim with champagne, and I tried to hide my nausea at the thought of having to drink another sip of that bitter liquid.

“Maybe we’ll meet again, then,” Finnick concluded before his attention was on the men around us, greeting them with handshakes and letting them touch his cheek, making me give them a weird look. They were eager to ask questions from Finnick, but he politely turned them down and instead sneaked his arm around my bare shoulders, pulling me into his side with a cheeky grin.

“I’m sure you’d all understand if I stole Miss Kwon away, right?” His eyebrows furrowed in hesitance, and I was amazed by his acting skills, “We never got the chance to speak properly, I’d like to show her around as her elder from the District.”

“Yes, go ahead!” The people exclaimed and even pushed us away, not before one man grabbed my hands and pressed a disgustingly wet kiss against my knuckles, his teeth yellow despite his fancy way of living, his eyes filled with lust as they raked over my body. I pretended I didn’t see as I gripped Finnick’s arm and allowed him to lead us away, somewhere quieter, he took my glass of champagne away too and threw it in the trashcan, surprising me.

“Never drink anything they hand you,” His voice was low so that no one would hear, his perfectly charming smile still on his lips. I tried my best to look just like him, at ease with a flirty smile on my lips, “You can drink what you take from a tray or table, but never what they hand you, understood?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said with a grateful smile as I turned my head to face him, wanting to ask so much more, but I knew now wasn’t the time or place. We’d have plenty of time back in District 4, “And thank you for saving me, I didn’t know what excuse to come up with to get away from them finally.”

“Never say you’re going to the bathroom either,” Finnick smiled widely at someone who waved at him from the crowd as we came to a standstill next to a white pillar, “They find it as an invitation to go somewhere secluded with you, and you don’t want that.”

“I really don’t,” I sighed frustrated as my scalp itched from how tight the braids Hinata had done were, “Thank you, Finnick, really.”

He finally looked at me with a knowing look on his face, his charming smile finally dropping as his eyes hardened. He looked tired and fed-up, but his voice remained soft and careful, “I’ll protect you as much as I can, just as Joohyun has been doing, but even we are powerless at times, I’m sorry. Another friendly advice, however, is if you want to ditch someone here, just say you saw someone you know and take off before they can speak up. They won’t follow you, they are too lazy to do that.”

“Do you enjoy these parties?” The question bubbled past my lips before I could stop myself and I averted my eyes when Finnick’s filled with amusement, a dimple forming on his cheek when he smiled genuinely for the first time. He reminded me of San, Finnick’s smile was beautiful too but never to San’s extent. San was here too somewhere, swept up in the crowd, with the people he belonged to. His outfit was revealing, all black and fitting his body like a second skin. I felt like I couldn’t look at him when we met, feeling like I was sinning just by letting him lace up my dress. He had listened to my request, my dress was a dark blue, much like Finnick’s suit, and the fabric bunched under my knees into ruffles, fading into ivory to resemble the foam of the ocean. It was beautiful, San had said this style was called ‘mermaid’ as he wished to play into the crowd's likes. Apparently, President Snow had also told him to make me wear a dress that fit the nickname Flickerman had given me, and I was nervous when I found out about this. Joohyun’s face was stern and her eyes a silent warning when we arrived at the scene, one nod of her head was enough to tell me to watch myself and not to cause a scene.

I was doing fine so far, it got hard at times and all I wished for was to hide and go to bed, but I was doing better than I thought I would. I managed not to hyperventilate nor sob when a couple approached me and asked me to reenact one of the kills I had done in the Arena, apparently, it was their son’s favourite from this season. Schooling my expressions was the hardest, I managed not to throw up once they finished talking, but I couldn’t help but glower at them with disgust, managing to scare them off when I showed them just exactly what they wanted to see. Apparently, it wasn’t so entertaining to watch someone kill another when they were standing right in front of you, gripping a knife with a twisted look on their face. The hypocrisy these people lived with flew past my mind as I was unable to understand or relate to them.

“I loathe these parties, Y/N, everything you see on TV,” Finnick paused for a dramatic effect as he leaned towards me, eyes wide, “if fake. You’ll learn with time how to manage everything, but it’ll never get easy.”

“I should’ve died in that Arena,” I whispered under my breath, watching pity reflect on Finnick’s face as he released a long sigh.

“Maybe we all should’ve, but think about your family.” I felt a hand grip my shoulder, so I looked up at Finnick, “They are happy and glad to have you back, so even if we should be dead, knowing you’ll be able to see them again should bring a little joy while you’re cooped up in the Capitol.”

“I am happy, as much as I can be at the moment.” I said with conviction, “But I’m a monster now, and I don’t think they are ready to face me yet. I’m not—I don’t feel like I’m the same person anymore.”

“Because you’re not.” Finnick’s tone was hard but harmless at the same time. His eyes were void of any emotion, he seemed absent from the conversation as his hand fell from my shoulder, “You’ll never be the person you were before you stepped foot into the Arena, and you’ll have to learn to accept it. We might be monsters, but don’t forget the biggest one out of all of us.”

I gulped, not missing the implication of Finnick’s words. President Coriolanus Snow. He was the biggest monster, our biggest enemy, a tyrant who only took and took from the Districts without giving anything back, who tried to make the Capitol flourish despite the blood on their hands. It was unfair, but who was I to make a change? I was too insignificant to start a spark for which the people from the districts were desperately waiting.

“Hello,” Both Finnick and I tensed as a deep voice spoke up behind us, a little bit hesitant, “Sorry to bother you, President Snow asked me to fetch the new victor…”

Finnick and I turned our heads, coming face to face with a man who was taller than even Finnick. He towered over the both of us, skin ashen and cheeks hollow as his small and sharp eyes were obscured by his black hair falling over his forehead. His shoulders were hunched forward and the skin of his neck was red where the collar of his white shirt ended. I knew him, I saw him on the TV last year. He killed his own district’s female tribute to win.

“Ah, Mingi!” Finnick, springing forward and hugging the man as he ignored the other victor’s clear discomfort, was beaming all of a sudden, “I had been wondering all night long where you were hiding now.”

I watched the two as Mingi looked down at his shoes, not attempting to step out of Finnick’s side hug, “The bathroom was cramped so I found a nice balcony—until Snow found me, of course.”

“Oh, no,” Finnick whispered, lips pulled into a tight line, “did he say anything?”

“Nothing bad, surprisingly.” Mingi shrugged and looked relieved when Finnick finally released him, “Just inquired about my well-being and—her.”

“I see.” Finnick’s voice was compassionate and my eyebrows furrowed as I didn’t quite understand what they were talking about, but I realised it wasn’t my place to pry. Eyes falling on me, I tried to smile at the tall man but he looked like he wanted to die, and it made me anxious as I didn’t know how to approach him, “Well, I’ll leave you two be. See you around, yes?”

“Yes,” Mingi muttered as Finnick nodded at me before he slipped away, leaving the other man and me in an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m Kwon Y/N, pleased to meet you.” I offered a hand for the man to shake and he reluctantly did, his handshake surprisingly firm despite his tame behaviour.

“I’m Song Mingi, you—you did well, I’m sorry.” His words were confusing but they made complete sense somehow, and I felt tears prick at my eyes all of a sudden. But I couldn’t let them fall, not right as I was about to meet President Snow, and Mingyu worked for two hours on my makeup.

“Thank you,” My voice was hoarse and Mingi looked at my face for the first time, surprised, “I did my best even though I wish I hadn’t.”

Understanding passed over Mingi’s features as he nodded once, then pointed reluctantly towards the stairs I failed to notice when Finnick and I had stopped next to the pillar, “You shouldn’t keep President Snow waiting.”

I nodded and followed after Mingi as his long legs took hurried steps, making me have to run to catch up with him on the stairs, but I remained silent as I realized he wasn’t much of a talker. He looked like he didn’t want to hide the turmoil going on inside his mind, and I admired him for it as he wasn’t afraid of what the people would think. I wanted to do the same, but Joohyun instructed me against it, telling me that if the Capitol didn’t find me desirable, I’d be thrown to the side, and that never meant good. I wondered whether Mingi had been thrown to the side too, but seeing him here made me realize I had heard people whisper about him while I was forced to mingle with them.

“Is he—do you think he’ll punish me?” I found myself asking as Mingi led us down a long corridor with plenty of doors on both sides.

“Did you do anything bad?” He asked as he glanced over his shoulder. I bit my lip and shrugged.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then no, he won’t.” Mingi’s answer was curt and it felt like he wanted to say more, but he abruptly stopped in front of a door and sighed heavily, “This is President Snow’s office, I’ll wait for you here.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.” For the first time, Mingi looked in my eyes with concern coating his features, and I gulped as I stepped forward and knocked on the sturdy wooden door. If Mingi didn’t want to leave me, I wouldn’t ask him to, too scared that I wouldn’t leave Snow’s office ever again. At least one person knew where I was if anything were to happen to me. The door opened before I could push it open and my muscles tensed as I took a deep breath and pushed it further open, stepping inside. It was cool inside the office and my mind blanched at the avid stench of blood in the air, I tried to keep my composure and my heart from racing. My skin itched when President Snow’s lips pulled into an amused grin, beckoning me further inside with his hand. The door closed behind me and I jumped, glancing back and wishing Mingi would’ve entered with me.

“Miss Kwon,” President Snow smiled, flattening his hands on the surface of his table. The colour matched the door’s, “Congratulations on becoming a victor, you’ve certainly done your utmost best. You’ve impressed quite a few people here.”

“Thank you, President Snow.” I bowed my head respectfully, glad that my voice didn’t waver like every particle of my body did. I pushed my hands behind my back to hide their tremor and looked into President Snow’s dark eyes.

“How do you find the Capitol, little mermaid?” I hated that nickname and it was probably easy to tell as President Snow chuckled, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly. His office was huge, bookshelves lined the walls to my left and right and the lights were dim despite it being dark outside. A vase of white roses sat in the corner on top of Snow’s desk, and I didn’t miss the one tucked in his suit’s pocket.

“It’s—different.” I gulped, trying to sound nonchalant, “It’s big and beautiful, full of life, I suppose.”

“But you miss District 4, yes?” Snow quirked an eyebrow, expression turning serious. I nodded wordlessly and he hummed, looking sideways and out the window. The partygoers were visible from here and as I followed his line of sight my eyes widened slightly when I spotted San, who was leaning into a velvet cushion as hands roamed his chest, a silver cross dangling between his pecks. Everyone seemed to be taken with him as he laughed and drank champagne, smirking with a flirtatious look on his sharp features at both men and women alike, “And you wish to still return home, don’t you?”

I gulped and tore my eyes away from the sight, freezing with President Snow’s eyes fixated on me with a curious glint in them, “Yes, I would really like to return home. I miss the ocean and my parents.”

“And you won’t miss anything from the Capitol?”

What was I supposed to say? Was this a trap? I gulped and cleared my throat, scavenging my brain for an answer.

“Maybe—the pretty dresses?” President Snow’s head fell back as he started laughing, eyes holding an amused twinkle when he looked back at me.

“And not the one that makes those dresses?” I felt my blood run cold as President Snow had a knowing smile on his lips as he leaned forward in his chair, arms coming to rest on his table.

“I—I’ll miss Hinata and Mingyu, and San—San too, of course.” I hated how vulnerable I sounded, my voice weak and shaky, “They were my team and they—they made me pretty, so I—”

“Miss Kwon,” President Snow’s tone was tired and low as he interrupted my pitiful stammering, “People like Mr. Choi and you don’t belong together. He was born here and you were not, if you can bear heartbreak then I have nothing else to say, but look at him. Don’t you think you’ll never be enough for him? That he’ll always see you as a dirty little thing from a fishing district that reeks of seafood?”

I gulped, throat constricting as tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn’t turn my head, I couldn’t look at San again. President Snow was right, I had always known this, I had never even thought further about whatever could be between us. I knew this, but hearing the words said out loud only made it sting more, “Get yourself together, Miss Kwon. You’re a smart girl and if you know what’s best for you, forget about Mr. Choi now. You know it’ll never happen, and if you don’t want to believe it, then let me tell you this. I’ll never allow it, Miss Kwon, you can’t have Mr. Choi, he’s mine and the Capitol’s.”

I exhaled forcefully and bit my tongue as I looked up, blinking away the tears rapidly as my jaw clenched, “You can’t own a person, President Snow.”

“Can’t I?” He snickered as he leaned back in his chair once again, “Speak to Finnick Odair again, perhaps, ask more questions this time. I’m sure he has lots of tales about me and the Capitol. Or perhaps you could tell Mr. Song that the fence he likes to climb could be re-electrified any second—”

“Why are you threatening others when this is about me?!” My voice raised as my eyebrows furrowed and President Snow smiled, tapping his cheek as he grabbed a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“Because it’s not just about you, Miss Kwon, it’s about everything I own.” A cough ripped through President Snow’s chest, and I watched with furrowed eyebrows as he pressed the white handkerchief against his mouth. Was it possible for him to catch a cold? He was still human, after all, “And you, victors, are my propriety. I can do whatever to you, whenever I want to. And you are not to see Mr. Choi after tonight ever again, do you understand me?”

My body went rigid and I gulped, the voices in my head screaming at me to grab a pencil and stab him through the neck, to end the man’s life who has caused so much anguish to all of us. My heart pumped fast and my hands shook as anger seemed to flame underneath my skin and I gulped, trying to clear the red fog inside my brain, the insatiable thirst to get rid of the person that was such a threat to not just me, but everyone. But it also scared me how violently I would react now, how my first thought at a little inconvenience was to kill—this wasn’t me. The me before the Games would’ve never resorted to murder, and it scared me to the point I felt my breaths turn uneven as President Snow’s eyes continued to bore into mine curiously, a wondering expression crossing his features. My throat was tight as I opened my lips to speak, and I clenched my hands into fists as I raised my head higher and looked into the man’s eyes, “I understand.”

And whatever he seemed on my face must’ve been satisfying enough because with a flick of his wrist, he dismissed me, and I turned without any respect or pleasantries as I stormed towards the door and ripped it open, letting it slam behind me. I stepped into the corridor, male voices fading into silence as my chest raised and fell rapidly, my hands shaking as I stared ahead and out the big windows, eyes fixated on San as he leaned towards a red-head and whispered in her ear, making her giggle and lean into him, a hand placed high on his thigh.

“Y/N?” An unfamiliar voice snapped me out of my thoughts as I sharply turned my head, eyes falling on the man standing next to Mingi. He was taller, just barely, and his features were soft and cautious as he tried to offer me a smile, “Uh, sorry, I’m Jeong Yunho, Mingi said he’d wait for you so I did too.”

Mingi remained silent as he looked between us and I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves, to forget everything President Snow had just said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to storm out like that, I—the conversation was rather unpleasant.”

“Yes, it usually is with him.” Yunho said with a chuckle and grabbed Mingi’s arm as he nodded towards the end of the corridor, “But I don’t think we should discuss that here out of all places.”

That managed to bring a small smile to my lips and I nodded in agreement as I turned to head down the corridor. The two men caught up with me and walked next to me with Yunho in the middle.

“The whole place is full of cameras, Yunho, it doesn’t matter where we talk about it,” Mingi grumbled and Yunho shrugged, glancing at me.

“Well, yes, but I think Snow finds it more exciting if we talk about him ‘behind his back’, you know?” His tone was amused and I felt my tense muscles ease a little as we started descending the stairs. Something about Yunho was calming, he had an air about him which made you feel at ease. I was glad he was here even though I had no idea who he was minutes ago. His Games weren’t as popular as the other ones so people tended to gloss over him, even though now I could recall them.

“Thank you for waiting for me, you didn’t have to,” I spoke up as we arrived at the bottom of the stairs and the two tall men faced me with smiles on their faces. Mingi’s was miniscule but it was there as Yunho just shrugged and threw an arm around the other one, and I watched with surprise as Mingi didn’t flinch nor look uncomfortable with the touch. They seemed to be familiar with each other.

“Sure, it was no biggie.” The way Yunho spoke wasn’t familiar, but I welcomed it as his whole persona felt safe and friendly, “If you want a good hiding spot, you’ll find Mingi and me behind the sweets table.”

Mingi rolled his eyes but didn’t interject and only nodded, eyes lowering, “Yunho has a sweet tooth, but it’s a surprisingly good hiding spot. Everyone is too busy looking at all the delicacies to notice us.”

I chuckled and nodded, grateful for their friendliness and offer of a good hiding spot, I happened to also have a sweet tooth, “Thank you, I might as well just go now and—”

“Excuse me,” A voice I knew too well spoke up from behind me and I stiffened, eyes averting when Mingi and Yunho shared a look, “Do you mind if I steal Miss Kwon for a dance?”

“Not at all!” Yunho said beaming and patted Mingi’s back before they both bowed their heads and hurried away, Yunho whispering to Mingi furiously as Mingi just shook his head. I let my eyes follow the two until I couldn’t see them anymore, Snow’s words echoing in my mind when I felt a gentle hand wrap around my bicep. I flinched and then hated the look of hurt and confusion on San’s face as he turned me around to face him, lowering his head as I avoided looking into his eyes.

“Talk to me, Y/N, what happened?” He whispered softly and my jaw clenched, skin burning where he touched me. I yearned to hold him, to step closer and close the gap between our bodies, but Snow was watching. Everyone was watching.

“Nothing.” I lied and finally looked into San’s sharp eyes which were filled with worry. His hand slowly slipped from my bicep, tracing my skin, and I shivered as he found my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine. I refrained from pulling away, Joohyun’s warning echoing in my head, I couldn’t cause a scene. Not here and not right now.

“Will you dance with me?”

“Yes.”

When I was with San it felt like the world disappeared around us, like nobody but him and I existed. It was a peaceful feeling, but also frightening. I could lose myself in his eyes and then I would lose track of everything around myself. It was daunting, but also a feeling which filled me with hope and warmth, making my heart beat faster. I couldn’t focus on the crowd as San walked us towards the orchestra, couples dancing all around as they laughed and conversed, paying little attention to San’s and my presence. My skin flared when San smiled softly and gently held my waist, guiding me closer to his broad body, his features relaxed despite my own tense muscles. Even though I couldn’t peel my eyes off him, I was rather aware of all the people that surrounded us, of the whispers and pointed fingers towards us. I suppose dancing with your stylist wasn’t a foreign thing to do, but said stylist was Choi San, of course, the whole world watched on curiously, making assumptions and pointing fingers.

“Focus on me, my love.” San’s voice was barely a whisper, mindful of all the eager ears surrounding us as a couple came rather close. I couldn’t nod but I offered him my hand as I placed my other one on his shoulder, his sheer shirt’s fabric rough against my skin. He held me firmly as a soft smile appeared on his lips, feet taking off as he led the dance, whirling me around with an ease that surprised even me. People made way for us as I stared up into San’s eyes, my heart thumping so fast it felt like I was on the verge of fainting. But I knew I wasn’t, I was aware that I felt like this because of San, because he was here, looking at me deeply with a gentle smile on his lips, ignoring everyone else around us, holding me close as if he was afraid I’d disappear if he didn’t. His cologne was sweet and had become a familiar scent by now, I couldn’t help but lower my head until I was able to inhale it, muscles finally softening as the ringing of my ears finally ceased too and I could focus on the tune of the classical music.

“Where had you gone to? I couldn’t find you.” San’s deep voice carried a hint of worry, and I took a quick look around before looking back up into his eyes.

“President Snow requested to see me,” I answered, bile rising in my throat as suddenly I felt like a jester, here to parade myself around with someone whom I didn’t belong with. President Snow was right. It was clear as day that San and I had nothing in common, that San could never love a person like me. His skin was soft and free of blemish, he smelled sweet like honey and vanilla, and his clothes were of the finest quality. I, on the other hand, had unruly hair and skin that was neither soft nor scar-free, and my clothes looked like they had seen better days. But tonight, due to San’s immense talent, I felt like a princess, like someone worthy to stand in front of him even if it wasn’t real. I failed to notice the quick flash of fear on San’s face as I was lost in my thoughts, but then a squeeze to my waist and a chuckled apology as we almost collided into a couple brought me back to the present.

“Did he say something that felt threatening?” San asked with an amused chuckle, eyebrows slightly furrowed. There was nothing funny about what he had just asked and I knew he realized that when my jaw clenched, and I turned my head away to gaze at the couples around us. Unfortunately, President Snow was out on his balcony, watching the party closely, and our eyes met. The breath caught in my throat and I averted my eyes quickly, looking back at San as I felt myself press harder against him. It was irrational how quickly fear spread through my body, the desperation to keep San close at all costs back, and my fingers fisted his shirt as my eyes shook.

“He—he—San—” And San’s expression fell when he realized his words were true, and his face lowered as he looked at me with panic written all over his features, “He knows, San, President Snow knows that we—he knows.”

I couldn’t say it, my hands shook and my throat felt tight as I tried to take deep breaths. It felt like everyone was watching us, like everyone had a vicious grin on their lips and had their fingers pointed at us, taunting us with words that never left their mouths but my brain didn’t fail to conjure them up still. San made a sudden move and whirled us around so my back was facing President Snow, then, almost with a scowl on his face, he raised his head and stared up. My irrational fear only grew as I whispered his name, afraid of what he’d do next, knowing that President Snow would do something bad to perhaps the both of us. But San just grinned, wide from ear to ear, and then nodded his head in Snow’s direction, almost tauntingly.

“I know that he knows,” His tone was harsh as he looked back down at me and stopped moving, his hand creeping lower until it pressed against my lower back harshly, “And I don’t give a fuck, because if he as much as touches me, the Capitol will turn against him.”

“What about me?” I whispered, aware of how beloved San was by everyone here. But I wasn’t, despite being a victor, I’ll always be just a girl from District 4 from a fisher family.

“If anyone damages anything precious to me, I’ll destroy them.” San’s jaw was set tight as he lowered his head, and for a second, I was afraid he’d kiss me. But his hand slipped from mine and instead, he curled a stray strand around his finger before he pushed it behind my ear, fingers brushing against my jaw as he smiled at me softly, “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Nobody is safe from him, San,” I whispered as San’s face fell, eyes darkening as he averted them and started moving again, albeit paying less attention to those around us. And I couldn’t help but glance back and find President Snow’s eyes narrowed at us before he cocked an eyebrow, making my heart race against my chest as I gulped and faced ahead again, eyes meeting Joohyun’s. She looked displeased as she subtly shook her head at me, and then her cold eyes fell on Yunho as he offered to dance with her, she didn’t turn him down.

