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hongjoongspoetry · 20 hours ago

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So it's Thursday and I finally found time to read a lot of stuff on my to-read-list and I'm actually baffled how long I waited to read this gem of a fic 😭

First of all, I've always hated Snow, but it's amazing how you make me hate him even more lmaoo 😭 My heart goes out to this MC (all your MCs in the HG universe, lets be fr) but it also aches for Yunho 🤧 UGH I LOVE YOUR IDEAS FOR THE HG UNIVERSE, like I always expect the fic to be about the games, and not about life after winning - serving as puppets pulled by Snow.

The dynamic between Yunho and the MC already got me hooked right off the bat. Like I needed to know what all that bad blood was abou. I could literally feel their past through the screen, all the complicated emotions they had for each other. Yunho (per usual) was getting on my nerves too, if she said leave, then leave!... but it was evident later on he stayed because he knows the MC too much and he knew she needed someone there 😭🤧

The TV went silent with a sickeningly loud crack as the remote control flew into it, shattering it into pieces. My lungs were heaving for air as I sprung up from the sofa, a scream tearing through my throat as I stared at my reflection in the broken TV.

As sad as it sounds, I love the way you portrayed the MC's anger at the news of the Quartell games. The uncontrollable anger, her acting out and smashing things, putting everyone and even herself in harms way. She was literally spiralling out of control and she had every right to. Trust me when I say I was feeling so empty reading Yunho comforting her (EVEN THOUGH HE'S GOING THROUGH HIS OWN TURMOIL OH LAWD) and I didn't expect them to go full blown make out session, but im not complaining 👀 they are two lost souls who have no life left in them, just give them a break im begging.

I was scared, I was scared because all of a sudden I realized I had something to lose. I have always had something to lose, even when President Snow thought he had taken everything and everyone away from me, he forgot about one person. He forgot about Jeong Yunho.

OH SHIT, WELL THAT MAKES ME UNDERSTAND HER COLD SHOULDER TOWARDS YUNHO. OF COURSE IT WAS ALL SNOW GETTING UP IN PEOPLE'S BUSINESS AGAIN 😭

If there's something I love more than enemies to lovers, then it's enemies to lovers with a hint of jealousy 😈 I literally became joongrami the moment finnick showed up 🐿️

but thankfully, no matter how spoiled, my stylist, Wooyoung was, he’d never make me wear anything revealing or uncomfortable

AND I CHEERED!!!! (ugh now I need a stylist!san x stylist!woo fic-)

“Lover boy and his bestie are staring at us,” Finnick mused with amusement lacing his tone, “I don’t think your lover boy is too happy that you’re here with me, instead of being with him.” I scoffed, turning my head to look where Yunho and Mingi stood, catching their gazes as Mingi flinched and quickly looked down at the ground, but Yunho held my gaze, jaw clenched and eyes slightly narrowed. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to them, grabbing Finnick’s bicep as I leaned closer to him

As always, you're amazing at keeping the original HG characters true to their personalities in the real franchise, but also your own OCs, like Mingi still being jumpy.

“You’d kill yourself first before they’d even pronounce you as his wife.” Minghao’s reply came fast, cutting through the growing tension due to my blatant jar directed at Yunho.

Same, Minghao. Same.

Okay, but I absolutely LOVE that the MC fucked up the training room. Yes, honey, you show them they fucked with the wrong person. Im actually surprised not many other tributes had that idea before 😭 Like, personally speaking, I would not be able to keep my cool and show off like in a circus to get a few points

Man, im really starting to dislike her whole team, WHY ARE THEY GANGING UP ON HER GIVE MY GIRL A BREAK😭

Istg it wouldn't be a bvidzsoo fic if there weren't a few yungi elements in it 😭 IM NOT COMPLAINING THO, I love myself some yungi content

“You won’t tell me what to do, I’m not going to be in a team with you. Yet better, get out of my fucking way when that canon goes off because you will be the first person I’ll kill, Yunho.”

Damn... and to think they were smooching a few days ago-

I can't take it, I CANT WITNESS MY BABIES ARGUING UGH- 😭😭 SHE OBVIOUSLY REGRETS SAYING IT, BUT YUNHO ISNT MAKING IT BETTER BY FOLLOWING HER EITHER

“I know that, but no matter how hard I think about it, I just—” He gulped, averting his eyes, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did wrong and I can’t—I just can’t have you pushing me away when we are so close, please, Y/N. I care for you just as much as I care for Mingi, we can’t separate in the Arena.”

Okay, maybe I do feel bad for yunho after all, the dejection 🤧 I feel so bad for them AND ITS ALL SNOWS FAULT, EVERYTHING IS HIS FAUTL GOD I HATE THAT MANFMANELK

I thought mingi was going to die for a moment and was ready TO LOG THE FAWK OUT, DONT SCARE ME LIKE THAT WOMAN!?!?! It makes it worse knowing he literally HAS SOMEONE WAITING FOR HIM AT HOME 🤧

Miscommunication is my favorite trope, so yunho being in on the whole "tricking the capitol" plan while the MC didn't know and thought he was planning to kill her WHILE HE WAS DOING THE OPPOSITE IS LIKE RUBBING SALT IN A WOUND- and although the MC is being a lil silly, I can't help but take her side on this whole thing. I mean did they think she was going to trust people that easily BY KEEPING HER IN THE DARK???? Lawd-

NAH FAM THEY BROUGHT OUT HOLOGRAMS OF HER DEAD FAMILY?? ?THATS EVIL OMG. AND AS IF THAT WASNT ENOUGH THEY ARE TRYING TO KILL HER???😭

“It’s not real.” The man holding me down whispered, his voice shaky as he gulped, “They weren’t real, Y/N. But I am real, I’m here now.”

Idk if you've watched Young Royals, but its giving this one scene where drunk Wilhelm confesses his love to Simon ❤️‍🩹

“He doesn’t know me, not the real me, at least. He only wants the good and pretty, he only sees those qualities in people. Once the perfect image is shattered, he’ll be gone, he’ll abandon me. I don’t want him to lodge himself into my heart when I know just how quickly you can lose someone.”

DUDE YOUVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME HE LITERALLY SAW YOU TRASH A TV, TRY TO KILL HIM WITH PORCELAIN DOLLS AND THEN MADE OUT WITH YOU???? ARE YOU FOR REAL

“What’s your problem with me?” I did not expect that question, and neither what he said next, “What’s so fucking horrible about me that you go willingly into the arms of the biggest playboy known to Panem, that you find solace and trust in that man when I’ve always been by your side, there for you, offering you a shoulder to lean on, a man you can trust and—and love. What does Finnick have that I don’t, Y/N?! Why do you continuously brush me off and treat me like shit, but then you laugh at anything Finnick says and you look at him with so much adoration, I-I just don’t understand, Y/N. I was there, I was always there, I helped you when you saw no outcome, I was there when you grieved your family, I was there when you struggled with the consequences of winning the Games, I was there even when you continued to push me away! I never stopped trying to make you feel safe, to comfort you and to—show you that it’s okay to open up and that you can love again without being scared of death. Why can’t you just—give back even just a little fraction of my affection?!”

Well damn :0

YOU CANT FIND THIS TALENT IN POETRY BOOKS DEEP INSIDE LONG LOST LIBRARIES ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTS???? I PRESENT TO YOU ARI, ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS OUT THERE OH MY-

“When we’re out of here,” Yunho gulped, determined as his eyes melted into mine, “I’m going to marry you.” “ Just don’t let me go,” I whispered as Yunho very reluctantly released me, our hands finding each other as our fingers intertwined, a motion I was used to but found something new in it now. It wasn’t just for show, it wasn’t just to show me that I had someone next to me, it was to seal our promise and tell me that Yunho wasn’t going anywhere.

A bitch is sobbing becuase they are giving finnick and Annie (minus all the dying y'know.'

The next time I was conscious again, however, what I heard despite the unbearable headache and the dull ache of my spine, didn’t sound at all good, nor reassuring, “Katniss, there is no District Twelve.” And all I could think about was, where is Yunho?

AND YOU CALL ME EVIL JJOONGRAMI, MATTER OF FACT YOURE EVIL BECUASE WHAT THE FAWK WAS THAT???? I LITERALLY SHOT MYSELF IN THE FOOT SAYING MINUS ALL THE DYING. MC LITERALLY ASKED HIM NOT TO LET HER GO AND HE FUCKING DISAPPEARS EWRFJEWKENFK. YUNHO BETTER NOT BE DEAD OMG-

...I literally had to take a few minutes to collect myself... also I had to write about something else not to think about a potential dead yunho 😭🤧

ANYWAYS can we take a moment to appreciate your writing??? Miss Ari, you're making me FEEL their emotions, their pain, their longing and mourning even though no one is really dead. It's amazing, it's talent, you're a star my friend. Most of all, I love that Yunho despite everything is still taking care of the MC. He looks out for her both in and outside the arena, and knows that her hatred is just an act to protect them all from Snow

Thousand Miles, just to get you back

𖥧 District 7 ꒷ this beautiful district is lush with trees, from which these citizens supply our lumber and paper, victors: Blight, Johanna Mason

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: victor!Jeong Yunho x victor!female reader

𖥧 Warning: suggestive, sexual tension, cursing, ptsd, violence, blood, gore, use of weapons, murder, decapitation but not too graphic, mental manipulation and trauma, alluding to forced sex work and sexual assault, if I missed any, lmk! 𖥧 Word count: 28.7k 𖥧 Rating: mature, nc-17 𖥧 Genre: Hunger Games!au, rivals to lovers!au, set during the Quarter Quell, Catching Fire book 𖥧 Summary: You didn't want this, but then again, you were sure nobody wanted to face the repercussions of being a victor. You hated your life and you hated everyone around you, never trusting a soul again. Whatever President Snow has put you through after your Games was unforgivable and your only solace lay in Finnick Odair, who understood you and your pain. But it didn't end there, no, it never would with Jeong Yunho, another victor, always breathing down your neck and hogging you as if his life depended on it. You didn't like him and you didn't trust him after what he'd done to you despite being your mentor in your Games. And when the 75th Hunger Games come around and President Snow announces that the tributes this year will be the reaped victors, your world comes crashing down, forcing you to do things you never thought you'd do again. But if it meant Panem would be free, you'd do it again.

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! This part took longer but the word count is also...higher. The story is set during the Catching Fire book, but of course, I took creative liberty and changed up some things, I hope you'll enjoy them! I apologize if the action packed scenes are lackluster, I really tried my best while not making it too graphic. I think Yunho's part is my favourite from my HG series, although Mingi's has a special place in my heart. President Snow can die in a ditch for what he did to Katniss and Peeta, no matter how much I like his character, I'll always hate him! This part is really angsty imo so buckle up, you'll be going through it with our MC. I don't think I have anything else to say other than I hope you enjoy and that I love hearing your feedback, so don't be shy! <3 Thank you for reading! divider

For the past two days, the sky had been covered in dark rainclouds, lightning flashing across the sky every few minutes, the thunder shaking the earth as I stood perched on the windowsill with a cup of warm chamomile tea with plenty of honey in it to make anyone nauseous, even those who enjoyed sweet things. My eyes followed the raindrops as they rapidly slid down against the window, forehead pressing against the cool surface as I could see the reflection of my eyes in it. The house was quiet, so quiet that those who didn’t know would’ve thought the mansion was vacant. Because the victors' houses could easily pass as mansions, bigger than even the mayor's house, it was quiet and cold inside too, the harsh rain welcomed as it cooled the relentless summer heat with which everyone seemed to be struggling. It was truly a blessing to be forced to stay inside my house, with no one to bother me for days on end as nobody from the district was brave enough to venture out in such a harsh downpour. Not that I had anyone in the district who cared for me, I was on my own.

Everyone I once loved was gone. It was solely my fault. I had naively refused President Snow’s little bargain when I looked him in the eyes with an arrogant look and told him to ‘get fucked’. My family, gone for almost five years now, were dead before the train could even take me back to District 7 from the Capitol. Our house, small but spacious enough to house my parents, my two siblings and me, was empty when the train had dropped me off. At first, when no one from my family awaited me on the platform, I had a feeling they might’ve been planning a surprise for me, I wouldn’t put it past them. But when I returned to an empty and cold house with a single note lying on the kitchen table, I knew. It was my fault that all of my loved ones were six feet under, their lives taken away by my foolishness. I would never stop blaming myself, I didn’t want to stop blaming myself. The constant numbness that was wrapped around my heart was a harsh wake-up call to the horrors of the world I was forced to live in.

The Hunger Games had seemed like a nightmare, they were a nightmare, but what came after was the real nightmare. The terror, the pain, the uncertainty and the coldness that followed after having returned home, forced me to face the reality that I was no more than a pawn President Snow could play with however he wished, it hurt. I had been an independent person my whole life. I didn’t need anyone and I knew I would survive on my own if the circumstances forced me to, hence the reason I remained confident that I would return alive from the Games, and the arrogance to put my ego aside and keep my family safe, at last, weren’t worth it. If sleeping with countless men was what would’ve kept my family alive, if only I had known this back when Snow proposed it to me, I would’ve accepted it. I would’ve ignored the disgust I felt and done it without trying to rebel against the only man who could cut off my wings. And he did, he did cut off my wings, right from the root, ripping them out without mercy. At last, my family’s death was in vain. They were gone and I still bedded a different man each night spent at the Capitol, each one of them sent by Snow as a constant punishment to remind me that just because my loved ones weren’t here anymore to be held over my head, he could still do it, Snow could still torture me.

And so, turning my back on everyone and living in solace had been completely my choice. I didn’t want to speak to anyone, I didn’t want to see anyone, I didn’t want to be touched by anyone. I was disgusted by my own body and could never look at myself for too long. Whether my hair was long or as short as a boy's, men would still want me. Whether I ruined my face with makeup or kept it neat, they would still ravish me. In the end, nothing I did mattered. Beauty was pain sometimes, but I was too scared to maim myself, to ruin the pretty face every man in the Capitol lusted after. Snow knew too that I couldn’t do, and he enjoyed my silent pain mixed with rage, grinning at me whenever we crossed paths, taunting me with words against which I couldn’t fight back. It would be a never-ending cycle until my last day on earth and I had accepted it, numbing myself to all emotion to the point that I was just a soulless walking body, uncaring, unfeeling.

My body jolted from its slouched-over form as rapid knocks disturbed my peace, becoming louder and louder the longer I ignored them. The rain was pouring harder, lightning more frequent across the sky as thunder shook the ground, making me flinch when instead of knocking, my doorbell was being rung relentlessly. I knew who it was, I knew because today was a big day. President Snow would make his annual announcement about the Hunger Games, the same old speech, the same old rules. But something felt different, ever since Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark became victors, there were whispers in the districts, feeble words of a different future which felt closer and closer to us. Something was changing and I, as usual, wasn’t included in the grand scheme. I was a mere spectator, twirling around Snow’s fingers however he wished me to. When the doorbell’s rings turned into aggressive bangs against the front door, I released an irritated sigh and stood from my spot, storming towards the one that dared disturb my solace.

“What!” I snapped as I yanked the door open, not surprised that I had forgotten to lock it once again. Of course it was him, it was always him. I hated his face, I hated his voice, I hated his presence. I hated his whole being, and so I didn’t wait for an answer as I went to slam the door in his face, but he was fast, arm already pushing against the door as if he could read my mind.

“The muffins will get soaked, just let me in.” His boyish voice was loud as he spoke over the raging storm, his voice deep but somehow still soft. It was annoying, the ease he carried himself with, the constant serene expression on his face was infuriating. He never looked like he struggled and I was sure he just simply didn’t. He just floated through life, taking whatever it threw his way, just to laugh it off at the end of the day and start over the next one. I hated him.

“Get lost.” I hissed and pressed my full body against the door, wrestling against the desperate man on the other side of the door.

“Are you for real right now?!” He exclaimed, voice incredulous as I let one eye peek over the edge of the door, taking in his form. His hair was damp and his cardigan was slightly soaked by the rain, but as long as he stood in front of my door, he’d be protected by the balcony above his head.

“Yes!” I exclaimed and suddenly yanked the door towards myself, hoping it would throw him off balance and I could shut it in his face, but he was smarter, and thus, he swiftly slipped inside, grinning at me victoriously. I scowled as I slammed the door closed behind him, pressing myself up against the sturdy wood as he uncaringly shook his hair, like a dog, and then stepped out of his shoes.

“I made blueberry muffins,” He beamed as he held up the tray covered by a napkin, which was halfway soaked through, “Your favourite!”

He was right, blueberry muffins were my favourite, but they were from him and I’d rather not eat them.

“I don’t want them.” But by the time I was finished talking, he was headed for the kitchen as if this were his house. Albeit, the layout for the victor houses was the same, but this wasn’t his house and he shouldn’t just walk around as if he owned it. I hated it when he disregarded me, remaining his authentic self of a joy ball, pretending like he didn’t see my sharp glare nor hear my muttered insults. And I hated him, eyes glued onto his tall body as I followed after him to the kitchen. He was tall enough that he could see well the contents of the cupboards on the top shelves as he opened them, looking for a smaller plate. I could’ve told him where they were, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk to him unless it was a complete must. He made a sound when he finally found the right cabinet, back muscles straining even through the cardigan he wore as he moved around my kitchen as he belonged in it. His build was massive, not too muscular but certainly not as lean as it used to be, and he towered over most men of our district. People were tall here, we had to climb trees, yielding an axe as we worked with lumber, but Jeong Yunho seemed to exceed what was the norm. And despite his intimidating build, his face was gentle and soft, eyes twinkling with life in them and pink lips pulled constantly into a radiant smile. His cheeks were almost always rosy, not because he blushed easily, but because he was fair-skinned and even the smallest bruise would be visible on his body.

“But I baked them for you—”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want them.”

Yunho and I had been a mentor pair for a good five years now, sent off to the Capitol during the Hunger Games, forced to watch two children die each year. Children that we knew, that we swore to train and protect as best as we could, children that ultimately were just children and would die at the hands of bigger and stronger children. Because that’s what the Games were, a sick and twisted way of punishing the districts for daring to disobey the Capitol, for trying to overthrow it due to the mistreatment they constantly faced. So, they took children between the ages of thirteen and eighteen and sent them off to their deaths each year, except for the ones like Yunho and myself, who returned as victors. Yunho was barely two years older than me but the passing of time seemed to miss him each year as his face remained youthful, and only morphed into more handsome features, unlike myself, who struggled with bags under my eyes on the daily and did everything to look less pale but ultimately, I failed, looking older than my age or Yunho. It was unfair, even in this, he was better than me.

Yunho paused as his eyes met mine and he gulped, a flicker of uncertainty flashing through his features, only to be replaced by that annoying soft smile which was always present on his face, “My mother would be really disappointed if you refused them, Y/N. She helped too.”

His mother, Yunho’s family, were still alive. His older brother worked hard despite them being rich now due to Yunho’s income as a victor, and his father had retired to pursue a much simpler career. He liked fixing cars, so, now those used by the woodsmen were all brought to Mr. Jeong for fixing or maintenance. Occasionally, I even saw Peacemakers stop by, keen on keeping it hushed that they asked a simple mechanic from the district to fix their vehicles. It was cheaper this way, Mr. Jeong didn’t charge much, it was just a hobby, after all.

“Fine,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest as Yunho’s smile widened into a pleased grin, “Just leave them on the counter.”

He nodded and placed the blueberry muffins on the small plate before he threw the crumbs into the trash, rinsing the tray at the sink. I remained standing, keeping the table and even counter between us, never keen on standing close to Yunho. His scent was too strong, it irked my nose, and it made me sneeze too easily. Perhaps I was allergic to his cologne—to his whole being, perhaps. Once he was done, the tray left by the sink to dry, his eyes slowly shifted, landing on my tense face. I wasn’t happy to have him over, he knew it. Yunho knew I didn’t like him, yet he never stopped imposing on my peace of mind—it was truly disgruntling.

