#Affordable home building initiative

[glzwoodw]

My Bold Housing Solution: 1.2 Million Identical Homes over 5 years.

As we are all well aware, Australia is grappling with a deepening housing crisis, exemplified by Sydney's average house price hitting $1.15 million.

My very ambitious proposal suggests a radical solution: building 1.2 million identical homes between 2025 and 2030 (these days will naturally have to be pushed out).

This mass-production approach aims to leverage economies of scale to address housing affordability while promoting regional development.

My proposal outlines a standardized 150m² home design featuring three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an open-plan living area, all built on generous 500m² blocks.

Each energy-efficient dwelling would achieve a 7-star NatHERS rating and include solar panels and smart home technology.

At $450,000 per house, the total project cost, including land acquisition and infrastructure, would reach $729 billion.

The implementation strategy I came up with centres on establishing centralized manufacturing facilities for off-site production, securing bulk material supplies, and developing a specialized workforce.

My plan would require 60,000 hectares of land and deliver 240,000 homes annually through streamlined construction processes.

Although not in my article but rather comments that I’ve added to it recently, my proposal extends beyond mere housing construction.

I advocate for capping major city populations and redirecting development to regional centres, citing 24 distinct advantages.

These benefits include reduced congestion, lower living costs, stronger regional economies, and improved disaster resilience.

The strategy emphasizes the advantages of developing greenfield sites over retrofitting existing infrastructure in crowded cities.

The timing of my proposal is I guess particularly relevant as Sydney faces infrastructure challenges, with planned water rate increases of 18% next year and 6.8% annually thereafter to fund system upgrades.

This situation highlights the strain on existing urban infrastructure and the potential benefits of planned regional development.

The 1.2 million standardized homes that would result from my proposal would provide ample space for future modifications, including the addition of granny flats or sheds, addressing multi-generational living needs and storage requirements.

Sure, my proposal sacrifices architectural diversity for efficiency but I just think we need to prioritise fundamental shelter needs and long-term sustainability over being picky (1st world problems eh’).

Critics will surely question my proposal's ambitious scope, but with housing affordability reaching crisis levels and interest rate changes potentially driving even more Australians into substantial long-term debt, innovative solutions are desperately needed.

I personally think that implementing such a program 15 years ago would have cost significantly less, highlighting the growing urgency of addressing Australia's housing challenges.

Not to mention all of the building/construction companies that have gone bust over the last 3 and a bit years would probably still be in business and thriving!

My very different and potentially silly approach to housing development represents a departure from traditional methods, offering a potential blueprint for addressing not just housing affordability, but also urban congestion, regional development, and infrastructure sustainability.

While my proposal's scale is unprecedented, it underscores the need for bold thinking in addressing Australia's housing crisis.

I hope you’ll be impressed with the level of detail that I’ve gone to with the scope of work, bill of materials and construction blueprint.

Check it out yourself and let me know what you think in the comments, here is the link: How To Build 1200000 Homes In 5 Years - GLZ Woodworking

#Affordable home building initiative

#Australian housing crisis solution

#Economies of scale in housing

#Identical homes construction project

#Innovative housing development strategy

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The housing crisis considered as an income crisis

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

A paradox: in 1970, everyday Americans found it relatively easy to afford a house, and the average American house cost 5.9x the average American income. In 2024, Americans find it nearly impossible to afford a house, and the average American house costs…5.9x the average American income.

Feels like a puzzler, right? Can it really be true that the average American house is as affordable to the average American earner as it was in 1970? It is true, as you can see from Blair Fix's latest open access research report, "The American Housing Crisis: A Theft, Not a Shortage":

https://economicsfromthetopdown.com/2024/10/23/the-american-housing-crisis-a-theft-not-a-shortage/

Fix also points out that is even more true of rents than it is of house prices. The ratio of rent to average income has actually fallen slightly since 1970. Rents are also, in some mathematical sense, "affordable."

Now, those of you who are well-versed in statistical card-palming will likely have a pretty good idea of the statistical artifact at the root of this paradox: the word "average." If you remember your seventh grade math, you'll recall that "average" has more than one meaning. Sure, there's the most common one: add several values together, then divide the total by the number of values you added. For example, a nonzero number of people have one or zero arms, so the average human has slightly fewer than two arms.

That average is called the "mean." The mean US wage is pretty robust: $73,242/year:

https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/A792RC0Q052SBEA/1000

But the majority of Americans are not earning anything like $73k/year. Since the Reagan years, the number of Americans living in poverty and extreme poverty has climbed and climbed. And while their declining income sure drags down that average, it's dragged way, way, way up by another group of Americans – the ultra-rich.

You see, as Fix writes, back in the Reagan years, America initiated an experiment in redistribution. Reagan enacted policies that moved most of the nation's wealth from the great majority of working people to a tiny minority of people who ended up owning pretty much everything. Throw their income into the mix, and the average American's income is sufficient to finance the average American home, with plenty to spare.

In other words, this isn't an "average human has fewer than two arms" situation, it's more like a "Spiders Georg" situation. Spiders Georg is a Tumblr meme about a guy who eats 10,000 spiders every day and is thus single-handedly responsible for the (false) statistic that the average human eats two spiders a week:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spiders_Georg

The American rich – Reagan's progeny – are the Spiders Georg of house prices. By hoarding the great mass of American national wealth, they create a statistical mirage of affordable housing.

Now, that's interesting, but where Fix goes next with this is even more fascinating. If the average price of housing (relative to average income) has stayed fixed since 1970, then it follows that the price of housing isn't being driven up by a problem with supply. Rather, these numbers suggest that America has enough housing, it's just that (most) Americans don't have enough money.

If that's true – and I have a couple of quibbles, which I'll get to in a sec – then the most common prescription for solving American housing (building more of it) is somewhat beside the point. For Fix, using public funds to subsidize cheaper housing is like using public funds to pay for food stamps for working people whose wages are too low to keep them from starving. Sure, we should do that: no one should be without a home and no one should be hungry. But if working people can't afford shelter and food, then we have a wage problem, not a supply problem.

Fix – as ever – has a well-thought through, painstakingly documented "sources and methods" page to back up his conclusions:

https://economicsfromthetopdown.com/2024/10/23/the-american-housing-crisis-a-theft-not-a-shortage/#sources-and-methods

And while Fix acknowledges that reversing the mass transfer of wealth from working people to their bosses (and their bosses' idle offspring) is a big lift, he rightly wants to keep the question of wages (rather than housing supply) front and center in our debate about why so many of us are finding it hard to keep a a roof over our heads. We need progressive taxation, higher minimum wages, protection from medical and education debt, and hell, why not a job guarantee?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/25/canada-reads/#tcherneva

I love Fix's work, and this report is no exception. He does it all in his spare time. Some nice progressive think tank should give him a grant so he can do (a lot) more of it.

That all said, I do have a quibble with his conclusion about the adequacy of the American housing supply. In California, we have a shortage of 3-4 million homes, a number arrived at through the relatively robust method of adding up the number of California families that would like to have their own homes and subtracting the number of homes available near those families:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_housing_shortage

How to explain the discrepancy? One possibility is that the price of housing is artificially low, because more than 181,000 people are homeless here. Hundreds of thousands of more people are living in overcrowded housing, with multiple families inhabiting spaces intended for just one (or even a single person). If all of those people were competing for housing, the price might rise even higher.

Think of the people who have given up looking for work – because they're not in the workforce, wages go up. If they were competing in the labor market, wages would fall. Maybe all those people would prefer to have a job, but they're missing from the statistics.

That's one theory. Another is that we're getting tripped up on averages again here. California does have some towns with many vacancies, extra supply that is pushing down prices; it's also got many places with far more people who want to live there than there are homes for. It's possible that there's enough supply on average across the states, but – as we've seen – averages are deceptive.

Ultimately, I think both things can be true: we have a wage problem and we have (many, localized) supply problems. Both of these problems deserve our attention, and neither is acceptable in a civilized society.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/24/i-dream-of-gini/#mean-ole-mr-median

[ceruark]

liquid courage

synopsis: aventurine leaves your drunk boss on your doorstep. notes: ceo! sunday x gn! personal assistant! reader. modern au (he's still an angel though, don't ask me how or why. the wings are important to me). fluff. cw: none! (implied aventurine/ratio, but nothing major) words: 3,147 inspiration: every kdrama ever

It was, for the first time in several months, a relaxing night.

After weeks of traveling between worlds and meeting with various business partners, you finally landed back in the place you called home: a rather luxurious unit in Golden Hour's finest apartment complex. It was far too big for one person and beyond what you dreamed of affording growing up, but it was necessary.

Not only were Golden Hour's Platinum Terraces a fifteen minute drive away from Dewlight Pavilion, but they also had the best security Penacony could offer. As the personal assistant of Halovian Corporation's esteemed CEO, you had a rather large target on your back. So, despite your initial hesitations, you'd agreed to live in the flashiest building in Golden Hour.

It wasn't like your wallet was suffering because of it. The astronomical cost of rent hardly put a dent in what the Oak Family deposited into your account every other week.

You sighed and stretched out leisurely on your couch, flipping through the channels until you settled on a showing of one of your favorite movies. You let it play in the background while you responded to messages from friends you hadn't had the chance to get back to during the trip. In between enthusiastic conversations and pictures of the fancy meals and hotels you'd stayed at, you scrolled through your social media accounts, grimacing at your feed when it recommended a picture taken of you without your knowledge.

It shouldn't have surprised you that being around Sunday constantly would put you under the same spotlight he grew up in. Heir to the Oak Family's fortune and beloved by Penacony's citizens, the only person on the planet who could complain about having more cameras shoved in their face on a daily basis was his darling sister. As his assistant, you showed up in almost every photo his fans snapped of him. Over the past four years, his fanbase picked apart everything about you: your appearance, your upbringing, your interests, and your lifestyle habits. You weren't quite sure what spurred them on— sheer jealousy at your proximity to him, or their infatuation for him extending to you— but they had all reached the same conclusion: you were rather unremarkable.

You were raised by your parents in a suburb about 30 miles out from Golden Hour. You performed well enough in university, graduating in the top percent of your class, but not as valedictorian. You managed to get hired at Halovian Corp out of college, and you'd been consistently promoted each year since then, moving from secretary to administrative secretary to personal assistant of a high-ranking director, until eventually, you ended up at Sunday's side.

Though your career was impressive, your life lacked intrigue that news outlets and Sunday's fans vied for. You didn't come from money, you weren't dating anyone famous, and therefore, you weren't worth thinking about. You preferred things that way, but it still didn't make seeing pictures of yourself floating around online any easier.

(Especially when people began overanalyzing how Sunday spoke to you in this video, or looked at you in that photo. Their theories had substance to back them up, and you didn't like to think about it. It took damn near two years to perfect the professional front you kept up with your gorgeous boss, thank you very much, and it had only been about a year since he started actually acting himself around you— you couldn't afford to start slipping up now.)

As you scrolled past a fancam of Robin, a message notification popped up at the top of your screen. You tapped on it, and raised an eyebrow at the sender.

Aventurine: hey. you in?

The IPC director was an unlikely friend, but after dealing with Sunday for years and becoming the unofficial point of contact between the IPC and Halovian Corp, you'd started seeing him often enough that you agreed to go to a bar with him one night when you were off the clock. He was good company, and the two of you kept in touch.

One day, after finding out you'd been talking with Aventurine outside of business ventures, Sunday was oddly insistent that he join you two on that night's excursion. You were hesitant to agree, given that Sunday and Aventurine were civil at best and downright antagonistic at worst. But, Aventurine had readily agreed to letting Sunday attend, so you said yes as well. The night had gone better than expected, and after a few more impromptu meetings, Sunday had started talking to Aventurine regularly as well.

You were glad to see your overly cautious boss make a friend, even if he would never admit that they were.

You: yeah, what's up?

His response was instantaneous.

Aventurine: great. let me in, will you?

Your eyebrows drew together. You'd mentioned you lived in the Platinum Terraces, but you'd never brought Aventurine back to your apartment. How did he know where you live?

You leaned off the couch and toward the coffee table to pick up one of the screens hooked up to the alarm system. You tapped a few buttons on the screen until the feed from the camera facing the hallway came up.

Aventurine stood in front of your door, talking animatedly to your boss, who was propped up against him. You couldn't see his face, but you didn't need to to know he was inebriated. He probably wouldn't be so close to the blonde otherwise.

"What the hell?" You muttered, rushing over to the door. Sunday hardly ever drank, and if he did, it was never enough to get him past the point of tipsy. You quickly undid the bolts and threw it open.

Aventurine and Sunday looked up at you. Amusement danced in the former’s eyes, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be very pleased with himself.

Sunday blinked slowly, adjusting his vision to the sudden disappearance of the door. His eyes scanned your face for a moment before his features lit up with recognition. His wings twitched a bit as he tilted his head to the side. The slightest of smiles pulled at his mouth, and your name fell from his lips in the form of a whispered question.

You flushed red. You suddenly felt very self-conscious of your Hanu themed pajama pants.

Your gaze snapped back to Aventurine, who smirked back at you. You ignored it. "What happened?"

"We went out drinking and someone—" He turned to Sunday, whose gaze still hadn't left you. "—got a little carried away."

"And you didn't think to take him back to Dewlight Pavilion?"

"I think you and I both know there would be consequences if he returned there in this state."

You grimaced. He was right. Undoubtedly, there would be paparazzi camped outside of the Oak Family's estate. There always was.

"Okay, you didn't think to take him back to your place?"

Aventurine moved his free hand to his chest in mock offense. "Bringing a drunken man home to my brilliant boyfriend who's already waiting for me in bed? You must be praying on my downfall."

You glowered at him, but before you could respond, the rustling of feathers caught your attention. You turned, watching your boss sway on his feet. He watched you with a frown, appearing more upset than you'd ever seen him.

"You don't want me here?" He pouted, and his wings fluttered dejectedly.

Your stomach flipped over, and you reached out to grab his other arm as he stumbled away from Aventurine.

"No, no, that's not it." He moved away from the blonde completely as you reassured him, leaning into your touch. You grunted as you struggled to keep him upright. "I'm just worried about you being somewhere you don't feel comfortable."

He hummed, leaning forward and nuzzling his face in your hair. "I'm far more comfortable with you than the gambler."

Aventurine watched the two of you, smugness rolling off him in waves. "Yeah," he laughed, "we can see that."

You were going to kill Aventurine. You were going to tuck Sunday into your bed, leave a glass of water and an Advil on the nightstand, and then you were going to hit the blonde with your car.

You shot him another glare before turning back to Sunday. You pulled one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapped one of yours around his waist to steady him. He turned bright red suddenly and you opened your mouth to ask him if he felt sick, but his wings started flapping again. This close, a few feathers smacked into your mouth, and you sputtered.

Aventurine's unrestrained laughter brought your attention back to him. You snapped at him. "Can you make yourself useful and get the doors for me?"

It took everything you had left in you to get Sunday into your bedroom and withstand Aventurine's teasing, but eventually, you managed to get there. You eased Sunday down on the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ensure he stayed sitting upright.

"Are you feeling sick?" You asked.

Sunday shook his head. He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder. Fighting down another blush (you refused to give Aventurine more ammunition), you tried to pull yourself away from him, but he wrapped his arms around yours and held on.

"Sunday," you said, "I need to go get you water. Can you let go of me, please?"

His voice was muffled by your shirt. "Aventurine can get it."

Said man huffed, but he was too entertained to be truly annoyed, or to decline. "Sure I can," he agreed, before addressing you. "Where are your cups?"

"Top right cabinet," you answered, and he set off.

Sunday's head lolled to the side, rolling off your shoulder. His pout was still there, and it set your face aflame. "It's too hot," he complained.

And then he started to take his coat off.

Well, he tried to. His clumsy movements caused it to get tangled in his arms.

"Here, let me help you," you offered against your better judgment. You stood and reached behind him, carefully guiding his arms out of the sleeves. You turned around and walked over to your closet, hanging the coat on a nearby hook.

When you faced him again, he already had his shirt halfway off.

Xipe, give me strength, you thought to yourself, tearing your gaze away from his bare skin. Your gaze lingered on the wings sprouting from his lower back, which sat curled around his abdomen. When he managed to get the shirt over his head and onto the floor, he unfurled the second set of wings. They spanned the entire length of your bed and were much darker than the ones by his hair. He gave a few languid flaps before settling down, causing them to droop. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against them. So much for keeping up your professional front. You had no idea how you were going to face him when he sobered up.

A choked gasp prompted you to drop your hands from your face. Aventurine almost dropped the glass in shock when he returned. 

"Well," he said as he placed the glass down on the nightstand. "Seems like it's time for me to leave."

You sent him one last scathing glare. "I can't believe you."

Faux innocence crept onto his face. "Whatever do you mean? I haven't done anything."

You crossed the room and shoved at him. "Out." You pushed him back down the hall and to the open front door. "Get out of my house."

"Wow. Eager aren't we?" He winked at you.

"Eager to get my revenge. Veritas will love the video I have of you drunk and blubbering about how much you miss him," you said. Then you slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the door shut, Sunday called for you from the bedroom. You'd heard him use a sickly sweet tone with clients before, but this one lacked the venom that usually accompanied it. It was like he was singing each syllable of your name, savoring the way each sound rolled off his tongue.

"I need to type up my resignation," you muttered to yourself. You could handle Sunday in the beginning when he was standoffish and paranoid, but there was no way you were making it through this.

You walked back to the room, willfully overlooking the way his hanging wings straightened up when you reappeared in the doorway. You stopped a few feet in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Hey," you said softly. "Let's get you to bed, alright?"

Sunday blinked at you, then looked down at the comforter under his fingers. "I am at the bed."

You snorted. "Well, we should get you under the covers."

His nose scrunched in displeasure. "No. It's too warm for that."

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him in this state. "Alright, then. Lay down, and make sure to stay on your side. If you feel sick, there's a trash can right here by the bed. If you need anything else, I'll be down the hall."

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist with surprising speed. He stared up at you with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"

You tilted your head at him. "Um, to bed?"

His brow furrowed slightly, the way it usually did when he was in deep thought. "But this is your bed."

"Yes, it is." You slipped your wrist out of his grasp, but he caught you again by the fingers. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. I won't be far."

The hold he had on your fingers was tighter than you thought. You pulled away, expecting to be freed, but tripped a bit when the rest of your body didn't follow your legs. He pulled you toward him and tumbled forward, falling onto the bed. He moved over and drew you closer to him, draping one of his wings across your waist and legs.

You didn't know if your heart had stopped, or was just beating so fast you couldn't feel it.

"Um, Sunday," you said, the rest of your words coming out as a babbled mess. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he just clung on to you, refusing to let go.

"Please don't leave me," he mumbled.

You finally managed to put enough distance between you two that you could look him in the eye. "Sunday," you said, "you're drunk. You're going to regret this in the morning."

He frowned. "I will not regret something I've dreamed of doing for months."

In the end, it was neither. You were certain your heart was beating so hard it burst, and now you were dead. When you tried pulling away again, he placed a hand on your cheek, freezing you in place.

"Please," he whispered. "Just give me five minutes."

The desperation in his voice whittled away at the rest of your resistance. You settled down on the mattress, allowing him to hold you but not getting close enough for it to be considered cuddling. Staring at the ceiling in silence, you mulled over his words.

He was dreaming about cuddling, or intimate touch of some sort. It shouldn't be surprising that a twenty-seven year old man longed for that kind of companionship, but whenever other members of The Family had brought up him not having found a partner yet, he always shrugged them off. You figured it was because he generally wasn't interested in finding someone, but maybe it was just that he didn't want the rest of The Family involved in something as personal as his love life.

"I can talk to Robin about suggesting eligible suitors for you, if you want," you said. "We can even outsource their background checks to the IPC. Aventurine will be annoying about it, but I'm sure he'll agree to do it."

There was a long stretch of silence. Sunday finally spoke just as you'd begun to regret your words. "Why would you do that?"

You looked at him, confused. "You said you've dreamed of this."

"Yes," he said, "I did say that."

Was he really going to make you spell it out for him? Well, it had to be more embarrassing for him than it was for you. "If you desire... intimacy, it's only natural we start looking for potential suitors for you."

His eyes darkened, and a slight scowl pulled at his lips. At least this face was familiar: disappointment.

"I just told you I've dreamed of this," he muttered.

You nodded in agreement. "You've dreamed of holding someone."

"I've dreamed of holding you."

Oh. That complicated things.

You swallowed back a fit of nervous laughter. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. "I'm sorry." Your voice came out as hardly more than a croak. "I wasn't aware that's what you meant."

He leaned forward, eyes earnest. "Do you still want to look for other suitors for me?"

You considered your words carefully. "Not if it's something you don't want."

He hummed, then laid his head against the pillow. His breath fanned over your face as he spoke. It smelled like mint and whiskey. "Do you want to be my suitor?"

You pulled your gaze away from his lips and to his eyes. You didn't even know how your eyes got there. "I think you should ask me again when you're sober."

He studied your face for a long moment, then let his eyes flutter shut. "Fair enough," he said.

You laid there for a moment, allowing your heart rate to come back down and letting yourself take him in. His lips were slightly parted, even breaths slipping through them as sleep claimed him. His face wings twitched ever so often, usually followed by a twitch of the larger wing still wrapped around you.

You weren't certain how long you stayed there, just studying him, but at some point your blinks had grown heavier and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You gave one last shove against Sunday's arm and wing to try and free yourself, but even unconsciously, his resolve could not be shaken. He huffed at the disturbance and buried his face further into the pillow. His wing tightened around you as he tried to curl in on himself, dragging you closer to him.

You sighed and rested your head on the pillow again. It was going to be impossible to get away from him now that his limbs were heavy with sleep. Knowing it was futile to try again, you let your eyes slip shut. You shifted into a more comfortable position, moving one of your arms to rest on top of the wing.

Five minutes, you lied to yourself. I'll try again in five minutes.

[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?” 

