#and another part of me is like IT'S TURNING OUT WELL. SHOW THE MASSES [the like. Six of you here]

[pinkinsect]

give it up for knife wielding sickos

[bvidzsoo]

Your worst mistake...

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

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: stylist!Choi San x victor!female reader

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

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

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

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

I was nothing but a pawn in a greater game.

            Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my love—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think so.”

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

“You don’t have to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you dance with me?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wanted to see San again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3 months later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My love,

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

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

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

Your beloved,

Choi San.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You disgraces think that—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With Choi San?”

“Yes, I love him.”

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

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

I never saw Jurin again after that evening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[veltana]

Buy my heart - 1

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1,2k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Reader, slow burn, eventual smut, omega auction.

✦ Summary: Bucky buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series, the parts will be short but I still hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to come back and read Lloyd's series, set in the same verse! 😉 Bucky's scent is based of my favorite perfume of all time ÆTHER XTRÆM 🤤Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

Everything is numb. As you stand on the podium in front of the faceless crowd with the lights in your eyes, you don't feel a thing, except the uncomfortable sensation of scent blocker on your skin. As soon as you pulled the thin dress on for the auction you decided that the only way you would survive this is if you just turn every emotion off.

Paddles go up. Paddles go down. The man beside you rambles fast but you don't listen. It's not irrelevant how much you sell for, since your family needs it to pay off their debt, but you can't take it in.

Instead, you focus on your breathing. The mask-covered mass in front of you is grass on a meadow on a windy day. Breathe in. They sway towards you. Breathe out. They sway away.

You don't want to look at who raises their paddle the most, and even if you did, you wouldn't be able to identify them since everyone's face is concealed by the same black mask. But you'd find yourself scrutinizing their hands and build, trying to guess if they're old or young. Honestly, you dread both: a young pup with an overly cocky attitude who knows nothing about caring for an omega, or an old lone wolf who is too frail to do anything himself and would require constant care.

The sharp crack of the club startles you from your self-induced meditation. That's when you finally hear the sum you've been sold for and some of the tension in your shoulders drains away. It's enough. Your family will be fine.

An attendant leads you away through dark corridors before leaving you in another changing room. They've brought your old clothes but you don't touch them. They smell like home. Like your family. And you can't go into this new life with it, you have to leave it behind.

If the attendant is confused about you still wearing the sheer dress they provided when they come and collect you, they don't let it show before walking you out.

The air is cold against your skin but there is a car idling just outside. Well, it's a limo. The driver opens the door and gestures for you to climb inside. Guess this is your ride. Time to meet your alpha.

Pressing down every feeling of panic and dread you walk on bare feet the short distance. The door shutting just behind you makes you jump. A moment later, the car starts moving.

The first thing you notice is that it's dim in the back of the limousine since the tinted windows don't let the streetlights in. The only illumination comes from small spots in the ceiling.

The second thing you notice is him. He's at the other end of the seat. Maskless with a glass of something in his hand that he swirls before taking a sip, staring at you over the rim. He's tall, broad-shouldered, short hair that looks soft with a neatly trimmed beard framing his face.

Then the smell hits you. It's easy to filter out the artificial notes of his cologne from what is his pure natural smell. It's a woody musky scent with a light tone of florals buried beneath that is not sharp or strong. It just fills your lungs with a warm, sensual feeling. For the first time in your life, you think you understand what other omegas rave about when they say that the smell of alpha is unlike anything else. The omega in you wants to slide up to him and rub yourself all over him, but you resist.

“Hello, little darling,” his rich voice fills the compartment. “Hello, sir,” you respond and is pleased when your voice doesn't waiver. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I prefer if you call me Bucky.” “Bucky,” you try, and nod, although it feels odd on your tongue. You've never addressed an alpha by a nickname before.

He doesn't ask for your name and you don't offer it, the less personal this is for you, the better. Bucky might have bought your body but your mind is still your own and he can never take it away from you. If he never calls you by your name, the better.

“Why do you still have that dress on?” he asks. You pluck at the fabric. “I couldn't take my old clothes with me.” “And no shoes?” “No, sir. I mean, Bucky.”

He picks up his phone. You hear the dial tone and then a woman's voice answers at the other end. “We need clothes, all types, but for tonight just get some underwear and something to sleep in. Then he directs his attention to you. “What size are you?” After hesitating a second, you tell him and he passes the information along before he hangs up.

The car slows and sounds as if it's driving on gravel. Bucky finishes his drink and studies you. There is a tick in his jaw as if he's irritated. Without a word, he starts taking off his suit jacket.

The blood in your veins turns cold and you press yourself back against the door. You don't want him to touch you. The dress might be sheer but the thought of being naked with him in the back of the limo is not appealing in the least.

But his actions surprise you. He holds out the jacket for you. “Wear this. My men are loyal but I don't need them to ogle you and get distracted.” There is no hiding the way your fingers tremble as you take it from him. After putting it on you realize that in a way, he's marked you with his scent now, but without touching you. It shouldn't make you pleased, but it does.

When the car comes to a stop you reach for the handle but with something very close to a growl he instructs, “Wait there,” before stepping out. You pull your hand back quickly and place it in your lap. Moments later the door opens. “Since you don't have any shoes, I'll carry you,” he explains, reaching for you, but you shuffle away. “I'll be fine, I promise, you don't need to do that.” His jaw ticks again. “No, you will hurt your feet, darling. Come here, now.” You hesitate still, but you're not prepared to find out what the next tell of irritation might be, or if the twitch in his jaw is the only warning you're going to get.

You move closer to him and hardly have time to process what happens before you're in his arms. He carries you near his body with your face pressed against his fine dress shirt. It's dark outside but the mansion he carries you towards is well lit. There is no doubt James Buchanan Barnes is a very rich man.

After stepping inside he still doesn't put you down. You want to object but decide against it as he carries you up a flight of stairs and into a room, where he puts you down on a soft carpet, then steps back.

“Clothes should be here in about twenty minutes. When was the last time you ate?” “Uhm, this morning?” “Allergies?” “No, but I really don’t like tomatoes.” “I'll inform the chef,” he nods, before continuing, “This is your room. Mine is across the hall. For tonight, stay here, I'll have food brought up. Tomorrow I’ll give you a tour and we'll talk about what is expected of you going forward.” You nod. “I suggest you take a nice long bath, before eating and going to bed.” “Yes, Bucky.” Your obedience seems to please him because the lines between his eyebrows disappear. “Have a good night, little darling.” And then he leaves.

next

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: thank you so much for all the feedback! I am loving hearing your guys thoughts and I'm having so much fun with this

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SMUT (consensual), oral (female receiving), mentions of SA.

Word count: 2730

(all photos are from pinterest)

The following day was another quiet day, and though Rhysand had stayed up with me all night like he promised, I didn’t hear from him in the morning. I avoided my brother at all costs and Lucien as well and spent the morning and afternoon getting ready for the ball at the Autumn Court that would be taking place tonight. I was sure to pick my dress carefully, opting for purple again.

I used to not care for balls, most of the time I would show up and not have anyone to see save for Viviane and Kallias who always had each other to dance with. This of course left me to dance with Lucien or not dance at all. I always left bored and feeling more lonely than I had been before I got there. 

I knew tonight would be different not just because of Rhys, but because of Eris. My brother has made it very clear at breakfast that I was to dance and charm Eris all night. The thought made my stomach churn and my eyes water, but I knew better than to disobey. 

From the second I walked into the ballroom I could feel Rhysand. The mass of people swirling and dancing around under the gargantuan chandelier made it near impossible for me to find him. I nearly reached out with the bond before my brother grabbed my arm harshly. 

“Remember sister, you are to charm Eris whatever means necessary,” he growled in my ear so only I could hear. 

“I will, now I’m going to find Viviane.” I glared and sauntered off to do just that. 

The ballroom was impossibly packed but finding Viviane’s ice white hair among the crowd was easier than I thought it would be. 

“Well you two look amazing,” I beam walking over to where her and Kallias are being wall flowers. Her dress looks like it was made entirely out of frost, and cascades down her body like it was made for her, knowing how Kallias likes to dote on her it probably was. 

“Me? Look at you! Purple is your color,” she smiles. 

“So, are there any eligible bachelors for me to romance tonight?” I laugh taking her arm and walking around the perimeter of the ballroom with her and Kallias. 

“No one worthy of note, but you know how picky I am when selecting a suitable man for you,” she giggles. 

“That’s true, you’re a worse critic than I am,” I smile. We promenade around the dancefloor until we run into one of Viviane’s friends and she stops to talk. I take it as my opportunity to glance around the room looking for a particular High Lord and finally I find him. 

He’s at the edge of the room wearing black as usual, conversing easily with two Illyrians. Their wings take up most of the space around them. The one with longer hair is obviously drunk as he lets out a laugh that reverberates throughout the room, the one with the shorter hair, swathed in shadows, simply shakes his head and smiles. Rhysand has yet to see me and to draw his attention I give the bond a tug, the first time I’ve ever done it. 

His head snaps up in my direction and I see the corner of his mouth curl. 

By the cauldron, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, my mate. 

“Why thank you my lord, I seemed to remember you had a certain affinity for the color violet,” I muse back to him and I swear from this distance I can see his eyes light up. 

The Illyrians next to him turn their heads to look at me, the one with the long hair gives me a knowing smirk and I quickly turn my head back to the conversation Viviane is having. 

I hear Rhys chuckle in my head, They don’t bite darling. Well Cassian might, but only if you ask him to. He muses over the bond. 

“An interesting proposal, I’ll keep it in mind,” I say back trying to hide my smile. 

You little minx. 

Before I can say anything back I feel a hand on my back, I turn to find Eris there, a hopeful look in his eye. He takes my hand and kisses it in greeting. 

“Y/n, what a pleasure it is to have you in our court.” he smiles.

“Of course, my brother and I were very honored to receive an invitation,” I say, trying to sound as chipper as possible. 

“You were the first invite we sent, by now I’m sure your brother has told you of my feelings towards you,” he smirks. 

“He has brought them to my attention, and I must say I’m flattered,” I smile.

“Might I have this dance?” he asks, my eyes flit to Rhysand for half a second, but it’s long enough that I can see the rage simmering in those violet eyes.

“Of course,” I say, taking Eris’ hand and allowing him to lead me to the dancefloor. His hand spreads over my waist almost obsessively as we waltz around the room. 

“You really are quite the sight to behold y/n, I can see why your brother keeps you locked up in the Spring Court,” Eris praises me. 

“I regret that he does so, if I had been allowed out more I would’ve found out much sooner how amazing of a dancer you are,” I smile flirtatiously. 

“Among one of my many talents my dear, though you’ll find out soon enough about those,” he whispers in my ear. 

We dance on and on swirling about the room to the music. From the corner of my eye I can see Tamilin and Beron watching the two of us and for the first time in a long time Tamlin almost looks happy. However it’s not long until I see his eyes catch on to a beautiful brunette that seems to grab all his attention. My skin starts to buzz again and it isn’t long until a large hand claps Eris on the shoulder. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Rhysand asks Eris smoothly. His words say one thing but his eyes look at Eris like he would cut off his hands or other important body parts if he were to say no. 

“Of course,” Eris says, passing me off to Rhysand and taking his leave.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I snap at him.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand to watch another minute of that,” he says cooly. 

“Someones jealous,” I muse.

“Very,” Rhysand confesses with a small smile. 

 As we sweep across the dancefloor, the feeling of his hand on my waist is all too familiar and I can’t help but remember the last time it was there. I look to the side to find the two Illyrains standing at the edge of the ballroom watching us. 

“Who did you bring with you tonight?” I ask Rhys. 

“My most trusted friends and members of my court, Cassian and Azriel. Azriel is my spymaster and Cassian is the general of my armies.” he explains. “I grew up with them, they are like brothers to me.” 

“Do they know?” I inquire further. 

“That we’re mates? Yes. I think Cassain would start a war for you already,” he chuckles. 

“Interesting, I would’ve thought they’d be upset,” I say, turning my head back towards Rhys.  

“You are not my court’s enemy, your brother is. You aren’t damned by association, and besides they are my brothers, they want me to be happy.” Rhys explains further.

“It sounds like you have quite the amazing family,” I acknowledge and he picks up on the longing in my phrase right away. “I doubt I’ll be treated the same here in the Autumn Court.”

“Why would it matter how the Autumn Court treats you?” he questions. 

“Because I’m marrying Eris,” I sigh, keeping my head down, unable to meet the sadness I know resides in his eyes now. 

“What?” he growls and for the first time since I’ve known him I’m afraid of him. 

“My brother has decided to marry me off to Eris for political gain,” I explain further.

Rhys takes my hand and drags me off the dancefloor, at this point people are so drunk they don’t even notice. He leads me to a room off the ballroom and closes the door. I take a moment to look around at the dimly lit study, filled with old books and mahogany furniture. I lean against the desk and look at Rhys.

“You’re not going to marry Eris,” he fumes. 

“You say that like I have the option to say no,” I retort as he closes in further. 

“If you marry Eris he will destroy you from the inside out, you will become nothing but a breeding vessel to give him sons.” he tells me.

“I’m going to be the same thing to any Lord my brother marries me to,” I sneer at him. 

“That’s not true,” Rhysand shakes his head. 

“Oh really?” I scoff. 

“It wouldn’t be that way with me. You would be my wife, and my High Lady as well as my  mate. You wouldn’t have to be sexually assaulted in your own home, or barricade yourself in your room to be safe! You would have rights and freedom and you would have Cassian and Azriel and a family that loves you!” he yells passionately, getting closer to me. “And you would have me, and I would love you too.” he confesses quieter.

A tear slips from my eye as I take in all that he’s said. He looks at me from just an arms length away, waiting for me to say something back.

 “Rhysand I can’t-” I start to say. 

“Don’t you dare say that you can’t,” he says, stepping forward and caging me into the desk, his mouth dangerously close to my own. “If you were mine there’s not a person in this world that would dare to touch you. You know that.”

I feel a hand go to my waist and he uses the other to wipe the tears from my eye. A different kind of tension fills the room as his breath fans my face leaving kisses where my tears once were. 

“Rhys please,” I rasp out lightly pushing him away.  His hands on my waist tighten. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now y/n,” he says tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. He’s right, I do want him to kiss me but I can’t even form the words to ask him that. “I thought so,” he says and then his lips are on mine. 

I taste all of him and need all of him. He pulls me so close to him I think I might melt into his skin. I throw my hands around his neck like he might be ripped away from me at any given moment. I feel his hands leave my waist and fly to the desk behind me. The next thing I hear is the clattering of glass, books and paper. He lifts me up and places me on the desk positioning his frame between my legs. 

“Rhys,” I moan as his lips find my neck. 

“I love it when you say my name,” he groans into the kiss, using his body to press my back into the desk and anywhere that isn’t concealed by my dress gets goosebumps from the cold surface. “I need to taste you,” his hands travel down my body and he sinks to his kneels before me, never breaking eye contact. 

“What are you doing?” I ask earnestly. 

“Have you ever had a man touch you here?” he questions back, his hand ghosting over my clothed core, my breath hitches. 

“N-no,” I squeak. He lifts up the many layers of my skirt and bunches them around my waist. 

“And have you ever touched yourself here?” he further inquiries rubbing a hand over my undergarments. 

I’m too embarrassed to speak, I just give him a shallow nod.

“Probably while you’re reading all those dirty books right y/n darling?” he smirks loving how the pink tints my cheeks. “And do you want me to touch you here?”  

I give him another shallow nod. 

“I’m gonna need to hear words darling,” he persists. 

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly I spit out, “Yes.” 

“Yes what?” he taunts me. 

“Yes I want you to touch me there,” I whine. 

He lets loose a feral grin before I feel him gently pull down my undergarments, taking his time to let his fingertips brush down the expanse of both my legs while he does it.  He pulls then off over my heels and discards them. I watch him intently as he lowers his mouth to me and licks a long stripe clean up my pussy flicking my clit at the very top. My back arches off the desk and I let out a moan. 

“Shhh darling, we can’t have other people knowing what sinful things you’re allowing me to do to you right now. Especially poor Eris, he’ll never get to hear you moan like this for as long as he lives,” Rhys smirks before disappearing under my dress again to feast on me. 

My back arches again and my hand flies over my mouth to cover my own moan. I feel Rhysand bring one of his hands up to grasp my free one. A touch so simple, yet so intimate. His tongue swirls hungrily over my clit and it takes everything in me not to scream. I squeeze his hand tighter and he chuckles, sending a vibration through my pussy. 

You taste amazing, like you were made for me. He says into my mind. 

I squeeze his hand harder at his word. I had spent most of my life reading books about this, sex and romance. I assumed all the women writing them were exaggerating how good it could be. In the spring court it was always seen as a pleasure for the male, not the female. But the way Rhys is using his tongue on me right now, has me seeing stars which I know is no coincidence. His mouth closes around my clit suckling it. 

“Rhys,” I breathe out. 

Fuck darling. I lied, I like it when you say my name, I love it when you moan it. 

“Rhys I’m gonna,” I cry trying to keep quiet. 

Cum mate. I want you to cum all over my face. He growls into my mind. 

It was almost as if he compelled me to. My back arches off the desk for the final time and I use my hand to stifle any sound that comes out of my mouth. He works me through my orgasm and when my body stops shaking he places one final kiss over my clit. His head pops up from under my skirts, his eyes shown with satisfaction as he licks the remnants of my arousal off his lips. 

I was on him before he could even speak, pulling him by his neck and kissing him hard. I fumble for the strings on his pants and he grabs my wrist to stop me.  

“No, not tonight,” he states. I immediately feel disappointment, the sedition I felt earlier had long left me the second that man licked his lips. 

“Rhys please,” I whine. 

“As much as it makes my cock twitch to hear you beg for me, I won’t let the first time I fuck you be on Beron Vanserra’s desk.” he chuckles, and leans in close to my ear. “Because when I’m inside you for the first time my mate I want to hear every strangled cry and moan I pull from your body. And when I cum inside you for the first time I want to hear you scream my name so loud all of Prythian knows just who’s mate you are. Is that clear?” 

Butterflies hit my stomach and all I can do is nod slowly every coherent thought in my brain long gone. All I can think of is how badly I want him to make good on his promise.

“Good girl, now let's get your panties back on before a certain High Lord of Spring starts to miss you,” he smiles.

Taglist: Taglist: @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris

[carionto]

We'll do it our way

Been reading a bunch of Humans are Space Orcs and the like, and got me thinking - what if when aliens found humanity and our level of technology and method of propulsion for space travel, they decided that since explosions are way too hazardous and risky, that they're just not gonna let us leave on our vessels (via BS alien magic space tech). As a sort of intergalactic rite of passing (and poor results in the past of elevating a species like that), we have to figure out on our own how to not blow ourselves up once in space. But humans can be spiteful. We "have" to go in a direction they want? Fuck that. Aliens put a dome around Earth so we can't leave? Okay, that's a clear and practical problem to solve. Let's fix that instead!

_____________________________________

It had been just over sixty local cycles since First Contact with Humanity, and exactly sixty since the Federation had unanimously deemed it necessary to position a Responsibility Barrier around Earth.

Through countless observation relays, mass field generators, warp inhibitors (and the less spoken of and even less used laser batteries), any vessel - outside of local communication satellites, unmanned research vessels, or suborbital test vehicles - were prevented from leaving the planet.

Upon discovering Humanity, the Exploratory Commission Fleet quickly discovered a very hardy, innovative, diverse, violent, and adaptable advanced civilization on the cusp of entering the interstellar stage. There was one problem. Humans used explosions. For. Everything.

Their orbital spaces were already littered with micro-debris from their regular ventures into the local system. Practically every type of propulsion utilized highly volatile solutions, and they didn't even pretend to hide or be embarrassed by their history of weaponizing, well, anything and everything to be frank.

Wars and violence were common among nearly all sentient species, but there was something… peculiar, about how nonchalant the Human diplomats were about their supposed "solutions" to "tragedies" of the past.

We explained to them the dangers of their methods, showed examples of what happens when such line of thinking, without discarding these explosive ways, leads to - impassable fields of junk around once well traveled planets, now isolated; hastily jettisoned parts causing mayhem and destruction years down the line; entire Habitation Stations and their occupants reduced to faint rings around their homeworld from an "unplanned ignition"

We explained why we could not simply give them our safe technology, as they have to on their own give up the irresponsible ways first, lest they turned what was once safe into yet another means to an end. They "said" they understood, but it was all too clear the Humans would not follow our advice just like that. Hence the Barrier. This really angered the Humans.

They said it was stifling, that it was barbaric to "imprison" them like that. We tried to explained again why, but they would not listen, but we knew better. This had happened before and we would not allow it to happen again. It was for the greater good of both the Humans and the rest of the Galaxy.

For nearly sixty of their cycles, Humanity continued to advance and develop and flourish. We watched them with excitement at every new avenue of research they steered towards, silently encouraged them to keep going with every failure. They were getting close in several fields, we could see that Humanity was on the precipice of the right track. Then, one day, with a slight shimmer enveloping the planet and an eerie silence on all frequencies, the Earth just… vanished.

The Humans kept their true activity a secret, only after careful analysis of seemingly unrelated and unremarkable records did we figure out they were investigating a long abandoned line of research by all others in the galaxy - interdimensional travel. But there were no other traversable dimensions. That had long been tested by everyone - you can twist and bend and cut through the ones we have, but you are always bound to at least one of them.

It remained a mystery as to what truly happened to Humanity. Officially it was called a tragic scientific accident on an unprecedented scale. Earth and Humanity were memorialized as a bright species with infinite potential, but a recklessness that would serve as one of the starkest examples in the annals of Galactic history.

Until, nearly a millennia later, Earth just… popped back in. Right where it would have been had it continued to orbit around their star, almost as if that's exactly what it had been doing.

There was only a memorial station close to its original orbit, and some small research outposts dotted around the local system - it was decided to not terraform or colonize any of Sol's planets or install major stations within the system, as both a sign of respect to the deceased and a warning to all about the dangers of foolish science.

By the time the scrambled and panicked messages reached the nearest Coalition world and a small squad sent to investigate, everything had changed. Not only did they find Earth and Humanity, they were met by dozens of the largest space worthy vessels anyone had ever conceived of let alone dared to construct; orbital shipyards that each would put the production capacity of whole planetary SYSTEMS to shame; and a defiant attitude unmatched even by the previously thought exaggerated tales of our brief history with Humanity before the Vanishing.

The message we received from the Humans was simple:

"Thanks for the advice, but we do things our way. Now, let's start over, from an equal footing, shall we?"

(more while we were gone)

[shores-of-oblivion]

Okay I really need to gush about Elster. Sometimes it's hard to relate to video game protagonists and even feel like they're much of a character, but Signalis is a rare case of a protagonist I can and have absolutely fallen in love with. Visually Elster is great, I've always been a fan of android/cyborg women (thanks Android 18), and considering she looks like she stepped out of Blame, she's perfect in that regard.

She clearly has an appreciation for art, there's no way she can't having fallen so in love with an artist, but art is also something that "destabilizes" her, aka: makes her become a person again. There's a reason why Ariane was told not to show her movies or music. (Or rather would have been told if she'd bothered to read the file on LSTR units) Through art and music and being shown love, she was able to become a full person and share a love with Ariane. Maybe I'm just a sappy romantic artist myself, but this is so real to me. It's why I love all the references to other art that the game makes. I have personal experiences with some of those works and they mean a lot to me and have informed who I am as a person.

Elster has loved so fiercely that she is not only haunted by her love for Ariane, but also her love for Alina from her previous life. The memories that resurface from her Gestalts life are memories of Alina and their time on Vineta fighting a war that would ravage the planet. The memories bleed so much into each other that Elster confuses Alina and Ariane for the first half of the game. To me, this is all just another part of the repeating cycles, because not only has Elster been repeating the events of the game over and over, these two people have been dancing with each other throughout multiple lives.

And things probably didn't end well for Alina and Lilith. Both experienced a horrific war. Lilith was used as a basis for the LSTR units, something that includes having yourself erased from society and people's memories and turned into a mass produced slave for an authoritarian regime, and I doubt Alina survived, considering the image of Lilith standing before 6 markers with flowers placed atop one.

This game contains so much horror, of the cosmic, body and authoritarian flavour, but it never stops being about love. Elsters love for Ariane that sees her go through hell an endless amount of times, and Lilith's love for Alina, which was so strong that it persists in her even after she'd been turned into someone else, and is the first thing to resurface when she starts to remember who she was.

[nightxcreature]

A Little Less Talk

Part three of Hot-Blooded! I’m sorry it took so long to get it out! I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Minors DNI/18+ ONLY

Don’t copy my work.

Summary: reader and Dean finally have their moment.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: angst, smut, PinV babyyyyyy, choking, public sex, oral (female receiving), cursing, I think that’s all but let me know if I forgot any. No use of Y/N.

—————————————————————————————————————

It had been three days since the phone call that rocked my world, and Dean and I had barely spoken a word to one another. When I’d finally come down from the god-tiered high that I’d been on, I had every intention of finally admitting to the feelings that had been bubbling inside of me from the moment I’d locked eyes with the green-eyed hunter years ago; I’d left my room intent on throwing him into bed and confessing my love a million times over….and then I chickened out. He’d side-stepped me in the kitchen when I’d come in for breakfast, I’d avoided his gaze while he was explaining the next case we’d be on, we’d gotten completely different motel rooms instead of the three of us sharing like normal. Embarrassment flooded my nervous system whenever I even stepped into a room with him. Which puts me here, sat next to Sam in a run down dive bar somewhere in Missouri watching Dean flirt shamelessly with the busy blonde bartender.