We were all just Snow’s pawns, figures on his chessboard he played with when he got too bored of those in his vicinity.

            The bare trees seemed endless as I weaved through between them, frostbite chilling my bones as my thick jacket was undone and the zipper of my sweater was unzipped too, making my chest ache from both the cold and exhaustion. My hiding spot had been discovered when I foolishly fell asleep last night by the small fire I managed to conjure, teeth chattering and fingertips numb to the point I had tears streaking down my face, wondering whether I’d survive another night in the Arena. If the other tributes didn’t get me, then the relenting cold certainly would. And now, in the early hours of the morning with dawn upon the fake horizon, all I could do was flee and pray for a miracle as my pursuers howled and continued taunting me as they sprinted after me, gaining on me each minute.

The axe was heavy in my hand as my feet tangled in the dry weed of the forest floor and I yelped as I slipped and nearly tumbled to the ground, straight into my axe. My heart was thundering in my chest as I gasped for air, whimpering when I realized my mistake as I frantically looked for a hiding spot. Anything would’ve been good at this point, a cave, a fallen lodge big enough to hide my body, or even a tree that I could climb. Being from District 4, where it was always warm and the only thing I had to climb were the ropes of a ship to reach the mizenmast, I was at a great disadvantage compared to the districts that came from familiar scenery. The cold seemed to be the most unbearable thing out of everything, covering my body in constant goosebumps as I yearned for the warmth of the sun and the breeze of the ocean. Each day that passed, however long or short due to the Gamemakers' choices, felt like I was living in hell, feeling like it would never end.

I didn’t consider myself a religious person, but I found myself praying for something, asking for salvation, if there was anyone out there listening to me. And it felt wrong, especially when I had to fight for my life, to think of the one man that’s been plaguing my thoughts ever since I had met him, but if there was a god, I knew it would be him. My eyes fell on a tree large enough to offer shelter and I quickly hid behind its trunk as my chasers gained on me, their mocking louder and louder. My chest was rising and falling rapidly, my hands shook uncontrollably, and my face felt frozen despite the adrenaline that kept my blood fizzling, my cheeks burning from both the biting chill and the fear that coursed through my veins. With numb fingers, I managed to zip my sweater together and felt instant relief even at the little warmth it offered for my exposed chest, but then the voices got louder and I froze, pressing my free hand against my mouth to try and be as quiet as possible as I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Where are you, little fish?” The male voice was amused as it taunted, soft in a way that made me sick to my stomach. I bit my bottom lip to bite back the whimper that threatened to leave it, terrified now that the three career tributes had closed in on me. They were right there, somewhere behind the tree I hid by, “Come on out now, don’t make us look for you.”

“Yes, fishy, we just want to talk.” Despite the warm timbre of the female tribute, my muscles cramped up and my mind screamed at me to take off running again. But they were too close and one of them had throwing knives, I couldn’t outrun three people, not when they had a male with them who was twice my size.

“You are a career tribute too,” The third voice, harsh and impatient, spat out, “so why are you running? We’ve been in the Games for four days now and we’ve been looking for you, but you keep running!”

I gulped, trying to take deep breaths as quietly as possible as my grip tightened around the handle of my axe. They had stopped moving too and were no doubt trying to spot me, and suddenly I was thankful for having a smaller build despite being someone who worked on a ship on the daily. My parents had always wanted a boy who could help out my father and take on the family legacy, and instead, they had a small girl who cried too much and whose skin bruised too easily. But I didn’t want to disappoint them, so I steeled my nerves and went out on the ocean with my father, learning everything I had in order to become a good fisherman. It was hard, and sometimes too demanding for someone who lacked muscle and sheer force, but it taught me that nothing was impossible as long as you had your mind set to it. And when I had been reaped as a tribute for the 73rd Hunger Games, all I could think about was the ocean and how I wasn’t ready to die just yet, not when I hadn’t even fallen in love yet. I had too much to lose yet nothing at all, and when the stylist assigned for my district looked at me with sharp eyes but a simple smile and told me that I could do it, that I could come back to him, that he trusted me and believed in me, some sick and twisted part of me clung to his words like they were my own personal prayer, as if it would save me from my fate, from doom, and the Arena that would kill twenty-three innocent lives.

“We want you on our team, little fish, your score wasn’t impressive but I saw you kill that little boy at the Cornucopia, we know you’re strong.” The male tribute spoke up again, making me inhale as I contemplated my next move, knowing that I just signed myself up for my death.

With a sharp exhale I knew they have heard me, I disclosed my hiding spot willingly, “Fuck you.”

And the next thing I knew was a throwing knife lodged into the bark of the tree, close to my ear as my eyes widened, but the simmering rage was back underneath my skin, making my blood boil as it overshadowed my terror. I wanted to live, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to go home, I wanted to hug my mother and help my father again, I wanted to swim in the ocean and I wanted—I wanted to see San again, I wanted to return to him. I wasted no more seconds as I gripped the handle of the throwing knife again and yanked it out of the tree, twisting around the trunk and sending it hurling mindlessly. I didn’t wait for another reaction as I took off again, thighs burning from exertion and knees aching as the soles of my feet hit the ground with force, propelling me forward more and more. I wouldn’t stop, I wouldn’t look back. More howls and screams followed after me, instructions barked out as the three tributes chased after me, but I wouldn’t stop, I wouldn’t look back. There was a bridge that looked too old not far from here, my only hope lay in that bridge, that it would collapse under their weights if I managed to outrun them and not fall to my death with them.

But at the next turn, a sharp pain shot up from my left calf and I yelped, losing my footing as I tumbled to the ground, twisting and rolling until I hit the side of a boulder. White mist left my mouth as I breathed through it, my axe had fallen somewhere next to me as pain spread through my spine, my left calf pulsing. I dared take a glance at it and sucked in a harsh breath when I realized a throwing knife was lodged deeply into it. I was bleeding, it made my hands shake as I grabbed the handle and bit down on my bottom lip, yanking it out at once before I could chicken out. My pursuers were suddenly around me, surrounding me with wicked grins on their faces and I grit my teeth, looking them dead in the eyes as my fingers tightened around the handle of the throwing knife that didn’t belong to me.

“Sweet girl, what are you going to do now?” The female with a harsh tone, a tribute from District 2, sneered and took a taunting step toward me, “Didn’t they tell you fishes out of water die?”

I scoffed, unamused and pained as my left side ached where I had hit the boulder, but I lifted my chin and surveyed her face, looking for a flicker of regret, but when I found none, I made up my mind for good this time. Fishing gave you a certain precision, you had to know when to throw the net in the water, when to yank it up, where to cut and how to clean the fish of its scales, it was all about timing and making it quick. So, without wasting any more minutes, I rose to my knees as I flung the throwing knife towards the tribute from District 2 and watched as she blinked at me with confusion written all over her face, eyes slowly looking up to her forehead as the knife was lodged perfectly in the middle of it, a scream dying on her lips as she fell forward with a hollow look on her face. Nobody moved and nobody said anything as my chest fell and raised quickly, my pants loud as the male tribute watched with an open mouth, the whisper of her name leaving his lips as the other female screamed out in rage, her eyes furious as she pounced on me without a second of hesitation.

I groaned as my head hit the ground when she pushed me down, and despite having all those weapons on her, her hands curled around my neck in a deathly grip, making my eyes widen as my fingers curled around her wrists, trying to pry them off. The male tribute was saying something behind us, but I couldn’t focus on him as I realized just how quickly the air was leaving my lungs, my body thrashing around as I tried to force the female off me. It wasn’t working and my throat felt like it would be snapped in two as I tried to gasp for air, eyes bulging as the female tribute looked at me with spite, saliva coating her lips as her face was red from the brute force she was using. I couldn’t die, no, I hadn’t gotten this far just to die at the hands of a career tribute. I was desperate too to survive, just like them, but I didn’t taunt those I killed, I didn’t chase them around and mocked them before I finally put them out of their misery. They didn’t deserve kindness or mercy, and I wasn’t going to give it to them.

One hand abandoning the girl’s wrist, my fingers twisted into the hair that was on the side of her head and despite the black spots covering my vision, I mustered up all my power to push her head to the side, crashing it against the boulder. She gasped loudly and her grip around my throat weakened for a minuscule second, I wasted no more time as I yanked her head away and then slammed it back against the boulder, gasping loudly as the air scraped the back of my throat and sent me into a vicious coughing fit, my eyes watering when the tribute’s hands loosened even more. The aggressive air flow made my lungs ache as I coughed even louder, finding more power in my body as I could finally breathe, and I slammed the girl’s head into the boulder once again before pushing her limp body off me. The canon went off two times as I lay on the ground numbly, staring up at the fake sky as I tried to breathe even again, craving water to wash the burn down in my throat.

But if the canon only went off twice, it meant the male tribute was still alive, and as my head snapped up to look for him, his teary eyes fell on me before they steeled, becoming cold and void of emotion. Realizing I couldn’t do anything now but fight, I sprung to my feet despite the state of my body, despite my desperate need to succumb to nothingness. And when my fingers touched the handle of my axe and its familiar weight settled in my hands, reminding me where I was and who I was, my eyes fell on the male tribute with hatred and spite as I staggered on my feet, watching as he also grabbed his weapon. It was shorter than a sword but longer than a knife, and I gulped but didn’t let it deter me. Not even when he came running towards me and I had to dodge his raised arm last minute, realizing frantically how small and easily disposable I was against him.

And as desperation grabbed at my throat, my body shaking in terror but determination as well, I realized something. I wanted to live, I wanted to survive and I wanted to return home, but not to District 4, no, into the arms of the man I had fallen for in the few days I had been at the Capitol, the man who made me look beautiful and desirable for the first time in my life, the man who believed me and begged me to do my best and return to him. I wanted to live for Choi San and I wanted to know what his lips felt like pressed against mine, what his cologne smelled like, and what being wrapped in his big, but comforting, arms felt like. My emotions were conflicting, I wanted to hate him, to curse his name and scream at him—he was from the Capitol, part of the reason why I was forced to live my life in fear each year The Reaping came around, ultimately falling victim for their wicked games—I knew we didn’t belong together, it was shameful to fall for a man like him, but at the same time I couldn’t help but recall the tenderness in his eyes, in his touch, in his words, and I’ve never felt safer, freer and happier.

I wanted to see San again.

With a memory that was hazy and a numb mind, I only came to it when I heard the third canon go off, warm blood dripping from my hands and face, stench unbearable as I crumbled next to the dead body and heaved for air, bile rising in my throat as I vomited whatever little my body had inside my stomach. And I cried as I dragged myself away from the gruesome scene, now four innocent lives hanging over my head, their deaths bloodying my hands and forever burned inside my memories, a weight I could never get rid of. We were all victims in a greater game, and all we could do was endure and continue living, if not for ourselves, then for the lives we had taken.

            Now that the moment I had been waiting for came, I wasn’t so enthusiastic about it anymore. I wanted to go home, of course, I did, but going home meant not seeing San until the next Hunger Games. It meant being separated from the man I had grown attached to in an alarmingly short time, the only man who’d ever managed to make my heart beat faster. I didn’t understand what part of San made me so enraptured with him, and no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t figure it out. It made no sense, it felt twisted and somehow sick too, shameful, but I couldn’t stop myself as my eyes found his, my whole being feeling alive when a small dimpled smile appeared on his face. The makeup team was here to say their last goodbyes and the vast train felt empty without the male tribute I had arrived with. It felt colder and scarier than on our arrival, and I didn’t want to go, not yet. I needed more days, perhaps even weeks, with San. But President Snow’s words were ever present in the back of my mind and his threats frightened me. I knew I had no choice but to live a lowkey life if I wanted my loved ones safe.

“Ah, I always hate this part,” Mingyu said with a sigh, his face fallen, “but we’ll see each other soon, no?”

“For the Victory Tour.” San’s voice was smooth and emotionless, but I noticed the way his eyes didn’t move on from me, the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed with every gulp he took.

“Which will be next month.” Joohyun’s sharp voice cut through as she looked between San and me, her jaw set tight. Hinata just sighed and turned towards my mentor with a sullen face, and to my surprise, Joohyun opened her arms and beckoned her over for a hug.

“Take care,” She said quietly as Hinata stepped back, a tear rolling down her cheek, “We’ll see each other in no time.”

“Please use the facial masks I have given you,” Hinata pleaded as Mingyu offered Joohyun a hesitant hug as well, her petite form disappearing in his huge arms, “Your skin is literally perfect, I’m afraid the salt water will destroy it.”

“It won’t.” A smile played at Joohyun’s lips, but she nodded still, “But I’ll use them, for your peace of mind.”

“Thank you!” Hinata’s eyes lit up and I faced my two makeup artists as they hugged me at once, making me chuckle and shy away when Mingyu ruffled my short hair fondly. San and Joohyun exchanged no words, but an understanding look passed between them before Joohyun sighed, taking a look at her wristwatch.

“The train leaves in fifteen minutes, San.” And to my surprise, I watched as my makeup team and Joohyun walked over to the compartment’s automated door, knowing looks passing their faces.

“See you soon, Y/N, let Joohyun help you wear your facial masks, please!” Hinata seemed to be obsessed with keeping our skin hydrated and moisturized, terms I learned only upon my arrival to the Capitol, and I nodded so that she’d leave with a peaceful heart.

“Take care!” Mingyu called before the doors closed in front of them, leaving San and me alone in the compartment which was bigger than my old bedroom. I interlaced my fingers in front of me and looked at the floor, wanting to say so much yet unable to do so. San moved first, approaching me with hurried steps and I didn’t expect to feel his warm hand cup my cheek and raise my head. His dark eyebrows were furrowed and worry was written all over his face, his skin clear of any cosmetical product. He was glowing underneath the natural light, he looked gorgeous. My body seemed to relax at the close proximity and I nuzzled my face into his palm, turning my head to kiss his wrist as San’s eyes softened, lips downturned.

“I don’t want to go just yet,” I whispered and held San’s other hand, our fingers intertwining.

“We’ll meet soon again,” He tried to reassure us, but it only made me long for him more, even if he was standing right in front of me, “Until then, you have Joohyun and even Finnick to help you if something is amiss. Don’t be afraid, I know your family cannot wait to see you, you’ll be fine, my love.”

“How can I be fine if you’re not there, San?” He gulped hard, jaw clenching as tears sprung into my eyes. The thought of being separated from him sounded excruciating, I really didn’t want to go. I wanted San to hold me, reassure me, and be there for every waking moment of mine, otherwise, it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“You’ll be, no—I’ll find a way to be there, my love, if not physically, I’ll try to send pieces of myself to you.” He cupped my face as he leaned down, breath ghosting over my face as our eyes bore into each other deeply, “I promise, I won’t abandon you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

“Will you write to me?” I asked in a whisper, feeling a flicker of hope spark in my chest and San licked his lips, his eyes falling on my parted ones.

“I’ll try, I really will.” He whispered and then leaned in, eyes fluttering closed as our lips brushed together, hesitant at first, almost coaxing. I stepped closer and leaned into him, my arms around his torso holding him firmly as my fingers twisted into the flannel white shirt he wore, my body now wrapped in his honey-like cologne. San’s grip turned surer, more secure, as he tilted my head back, our lips moving languidly, taking our time as if we weren’t in a hurry. And for a split second, I managed to forget all my insecurities and fears as San’s whole being consumed mine, his lips moulding perfectly against mine as he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it and kissing me with more fervour. One hand slipping into my hair and fisting the short strands firmly had me keening as I held San’s jaw, the pace of our kiss quickening as he walked me backwards until my thighs were pressing against something hard, forcing my knees to bend slightly as I tried to stabilize myself by a hand behind me, pressed firmly on the surface of the table.

And it felt as if San was trying to steal not just my breath but my soul too when his mouth parted, tongue asking for permission as it swept over my bottom lip. I had never been kissed like this before, neither held nor desired so fervently, and my mind swam in a daze as San’s body pressed against mine, firm and demanding, as my lips parted just slightly, hesitantly. But San’s tongue was insistent as it licked against my teeth and then finally into my mouth as I gasped in the back of my throat, holding onto his broad shoulders when a calloused hand on my lower back made it arch, leaning my upper body back as my lungs burned in a way I never wanted it to end, not painfully but longingly. His tongue was hot and sharp as it glided against mine, alternating between sucking and just simply exploring my mouth, coaxing more sounds out of me as my body started shaking, stimulated in a way it hadn’t been before. I didn’t want us to separate as San pulled slightly away, making me chase after his lips with a desperate need settling deep in my bones, my fingers slipping up to his neck as our lips met again, my fingernails pressing marks into his tan skin. But we didn’t have enough time, we never would, and when my lungs started screaming for air again and San had to pull back, he pressed his forehead against mine, panting loudly while he peppered kisses all over my cheeks—I felt at ease. For the first time in my life, my mind was silent, my body was relaxed, and I felt indestructible.

“I’ll find a way to you, I promise,” San whispered when the train whistled and my heart suddenly lurched into my throat, bringing that deep-rooted desperation back.

“I love you, San.” The words slipped past before I could even ponder on them, making San’s eyes widen as he froze, hands gently holding my waist as he helped me stand up straight. My eyes shook as I stared into his wide eyes, desperate to hear an answer, to hear him say the words back to me, to confirm that he cared for me just as deeply as I did for him.

His swollen red lips pressed against my forehead with a quiet hum and I felt on the verge of tears when I heard the compartment’s door open behind San, his body big as it obscured my view, “I love you too, Y/N.”

His words were quiet but firm, assuring, and definite as he looked me in the eyes with a sad smile, thumb rubbing my cheek when the train whistled again, giving its final warning before it took off. And I wanted him to stay, but I had to let go. San belonged in the Capitol and I didn’t. I was just a simple girl from District 4, our love never to be consumed as it should’ve been from the very beginning. But I found the strength to smile, to hope for a future by San’s side as he detached himself from me, our fingers grazing together still when I stole a swift last kiss from him. Joohyun had her eyes fixated on the floor as she stood by the entrance, but when San walked towards her, she looked up. She seemed tired, the coldness was gone from her eyes, and she looked at us with pity—it hurt.

“Stay safe, Joo.” San patted her cheek before he was out of the compartment, never once looking back. I gulped, eyes falling onto the window as Hinata and Mingyu were now joined by San, a few Peacekeepers standing behind them to ensure everyone’s safety. Tears threatened to gloss over my eyes but I stopped them, fearful that I wouldn’t see San’s face anymore as I hurried towards the window, feeling the train lurch forward. Hinata and Mingyu waved as Joohyun joined me, her lips pulled into a small smile as she waved back, but San just watched with a stoic expression on his face, turning his back when the train lurched forward again, slowly taking off this time. Something in my chest felt heavy as San took off, never once turning back to look at me, taking both Hinata and Mingyu off guard as they looked at the retreating stylist with confused expressions. And when I couldn’t see them anymore, Joohyun’s cold fingers wrapped around my bicep and pulled me away from the window, guiding me towards a couch as my legs finally gave out and I crumbled into the soft cushion, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“The ocean awaits us, Y/N,” Joohyun whispered as I felt her manicured fingers in my hair, gently petting my head, mind lost somewhere as she stared ahead mindlessly. I was finally going home.

3 months later

            Adjusting to the life of a Victor came easier to me than I had expected. My parents welcomed me home with open arms and tearful eyes, holding me as my mother sobbed loudly while my father pressed kisses against my hair, telling me how happy he was that I was standing in front of them once again. I couldn’t tell them all the terror that came with standing in front of them, the mental torture I had endured because I was alive, I just couldn’t. So, I never let them know, that whenever I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see myself but a girl covered in blood from head to toe with a sinister smile on her lips, eyes dazed and hungry to kill. It was a monster staring back at me, not the innocent eighteen-year-old girl I was before I left for the Games. The District welcomed me back warmly as well, with people patting me on the back and congratulating me while Finnick stood with a bouquet in his arms when our train arrived at the station. Joohyun didn’t say much as the Peacekeepers led us towards a tinted car, ushering us inside as then I realized we were headed towards the Victor’s Village. My parents had been moved to the house when I was announced as the winner, apparently. All of my belongings were there, yet my room felt foreign, impersonal.

But over time, I learned to accept this new lifestyle as I slowly started adjusting to the small changes. People now greeted me on the streets, bowing their heads and asking whether they could talk to me when I had a little free time. At the market, everyone seemed to be wanting to buy our catch of the day, leaving the other vendors with grimaces on their faces. It was odd how suddenly everyone wanted my attention, wanted to befriend my parents even, calling us over for dinner or even lunch on Sundays. But I didn’t wish to mingle with those I wasn’t important to before the Games and kept to myself while remaining respectful towards everyone. Joohyun, unsurprisingly, wasn’t around as much, but she checked in every week and would sometimes come knocking on our door late at night, asking whether I would walk with her on the beach. Our walks were always filled with silence and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing and familiar. I was home, I finally felt at ease, away from the prying eyes of the Capitol and the curious people who had no idea what having privacy meant.

Yet still, something was missing. A big part of my heart was constantly aching, yearning, wishing for the one person I couldn’t have. San was in the Capitol, living his life like before, thriving each day as he released a new collection, called ‘The Little Mermaid’. Everyone theorised it was about me, but San denied the gossip and said he was merely inspired as it had been a long time since a tribute he worked with had won the Games. Apparently, San has always wanted to see the ocean, to let his feet sink into the cold and wet sand, lay down on a blanket and let the sun kiss his skin, warming it until he couldn’t bear it anymore and would have to cool down in the cool ocean. I hung onto his every word as he spoke, eyes gleaming and jewellery shining underneath the artificial lights of the studio with a backdrop of the ocean from District 4. I could feel my mother’s eyes on the side of my face as my eyes welled with tears, and unable to take the yearning inside my body, I stormed off before San could finish his interview.

But he had kept his promise. He sent almost every second week something that was his, a little piece of himself. I couldn’t help but look forward to it, anticipating the moment Mr. Yoon would knock on our door late at night, slipping San’s letters through underneath the door. Mr. Yoon was risking his job by receiving San’s letters and delivering them to me, but apparently, the two had grown up together and were good friends. Mr. Yoon became a Peacekeeper at a young age, following his father’s footsteps, and he was doing his best to rise in the ranks. He was granted more freedom due to his father’s status among the Peacekeepers, and he only took advantage of it when it came to delivering San’s letters. I was forever grateful to Mr. Yoon, rewarding him with baked goods whenever we would cross paths at the market or in the square.