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.” 

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do. 

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order. 

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I���m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.” 

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best. 

“Stay sharp.” 

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it. 

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests. 

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military. 

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.” 

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.” 

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm. 

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?” 

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.” 

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…” 

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume. 

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.” 

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--” 

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup? 

“He needs help!” 

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?” 

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage. 

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!” 

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle. 

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--” 

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.” 

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos. 

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.” 

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago. 

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself. 

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?” 

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?” 

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.” 

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?” 

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily. 

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.” 

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge. 

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece. 

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear. 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?” 

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.” 

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?” 

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots. 

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him. 

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers. 

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised. 

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot. 

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--” 

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.” 

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.” 

“How?” 

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?” 

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him. 

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.” 

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had. 

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.” 

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer. 

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily. 

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating. 

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority. 

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit. 

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt. 

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.” 

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum. 

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.” 

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off. 

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts. 

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.” 

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?” 

“No, but--” 

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.” 

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close. 

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes. 

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him. 

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes. 

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.” 

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise. 

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway. 

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior. 

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries. 

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years. 

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you. 

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly. 

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point. 

You sigh. “I know.” 

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.” 

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—” 

This again. “But Frankie--” 

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.” 

“But I didn’t die.” 

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.” 

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that. 

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.” 

“I promise.” 

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.” 

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.” 

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.” 

[dovveri]

matching wounds

synopsis: 2 victors are brought back as mentors for the 58th hunger games. you don’t understand how your fellow victor nayeon seems so okay after everything that happened in the arena.

warnings: angst! sleep issues, trauma, death, killings, blood, weapons, mentions of sex trafficking, suggestive at times, all the trigger warnings that come w the hunger games ig…

w/c: 13.3k

a/n: got this idea post conan concert listening to the exit and being thrown back to this one hunger games edit to the exit and this was born! its mostly just them dealing w their trauma and talking and being there for each other </3

»┼)➝

the train ride to the capitol is it's usual flamboyant, boastful lie. you scowl, looking out the window as you pass the countryside at rapid speed. a year was not nearly enough to recover from the trauma of winning the infamous hunger games. you still remember very clearly, the absolute dread you felt sitting on this train a year ago, praying to all the deities and gods you had never bothered learning the names of in your limited education in district 9.

your attention is drawn over to the carriage door when it slides open. your accompaniment, the only other victor alive in district 9, walks in briskly. she doesn't seem to take notice of you slinking around in the corner of the carriage. im nayeon was something else. she was your mentor when you were in the games last year. she had won her games not too long before you, reaped at the very young age of 14 for the 49th hunger games. you guessed you could consider yourself lucky in that sense. your name was picked out last year when you were already 18, so you already had the build and experience from working out in the fields all day to help you win. nayeon's games didn't make too big of a splash because the next year was the quarter quell and haymitch abernathy from district 12 stole the win to the surprise of much of the capitol and the districts. he was all everyone could talk about and people easily forgot the winner of the games the year before his.

you don't remember watching her games on television either, you were only 10 at the time, and your family was too poor to afford something as luxurious as a screen. you saw no sense in watching the games when you could be out working the fields to bring home food for your family instead, that was the first year you were trusted with heavier tasks after all.

as a mentor, nayeon was surprisingly bright and enthusiastic. she was a little awkward when she first met you, but when she found out you actually had potential, she poured her all into preparing you for your games. and with that bright charm she enticed capitol citizens easily, getting you sponsors left and right despite coming from such a poor district. your male counterpart was a little less lucky, he was killed in the initial bloodbath at the cornucopia, it was a shame but everyone expected it. you think he was one of the ones in your district that was worse off, he looked skinny as a stick, and when you sparred during training you had him flat on his face within seconds.

you'll never forget the face nayeon made when you came out of that arena, bloodied and barely conscious after killing the other final contestant, but nayeon was the first face you recognised. she hovered over you, eyebrows creased, hand over her mouth, tears falling uncontrollably, dripping onto your face.

you were the only other victor district 9 produced. it must have meant a lot to her that you survived after she sent kids off each year knowing they'll most likely die. it was the first time you had seen her break, the first time she wasn't putting on a mask for the kids she lead to their deaths.

because your district didn't have a male victor, you were asked to come back as a mentor this year instead. the kids reaped were scrawnier than ever, you had asked the staff to instruct them to take a shower first before meeting you and nayeon. you remember when you were escorted onto the lavish train for the first time you felt so disgusted with your grime and dust you felt too bad to eat all of the food that would be laid out, thinking you were much less than presentable, especially in front of nayeon.

you continue sulking in your chair, watching nayeon move around the room effortlessly. although you had moved yourself and your whole family into the victor's village, you still didn't see much of the older woman despite practically being neighbours.

you got to know her mom and her sister a little better but found out her dad was killed in a small uprising when she was only a little girl. not long after, her younger sister was born and she had to practically raise her while her mom was out trying to find as much work as she could to support all of them. nayeon grew up to be strong-willed and caring, winning her games with her cunning and natural ability to draw people into her and make them trust her. back home though, she spent most of her time away from home, no one, not even her family knows where she goes.

the carriage door slides open a second time, and this time the tributes for this year walk in shyly.

nayeon turns immediately with a smile, the same one she presented to you when you first walked in.

"hi! come in! please help yourself to all of the food here. it's a fairly long train ride into the capitol so it's important to bulk you guys up as much as we can before the games start."

the contestants flinch at the reminder of the games, looking at each other in uncertainty.

you step up then, "it's okay. everything's safe to eat. i had the same worry last year because i heard the story of that boy winning one of the early games by poisoning everyone on the train on the way to the capitol so all the other tributes were already dead or weakened by the time they stepped into the arena. security has upped considerably since the early games so it's safe to eat. you should eat, it'll help you get strong before you go in."

nayeon's gaze flicks over to you when you step out of the shadows, a curious look settling over her face.

the male contestant lurches forward at the reassurance, immediately stuffing his face with all he can reach, never having seen this much food in his life.

the girl also steps forward watching her counterpart, gingerly picking up a scone and biting in, her eyes light up at the texture.

you smile, moving towards them, "here. add this, it's called jam. it'll make it taste even better." you grab a scone for yourself and show her how to apply the jam, watching her take a bite and grin, mumbling her thanks around a mouthful of food.

nayeon slides in next to you, sitting across from the contestants with a kind smile.

"good right? after only eating plain bread and wheat for so long it's almost otherworldly."

the contestants hum and nod, still more focused on the food than the two of you.

"what were your names again?"

the boy finishes his mouthful of scrambled eggs, "julian. my family mainly works in transportation of wheat. so i've had a little experience hauling heavy things and lugging them around."

nayeon nods, "that can come in useful. there are always weapons that are included for heavyweights like you." she turns to the girl next, prompting her to reply.

"adeline. i don't have a lot of experience doing much of anything." she replies shyly.

you speak up, "that's okay! i'm sure we'll be able to find something once training starts."

you don't ask any further questions, nayeon and you in mutual silent agreement to let them eat until they were full. you send them off to explore the rest of the train and have a look outside, getting accustomed to the rapid change of pace from grueling farming work under the hot sun everyday, to air-conditioned velvet cushions and endless food and drink.

nayeon excuses herself as well, saying she was going to ask the train conductors exactly how long it would take to get there.

you wave goodbye, the permanent smile etched onto her face unnerved you.

when she was your mentor, you just thought she was encouraging. but now… now you know how she feels to be the last one standing in the arena. and you don’t understand how she can possibly smile or act as if everything was okay, not when the people you killed and betrayed haunt you in your nightmares every night, not when your senses are constantly on alert, terrified someone would jump out from around a corner to try and kill you, not when you felt like you had never left the arena.

it felt like you and nayeon had matching wounds, but yours were still black and bruised, and hers were perfectly fine. leaving the arena and trying to live life after the trauma it put on you, and being forcefully reminded of it every year afterwards, it was like you buried something that never died. how could she live with herself?

you spend the rest of the day moping around, wallowing in despair and wondering just how you were going to survive the next few weeks.

»┼)➝

a jolt of the train wakes you up. not that you could ever sleep well anyway. the first few nights after the arena you barely slept an hour a day. if you weren’t paranoid someone would attack you in your sleep, you’d be woken by the voices of the ones you killed.

you sigh, sliding out of bed and stepping outside your room. you wouldn’t be able to sleep for any longer so may as well rise early.

you pad down the hallways lightly, rubbing your eyes and wandering around aimlessly. you had gotten used to waking up at ungodly hours and usually chose to be productive when you were awake, cleaning, gardening, knitting, learning whatever you couldn't learn when you were living in poverty and didn't have the opportunity to learn. anything to get your mind off the ghosts that haunted you.

you find yourself at the back of the train, in the last carriage where half the carriage's ceiling and back wall is practically clear, allowing you to see the terrain the train was passing through.

what you don't expect is another figure, curled up at the end of the carriage sitting on the ledge and looking out at the landscape. nayeon.

she's got one knee up on the ledge, the other stretched out dangling over the edge, arms perched on her knee, head rested on her arms. you approach slowly, unsure if she was awake or not.

it seems her senses never really dulled at all either though. she noticed you when she walked into the food carriage earlier in the day, she just chose to let you think and brood, she noticed you now as you tread towards her slowly. this time she turns her head to not scare you, letting you know she was awake. her eyes are crinkled in a softer smile, heavy and tired.

"hey y/n."

you reach her quietly, she gestures for you to sit opposite her on the ledge, shuffling around so you have the space to sit up and lean back against the window.

"hi... did you sleep?"

nayeon hums, "a little."

it's silent for a few minutes, the churn of the train and the soft breaths the two of you let out are the only sounds you can hear. you look out towards the horizon as well, the fields and forests the train rapidly passes blur into mixes of brown and dark green. it's getting brighter, slowly but surely, the sun was lazily making its way up, signifying another day you were alive.

your eyes eventually drift over to nayeon. (they always do.) she was like a mystery someone would dedicate their life to uncovering. you trace over the lines on her face, noticing the little mole under her left eyebrow for the first time, the small array of freckles that dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, her heart-shaped lips full and-

you catch yourself, eyes flicking up to hers again to make sure she wasn't watching you. you breathe out a sigh of relief, she was still entranced by the slowly rising sun.

"are you always up this early?" she speaks up at last, breaking the silence that settled over you calmly, although it wasn't an unwelcome break, like a raindrop disturbing the peace of a still lake.

"sometimes. i haven't really slept well ever since i left the arena." you realise this is the first time you're speaking about your experience in the arena with her. the first time speaking about your experience period. you had closed the memories off, pushing them down deep inside you so they could only haunt you in your unguarded sleep. and your family knew better than to ask, they saw what you went through on the big screens, there was no need to remind you of the trauma more than you already were reminded of it everyday.

nayeon lets out a dry chuckle, "that never changes."

your eyebrow raises, you knew close to nothing about the older woman. she never talked about herself or her games, when she was your mentor she was solely focused on helping you survive. and you had never asked.

"... you always seem so... fine though. i don't know how you do it to be honest."

she looks at you then, a sarcastic sort of glint in her eye, "is that what you think of me?"

you gulp, suddenly nervous for whatever reason, "i think that's what most people think of you. i didn't think much of it until i stepped out of that arena too. most people think we can just leave it all behind, enjoy the riches, bringing our families out of poverty, not having to live on scraps of grain everyday, they'd think we'd all look like you. but i'm not."

"i'm not either y'know. i have to put on this face. so that my family doesn't ask how i am. so that the kids i send to die every year think they have a chance of getting out and being as happy as i look."

"even faking it though... it must take so much. i can barely look at the kids without being thrown right back into that arena."

"you never get used to it. y'know the first year after i won, i was so optimistic. i thought, if i could do it, there's no reason anyone else can't do it from our district. and i thought that year they had better chances than me. i was only 15 y'know, when i first started mentoring, not to mention it was the quarter quell so there were twice the tributes i was in charge of. the tributes that year were all 16 or 17, i thought they were older than me, fitter than me, they could win, they really stood a chance. and then i watched them all be cut down in the first few seconds of the cornucopia bloodbath. four people. just like that. dead."

"...i'm sorry."

"don't be. that's just the world we live in right? the only way to survive is to think like the people in the capitol. when you view them as objects, as items of entertainment instead of real, tangible lives, it's a hell of a lot easier to watch them die." there's a somber pause, your mind racing, sorting all this new information you're getting out of her, "not you though." and then your mind's quiet, senses hyperfocused on what nayeon says next.

she sighs, looking back out at the soft orange and yellow hues that start to fill the early morning sky, "i couldn't do it. i couldn't look at you like that. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't- i don't know. you were different. eight years sending 18 kids to die, but you came back."

"i couldn't have done it without you."

her lips turn upwards, just a little, but you catch it, "no. you brought it out of me. turns out when you actually care about who's in the arena instead of treating them like your next poker piece, you work a little harder to make sure they survive."

"but then what if they don't?"

her smile drops again, "i think you'll answer that for yourself after this year's games."

she sighs, standing up, about to leave, but you catch her hand, not even sure what compelled you to grab it. the contact makes both your eyes widen, looking down at where you're touching.

"wait..."

she waits. cocks her head, hand closing around yours in reciprocation.

you struggle to form the thoughts in your mind, too much information for your cognitive load to handle, but eventually one thing comes to the forefront.

"i care about you too."

nayeon smiles, a real smile this time, you can tell because her eyes crinkle, her nose scrunches, cheeks blush, perfect teeth show. you suddenly pull a memory from the depths of your brain, the first time you saw her, when her name was called out at her reaping. she was a small little thing, obviously young and frail, but her smile was just as practiced. except back then she had two large front teeth, it gave the appearance of a freshly born rabbit. you don't question where they've gone, her time in the capitol right before her games likely had her stylists 'fix' her teeth so she was objectively prettier and would attract more sponsors on screen. like cleaning the pigs before sending them to the slaughterhouse. what a broken world you lived in.

»┼)➝

you spend the next few days on the train leading up to the capitol getting to know julian and adeline better, trying to tease out parts of their personality that could be used to appeal to the public, as well as putting them on a basic exercise and meal regime to get them fitter and healthier for the games.

you also spent a lot more time with nayeon, working together to come up with the best plans and routines to put the tributes into, staying up late and studying all you can know about the other contestants that would be in the games, coming up with strategies that could be used once they were in the arena.

the outlandish extravagance of the capitol will never cease to amaze you. and judging by the look on nayeon’s face as you pull in, it seems no matter how many times you return, you will always be reminded of their power and riches over the districts.

you’ve been getting to learn nayeon’s expressions. right now, she’s sporting her fakest, most exaggerated smile for the capitol viewers. you know better though, the anger and disgust in her eyes only able to be interpreted by someone who came from the districts.

she turns to you then, and you blush, feeling caught staring, but she doesn't comment on it, instead brushing her hand past yours lightly, behind the peacekeepers stationed out front for your protection (or to keep you in line), and interlock your fingers where no one else can see. she squeezes gently in reassurance, leaning in to whisper into your ear, "smile y/n. you're the most recent victor, the one they'll remember best, the one they'll be most curious about since her games ended, their attention on you can help bring attention to our tributes who would never normally get this much of a crowd."

she was right. you didn't have time to wallow in the self-pity and hate you held for the capitol when you remember your two mentees from back home, likely terrified and completely overstimulated from their first sight of the capitol, the people coming to welcome them not even looking like they belonged to the same species, all dressed up in absurd colours and materials people in the districts probably slaved days away to manufacture.

you squeeze her hand in return, looking out to the crowd and smiling.

"look for the red dots. those are signs that cameras are currently recording for the rest of the capitol to see."

you follow nayeon's instructions, spotting the small blinking dots and smiling directly at them, waving and trying your best to remove yourself from your body, going into autopilot to not feel the utter abhorrence at being paraded around like a circus monkey.

the crowd becomes impossibly louder at your actions. when you can tell everyone's eyes are on you, you point to your tributes who are standing next to you, looking like newborn foals learning to walk, redirecting their attention.

nayeon gives you a little nod of approval, her hand not leaving yours while you slowly step off the train and follow the peacekeepers towards your transport to the training facilities while making your way through the welcome crowd.

by the time you finally arrive, it's already sundown and you can feel the exhaustion of having put on a face for so long. the tributes are taken away from you to meet their stylists for the first time. you're too tired to offer them any advice but nayeon steps in, still as energetic as she was when the day started.

"do everything the stylists tell you to do. it's gonna feel weird at first and they may even want you to do some things that you won't be comfortable with, but it's all gonna be for your benefit. just remember that they're on your side. they want to make you look like the best version of yourself for the rest of the capitol, and beauty sells. trust me i know."

they nod, thanking you both and being led off by peacekeepers.

you and nayeon are led to your floor where you'll be staying for the remainder of the games. as soon as you're inside you slump down onto the couch, waving off the avoxes that look at each other a little concerned.

"she's okay. just tired. you guys can leave us, we'll call you if we need anything." nayeon offers a polite smile, sitting down much more elegantly next to you.

the avoxes nod their acknowledgement and wander off. poor things.

when you hear that they're gone, you roll over to look at nayeon who's finally taken off her smile, folding her jacket neatly and placing it off to the side.

"you're really good at that."

she looks at you, tilts her head in question.

"you fooled me too. the whole happy polite princess thing you have going on. and you know you're way around. this is my first time back to the capitol since the games. i never thought i'd be back here."

something comes over her eyes, but she brushes it off, smiling at you, a little pained, but before she can reply, one of the avoxes comes back and whispers something into nayeon's ear. her face darkens, and she nods, standing back up.

"i have to go y/n. rest well." it's curt, she doesn't even look you in the eyes, and then she's gone.

you’re left blinking after her, confused at what just happened. did you say something wrong?

»┼)➝

nayeon isn't back even by dinner time. neither are your tributes, although they probably wouldn't be back until the next day, or even the day after. you remember the amount of procedures you'd gone through when you'd arrived. the preparations for the opening ceremony were extremely important for first impressions and they didn't have that much time to fix all the issues you'd grown up with. major plastic surgery was normally the way to go.

so you push the abundance of food around on your plate, thinking about how at home the amount of food you're eating could feed a family of 10. it sickens you. it's the first time since you'd left home that you were really alone. not counting the avoxes positioned behind you that had to attend to your every need. it was almost like you missed nayeon. she was always able to brighten your moods, playing around, even when things were serious she'd make sure nothing ever got too overwhelming for you or for the tributes. she was a veteran.

you sigh, pushing your food away, apetite gone. with nothing else to do, you retire to bed after a shower. maybe the soft mattresses and expensive fabrics designed particularly for sleep would finally grant you a night of good sleep.

it did the exact opposite. the fabric rubs your skin the wrong way, and you're tossing and turning in bed, playing around with the different settings of the window, shuffling your pillows around. you just couldn't find peace.

you yawn, giving up and sliding out of bed. you pad outside your room, intending to get some fresh air. on the train you didn't have that luxury, but you could still see the countryside while it passed. at least now you had a balcony in the main living room. it was caged off in case any of the tributes tried to commit suicide before the actual games, but it was still fresh air.

the cool tiles of the floor feel foreign on the skin of your feet. before you make it to the balcony door, you hear the front door clicking open.

your heart stops, sweat immediately building up on your brow, your body being thrown back into the arena, terrified someone was here to kill you.

your movements are quick, crouching and scrambling towards the couch in silence, grabbing the closest thing you can, the couch blanket. you'd learnt anything can be fashioned into a weapon with the right mindset. the blanket could be used to choke the intruder if it really came to it.

you peek to the side of the couch, holding your breath as soft footsteps pad towards the living room, the only light available is the one in the entry way, overcasting a shadow moving its way closer and closer.

but as soon as it's about to turn the corner, it stops.

you curse internally. did they notice you?

you don't get to form a second thought before a pin is whizzing your way, impaling itself into the couch. you barely have enough time to scramble backwards, the cushion of the couch saving you, but the person is leaping forwards, pushing you down into the floor. you react automatically, struggling against the figure, using the blanket you're clutching onto to latch onto a leg, yanking so they lose their balance, toppling over. you take the opportunity to quickly clamber over them, pulling the blanket to wrap around their neck.

their hands come up immediately, trying to create space between the fabric pulled tight at their throat, gasping in effort.

you finally can assess the intruder. she's wearing a short dress, pale skin exposed, hair pinned up in a clean updo with the same pins that she must have used to throw at you once she noticed your presence. and then suddenly, with horror you realise it's nayeon.

you quickly let her go, scrambling back until your back hits the couch, staring at her as she coughs, trying to catch her breath.

"nayeon!"

she groans, turning, eyes adjusting to the dark, "y/n?"

"oh fuck i'm so sorry i didn't- i thought there was an intruder-"

she massages her throat, letting out a little chuckle when she realises what's happened, "it's okay y/n. i thought the same. sorry for almost impaling you with a hairpin."

you stare at her, still in shock. "what- where have you been- jesus i almost killed you-"

"don't get cocky now. i could've gotten out of that."

you roll your eyes, "i'm serious nayeon. what are you wearing? i'm sorry too." your words are flying out, too many thoughts coming up too fast, but mainly, you're just glad it wasn't some assassin sent to kill you.

she looks down at herself, like she was just remembering she was dressed up. "ugh never mind that. are you okay? you're not hurt are you?"

you shake your head, "you?"

"i'm good don't worry your pretty little self. anyway i'm gonna go take a shower. you should go back to sleep y/n."

you tilt your head, standing up when she does, "but where have you been?"

she starts towards the bedrooms, turning on the hallway light so you can finally see each other, "out." she doesn't look at you when she replies, pulling her dress down so it covers more of herself. you catch a glimpse of the scar on her right thigh right before she covers it, the one she got in her games when someone had slashed her leg. her face is made up, but you notice the mascara running down her face in tear streaks. it's such a surprise it stops you in your tracks. you hadn't seen nayeon cry since that time you were barely conscious and just out of the arena.