The paint on my nails chips as I peel the tape on my beer bottle, scowling down at the label. A chuckle comes from beside me and I turn slowly toward Sam, a glare of mass proportions on my face, “What?” I bite through clenched teeth.

My rage does nothing to deter him as he laughs again and shrugs, “Nothing, just…” he glances over toward Dean and then back to me, “you seem…grumpy.” He mumbles, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“The seats sticky.” I grumble out the excuse quickly and turn back to the label, “And the music’s too loud.”

He nods and I can tell from the look on his face that he’s holding back a laugh, “The seats are sticky. But, I would think you’d both would be in a better mood.”

I peek over at him, my eyebrows raising in question, “What does that mean?”

He grins and nods toward Dean, “You sort of admitted to that little crush you’d been harboring for years.”

I shake my head, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, “Didn’t admit shit, Samuel. I got drugged. And look at him,” I point over at him, leaning casually against the bar, that Winchester Swagger just rolling off of him, “He isn’t interested. Whatever did or did not happen between us was a one time thing.”

Sam glances over to Dean, a knowing look in his eyes when he finally turns back to me and whispers, “Huh, I thought you had more balls than this.” He shrugs again, chuckling at my wide eyes, “Oh well…” he trails off, leaving the dare hanging between us.

“More balls than-.” A loud giggle cuts me off and I turn to see Dean leaning across the bar, that sly smirk on his face as the poor blonde just eats him up. Rage fills my body and I slam a hand down on the table, “You know what, Sam!” I stand up quickly and grab my empty bottle, “I’ll show you balls.”

The grin on his face widens and he nods, throwing me a thumbs up, “Go get em, Tiger.” His teasing tone spurs me on and I turn toward the bar, making my way as quickly as I can to Dean’s side.

“So, where are you staying tonight?” I hear the bartender mumble as she reaches across the bar to place her hand on his.

“With me.” I snap and set the empty bottle down harshly on the counter. Her hand slinks back, shock crossing her features, but I don’t have time to argue. I grab Dean by the jacket and spin toward the door, stomping out before this sudden adrenaline plummets.

“Hey!” He shouts as we burst through the door and into the cool night air, “What are you doing?!” He shoves my hand off of his jacket and takes a step backward, shooting me a confused look.

I take a deep breath as the adrenaline coursing through me begins to fade. Facing him, I can feel the rush of embarrassment creeping up my body. His green eyes are bright and confusion covers his features. I can almost see the millions of questions running through his mind.

“I just don’t want to ignore each other anymore.” I mumble out, a blush covering my cheeks.

His brows furrow and he leans down, “Huh?” He’s close enough now that I can smell the whiskey on his breath and it’s taking everything in me not to grab his collar and taste his lips.

“I said,” I huff, speaking loudly as i peek up at him, “I don’t want to keep ignoring each other.”

He places a hand gently on my shoulder, a sigh leaving him, “I’m not ignor—“

“Yes. You are.” I cut him off and cross my arms, “And I’ve been ignoring you because I’m too scared to actually say anything, but between Sam practically goading me to do something and you about to bring that woman back home…” I lean against the wall, placing my head in my hands, mumbling, “You’re killing me, Dean.”

He says nothing for a minute, giving me space to breathe before he places a hand on my arm and pulls me up to look at him, “I didn’t think you’d want to talk after the other night.”

I scoff, glancing down at his hand in mine, “I wanted to do a lot more than talk…”

His eye brows raise again, a devilish smirk crossing his face at the same time, “Oh yeah?”

I pull my lip between my teeth and nod, “I thought I made that pretty clear.”

He shakes his head, the smirk still on his lips as he answers, “Thought that could’ve just been the potion talking.” He mumbles out, stepping closer to block me against the wall, “Wasn’t sure you actually meant any of it.”

“I meant every word.” I whisper, placing a hand on his chest. Tension was rising between us at a rapid pace and I could feel my heart beating quickly in my chest as I waited for his response.

He licks his lips quickly, glancing down at my own, before whispering, “Prove it.”

And that was all it took to snap whatever willpower I had left. I grabbed the collar of his jacket, yanking him into me and crashing my lips onto his. He gasps at the sudden movement and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue in his mouth. We fight for dominance before I graze my teeth across his bottom lip. He groans into my mouth, slipping a hand up my frame to grip my throat as he breaks the kiss and places his forehead against mine.

“Dirty girl.” He mumbles, staring down at me , “Still want me to make you forget your name?”

I nod breathlessly as I stare up into his eyes, “Please.”

He glances around quickly before pulling me to the side of the bar. Shoving me chest first against the wall, he presses against my back and I feel the outline of him straining against his jeans, “You’ll have to be quiet, think you can do that?”

I nod again, glancing back toward the parking lot, “What about Baby? We could-.”

“Can’t wait that long.” He gruffly bites out. He drops his hands to my waist, pushing my shorts down as he slowly kisses his way up my throat to my ear, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” I groan, tipping my head back to capture his lips. He nips my bottom lip and drops to his knees as he slides my shorts down to my ankles. He pushes my shoulders further into the wall as he pulls my hips back toward him, arching my back for me.

“Beautiful.” He mumbles out as he slips a single finger through my folds, “So wet already.”

I jerk at the friction, pushing my hips farther back as I feel his lips against my core. He licks a long stripe up my middle, moaning at the taste, “Tastes so good, Baby. All for me?”

I nod vigorously and glance down at him. He’s latched his lips to my core, his movements slow and precise causing me to bite my lip hard to keep from groaning too loudly. He glances up at me, a glint in his eyes as he slips a finger inside me, curling it just right. He slips his tongue over my clit as his fingers work me up, the band in my belly tightening and tightening as he builds up what feels like the orgasm of a lifetime.

“Come on, Darlin’, cum for me.” He mutters lowly. His green eyes feel like they’re staring into my soul when the band finally snaps and stutter out his name. My eyes roll back at I watch him and I groan loudly, sagging against the wall. He pops up beside me, a grin on his face as he slips his fingers out of me. His lips are glistening in the moonlight and I can’t help it as I lean up to kiss him deeply; the taste of me coating my own tongue.

“That was….wow…” I whisper against his smile, “You really do know what you’re doing.”

He lets out a low chuckle, “You don’t know the half of it.” He kisses me again and the metal click of his belt buckle falling to his side reaches my ears as he slips himself out of his pants. He slides his hands up my shoulders and spins me around to hoist me into his arms, my shorts dropping to the ground as he does. I feel the cool brick from the wall through my shirt as I wrap my arms around his neck, “You ready?” He asks with a quick glance to the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

I feel the head of him slide between my folds, notching at my entrance when he smiles mischievously, “Beg me.” He arrogantly says, his brows raising when I don’t immediately comply. His tone changes and his voice drops what feels like an octave when he repeats himself, “I liked that shit the other night. Beg me.”

“Please?” I whisper, glancing down at the sight below me. His hard member between us, so close to exactly where I want him to be…I peer back up at him as he shakes his head, “Dean, please. Please fuck me. I’ll do anything, please.” My hands wrap around the back of his neck as I plead and I can feel my nails sinking superficially into the skin there.

His smile widens, “I thought you’d never ask.” He sinks me down onto him, sheathing himself tightly inside me. He slaps a hand over my mouth as I moan loudly and shakes his head, “Quieter or I’ll stop.” He places his hands back on my hips, bracing us against the wall as he begins to piston in and out of me quickly, “God, you’re so tight, Darlin’.”

“Just for you.” I manage to whisper, raking my hands through his hair, “All for you.”

He places sweet kisses across my collar bones as he continues his pace, one hand sliding between us to work my clit while the other keeps me pinned against the wall, “Yeah, it is.” He begins to rock into me slower, releasing my clit to wrap his hand around my wrist. He tugs my arm down my belly and kisses my cheek, “Touch yourself for me. I didn’t get to watch before.”

I bite my lip and look between us, watching as he rocks into me slowly. I slip my hand between us, fingers grazing over the bundle of nerves he’d been busy with before, moaning lowly as the pressure begins to build. I flick my wrist faster and watch him as he watches me; his eyes blown with lust and his own lip between his teeth. His hand wraps around my throat again when he pulls me in for a heated kiss, his tongue quickly slipping into my mouth as he moans out, “So fuckin’ hot.”

His hips stutter a bit and my eyes clench closed as we both reach our peaks at the same time. His hand tightens around my throat as he groans out a quick, “Son of a bitch…” when he spills inside me. And I chuckle a little as I slump against him, breathing heavy.

We both stay that way for a moment, his arms wrapped around me as we pant against the wall. Our skin, sticky with sweet, is adamant against parting as he leans up to stare into my eyes. His cheeky smile makes one form on my own face as he places sweet kisses across my cheeks.

“Should’ve done that a long time ago.” He whispers, placing his lips against my temple.

I nod and lean into his kiss, “I agree.”

He bends down and grabs my shorts, helping me keep balance as I slip them on before sending me another mischievous smile, “Wanna go back to the motel and do it again?”

_______________________________________________

A/N: I hope that lived up to your expectations! I think that’s the last part for this one, but I’m open for requests if you’d like for me to write something for you. 🫶🏼 if you’d like to be added or removed from my Taglist please let me know!

Taglist: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @k-slla

@daisydark @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @manicjk @aylacavebear

@suckitands33 @oceean @mxtansy @justwhisperingfantasies @mgchaser @xinsonyax

[twst-drabbles]

Azul 27

Summary: Azul finally decided to let you see his sea form. You've been wanting to touch him in this form like this for a while.

(This turned out longer than I thought. Was going to keep this short but oh well, I like spoiling him occasionally.)

"What if, one day in the very very far off future, I decided to show you my other form? Of course, it's not as if I'm ever going to show you… but, if I do, what will you do?"

Usually questions like that are accompanied by that usual, irritating smug look on Azul's face, like he had the clairvoyance needed to see all the little things that go on in your head, but it wasn't there that day. Well, it was there, it was just a different variety of smug. A fake smug. Like his attempt to toy with you ended up exposing a part of himself, to himself, that even he wasn't aware of.

Azul is horribly easy to read once one gets to truly know him.

So, on that day, you responded with, "Hmm, probably cherish every part of you."

He choked and you laughed as you set his hat straight, and then Azul never brought up that question, or that day up again.

Until now, that is.

You have seen Azul in his sea form, but it was under circumstances too dangerous for you get a good look at. Or properly enjoy. That and when someone is under overblot, all their colors just get more ashy, like they were dunked in a pool of ink and not properly washed out.

Azul is still gray, but there's this purple, almost indigo undertone to it that gives him more life compared to back then. His tentacles writhed uncomfortably on the floor, and Azul looked ready to curl up somewhere and hide from the world.

"Well?" Azul pouted, "Are you going to just stand there with the door wide open?"

It's weird to think that all people under the sea are usually naked, and that they're comfortable with it. You can't help but wonder how long it took to adjust to full clothing. It couldn't have been a comfortable adjustment. And yet here Azul is, trying to cover himself like a human would, in a form that works best naked.

You closed the door and brushed your fingers against the tentacle that was ready to lock the room for you.

"Wait--" Azul shivered, hand slapping over his face to hide the blood rushing to his cheeks. "Don't just touch me out of nowhere!"

You put your hands up, smiling. "Sorry, sorry."

It felt… just about what you expected to be honest. Fleshy, but there's a firmness to it that felt nice.

Azul retreated his tentacles back to himself, but he didn't turn away from you. His arms were stiff at his sides as his eyes look at anywhere but you.

So, as per usual, you took the first step. "Mind if I touch your face?"

Best to start off with something easy, something familiar.

"…You… you may."

Besides, you can never waste an opportunity to make his face go soft like this.

Azul's head practically brushed against the ceiling. He had to both sit and bend down just to have your hands reach his face.

"It really is weird how magic can hide so much of your mass," you said after a quick peck on his lips.

Azul didn't give a verbal reply. He just made a noise under his throat.

You gave another kiss, on his left cheek. "Mind if I can feel your extra limbs?"

Azul made the same noise, louder, behind a clenched jaw.

"Is that a no?" You soothed a palm over the back of his neck, playing with the little hairs on them. You're fine with just seeing. At least now you know how his colors actually looked.

"You… may." He sighed into your neck, clutching at your shirt. His tentacles rose from the ground and lazily brushed against your legs.

You caressed a thumb over the glittery freckles of his hips. "You can stop me at any time, alright?"

Azul hummed.

You tapped against one of his lilac suction cups, liking their almost swollen appearance. Almost reminded you of bubbles. Your every touch made Azul twitch, but he didn't say or do anything about it as you continued to touch.

Azul's breath transformed into a shivering sigh when you trailed from the thin end of his tentacle, to the plump base, and to the gills flaring below his torso.

"Was that too much?" You asked, amused as you continued to touch his waist.

Azul slid his palms over your waist, turned his head, and kissed your neck.

"No," you lightly chuckled, carding through Azul's hair, "I guess not."

You guided his head and laid your lips on his.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Past Wounds

(Chapter 12 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, violence, toxic relationship, binge drinking, mommy issues, brief references to past trauma and survival from past sexual assault including when characters were previously underage, talk of virginity loss, intentions to sabotage birth control, breeding kink, murder (not main characters)

Chapter Synopsis: As you and Doflamingo open up to one another, you find even more in common in the traumas of your pasts. While he still plans for the future, intending to never have you truly leave him or your new kingdom of Dressrosa again.

Author’s notes: As evidenced by chapter warnings above, there are a lot of potential triggers in this chapter. Nothing is overly gratuitous in my opinion. But still, fair warning. I always let the characters run the show for what they’ll say/do next and this was the result. More notes are at the end of the chapter as well including some insight into future plans for this story. 😄

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13

——————————

—————————— 

As Doflamingo had recounted to you those bits and pieces of his time spent with Tsuru as a boy, of course you’d sat in silence, listening intently. But even with the seemingly unflattering details he did allow, you felt like that curtain between you and his past was only being pulled back just enough to tease towards the bigger mystery. 

Like a single flash of lightning across a dark and unfamiliar room. The parts he did tell would only let you make out some hints of shapes, pieces of him you’d never known. Before everything was plunged into darkness once more. 

But telling you even this much did stir deeper things within that darkness for him at least. That was obvious in his many pauses as he spoke, and by just how quickly the wine disappeared the further his story went on. 

He’d finished the first bottle in his hand before his strings had brought the second bottle to him and into the bed as well.

But regardless of his height, and the additional body mass that offered him, you started to realize even warlords had a limit. It was still too much, too fast for his body to put it away safely.

And he was self medicating. Wasn’t he?

“Doffy,” you did say in test after he’d quieted for a few more minutes.

He wasn’t smiling any longer, and his eyes didn’t move from you. “She left me there.”

And something warned you then. It was in the way his shoulders sank, but his muscles didn’t relax. 

He didn’t want logic or reasoning right now. He didn’t want you to say that Tsuru had had no real choice but to desert him. 

And desertion was absolutely how he saw it. That sentiment made further clear in the dangerous irritation which rose in his next words.

“But Rosi was good enough. You white coats took him from me as soon as you fucking could…and wasn’t he too young? He was younger than me! So why? Why was he better…no, he wasn’t.”

It did take you a moment to even realize who Doflamingo meant, even as you began growing more nervous as he seemingly argued with himself as much as anything.

Was he talking about Rosinante?

Codename Corazon was what you’d actually known him as. Tsuru had sometimes called him Rosinante though. Which that bit of familiarity finally made more sense if only tonight.

Because she’d met both brothers before they’d ever become criminals.

But you still weren’t following this new turn. How had the marines taken Doflamingo’s brother? Corazon had been killed a few years ago. All over a stupid devil fruit sale gone bad as far as you knew. The Donquixote family versus the Barrels pirates at Minion Island.

You’d been there that night as well, on Tsuru’s crew to pick up the pieces afterward. You’d seen the bird cage just before it came down…and the bodies that’d been left in the aftermath.

But this new confusion in your eyes only had Doflamingo leaning forward aggressively. You could see the added flush in his cheeks from all that wine as he closed in on you.

And for the briefest moment you’d envisioned one of those now empty wine bottles being smashed open against your face. 

Because you somehow knew that he had considered it.

But then those same bottles only rolled aside with his movement within the bed. His words were slightly slurred the faster he tried to force them out.

The more he tried to make you understand that pain that no alcohol could ever quench.

“They turned my own baby brother against me….he hated me.” 

The warlord’s lips were the only thing that met your face this time though. Not a fist, or the bottles, even as that kiss still held so much anger from within.

Doflamingo’s hand was tight on the back of your neck so quickly too, forcing you to him as his tongue and that secondhand taste of alcohol filled your mouth.

He was actually drunk tonight. And it was your job once more to prevent yourself from being further hurt.

“Doffy,” You said more insistently again, briefly breaking your mouths apart.

Yet you weren’t bleeding like before. So this allowed you at least a chance to try softness first. Even if it wasn’t organic at all. Even if every move you made was now purposeful as you brought your hands up to stroke his face before your mouths could reconnect.

His left eye did close at that sudden touch, his lips still parted as the bright red iris of the right eye focused on you cautiously.

“You’re okay.” You found yourself saying regardless as you petted this dangerous creature.

His muscles were still so tight, his breath a bit uneven as you stroked along those high cheekbones and up into that short blond hair.

But there was the slightest hope for you in the way he’d started to press his face into that touch after a few more moments. He didn’t want you to stop.

It wasn’t over yet though. It’d never be, when suddenly he’d next pushed his full weight against you. You were forced onto your back on the mattress. This behavior already seeming to follow the pattern of so many times before as your core couldn’t help but immediately tense, fearing penetration.

Yet he didn’t straddle you this time. His legs curled up instead, allowing him the room to lay down. Your head now by the foot of the bed, and both your and his feet nearer the headboard as he laid his face across your naked breasts.

In your surprise, his hand also caught your wrist, pulling your own palm back to the side of his cheek as he bid you to keep petting him again in this new position.

And so of course you did. Having to breathe a little more forcefully with his weight on you then. But it wasn’t that painful. You weren’t being fucked this time at least as you watched the ceiling while stroking his jaw before your fingers moved back into his hairline as you massaged his scalp lightly.

You weren’t stupid. The parallels were all far more obvious now. His biological mother had died early on in his life. And in his own mind at least, he’d reclaimed some semblance of that motherly bond when he’d met Tsuru. But then she’d left him too, and his father had died, and his brother eventually too. Those full details still unclear in his odd behavior surrounding their two names.

But no matter the hows or whys, he had lost one family member after another. It was hit after hit on an already troubled psyche to further grow that void inside of him wasn’t it?

And needy boys soon became needy men. 

So he was burying all that desperation in you now, no question there. And before you, whoever else he could get his claws into you were sure. But for your own sanity, you would have to believe that everything he felt for Tsuru was still more from the boy within and not the hedonistic man that’d now torn through your body multiple times.

She’d have washed him into pieces if he’d ever tried anything inappropriate with her you were sure.

But with you? Those lines were already long gone. Clearly they were as he kept his face warm against your chest. Like it truly were an innocent refuge for him in this moment, but at the very same time you felt his already half hard cock rubbing against your legs.

He didn’t do anything more with that arousal right now at least. But his confused body didn’t seem to know the difference between affection and sex either.

Sex was affection to him. It was comfort. And evidently he sometimes wanted to be mothered by you as well, just as much as he wanted to always keep fucking you.

But the most immediate danger was again passing as you continued to give him what he wanted. You felt his muscles finally relaxing. All while you petted him more like something pitiful that had to be taken care of, rather than a true lover or equal partner in this instance at least.

Psychologists could fill entire books on a case study like Doflamingo you were sure.

And he wasn’t even done yet.

“Don’t leave me too.”

You heard those new drunken words break the silence. But you feared truly acknowledging them and possibly setting him off again as you just kept holding him. You stroked his face and down his neck to keep him calm.

Your heart rate was increasing regardless though as his arms tightened around your waist in return. His possessive body language was beginning all over again. But he said only one more heavy thing before closing both of his eyes.

“….don’t make me do it again. Don’t make me erase another light like you.”

——————————

That night felt endless. He had fallen asleep against your chest. So you’d been spared whatever sexual play he’d threatened from earlier, before he’d first started that story and gotten far too much into the wine.

But in exchange, you were left with a restless, fitful animal. Even though he was deeply asleep, you still felt him tensing and moving so many times during the night.

Sweat would form on his brow as his hands would clench. Sometimes with those fingers against your hips, or your arms, stomach, or elsewhere as he shifted around.

He was having nightmares.

And you couldn’t hope to sleep, your own body on high alert, waiting for strings to come out of his fingertips, waiting for pain if he forgot even for a moment where he really was.

Yet when he’d start moving again like that, you’d whisper his name and start stroking his head and neck once more. 

His grimace would fade, and he’d start to still again.

It was exhausting. Like fighting a fire all alone the entire night. Fighting it, and protecting him when your own body and mind wanted so badly to give up as well.

And at some point you did. You didn’t have any endurance left when consciousness finally slipped away. But you’d already seen the sunlight through those portholes again when it did.

——————————

His head was aching. But warm fingers were caught in his hair. The sound of your heartbeat was against his ear as he tried to focus his good eye into that too bright daylight.

It was fucking morning again already. But he didn’t want to move. Your chest was soft, and your grip was still so welcoming somehow.

How much had he told you last night?

Those dreams had melted into the real words he knew he’d said. But it was hard to remember the difference, where one ended and the other began. 

He’d tried to save himself all those years ago. He’d tried to do the right thing for what was left of his family. 

Because Mariejois would never suffer a traitor. Blood traitors especially. The most grievous crime that could ever be committed against the gods was when one Celestial Dragon turned against another.

Death was the only possible result in such a rare tragedy. But Homing and Rosinante both had still chosen that fate in the end. His own blood had given him no choice but to carry out the only answer they knew would come for their crimes.

They’d chosen your licentious world instead of their heavenly birthright and had to be culled for it. Like diseased branches being cut away to save the larger tree.

And then he’d been fully orphaned, broken wings and all, stuck living alone in that same world in the end. But he was still carving out the best life he could in the circumstances. 

He’d already retaken the Donquixote ancestral lands in Dressrosa. Retaken his heritage in the same castle his ancestors used to rule without mercy from. 

And now he’d secured you, the elusive temptation that had evaded him for far too long beforehand. Of course you were no equal to him. The innate filth of your own blood was still something that could never be overwritten. But the gods were able to claim anything lesser than themselves that they desired. 

So there was nothing improper in his need for you. Nothing he wouldn’t have still been allowed if he’d lived atop the world once more. He could have had as many human wives as he’d wanted. Bred all of them or none of them as he’d seen fit.

There were many half breed children in Mariejois. Most going straight into slavery of course, but not always. Pets were allowed too. They’d never hold the social status of a pureblood, but they could live a fully pampered life if their Celestial parent chose such for them. They could stay in the same home, be lavished and given affection like any other treasured possession.

And all this stress only reminded him of these possibilities time and time again.

He still wanted a replacement family for his that had been destroyed. He wanted you, his human mistress, and his half breed he could soon raise from you. He never wanted to feel as alone as he had in those nightmares ever again.

Doflamingo smirked, your heart beating so steadily beneath him still. That organ beat for only him, it belonged to him already.

But would you ever love him in return? Would you be grateful in the life he could provide for you? Would you understand how lucky you were to find this rare mercy within him at all?

It didn’t matter.

As long as he had what he wanted. As long as he always won and everyone else lost.

That was the natural way of things. And anyone who acted to truly interrupt these eventual outcomes could join Homing and Rosinante in his forgiveness of death. 

He’d actually let you sleep though, as he’d finally untethered himself from your body. His bladder full from all the drinking of last night and his body needing relief as he’d taken the longest piss in the bathroom.

This vacation was finally over. All the meetings and business dealings he’d put off for the last few days to spend that time with you instead was now going to bite back at him in full force.

He knew this as he’d flushed the toilet and looked at himself in the mirror, knowing he needed to get ready to head to his office on board and start making overdue calls. But his mind still lingered in the past, even then.

Because his one intact eye that often reminded him of his mother’s perpetually sad ones reflected back at him tiredly in that mirror. 

But the other eye was somehow sharp as always, even behind that milky white of scar tissue. As if it was watching him instead. The mismatched eye he’d been born with even before that arrow had first pierced it in this world.

The left eye and its larger red iris that used to frighten his peers and reject the sunlight enough that he’d been taught to cover it as far back as he could remember.

His one eye that matched the two of the one true god. The immortal who sat upon the empty throne. A being that he’d seen only once, when he’d brought Homing’s head to them in that last chance offering which was ultimately rejected. A past recipient of the Ope-Ope fruit’s greatest power he had no doubt.

Another ancestor of his perhaps, one whose eye and madness he had inherited. The nineteen original families of Mariejois had interbred for centuries after all.

But Doflamingo just laughed softly to himself, gripping the sink before he turned the water on to wet his hands and begin washing his face.

There was still so much that none of you knew. Information which those who sat on high would do anything to keep from spreading. 

It was yet another reason you’d never be allowed to leave him once they realized how serious he was about you. Because those five old men and the monster they served would assume he’d shared all their secrets. And they’d surely kill you rather than give you any chance to talk if you ever fled from him and lost his protection.

Divorce would never be an option for you. It truly would be until death do you part.

——————————

You rolled over, and something about even being able to do that much was enough to finally wake you again. Because you weren’t trapped under him anymore.

Raising your head, you looked around, groggy and concern quickly growing on your face. Because you didn’t see him anywhere.

And as you’d experienced before, not seeing him was always worse to you. Because then you didn’t know his current mood, or his intentions. You had no sense of the current danger.

Slowly you sat up, bedsheets falling away from your nude form.

The sun was fully in the room. It was obviously later in the day.