“You weren’t going to watch it, right?” His voice was quiet. Unfortunately, Yunho also knew me too well, much to my displeasure. I stopped watching the announcements three years ago, tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. I didn’t answer as I averted my eyes, jaw clenching at the warm ambers that swum in Yunho’s eyes that had the colour of warm chocolate, “I—I think you should, this year. I’ll stay, it starts in five minutes—”

“I don’t want you to stay.” I said, voice cold as my eyebrows furrowed, looking back at Yunho, “And I won’t watch it, Yunho.”

He gulped, but suddenly his happy demeanour dropped as he placed his hands on the counter, “You know the districts had been stirred with Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark’s win, I think we should watch it this year, together.”

“Just go, Yunho, before the nightfall.” Due to the big storms, electricity would be cut off at twilight and people weren’t allowed to leave their homes. The forest was eerily quiet, with the absence of the lumberjacks, the wolves became too brave, too daring, and they would venture past the District’s boundaries and inside the town, devouring whoever they came across. The Victor’s Village of District 7 was right by the forest, it wasn’t smart to go outside at night. But, in all true Yunho fashion, he shook his head with pursed lips.

“Snow’s speech barely lasts three minutes, maybe he’ll make it five now that he’s mad at Katniss Everdeen.” Then he grabbed a muffin and grinned, “I’ll have one if you don’t mind.”

My jaw clenched when he turned on his heels and headed for the living room, the anthem loudly flooding my otherwise quiet house as I heard the sofa creak, Yunho’s big body settling on it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, telling myself that he would be gone before I could blink. Even if the wolves ate him, I wouldn’t let him stay the night, not tonight, not ever. Jeong Yunho wasn’t someone I could trust, his faux kindness and softness were all but a mask which hid his true intentions. I had seen beyond the cracks of his good manners and big heart, and I knew he wasn’t all that different from those from the Capitol. All those years ago, almost six now, he had been my mentor, the only person who was supposed to help me and protect me from the outside as much as he could while I fought for my life in the Games, instead, Jeong Yunho, everyone’s favourite golden boy, went ahead and turned on me.

My legs carried me over to the living room before I could register what I was doing, body tense despite knowing the same old shenanigans would happen this year too. Except that this year a Quarter Quell was happening, this year it was the 75th year of the Hunger Games, and that meant something unusual would happen. It was the third Quarter Quell and the last I’d heard of was horrible, the number of tributes had been doubled, meaning forty-eight children fought for survival and it was Haymitch Abernathy who became the victor, the now drunkard mentor from District 12. Katniss Everdeen was a smart girl, I watched her closely while she fought in that arena, but Haymitch also did his best when he realized the potential she had. Something Yunho never bothered doing for me while he was my mentor, it still left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Caesar Flickerman went on about the wedding of Katniss and Peeta before he announced that President Snow would take the lead now.

The sofa creaked under my weight too as I settled as far away from Yunho as possible, his chewing quiet as he cast me a quick glance, a small smile playing at his lips. I ignored him, my body shivering when President Snow’s face was the only thing I could see on the TV. Even after all these years, he still made me feel repulsed whenever I saw him, muscles tensing and my body wanting to coil up in a ball as if that could protect me from his cruelty.

“And now we honour our third Quarter Quell,” President Snow’s tone was determined, confident, and almost coy as a boy stepped forward, holding a box which President Snow opened. He reached inside it, moving envelopes around until his fingers gripped the one with a clear 75 on it. I gulped, feeling irrationally nervous all of a sudden as if I would be reaped next, as if I was back in time standing in the crowd of girls, awaiting the name of the female tribute who’d have to head to the Capitol this year. Yunho could never sit still for too long, always fidgeting or fussing around, but now, even his body was frozen, eyebrows furrowed as I stole a glance at him. He had finished eating the muffin and the little foil it had been in was now crumpled into his fist, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

The lights of the TV became a blur as I remained seated, staring ahead, ears ringing as President Snow’s words echoed in my mind. For a split second, the world stopped turning, my lungs failed to inhale the much-needed oxygen. And for another split second, I felt my body tremble, my mouth falling open as Caesar Flickerman’s shrieks of surprise and excitement echoed through the eerily silent house, Yunho’s body unmoving on the other end of the sofa. I couldn’t hear his otherwise loud breaths, I couldn’t even feel my own body. And when reality dawned more upon me, the very high chance that I was going back inside that wrenched Arena almost six years later, nothing else really mattered. The TV went silent with a sickeningly loud crack as the remote control flew into it, shattering it into pieces. My lungs were heaving for air as I sprung up from the sofa, a scream tearing through my throat as I stared at my reflection in the broken TV. I looked mad, my eyes were wide, my cheeks red, my body visibly shaking as my thoughts were clouded with suppressed memories, all the pain, suffering, mourning, the great feeling of loss of sanity, of control over myself.

I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t go back inside that Arena.

And before I could rationalize my thoughts, control my urges and blink away the red haze that’s settled over my vision, my fingers were gripping a heavy ornament from the side table, swinging it across the room as it crashed loudly against the display window of the massive cupboard on the other side of the room. It felt satisfying to hear something break, something of material that reflected my inner world perfectly, and made the fall less painful as my legs carried me over the bookcase, yanking off every book I could grab. My body wanted to destroy, desperate to release all the turmoil that clouded my senses, the trauma that bit and licked at my flesh almost mockingly, President Snow’s snake-like eyes burned in the back of my mind, always taunting, always elated as he watched others suffer.

My hand burned when I touched the sharp edge of the vase I had broken solely with my grip, but I couldn’t stop. The pain I felt muted the screams that threatened to tear past my throat, the tears that stung my eyes but never rolled down, and the hollowness inside my chest that only seemed to grow bigger, swallowing more and more of my being. I had no one to lose anymore, just myself. But I hadn’t been myself since I had won the Games, so was I really losing someone? I had no one to return to even if I won, President Snow has made sure of that a long time ago. There weren’t many victors in District 7, not that I was on good terms with anyone. I’d either return without the male tribute or neither one of us would. My lungs burned as I gripped another ornament off the bookshelf, less heavy but very breakable as I raised my arm high, freezing at the nimble call of my name.

My chest was rising and falling rapidly as if I had run a marathon, muscles tensing more when I remembered I wasn’t alone. No, someone was here with me, in the living room, someone who knew what it meant to go back into the Arena, someone whose cheeks were tear-streaked. I gulped, eyebrows furrowing as I looked at Yunho, fingers curling tighter around the porcelain doll. It had been my younger sister’s, was I truly going to break it?

“Y/N.” Yunho’s tone was low, harsh, and shaking. I gulped, my breaths ragged as they puffed through my nose loudly, and my jaw clenched when Yunho’s face contorted in pain, reflecting what I felt on the inside. But he couldn’t stop me, my bones shook with rage and fear and before I could think more about it, I threw the porcelain doll at Yunho, who easily caught it as if he had been anticipating it. It only angered me more as I grabbed another one, my younger sister used to have a collection, and flung it at Yunho again.

“Get out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing a third porcelain doll he caught again easily, my voice raw as I wanted to sob, but my throat felt tight, unable to release any shrill sounds. When Yunho failed to move from his spot, I screamed again and pushed everything off the coffee table with one strong shove, ready to flip the heavy table over.

“Stop, Y/N, just stop.” Yunho’s voice had lost its softness, it sounded panicked and pained at the same time, begging me as I refused to acknowledge him. No, he couldn’t stop me, nobody could. I wasn’t going back there, I wasn’t going to fight for my life again, he couldn’t make me—President Snow couldn’t send me back there, not again. Not after I lost everything in vain, I didn’t want to do it again, I didn’t want to relive the terror, the struggle, and I didn’t want to feel so alone when I returned, I was scared of facing the dark on my own again. I had barely learned how to cope with the night terrors on my own, with the numbness that chilled my limbs, with the desperate yearning for connections, for a gentle touch, for words that warmed my heart, I barely learned how to live without those. I couldn’t do it again, I couldn’t—I gasped when I felt strong arms wrap around my torso, immobilising my hands and body as the embrace was tight, “No! Let me go, Yunho, no!”

I pushed, I yanked, I even bit his shoulder until he was groaning, but he didn’t budge. He was sniffing, loudly and unashamedly, but his embrace only became stronger and tighter, more and more suffocating. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think straight as his musky scent entered my nostrils, wrapping around me like a cocoon, his big body like a shield from the cruel world. My skin burned where he touched, and my limbs trembled as I tried to put space between our bodies again, but Yunho wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“I’m here,” He muttered and I felt him raise his arm, freeing my left side, as his hand held the back of my head, pressing my face further into his neck. His skin was hot, but it was soft and it’s been too long since I came in contact with any other person, it made my knees weak as my mouth parted to hurl more insults at him, but I wasn’t able to voice them, “I’m here, Y/N, we’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you, we’ll get through this. Together. Like we always do.”

“No, no, no.” I muttered as my fingers twisted into his knitted cardigan, my heart racing in my chest painfully, “Leave, Yunho, just go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He snapped, but his arms weren’t holding me so tightly anymore. His long fingers felt cold against my scalp as they tangled against my long locks, slowly running them through my ginger hair, resting his chin against the top of my head. I loathed this, the warmth of his body, the willingness to offer me comfort, I hated him.

“I hate you, get away from me.” Yet despite my mouth speaking one thing, my body screamed another as my arms swiftly circled his torso, yanking Yunho’s body into mine. I wasn’t fighting my lungs for air anymore, I was able to breathe regularly once again, but everything felt so cold still, so numb. It wasn’t enough, Yunho’s big body pressing against mine so firmly, so eagerly as a reminder that he was here wasn’t enough anymore, and I felt weak when a whimper left my mouth, my head turning until I could hide it in the crook of his neck, nose pressing where his shoulder and neck met. His cologne was familiar, it was something I knew too well, it helped my mind relax as I felt Yunho shift his head away, warm lips pressing against the top of my head once, then twice, and then once again. His other hand dropped lower until his large palm pressed against the small of my back, and I shuddered when I felt his cold fingers slip underneath my blouse, skin on skin.

It was hard to think straight when Yunho was all over me, when his fingers explored and his mouth quivered with quiet sighs, his presence overbearing and insistent. It chased away the ever-present cold that settled into my bones, replacing it with a small flicker of something that made me hate myself. I couldn’t trust him, not after he so unashamedly tried to kill me, yet he was the only one who knew me. Yunho was the only person in this whole world who saw the real me, who saw past my coldness and walls I built to protect myself, he was the only one willing to stick around despite how off-putting I was. And it hurt, it burned, it consumed my thoughts in the dead of the night when a night terror awoke me, when all I could do was yearn for a body to hold, for soft words to be whispered into my ears, for lips that healed instead of ruined, for a touch that put me back together instead of breaking me further apart. And I wanted to take and take, to consume until nothing was left of him, until he couldn’t offer me anything more of himself because I had already taken all.

I felt tears streaming down my face when Yunho’s fingers gently traced my spine, driving my fingers to grip his cardigan harder, muscles cramping, but too afraid to let go. His hot breath fanned over my cheek as he lowered his head and I felt his insistent chocolate brown eyes on me, neither full of pity or regret, just understanding and yearning. Much without thinking, but because I didn’t want him to see me at my weakest, I turned my head further into his neck until my lips brushed against his flushed skin, making him shudder. And because my lips yearned just as much as the rest of my body, I let them explore his soft skin, gently pressing them against Yunho’s neck as he gasped quietly. His fingers tangled into my hair when I raised my head slightly, placing another kiss higher on his neck, and he was still gentle, he didn’t yank on the long strands despite being able to. My breath fanned against his hot skin as I let my mouth open, peppering his skin with gentle kisses until I reached his jaw, teeth nipping at the sharp bone. Yunho’s body was trembling and his head was angled lower, his breaths audible as he breathed through his nose.

The familiarity of his embrace was dizzying, the churning of my stomach nothing new as I detached myself from his warm soft skin, pulling my head back until I could stare into his eyes. They were darker, pupils bigger, and his lips looked slightly swollen like he had been biting the bottom one. Yunho’s full cheeks were flushed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed when he gulped, his eyes searching my face as his fingers untangled from my hair and instead gently traced my jaw, holding onto my chin as he tilted my head further up. My eyes fluttered for a second when our lips were angled perfectly against each other, Yunho’s breath fanning over my mouth making me shudder. Releasing my tight hold on his cardigan, I cupped his cheeks, almost keening as I pressed up on my tiptoes, my eyebrows furrowing as our noses pressed together, slowly nuzzling against each other. Yunho gulped again as his lips parted for his tongue to poke out, wetting the red flesh, and I blinked, dread settling deep in my stomach.

When Yunho leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss against my forehead, my body froze, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribcage. Something was wrong, the numbness was back, the pain, the terror. I couldn’t breathe anymore, Yunho’s musky cologne irking my nose as I could feel an oncoming sneeze, and I gasped when his lips tenderly kissed down the slope of my nose, making my fingers dig into his cheeks painfully. I was scared, I was scared because all of a sudden I realized I had something to lose. I have always had something to lose, even when President Snow thought he had taken everything and everyone away from me, he forgot about one person.

He forgot about Jeong Yunho.

As if his touch burned, I pushed him away, watching as confusion and hurt flashed in Yunho’s eyes upon my rude rejection. I could feel myself trembling, Yunho’s addicting warmth disappearing with him, making me shake my head as I felt my bottom lip tremble, “Get out.”

My voice was hoarse and filled with pain, and Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed as thunder cracked loudly in the distance, making me jump. It had become darker outside, way too dark for anyone to step out, but Yunho’s house was the one opposite mine. The wolves couldn’t have him, even if they wanted to. With a lasting stare, his eyes searching my face for a hint of whatever he had seen just seconds ago, Yunho sighed deeply, hanging his head low.

“Try to rest, please.” He muttered before he turned on his heels, and marched out of the living room, the door slamming shut louder than any thunder that’s ever shaken the house's foundation. Coated in darkness and loneliness, nobody witness of the sobs that wracked my body, I crumbled to the floor, curling in on myself as tears blinded me, making my muscles hurt as I gasped for air.

Everyone would suffer again, innocent and rebels alike.

The floodlights of the open-air stadium were blinding and the air was relatively warmer compared to the constant rainy mood back in District 7. There was a breeze in the air, a whisper of unease and death brushing against our ears as every tribute seemed tense, but tried to hide it with wide and pleased smiles. Neither one of us was happy to be back and we would try to do something to change it, not that President Snow cared. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as the two horses pulling our chariot neighed loudly, ruffling their manes. My left hand was clutching the railing tightly for balance and to root me into the present moment, my right hand clammy against another warm palm. Yunho’s fingers were long and bony, his palm big and calloused, and somehow always cold. My skin crawled when our fingers had intertwined, a flicker of yearning awakening in my chest, but I was quick to drown it in the permeating numbness. I couldn’t feel anything for anyone, not now—especially not now.

The crowd only seemed to roar louder, probably enjoying the show, when all victors joined hands with their respective tribute partners. To us, to the ones who would have to risk their lives again, it wasn’t just a show, it was a last attempt to show that we stood here, together, unwilling to become jesters for the Capitol. But they wouldn’t understand, they never did. The districts, however, could see us and they would understand that we were united even if President Snow tried to tear us apart. We wouldn’t give up, not today and not tomorrow, never again. His tyranny had run on for too long, and his fragile reign was now threatened by the presence of the Mockingjay. The whispers of a riot in the districts had only gotten louder, more persistent, not just simple rumour anymore. The Peacekeepers had been more on edge ever since the 74th Hunger Games, under close surveillance by their comrades at the Capitol.

The chariot was finally taking us back beneath the stadium, away from the eyes of the Capitol and the cameras. My heart was racing against my chest, my veins filled with adrenaline, but dread as well, as every tribute returned backstage, our chariots coming to slow stops as Avoxes came forward to tend to the horses. My grip had been so tight against the railing that my fingers ached when I finally let go, all too aware of Yunho’s firm grip on my hand. With my jaw clenched, I turned my head to look at him, surprised to find him with an impassive expression on his face, lips downturned, and his eyes shaking. Yunho was always smiling, no matter the circumstances. I gulped and flexed my fingers, trying to pry them away, but Yunho didn’t want to release his own grip yet. It made me huff as I turned my body to face him, feeling anger lick at my skin.

“Let go.” I hissed lowly, mindful of the people around us who could overhear us. Nobody could know that I’d rather gut Yunho than be on his side, to everyone around us, we seemed like the perfect mentor pair, him being a sunshine and me the broody one. Nobody knew that behind cameras I would ignore Yunho’s existence, turn down his attempts at a conversation, and lock myself in my room whenever he’d come looking for me with another far-fetched excuse just to speak to me.

When he still hadn’t made a move, fed up, I yanked my hand out of his and leaned close enough for my breath to hit his cheek, my eyebrows deeply furrowed, “Get your shit together, Yunho. And stay away, everything is for show. I hope you haven’t forgotten—”

“How could I?” His chuckle was sarcastic, jaw clenched when he faced me, and for a second I froze, my eyes widening. It wasn’t even the sudden proximity that threw me off, it was the animosity on his face and the small snare on his lips, “You remind me each year of the same old things, you sound like President Snow at times.”

Appalled that he’d compare me to that man, I huffed and gripped the skirt of my dress, lifting it above my ankles as I stepped off the chariot, storming off. I was headed for the elevator so that I could return to our flat, and in my angry strut, I failed to notice a familiar face race after me. My heels were loud as I walked with purpose, glaring at anyone who blocked my path, and I didn’t greet back anyone as I knew they’d want to speak to me. I wasn’t here to mingle, I was here because Snow forced us to play another one of his games, and I was here to win. Before I could be-line it for the open elevator doors, fingers wrapped around my bicep and halted me, making me release a frustrated sigh as I whirled around intending to tell the person off, only for the words to freeze in my throat. The man holding me back wasn’t just anyone, it was Finnick Odair. And for the first time in a while, I felt my body fill with joy as my face relaxed, lips spreading into a wide smile, “Finnick!”

He chuckled as my arms flew around his neck, pulling his body into mine with little care if it was too aggressive or not, Finnick could take it. His torso was exposed due to his stylist’s poor taste, but it didn’t bother me as Finnick was warm and smelled of the sea and somehow the rain too. He felt like family, in his arms I knew I was safe, no matter what. It was funny, really, how easy it was to trust him, to let my walls down around him and just feel everything. I didn’t have to hide my fears when it came to Finnick, I didn’t have to hide my pain and struggles, because he knew. Finnick knew everything and he was often there to pick up the pieces when nobody else was. He understood and he knew what I needed because he needed the same thing. When in the Capitol, forced to be Snow’s muppets, Finnick was my pillar and I was his, the glimmer of light in the darkness, the embrace of a warm body that demanded nothing in exchange, just simple companionship and a shoulder to cry on.

“I thought I’d get a punch for touching you,” Finnick’s honey-like voice was teasing as he hugged me back just as affectionately, “I’m glad I was spared of a right hook, I’d look horrible for our interviews.”

I chuckled, mouth hurting from smiling so widely, “Even with a black, you’d still look dashing, Finnick.”

“Oh, my,” Finnick chuckled again, his arms loosening around my torso, but I was reluctant to let go. It felt nice to be in the arms of someone I trusted, loved even. It’s been too long since my mind could be at ease in anyone’s presence, in someone’s warm and loving hold. Finnick was like the older brother I had lost, always eager to help me out, and there whenever the burden of living alone got too hard. Living in different districts, the distance made it hard to cope with his absence at times, but at least I had one thing to look forward to whenever I was forced to visit the Capitol. I knew Finnick would be here, and I knew he would be just as excited to see me, “I fear my stylist wants to keep me naked for the interviews.”