"nayeon..."

she pauses, but doesn't turn back to look at you, "what is it?"

"i... you... are you okay?"

nayeon lets out a dry laugh, "i'm fine y/n. you aren't that strong. i just feel really gross and i need to shower. i'll see you in the morning."

before you can stop her she's stepping into her room and closing the door. you frown, she was obviously lying, something had happened while she was out and she wasn't telling you. it was fine if she didn't want to tell you, you just... you cared about her. you owe your life to her. you want to do anything you can to repay her.

so you sit outside her room, it's not like you were going to be able to get any sleep anyway, you'd wait for her to finish her shower and talk to you.

»┼)➝

it's almost an hour before she leaves her room. you sit fiddling your thumbs, thinking up scenarios of what could have possibly happened. nayeon was too good at hiding herself. you wished she'd open herself up. if not to her family, to you, someone who understood what it feels like to be in her position. you were one of a kind, there weren't going to be many district 9 victors after you, there certainly weren't any before her.

when she finally opens her door you scramble up.

she looks down at you surprised, her hands wringing out her hair in a towel, face bare. you're reminded of just how young she was. despite her experience and knowledge of everything, you remember she was just a girl.

she smiles. you're practiced enough that you can tell it's fake.

"what are you doing here y/n?"

"waiting for you."

"i told you to go to sleep."

"i couldn't sleep anyway."

her smile stays as she steps past you, you follow quietly. she turns the kitchen lights on, rummaging around in the fridge for something to eat.

"have you not eaten yet?"

her hands stop moving for a second, "no. not yet."

"where were you?"

she sighs, taking out a takeaway box and moving to the microwave. "i was out y/n. i told you. please stop asking me."

"but why can't you tell me?"

"it's classified."

"what?"

"i can't tell anyone."

"but why?"

"i can't tell you that."

the microwave rings.

"do you not trust me?"

"it's not that."

"then why?"

she sighs again, ripping off the lid of her takeaway box a little roughly, "i just can't tell you y/n. you'll probably find out after this year's games end anyway."

"what is that supposed to mean?"

she whips around then, eyes red, eyebrows furrowed, she's raw and genuine for the first time, too tired to keep concealing herself. "you're not stupid y/n. you're an attractive victor. what do you think happens to attractive victors? where do you think i go when we're back home and i have to leave? i'm certainly not out farming or doing all the regular jobs people back home do."

that takes you back, the pure hurt in her eyes, the way she cowers into herself in just her thin sleeping clothes and bare face. she's so much younger, so much more human without all the flashy smiles and outfits she wears for the capitol.

"i- i don't- i just thought-"

"no. you weren't thinking. you're naïve y/n. you think we have to live with just our traumas from the games. you think there's an end to it all. that once you get over what happened in the arena you'll be able to live a normal life. the life. the life they promised us when they said we'd win the games. well i'm sure living it!" she chuckles darkly, arms flailing out and raising her voice to the ceiling.

"it never ends y/n. all they do is take and take until we're as bare and barren as the farms we take care of."

you blink stupidly, the reality of what she's saying settling in.

"you admire me for how well i lie." she spits the word out, mouth dripping venom and eyes furious, "i lie to survive. everyone does. the capitol lies to us, promising us riches and glory for winning the games. that's why districts like 1 and 2 exist right? why careers fight to volunteer to kill other kids in the arena? i wonder if they'd go back in time and do the same thing once they realise what winning actually means. we're not real to them y/n. we're not humans. we're products. expensive, dolled up, murderers they have on a leash."

she sighs heavily, both hands coming to rake her hair backwards. "i'm sorry. i was meant to be your mentor. i was meant to prepare you for all of this." her voice cracks, you stare at her, mouth agape, processing all this new information, "but i couldn't. i just couldn't. i was so happy when you won. i thought i could protect you from it all."

"w-what do you mean protect me?"

she slumps, her posture giving out, you've never seen her so broken. "they wanted to start you off last year. because you were already 18 when you won." she scoffs, "not that it stopped them from starting me when i was 15. i convinced them to give you a year. i wanted you to know what it felt like to win. to be free of it all, to have your belly full, to be with your family, to be able to live without the fear of not waking up the next day."

you gawk at her in horror, "what did you do nayeon?"

she chuckles darkly again, "i said i'd take your customers. until your year was over."

"you- what?!"

she wipes at her eyes angrily, picking up a spoon and stabbing it into her food, "it's fine y/n. it's not a big deal."

"wha- nayeon- it is a big deal! this- you can't- i'll kill-"

suddenly she's got a hand clamped over your mouth, so close you can see the redness of her eyes, the small freckles that dot her skin. "don't say something you'll regret. they have ears everywhere."

you gulp, nodding, wide-eyed as she lets you go.

"w-what about what you said?"

"i didn't say anything explicit. and you were going to find out soon anyway. your year is almost up."

"what- why haven't you fought back? why have you gone along with this for so long?"

she laughs thickly, "careful. that's rebellion you're talking about."

"but it's not fair! the deal was once we won we won! the only thing we should have to do is become mentors! and even doing that is cruel enough being forced to relive the games each year!"

"there are no limits to how cruel humans can be y/n."

"i- but- but still!"

"i have family. so do you. what do you think happens to them if you say no?"

that makes you pause, thinking back to your parents who worked so hard to bring you and your siblings up. who kept you alive until you were 18. lots of kids weren't that fortunate. many died from starvation, or of the unhygienic circumstances back home.

you collect yourself, taking a breath, nayeon was still inches away from you, studying your reactions. "do they know?" you ask softly.

she sighs, shaking her head, "my mother went through enough when my dad died. even more when i was reaped for the games. she thinks my trips away are just meeting people in the capitol for business ventures or whatever. it makes sense because i always bring back large sums of money. and my sister... i never want her to find out how cruel this world is. it's enough she still has to be entered into the reapings at least once a year, but that'll stop soon when she turns 18. and then i hope to just give her a normal life. she'll never have to worry over me again."

"nayeon..."

she sniffles, "it's fine y/n. worry about yourself. i can't look after you anymore. i'm sorry."

"are you kidding?! nayeon please... i don't- do you not understand what you mean to me? i owe you my life. and now i find out you've been doing this for me for the past year. you don't have to protect me. i can protect myself. i won my games didn't i?" you try for a smile, she gives you a teary one back.

"i just- i never knew nayeon i'm sorry. i'm sorry i didn't know you were going through all this on your own. i wished you'd told me. i wished you wouldn't shoulder all this on your own. we know you're strong. we all saw your games, we know you're capable of survivng. you don't have to keep proving that. you can rely on others every once in a while."

"others like you?" she jokes, smiling up at you.

"yeah. like me. i'm the only other one that can relate. that can understand. i want to be there for you. i told you, i owe you my life, my family's lives. that's a debt i'll never be able to repay. i want to do as much as i can in this lifetime to be there for you."

"you don't have to do that y/n-"

"yes. yes i do. you've been there for me this entire time, without me even knowing. when will you let me do the same for you?"

that gives her pause, she hides under wisps of hair that have fallen down over her forehead.

you ache to brush them away, to cup her cheeks, to see those eyes again.

your wish is granted when she looks up after a second, pupils glassy. and then without another word she's burying herself in the crevice of your neck, arms coming up to wrap around you, taking a shaky inhale. you react just like you had when she had thrown that pin at you, immediately reciprocating, pushing your cheek against hers and circling your arms around her waist.

you stay there for an immeasurable amount of time. unsaid words drifting between you, sharing emotions, pain. nayeon finally feels like she's not alone for the first time since she'd won her games 9 years ago. and you finally feel at peace in her arms, the ghosts that haunted you gone for the moment.

the both of you wound up in nayeon's bed that night. it wasn't awkward, the complete opposite. you naturally gravitated towards her after she finishes eating, and she lets you cling to her. when you fall asleep, limbs entangled and hearts beating in tandem, you'll realise in the morning, it's the first time the both of you will have had a full night's rest without any of your regrets invading your dreams.

»┼)➝

the horn sounds. you grip nayeon's hand as the competitors rush forwards, you try taking in as much of the arena as you could, as if you were standing on the platforms in the arena for the first time again. you were lucky in your games to have been granted fields of tall grass. it obstructed all of the other competitors’ vision and would prove very difficult to hide in, but you were practiced in moving around between blades of wheat that grew up to 2m tall back home without making a sound. this year it seems they took a more traditional approach, the cornucopia is in the middle of the arena as always, plain desert and beating sun the only thing visible. you can make out sand dunes on the far right of the arena. it would be hard to find a water source. your eyes lock onto your tributes, praying they make it through the initial bloodbath. they're not placed in a position they can see each other, in this scenario, you and nayeon had instructed them to run for it. don't bother with the initial bloodbath, the first thing they'd need to find was water.

you breathe a sigh of relief when you see adeline do exactly that. she makes for the dunes you spotted earlier, leaving behind the chaos of the first few minutes. but then the camera pans to julian, seemingly frozen on his platform, completely petrified as he watches the girl from district 8 fall to her knees after someone launches a javelin at her.

"move!" you're extremely tense watching the scene, trying to maintain your composure as you knew you were still in public, the opening of the games was always a big spectacle, all the mentors were situated up in viewing boxes while the capitol watched along on massive screens.

nayeon grips your hand tighter, a warning not to be too loud, to keep on that mask.

you spare a glance at her, her features are tight in concentration, eyes glued to the little figures on the screen.

your head whips back when the crowd suddenly howls. it seems the career pack has formed and has just taken down both the tributes from district 12. it disgusts you how these people can cheer over the deaths of children.

julian has finally started moving though. he leaps off the platform and runs forward.

no. no no no. he needs to run away from the cornucopia. you grit your teeth, he must have seen the deaths of the district 12 tributes and thought the careers would be distracted.

the camera follows as he crouches and dips past ongoing fights, he manages to grab a sword, but that's where his luck ends. the girl from district four is wielding a nasty trident, charging straight for him. he tries to fend her off with his sword, catching it in one of the prongs of the trident, but then with horror, his feet catch on the sand. he hasn't gotten used to the terrain yet. he must have known running on sand was much more difficult than running on regular ground or the concrete of the training grounds. the girl takes the opportunity to yank her trident back, and then jabs it straight into him, all three prongs go through his chest and out the other side. you can see him cough up blood in shock, hands coming up to rest on the handle of the trident, she pushes him down and steps on his stomach to yank her weapon back out, already on the lookout for her next victim.

you can't believe what just happened. you had knew him. you had spoken to him. you had just seen and touched him this morning before he was flown off to the arena. it's completely unreal. the crowd roars with glee.

your mind can't keep up with your eyes. there's no way he was dead. the sounds, senses of the crowd drown out, you stare blankly at the main screen, watching other kids be cut down left and right, kids smaller than your youngest siblings, all while people dressed up in nauseating colours and patterns placed bets and had their children play fight with toy swords and weapons imitating real life people that died for their entertainment.

"y/n- y/n... y/n!" nayeon's shaking you out of your stupor, you blink, looking down at your intertwined hands, her concerned look that's quickly masked with a smile.

"the announcer was just asking you for some comments about the opening." you can see straight through her smile, you've spent much more time together over the past couple weeks while you were preparing your tributes for the games. you didn't explicitly talk about it, but you'd always end up in her bed each night, cuddled up and talking about everything and nothing until you both fell asleep. it was the only way you could sleep these days, and you knew it was the same for her.

you look past her shoulder to see a short man with bright green hair and a matching moustache. he smiles expectantly, teeth all white and glowing, holding out a microphone to you.

nayeon squeezes your hand again, hidden under the tresses of your gowns.

you clear your throat, awkwardly leaning forward and looking into the camera panned towards you, "r-right. um well it's pretty standard from what we can see. my arena last year must have made it difficult to see all the... fighting so it seems they've gone with something a lot more open this year." you try for a joke, earning a boisterous laugh from the man with green hair and from some in the audience who were looking on where your face was projected on one of the smaller screens next to the main livestream.

"we can definitely see all the juicy bits more clearly can't we!"

juicy bits?! is he trying to remind us of the bloody insides of all the kids being slashed open?! what kind of sick joke is it to use those words?! nayeon saves you the outburst, speaking up with a smile and a voice you know she's only ever used when talking to capitol media.

"definitely! and i must say wilbur your moustache is fantastic this year!"

he blushes, twirling the green hair on his upper lip, "thank you nayeon. you're as beautiful as always. and i'm glad to see you're finally accompanied by another victor your age! it must have been very lonely these last few years on your own."

nayeon's hand tightens against you. you want to punch this man in the face.

"yes i'm very glad to have y/n here. we make a fine team don't you think?" she grins. you notice the angrier she is, the more absurd her acting is, almost as if she's testing the limits of just how far she can go before people finally realise she's been sarcastic the entire time.

"of course! 2 fine ladies such as yourselves, you're both a hit in the capitol! i'm sure lots of fellas in the crowd tonight would love to see you two team up another time."

there's an uproar in the crowd, obviously male voices hollering and agreeing with laughter.

you're absolutely revolted at the implication. so you can't stop yourself when the next words fall out of your mouth, "i'm sure you'd know a lot about teaming up wouldn't you wilbur? how many fellas do you have twirled around that moustache of yours?"

nayeon is barely able to conceal a scoff, hiding it as a cough into your shoulder. you smile daringly, all teeth as wilbur stares at you aghast.

he clears his throat, "i'm not quite sure i know what you mean by that y/n."

"oh nothing. just wondering how many balls you have to play with when you do that team sport out here... i don't quite recall the name, it must be something that is only really fashionable out here in the capitol."

"r-right. sports. ahaha! you must have gotten me mixed up with someone else y/n! yes that must be it. everyone here will know i'm not really one for sports." he tries to steer the subject off, his face burning up bright red, with his green hair he looks like a mishappen christmas tree. he moves on quickly after that, going to interview less problematic mentors.

"you shouldn't always let them get away with shit like that nayeon." you frown when the attention is off you again, whispering into her ear.

she shakes her head, "sometimes it's better to let it go than to bring it up. more trouble than it's worth. you did very well though. are you okay? you zoned out a bit back there."

you sigh, running your thumb over hers gently, "yeah. just... wasn't prepared i guess. adeline is still in it though, she's got a decent chance if she manages to find water."

"you can never prepare for this. i'm sorry."

"there's nothing to apologise for. you warned me on the train, about what it's like. nothing compares to the real thing though."

"i know. i'm here for you though okay? i couldn't physically help you in the arena but i can now."

"stop that nayeon. you did more than enough for me in the arena. i told you. i owe you my life."

she smiles. you're taken aback by the genuinity of it. the slightly dimmed lighting, her makeup not too over the top like some of the people you've seen walking around the capitol, but accentuating her already flawless features even better. you knew she was attractive, you'd have to be blind not to. and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of nayeon as something more. you pushed it down though. people like you and nayeon didn't have the luxury of feelings like love.

you quickly break away from her gaze and those perfectly heart-shaped lips, looking back to the aftermath of the opening minutes. but even the grim bloodied bodies littering the floor that you can barely comprehend are real, do little for the blush that dusts your cheeks and the fluttering in your stomach.

»┼)➝

you can tell from the way she's breathing nayeon’s not asleep yet either. one of her arms is draped over your midriff, her breaths lightly hitting the back of your neck, legs entangled with your own.

"you're still awake." you whisper out into the quiet of her bedroom walls.

"so are you."

you don't dare turn to face her, knowing your faces would be centimetres apart, breaths hitting each other's lips, noses almost touching.

"i can't get it out my head. the way the trident just went through him. like he was made of clay."

her voice is soft, careful, "i’ll never forget any of them. not any of my kills.”

“he wasn’t your kill nayeon. the tributes you mentored aren’t your kills.”

“they may as well be. as a mentor, surely i can do something. but every year is the same. i don’t learn. i can’t do anything for them.”

“you helped me survive.”

she sighs, breath tickling the back of your neck, her arms wrap around you just a little tighter. “i told you. you’re different.”

“how?”

“you just are. i don’t know how to explain it.”

“you don’t have to. i… nevermind. still, i don’t think you should think of the tributes we mentor as people we’ve killed. it’s the capitol, everything’s them, that’s the big enemy remember?” your voice is hushed, paranoid they’re listening in somehow but also desperate to soothe nayeon’s worries.

“it doesn’t change what i did. all victors are murderers. we lost our innocence the day our names were pulled out of that bowl.”

“you’re right. we have to live with that. but at least we’re not alone now.” you decide to risk it, turning and shuffling around the bed until your nose to nose. you can feel the blush creeping up your cheeks already, wisps of her hair tickling your face, her eyes shining in the dark.

she stares at you for a little, eyes darting around your face. "you're right. we're not alone now." she speaks in a whisper, breath gently kissing your lips with her words.

you can't help but look down at her slightly parted, heart-shaped lips, her breaths coming in and out softly, luring you in. you're magnetised. the tension between you two is undeniable, thick enough to make you feel almost drowsy, eyes drooping and lidded, only focused on tracing the shape of her lips.

nayeon's the one to break it.

she leans in closer, hand tightening around your waist, closing her eyes and pressing your lips together. it's not sparks or lightning, it's just two mouths moving against one another, finding comfort in one another, it's soft and pure and everything the capitol robbed the two of you of when they turned you into murderers.

but then it's not. there's a salty tinge to her, the taste of tears. you open your eyes slowly, breaking away from her, she takes the opportunity to inhale shakily.

"nayeon?" you frown, immediately concerned you've overstepped.

she hides her face in your neck, squeezing herself against you.

"hey... what happened? what's wrong?"

"we- w-we can't." her voice is wobbly, there are still tears dripping down her face.

your heart sinks, "we can't?"

"i'm- i can't- i'm a product y/n. you'll become one too. i can't- i can't lose you too."

"but- you won't lose me."

"you don't know that y/n. you don't know what the capitol is capable of. if they find out we're- if they find out we care for each other like that they'll tear us apart. we can never have what normal people have."

"but that won't stop me from caring for you! and i know that's not going to stop you either."

"but when- i don’t- when they start selling you off i don’t know how i’ll be able to- to not kill them all."

you bring a hand up to her cheek, forcing her to look at you, thumb swiping across the skin under her eye, wiping off her tears, "i know. i don't know how i'll be able to do it either. but you're worth it. i haven't felt- i haven't felt this understood, i've spent so long thinking i'm alone, that i'll have to spend the rest of my life like this, but you make me feel happy. after all we've been through don't you think we deserve that?"

"but- but- they can't know y/n- they can't take you away from me."

"and they won't. i promise. do you trust me?"

nayeon stares up at you, her eyes shining, lip wobbly. she bites down into it after a second, breathing out a small "yes."

"i trust you too. anything they throw at us, we'll take it together. okay?"

she sighs, nodding, bringing a shaky hand up to feel you, just to make sure you were real, that she wasn't conjuring all this up to cope with her trauma. you lean into her touch, hand coming up to grip her wrist and squeeze, leaning in and touching your nose against hers, feeling safer than you've ever felt in your entire life.

»┼)➝

the next day is more of the same. at least this time you're not in a display box so you can have genuine reactions and you can be close to nayeon in the privacy of your own floor, finding comfort in her arms and words.

you spend the morning cuddled up, choosing to eat breakfast on the couch while the livestream of the arena plays. when there's nothing interesting going on they have live coverage of news anchors and commentators reacting to replays and talking about what happened during the night that the audience may have missed while they were asleep. adeline hasn't been seen on screen much but you know she's still alive and has found a small alcove in the desert with cacti that she can cut open to drink water from. still, you know it won't last her and nayeon and you plan on going out during lunch when most of the capitol citizens will be out and about to start finding sponsors to send water or food to adeline in the arena.

by the time you're in the city you come to realise just how good nayeon is at networking. you trail behind her like a lost puppy while she greets extravagantly overdressed citizens of the upper circle with a bright smile, compliments, and sparkling eyes. she seems to understand that you're much newer at this so she brings you along as a prop of sorts, convincing new and old sponsors to sponsor district 9 once again, after all, the most recent victor did come from district 9, and adeline was tutored by you with the most recent experience winning which made her someone to look out for in the later days of the games.

there are lots more people that recognise than you think, colours and materials you've never seen or felt before invading your senses, fake voices and compliments trying to get on your good side, you can simply smile and try your best to keep up.

eventually, you're seperated from nayeon when a short man engages you in a conversation about hair products and how you got yours to be so shiny and natural, you only nod along while he talks your ear off about different products and chemicals he's tried on his orange mess of a flat top, you can only provide clueless agreements and your simple hair routine back home. but you manage to steer the conversation back to the games and actually manage to get him to donate something as long as he gets the name of the random shampoo brand you use back home.

once you wave him off, you excitedly look around for nayeon, eager to tell her about your first donation that you managed all on your own. but as you scan the square, you can’t seem to catch sight of her.

you frown, wandering around a little until you spot her, hidden away in the shadows behind a few pillars. your eyes light up, almost skipping over to her until you realise she’s with someone else.

“stop- no i don’t want to-“

“c’mon you want sponsors don’t you? i’ll give you double what your highest donation is if you come now-“

“no! i’m not rostered on right now you can’t just- you can’t approach me in public like this-“

“no one saw us sweetheart c’monnn if we go now we can leave quietly. besides i saw your other victor and she’s doing alright on her own, she won’t even notice you’re gone.”

the man she’s with is gripping nayeon’s forearm harshly, when he starts pulling her away you step in, clearing your throat, eyes flaring up. “i did notice she was gone actually.”

nayeon whips her head around to you, but you can barely see her, your gaze is fixed on the way he still has his fingers wrapped around her, squeezing so tight her skin is white around his fingers.

your eyes trail up to his face when he laughs, not letting go of nayeon, “oh! y/n right? don’t worry nayeon and i are good friends. i’m just gonna borrow her for a bit yeah?”

you step forward, an arm sliding around nayeon’s waist protectively, glaring up into his blue eyes and perfectly sculpted nose, “is that true nayeon?” you don’t back down from his sleazy gaze while you direct the question to the older woman.

his eyes flick over to her, a warning in his eyes.