There was a tray beside the bed. The same one that dinner had been served on last night. But all that was now gone. 

A new plate was there. It looked like toasted bread. But with crushed tomatoes over it. Some had already been eaten, but there was plenty left.

You rose up carefully, peering into the drink pitcher beside it. Some kind of brightly colored juice was in the pitcher.

It should have been laughable of how cautious you really still were.

How afraid you were to do something as simple as eat when behind enemy lines like this. Pirates had prepared this food. They had readied this drink you had to remind yourself.

But only then did you notice a piece of paper, laid flat with its corner hanging out from under the pitcher on that silver food tray.

And when you slid that paper out, your very first reaction was to immediately be taken aback by the immaculate penmanship.

The only time you’d seen something like this was on decrees direct from Mariejois. It made the hurried writing you were more accustomed to in documented naval transmissions look like something you all had written with your feet by comparison.

Like this was a page fallen out of a book. But it wasn’t as you finally started to read it.

“I must have kept you up last night. That’s what happens when you let me drink too much, Captain. I considered leaving a string man to keep you company, but it would have been too boring just to watch you sleep.

We’ll be in Dressrosa by this afternoon. Clean yourself up and be presentable. Use my snail on the end table to summon anything you may need from the servants. I have work obligations. I wouldn’t recommend wandering the ship alone however. I wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty again. My travel crew doesn’t have the best manners after all. I’ll come back to you when we’re nearer port.

-D.D.”

And you held that paper for a while afterward, just entranced in the sheer novelty of it. He had truly beautiful handwriting, and he’d taken the time to write it for you.

It was the stupidest thing you’d likely ever felt. But you realized no man had ever written you a personal note for any reason.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You said to no one but the sleeping snails. And then you did grab one of those pieces of bread off the food tray and took a bite of it in test. 

And it was delicious. Because of course it was. With olive oil and garlic mixed in with some other seasonings you were too uncultured to identify in those crushed tomatoes smeared across it.

With the bread in one hand, you folded that note from Doflamingo gently with your other. 

For some reason you didn’t want to get any food on it. And you didn’t want to throw it away either.

Just like him, it was insidious in how you kept thinking about it now. How you wanted to keep it.

How much you liked it.

——————————

The hours ran by so quickly. Just like he knew they would. He’d been on the phone with nobility from other kingdoms, with Cipher Pol agents, with pirate captains, and warmongers of all kinds. All his customers itching for their next arms, drugs, or random pick of any other contraband shipments that they’d been requesting which his networks were currently brokering for them.

It’d been interesting which clients dared to mention anything about the newspaper articles as well. Not all would, with his Joker identity and his public status as a warlord and king existing as two wholly separate things.

But of course there was one particular call that had everything to do with you. 

Doflamingo had had his feet up on his desk by then, one ankle crossed over the other as he waited while it rang.

That cackling scientist knew better than to ignore a call from him. No matter what he may be working on with Vegapunk currently.

The transponder snail did connect at last. But the voice on the other end sounded far quieter than normal.

“J-Joker?” Came the question.

“Of course.” Doflamingo answered, but asking immediately. “Are you alone?”

“Alone enough. In a supply closet actually…” was the ridiculous answer. 

A response the warlord knew was likely not at all a joke. What an idiot this was. But an extremely useful one. “Well, Caesar, I need to commission you for what should be something far more simple this time. Something I need immediately.”

Tight timelines were nothing new. The majority of the current drugs and war worthy poisons that Doflamingo sold all linked back to this growing business relationship with Caesar Clown. 

Caesar and his constant need to prove himself superior to his official government boss, Dr. Vegapunk by any means necessary. Caesar also with his perfect combination of immorality, greed, and spinelessness to be used so well by a man like Doflamingo. 

“Yes, of course, Joker.” The near salivation of what kind of new payday this would mean for him was all too evident.

The gas logia user loved his new patron’s very deep pockets. And Doflamingo was certainly willing to provide, given that the results remained what he fully wanted of course.

“I need a new drug. This won’t be a mass product though. This is going to be for personal use alone.”

There was a noise of interest at that of course. They all knew Doflamingo didn’t normally use his own supply of anything. Normally being the key word however. There were always exceptions.

And he just outright said it now. Because once the Heavenly Demon had made up his mind on something, it’s not like he’d have any further hesitation. “I’m in the market for a family actually. I assume you saw the papers.”

Silence hung for a moment. The cogs spinning no doubt. “Shurororo...” Came the odd, and bit nervous laugh. “I did, and that was a surprise. So bold of you, going after an enlisted woman…the marines must be scrambling.”

“They can waste their time all they want. It’s real.” Doflamingo said decisively. “I’m keeping her. But she may not be fully on the same page with all of that yet. But you know me…results are king. And I want to get down to business. I want a child with her. But I need a way around that standard marine issue contraceptive. I want to override it.”

“Oh my.” Caesar was truly caught off guard, but not for the underhandedness of course. The snail had an outright wicked smile then from the scientist. One that could have rivaled one of Doflamingo’s own. “Has baby fever struck in that oppressively hot country of yours? Though, all dynasties must start somewhere I suppose. So you’ll be wanting at least an heir and a spare then?”

“Just one to start.” Doflamingo corrected, though beginning to grin a bit himself. “Quality over quantity.”

“Of course.” Caesar quickly agreed in that overly subservient way of his, but clearly still so interested. His own sadistic nature was likely highly delighted in it all. “How much modification though? I’m sure you’re aware of the kind of things I’m capable of improving on. Vinsmoke was hardly the only one at the pinnacle of that foray into eugenics. I could design circles around that fool.”

And here was the thing Doflamingo knew he had to be firm on. “Vinsmoke’s wife also ended up dead and his children little more than machines. My blood won’t be wasted in such a bland result. Nor does it need such improvement.” His voice did darken too, letting his seriousness on this point be most known. “No permanent damage to the woman either. If there was, your own death would be something I’d make you pray for, Caesar.”

It was a bit more complicated than just being able to do a clean execution of this scientist if it came down to it of course. Because they had other projects in the works that absolutely needed Caesar. The one still pending with Kaidou chief among them. But there were some things worse than death, and everyone knew Doflamingo could absolutely deliver on a threat like that if pressed.

And Caesar did stutter a little at that. The message was clearly understood. “Y-Yes, Joker. A low risk pregnancy then, of course. But might I recommend at least a little added insurance against common toxins, and a bit of extra hardiness at least?” Poisons being one of Caesar’s specialties of course. “Assuming she will be the last to know of her, ah…condition. Smoking, drinking, all those fun things you know would probably not be well advised, could have countermeasures put in place. And marines do brawl a bit at times, don’t they?”

“Fair point.” He did want you to be the last to possibly know. Because as strong willed as you  were, he had the real concern that you’d try to sabotage things yourself once aware. He couldn’t say for sure, but it was possible. “Is that doable? Just enough to make sure it thrives even if the host decides to disagree?” Doflamingo asked genuinely.

“Oh, very much.” And at that Caesar recounted the specifications as if they were talking about nothing more questionable than a grocery list. “So you aren’t interested in twins or any multiples, just the facilitation of a single ovum being released. And the only modification being what would be required for healthy development in a possible unideal environment…if the mother is still out bar hopping and roughhousing or whatever I imagine marines must all do.”

“She roughhouses enough with me, yes.” Doflamingo conceded with another smile. “But she’s no delicate flower. We both get rather hands on, and into the drink together.”

And Caesar chuckled again. “Shurororo…I can make that work. It’s just canceling out the hormones of the contraceptive and then adding in a few other factors for those modifications…and different hormones to force ovulation too as it sounds like you’re in quite a hurry. Otherwise it’d be a small window each month naturally. I can make a fixed window instead so you know exactly when the timing is right.”

“And no permanent side effects.” Doflamingo reminded. “Or you know what will happen to you.”

“Yes, Joker.” He could hear Caesar swallow even over the snail. “I’m so much better than Vinsmoke though. No need for concern, really. It would likely be nothing more than fatigue and cramping. No worse than their monthly cycles.”

“Then do it. Put it in something clear and tasteless. I’ll have your normal development and rush fees wired over to you by tonight. I want it delivered directly to me.”

——————————

There was no knock on the door. No warning at all as it just swung open. Which of course, it was his cabin. 

But that didn’t mean you didn’t startle all the same. For someone so large not to be heard coming down the hallway, that was bothersome.

That pink mass of feathers moved into the room as the door shut behind him.

Doflamingo stared at you for a moment, or you assumed that he was. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses back over his eyes before he smirked.

“Not a bad sight to have waiting on my bed after a long day.” He murmured, approaching you where you now sat fully dressed on the edge of his mattress.

And he crouched before you could reply to him. Squatted in front of you suddenly when he leaned in for a kiss.

It was a bit rough as his lips met yours, but nothing extreme this time as he smiled afterward, faces still almost touching as his tongue dipped out briefly.

He looked more than satisfied.

“You probably felt us turning, Dressrosa’s on the horizon already. We’re heading for the south port in Acacia.” 

“Alright.” You said plainly. It wasn’t as if there was anything else you could do. You’d cleaned up, dressed, even put makeup on to cover the bruising.

“Let’s change the bandage again.” He said though. “How long are you going to be able to walk for?”

And at least this process you’d done more than once now as you offered him your thigh. “Won’t really know until I try. But you are not carrying me in front of any cameras.”

He actually feigned a bit of a scowl there. Far less intense than his real ones as he started undoing the string wrap again from around your leg. The cords obeyed him so completely, white and soft as it unravelled to the floor. “Oh, but you’re forgetting where you are now, dear. I’m the king of the literal country of love and passion. It’d look very chivalrous on tomorrow’s front page wouldn’t it?”

“It’d make me look weak.” You gave him a real look of distaste in return.

“Then at least damn take something for the pain you stubborn brat.” But he was smirking then. Too happy in this moment finally being here you were sure. He’d brought you home with him at last.

All the advantage was now his as well. You were about to be in his country, with his crew, among his everything. You would have no power here save for whatever his extremely limited mercy allowed and you both knew it.

“I’m not drugging myself up on painkillers when I’m about to be in the same room as Trebol and Diamante.” You said with added certainty there.

Doflamingo’s hands did pause at that in the midst of rewrapping your wounded thigh as he asked, “Why?”

“Why?” And you did look at him there like he had two heads. “You know why!”

Somehow it had always been them. The only Donquixote officers that could ever get close enough to you. Trebol and his stupid snot that you’d gotten your legs caught in before. And Diamante with weapons that rained down like confetti, cutting you through even your haki as he’d grabbed you with his bare hands more than once.

Diamante had been the one that had scared you the most though. Because by all rights he’d really had you that one time. Before your coat had torn at the last moment. Somehow you had slipped right out of it and run for all you were worth, bleeding and with a badly dislocated arm all the way back to Tsuru.

You couldn’t have been more than sixteen then and it had thoroughly shaken you. Even for all the abuse you’d known as a child. All the aggression and beatings you’d had before when you hadn’t submitted like your mother’s bosses had wanted you to. None of that was the same as Diamante had been with you then.

Because you’d seen it in his eyes and felt it in the horrible things he’d said to you as his hands had gone places they should not have. 

Your first real brush with that level of opponent, both in physical strength and his ability to truly get within your head.

Maybe it was idiotic to still be holding onto that, considering the far worse things the man right here in front of you had done since.

But it was still different. Somehow it was. Bleeding, being grabbed and touched by Diamante with your arm almost twisted out of its socket at only sixteen. Versus being jaded and angry, several years older and stronger with a sexual appetite of your own by the time Doflamingo had first pushed himself between your legs in Mariejois.

It wasn’t the same in your mind, right or wrong as Doflamingo still watched you, as he did finish the new bandage.

“You’re still afraid of them?” He asked simply. And you really couldn’t read him well at all then, in his body language or tone.

You looked away from those red sunglasses before you could help it though. Dammit, this was not the right time for this, not minutes before your supposed public debut in Dressrosa.

“You wouldn’t understand.” You replied.

“Try me.” He said as his hands went onto your knees. 

He was still squatted in front of you.

And he must have seen some look on your face, something different there that he wouldn’t let go of.

But you still couldn’t say it. Just like you’d never told anyone the full extent of what Doflamingo had done to you in Mariejois or on Sabaody.

And at last you saw real irritation cut across his expression when he got tired of waiting. “I’m not asking you twice.” His grip on your knees tightened as he spread them a little. Just enough to move his torso between them.

You took a breath, fear edging you back to the present and to him. Fine, you’d just goddamn say it then.

And those words did come running out, just everything at once. It was either all or nothing it seemed when it came to admissions like this. 

“I don’t even remember what town it was. But Trebol got a hold of my feet with that mucus to slow me down. I should never have tried to take them both on by myself. I knew better, but you know how fast things can go sideways in the field. They had me alone and then my boots were in that snot, and I was trying to get out and Diamante was fucking right on top of me. He was hitting me with so much I couldn’t keep my haki up. So I was bleeding and they were trying to get into my head. Saying I was just a whore and laughing to each other about if I was a virgin or not…and then Diamante said he’d check.”

You heard a sound in Doflamingo’s throat. And you quieted as his face abruptly touched against yours. But he didn’t kiss you. His hands which had been squeezing your knees now relaxed as he began to stroke your thighs.

And you didn’t know what reaction you’d expected from him. But this was not it as you’d let Doflamingo lean further into you.

“How much did Diamante touch you?” Came the next quiet, but equally firm question.

Which you did make yourself answer once more. Because you didn’t want him to turn on you again. And even as humiliating as this all was, you tried to stay only with the facts, not the dark emotions they inspired.

“It was one hand under my skirt, a finger between my legs. And one hand in my shirt, under my bra. But I twisted away from him. Then he grabbed and dislocated my arm at the shoulder and my coat tore. Somehow I came right out of that coat. I broke out of the mucus with the last haki I could make, and I ran away from the both of them. I escaped.”

“Did he push that finger inside of you?” Doflamingo asked so specifically then. Almost as if this was what was truly important in it all to him. 

And you felt your stomach turn, disgusting as it was. You did not like acknowledging any of it, but you still answered with the warlord’s face nuzzled oddly into yours all the while.

“No. His finger was just feeling me on the outside. He was about to I guess. Before I pulled away.”

And maybe there was the slightest hint of relief in the way Doflamingo’s back muscles relaxed at that revelation. But even that still wasn’t enough. As he did have another very personal question for you.

“How old were you really when you lost your virginity then?”

And fuck, why did it even matter at this point? But maybe this was his way of striking when the iron was already hot so to speak. He had you vulnerable enough right now to tell him the truth, and he never missed an opportunity did he?

“Eighteen.” You said simply.

“Consensual?” 

“Yes.”

He pulled back slightly, and you felt that stare on you again. There was no smile at all. “It was Kuzan…wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” And you felt your face muscles tighten once more. You knew how insanely jealous Doflamingo could be. So that nervousness peaked within you all over again. You didn’t want to fight.

But his anger didn’t come. At least not in the way you would have expected. You saw his own face shift strangely as a smile formed instead. But it wasn’t like his normal ones at all.

“Well, I was only fifteen when I lost mine.” He said from nowhere as your eyes widened. “And it absolutely was not consensual.” 

But at least a little like you then, it was like those words couldn’t stop once he’d let them out. Even as his smile began to grow. That expression contrasted the brief strain in his voice.

“It was a fucking powerhouse of a man. He could have just snapped my neck then and there with one hand. But I’d killed his whole crew to take his territory from him. So he was going to make me pay in spades of course. I’d never had sea prism cuffs on before or since. I didn’t know how to fight very well then. And certainly not with my devil fruit taken away once he got those cuffs on me. Even my haki was nothing to him then, he was just that angry. I’ll never forget…the smell of that. The sweat and the hate, getting fucked, bent over a crate in some sweltering warehouse. And you know who pulled him off of me and beat him to goddamn death right then and there for all of his trouble?”

And Doflamingo actually laughed, loud and long then, as if that was the far better part of that violent memory.

But the horror in your own face couldn’t be matched, not at all as you already knew what he was going to say next before the names came out of his mouth.

“Trebol and Diamante.” He grinned, his sunglasses still blocking his eyes from you. Not showing his true self in any of this. “They heard it and they found us before anyone else.” 

And you were blinking back tears by then, something he surely saw in your own eyes as he did kiss you suddenly again to stop it.

But had he told you this as his own way of showing you weren’t alone in the things you’d experienced against your will? Or was it just to prove the complicated nature of the monsters he surrounded himself with? Your attackers were his rescuers.

Or…could even something as devastating as that be a memory he would willfully use to garner your sympathy? As another manipulation to make you pity him? Surely not…

And yet he was grinning fully once he broke that kiss with you again, watching you like your reaction was so much more important than his in all of this.

And your heart was torn, finding these stories all still the seeds of nightmares, no matter the motivation. And you didn’t want to let go of him either. Not at all as you again remembered that cowering response he’d shown you if only for that moment the other day as well.

You knew he couldn’t have faked that, not the reflex from when you’d hit him. And all the movements last night as those nightmares had torn through him when he was drunk.

That wasn’t fake either.

That was wholly real.

And yet Doflamingo did so easily unto others what had once been done to him, didn’t he? It didn’t change what he was at all. He’d held you down and forced his cock into you more than once now. Even when you cried, even if you screamed.

He was still so unpredictable. Even as he was starting to show you all the roots from which this evil had grown from.

He stole another long kiss from you though, as if he knew. As if he knew you were overthinking what he didn’t want you to and his hand moved up to stroke the side of your face before he finally pulled back away.

“My crew won’t hurt you again. That’s all you need to know. And I’m ordering you to report it to me if they do. Because nothing happens in Dressrosa without my permission. Understood?”

“Yes.” You said so simply. Yet inhaling though, fighting to draw those emotions back in regardless.

He didn’t seem rattled at all either now in comparison to you, as he finally stood and offered you his hand. “But let’s go. Everyone’s going to want to meet you. This is a big day for the future of our monarchy after all.”

—————————

And you had shaken that pain away as much as you could. You both falling back into your public personas. Everything was a careful production in times like this, that was certain as the two of you had released the grip on each other’s hands just before exiting up the stairs and onto the deck.

He let you walk yourself then. At least seeming to be in agreement there that neither of you wanted to portray you as overly weak or too injured in the public eye. 

And of course his crew had already been lined up and ready, all staring at you as if you were still some mysterious creature who clearly did not belong amongst them.

You could only imagine the rumors rolling through the ship. Being that you’d never left their captain’s cabin a single time while at sea. And all the bloody sheets the servants had had to find and launder.

But you ignored their looks now. Your attention fully going to your first views of what would be your new home for an indefinite future.

The island nation of Dressrosa.

Mooring ropes were being cast out to the dock workers below as the large ship began the process of lining up against it.

You couldn’t see much yet though. Just as you’d heard, Dressrosa was difficult to appreciate from a distance.

A circular island fully surrounded by a massive cliff face of light brown, almost yellowish rock which now towered above the ship. Only the smallest slit had been cut into this natural fortress to accommodate the port entrance. Such a narrow view as you tried to look at the multicolored rooftops you could see just a hint of in that distance beyond.

Of course, the other thing that could not be ignored was the crowd which had gathered, fully awaiting the unloading of Doflamingo’s ship.

And he was back behind you then, just as you’d noticed the flashes of cameras in the distance. 

“Welcome home, love.” That dark voice whispered near your ear once more as he’d bent briefly down. “Just follow my lead once we’re on the ground. They’re very excited today…so keep your head up and stay moving. We’re heading straight for the palace.”

——————————

There was that briefest bit of nostalgia for Doflamingo as his foot soldiers kept the walkway open, parting the crowd for the two of you when you’d first set foot onto these public docks.

It wasn’t so long ago after all when these very same peasants had been shouting his name alone in adulation for their new king. 

But now they wanted to know firsthand if all the reports and speculation of his new interest were true.

In this, the kingdom of love and passion, its citizens were falling over themselves to get their first real looks at you. The woman who their most eligible bachelor and king had now expressed a public fondness for.

But as the king’s plateau and his palace atop it would soon be coming into view, he shifted on his feet, just enough to bump you with his hip as you both still walked. 

The abrupt touch did have you looking up at him reflexively. Just like he wanted you to of course as he smiled down at you and another camera flashed.

That was going to be a good picture.

But over the shouts of those reporters and the crowd, they weren’t going to hear what he said to you either. 

“You only get to see your new kingdom for the first time, one time, darling. Are you paying attention?”

——————————

And of course you were. But there were so many other stimuli to consider too. You knew even now you were the marines’ sole representation on this island. So you tried to stay professional, walking without a limp in your uniform despite the pain. And not too entranced in any new sight or bothered by all the attention.

The thing you were finding most distracting though were these little things jumping around near everyone’s legs.

You knew what they were, but you’d never seen them in person. Especially when some small metal dog ran out nearly underfoot. Barking artificially with its metallic shine of purple polka dots before a girl grabbed it up to reclaim it, giggling bashfully at you all the while.

The living toys of Dressrosa is what they were, seemingly ubiquitous in their dispersal throughout the crowd. Each and every toy that you’d noticed was unique as well. Oddly cute in their own ways, but still strange as they begged for recognition from their human masters.

You didn’t know if they were fully mechanical, or perhaps it was something more akin to the homies of Totto Land in Big Mom’s territory? If they contained even a piece of someone’s soul that would be far more disconcerting to you. As far as whose piece it was and if there had been full consent to make them. 

Either way, it was certainly strange and something you’d be wanting to learn more about in the future. But everything would be similar in that regard right now. All new and your mind not really knowing where to start before that massive landmass and Doflamingo’s main residence itself were then above you. 

—————————

“My officers are waiting for us in the Hall of Suits. I called them earlier to know when to expect us.” He’d spoken to you again as the lift doors had closed to bring you both up through the king’s plateau via the elevator. To him, it was a novelty to have to enter his own palace through the street level like this.

Normally he’d be coming either from the hidden underground port late at night, or just through one of the windows straight into his office or bedroom at the top levels if he really had been out in the city or beyond alone for some reason.

Which he’d absolutely be bringing you out there for a private tour of the island at some point. At least the public portions of it anyway. Secrets would have to come later. He knew you were too intelligent to be kept in the dark for very long. But he needed far more safeguards in place before you could learn too much.

Those real reasons he and Dressrosa both had become so much wealthier just in the two years he’d now run things here. The revelations would come in time. But when they did, he’d already promised himself that you’d have a ring on your finger and a baby in your arms. Because then you’d have no way to leave him without losing your life or the child’s. He’d make any other options of true escape impossible for you.

That was the primary reason for his urgency on that call with Caesar today. Because he did hear that clock ticking in his head. Tsuru would be coming soon. So every potential weapon he had, had to be used and it had to be now. He wasn’t going to come this far just to lose you so soon.

And it truly should be unholy, how easily he was still able to offer you a warmer smile even as these thoughts rattled in his head.

You had looked up at him then, and the need for closeness overcame him as he took your hand again. The reporters had been left outside. It was only his foot soldiers in the lift with you to witness that sudden affection.

Them staring in result of it too as the doors opened again and he walked you into the main palace entryway for the very first time, his hand tight around yours.

He liked the feel of it so much. Just like in Scylla as the two of you had walked those streets together. Your hand absolutely disappeared within his, but that warmth did not.

The sense of ownership so comforting to him along with it as he pulled you lightly, leaving the foot soldiers to their duties elsewhere.

And at the last moment, he was feeling content enough to add a bit more fun to this too.

“We’ll take a shortcut through the courtyard.” He spoke to alert you, but without explaining why of course.

Because he knew exactly which type of his royal subjects would now be lazing about out there in the evening sun hoping for even a crumb of his attentions.

Unless he instructed otherwise, every morning the palace gates would be opened for them. Of course there were rules, attire that was required for admission for instance.

Always, it was the smaller those bits of bikini fabric, the better as he’d then led you out under the archway and their giggling voices erupted immediately at first sight of him.

“Your highness! Welcome home!” 

And oh they were in full form today. More lithe bodies splashing about and sprawled in all the reclined chairs by his pool than was even customary. But he knew they would be. They had wanted to see you, their new competition after all. They wanted to judge for themselves how serious he was in all of this.

Even he wasn’t narcissistic enough to hope for much response from you however. Not immediately anyway. You just weren’t that easy to fluster in public when in uniform, with some exceptions of course.

But he would absolutely enjoy waiting to see if you carved out your own territory and put these girls in their place in the long run. They meant nothing to him of course, just time wasters to warm his cock in. And surely they all knew that too. But money talked, and he’d compensate them nicely when they performed well enough. They also heavily enjoyed whatever brief clout came from being his flavor of the week of course.

“Good evening, ladies. It’s good to be back.” Doflamingo did finally respond, letting those women hang on his every word as he tried to watch your reaction out of the corner of his eye regardless.

And you were watching them at least, not looking too impressed as he squeezed your hand a little harder.

“Perhaps we’ll be back outside tomorrow. I need to show the captain around the palace of course, but it’s been a long day already.”

Rarely would he have initiated conversation with them to this degree either, especially when just passing through.

But it was all for fun right now as he did see those pouty faces of theirs in response.

“Oh well, maybe tomorrow then! If she doesn’t have a bathing suit, she can borrow one of ours!” And they were giggling again. That mix of false politeness and challenge all at once.

You rolled your eyes, and that show at last of even the briefest negative emotion from you did make him laugh.

“We’ll see. I may have her too busy for all that.” And that was said in his deeper register. Enough so that that look on your face became more of a glare directed up at him as he grinned in return.

You didn’t like being hinted at as just his newest conquest either did you? But of course you were more than that. He just couldn’t help but be a bit catty too when there was so much of it going around at the moment.