I grimaced as I definitely didn’t want the mental image of a naked Finnick in my head, and finally let my arms fall from his body, stepping back to leave distance between our bodies, but not too far back. I enjoyed Finnick’s warmth, it felt like I was around the sun, “You should switch him with someone who doesn’t view you as just a pretty piece of meat to put on display. Wooyoung would be more than happy to design your clothes, he’s literally in love with you. He never stops gushing about your looks and body proportions whenever he sees you, it’s gotten sickening actually.”

“Wooyoung is spoiled and Snow loves objectifying me, so he’d never allow it.” Snow loved objectifying Finnick and me too, but thankfully, no matter how spoiled, my stylist, Wooyoung was, he’d never make me wear anything revealing or uncomfortable. He enjoyed working with raw materials, more specifically with tree bark as he claimed it let him explore creative ideas. With the disappearance of Choi San last year, the most sought-after stylist in the Capitol, Jung Wooyoung was the next hot topic. He certainly enjoyed the limelight, glad that San was finally gone and he could have his spot. The two had always been rivals, trying to claim The Best Stylist title, at least based on Wooyoung’s claims. You couldn’t fully believe whatever he said, he loved to spice things up just for the fun of it and spread rumours like wildfire. He was worse than the grannies back in District 7.

“Snow can go and die in his sorry excuse of a mansion, Finnick, at this point, he can’t do shit to me.” I hissed through my teeth, sharp eyes surveying the place as it was buzzing with jittery tributes, stylists and Avoxes, everyone doing their own thing. Most tributes were mingling before they would retreat to their own flats, and I averted my eyes out of fear that he’d come over when I saw Wooyoung storming towards Yunho, probably, you never knew with his sudden mood changes.

“Careful,” Finnick muttered, lips pulled into a sly grin, “the walls have ears everywhere here, darling, we can’t give Snow free material to hang over our heads.”

“As if he can’t just do that without having an actual reason.” I rolled my eyes and Finnick hummed as he grabbed a sugar cube out of the little pouch he had on his waist, turning around as he searched for his and Mags’ chariot. He smiled when his eyes fell on the old lady, and he nodded with his head for me to follow him. I fell in step with him as Finnick and I walked back to his chariot, and he fed the horses with sugar cubes before he popped one in his mouth. I smiled softly when Mags finally noticed me, her face always gentle and understanding. I bowed my head and kissed her on the cheeks, a lump forming in my throat when she pulled me in her arms with a tight squeeze, reminding me of a motherly hug. Anytime I saw Mags, I’d miss my family just a little bit more. She was a reminder that I’d never get to see my mother grow old, my father, nor my siblings. It was painful, but I gulped before more emotions could surface and cleared my throat, looking back at Finnick who was gazing somewhere behind me.

I scoffed, turning my head to look where Yunho and Mingi stood, catching their gazes as Mingi flinched and quickly looked down at the ground, but Yunho held my gaze, jaw clenched and eyes slightly narrowed. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to them, grabbing Finnick’s bicep as I leaned closer to him, “I wish we could switch tributes—no offence Mags, but I don’t think I’ll be able to not kill him before the Games can even start.”

Mags snickered and shook her head at me as her stylist approached us, giving the old lady an exasperated look before she guided Mags away, making Finnick wave at her as I bowed my head slightly, “He can’t be that bad, honestly, I never understood why you hate him so much. He’s a genuinely nice guy, I bet he’d even sacrifice himself for you—”

“Enough, Finnick.” I snapped as my jaw clenched, emotions twisting in my chest at the mere prospect of Yunho jumping in front of me to take an arrow or a throwing knife to the heart. Yunho might’ve been genuine and loving in other’s eyes, but I knew who he was. He wouldn’t save me, jump in front of an arrow or a throwing knife, no, he’d send me poison disguised as bread just to take me out, his own tribute.

“Right, sorry,” Finnick mumbled as he grabbed another sugar cube, eyes falling on someone to my left. His smile turned into a sly one as he nudged my arm, pointing towards a tall girl with dark braided hair and a gorgeous black costume. She was the girl on fire, the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen, “Wanna go say hi? We should show her we mean no harm before she decides we are her enemy.”

“But we are her enemy, Finnick,” I mumbled but followed the man, making him wink at me with a knowing look on his face. If we put it that way, Katniss wasn’t our only enemy, we were each other’s enemies too, it was only natural when it came to the Games. No previous friendships mattered once we stepped inside the Arena and the canon went off, signalling the start of the Games. I remained standing behind Finnick as Katniss’ attention was on us, her hand slowly petting the horse.

“Do you want a sugar cube?” Finnick asked with his honey-like voice even warmer now, grinning charmingly. Katniss’ eyes narrowed as they glanced briefly at me before she focused on Finnick again, jaw clenching. She completely ignored Finnick’s hand, which was extended towards her and held a sugar cube in his palm.

“No.” She deadpanned and I snorted, masking it with a gulp when Finnick threw me a displeased look. It was hilarious each time a female turned Finnick’s advances down, it didn’t happen often and that’s exactly why I enjoyed it even more.

“Well, girl on fire, you certainly dress to impress.”

“As always.” I couldn’t help but mutter as Katniss and Mingi’s clothes had caught on fire before the parade was over, the roars of the people were so loud that they managed to make my ears ring. Katniss and Finnick ignored my comment and I let my eyes study the girl’s face more, she was way too young to be here. I was an adult, most of us were, but she was sixteen, just a child.

“Thanks, your costume is…lacking.” Katniss grimaced before she quickly averted her eyes from Finnick’s exposed chest and I chuckled again, surprised to hear her addressing me as well, “But yours looks nice—raw, almost.”

“It’s because it is raw, it’s real tree bark,” I explained as I let my fingers trace the corset, sturdy and protective around my torso. I extended my hand towards her, showing her that I meant no harm, just yet, “My name’s Im Y/N.”

“I know,” Katniss muttered as she shook my hand, her grip strong but not lasting, “I’m Katniss Everdeen.”

I hummed and nudged Finnick to suggest that he should introduce himself too, but he just popped the sugar cube in his mouth and smirked at Katniss, who looked clearly uncomfortable, “And he’s Finnick Odair, don’t let his cocky attitude make you feel uncomfortable. He’s just half the jerk he seems to be.”

Finnick scoffed and gave me a sharp look which I ignored as I studied Katniss’ face more, watching her fight a small smile off her lips as her eyes hardened instead, stance determined as she pulled her shoulders back, “Well, it’s not like I’m here to make friends.”

“Not friends, but maybe having a few people on your side wouldn’t help, girl on fire, not everyone is fond of you.” Finnick’s voice dropped as he took a step towards her, making her tense up. My jaw clenched and I averted my eyes because I knew he was right, “We are here because of you and the little stunt you pulled last year, Katniss. Don’t lower your guard.”

“Thanks for the advice, Finnick, but I don’t need it.” Katniss snapped, turning around to take off towards her mentor who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Finnick was about to say something, but I gripped his arm to stop him, my eyes meeting Haymitch’s blue ones. His eyebrows were furrowed as he took both Finnick and me in, a gaze filled with questions flashing over his face before he nodded at us in acknowledgement.

“Well, let’s get Mingi and then we can go.”

“Please, I can’t stay a second longer here.”

I watched as Haymitch and Katniss walked around us, making Finnick grimace as I turned my head to watch them walk towards Yunho, who was unsurprisingly beaming as he was surrounded by a few other tributes as well. Mingi, despite being just as tall as him, was hunched forward and hiding behind Yunho, his head lowered and jaw clenched. Song Mingi had stopped doing well after his Games, always so fidgety and scared of the world around him. But Yunho seemed determined to befriend him and he has never left Mingi’s side ever since his Victor’s Party. I couldn’t help but scowl at the two men before Finnick sighed loudly, grabbing my hand to grab my attention.

“There’ll be a bloodbath this year, Y/N, and I’m not going down so easily.” Finnick’s tone lowered and his eyes shook with conviction, and a flicker of anger, “Keep your ears and eyes open, study those around you, and stay close to the Mockingjay, you’ll know who’s your friend and foe then.”

With his cryptic words, he leaned forward to press a kiss against my cheek before he excused himself and headed for the elevator, his face tired as I watched him hug his torso when the female tributes from Districts 1 and 2 went and approached him like some hyenas, eyes filled with lust as they gazed upon him. People from Districts 1 and 2 were just as bad as those from the Capitol and I hated all of them. Sick of being surrounded by so many people I disliked, I grabbed the skirt of my heavy dress and raised it above my ankles as I stormed off towards one of the many elevators, waiting for one to open its doors as I ignored the insisted stares and whispers from the other tributes. Nobody really liked me, and I intended to keep it that way.

At least fewer feelings would be involved when I’d have to kill them, it wasn’t anything personal, after all.

The days seemed to blur together when I was at the Capitol, yet at the same time, it felt like no time had even passed at all. As a mentor, all I had to do was focus on guiding the child I was given, making them the strongest and smartest possible. I had to strategize with them and help them build up their confidence if they lacked it, and I had to build them a persona that was easily likeable and cherished by the Capitol. But for that to happen, it also required me to network, to become someone liked by the Capitol. If it wasn’t for Yunho, I was sure not many would’ve liked me. We balanced each other out, where he was too soft and forgiving, I was rigid and hardly able to let go of a grudge. Nobody would willingly become a person disliked by many, but I had long stopped caring about other’s expectations and thoughts. I lived for myself and I lived the way I wanted—as long as President Snow allowed me to, of course. Nothing was made out of sunshine and rainbows in Panem, and if you wanted to have something that was only yours, you’d have to work hard for it, and even then it wouldn’t be enough. It was sickening, really, when I realized that I was at a great disadvantage this year.

I wasn’t a mentor any more, I was a tribute, a person not many would root for. People in the Capitol had twisted and sick fantasies and enjoyed brutality, but if one’s character wasn’t likeable, they would turn a blind eye to their efforts to win them over with their skills. And this meant that there wouldn’t be many rooting for me or sending me gifts and the bare minimum of necessities. I had to play it smart, who I’d team up with, who I’d betray, who I’d trust and who I wouldn’t. I couldn’t let just anyone into my circle of allies, and thus, when people who had no idea what the Games were about tried to give me advice, it only naturally made my blood boil. My stylists, who otherwise were rather acceptable people despite being from the Capitol, had seemed to think they knew better who was good and wasn’t to have in your team. They thought just because they watched us through a screen each year they could give us advice. I have held my tongue the whole week, not wanting to create an even more tense environment. It was already enough that I fled the room whenever Yunho entered it and didn’t speak nor look at him even at the other’s futile attempts.

Tonight was no different as we sat at the big table filled with tasty food to the brim, loud chatter filling the vast dining room. Yunho was to my left, unfortunately, and his musky cologne seemed to be stronger tonight than any time else, making my nose itch as I fought another sneeze away. I raised my hand holding the fork and rubbed at my nose, trying to get rid of the constant itching, it was irritating. But what was even more irritating were Yunho’s futile attempts at grabbing my attention or trying to stir up a conversation with me, it wasn’t happening. We were headed inside the Arena in less than two days and I wasn’t about to frolic around with him. I managed to avoid him so far, I had to remain focused on my own strategy. I wasn’t dying in that Arena, if President Snow thought it would be smart to send victors back, I would make sure to give him a headache lasting for centuries. Did he want a parade? I would gladly create a scene for him.

“Ah, just look at it!” Momo exclaimed, her full attention on the TV’s screen as they were replaying images of yesterday night’s interviews. It didn’t go as planned, of course, it didn’t. Everyone was revolted for having to return inside the Arena, and in a last desperate attempt, we had tried to show our unity to the districts that even if Snow tried to turn us against each other, at the core, we fought together for a better tomorrow, for a better Panem. My lips twitched into a satisfied smirk when I watched ourselves on the screen holding hands, raising them high up in the air as Caesar Flickerman’s panicked voice cut through the microphone, and then the lights went out. Snow hated it, I knew he hated it, and the knowledge of that alone made my whole evening more enjoyable. That is, of course, until Momo’s big and gleaming eyes were focused back on us.

“You are so brave,” She said, lips quivering. Out of the team that worked with us to make us look good, Momo was the least likeable. She was the typical Capitol resident, entitled and sheltered, a bit dumb, and overall annoying, “I wouldn’t be able to stand there, you even held hands to share a last moment together. It’s beautiful.”

Wooyoung, always the little shit, snorted under his breath as he raised his fork and bit the meat off of it. Wooyoung wasn’t dumb, he was far from it, and he seemed to dislike most of the people surrounding him despite not being that different from them. He said nothing as Minghao hummed from across me, his features blank as always. He rarely spoke, but when he did, he’d either say something that would scar you for life or make you wish he never opened his mouth. He was merciless, with everyone.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” My voice was laced with sarcasm and Yunho stopped moving around for a second, I could feel his wide eyes on the side of my face. It was the first time I had spoken tonight, “Sending us to our imminent deaths? Yeah, there’s just something so romantic about it, don’t you think so?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table despite the amused smile on Minghao’s face, who took hold of his wine glass and tilted it in my direction as a silent toast. I wasn’t fond of him, unsurprisingly, but he seemed to be the only person besides Yunho and myself who was aware of all the horror the Capitol inflicted on the districts. He was quiet about it, but his mask sometimes slipped and I could see the hatred in his eyes, the rage boiling underneath his blood whenever Snow was shown on the screen, giving one of his lame speeches.

“Well,” Yeri, a person full of life and passion, tried to diffuse the palpable tension, “how did your evaluations go? What did you do? You never told us about it.”

“Yeah, you didn’t!” Wooyoung exclaimed with a full mouth, making Yeri grimace as she averted her eyes onto her plate. We didn’t have the time to tell them about it, not that I was in the mood to talk about how I had showcased my skills. I did it in a certainly memorable way, I was sure the Gamemakers weren’t satisfied with it, but I wasn’t here to please anyone. Yunho cleared his throat as he leaned forward to grab his cup of water, eyes falling on me briefly. I ignored him and took another bite of my dinner, the rich aromas never ceasing to amaze me. If there was just one good thing about the existence of the Capitol, it was their food.

As Yunho realized I wouldn’t speak up, he cleared his throat again and intertwined his fingers as he placed them on the table, “I did what I did all those years ago but made it more interesting, I suppose. I’m good with an axe, so…I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, really. That’s not my goal—”

“But, Yunho!” Momo’s exclamation cut Yunho off as her eyes grew wide, “You are supposed to impress them! What if they give you a bad score? That would be terrible.”

I snorted under my breath, rolling my eyes, “The Capitol giving a bad score to their golden boy? Yeah, sure, and I’m President Snow’s wife.”

“You’d kill yourself first before they’d even pronounce you as his wife.” Minghao’s reply came fast, cutting through the growing tension due to my blatant jar directed at Yunho. But, yes, Minghao was right. I’d rather kill myself than marry Snow, it was a stupid and absurd example, just like Momo’s stupid assumption.

“You’d be surprised to find out they aren’t as head over heels for me as you think, Y/N.” Yunho rarely snapped back, but as I glanced at him, I noticed his jaw clenching and unclenching. I couldn’t say that I was satisfied to see him triggered, but it certainly made me feel a little bit smug. Watching Yunho’s perfect mask crumble always satisfied me, it was proof of who he really was. It’s a pity not many were able to witness it.

“Maybe, but—” Wooyoung paused for no reason, just to be dramatic, as his twinkling eyes fell on me, “they certainly like you more than they like Y/N.”

“Say something new, Wooyoung.” I huffed and grabbed my own glass of orange juice, my stomach heavy from how much I had eaten. I had to enjoy full meals before going inside the Arena, I knew there I wouldn’t have the chance to eat much. I hated it.

“Since it seems like the cat finally returned your tongue, tell us about your evaluation.” Wooyoung grinned, lips ghosting over the edge of his wine glass. My jaw tensed as I leaned back in my chair, pushing the plate just slightly away from me as a way of letting everyone know I wasn’t eating anymore. The Avoxes lingering just around us noticed and quickly came closer, taking the plates and silverware away before they disappeared to the kitchen. I didn’t want to entertain those who sat at the table with me, but I knew I couldn’t just stand and go to my room, that would’ve been too rude, and I knew Minghao would very shamelessly drag me back. But just to prolong my moment of silence and peace of mind, knowing the reactions that would soon follow, I took a big gulp of the orange juice and made sure to savour it. Wooyoung scoffed as he rolled his eyes and Minghao, surprisingly, seemed rather interested as his eyebrows raised. Momo had her mouth hanging open as she sat on the edge of her chair and Yeri seemed nonchalant, but I knew she was just as curious as everyone else.

As for Yunho, his torso had turned to face me and his warm chocolate-like eyes were insistent, as if he was trying to penetrate my mind and read my every thought. Irritated, I held the glass in both hands and took a deep breath, “I destroyed the training room.”

The gasps that followed were satisfying, gratifying. I chuckled, staring at nothing in particular smugly, “I walked inside with my head held high, I introduced myself and then grabbed the tables first, pushing everything off of them just to flip them over. Then I went and turned everything I could over, hurling the weapons I could towards the Gamemakers, but sadly, there was a forcefield around them this time. And then, when I felt satisfied with my work, I told them to get fucked in the ass and left the room with a bright smile on my face.”

The mouths hanging open made me chuckle, which turned into quiet giggles as I stared down into my lap, feeling as if I had accomplished something big. This was the best way I could show defiance, and so I took the opportunity and rolled with it. I couldn’t have been prouder, but my joyful moment didn’t last for long when I felt a warm palm pressing against my left thigh. Before I could react, push the hand off or anything, long fingers grabbed onto my flesh through my pants and I gulped, my heartbeat spiking at the inappropriate touch. I whipped my head around, Yunho’s eyes boring into mine as his eyebrows were furrowed.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was deep, low, and scrutinizing. I scoffed but didn’t say anything as his grip only turned tighter, making goosebumps erupt under my sweater. Yunho didn’t look mad, but he didn’t look calm either, it was peculiar, I couldn’t read his expression.

“That’s…” Minghao took a deep breath, face suddenly lighting up in elation, “simply brilliant!”

“No, it isn’t.” Yunho snapped, his head turning around as he looked at Wooyoung, who looked concerned. It made my eyebrows furrow, but before I could speak up, Yeri beat me to it.

“You just put a target on your head, Y/N,” Her voice was hesitant as she glanced around the table, stare lingering on Wooyoung as if she was asking for permission to speak, “You know the President isn’t fond of you, you shouldn’t have angered him further. These Games, they—they are happening to take you down, the strongest, the ones who had proven they were strong enough to fight a battle lest it happens, you should play it smart, Y/N, not make a fool out of yourself.”

My eyebrows raised as I chuckled, unamused, leaning forward to look at Yeri better, “Really? I’m a fool now? You think I want to be here, again?! You think I want to go back inside that fucking Arena and kill those people? To relive all the repressed memories and emotions? Fuck off, Yeri, when all you’ve known is a lavished lifestyle without death constantly looming over your head.”

“Watch your language.” Wooyoung was rarely serious, but when his fox-like eyes narrowed and his lips twitched, he looked scary. He could be scary when he wanted to be, perhaps that is why he laughed so often and tried to always look mischievous, “Yeri is right, stop being so fucking proud that you can’t admit when you’ve just made a mistake. If your score is low the people won’t even bat an eyelash your way, considering there’s someone who likes you.”

“I don’t give a shit who likes me and who doesn’t, Wooyoung.” I scoffed, my thigh burning where Yunho’s fingers gripped it. It was becoming too hot in the dining room, Yunho’s strong cologne was making my head dizzy and I could feel my lungs tightening up. I didn’t want to stay here, I didn’t like being put on the spot, and I didn’t like it when people treated me for less than I was.

“Well, you should.” Wooyoung said, tone cold, “Because your life depends on your sponsors and your allies, you stupid girl.”

Before I could snap back at Wooyoung, Momo, who had been surprisingly quiet, chirped up, “Speaking of that, who are you taking as your allies? I was thinking Enobaria, from District 2, and—”

“Mingi.” Yunho’s tone was determined, eyes hardened as he looked at everyone sitting at the table, his gaze slipping onto mine, “I’m not leaving him alone, he’s coming with us.”