“i-it’s okay y/n i can handle this just go back to the square.”

you frown, unwilling to let her go, “no.”

the man raises an eyebrow, “you two a package deal now or something?”

nayeon bristles then, yanking her arm away from him, “don’t fucking touch her.”

the man backs up, surprised, “woah! calm down bunny i was just joking around.”

nayeon flushes at the nickname, “whatever josh. i told you i’m not rostered right now. book me in for when i’m actually available.”

“and her?” he smirks, nodding his head to you.

she grits her teeth, “take it up with your agent. don’t contact me outside again or i’ll make sure you won’t be able to buy any one of us.”

she doesn’t wait for him to respond, pulling you away and back into the main area.

you’re quiet, processing the information you just learnt. she doesn’t look at you, eyebrows furrowed, hand tight against yours.

“… was that one of your customers?”

she sighs, “yeah. one of my pushier ones.”

“i’m sorry.”

“what for? he pays well.” she spits out, storming back to your accommodation, deciding socialising for the day is done, she had collected enough donations today.

“i’m sorry you have to deal with him.”

“it’s not your fault.” she says simply, pulling you into the elevator and punching in your floor number.

you ascend silently, fiddling with your fingers, unsure of what else to say.

when you arrive, your fingers are still interlaced with hers, but she relaxes as soon as you step in, letting her mask drop.

“you did really well today.”

she smiles at you then, “thank you. i saw you grab that last donation too. adeline will be happy.”

you step closer to her, tentative and shy, her eyes crinkle at the sight. “thank you.”

“what for?”

you step closer again, swinging your intertwined hands slightly, “protecting me all that time.”

her hand tightens against yours.

“can you actually do that? stop him from using your… services?”

she snorts, “no. but he doesn’t know that. all he thinks about is his dick anyway, any danger to that and he’ll back off.”

“do they ever hurt you?”

her eyes soften, looking into yours, searching. “sometimes. sometimes it gives them pleasure. other times they like to take out their anger on us. maybe they’ve had a bad day or they’ve had a fight with their spouse at home or whatever else. they don’t need an excuse to treat us however they like.”

“that’s terrible.”

“it’s the world we live in.”

“what if we… what if we were a package deal?”

she raises an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“if they had to book us together. it’d make me feel better, if i could protect you somehow while we’re in there. that you have someone else there in case anything extreme happens. and…” you blush, thinking over your next words, “i know i have to… share you, but at least this way i can see what others do to you, so i still have some semblance of control over the situation.”

nayeon hums, pulling you in by the waist so you're no longer awkwardly hovering around her trying to think of how to get closer to her, "i can ask. that's a good idea y/n. and i'm sure lots of people would love to see two pretty girls getting it on." she jokes.

you blush, looping your arms around her neck loosely, playing with the hair at the back of her neck that has come out of her updo, "i don't- i've never- y'know..."

there's a hint of a smirk on her face, you're avoiding her gaze, "you've never...?"

you whine, knowing she's teasing you on purpose, pushing her away from you but she laughs, pulling you back into her and pecking you gently, "do you want to? there's no rush. i'm worried we may be taking things a bit fast but as long as you're comfortable i'm okay with whatever."

you look at her determinedly, "i don't think we can move too fast. i think we should take whatever we can get while things are good before the capitol tries to break us apart. i want to be with you, all of you, for as long as you'll let me."

nayeon smiles, leaning her forehead against yours, "i want to be with you for as long as you'll let me as well."

you reciprocate her smile, leaning in and pressing your lips against hers, hesitant, but loving. she responds immediately, one hand remaining at your waist and another coming up to rest on the crevice of your neck. you move easily against each other, it's comfortable, safe, you're both on the same wavelength, and nayeon treats you with utmost respect and adoration, ensuring you felt just as loved as she felt, keeping you grounded and at-home in her arms.

»┼)➝

it's another few days before something big happens. nayeon and you spend every minute wrapped up in one another, basking in the comfort and excitement of something new yet reminiscent of innocent, purer times.

that shatters completely when it gets to day 6 of the games.

adeline has managed to survive this long without coming into real contact with any of the other surviving tributes. nayeon has done most of the brunt work in receiving sponsorships and donations which you use strategically to lead adeline towards water sources or away from enemy tributes that may be nearing her location.

however, it seems the gamemakers had had enough of her cat and mouse game by the time there are only 5 tributes left, adeline, the boy from district 1, the two from district 2, and the girl from district 11 who managed to create her own water and food source in the barely repairable soil, turning it into her own farm using knowledge from her home district.

it was nearing the finale, and everyone in the audience knew it. the anticipation would put pressure on the gamemakers to bring out their final tricks, to lure all the tributes into one location to fight it out to the end.

that trick turned out to be a sandstorm in the night, blinding all the tributes, throwing off coordinates, destroying the girl from 11's farm, and forcing all the contestants to stumble blindly in the dark while the storm whipped around them harshly, sand cutting into skin and drying up lips while the cold chill of the desert night only made it even more difficult to find one's senses.

the girl from district 2 was smart, she used the sandstorm and her teammates' confusion to her advantage, taking the chance to stab the boy from 1, making him think it was the boy from 2, and letting them fight it out while she ran off, abandoning the career alliance that was inevitably going to break down towards the end of the games anyway. the boy from 2 ends up being able to defend himself well enough to deliver the finishing blow on the boy from 1, but he sustained fatal injuries in the process and died slowly and painfully in the storm while the sand lapped at his open wounds and his mouth gasped for water through mouthfuls of sand, wishing he was the one who was killed first.

when the storm finally dies down, the audience can see the carnage it has wrecked on the arena, three girls left, all within a 20 minute radius of one another. if it wasn't clear this was the endgame, it was definitely clear now.

the entire topography has been shifted, everything is now covered in sand. there would be no food, no water, the girls would either starve or thirst to death first in which case it would be a test of endurance, or find each other first and win the games to end their own form of suffering in living in this unlivable arena.

the girl from 11 seemed to want to take the former approach, burrowing herself under dunes of sand, digging for her farm and hoping the desert heat and lack of water would mirage her location into regular sand dunes while she hid until the final 2. the girl from 2 is set on the latter, going on the prowl immediately to find the remaining two contestants and claim her victory.

unfortunately for adeline, because the girl from 11 hid herself so well, it meant she came into contact with the girl from 2 first.

she puts up a good fight. everyone in the capitol is on the edge of their seats. as soon as the storm had cleared, nayeon and you had immediately sent adeline some supplies, water, a basic first-aid kit to tend to the wounds she had received earlier in the games, anything to let her know you were both still watching and keeping an eye on her, that she wasn't alone despite the immense loneliness and hopelessness she must have felt living in the desert for the last 6 days.

but even that wasn't enough to deal with the mental pressure of being in that situation for so long, thinking you actually have a chance of winning, of going home, she let her guard down, openly gulping down water while the girl from 2 crept up behind her.

adeline reacts just in time, throwing her bottle away and picking up the sword she had retrieved off a dead tribute's body earlier on in the game, swiping blindly in order to create some distance.

she manages to find her footing, standing on both legs, eyes zeroing in on her opponent who has already started lunging forward with her next attack. her weapon is longer, able to reach further, but adeline is tall and gifted with long limbs, able to maneuver herself out of the way before getting impaled by the pointy end of a spear, whipping around quickly to slice a deep cut in the girl's arm while it's still outstretched holding the spear.

the girl yelps out in pain, but quickly recovers, switching the spear to her non-dominant hand, jabbing forward without missing a beat, gritting her teeth in effort.

the crowd in the captiol is cheering, throwing popcorn, placing last minute bets, rowdier than ever after they couldn't clearly see the fight between the boys from districts 1 and 2 because the sandstorm had lowered visibility on the cameras. now, they could see every parry, every stab, every drop of blood that’s splattered onto hot, golden sand. the pure bloodlust is nonsensical.

adeline manages to block off each advance, but there's simply nowhere left to run or hide, everything that could be used has been covered by sand, there's only acres and acres of desert. so it makes sense when she loses her footing on the loose grains, falling onto her back and losing grip of her sword. the girl from 2 is quick to kick it away and out of reach, and adeline is tired, thirsty, and near delusional from being in the heat and arena for so long, that the ripping squelch that sounds out on speakers across the country as the girl from 2 shoves the end of her spear into adeline's chest, comes almost as a blessing, ending her pain at last.

the gamemakers are able to lure the girl from two to the girl from 11's hiding spot after that, and the final battle ensues, the girl from 2 rising up on top, bloodied and battered but grinning with the glee and pride only those in the career districts could have after killing and coming out on top over 23 other children.

you barely have time to mourn adeline's death, you and nayeon are both thrusted into interviews immediately, forced to watch replays and close-ups of the killing, to watch the life drain out of adeline’s eyes over and over again, asked for comments and messages to send back home, to congratulate the winner on becoming one of you, a murderer.

and even worse, when the day’s finally over and you can retire to your safe space in your apartment for your last night there, nayeon is called out for a premium customer, someone paying triple the normal fare to spend one more night with her before she goes back to her district. so you're left alone, watching repeated news coverage of the hunger games from start to finish, dolled up 'scientists' and gamemakers being brought on for interviews and time to analyse kills and strategies the tributes used, milking every drop of profit and entertainment out of the deaths of children not their own.

you'd watch something else but every channel on capitol television is talking about the end of the games, you switch every time your face, or your post-games interview comes up, cringing at the way you looked and spoke, feeling as if you betrayed your district for dishonouring adeline and julian's deaths by dragging them out for the enjoyment of people who never cared for them, wanting desperately to go home and find their parents and offer your condolences, and maybe sneak some of your victor rations to their families so they at least didn't have to worry about another death. you were determined to take care of all of your mentee's families, you know it's what you would've wanted if you had died in that arena.

by the time nayeon comes back, you've already settled in her bed, cuddled up on her side and taking in the scent she's left behind, the tv still playing in her room at a low volume.

you sit up immediately when you hear her come into the room, closing the door softly behind her. she looks at you and smiles defeatedly. "you look cute."

you blush, burrowing into her sheets more which only serves to widen the smile on her face, "are you okay?" you ask.

"i need a shower."

she doesn't say anything else. you remember the last time she came home this late, not having eaten anything and only wanting to get rid of the feeling of another person's hands on her body off of her. you nod, shy, letting her walk around collecting clothes and heading into the bathroom.

she doesn't bother closing the door. you appreciate the gesture. it's a dramatic change from the first time she had locked you outside her room unknowingly, to think she trusts you enough to leave the door unlocked in her most vulnerable state warms your heart. you hate the capitol for what they've done to her, what they'll continue to do to her. at least this was the last time she would have to do it alone, she had talked to higher ups in the capitol and gotten president snow himself to agree to your proposition, you'd hope your presence would at least ease some of the tension she felt during those sessions.

you hear the shower turn on, and you hesitate, thinking over your next moves carefully.

after some deliberation, you quietly move off her bed, padding to the bathroom and stripping off the pyjamas you had already put on when you were getting ready for bed.

you stand outside the fogged up door for a second, admiring her silhouette, but soon grow cold, opening the door gently and announcing your presence to not frighten her.

she turns, surprised, bar of soap in her hand, hair wet and squinting at you without her glasses or contacts on. she's adorable.

"y/n?"

"hi... is it okay if i join you?" your arms bracket your chest, suddenly shy even though she's seen all of you already.

she smiles, pulling you in under the stream of hot water, "of course. i'm sorry i'm not really feeling up to doing anything today-"

"no! i didn't- no i didn't come in with that intention i just... wanted to help you get clean."

she blinks up at you, water still running over her face and hair, and then she pulls you down into a wet kiss, arms still holding onto yours as you kiss her back sweetly.

you break away first, smiling and nudging your nose against hers, "turn around, i'll do your back first."

she follows, bending her neck down so the water doesn't get in her eyes, handing you the bar of soap she was holding.

you lather her back up, caressing the small scars and moles you had memorised. you had asked the story of each one, and nayeon had told you. your heart broke with each scar, most of them from her games, but some of them from rougher times with clients, others from when she was even younger, working the fields and factories back home. there were more from when she was young, but most of them were surgically removed or fixed when she was first fitted for her games, her stylists wanted her to look as young and as pure as her age suggested, hoping to entice sponsors either out of pity or admiration.

you rub her shoulders, work the knots in her back while you wash her, feel her relax under your touch.

when you get to her right thigh, you're extremely careful, and nayeon takes notice.

"it's okay. it doesn't hurt anymore."

you frown, rubbing gently over the largest scar on her body, the one she covered up most often and got in her finale fight in the games. "i know. i still want to be careful though."

she smiles, pecking your cheek while you concentrate on cleaning her to the best of your ability. she had opened up about how disgusted she would feel in her own body after she would come back from sessions with her clients, often spending an hour or more scrubbing away at her skin until it was red and irritated and hurt to continue before she finally felt clean. you were determined to make her feel loved, feel safe in her own skin, and do so without hurting her.

when you finally come out of the shower, you're quick to wrap her up in a towel first, patting the rest of her down dry and sitting her down on a stool, grabbing the hair dryer and brush.

she scolds you in the process, telling you you'll catch a cold if you don't dry yourself off first. you pout but do as she says, quickly drying yourself off and slipping into your pyjamas again.

then your hands are back at her hair, combing through gently with your fingers first, before turning on the hair dryer.

she watches you with a smile, her eyes crinkling upwards at the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration, drying each part of her head with meticulous attention.

when it's just slightly damp you turn it off, placing it back down and start to brush through her hair, wincing and apologising with each knot you work through. nayeon giggles, constantly reassuring you it was fine with each apology, but her reassurances do little to quell your concern.

it's quiet, peaceful in the bathroom, just the two of you.

"my mother used to do this for me when i was young."

"mine too."

"it feels nice."

"i'm glad."

"are you ready to go back?"

"as long as i have you."

"you'll always have me."

you meet her eyes in the mirror, "will your mother be okay with this?"

"you brushing my hair?" she jokes.

you whine, "you know what i meant. us."

she smiles, "yes. both my mother and my sister only want to see me happy. they know how much the games affected me, they're just glad i'm still alive."

"mine too." you repeat.

"…even if they weren't, you know i wouldn't stop wanting to be with you right?"

you blush again, easily affected by her, "i know."

she nods, satisfied, the both of you falling into an easy silence again.

you think this isn't too bad. living out the rest of your life with nayeon like this. she helped you forget all the bad stuff, but also reminded you of all the things you've been through together, you healed each other. in no other universe, no other situation, no other time, would you be able to find this kind of love with nayeon, and that little special thing the both of you share, it makes everything you've gone through and will go through a little more bearable.

[saydams]

https://www.mass.gov/news/governor-maura-healey-signs-most-ambitious-legislation-to-address-housing-costs-in-state-history

"Governor Maura Healey today signed into law the most ambitious legislation in Massachusetts history to tackle the state’s greatest challenge – housing costs. The Affordable Homes Act and related initiatives will support the production, preservation and rehabilitation of more than 65,000 homes statewide over the next five years. It is the largest housing bond bill ever filed in Massachusetts, at more than triple the spending authorizations of the last housing bill passed in 2018. 

The historic legislation authorizes $5.16 billion in spending over the next five years along with 49 policy initiatives to counter rising housing costs caused by high demand and limited supply. Key spending authorizations and policy changes include allowing accessory dwelling units, an unprecedented investment in modernizing the state’s public housing system, boosts to programs that support first-time homebuyers and homeownership, incentives to build more housing for low to moderate-income residents, support for the conversion of vacant commercial space to housing and support for sustainable and green housing initiatives." /end excerpt

[lilacxquartz]

BLESSED WITH BLUE

angel satoru gojo x mortal fem!reader

part 1 of 2 • masterlist • ao3 link • part 2 >>

summary: after making an offering, you catch the attention of a six eyed angel who despite promising you the heavens, leads you into hell instead.

themes: two parts, angels au, yandere, smut (next part), dark, dead dove, described violence, alternate universe

Part 1: Prayer

Initially, you were on your way home.

You were so tired from such exhaustive work for very little gain. The back-breaking labour for mere copper; to just barely afford another day in your uneventful existence.

Then again, this was just how it was for mortals.

To simply just… exist until the end.

You drifted through the radiating vibrancy of the capital adorned by the glowing cherry blossoms that lit up the streets; petals that both bloomed and glowed like rosy lanterns. Every step that you took through the wobbly cobblestone would bruise a soft glow per footprint, making you feel not quite as alone as you would have liked.

Tokyo was more so of a unique settlement in these parts; angels, demons and mortals alike, more or less co-existed although some strayed from their assigned alignments. The cold, silky mist that encased the country was especially strong in this particular region and allowed certain sorts of creatures to exist within the region.

Seeping waves of steam would continuously roll out and bless those who were known as the ‘chosen’, allowing them to harness the power of the gods. The locals called them cursed blessings; gifts from a higher power that nobody could quite describe nor understand. Should a ‘chosen’ abuse their power though, they’d become corrupt and morph into a caricature of their own selfish desires—twisted, disgusting beings, mirroring each and every single negative quality found in their very being.

Ordinary people like you though?

Why, those in particular had nothing truly special going on. That was just the way it was though and for good reason. Just the regular mortals were essential for balance to keep the world in order.

Or however it was that the sacred texts described it. Personally, you didn’t fully get it.

See, the chosen could properly defend themselves against the demons as well as the corrupt beings, however regular mortals could not. Maybe you were just bitter, though. It was against those vile things that you were left orphaned; forced to watch your family be reduced to guts spilled on the blood-soaked floorboards, their life essence stolen to build their power.

(Something about an uncorrupt soul, the texts claimed.)

The demons had a saying, after all:

In order to brew chaos; you had to take away from the balance—and that was exactly what they fed on.

Slowly, as you walked home, you found yourself drifting towards one of the many temples scattered over the city, wanting to test your chances against the order of fate. You heard it all before; angels taking pity on humans who had led tough lives and blessing them with a dosage of their power, not quite ascending them into the likes of the chosen, but close enough.

In some ways, you needed this. Demons ate your family when you were very young, leaving you to fend for yourself ever since then. The locals, while they did try to do their best to assist in your growing up, retired from their responsibility as soon as you were capable enough.

It hurt to grow up so lonely.

There was also the part that by being targeted by demons in the past, attached a negative social stigma towards you. Demons carried a more potent form of cursed energy, making them closer known to cursed spirits and being a survivor of such an attack was often seen as a bad omen.

So before you knew it, you were an outcast by association.

The elders made sure of it, at least.

Pressing on, you weren’t honestly looking for a certain temple in particular. It wasn’t as though you were starved for choice. A lot of temples existed within the city, after all. Different structures supported different things and sometimes not even the angels, even though their proof was highly abundant. Sometimes, people worshipped the simpler deities or just natural disasters as a concept.

You didn’t mind too much wherever you’d ended up. Maybe subconsciously you wanted to be noticed by an angel so that’s why you ended up at one of the flashier temples instead of the simpler ones.

Slowly, you climbed up the stairs; each bricked slab feeling somehow wider and wider with each and every single attempt to pull yourself up. You stared upwards with a certain degree of unease, the distant glow of candles not doing much to warm your worries.

You cautiously padded your way inside, finding that the flames collectively dimmed and were replaced with blue light in a flash. Each step lit up the wicks with a bursting blue flame as you approached the shrine up ahead.

Such a feeling was unsettling.

Almost as if you were being watched.

Gulping the unsettling feeling down and focusing on the shrine, you realised that you didn’t actually have that much to give. This particular temple gave the deity a whole collection of curated blue items from jewels to painted pottery, from woven cloth to scriptures written in colourful ink.

Feeling desperate however, you weren’t about to give up and so, you fell to your knees instead.

With a cautious whisper, you begged the shrine for change, “P-please, I’ll give a-anything, j-just…”

The flames reduced as you spoke; from vibrant blue to a soothing yellow once again.

“I’ll give anything… everything…!”

But nothing happened. You weren’t the lucky type of mortal. You weren’t born into riches and you didn’t have anything physical to offer and by the time the temple returned to its deceptive welcoming regular orange glow, all of your remaining hope had burned away.

Sighing as a result, you finally decided it was time to go home.

Not at all noticing the face of who exactly was watching you from the shadows.

His glowing blue eyes should have been a giveaway, but he kept himself very hidden and instead decided to take a chance on the girl who simply wanted an escape from this cruel routine.

However, just because he was an angel, it didn’t mean that he was going to give you a blessing.

No, he had something much, much worse in store for you.

But you did pray for it.