He was tempted to grab your ass on the way out of the courtyard too. Enough that they would see it. But it wasn’t worth a full fight with you in this moment. Not when he knew you were about to be stressed enough as he brought you back inside and down that next corridor to the Hall of Suits.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

End Notes: As always, thank you so very much for reading! My Doflamingo fixation compelled me to write Chapter 1 of this fic initially as a smutty one shot after almost three years of my not writing anything. I just had to get it out of my system. And to my shock, a few people actually enjoyed it! So, loving the One Piece fandom as I have been, I kept going wanting to contribute the little bit that I could to the larger OP fan-fiction sphere in the name of this pink bastard.

Now that this has become a multi chapter story (rare for me even when I did use to write more back in the day), there’s concepts I want to touch on that I feel I couldn’t do otherwise in a one shot. And for those that have read this from the very first chapter until now, I wanted to give you that preview. So that you can decide if this is still where you want to follow.

The main thing I have been waffling on is whether or not Doflamingo gets his way on baby trapping reader. It’s like pandora’s box for me as I keep going back to it, picking it up, and then putting it back down. But in the end, I’ve decided to open the box. Because I, personally, have to know. I want to see which Doflamingo we get when he’s actually a biological father since he’s so weird about his bloodline anyway. And I feel it would have to be by choice like this. Because he’s too smart to let that happen by accident. So I can’t do it without all the setup that we now have. 

Also, I want to see how this will affect Law. Because it absolutely will. When a truly innocent child is now thrown into the works (Law grew up with Buffalo, Baby 5, and Dellinger and knows they’re already as screwed up as he used to be). But also since this kid will be the next Corazon in title. So to carry that name, that innocence, and likely a strong family resemblance to their late uncle…it would be a mind trip for Law. Would he be determined to save them from their father’s influence in the same way that Cora saved him? Or would he still only be worried about his own revenge?

That being said, Doflamingo will definitely suffer for this underhanded bullshit he’s about to pull on reader. Karma is coming. I promise. He’s going to be put through it emotionally. Charybdis that started it all in Chapter 1 is going to be an island that will return to hurt them both. I’m also not done with Aokiji or Crocodile in this. They are diehard DoflamingoxReader antis. Aokiji because he truly cares about reader, and Crocodile because he’s watching a repeat of his own past trauma at Doflamingo’s hands and just does not want that shitbird to win yet again.

So we’ll see what happens. Nothing is set in stone as I do write in a very improv heavy style of letting the characters take it where it will go. But that’s what I can say for now. Thank you, thank you, thank you again! 😭

-Moonbaby26

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 44

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

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Thursday, February 4; 6:30 AM - Lucy's Room.

I bury myself in a mass of hair that tickles the tip of my nose as Lucy’s alarm goes off in the room. I groan when she moves to reach her phone where the sound is coming from. An unbearable pain shoots through my body. That bitch really didn’t hold back. I sincerely hope she’ll pay for this. I’ll have to ask Lucy for another pill. I smile as she returns to embrace me, letting out a long, low moan.

"Good morning, mi novia."

"Good morning..." I mumble.

I bury my face in her neck, losing all motivation to get up. Lucy doesn’t seem in a hurry either, so I take advantage of it for once. She kisses the top of my head.

"I must look like a real zombie..."

"No, you don’t."

"Yes, I do."

"Don’t start," she laughs. "It’s only half past six."

"Did you change the alarm?" I grumble, lifting my face from her neck.

"Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t go to class right away because of Wiegman’s meeting. We needed to catch up anyway."

Her response makes me realize I didn’t wake up once during the night. It was indeed a very restful night. I sigh deeply before resting my head against her shoulder.

"You’re right."

I let out a gasp of surprise, arching my back when Lucy’s cold hand slips under my T-shirt. She smiles sheepishly, proud of her prank.

"What are you doing! Get it out!"

"It was outside the blanket. I need to warm it up!"

"Stop it!" I cry out as she slides her hand up my back.

I wiggle to free myself from her grasp amid her laughter. In the end, I end up lying on my back to trap her hand, with Lucy half-lying on top of me. I literally melt, forgetting the reasons for my anger, when she takes advantage of the moment to kiss me tenderly.

"I’m going to take a shower," she whispers. "Stay in bed if you want."

She kisses my cheek and then gets up. The coldness of her absence envelops me the second she leaves. I watch her gather her clothes, which neither of us prepared last night. When she turns around, she notices me watching and gives me a smile accompanied by a wink before locking herself in the bathroom. I groan, burying my head in her pillow, inhaling her scent that I had missed so much. I might quickly get used to this kind of wake-up, along with her teasing. I hope everything will go well for us from now on. I couldn’t bear to lose her again. She’s always brought out the best in me, but also the worst when she’s not there. I snap out of my thoughts and reopen my eyes when the door opens twenty minutes later.

"Is my pillow working for you?" she teases.

"Perfectly," I reply as she sits down beside me and runs her hand through my hair.

"I’d love to let you lie here as long as you want, but if you want to eat, you’ll have to get up and take a shower too."

"I know, I’ll get up..."

"I’ll take care of the rest in the meantime, but first..."

I look at her curiously as she shows me something between her fingers. I’m surprised to see my ring, which I had put away in the bedside table. I didn’t even notice her taking it. She holds out her open hand, and without her having to say anything, I place my right hand on it. I watch her closely as she slides it onto my ring finger, where it always was before I took it off. Once it’s on, she brings my hand to her lips to kiss the ring, making me blush.

"Please don’t take it off again."

"I-I’ll try..."

"Come on, get up now," she smiles.

I nod and get up, trying to hide the pain from Lucy. I go to grab a uniform and some underwear before heading to the bathroom. I hurry up when I realize it’s already almost seven o’clock. She pushed our alarm back by thirty minutes, so I can’t complain since it was necessary. I shower and get ready as quickly as possible. Then I slow down when it’s time to examine my face. I’ve regained some color thanks to this restorative night, but it does little to improve the state of my injuries. My black eye has darkened, as have the bruises on my stomach. As for the cut on my lip, it has dried into a scab. I hope it won’t leave a scar.

"Horrible," I mutter.

"It’ll fade."

I jump when I realize Lucy has joined me, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile and her arms crossed. I didn’t expect to see her here. She’s been pretty quiet because, unlike with Alexia in our room, I always close the door here.

"No, it’s really horrible," I insist. "It’s going to take at least a week to heal."

I lean against the sink, not worrying about the bruises on my stomach pressing against it, and examine my eye more closely, which seems to have swollen slightly.

"It could have been worse. Let me put some cream on it."

She doesn’t wait for my response before grabbing the tube and applying it to the black eye. I look at myself in the mirror to examine the rest. At least my lip hasn’t swollen either. She repeats the process on my stomach and finishes by changing the bandage on my eyebrow. I realize how useful it’s been when I see the large bloodstain on the old one.

"There you go," she smiles as she puts everything away. "Shall we eat together?" she offers.

"Am I allowed?"

"Of course, if I say so. Besides, the rush hour is over."

"Okay. I’d like to see my friends though..."

"Knowing them, they’ll wait for you as long as they can."

I smile and nod. That’s definitely their style. Plus, I haven’t seen them since yesterday; they must be worried sick. My God, especially Alexia ! Luckily, I’ll see them in a few minutes.

"I’m afraid of what Wiegman will say," I confess to her.

"You don’t have to worry. You’re not in trouble since you didn’t do anything, and if Korbin has said anything, I’ll defend you."

"As long as she believes us..."

"She will," she says with conviction. "By the way," she begins delicately, "I need to know if she touched you at any other time besides last night. It would be a good way to incriminate her further if things take a turn for the worse."

I look at her for a moment before sighing. She already knows the answer; otherwise, she wouldn’t have asked. It’s not hard for her to understand, given the state I was in.

"She assaulted me in the dorm hallway the night before. That’s why I asked to sleep with you," I murmur.

She nods gently in understanding before placing her hand on my cheek. Surprisingly, she doesn’t press further and simply responds:

"Thank you for being honest. I’ll try to get you the day off. You’re not in any condition to go to class after all this."

"Really?" I say, surprised.

- Really.

- Thank you...

Timidly, I hug her to show my sincerity.

- It’s the least I can do. Now let's go. I’m starving.

I smile and nod. To be honest, so am I. I couldn’t finish my meal because of Korbin, and I’m starting to feel it. We grab our jackets and shoes before heading out.

- Will Ingrid be in the cafeteria?

- No. She’s handling Korbin’s case. They’re probably in a meeting right now.

- Oh...

- Don’t worry. Everything will be fine, I promise.

I don’t understand why Lucy seems so confident. I don’t have time to dwell on it as we arrive at the cafeteria. I regret that everything happened here. Now I have to face the place and all the students who saw me get thoroughly beaten. Lucy must have sensed my discomfort because she supports me by placing her hand on my back. I walk in before I can think too much. Otherwise, I’d be tempted to run the other way.

- Are you okay? she asks me.

- Yeah...

- Let me know if that changes.

I smile softly and nod. I should know by now that nothing can happen to me with her by my side. I take a deep breath before entering the dining hall. Surprisingly, the place is calm. Only a few students are still here, and there’s no sign of last night’s incident. My first instinct is to look toward my table. I smile when I see Alexia already running across the cafeteria to meet me. I catch her in my arms, not without some pain from the impact she probably didn’t gauge. A small cry escapes me, making her immediately step back.

- Oh my God, I’m so sorry! she panics. Are you okay?

I smile as she starts examining me from head to toe, lifting my arms.

- I’m fine, Ale, I chuckle. Just a few bruises, but they’re manageable.

She relaxes and hugs me again, more gently this time. Her reaction doesn’t surprise me. She always seems very worried about me. We’ve grown very close, much to my delight.

- You look like a real zombie, she finally jokes.

- What did I tell you? I say to Lucy. At least she admits it!

- Well, let’s be honest here, Ale adds. And what about you two? Are things better now? she asks hesitantly.

- Yeah... I reply with a small smile, glancing at Lucy. Much better.

Alexia doesn’t have time to ask more as the rest of our friends join us, bombarding me with questions I can’t even make out because they’re all talking at once.

- You can stay with them if you want, Lucy tells me. We’ll meet up later.

- No, I’m eating with you. It’s not like I won’t see them again before tonight. Does that bother you? I ask my friends.

- Nah, of course not, Alba responds.

- Are you coming to class? Alessia asks me.

I shrug and glance at Lucy to help me answer. I guess after the meeting, I’ll go back to class if she doesn’t manage to get Wiegman to give me the day off.

- We’ll see, Lucy replies. By the way, it looks like it’s almost time for you to go.

Now that I see the time, I realize she’s right. My friends don’t argue and say goodbye, telling me we’ll catch up later. It’s funny to see how much influence Lucy has on them. Alexia is the last to stay and hugs me again, whispering that I owe her an explanation. I smile as I watch her leave, then we go get our food. I give Lucy a little nudge.

- What is it?

- Nothing, I reply. I’m just happy to be with you.

- Hmm, she smiles.

We walk through the dining hall to her table. I take Ingrid’s spot since she isn’t here.

- So Ingrid’s defending Korbin?

- She doesn’t have much to defend her with, Lucy admits. But yes, that’s her role. Ingrid talked to Wiegman, and she already told me there’s little chance Korbin will avoid expulsion.

- Oh...

- Now relax. For the thousandth time, you have nothing to worry about.

Lucy doesn’t understand that I’m not worried about Korbin’s punishment, but my own. I might be the victim, but who’s to say Wiegman won’t believe her? It would be just my luck if she punished me and Lucy too.

- Here. I saved some painkillers for you last night.

- Why are you so perfect? I mumble. Everything seems so easy for you.

- I told you yesterday that I’m far from perfect, she smiles, taking a bite of her toast.

- No matter what you think. There’s nothing you can’t do. Not only are you athletic and beautiful, but you can cook, take care of people, and you have such confidence that you scare everyone. Not to mention th—

- I think that’s enough, Ona, she teases.

- What? I could go on for hours listing all your qualities, I pout.

- You become who you want to be, she shrugs.

- If you were so different before, what were you like? I ask, curious.

- Far from who I am today, she teases.

I puff out my cheeks, knowing I won’t learn more today. It’s hard to imagine Lucy being any different from who she is now.

- I thought I was allowed to know more now, I pout.

She looks up from her breakfast and smiles tenderly at me. It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve just spent time together doing something as simple as this. It’s a breath of fresh air. I missed her. A lot. I’m really glad to have her back, even more than before.

- You’ll know more. I just love teasing you.

- You could at least give me a hint.

- Hmm... she pretends to think. No. I might lose my credibility... and my intimidation. Isn’t that what you said yesterday?

I blush, remembering. That’s exactly what I told her. Intimidating and scary. Those were the words that kept coming to my mind when we first met. She was tough on me, even though I understand the reasons now.

- This isn’t funny!

- Yes, it is, she laughs. It’s so easy to tease you.

I stick out my tongue, which seems to amuse her even more.

- Although, I still wonder why you are... I’ve never mistreated you as far as I know.

I shrug and take a bite of my barely-touched pastry. She seems to understand that I’m avoiding the conversation because she entwines her fingers with mine in my free hand. I watch as she starts making small circles on the back of my hand with her thumb.

- I don’t know. Everyone here finds you intimidating after all, you know.

It’s because of my reputation, she chuckles. Although I was tough on you at first, I’m much less so now. I hope you realize that.

- Of course, I laughed. I guess you still intimidate me because deep down, there will always be a part of me that remembers you were once my supervisor... After all, you were the first person who could stand up to me and tell me the hard truths when I needed them.

- I’m far from just that now. You realize that, right? she teased.

- Yeah, sure... But I know you'll still turn into my supervisor whenever I mess up.

- Definitely not, she said, rolling her eyes.

- It's not a complaint. It might be weird, but I actually like it when you put me in my place, I chuckled.

- I see, she laughed. Well, you're lucky I'll still be your supervisor here.

- You were serious?

- Of course. No matter what we are outside of here, you'll still be my student until we finish the year. We're both intelligent adults, after all. At least, I know I am, and I hope you can understand my intentions.

She laughed as I playfully slapped the hand still holding mine captive. I found myself shyly playing with her fingers, surprised at how much I wanted to be more physically affectionate with her. I had forgotten how dating a teacher could have its drawbacks. I couldn't even argue against her point. We needed these boundaries here, not just to fully heal but also to keep our relationship safe.

- Why me? I asked, lifting my head. I mean... I'm just a problem kid after all... You could easily find someone better.

- Please. You’re not going to make me list all the reasons you’re important to me again, are you? she raised an eyebrow.

- Why not...? I don't even know what you see in me.

- Alright, let's talk about it then.

- Really?

- Our relationship has to be based on communication. Neither of us knows what we’re getting into, but if we want this to work, the first thing we need to do is keep being honest with each other.

I nodded, completely agreeing with her. Communication is key, especially for two people like us who have our doubts. We made the mistake once, and I doubt it will happen again.

- Alright, she sighed. To be honest, it was really hard for me to bounce back after Kiera. The first thing I told myself was that I’d avoid getting involved with addicts, she laughed.

- Seems like that plan didn’t work out... I replied with a small smile. But you’ve been with other people since her, right...?

- Yes, of course, I’ve tried. But as I told you, it was never serious. I didn’t invest in those relationships, so they only lasted two or three months.

That’s exactly what she told me yesterday. It must be something she’s afraid of too. She started stroking my hand again, her eyes locking onto mine. I squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her. She doesn’t seem to realize how much she means to me. She’s changed my life.

- If I want you, rather than someone else, it’s because I feel good when I’m with you. That’s all that matters to me. It was the same with Kiera, who completely transformed me, but with you, it’s different again. It’s better, and I’ll do everything I can to make it work between us.

Her sincerity touched me. She likes me. Why is it so hard for me to accept that? My self-confidence, of course. I really need to work on that.

- With others, I’d bury myself in my work, but with you, that won’t be possible, she joked.

- True, I chuckled. I believe you, Luce, but it doesn’t change the fact that you could have any woman at your feet.

- You’re exaggerating, she laughed.

- No, I’m serious. You probably don’t even realize it.

- Good thing I only want you then.

I bit my lip at her words, spoken so naturally. I’ve never been lucky in life, and yet here she is. It’s overwhelming. I feel like I don’t deserve her after everything I’ve been through. I’m not used to feeling happy. She gently lifted my face with her hands.

- Don’t doubt it, she whispered. You have no idea how hard it was for me to hide my attraction to you. You might be a defiant kid, but I love that about you just as much as you love my responsible side. I never saw you as incapable. You’re a person with strengths and weaknesses, just like everyone else.

I absorbed her words like a breath of fresh air. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.

- Thank you...

- I’m sorry again for how I reacted.

- It’s okay, Luce...

- No, she shook her head. You have no idea how much I regret it. It’s always been us against the world from the start.

- I’m the one who’s always run away, Lucy. So I’m not going to hold it against you for doing it once. Now, stop with the sweet talk, or I might have to kiss you.

- Alright, I get it, she laughed. But stop doubting my feelings. They’re real and mutual.

- I’ll try, I teased.

- I would never mess with you. We both have our pasts, but I believe we can overcome them together.

I nodded, fully agreeing with her. We help each other get better. Everything between us has always been spontaneous. We’ve built trust, and it’s like I’m invincible with her by my side. She smiled softly at me.

- Let’s take things as they come. Everything will fall into place naturally, like it always has. Don’t you think?

- Yes, you’re right.

- Good. Now, finish your breakfast so we can go. I don’t want to be late for my boss.

- Whatever you want, Commander.

- Stop with that nickname, she muttered.

- I’ll try, she laughed.

We finished our breakfast after that conversation. I took my time, as if it would delay the inevitable meeting. Once we were done, we cleared our trays and headed toward the administration office. That anxious knot in my stomach was coming back, but I tried to push it down as best I could.

- I can feel your stress from a mile away, she said.

- I’m scared.

Lucy sighed and stopped, prompting me to do the same. She opened her arms.

- Come here.

I looked around to make sure no one was around before I stepped into her embrace. She held me tightly and kissed my forehead.

- I won’t let anything happen to you.

I wish I could believe her, but anything can happen. I’ve always lived in fear, after all. She pulled back and offered me a reassuring smile.

- I’d love to stay like this, but we have to go. Trust me, okay?

I took a deep breath and nodded. She hugged me one last time before guiding me toward the administration office. I noticed by the hallway clock that we still had some time, but Lucy is a stickler for punctuality. I’ve gotten enough punishments from her to know that. We walked through the administration hallway like it was a death row corridor. I hate that feeling. I distracted myself by looking into the offices around us, but some of the doors were closed.

- I’m just going to say hi to the colleagues. Go sit by Wiegman’s office.

I would have preferred if she stayed with me, but I didn’t say anything. I just kept walking without her. I slowed down, though, when I recognized the person already waiting in front of the door. It felt like my vision was playing tricks on me, but I quickly realized it wasn’t when she stood up from her chair as soon as she saw me.

- "Oh my God, Ona!"

- "M-mom?"

I step back in shock. What is she doing here?! Her eyes show concern, and for once, it really feels like she’s worried about me. Since our last argument, the tension had eased slightly. The distance from school must have made her think. The last time we spoke was to change my phone plan, and the conversation went surprisingly well. Lucy's chuckle snaps me out of my trance just before she bumps into me.

- "Sorry," she says, grabbing onto my shoulders. "I thought you were sitting down."

She frowns when she sees the look on my face, then glances up to see what's causing my reaction. Her hands tighten on my shoulders, as if she already knows who we're dealing with.

- "Hello," she says uncertainly.

- "Hello," my mother replies in the same tone.

Lucy steps forward to shake her hand. If someone had told me I’d see this scene one day, I wouldn’t have believed it. I don’t even know what to think.

- "What are you doing here?" I ask. "I thought this was just a routine meeting!" I then turn to Lucy.

- "They called to tell me that you were involved in a fight and that I should come as soon as possible if I could," my mother explains.

- "Did you know about this?" I ask Lucy.

- "No! It must be part of the protocol... Excuse me, Mrs. Batlle, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Lucy Bronze, Ona’s supervisor."

- "So, we finally meet. Sarina has mentioned you quite a bit. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. I’m Abby. »

- "Oh, I see," Lucy says, a bit awkwardly. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Watching Lucy getting along with my mother is something I never expected. Well, not entirely unexpected. Lucy was the first to tell me that I should make peace with her if it was still possible. I sigh as my mother starts chatting away with Lucy. She looks super uncomfortable, probably unsure how to navigate between us. It’s kind of cute.

- "Mom, stop bothering her."

- "Oh, you’re not bothering me at all," Lucy quickly replies.

- "No, Ona’s right," my mother laughs. "Once I start, I can’t stop. Let me take a look at you, Ona. You’re in quite a state."

- "I’m fine," I say, stepping back as she approaches. "Bronze took care of me."

It feels weird calling her by her last name, but I don’t really have a choice here.

- "I’d still like to check, even though I don’t doubt she did a good job."

I sigh and let her grab my cheeks.

- "Gently, please," I groan.

Her eyes scan my face while mine are fixed on Lucy, who’s teasing me. She’s watching the scene unfold with amusement. There’s nothing funny about this, and I’ll make sure she knows it later.

- "Did you take a painkiller?"

- "Yes, Mom," I roll my eyes.

- "Thank you for taking such good care of her," my mom says.

- "I was happy to do it, though we’d have preferred to avoid all this," Lucy replies.

- "Of course... Was there a reason behind all this?"

- "In a way. We’ll discuss it in the office if you’d like."

My mom nods and finally lets me go. We then sit down, with me in the middle again. It’s a strange situation. I glance at Lucy, who smiles at me in an odd way before looking away. No one dares to speak. It’ll be our turn soon. I’m not sure how the meeting will go, but if my mom is here, it’s probably not a good sign. And even if it goes well, we’ll probably end up arguing.

- "Who were you talking to earlier?" I ask Lucy to distract myself.

- "I just made the rounds to say hello."

- "Hmm..."

- "What?" she smiles.

- "Nothing... I just wish you’d stayed with me."

- "Oh," she smiles. "Sorry, but they’re still my colleagues, I had to greet them. You can come with me next time."

The idea of communication appeals to me. I shouldn’t be afraid to tell her things. Well, it depends on the topic, of course. I glance at my mom, who’s watching us curiously before smiling at me. She’s also acting strange today. She’s never been this kind to me before. I awkwardly return the smile before lowering my head. It’s hard to believe she flew six hours to see me. She must have flown overnight to be here this early. I wonder how she managed to get time off. She usually barely has any free days with her job. I sigh and shake my head. Maybe things are finally changing.

- "Do you think we’ll have to wait much longer?"

Just as I ask Lucy this question, the office door we’ve been waiting at finally opens. All three of us look up at the door.

- "Apparently not," Lucy murmurs.

A small group files out, led by Ingrid. She steps aside to let Korbin and what I assume are her parents exit. Ingrid takes the opportunity to shake my mother’s hand before her eyes land on me. A smirk spreads across her face.

- "Ouch, you look rough, Batlle," she mocks.

- "Ha ha," I grumble, pulling my scarf up over my nose.

- "Leave her alone," Lucy intervenes with a hint of amusement. "She already feels ugly enough as it is," she adds, making Ingrid laugh.

They exchange a quick handshake while I look at Korbin, who seems to have been staring at me since she walked out. She’s glaring at me. This girl is really insane to keep looking at me like that after beating me up. Lucy was right when she said I didn’t touch her. She doesn’t have a single scratch. My view is interrupted by a hand waving in front of me. I look up at Lucy and realize I’m the only one still sitting. I quickly stand up and watch as Wiegman says goodbye to Korbin’s parents. She asks Ingrid to escort them out and handle the rest of the process. Then she turns to us.

- "Abby! It’s been so long."

If I wasn’t sure these two knew each other, I am now. My principal is hugging my mother. I think this scene is even more unsettling than her meeting Lucy. I still don’t understand why I hadn’t heard of het before. She steps back from her to shake our hands respectfully, one by one. She invites us into her office, which we enter. I find myself sitting in the middle chair again. It feels like I’m on trial with the way I’m surrounded.

- "Alright," Wiegman begins. "I don’t think I need to explain why we’re here..."

- "No, indeed. You just have to look at me... Ouch!"

I frown at Lucy, who just kicked me. She gives me a stern look, clearly sending a message. I quickly get it and stay quiet, sinking into my chair with my arms crossed. Wiegman clears her throat before continuing.

- "Miss Bronze had already informed me that you’ve been getting bullied for a while. So it’s partly our fault for not taking action sooner."

- "I didn’t expect it would lead to a fight," I shrug.

- "Korbin crossed the line in several ways. The fact that she made homophobic remarks should have been a warning sign for us."

- "Homophobic remarks?" my mother repeats, raising an eyebrow.

Damn. I didn’t expect her to say that in front of my mom. I look over at Lucy for support. My mom doesn’t know about that part of my life yet, and I definitely didn’t want her to find out like this.

- "Mr. Thomson, Ona's teacher came to inform me about these matters," Lucy intervenes. "These remarks were based on rumors that had been circulating. Korbin just used them to morally attack your daughter."

I let out a small sigh. My girlfriend is perfect, there’s no other word to describe her. She just saved the situation with a single sentence.

- "These are things you should have talked about, Ona," says Wiegman.

- "I’ve never been the type of person to openly discuss my problems," I retorted.

- "That’s not a solution," my mother says. "You can see where it’s gotten you."

- "Oh, don’t start. I’m willing to let things improve between us, but until recently, you didn’t even believe what I was telling you. It’s no wonder I didn’t confide in you!"

- "Ona..." Lucy warns me.