“With us?” I muttered under my breath and flinched when Yunho’s fingers felt like they were digging through my pants, “I’m with Finnick and Mags, I don’t care what you do and who you go off with.”

“You’re a team.” Minghao said, his lips pursed, “You two have to stick together, it’s what everyone else will do too, it’s only logical.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I fired rapidly, eyebrows raising.

“I just told you to stop being fucking arrogant, Y/N.” Wooyoung hissed, slamming his fist onto the table and making me flinch as my heart started thumping faster, “You’d be suicidal to not form a team with Yunho, he’s amongst the last ones the other tributes will go for. He’s strong and you know he’s got your back, you can’t go frolicking with Finnick and Mags, what if they turn on you?”

“They won’t,” I said through a clenched jaw and having had enough of Yunho’s touch, I gripped his wrist and ignored the looks we got. My nails dug into his skin painfully, but he wasn’t budging, it made my blood boil, “Finnick is like my brother, he won’t turn on me.”

“Mingi is like my brother too, I’m not leaving him alone—”

“So, are you saying you want us to team up with the Mockingjay?” I whipped my head around, eyes bleeding into Yunho’s, “You want to put a target on our heads right from the get-go? Everyone hates her guts, everyone will want to kill her first. I’m not teaming up with Mingi and Katniss, Yunho—”

“It wasn’t a question,” Yunho snapped, suddenly flipping his palm up as he grabbed my wrist instead and yanked me towards himself. I gasped as I felt forward, gripping the edge of the chair with my right hand, heart racing against my chest, “Mingi is coming with us, and wherever he goes, Katniss goes too. And you’re coming with us too, whether you like it or not. I don’t care if Finnick and Mags join us, I know they won’t turn against us until there’s just us left behind.”

I scoffed and yanked my wrist out of his hold, snarling at him, “You won’t tell me what to do, I’m not going to be in a team with you. Yet better, get out of my fucking way when that canon goes off because you will be the first person I’ll kill, Yunho.”

My words stung, they were honest but I hadn’t meant them like that. I hadn’t realized their weight until it was too late and I couldn’t take them back anymore. I tried to gulp but my throat was tight, cheeks burning from both anger and the sudden regret and embarrassment I felt. For the first time, I didn’t feel satisfaction as I watched Yunho’s face fall, a very clearly pained expression crossing his face. His eyebrows furrowed as if he didn’t understand why I would say something like that, but his eyes filled with tears and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore. It didn’t help that everyone was staring at me with wide-open mouths, just as shocked as Yunho by my words. When I heard Momo starting to sob, I knew I couldn’t sit there anymore. I stood abruptly, pushing my chair back forcefully as I took off towards my room, breaking out into a sprint when I felt my bottom lip shake, tears flooding my eyes.

Why was I on the verge of breaking down? Why did my own words hurt me when they were the truth, when they were supposed to let Yunho know that I didn’t want him around? Not here, not home, and certainly not in the Games. I couldn’t trust him, he’d tried to kill me once before, and he wasn’t even in the Arena with me, what would guarantee that he wouldn’t do it again? And now it would be so much easier done, I couldn’t trust him. In my desperate daze to get back to my room, I didn’t hear the quick footsteps chasing after me, and I gasped when my door was slammed open before it could even close. I knew who it was even before I turned around, and my hands balled into fists, throat tight as I tried to gulp again.

“Why are you like this?”

“Get out.”

We spoke over each other, Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion while mine in irritation, “Get out, Yunho, get out!”

“I’m not going fucking anywhere until you tell me how I wronged you!” Yunho had never raised his voice before, it made me flinch as his chest fell and rose rapidly, his lips downturned. He was mad and confused, and he wasn’t budging as I tried to push him out of my room. No, instead, he gripped my biceps painfully hard and shook my body as if that would shake some sense into me, his eyes shaking as they bore into mine. I couldn’t breathe as my heart raced painfully hard in my chest, my face flushed from the adrenaline. I couldn’t even tell what was wrong with me anymore, I didn’t know if I was scared, mad, desperate, or just insane. But I knew that if Yunho continued looking at me with that hurt expression on his face, I would completely break, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not when we were so close to going inside the Games where I had to be focused and committed to the thought that only I was making it back.

“You should think back on your actions, Yunho, it’s very easy actually.” I chuckled, trying to feign nonchalance, but I knew I was failing by how shaky my voice sounded, “I don’t trust you.”

I gulped as Yunho’s painful grip softened on my biceps, his shaking eyes searching my face as I tried to gather my thoughts, to give him a rational answer, “You think you won’t turn on me when the timing comes?”

I was surprised by how dejected and sad I sounded. I chuckled, fed up even with myself as the silence stretched on between us, Yunho’s lack of an answer being the answer. He knew it and I knew it too, the alliances would last as long as there were still many of us alive in the Arena. After that? Everyone was on their own, everyone. Even those who loved each other would have no choice but to choose. Me or them. And the answer was clear, it always had been. Humans were selfish, we were desperate to survive, and it was obvious who we’d choose.

“But I don’t want to turn on you.” Yunho’s voice was just a whisper as suddenly his hands moved, tracing up to my shoulders as he stepped closer, making me inhale deeply. His musky scent was nauseating, but it was the only thing in this wrenched place that smelled like home, that reminded me of home, that felt like home. Yunho’s closeness was familiar despite my dislike for it, and I found myself gripping his sweater at his hips, tilting my head back to look at him better. Yunho’s eyes were coated with an emotion that ran deep in his bones, an emotion that was so clear it made me freeze. He didn’t hate me, not even when I had been nothing but horrible to him, it was so obvious he didn’t and that was dangerous. It was dangerous because I could feel my walls crumble as I closed the distance between us, pressing my body against his bigger and stronger one. Yunho’s jaw clenched as he gently cupped my jaw, licking his lips as his eyes shifted between my eyes and lips.

“We won’t have to turn against each other, Y/N.” He whispered, leaning down so close that our lips brushed together. I gasped, quietly, as my eyes widened, freezing in his hold as I didn’t expect him to make such a bold move. But there was something hidden in his gaze, which quickly darted over the room as if searching for something, his voice really low and deep as he spoke again, “This will be the last time, to us, to them, to the children. Whatever happens in that Arena, it will happen with the intention to fix what’s been broken for so many years, to bring about a new beginning. So we mustn’t forget who our true enemy is, Y/N.”

My mind was reeling as Yunho’s words sank in, heart beating in a frenzy as I couldn’t completely focus due to the mess I was feeling inside. I wanted to push him away, slap him, berate him, but I also wanted to grab his collar and seal our lips together, to devour him, to breathe him in, to feel his body against mine, to give in to the burn situated low in my stomach. I hated him, but I wanted him. Snow took everyone from me, but he left me with Yunho as if he knew I’d torture myself over it, hate him with moments of relapse where all I could do was want him. I shuddered when Yunho shifted his head, his soft and wet lips pressing against the corner of my mouth. I wanted to chase after it, I wanted to taste him, but he turned his head when I tried to finally close the small distance. My lips pressed against his jaw instead and I couldn’t stop myself as I pressed an open-mouth kiss against his hot skin, fingers digging into his sweater, settling on his narrow hips. I couldn’t control myself anymore, it was too much. And maybe I didn’t want to let my logical brain lead me, maybe I wanted to give in to my deepest, darkest, desires led by my heart.

“If we do this together, Yunho,” My voice was hoarse as I spoke, our eyes meeting again as Yunho faced me once again, “The second I realize you’ve lied to me, I will kill you. I will kill anyone because I’m not dying in that Arena.”

“You are not.” Yunho emphasised as he gulped, reaching a hand up as he pushed my hair back, tangling his long fingers into the smooth strands, “But we must protect the Mockingjay.”

“Why?” I hissed, eyebrows furrowed as I turned my head just slightly, pressing my cheek into his, for once, warm palm. Yunho smiled, letting his other hand drop from my jaw as he shrugged, eyes shaking as his face morphed into tiredness. He seemed tired, but not just due to today’s events, he was tired of everything.

“To be free.” My eyes fluttered closed when he leaned forward, pressing a lasting kiss against my forehead. It made my chest ache and my hands almost chased after him when he untangled himself from my body, leaving me alone and cold in the room that would be my bedroom for the last time. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew one thing.

I wasn’t dying in that Arena, and perhaps neither was Yunho.

Dread, so deep that it rattled your bones, was an emotion one could never get used to. I forgot what it truly meant to fear for your life, to do everything you could to keep yourself alive. President Snow wanted the utmost entertainment as Panem watched their most beloved victors fight for their lives, and he certainly got what he wanted. We didn’t have to run to the Cornucopia this year to get our weapons, no, the Cornucopia was where we stood the second the platforms raised us into the Arena. I couldn’t even focus on my chaotic heartbeat, eyes looking around for Finnick, only to spot Yunho instead straight across from me. He had given me a firm nod, and then his eyes fixed on something past me. When I turned to see what it was, I could see two axes lined up against the leg of a table. They were put there for us. I turned in my spot, muscles tight as the countdown began—may the odds be ever in your favour. Words I never thought I’d hear so vividly again, just through the screen of a TV while I watched my tributes fight until death.

And despite knowing what it meant to be in the Games and knowing it would be no easy feat to get away from the Cornucopia in one piece, it still shocked me how hard I had to fight to gain the upper hand. It seemed like Yunho and I weren’t the only ones yielding an axe, and thus, my first kill had been claimed right after the countdown, it didn’t surprise me. But there was no time for grief or hesitation, everyone was out there to get the other. I had to find my allies before someone could kill me, and upon seeing Finnick’s blonde hair disappear underwater, I knew I had to get away too. The Cornucopia was situated on an island in the middle of a lake, surrounded by lush green and dense pine trees. The breeze was chilly, the air humid. It felt like I was back in District 7 on an early autumn day when the days were starting to get shorter and the nights longer. The scenery felt familiar yet it made my skin crawl, I hated it here.

My ears still rang from the canons that had gone off right after the countdown, and my lungs burned when I resurfaced. The water was colder than I had expected and as I wasn’t an experimented swimmer, I struggled until I reached the shore, the axe I had to somehow carry to land also made my mission more difficult. As I gasped for air, water droplets obscuring my view, hand feeling around for my abandoned axe, I realized with great terror that something was actively sneaking around my ankles, slithering up my legs. In a frenzy, I decided to look back and I was mortified when I realized the weeds inside the water were moving up my leg, trying to yank me back inside the water. I tried to reach for my axe but it was out of reach, and just as I started trashing my legs around in hopes of making the weeds retract, I heard the sound of splashing water not too far from me. Then, the sharp edge of an axe came down and I gasped as I quickly flipped onto my back, my hand gripping the handle of my own axe as I was finally able to reach it.

Yunho’s suit was snug against his fit body, leaving very little to the imagination as it acted as a second skin. Our suits offered warmth but they were uncomfortable, the jacket that came with it only holding us back when we had to swim through the lake to reach the shore. Yunho was breathing hard as his eyes were pointed at me, and then he reached his hand out and I grabbed it without thinking much. I was hoisted up and I made sure no weed remained on my legs as Yunho hadn’t released my hand just yet, guiding us towards another tall person, who stood far away from the wet ground. My teeth clattered against each other as the lake’s coldness seemed to cling onto my every crevice, and I whipped my head left and right as I was trying to spot Finnick and Mags. I could see people rushing inside the trees at a distance, but neither had blonde hair like Finnick’s. Then, realizing that despite him being strong and capable of getting through the bloodbath, one of the canons that went off could’ve signalled his death.

My breath caught in my throat as I yanked my hand out of Yunho’s, making him pause as we finally reached Mingi, who was looking around himself nervously, bow and arrow clutched tightly in his hands. A hunting knife was strapped to his hips as well, and despite the always solemn look on his face, he seemed alert and present. But I couldn’t focus on Mingi or Yunho, all I could think about was the absence of Finnick, Mags, and even Katniss. Weren’t Mingi and her supposed to stick together no matter what?

“Where’s Katniss?” I found myself asking before I could think this through. I didn’t trust Mingi, hell, I didn’t even fully trust Yunho. I didn’t want to be with them, but Yunho’s long fingers found my arm again and he was suddenly walking off, dragging me after himself. I tried to stop, looking back at Mingi with a panicked expression on my face as he followed after us wordlessly, but neither one of them was saying anything. It only made my heart race faster, reminded me of the time when I was betrayed by my own district’s male tribute, flashbacks making my body shudder when Yunho just ignored me, fingernails digging through the fabric of my jacket as he led the way deeper inside the pine forest, “Stop—stop!”

I knew I was supposed to stay silent, but I was panicking, my mind was hazy and my lungs were heavy, I couldn’t continue like this. The Games had just started, I couldn’t freak out so early on, I needed to stay level-headed and in control of my thoughts and actions, “Yunho, I said fucking stop!”

“We can’t stop, Y/N!” He exclaimed, suddenly halting and making me run into his broad back. I gasped as my face collided with it and he whirled around, eyebrows furrowed, “We are too exposed right now, we have to keep going, the others are lurking around still.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Finnick, Yunho, I’ve already told you this—”

“I didn’t see Finnick anywhere,” I could barely speak before Yunho cut me off, as if he didn’t even care about what I had to say. The lump in my throat made it hard to swallow all of a sudden, “We can’t wait around for him, we have to keep moving for a while, at least. And if—he—he might’ve died already, Y/N, we can’t wait around for—”

“What about Katniss?” I hissed, turning my head around as I glared at Mingi, who looked tense and lowered his eyes when my glare burned into his shaken eyes, “Weren’t you two supposed to stay together?”

“We were, but I—she pushed me in the water to save me from a knife and I—” Mingi gulped, sharing a quick glance with Yunho. It made me look back at Yunho, feeling more suspicious than before. Something was wrong, they had to be lying. But why would they want us to separate from Finnick and Katniss? It made no sense, “I lost sight of her, I’m sorry. But she’s strong and she can swim, I know she made it out. The forest is like a second home to her, she’ll find her way back—I hope.”

“Hope,” I scoffed, shaking Yunho’s grip off as I held my axe even tighter, jaw clenching, “is not good enough here, Mingi. Are you sure you didn’t do this on purpose? Why did you want to separate me from Finnick—”

“Nobody wanted us to separate.” Yunho’s sharp tone cut me off and I gasped when I felt him cup my cheek and turn my head around, his chocolate brown eyes hard and glaring, “Things rarely go as planned inside the Games, Y/N, you know that, so we can’t just stand here and argue and draw even more attention onto us. We’ll search until we find them, okay?”

“I know you did this on purpose, Yunho.” I hissed, slapping his warm hand away, my jaw clenching as Yunho closed his eyes and released a long exhale, “I don’t know what sick and twisted game you’re playing at, but I will slit your—”

A twig snapping to our right made the rest of my words die in the back of my throat, making both Yunho and Mingi tense up as they whipped their heads towards where the sound had come from. My grip tightened around the handle of my axe until my joints ached, and I tilted my head, waiting and listening for another sound. It was minuscule, but it was there, someone was hiding behind the tree. It didn’t look like Mingi or Yunho had noticed, though, because Mingi turned his head and Yunho opened his mouth to say something, but I paid them no mind as I raised my arm and flung my axe towards the tree just as someone with a sword jumped around it. The sickening crack of bones was loud as the tribute gasped, flung back into the tree as the axe was lodged almost perfectly in the middle of his chest. Mingi gasped and seemed to freeze as Yunho gulped, his hand tightening around his own axe.

I threw him a glare before I went towards the tribute who was pinned against the tree by my axe, blood flowing out of his mouth as the life slowly slipped away from the man’s eyes. It was the male tribute from District 6, a man I didn’t know well but had heard talk shit about me behind my back. He was still alive but just barely hanging onto life, so without thinking, I grabbed the back of the axe and pushed it even deeper into the man’s chest, making him let out a gurgled groan. It only took three seconds for his head to drop and for the canon to go off. I scoffed and grabbed the back of the axe, yanking it out of his lifeless body as he crumbled to the ground, folding over itself as I wiped the blood on the back of his jacket, grinning to myself. I would’ve apologized if he would’ve deserved it, but a man who’d tried sexually assaulting me before did not deserve my mercy. Satisfied with my work, and slightly hopeful that the Capitol was thrilled by my kill, I turned with a grin on my lips. The feeling of victory didn’t last for long as I froze, taken aback by the sight in front of me.

Mingi’s whole body was shaking, his bow and arrow were on the ground and his head was hidden in the crook of Yunho’s neck, who held his friend close, muttering reassuring words into the younger’s ear. My jaw clenched, and suddenly the adrenaline rush crashed inside my body, bringing back the clattering of my teeth as my body was still way too cold. I wanted to think of Mingi as someone weak, as someone who had lost his mind already, as someone who had no place in the Hunger Games, an easy prey to whom death was certain. But deep down, in a hidden chamber of my heart, I felt sympathy for Mingi because all I wanted to do was crumble into a ball and sob until no emotion was left inside my chest. I was beyond frightened and all I wanted was to be held in Yunho’s warm and comforting arms, in the arms that felt like home. But I couldn’t, if I let my emotions take the lead, I would die and that was a luxury I couldn’t afford—not yet, at least.

“We need to move,” I spoke up, voice surprisingly gentle as I realized Mingi’s reaction had been triggered by my kill. I didn’t want to set him off more, it wouldn’t just be bad for him, it would set Yunho and me back too, I couldn’t have that happen, “We’re too close to the shore still.”

“Mingi,” Yunho’s voice was gentle as he pressed his nose against his best friend’s temple, rubbing his back up and down with both hands as his axe lay on the ground next to his leg, “It’s okay, we’re fine. Y/N took care of him, you’re safe with us. Let’s go, okay? We need to keep moving to avoid situations like this one, hm?”

I heard a sniff as I approached them, crouching down to fetch Mingi’s bow and arrow as he nodded his head, throwing his arms around Yunho’s neck as he gave him a tight squeeze. Yunho chuckled but returned the hug, a warm smile appearing on his face when the two separated. I gulped, feeling uncomfortable at their intimacy, at the ease they showed affection to each other. Even if my body and soul craved closeness to another human being, my mind wouldn’t let me bring the walls built around my heart down, I just couldn’t. It was too late now, softness didn’t get you anywhere in the Arena, only barbarity did.

“Here,” I muttered as Mingi faced me, his body still trembling when his eyes landed on his previously abandoned weapons. He gulped and very slowly reached forward, “I understand that it’s hard, Mingi, but if you let your trauma and fear consume you, you won’t get far in the Games.”

He nodded once and then grabbed his weapons out of my hands, staring at them with a ferocious glare. Yunho grabbed his axe too and then sighed, rubbing his face before he glanced around us, “Let’s head uphill, maybe we find something that we can use as a resource.”

I nodded, letting the two fall in step in front of me as I opted to look out for our backs, making sure we weren’t exposed on either side. My muscles hurt by how tense they were, and my ears were trained well to catch even the slightest shifts, the quietest of sounds. I knew how to survive situations worse than this, but I couldn’t let my guard down, the Games had barely started.

But if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I couldn’t trust Yunho or Mingi. Finnick was my only ally in these Games and I was going to find him, whether on my own or with the help of two tall men walking in front of me, I didn’t care. I was going home once this was over.

The first night in the Arena had been silent, uneventful. This was good only because we got a good night’s rest, otherwise, it meant the Gamemakers were planning something big. I couldn’t tell what, not yet at least, but the lightning striking a tree in the distance, far more uphill, managed to raise my suspicions. I couldn’t tell just yet what that was supposed to mean, but I had counted twelve strikes. I had been on the lookout when it happened, preferring to be the first to keep watch as the two men I was with slept soundly, huddled closely together. Before the artificial sun could set, we made a small bonfire to try to warm ourselves up, grilling a frog we had found by the creak. It got really cold by the nighttime, but I preferred my teeth clattering to cozying up with either Yunho or Mingi. I didn’t trust them, not in the least, and I had twirled the hunting knife between my fingers as I watched them sleep, so unassumingly, so easy to kill. But I wouldn’t do it just yet, not until I have found Finnick and we’d figure something out together. The Arena was big and I knew we had little chance of finding each other, but for once in my life I could only pray the odds would be in my favor.