So perhaps you should have been more careful what you wished for.

~~~

The night was oddly calm at home, at least for a while. You had a dreamless sleep until you didn’t, waking up to what you thought initially to be a nightmare until you realised that there was actual movement going on within your home.

With a cautious ear, you listened in as the front door to your house creaked open and as heavy footsteps walked inside.

Demons were otherwise light on their feet so it couldn’t have been one of those, but they weren’t the only wrong in the world.

(Humans could harm too.)

A familiar feeling of being watched from before surfaced as you sank further into your blanket, hoping that the woollen sheet would somehow protect you as a barrier from impending danger.

You just barely managed to peek out from above your blanket, just barely managing to make out the person in your room. You had an oil lantern lit up on a nearby table but it had been steadily dimming all night, so the range of visibility was quite low.

With an almost exploratory approach, a man with a snowy complexion and frosted hair walked inside; his back carried spearing beams of blue crystalline light that resembled wings, similar to his icy blue gaze. If you focused your sights on other parts of his body, more eyes would appear before disappearing as soon as you redirected your focus.

Was this an angel?

As he approached closer, he reached out a hand to pinch your chin and point it towards his stare, “Do you really promise to give me everything?”

His question caught you off guard and you were left unable to form a coherent response just yet.

He reached out his other hand to press over your heart, his voice adopting an almost playful tone, “Worry not, I’ll… ‘bless’ you.”

“R-really?” you finally managed to blurt out, the next question coming out as a mere whisper. “But why?”

The angel smiled, “Because everything is a lot. Besides, you’re so fragile, so human. That's why you need someone like me.”

Within a flash, you woke up the next day in complete daylight wearing a cold sweat that enveloped your body.

Thinking that it was a dream, you tried to move on and continue your life as normal despite something seeming… different.

Somehow, the world seemed somehow more vibrant?

And as weeks continued to pass you by, demons seemed to almost avoid the area entirely. Better harvests were collected by the locals and less crops suffered from drought. Life also improved for you socially, finding that you got on quite well with someone new who moved into your village just under a week ago.

He was quite similar to you as well. A survivor of a cursed attack not too different than the one you had to endure. His personality was kind too and simply put; you both got along.

However just as things progressed, one night, you heard a thud right outside of your door and upon opening it up in the dead of night, you found him freshly massacred, almost as if professionally butchered in fact—precise, almost delicate cuttings against his flesh—bled him clean out on your doorstep.

Stumbling backwards, you cupped a palm over your mouth and almost wretched in a sickening nausea that overfilled your stomach.

However, just like before, a flash sparked before your very eyes and you were back in bed and it was just a regular morning.

Cautiously walking over to your front door, you opened it up hoping that it was just a vivid nightmare and that he was actually alive, safe and sound. Instead however, was a haunting reminder of what you promised was carved into the stone instead.

“Everything,” it reminded you. “Nobody else can compare like I can.”

So if that was real, then what exactly did you offer?

And to who?

(Or what?)

~~~

part 1 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

[a-small-safe-place]

Homelander x SingleMom!Reader

Building a Family

Homelander was walking to the daycare inside Vought. He did not think he would ever have to come down here, but he couldn't leave Ryan alone, and Ryan expressed clear displeasure about having to sit in Ashley's office. Ryan complained that Ashley smelled weird. Homelander understood what his son meant. Ashley consistently reeked of anxiety and fear. Of course, Ryan wouldn't recognize those smells; he was only ten years old. Homelander felt a pang of jealousy at Ryan's childhood innocence. He never had that opportunity. Dr. Vogelbaum and the rest of the scientists who raised him in the lab made sure of that.

Homelander entered the daycare area, and the few children left were chattering away. A little girl wearing a Homelander shirt ran up to him, giggling and reaching for him as if she wanted to be picked up. Homelander brushed past the girl and headed to the area for older children. Ryan walked over with a shy and somewhat awkward smile on his face. Homelander asked, "Hey, buddy, are you ready to head back up?" Ryan didn't say anything; he just nodded in response. Homelander understood that Ryan was probably overstimulated from being around screaming kids all day.

As they were walking out of the daycare are Homelander noticed the little girl from earlier hugging onto your leg while you chat with a daycare attendant. He recognized you as one of the top professionals on Vought's legal team. You were attractive, for a human, but you were still a human, even though your non-disclosure agreements had practically saved the image of the Seven. The little girl spotted Homelander and ran to him, clinging to his leg. You quickly scolded the girl, saying, "Sweetie, get off of him!" Homelander flashed his classic smile and lifted the little girl off his leg, while Ryan watched, somewhat annoyed and eager to go home. Homelander reassured you, saying, "It's alright; I'm glad to see I'm still popular with the kids."

You reached out for your daughter, saying, "She just really likes you. She has one of those huggable Homelander dolls and sleeps with it every night." Ryan quietly asks his dad if they can leave. Homelander seemed amused by your young daughter being a big fan of his and replied, "Oh, really? She must be my biggest fan, then." Homelander waved dismissively at you and your daughter, saying, "You two ladies have a nice night."

That night, Homelander thought about you. Perhaps you were more attractive than he had initially thought, and he couldn't help but notice your good physique. Even if you were just a human you could still be useful. You clearly possessed some good qualities and had the aptitude to be a good mother for Ryan if the situation arose. He decided to keep an eye out for you because he couldn't afford to appear desperate and let you know he was attracted to you. After all, he was Homelander, and you should come to him. However, your presence began to consume his senses and thoughts.

He smelled your perfume and your natural scent in the halls of Vought, heard your voice above all others, and occasionally saw you through the floors, unintentionally getting an up-skirt view when he used his X-ray vision to look up through the floors in your office. But you weren't showing any interest in him, which irked him more than anything. Homelander considered himself a god, and he believed that any woman would want him if given the chance. So, why weren't you pursuing him or trying to arrange to see him again when picking up your daughter from daycare?

Fed up with the situation, he stormed into your office. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked in an aggressive tone. You responded with uncertainty, "Sorry?" not sure what he was talking about.

"Don't play fucking cute. You've been avoiding me. Are you a lesbian? Or, God forbid, celibate?" Homelander inquired with furrowed brows. You didn't know how to respond. This man had the power to do terrible things, and saying the wrong thing could be disastrous for you and your daughter. Homelander continued, "I can't believe a woman like you is passing up the chance with someone like me. We're not even in the same league. No, I won't accept it. I'm coming to your house tomorrow, and we're having a date. Find a sitter for your daughter; just make sure she's not there. Nothing ruins the mood more than a child running around. If things go well, we can introduce our children to each other at the right time and become one big happy family."

With that, he left, without asking for your address or inquiring about your relationship status. You were shaken up, but at least you were still alive.

[tainsan]

misfits XI

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: mentions of suicide, mentions of therapy, self deprication, mature scene but it's not crazy

⇥ word count: 9.5k

⇥ a/n: okay i know you have all been looking foward to this chapter, it is an intense one and i hope yall finally enjoy some much needed romantic tension ;-;

⇥ this chapter is for my wife @l0vetiny, ilysm!!!

⇢ masterlist ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter

--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

Resting in your room, you stand at the crossroads of your emotions, torn between the familiarity of cherished friendships and the allure of a potential romantic relationship. The idea of taking that leap excites and terrifies you, as it means venturing into uncharted territory with people you've known and admired for years.

Whenever you look at your group of friends, you can't help but feel a tinge of envy towards their popularity. They seem to effortlessly navigate social situations and grab attention wherever they go. Would you be able to handle the spotlight that inevitably comes with being associated with them in a romantic capacity? You know about their jealous fans, and the attention you would most definitely receive upon starting a relationship. Not to mention the rumours and bad words that would be spread once someone finds out you aren’t just in a relationship with one of them, yet all of them.

Trust is the foundation of any relationship, and you know that building it anew on different grounds will be a crucial step. In the depths of your heart, you yearn for something more with them, to explore a connection that goes beyond friendship. Their laughter, the inside jokes you share, and the way they understand you have always made your heart skip a beat. Yet, the fear of jeopardising your bond keeps you hesitating, wondering if you can afford to risk what you already have.

You battle with your own insecurities, questioning whether you're ready for the rollercoaster of emotions that a romantic relationship might bring. Are you enough? Can you handle the weight of their expectations? The prospect of letting them down frightens you, and you're afraid of losing not only a romantic partner but also your close friends.

The truth is, you think you want this relationship, yet you acknowledge that timing is everything. The decision weighs heavily on you, and you need to be certain in your heart before taking the plunge. You owe it to yourself and to them to be genuine, vulnerable, and ready to embrace the changes this choice will bring.

You decide to step away from your bed for a moment, feeling the weight of your emotions overwhelming you. Making your way to the bathroom, you start your nighttime routine, pausing for a few seconds to look at the bottle of moisturiser, bringing a flood of thoughts of Yunho to your head. 

Yunho has changed so much since the day you first saw him in the kitchen. His transformation has been quite remarkable. You can't help but reflect on how he's evolved since your trip to the store for your moisturiser. Initially, he appeared rude, his demeanour shrouded in a kind of icy reserve. It was almost as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

However, as time passed, you noticed the shift in his demeanour. When you went to the furniture store together, it was like the walls he'd built around himself were slowly coming down. Yunho's newfound warmth towards you is reminiscent of the time from your high school days, when you sought refuge from the troubles at home and found peace in the warehouse, where he discovered you alone.

Back then, you were both navigating the challenges of adolescence, and life had already presented you with your fair share of hardships. It was in those moments of solitude, away from the chaos of your respective lives, that you forged a unique connection. Yunho, with his quiet strength and understanding, had become a source of comfort and support during those difficult times.

The memories of those moments still linger, etched in the corners of your mind. Now, as you both find yourselves facing the complexities of adulthood, it's heartening to see that the genuine care and compassion that existed between you during those formative years has resurfaced.

Since the heart-to-heart conversation in the kitchen, where the weight of secrets were finally lifted, Yunho has transformed before your eyes. He's become someone almost unfamiliar to you, but in the most delightful way.

It's as if the depths of your conversation unleashed a new side of him, a side that perhaps he had kept hidden or hadn't fully embraced until now. The Yunho you're getting to know is a true gentleman, a man who takes the time to say sweet things to you, even if his cheeks and ears turn a delightful shade of crimson in the process.

Shaking off the thoughts you look into the mirror, peering at your reflection with a mix of uncertainty and self-doubt. As you gaze at yourself, a flood of insecurities surfaces. You scrutinise every detail, the lines on your face, the curve of your lips, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. Negative thoughts swirl in your mind like a tempest, questioning whether you're worthy of love from such amazing individuals.

You wonder if they see the same flaws you do, if they'll be disappointed when they look at you more closely, or if they'll realise you're not as perfect as they might have thought. It's a daunting prospect to believe that someone could genuinely care for you, especially when surrounded by a circle of friends who seem to radiate charm and confidence.

The fear of rejection and judgement gnaws at you, threatening to sabotage the happiness you yearn for. You can't help but compare yourself to them, feeling like you're an outsider in their world of popularity and allure. It's as if a little voice inside your head tells you that you'll never truly belong, that you're not good enough to deserve their love and affection.

Tears blur your vision as you try to silence the self-criticism, the lingering doubts that seem to echo through your mind. You question whether you'll ever be ready for a relationship with them, wondering if your insecurities will push them away, destroying the friendship you hold so dear.

Moving yourself from the bathroom, you attempt to find a moment of peace to collect your thoughts. Finding refuge in the comfort of your bedroom, you close the bathroom door behind you and sit down on the floor in the centre of the room, feeling the weight of hesitation settling upon your shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, you're confronted by a flood of thoughts about your mental health issues, trauma, and the complex needs you carry within you. The struggle with anxiety, the lingering effects of past experiences, and the emotional scars that sometimes feel too heavy to bear; they all come rushing back, demanding your attention.

In the midst of this emotional whirlwind, a surge of doubt grips you. You begin to question if the boys you have grown to love, who seem to have it all together, would truly be capable of handling the intricacies of your mental health journey. Would they understand when anxiety creeps in, leaving you paralyzed with fear? Could they be patient and supportive when the shadows of your past cast their long shadows over your present?

It's an agitated storm of self-doubt, wondering if your needs might be too much for them to bear. The fear of burdening them with your struggles gnaws at your heart, and you find yourself grappling with the thought that you might not be deserving of their love and care. You so desperately wish to be happy, and the happiness you feel when you are around the boys is stronger than you have ever felt before. You definitely need to talk to Jisung about this, his advice always seeming to relieve the pressure off your heavy heart.

Today you only expected to confront the eight men about the past, finding out answers and you seem to have got more than you bargained for. One part of you is glad you know their affections towards you, yet one half is torn from having to make the decision.

With your room being shrouded in darkness, the only source of light being the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, you try to relax on the floor, your knees pulled close to your chest, surrounded by the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. You know you should be getting to bed, sleeping for the next day which holds lectures withholding important information. Time seems to stand still as you replay the heartfelt words spoken by the eight men. 

Amidst the turmoil of your mind, there is a sudden knock on your door. Startled, you glance at the entrance, your heart pounding in your chest. Hesitating to answer, the door slowly creaks open for you, revealing the silhouette of Seonghwa standing there, his expression mirroring the same restlessness that is keeping you awake.

“Can I come in?” Seonghwa quietly asks, scared to be turned down, yet as he sees the gentle smile and nod cover your features, accepting the invitation, the man makes his way in. Stepping into the room and closing the door behind him, his presence brings both comfort and a further storm to your heart, as the confession resurfaces in your mind.

"Mingi and I just got back from managing the bar, but I can't sleep," Seonghwa says softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

His honesty only deepens the emotional turbulence inside. You are grappling with the same uncertainty, the same fear of what the future may hold.

“Come sit with me,” you say, hoping he will relax next to you.

As he settles down beside you on the floor, there is a moment of silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. The room is filled with a mixture of emotions – the lines of friendship blurring before your eyes.

“You don't find it weird do you?” Seonghwa says breaking the heavy tension that suddenly coated the room.

“Find what weird?” You question, not sure as to what Seonghwa is asking.

“Us being together, as nine.”

You realise Seonghwa is inquiring about the group's dynamic and relationship. 

“Not really…” you start, not knowing if you should disclose your worries with Seonghwa, yet when you see the pleading look on his features, you feel your walls breaking, “honestly I'm just worrying whether I'll fit in, you guys are so close. I don't know if I will be able to be good enough for you guys.” You admit, feeling slightly embarrassed to be admitting such information.

“___,” Seonghwa says your name softly, feeling awfully upset you would even think you weren't good enough to be with them. “You are perfect for us, you don't need to worry about anything. There is nothing you could ever do that would make us think you don't belong with us. If anything, we don't deserve you. The kindness you have shown us, despite the rumours, despite everything has shown us enough. Whether it is with us or not, we just want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy.”

Gently, you cast a grateful glance towards Seonghwa, feeling a rush of emotions as his words wash over you. They bring both comfort and solace, embracing you in a tender embrace of understanding and support. It stays silent for a while as you let his words touch your heart. 

“I’m doing better…” Seonghwa says, once again breaking the silence and you wonder as to why he suddenly uttered those specific words.

When you shoot him a perplexed glance, Seonghwa responds with a soft chuckle, sensing your confusion. He then proceeds to clarify his statement with a reassuring tone.

“Back when you found me on the rooftop…” Seonghwa trails off as he sees the way you hold your breath reminiscing the night, he relaxes slightly as you nod at him to continue, ignoring the sudden surge of negative emotions clouding your vision. 

“The boys encouraged me to seek help. I was feeling so lost and overwhelmed, like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. But I took that first step, and it changed everything. My therapist helped me understand myself on a level I never thought possible,” Seonghwa pauses, trying to gauge your reaction.

“I’m so happy for you Seonghwa, truly. That is amazing.” Seonghwa helping himself, becoming better and finally feeling alive truly brings happiness to your soul. 

“When I heard you were in this school, I was really nervous at first, I was scared you were going to see me as the guy from high school who was constantly bothering you.”

Seonghwa huckles along with you, the shared laughter carries the weight of old memories and newfound understanding. You can't help but reminisce about the times when Seonghwa would follow you around school like a loyal companion, a testament to his friendship, even if it did sometimes border on being a little bothersome.

“I was worried you were going to be a different person completely, but when I saw you again for the first time in years, even though you have changed physically, you were definitely still the same.”

“What do you mean?” You question, not sure what his words mean.

“Your laugh, your voice, your humour, your kindness, your eyes. They are all the same as back then. But your eyes, they are brighter now, happier. You are just as, if not, even more, beautiful.” Seonghwa admits, “I don’t think I can lose you again.”

Silence falls upon the two of you as you let the tender words of the man in front of you sink in. The words of love play with your heartstrings, making your end decision even more daunting.

"I don't know what to do," you finally whisper, your voice breaking and Seonghwa immediately realises you are speaking of the confession and proposition, “I like you, all of you, yet it just seems so fast, so new.”

Seonghwa listens to your confession and when he senses the depth of your reciprocated feelings, a whirlwind of emotions engulfs him. He feels like he's floating on cloud nine, as if he's on the brink of something incredibly special and profound. Your words have touched him in a way that nothing else ever has. It's a feeling of euphoria, knowing that the person he cares about so deeply shares those same sentiments.

However, beneath this elation, he also senses the subtle undercurrent of fear and hesitation in you. It's completely understandable after so many years of being apart. The prospect of starting a new chapter, especially one as significant as a romantic relationship, can indeed be daunting. Seonghwa empathises with your feelings entirely.

Yet, despite the uncertainty and the challenges that lie ahead, he can't help but yearn for your affection and the chance to call you his own. The connection you share, one that has spanned years and endured the test of time, is something he cherishes deeply.

In Seonghwa's chest, his heart beats with a mixture of excitement and patience. He knows that these things take time, and he's willing to take it one step at a time with you, ensuring that you both feel comfortable and secure in whatever path you choose to explore. For now, he's content with the knowledge that the feelings are mutual, and he's looking forward to seeing where this newfound chapter of your connection will lead.

Seonghwa instinctively reaches for your hand, his touch warm and reassuring, yet as you remember the confession once more, the action of affection makes your reaction extreme, your cheeks heating up, your heart racing faster than usual. 

"We don't have to figure it all out right now," he says gently. "Let's take our time. We'll figure it out together."

“It’s just… I’m still trying to process that you guys are still alive, now I have something else to think about, it all seems too much.”

Seonghwa continues to listen to you and he can almost feel the waves of unease radiating from your very being. It's a raw and vulnerable moment, and he wishes deeply that he could find a way to ease the emotional storm surging behind your eyes.

Unconsciously, his fingers begin to play with yours tenderly. It's a small, comforting gesture, a silent reassurance that he's here, he's present, and he's ready to support you in whatever way you need.

At this moment, Seonghwa isn't focused on any hurry or pressure to define your relationship. Instead, he's fully attuned to your emotions, your concerns, and your hesitations. He knows that sometimes, the most valuable thing he can offer is his patient understanding and unwavering support.

“I’m sorry for not finding you sooner.” He finally speaks, his voice starting to break as he feels his throat tighten up, “I was so lost without you.”

The moment Seonghwa utters those words, you can hear the raw emotion in his voice, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. His admission that he was lost without you hits you deeply, and it's impossible not to feel the depth of his emotions. The warmth of your touch is a silent reassurance, letting him know that you understand that you've also carried your own share of longing and uncertainty.

"I'm here now," you say softly, your voice filled with understanding and compassion. "Sometimes life takes us on different paths, but we find our way back to the people who matter most."

Seonghwa's eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he nods, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. In this moment of shared vulnerability, you both find comfort in each other's presence, knowing that the past is behind you and the future is filled with possibility.

“Seonghwa,” You begin to call the man’s name, recognising the way he is starting to succumb to his emotions.

“There is not a single day that went by without us regretting leaving you. We just had to make sure it was safe for you before we came back.”

His heartfelt words pierce your heart, leaving your mind a mess.

“It’s okay, I’m here now. I won’t leave you, any of you.”

In the hushed stillness of the room, you raise the hand that was resting underneath his, to delicately caress Seonghwa's cheek, cupping it tenderly. Your touch is gentle, like a soothing relief to his heartache. With a soft stroke of your thumb, you wipe away the tears cascading down his beautiful face, a gesture of comfort that speaks volumes.

When you reach your other hand to cup his entire face, the sensation sends shivers down his spine. The tenderness of your touch makes his heart race with a mixture of emotions. It feels like it has been an eternity since he felt the warmth of your hands on his skin, and in this moment, it feels like an unsaid accomplishment, a connection he had yearned for, an action he has only seen in his dreams, finally being a reality brings warmth to his entire soul.

Tears continue to fall from his eyes, but your presence, your touch, makes him feel seen and understood in a way he has never imagined, yet he no longer knows if the tears are from sorrow or pure happiness. It's as if the weight of his emotions can finally be shared, knowing that you are there to offer solace and support. In the quiet intimacy of this moment, he finds himself silently thanking fate for bringing him to your room tonight.

The world seems to fade away as Seonghwa places his hands gently on top of yours, his touch sending a rush of warmth through your entire being. In this tender moment, you become highly aware of the intimate proximity between the two of you. Your faces mere inches apart, and as you lock eyes with him, time seems to stand still.

Despite the urge to move away, your body seems to have a will of its own, keeping you locked in this position. It's as if the universe conspired to bring you together in this moment, and you find yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing you closer to him.

The softness of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to hold a world of unspoken emotions, leaves you captivated. In this delicate embrace, you feel a sense of vulnerability, as if a barrier that once separated you has been lifted, allowing your hearts to commune in a profound and intimate way.

The air around you is charged with unspoken desires and untamed emotions. Your heart races, torn between the familiarity of friendship and the allure of something more. There is a soft tension in the air, like a dance between two souls on the precipice of a love that has been silently blooming.

Continuing to gaze into each other's eyes, the depth of your connection becomes undeniable. It's a moment of reckoning, where you know you must confront the feelings that have been swirling within you both. Yet, in this suspended moment, the fear of the unknown fades, replaced by serene acceptance of the present.

In this captivating scene, you allow yourself to be immersed in the depth of your emotions, knowing that there is also beauty in the uncertainty, in the uncharted territories of the heart. As you share this intimate space with Seonghwa, you feel a sense of wonder, a willingness to explore the unspoken desires that have led you to this enchanting moment.

As the air crackles with unspoken desires, a gentle breeze seems to sweep through the room, carrying an air of anticipation. Neither of you can deny the magnetic pull drawing you closer, and in this intimate moment, you both surrender to the unspoken feelings that have been lingering between you.

“____,” Seonghwa calls your name softly, gazing deeply into your eyes, “I don’t know if I can live without you.”

Staying silent, you aren’t too sure how to respond, the heaviness of the confession making you too flustered to respond.

“You don’t have to say anything, I just needed you to know.”

Seonghwa's hands remain atop yours, his touch a comforting anchor as you lean in ever so slightly.

“Hwa.” You catch the man’s attention with the old nickname, making his heart race even quicker in his chest. Feeling confident, you slowly start to close the gap between your lips, until they are just a breath away from each other. 

“Can I…” Seonghwa begins before taking a deep, nervous breath in, “kiss you?” Seonghwa whispers, centimetres away from your lips. It takes you less than a few seconds to reply, even though your heart is beating out of your chest, you gently accept. 