- "I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. You’re the only one I feel I can confide in because you earned my trust," I say to Lucy. "It’s going to take time for things to improve with you, Mom. It won’t happen overnight."

- "You know I want to make up for things, but for that to happen, you need to give me a chance to do so," she replies.

- "How do you expect me to do that after everything you’ve done to me? You’re closer to Mapi than you are to me!" I accuse her.

- "You’re the one who always put up barriers between us! I accept my mistakes, but it’s your turn to accept yours! It’s too easy to blame everything on me!"

- "Yeah, well, start by apologizing then! My whole life is your fault! It’s because of you that I started acting like a rebellious child and kept making mistakes! It’s also your fault that our relationship consists only of confrontations! You never understood me, let alone listened to me! How can a mother be like that with her child?! It seems like you still don’t realize how much your actions have affected me!"

- "Ona-"

- "Don’t touch me!"

I violently pull away from her grip. I calm down when I realize it wasn’t my mother, but Lucy who had tried to touch me. I hadn’t recognized her voice because I was so consumed by anger.

- "I-I need to go out. Excuse me."

I don’t wait for their permission before pushing my chair away and leaving. I need to get some air to clear my head. My vision is blurred by the tears that have formed. I hear Lucy calling after me, but I don’t stop. It was certain that something would go wrong with my mother being here. We’ll never get along. I lock myself in the restroom, but I don’t even make it to a stall before Lucy catches up with me.

- "Don’t lock yourself away," she sighs.

She pulls me into her arms again. I struggle at first, but then I realize it’s pointless and give in, letting myself lean against her as my tears flow freely. It’s hard to catch my breath because of my anger, but she calms me down by holding me tighter.

- "Shh. It’s okay, it’s over."

- "I-I’m sorry."

- "Don’t apologize. You have every right to be angry."

I try to regain my breath. She brushes a few strands of hair away from my face before kissing my forehead. Her fingers gently wipe away my tears.

- "You’d better not say that-"

- "I won’t say anything," she interrupts me. "You handle the situation with your mother in your own way, and I’ll support whatever decisions you make. Just know that she’s trying to make things right... awkwardly, sure... but she’s trying."

She gently rocks me until I’ve fully calmed down. I expected her to lecture me, but it seems I was wrong.

- "We should go back... I told them I’d bring you back."

- "Two minutes," I mutter.

She doesn’t say anything and gives me the time I need. I slowly pull away to grab a tissue and blow my nose.

- "If you’re feeling overwhelmed, just look at me, and I’ll step in. Okay? There’s no need to get this worked up."

- "Okay... Thanks for earlier, by the way. You really saved me."

- "I told you I’d protect you."

We share a smile before heading back. We sit back in our places, and I make sure to keep my eyes on the floor. The tension in the room is palpable.

- "Alright, let’s continue," Wiegman says. "Korbin mentioned a relationship between the two of you."

I freeze at her words. I knew she would bring it up. Does she believe her? I hope not. I glance at Lucy, who doesn’t seem stressed at all, or she’s hiding it very well.

- "That’s not the case," I reply. "We have a special bond, but not in that way."

- "I know. I don’t believe it at all, but I wanted to let you know. Korbin found out that you two are sharing the same room. She thought I wasn’t aware of it and that it could be used as grounds to get you both expelled."

- "We were discreet though," I murmured.

- "I know, but it just shows she must have been following you everywhere. As I said, I didn’t take her argument into consideration because I’m the one who approved the room change, and in any case, I know that you’re far too professional to break that rule, Miss Bronze."

A wave of relief washes over me that I try my best to hide. I would have felt terrible if Lucy had been punished because of me. I hope this remark doesn’t make Lucy doubt our relationship going forward. I don’t really want to end things just as we’re starting.

- "I also wanted to inform you that Miss Bronze will remain your supervisor until the end of the year since trouble seems to follow you. We think it’s the best course of action, along with your mother."

If only she knew that I’m actually glad about that. It means Lucy will be the only one to take care of me. I play along and just nod in understanding.

- "Are we done?" I ask bluntly.

- "Yes," she chuckles. "You’ll be able to leave soon. Just know that you’ll be under constant supervision from now on. You may not be responsible for what happened to you, but the next incident involving you could be severely punished if you don’t speak up beforehand."

- "Fine," I mumbled. "I’ll discuss it. Am I allowed to go out this weekend?"

- "I don’t see why not, for now."

I thank her with a sigh of relief. I’m getting tired of seeing the walls of this camp for the past two weeks. I wouldn’t have been able to stand staying another week. She stands up to indicate that the meeting is over.

- "Can she have the rest of the day off?" Lucy asks finally. "She needs to rest."

I had forgotten about that detail. Wiegman looks at me for a moment, as if judging whether I deserve it or not.

- "I’ll give her the day off, and you as well for taking care of her last night. I’ll also grant you tomorrow off so you can recover. You’ll spend that time in Bronze and Engen’s office. Make good use of it... like catching up on your studies, for example, since it seems your new course isn’t your strong suit."

I’m surprised by her decision. This means I won’t have classes for the rest of the week. It’s surprising coming from het, considering she hates when her students skip classes.

- "Thank you..."

- "I hope I won’t see you back here anytime soon."

I smile and shake the hand she offers. I wait for Lucy to do the same before leaving that dreadful office. I was ready to go, but Lucy stops me. We watch as my mother and Wiegman chat like old friends.

- "At least say goodbye before you disappear for good," Lucy tells me.

I sigh but nod. After all, she did come all this way for me, so the least I can do is say goodbye. She eventually joins us, closing the office door behind her.

- "I’d like to invite both of you to lunch if you’d like. Sarina has given her approval, of course. I’d really like to get to know the person who has transformed my daughter."

I didn’t expect this offer. I look to Lucy to indirectly gauge her response. She smiles at me before nodding.

- "I’d be happy to, Mrs. Batlle," she replies.

- "How about we drop the formalities? And call me Abby, I’ve told you that already."

- "Alright... I’ll try. But we should probably change before we go. I doubt a uniform will make a good impression outside," she chuckles.

- "Oh yes, of course."

- "Wait for us in the parking lot, we’ll be right there," I tell her.

- "Oh... It’s just that I don’t have a car, I came by taxi."

- "I’ll be driving," Lucy chuckles. "My car is over there. It’s better if you wait for us at the entrance. It’ll be easier for you."

- "You don’t mind driving?"

- "Not at all. I know the city, so it’ll be more convenient."

- "That’s true. Well, I’ll wait for you at the entrance then."

- "We’ll be there in a moment."

She agrees, saying we can take our time. We go our separate ways. I wait until we’re far enough away before talking to Lucy.

- "I can’t believe she suggested such a thing."

- "See? She just wants to make an effort."

- "I hope it goes well..."

- "There’s no reason for it to go badly if you stay calm."

- "Hmm... But it’s only nine o’clock..." I sigh. "We’ll have to keep ourselves busy until lunch."

- "That’s not so bad. It’ll be a chance to reconnect."

- "Great..."

- "You’re not the one who should be complaining. I’m going to spend the day with my mother-in-law, who doesn’t know I exist. I wouldn’t want to see her face the day she finds out I’m your girlfriend."

I chuckle, imagining the shocked expression my mother will probably have when she eventually finds out. I really should tell her that I’m bi someday. It’s about time. I’m an adult now, so she won’t have much to say about it. Besides, there’s a good chance I’ll move out after school if my relationship with Lucy continues. My life and my loved ones are here now.

- "We’ll see... In the meantime, let’s face this day. It’s going to be very... amusing," I say sarcastically.

Lucy chuckles, ruffling my hair. She doesn’t realize how much I’m dreading this day. To think I was supposed to be resting... I have a feeling it’ll be quite the opposite. Only time will tell in what way.

[betweengenesisfrogs]

A HOMESTUCK MANIFESTO

I want to think about what comes next after Homestuck.

That’s a challenge to the world as much as a personal mission statement.

I want to see writers and artists and creators making the next Homestuck, taking its themes and binding them into new fabrics, giving life to new creatures even more beautiful and uncanny than the original species.

I hunger to see new forms of story and image evolving with Homestuck in their DNA.

This process is already underway. Homestuck is a massive boulder dropped into the waters of culture, and the full wake of its ripples is still to be felt. But let’s call attention to this process and ask: what would happen if we engaged in it more consciously? If we sifted through our feelings about Homestuck to create something new, deliberately, with great and wonderful purpose?

The tools we need are within our grasp. Homestuck presents itself as magic, but it’s a work constructed in time out of specific storytelling choices. So let’s understand those choices. Let’s understand how Homestuck did what it did, and use Homestuck’s tools to build art that grips the soul of future generations as strongly as Homestuck did ours.

What follows is not a traditional literary analysis. It does not cite its sources; it does not seek to give us a comprehensive understanding of Homestuck. If it does, it does so only to the extent it suits its larger purpose.

Our goal here, our quest, if you will, is not to understand the Homestuck that exists, but the Homestuck that comes next.

Let's begin.

0. THE WILD GARDEN

Let’s lay the absolute groundwork here.

Homestuck is constructed as a re-appropriation of itself. Or to put it another way, it’s a big improvisational move, a process of “yes and”-ing so hard it develops a sprawling continuity.

Tiny details are constantly re-contextualized to become part of something else. A joke might turn tragic. A silly aside might turn into something profound.

But it didn’t have to be that way.

It’s crucial to understand that what we experience as continuities were in fact choices made at specific times. Homestuck is a garden where seeds were scattered in every direction, grown en masse, then weeded down to create patterns and forms.

The shape of the garden is designed to conceal the gardener’s hand. But the gardener’s choices are there, every step of the way.

If we are to follow in its footsteps, what choices should we make?

Let’s talk about themes.

1. THE MEANING CRISIS

Nobody in Homestuck knows what they’re doing.

And neither do we.

All the old idols have broken down. The values we were taught in our childhood fail to measure up to the problems of the world we live in. We grasp after careers and lives we were told would make us happy and wonder why we’re left empty. The selves that we were told were us now fit us about as well as clothing we’ve outgrown. Crises loom, political, economic and environmental, and everywhere it feels like the people who are supposed to guide and lead us aren’t doing enough.

It's widening gyres and slouching beasts all the way from here to Bethlehem, is what I’m saying.

The reason people go absolutely insane for Homestuck is that it depicts this crisis of meaning. It shows the questions we might want to ask, and attempts to provide some kind of answer.

The protagonists of Homestuck struggle with what I’ve called “received narrative.” That is, they’ve inherited stories from their families, from the world, that they try to use to define their lives, and it doesn’t work. But these stories are so familiar that it’s hard to think outside them. They have to develop new stories by which to live. Sometimes they succeed, but other times they can’t escape the gravity of the ones they were given.

With me so far?

Great. Now understand that all this was improvised and discovered largely accidentally over the course of ten years.

Here’s a seed that became quite an impressive tree:

The streets are empty. Wind skims the voids keeping neighbors apart, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered mailbox. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune.

It’s a joke. But it was never just a joke. There’s an idea here of dissatisfaction with the stereotypical idea of American suburban life. Egbert here is looking for something more, dissatisfied for reasons they can’t fully articulate. This is typical fantasy protagonist stuff, but there’s something more here, too.

Eventually it’s redirected towards the idea that there really is an unseen riddler. But let’s put that aside for now.

This page, in its moment, says: your life is not the full picture. There’s something else out there, waiting, that’s going to change everything.

That's a potential set-up for a very powerful payoff. It gives us the sense that Egbert and all their friends are going to have to rethink what they know. That this suburban life is not going to be enough for them, that somehow or other they’re going to encounter something they aren’t prepared for, and they’ll have to find a new way of acting and being. That, try as they might to avoid it, they’re going to change over the course of this journey.

But to understand how they change, we need to talk about SBURB.

2. THE PORTAL FANTASY OF IT ALL

A lot of people like to joke that Homestuck is an isekai. I think it might clarify things to use the term portal fantasy instead.

Portal fantasy is simply the fantasy subgenre of characters, usually kids, going to a magical other world. Maybe they make friends, maybe they learn lessons and stuff. You know the drill. I don’t have to to tell you more because the story structure is already so familiar. That’s what gives it power.

Portal fantasy differs from the related Japanese genre of isekai in that isekai in its current form is much more heavily based on video games such as MMORPGs. In the most pervasive isekai narratives, protagonists are rewarded not so much for achieving personal growth as being able to exploit the game mechanics of a game-like system. That’s pretty different from your typical Narnia scenario.

The influence of portal fantasy is everywhere in Homestuck, especially in the beginning. We have nods to the fantasy films of the 1980s that gave us our contemporary idea of this story structure, such as The Neverending Story (itself, in its original book incarnation, a phenomenal commentary on the genre). Our protagonists are genre savvy; they recognize what’s happening here.

But it doesn’t fit quite right. The odd note is first sounded when Egbert asks Nanasprite if what they’re doing is going to save the world. They’re bit unsettled to learn the answer’s no, that something else is going on here. Next we have the fantasy worlds: the planetary lands each present a veneer of exciting adventure. But their inhabitants, the consorts, aren’t fully-realized people, they’re largely cute animals going through the motions, not really understanding the story they’re telling. The carapacians are a little better, but they’re still trapped in a fatalism that feels uncomfortable.

As things rev up in Act 4, we learn about doomed timelines from alt-timeline Dave and Rose, how your entire existence in this setting may be fodder for something other than you. When we learn the true purpose of SBURB and its froggy details in Act 5, we see that SBURB is more like a biological creature, mainly interested in its own reproductive desires. It was never really about the portal fantasy at all. The kids are just along for the ride.

So when we see that Rose wants to tear through SBURB, find out a way to escape fate, and snatch meaning from the jaws of futility, it makes sense. We’ve been given hints already that this is the conflict at hand: the characters vs the story that’s telling them. 

(Note: it’s certainly possible to have a reading that SBURB is not evil so much as empty, that it reflects what you bring into it, that its will for you is your will for you. But that’s also a difficult thing, right? If you lack self-understanding, it’s a struggle to bring about your ideal reality.)

What we haven’t mentioned yet is that this is all mediated through the lens of video games. Which makes perfect sense. Because where do we seek meaning, especially as kids? In imaginary worlds that make more sense to us than real life, that give us achievements to take pride in and clear objectives to pursue.

SBURB evokes mechanics from games like Final Fantasy. We see its players complete objectives, cast magic spells, gain power-ups with colorful costume changes. But unlike the narratives implied by traditional video game progressions, leveling up doesn’t mean you grow as a person or process your trauma. Later, in Act 6, when we meet a player who has made his life about winning the game (Caliborn), it’s horrific to behold. 

Homestuck is a portal fantasy, but it’s fundamentally a portal fantasy about games. It’s a portal fantasy that shows us how characters seek meaning in being the best at arbitrary game mechanics, but ultimately fail to find it.

So I guess…it actually is an isekai? Huh. Wild.

(But seriously, Homestuck is actually fairly prescient in predicting the ideas that come out of isekai and LitRPG. It’s engaging consciously and deconstructively with the weird ideas of self-fulfillment these genres are drowning in.)

So what might a Homestuckian work look like? It will almost certainly critique a false narrative we live by. It may comment on portal fantasy, or our personal satisfaction that comes as easily as playing a video game. But it doesn’t have to be limited to these things. It might talk about our popular TV shows and movies. It may take apart what’s flawed in Marvel, the latest triple-A game, or the modern dark fantasy novel. 

Among its tools will be discomfort. Showing a disconnect early on between our character’s expectations and their happiness can serve as foundation to build on, so that when the flaws of the genre narrative are revealed, it feels like the truth. We may see characters who accept their narratives passively, or rebels like Rose Lalonde, who chose to rip everything apart in search of something better.

These are only some of the possibilities.

When I tell you the stories we live by mislead us, what is your relationship to that? If you were to tear these received narratives apart, what would you focus on, what would you try to say? The art that comes out of this question will be deeply personal to the soul who makes it.

But here’s another question:

Just who is giving us all these narratives, anyway?

3. THE PARENT FLIP

The world we live in was not made by us. It was shaped by forces that predate us, over which we have no control and are born into the grasp of without the knowledge of how to escape.

For instance, our parents.

The guardians who raise us provide our template for how to interpret life. We spend a large part of our lives immersed in the world they built, believing as they believe, living by the values that they instruct us in, so that we might carry their goals forward to the future.

This is an effort that is certain to fail.

Because the problems of today aren’t the problems of twenty or thirty years ago.  At best, their messages can only to help in a limited way with the crises we go through as we live our lives. At worst, they actively hinder us from dealing with them productively.

If we are to escape the broken patterns of our world, then we need break out of the stories an earlier generation gave us.

How are parents discussed in Homestuck?

Initially? As jokes.

If we take our “future knowledge” goggles off for a moment, we can see that the early depictions of the kids’ parents are a goofy parody of standard parental tropes. Mom and Dad are nameless, faceless, exaggerated cartoon stereotypes, and conflict between them and their children is initially expressed through a silly video game fight.

There’s a seed of something real here, though. What we’re parodying is a familiar trope of tension between parents and children in kids’ fiction and YA fiction. But that trope exists for a reason. This conflict is rich with potential for any story about growing up. And Homestuck has smuggled the idea of it in as a silly RPG parody.

So we can extrapolate, for instance, that there’s tension between Egbert and their father in part because Egbert doesn’t know yet who they want to be, and that Rose and Mom’s relationship is awkward and contentious, with alcohol involved. We see that there’s something profoundly uncomfortable going on between Dave and his Bro, and Jade’s life in the shadow of a dead Grandpa suggests a psychology that’s not entirely a healthy one.

Understand that I’m not saying that all this was there from the start. Rather, a choice was made to develop these interesting possibilities out of the jokes, to tell a story about how parents that act like these ones might have affected their children.

A major turning point in this regard is when Egbert learns their father’s seeming clown obsession was the result of a failed attempt to connect with them. It’s quite silly, but it plays around with the idea of a gap in perception between parent and child. It’s also a sign the story’s starting to take more of an interest in character psychology, suggesting that what Egbert processes consciously is not the same as their deeper unconscious feelings. This in turn can become a setup for a portrait of Egbert as someone who represses things they don’t want to think about. From this moment, in the long term, comes June Egbert.

When the psychology machine revs up for all the characters in Act 4 and Act 5, it’s able to do so because this foundation was laid.

We also, as early as Act 3, get hints that the parents have intentions and personalities outside of how the kids perceive them. The original purpose is to hint at a larger conspiracy around SBURB, with Mom building a secret lab, Dad trying to investigate the mystery, and Grandpa jumping in and out of time. But what this suggests is that the psychology of the parents might at some point come into play.

But the most exciting development in the relationship between parents and children is Act 6.

The great role reversal. The parent and child flip.

How do you make your faceless parent figures into characters?

By making them kids.

We’re so used to this concept now t that it’s hard to remember how wild it is that Roxy is a teen version of a main character's mom. But the concept is genius. Meeting these characters on the same level forces our protagonists to understand them as people and reflect on their fallibility.

For us as readers, it adds detail and nuance to the cartoonish portraits we got in the beginning. Conversely, we also see what our protagonists might have been like as parents themselves—and turns it from a story of “parents just don’t understand” to a story of how people, despite their best intentions, can wound each other.

(The Homestuck Epilogues are a difficult text to evaluate, but one of the best things within them is Egbert’s arc in Candy, where we see how Egbert might have done as a parent, how their struggles with finding purpose in the world might lead them to embrace a narrative of parenthood yet struggle to have a good relationship their kid. It’s brilliant, and the culmination of everything we’ve talked about here.)

Thus the Homestuckian work of art will be concerned with themes of parents and children. It will play with the boundary between what children understand about their parents and what they don’t. It will show parents as people—fallible people, who make mistakes with severe costs, whose stories fail their children and themselves. It may build from a simple base of what children understand, or it may weave parent and child perspectives together. It may even show us how children fail when they become parents themselves.  It will show us the cycles we are trapped in, how we wound and are wounded by our context.

And it will force us to look for a way out.

4. CLASSPECTS AS SIGNPOSTS

Hey. You want to know a secret?

Come closer, and I’ll whisper it to you.

Classpects aren’t actually all that complicated. Ultimately, they boil down to one thing:

Symbols we can use to construct a self.

If Homestuck is about a crisis of meaning, then classpects are part of its answer.

What do we do, when the world gives us no story we can live by?

We make one. We make one out of whatever symbols and messages we can find and put together from the stories we’ve read, from the people who teach and inspire us. Such collages are powerful things. They give us a way out of the dark, they give us a sense of something we are and can be, where there was nothing before.

They give us, in short, a personal mythology.

Classes and Aspects have often been read as codes to be unpacked and solved. It might be more productive to see them as creative tools, signposts designed not to narrow down meaning, but to allow us to explore it.

For instance, the portrayal of Light in Homestuck is unique. As a symbol, it combines notions of brightness, knowledge, future, luck, wealth, and narrative focus. These things aren’t inherently linked out in the world, but they are here, and that’s a choice, and an interesting one. It encourages us to imagine connections between these concepts, and to see if they have any relevance to ourselves. Identifying with the concept of Light, in other words choosing to value clarity, luck, and importance, might be a powerful tool for finding one’s way in the world.

Classes play with signposts at an even more basic level. Sure, we can talk about what a Knight does in the context of the story.

But a knight is already a powerful symbol. We bring so much cultural context to it. The word conjures up images and narratives of devotion, duty, violence, the slaying of dragons, armoring oneself against the world, and the rescuing of princesses. If we put that together with a concept like Time, we get a distinct character. If we put that together with our own experience of the world, we can create powerful concepts for who we want to be.

Interestingly, this complicates what we said about SBURB. As much as our protagonists struggle to find meaning within it, there’s still something there that they can latch onto. Classes, aspects, denizens, even consorts and lands—these things don’t have to be devoid of meaning. We can choose to affirm them; we can build something out of them, and say, yes, this is me, this is myself.

But it’s a double-edged sword.

We are responsible for the narratives we choose to live by. And we may find ourselves falling into a narrative that hinders us more than helps us, that creates a self-destructive self.

What does it mean to believe deeply that you are a thief, that taking from others to benefit yourself is the best way or comes to you the most naturally? What does it mean to tell yourself over and over that you’re a prince, with all the attendant baggage of power and grim responsibility that comes with that concept? Or, to follow the path further, what does it mean to tell yourself over and over that you are a destroyer or must be destroyed?

If we are to escape the story we’re trapped in, we must take care, lest we trap ourselves in a story of our own making.

Homestuck never quite resolves the ambiguity around these symbols of self, around whether SBURB hurts or helps, whether classpects are things you create or things that create you. But this ambiguity is a productive one. It gives us symbolic tools we can use in the creation of meaning, and it shows us the side of them that should make us wary.

The work that is to come after Homestuck will be about symbols. It may show us how we seek them in popular culture, or the people around us. It may use some of the clusters of meaning that that we see in Homestuck, but it will not be limited to them. It will write its own language of symbols, joining Light and Time to notions like Memory, Need, Rupture, and War, and be filled not just with knights and princes but brigadiers, lancers, healers, druids, taxidermists, sentries and waifs.  It will build with tarot cards, enneagram types, and Babylonian gods. It will place all the signposts we’ve created in millennia of existence into new contexts and meanings.  

By such means will it show us a way forward.

There’s one kind of symbol we haven’t talked about yet, however.

The kind that holds a mirror up to the world.

5. THE POWER OF ALTERNIA

There’s a reason dystopias have been so popular in young adult fiction. Sure, they’re cliché now, but they speak to something raw and visceral.

When you’re growing up into a world that doesn’t make sense, it’s natural to find refuge in emotional extremes. Stories of blood and violence, fates worse than death, and governments that demand horrific things of their citizens speak to the anxieties of the adolescent mind. They validate the feeling that something is wrong—that the world we’ve inherited is broken and unfair and has no place for us. And they’re right.

Alternia taps into these dystopian feelings perfectly. What makes it so fun is that it’s an inversion of a teenage fantasy. It’s a world where there are no parents, where kids can have access to power and violence, where you can sit around and play video games and design your own house. It almost feels like a response to the “parents don’t understand” themes of the early acts.

But the dystopia’s there, and it’s sneaky. A land of lost boys and girls isn’t actually all that great to live in. It’s lawless, survival of the fittest, with children killing each other left and right. And the future adult roles most of the troll kids aspire to are a glamorous veneer over competition for slots in a fascist military hierarchy. Which is to say nothing of the blood caste system as a way in which the kids are taught by their world to abuse and exploit each other. Crushes, personal slights, competition for status, group dynamics, attempts to define identity – all these familiar teenage dynamics play out on a backdrop of maiming and murder.

Which is perfect. Because when you’re young, all those social interactions genuinely do feel like life or death, and adulthood a regime of exploitation and horror bearing down on you. Alternia is a heightened, exaggerated version of reality. It expresses an emotional truth, not a literal one, validating our most intense feelings and giving us a road map to understanding them.

No wonder so many people wanted to skip to Act 5 and get to the trolls.

(See also Hiveswap Friendsim and Pesterquest, which explore these themes really really well.)

And Alternia, for a world where parents aren’t really a thing, tells us a surprising amount about the parental generation. In mid Act 5-2, Ancestors are added to Alternia’s wordbuilding, and we learn that as much as the trolls skipped having traditional parental figures, they were never devoid of role models. The deeds and exploits of notable figures throughout ancient Alternia gave them models to think about each other and themselves—even when those models were toxic ones. In a way, this isn’t so far from the human kids at all.

Furthermore, as time goes on, we acquire an origin for Alternia’s fascist worldview. Doc Scratch, manipulator of society, stands in for all those aspects of the world that work to create the false narratives we are born into, a true evil father figure – or uncle, if you prefer. And he's an extension of the ultimate evil father figure, Lord English, who controls not just Alternia but the timelines of the human children as well, whose belligerence and apathy give us aeons of toxic narratives and abuse. We see that story played out in Alternia in every interaction, in every moment, the beliefs its architects live by.