Today had been a similar day, my blood was simmering underneath my skin and I had been fidgety all day long, trying to help my mother around the kitchen as it’s been a stormy day and my father and I couldn’t sail out onto the water. Finnick was over too, conversing with Annie in our living room as the TV was on. Apparently, Mags wanted to air out the whole house and sent the two out for a walk, but Annie ended up remembering she hadn’t seen me in a while, so, they decided to stop by. Despite Joohyun having been my mentor, I was closer to Finnick and Annie as they both seemed to understand my heartbreak and unspoken longing. Annie was a young healthy woman, but she wasn’t completely sane anymore, and she needed Finnick by her side at all times. Whenever he had to go to the Capitol, she’d isolate herself and not talk to anyone for days, but surprisingly she had allowed me inside her room one morning when I had made her breakfast together with Mags. She didn’t speak to me, she didn’t look at me and she didn’t get out of bed, but her hand shot out from underneath the blanket and held my wrist for a few seconds, squeezing it. I knew she was there for me in her own way, and I did everything I could to be there for her in my own way.

The house we lived in was massive and clearly too spacious for three people only, so my mother would often invite over either the other victors or our relatives, who had an envious glint in their eyes each time. If only they knew the sacrifices that came with living a lavished life, still controlled by the Capitol, even more so than before.

“Honey, should we add more carrots?” My mother asked with confusion as she stirred the soup, one hand on her hip. I put the knife I was holding down and walked up to her, glancing inside the pot.

“No, unless you plan on having over the whole district?” I raised an eyebrow at her and she chuckled, looking over her shoulder towards where the living room was. Annie was giggling and Finnick’s hushed words were audible but intangible.

“I did invite Mags and Joohyun too for lunch, so maybe I’ll add two more carrots.” My mother mused to herself as I hummed, leaning my hip against the counter. There was a TV in the kitchen too and it was on, volume louder than the one in the living room. Ceaser Flickerman was on, blabbering about whatever hot news that concerned the Capitol, some gossip about victors from Districts 1 and 2 before he mentioned San’s new collection again, talking about a party held not long ago to celebrate his new release. My ears perked up at that as I walked towards the table, grabbing the remote control to give it more volume, eyes glued to the TV as San’s grinning face appeared on it.

He was dressed in loose leather pants and a white, with an intricate design, adorned his torso, pulled in at his waist to make his shoulders seem even broader. His bare arms were kept warm by a thick fur coat that reached his ankles, and big golden necklaces and rings complemented his outfit. His eyebrows were black and sharp, and his dark hair was gelled back too, sharpening his features even more as it gave him a dangerous look. His eye makeup was completely black and his lips weren’t their usual red colour, but a more muted coral. And despite San always wearing jewellery that was big and chunky, his ears were adorned with pearls, giving his whole look an unusual touch. He looked masculine and dangerous, commanding almost, but the pearls decorating his ears somehow softened his features, especially when he laughed or smiled. It was endearing, breathtaking, and hard to look at without feeling my body shake, wanting to crumble to the floor.

Because Snow was a vicious person, San and I never met for my Victory Tour. He wasn’t allowed to come, apparently cooped up with designing ten dresses for President Snow’s niece, rendering him unable to accompany the team for the tour. His designs were sent with Hinata and Mingyu, and Momo, one of San’s apprentices, came as a replacement for him. I knew Snow had done this on purpose, but I couldn’t help but cry when the team came and there was no sight of San, my whole world breaking as my longing only worsened. Being this far away from him had started feeling painful, and I didn’t know for how much longer I could go on like this.

“Would you look at that!” Caesar's shrill exclamation snapped me out of my thoughts as my mother flinched too, glancing over her shoulder in wonder, “That’s Choi San, everyone, look at him!”

His laughter drilled inside my mind as more footage of San was shown as he drank glass after glass of champagne, accepting them from others as they handed it to him, Finnick’s warning ringing in my ears. You weren’t supposed to accept any drink that was handed to you, but perhaps it was different for San because he was from the Capitol too. But the more images flashed across the screen, the hazier his eyes became, his smile wider and lazier, movements sluggish as he danced around women and men, laughing and stealing food playfully off of others' plates. I gulped, my heart thumping loudly when Caesar's smirking face came into view, his microphone held close to his mouth,

“And would you look at that, had our lovely bachelor finally found a sweetheart?” It felt like the world stilled around me when the images shifted and it showed San cradling the face of a woman with fiery red hair, wild and short, face heavily clad in makeup as her eyes were unnaturally yellow. She wore a white dress, barely covering her cleavage as it glinted like diamonds under the lights. She looked at San with awe in her eyes, mesmerized by my stylist as he spoke to her words we couldn’t hear, hiding her further in the corner as he crowded against her body, “Ah, young love, I still remember what it feels like. It’s intense, raw and so rejuvenating, it was about time our beloved San found his match, no? I just hope we can still have him to ourselves from time to time!”

Caesar's shrill laughter echoed in my ears as I felt my blood simmer underneath my skin, ears ringing as my eyes remained glued to the screen where images of San sitting in a chair surrounded by ladies could be seen, even men flaunting around him. My jaw hurt and I hadn’t even realized just how tightly I was clenching it together, my body trembled as uncontrollable rage shook it. I saw red in front of my eyes, so vibrant that it blinded me as I heard something crash loudly, my breaths coming out in loud puffs as I felt the desire to hold something until I broke it with my bare hands, smashing it into tiny bits, destroying it until nothing was left of it. My chest felt tight and my thoughts were jumbled as I heard someone call my name, but I couldn’t focus, I just wanted to—kill. Kill whoever touched San, whoever dared separate us, whoever denied our love. And I knew I could do it, all I had to do was grab a— “Y/N!”

I jumped, gasping loudly for air as I felt my face burning, my eyes wide as I looked around myself, oblivious to my actions. Finnick’s face was contorted in worry as he stood the closest to me, hands held out in front of himself as he kept his distance as if I was a dangerous animal ready to pounce on him.

“Y/N.” My mother’s scared whisper finally snapped me out of my confusion as my eyes frantically surveyed the kitchen, widening when I realized the knife I was using to cut vegetables was now tightly gripped in my hand, held in a way that could easily harm anyone. As if burned by the silver, I released it from my tight grip, letting it clatter to the ground as my eyes settled on the remote control that was now broken into bits and pieces.

“I—” I tried to steady my breathing, but my body shook and I was scared. Scared of myself and of what I would’ve done if Finnick hadn’t managed to snap me out of my crazed thoughts. I wasn’t like this before the Games, something was wrong with me, I was a monster now, “I’m so sorry, I—I didn’t mean to, I—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It was Annie who spoke up, her voice light and her face surprisingly understanding. She walked inside the kitchen, avoiding the broken remote control as she passed Finnick and nodded at my mother, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Her words hit hard, breaking the wall surrounding my mind and the emotions I tried to keep intact all this time, especially in front of my parents. I wanted to cry, to sob, but no sound left my mouth as Annie’s arms came around me, holding me tightly against her. I wanted to react, to scream, break more things, but I was numb and unable to move as she started humming a song I didn’t know. My mother had tears in her eyes when I looked at her but she didn’t look disgusted or afraid, she just looked like she didn’t know what to do as she turned her back to me, hunching over the counter as she continued to cry. I let Annie hold me as Finnick kneeled and gathered the broken pieces of the remote control, grabbing the knife too as he went over to my mother to offer her a side hug, muttering something to her quietly.

“You’re not broken even if you think you are.” Annie’s words seemed to only cut deeper into my heart as she had an absent look on her face when she finally detached herself from me, “If you give in to the monsters crawling inside your head, it means Snow wins. Don’t let him win, Y/N, you’re stronger than that.”

I nodded wordlessly as Annie smiled brightly and genuinely for the first time since I had known her. Finnick watched her closely, eyes holding affection, only making me remember San and the warmth of his eyes, of his embrace. I missed San, so much, and it felt like I broke apart a little bit more each day we spent apart. My mother wiped at her cheek with the sleeves of her blouse and continued cooking like nothing had happened, asking Finnick to set the table. The rain had stopped hours ago and my father had left for the market, he was supposed to return any time now for lunch. As I wanted to walk over to my mother and apologize, the bell of the front door rang twice. My heart leapt into my throat and I raced towards it, disregarding Finnick and Annie’s confused looks. It was Mr. Yoon, San’s letter had arrived. Nobody besides my mother knew that I was exchanging letters with somebody from the Capitol, and it was supposed to stay like that. I grabbed the letter off the floor and paid no attention to the rest of the people as I raced up the stairs towards my room, tearing the envelope apart as my hands shook with anticipation, eyes running over San’s familiar handwriting. It was elegant and beautiful, just like him.

My love,

I shall tell you this each time I write to you, even if it hasn’t changed, but I miss you dearly. I dream of you nightly and I fantasize about you daily. I miss your laughter, your pouty red lips, your eyes full of wonder and love, your skin which glints under the lights like they were meshed with gems. I miss your flowery scent, the gentleness of your touch, and the adoration in your eyes whenever you as much as glanced at me. Sometimes I miss you so much that I lose myself in my thoughts, in my memories, for hours on end, thinking about you, about your day, wondering how you are doing and what you are thinking of. Unfortunately, I still haven’t found a safe way for you to write back to me, and I know it must be so much harder for you than it is for me, but please wait for me. I’m looking for ways, searching endlessly to find a way to hear your words too, but at least I sleep assured knowing that my letters reach you, that I can fulfil my promises.

I haven’t been sleeping much lately, but fear not, I am well, I’m just trying to keep up with the deadlines. I wanted my new collection to come out before this month ends because summer doesn’t last forever and it’s themed after you, yes, my little mermaid. I know you hate the nickname, but to me, it’s like having a little part of you with me, just like what the letters are for you. I don’t know when this letter will finally reach you, hopefully before the Capitol shows anything of my collection and of the after-party, but know that every single pearl adorning my body was imported from District 4, specifically from your family. I know you love to collect pearls, you’ve told me so multiple times, so I asked my dear friend Yoon Jeonghan to only buy those that have been yielded by your hands, this way it’s even more meaningful, more personal. I wish the pearls could carry the warmth of your hands until they reach me, letting me feel you despite the distance between us. This whole collection…it’s to show my devotion to you, to tell you that I am yours and that I cannot wait to see you. I miss you, Y/N, but I have told you that already. I do not know when we’ll meet again, but just know that no man, status, rule or distance can keep us separated for much longer. Times are changing, my love, I can feel it in the air. Something is brewing and I’m afraid once it hits us, it won’t be pretty. I do not wish to wait around for it to happen, but I cannot disclose anything else, I’m afraid. I do not wish to put you in danger if this accidentally ends up in the wrong hands, although I trust my dear friend, Jeonghan. Before I end my thoughts, I shall ask you to ignore everything you might see or hear through the TV, whatever Caesar Flickerman and the other anchors speculate, they are not true. I do not care for anyone else but you in this world, and whatever you see is for publicity, it’s because I must keep up a front. If I didn’t, it would raise suspicion, it would sabotage me from seeing you before the next Games. Have faith and a little trust in me, even if I’m not deserving of it, I promise nobody owns my heart like you do.

I shall end my letter here, sitting by my window under the lamplight, wishing for you to be by my side. I hope the victors and your parents treat you well, and that Joohyun didn’t shut herself away from you like she usually does with everyone. It might not seem so, but the two of us are friends, and I worry about her frequently. Finnick is an honourable man too, I know he’ll take care of you if hardship arises, perhaps let him know when you can that the marigolds were prettier this year than last. Of course, do not say I have told you this, just let it slip during one of your conversations. I must go now, but remember, I love you. Until we shall meet,

Your beloved,

Choi San.

            Every muscle burned as I tried to lift the fork, even my fingers felt like they weighed kilos. My chest ached and despite my stomach growling, I couldn’t seem to gulp my food down, the orange juice in the cup by my hand my only hope as it washed down the unchewed food I still forced inside my mouth. It was sickening and I tried not to look disgusted as everyone seemed to be enjoying their dinner. Today had been horrible, it’s been only the second day of training, but I already knew that I wouldn’t survive past the second day in the Games. I had watched the other tributes, specifically those from Districts 1 and 2, and concluded that if I came face to face with them in the Arena, I’d beg them to kill me fast so that I could go painlessly. It was a frightening thought and it made my whole body shake as I somehow veered away from them and tried to learn something new, something I wasn’t good at to ensure my survival even if for just a little longer.

The table had been silent at the beginning, but the male tribute who sat to my left had spoken up about how he learned how to correctly hold throwing knives and was thinking of choosing those as his main weapons. The mentor in charge of him, not Finnick Odair as apparently Snow didn’t let him partake in the Games this year, was sceptical of Jisung’s, the male tribute, weapon of choice and told him to go for something bigger and stronger. My mentor, Bae Joohyun, just sat in silence as she ate the bloody beef on her plate, her lifeless eyes glancing up from time to time when her mentor partner would crack insensitive jokes about all the children that died in the Arena and would keep on dying. Jisung was just a child too, barely sixteen years old, but he didn’t react to the comments, only placed more meat on my plate despite me not touching it. The makeup team and the stylist stayed over for dinner tonight after they took our measurements and discussed with us what we wanted to wear for the parade.

The stylist, Choi San, was unlike any man I had seen before. He was intimidating and cold, his small eyes were sharp and bore into yours with an alarming intensity. Whenever I looked at him, he was already looking at me with a blank expression on his face, but his eyes felt like they could read my mind, like he could see right inside it and tell just how scared I was. I couldn’t hold his gaze for too long, shy, and also slightly animus towards him since he was from the Capitol. It was very obvious he lived a lavished lifestyle, his clothes expensive and his cologne sweet and strong. He also had no shame as he wore a mesh shirt, completely see-through and showing off the nipple piercings he had in both buds, a cross necklace hanging between his well-built pecks. His shoulders were broad and yet his waist was small, he wasn’t the tallest man but he still towered over my smaller form. He was breathtaking and I felt ashamed whenever my eyes strayed towards him, looking and admiring him, wondering what type of person he was underneath all that makeup and the pompous clothes.

“Well, Y/N,” One of the stylist’s apprentices spoke up suddenly, her name was Jurin, “Why aren’t you eating? You are already very thin.”

Silence settled upon the table and my muscles stiffened as I felt put on the spot, but she just continued, “There’s no reason to fit in your clothes if you cannot lift a simple sword to protect yourself in the Arena.”

“Can you lift a sword?” I didn’t mean to snap, I didn’t even want to answer her, but my fatigue and waves of nausea got the better of me, tipping me over the edge as I looked at her expression full of judgment, her purple eyes narrowed.

“I’m not required to lift one,” Her tone was snobby, I watched as my stylist lowered his fork from his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head to look at Jurin, “but I probably could, if I had to.”

“Why don’t you go into the Arena, then, Jurin?” I asked with a wide smile, letting my fork and knife clatter against my plate loudly. Tense silence fell over the table as Jisung curled into himself, Joohyun’s glare was sharp as she looked towards Jurin, and Jisung’s mentor only chuckled, throwing back a shot of whiskey.

“Because I’m not a disposable rag.” That said everything about the people from the Capitol, about what they thought of us, how they viewed us. It was enough to make my blood boil as I pushed my chair back, standing up with a clenched jaw. Choi San’s fork clattered against the plate loudly too as his head whipped around, eyes glaring at his apprentice.

“Not yet, anyway.” I hissed, eyes narrowing into slits as Jurin paused, one eyebrow raising in a taunt, “Your cakey makeup will eventually melt your face off, and all those fake things on you that you call beautiful? Yeah, they’ll make you look like a rag at some point, not that you don’t look like one already—”

“How dare you!” Jurin screeched as she raised her knife, springing up to her feet with an appalled expression. Joohyun scoffed with an irritated look on her face and eyed the other woman, her tone eerily calm.

“Sit down before I make you, wench.” Jurin screeched again as if the world was ending, and despite how unwell I was feeling, it satisfied me to hear my mentor defend me against the delusional and disrespectful woman.

“You disgraces think that—”

“Enough!” I flinched when the stylist’s voice boomed, making tears spring into Jurin’s eyes. She looked at San as if she was betrayed, then she started sobbing loudly as she slammed her chair onto the floor while turning around to storm out of the dining hall. Poor Jisung sat frozen, and I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as his mentor started laughing loudly, eyes falling on Jisung.

“See? I told you women are sensitive, all you have to do is comment about their appearance in the Arena, and they’ll turn against each other without you doing anything.”

“Not now, Jongin.” Joohyun hissed as Jongin chuckled, holding his arms up in mock innocence. With my stomach churning and bile rising to my throat, I took a shaky breath and lowered my eyes, feeling ashamed and on the verge of throwing up. The makeup artists looked like they didn’t know how to react, the tall guy called Mingyu was mid-bite as he shared a confused look with the blue-haired girl, Hinata.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be in my room,” I muttered under my breath as I bowed my head and took off, pressing my hand against my mouth as I took deep breaths, rushing towards my room. The doors were automated and they opened by themselves as I reached the end of the corridor, taking off into a sprint as I felt like I’d throw up anytime now. My mind was a jumbled mess and my emotions were all over the place. I was terrified, and I didn’t know what to do anymore to become the strongest, the smartest. I had no idea how to become appealing to the Capitol so that they’d sponsor me and help me survive, I had no idea whether I was capable of killing or not.

My knees ached when I finally reached the toilet and kneeled rather harshly, heaving but not throwing up. My mind was only torturing my body, proving just how weak I was, incapable of doing anything to save myself. After flossing my mouth and washing my face with cold water, I tied my short hair in a low ponytail and headed back to my room to change into my pyjamas, however, I halted when I realized someone was inside my room. A frightened gasp left my mouth and the figure whirled around, looking sheepish as his hand slowly pushed the little notebook I brought with me away from him. It was something my mother had made for me. Ever since I was born, she’d note down my days, she’d draw for me in it, and tell me how she had felt that day. It was heartwarming and sweet, it brought me comfort when I was terrified and saw no light at the end of the tunnel.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry or enter your room without permission, but I—” My stylist, San, gulped nervously, “I was worried about you. You barely ate anything and you look sickly, is something wrong?”

I released a shuddered breath and leaned back against the closed door of the adjacent bathroom, “I’m terrified.”

My words hung heavily between us as San gulped again, looking at the floor before he slowly looked back up at me, into my eyes, “What Jurin had said…I apologize. She’s spoiled and very insensitive, you shouldn’t listen to her.”

“And you shouldn’t apologize for her.” I muttered as my arms circled my torso, holding myself to bring a little comfort, “But thank you…San.”

He sighed loudly, licking his lips as he took a tentative step towards me, making me freeze. Jurin had been the one to take my measurement while San stood back and watched, noting down the numbers, sometimes instructing Jurin where to measure again and which body parts to skip. I could feel my heart slowly quicken, flushing my cheeks a light red colour as San walked closer and closer.

“I’m sorry you have to be here,” Before I could tell him that it wasn’t directly his fault, he continued with a big inhale, “I’m sorry I can’t do anything to stop this from happening. Jisung is barely sixteen years old and you are eighteen, you’re both so young, and all I can do is dress you up to make you look desirable for the Capitol. I’m a horrible person, but I—I want them to see how gorgeous you are, Y/N, I want them to look at you and want you to win. I want them to fall in love with you and root for you, and I want—I want you to return to me. I believe in you, I can see it in your eyes, the way you move and think, you’re strong, Y/N, let Joohyun coach you and you will live, I know you will.”

My eyes were round as I stared up at San in surprise as he came to a standstill in front of me, eyebrows deeply furrowed and voice raspy as he took a big breath, gulping as his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. I didn’t understand where this was coming from, but I felt my heart race as I stared at San dumbfounded, arms dropping from around my torso as I gulped, slowly nodding my head.

“I—I’ll do my best,” I whispered, unsure of what I was supposed to say as San’s eyebrows furrowed more, face contorting into an emotion I couldn’t read. His left hand reached out, but he stopped before it could touch me.

“May—may I hug you?” He asked quietly, lowering his head so that I couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. My eyebrows raised in surprise and I froze, confused, but not opposed to the idea. I nodded slowly, trying to relax when he grabbed my arm and gently guided me towards himself, his sweet cologne engulfing my senses as my eyes fluttered closed, taken aback by his warmth as San’s arms circled my shoulders and pressed my head into his chest. He released a shaky breath as I stood in his arms, frozen, heart racing in my chest as I slowly raised my hands, hugging him around his middle. I hadn’t been hugged like this before, not by anyone who wasn’t my father, and yet, this embrace felt different. It was charged with something I couldn’t name yet, it felt warm and full of silent promises that I didn’t fully understand. And when San’s lips pressed against the top of my head, I understood that this ran deeper, that he needed me to return to him, that he was here because he couldn’t go back to his apartment without telling me all of that. And I knew it was wrong that I was letting him hold me like this, he was from the Capitol and he was just like the others, probably, but I couldn’t help but melt into his arms, a small smile grazing my lips.

That is until I heard the slash of something, warm and red liquid dropping onto my head until it slowly started streaming down my face, getting into my eyes, nose, and lips. I gasped and tried to pull myself out of San’s embrace, but his arms only tightened around me and a very familiar cackle could be heard behind him. He was too big and I couldn’t see past his shoulders, but when his arms finally fell limp and I pushed him backwards, a scream ripped through my throat. The front of my clothes was coated in blood—in San’s blood and the person who still held onto the handle of the axe that was lodged into his skull was—me.

“Y/N!” The alarmed voice that called my name made another scream freeze in my throat as I gasped, eyes flying open. My heart was beating frantically and it was pitch dark inside the room, only instilling more fear into me as I grasped for whoever was inside the room with me, gasping and yelping when warm arms grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up into a sitting position, “Y/N, it’s me, it’s okay now, shh.”

I was crying, I realized as I buried my face into my mother’s chest, letting the sobs wrack my body as I clung to her, her hands patting my back and shushing me as she rocked us back and forth. I could still feel San’s blood coating my body, the smell nauseating and its taste even worse as it got into my mouth when I screamed. What was a memory, something that had happened, was twisted by my sick mind and turned into a nightmare, into something I would’ve never done to San.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” My mother muttered into my hair as my sobs turned into hiccups, “you never said anything so I thought you were fine, I’m so sorry for not noticing it. I’m here, I’m always here for you, and so is your father, Y/N, you can tell us anything.”