With a mix of nervousness and excitement, you close your eyes, savouring the tingling anticipation that courses through your veins.In this suspended moment, time ceases to exist as your lips finally meet in a tender kiss. It's a soft and hesitant exploration, as if both of you are testing the waters of this new intimacy. The touch of his lips against yours sends a quake of delight down your spine, igniting a warmth in your heart that you can't quite put into words. His lips are soft as they move slowly against yours, testing the waters, seeing what you are comfortable with.

Instinctively your bodies draw closer, seeking relief in each other's embrace. The world outside fades away as you lose yourselves in the intoxicating taste of his plump lips. Finding yourself getting drunk off of the way his lips feel against yours, you hesitantly pull away, scared that you will fall in too deep, or make Seonghwa uncomfortable with the sudden rush of love and lust that you begin to feel.

Pulling away, your eyes meet once again with Seonghwa’s brown ones, and you are shocked by the sight. His usual round, soft eyes, now blown out and hooded, an indescribable emotion coursing through his veins.

Before you can utter a single word, you find yourself enveloped in Seonghwa's embrace, his strong arms securely wrapping around your waist as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs settle on either side of his body, the soft carpet cushioning your knees as your chest presses flat against his. The closeness of your bodies sends a surge of electricity through you, and yet, there is an overwhelming sense of comfort in this intimate position.

Gazing into Seonghwa's eyes, you see a mix of desire, lust and tenderness reflected in his gaze. He's careful to gauge your reaction, making sure you are comfortable with this new closeness. Without hesitation, you offer him a reassuring smile, your heart pounding with excitement and anticipation.

When his lips find yours once more, and this time the kiss is less gentle, Seonghwa’s tongue poking at the entrance of your mouth, and you feel an unspoken longing and passion. It's a connection that feels natural and familiar, as if your souls have been searching for this closeness all along. The way his warm lips caress yours is powerful, and you find yourself melting into the embrace, savouring the sensation of being so close to him. The kiss becomes messy as you allow his tongue to enter your mouth, dancing together as you press your body closely against his. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around Seonghwa’s neck, tilting your head to further deepen the intense kiss.

Seonghwa's arms encircle you, holding you close as if he never wants to let go. The world around you seems to fade away, and all that matters is the intimacy of this moment and the way his lips fit so perfectly against yours, the way his touch makes you feel cherished, adored, and hot, so hot.

As the kiss deepens, the boundaries between friendship and something more blur, and you realise that this is a connection that goes beyond labels and definitions. It's a love that defies explanation, a bond that has been quietly growing between you for years.

Seonghwa's touch ignites a fire within you, and you find yourself craving more of his affection, his warmth, his love. It's a feeling that is both thrilling and comforting, like coming home to the one person who understands you in a way no one else can.

His arms begin to rub up and down your back, gently passing underneath your night shirt and landing on your bare hips, gently caressing the bare skin. The warmth of his hands causes a small gasp to emit from your throat, jolting you slightly, making your hips rub gently against Seonghwa’s crotch.

“Fuck, angel.” Seonghwa's low groan reverberates through both of you, the sudden nickname sending shivers down your spine, straight to your core. The way he pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms, still underneath your shirt, tightly around your waist, creates an intoxicating sensation that leaves you breathless. Your skin pressed against his feels like a perfect fit, as if you were always meant to be in this embrace. The raw intimacy of the moment leaves both of you feeling lost in a whirlwind of emotions and sensations.

Seonghwa pulls away from your lips, and you are about to protest, yet the complaints die in your throat as his lips trail to the curve of your neck causing your heart to race, your senses heightened by every touch. He peppers small kisses down the curve of your neck, gently nibbling on the flesh.

The world around you fades into the background, and all that exists is you and Seonghwa. His hands explore the contours of your body with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of his desires. Every caress and every whisper of his breath against your skin ignites a fire within you, and you find yourself surrendering to the passion that courses through your veins.

“Seonghwa,” you whisper, your voice almost getting caught in your throat.

“Yes, angel?” Seonghwa mutters against the skin of your neck.

Unconsciously, the nickname causes you to move your hips against the males, desperately wanting a reaction from him. The deep groan that reverberates from his throat leaves you both satisfied and craving for more simultaneously.

“___,” Seonghwa stutters out, the sudden boldness of your movements leaving his head spinning, “we should stop,” 

Pulling away slowly, you give him a worried look, hoping dreadfully you haven't crossed a boundary. Seonghwa gently chuckles at the cute look on your face.

Pinching your cheek softly, he speaks again, “we just started, I want to take my time with you.”

Seonghwa's statement washes over you like a gentle wave, stirring up a delightful mix of excitement and nervousness that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Without hesitation, he draws you close once more, enveloping you in a comforting embrace that radiates warmth and affection. As you rest your head in the crook of his neck, you find yourself basking in the tender intimacy of the moment, cherishing the precious connection you share.

“You should get to sleep, we are going shopping early tomorrow.” Seonghwa’s deep voice reverberates in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Are we going shopping?” You question, feeling a sudden rush of sleepiness overcoming your senses. 

Nuzzling your head even closer into the crook of Seonghwa's neck, you sense the gentle thump of his heart escalating, mirroring the accelerated rhythm of your own. Although you can’t see it, Seonghwa’s cheeks are a blazing hot shade of red as he tries to calm himself from going further. He realises that pushing you to do something when you're already confused is not the right option. As much as Seonghwa wishes to take you, claim you right here, like he has been dreaming for years, he waits patiently, not wanting to overwhelm you. The lingering effect of the shared kiss intensifies the moment, making it all the more electrifying and unforgettable.

"Let's get you to bed, angel," Seonghwa whispers tenderly, his hold around your waist tightening as he firmly presses your body against his own, lifting you both effortlessly from the floor. Your legs instinctively coil around his waist, and as he carries you towards the bed, the red blush intensifies on Seonghwa's cheeks, his heart racing with every step. The intimate closeness and the warmth of the moment leave him adorably flustered, but his focus remains on ensuring your comfort and care.

Tucking you in the blankets, he sits by the side of your bed, watching your weary form with a violent blush  and a wide smile covering his entire face. 

"Goodnight, Seonghwa," you mumble softly, settling into the cosy embrace of your pillow. Witnessing your endearing gesture, Seonghwa feels his heart swell with affection, amazed at how he could fall even deeper for you, a feeling he once thought was impossible. As he watches over you, he can't help but feel grateful for the precious moments shared and the special connection that continues to grow between the two of you. With a gentle smile, he lingers for a moment, savouring the sight of you before finally whispering his own goodnight, his heart full of fondness and admiration. Departing from your bedroom with a satisfied smile on his face, Seonghwa heads straight for his bathroom, desperately needing a cold shower to calm his thoughts of you situated in his lap, looking so pretty. He definitely needs to clear those thoughts before he finds himself running back to your bedroom.

----

The soft morning light gently filters through the curtains, causing you stir from your slumber, a warm and blissful feeling spreading through your entire being. You can't help but smile as the memory of the tender kiss you shared with Seonghwa last night floods your mind, filling you with a sense of giddiness and butterflies in your stomach. The way his lips touched yours lingers in your thoughts, leaving you feeling loved and cherished.

With a contented sigh, you stretch your limbs beneath the soft sheets and sit up, the room enveloped in a soft glow that seems to match the radiance in your heart. You can't wait to see your roommates, to share the joy of this morning with them and bask in the warmth of their presence.

Getting up from your bed, the floor feels cool against your feet, contrasting with the warmth in your heart. You take your time getting ready, savouring each moment as you brush your hair and wash your face. There's an air of excitement and anticipation building within you, eager to embrace the day ahead and the company of your dear roommates.

Making your way to the kitchen, the aroma of breakfast fills the air, and your senses are treated to a delightful feast. To your delight, all eight of your friends are gathered at the counter, and you can't help but notice that they all look particularly handsome today, their smiles radiant and welcoming. You aren't sure if it is because of their confession yesterday, or if they always look this good, but something has changed. The sight of them all waiting for you warms your heart, and you feel a mix of gratitude and affection for each member of the group. It's a feeling of belonging and togetherness that washes over you, reinforcing the deep bond you share with them.

Unconsciously, you gravitate towards Seonghwa, the events of last night still at the front of your mind, who beams at your approach with that charming smile that has a way of melting your heart. His eyes light up when he sees you, and the affection in his gaze makes you feel like the most cherished person in the world. 

When you get close to him, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, causing a small yelp of surprise to leave your mouth, the action catching you off guard making you feel awfully warm in the face.

What surprises you is that neither of the seven men around you even flinch, though they send a questioning look to Seonghwa who just gently shrugs, an amused, smug expression gracing his features as he holds you close to him, addicted to the way your body feels against him. 

Unbeknownst to you, yesterday night was very difficult for Seonghwa. In the quiet hours after your time together, his thoughts were consumed by an intense longing. The memory of your closeness lingered, and his yearning for the touch of your body against his became almost overwhelming. Throughout the night, a compelling desire took hold of him, urging him to find any possible way to feel your presence once more. 

He found himself on the brink of leaving his own room multiple times, his heart urging him to seek the physical connection he so deeply carved from you. Each time, he would pull back, reminding himself of the boundaries and the need to respect your space. It was a struggle that played out repeatedly throughout the night, a battle between his longing and his determination to be patient and considerate. Yet now you are here, with your consent, he doesn't feel the need to hold back, wanting to touch you in any way possible.

When you take your seat at the counter, you can't help but notice a bowl of your favourite breakfast waiting for you, a thoughtful gesture from Wooyoung that fills you with warmth. The gesture speaks volumes of the care and consideration your friends have for you, and you feel incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by such loving and attentive individuals.

“I hope it tastes nice.” Wooyoung says, a shy tone to his voice that has you surprised, wondering where his usual flirty, playful self is.

"I'm sure it's lovely, Woo," you reply with a playful tone, using the endearing nickname that sends delightful shivers cascading down Wooyoung's spine. The affectionate term fills his chest with pride and joy, revelling in the fact that you chose a cute name to address him. The sweet exchange between the two of you leaves Wooyoung with a heartwarming sense of happiness and admiration for you.

Munching away on the food, you allow yourself to completely relax as the flavours of the food warm and caress your tongue.

"Are you coming to the mall with us today?" Yeosang is situated on the other side of you and asks in a hushed tone, his eyes filled with hope as he awaits your response. Meanwhile, the other seven members are deeply engrossed in a somewhat serious yet lighthearted debate about whether butts are considered as two or one. Despite their lively discussion, Yeosang remains focused on your answer, eager for you to join them on the outing.

"Yes, I think so. I desperately need some new clothes," you reply with a smile, feeling the warmth of Yeosang’s undivided attention as he turns his entire body towards you, clearly focused on your words. The genuine interest he shows in your plans for the day brings a sense of connection, making you even more eager to spend time with the group. Excitement builds as you look forward to the fun outing with your friends, hoping it will be a memorable day spent together.

Yet something suddenly nags at your mind, causing you to feel a little vulnerable. “Aren't you worried about being seen with me in public? I don't think people would be happy with me being around you.”

“We don't care what people think, you are one of us.” he says, his tone soft as he peers at your flustered reaction, a smile graces his face.

You feel a rush of flustered emotions as you notice Yeosang's gaze lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes. The memory of the kiss shared with Seonghwa last night briefly crosses your mind, sparking curiosity about what it might be like to kiss the others. However, you quickly push those thoughts away, not wanting to get carried away and get your hopes up too high.

Yeosang, seemingly pleased with your reaction, gently smirks before turning back to the group. Little does he know, his actions have left you feeling even more flustered. As you watch him, you can't help but wonder how he might flirt with you and what that could lead to. The possibility of such interactions excites you, but you also remind yourself to be cautious and not read too much into it.

In his own silent moment, Yeosang decides to take some pointers from Wooyoung on flirting, hoping to make you smile and blush like this forever. The prospect of seeing your cute flustered face becomes a delightful goal, one he can't wait to achieve.

----

The late morning sun casts a golden glow on the bustling streets as you and your roommates step out of the white house. Due to the large shopping mall being a short walk away, the nine of you decide to walk there to enjoy the warm sun, the excitement in the air is palpable. You had mentioned that you needed some new clothes, and the eight men were more than eager to join you on this shopping adventure.

Walking to the mall turned out to be quite the amusing experience. As the group strolled along, you found yourself at the back, flanked by Wooyoung and San, who adamantly refused to let anyone else take their spot next to you. Their sweet insistence brought a warm blush to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but feel flattered by their attention.

Seonghwa and Mingi, not ones to back down easily, bickered with Wooyoung and San, each vying for the chance to be by your side during the walk there. The friendly competition for your company added a playful dynamic to the group, and even Hongjoong couldn't resist getting involved, trying to mediate the situation.

In the end, Hongjoong managed to calm the playful dispute, promising Seonghwa, Mingi, and the others that they could take turns to walk with you on the way back home. Although the rest of the group may have been sulking slightly at not being able to be next to you now, they all understood the importance of sharing the time with you and were happy to have their chance later.

Arriving at the grand entrance of the shopping mall, your eyes widen in awe. The place is massive, with countless stores, boutiques, and displays that promise a shopping experience like no other. You are not able to contain your excitement and feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest.

Strolling through the mall, the group seems to split into smaller clusters, each one of your roommates offering to accompany you to different sections based on your fashion preferences. 

“Are you guys sure you don't need anything?” You question for the third time as they refuse to look in any shop that you walk past.

Upon hearing a chorus of playful "no's" filling the air, you can't help but roll your eyes with a mixture of amusement and affection. Their stubbornness to stay by your side, despite knowing it makes your heart race, only serves to make you appreciate their care and attention even more. It's endearing to see how much they value being with you, and while their determination might fluster you, it also warms your heart to know how cherished you are within the group.

When you reach a particular clothing store, which you usually shop at, you are happy to see they have sales on a lot of clothes. Making your way in, you giggle at the way the eight aimlessly follow you in. They disperse slightly, looking at many different clothing racks, searching for something that would suit you, or something they would like to see you wearing.

Wandering through the racks of clothes, you notice Wooyoung seems particularly focused. He keeps scanning the dresses with a determined expression, occasionally pulling one off the rack to examine it closely. It's clear that he's on a mission, and you can't help but wonder what he's up to.

"Hey, Wooyoung, find anything interesting?" you question, curious about his intent.

Wooyoung turns to you with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, just looking for something special," he replies cryptically.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his mysterious response. The boys exchange knowing glances, clearly in on whatever plan Wooyoung has hatched. It seems as if they have a small mission in their minds.

A little while later, Wooyoung finally emerges from the racks of dresses, triumphantly holding one up for you to see. "Look! This would look stunning on you," Wooyoung, exclaims, holding up a beautiful black dress that caught his eye. It definitely isn't your style, so you wonder as to why he would ask you to try it on.

You examine the short, form-fitting dress that Wooyoung kindly offered, you realise it's not your usual style, and you feel hesitant about trying it on, especially since it's on the sexier side and not something you'd typically wear. Before you can politely decline, San appears at your side, expressing his agreement with Wooyoung's suggestion. He wraps an arm around your shoulder in a tender gesture, encouraging you to give it a try while also assuring you that it's entirely your choice.

Touched by their compliments and support, you gently accept the dress, feeling grateful for their thoughtfulness. With a slightly doubtful smile, you make your way to the changing room, and to your surprise, you notice that all of them follow you eagerly, clearly invested in how you'll look in the dress. 

“Guys you don't all need to come.” You exclaim, chuckling at their eagerness, “it’s just a dress.”

“We have never seen you in a dress before,” Mingi replies, an adorable pout on his face, the others agreeing with him. Chuckling again, you turn around to walk into the changing room. Inside the changing room, you slip into the dress, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You realise this must've been their plan and you chuckle to yourself at the thought of them conspiring for this very moment. It gives you a boost of confidence knowing they are eager to see you dressed up nicely.

Standing in the changing room, you find yourself struggling to reach the zipper on the back of the dress, you let out a small groan of frustration. You contemplate taking the dress off and giving up on the idea of trying it on. However, in that moment, a mischievous idea crosses your mind, and a playful smirk appears on your face.

Deciding to have a little fun with the situation, you poke your head out of the changing room, leaving the zipper undone deliberately and you see eight faces waiting patiently. 

You gently call out to the men outside, "Hey, I might need a little help here."

San, Wooyoung, and the others glance your way, and their eyes widen when they notice your insinuations. Instantly, they catch on to your playful game, and a mischievous glint appears in their eyes as well.

Wooyoung quickly volunteers, stepping forward with a grin, "I'll help!"

The others slightly grumble, falling back into their seats as you allow Wooyoung to make his way into the changing room, where you hold up the dress with your arms. Noticing the way Wooyoung's eyes are chasing your form up and down, you feel a surge of confidence rush through your body. Maybe trying on this dress wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

With a teasing smile, you turn around, allowing Wooyoung to reach for the zipper. As his fingers brush against your bare back while he gently pulls up the zipper, a shiver runs down your spine, and you can't help but exchange a knowing look with him through the mirror. When his eyes meet yours, you notice the dark look coating his eyes, making your knees feel weak. 

“How does it look?” You whisper, suddenly feeling a little insecure at how tight the dress is. 

Wooyoung's fingers glide slowly from the zipper of the dress to your hips, where he gently pulls you closer against his body, his chest now pressed against your back. The proximity between you two sends a shiver through your body, and your heart races with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

His hands gently massage your hips, and Wooyoung can't help but revel in the sensation of your touch against his skin. The way your bodies fit together creates a warm and intimate connection that has him feeling drunk off of your touch. He suddenly feels immensely grateful that you trusted him to come into the dressing room, along with letting him see you in the dress first. 

“It looks amazing,” Wooyoung whispers in your ear, his lips brushing your earlobe, he continues, “You’d look better without it.” His words cause another shiver to ripple through your body, the insinuations of his words has your head spinning.

“Wooyoung, behave.” Hongjoong’s authoritative voice sounds from behind the curtain of the dressing room and you realise that the seven on the other side must have heard what Wooyoung uttered.

Playfully rolling his eyes, Wooyoung reluctantly moves away from your body, grumbling under his breath. Once the curtain opens, you turn around to face the group, playfully twirling in the dress, feeling a newfound confidence and excitement. 

Emerging from the fitting room, you're greeted by a symphony of reactions from your roommates. Mingi and Seonghwa’s expressions border on awe, their mouths hanging slightly agape as they drink in the way the dress contours your figure. Yeosang and Jongho, aware of their own reactions, quickly avert their gaze, trying to avoid any obvious signs of their appreciation for the dress on you.

Yunho and San's widened eyes trace your silhouette, an unspoken admiration evident in their glances. They want you to feel comfortable but can't help conveying how striking you look, their stare piercing you. Hongjoong, known for his unreadable demeanour, studies you intently, his features carefully neutral. When your curious gaze meets his, he raises an eyebrow in a challenge, his lips curling into a smirk as he openly checks you out.

In a playful move, you send a teasing wink his way, a side of you he rarely witnesses. The effect is immediate, causing a noticeable flush to creep up Hongjoong's cheeks. His eyes widen slightly in surprise at your flirtatious gesture, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. Your unexpected action has triggered a shift in his usually composed demeanour, stirring a rush of thoughts and feelings that he's unaccustomed to.

The contrast between your usual innocence and this unexpected flirtation leaves Hongjoong's heart racing and his mind aflutter with indecent notions. Your playfulness has caught him off guard, and it's evident in the way his cheeks continue to heat up. The dynamic between you two has shifted momentarily, and the lingering effects of your flirtatious exchange are bound to make the day even more interesting. 

"You look stunning!" Mingi exclaims, his eyes bright with admiration.

"You were right. This dress is perfect for her," San chimed in, his eyes not leaving the dress hugging your body.

“I’ll go pay for it,” Hongjoong says, getting off the chair he was comfortably resting in. 

“What? No, I'll pay.” You insist, trying to chase after Hongjoong, who just sends you a sweet smile before heading towards the exit of the fitting rooms. 

“Bring it to me when it's off, love.” he says before turning away to walk off, yet he stops and quickly turns around to meet your eyes again, swiftly he looks you up and down, before smiling again, “you look beautiful.” 

Once again, Hongjoong moves to the exit, some of the others following him, not before glancing at you one more time, to make sure the image of you in the dress stays in their minds. You attempt to follow him, not wanting him to pay for something like this. Yet, Wooyoung, who is still in the changing room, swiftly grabs your hand,  gently pulling you back into the cubicle.

“He likes to pay for things, it’s how he shows his affection, amongst other ways…” Woooyoung trails off and you can’t help but wonder what he is implying, “now, do you need help taking it off too?” 

“Wooyoung.” It is San whose voice sounds this time, causing Wooyoung to playfully roll his eyes.

It's just this dress, you tell yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes diligently observes your every gesture from across the expanse of the clothing store. A faint scowl adorns their features as they take in the scene playing out before them. Arched eyebrows frame their intent gaze, as they persist in their scrutiny, trying to think of where they've encountered you in the past. Curiously, the sight of your seemingly contented presence among the group of eight men evokes an unease within them. Finally they have found Ateez, yet they are extremely unaware as to who you are.

As the day wears on, you notice that your friends seem to be going out of their way to impress you. They help you find the perfect clothes, hold doors open for you, and even sneak in small gestures of affection, like stealing glances or offering gentle touches on your arm. Seonghwa skillfully manoeuvres his arm around your waist as the two of you walk side by side, gently tugging you closer to his side. His touch creates a sense of intimacy. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he conveys a silent closeness, a shared moment of connection that transcends words. The warmth of his body against yours and the weight of his chin on your shoulder create a comforting sensation.

"Wait, this sweater looks so cosy. You have to try it on!" Jongho insisted, handing you a soft, knitted sweater that looked like it would be perfect for chilly evenings.