This is the power of dystopia—it can hold a broken mirror up to the world we live in.

Therefore the Homestuck that will come after Homestuck will worldbuild gardens of horror. It will not pull its punches but show us insidious societal systems and the effect they have on the people who live under them. It may depict fascism, authoritarianism, feudalistic tyranny, or all three. It will be unafraid to evoke blood and guts but use them to paint a picture of what we want, what we fear, and how we break under our false horizons.

As it depicts the path out, so, too, will it have its reverse side—it will show us all the hells and purgatories we’re trapped in.

6. SAILS TO THE WIND

Much has been written (including by this very author) about Homestuck’s metafictional aspects – the way it comes to foreground a more direct clash between character and narrative.

But the point I want to make here is that the metafictional angle wouldn’t work without these earlier choices. They allow the comic to talk about these concerns long before any notion of canon rears its head.

There are many ways of approaching these themes, and we don’t have to be limited to notions of Ultimate Selves and Beyond Canon to explore them. Such things are valuable, but they are only one retelling of the myth. If we are to make the next Homestuck, we must make our own.

I want to illustrate the space of possibility by offering some examples of works that explore similar themes. Note that I’m not saying these works were influenced by Homestuck in any way, but rather that they use some of the same tools to speak to the same questions, anxieties and concerns.

In trying to make what comes after Homestuck, we might consider:

Revolutionary Girl Utena, which foregrounds the archetype of the Prince as duelist, tyrant, and hero and dares its characters to break free from the false reality that shapes even these aspirations and dreams.

The Familiar by Mark Z. Danielewski, author of Houseof Leaves, whose core narrative concerns an twelve-year-old girl in thrall to an entity whose intentions are unclear but may be shaping the fabric of reality itself; which depicts the inner lives and uncertainties of her parents with just as much detail as they struggle, and sometimes fail, to make the right choices to help her; a story which, even in its incomplete form, explores a notion of a greater S.E.L.F that is not just you but also those who share something with you, where characters from other realities blur into transcendent archetypes in this one.

Digimon, perhaps the quintessential work of portal fantasy, not only Digimon Tamers, which steers the genre into a place of trauma, cosmic horror, and adults horrified by children saving the world, but also Digimon Adventure, which creates strong character arcs for eight very different children as they try to navigate a strange alien world, and shows us their struggle to reconcile with their parents as part of the process of understanding themselves.

The Neverending Story by Michael Ende,foundational text for Homestuck, which tells us not only about the rich possibilities inherent in reading oneself into fantasy worlds, but also the terrible potential for harm in making oneself an emperor over them.

Pale, by Wildbow, author of Worm, an urban fantasy story about three teenagers thrust into a world of magic and murder, a world where symbols literally create reality, where concepts like Carmine and Aurum have a powerful pull, where the Self is something that can be nourished or taken apart and put back together, a story where the parents are not just supporting cast but fully realized people forced to reckon with the ways in which they have deeply failed their children, and which contains perhaps the most thorough investigation of the question of “is it good for children to go on magical adventures?” ever committed to the page.

Heaven Will Be Mine, by Aevee Bee,in which the giant robots we pilot through space become the symbolic manifestation of our inner selves and our way of bringing about our ideal reality, and, relatedly, We Know the Devil, in which the repression of those selves causes them to burst out from us in terrifying and glorious new forms.

Crow Cillers, by Cate Wurtz, an often trauma-filled horror comic in which a group of kids and, eventually, adults, tries to fight back against an ever-present death cult that has its grips on every corner, all the while encountering Psyforms, beings made of pure mind, while characters from television and cartoons dance in the margins and all the while the line blurs between audience and art until it becomes difficult to tell who created who—a story that asks what it means to find meaning in stories when the corporate entities that own them are trying to devour us.

It's a tragically short list, I know. But perhaps it conveys some of the angles we might take.

We can also look at works that are known to have inspired by Homestuck. There aren’t many yet, but there are a few.

Undertale is famous for its Homestuck influences, with parallel timelines, an idea of agency that persists across them, and a contentious relationship between player and character, but for my part, I’m just as interested if not more so in Deltarune, which seems to be slowly building a grand thesis about portal fantasy, where the kids' adventures in the Dark Worlds seems to be offering them an escape and helping them become their best selves—but hints at a coming challenge to that simple worldview in the question of who’s really experiencing that escape.

The Locked Tomb, by Tamsin Muir – This is the big one, that really shows what building on Homestuckian themes can achieve. It turns out there really is an audience for weird aggro formalism in scifi publishing if you make it sufficiently gay. But smartly, like Homestuck, the Locked Tomb builds its weird mysteries gradually, adding on layer after layer on the solid foundation of characters we can follow and get invested in. There’s so much to notice – there’s the highly categorized teenagers involved in a murder feud, there’s the constant whiplash of humor and tragedy, there’s the endlessly open spaces in the story to interpret and project on to.

But to me, what stands out the most is the portrait of God and his court as every bit as emotionally chaotic as the sniping teenagers. You go to heaven, and God’s making out in the corner with his friend group, and you look for the adult in the room but the adults in the room don’t know what they’re doing and they never really did. It’s a portrait of the parents, it’s a portrait of the Ancestors, it’s a portrait of the gods of the new world, and it’s exquisite.

The Locked Tomb gives us a world at war with its own mythological narrative, rich with angst and irony. It’s a worthy successor to everything Homestuck was doing. It shows us how much these themes can say to us, and it gives us a hint at how powerful Homestuck's legacy might be.

7. THE APOTHEOSIS OF HOMESTUCK

There’s a lot of discussion about how to continue Homestuck. How to do it justice. What post-canon might look like, and what it might not. What fan comics, what fan fics, what semi-official works truly live up to the spirit of its characters and its multiverse.

To be clear, those discussions are awesome. I’m so glad those things exist, and it’s wonderful to see them unfolding.

But I don’t want the process to stop there. I'd be disappointed if it was only about adding to and re-articulating Homestuck itself.

I want this—

—This multifaceted, complicated, emotionally laden thing that is the experience of engaging with and creating with and interpreting Homestuck—

To go out into the world and to be infused into the world, to become waves spreading further and further. I want to experience the Homestuck artistic movement, the Homestuck school of thought. I want it to be an influence on the fiction of the coming generation of authors, and the next, and the next.

I want Homestuck to be one of those albums that's too obscure to be known by the general public, but everyone who listened to it went on to start an enormously successful band.

Homestuck can appear like a thing that was conjured out of the ether, but it isn’t. It’s a product of a particular time.

But that in itself is profound. When you create art, you reach back to all the things that have shaped you, and you listen to what the world around you needs, and you try to say what needs to be said. Which means you're a part of a history and culture that needs to say those things, which will be different from the things that needed to be told yesterday, and different from the stories that will be needed tomorrow.

There’s no otherworldliness to it, no platonic other reality. But for all I've talked about art being made of choices, there's still something transcendent here.

To make Homestuck—and to make art inspired by Homestuck—means being a node in a web formed of millions of people, where a light passes down the chain to you, and for the briefest of moments, you get to be filled with its presence, before it moves on to the next person in the chain.

That light isn't yours. Not really.

But at the same time, you do get to choose how that light manifests.

And to engage with that process consciously—to think deliberately about what we want to create—that gives us power and agency over that process, our sense of the world, and ourselves.

So let’s do this. Let’s make the thing that Homestuck is telling us can exist, the thing it’s paving the way for, the thing we know in our soul can come to be.

Let’s make the next Homestuck happen.

—Ari

POSTSCRIPT

“To put out a manifesto you must want: ABC

to fulminate against 1, 2, 3

to fly into a rage and sharpen your wings to conquer and disseminate little abcs and big abcs, to sign, shout, swear, to organize prose into a form of absolute and irrefutable evidence, to prove your non plus ultra and maintain that novelty resembles life… I write a manifesto and I want nothing, yet I say certain things, and in principle I am against manifestoes, as I am also against principles… I write this manifesto to show that people can perform contrary actions together while taking one fresh gulp of air…”

— Tristan Tzara, “Dada Manifesto 1918”

"The cyborg is resolutely committed to partiality, irony, intimacy, and perversity. It is oppositional, utopian, and completely without innocence....the cyborg would not recognize the Garden of Eden; it is not made of mud and cannot dream of re-turning to dust...This is a dream not of a common language, but of a powerful infidel heteroglossia. It means both building and destroying machines, identities, categories, relationships, space stories...I would rather be a cyborg than a goddess."

— Donna Haraway, "A Cyborg Manifesto"

“What we need is works that are strong straight precise and forever beyond understanding... let each man proclaim: there is a great negative work of destruction to be accomplished. We must sweep and clean…to divest one's church of every useless cumbersome accessory; to spit out disagreeable or amorous ideas like a luminous waterfall, or coddle them—with the extreme satisfaction that it doesn't matter in the least…freedom: Dada Dada Dada, a roaring of tense colors, and interlacing of opposites and of all contradictions, grotesques, inconsistencies: LIFE.”

— Tristan Tzara, “Dada Manifesto 1918”

“These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me,

If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next to nothing,

If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they are nothing,

If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing.”

—Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

𖤓

[lipglossanon]

What’re Ya Buyin’?

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The Merchant x fem!reader (follow up, one shot)

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, pussy spanking

not proofread ✍️ but edited cause I forgot to cut out a part I left in til now 😵‍💫

Title from a RE4 Merchant quote 😝

have some brain rot that wouldn’t leave (but don’t expect more! 😜)

part i

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“I have something I think you’ll like,” his voice calls out to you as you slip around the corner, walking into the halo of his purple torches. 

“Oh?” you return, grinning at him like you’re not covered in dirt and blood and the viscera of someone else’s insides. 

He chuckles and opens his ridiculously large jacket up, showcasing some shiny new baubles and trinkets; however, it’s the dull metal of a scope that catches your eye and pulls you to his table. 

“Thought it might interest ya,” his voice comes out light and teasing making your eyes flash to him, head tilting in curiosity. 

“How much?”

“How much d’ya have to offer, stranger?”

You don’t miss the hungry gleam in his eyes as you look through your pockets. Placing two gold ingots and some sapphires on the table, he clicks his tongue. 

“Doesn’t look like that’s enough cash.”

Heat pulses through your pussy at his rough voice, clit already throbbing in your panties—still dirty from the last encounter.  

“Oh that’s too bad,” you pout at him, body language open, “is there another offer you might accept?”

“There is,” he nods, reaching over the table for your hand.

Once you take his rough hand into yours, he guides you around the wooden furniture to his side. He presses you against the wall, his bulky mass dwarfing you making you moan softly. 

“Haven’t even started yet,” he laughs, low and deep, “can you be a good girl for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp out at him, hips rocking to meet his but growing frustrated with his coat blocking his lower body, “please.”

He shucks his pack off onto the table and slips his jacket off, along with his hood, making your eyes widen in surprise. Turning back to you, he’s still bulky but now it’s just him. Meaty pecs covered in a smattering of chest hair that leads down to his stomach and thick happy trail. Mouth watering, your eyes eagerly rake down his body, taking in how fit he actually is underneath all the wares. 

But you’re more excited to see him without the hood. Dark tousled hair, offset by deep blue eyes watch you in amusement while his mask covers the lower half of his face still. 

“See something you like, stranger?”

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling caught out, “I just didn’t expect…”

You trail off, feeling hot under his gaze as he takes his turn to look you over. 

“Well now, this won’t do,” he murmurs dragging his palms down your sides, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting until he’s pulling it completely off of you. 

Shivering, you let him run his rough hands over your bare skin, the heat seeping into your muscles making you relax into his touches until you’re as docile as a kitten. He ghosts over the nipples showing through your bra to cup a hand around your neck and tilt your head back so he can meet your eyes. 

“Pretty little thing,” he murmurs, voice hushed and reverent as your eyelashes flutter, brain pleasantly quiet as he smooths his other hand across your jaw and cups it.

His thumb presses in on your bottom lip and you part your lips to swipe your tongue over it, inviting him to press it into your mouth. 

He obliges you, eyes heated and dark as he presses his thumb into your mouth and down onto your tongue, letting saliva pool around around the warm digit. 

“What I wouldn’t give to taste that mouth,” he rumbles, his voice making your skin tingle. 

“You can,” it comes out softer than you intended since you were aiming for sultry, “I can close my eyes again, if I have to.”

“Oh you can, hmm?” he teases you making you squirm under his gaze which seems much more intense without the shade of the hood to block your view. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb, “Uh huh.”

He sighs a little, hands moving completely away leaving you with a chill.  

“We’ll save it for next time,” he compromises, “now let’s get down to business.”

You pop open the button on your jeans and slide down the zipper, pushing it along with your panties down to your thighs before he’s grabbing your wrists to pin you in place. 

“Allow me,” he holds your wrists in one hand as his fingers glide across your slippery clit. 

“Still wet from last time, ey?” 

You moan when he shoves two thick fingers into your pulsing cunt. 

“Pretty pussy still dripping my cum,” his voice rumbles low in his chest, eyes dilated and heavy as they stare at you. 

His fingers scissor your hole open before slowly plunging back inside your fluttering walls making you mewl. 

“Please, I need you inside,” you gasp as he rubs across the spongy spot at the front of your pussy, “oh, oh god.” 

“Mmm, I’d pay a pretty penny to keep you like this,” his masked mouth presses a covered kiss to your neck.  

He pulls his fingers out of your pussy with a slick noise and shoves his pants midway down his thighs. 

“Fuck you’re so big,” you whine, eyes hazy with need. 

He chuckles and strokes his cock once, the fat head dripping precum. 

“It fit once already, love,” he murmurs to you, pressing his fat tip into your clenching heat and sinking into your body. 

Shuddering as he sinks inch by thick inch deep into your wet pussy, your hips cant towards him until his pelvis presses flush against you. 

“Best cunt I’ve ever had,” he growls, pulling his slick shiny dick halfway out before sinking it back into your fluttering walls. 

You whine, fingers curling into fists as he keeps a tight hold on your wrists. His free hand slips down to pinch and rub your swollen clit until you’re continually squeezing down on his cock. 

“Want me to cum inside this juicy cunt?” his deep voice makes your nipples ache.

“Please, s’only a fair trade, right?” you tease him, laugh morphing into a keening moan as he bullies his cock hard against your g-spot. 

He spanks his fingertips across your pudgy clit, gloves rough against your pussy lips. 

“That’s right, love,” he chuckles as he humps his cock deeper and harder into your squelching hole, “fair is fair.”

He spanks your clit again as he frees up your wrists. 

“Spread that sweet little cunt for me,” your eyes have a hard time pulling away from his mask covered face, the sight making your thighs clamp together. 

Your hands reach down and grab your pussy lips, spreading open your cunt so your pudgy little clit is on obvious display. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters, eyes staring down at your exposed pussy. 

You cry out as he spanks your swollen clit hard.

Again. 

And again. 

And again. 

You’re drooling all down your chin as each slap sends white hot electricity all through your pussy making slick gush all over his thrusting cock. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train making you wail as he repeatedly spanks your pulsing clit as you clamp down, milking his fat throbbing dick. 

“Good girl,” he praises, moving his hands to grip your waist, hammering up into your spasming pussy. 

With a rumbling groan, he buries his cock balls deep and cums, hot spurts of sticky jizz filling your cunt until it drips past your stuffed hole. 

Once you both come down from the aftershocks, he slips out making you whine at the empty feeling once again. He only chuckles and helps you pull up your panties, eyes dark and hungry as he covers up your cum dripping pussy. 

You gasp when he smacks your cloth covered mound. 

“Gotta say, stranger, you’re my favorite customer.”

[dandylovesturtles]

Leo & Donnie, trick (Please no character death, thank you!)

This will make more sense if you read the previous trick or treat (the Leo and Draxum trick)

Unfortunately this has become. a whole Thing. I didn't plan for it, it just happened. I'm currently calling it the Sidelined AU

CWs: Internalized ableism, light passive suicidal ideation

---

Here's what being stuck in a demonic suit of armor for two days gets you:

Brittle bones.

No mystic powers.

Hovering brothers.

A catatonically depressed dad.

A catastrophic decrease in muscle mass.

Chronic fatigue.

A concerning amount of brain fog.

A bedroom on the ground floor (under construction).

Sensitivity to light and smell.

And a wheelchair. Apparently.

Donnie brought it in ten minutes ago, and he's spent that long infodumping about all the features he's built into it. Leo hasn't really kept up, because of the whole brain fog situation, and because he doesn't normally listen to infodumps of this length, anyway.

Instead he's been focused on keeping his lunch down. Something about the wheelchair twists his gut in a sharp way. It just feels so... final. Like if he sits down in that, he's officially given up.

Donnie is still rattling on. He's been smiling the whole time. Leo doesn't know what about his situation invites smiling.

(Some part of his brain, the less bitter and angry part, notes that it's the same smile Donnie has whenever he shows off new tech. Leo ignores that part of his brain.)

"Any questions?" Donnie asks him suddenly, and Leo blinks his way out of his own thoughts. Donnie is looking at him expectantly. Still smiling, his hands gesturing at his creation. The wheelchair. Leo's gut twists again and he swallows forcefully. Reaches over and sucks down the last of the water from his water bottle, and even that simple motion takes Herculean effort.

He's already forgotten what the question was, so he says, "No," because he feels that sums up all his feelings about the situation.

"Excellent," says Donnie, because he can't read a room to save his life. "Then do you want to take it for a test run?"

Leo stares at him so he doesn't have to look at the chair.

"No," he says again.

Finally, Donnie's smile falls. It morphs into something concerned, and Leo isn't sure he likes that any better.

"You said you were feeling alright," he says.

Sure, he did say that, because all he ever says when they ask how he's feeling is "alright." Well, that's not true. Sometimes it's "okay." Or "fine." Or, "Jeez, Raph, stop worrying about me before that chasm gets any bigger."

The point is, he did say he was feeling alright, but alright isn't good enough for... whatever this is.

He struggles over his words for a bit before finally getting out, "I don't need a wheelchair," which is the main point, as far a he's concerned.

Now Donnie's expression turns more frustrated. "Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

He sighs. "Leo, we've been over this. Your legs aren't strong enough to carry your weight, and you can't risk a fall in your condition. Do you want to be healing from a broken pelvis on top of everything else?"

He doesn't. But he doesn't say that, just stares stubbornly at Donnie to avoid looking at the chair.

"The wheelchair is only for now," says Donnie. "Once you've recovered enough, a walker, then a cane, or crutches. We've been over this-"

"I don't need a cane," says Leo, cutting him off. "Canes are for old people."

"They are not," Donnie argues. "They're for whoever needs them. Which includes you."

"I don't need one."

Donnie grumbles something under his breath that Leo can't hear, because damaged hearing is another one of the things being trapped in a demonic suit of armor for two days gets you. "Alright. Is there something wrong with my engineering?"

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is there something unsatisfactory about the chair that I can fix so you would be more willing to use it." He gestures at it. "It's okay if my design isn't to your liking. I have others."

Leo shakes his head. "This isn't about your engineering." This isn't about you.

"Well maybe if we make it about my engineering then you'll stop being so stubborn!" Donnie snaps, and Leo feels his hackles rising.

"Oh, screw you, Donnie."

"Screw me?" Donnie spits back. "Screw me for trying to help and not just watch while my brother lets himself waste away! Yeah, screw me."

"You don't have to watch anything," Leo snaps back. "The door's right there."

"What's your end game here?" Donnie demands, taking an angry step forward. "You complain about Raph carrying you everywhere, but you aren't doing anything to fix your situation. You won't exercise, you won't use the wheelchair - you're giving up!"

"I'm not giving up!" Leo lies.

"Yes you are and I'm sick of watching it!"

"Then leave!"

Donnie opens his mouth like he wants to argue further, but then he throws his hands up and turns on his heel. "I'm done," he says, then stalks out. He tries to slam the curtain behind him as he leaves, but because it's a curtain it just ends up swinging back and forth.

Which means Leo can clearly see as Raph and Mikey duck out of sight.

"Donnie, maybe you shouldn't have-" Raph begins, but gets cut off.

"I'm not treating him with kid gloves. If he wants to rot in bed then let him."

"He's having a rough time, so-"

"You can keep coddling him. But I'm done."

Leo hears retreating footsteps, then a heavy sigh. Raph is still right outside his room.

It takes him a moment, but he pokes his head in eventually.

"Heeey buddy," he says, adopting his baby voice, and Leo wants to scream but he doesn't have the energy. "Need anything?"

"No. I'm fine," he says instead.

"You sure? Because Raphie can-"

"I'm fine," he says again, tired, and lays down so he can stare at the ceiling. "I'm just gonna sleep."

"...Okay. Night Leo."

He's gone and doesn't come back. Mikey doesn't come, either.

Leo regrets his decision a few minutes later, because all that yelling made his throat dry and painful, but his water bottle is empty, and he doesn't have the energy to get to the kitchen, and if he uses the chair...

He groans, pulling his blanket over his head. Already, the brain fog is turning his thoughts to white noise, and the fatigue is pulling him down. Thirsty or not, sleep will come.

Another thing being trapped in demonic suit of armor for two days gets you: a cure for insomnia.

[flowerandblood]

Lead me to the light (Oneshot)

[religious • modern!Aemond x female]

[warnings: fingering, mention of masturbation, religious guilt]

[description: He and she are very religious. They are in love, happy and engaged, but it is becoming increasingly difficult for them, to bear the lack of physical intimacy that they both crave. They decide to try something new. Anon Request.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

She met Aemond at the parish school. Once he came with his mother, who was a catechist, to help her carry a few boxes with various things. She helped her in working with children as a volunteer. They organized extracurricular activities and plein-airs in the parish hall, belonging to the nearby church.

She often saw Aemond and his mother at church on Sundays. Alicent always greeted her after they left and had a few words with her, but her son always stood a few steps away, not even looking at them, thoughtful. She noticed, that he always turned, so she couldn't see the scarred part of his face.

One day, the parish priest had the idea, to organize a small picnic for all the faithful in the large parish garden, after the mass. Alicent thought it was a great idea and they ordered the catering together. It was necessary to go for tables, chairs and disposable dishes, so they divided the duties.

“I asked Aemond to drive you to the store. Here's a list of things you need to buy." She said softly, giving her a piece of paper and a bundle of bills, to buy all these things.

She was excited to see him. He intrigued her immensely, and she wondered, if she'd be able to get him to even a brief exchange of words.

Aemond arrived on time. She waited for him on the street and ran to the car, that he parked in the parking lot. She opened the passenger door and sat in the seat, smiling at him.

"Good morning." She said cheerfully and lightly, it was beautiful, summer morning at its best.

"Hi." He said dryly and dispassionately, glancing in the mirror as he reversed the car, making sure it didn't hit anything. She pursed her lips, placing her hands on the small backpack in front of her.

She rolled over and glanced at his player with a smile, hearing, that AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" was playing. She thought it was a funny song choice, given their religious approach to life. All she could see on the playlist, were rock bands, that she knew well. She heard him twist in the seat next to her, confused.

"If you want, I'll play another playlist." He said low. She looked at him as if he had insulted her.

"You must be joking. It's a sin to switch such a piece." She said amused and laughed, turning her face towards the window.

"I was at an AC/DC concert last year." She added after a moment, thinking with satisfaction about this event, that she went to with her dad, a huge fan of the band.

They were silent for a while, as they listened to the song. She heard him clear his throat softly, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. She thought he was cute.

After a few minutes, they arrived at the store. Aemond went in with her, for there were many things to buy, and his mother had told him not to make her carry too much.

She headed for the aisle with disposable plates and cups. There were so many and with so many patterns, that she didn't know, what to choose. She showed him a pattern with flowers and a pattern with colorful, large polka dots.

"Which one do you like more?" She asked, and he looked at her, surprised.

"Does it matter? They'll be thrown away anyway." He spoke reluctantly, but stopped immediately, apparently thinking, that he might have offended her. He turned his head, pressing his lips together. She looked at the plates and sighed.

"Maybe you're right. So what, we'll take plain white? They're probably even cheaper." She said taking the third set, examining it. Aemond looked at her in surprise, expecting his remark to frustrate her. He nodded.

"Let's take the cheaper ones and buy more juices." He proposed. She thought it was a good idea and they did exactly that.

She had the impression, that her openness and lightness of conversation made him relax. She discussed freely with him the choice of what to buy and what would be better on such a hot day. They gave up the chocolate cookies, thinking, they would just melt.

Alicent told her, that she could also choose some extra items herself, if she found something interesting in the store. She decided to buy surprise eggs for the children, she knew they loved them.

They left the store with everything they needed to buy, packing the things into the trunk. They got in and headed back to the church, continuing to listen to his rock playlist, without talking to each other.

When they arrived, Aemond helped her fetch her things from the car and lay them on the tables, that were already set out in the parish garden. She rummaged in one of the bags and pulled out two chocolate surprise eggs, placing one in front of him and the other in front of her. He looked at her, surprised.

"Why are you giving me this? I thought, it was supposed to be for kids." He said low, indifferent. She looked at him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"And we are not someone's children? Come on, you didn't collect these toys when you were little?" She asked, unwrapping her egg from the foil, breaking it into two halves with a light movement, immediately popping one piece of chocolate into her mouth.

He was about to say something, but his mother came over to them, talking to her. It turned out, that she needed help in disassembling everything and putting it in order. She apologized to Aemond and followed her, leaving him alone.

When everything was ready, they went to mass together. She invited her to sit together in one of the first pews, and she agreed. Aemond gave her a surprised look and made room for her, to sit next to him.