Morning came fast and once we refreshed ourselves by the creak, which was surprisingly lukewarm, we took off once again, headed more uphill. We were looking for a good hiding spot, something we could treat as our base, but we were also just keen on exploring the Arena. It felt like the pine forest was endless, and to someone who didn’t grow up in a District that was surrounded by forests, it must’ve felt like an endless maze of trees that looked the same no matter which way you looked. But to Yunho and I it was rather easy to navigate through its density, the scenery was never the same to us. The occasional fallen log, the change of the bush type, or even the way birds flew overhead were a good tale-tell sign of where we were. Mingi seemed to be at ease too, moving around as if the forest was his second home. I knew District 12 was just by the forest, but I had no idea they could go inside it too. Maybe Mingi was hiding things about himself even towards Yunho, it wouldn’t surprise me.

As the day had dragged on and the temperatures rose once again, our stomachs churned loudly as we were getting tired from endlessly climbing uphill, the pathway slippery due to the small rocks we had to walk on. Yunho had exchanged spots with Mingi, and I was keen on remaining at the back as we trekked around some more trees, avoiding bushes that looked like something was wrong with them. We had only stopped when the sound of a drone caught our attention, the beeping of it high-pitched and loud as if it were a child’s toy. It was headed towards us, more specifically towards Yunho, and it looked like a box—a big box when Yunho caught it, his eyebrows furrowed. We had stopped then and once Yunho had opened it up, our mouths started watering. Someone from the Capitol had sent us breakfast and left us a letter telling us to feast on it as they’d send us some more tomorrow morning as well. Yunho, the ever-lovely person he was, faced a camera and thanked the sender with a bright smile and some sweet words, Mingi and I could barely contain ourselves from ravishing the bagels, cheese, grapes, and slices that looked and tasted like ham.

Once our bellies were full, we were off again hoping to find a cave as we had followed the stream until it started disappearing into an unknown direction. Mingi was at the front of the group leading us, his bow and arrow gripped in his hands as we had finally spotted a cave up-front, right by the pathway. He seemed excited upon our finding and quickened his pace, making Yunho and I run after him as Yunho glanced back to throw me an excited smile. I didn’t react as I fixed my grip on my axe, ready to face other tributes if they were hiding inside the cave that we’d claim as ours soon. But it was dark and silent inside as we reached its opening and Mingi halted, looking back at Yunho and I.

“I’ll go check, wait here.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Yunho muttered, his eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s fine, I won’t go in deep,” Mingi reassured him and then stalked inside, his bow and arrow drawn in case he was forced to use it. With a gulp, I settled back on my heels and looked around, trying to evade Yunho’s burning gaze. He didn’t say anything, but he continued to stare as I tried harder and harder to ignore him. My heart was slowly starting to thump faster in my chest, and I could feel myself starting to sweat from still wearing my jacket over the body-tight suit. Just as Yunho opened his mouth to say something, Mingi’s shriek made us tense up and share a concerned glance, and then Yunho was off before I could even tell him to wait.

“Mingi!” He screamed, running inside the cave with his axe raised. I remained in my spot, my breaths audible as I whipped my head around, looking out for anyone who could be prowling on us. My heartbeat was deafening as I tried to tune in to the sounds of the forest, but the pounding feet coming from inside the cave caught my attention rapidly, and I couldn’t even make out what was happening as Yunho and Mingi’s panicked faces came into view, Yunho’s hand gripping my arm hard as he yanked me after himself, sprinting downhill all of a sudden.

“Run!” Mingi screamed as he took the lead once again, his bow around his shoulder and arrow in its holster, my heart started pounding faster as I twisted my head around, trying to make out what we were running from. Going downhill was certainly easier than uphill, but the small rocky path was tricky as it was slippery and made it harder for us to flee safely. If it weren’t for Yunho’s relenting grip on my bicep, I was sure I would’ve tumbled to the ground already.

“What are we running from?!” I asked as my lungs heaved for air, Yunho and I jumped over a fallen log as Mingi was well in front of us, not looking back even once.

“Snakes!” Yunho screamed, and I felt my whole body shudder, fear gripping my insides. I wasn’t afraid of snakes, but I was afraid of whatever mutants these were, certain to kill us. I gulped and twisted my head around again to try and see the reptilians, which turned out to be my downfall— quite literally.

“Yunho, come on!” I heard Mingi scream before my feet got caught in the vines that slithered across the forest floor and I gasped as my feet were cut from underneath me, Yunho’s grip disappearing as he continued to run while I rolled to the side, curling into myself to try and protect my head as I hit the side of a boulder. I groaned, my back numb as it caught most of my fall, and my axe was somewhere on the ground. I tried to look for it, getting on my knees as I heard the slithering snakes getting closer, their hisses menacing. My heart felt like it was in my throat as I could hear my pulse clearly and loudly in my ears, looking up as the fallen leaves rattled not too far from me.

“Yunho?!” I heard Mingi’s raw voice call out in the distance, laced with panic, “What are you—no!”

I could see my axe from here, a colourful snake was twisting around its handle, hissing as its eyes fell on me. I gritted my teeth and fumbled around for my hunting knife, unlatching it from around my thigh as I gripped it in my hand, staring the snake down. The only problem was that it wasn’t just one snake that was coming after us, it was multiple, a dozen, thousands even as the otherwise silent forest was filled with their hissing. My mouth parted as my breathing got heavier, and my eyes widened when I felt something crawling up my left calf. It only took me one second to realize a snake had gotten to me without me noticing its approach, and an involuntary shriek escaped my mouth as I tried to kick it off. I tried to stay as calm as possible and fight with a level head, but the dread gripping at my insides, whispering that I was going to die, made me panic as I tried to stab the snake, but it dodged my knife each time as if it was intelligent enough to do so.

“Yunho!” Mingi’s desperate shout almost felt like it shook the ground, and I hissed at the snake as another one got too close, trying to stab that one too. It was hard to accept the fact that I would die such a pathetic death, but I bet the Capitol would love it. They were always entertained by whatever the Gamemakers had prepared for us, and I felt my lips tremble as a pathetic whine left my lips when the snake’s body got tighter around my leg, opening its mouth in a menacing snarl. But the pain spreading from of its poison never came as Yunho suddenly appeared from around the trees, slicing snakes in half as he stepped hard on others, his eyes finding mine. He looked terrified once he noticed the snake around my leg, and without consideration for his life, he leapt forward and grabbed the snake with his bare hand, yanking it so hard that it tore its body in two. The snake hissed, but before it could try to do more harm, it was decapitated by Yunho’s axe, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Fuck, come on!” He snapped, and it helped me quench my terror as I scrambled onto my feet, almost tripping again but this time due to nothing. My whole body was shaking as Yunho’s fingers intertwined with mine, his palm calloused and sweaty as he was breathing hard.

“Yunho?!” Mingi sounded on the verge of hysteria as Yunho and I ran towards the pathway again, and I retrieved my axe quickly, stomping on a snake vengefully before we sprinted down the rocky pathway again. This time I made sure to not glance back even though the snakes were right by our feet, trying to bite at our calves, and Achilles tendon, some even trying to jump and latch onto our torsos.

“Keep running, Mingi!” Yunho screamed back as we could see him now since we were closer to him. He was standing with his bow and arrow drawn back, hands visibly shaking and his eyes red. But once he had spotted us, he took off again, going off the pathway and jumping over bushes.

“Where are we going?!” I panted out, swinging at a snake as it tried jumping at my body from the right side.

“I have no idea,” Yunho answered breathlessly but veered us off the pathway, following Mingi’s lead. Even though he was well ahead of us, Yunho seemed to constantly know his friend’s location, and which way we needed to go to catch up with him. And it seemed like Mingi had stopped running once we reached the small clearing, his calves soaked in the creak.

“Get in!” He was beckoning us over frantically, marching over to the side of the creak when we were finally close enough, and then he grabbed Yunho’s axe and yanked us aggressively inside the water. Yunho slipped and fell to his knees, his axe remaining in Mingi’s grip as Yunho panted, head hanging low. My legs threatened to give out too but I was mostly confused as I looked at Mingi, and then back at the approaching snakes.

“Why did we stop?!” I asked, fear coating my voice, “We’re going to die, I can’t—”

“The snakes won’t come into the water,” Mingi said, his jaw set tight as he looked at the approaching reptilians.

“How do you know?!” I gave him an incredulous look, my attention shifting onto Yunho when he rolled around, sitting on his bum despite getting his suit soaked once again.

“They aren’t water snakes, just—trust me.” Mingi’s deep tone was raw and tense as his eyes remained on the reptilians. I watched too, gripping my axe and ready to kill as many as needed, heart thundering in my chest. But just as one snake tried to get inside the water, it hissed out loudly and retreated, the others following suit. No snake got inside the water, it tried though, but it jumped back as if they were electrocuted by it. I felt all power leave my body as I crumbled to my knees, steadying myself on my hands as my stomach felt like turning upside down, about to empty its contents. Our pants were loud in the small clearing, the water flow calming despite the retreating hisses of the snakes. It was eery to hear them in the distance, and my body shuddered as I remembered it slithering up my leg.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered under my breath, looking up at Mingi and Yunho. Yunho was still sitting, his eyes staring out into nothing as Mingi had moved to sit on a rock, his plump lips swollen and his eyes filled with tears. It made my eyebrows furrow as I tried to calm my body and mind, but it was hard when dread seemed to have taken its residence inside my body, inside my mind. My jaw clenched as I shakily stood again, eyebrows furrowing, “How did you know?”

Mingi and Yunho looked at me, probably surprised by my feeble voice. I hated it, but I ignored it as my glare burned into Mingi’s face. His eyebrows furrowed, but he shrugged, “I guess I just—I’ve heard it somewhere? I just—it just felt like the right thing to do.”

“So, you didn’t know.” I huffed, closing my eyes as my body continued trembling from the lingering adrenaline in my system.

“Yeah, maybe—but we’re alive, we’re—fine.” Mingi’s voice got quiet as my eyes snapped open, fixating on him. I scoffed, snarling at him.

“We’re fine?” I questioned, feeling the heat rise into my cheeks due to anger, “We’re alive?”

“Yeah, we—”

“No,” I hissed, grabbing my axe tightly for stability, to ground myself, “I am alive because Yunho came back, because he saved me. What were you doing, huh, Mingi? Saving yourself, that’s what you were doing, I’ll tell you.”

Mingi gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced at Yunho briefly, “I was just…trying to find the creak. I knew you’d follow me, I—”

“So much for being a team, huh?” I chuckled but it was humourless, “Is this what you did with Katniss, too?”

Mingi froze, eyes slightly widening as a hurt expression crossed his face. I heard Yunho exhale sharply but I was focused on Mingi, my eyes narrowing as he continued avoiding eye contact. My heart was still racing but for different reasons now, I could hear the gears in my head turn, twisting my thoughts and whispering at me that I was right all along. Mingi and Yunho weren’t my allies, they were my enemies and they were trying to lure me further and further away from other possible tributes that could maybe help me if I needed it. I scoffed, feeling my skin burn underneath my suit.

“Tell me, Mingi, did Katniss really push you into the lake?” I raised my eyebrows, watching as the guy’s eyebrows furrowed some more, “Or did you jump in because you were planning on betraying her at some point, huh?”

“Y/N,” Yunho hissed, abruptly standing up, “stop talking to him like that, what are you even saying? Do you hear yourself right now? How delusional do you sound?”

I chuckled, turning around to face Yunho as Mingi remained unmoving, frozen, dark eyes staring into the water as his hands clenched and unclenched, “Really, now, Yunho? I am delusional? I didn’t even want to team up with you two, you forced me into an alliance with you and Mingi and look where it got us! We both could’ve died out there while Mingi ran for his life! Did you forget what he’s done to his allies in the past—”

“Shut up.” Mingi snapped, standing up from his rock, jaw clenched and eyes ablaze with anger. He was breathing hard and his height was intimidating, looming over my shorter build as he approached me rapidly, “You don’t know shit about why I did that, Y/N. They were going to kill me that night, I heard them talking about it. I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for it to happen!”

I paused, licking my lips as I shook my head in disbelief, “And do you think at some point Yunho and I won’t turn against you? Do you think we won’t try to kill you?”

“We won’t.” Yunho hissed as he came closer too, his cheeks flushed and his expression conveying the simmering rage he must’ve felt underneath his skin. Yunho was rarely angry, but when he was, his voice thundered and his eyes turned sharp, lips pulled back in a snarl that was both frightening and almost comical, “Because I didn’t come here to kill anyone. We are getting out alive, but we have to find the others first.”

My jaw clenched as I looked between the two, shaking my head as I felt disappointment lick at my insides, somehow disheartened by their naivety. We weren’t going home, not all of us would survive, why could they not understand that finally?

“Are you fucking making fun of me, right now?” I said, voice hard as I looked at Yunho, “What games are you two playing, huh?! You’re insane if you think I’ll stay here with the two of you for one more second—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Yunho hissed, stepping so close I had to crane my neck back to be able to look him in the eyes. My jaw clenched as I felt the axe slip from my fingers and I scoffed, raising my eyebrows tauntingly. The heavy weapon made a splashing sound once it collided with the water, and I could feel Mingi’s anxiety radiating off himself, his eyes watching us carefully, fingers curling around the edge of his hunting knife. I gulped, very aware that I was at a great disadvantage if the two decided to attack me right now, there were few chances I’d make it out alive. But even so, I would fight until my last breath, they couldn’t take me down that easily.

“Mingi is very clearly trying to kill me, why else would he separate me from Finnick? And the fact that you’re standing here and defending your good old buddy just proves to me that you are in on it too, Yunho. You didn’t even let me try and look for Finnick, you just dragged me away.” My heart was beating fast as my voice had started rising. Yunho looked a mixture of hurt and confused as his jaw clenched, not once looking away. I couldn’t see Mingi from my spot, but I could feel his gaze burn into the side of my head, “And the fact that he would’ve left me there for the snakes proves my point that he gives zero shit about me—and maybe about you too, Yunho, because he didn’t even think about coming to help you out. So maybe next time reconsider who your true friends are before making allegiances. If you want to kill me, come at me now.”

“Nobody is trying to kill you—” It was Mingi who spoke, sounding exasperated, “We are a team, I didn’t stop because I didn’t realize you two weren’t following me anymore. And when I finally did, I fucking turned back around and came running to help, but you had already figured it out! Do you think I wanted to separate from Katniss? The only person besides Yunho that I know and trust?! No, I didn’t fucking want to! She pushed me into the lake to save me and I freaking lost sight of her! Do you think I’m not trying to find her? Do you think I want to win these fucking Games again just to be tormented some more and more by Snow, by the memories and all the trauma?! I want to fucking die, Y/N, I hate my life and I hate myself. So killing you is the last thing on my mind, okay?!”

Something broke in my heart at how broken Mingi sounded, the way his tear-filled eyes just spilt down his cheeks, wetting them and making his eyes even redder. He was sniffing as he rubbed at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, looking hurt and betrayed. I gulped, feeling torn between my own thoughts. I wanted to trust them, I really did, but what if they were just trying to soften me up with sob stories? What if it was all a ploy to get me to trust them, only for them to kill me? I wouldn’t put it past Mingi, and neither Yunho, we were in the Hunger Games after all and it wasn’t about forming bonds and long-lasting relationships, it was about survival, it was about killing until the strongest one was last standing. I shook my head, chewing on my bottom lip as I averted my eyes, looking up at Yunho with conflict, but knowing that I had already made my decision. I couldn’t stay with them, not when I distrusted them so much.

“It makes no sense to turn against each other,” Yunho spoke softly despite the anger still displayed on his features. He gulped and licked his lips, wanting to touch my cheek but he must’ve seen something on my face because he dropped his hand last minute, “Y/N, please just think rationally for a second and trust us. I don’t—I could never harm you, I just—I want all of us to go home and—I don’t know, but don’t do this. We will find both Katniss and Finnick, that’s what I’m trying to do, okay? But it’s hard tracking them down in this forest, we—”

“I’m not going with you anymore.” I cut Yunho’s rambling off, my jaw set tight as I released a sigh, stepping back to put distance between our bodies. Yunho and Mingi looked confused for a second, glancing at each other uncertainly, “And you have harmed me before, Yunho, but it seems like you wiped it all from your memory. It’s sweet really, I wish I could’ve too.”

Yunho’s mouth parted in shock, hand reached out but I raised mine, shaking my head, “I’ll find Finnick on my own, you two find Katniss and play besties with her, I guess. Just don’t—don’t cross my path because I won’t spare you, I can promise you that.”

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and he tried to reach for me again but Mingi held his shoulder, his jaw set tight. I grabbed my axe out of the water and took a deep breath, looking at the two for a long second before turning my back to them and rushing away from the creak, down the pathway we had explored earlier today. My jaw was tight and my muscles tense as I kept walking and walking, mind spinning as I concentrated hard to catch even the slightest shift around myself.

I had to put distance between myself and the other two, otherwise it wouldn’t be safe.

Three days had passed since I left Yunho and Mingi behind. I had no success finding Finnick thus far and being alone in the Arena was getting to me. I couldn’t sleep as nobody had my back while I did so, hunting was slightly harder as it took more time than with others to help, and I also had to be constantly on the lookout for the traps the Gamemakers would send my way. I was struggling, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel more relaxed on my own than I did with Yunho and Mingi by my side. I couldn’t trust them and it was driving me crazy. Yunho was supposed to be the last one to keep watch but he had accidentally fallen asleep, leaving us defenceless. He was incompetent and I could put my life into the hands of a person who couldn’t as much as stay awake to make sure no one killed us in our sleep. Alone, without anyone to keep watch, I couldn’t exactly sleep, but I had fallen into a light slumber more than once. Climbing the trees to shelter myself from others for the night seemed like a reasonable thing to do, having learned it from Katniss as she had done the same last year in her Games.

The small fire I managed to conjure up by the spot I had claimed as my campsite was small and it crackled as I had waited for the frog to grill so that I could have dinner. Walking away from Yunho and Mingi also meant no support from the Capitol, and I wasn’t surprised when nobody sent me any gifts, not even a soothing balm after I had accidentally fallen into poison ivy. My skin was itchy and I tried to stop myself from scratching it raw, but it was hard when I had nothing to do but stay attuned to the sounds of the forests and watch out for anything that seemed misplaced. Yesterday, I was forced to kill two more tributes when they tried to take over my campsite, taunting me and laughing in my face, until I had decapitated the male tribute with just two swings. The two were the siblings from District 1, the Capitol’s most beloved victors after Finnick Odair, of course. It didn’t surprise me that nobody sent me gifts, given that I had just killed two people they seemed to really love. Without dwelling too much on what was already done, I continued searching for Finnick.

The forest felt huge and never-ending, and it felt like we were on different ends of Panem despite being enclosed inside a limited space. I was doing what I had been doing for the past three days when I suddenly heard leaves rustling behind me. I didn’t pause nor walk faster, I continued as if I hadn’t heard anything, trying to see if someone was following me—or something—or whether it was just the breeze that would blow through the Arena at times. I had opted not to go uphill anymore as I had a suspicion that Yunho and Mingi would continue searching for another cave to claim as theirs, unless it was infested with poisonous snakes once again. I gripped my axe tighter as I heard twigs snapping to my left, just behind some bushes. My steps halted and my head turned to look towards where the sound came from. I didn’t move, I didn’t breathe as my eyes bore into the trunk of a tree, narrowing when I saw something shift. I gulped and squared my shoulders back, ready to fight another tribute if needed. To be fair, I preferred the tributes over whatever mutants the Gamemakers had prepared for us, they were easier to kill and predictable, unlike the animals that shouldn’t even exist.