I sniffed loudly as I raised my head and hugged my mother tightly, resting my head on her shoulder. She let out a loud sigh and hugged me back just as tightly, pressing a kiss against my temple, “I didn’t want you to worry. I can carry this burden on my own, mom, I didn’t want you to see the monster I had become—”

“You’re not a monster, my baby.” My mother’s voice broke and she pulled back, holding my head as she looked me in the eyes. I could see her now that my own eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and her eyes were filled with tears as I continued to sniff loudly, “You are courageous and smart. You did what every other victor had done before, Y/N, you’re not a monster. I love you, your father loves you, nothing can change that, ever.”

I sniffed and nodded, her words soothing despite the storm still raging inside my mind. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, the longing was too much, the memories and my actions were haunting me. I felt incomplete without him here, I was slowly breaking more and more, “I’m in love with San, mom.”

“With Choi San?”

“Yes, I love him.”

“Oh, my baby,” A sad smile crossed my mother’s features, “It’s okay, it’s okay. Come here.”

And she released me as she crawled further onto the bed, pulling the covers back as she got underneath them, laying on the empty side of my king-sized bed. She opened her arms and smiled softly as I turned towards her, pulling the covers over our bodies as I let her hug me and lull me back to sleep with her soft singing.

I never saw Jurin again after that evening.

            A week passed since my confession and nothing has changed, proving my fears fruitless. My mother never brought up the subject again, she didn’t tell my father either, but she did ask one evening while we watched the sunset from our back porch whether the letters I kept receiving were from San. She looked worried, like she wanted to advise me against meddling with San, but she knew too that it was too late for that now. I was in love with San, nothing could change my heart’s desires anymore. It was saddening how badly I was taking his absence. I had started seeing his face in others, hearing his voice when he wasn’t even there, trying to recall his touches only to panickedly realize they weren’t as vivid anymore. It was horrifying how quickly my thoughts were spiralling, sending me into something I would call depression. I didn’t want to see anyone anymore, yet Joohyun’s presence brought me comfort. Perhaps it was because she had been there for me, watching out and helping me during my Games, perhaps it was because she had seen me and San together, a reminder that it wasn’t just something my mind had made up.

And despite how obvious it was that I wasn’t doing well, my parents never left my side, not even when I yelled at them to leave me alone. They were understanding and as loving as ever, and they didn’t let me wallow in misery. Today I had little to no force or willpower to get out of bed, but my mother needed a few vegetables and my father was out on the ocean, sailing his boat without me. I had to go to the market whether I liked it or not. The cacophony of the place was disorienting and the sun was too hot today, making it hard to breathe as I tried to avoid crashing into anyone. The basket hung from my arm as I paid the vendor for the eggplants I had bought, and feeling self-conscious, I let my eyes survey the market. Something felt amiss, like eyes were constantly following me. Many people looked at me given that they knew who I was, but there was one set of eyes that remained on me constantly, watching from the shadows, from someplace I couldn’t see. My heartbeat picked up as I thought about the worst-case scenario. Maybe San had been caught, his letters were found, and now whoever President Snow had sent after me was here to torture my family and me.

I tried to remain calm as I hurriedly left the market, hoping that the insistent eyes would go away, but as I rushed through the busy cobbled streets of the District, I realized someone was following me now. I gulped and tried to find a path that was fast yet intricate so that my pursuer wouldn’t be able to keep up with me. It felt like I was back in the Arena, chased and mocked, reminded of how fragile I was, of how easily I could lose my life to others who were bigger and more powerful. I took a left turn, breaking off into a sprint when I heard footsteps echo behind me, and realized the streets were becoming deserted as it was noon and nobody was outside unless they were headed for the market. I didn’t dare look back as I turned onto an alleyway, gripping the basket firmly as I ran down the narrow pathway, turning to my right as I had foolishly forgotten that it was a dead-end. My chest fell and rose quickly, making me stop in the middle of the alley as I was forced to face my mistake.

The footsteps came to a stop behind me and my muscles tensed up, my jaw gritting as I gripped the basket’s handle tighter, wondering whether I could use it to defend myself. If I hurled it at my chaser, then maybe I could escape while they were too busy dodging the heavy basket. Realizing that I had been through worse in the Arena, I took a deep breath and then swiftly turned around, ready to throw my basket towards the person, until I realized who stood in front of me. I froze, eyebrows furrowing and my mouth falling open the longer I looked at the man facing me, breathing hard from having had to chase me. He looked nothing like the stylist I had met in the Capitol all these months ago. He wore simple beige trousers and a white shirt which was buttoned down to the middle of his chest, which was glistening with sweat due to the hot air of District 4. His black hair fell over his forehead, some strands falling into his sharp eyes. His face was devoid of any makeup and he looked like any other man, blending in well with those from District 4, his complex tan and beautiful.

Basket tumbling to the ground, I didn’t even notice my legs take off without my command, carrying me towards San as I leapt into his arms, gasping when our bodies collided together. He was real, he was here. San was in District 4, holding me tightly against his body as my arms circled his neck, thighs squeezing his hips as my ankles hooked together. He still smelled the same, still as sweet and honey-like, his skin was hot and his embrace warm as San staggered for a second, his hands fisting my blue dress as one of my hands tangled into the soft hair on the back of his head.

“My love.” His voice was low, but still warm and filled with longing, with care, “Oh, Y/N, I have missed you—so much.”

His voice broke at the same time my tears fell down my cheeks and I thought I couldn’t hold him tighter, but I did as I pulled my head back just enough to press kiss after kiss against his neck. San shuddered against my body, his chest rising and falling rapidly as I felt my mind settle, my thoughts finally silent, and my heart void of the ache and longing I have felt ever since we parted ways.

“San.” My voice broke as he pulled his head back until we could look into each other’s eyes and I didn’t wait any longer, I crashed our lips together as San groaned, holding me even tighter against himself. I didn’t care who happened to see us, I didn’t care if we were caught as our lips moved frantically, insatiable, and desperate to press together more and more and more. I whined when our tongues met, and it felt rushed and painful when our teeth clinked together, but I didn’t care because I was in San’s arms—San was here, with me. Our breaths were ragged when we finally parted, foreheads pressed together as my eyes remained closed, just drinking in the emotions swirling in my chest, so powerful that it felt like my heart was about to burst, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” San answered before I even finished my sentence and I opened my eyes, unable to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to mind as he adjusted his grip around me, holding me more comfortably.

“How—just—what are you doing here?” My mind was reeling with scenarios, I needed an answer. I had to know that everything was alright, that President Snow hadn’t done anything to him.

“It doesn’t matter how,” San’s eyebrows furrowed and mine did too when I realized he looked anxious, “but we can’t stay here for any longer.”

I nodded, gulping, “Of course, let’s go to my house, it’s safer—”

“No, Y/N.” San’s voice was serious, sharp, as he shook his head, “We can’t stay in District 4 and we can’t stay in the Capitol either.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in a whisper, feeling dread take over my body as San carefully lowered me to the ground, cupping my cheeks as he raised my head. My hands held onto his arms as I looked up into his warm eyes, now filled with worry and unease.

“I broke many rules while coming here, I…” He sighed and bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes for a split second, “I disobeyed Snow’s orders. If he finds us, he’ll kill you as a way of punishing me—or worse, he’ll kill me and your family to make you hurt knowing it would hurt me more than anything that I left you on your own—”

“I don’t understand,” I shook my head, cutting San off, “Where can we go if we—we’ll die, San, it doesn’t matter—”

“No, Y/N, you have to listen to me.” He gulped and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, voice shaking slightly as he continued, “I know it will sound crazy, but District 13 wasn’t destroyed by the Capitol. We can—we must go, I have it arranged already. Do you trust me, my love?”

“I do, San, of course, I do, but—” I gulped, feeling uncertain, “This sounds impossible, it’s crazy. If we get caught, we’ll both—”

“We won’t get caught.” San’s tone held determination, like he was completely sure that we wouldn’t get caught, “Jeonghan is coming with us, we have a boat waiting for us, he can get us out. I have spoken to President Coin, District 13th’s leader, she’s waiting for us. We can do it, Y/N, please. I’m sick of Snow, I’m sick of the Capitol, I just want to live the rest of my life with you by my side, happy, and free. Come with me, my love.”

A free future, a future where President Snow couldn’t control us anymore, tell us what to do or separate us from each other. A future where I could be by San’s side, far away from the scrutinising eyes, from the people who would never approve of our relationship. I was in love with San, so much so that I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him leave me behind. I couldn’t live without him anymore, I couldn’t let him walk away again, I couldn’t be on my own anymore, surrounded by people who would never understand me like San does. He believed in me, he cheered me on, he knew I could return—he loves me.

“Okay,” I whispered, nodding my head as San’s eyes widened as if he had thought I wouldn’t go with him, “Yes, I will go with you, my love. I trust you.”

San’s whole face lit up at my words and the biggest smile I have ever seen on his face appeared, eyes filling with tears as he pulled me into his arms, his embrace tight and suffocating. Just like his love for me.

“I love you so much that it hurts, Y/N.” San said as he released me, intertwining our fingers, “The boat leaves in an hour, we can’t take too many things with us, but maybe a few—”

“No.” I shook my head, smiling at him, “I have everything I need right here, in front of me.”

A tear rolled down San’s cheek as I pressed up on my tip toes and kissed it away, pressing our cheeks together as my heart felt like it couldn’t be contained inside my chest anymore, bursting and racing so hard it felt like I was having palpitations while my ears started ringing. And I meant what I had said, San was the only thing I needed, nothing and nobody else. Our eyes met as San pressed a kiss against our intertwined fingers, the basket long forgotten on the ground as we rounded the corner, headed towards the port where Jeonghan was waiting for us on our getaway boat,

“May the odds be ever in your favour.” ~ Suzzane Collins.

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[waitingonher]

ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO! — [leo valdez dating headcanons]

author's note: i am ladies. where's my irl leo...wtf.

you and LEO VALDEZ are the definition of “if you do it, i’ll do it.” (a VERY common phrase in your relationship)

istg this guy is down to do ANYTHING. you wanna play dress-up and do his makeup? go ahead. you wanna participate in some cheesy couple trend? of course! he’d do anything to make you happy <3 (even if it means ruining his dignity) 

leo has so much love for you, and he is NOT afraid to show it. he for sure owns a million different variations of the “i ❤️my girlfriend” tee-shirt. he’s worn them so much that even chiron and mr. d stopped pestering him for not wearing the chb shirt 😭 

y’know that one topic you could talk about for hours on end? yeah, well you’re the topic leo could talk about for hours on end. you always feel bad for the unfortunate new camper who decides to ask “who’s on your shirt?” it always ends in them making an excuse to get out of the conversation. 

some may say he’s obsessed…i just call it the bare minimum!! 🤗

leo absolutely LIVES for your little gossip sessions. he’s not one of those bf’s who will try to give actual advice on how to handle the situation,, he’s the type to fully shit talk the person with you 😭 you guys are literally the “she’s also ugly…” audio and i know for a fact you guys have made a video using it LMFAO

he also has the entire timeline memorized. he could tell you exactly what month, what day, and what time so and so wronged you if you asked 😭 leo’s absolutely invested and will ask for updates every so often. 

considering how leo spends so much of his time in bunker 9, it’s almost your second home at this point. you can’t even begin to count how many times you’ve fallen asleep sitting with him as he’s worked on a project. but leo always carries you to bed! there’s no way he could allow his girlfriend to wake up with a sore neck! 

speaking of bunker 9, leo keeps a bulletin board full of photos with you and all your friends next to his workbench! when working on a particularly hard project, he’ll look over at the photos for some motivation. 

there’s nothing better than successfully convincing leo to come to bed, especially during those cold winter nights. he’s basically a big heater that can walk and talk. and leo’s super duper big on cuddling so it’s even better. why invest in a heater when you have him? 

LMFAO it’s so funny when it’s summer and he’s basically on his knees begging for cuddles 😭 it’s only then that he curses his strangely high body temperature.  

i also think it’s canon that leo’s a good cook…?? so you’re always eating good with him!! he just loves seeing your reaction to his food, especially when it’s your cultural food. leo knows how important it is to you and to know he could provide some semblance of what you grew up with, it makes him beyond happy. 

when you give him hugs from behind while he’s cooking >>> 

he melts every single time.

omg. breakfast in bed with leo. him shirtless wearing an apron that says “kiss the cook” while bringing you a plate with all your favorite breakfast foods <33 

pda king 🙏🙏 he loves pda, but not in the gross, obnoxious way. leo’s obviously smart enough to know when it’s the right time and place. 

he’s also really big on “splitting the pole” LMFAO 😭 if you’re walking down the street and a street sign is in the way he will literally pull you to his side while screaming, “don’t split the pole!” babes…it’s not that serious 🤒

his love languages are words of affirmations and acts of service. there’s nothing better than coming home to cuddle with you as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear after a long day. he really values all your thoughts and opinions, so it means so much to him when you say these things. 

when it comes to you, leo’s so incredibly supportive with everything you do. the minute you even slightly hint about picking up a new hobby, he’s already encouraging you to do it. 

he gets so upset when he gets those “these initials are soulmates” videos and your initials aren’t together 😭 one time you woke up to an entire essay-length text from him explaining why you two are extremely compatible in response to a video that said “these initials aren’t compatible” 

leo’s VERY attentive, especially when it comes to you. at this point, it’s like he knows you better than you know yourself. he always knows what you’re gonna say simply by your reaction. his brain literally goes “oh her right eyebrow raised slightly, i think she likes it!” and he ends up being right too.. 😭

or when he goes shopping without you and he sees something he thinks you’d like, and it ends up being something you’ve been wanting for the past few weeks?? at this point he might be reading your mind…

this also makes him the best gift giver ever! it could’ve been something you barely mentioned before bed, but he made a point to remember it and surprises you with it. 

he also likes to make you little gadgets that you never would’ve even thought of but are so helpful. one day you walk into your bathroom and leo’s sitting there polishing his newest project, and he tells you it’s a towel heater he made for you??? 

leo absolutely loves your family and will do everything in his power to build a close relationship with them. he knows how happy it makes you and he also just genuinely enjoys their company too! ooh and if you have siblings, especially if they’re younger, he just adores them to death…UGH he’s so so good with kids. 

whenever he buys you flowers, he also buys some for your mom too!! and considering his mechanic skills, he loves to work with your dad with his car/whatever needs fixing around the house  😭😭 your parents basically treat him like their own son and leo feels so incredibly lucky to have you guys in his life. 

this guy’s your #1 hype man + your personal tripod. when he’s taking your picture he’s literally screaming compliments behind the camera while suggesting poses for you to do 😭 he’s just so silly like that! and then when you post it, he’s up in the comments like “i took these where’s my credit  🤨🤨” 

you guys are at each other’s cabins so often that no one’s ever fazed when you’re at the door. they’re just like “who’s at the door?” “just y/n again.” 

and his siblings absolutely love you to death. they see how happy you make him and they love you for it. but they’re also strangely protective of you too. when you and leo get into those rare arguments they’re always like “what’d you do this time  🤨?” to him LMAO 

ugh but your younger siblings and his younger siblings all look up to you guys like you’re the pinnacle of love. it’s genuinely so sweet,, they always talk about how they want a relationship like you two when they’re older 

dancing in the refrigerator light but in bunker 9 under his workbench light.

i like to believe that leo always has music playing when he works, so when a good dancing song comes on, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing to dance with you. 

sometimes it’ll be a song where you guys are just silently slow dancing together or it’s a song that has you two jumping up and down going crazy. the duality of his playlist! 

i just KNOW that at some point in your relationship, leo makes you a promise ring gjkdslfsl and i bet the stone has some sort of significance to you guys.

sometimes when you can’t wear it on your finger, you’ll string it onto your chb necklace and he just gets so giddy knowing that you care that much about it 😣

SPEAKING THROUGH MORSE CODE WITH HIM?? specifically when you’re in bed, both are too tired to talk, so you feel him tap “i love you” against your skin and you send the message back. 

can we all collectively agree that leo is like the most perfect boyfriend ever?? 😍😍 thanks!

[fuxuannie]

Hi sage!! I hope you're doing well<33 do you mind doing jealousy headcanons for dan heng, jing yuan and any other characters you chose?? Thank you 🤍🤍 you're keeping the hsr x reader tag alive 😭

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (4, again) x gender neutral reader

* prompt : jealousy bites like you like a poisonous snake, the bite hurts, but its the venom that gets you.

* authors note : hi anon !!! (๑´ㅂ`๑) thank you for requesting, you're so sweet for the last msg omg tysm <3 i hope u enjoy !

* brief warning : blade kills a man, very blade of him. (his is also more of a joke im sorry blade lovers) ALSO THIS PROGRESSIVELY GETS SHORTER EACH CHARACTER, I JUST REALLY LIKE DAN HENG IM SORRY LMAO.

DAN HENG can't hide the way his eye twitches, how tightly he grips onto his spear or the way he'd mutter things under his breath. He despises it when he's jealous, but he hates it more when he sees the reason for doing so.

He knows he's.. not exactly like all your previous partners, it stemmed an insecurity in him. He wasn't all too funny, and knew he couldn't make you laugh with a corny joke.

So the way Sampo keeps making you laugh, making you smile, it was sparking a jealous flame in his heart. But more than anything, it saddened him that he couldn't make you laugh like that.

God, your smile was so pretty.

After a while, he interlocks his fingers with yours and mutters a small 'Can we go?' to you. You immediately notice his saddened tone, and thank Sampo for his time before walking home with your boyfriend.

"Dan Heng?" You say softly, noticing his rather saddened mood. He lets out a small hum to acknowledge your call for him, and you sigh. "Are you upset?"

He nods his head.

"Is it.. because of Sampo?"

He hesitates, but that alone gives you an answer.

Dan Heng takes a deep breath, before looking at you, his eyes filled with honesty. "I was.. jealous. I know I can't make you laugh the way he does, and it frustrates me. I want to be a man who makes you smile everyday but-"

Amidst his rant, he sees how your gaze softened at his words. This entire time, he was insecure? He hid it well, so well, at the very least from you. "I'm sorry, this is stupid-"

"N-no! It's not, I should be apologizing if anything! I failed to realize these things.. I'm sorry, my love. Sampo.. he makes me laugh, but you make my heart flutter. You make me feel things no one else can, okay? I'm yours, as you are mine."

He smiles at you, he's just happy he communicated his feelings, and you understood. "I'll be sure to try and tell you how I feel next time, okay? As long as you promise you'll stop hanging out with him. I was honestly afraid I was gonna have to get rid of him."

You blinked a few times, but he sighs. "I'm kiddinngg.."

JING YUAN knows he's far too good of a man, therefore doesn't get jealous.

He's yet to be disproven in the first part, but his golden eyes are filled with annoyance as the stares of a certain enemy of his lingers far too long on you.

You were filling in for Yanqing, he was absent for the day (something about falling into an ice cold river and getting sick or something...) and so someone needed to be there as the General would be meeting Blade.

And Jing Yuan couldn't ignore how Blade's eyes never left your form while he spoke, hanging your head down low and so you wouldn't notice. That made him greatly annoyed, almost unable to focus, but he had a mission at hand. And so he forced his jealousy to subside.

Needless to say, the small marks on your neck was embarassing to have seen in public. (And the small bird constantly pecking at Blade's hair was definitely also not Jing Yuans doing.)

GEPARD is so understanding, he evaluates every situation with logical thinking, as expected as a leader.

So it wasn't hard to figure out the intentions of the 'friend' that was speaking to you, how their voice was almost sweeter, and the way they clinged onto your arm was signalling red flags.

Gepard wouldn't have minded this, it could've easily been friendly gestures, but Serval is one of your closest friends and you were within a friendgroup. And she knows that person has a crush on you, and it was painfully obvious.

So naturally, he swiftly and surpisingly gently pulls you from the waist out of their grasp especially with how firm his grip around you was. He gives them a not so friendly glare, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. "My partner." He states, pulling you close as you're left to be stunned with the sudden posessiveness of your partner. "Mine."

Blade simply stares down at the person even attempting to approach you with clearly bad intentions. And if they dare to try to push their luck, Blade comes home with blood on his hands.

"What did you do??" You'd ask, you already knew the answer after already learning what Blade was truly like. "What was necessary." He replied, a kiss on your cheek as he walks in through the door to wash his hands.

[wondeurwall]

AUTHOR'S NOTE. based on the poll: nsfw that won by a landslide, as expected AKSNDJSKb!!! i'll post the sfw soon. i'm currently sitting on 9k with this fic & i don't think i'm close to being done yet omg 😵‍💫 not sure how many more previews i'll post of it – i'll play by ear. or, if it's something y'all still would like, then i'll be more than happy to do it, but i think they'll be much shorter going forward!! 💕💕

AND good luck to anyone pulling for zayne's banner & for anyone trying the new oracle of stars event... i want to try pulling for rafayel's, at the very least, since they all look related to the myths 😭 for the lore, I'LL BE BROKE!!!

TAGS/WARNINGS: 🔞 mdni, fem!reader, porn with plot because i said so, cunnilingus

He drops to his knees, keeps his arms slung over your legs, trapping you at the edge of the bed. His face is in front of your pussy, the heat of his breath makes you quiver.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” he says.

And, you do exactly that. Rafayel’s gaze has the full moon in there, the light unblinking and brilliant, like a parallel of the sun during the day. It dares you to flinch the longer you look. But, you keep staring, find that it doesn’t hurt and, instead, the light feels familiar. 

You hear the waves, tides along the shore and grains of sand being pulled into the water. It happens briefly. Holding your breath, the salt of the sea comes to you like it does in your dreams, a little more vivid each time you fall asleep. 

The same images of him fill your vision. Why?

You release the breath, then blink, feeling the heaviness in your chest and the lump in your throat again. It’s a back-and-forth reel of him and Rafayel, different realities converging to a single point in time – and, your lips are trembling. With the heat of Rafayel’s body seeping into you and the recollection of the sea, the moment tastes and sounds like a memory.

No. It’s more than that. 

You look at Rafayel, and everything feels less like a dream and more like a memory.

You’re about to call his name, but it’s quickly ripped out of your lips in an airy moan. The flat of his tongue glides up your slit once. Then, he’s doing it again, dipping the tip into your hole and curling between your folds as he moves up to gather your cum. Taking as much as he can, he swallows the taste of you, eyes fluttering closed as he savors it. 