She tried to focus on what the priest was saying, but her mind kept returning to his scent. Some nice, fresh, intense masculine perfume, that made her head spin. His thighs were slightly parted, his feet, like hers, resting on the kneeler.

His knee was touching hers, and though she knew it was an accident, that it was just tight around them, she shivered at the thought. She couldn't help, but involuntarily pressed her leg against his a little tighter. She felt him shift uneasily in the seat, his fingers tightening on each other.

After a moment, to her surprise, it was his knee that pressed tighter against hers. She pursed her lips at the feeling. She knew, that church wasn't the best place to flirt, but she couldn't help the heat, that was welling up in her belly. She felt her cheeks flushed, a wide smile on her face.

Aemond stayed at the picnic that day and talked to her pretty much the entire time, sitting on one of the blankets, eating grapes and drinking coffee from a disposable cup. She lay down next to him, her backpack under her head. She looked up at the sky, talking to him, letting him look at her.

He opened up to her that day and even let her give him a little hug as part of his farewell. From then on, he came to help his mother more often, but she knew, he meant something else. He always sat in the classroom next to her desk with a cup of coffee in his hand.

He pretended, that he was waiting for Alicent to drive her home, but she knew, that he had only come to talk to her for fifteen minutes. It took him several months to get his true intentions out, but he was received with great enthusiasm. They have been together as a couple ever since.

Exactly after a year, he proposed to her and told her, that he did not want to wait long to get married. They decided, that they would get married next year, so that everything could be done on time. They were both happy thinking about the prospect of living together. They got along very well, also in matters of faith.

One day Aemond invited her to spend the night at his house. They had never stayed the night together before. He told her, that Helaena was away for the weekend and her room would be free, so she could take her bed. He suggested, that they watch something together and have a good time. She was thrilled and terrified at the same time.

She didn't want him to think badly of her, but he aroused so much desire in her, that she couldn't bear it. Even though, she hadn't done it before she met him, she started touching herself between her thighs, seeking fulfillment and relaxation. The tension she felt after meeting him, was unbearable.

She did not share this area of life with him, fearing, that he would lose his good opinion of her. She figured, that she'd make it to their wedding somehow.

However, spending the night together was a temptation for her, that she feared would defeat her. She was afraid of his rejection. That if she kisses him more passionately or puts her hand under his shirt, he'll look at her like she's dirty and worthless. However, she decided, that she would try to fight and not give herself out.

When she arrived at their home, Alicent immediately embraced her. The three of them had dinner - Aegon and his father were at work. Their whole family worked in the family business - Aemond once in a while because, like her, he was still studying.

Then they said goodbye, she took her things to Helaena's room and went to him. He was sitting on his bed with his laptop on his lap. He was browsing some platform, looking for some interesting movie.

She climbed onto his bed and lay down next to him, wrapping her arm around his, placing her cheek against his shoulder. He immediately kissed the top of her head, continuing to scroll down, letting out a grunt of displeasure.

"I don't see anything interesting. I don't know why I'm paying for this." He hummed low, sighing softly, leaning his head against the bed. After a few minutes, they decided together, that they would start a series, that was recommended to her by one of her friends.

They began to watch, his arm wrapped around her and pulled her to him. She automatically buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent, closing her eyes. His hand played with the strands of her hair, curling them around his fingers and letting go.

She felt a pleasant shiver at the feeling, she loved it, when he did that. Her hand ran over his chest thoughtfully. She couldn't concentrate on what she was watching. Aemond looked at her, turning his head in her direction.

"You don't like it? We can turn on something else." He murmured, stroking her head steadily and kissing her forehead. A pleasant shiver ran through her. She thought with horror, that she wanted more. They kissed often. She decided, it was okay, if they did it now.

She looked up at him and moved closer to his face, her lips brushing his, warm and full. He hummed low in contentment, parting his mouth, returning her caress gently with a wet click.

They kissed like that for a moment, tender, innocent, his hand tracing her cheek. She heard his soft moan, as her hand tightened around the nape of his neck, her lips digging deeper, more lustfully into his.

She felt as if he froze for a moment, but she continued to caress him, feeling the throbbing between her thighs, wonderful and hot. She wondered, if he felt it too. He broke away from her suddenly and cleared his throat, looking away.

"So? Are we watching on?” He asked, refreshing the page, rewinding the episode a few minutes.

She pursed her lips and nodded. She felt her whole body stiffen, for some reason, tears of helplessness gathered in her eyes. She buried her face in his neck again, his hand still stroking her steadily.

She felt tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, straight onto his skin, her body twitching slightly, but she made no sound. Aemond felt wetness on his neck and propped himself up on one elbow to see, what was happening. When he saw her red, tear-stained face, he immediately stopped the movie, staring at her, horrified.

"What's going on?" He asked anxiously, stroking with his hand her bare shoulder. She couldn't answer him, only began to cry even more, sucking in a ragged breath.

"Hey, baby, what happened? You can tell me." He said soothingly, wiping away her tears, stroking her cheek.

She could see in his gaze, that he was terrified and surprised, she had never cried in front of him before. She shook her head, letting him know, that she couldn't tell him. He pursed his lips, seeing this.

"Really, you can tell me anything. I want to know, what's bothering you." He said calmly, her hand ran over his chest involuntarily. She couldn't look him in the eye.

"You will despise me, when I tell you." She mumbled softly, sniffling, tears flowing from her eyes again, as if the thought of telling him terrified her so much, that all she could do was sob.

She heard him sigh heavily, pressing his forehead against her temple, his long, blond hair lightly tickling her nose.

"I will never despise you. And since I am to be your husband, I want to support you in all your worries.” He whispered softly, his lips lingeringly kissing her scalp once in a while.

She looked at him finally, turning onto her back, their faces millimeters apart. She opened her mouth several times, trying to force it out. She finally made it.

"I desire you." She said in a broken voice. She saw the pain and surprise in his gaze. He swallowed hard, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his body tensed. He didn't answer for a moment, staring at her with wide eye.

"You know… you know, that I desire you too." He whispered softly. She pursed her lips at his words.

"The frustration I feel is unbearable." She said finally, looking away, shaking her head, shielding her eyes with her hand, so he wouldn't see, that she was crying again.

She felt like an empty girl, unable to contain her simplest urges. She heard him exhale loudly, his breath shaky and loud.

"You think it's easy for me? If only I could…” He said and didn't finish, turning his head, looking to the side, his lips pressed together. “…if only I could, I would take you here and now. But we both know, we'd feel guilty afterwards." He added quickly, looking at her uncertainly.

She pursed her lips at his words. She knew, he was right. She wanted to wait until marriage. With this wonderful experience of feeling him deep inside her.

She swallowed softly and nodded her head. They were silent for a moment. She felt, like he wanted to say something, but couldn't.

“I have to relieve myself before each meeting with you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to resist." He blurted out suddenly softly, his words sending a shiver down her spine. He didn't look at her, embarrassed by his words. She swallowed loudly.

"I… I touch myself too." She said embarrassed, her cheeks burning with tears and emotions.

He looked at her, a silence filled with tension between them. She could feel her muscles clenching with desire, the moisture dripping onto the fabric of her panties. She could see that he was fighting with himself, that something was in the air.

"…can I touch you there?" He asked softly, his voice trembling, unsure. Her eyes widened in shock. She nodded quickly, swallowing hard, her heart pounding like crazy. She was desperate.

"Y-yes. Yes, please, touch me there.” She whispered pleadingly, and he moaned softly at her words, his hand immediately going between her thighs, on the fabric of her panties. She suppressed a moan that escaped her lips and squeezed her eyes shut, her body arching in pleasure.

His fingers pressed lightly against her, starting to massage her through the fabric, moving up and down. A wave of heat ran through her, making her shiver all over. They both started breathing heavily.

"God, your panties are all wet." He whispered softly, delighted and thrilled by what he was doing and seeing. She nodded her head, trembling all over, sweet, soft moans escaped her lips.

Unable to contain himself, he pressed his lips against hers, more passionately and intensely than before. Each time they broke apart and clung to each other, the long, wet click of their saliva accompanied them again.

She moaned into his mouth in surprise, shivering all over, as his fingers slid the material of her panties aside and ran over her throbbing, wet, hot entrance. They both inhaled loudly at the sensation.

"You're so warm." He hummed in delight, his fingers, all sticky with her juices, traveling to her clit, teasing her timidly, seeing how her body would react to it. A sudden, startled groan of pleasure escaped her lips.

"Oh God − yes, touch me like that −" She sobbed helplessly, she felt like she had a fever, her body burning from the inside.

Unwittingly she parted her thighs a bit, allowing him access, and he moaned into her mouth feeling it, his tongue brushing over her upper lip, making them both gasp with excitement.

His fingers sped up, massaging her around her clit with slow, intense strokes, spreading her wetness all over her pussy. He could feel how hot and thirsty she was, how much she needed it, her thighs involuntarily reaching out to meet him. He was so painfully hard that he was dizzy, his cock throbbing in his pants.

He shifted his hand abruptly so that his thumb continued to massage her clit, and his fingers slid over her wet, swollen entrance again. His fingertip teased her, barely slipping in and out, feeling her fleshy walls tighten around him.

"Do you want me to put it in you, baby?" He gasped into her mouth, and she stifled a loud moan, her whole body trembling. She tightened her hand on his hair, burying her nose in his face, her body writhing under his hand.

"Y-yes − please − I need it −" She mumbled, and he closed her mouth with his in an aggressive, sticky kiss, forcing his tongue all the way down her throat.

He slid his finger inside her, stretching her swollen, throbbing muscles, feeling the heat of her body. He thought of how great a delight it would be to enter her, how tight she would clench on his large cock. He began to slip his middle finger in and out of her in a slow, intense rhythm, with the wet click of her juices.

He would never admit it, but he'd read a lot about how to please a woman. He didn't want to hurt her on their wedding night, and he'd thought of her quite often since their engagement.

He wanted to be as prepared as possible, and to be able to touch her so that she would be ready to receive him inside her. He decided that this would be a good training for them, that they would understand and learn what gave them pleasure.

He searched for her sweet spot with his finger, knew that it was somewhere on her upper wall. Suddenly, he felt something like a slight lump under his finger, and she moaned into his mouth in surprise.

He smiled under his breath, massaging this point intensely, rubbing it with a quick, confident motion that made her pant and shiver.

"Feels good, babygirl?" He hummed, a smirk on his face. He felt her walls tightening on him more and more, her hips responding greedily to his every move, seeking fulfillment. He thought it was wonderful what he could do with her body. How sensitive she was to his slightest touch.

"Yes − sweet God − it feels so, so good −" She sobbed, on the brink of despair, all hot and red, she felt hot tension rising up inside her, his thumb and finger touching her two most sensitive places at the same time, driving her crazy. She knew her fulfillment was coming, her head tilted back, her mouth parted, panting heavily.

"− A-Aemond − I'm gonna come − och, God −" She mumbled, and he pressed his lips to hers in a greedy kiss, muffling her loud, helpless moan. He didn't want his mother to hear them and come into his room right now, while his future wife was going through a wonderful, intense orgasm.

He grunted in contentment, feeling her walls tighten on him, refusing to let go, his fingers still massaging her gently, feeling, how sensitive her body was now. He pulled away from her and licked his lips. She was trembling under him, looking at him with a hazy, dreamy look, her mouth slightly parted in pleasure.

"Can I touch you now in return?"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Warnings: This is gonna deal with a lot of controversial shit surrounding Matty and his past I'm ngl, so if you're not into that then I'd suggest not reading this! But if you are, then hi!! I hope you enjoy?

Authors Note: I'm back...:)) Back with a series too, or it will be if this first part goes down well! Lmao so pls don't hate it! Butttt in all honestly, I do have to quickly thank @procrastinatinglikeapro for all the kind words she gave me on the snippets I annoyed her with recently and for forcing me to actually believe in this fic because I very much was on the fence about posting again. So thank youuuu, it means a whole lot<3 Also, the skeleton of this was taken from a very old fic of mine which I started during the height of covid that I've just been thinking about trying to better for a long while now, so... enjoy?

And I guess let me know if this is something anyone would want to read more of? Yeeeeah, I really don't know what else to write here now, it's been a while, so! Hi, help, bye:)

Masterlist

Chapter 1: He's got the whole world falling at his feet

“Yeah, yeah! I’m really into their sound at the minute! Honestly fell in love with their recent performance at the VMA’s– didn’t overdo it and kept it true to themselves. Definitely did a great job there, so well done with that one if you’re listening in, lads!”

I was grinning from ear to ear as I spoke into the microphone before me, which was to be expected whenever I was at work. Strange, yeah I know, but only to any typical person with the usual nine to five, because I truly did love my job. It was tough work, strenuous at times, contrary to what most might believe, but it was pretty much everything I’d ever dreamt of.

See, I’d grown up on the outskirts of this tiny village in the Isles, where everybody knew everything about everybody. Secrets were never well kept– you could just ask our local priest about that one, who often used to regale most of the confessions he’d heard in the only pub around for miles whenever he’d been pissed beyond being able to sit on his barstool. 

It was also incredibly tight-knit, as in, all the kids who went to school together, then grew up and married one another, settling down and taking over the jobs that their parents or grandparents would soon retire from. Hardly anyone moved away, if ever.

In reality though, it was actually just a place I’d always felt like a stranger in. Where I’d struggled to fit in and make friends, to form bonds outside of the one I shared with my mum. 

Which sounds sad speaking about it, but still true, I’d had a real tough go of it back in school. ‘Mouse’ was what they’d seemingly dubbed me back then, a nickname which had travelled throughout the masses all too quickly seeing as there had only been about sixteen kids in both my year and the one above. 

The name had mostly started due to me just having been an extremely timid child, hiding behind my mum’s flowing skirts whenever we went into town and much preferring that of my own company whenever other kids were mulling about. But that fact hadn’t gotten any easier for me once I’d been forced out of school for a few years after an accident that had flipped my entire life on its head. Resulting in me being further isolated from the rest of the world and my fuck-face of a father running for the hills.

Still. Shit happened, I supposed, and I’d been forced to deal with it and grow up.

Too quickly, in truth.

So whilst everyone else had been out living, I’d been holed up in our little dove cottage miles away from them all, with only books and music to keep me company. Music which had been a true constant in my life and just about the only thing that had gotten me by.

As well as my mum, who’d forever be my rock. And back when we’d both been growing up– because that was how it’d always felt with us– she had constantly had the tele on full blast throughout the day, cycling through the freeview channels that played the recent top 50 and old school classics.

It was one of my favourite things to look back on now. Sometimes if she was ever in the mood, or when the power would finally flicker and go out completely when a storm hit, she’d spin this old phonograph her own father had gifted her in the days before she’d left home. The two of us would dance around the living room whilst she would clean on Saturday mornings and then hum to it as we settled in for a long downpour, her working on her trusty crossword whilst I would read or draw. The brass  pavilion would croon out old French records she had bought long before she’d moved to the UK, and before she’d ever even met my father.

And I would just lose myself in it all. 

It wasn’t just the basic premise of music that I had enjoyed though, it was everything else that also came along with it. The opinions, the reviews, the personal stories and thoughts, the way it could make a person think and feel. 

So, for years I would just sit down at the kitchen table and write for hours on end about the sound, the rhythms I’d felt and heard, the lyrics that had had me bellowing out or playing on a never-ending loop in my head. And then, as a teen, Twitter had come along and had been just another way for me to express it all.

It was actually Twitter that had eventually led to all of this. 

The radio.

At first, I’d never paid much mind to all of the people who had started to discover the small page I’d created, the few users that had enjoyed reading my inner thoughts. But then one day I had and it had been an insane concept to comprehend, the very idea that people cared enough to stop and read my thoughts, but it was also what had, ultimately, pushed me into continuing with it.

From there, opinions on genres of music and their style throughout different decades quickly turned into thoughts on up and coming artists, then actors and other A-list celebrities. So I had ended up spending an awful lot of time online, simply just tweeting about it all, on subjects followers had wanted to hear about and answering questions on whether I loved a certain album or this new EP. 

The account had grown rapidly shortly after and by the time I’d had the balls to tell my mum I had wanted to leave home and make a start for myself, in London of all places, the account I used had gained well over fifteen thousand followers.

I went to uni down there and met people. People who didn’t shy away from me or shine a light on my odd quirks. I met my best mate there, too. And Finn was unlike any other. The platonic love of my life, or so I’d since dubbed. He was eccentric, witty, and didn’t care about what anyone else thought of him. Forced me to feel that way too, slowly but surely. And it had only taken a few weeks before he'd grown rather suspicious of my constant need to always have my phone near.

He had, pretty early on, decided that I must’ve had some secret boyfriend back at home that I’d yet to tell him about and had annoyed me about it at every twist and turn, basically backed me into a metaphorical corner. So to say I’d relented fairly quickly wouldn’t be a lie, and I’d told him all about the account soon enough.

Finn had actually been the one to suggest that I take it further, somewhere bigger, make it into something that people could actually tune into and not just read about. I had taken the consideration on board way back then, but had only acted on it when shit had hit the fan a year or so later. But we'll soon get into that.

So with it all, I ended up making an actual radio show out of my thoughtless Twitter account, allowing people to listen in and actually get to know the person behind the name.

That was essentially how ‘Mouse On A Mic' had come to life.

Yup, I’d kept the fucking nickname! I couldn’t not in truth, it was familiar, reminded me of the person I once was, and who I currently am now. But the only difference was, I’d given it a new story. I’d reclaimed it. 

The show's audience grew fairly quickly during that first year, I was new on the scene and seemingly refreshing. I had a no-bullshit kind of attitude that my listeners apparently admired. I called celebs out on their crap and went to new extremes to conjure up inventive ways to get followers involved. 

Ultimately ended up doing things that other radio presenters were too afraid to do at the time. Which was fair enough, in hindsight, they had actual endorsers and brands that were backing them up and funding their streams. Me, on the other hand, I had no-one to answer to for my mistakes or any of the backlash the show received. It was just me, sat alone in my bedroom, speaking into a mic.

Only, a few years had since passed and now it was me sitting in a quaint little studio in East London, not too far from my flat and walking distance from any and every coffee chain that the city had to offer. 

Anyway, I forced myself to adjust my headset over my right ear as I wheeled closer to the table, aware of the one too many monitors and power cables I had to constantly avoid, and glanced upwards, locking eyes with my co-producer, Adi.

The girl shot me a hurried gesture, a circular wave of her hand that had me chuckling to myself even as I silently waved her off, knowing I’d already gotten off track one too many times this recording. 

"Alright! It seems as though we've got to move on with the next segment of the show now! Unfortunately, Ads here has informed me that I can't just sit around all day and talk about Inhaler forever. A right shame that, don’t you think?”

I huffed theatrically whilst Adi merely shook her head in return, dark ringlets brushing the length of her shoulders as she mouthed the word 'prick' through the thick sheet of plexiglass that separated us.

Ignoring that loving endearment in favour of continuing on with the commentary, I hoped I hadn’t steered too far off track seeing as there was still an awful lot scheduled for today's show that I had yet to go over.

“So moving on!” I sighed on into the mic and rubbed my palms together, eyes flitting over the few sheets of paper I had perched before me, “It seems like quite a few of you lot, over on Twitter especially, have made it loudly known that you want to hear my thoughts on Manchester’s very own Matthew Healy. God, is there yet another scandal under his belt I don’t yet know about? Makes me wonder where he’s finding the time.”

I shook my head briefly at the bulleted point I’d been given and rolled forward in my seat. The wheels squeaked beneath my weight and I made a silent prayer that the mics hadn’t picked up the sound. 

What a fucking topic, I thought quietly to myself and sent Adi a semi-amused smile before peering down at the recent headline she had handed over to me earlier that morning.

It was the same old thing. Expected really at this point.

“Healy’s at it again! Whatever will we do?” I gasped, playing up the whole thing as I stared down at a few images of the haughty singer that were plastered across the printout I held in front of me. 

There were four of them, a quick succession of pictures that had all seemingly come from a clip at a recent concert. Bit blurry but the title gave away to what was happening.

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat as soon as I read the headline. “Oh God! It appears Matty Healy is– wait for it!– back at it again, only this time it seems he’s gone and traded off a drumstick for…” I paused to drum quite the anticipating beat against the tabletop of my desk and, as stoic as I possibly could, I then added, “A joint!” 

A smug grin slid its way up onto my lips when I heard Adi’s faint cackle echo from just outside the booth.

“Honestly, I swear that everything this man does makes the rags! Reckon I actually saw an article about how he took his tea this one time. And like, do me a favour, yeah?” I rolled my eyes but relented, “A man of the people though, in’t he? He’s got to be! I mean, just look at this headline. Fucking who the hell writes this shit?”

Tossers, I supposed. But even so.

“It’s madness.” I muttered, gently clucking my tongue as I shook my head at the so-called news that had made the front page. “But anyway, I’m guessing that most people claim him to be the epitome of a real time rockstar, and sure, he might just be. 'Sex, drugs, rock & roll', all that shit. But really, how much longer is it going to last until everything goes tits up, hey?

“I mean, Healy can pretty much do whatever he wants at this point in his career, he’s got half the world either falling at his feet or complaining about him- has done since he was what, a kid? Following his parents amongst the shadows of their fame before he eventually stepped out and made an actual name for himself. Saying that, it still is insane to see how much he’s changed!”

And it was. Healy and his band had risen to fame so evidently, their music everywhere, they sold out shows constantly and had the privilege to fly across the globe doing whatever they pleased. But they’d also practically grown up in the limelight, Matty especially. So it was hard not to notice the resounding changes that shone through in all the news and gossip that ran riot.

“But, if I am being truthful.” I went on to say, thumb toying with the page’s sharp edge, “And when am I not? I thought that most of the shit that went around about him at first was a load of crap– publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that. Or maybe just him being an idiot, a young lad who’s had to grow up with all these cameras consistently on him and had to basically learn what he can and can’t say in front of them. Slipping up from time to time, like most do. But, now? I’m honestly not too sure… It’s just a bit sad. Isn't it? There was so much potential there.”

I shrugged, a hearty sigh falling with my shoulders.

“I actually used to quite like his stuff a couple years ago, he’s got a way with words, with music overall really. Reckon if he’d gotten his shit together that he probably could’ve been ranked higher up on the list of rockstars. Could’ve changed or paved a way for newer musicians entering the scene. But not so much anymore. His songs lack the passion they once had, they’re not what they used to be. He works hard, I’ll give him that. Still, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his band pulling his dead weight along with them now.”

I took a slow breath, then gazed down at the small amount of sticky notes I had pinned to the monitor beside me: the next segment. I’d have to wrap this one up quickly.

“Maybe that’s a bit harsh.” I said, chewing on my lower lip, “But honestly, I just hope that he takes an actual break sooner rather than later. The band looks spent and he just seems like he could do with some shut eye, some time away from all the cameras and prying eyes. Just so he can sort himself out good and proper, you know? Then again, that’s just my opinion among a sea of many.”

In truth, I really did think that Matty had real talent, that raw kind, and he seemed like a nice enough guy– or at least he had done, a couple of years back, before all the controversy and whatever else. 

Now though, the man just seemed so caught up in it all, in the fame, the tabloids, the drama. Unaware of just how far he’d fallen.

Me, I’d seen it one too many times before, with many of the greats even, and as painful as it was to watch, what more could I say or do? I'm nobody in comparison.

I blew out a short breath.

“Fuck, that got all serious didn’t it?” I tried to laugh it all off and only felt a little more at ease when I finally glanced up and caught Adi’s sincere smile, “Anyway, onto our next segment, reading a couple of your lots tweets! Let's see what everyone's saying about our amazing Adi today, shall we? What was it last week, Ads, those yellow trousers you were wearing?”

--

“Oi, will you two please stop mucking about? We’ve got to get going!” I scolded without any actual heat, shaking my head as I held back a chuckle, forever amused by the infamous pair stood a way away from me. 

I’d not long since left the studio, having walked with Adi to the nearby tube station so that she could hop a train home before I had headed on over to Finn’s. It was a typical route for me and not too long of a walk, but since arriving I’d been roped into packing up the many belongings that had been messily upended from the Spiderman backpack I was so often seen carrying about.

My gaze skittered over to the other side of the room once I’d teethed together the bag’s plastic zipper, over to where my son, Teddy, was currently in the midst of being whirled around by his godfather, tawny coloured curls flying in every-which direction whilst his cheeky grin grew even more prominent.

I felt the corners of my mouth lift upwards as I watched my best mate laugh at whatever it was the toddler had just said to him, tickling the boy’s sides as he did. If I was feeling incredibly sappy, I’d tell Finn then just how thankful I was to have him around, because he truly was incredible. 

From the moment I’d found out that I was pregnant, Finn had been there for me. He loved my son almost as though Teddy was his own, he adored the kid like no other and had placed him on a pedestal high above everyone else since the day he was born. 

Finn was always free to take Teddy whenever I had the show to fret about too, or if I was ever in dire need of another helping hand. He was fiercely protective of the two of us and I knew in the very depths of my heart that there would never be a hair harmed on my son’s head so long as he was around. 

I was pulled from my thoughts just as the toddler in question came bounding over, giggling uncontrollably as Finn chased after him, his arms stretched out wide and crouched down low to mimic the small boy's height. I couldn't help but notice the matching grins they both wore.

“Help!” Teddy squealed as he flung himself into my awaiting arms, allowing me to wrap him up and settle him safely on my hip, using my frame as a shield to block him from Finn’s view.

"You can't hide from me Teds, I’ll always find you!" Finn taunted playfully, laughing merrily whilst he wiggled his fingers at Teddy, who was only just peeking out at him from over my shoulder.