I took a step towards where the noise came from, but another twig snapped just behind me, making me whirl around. I couldn’t panic right now or else I’d lose my cool and make mistakes, which weren’t affordable here, especially since I was completely on my own. I gulped and narrowed my eyes, listening closely to the quietest of shifts, my eyes widening when I saw a head duck back behind the tree to my right. Was I surrounded? Who were these people? Did Yunho and Mingi find me? Did they have another ally to replace me?

I gulped, raising my axe to my chest as my jaw clenched, eyes trained on the tree where someone was hiding behind. But when I felt someone move past behind me, I was forced to whirl around and hurl my axe at—nothing. My heart was beating fast in my chest as my eyebrows furrowed, muscles tense as my axe fell to the forest floor, whoever passed behind me faster than my axe. I gulped and swiftly ran to get my axe, but paused just as my fingertips were about to reach it. Someone was breathing heavily to my right, behind a large tree, and with shaky fingers I grabbed the axe and stood up straight, pulling my arm back to swing it at whoever was taunting me.

“Come out!” I screamed, my jaw clenched as I firmly planted my feet on the ground. My chest fell and rose quickly as my eyes narrowed when I saw movement from behind the tree again.

“Y/N?” And just like that, I froze. My muscles didn’t turn more tense, instead, it felt like my whole body was a puddle as my mouth fell open, and my heart almost stopped in my chest, “I’m scared.”

I gasped loudly, my axe slipping from my grasp as my knees shook, mind reeling in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, she—my little sister was dead. But her fragile voice called out again, shaking with fear, and I didn’t think as I sprinted towards the tree, desperate to catch a glimpse of her. How was she here? Had President Snow tricked me into believing my family was dead? I had never seen their bodies, after all, only their headstones upon my arrival to District 7, and I felt like fainting the more I thought about them being alive all this time.

“Ye-Yena?” My voice cracked as my fingers trembled just as I was about to round the tree. But my little sister whispered again, from a different spot this time, and I turned towards her voice again, hurrying over, “Where are you, Yena, please come out!”

My voice was breathy as tears obscured my vision, and I was on the verge of hysteria as I tried to find her, but she was always in some other spot, “Yena!”

I was panting from both adrenaline and fear as I tried to grab after my sister when she dashed from behind another tree, crying out in frustration. But I froze when a tall frame materialized in front of me, eyes dark and sharp, a contrast to Yena’s soft features.

“Jaebom?” My older brother didn’t move nor say anything as we stared into each other’s eyes, the first tears spilling down my cheeks as I sprung forward helplessly, my arms circling his torso, which was cold to the touch, “Jaebom, what’s happening?!”

But he didn’t answer me as more tears streamed down my cheeks, fingers grabbing onto his t-shirt tightly, shaking his unmoving body when he remained unresponsive, “Jaebom!”

And then, I heard a sinister cackle come from behind Jaebom, eerily similar to Yena’s childlike giggles. I untangled myself from Jaebom and looked past his shoulders, eyes widening when I saw Yena twirl my axe around in her hands as if it were made out of plastic. Her face looked ashen as she smirked, pouting her lips at me mockingly as my eyes shook. Her expression looked nothing like my little sister's. I didn’t understand what was happening anymore. Why were my siblings here, and why were they acting unlike themselves?

“Look at you,” Yena’s voice wasn’t light anymore, instead it was an angry snarl, “Living your happy life, rubbing it in our faces right now. What are you crying for, huh? Are you crying because you have to kill people again, like you’ve killed us?”

“What?” I whispered in confusion, flinching when Jaebom suddenly grabbed my bicep, his touch hot and burning, “I don’t understand—”

“You never do,” Jaebom snapped, and I whined as he started gripping my bicep painfully, “You always thought you were better than all of us, look where that got you. You’re just a pathetic excuse of a human being, everyone is ashamed of you. Mom and dad think you should’ve died instead of us, and now, you will die!”

In my confusion, too focused on the ache in my heart, I almost missed the huge knife Jaebom grabbed out of his belt, aiming it towards my heart. I gasped and punched him in the jaw, jumping away from him, “What are you doing—”

“Die, bitch.” Yena hissed as she took off towards me, making me scream in fright when she tried to lodge my own axe into my body. I was panting as I realized my siblings were trying to kill me, and without wasting another second, I pushed Yena to the ground and took off in a sprint, running away mindlessly as I could hear them pursuing me. My heart was beating like crazy in my chest as my siblings made weird noises, they were almost howling, and they sounded like animals. I couldn’t look back, too afraid that I’d lose my footing again, so I was forced to blindly run from them, making sharp twists and turns in hopes of losing them. But my worst nightmare seemed to materialize in front of me, as suddenly, I started seeing my mother's and father’s faces from behind trees, peeking at me with sinister smiles on their faces, cackling loudly as Jaebom hurled his long knife at me. I was lucky enough to take a right turn as he did so, the knife lodging itself into a tree as I gasped, eyes filling with tears again.

“Why are you doing this?!” I screamed as something suddenly burned my arm, and as I looked to my right, I was horrified to see my mother running alongside me, her hand burning into my arm as she had a wicked smile on her lips, “Stop!”

“You’re coming with us this time, daughter.” It was my father who was suddenly standing by the creak, holding a sword in both of his hands as I tried to steer clear of his path, but my mother’s grip was unnaturally strong and she kept dragging me towards it. I screamed and trashed around, feeling suffocated as my mother continued to cackle, my father’s eyes filled with hatred as he angled his sword so that he could gut me alive. I was a sobbing mess as I struggled to free myself, trashing around, and even trying to punch my mother but nothing seemed to work. I could feel Jaebom looming over me from behind, the heel of my own axe pressing into my back as I cried harder, whimpering when Yena appeared next to my father, twirling a knife in her hands.

“Poor Y/N.” Her voice dropped low, almost as if it was a man talking, and it made me realize that whatever was happening right now wasn’t real. It was something created by the Arena, it wasn’t their ghosts nor their vengeful spirits here to take me away, and yet, I still couldn’t fight my mother’s grip off as I clawed at her hand, biting her cold flesh in hopes that she’d release me.

“Let me go!” I screamed again, twisting my body away when my father’s sword came dangerously close, Jaebom’s burning grip tight on my nape as he angled my body to be strung on the sword, “No!”

I didn’t want to die, not like this. I was shaking from head to toe as I tried one last time to get out of the grip of my mother and brother, but nothing was working as I felt the tip of the sword press against my belly. The four cackled loudly as my ears rang, and I gasped when the sword pressed deeper into my tummy, drawing blood, but all the external pain disappeared abruptly as I felt my body pushed to the side aggressively, wrenching me out of the tight grips of the mutants that posed as my family. I screamed again when I felt hands on my shoulders trying to turn me around, and I drew my fists back, the only thought in my mind being to harm anyone who touched me.

“Y/N!” Despite being so lost in my mind, I registered the familiar ring of the voice, the panic and fear in them as I threw the first punch, breathing hard and loudly as if I were a rabid dog. I wouldn’t fall victim to the Capitol, not like this, they couldn’t kill me by using mutants. I couldn’t give Snow the satisfaction, I had to fight until my last breath, until a tribute killed me. I couldn’t go like this, I wasn’t ready. I was scared. I was alone and nobody would be there with me when I took my last breath, nobody would reassure me that it would be okay, and nobody would smile at me for the last time. I would be alone, and that thought alone was scarier than the fact that I would be dying. So I didn’t stop as I screamed and punched blindly, my sight hazy and my mind a jumbled mess as someone continued calling out my name like a mantra, the sounds around me slowly registering inside my brain, “Y/N! Please, please, it’s us. Y/N, it’s Finnick.”

I gasped, my eyes widening as if I was seeing for the first time. My lungs burned, my muscles ached, and my heart was beating so fast I was having palpitations as suddenly I could see the person standing in front of me, his face pained as tears streaked down his rosy cheeks. He had me in a deathly grip, my biceps sore from it, but it wasn’t to harm me, it was to stop me from doing anything to myself or him, to the others, “Finnick?”

A beat of silence passed as I stared into chocolate-warm eyes, so utterly confused and pent. Then, an arrow wheezed past my head and I jumped with a gasp, wide eyes falling onto the body of my brother, no blood flowing out of his body as he crumbled to the ground. He looked lifeless as he turned into nothing and I felt my bottom lip starting to quiver as I looked back at the person holding me. I had no fight left in me as I attempted to push them off of me, but I was tackled to the ground before I could make another move. The wind was knocked from my lungs as my head thumped painfully, eyes hazy as a weight settled on top of my body, pinning my hips to the cold forest floor, hands above my head as long, cold, fingers intertwined with mine.

“It’s not real.” The man holding me down whispered, his voice shaky as he gulped, “They weren’t real, Y/N. But I am real, I’m here now.”

“Yun-Yunho?” I stuttered, my throat hoarse from having screamed so much. I felt a fresh wave of tears spring into my eyes as Yunho’s filled with tears too, and without thinking, I untangled our fingers and threw my arms around his neck, yanking him down into a tight hug, “Yunho.”

My whole body shook as sobs wracked it, tears wetting Yunho’s jacket’s collar as his warm body slowly melted into mine, offering me the warmth I had been craving so much all this time. His musky scent was comforting and felt like home as I buried my head into his neck, inhaling until my lungs burned and I had to exhale once again. Yunho was safe, he was the pillar I needed all this time unknowingly, he was the one to chase the darkness away and protect me from my own dark and twisted mind. I only cried harder when Yunho started shushing me, pressing kisses against my temple, rubbing my back once he sat back and brought me with himself, letting me settle in his lap as I clung to him. I had been terrified these past three days, scared for my own life, but also wondering whether Yunho had made it past another day every time the canon shattered the quietness of the Arena.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice raw as I gulped, hoping it would help, “Yunho, I’m—I—”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Yunho whispered, gently prying my tight grip off himself as he pushed me back to gaze into my eyes, “I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again, Y/N, I don’t care what you say—”

“Please don’t leave me, Yunho.” I gasped, words tumbling past my lips before I could stop them, “I can’t live without you, Yunho.”

I was vulnerable, I wasn’t in the right headspace, but I knew my confession was true. I had always suspected it, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. I was afraid President Snow would kill Yunho like he had killed my family. I didn’t want him around because I was scared to love again, to offer my heart to someone who could crush it so easily both with words and actions. Yunho knew me best and vice versa, I couldn’t live another day not knowing whether he was safe or not. I didn’t want him out of my sight ever again, I just couldn’t lose him too.

“I’m—” Yunho gulped, his voice deep as his eyes shook, jaw clenched tightly, “here.”

I released a shaky breath and leaned forward, pressing our foreheads together, feeling the safest in the past three days. The rustling of leaves made me tense up again and my head whipped around, eyes widening when I realized multiple people were watching us. I felt my cheeks heat up as I tried to scramble out of Yunho’s lap, but his fingers only tightened into the fabric of my jacket and he held my waist tightly, shaking his head at me when I gave him a sharp look. It seemed like he wouldn’t let go of me anytime soon, so I was forced to swallow my shame as I looked back at the other tributes, who seemed to be looking at me with pity. I ignored it, it made me feel weak.

“Those things are vile,” Mingi muttered, his jaw clenched, “But you should be fine the next time you see them if you ignore them.”

“And if you don’t, don’t let them grab you.” Katniss said, her tone harsh but features soft, “Kill them before they can.”

I nodded, eyes falling on the male tribute from District 3, Beetee. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes trained on the sky as he muttered something to himself, apparently unphased by the whole ordeal. However, when my eyes landed on the fourth person, my heart skipped a beat, and even if Yunho didn’t want to release me, I pried myself out of his arms and ran to Finnick, jumping into his arms as he laughed while twirling me around.

“Finnick.” I whispered into his neck as his laughter subsided into a chuckle, his smile bright as ever as I pulled back, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes, “I found you.”

“Technically, I found you.” Cheeky as ever, he winked before he pressed a wet kiss against my forehead, lowering me back onto the ground. Our fingers intertwined as I couldn’t help but beam at him, my heart still heavy due to everything that’s happened though, “I’m glad you’re fine.”

“Well, I’ve been better.” I muttered as Finnick and I chuckled, swinging around hands as I glanced around, eyebrows furrowing, “Where’s…Mags?”

Finnick’s expression fell and I knew as I felt tears flood my eyes once again. A shaky breath left his lips as I pressed on my tiptoes to pull him into a tight and warm hug, rubbing his back as he hugged me back just as tightly, “I’m sorry, Finnick.”

“She’s in a better place now,” Finnick whispered, sniffing when we pulled apart, his eyes trained on the ground. My jaw clenched but I knew I couldn’t do anything now, just carry the grief with myself and bury it deep down until the Games would be over. Katniss, looking like she wasn’t keen on all the affection, averted her eyes and looked around the forest, pointing towards the creak.

“We should probably set camp here after we have scoped the area out.” Mingi nodded as he went and helped Yunho stand, his eyes trained on Finnick and me. I gulped and only looked away, body tense. I didn’t want to talk to him, I had nothing else to say, not now. I couldn’t believe I had admitted something so personal, something that was supposed to be buried deep down in my heart and mind. I wasn’t ready to face the fact that without Yunho I would be nowhere right now.

“Let’s go.” Yunho sighed, taking the lead with Katniss as I remained glued to Finnick’s side, eager to catch up with him if it meant I could ignore Yunho and his burning stare. I was most certainly grateful that he had saved me, but he was still not someone I could fully trust. Maybe it was all a ploy, an act to earn my trust, only to backstab me later into the Games.

My only true ally was Finnick.

Something felt different, weird, almost. Beetee was a genius, everyone already knew that, and yet the way his mind works still amazed me. Apparently, the lightning that struck the largest tree in the Arena each time at midnight, could be used to our advantage. Beetee had the resources to create a sort of electrical fire that would leave the Gamemakers no choice but to rescue the remaining victors if they didn’t want the Capitol to riot for not having a victor for the 75th Hunger Games. President Snow wanted a year of epic games? Beetee was right here to deliver and I was more than willing to help him out. Everyone from our small group was in on his plan, and we were planning to strike tonight as everyone remained unassuming about our great plan. There was something else, however, that nobody was telling me about. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, The Mockingjay, seemed to be the nucleus of it all. She had to be protected at all costs and she was supposed to remain on Beetee’s side as long as someone who could fight remained with them. We had to look out for each other and remain close, but I didn’t fully understand why protecting Katniss seemed to be our most important mission.

Nobody tried clearing up my confusion, and when Finnick reassured me that everything would be alright and that he’d have my back no matter what, I decided to stop asking or wondering. Two days had passed since I joined the small group and things had been quiet—a bit too quiet. Nobody had died in the past two days and there was a simmering tension in the Arena, as if the Gamemakers knew we were about to ruin their so-called ‘perfect’ Games. There was nothing perfect about it, it was purely terrifying and torturous, a barbaric form of entertainment as this just proved that the Capitol didn’t see the people from the districts as human beings. That was nothing new, but being forced back into the Arena made me realize once again that I couldn’t let President Snow control me anymore, I was done playing his games.

I wanted the Capitol to burn, I wanted President Snow to die and suffer like so many of us had under his reign. He could’ve been a better president, a better person, but he chose violence, he chose to punish us for something that we, the ones born after the revolution, had nothing to do with. The cycle of life wasn’t always fair, the trauma parents carried with themselves would pass onto their children, who would carry it with them for generations—unless there was just one person who decided to put an end to it. To change, to prosper, to start a new cycle.

That new cycle started with us, with Katniss, Mingi, Yunho, Finnick, Beetee, and me, here, in the Arena, as a form of riot against the oppression we were forced to endure, the pain and grief buried deep in our souls. I have heard about the riots, people in District 7 were loud and proud about taking the Capitol down if given a chance, and it only took me two days to realize why it was only happening now. A spark had been sensed, turning into a catching fire that would reach us all, either burn us or help us return from the ashes as a new person, as a new nation. The pain and anguish would never be forgotten, instead celebrated and honoured in respect to those who have lost their lives to such atrocities. And we would all thank one girl, Katniss Everdeen, who unknowingly gave the nation the spark of hope they desperately needed. I had no idea whether I’d survive whatever was about to go down tonight, but I was sure of one thing, I wouldn’t regret it. Not now, not tomorrow. I was doing it for myself, for my siblings, for my parents, and for everyone else who has suffered as much, or more, than I have. If Panem had to burn, President Snow would burn with us.

The morning passed by in the blink of an eye as we went over our plan once again, assigning partners and positions. I was supposed to stay with Katniss and Beetee, close to Finnick who’d be watching Mingi from afar. Yunho, who refused to separate from me at first, was supposed to go with Mingi until a certain point, and then he’d have to secure the area, map it out and alert us if anything seemed amiss. He’d be the last one, the one furthest from me, and despite the unsettling feeling creeping deep in my guts, I ignored my anxiety and focused on my task at hand. I had to protect Katniss and Beetee if anything were to happen. I was strong and merciless, everyone knew I could handle myself, but if I needed help somehow, then Katniss would be there and even Mingi. They weren’t people I trusted, but something told me nobody in our small group was out there to kill me…not yet, at least, and I could live with that for the time being.

Knowing that we’d need to be at our best, Finnick, Katniss, and Yunho went out to hunt something for lunch so that our bellies would be full for the rest of the day. Because Yunho and Finnick were so liked by many, thankfully we were also provided with various canned foods from the Capitol, their fans were desperately sending in supplies, and letters too, confessing their love and dread that they might not return. It made me chuckle whenever one of them had to read the letters out loud, looking at a camera with a sad, but grateful, expression in order to keep up the façade. We really needed these provisions, they couldn’t ruin their A-game just now. Finnick had returned with plenty of fish from the lake, meanwhile, Katniss and Yunho had opted to hunt for wild ducks and frogs. The meat had been cooked by Mingi and me while Beetee revised the plan over and over again, asking us questions to make sure that we had memorized what we were supposed to do.

Once the food was done and everyone settled down for lunch, the tense air surrounding us seemed to dissipate as we silently ate our meal, relishing in the comradery that’s formed between us. Finnick was by my side as we sat leaning against a tree, sharing a loaf of bread he had gotten from a fan, as he preferred to eat the fish he caught while I continued to eat the frog Yunho had caught for us. Mingi, very surprisingly, had gotten a package filled with nutrients that we hadn’t even heard of before, and while we were wary of consuming them, Beetee reassured us that he knew what these were and that they were safe for consumption as they used the same nutrients in District 3. As my stomach was finally full and I finished eating everything I had claimed, I continued sitting next to Finnick, leaning against his body.

He was warm and smelled like the ocean despite having been away from it for so long, and I had always found solace in the silence that felt comfortable between us. Finnick knew when not to push someone, and I knew when to speak up to cut through the tranquillity, “Do you think we’ll survive this?”

“Yes,” Finnick’s voice was a mere whisper as he scoped up a good chunk of meat and handed it over to me, “I must, for Annie. She lost Mags, I can’t let her lose me too.”

I gulped, all too aware of Annie’s situation as I accepted the fish despite feeling full. It tasted salty almost, so very different from the frog meat, but I think I could get used to it after having it for more meals.

“I have no one to return to,” I muttered under my breath, bringing my knees up to my chest as I let my arms circle them. I gulped, looking down at the dirty ground as the sounds of the other’s conversing became background noise, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of dying, of being alone, of never having been enough.

“That’s simply not true.” Finnick’s voice sounded strained as I felt him shift, gorgeous blue eyes boring into the side of my head, “You have me, and if I make it out alive, I can’t lose you. You’re just as important to me as Annie is, as Mags was. I never had a little sister, but thanks to you I know what it means to have one.”