"And these shoes! They would go perfectly with that dress you tried earlier," Yunho adds, bringing over a pair of elegant black shoes.

Continuing the shopping spree at the large mall, you can’t help but be flattered by their attention and affection. Every time you pause to admire an item for a little too long, one of the eight men would quickly grab it off the rack, insisting on buying it for you. It was both endearing and overwhelming to see their determination to spoil you  with gifts, no matter how hard you try to protest.

Trying on each item, you can't help but marvel at how well your roommates know your style and preferences. Their attention to detail and the effort they put into finding clothes that suit your taste makes your heart swell with gratitude.

The more the shopping bags pile up, the more you protest, telling them that they do not need to buy everything you like. Alas, your roommates are insistent, assuring you that they want to spoil you and show their appreciation for your presence in their lives.

During a quick break at a coffee shop, you find yourself sitting next to Yunho, who has been rather quiet this entire trip, it seems as if there is something on his mind, bothering him. When you look over to him, you notice he is peering at you with a fond expression. He takes a deep breath, as if he is gathering the courage to say something important, the tips of his ears turning a dark shade of red.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know that... I really care about you," he begins, his voice hushed, soft and earnest , the traces of nervousness evident in his tone. The abrupt confession momentarily leaves you in a state of astonishment, as the unexpected display of affection from him causes your heart to quicken its pace. 

Throughout the day, you've been consistently taken aback by the sudden surge of affection from every man. Normally, the casual slight flirting is something you’ve become accustomed to, but now it has escalated to an intense level, and the realisation that there are deeper emotions beneath their words leaves you feeling light-headed and in a perpetual state of fluster.

"Later, can we talk, one on one, just us two? You deserve an apology and an explanation for my behaviour." Yunho continues.

“I’d love that Yunho.” You smile at the man, who looks exactly like a puppy as his eyes light up with happiness.

His confession leaves your heart pounding in your chest, and before Yunho can respond, Jongho approaches the two of you with a smile on his face. "Don't forget about me," he says playfully, though there is a hint of sincerity in his eyes. "I feel the same way. You're truly special to all of us."

Their sincere words have a profound effect on you, causing a rush of warmth to spread throughout your being. The honesty in their expressions and the depth of their feelings touch you deeply, leaving you unable to hide the telltale signs of your emotions. Your cheeks flush with a gentle heat, the emotions swirling within you.

When the day draws to a close, you leave the mall with bags filled with new clothes and hearts full of cherished memories. Realising that you are indeed fortunate to have such incredible people in your life who love you so deeply.

Making your way home, arms laden with shopping bags, you feel an overwhelming sense of happiness and belonging. The affectionate gestures of your roommates have touched you deeply, and you know that you are truly surrounded by people who care for you. In the end, it wasn't just about the clothes or the gifts; it was about the love and warmth that flowed between you. Settling back into the house, you can’t help but smile as you look around at your roommates, each one beaming with happiness. 

“I am going to put all this stuff away,” you exclaim, announcing your short departure.

"Hey, just so you know, dinner will be ready in about an hour or two," Yunho calls out to you as you busily move the numerous bags into your room. With a quick thumbs-up in his direction, you respond in a light-hearted manner, before disappearing behind your closed bedroom door. Your actions prompt a soft chuckle from him, finding your response quite endearing and cute.

Alone in the quiet of your room, you take a deep breath, attempting to steady the rising tide of anxiety that threatens to engulf you. Today had been a day unlike any other, filled with warmth that had, for a fleeting moment, lifted your spirits. The kindness and affection of the boys had been a balm to your soul, enveloping you in a sense of belonging that you hadn't felt in a while.

Reflecting on the day's events, you're struck by a poignant realisation – it was indeed one of the best days you've had in a long time. Laughter, shared moments, and the genuine care of your roommates were woven together to create memories that you'll treasure. And yet, despite the joy that had enveloped you, a shadow of apprehension had loomed over the day, casting a veil of unease over your experience.

The sensation of being watched, the lingering feeling that someone was trailing your every move, had been a constant presence in the back of your mind. It had woven its way into the fabric of your day, colouring even the happiest moments with a sense of discomfort. The weight of someone's presence, real or imagined, clung to you like a second skin, refusing to be shaken off.

Her face was everywhere and the worst thing is, you feel like you’ve seen it before.

---

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[servantofthefates]

I have always felt The Fates' work.

Way before my initiation into the craft. As early as when I was in Catholic school. And even during my skeptic period.

Windfalls? Miracles? Surprises? That's not them. That's Jupiter. Or Jesus, if he's who you believe in.

The Fates' movements always feel like a disappointment at first, before they reveal their blessing — a blessing in disguise.

In college, I was so upset that I didn't get into the freshman dorm at my university. It was quite prestigious. Instead, I'd been assigned to the all-girls dorm, which was a lot older and quite dilapidated.

But then... I found out that getting a dorm room at my university is a near-impossible thing in the first place. And that as you get older (in your sophomore, junior, senior years), it gets even harder because the slots are extremely limited, and freshmen are always the priority. However... getting into the all-girls dorm in my freshman year meant I was guaranteed a spot in the building until I graduate!

The Fates are like that. They don't give you the shiny thing. They give you the stable thing.

Same as when I started working. I'd graduated magna cum laude at the #1 university in my country. So I wondered why all my job offers came from boutique agencies and not from multinationals. I was so hurt and confused by this. I was the best, so why the fuck were the big players not interested in me?!

And then out of the blue, I got an opportunity to work abroad. My first job offer was SEVEN times the amount I was making back then. But had I been working for a prestigious multinational company, I never would've grabbed the chance to move. I would've stayed home, because I would've felt happy already. Which means I wouldn't have been able to afford all my luxury travel, my weekly salon visits, the Sephoras in my vanity, the Louis Vuittons in my closet.

That's the Fates. They deny you silver, so they can give you gold.

I did eventually get to work for a multinational. I loooved it. My boss and I were soul kin. One mind. One heart. Our work together was phenomenal, unparalleled, award-winning. We were the dream team.

And then he got fired.

I felt like a little girl whose lollipop got violently dragged out of her mouth.

My world came crashing down. I started questioning my faith, my ability to manifest, my power as a lineage witch. I thought I was protected by the divine. What the fuck was this tragedy then?

But... because my beloved boss was out of the picture, that meant I had to do his job for a while. That's when I started presenting to managing directors, to decision makers, to the CEO himself. That's when I earned a name for myself.

That's the Fates. They take away your comfort to give you the spotlight.

Even now, I have a lot of agnostic and atheist friends. I resonate with their critical thinking... their rejection of the status quo... their rebelliousness against authority. I share all of those values very strongly.

But I am not one of them. How can I be, when I have always felt the Fates writing my destiny?

[mariacallous]

so every time I post about building of more housing through HUD or whatever, people will always pop into the tags or the notes and say something like "we don't need to build any more housing!" "there's more than enough houses for people!" etc from the left

and I have an idea what the issue is, ie there's enough housing collectively across all of America, but not enough where people actually live/want to live, what good does an empty house in Montana do someone paying too much in rent in NYC?

but you're a lot smarter than me, what are they talking about? are they right? is my guess correct?

Finding an affordable place to live in the U.S. can feel pretty impossible whether you're a renter or a buyer.

To begin with, there's a massive shortage of homes — somewhere between 4 and 7 million. And those who are able to find homes are spending a much bigger chunk of their paycheck than in recent years.

...

All Things Considered host Mary Louise Kelly spoke with Alex Horowitz, the director of Pew's Housing Policy Initiative, to help understand why affordable housing feels like a pipe dream, and what can be done about it.

She began by asking about the shortage of 4 to 7 million homes in the U.S., and whether that was a shortage of all homes or affordable ones.

...

Alex Horowitz: We're short on all homes. Full stop. There just aren't enough of them. And that means that existing homes are getting bid up because we see high income households competing with low income households for the same residences since just not enough are getting built.

Mary Louise Kelly: And what's driving this? Why?

Horowitz: So restrictive zoning is the primary culprit. It's made it hard to build homes in the areas where there are jobs. And so that has created an immense housing shortage. And each home is getting bid up, whether it's a rental or whether it's a home to buy.

Kelly: I want to ask if there are any cities getting this right. Can you give me an example of one that has looked at it's zoning laws and said we could actually make this more affordable if we change things?

Horowitz: There are definitely cities that are getting this right. And we've seen a lot of changes in recent years to allow more homes, especially the kinds of homes that are in short supply, namely apartments, townhouses, duplexes and homes that don't cost as much as a detached single family house. Minneapolis is a great example. Minneapolis updated their zoning to make it much easier to build apartments near commerce and near transit, in part by eliminating parking minimums and also by making permitting easy. And it worked. They're producing housing at triple the rate of the U.S. and the rest of Minnesota, and that has meant that they've kept their rents flat for about seven years.

...

Kelly: Okay, so let's drill down first on the renters side of this. We heard from Natalie French, the renter who had to move out of her apartment when her rent went way up. How typical is that? Is that happening to people all over the country?

Horowitz: That is happening. And rents have been rising rapidly, up about 30% in the U.S. since 2017, with median rents now hitting about 1400 dollars a month. And we've never been at a time before where half of renters were spending 30% or more of income on rent. But that's happening for the first time.

Kelly: And then on the homebuying side, we hear a lot about mortgage rates. They keep climbing. They don't look like they're coming down anytime soon. Are there other factors that make this a tough time to buy?

Horowitz: A lack of starter homes is really keeping it difficult for first time homebuyers to crack the market. And that is because traditionally starter homes are small homes. That means a home on a small lot, maybe a townhouse. And we're seeing far fewer of those come onto the market. Many jurisdictions require large minimum lot sizes, and that means that land costs end up being a big part of the equation. Houston is the place that has had the most success in bringing starter homes into the market. And it was by reducing their minimum lot size. And then 80,000 townhouses followed.

Kelly: So does it boil down to the double whammy of: there aren't enough homes full stop, and even if there were a home, it's really hard to afford a mortgage in an era where mortgage rates are sky high.

Horowitz: Mortgage rates are a piece of the puzzle, but at a fundamental level, even when mortgage rates were low, it was hard to buy a home for the first time because there simply aren't enough of them. And a lot of the ones that we have are bigger than what people need. U.S. household size is at an all time low of 2.50 people per household. And so we see homes that are bigger than what a lot of residents are looking for.

Kelly: What about financing and lending? Setting aside what mortgage rates are, is it more difficult than in generations past just to get a loan to buy a house?

Horowitz: Oh, it's gotten much more difficult to get a mortgage. The availability of mortgage credit tightened dramatically during the Great Recession, and it never bounced back. So for someone who gets a mortgage today, they're likely to have a higher credit score than someone who's gotten a mortgage in the past. And that means simply fewer people are eligible for homes. And the cost to originate a mortgage has roughly tripled since 2009. And that has meant that lenders don't offer many small mortgages because they tend not to make money on them unless the mortgage is for over about $150,000.

[darksigns-exe]

house of glass - nick folio x f!reader

warnings: swearing, use of drugs, handjobs (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m and f receiving), boys being boys

word count: 3.8k

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

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When your roommate had brought up the idea of spending the weekend at a house their aunt owned, you hadn’t expected it to be a mansion. You’d thought about a lake house or a cabin, maybe, but this was something else entirely.

Nick, your boyfriend, had been adamant that you take his bike up to the house. He’d been so very proud when he could finally afford the damned thing, so who were you to deny him this? 

You and Nick have been together for a little over a year. You’d initially met in your first year of college. It had taken you a little while to actually get together, but now that you have him, can’t see yourself with anyone else. Behind the sometimes overly goofy exterior lies a genuinely sweet boy who had completely swept you off your feet. 

The ride to the house was nice enough. Once you’d left the city behind and the city streets made way to scenic country roads. You cling onto his body, enjoying the  scenery as you travel towards your destination. As sceptical as you had been of the bike at first, you have to admit that it is a nice way to travel. 

According to your plan, it would take you a little over two hours to reach your destination. Knowing Nick, though, he’ll take you down some kind of shortcut that will only drag the ride out. It’s not that you mind, you love spending time with him like this, but it’s nearing the end of October and your hands already feel like ice blocks. 

In the end, it takes you almost an hour longer to get to the house. 

Nick takes you down a long, oak lined driveway. It feels like forever until the actual house finally comes into view. As you round the final corner, the large building reveals itself to you. The sprawling Georgian mansion spreads out in front of you, still partially obscured by the large oak trees that are seemingly littered all around the property. 

When you arrive, one of your friends is already waiting in front of the building. His get-up consisting of an oversized bathrobe and pyjama pants makes both of you laugh and almost sends you flying off the back of the bike. Nick brings you to a safe standstill, though, and you quickly climb off the bike to embrace your roommate, who just emerges from the doorway. Greetings are all around joyous, even though it's only been a few hours since you’ve seen each other. Just before you had left the dorm that morning, you had asked your roommate to take an extra bag for you, fully knowing that Nick would forget half of the things he’d need. 

The room you and Nick had been assigned was located in on the third floor. It takes you what felt like five minutes of passing through hallways to actually reach your room. 

You are greeted by a room that looked like a long forgotten Downton Abbey set piece. The large four-poster bed in the middle of the room does look rather soft and welcoming, though, and Nick proves your thoughts when he lets himself fall onto the mattress. You take a moment to rummage through your bag to find your polaroid camera to take a quick picture of him. For once, Nick doesn’t pull a grimace, and you end up with a very cute picture of your boyfriend. You drop the camera onto one of the pillows, before lowering yourself on top of him. Nick’s arms wrap your middle, one hand finding a comfortable home on your backside. 

“What time did they say we’re having dinner?” Nick asks. 

“You mean at what time are we ordering pizza?” 

He pinches your ass, making you squeak in response. The swat you give to his shoulder makes him laugh. Nick tries to flip you both other, realising what he’s up to, you play along. As soon as you’re on your back, Nick leans in to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet and undeniably Nick. Your fingers lace into the hair at the back of his head, keeping him as close to you as you can. You’re just about to get lost in the feeling of him, when the door to your bedroom flies open. 

“We’re gonna take the quad for a ride around the estate.” your friend adds a mocking overexaggerated British accent to the last word, “Coming with, Folio?”

And with that you’re left to your own devices again. You eventually make your way back down to the living room, where the rest of your group had gathered. After a while, some of the girls, and you decide to explore the house for a little while. Surely, there’ll be some interesting things to find. Armed with your camera, you start your exploration of these century old hallways. 

For the most part, all you find is dust and cobwebs. You snap a few pictures for your photo album, already thinking about how you can spice them up a little. When you’d been told that how old this house was, you’d expected a little more ambiance. The cobwebs were surprisingly ineffective. And it’s not that you believe in ghosts, but there had been an odd incident a few years earlier that had made you question things. 

You pass a door that feels awfully out of place. Compared to the other rich mahogany woods, this one feels overly fancy. The gold trim feels out of place, none of the other doors had been decorated like this. You snap a picture of it, before you approach it. The doorknob is cold when you place your hand on it. And to your surprise, the door is unlocked. 

Behind it, you find a surprisingly small room. The heavy curtains that cover the windows look as if they’ve been sustaining moths for a good few decades. The centre of the room is taken up by a large circular table with eight plush chairs. From where you’re standing, you can’t identify the object in the centre of the table. You’re not sure if you’re allowed into this room, but when you check, the group you’ve been exploring the place with has already rounded the next corner, leaving you on your own. Curiosity gets the better of you then, and you slowly make your way into the room. 

 The overwhelming smell of mildew seeps into your nose. Mixed with the scent of rotting fabric and old wood, it really sells the haunted house atmosphere. You take a moment to wander around the room. Most of the cabinets that line the walls are empty, but a few of the shelves are still decorated with the dusty footprints of the objects that were once placed inside of them. Inside one of the cabinets, you spot an old tintype photograph. You chance your luck and try to open the door. 

Once again, you’re in luck. The hinges are rusted and stiff, but the door slowly creaks open, allowing you to inspect the picture closer. It’s old and faded, and you can hardly make out anything besides the rough outline of a group of figures. The longer you look at it, the more you’re sure that you can single out details. One of the figures looks like a woman with a large, wide rimmed hat. You wonder why this picture in particular was left behind. Nothing else had remained inside the cabinets after all. Perhaps it had just been forgotten – not deemed important enough to be put away.

A cold draft rushes into the room, making your head abruptly. 

There’s nothing behind you, even though you swear that you saw something out of the corner of your eye. 

You return the picture to its previous place in the cabinet. Maybe you’ll ask your friend if you could take the picture with you. It would be a shame for it to be entirely forgotten. 

The hands that suddenly shake your shoulders make you scream out in terror. But as soon as bright laughter rings into your ears, you know who the culprit behind this is, and you don’t have to turn around to start scolding him. 

“What the fuck, Nick?” you gasp, pressing a hand to the centre of your chest. 

He’s still doubled-over with laughter when you turn around to face him. You want to be upset with him so badly, but how could you with how infectious his laughter is. 

When he realises that you’re not laughing along with him, Nick suddenly straightens up again. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” his brows turn down, making him look awfully apologetic, “We were looking for you all over the place and this was just so inviting. I’m sorry.” 

Nick places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Please forgive me.” he puts on his best puppy eyes. 

Instead, of giving him a verbal reply, you pull him in for a kiss, but not without pinching his side in revenge. Nick lets out a little squeal, but doesn’t move away from you. 

You don’t think that you’ll ever get sick of the feeling of his lips against yours. He’s always so soft with you, kissing you very sweetly. Nick presses a final kiss to your lips before he pulls away rather reluctantly. 

“We gotta finish this later, pizza’s on its way. Should be here in a little bit.” Nick says quietly, “Maybe we can sneak away for a bit after we’ve eaten?”

“I’m so holding you to that.” you reply, before pulling him in for another quick kiss, “Let’s go before the next person comes looking for us.” 

You meet the group just as most of them come into the large foyer of the mansion. The questioning looks on either of your faces were enough for someone to give you an answer. 

“Delivery person doesn’t want to set foot on the property.” one of the guys says, already sounding as if he’s all the way over it, “Fucking superstitious locals.” 

He shakes his head as he makes his way outside to meet the delivery driver. You stay inside, with Nick pressing up behind you. 

You watch as your friend marches down most of the driveway until he reaches the large wrought iron gate that you had passed through earlier. Just behind it, you can make out the shape of who you assume to be the delivery person. 

“Do you think this place is actually haunted?” Nick asks quietly. 

You’re of course inclined to shake your head. But thinking back on the odd feeling you had in the room with the round table, you’re suddenly not so sure. You don’t consider yourself to be particularly superstitious, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is off about this place. 

“It’s old Nick. People make up stories.” you reply instead, hoping that it’ll settle your own nerves too. 

“But what if it isn’t?” another of your friends asks mockingly. 

You turn your head just in time to see one of them pull their sweater over their head in the single worst ghost impression you’ve seen so far. The group breaks into laughter when they start howling on top of that. 

Once your friend has returned with the pizza, you gather in the large sitting room. Nick and you sit in front of one of the sofas on the carpet. He hands you a piece of the margarita, while he takes a piece of pepperoni for himself. It’s not long before conversations break out around your group. Nick tells you about the elementary school he wants to do his internship in and how they have a special program for kids with learning disabilities. Hearing how passionate he is about this, fills your heart with warmth. You just know that he’ll be the best teacher these kids could ask for. 

As things usually go with your group, it’s not long before someone passes around the first joint of the evening. It passes towards Nick, and for a moment you contemplate sitting this one out. But on the other hand, you’ll have the entire weekend off and nothing else to do. You do end up skipping the joint in favour of one of the infused brownies your roommate brought. 

You’re just beginning to feel the effects of the brownie when Nick squeezes your thigh to get your attention.

“They’re gonna put on a movie, you wanna sneak back up to our room?” he whispers into your ear. 

He’s on his feet before you’ve even had the chance to nod. You use the distraction of your friends trying to settle on a movie to disappear from the sitting room. 

You’ve barely made it up the large staircase in the foyer, before Nick is on you again. His arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you with him towards the wood cladded wall. You laugh when your back thuds against the wall. Nick immediately leans down to kiss you. It’s a little messy and rushed, but you feel the same need for him. His hand dives under the hem of your shirt, coming to rest against the bare skin of your side. You let out a sweet sigh when his hand shifts towards the small of your back. 

A thud from someone in the foyer below you makes both of you still instantly. Nick tries to get a glance at the double doors that lean down to the sitting room where your friends are, but from where you’re standing it’s almost entirely obscured. 

“Let’s get back to the room. I don’t want any of these clowns to get a show.” you reach for his hand, to get him to come with you. 

“Don’t want to check what that was?” 

“Probably Noah and his clumsy ass. Let’s go.” 

Your answer seems to satisfy him, and Nick follows you back to your room, but not without stopping you more than a handful of times to steal kisses from you. 

Just as you round the corner towards your room, something creaks behind you. Your head whips around, trying to catch whatever it was. All you find, though, is an empty hallway. 

“This place is fucking weird.” you conclude, “Houses shouldn’t make this much noise.” 

“It’s old baby.” Nick replies with a laugh, “We’ll make all sorts of sounds too when we’re old.”

When you finally reach your room, the effects of your brownie have fully settled in. Nick doesn’t seem to be much better off than you. His eyes are blown wide already and with how handsy he’s been on the way up to your room, you know that it won’t be long before his body is covering yours. 

And so you find yourself straddling his waist only a few moments later. Nicks hands are firm on your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh he finds there. 

“Come on, baby, don’t tease me like this.” he whines, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

You grind down against him, drawing another sweet sound from his lips. You let your hands wander across your front, savouring the feeling of your own touch. Nick’s eyes are fixed on your fingers, watching their every move. You start to pull up your shirt as slowly as you can, now purposefully teasing him. 

He lets out a barely audible oh fuck when you lift your shirt over your head. You’d hoped that you would get to have a quiet moment with him alone and had put on a cute little set before you’d left. 