It’s the way he does that – makes you believe this isn’t the first time, like he isn’t a stranger to this side of you. So, you’re drifting back into your head (only barely now, because the pleasure is intense, hot and needy) and it’s as if pieces of a puzzle come together in the span of a millisecond and you’re lucid enough to arrive to what seems like an impossible reason: it’s not the first. 

You can’t shake off this feeling. 

Your pupils dilate, oxygen completely dried from your lungs when you see the pleasure on his face. To you, Rafayel is reliving something he’s missed. Something that’s been denied from him for so, so long and he’s finally grasped onto it, and he looks like he’s found the secret to walking on air. 

The ache in your chest is overwhelmed by the ache in your pussy. You whine, the glow in his eyes too dizzying. It does nothing more than guide you closer to hysteria. Your hips jerk forward, begging.  

Blood rushes through his cock, straining beneath his pants as a deep rumble comes from within his chest. He’s diving back into your cunt for more before you can catch your breath. 

You lie there, unable to close your legs. His arms keep them bent and tucked securely between his biceps and forearms, the strength of him nothing you can even attempt to win against. It comes to you as no surprise – he’s not human after all. Your mouth parts, a light sheen of saliva over your lips. Shallow, quick breaths keep you grounded as you watch through glassy eyes how Rafayel devours your pussy like a starved man. 

He pulls back slightly, staring – he hones in on your little bud. You hold your breath when he presses a kiss to your clit, slow and gentle, before he traps it between his lips and sucks, humming as he does.

“Raf – Rafayel,” you gasp, the vibrations coupled with his sucking makes your thighs vibrate, has you seeing tiny white stars. He sucks your clit harder, and your voice gets caught at the edge of your throat. 

There’s a pause before you’re moaning like a broken record.

You force your hands to mask your face, rallying enough strength to quiet down because you’re falling, losing yourself so fast, and you have no idea how to wrap your head around the pleasure that’s already building back up.

There’s a disapproving click from the man between your legs.

“Stop,” he says, voice deepening to a near growl. It surprises you – this tone, along with that look in his eyes, half-lidded, clouded with desire, like a predator ready to pounce at its prey – and you feel a greater level of ecstasy being injected into you and it knocks against the sensitive, heavy knot in your stomach.

His demand is never quite like this. It feels… good. 

Rafayel loosens the hold on one of your legs to snatch your hands away from your face, “I need to hear you, baby, or I’ll stop.”

Breath bated, you can’t help but stare at him, utterly dazed by the moonlight that hangs over his head just like it does in his eyes. 

Lovestruck. Only a second passes before you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desperate you are to see more of this version because there’s no use in denying that you’re among the reasons – if not the reason – he’ll take charge. It’s a stark contrast to the light-hearted and comical side he usually shows. There’s a certain attractiveness to it, the willingness inside of him to take care of you with this authority. 

He asks, “Won’t you be a good girl and listen to me?”

God, you’re so wet right now.

You forget how to breathe, feeling like you’ve evolved in a bottomless nothing. His grip on your hands is firm, yet not so much that it shackles you. He’s still gentle. Nodding your head is all you can manage. He finds it cute. Rafayel brushes his mouth over your palm and around your hand to the first knuckle. He smiles. 

And, you melt. Of course, you do. Craving to be good for him, to be the good girl like he says you can be – that you are – you clutch onto the bed sheets instead, let your mouth babble this time.

When he’s sure you won’t do it again, he goes back to your clit, giving the attention it deserves as he keeps his eyes on you. He plants a kiss to your throbbing bud again. And again. And then again. It gets stickier there, messy with your cum and arousal and his saliva; stretchy, gooey strings that reconnect his lips to your pussy.

© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here or on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡

[reiderwriter]

😝 brain rot from my character ai scenario… the team goes out to a bar to celebrate and you wear a tiny little dress (just to rile him up obvi) but you also end up attracting a lot of male attentionand he gets SO jealous and protective of you he’s like sitting off to the side just watching you flirt with everyone and the team is like “he looks like hes gonna explode wtf” and then the SMUT HES ALL “they can’t have you, you’re all mine” “you really like all the attention huh? i’ll give you what you wanted” OMG it’s making me crazy i hope i described it good enough 🥰🥰

A/N: Is it really a reiderwriter smut if I don't have to clarify that 'I got carried away' at some point in the authors note? No, it is not. Thank you for the request. My brain is now equally rotted, oops.

Warnings: complaints, dirty talk, semi public sexual activity, partial voyeurism, fingering, hard/rough sex.

You weren't even dating.

Which made the situation even more frustrating for Spencer, and even more exciting for you. 

You'd always flirted with the man a lot, had been told multiple times to knock it off even after getting a little too close for comfort on a case. 

But you couldn't really blame yourself on that one. You'd had to do a quick takedown at a dive bar, and you'd been tasked with pretending to be a touchy couple at the bar to block the back entrance at the staff entrance. 

You'd draped yourself all over him, allowing yourself to get closer than you'd ever been before. 

If you'd just happened to let your hands fall down to his crotch, it was pure coincidence. So was giving his obviously erect length a few strokes through his jeans as he sat staring at you like you were his last meal and he was back in prison. 

Emily had to pull you aside after that one personally. 

You knew she was protective of Spencer, seeing him as a little brother, but it seemed like she was more protective of you at that moment. 

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” She'd asked, waiting carefully for your answer before she said anything more. 

Two could play at that game. “What is this concerning?” 

“With Spencer.” 

“I'm not sure what you mean, Emily.”

“Yes, you do. Listen, I don't care what you get up to in your personal life, but Spencer has a way of making others feel very… seen. He can get protective and pushy. And I just want to know you're ready for that, and you're not going to let it affect your work.”

“Is Spencer having the same talk?” 

She laughed at that. 

“Spencer? No. I already know it's going to affect his work, because it has since you joined our team. He still gets his job done, but I know where his priorities would lie if there were an emergency.” 

You'd shivered at that and excused yourself. 

If he was that obsessed with you, why had he not told you? Stepped over that line from friends to more than that?

You needed to force the issue, and you had the perfect opportunity when Penelope invited you out for drinks. 

“Y/N! Don't go, it's Friday night, we-” she said gesturing wildly to the team gathered around you, “are going to a bar. No, you can't rain check either.” 

“Can I at least get changed first?” 

“You need to get changed. We're going to a nice bar, Y/N.” Running off again to grab the rest of your team members and force their attendance, you grinned after Penelope. 

It was time to see exactly how focused on you Spencer Reid was.

And how willing he was to let you slip through his fingers.

An hour later, you were stepping out of your taxi, pulling your skirt down as you did. The short black dress had a terrible habit of pulling up your thighs to flash your underwear at anyone in a 10 foot radius. Usually, that bothered you, but tonight, you planned on using it to your advantage. 

After all, you'd left out the underwear tonight for a reason. 

Pulling your jacket around you tighter, you pushed the door to the bar open and scanned the room for your team members. 

“Y/N, over here!” Tara called you over, nursing a beer. Luke sat next to her, Penelope on his other side, and Matt on hers and completing the group was Spencer Reid. 

“Where are JJ and Emily?” You asked, doing your very best to ignore Spencer as you sat down next to him, practically falling into his warmth. You sat so close to him. 

“At the bar. Emily is convinced she can flirt her way to a free drink, and JJ is convinced she cannot. The girl she's working on now has to be 22 at most, so it could honestly go either way.” Penelope answered, and you felt Spencer shift slightly beside you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Luke said as the two women approached. 

“Well? What's the result?” You grinned up at them, letting your head fall back against Spencer’s shoulder as you gently rested your hand on his thigh. He sat silently for a minute, not moving and just taking in the conversation. 

“I've still got it.” Emily grinned triumphantly. 

“Maybe I should give it a try. There are a few hot male bartenders tonight. Who knows, I might score more than just a drink.” 

Spencer choked on the drink he was sipping as you spoke quickly, a few knowing looks passing between every other person at the table. You'd have to be blind to miss it. Or Spencer. 

“Spencer, are you okay? You should be careful, I wouldn't want you to choke. That's how I want to end my night, but it's not for everyone.” That one earned you a few snickers from the others and a glare from the man himself. 

“I'm fine, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled down at you and gave your knee a friendly tap that turned slightly less friendly as he pushed it further up your leg. 

The others had since averted their attentions, moving their conversation onto other things, but you and Spencer were still stuck in each other's orbits. 

Your heart beat faster until you were sure it could be seen, raw and fit to burst out of your chest. His fingertips brushed your hem. He was seconds away from realising that you were going to get the attention you wanted that night. 

Slipping just an inch up the hem, he twitched almost imperceptibly as he searched for your panty line, brows knitting when he couldn't find it. 

“What's wrong, Spencer? Searching for something that isn't there?” You enjoyed watching his frown deepen as he registered your words, but you enjoyed it even more when you gently pushed his hand away as you stood. 

“Well, I need a drink. Let's hope I can recreate your success, Emily.” You said, finally pushing off your jacket. The dress may have been short, but it was also low cut, burning the candle at both ends as your breasts threatened to spill over with any particularly deep breath. 

“Sweet lord in heaven! You didn't come to play tonight.” Penelope exclaimed, practically applauding your body as you twirled for her and showed off the form fitting dress, giggling all the way. 

“You said it was a nice bar, Penelope. I'm hoping there are also some very nice men here, too.” With a wink, you turned on your heel and strode to the bar, making sure your hips swung seductively with every step. 

You couldn't immediately give in and turn to see if he was watching you when you got to the bar, though, not willing to give him the satisfaction. You were doing it all for him, but you still didn't want him to know that.

It didn't take long for men to swarm you. They came one at a time, and you entertained them each as you waited for your unnecessarily complex cocktail order to be prepared. 

In the 7 minutes you'd been away from the table, you'd been approached by three separate men. They all tried lines on you, gave you their numbers and tried their best to woo you, but with Spencer’s eyes burning across your body as you leaned against the bar, you really couldn't have cared less. 

Still, you leaned in, giggled in the appropriate places, and took the numbers, knowing they'd never be called.

When your cocktail was finally ready, and the last one offered to fund it for you  You finally felt a hand at your back. 

“That won't be necessary, thank you.” Spencer ended the conversation, handing his own card over to the bartender as he kept his hand on your back, his body crowding yours. 

The man walked away in defeat, and you turned on him, sipping your drink as you refused to move away.

“Now why ruin all my fun, Spencer?” 

“You're really enjoying all this attention, huh?” He said, pushing your hair behind your ear as he leaned closer to you, his next word a whisper against your skin.

“I can see your pussy from all the way back there,” he said, tugging down your skirt slightly. You weren't surprised though  simply taking another sip and maintaining eye contact. 

“I know.” His hand, having slipped up to your waist, tightened as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You want everyone to see your dripping cunt? Want to let all the men here take a turn trying to catch your attention so they can slip in?” His voice was low, practically a growl as he licked his lips.

“No. I wanted to see how long it'd take you to come over and do it. By my count, that was eight minutes, correct?” 

“Good girl. Just remember that you're mine. I'm not letting anyone else have you.” Giving your face a gentle stroke, he let it trail down your body, subtly cupping and squeezing your chest on the way down. 

“All of a sudden, I feel very tired, Spencer. Take me home.” He wasted no time, grabbing your hand and gathering you up, your jacket and bag collected from the desk as he gave minimal answers to the others as you departed. To their credit, they asked minimal questions. 

The cold air hit you hard as you pushed the doors open again, but Spencer was unperturbed, pulling you over to his car silently, a strong hand on your shoulder helping you into the passenger's seat.

You dare not talk the entire drive to his apartment, so sure that any word from you would have him turning immediately to deposit you right back at the bar. 

He didn't, though, but he also didn't look at you or touch you. You sat squirming at the heavy atmosphere, suddenly desperate to know exactly what thoughts were trapped inside Spencer’s impressive brain. 

“We're here.” He announced, pulling up quickly and cutting the engine, climbing out in a hurry. 

You fumbled with your own seat belt as he pulled your door open, catching you up in his arms as he closed the door behind you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him carry you up the stairs to his apartment.

His lips didn't meet yours until the door was firmly closed and locked behind you, and even then, he didn't immediately dive in. He out you down, and a touch of disappointment flooded your body as he completely entangled himself from you. 

It dissipated completely when his hand wrapped around your throat. 

“Let me be clear, Y/N. You are mine. If you want attention, I will give it to you. If you want to choke on something, I'm more than happy to provide it. If you want to dress like a little whore, go ahead, but don't forget who your sweet little cunt belongs to.” His fingers tightened with each word as you gasped for air, back resting on the nearest wall as his body pressed up along your own. 

“Do you understand?” He asked, and you nodded repeatedly, fast and desperate. 

“Good. Now, ass up on the bed. I'll meet you there.” You practically sprinted to the room in question, slinking up onto the bed. He said ass up, but you hesitated slightly as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind you, just long enough to earn a slap on your ass as he finally returned to your side. 

“You have to listen, Y/N. You wanted this, so you have to listen nicely.” 

“I'm sorry, Spencer, it won't happen aga-” He stole the end of your sentence as he slipped his fingers into you, gently working the two longest ones up into a frenzy as he finger fucked you. 

“Sorry, what was that? I don't think I quite caught your words.” You could only moan in reply as you buried your head in his pillows, ass pressing back into his fingers to help him get deeper.

“So needy. Look at this little black dress. You knew this was going to happen, right?” A third finger slipped inside you, and you screamed out in pleasure as he continued using you.

“Burying your head isn't going to work, Y/N. Your cunt is answering for you.” 

You heard the rattle of his belt unbuckling as his fingers finally slipped out, the emptiness only a relief for a second before his cock was hitting deep inside of you. 

Thoughts escaped you as you finally got what you'd been begging for for weeks. His every frustration was pounded into you as he tugged at your hair, pulling your torso up so he could hit even deeper. 

Pulling back your head with a hand on your throat he laid a barrage of kisses across your upper back and shoulders, making sure to bite and suck and nip as his spare hand toyed with your nipples, pinching and pulling. 

In a second, you reached your climax, not having the breath left in you to let him know before you tightened on his shaft and let your body fall limp under his hands. 

“I'm going to mop up our cum with this dress, Y/N, and then I'm going to make you put it back on.” With a final grunt, he pulled out, jerking his cock through his release as he shot his load right over your pussy lips. 

He collapsed on top of you, and you finally gave up your last bit of strength beneath him, enjoying the pressure of his weight pushing down on you again. 

“Thank god that worked,” you gasped, catching your breath. You smiled as he flipped you over and pulled the dress off your head, true to his word. 

“What worked, Y/N?” 

“This. You don't know the lengths I'd have gone to to get you yo finally fuck me if this hadn't worked.” 

“But suddenly, I'm curious, and I have all the time in the world.” You laughed lightly but snuggled into his chest again, meaning to sleep. 

“Unless you want to get dressed again now…?” 

[love-belle]

i'm glad whenever i can share her laughter !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they finally get their picture perfect ending that everyone was hoping for.

or

for when you have everything you ever wished for. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - this series is now officially done!!!! im soooo happy about how this turned out and i hope u enjoyed it as much as i did <33 thank u sm for reading, i love you <33

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilymhe and 2,751,876 others

yourusername julianne marie leclerc-y/l/n 🤍

tagged charles_leclerc

15,628 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2,699,896 others

charles_leclerc it should be noted that she asked for her "mamamamama" a few thousand times and now i'm taking her with me to where ever

tagged yourusername

14,885 comments

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yourusername u didn't hear this from me but she couldn't sleep without her red ferrari plushie last week when u were in maranello

-> charles_leclerc so now you're making me cry. great.

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yourusername added to their instagram stories

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liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 2,657,246 others

charles_leclerc i'm glad whenever i can share her laughter

tagged yourusername

15,172 comments

username WHY IS SHE GROWING UP SO FAST

username oh please no im not ready to see baby j grow up

leclerc_pascale bébé ❤️❤️❤️ ( baby )

-> charles_leclerc she misses her grand-mère❤️ ( grandmother )

carlossainz55 please stop blasting slipping through my fingers. it's 3am.

-> charles_leclerc she pulled herself up today YOU DON'T GET IT

-> username oh this man's gonna be in shambles when she starts walking

landonorris time needs to stay still, thank you.

-> charles_leclerc exactly 💯

yourusername babe she's literally 10 months old

-> charles_leclerc soon she'll be 10 years old and going to school and not wanting to hang out with me 🙁

yourusername STOP CRYING I CAN HEAR YOU FROM NEXT DOOR

-> charles_leclerc I'M NOT IT'S LANDO

-> landonorris I MISS BABY J

yourusername she misses her papa, come back

-> charles_leclerc yes ❤️❤️❤️ let me just console lando and we'll join you

username lando is so me

[multifandomfanatic02]

"One-Sided, One Receiver"

pairing: alastor x fem!reader

synopsis: Alastor has taken you in under his wing after being mistreated by the vees. Vox tries to confronts you about your feelings for Alastor in hopes that you come back to work for him. His plans of course backfire.

warnings: MDNI fuckin tentacle porn, alastor is fully clothed, no pp for you to see sorry, alastor and his dirty mouth, praise kink ig? fingering

word count: 1.7k words

a/n: my first time writing this kinda thing, please spare me. Also thank you to @rubra-wav for the cute divider omg. and my two favorite in character smut authors @hazelfoureyes (my hazel basil) and @jyoongim giving me the courage to do this ✨️🙏

You've worked with Alastor going on years now. He had taken you under his wing after the treatment you received under the control of the Vees. It was well known they weren't the nicest overlords around but they knew how to sell.

You were Vox's little plaything in more ways than one. He had you pegged to be a pretty good spy and information gatherer. Of course, your mission was always to look for signs of the Radio Demon for his whereabouts. Alastor was very meticulous and every clue left for you was purposely placed, and you knew that. And because you knew that, you never bothered to inform Vox of the very little "information." In which came at a cost of your job and nearly, your life. Vox often underestimated Alastor's smarts. Their own egos constantly bumping each other in the head.

The night you lost your job, you were found outside the Vees' tower, horribly bruised and broken. Hands clutching at the brimstone dirt to try and stable yourself in some way, you saw a pair of black boots standing in front of your face, the demon's cane setting down on the ground.

"Well my dear, it looks like you finally received Vox's boot." He chuckled in amusement and offered a hand to you to help you off the ground. "I'm impressed with how you've gone about finding my little clues, not many have managed to connect them back to me."

With your hand still in his, you two disappear into his shadow and find solitude in a different part of Pentagram City, away from the Vees' territory.

"I have a deal for you. Well rather a job." He states conjuring up a needle and glowing green thread along with a small first-aid kit. He talked his way through his prompt while mending and sewing your wounds. You accepted and that was that.

The years you've worked along side him he's been quite kind to you. Despite not trying to be, he was a charmer. Your feelings for him changed over time. You often caught yourself doing things you never thought you would for the Radio Demon. The man you were convinced to hate in your previous employment. You'd bend over backward for him if you could.

The role he gave you was to do exactly what you had done for Vox in the past. There was never need to leave his side for you to gather whatever information he needed so you never looked suspicious. You looked more like an assistant or an apprentice.

No matter what you looked like you were doing, Vox was deeply displeased. How dare you escape his grasp and go kiss Alastor's ass. It was insulting from both you and the Radio Demon.

There was more to your companionship that meets the eye. While Alastor was an oblivious man, Vox saw right through you. It was clear to him you had fallen in love with the radio demon. And with the way Alastor has reacted to confessions in the past, the TV man knew exactly how to ruin your relationship with each other and potentially along with the contract that was signed.

Checkmate.

"What are you doing here, old pal. Don't you think you are on the wrong side of town." Alastor's body was facing away, Vox's presence clear from his heavy breathing. His attempt to stay calm and collected.

"I am here to offer Y/N's job back." He stood up straight, folding his arms behind his back and turning his unfazed gaze to you. "I'm willing to raise your pay by a substantial amount if you come back to me."

"Not a chance, Vox. After the way you and the other Vees treated me? Go to double Hell." You spat at him, your eyes full of disgust and turning your body away from him.

Vox's smile creeped further up the screen, wholeheartedly expecting that to be your answer. The wrong answer. The one to ruin you once again.

"You come back to work for me and I won't tell Alastor your dark little secret. You get to stay in his good graces and I get my favorite little employee." He held his hand out to you. Alastor's silence completely deafening as he zones in on the strange conversation. What could you possibly do to fall out of his good graces, he thought.

Your expression faltering slightly before returning to it's stability. Was it that obvious? Did everyone see your feelings like an open book? He was unfortunately right.. if Alastor knew how you felt he'd probably ditch for another 7 years. Either way the outcome of this would be you trapped in the hands of the Vees once more. "You're confused Vox. I think you should take a break from all that porn."

"Do not pretend to not know what I'm talki-"

"I think I've heard enough, Vox. If you are referring to her romantic feelings towards me, there's no need to inform me. I already know." Alastor finally stepped out from behind you to stand in between the two of you. "The only difference here is that she has not forced those feelings upon me in which I quite respect. She will not be going with you."

Alastor tapped his cane on your back to turn you around and continue your walk. You give one last glance at Vox behind you, his face obviously fuming in embarrassment before disappearing into Alastor's shadow with him and reappearing in front of the Hotel.

You two stood in front of the doors in silence. Not really awkward just a little stunned.

"Sir.. you knew?" Your head was looking down to his shoes, scared to look him in the eyes.

"Dear, do not be embarrassed." He placed his cane under your chin, watching your eyes shift from the ground to his own. "I'm willing to make another deal with you if you allow it. This will be a one time thing. One night of your pleasure and you will give me your soul. Your services will belong to me for the rest of your immortal life."

Not to long after that were you in his radio tower. His shadowy appendages wrapped around your ankles and wrists, your ass resting on the buttons of his desk. You were already in the nude and he still sharply dressed. "Let's get a few things clear, darling. You will not touch me whatsoever, no I will not remove my clothing-" He spoke in the midst of taking his coat off and hanging it up on the hook to the side of the desk. He carefully rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt before turning his attention to you, continuing his sentence. "and do remember to make noise. I need this to be amusing for me as well."

The appendages snaked up your thighs, softly maneuvering themselves through your folds. Spreading your slick everywhere they could reach. Your shut eyes tightened underneath his delicate touch. Another pair of his tentacles made their way up to your face, pulling at the sides of your mouth, making you open your lips. One slipped inside your wet cavern, lapping up the saliva around your tongue. Moans now starting to slip out as it started to fuck your mouth, spit dripping down the corners of your lips.