I chuckled, turning my head so my cheek pressed against my knees, eyes falling on the frown on Finnick’s face, “Technically, I’m older than you. But I understand you, you’re, well, you’ve always been like a brother to me. And I love you, Finnick, I hope you know that. I have no idea what the outcome of our plan will be, but if we both make it out alive, I want to visit District 4. I want to meet Annie and maybe—maybe I’d like living in a house next to yours, maybe I’d like to see the ocean for real and not just through pictures.”

Finnick’s features softened as he placed his palm over my cheek, warm and calloused, offering me much-needed assurance, “I’d love that, and Annie would too. She has always wanted to meet you, but President Snow never allowed it. Which is for the better, honestly, I would’ve hated the thought of Annie at the Capitol. I fear I would’ve done something unforgivable.”

I hummed and nodded as Finnick’s warm palm fell from my face, his head turning as he gazed ahead. He sniffed and then cleared his throat, glancing at me for a brief moment, “But you’re not alone, Y/N. Even if I’m not there, you’re never alone. He’s—Yunho is always there, even when you don’t see it, Y/N. I think—I think you should let him in, he’s not a bad man.”

I gulped, stomach dropping at the mention of Yunho, and I sighed as I sat up straight again, jaw clenching when I averted my eyes from Finnick’s. Just to my luck, however, I spotted Yunho sitting not too far from us. Mingi was sharpening the axe for him as Yunho’s chocolate brown eyes were fixed on Finnick and me, his eyebrows deeply set and his jaw tense. I gulped and then averted my eyes once again, shaking my head with a huff, “He doesn’t know me, not the real me, at least. He only wants the good and pretty, he only sees those qualities in people. Once the perfect image is shattered, he’ll be gone, he’ll abandon me. I don’t want him to lodge himself into my heart when I know just how quickly you can lose someone.”

“You’re scared of loving him,” Finnick’s tone was full of compassion as I felt him look at me, Yunho’s gaze still burning into the side of my head as I gazed off into the distance, feeling nervous all of a sudden, “And you’re drowning in guilt and unspoken questions and feelings, Y/N. I know you don’t trust him, but you already love him, you just refuse to acknowledge the fact, and it’s doing you no good, trust me. I’m afraid too that I’ll lose Annie, I’m terrified of Snow snatching her away from me, but if I refuse to love and live the life I want, then that would mean I am letting Snow dictate my everything, it would mean that I am robbing myself of the pleasures of life. And you know Yunho would never do anything that you are uncomfortable with, no, he’d bring down the stars for you if he could, Y/N. Stop being foolish and—”

“Excuse me.” My body grew rigid as Yunho’s stern voice interrupted Finnick’s heartfelt speech, “Do you mind if I talk to Y/N?”

“Not at all.” Finnick’s smile was friendly as he nudged me, making me clench my jaw as I glanced at Yunho. He stood in front of me, looking down at me with a glare, rather standoffish for a person who was always smiling, happy and oh-so bright. I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, talk if you—”

“In private.” Yunho snapped, and before I could react, his firm grip around my bicep was pulling me up to my feet, not even letting me argue as I was tugged away from our camp, but not too far so that we’d be in hearing range if anything were to happen to either them or to us. I pulled my arm out of his grip and glared at him, feeling nervous for no reason as Yunho continued to glare back at me. It was unusual, out of character for him.

To say that I was stunned was understandable. My face fell in shock and my mouth hung open as Yunho became erratic, his expression a mixture of frustration and helplessness as his eyes shook, his hands curled into fists. I gulped, letting his words settle so that I could answer, but I felt utterly speechless. How was I supposed to respond to something that felt like a confession but a complete scolding as well?

“You don’t understand me like Finnick does,” I gulped, licking my lips as Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, “And you never will, Yunho, because you were never forced to sell your body unwillingly to men that only saw you as a piece of meat. Physical closeness, intimacy—it scares me because I’ve only suffered from it. I’ve never felt the loving touch of a man, no loving words were ever uttered to me, and I was told more often than not that I didn’t deserve love, that I was too rough and scary, too intimidating and manly for a man to love me despite being beautiful. Finnick, he knows what it feels like to be used, to do things you don’t want to out of fear of losing someone. And even if this wasn’t the issue, Yunho, how could I trust you when you’ve tried to kill me?”

“What?” Yunho seemed shaken, his voice breathy as he reached out just to let his hand drop before he could grip my wrist, “What are you talking about—I have never tried to kill you, why would I—”

“Seriously?” I snapped, sudden anger flaring deep in my bones, “You’re still going to act clueless when I call you out on it? Think, Yunho, think for one second for fucks sake! You were supposed to be my mentor, the person that looks out for me, that protects me and helps me win these fucking Games, yet you send in food that’s poisoned?!”

Yunho looked like he had no idea what I was talking about and I scoffed, stepping closer to him as my jaw clenched, “District 6, the female tribute, I was cornered three days before my Games came to an end, and I was hungry. You sent me a package but I couldn’t reach it and it landed between the tributes that were hounding me. The girl decided to eat what was sent for me—she died in four minutes, Yunho.”

And just then, recognition finally flashed in Yunho’s eyes, but it didn’t last for long as suddenly he seemed to look desperate, grabbing my wrists as he shook his head, “It wasn’t food, it was never food, Y/N. If you had seen the small letter, you would’ve known it was poison from the get-go. It said, ‘sweet like honey’, and you know what we use that for in District 7, you would’ve known. I was trying to help you, I knew you’d survive, I was never trying to kill, why would I—I’m in love with you, Y/N. I wasn’t back then yet, but I-I knew I couldn’t watch you die in that Arena.”

My mind was reeling. I gulped, suddenly feeling my lungs constrict as Yunho’s grip felt like it was burning my wrists. I pried them away and took a step back, gulping as my hands started shaking. I have been living in a lie this whole time. I have made myself believe that Yunho was the enemy, that Yunho wanted me gone. I took a shaky breath and gulped again, watching as sadness spread over Yunho’s features like wildfire. His features softened as I felt my heart ache more, disbelief written all over my face. Why had I been so stupid? Why did I let Snow make me believe anything he said?

Why was I so afraid to lose Yunho?

Nightfall came sooner than before. The tension was back and I felt sick to my stomach. Something felt wrong the longer we trekked, the closer we came to the tree. Everyone was silent, focused on our surroundings and making sure we weren’t being followed by any other tributes. But something was very wrong and I just couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore as I released a shaky breath, my eyes settling on Yunho who was walking in front of me with Mingi by his side, huddled closely together as they conversed quietly. Finnick’s pinkie was laced with mine as he swung our hands between our bodies, I ignored his playful smile when he pretended to stumble on a rock. I needed to speak to Yunho, nothing made sense anymore. I haven’t said anything since he told me he never tried killing me, and Yunho was keen on offering me space as he remained by Mingi’s side, occasionally giving me a soft smile if he noticed me looking his way.

Bothered by the incessant tension in my body, the gut feeling that something would go very wrong, I marched forward and grabbed Yunho’s wrist, making him halt in surprise. Finnick glanced at us as he passed by us and then grabbed Mingi’s shoulder when he stopped to wait for us, whispering something to the taller one before Mingi walked with Finnick again. My heart was thundering in my chest as I gulped, my eyes boring into Yunho’s as it was dark in the arena, yet his chocolate brown eyes were unmistakable.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asked with a gentle tone, letting his axe drop to the ground as he stepped closer, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“No.” I gulped, tone shaky as I glanced past Yunho, at the others who hadn’t noticed our absence yet, “Something is wrong, Yunho, I don’t have a good feeling about this. What—what if we die? Yet worse, what if the Capitol captures us and we—we never see each other again? Yunho, I—I don’t want to do this. Let’s find another way, let’s run away, let’s—”

“Y/N.” Yunho's smile was gentle as he stepped even closer, cupping my cheek with his big palm, leaning slightly down, “We can’t run away, and it’s completely normal to be scared of the unknown. I’m nervous too, but remember, we are doing this to make a statement, to show them that they can’t mess with us anymore. If Katniss manages to pull this off, we’ll be free. We’ll go home and we…we’ll see what happens next, okay?”

No, he didn’t understand. We wouldn’t go home, something just didn’t feel right. It was too dangerous, too risky, what were the odds our plan would be successful when there were other tributes still in the Arena with us?

“It just doesn’t feel right.”

“But we’re doing the right thing.”

I exhaled, jaw tense as I looked up into Yunho’s eyes, stepping closer until our chests were almost brushing together, “Then don’t let them separate us.”

“What?” Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, his gulp audible as his fingers flexed around my wrist. I released a shaky breath and licked my lips, hesitant to touch Yunho, but I managed to grab the side of his neck, his skin soft and warm to the touch.

“Yunho, I’m asking you to stay by my side no matter what happens.” My tone was firm as he gulped, his eyes searching my face, “I can’t—I’ve been afraid, all this fucking time unknowingly, of losing you. And when we are so close to being free, of exploring whatever could be between us, I—I’m scared that Snow will find a way to snatch you away from me, so please, don’t let go of me. Don’t let me out of your sight, don’t walk away, I know I’m a horrible person, but I’m asking you to hold on just a little more and—”

“Y/N.” Yunho’s sharp tone cut my rambling off, and I gulped, on the verge of tears as I realized just how afraid I was. He didn’t say anything else as our eyes bore into each other’s, he just gulped, jaw clenched and then, he started leaning down, closer and closer, until—our lips touched.

And I don’t think I have felt euphoria like this one in my whole life before. The sounds around us seemed to become mute as my legs felt weak, my body melting into Yunho’s as I didn’t waste any more seconds and pressed up on my tiptoes, circling my arms around his shoulders to pull him incredibly close. Yunho’s lips were warm and soft despite our circumstances and I felt a shudder rake my body when his hand slowly slipped into my hair, holding the back of my head firmly as we parted for a second. His other hand grabbed my waist and as my eyes opened, I realized I wanted this. I wanted Yunho to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me. I wanted to be in his embrace and I wanted to feel his scent on me, I wanted his warmth to envelope my body, and I wanted him to shield me from this cruel world forever. Words that were heavy threatened to tumble past my lips, so instead, I closed the gap again and this time I made sure my intentions weren’t questionable, or hesitant, but full of passion and unspoken words.

Yunho was intense in everything he did, he laughed with his whole body, and he loved with his whole heart, whenever he did something, he put his all into it and his kiss was no different. His lips were demanding as they moved against mine, a little bit frantic as we were pressed by time, and even more desperate when I let my lips part for him, a silent request for him to deepen the kiss. I wanted him to know that I desired him, that it was completely fine to touch me and enjoy our actions. Yunho whimpered as he took my bottom lip between his teeth, and I felt warmth crawl all over my body, settling in my cheeks as my whole face felt like it was burning up. I had never enjoyed a kiss before in my life, but I prayed this would never end. When Yunho’s tongue finally slipped past my lips and reached my own tongue, I wished there was something to support my weight, to ground me into reality as I lost all senses, body and mind alive in a way I had never experienced before. It was careful, but it was intense and demanding, yet I didn’t feel pressured nor disgusted as saliva pooled in the corner of my mouth, fingers tangling into Yunho’s hair at his nape.

As his tongue played with mine and Yunho’s loud puffs of air hit my face, I moaned, unable to keep the sound down when I felt his fingers digging through my tight suit, fingernails leaving dents in my body. I wanted him to mark me up, I wanted him to show the whole Capitol that I was his, that no trashy man could ever again touch me, that President Snow couldn’t do to us anything anymore because we’d always have each other’s backs. I wanted Yunho’s mouth on mine for an eternity, never growing tired of him and his passionate kisses. Our noses bumped together when I tilted my head slightly more, giving Yunho more access as my heart thundered in my chest, so powerful that I could hear it in my ears. It was consuming, Yunho’s love was scary as it swallowed me whole, but I was greedy and I needed more. I had been a fool, such a fool, to deny us this feeling, this moment, this experience. It was too late to go further, even if I threw all dignity away, I knew we couldn’t, but I hoped it wasn’t too late for us. For us to have this in the future, to love and to be loved.

I gasped as we parted again. Yunho was loudly panting as his eyebrows furrowed, cupping my cheeks with both hands as his fingers dug into my skin painfully. A shuddered breath left my lips as I blinked my eyes open, gulping as I copied him, holding his cheeks tenderly as Yunho’s bottom lip quivered, nuzzling his cheek against my hold. He looked at peace, but the furrow of his eyebrows told me that he wasn’t satisfied, that he was bothered by something. In a hopeless attempt to offer him just a fraction of the comfort he’d given me throughout the years, I pressed a kiss to each eye, then to his nose, and a swift peck to his lips. It made Yunho smile as his eyes opened, shining in the dark affectionately as I felt a lump in my throat. It was scary to allow him in, but I was done hiding, I was done fearing the unknown.

“When we’re out of here,” Yunho gulped, determined as his eyes melted into mine, “I’m going to marry you.”

I would’ve gasped if I could’ve, but I was too stunned to even react as he kissed me again before we heard Mingi call out our names. We didn’t have time for this right now, but we’d have plenty in the future. I wasn’t ready to marry Yunho just yet, but with time, I was sure I’d be able to fully trust him, to give my all to him.

“Just don’t let me go,” I whispered as Yunho very reluctantly released me, our hands finding each other as our fingers intertwined, a motion I was used to but found something new in it now. It wasn’t just for show, it wasn’t just to show me that I had someone next to me, it was to seal our promise and tell me that Yunho wasn’t going anywhere.

Beetee’s plan failed. Someone had sabotaged us, the wire had been cut, and the lightning wouldn’t bring the Arena down. We were stuck here, forced to kill each other, forced to choose between two people I loved and myself. Katniss looked frantic from my spot, I was watching her from the bush just as planned. Electricity was gathering in the air, tension filling the Arena as the lightning prepared to strike. Katniss was too close to the tree, hell, even I was too close to it, but Katniss was in danger right now and she wasn’t moving away. I could hear rustling coming from behind but it was supposed to be Finnick, I wasn’t worried about it. Just as the sky became lighter, energy crackling above our heads, Katniss did something I never thought anyone would do. She grabbed the wire and tied it to her arrow, standing up strong and tall as she pulled it back, her eyes set on the lightning that was just about to strike her. As I was about to shout her name and tackle her to save her from her insane plan, it was too late. The lightning struck as the arrow shot straight at it, the wire frying off and sizzling as a deafening boom shook the arena.

The blast was so strong that I couldn’t react before the explosion sent me flying feet away from my initial spot, my back cracking when I hit a tree. My spine tingled in pain as I fell to the ground, groaning and wheezing for air as my body trembled from the shock of the hit, panic rising in my disoriented state. I couldn’t hear as my ears were ringing, and my vision was so hazy it made me sick and unable to stand as I tried to find my footing, instantly tumbling back to the ground. Then, something even worse happened. The darkness of the Arena was slowly disappearing as the sky cracked and tore into heavy metal pieces that were plummeting straight at us. I knew I was in danger, and I knew both Yunho and Finnick were too. I pushed myself up and ignored the aching of my body as I heaved for air again, crawling on my fours towards where I knew Finnick was at. But I didn’t get any far when I was tackled back onto the ground, Mingi’s blurry face appearing above me. I panicked, trying to find my axe, but I was so powerless that it was easy for him to get on top of me and press a hand against my mouth as I tried to scream for help. His forehead was bloody and the top of his suit torn, jacket long lost somewhere in the Arena. His bow and arrow were missing and were replaced with a knife he held menacingly.

I gasped against his sweaty palm when I felt a sharp pain in my lower arm, close to my veins, somewhere close to where the tracker had been injected. I screamed against Mingi’s palm when the knife was twisted into my skin, feeling warm blood trickle down to my wrist and hands, a burning feeling spreading up my arm, to my shoulders. And then, as fast as he came, Mingi was gone, running off into the distance as my body convulsed, shaking even more as I turned onto my back, pieces of the Arena’s roof shaking the ground as they fell around the forest. I was petrified, I was disoriented and my throat wouldn’t work as I tried to call for Yunho, frantically getting up to my feet to look for him. I stumbled into every possible tree and almost slipped on the weeds as I went downhill, searching for the one man who’s always been there for me. I couldn’t abandon him, not now, not ever. But when I finally found him, it wasn’t the way I hoped to be.

Yunho lay on the ground, unmoving and sickly pale as blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, coating the collar of his jacket and suit a deep red. I could faintly hear myself call out his name again and again, feet carrying me over quickly, only to tumble to the ground and bruise my body more, but at least Yunho seemed to stir awake. His eyebrows were furrowed as his eyes opened and he clutched at his chest with a pained expression. I scrambled to get to him, but the ground shook and my legs were so weak I couldn’t stand again. I felt tears in my eyes and dread grip my heart as Yunho turned onto his side, coughing and spitting up some more blood.

“Yunho!” A scream so shrill my ears rang left my lips, and he finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone as his eyes snapped up, rounding when he noticed me. I couldn’t hear him as I tried to drag myself over, feeling nauseous and on the verge of passing out, but it looked like he was saying something, like he was calling out to me. And then, the ground shook another time and I lunged myself forward as the light in Yunho’s eyes dimmed, his hand extended towards me as I fell not far from him, reaching out desperately towards him. Our fingers touched as dark spots started coating my vision and I gasped for air, fighting against the urge to give in to the darkness, waiting to aid Yunho, but I couldn’t. As blinding light flooded the whole Arena, the roof completely caving in, all I could do was mutter a prayer to see Yunho once I woke up again. If I’d wake up.

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#[🐶] mina's recs #man your stories are my favorite things to read ari #you never stop amazing me #btw you'll pay for that ending-#both with what you create and the ideas you come up with #okay ive yapped a lot-#ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #ateez

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luvrrszn · 2 days ago

Text

home is wherever you are

JAKE "HANGMAN" SERESIN x FEM READER

summary running into your ex leads to second thoughts and second chances

warnings angst, fluff, erm idk swearing ??

a/n guys...i miss my ex...it's taking ALL my self control rn to not text him and ask if we can run it back...

masterlist

You'd long since convinced yourself that the past was just that—past. The months that followed the breakup with Jake Seresin had forced you to move forward, to stop replaying the same arguments in your head, to stop wondering if things might have gone differently. You’d started rebuilding your life, finding comfort in new routines, new faces. But then there he was.

Jake Seresin.

Not just any wedding guest—his presence feels like a cruel reminder of everything you thought you’d moved on from. His cocky smile hasn’t changed, but there’s something about the way he looks at you now that stops your heart for a moment. The hunger in his eyes is familiar, but the uncertainty and hesitation are foreign and somewhat heartbreaking.

You knew he would be there, you just didn't think it would be this painful seeing him.

You still remembered the night you broke up, clear as day.

—

You've been sitting in silence for the past fifteen minutes, the weight of your thoughts weighing heavy on your chest. Jake leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here, and you hate him a little for it.

"I don't think you understand what I'm saying. You're never here. I barely see you." You finally break the silence, voice dripping with exasperation and exhaustion.

"Well, I'm here now." Jake's bored expression causes your anger to bubble over.

"Yeah, but you're never fully present. Even now, when we're arguing! You're always 'too busy' for anything that matters, and I've been more than understanding! Is that how you truly see me? Something that you can put off until you finish doing whatever you deem is more important?"

His expression hardens, jaw tensing. He grits out, "You knew what I was when we started this. You knew what being with me meant."

"I didn't think being with you would mean always being the second fucking choice. If I'd known, we wouldn't be in this situation right now." You retort harshly.

Eventually, your expression softens. But you're not caving. You say, "I can't do this anymore, Jake. I can't keep waiting around until you're ready for more. Maybe when you're ready, we can try again. I'll come for my things tomorrow."

His eyes search your face for any indication that this is just a cruel prank you're playing on him. You're not actually breaking up with him—right?

You stand up, grabbing your keys on the way out. He follows you like a lost puppy as you walk down the hallway and put on your coat and shoes. He watches as you leave, a numb ache in his chest as he sees the front door close behind you.