His hands wander up your sides, allowing him to draw his thumbs across your ribs. You lean down to kiss him. Nick’s hands roam across your back, keeping you as close to him as possible. You feel him searching for the closure of your bra and you can’t help put giggle when he looses his grip on it for the second time. 

Eventually, you decide to take pity on him and sit up to take off your bra. You reach behind your back and —

Something clatters against the window behind you and you cower down against Nick in shock. 

“What the –?” 

Another crashing noise outside interrupts you. 

Nick’s insistent hands draw your attention back to him, though. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, soothing your wired nerves. You lavish in his attention for a moment longer, before you sit up again. 

You finally manage to take your bra off. The garment disappears somewhere near the foot of the bed. Hands wander up your sides, coming to cover your breasts. His thumbs draw across your nipples, making you moan out loud. You keep grinding against him, feeling him growing harder beneath you. 

You work your hand into his boxers. As soon as your hand wraps around him, his head tips back. You love seeing him like this, with his eyes wrought shut. His moans fill your ears, and you can’t stop yourself from dipping your other hand into your own underwear. Nick’s hands roam across your body while you work your hands across the both of you.

“Let me – let me help you.” Nick gasps, wrapping his hand around your wrist. 

His hand quickly replaces yours inside your underwear. The angle is by no means ideal, but his touch never fails to get you over the edge. His fingers find a comfortable rhythm against you, that works in tandem with the one you’re setting along his cock. 

Between the influence of the weed and the pleasure that floods through you, you know that it won’t take much for you to come undone. The sounds that fall from Nick have by now deteriorated into the breathy little moans you love so much. 

The fuck that falls from him when you draw your thumb across the head of his cock makes you moan in return. Each movement across the other's skin just propels you closer to your own end.

“I need a little more baby.” he almost whines, “Fuck can you – can you turn around? Let me taste you? Just for a bit.” 

You can’t deny him that, not when he sounds so wound up already. You briefly climb off the bed to get rid of your underwear. Nick helps you settle above his head. You’ve only done this once before, and it still unnerves you a little bit. But Nick had been adamant that he loves it. His hands curl around your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. You hover above him for a moment before he pulls you down further. As soon as you feel him licking into you, you know that this all will be over much too soon. 

You wrap your hand around his cock again. You try your best to match his rhythm, but his mouth simply feels too good on you. 

Nick moans against your pussy, and you swear that you hear him mumble something too. His words are entirely drowned out by your body. You’re so close to the edge by now. Nick’s tummy twitches, a tell-tale sign that he’s close too. You double your efforts, leaning down to lick across the head of his cock. And as soon as you wrap your lips around him, Nick spills across your tongue. His moans and gasps against your pussy rush through you like a shockwave, and just a moment later you feel yourself coming undone too. 

You ride out your highs against each other, and only when it starts to feel overwhelming do you tap his thigh. He released you immediately, and quickly helps you slip under the duvet with him. You curl up against Nick’s side and press a kiss to his chest. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask quietly, trying not to disturb the softness of the moment. 

Nick lets out a stifled yawn, “Very good. But very tired.” 

You don’t bother to check your phone for the time. You’re both exhausted and there’s nothing in the world that will get you out of this bed again. 

Nick’s hand is warm and comforting against your side, slowly soothing you towards sleep. 

The tender little bubble of a moment is burst when something pounds against your door like thunder. You let out a panicked scream. Nick practically leaps out of bed, barely managing to keep thee duvet around his lower half. He rips open the door. From where you’re on the other side of the bed, you can just see him peering out into the hallway. He doesn’t seem to find the source of the noise, though, as he quickly closes the door again. 

“I don’t know what that was, but the hallway is empty.” you can tell that Nick is trying to sound confident, but you know him well enough by now to know that he isn’t so sure of what is going on here either. 

“I really don’t like this place.” you reply as you crawl back onto the bed, “Something is off.” 

Nick fits himself behind you shortly after that. And with this arm wrapped around your middle, you find sleep fairly quickly. It’s not the most restful sleep you’ve ever had, but it is sleep. 

Morning eventually rolls around and Nick and you find your way down to the dining room where you’ll all have breakfast together. As soon as you enter the room, you are greeted by laughter and applause, and suddenly it all makes sense. 

One of the boys claps Nick on the shoulder in that boyish congratulatory way, and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

You don’t listen to their banter and instead make your way straight to the coffee pot. You still have two entire days with these fools, if day one ended like this, you cannot wait to see what other fun ideas they can come up with. 

The rest of your weekend has been filled with similar shenanigans. You and Nick of course got involved with it too, making sure that the rest of your group got just as many scares as you had on that first night. 

Your roommate is more than happy to let you take the photo you’d found in the room with the circular table. The longer you look at it, the more off it seems to you. Something about it gave you an odd feeling that you just can’t explain. Surely it’s just the fact that you’re looking at people that have been dead for at least a hundred years. 

Your group sets off back towards the small town where your campus is located in the late afternoon of that Sunday. 

You take a last look back at the house. Just for a split second, you swear that you see a figure standing in one of the windows belonging to the room where you’d found the picture. When you look back, the figure is gone again, but the strange feeling remains in your chest. 

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

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[catboybiologist]

Voting post for Californians, but let's not talk about the president.

Alright. California people. I'd love to hear opinions and discussion about whatever else is on the ballot, other than just the presidency. I have some quick takes about each of them as I'm prepping my ballot, and I'd love to hear further discussion of each one. But here's me just casually rattling stuff off:

Prop 33: If you rent in California, passing prop 33 is fucking essential. It's one of those fairly confusing "repeal of a ban of a restriction" type laws, and landlords are using that to their advantage. But the tl;dr: passing this proposition is beneficial to renters or anyone else in need of housing. It allows local city governments to establish more rent control, allowing them to create more affordable rent opportunities. This would be a huge relief to the California housing crisis.

The ONLY possible logic that I've heard for it supporting renters is a bullshit "trickledown" adjacent one: that more restrictions on rent means that less wealthy people are "motivated" to build housing. Of course that's bullshit- we have enough empty housing now to get people homed, we just need to get people to afford them. And prop 33 does that.

Prop 3: a no-brainer yes, but honestly seems mostly for show. California still technically has a ban on gay marriage on the books, its just invalidated by Obergefell. This rectifies that discrepancy.

Prop 4: land protection and environmental bond proposition. Honestly kind of a no brainer. We get a lot of these on the ballot, and each of them is massively impactful. I've seen the effect of these measures within the course of my lifetime- bleak areas restored to amazing health, and oftentimes opened as gorgeous recreational third spaces.

There's an education bond initiative as well, seems fairly straightforward on both.

Prop 32: minimum wage increase. In California? Necessary.

Prop 36: ho boy, this one is a mess. It's a "tough on crime" prop that SEEMS straightforward to vote No on. But, this is a fucking classic "unseen interactions with past propositions in an intentionally confusing way" thing. It's an amendment to a past proposition that reduces sentencing.

So yeah. No from me. I'm comfortable being aligned with the ACLU on this kind of thing.

Prop 6: no brainer Yes. Ending slavery in our state should not be controversial.

5, 34, and 35 I haven't looked at aside from my initial read and don't really wanna comment on, but would love to hear any opinions in that regard.

[slytherinshua]

SEVENTEEN ATLA HEADCANONS

genre. headcanons. avatar the last airbender au. warnings. none. featuring. ot13 seventeen. wc. 1.6k. (around 100 words each) request. no. a/n. obviously i've been on a svt atla kick since burnt promises, second chances. i'd be open to writing fics for any of these small headcanons if anyone is particularly interested :)

SEUNGCHEOL

Ugh, Cheol is really hard. I kinda see him as any nation and also none at the same time. For the lack of other Water Tribe on the list, I’ll give him Water Tribe, but I don’t even think he’s a bender. He’d be a passionate hunter of the Southern Water Tribe, and a very good one, but not a bender. He’d always be eager to help out and fit his role as a true leader. He’s looked up to because he protects his people without fail. He’s good at strategics and known for his bravery. I see him fitting a role like Sokka’s father, but I don’t see him as anything glamorous like Water Tribe Royalty. He’s down to Earth and humble and honest. He leads and the people follow.

JEONGHAN

Jeonghan is an airbender. He’s witty and intelligent, and a great asset to his nation. He’d be in an Air temple close to the Earth Kingdom, and he often helps out with strategics if they ever need it. Definitely a kind and angel baby, but if there’s anyone who needs dealing with, he will personally take the task up. He’s world renowned and has allies and friends in every single nation. When he’s not busy, he’ll spend his time travelling around and immersing himself in the different cultures of the nations. He’s beaten Water Tribe hunters at their own hunt, evaded earthbender attacks in the ring because of how light he is on his feet. And his agility and wit proves to be useful whenever he goes head to head with a firebender. He can often predict their next moves and avoid attacks before they’re even fired at him.

JOSHUA

Joshua is Water Tribe!! Definitely a Water Tribe prince, or even a poor boy from the Northern Water Tribe whose parents couldn’t afford water bending lessons for him, so he would sneak around and watch lessons without getting caught. He’s mostly self taught, so he’s not exactly the best, but he can still hold his own. If he’s a Water Tribe prince, then he probably got bored with water bending very quickly as a child and started figuring out ways to skip his lessons lol. He knows clever ways to bribe or fool his masters into letting him slack off, but he also has to build enough skill to show at least a little improvement. He’s probably more interested in carving proposal necklaces to give to his future girlfriend than improving his bending skills.

JUNHUI

Jun is Fire Nation, and he’s extremely talented at Fire Bending. He probably runs a tea shop with his family and takes lessons on the side; just a regular middle class kid. He’s not aiming for a military position or anything high up, but he uses his skills to help him in daily life. He might have friends from places higher up in the city, and because of that, he got to take a visit to Royal Fire Academy for Girls. Definitely turns some heads— practically the whole school is crushing on him by the end of the 2 hour visit, and he enjoys the attention that he wouldn’t usually get at home. It’s safe to say that he’s invited back given the significant improvement in attendance and performance after his initial visit. 

SOONYOUNG

Another airbender, only because he’s so agile. Like the spider choreo really makes me see him as someone who just likes to swing around upside down for fun. He’ll play pranks on the older monks, or just anyone he can get his hands on. He’s a lot like Aang in that way. He definitely creates his own airbending moves, because he is a choreographer!!! Somehow takes a trip to the Earth Kingdom because it was his life goal to see a tigerdillo in real life. Once he meets one, he somehow adopts it, and settles down in the Earth Kingdom from there on! He’s perfectly happy, and can he even pose as an earthbender if he’s smart about it.

WONWOO

Anyone could probably guess that I see Wonwoo as Fire Nation. I wrote an entire 14.5k fic about it which is expecting a part 2, but I just think he fits it so much? Especially in a role like the Fire Lord or some notable higher up who is skilled at firebending and definitely owns a dragon (if we’re talking a time period before/during the dragon hunts). He’d be the type to just be a natural at it and reach a high mastery at an early age. He’s such a skilled fighter, and definitely knows how to control his flame. He prefers to study directly from dragons instead of old masters, whose teachings feel regurgitated and watered down, which sounds pretentious, but it’s one of the reasons why he got so good.

JIHOON

I see Jihoon as an Earth bender. He’s short and stout but HE'S SO BUFF. He definitely has the density in him to move some rocks, he’s practically built like The Boulder but without the height????? I definitely see him as part of the royal guard, but definitely not an Earth King. He might teach Earth Bending or get posted out on the coast near the Fire Nation or something— but he definitely has a military position. Somewhere where he can use his earthbending to its full potential. Not the most talkative, but definitely the most efficient, so he climbs the ranks like nobody's business and everyone knows to respect every word that comes out of his mouth. If you say even a word about his height, he’ll throw a rock at your head before you can finish the sentence.

SEOKMIN

It was hard to pick between Water Tribe and Fire Nation for Seokmin, but I think he’s ultimately Fire Nation. I see him as an actor for plays, and he definitely uses his firebending to win over the audience. It got to the point that even though he’s from a small town in the Fire Nation, he became a household name and got increasingly popular until he eventually found himself acting in front of the Fire Lord. Once he got rich enough from it, he got a spot in the most infamous acting troupe in the Fire Nation. His favourite role to play is, of course, the Dragon Emperor in Love Amongst the Dragons.

MINGYU

Just a bulky earthbender I don’t know what to say. He probably got recruited to some military position because he’s fit and can hold his own in a fight, but boy’s just really a sweetheart. He doesn’t enjoy smashing people with rocks, so he tries to get out of the military as soon as possible. He instead works as a carpenter of sorts? Builds elaborate structures with his earthbending, and has a surprisingly artistic touch to his creations. Popular with the older ladies because he is a gentleman.

MINGHAO

I see him as an airbender, but I cannot imagine him with a bald head LIKE HELP. But let's say he is, and for aesthetic purposes, keep the long haired Minghao. He practically floats and flies through the air with his airbendings. He’s probably more of a lemur guy than a sky bison guy. I can imagine him having 1 or 2 lemurs who he spends most of his time with. Obviously very light on his feet and into meditation. He’s one of those star students in the class that the teacher picks as an example for the other students to watch and learn from.

SEUNGKWAN

A waterbender, and he’s good because he focused and studied the traditions of it. He knows the importance of the basics, and when he’s teaching, he can get mad pretty quick if he catches a novice waterbender doing a technique lazily. He teaches them the hard way, making the floor an ice rink or slapping in the face with a water tentacle if they make a silly mistake. But he’s a respected master. (Not to say that he’s old, but he holds the respect of an old master). Also a great healer for the Water Tribe. He thinks it’s important for the men to not just learn how to fight with spears and slices of water, but also to heal the tribe, and he offers his lessons to the women of the tribe as well.

VERNON

Another Fire Nation boy. He’s so skilled he can redirect lightning and all that jazz. He’s a worldwide guy too, so he’s definitely familiar with the other nations and their bending to a certain extent. (Like Iroh, studying the Water Tribe helped him with creating new techniques within firebending). He has a dragon because he’s hot like that, and would hold master firebending classes lol. Definitely has connections to the Royal Family and I could even see him serving as a personal guard or something of that sort. His skills aren’t to be wasted, so he can snag a high paying position practically anywhere he wants.  

CHAN

Earth Kingdom kid from a poor family™, I mean it’s just so clear in my mind. I imagine his mom runs a corner store, and he likes to use his very limited earth bending skills to make the shop look prettier. If the wooden tables break down over time, he’ll earth bend a makeshift counter to display the trinkets for sale. He’s quite charming even though he doesn’t have much to say about himself. In the lower class of the Earth Kingdom, practically everyone knows him because he likes to go around and make new friends when he’s bored. He’ll help out the elderly if they need it, and flash a toothy grin to anyone he comes across.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars

[justhereforsomethingnice]

It is ridiculously hot for this time of year where I’m at which reminds me of the climate crisis. So here, have a prompt where Danny takes over the body of a billionaire to fix first his country’s problems and then branches out to the world.

They had planned it for a long time. If it ever came to a time where Danny had to run for his life, he was going to pull out some big moves. Who would expect someone trying to lay low and not be found to take over a billionaire? Plus, with all the money he had at the tips of his fingers, who would tattel on him. With him having escaped the GIW just a day ago and his parents in prison for trying to raid a federal government lab (saving him) he had no where else to go. Besides, if he possessed someone he would ping as human, because the person was.

Chosen person? With 264 billion in the bank, it was of course Elon musk. Go big or go home! He did everything very carefully. First observed the man for two weeks, every waking moment, then he took him over. After a week of seeing if anyone would notice, he acted.

He said he had a new interest. He financed an entire city in the United States that ran off of all the new green energy initiatives and innovations. Plant electricity, solar, wave, roofs covered in greenery, amazing public transport, bike and walking safe roads, sand battery’s, red light to go against light pollution and for the first ten years, the rent would be $1. Many were suspicious, yes, but also, no rent in this economy? They’d risked it.

He branched out, paying millions into research of the climate crisis, making the field have leaps and bounds not seen in many years. Organized contests to keep the people’s competitive spirit going and awarded every brilliant mind handsomely. He hadn’t even spent 5% of his wealth yet.

With that project rolling, he moved on to affordable health care and education to keep the health care and care of the land up so when he was gone, people would still profit. That world wide mission made his wealth drop down to a measly amount of 254 billion. He bought up buildings and rented them out in many mayor cities of the world for just 10-20% of the average rent in that country (he would’ve made it free, but apparently appearances are important to upkeep). By now the world accepted that he was weirdly doing this for the betterment of the world. So he started his new projects, reforesting the entire rain forest and giving all the illegal lumbers and farmers a nice well paying job and resources to live comfortably now replanting the rainforests. Every single thing that got discovered had to be taken into account in every new restoration project world wide.

Great, the planet was healing, the people had great healthcare and the creatures on earth consumed less plastic due to alternatives he pushed through. Sam would be proud. And he still had a couple billion left to spend. Bye bye anti ecto acts. You will not be missed.

The end. This was more self fulfilling ranting about climate change and universal health care while also shitting on billionaires then a fic or prompt. But those assholes need to get off their high stacks of gold and actually do something good with it for once. Fucking asshats >:(

Also, if you want to make it a cross over or if this does already exist like with Danny trying this while taking over Bruce, Oliver, Aquaman or hell even ra’s al ghul, Lex luthor or vandal savage I will read that. Over all take home message: Fuck billionaires, eat the rich

[stop-talking]

How do you think jhutch characters would handle a baby?

I'm not quite sure if you're asking "what would they do if you handed them a baby" or "what would they do if you told them you're pregnant" but I'm gonna assume you meant the latter. (feel free to send another request if I got it wrong)

Ranking Jhutch characters from worst to best fathers:

Billy

☆ Would play dumb when you hand him the pregnancy test.

☆ "What's this? Oh, you're pregnant? Can't be mine. My pull-out game is too strong." (literally has NO pull-out game, refuses to use condoms because he "can't feel" with them on)

☆ Basically ghosts you until the paternity test proves it's his. Then he actually ghosts you.

☆ Drops off the face of the fucking Earth for years. Doesn't pay a dime in child support.

☆ Maybe he comes back like 3 years later drunk and demanding to see "his" kid idk. Literally the worst.

Derek

☆ Honestly I headcannon he had a vasectomy at like 24-25.

☆ His mom hit him up once she heard about his prostitute scandals and chewed him out. Gave him "the talk" even though he's a grown ass man... finally got him to get snipped when she brought up the possibility of paying income-based child support for 18 years.

☆ Assuming he doesn't have one, though...

☆ He'd initially be mad and blame you. "I thought you were on the pill!!"

☆ Then he'd be like "Is it too late to... you know... get rid of it?" (and kind of dance around the subject because he's too much of a wimp to just say the word abortion)

☆ Wallace and his mom would both force him to get his shit together and apologize. Eventually he'd come to terms with the fact he's gonna be a dad.

☆ He'd be the kind of bastard to throw an over-the-top gender reveal party. The kind that burns down half of California or pollutes a major water channel.

☆ I think he'd be a really good girl dad. He'd let her paint his nails and stuff. Spoil her. <3

☆ He would treat a son completely differently. Teach him to "be a man" or whatever when he's still learning to walk. Force him into random ass sports.

☆ He'd have them mostly taken care of by a nanny. That's probably how he was raised, anyways. Derek Danforth is NOT changing a diaper.

Futturman

☆ Whether we're talking pre-show or post-show, he'd freak the fuck out if you handed him a positive pregnancy test. I'm talking full-on pass out.

☆ Pre-show Josh would be like "Babe we can NOT afford a baby I literally live at home with my parents and work as a janitor."

☆ His parents would be so crazy supportive though. They've been hinting that they want grandkids for YEARS.

☆ They literally clear out a room IMMIDEATELY after hearing the news and offer it to you to use as a nursery.

☆ His mom buys you more baby clothes than you could possibly need. His dad builds a crib from scratch.

☆ Overall Josh is stressed asf but he does his best to be there for you, and his parents are OVERWHELMIGLY supportive.

☆ Post-show Josh, on the other hand, doesn't have that support. But he's survived unspeakable horrors across multiple dimensions, how hard could a baby be?

☆ Extremely hard, apparently. One day he just loses it and makes a huge decision without asking you.

☆ "Josh WTF happened to our savings??"

☆ "TRUST ME BABE we need to invest in Apple!!"

☆ You're pissed but it pays off in a few years and you're both able to live comfortably.

☆ Then in 2015-ish he did the same thing again, pouring all your savings into bitcoin. This time you SWEAR you're going to leave him, but it all pays out in the end. He gets your kid through college with that money.

☆ Overall he's a really good father, too. He had great parents, and even if he's not experienced with kids, he's naturally a very caring and attentive person.

Mike

☆ Cries when he sees the pregnancy test. He's not even sure if it's happy or sad tears.

☆ Gets sick to his stomach overthinking about how he's going to be a terrible father. His dad walked out on him, so he has literally no idea how to act.

☆ Abby, on the other hand, is absolutely delighted. She's always wanted a "little sister". Mike has to remind her that technically it's her niece. Or nephew. There's no guarantee on the gender yet.

☆ Eventually he comes to terms with it all. He's taken care of Abby for ten years, he isn't completely clueless.

☆ Takes you to all of your Dr.'s appointments, checkups, etc. Holds your hand. Makes all of your weird pregnancy cravings and doesn't judge.

☆ After the birth, he lets you rest. Nearly works himself to death trying to take care of the baby all on his own because he wants you to recover.

☆ I'm talking getting up bleary-eyed at 2am every night to microwave some formula and feed the baby. After working a 10 hour shift.

☆ Pulls the "I have a baby on the way" card at work in an attempt to get a raise. It works, thankfully. (In the novel version of the movie; it says he gets a job as a contractor at the end. So hopefully he can afford a kid...)

----------♡----------

[Remember: these are just MY headcannons. If you think differently that's fine. I didn't include Clapton because he's literally in highschool... and we all know Peeta is an amazing father.]