"Now that's my good girl." Alastor's cold digits made their way to your clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles, eliciting a well earned gasp from your throat. Not rough enough to jump start an orgasm but enough to be quite pleasurable on it's own. What pretty sounds he thought. Your legs tensed at his praise, his voice. It was deeper and more staticy than normal. Seemed he was enjoying himself more than he'd like to admit.

Removing the tentacle in your mouth, he replaced it with his own mouth. Your heart fluttered at the way he moved his lips against yours. Not exactly how you fantasized your first kiss with the Radio Demon but you'll take it. You groaned into his lips, grinding your hips into his steady going fingers. "Alastor.. please. I need you inside me." Heavy breaths passed between each word that escaped your mouth. This was your part of the deal so he was willing to give you whatever you wanted. Within reason of course.

The extremity wet with your juices slid up and down your cunt, spreading you as much as possible before slipping into you with ease. It wasn't his dick but dear god did it feel good nonetheless. Some boundaries had to be made after all but you were grateful for his generosity no matter what he offered. It's pace started off slow, simply trying to make it's way to your cervix before anything else. His lips still continuing to massage yours, going back and forth between licking your neck and kisses.

He was making every piece of your body vibrate with excitement and pleasure. Alastor's pace speeding up once he finally hit the end of your vagina, nearly making love to your cervix. His fingers began to abuse your now sensitive clit. It didn't take long before that long awaited tightness started to form in your womb. Your breath hitched and various parts of your body twitched, letting him know that you were approaching your end. "Are you going to cum for me, my dear? My precious apprentice."

With one last bite to your shoulder, you came undone on his tentacle and fingers. Continuing to rub you through your high. Your head rested against his shoulder allowing you to control your breaths back to normal. All his dark restraints dissipated, letting you free.

Alastor licked his fingers clean and rolled his sleeves back down, grabbing the coat he hung up and placing it back onto his shoulders. "Now I do believe you need a bath. Feel free to use the one in my room. Be back down stairs in an hour, we've got business to attend to later."

And with that, you now belonged to him in heart and soul.

[headkiss]

I LOVE YOUR HOTCH FICS!!! <3 You write him so well, and I just adore how soft he is 🥺! I've read a fic where the author basically describes him as a Jane Austen hero, and I can't help but agree (what are you thoughts?)! Sooooo, is it possible to get a fic where Hotch reads to sick!reader to help her sleep? TYSM!

omg ur so right he is very much jane austen coded!!! tysm for requesting i hope u like it!!! | 0.7k of fluff, sick reader and gentle hotch <3

Aaron’s job isn’t one that allows him to take much time off of work, even when he wants to. You know it, and would never be angry at him for it, so when you wake up feeling a little too warm, you reassure him that you’ll be fine by yourself.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He asks, already dressed in his suit and sitting on the edge of the bed by your waist. “I can if you want me to.”

Of course the only time he’d be eager to ask for a day off is when it’s in your favor. He doesn’t even call out when he’s the one who’s sick.

“No, you can’t, Aaron. They need you over there,” you say, hoping your smile is convincing enough. “I’m just gonna sleep this off. I’ll be fine.”

He sighs, reluctant to leave even though he sort of has to, even though he knows you can take care of yourself. He just hates not being the one to do so, anyways.

Hotch leans over to press a kiss to your heated cheek, “I’ll call you when I can to check in, okay?”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Let me do that, at least, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

He kisses your cheek again and then stands to leave, pausing at the bedroom doorway to turn back and look at you one more time. You snake your hand out from under the sheets and give him a thumbs up.

Aaron calls you exactly five times throughout the day, most of them quick, couple-minute phone calls where he asks how you’re doing, if you’ve eaten. One of them during his lunch—which he rarely takes—and lasting nearly half an hour, him doing most of the talking.

The sun is close to setting by the time he gets home, where Aaron finds you curled up on the couch in the comforter from your bed, your skin clammy, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead.

His heart aches a little bit at the sight, because he knows you’ve been downplaying how sick you feel all day to keep him from worrying, as if anything could.

Hotch walks over to the couch, crouching in front of where your head is propped up on a pillow. “Sweetheart.”

“Hi, Aaron.”

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, frowning at how warm you feel. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a fever? You should be in bed.”

“Got too warm in there, then too cold out here, so I took the comforter. Hope that’s okay.”

The medicine you took hours ago hasn’t done much other than make you a little groggy, and it’s clear in the way you speak with your cheek still squished to the pillow, your eyelids heavy.

Aaron’s hand is still on your forehead, like he can will your fever away with his touch. “Have you slept? Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, “don’t really feel like eating.”

“You should,” he says. “How about I run you a bath and make you some soup? Then bed.”

“Okay, doctor Hotchner.”

He shakes his head, though the small smile on your face as you tease him makes him smile, too. Even feeling poorly, you manage to brighten his day. A ray of sunshine.

He does exactly as promised, and after a bath and a generous bowl of soup that Hotch made sure you finished, you’ve got your head in his lap, his hand gently pushing your hair back.

Looking down, Aaron finds you still awake, blinking up at him lazily. “Aren’t you tired?”

“It’s been hard to sleep,” you say, fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Will you read to me?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Pick a book.”

You choose, and whine when he gets up to go get it even though he’s back in a matter of seconds. With your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh once again, he starts reading to you.

You’ve always loved Aaron’s voice, the way it sounds when he speaks to you, the low and calm tone that seems to wash over you. He’s using a gentle voice now, a quiet one that you love even more because it’s one he saves for you. Intimate and lovely.

It’s only with his hand in your hair and his voice in your ears that you’re finally able to fall asleep.

[dreamersworldduh]

Omg hiii, firstly, I really like your two workss so far they're soooo good 😩. Hopefully, you continue writing, and secondly, I want to request for Dick grayson at one of those parties he has to attend with his friend that he liked for a while, and he sees reader getting hit on by a person he hates so he gets jealous, and he holds it for awhile till he couldn't anymore. If you can complete this, thank you for your time spent on my request. If not, it's completely fine. 🙏. Thank you for even reading my request. Keep up the good work, and have a good day/night!

JEALOUSLY, JEALOUSY

• Dick Grayson x Male!Reader

SUMMARY — Jealousy is an evil disease that most people deny having, but it can also be a great motivator if used properly.

WARNING! FLUFF. Suggestive Langauge.

WORDS! 3.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! Thank you so much for putting in your request! I appreciate you so so much—I hope you enjoy! 😚

The Titans' Tower was a beacon of light against the night sky, its glowing windows revealing the lively scene unfolding within. Inside, the air was charged with excitement, the kind of energy that came from heroes finally allowing themselves a moment of reprieve. The main hall was transformed into a party space, with colorful lights casting vibrant patterns across the walls, the music pulsing in time with the rhythm of the crowd.

You stood near the entrance for a moment, taking it all in. The sight was almost surreal—heroes you'd fought alongside, legends in their own right, were here in their most unguarded states. Starfire's radiant laughter rang out as she teased Beast Boy, who had just shapeshifted into a parrot to mimic her voice. Raven, ever the observer, sat in a corner nursing a drink, her normally stern expression softening as she watched the festivities. Even Cyborg, the tech genius of the team, was manning a makeshift DJ booth, nodding his head to the beat as he expertly transitioned between tracks.

You weren't used to seeing this side of them, but it was a welcome change. The Titans weren't just warriors—they were people, and tonight, they were letting themselves be exactly that.

When Dick Grayson—Nightwing himself—had invited you, you were a little surprised. Sure, the two of you had been close for a while, colleagues who had become genuine friends through countless missions. You'd spent hours fighting side by side, but more recently, you'd found yourselves sharing moments outside the chaos—grabbing coffee after a long night, cracking jokes about patrol mishaps, or just enjoying each other's company. Yet, an invitation to the Titans' private party felt personal, almost intimate.

As you stepped further into the room, the music grew louder, the bass vibrating through your chest. Dick wasn't hard to spot—he had that presence that naturally drew attention, even when he wasn't trying. Dressed in a simple black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he moved through the crowd with an ease that was almost magnetic. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a grin spread across his face.

"There you are," he said as he approached, his voice warm and familiar despite the music. "I was starting to think you weren't going to show."

"Miss a party at Titans' Tower? No way," you replied with a smirk. "Besides, you're the one who said I needed a break."

"And I was right," he said, nudging your arm playfully. "You deserve a night to relax. Just... don't let Beast Boy drag you into one of his dance-offs. He's surprisingly competitive."

You chuckled, already feeling more at ease. Dick had that effect on people—his presence was grounding, even in a room full of larger-than-life personalities. Before he could say more, someone called his name, and he gave you an apologetic smile.

"Duty calls," he said. "But stick around, okay? I'll find you later."

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to explore the party. You grabbed a drink from the refreshment table—something fruity but deceptively strong—and started making your way through the room. Everywhere you turned, there were little snapshots of joy: heroes laughing, friends reconnecting, moments of normalcy in lives that were anything but.

It was in the middle of this whirlwind of activity that you found yourself drawn into conversation with Brandon, one of the Titans' newer members. His easygoing demeanor made him instantly likable, and you found yourself relaxing even more as you chatted about everything from patrol stories to how strange it was to see the team like this.

What you didn't notice, however, was the way Dick's gaze followed you from across the room. Standing near the edge of the crowd, he watched as you laughed at something Brandon said, the two of you leaning in closer to hear each other over the music. His smile from earlier had faded, replaced by a subtle but unmistakable tension in his expression.

For the first time in a long while, Dick Grayson felt something unfamiliar twist in his chest—jealousy.

Brandon was mid-story, his hands flying through the air as he described a mission that had apparently gone off the rails in the most chaotic way possible. His voice was animated, carrying over the music and noise of the party as he recounted the moment he had to leap from a collapsing rooftop to grab a fleeing criminal.

"And just as I'm mid-air," he said, his grin wide, "I'm thinking, 'If I miss, this is how they're going to write me off the team.' But somehow, I managed to grab the guy's ankle, and the two of us went tumbling into a dumpster. Starfire still hasn't let me live it down."

You couldn't help but laugh, the image of Brandon sprawled out in a dumpster vivid in your mind. His enthusiasm was contagious, and his self-deprecating humor made the story all the more enjoyable.

"What about you?" Brandon asked, leaning casually against the counter. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What's the craziest thing you've seen out there?"

You paused, your mind flipping through the mental catalogue of wild missions you'd been on. Finally, a grin tugged at your lips as you landed on one that stood out. "Okay, so there was this time I ended up dodging missiles while trying to stop a rogue drone. It was absolute chaos—explosions everywhere, smoke, the whole nine yards. And, of course, Dick was there, just doing his thing, making it all look effortless."

Brandon let out a low whistle, his eyebrows raising in mock disbelief. "Missiles and a rogue drone? That's next level. I swear, with him involved, it always sounds like a movie."

You chuckled, nodding. "It felt like one. But yeah, Dick's like that—calm under pressure, always two steps ahead. It's kind of ridiculous how good he is at this stuff."

Brandon grinned, leaning in slightly. "Must be cool, working so closely with someone like him. I bet you've picked up a thing or two."

You shrugged, a warm smile spreading across your face. "Yeah, it is. He's a good guy—one of the best. I've learned more from him than I ever thought possible."

As you spoke, you glanced over at Brandon, but your words brought Dick to the forefront of your mind. It wasn't just his skill you admired—it was his unwavering dedication, his ability to lead, and the way he always seemed to have your back no matter how dangerous things got. It was easy to talk about him, easy to share the respect and appreciation you'd built for him over the years.

Brandon nodded, clearly impressed. "I get that vibe. You two must make a hell of a team."

You smiled, raising your glass slightly. "We do."

Across the room, Dick leaned against the wall, his silhouette partially obscured by the shifting colored lights of the party. His sharp brown eyes, usually calm and calculating, were locked onto the two of you, his gaze unwavering. In one hand, he held a drink—something dark and untouched, the condensation dripping down the glass as it warmed against his grip. His free hand clenched at his side, the slight twitch of his fingers betraying the tension he was working hard to suppress.

You were laughing at something Brandon had said, your face lit up in a way that seemed to magnify the ease between the two of you. Brandon leaned closer, his posture open and relaxed, his confident smile suggesting he was thoroughly enjoying your attention. You leaned in as well, your head tilting slightly to catch his words over the pounding music, your body language unconsciously mirroring his. It was a small detail, but it didn't escape Dick's notice.

A knot twisted in his chest, sharp and unwelcome. He couldn't pinpoint the moment it had started—this feeling that clawed at him every time Brandon was near you—but tonight, it was undeniable. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away, but his eyes betrayed him, darting back to you within seconds. He told himself it was nothing, that he was overreacting, but the rational part of his brain was no match for the jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

Dick had never liked Brandon, though he'd never said it aloud, not even to himself. He'd brushed it off as a clash of personalities, an instinctive distrust of the newcomer. But as he watched Brandon lean closer, his laugh carrying easily over the music, it became clear: it wasn't just Brandon. It was Brandon with you.

His usual composed demeanor was faltering, the effortless confidence he carried on and off the field slipping away as his emotions bubbled to the surface. His chest felt tight, his thoughts an uncharacteristic jumble. Was it jealousy? Frustration? The fear of something unspoken slipping out of his grasp?

The answer didn't matter, not in that moment. All that mattered was the impulse driving him forward. Before he realized it, his body was already in motion, his steps purposeful and direct. Each stride carried the weight of his emotions, the tension in his shoulders palpable. He weaved through the crowd without so much as a glance at anyone else, his focus entirely on you.

Dick didn't have a plan, no rehearsed words or carefully crafted excuses. All he knew was that he couldn't stand there any longer, watching you laugh with someone else, seeing the effortless connection that wasn't with him. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say when he reached you—all he knew was that he had to do something. Anything.

The music and laughter of the party hummed around you, a lively backdrop to your conversation with Brandon. You were mid-sentence, describing one of your wilder missions, when a familiar voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"Hey," Dick said, his tone even, but carrying an unmistakable edge.

You turned, surprised to see him standing there. He was close—closer than usual—his sharp brown eyes flicking briefly to Brandon before settling on you. His presence seemed to suck the air out of the space, a silent tension rolling off him in waves.

"Mind if I borrow him for a second?" Dick continued, though it wasn't really a question.

Brandon blinked, clearly caught off guard. His usual easy grin faltered for a moment as he looked between you and Dick, before offering a hesitant nod. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Go ahead."

"Dick, what—?" you began, but before you could finish, Dick placed a firm hand on your shoulder and started steering you away. His grip wasn't rough, but it was unyielding, his fingers curling just enough to make it clear this wasn't up for discussion.

You glanced back at Brandon, who shrugged and turned to mingle with someone else, his confusion evident. Meanwhile, Dick's hand remained on your shoulder, guiding you through the crowd and toward the staircase.

"What's going on?" you asked, your voice tinged with confusion and growing irritation.

Dick didn't answer. He stayed silent, his jaw tight, his pace quick. His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly as you reached the stairs, and he led you upward, away from the noise and light of the party. The music and chatter faded with each step, replaced by the steady hum of the tower's systems.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, his normally composed demeanor slipping with every second. It wasn't like him to act this way—so abrupt, so on edge.

When you reached a quiet hallway, you finally pulled free of his grip, stopping in your tracks. "Dick, what the hell?" you snapped, your confusion now mingled with frustration. "What's going on with you tonight?"

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. His shoulders were rigid, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he were struggling to find the right words. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off, make some excuse and leave you wondering.

But then his expression softened—just slightly—and he stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. His piercing gaze searched yours, as though he were looking for something, some unspoken reassurance.

"I couldn't take it anymore," he muttered, his voice low and raw, almost like he was speaking to himself.

You frowned, still not understanding. "Take what? Dick, you're not making any sense."

For a second, he hesitated, his breath hitching as if he was caught between moving forward or retreating. Then, as though something inside him snapped, he closed the distance between you in one fluid motion.

His hands came up, gripping your face with a kind of desperate urgency. Before you could say another word, his lips were on yours. It wasn't tentative or uncertain—it was firm, almost overwhelming, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt.

You froze, your mind racing to catch up with what was happening. The feel of his lips against yours, the heat of his hands holding you in place—it all hit you at once, a wave of intensity that left you breathless. There was a weight behind it, a frustration, a longing that spoke of something he'd been holding back for far too long.

The hallway seemed to shrink around you, the hum of the tower fading into nothing. All that remained was him, the kiss, and the unspoken emotions that seemed to pour out in that single moment.

When Dick finally pulled back, his forehead gently rested against yours, his breath ragged and uneven. The heat of his hands lingered on your face, his thumbs barely brushing your jawline as if he couldn't bring himself to let go entirely. His eyes were closed for a moment, and when he opened them, they burned with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

"I couldn't stand seeing you with him," he admitted, his voice low, raw, and unsteady in a way you'd never heard before. It wasn't anger or frustration—it was something deeper, something vulnerable. "I've been trying to ignore it for so long, but I can't anymore. I like you—more than a friend. I needed you to know."

His words hung in the air, heavy and charged, as if the world itself had paused for this one moment. Your heart was pounding, each beat louder in your ears than the faint hum of the tower around you. You felt like the ground had shifted beneath your feet, your balance precarious in the wake of his confession.

You stared at him, trying to process what had just happened—the kiss, the weight of his words, the raw emotion in his eyes. All the nights you'd spent together came flooding back to you. Fighting side by side in the field, your movements always in sync. Late nights eating takeout, his laughter echoing in your ears as you shared stories. Quiet moments after missions, when he'd patch you up with a care and focus that seemed almost too much for a friend. All of it suddenly took on a new meaning, the threads weaving together into something you hadn't allowed yourself to see before now.

"Dick..." you began, your voice soft, barely above a whisper, your chest tight with the weight of everything you wanted to say. But before you could get the words out, he shook his head, his forehead still pressed against yours.

"I get it if you don't feel the same," he said quickly, his voice filled with quiet resignation. His hands dropped slowly from your face, as if letting go was physically painful. "I just... I couldn't keep it in anymore. Not after tonight. Not after seeing—" He cut himself off, shaking his head again, as if the thought alone was too much. "You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know."

You stared at him, the man who had been by your side through thick and thin, who had earned your trust in ways few ever had. And for the first time, you saw something behind the confidence and control he always carried—a vulnerability, raw and unguarded. The man who was always so composed, so unshakable, was standing in front of you now, his emotions laid bare.

He wasn't Nightwing in this moment, the hero who always had a plan and a backup plan. He was just Dick—a man who had taken a risk, who had laid his heart on the line for you. And in that moment, as you saw him so clearly for the first time, something inside you shifted.

You stood frozen, your thoughts spiraling as Dick's words echoed in your mind. Your longest, closest friend—someone who had been by your side through countless battles, sleepless nights, and quiet moments—had just confessed feelings you had never seen coming. It felt like the ground beneath you had shifted, leaving you unsure of how to regain your footing.

Your breathing was shallow, your chest tight as you replayed his confession in your mind. "I couldn't stand seeing you with him. I've been trying to ignore it for so long, but I can't anymore." The rawness in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it was all so unlike the Dick Grayson you knew, the man who always seemed so steady, so composed.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come. How could they? This was Dick—your partner in the field, your confidant, your constant. The person who had always been there, who had stitched you up after injuries and made you laugh when things felt too heavy. And now he was looking at you, his heart laid bare, waiting for a response you weren't sure how to give.

Your mind raced through the years you'd known him. The late-night missions, the quiet moments after a battle, the inside jokes only the two of you understood. You'd always thought of him as your rock, the person you could count on no matter what. And now, he was telling you that he saw you as something more—had seen you as something more for a long time.

The weight of his confession pressed down on you. This wasn't just a casual admission—it was the culmination of something deep, something that had clearly been building within him for years. The thought hit you like a freight train: while you'd been leaning on him as a friend, he'd been feeling this all along. How had you missed it?

Dick's expression was impossible to read now. He was standing there, his forehead no longer resting against yours, his hands hovering by his sides like he wasn't sure whether to reach for you or step back. His eyes, normally so guarded, were wide and searching, as if trying to gauge what you were thinking.

But you didn't know what to think. You didn't know how to react. Part of you wanted to speak, to reassure him, to tell him that this didn't change anything—but that would be a lie, wouldn't it? Because everything had already changed.

Before you could fully register what you were doing, instinct took over. Your mind was still spinning from Dick's confession, from the raw vulnerability in his voice, from the way his hands had trembled ever so slightly when he let you go—as if he'd already braced himself for rejection.

But you couldn't let him walk away—not like this. Not when your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from your chest.

In one swift motion, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The material was soft but sturdy beneath your grip, grounding you in the moment as you tugged him toward you with a sudden urgency that surprised even yourself.

Dick's eyes widened, his breath hitching, but he barely had a second to react before your lips met his. The kiss was fierce, intense—a collision of bottled-up emotions finally set free. Your fingers clenched tighter in his shirt, pulling him closer as if you were afraid he might vanish if you let go.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away—the distant hum of the tower's systems, the muffled bass of the music still thumping from the party below—it all dissolved into nothingness. There was only him, only the warmth of his mouth against yours, only the heat of his hands finding your waist and holding on like he'd been waiting for this as long as you had.

Dick let out a sharp breath against your lips, a sound caught somewhere between relief and longing. His arms wrapped around you fully now, one hand sliding up your back, the other cupping the side of your face like he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go again.

The kiss deepened, fueled by everything unspoken between you—years of trust, shared danger, late-night talks, and quiet moments when words had never been enough. Every suppressed feeling, every glance that had lingered too long, every touch that had meant more than it should—everything finally broke free.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your foreheads rested together, your fingers still clutching the front of his shirt like a lifeline. Dick's eyes were half-lidded, dark with emotion, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

"...Quite the confession, Grayson," you voiced, your voice low and shaky.

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across Dick's face, softening the sharp intensity of his expression. His thumb brushed your cheek gently, almost reverently. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

His words sent warmth flooding through your chest, and before you could respond, his lips found yours again—not desperate this time, but sure and steady, like he was memorizing the way you felt in his arms. This time, there was no hesitation, no fear—only certainty.