Teddy squirmed in my grasp, giggling and screaming senselessly as he tried to dodge Finn’s oncoming hands that had since managed to softly graze his sides. I could only roll his eyes in fond exasperation, the pair never failing to brighten my day, and couldn't help but feel ever so grateful for whatever being had brought Finn into both mine and Teddy’s lives.

You see, Finn was the closest thing I’d ever had to a brother, let alone a best friend. He’d been the family I’d never known I’d needed, a home away from home. And I knew that I could always count on him for just about anything and he had proved that the day I’d turned up on his doorstep in the pissing rain one Tuesday night, utterly terrified after having just found out that I was expecting. 

“Alright, you lot!” I began, batting away one of Finn’s advancing hands as he made to grab at Teddy's tiny ankle. “We've got to get home in time for your bath and tea, and I think Finn here has to pick up Liv from work.”

I was directing my voice towards the toddler in my arms but also sent a knowing look Finn’s way, one which caused the man’s eyes to widen in immediate realisation. ‘Liv’ was actually the lovely Olivia, Finn’s newest fling– only she had managed to last quite a while longer than the rest, a new record for him really. 

“Shit, yeah.” Finn muttered mostly to himself before he hurried on over to his desk in the far corner. I could only laugh quietly, Teddy joining in too when he noticed, and watched on as Finn hastily started to grab at an array of items, shoving them into his jean pockets. Phone. Wallet. Keys.

When he was finished, and somewhat out of breath, Finn spun back around towards us and shot an accusing brow our way, not too pleased about having been the source of our mirth. Teddy and I couldn't help ourselves then and laughed a little harder at his impervious expression. 

But with that all done and over with, I simply pressed my nose against the side of Teddy's head and smiled contently into his curls whilst Finn merely rolled his eyes at the two of us, chuckling before he made a start for the door. I followed just behind him, Teddy's backpack slung low over my shoulder and a happy little boy nestled in my arms.

***

People lover @/user1 Imagine being a mediocre radio host and thinking you know the ins and outs of the music industry.. #CancelMouse

102 @/user2  Don't mind me, reckon I just found my new favourite radio show:)

Ugh! @/user3 Mouse sounded proper excited today but switched up so quick when that 75 bloke came up://

Soloveme @/user4 Hate to see people supporting toxic behaviour, sit down. 

Milk @/user5 Don’t hate me, I'll forever be a matty girlie!! But @Mouseonamic I kinda agree??

Paris @/user6 Do you think he’s seen it yet? > Too_shy @/user7 Probably, it’s trending rn >> Drummepls @/user8 Hope he’s okay and doesn’t take it as a personal attack.. 

He should’ve known really.

He should’ve fucking known.

Even in his drunken state he should have known not to look at what they were all fucking saying about him. Slumped on the floor of his hotel room, propped up against the bathroom door, too exhausted to think about moving, let alone try.

He’d only heard a small snippet, caught the last of a conversation on it in a cab ride back from the club the band had found themselves in. But he had heard it, and he had listened. 

"He's got the whole world falling at his feet." He fucking wished. "Changed." Too right. "A load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that- but now I'm not too sure." Laughable, man. "It's just a bit sad." The story of his fucking life. "Potential." When’s he never not disappointing someone? "Lacks passion." Passion lies in living, mate, and he hasn't felt alive in a very long time. 

"Not what it used to be." Who he used to be.

He lit another cigarette from a crumpled pack he’d pulled from his back pocket and watched on as a curl of smoke unfurled in the air. He only wished he’d gone and brought something upstairs with him, or grabbed one of them little bottles from the minibar before he had decided he’d needed a piss. But if he closed his eyes hard enough he could imagine it all going dark, the world just fading around him, and the cigarette was suddenly enough.

Though, even then he still couldn’t quite muffle the loud, pitying laugh that escaped him as he continued to scroll through the mass of tweets that never faltered on his phone. They were like a freight train, unable to stop.

Matty wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Never had he ever felt so fucking lost. Desperate for everything to just pause for a simple second. To stop and just leave him alone for a bit. To have the world let him wallow in the dark dank pit he's hollowed out for himself.

But what a fucking life, hey?

Carelessly, Matty thumbed across the dimming screen, his intoxicated mind too focused on the task at hand to remember why exactly it was he was even sitting there on the cold bathroom floor. Something to do with Hann, he supposed, or George. Perhaps another heated encounter? Probably.

The sound of his phone's keyboard echoed off the surrounding walls and he breathed out a self-depreciating chuckle when he clicked send on the tweet he’d been attempting to curate, not caring enough for the consequences. Hardly even thinking, in truth. 

He was far too gone to care anymore, already knew firsthand what the repercussions would be tomorrow. But at that moment, he just wanted honesty. To tell the truth, for once. To let them all know that he knew he was a shit excuse for a person.

What more could the world possibly say anyway? 

Everyone around him was the same. He was simply just a puppet on a string. They’d make him sing and dance until the day he finally wrapped those wired strings tightly around his neck, and then all they'd be able to do is sit back and watch the show. And he'd enjoy every unabating second of it.

Matty @/trumanblack 10s ago Radio shows are sick man, gotta love them! And I sort of am sad haha. And I do lie? We all lie, I spose. But just listen to the radio, kids! Open your ears!

He laughed silently after, thoroughly amused with himself, and tossed the phone off somewhere off to the side so that he wouldn’t have to look at it again. 

Bullshit. It was all just fucking bullshit.

[whenlostinthedarkness]

Afterglow: Chapter 2 / Part 1 - In My Way

Leader Singer!Reader x Lead Guitarist!Ellie Williams

Photo by @abbysthighs ; edited by me

Summary: You and the band attend a party after the show, which leaves you social exhausted. Ellie takes note and you both decide to head back to the hotel for some much needed come down time from the surplus of social interaction

Warnings: Social anxiety, Weed smoking, and mentions of reader & Ellie’s past relationship; I believe that is it.

A/N: If you haven't caught on by now, each chapter will be named after a MUNA song that is fitting for the situation. Listen to ' In My Way' here.

Intro | Chapter One |

A soft towel was thrown around your shoulder by Dina as you and the rest of your bandmates exited from the stage, leaving a crowd still screaming as they begged for yet another encore, even though you'd already given them two on top of the one you did every night of every show.

"Well, they were fucking crazy", Jesse laughed while dabbing his forehead with his own towel.

"Seriously! I think that was the highest energy we've gotten from a crowd so far," Ellie said, mirroring Jesse as she too held the towel against her forehead that was dampened with a few locks of hair.

The thundering crowds noises were quickly dissipating the further your band walked into the back stage area, until you all had finally made it to the large, shared dressing room.

"God, it's fucking hot!," you exclaimed while dramatically fanning yourself as you stood in front of a table top revolving fan that was turned up to high.

"Yes, yes you are," Dina teased as she began undoing her button up shirt, joining the rest of the group that had already started undressing out of their sweaty clothes.

In a flirtatious manor, that you both knew held nothing but friendly intentions, you turned around with your hand on your hip.

"Don't tease me D."

"What if I'm not?"

Both of your coquettish expressions caved into humored ones the minute you made eye contact.

"We've already been down that route in college, no need to revisit it," you joked with a pointed finger as you began undoing your top.

"God, don't remind me. It was like fucking my sister-no offense." You nodded in agreement with Dina as you voiced your mutual feelings about the night both of you had drunkenly hooked up after a party in college.

Thankfully, It wasn't a completely bad experience. It was the reason the both of you had become friends after all. What better way to bond than after a hook up that neither of you felt a romantic connection with, yet still enjoyed the others company.

As Ellie began zipping out of her jeans, she couldn't help but listen in on yours and Dina's conversation and reminisce about that night.

You, Ellie, and an apartment that was much too small for the amount of people that were walking in through the back door.

A local college band was playing in a space that no doubt was originally a living room that had been moved around to arrange a space for the band and others to gather around them.

You held on tight to the back of Ellie's-aka your roommate who you had met just a couple days ago- shirt as you allowed her to guide you through the mass amount of bodies that were somehow fit into this space that couldn't have been more than 1,000 square feet.

As college parties go, you and Ellie ended up talking with cheap beers in hand for awhile as you watched the people around you, until you saw Dina walk in. She was clearly the life of the party, which is what caught your attention in the first place…and she wasn't bad looking either.

Ellie remembered you whispering how hot you thought the dark haired girl, who you would come to know as Dina, was. Urgently, Ellie turned her head to look at you with furrowed eyebrows that begged to ask a question.

"Are you gay?"

Present day Ellie laughed quietly in the dressing room as she recalled you saying "do I look like I'm straight?", in a way that was so deeply offended, you would've thought you had been mistaken for the worst possible human being one could imagine.

Suddenly, there was a feeling of fear and hope spun together in a braided ribbon. Because now that she knew you liked girls, that meant that her immediate attraction to you wasn’t something that she could shove off in a corner. No, now her mind would conjure up all these scenarios and universes where it was you and her tangled up in sheets as your bare skin touched her bare skin, all because it was something that was possible.

Sure, it wasn’t definite and, at that time Ellie had no idea that you had felt this immediate attraction to her as well, but now, it was easier for her to picture herself with you because it wasn’t like the crushes Ellie had on straight girls in the past. This time it was real and raw and vulnerable.

"What so funny?"

Ellie hadn't noticed you, snuck up on her as she changed with her back to the rest of the group.

Quickly she peaked over her shoulder as she continued getting undressed.

"Remember when you were offended that I didn't know you were gay?"

A warm, comforting feeling filled you as you thought back to your very first outing with Ellie.

You nodded, "Yeah! I'm still pissed about it."

Ellie chuckled, "You're dumb."

You didn't reply, merely just watched silently as one by one, Ellie's legs slipped out of the denim, leaving her in plain colored boxer briefs and an undone button down shirt while her back was still to you.

You knew better than to allow your eyes and imagination to linger too long-that was dangerous territory; a been there done that type of territory.

The group continued chatting as each of you finished changing into less dampened clothing.

"You guys going to that party tonight?"

At Jesse's words your eyebrow raised in question, until you recalled the big name popstar's birthday gathering you all had been invited to that was happening tonight. Quietly, you sighed as you finished grabbing all of your personal belongings.

"Not sure. You?"

Jesse 'pst' his lips, "Ah c'mon! You have to come. It'll be a nice way to decompress. We haven't had a night off in ages."

You couldn't disagree. It had indeed been a two week spread of shows every single night...maybe a party wouldn't hurt.

But on the other hand, you knew you dreaded any sort of social gathering that was bound to leave you overstimulated and exhausted by the end of the night.

"I don't know.."

"Babe cmon, you deserve it. I deserve it. We all deserve it! Besides, we can ditch if we're too exhausted or if it's lame or something," Dina said as she turned around, joining the rest of you and your bandmates as you all naturally gathered in the center of the changing room.

You wagered your plan of staying in the hotel in stretchy clothes with takeout in hand and a shitty movie on the tv as you snuggled into the fluffy blankets…but the looks you were getting from your bandmates pretty much prepared an answer for you.

"Fineeee," you dragged your words as Dina took the initiative of leaving as she opened the dressing room door.

"Who knows, maybe you'll get laid."

You shook your head, shoving Dina playfully on the shoulder as you followed behind her. "Shut up slut."

Ellie followed behind you, and Jesse behind her as he chuckled at the usual banter between you and Dina that continued for the entirety of the walk to the black vehicle that was ready to take your band to the party.

----

You'd been at the party for only an hour before you felt your threshold being pushed to it's farthest limit.

Dina and Jesse had been loved up on the dance floor, shouting the words of a song that was unfamiliar to you as Jesse had both of his arms around his love.

Ellie had caught your eye as she talked with other people throughout the party, always having some sort of whiskey drink in hand as she fidgeted with the small black straw she was swirling around her drink.

You knew how awful Ellie was in conversation, or rather following along with a conversation. Her thoughts always seemed to take over, making it hard for her to be fixed in on the entirety of a conversation as she, instead, resorted to zoning out or fixating herself on some sort of habit like she was right now.

With your back lent against a crisp white wall, you raised your drink to your mouth as you took a sip while still watching Ellie attempt conversation, until her eyes locked with yours.

She knew this version of you too well. The crowds, the socializing, the various amount of different noises all going on at once, none of it was ever your forte.

You quickly averted your gaze downwards into the honey colored drink in your glass, which made you oblivious to the fact that Ellie had already dismissed herself from her conversation and began making strides towards you.

"Over it already?"

Her familiar tone made your eyes glance upwards briefly before bringing them back down to your drink. You shrugged, "You know how I am at these things."

Ellie indeed knew too well. She also knew how much you resented yourself for not being able to handle a party without feeling like shit before, during, and after.

"Wanna head out? I'm kind of over this too." Ellie said as she mimicked your position of back resting against a wall with nearly empty drink in hand.

Your eyes remained low as you talked. "You don't have to leave because of me."

"I'm not," Ellie assured, "you're the one who can't do social gatherings, I'm the one whose bored of superficial small talk with people that I couldn't give less of a fuck about."

At her words, you chuckled, your neck now raising as your tipsy squinted eyes finally made contact with Ellie.

"Promise it's not because you feel sorry for me?"

Ellie's face lit up with a familiar, warm grin as she held up her pinky to swear her promise was true. "Promise."

You wore a lazy, but genuine smile as you extended your own pinky and gently hooked it around Ellie's. "Let's get the fuck out of here then."

---

The drive back to the hotel was silent except for the easy listening radio the Uber drive had been playing in the vehicle. You were thankful they were playing music that was appropriate for the 3am hour that it was. The last thing you needed was heavy bass to fuel your already slightly aching head.

Both you and Ellie made your way into the hotel once the uber had reached your home for the night. Thankfully, your manager had taken care of check in so your room key was already tucked inside the palm of your hand, leaving the only thing to do was slide your key through the appropriate suite numbers door so you could fall face first into a fluffy, white bed.

Your mind pulsed with the room number as you got closer. '208, 2010, 2011, 2012."

A literal weight seemed to fall off of your body when you mentally read the 4 digit number.

"This is me. What room did you get?"

'Fuck', Ellie thought as she did a double take on the room number that was written on her key card and the room number engraved in a gold plaque on the door you were both stopped in front of.

"Me too. Guess we’re rooming together."

Ellie didn't mean for her words to come out with a grimace expression, but you understood why the second she said it.

Annalise. You'd told her once about not wanting to room with Ellie due to your past with her and it was never a forgotten thing..I guess not until now.

It wasn't that you didn't want to hang out with Ellie. Ellie was your best friend first, ex girlfriend second. Despite the past the both of you shared, you always made it your mission to never let it interfere with one of the strongest friendships you've ever had with a person.

Not rooming together was more of a...preventative measure. You and Ellie had dated for a couple years, obviously you also slept together during that time. Keeping separate sleeping arrangements was just a way to keep certain situations less likely to happen.

Without either of you making eye contact, you slid the card in, then out of the slot in the door as a light flashed green, signaling the release of the lock.

You could feel the very dim way your hands shook as you grasped the metal knob in hand, allowing you and Ellie entry into the spacious suite that, thankfully, had two queen sized beds in it. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if the hotel somehow made a mistake and gave you a suite with a single bed; at least one thing was on yours and Ellie’s side. Though it didn’t make the situation at hand any better.

The tension was thick like a humid august day in Florida.

You and Ellie had taken to silence as you both worked on unpacking the few essentials you had on your person - thank god your team had already managed to put both yours and Ellie's luggages by each of your bedside, leaving not too much work to be done tonight unpacking wise.

Once your shoes had been tucked away in the small closet, your phone charger plugged in with your phone attached to it, and your pajama's in hand, you set off for the bathroom in the still silent hotel room.

A quick shower paired with freely brushed teeth, a clean face, and much more stretchy clothing had you feeling almost fully recovered post show and post social gathering.

As you walked out of the bathroom, you couldn't help but follow the trail of clothing that was sprawled sloppily on the floor and on top of the bed that was Ellie's for tonight.

It was like a mouse hunt as you followed along the fabric and items Ellie had no doubt shoveled out of her bag instead of putting them away neatly - typical for Ellie. She was never the cleanliest of the band members.

The humored smile remained on your face as you walked from the area in the suite that contained the beds, over to the small hallway that led to the living room area.

Ellie was sprawled along the couch with nothing but a table side lamp on as her eyes were glued to her phone while her finger moved along the screen.

Thankfully she hadn't caught wind of your entrance or else she would've seen the way you ran your eyes up from her sock clade feet all the way up to the athletic shorts and hoodie that was branded with your bands logo. She only looked up when you sunk down on the opposite side of the couch she was on.

Startled, Ellie looked up at you, looking as if she had forgotten you were even here, and for a minute she honestly did. Ellies eyes had been zoned in on the text exchange between her and her girlfriend, Cat, since the moment she flopped herself onto the couch in a living room that wasn't hers- this was somewhat of a routine she had subconsciously started doing ever since the tour began.

Your eyes naturally followed along to Ellies screen as curiosity got the best of you, but when you saw the name and photo labeled at the very top of the text exchange, you felt that same god damn feeling. That drop, that warmth, that surge of an energy that was anything but positive.

It was as if Ellie could read your mind as she followed your eye line and quickly locked her phone before setting it on the arm rest of her side of the couch.

Clearing your throat, you tried your best at creating a diversion.

"I see you're still messy as ever." Your eyes remained low as you fiddled with the hem of your sweats that sat on top of your ankle bone.

Ellie smiled, mimicking your lack of contact gaze as her vision zoned out on the grey colored couch cushion.

Her mind began to dump through memories upon memories; when you and Ellie were roommates, you were always complaining about her side of the room, which quickly morphed into the entirety of the room as the floor was filled with various clothes, personal items, etc.

You only genuinely got upset about it once- finals week, freshmen year. You were stressed, Ellie was stressed, thus ensued the first of many fights that the both of you would have over petty things.

But the both of you were grown now and surely you could have a conversation over something like that.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Ellie made the move to get up from the couch until you spoke with a waving hand.

"I'm fucking with you El. You're good," you said with a calmed smile and warm tone.

"You sure? Cause I can-"

You were nodding quickly, having to fight back a large grin and laugh at how quick Ellie was willing to get up and tidy the space. You couldn't help but interrupt her quick thoughts that you could tell were piling up a mile high in her mind.

"Ellie."

At the sound of her name, Ellie felt her thoughts fall from their whirlwind as she instead focused her attention on one thing at a time and that one thing was you.

"You're good, I promise."

It was crazy how, just at the confirmation of your words, Ellie was able to calm herself down. There weren't many people in the world who could fully put her mind at ease and allow it to stop the overthinking, but you always could. You held a sense of magic over her.

"Wanna watch a movie or something?"

Though Ellie hadn't agreed yet, the remote control was already tucked in your hand as your thumb pressed down on the appropriate buttons. As if you already knew what a routine of assisting Ellie from an anxiety come down was like, which you did.

"Yeah that sounds good." Ellie's words were straight laced as she recognized her pulse for the first time and just how rapidly it was beating.

"Do you mind if I smoke? I usually do it after shows, but since we don't room together I wasn't sure-"

"Yeah your good." You interrupted, making Ellie let out a breathy laugh as she walked over to her bag that sat on top of her bed.

"What?" You asked with confusion.

"You've interrupted me like five times already." Ellie's tone was anything but malicious which assured you that she wasn't upset with your bad habit, but that didn't make you feel any less ashamed either.

"I'm soooorry," you dragged out, the sound of rummaging in the background as Ellie grabbed her trusty tin box that contained a single pre roll and her lighter.

"You know I'm fucking with you." Ellie made her way back to the living room area as she scouted out a source for proper ventilation to ensure the smell of the potent greenery wouldn't cloud up the room or the entire floor.

Thankfully the suite was equipped with massive windows that looked as if they were from the 1920’s. Adorned with different variations of swirls and florals that made the layer of cream colored paint anything but some plain colored windowsill.

Using two of her hands, Ellie grasped the bottom of the window and pulled it upwards as far as the rusted parts would allow. As if out of some sort of rom com, Ellie took a seat on the windowsill as she flicked the lighter with her thumb until it lit a small flame.

At the noise of the lighter, you turned your attention to Ellie just as the flame caught the tip of her joint- a line of smoke streamed from the now charred stuffed rolling paper. You watched Ellie’s chest as she deeply inhaled with her eyes closed, the end of the 'j' searing red as she did so, and held the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds before releasing the breath she was purposefully holding.

Even though Ellie was used to the weed, she never failed to let out a string of coughs after a deep inhale. After her second cough, you turned your body fully around to find Ellie with her mouth tucked into the crevice of her elbow as her body tried to rid itself of the irritant in her throat.

“Water?”, you questioned, to which Ellie nodded as she continued to blow out on last cough until you were standing in front of her with your steel water bottle in hand.

The way Ellie’s mouth wrapped around the tip of the bottle made your pupils dilate as you watched her gulp down several sips of water. She muttered a “Thanks” while handing the water bottle back to you while you scolded your mind for reminiscing on exactly what Ellie’s mouth could do in certain situations.

Once her throat had been cleared enough times for the saliva in her throat to break up, she leant her back against the window frame again, relaxing as the high in her mind began to build.

“Wanna hit?”, Ellie said with hooded eyes as she looked up at your standing form.

The fact that you had to stop and ponder your answer made you cringe. You were a far off version of who you once were only a year ago. Now, you got up early in the morning and did yoga just after you made yourself a hot cup of decaf coffee because, for some god awful reason, you needed a change and that change happened to be weening yourself off of caffeine.

It was funny how well you were convincing yourself and others that you were better and striding along nicely on the path of self love and content while being by yourself. What others didn't know is that you had never felt more lonely in your life. Even after Ellie and your's breakup nearly 4 years ago, you had never felt this bottomless pit that you only had to deal with once off that stage.

Maybe thats why you felt so addicted to performing. Maybe thats why you were the only one who didn’t complain when you saw how many shoes you would be putting on this tour. It took your mind off of reality..it was your drug.

"Sure," you answered Ellie as she reached her nearly limp hand out to you with a relaxed grin on her face.

The moment the joint was held between your pointer finger & thumb, it felt instinctual, despite a year or so without the substance.

As the smoke sucked down your throat, you could already feel your head beginning to float.

"Nice, right?"

You nodded, as you passed the joint back to Ellie just before taking a sip out of your water bottle that moments ago had been pressed against Ellie's mouth. You could still taste the vague cherry chapstick flavor of her lip balm. “I haven't smoked in fucking ages."

Ellie nodded as she took another big hit that made her shoulders slump even more against the window as she delved into a state of relaxation. "This shit is the only thing that calms me down after shows now."

"Seriously?"

With a nod, Ellie's eyes scanned you as if she were searching. For what? You didn't know and neither did she, but yet she allowed her eyes to linger until she landed on your arm. "How's the tattoo healing?"

Your eyes pulled down to your arm, but not without feeling a lag in motion due to the weed in your system. The amount of at ease you felt was something you hadn't felt in years. You couldn't help but question why the fuck you stopped smoking in the first place, until you came back to that self love journey, bullshit, blah, blah, blah.

"Tattoo is good. The shading on it is soo beautiful”, you dragged along your words more than usual as you prepared for your last statement that would inevitably bring her up. "Your girl is good."

At the mention of her girlfriend, Ellie felt comfort in her smile. "Yeah, she's great”, she answered honestly.

You knew her words held double meanings-yes, Ellie's girlfriend was a great tattoo artists, but you knew her and Ellie were good for each other, at least from your view it seemed that way.

"You seeing anyone lately?"

The hairs on your arms began to raise at Ellie's question. It seemed that anytime relationships or partners, whether romantic or sexual, were brought up..it always felt awkward to you. But maybe that was because you were just being you, and Ellie was matured past the college relationship you and her shared.

Not that you weren't stuck on the relationship itself entirely. You were more so stuck on the feeling of being loved like that and loving that person in return just as much. You craved it, yet no one ever scratched that itch for you after Ellie.

"Nah..I'm good," you lied through your teeth, but Ellie saw right through your faux satisfaction.

"C'mon, it's been, what? A couples years since your last relationship?"

Ellie hadn't intentionally meant to strike that nerve when the words left her lips, yet she could tell she managed to do just that according to the look on your face.

"Fuck, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to bring that up..I forgot that your last relationship was us."

You felt the urge to spit in Ellie's face out of pure spite that was bubbling inside you even though you knew she meant zero malice with her words. Deep breaths consumed your chest as you repeated a mantra to yourself: You were the one who had the problem. Not her. You were the one who had the problem. Not her.

"Yeah...it's been awhile," You chose to ignore the subject as best you could, yet it felt so damn difficult when your last relationship was sitting right in front of you, looking beautiful as a joint hung from her lips.

Ellie breathed the smoke through her gritted teeth before snubbing the end of the joint on the brick that sat on the outside walls of the hotel just outside of the open window she was relaxed against.

"So you really don't want to see any one?"

"Can we talk about something else," you huffed out with aggravation, taking Ellie by surprise, making her eyes fill with sorrow.

"Sorry."

"Don't be...", you trailed off for a moment as you took another drink out of your water simply just to give yourself something to do that wasn't sitting in silence. "I'm just sick of people asking me about it,” you shrugged. “Sorry to get pissy with you."

Ellie nodded her head as silence built between the both of you.

The longer you both sat in silence, the higher and higher Ellie felt as her eyes began to alter her perception, her brain began to cloud her judgement, and her filter on her words grew thinner and thinner.

"Do you ever think about us?”, Ellie said with a head tilted backwards and her eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, your lips hesitated as they forgot how to move in time with your tongue. You were finding speaking to me exceptionally difficult when it was a question like that from a person who used to be your everything.

—-

Part 2 coming soon