[lostaurorax]

girlfriend-boyfriend

pairing | nick bosa x fem!reader

authors note | hi guys 😊😊 i am alive & well. life has been very crazy lately but i feel like i always return at this time of the year write a few fics then disappear sooo here i am again! i love nick and their is no fanfic for him on here :( yet again here i am writing fanfic for an underrated nfl player 😉 i hope you enjoy this i love you sm and hope you’re all well!!!! lmk if you want more or have any reqs for me pls <33333

you and nick had been seeing eachother for a few months now. you had meet through mutual friends and you instantly clicked. once the NFL season started he had you in a suite at every single game. you absolutely loved making friends with all of the players partners and watching nick play every sunday.

it was the last game before the super bowl that would determine if the 49ers made it or not. you and all of the girls had been on the edge of your seats the whole game. the 49ers were currently 17-24 against the detroit lions.

the lions had fumbled the ball and the 49ers got it back. purdy threw to kittle and got a touchdown then made the field goal making the score 27-24.

“oh my gosh!!! yes yes we still got it!” you screamed as you hugged claire who was george’s wife

“omg y/n i think we’re gonna make it!!!” she screamed back and you hugged eachother

“oh i know we are.” you said back to her intently watching the game

the 49ers had gotten another touchdown and then the lions got one 2 minutes later. the score was still 34-31 and the 99ers were in the lead. a few minutes of waiting for the clock to run out was the most nerve racking few minutes of your life.

“and the san francisco 49ers are going to the super bowl!!” the announcers had said causing mayhem to erupt in the stadium

“THEY DID IT!!!!!!!” you screamed to kristin and claire as you all hugged each other.

“HELL YEAH BABY WERE GOING TO THE SUPER BOWl!!!” kristin said excitedly

“let’s go see our men!!!” claire said as you all left the suite giddily to join your boys on the field

you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked on the field looking around for nick. you weren’t exactly an official couple but everyone knew you were together because you were always with him and he was always with you, but you never said that you were boyfriend-girlfriend.

“do you think he’s gonna ask you?” claire whispered in your ear as you were walking towards the boys. secretly she had known nicks plane as george had already told her but she would never ruin a surprise and a little teasing never hurts.

“what? uhh i don’t know….do you think he will?” you replied nervously as you looked at her

“if he doesn’t ill have george kill him.” she said with a wink as you walked up to george, nick, and kyle

“oh my gosh i’m so proud of you!!!” you said with a big smile as soon as you saw nick in front of you

“couldn’t of done it without you watching of course.” he said with a smile just as big as he engulfed you in a hug

“i knew you could do it.” you whispered to him as you hugged him back. you were meet with silence for a moment as he just held you and rubbed his hand up and down your back

you had no idea that behind you george and claire had been scolding him to ask you

“so y/n..” he said as he slowly pulled away so he could look at you as he talked

“yes nicky?” you said using the nickname he hated but you loved calling him

“wanna come to vegas with me…as my girlfriend?” he said with a shy smile

“oh nick yes, i would love too!” you said happily as your lips meet with his.

“yeah buddy!!!!” george said from behind

“God finally. i thought i was gonna have to ask her for you…” christian said as olivia lightly pushed his arm

“YAY Y/N!!! you’re officially one of us now!!!!” kristin said as she and the girls also smiled

“alright alright! let’s go party and win this thing!!!” nick said causing everyone to cheer and disperse to party for the rest of the night

once everyone was gone you turned back to nick.

“is it too early to say i love you? honestly i don’t care because i do.” you said as you rested your chin on his chest

“i love you more y/n. forever.” he said as he leaned down to kiss you

“lets go party girlfriend…” nick said cheekily as he pulled away and stuck his arm out for you to grab

“sure thing boyfriend..” you said back with a big smile as you wrapped your arm around his and walked him to the locker room

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (11)

ー☆ Chapter 11: Alkaline

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: none, just a load of fluff hehet ー☆ Word count: 9k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Aaand the new chapter is here! Hi lovelies, as promised, no more waiting a month for updates. I am so excited to hear what you thought of this chapter as OMG was I dying writing it LOL. I didn't think it would turn out to be my favorite, but here we are...there's a lot of realizations happening in this chapter ahaha. I hope you enjoy it and please listen to Alkaline before or while reading this story, however for once, I think it would be smart to listen to it before as...this is a little insight...but the lyrics reflect Mingi's thoughts so well, so keep that in mind too!^^ I hope you enjoy and lmk what you've thought of chapter 11! <3

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            Staring up at the unknown building as the Honda’s engine got cut off, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I pouted as I craned my neck to look up through the window at the not too tall structure, wondering where in the hell we were. I heard Mingi unbuckle his seatbelt and then snort, making me look over at him.

“You look like your parents forgot it’s Christmas and didn’t buy you a present.” He noted, making my pout deepen as that sort of has happened when I was a lot younger compared to now.

“I only have a mom…” Mingi’s face fell for a second as I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “Where are we?”

“Uh,” Mingi gulped, cheeks tinged red as he averted his eyes, “my place.”

A beat of silence passed as my eyebrows furrowed. I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw another glare at Mingi, “But I said I didn’t want to go home.”

“Exactly,” Suddenly, he was beaming as he faced me again, “and so, I didn’t take you to your home! It’s my home.”

Well, he’s got the spirit but his logic was faulty. I pursed my lips, suddenly curious of what his place looked like, the alcohol having dissipated from my body, preventing me from being a whiney child that was inconveniencing Mingi, not that he seemed too irked by my previous behavior at the pub.

“What about your parents?”

“What about them?” Mingi chuckled, opening his side of the door, “I live on my own, come on.”

I huffed and opened my door as well, feeling a small blush spread onto my cheeks. Was I seriously about to go inside Mingi’s apartment in the middle of the night? And why did I not find the idea alarming or repulsive? There must be something very wrong with me if I willingly follow him up to his apartment without creating even the smallest fuss, “Will you just stand there all night?”

I narrowed my eyes at Mingi and crossed my arms as I closed his Honda’s door, finally letting him lock his car as he chuckled, “I wanted to do something fun.”

“Well, doll, most places are already closed in our little town.” He said with a shrug, placing an arm against the side of the car, leaning his weight on it, “But I guess we could hang out at a convenience store like raunchy teenagers or something—”

“No, that’s outdated!” I cut him off, eyebrows furrowing at the stupid idea. I was well past the age of hanging out in front of convenience stores and causing trouble. Mingi sighed, pushing off the car as he walked around it, approaching me with a gentle expression on his face. I gulped and fixed my posture, pushing my hair behind my shoulders as I suddenly felt nervous due to our proximity. What has gotten into me? The memory of his lips pressing against the corner of my mouth was rather fresh in my mind, and I had to avert my eyes as I wasn’t used to Mingi’s platinum blonde hair yet; it made my stomach coil in a weird way.

“If you’re uncomfortable coming inside my apartment, you can say so, Y/N. I thought we are always direct with each other.” Well, he’s not wrong about that. We are direct with each other, transparent even, as long as it’s not about our feelings. I cursed myself for the direction my thoughts started straying towards and instead looked at him, feeling a little shy, and smiled.

“No, it’s good, we can go.” Mingi didn’t seem too convinced so I sighed and slowly reached out for his hand, “I want to, Mingi.”

“Great!” I have barely finished my sentence as his face lit up with happiness, thick fingers lacing with mine as he pulled me towards the entrance of the building. I chuckled as I followed after him blindly, amused by how easy it was to please this guy. He seemed to get enthusiastic about the smallest things, most frequently when things went his way. I tried to ignore the persistent flush of my cheeks as Mingi led us inside the building by our interlaced fingers and guided us towards the stairs, fishing his keys out of his jean’s pocket. We didn’t say much as we tried to be quiet, and that unfortunately allowed my mind to wander towards thoughts it shouldn’t have. Like Mingi’s tall built and how ravishing he looked in tonight’s outfit for the performance. Or the rawness of his voice whenever he closed his eyes and sung from deep within his soul. The way his nose scrunched whenever he got lost in the music as he stayed on beat while relaying the lyrics. Or the fact that his hair had gotten longer and instead of cutting it, he decided to dye it a platinum blonde which made his features sharper than I thought they were. It made my throat dry as I remembered what his body close by felt like, his warmth, the familiar cologne, the way his eyes crinkled, and crooked front teeth showed whenever he smiled too wide.

I grimaced as I slammed into Mingi’s back, instantly flushing even more as he looked over his shoulder with a chuckle. We have arrived in front of a white door with the numbers 18 on it, and so lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice that Mingi had stopped as he was trying to unlock the door. As if lightning zapped me, I released his hand and cleared my throat, running my fingers through my hair. Was it a smart idea coming here if I couldn’t even control my own thoughts?

“Welcome to my little lair.” Mingi’s voice held amusement as he pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting me enter first. I thanked him quietly and gulped as I mustered up any final courage that I needed to not run back down the stairs and hail a cab, and entered his apartment. It was dark, but only for a second as Mingi’s hand reached for the light switch, and then the door was closed behind us, locked and secured, making my heart race as we were now on our own, in the confines of his safe haven, “Don’t mind the mess, I didn’t expect visitors tonight.”

He seemed a little embarrassed as he stepped out of his boots, rubbing the back of his head as I followed his lead and untied my own boots, glad to have them off my feet—they were rather heavy. He leaned down to fetch us flip flops, and I smiled as he pushed one towards me before he wore his. The flip flops were a tad bit bigger than my own feet, but it wasn’t difficult to walk around in them. Mingi seemed to fiddle with his fingers for a second before he walked towards his sofa, grabbing the blanket off it to fold it nicely and place it back on it neatly. The living room space and kitchen were one big room. The walls were white and the floorboards light, the window open as the white curtains were pulled aside to let in the chilly air of the night. A TV on a stand was placed underneath the window, a huge plant in the left corner of the room, and an electric piano in the right corner, the wall above it lined with shelves and a ton amount of books and mangas that I had no idea how Mingi managed to store there—the place was rather small and stuffed. I didn’t allow my eyes to linger on the framed pictures, but it was hard to mistake the familiar photo of Yunho and Mingi hugging when I’ve seen it so many times before. Then, not too far from the TV, a coffee table and a sofa were placed facing it, and Mingi scrambled around to gather a few empty soda cans off the coffee table, shooting me an apologetic smile as he rushed to the kitchen’s side, throwing them away into the trashcan. His kitchen was small but cozy, the cupboards a dark wooden color, looking rather nice. The table was round and spacious, Mingi’s laptop and notebooks strewn across it, as well as some forgotten croissant that looked a bit too old to eat. I noticed the wall to my right was decorated with framed records and snippets of lyrics from probably his favorite artists, and I smiled as I noticed a quote that I knew too well, ‘Art is a line around your thoughts’.

“I had no idea you knew Gustav Klimt?” I muttered bewildered, walking towards the piece of paper that was plastered onto the white wall. Mingi made a surprised noise, and I felt his eyes on me as I traced the words with my fingertips.

“He’s my favorite painter.” Mingi answered with a chuckle, making my eyes widen as I faced him. How come he’s never mentioned that before? I didn’t even think for one second he enjoyed fine art like I did.

“Really?” I sounded a little breathless as Mingi smiled warmly, shrugging off his jacket, which had me forgetting all about Gustav Klimt as my eyes fell on his bare biceps. Fuck, I can’t be checking him out again. He’s just a man and he’s got arms like everyone else, and it’s not like I haven’t seen muscles before. Why must I act like a Victorian man when he sees ankles?! This was rather embarrassing, and much to my dread, I knew Mingi saw me checking him out again as an amused smirk sneaked onto his lips, one eyebrow raised.

“Really.” He answered, voice a few octaves deeper and I crossed my arms in front of my chest, giving him a challenging look. If he was so confident in himself, shouldn’t he call me out for salivating after him all night? Make me more embarrassed or something, “I’m kind of fed up with these clothes, would you like to change into something more comfortable?”

I hummed and nodded, shrugging off my own leather jacket, not oblivious to the way Mingi’s eyes widened slightly, the flush on his cheeks instant. I tried to stifle a giggle as I tied my hair in a low bun, giving him a soft smile, “Do you mind if I also shower? I’ve danced around all night long…”

“Sure, no problem!” Mingi’s voice was higher pitched and it sounded panicked for a second as he scrambled inside another room, which upon flooded with light proved to be his bedroom. I caught myself grinning widely and then instantly frowned, trying to calm my nervous heartbeat as I watched Mingi throw open a huge closet and rummage through it. The prospect of having to wear his clothes dawned on me just now, and I felt like sticking my head out the window for the cool air to calm my flushed cheeks. I feel like I’ve been blushing ever since I stepped out of his car, and that was embarrassing. These emotions and thoughts were very unlike me, the last time I remember being like this was when…I had that stupid crush on Yunho. A lump seemed to form in my throat at the sudden thought of Yunho, skin crawling now that I realized I was standing in his best friend’s apartment, very probably about to have a sleepover with him. But Mingi and I were friends, there was nothing weird about hanging out at one’s place and spending the night over too. If it would have been weird or inappropriate, Mingi wouldn’t have brought me over. It was weird to realize just now that I completely trusted him and felt safe around him, not having to wonder whether his motives were genuine or not.

Mingi suddenly appeared in the doorway of his room clearing his throat as he glanced down at the clothes in his hands, “I, uh, I hope these will fit you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled as I walked over, feeling my heart go crazy as it started beating even faster, making me so embarrassed I wanted to hide away for an eternity. Mingi avoided eye contact, which was good because I couldn’t handle it at the moment, as he handed me over the clothes and then led me towards a closed door, turning on the light for me.

“There’s clean towels in the cupboard and some make-up remover too.” When I gave Mingi a questioning gaze, completely forgetting that he liked to wear eye makeup, he quickly scrambled to explain himself, “Oh, you know…sometimes Seonghwa sleeps over and he’s always wearing make-up so he left it here for me, since…I also wear some at times…”

“Right.” I chuckled, feeling silly for having Mingi explain such insignificant thing, but unfortunately, my thoughts had strayed to different scenarios, and I was a little irritated for feeling reassured upon hearing his explanation, “I won’t take long, promise.”

Mingi hummed and I quickly hurried inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind myself hastily as I leaned against it and released a long breath I didn’t realized I had been holding. God, it was becoming more and more difficult to behave like a normal being. There was no reason for my heart to race like this, nor was there any reason to be nervous around Mingi. I was merely spending the night, and it was going to be fun, since we’re friends.

            True to my word, I quickly cleaned up, rather pleased upon seeing so many skincare products in Mingi’s cupboard; it’s always nice when a man takes care of himself and cleans up well. The fact that I had to shower with the body wash Mingi uses, and afterwards wear his clothes that had the familiar scent of the softener he uses was…challenging to digest, but because I didn’t want to spiral into a full-blown panic attack, I decided to ignore it, and analyze it another time—when I was preferably alone and not in Mingi’s bathroom. The grey sweatpants he had given me were, obviously, way too big, but he was thoughtful enough to give me one that had strings and I could tie them securely around my hips, the white t-shirt, as expected again, loose around my body, making me look smaller than I was. I have never felt small before in men’s clothing, and it was contrasting with how I have always looked when wearing Yunho’s clothes.

After having walked out of the bathroom, before I could say much, Mingi stormed past me inside the bathroom too, muttering something about not taking long either and that I could drink some water and snack on the chips he had placed on the coffee table. Deciding to wait for him in the living room, on the sofa, I texted my mother that I would be back in the morning as I decided to sleep over at a friend’s house, purposefully leaving out Mingi’s name as I knew she’d go crazy with her questions. I could only hope she wouldn’t text Seulgi, who knew where I actually was.

Mingi, done in under ten minutes, had a towel around his head—much like when he had showered at my place—and I watched from the sofa with big eyes as he opened the bathroom’s door, humming absentmindedly as he struggled to wear his flip flops. I gulped, unable to stop my eyes from raking over his body as he started towel drying his hair, still oblivious to my insistent staring. He wore khaki-colored sweatpants and a loose grey t-shirts, its sleeves reaching just above his elbows and the end past his waistline. His black tinged nails were rather contrasting against the white towel he had finally lowered from his head, and he jumped when he saw me looking, as if he had forgotten that I was here.

“Hi.” I muttered with a giggle, completely ignoring the fact that I was blushing again. Mingi froze for a second before he grinned widely, shaking the platinum hair out of his eyes. It was still damp as it fell flatly against his head, the ends poking out in different directions at his nape.

“Let’s go to bed?” Mingi suggested, sounding rather unsure as I hummed and stood up, wearing my flip flops as he placed the towel on the back of a chair and then switched off the lights, leading the way to his bedroom as I shuffled after him, heartbeat once again starting to pick up its rhythm. I placed my hands behind my back and fidgeted with my fingers, hoping Mingi wouldn’t pick up on my nervousness as he switched on the bedside lamp, clearing his throat as he turned to face me. For some reason, he couldn’t hold eye contact, and so, I took advantage of that and quickly checked out his room. It was simple, much like the rest of the apartment, with its walls white and floorboards light in color, a black fluffy rug placed under his double-sized bed, which was right across from the door. There was a black closet to the left, with a beanbag pressed to the corner and three guitars lined up against the wall. To the right, however, as you entered his room, was a large desk with equipment that he probably used for recording his songs, notebooks laying open with a half-eaten burger in a plate next to them. A few more pictures were hung up on the wall, but I quickly averted my eyes out of fear of spotting Yunho again.

“Uh, so…” Mingi rubbed the back of his head, looking down at the bed before he sneaked a glance at me, “I could sleep in the living room if you don’t want to share a bed with me.”

“Yeah, that’s cool with me.” I said in a serious tone, watching as Mingi paused for a second, looking surprised that I was about to make him sleep on the sofa. But to my surprise, he said nothing else as he went to pick up his pillow, making me chuckle, “I’m just fucking with you, Mings, you don’t have to sleep on the sofa, it looks uncomfortable for a tall person either way. It’s not my first time sleeping next to a guy, you know…”

Mingi chuckled, trying to hide his face as he turned around, his cheeks slightly flushed, “Ah, right, I forgot you had a dickhead boyfriend that made you hate men—”

“That’s not completely true.” I cut him off, crossing my arms in front of my chest defensively, “I mean, he was a dickhead, but it’s not just his fault, you know.”

It felt weird bashing Yunho all of a sudden, especially since Mingi was unknowingly talking about his best friend. I didn’t want him to say something that he’d regret if he ever were to find out my ex is his best friend, it just didn’t feel right.

“You really think all men are like that, huh?” Mingi raised an eyebrow as he pulled the covers back and plopped down on his bed, bouncing on the mattress as he stared at me expectantly. I gulped and shuffled closer, feeling nervous again as his eyes were glued to my form, perhaps lingering a bit too much on the t-shirt and sweatpants I was wearing. I slowly sat on his bed, struggling to breath regularly as Mingi’s familiar scent was even stronger now, vanilla mixed with something flowery, the softener he used, no doubt. If anyone would’ve told me two months ago that I’d be sharing a bed with Mingi, in his apartment, I would’ve laughed in their face and suggested a visit to the psychic ward. But right now, it was as real as it could get, and I subtly had to pinch my arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, or hallucinating in a drunken stupor. But I wasn’t drunk anymore, hadn’t been for a while now, and the shower too made sure to sober me up completely. My alcohol tolerance was pretty good, and the key for me to remain drunk was continuously drinking, once I stopped, an hour tops and I was all sobered up no matter how much I had drunk previously.

“Most are.” I muttered as I shimmied my bare feet underneath the cold covers, hiding them underneath as they always got cold rather quickly. Mingi chuckled as he adjusted himself as well, pulling up the covers to our waists as he turned his head to look over at me. Silence settled over us and I chewed on my bottom lip, watching from the corner of my eyes as his eyes bore into the side of my face as he bit the inside of his cheek. He seemed to be mulling over something as he raised his left hand and rubbed at his chin, pressing his fingers against his lip. Overwhelmed with the memory of his lips pressing so close to mine, I flopped backwards and prayed for the covers of his bed to swallow me up and hand me over to the monster underneath his bed. But that, obviously, didn’t happen as Mingi gulped rather loudly, laying down too on his side as he first adjusted the covers, pulling it up to our chests.

“Well, I suppose we’re both tired.” He whispered and I hummed, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart as the room was suddenly coated into darkness as Mingi switched the lamp off. I released a long breath as quietly as I could as Mingi lay on his back, mirroring my position, as we stared up at his dark ceiling. He raised his hands and intertwined them as he let them rest over his chest, and I raised one arm and placed it over my head as I started twirling a strand of my hair. I couldn’t lay still and I feared Mingi could hear the annoying way my heart was racing, making me feel too warm under the thick covers. His scent was too strong like this, and as I turned my head to the right, facing away from Mingi, I was alarmed to find the pillow smelling strongly of the guy laying next to me in bed. Mingi sighed, although I suppose he meant to do it silently as he stuttered mid-breath and paused, making me chew on my bottom lip as I tried not to laugh. Everything about this was so awkward, it made my skin crawl as I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know,” I spoke up, voice shaky for some reason, and I felt Mingi’s head turn as he looked at me despite the darkness of the room, “I never asked why your band name is Noir Zenith.”

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Mingi chuckled, making me raise my eyebrows as I turned my head to look at him, “you were too busy shitting on me to care about something so insignificant.”

“I—that’s not—” I groaned and Mingi snickered as I closed my eyes, pressing the heel of my palm into them, “Okay, you’re right. And that was rather assholey of me, so—now I’m genuinely interested.”

“Wow,” Mingi breathed, grinning from ear to ear as I opened my eyes, finding his beaming with something I couldn’t exactly understand, “you actually admitted to being an asshole to me?!”

“I’m not saying it again, so savour it while you can, pretty boy—” Massive fuck. The silence that settled upon us again was mortifying and I turned my head away, contemplating about rolling out of his bed and walking myself over to the sofa to sleep on for the night. I couldn’t face Mingi, and maybe it was better as his tone was laced with smugness and excitement.

“Pretty boy, huh?” He snickered, and I groaned loudly for him to hear, “First you admit I’m hot, then that I’m somewhat attractive, and now that I’m a pretty boy?! I feel like I’m living every man’s dream over here—”

“I think I have asked you a question, Song Mingi.” I snapped as I turned to lay on my side to face him, eyes narrowed at a smirking Mingi, only making him look smugger than he was before, “Don’t change the subject.”

“It’s a little hard when a gorgeous girl calls me pretty boy—” I groaned loudly, pressing my hands against my ears as Mingi started cackling, kicking his legs as if he was a little boy. My eyebrows furrowed as I gave him an incredulous look, making him giggle as he suddenly turned onto his side too, coming face to face with me. I gasped quietly, our faces just a little bit too close for comfort, but Mingi quickly shuffled slightly backwards, making me release a quiet breath as my heart was racing for the nth time at this point tonight.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Mingi grinned as his left hand settled between us, laying palm down against the mattress. I could only hope he didn’t notice my eyes linger on his painted nails as his fingers were ring free for the first time since we’ve known each other, “As you might have realized, I’m the founder of the band, and despite Seonghwa, Wooyoung and I being a team, I knew what I wanted my band’s name to be before I even met them.”

I hummed as I listened closely to Mingi, resting my hands underneath my head, completely ignoring the fact that the pinkie of my right hand was lightly brushing against Mingi’s forefinger, “Noir means black in French, right? And thus, I associate it with darkness and pain, yearning for something you no longer have, loneliness, and fear. Zenith, meanwhile, means the highest point reached in the heavens by a celestial body or simply a culminating point. In the context of our band’s name, however, I use it as the highest point of when you feel hurt, when the darkness gets to you, the point where it feels like there’s no return anymore, that nothing and nobody can help you anymore. The first song I ever wrote—you know it, you’ve heard it—is the lowest I’ve ever been. Ever since then, after experimenting enough, I have realized I am inspired most at my highest—or maybe some would say lowest—points, no matter what I’m feeling. I write best when I’m feeling the most…is basically what I’m trying to say. I hope I’m making sense; this is the first time besides my friends that someone’s asked what the name means…”

I took a deep breath and slowly released it, feeling an immense warmth spread through my chest, close to the feeling of adoration and admiration. I gulped, pondering whether I should do what my body desired to do, and in the end, the intrusive thoughts won over as I slowly sneaked my palm over the back of Mingi’s hand, holding onto it gently, “It makes sense, I know what you’re saying.”

I kept my eyes on our hands as I felt warm all over, too shy to suddenly look at Mingi as he lowly hummed, flipping his hand around to interlace our fingers, “When my emotions get too overwhelming, I grab my sketchbook, or a canvas, and start painting. It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling, the point is to empty my mind and let through whatever it is I’m experiencing. My goal, mostly, is to numb my mind and silence my thoughts.”

“Do you often feel overwhelmed?” Mingi’s voice was quiet, shaky a bit and my eyes snapped up, taking in his face as he was biting his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed. He looked troubled, but somehow serene at the same time, like he was thinking of something he couldn’t make sense of yet.

“Yes.” I chuckled and shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing circles against his knuckle, “My mind is a mess at all times, Mings, it takes a lot to silence it. Especially when I’m dealing with emotions that I don’t know how to navigate. I’m afraid of feeling too much because I fear it will consume me, turn me headless, and make me fall deeper into that feeling, blinding me to the faults of the other person.”

“You’re afraid to fall in love.” Mingi whispered and I gulped, never having said it out loud before, but also never having had anyone else point it out. Not even Seulgi, who knew me like the back of her hand. I nodded, our gazes meeting as Mingi had an understanding look in his eyes, as if he knew the feeling.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid of many things.” I muttered, lightening the atmosphere as Mingi chuckled, giving a squeeze to my hand as I hid my face in the pillow, giggling quietly.

“I knew you were just trying to impress people with your fearless bravado.” Mingi teased, narrowing his eyes playfully as I scoffed.

“But I am fearless, it seems like you don’t know me too well.” I raised my eyebrows at Mingi as he gasped, feigning hurt, “Impressing others is the last thing on my mind.”

“Perhaps,” Mingi hummed, suddenly turning serious and making my cheeks heat up with the intense way he was looking at me, “but you certainly know how to leave an impression on someone.”

I paused, mouth opening to say something, but I found myself speechless. Instead, I felt myself blush harder, and I was thankful for the darkness as I knew Mingi couldn’t see the degree of my deep blush despite being close to my face, “Also, you’ve started calling me Mings. I actually love that nickname; Yunho sometimes calls me that.”

Yunho. Something coiled deep in my heart again as the lump was back in my throat and I hummed, gently untangling our hands as I turned back onto my back, running my fingers through my hair. Mingi didn’t move, eyes boring into the side of my face with a confused look in his eyes. I tried not to withdraw myself, but it was hard when I was reminded that the two were best friends, “The little dirt you always have on your cheekbone when you perform—”

“It’s my signature!” Mingi groaned loudly, flopping back onto his back like a child as he kicked with his legs again. I chuckled and bit my lower lip, suddenly realizing that teasing him was rather hilarious.

“It says ‘Fix on’, why?” I giggled as I interlaced my hands behind my nape, resting my head on them.

“Ah, so you have seen it?” Mingi paused for dramatic effect and I nodded, curious to hear his answer, “Well, it’s a lot sillier than the name of our band. I suppose it’s something I wish for others to do, to focus on me when I’m up on the stage, to fixate on me, you know?”

“Sounds like something you’d want, yes.” I muttered, and felt Mingi painlessly kick at my ankle under the convers, making me laugh, “What? You love attention, Mingi, and you can’t even deny it.”

“Well, fine.” Mingi huffed and I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes to see him pouting, “Is that so bad?!”

“Of course not,” I chuckled, turning my head as I fought the glare of my face as my thoughts wandered back to the chick that’s been all over him all night long, “except when you can’t set clear boundaries with your baboons, you know?”

A laugh bubbled past Mingi’s lips, shaking him as my eyebrows furrowed, not finding what I said funny at all, “I still can’t believe you call our fangirls baboons.”

“It’s what they are.” I muttered under my breath with a grimace, turning my head as Mingi suddenly turned his to face me.

“Well, they are nice and they’ve actually helped us become more well-known,” Mingi explained, sounding rather grateful, making me feel bad that I couldn’t stand them, “So, I’m grateful to them.”

“Especially to the blonde one that always clings to you—” I realized my slip up when it was already too late as I felt Mingi press up onto his elbow, leaning a bit over my body as I refused to look at him.

“Doll, besides knowing her name and what she looks like, I have no idea who she is.” He said, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes bore into mine, “And I have no intentions of getting to know her past that level. Like you said, boundaries exist, and I’ve made mine clear with her.”

“That’s why she dies at the sight of you, and is all over you whenever she can.” I huffed and Mingi sighed, reaching out with his left hand as he adjusted my hair, making me freeze.

“I don’t like her.” Hearing him say that made my heart skip a beat, and I averted my eyes, feeling rather pleased to hear him say that, “She’s not the type of girl I’m into.”

I wanted to know what type of girls he was into, but before I could let my tongue slip up again, I nodded wordlessly and searched for a clock. It was on his desk, facing us, and my eyes slightly widened when I realized it was close to 3am, “Let’s go to sleep.”

“Sure.” Mingi whispered, smiling slightly as he settled back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I slithered my arms underneath the covers, closing my eyes. It was silent in the room once again, not awkward at all anymore, yet it felt like there was room to say more. I wanted to say more, but I was afraid I would say something that I wasn’t ready yet to voice. What would Yunho think if he knew I was with his best friend? Worst of all, what will Mingi say if he finds out I’m Yunho’s ex? I was scared of both answers, and until I was completely ready to face the consequences of my own actions, I would stall and enjoy my limited time with Mingi. My gut feeling told me it wouldn’t last for too long, the good and happy, it never did. The thoughts weighted heavy on my mind and I released a long sigh at the same time as Mingi, making the ends of my mouth curve up. Seems like I wasn’t the only one plagued with late night thoughts, unable to go to sleep just yet. Deciding that it wouldn’t work with my head so full and my skin still buzzing from being this close to Mingi, in his clothes, in his bed, surrounded by his familiar scent, I sat up abruptly.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” I had barely finished my sentence as Mingi’s eyes flew open, looking at me with a borderline desperate expression, “Kitchen raid?”

“Kitchen raid.” I nodded and showed him a thumbs up as we hurriedly got out of bed, apparently making it a race of who would reach the kitchen first as Mingi failed to wear his flip flops, rushing after me as I yanked his door open with a giggle, and toppled outside as he tried to yank me back by the t-shirt I was wearing. Knocking into my side—but gently—Mingi passed me and cackled mockingly as he reached the round table first, giving me a smug look.

“Did you think you could race me in my own apartment and win?” For a second, I saw Yunho in him as he stood grinning as if this victory meant anything. Yunho was insanely competitive, making everything a game while we were together, often times exhausting me with them; they weren’t my favourite activity. Suddenly, the room was flooded with light as Mingi switched it on.

“What do you have, pretty boy?” I decided to speak up and ignore his teasing, pushing thoughts of Yunho to the back of my mind as a thoughtful look crossed Mingi’s face.

“Well, if you’re hungry we can whip up some eggs or like make a sandwich?” He rubbed the back of his head, not looking too confident, “Or, uh, maybe we could drink something?”

“As long as it’s not alcohol, sure, I’m not hungry either way.” I said as I walked further inside the kitchen, making Mingi’s eyebrows furrow as he turned and walked towards the sink, opening the cupboard above it. He rummaged around and I decided to sit on the counter, swinging my legs as I placed my hands underneath my thighs.

“I have hot chocolate!” Mingi exclaimed in triumph, and I chuckled as he turned around with a grin, holding two plastic bags containing chocolate powder.

“I’d like one serving then, kind sir.” I bowed my head mockingly, making Mingi’s eyebrows raise.

“You’re rather generous with nicknames tonight, Y/N.” He gave me a teasing look as I rolled my eyes, “Is it just the alcohol talking, perhaps?”

“I’m not drunk, Mingi.” I chuckled, watching him move around the kitchen, grabbing mugs and pouring water into them to heat up, “I have a high tolerance.”

“But you were drunk when you were dancing with that guy.” Mingi muttered, grimacing as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I was tipsy, and I quite enjoyed dancing with Chan before you decided to bother us.” I pursed my lips, giving him a pointed look as he stole a glance at me while placing the mugs in the microwave to heat the water up.

“I don’t have whipping cream.” He said as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the microwave hummed quietly. I couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how I liked serving my hot chocolate.

“It’s fine, I think it would be too sweet right now.” I said as Mingi nodded, his gaze becoming intense again as he watched me sit on his counter. I cleared my throat and looked away, pulling my hands from underneath my thighs to cross them over my body in a comforting manner.

“Well, when guys usually dance with you, they want something more too, you know?” Mingi’s voice had dropped a few octaves, and I looked over with narrowed eyes as the microwave dinged.

“Then do you want something more from me too?” I fired back, giving him a displeased look, “You danced with me too, not just Chan.”

Mingi froze as he had just opened the microwave’s little door, eyebrows furrowing as he shot me an unimpressed glance, “What I wanted was for you to be safe and not taken advantage of, Y/N.”

I gulped, suddenly feeling guilty as Mingi looked slightly hurt by my assumption as he took the mugs from the microwave, and closed the little door a little harsher. I couldn’t help but remember the near kiss, and wonder if he hadn’t done it because he thought I was drunk. I bit my bottom lip as I sighed, watching Mingi’s back as he poured the powder into the warm water.

“I—I didn’t mean to assume anything like that, I’m sorry.” I spoke up, licking my lips as Mingi still hadn’t faced me despite reaching for a teaspoon to stir our drinks, “I know you wouldn’t take advantage of me and were only looking out for me, but Chan was just happy to meet someone that was his senior and shared his major.”

Mingi turned as he grabbed the mugs and then approached me, “I guess we have both overreacted tonight, then.”

“Yes.” I chuckled and took the mug he handed me, “Thank you.”

We took a sip of our hot chocolates in unison, humming at the sweet taste bloomed on our tastebuds, giving each other a pleased nod as I took one more sip, blowing on it slightly as it was too warm, “Since we’re already speaking about it, what did you think of our performance?”

I lowered the mug from my lips and watched as Mingi took another sip, a rather large one, not afraid of burning his tongue, “I think you were really good, all three of you. Like I have once said before, the three of you work well together, your voices blending in a way I haven’t heard before. It’s really beautiful, actually, you capture your audience since the very first note you play.”

Mingi hid the huge smile stretching onto his lips behind his mug, averting his eyes shyly, “What did you think of the lyrics? I’ve written the song around two years ago.”

It was my time to look away shyly, my quick heartbeat not foreign anymore at this point, “They were—poetic, almost. I find your lyrics deep and—genuine, like anyone could relate to it, and I think that’s not something you achieve easily. But I mean, what do I know, I’m just a fine arts major.”

Mingi chuckled as he took another sip of his hot chocolate, and then placed the mug on the counter, resting his left hand close to my knee as he leaned his hip against the edge of the surface. I took a small sip as I tried to stop my eyes from checking him out again, but it seemed rather hard as this was the first time I’ve seen Mingi in casual clothing, looking comfortable, and rather soft. It was weird, but somehow, he looked really good, and I felt myself flush at my own thoughts, averting my eyes as Mingi raised an eyebrow questioningly, “I appreciate all feedback, music major or not, after all, you are also part of my audience. And what matters to me most, is how my audience perceives my music and lyrics, if the message I want them to hear goes through.”

“Don’t fret over it so much, Mings.” I chuckled, holding the mug with both hands as I lowered it into my lap, “The crowd loves you, and it was pretty packed down there tonight. You’ll make it big one day, have more faith in yourself.”

Mingi bit his bottom lip, his hand lightly brushing against my knee, “Hongjoong is a very influential person in our world, he’s even composed music before, so sometimes he stops by to help. He’s working on signing us up with a record deal, actually.”

“What?!” I exclaimed excitedly, eyes widening as Mingi fought a grin off his lips by licking them, “That is amazing, Mingi!”

“Yeah, I finally feel like I’m headed somewhere with my life.” He whispered abashed, looking down at the floor as I smiled widely, feeling happy for him. It was nice to see him so happy and excited for what was to come, coming to the sudden realization that I hated seeing Mingi hurt and mad—especially if he felt like that because of me. I didn’t want him hurting because of me, that’s not what friends do.

“I think you looked very hot tonight.” And once again, I blurted out something I didn’t mean to. Mingi’s head snapped up as he looked at me, eyes widening just a little as his eyebrows slightly twitched, he looked like a puppy somehow, it was almost alarming, “I mean, uh, your costume—it was really edgy. You know, giving rockstar vibes and whatnot.”

Mingi hummed, looking down as I took a large sip of the hot chocolate, licking my lips and averting my eyes as Mingi looked back up at me with a thoughtful look on his face. His eyebrows had slightly furrowed now, bottom lip between his teeth, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on the soft looking skin. My heart had started racing for some unknown reason again as I looked back up into his eyes, gulping upon seeing Mingi’s sharp eyes become more intense, more determined that they were a second ago. My fingers tightened around the mug as I cleared my throat, waiting to see what Mingi would do next. He licked his lips and his eyes fell a little lower on my face before he slightly stepped closer, his hand pressing into my knee now, “I really want to kiss you right now, Y/N.”

I froze, feeling my muscles stiffen as he voiced his desire, my heart racing beyond the point of return, making me feel warm despite wearing a t-shirt—his t-shirt. I gulped and bit my lower lip, eyes searching his face for any signs of amusement or joke, but he was dead serious. And I was dead serious too as I pushed away all doubts and prejudices, voice breathy as our gazes bore into each other’s, “Then kiss me.”

The mug barely touched the surface of the counter when Mingi’s large palms cupped my cheeks, his eyes switching between my right and left one as I gulped, tilting my head back just a little bit. I felt nervous but excited at the same time, and my lips parted as Mingi’s lips pulled into the tiniest smile, before he finally closed the distance between our faces. His lips were warm, and soft—plush as they were slightly plumper than mine, pressing against mine gently, softly as if he didn’t want to scare me away. I appreciated his gesture big time, hearing my own heartbeats in my ears as I grabbed the sides of his t-shirt, needing to anchor myself in something. Mingi seemed to grow more confident as I pressed my lips back against his, more determined and less soft as he had been at first, his lower lip slotting between mine perfectly as I latched onto it, sucking it between my lips, making Mingi exhale through his nose, his grip on my cheeks turning firmer. My own hands released his t-shirt in order to travel up his back, gently tracing his firm muscles through his t-shirt, so that my arms could settle around his shoulders. Mingi’s right hand pressed into my lower back as I allowed him to guide me lower on the counter, welcoming him between my legs as our bodies pressed flushed together, our warmth mingling with each other as Mingi’s scent was the only thing I could smell on me and around us.

His lips tasted like mint, mingled with hot chocolate as they lazily moved against mine, taking his time to savor the kiss instead of turning it rushed and messy as I had expected him to kiss. Not that I wondered often what Mingi kissed like, but that didn’t matter anymore as this was the real deal. My skin tingled anywhere he touched, and I was grateful that I was sitting on the counter as my knees would’ve gone weak when he held the side of my neck, thumb stroking my chin every time our lips moved, covering my skin in goosebumps. I leaned up as much as I could, allowing Mingi to tilt my head back more by the hand he had on my neck, my fingers tangling into the soft platinum strands brushing against his nape. A sigh left his lips at the motion, and I nipped at his bottom lip as I felt my body awaken with a fire I have never felt before. Nobody’s kissed me like this before, so gently yet passionately at the same time, just wanting to feel everything and savour the moment for as long as possible. My hands trembled as I chased after his lips when he dared pull back even the slightest bit, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth as I bit down it, but not to the point it was hurtful, feeling painted fingernails dig into my lower back through the fabric.

Mingi’s nose nuzzled against mine as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against my lips, making my heart swell and almost explode out of my chest as I pulled him even more into myself, to the point it was turning painful. I was sure he could feel my heartbeat against his own chest as it was frantic and making me struggle to intake any air, but that was also Mingi’s doing as he was stealing away every breath I tried to inhale. My knees locked him into place as I squeezed them against his hips, prompting Mingi’s lips to press harder against mine, more insistently. It felt like every single emotion that we tried to suppress and hide, suddenly came to the surface, speaking volumes as our lips struggled to find an even rhythm again, growing hotter and a little more rushed, desire blossoming in both of our chests. My lungs had started begging for air, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull back, to pull away from Mingi, my body welcoming him in like no one before, my mind silent for the first time when I was around someone. There were no questions or doubts running through my mind, just the endorphins that came from kissing the man I have started to adore. Finding it hard to breathe too, Mingi pulled back just barely, his lips pressing more kisses against mine as our chests heaved, trying to inhale in air, our breaths meddling as we breathed in each other’s oxygen. I felt warm all over, jittery and giddy, as Mingi’s forehead pressed against mine, making me exhale shakily as our lips brushed against each other’s just barely. He was breathing through his lips hard, both hands cupping my cheeks again as he gently rubbed his thumbs against my flushed skin.

I tried to find peace again and calm my erratic heartbeats, my eyelashes fluttering open as my gaze ran over Mingi’s elated expression, bottom lip between his teeth before he was breathing through his lips again. I admired the beauty of his perfectly shaped face, naturally sun-kissed, scars from his acne faded, some new ones redder. His tall nose looked sharper from up-close and the tip slightly turned more to the side, his cheeks flushed probably as much as mine. His mole underneath his eye was more visible now that he didn’t have any makeup on, and before I could talk down myself, I leaned my chin up and pressed a soft kiss against his beauty mark, Mingi’s breath catching in his throat. I smiled and cupped his cheeks too, his eyes fluttering open as I couldn’t help but grin widely at him. Mingi’s brown eyes were warm and shone with a glimmer that wasn’t there before, slightly teary, but before I could get worried over it, he chuckled as he pressed another chaste kiss against my lips. I smiled widely and nuzzled our noses together, feeling joy flood my body like never before.

“I don’t know about you,” Mingi whispered, voice deeper and raspier, “but I am actually sleepy now.”

I chuckled and released Mingi’s face, feeling a little disappointed when he did the same to me, “Actually, me too.”

And it wasn’t a lie, I could feel the lack of sleep finally catch up to me as Mingi’s hands rubbed at my knees for a second before he pulled back, grabbing our unfinished hot chocolates as he walked towards the sink. I hopped off the counter as he quickly washed them, drying his hands in his sweatpants as he turned to face me. I knew my cheeks were still flushed, and I feared it wouldn’t go away for a while now as my lips tingled from Mingi’s kisses, body yearning for his warmth and comforting scent. All I wanted was to curl up against his chest and hug him until he became fed up with it, wanting to feel his lips against my skin as he whispered sweet nothing into my hair, into my ears. Alarmed by my own sudden desires, I marched towards the bedroom, Mingi following after me as he flipped the light switch.

My actions were hurried as I swiftly climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin as I lay on my side, my back to Mingi as he settled in beside me, a lot calmer than me. I gulped, feeling the silence stretch on, not awkward but too silent, almost as if we should have said something. I pondered whether I should speak up and bring up the kiss, question what it meant for us, but Mingi suddenly started giggling, it becoming muffled as if he had pressed his hands against his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” I found myself asking, feeling the corners of my mouth tug up as Mingi’s deep giggles continued.

“I—” He paused, sucking in a deep breath as he made me silently laugh, “I fell on the stage, tonight. But it was dark, so nobody saw but Seonghwa.”

I couldn’t help but laugh loudly as I pressed my face into the pillow that smelled completely like Mingi, “You’re an idiot, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“No, I could’ve completely fell on Seonghwa’s drums and ruined the performance!” His words made the both of cackle like mad people, chests shaking with laughter, and tummies hurt by the time we managed to calm down. Mingi became quiet as I chuckled one last time, mouth hurting from how widely I was smiling. Mingi took a deep breath and released it slowly, probably finally settling down, determined to sleep, “Good night.”

“Good night.” My voice was quiet and small, and I gnawed on my lower lip as I braced myself for what I was about to do. Mustering up the last pieces of my courage, I suddenly turned and raised up onto my elbows, Mingi’s eyes flying open in fright as he didn’t expect my sudden movement. I leaned over him as he was laying on his back, and pressed a swift kiss against his lips, his eyes wide as I pulled back before he could turn it into more. I quickly rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, squeezing my eyes shut as all I wanted to do was scream and kick my legs, my heart hammering like crazy against my ribcage, cheeks on fire. I felt Mingi move around too, the quietest cough, and then the soles of his feet pressing against mine, making me fight against all demons in my body to lay still and will my heart to stop beating so God damn fast.

『Not acid nor alkaline

Caught between black and white

Not quite either day or night

She's perfectly misaligned

I'm caught up in her design

And how it connects to mine

I see in a different light

The objects of my desire』

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