—

You push the memories of that night out of your head.

There's no use dwelling in the past, you tell yourself.

But damn, did he look good in that suit, hair tousled, sporting his signature cocky grin. You force yourself to look away, but not before he catches you staring.

Through the corner of your eye, you see Bradley and Jake make their way over to you. You beam at Bradley, saying, "Hi, Roos. Long time no see."

Jake watches as you and Bradley make conversation.

The way you don't look at Jake once doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The way your whole body is tense, your demeanour guarded, doesn't go unnoticed either.

And he's absolutely crushed to see how distant you've become.

Your genuine smile when talking to Bradley turns into a polite, forced one when you turn to talk to Jake, and it's like you're stabbing him in the heart and twisting the knife.

And that makes him even more desperate for a chance to fix things.

Eventually, Bradley wanders off to talk to other mutual friends, and the small talk between you and Jake gets to a point where it's painfully obvious that you're both struggling to keep up.

"It was nice to see you, Jake. Have a good night." You finally decide to leave, standing on your tiptoes to press the lightest kiss to Jake's cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

He wants to follow you, but the dance floor is just too crowded.

So he just spends the rest of the night searching for you in the crowd.

—

He finally corners you on the balcony.

It's getting late, guests are tipsy and dancing. You needed a breather so you went out onto the balcony, not expecting to have Jake follow you out.

Jake’s footsteps are heavy behind you as you step onto the balcony, the cool night air biting at your skin. You didn’t want to face him right now, not with everything that’s been left unsaid between you. But the sound of his voice, sharp and urgent, breaks through your thoughts.

"Wait."

You stop, but you don't turn around. You can't face him. Not like this, not now.

"Don't do this," he says, his voice softer now, but you can hear the edge of panic. "I can’t let you walk away like this."

You finally turn, but only slightly, enough to see the way he's standing there, jaw clenched, eyes searching you like you're a puzzle he's trying to solve.

"I don’t know what you want me to say, Jake," you reply, the frustration thick in your voice. "You say you’re sorry, but it’s never enough. You show up for everyone in your squad, Mav, Penny, but when it comes to me, I’m always an afterthought."

"Please, babe, let me just try. Give me another chance. Let's try this again. I'll be better, just, please." Jake's expression is pleading, desperate. You rarely see him like this.

The genuine remorse in his eyes is enough for you to sigh and cave, nodding a soft yes.

He immediately rushes forward, pulling you into a hug. You'd forgotten what it felt like, having your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces. You bury your face in his chest, one of his hands resting on the small of your back, the other tangled in your hair.

The two of you stood there for a good ten minutes, Jake holding you while the cool night air caressed your face.

—

In the weeks that follow, Jake makes a conscious effort to show you that he's able to balance his priorities.

He hangs out less at the Hard Deck, spending more time with you instead.

He turns down a high-profile assignment which would've required him to be away from home—away from you.

He makes sure to have dinner with you as much as he can, and he brings you 'just because' flowers every Sunday.

And you're touched, of course, but there's still a part of you that holds doubt. You're not sure if this change in behaviour is merely temporary, or if Jake is willing to make permanent changes in order to work towards building a life together.

—

It's a cozy Friday night in.

You and Jake are lying in bed, his arm around you as you rest on his chest. He traces circles on your arm while you listen to the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath. The both of you aren't doing anything, just enjoying each other's presence.

There’s a stillness in the air between you—neither of you feeling the need to fill the silence with words. Just being together feels like enough, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels right.

You breathe in deeply, letting the warmth of his presence settle around you. There’s no rush. No pressure. Just the quiet comfort of being close to each other, as if the world outside doesn’t matter for a while.

Then Jake speaks, his voice low and a little hesitant, as if testing the waters. "You know... I always thought flying was my home."

You look up at him, meeting his eyes, but he’s not looking at you. His gaze is focused on the ceiling, his thumb still tracing soft patterns on your skin. There’s something in his tone that makes your heart skip.

He continues, quieter now, as though confessing something he’s been holding back. "Flying’s always been my home, my dream... but I’ve learned it doesn’t mean a damn thing if you’re not part of it." He pauses for a beat, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re my home now. Home is wherever you are. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be."

You feel his arm tighten slightly around you, as if he’s afraid of losing you in that moment, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lift your head slightly, catching his gaze. "Jake…" you begin, your voice softer than you expect, the words feeling fragile as they leave your lips.

"I’m not going anywhere," he adds quickly, as if reading your thoughts. "I just need you to know that. I’m not asking you to give up anything. I’m just... I’m asking you to be with me. Wherever we go, whatever we do. Together."

You realise that Jake is actually serious about this. Serious about trying to work towards building a life together, in which you feel treasured and prioritised.

You realise how hard he's trying.

"Together." You echo, just like a promise.

#📓—leawrites #top gun maverick #tgm #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader

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cheezritsu · 21 hours ago

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･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

The myth of Sae Itoshi is that he is uncaring. His blank face, coveted by brands for being unreadable, is plastered on billboards and shrunk down into magazine ads, the 2 dimensions unable to capture the tempest of emotions that passes through his turquoise eyes. Sae is in fact readable; predictable, transparent--sea foam that washes back up on the same shores it’s always known. You look at Itoshi Sae and you know your answer before the inevitable part of his lips, so you’re never surprised. Not anymore.

Sae has no pleasure in this. He hates being seen, wishes he could close the curtains to you again, but it’s too late.

So he says the first thing that comes to mind. Sometimes it’s witty. Other times is a lame excuse for lashing banter, but you laugh anyways. A little amused snort and the roll of your eyes he knows well. So maybe you’re just as see through as him.

You ask him hard questions. Questions that have surface level, preprogrammed answers, the first thing he regurgitates to sate everyone else. But you’re not everyone else. Never have been.

“Do you miss home?” Yes. More than anything Sae misses home. He doesn’t miss Japan, doesn’t miss Kamakura or his street-- he misses the capsule of when he lived there, floating in his memory before he left for Spain the very first time. That home, those people are gone and lost to time and Sae would smash the universe to pieces to get back there. (And yes, Sae thinks, even with you in it.)

But that’s impossible. And insane. Yet when he simply says yes, you tilt your chin down and make a little shoving gesture with your outstretched hand, like you’re opening the floor for him. (He likes that about you. You give him space, like now, or when you open your legs to let him stand between them, or letting the room air out between words so he can gather his thoughts,)

“Have you ever seen Chibi Maruko-Chan?” He relishes the blank look on your face. You correct your confusion quickly, snapping your head back at the correct axis, then saying “No I haven’t,” very softly, like your voice will shatter the reticent bubble he’s created. “What’s it about?”

Sae shrugs. “It’s just about this girl who lives in Shizuoka City. It’s autobiographical, the Momoko Sakura in the show is probably the author. And she just like,” Sae doesn’t know why he’s at a loss for words. Why there’s an empty space in his chest where the words should be.

And then there’s not: that empty space around him floods as your hand idly slides into his open palm, fingers lacing and thumb rubbing a soothing stripe under the second knuckle of his thumb. You don’t look away for a second, something syrupy honey sweet reflecting in your eyes as he finds the words he rarely doesn’t have.

“She has little mundane adventures. Gets into trouble. has a sibling, and of course everything resets. Nothings ever wrong permanently in an episodic slice of life.”

“Isn’t that the dream,” you remark off handedly, and it strikes Sae that for all the time you’ve been together he doesn’t think you’ve ever gone home. Which admittedly isn’t much, but it feels significant. Feels like you know, somehow, about the time bubble he cast on his home, how he can only ever go to the home he wants to in his dreams, how those locations of home are warped from time and memory and no matter how many times he goes "home," he will never be back there.

It’s in your eyes, the same ones squinting with a smile. “Sounds cute,” you say, and nothing more. Your body shifts, leaning down and finally taking that space for yourself, slotting against Sae’s side, where you ought to be.

Sae’s arm snakes around you without unlacing your fingers. He presses your side flush against his. A solid reminder that he can't crush space and time, but he can have something. Something he's proud to call home. “It is cute. It’s old, probably as old as I am.”

“Wow, so ancient,” you say, and Sae kisses the top of your head. It smells like you put perfume in your hair, not the one he buys you, but the one he smelled the first time he met you. He likes that one better anyways.

The conversation drifts, because you’re some sort of encyclopedia and you start filling the space with your voice he never tires of. And perhaps because you were born of the same seafoam, or because he just knows you by now, Sae is unsurprised when a few weeks later, you serve him tea in a Chibi Maruko-chan mug. Unsurprised, but still filled with some tumultuous mixture of yearning and gratitude. Something akin to a smile wobbles across his lower lip, and he sniffs when he asks

“Can I keep this?”

“It’s yours, baby.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

Sae's favorite show is Chibi Maruko-Chan, an autobiographical slice of anime about a young girl who lives in Shizuoka. I think it’s an odd fact about someone who hates their home country so much lol, but then I thought about this.

This is also inspired by this song, namely the lyric “I see you, my same eyes,” and how I think Sae will need to be with someone who feels the same way he does.

#blue lock #bllk #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x y/n #sae x you #bllk x reader #itoshi rin #yeah okay i like him #he's so interesting to toss around in my head lol #i just feel like people don't get him and that's okay #more for me

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heartilywrites · 2 days ago

Text

dancing through our house with the ghost of you ; c. hyunju

part one | request guide | masterlist

summary: how easy is for a person to disappear from the face of the earth?

cw: angst ; comfort ; cho hyunju x fem!reader ; no use of y/n

wc: 1.9k

a/n: CALIOPE'S ON FIRE, i made this one while listening to baile inolvidable by bad bunny and honestly i need to do another os about that song, so let's say it's inspired by ghost of you by 5sos HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY IT :D

small taglist : @etta-huracan hope u like it <33

The night surrounding you was quiet, the whistle of the cold air was making you company alongside the small mumbles of a melody that had been stuck in your head for quite some time now. Your nose felt so cold against the skin of your hand when you gently scrubbed it, now sitting on a bench in the park you opened the new soju bottle and lifted it up a little over your face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Got this with my first paycheck,” you said to the night sky with a tired smile. “Cheers, Hyun! This is for us.” a big chug of the liquor was poured on your mouth followed by a grunt by the sudden strong flavour.

You have lost track of the time your friend has been gone, at some point between the second week and first month your feelings just… Numbed themselves. You stopped bursting in tears when the memory of her haunted you, her clothes had all ran out of her scent, the detective had closed the case after a while of not getting new clues on the woman’s whereabouts, it felt like life was punching you over and over to the point of leaving you completely on the floor bleeding yourself out with nostalgia, anger and impotence to the whole situation. By that time you didn’t even make the effort to get back on your feet, you were just tired of everything and everyone that you’d decided to stop caring, act like you were getting yourself together and pretend to move on to trick your own heart that everything was okay.

You had gotten an underpaid job with crazy hours, but it was clear you were doing it to keep your mind off those thoughts. To keep you occupied from going back to your meaningless search for Hyunju, from spending money you clearly didn’t have on the same answers you knew you’d get: she vanished.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I saw Onion today,” you talked again now referring to a stray cat Hyunju and you took care of everytime you see him, giving him the name ‘onion’ after you had found him with an onion peel on his head. “He’s just as cute as you remembered him… He even bumped his head against my leg.”

A sour laugh came out of your mouth before taking another chug of soju, cleaning the excess with Hyunju’s hoodie. You tried to not let any tear leave your eyes. A sniff sounded on your nose, taking a deep breath in you tried to compose yourself. ‘For you’ you whispered and poured a little bit of Soju on the green grass, taking the last sip in one sit you stood up to walk back home.

You couldn’t even walk home with peace of mind, you passed through all the special places Hyunju and you had visited together, every corner, every alley carried at least one memory within.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Alright… Would you still like me if I was.. A garbage bug?” you asked, sitting on the pavement with a bag of chips in your hand.

Hyunju laughed at your occurrence, how could you think more of those questions in just seconds? “Of course I would still like you if you were a garbage bug.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “A fly?” you asked, taking a chip in your mouth, Hyunju turned to look at you for a second. Sweet eyes analyzed your face with such love.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I may need to think about it, I don’t like flies.” her nose shrugged a little and when you made a surprised grimace she bursted out laughing.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I knew it, you hate me.” you said, faking a cry.

In your chest a feeling of heaviness installed making it hard to breathe calmly as you were doing. You felt a knot forming on your throat, it hurt so bad, everything hurt that you had to stay still for a moment to let the pain pass.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey, are you okay?” the woman’s voice called for you, you turned to look at her with a small smile on your lips.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m fine, Hyun. I just feel like I’m running out of air.” you answered while relying on a wall with your hand on your forehead.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Okay, come here.” she took your hand and made you walk a couple of steps to the alley, carefully she took off your coat to feel the cold air on your skin. “Let’s breathe together, okay?”

However you could you nodded and tried to follow her lead, she took your hand and placed it over her chest, making you feel her heartbeat and breath. Small ‘there you go’ ‘you’re doing great’ came after every breath out.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Better?” she asked you when you closed your eyes after a couple of exercises.

You nodded, looking at her directly now with watery eyes. “Thank you, truly.”

She smiled tenderly. “Any time, you know it.”

You stumbled on your own feet, falling to your knees and trying to catch your breath. It was almost past midnight so the street was all alone, you tried to recover yourself by thinking about how Hyunju showed you. You could almost hear her words praising you for doing the breathing exercises.

Life truly wasn’t fair with you. You sat on the street for a moment to let the tremble on your body die out, how were you supposed to continue with your life when everywhere you go you were reminded of Hyunju?

The next day you continued with your routine as usual, going to the convenience store early in the morning to change shifts with your co-worker. In the way you felt eyes following you, turning back and looking around you couldn’t see any soul near, thinking it was just another effect of the hangover you continued to walk.

Your shift went by surprisingly smoothly, by your clock out hour you took a couple of things home to make a little quick dinner, staying up all night was a bad idea when you had to work the next day so your plan was to simply eat and go to bed directly. When you opened the door of your apartment, the orange cat you saw last night came out to greet you with a couple of meows.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey, Onion.” you greeted back smiling. “I guess I left the window open, huh?”

The orange cat rubbed himself on your legs before running back into the apartment. You took off your shoes and coat to go into the apartment.

A quiet hum caught your attention while you were walking over to the kitchen to prepare your cup of noodles, frowning you hurry a bit and the view made you drop the bag where you had your dinner and a new bottle of soju causing a sudden thunder that scared the woman on the kitchen, she turned to face you with her eyes a bit widened.

Her hands were holding a bowl of rice and the spoon to serve it, not a single word came out of either of you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “The house looks like a mess.” she whispered, even with your gaze blurry due to the tears you could see her hands shake a little.

You giggle ironically. “That’s all you have to say?” your voice was pending in a thread, but even then you could confront her. “No ‘sorry for disappearing’? The house is a mess.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Honey,” she called you, Hyunju felt like you could hear her heart beating against her chest. “I know I went away–.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You disappeared overnight, Hyunju.” you interrupted her, your tears flowing without any permission. “I thought something bad had happened to you, I thought you were…” a hiccup cut off your comment. “That’s not fair, Hyunju.”

The woman left everything on the counter and was quick to walk your way to hug you. Just when you were in her arms and could feel her warmth surrounding you alongside that sweet scent you had forgotten about and it was just then and there that your brain completely understood that she was back. It wasn’t an illusion or a dream, Cho Hyunju was alive and back with you.

You allowed yourself to break while she held you, she didn’t mind your ugly cry or that you made the two sit on the kitchen floor when your legs gave up on you, she was just happy she was back from that hell of island safe, back to you in your little home you two had built together. Hyunju let you cry all the time you wanted, she knew you needed it so she let you while with one hand left circular caresses on your back and her voice every now and then let you know she was there, she was fine, she wouldn’t leave you again.

After a couple of minutes and leaving her shirt stained with your tears, you took your distance to look at her face, her eyes seemed a little bit worried when they met yours.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Listen, I can explain–.” she tried to begin again, now being interrupted by your lips claiming her own.

At first her eyes widened at the sudden action, but not even a second later she gave in to the action, cupping your face on her own hands trying to deepen the gesture. She adored the way your lips had this mix of sweet flavor and a bit of salt thanks to the tears you had shed, your hands looked to lay on her thighs to be closer.

Maybe you would never know, but Hyunju had dreamt of this exact moment every night in the island, wishing to be with you and tell you how much she loved you, how much you mean to her, how even if you were to curse her, ask her to leave and never come back, she would still love the heck out of you. She had dreamt of the flavor of your lips, wondering if they would be soft despite you plucking bits of it when they were dry, she wondered who would mark the rhythm surprising herself when you took the lead and guide her, smiling to herself by the way your lips tasted hers like they have met each other before. Like they were made for each other.

When the lack of air made the two of you take your distance, her eyes inspected your face like the million times she had done before, brown colored eyes filled with love and desire that you missed to see, both hearts silently thanking the gods to finally be back with each other. Foreign thumbs caressed your face softly while also undoing the traces of dry tears that were staining your cheeks, she smiled softly.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I’m just glad we are on the same page.” she spoke in a low tone only for you to hear. “I have so much I need to tell you, but I just want you to know right now that I love you. So much.”

Your own hand looked to rest on her arm and a sincere smile began to paint your face after so long. “I love you so much more, Hyunju…”

A small giggle vibrated on the woman’s chest, more than thrilled to hear those words come out of your mouth, feeling like she was floating. She would worry about the games and island later, that moment she took it to appreciate you, to look at you for every day she couldn’t do so. To love you like she always imagined she would do. Maybe a life threatening situation was what you two needed to finally confess your feelings for each other… Right?

#cho hyunju #cho hyun ju #squid game #cho hyun ju x reader #cho hyunju x reader #cho hyunju x you #player 120 #player 120 x reader #hyun ju squid game #squid game x reader #fanfic #one shot

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stellaclaw · 2 days ago

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i think part of the reason i love hollyleaf but really hate her comeback is because she was a fascinating look into a downward spiral from expectations. she didnt kill ashfur because she was a girlboss or because he was threatening her. she killed him because he knew the truth, and if he said it, that would make it real. in some fucked up way, if he died, maybe that truth would die with him and she could go back to the happy lie.

but she couldnt. because killing him didnt change the truth. and learning just how far it went broke her so utterly because by the laws she had been raised by, she was an abomination twice over. the prophecy didnt matter anymore, her family didnt matter anymore, because hollyleaf had sworn herself to the culture of the clans, of SERVING her clan (because the prophey was service, always to make herself the greatest warrior of thunderclan), and how could she do that when her very existence spat in the face of their laws?

hollyleaf thought she had lost everything, and the ironic part is that… she really didnt? she was still firestars grandaughter. she still came from a grand legacy, was still a notably skilled, almost prodigal warrior, was decently liked and experienced, still had a family that loved her. she had everything a clan culture would want, but she broke their laws by existing, and so everything else meant nothing and everybody involved had to be punished.

so its kind of a slap in the face to have her come back and her redemption being to “let the warrior code rule our hearts” when her tale was a cautionary one of what happens when you allow the law to color your perception of the world and the value of people. it addresses the murder without the motivation, or any of her other crimes, her resentful bigotry towards the woman who raised her, her cruelty towards the mother who wanted her and loved her so badly that she was willing to forgive ATTEMPTED MURDER without an apology. all it did was absolve one (1) crime without resolving the actual conflict of the character.

#stellatalks #warrior cats #hollyleaf #at least. this has always been my take on hollyleaf #her obssession with the code is a bad thing why is she now even MORE dedicated to the code GIRL

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edenesth · 23 hours ago

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The Paradox of Us

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: Relationships are rarely as simple as they seem. It becomes heartbreakingly complicated when two souls, bound by a love that still burns bright, come to realise that sometimes, love alone may not be enough to keep them together.

A/N: Seonghwa's 踊り子 (odoriko) cover has been on repeat since the moment it came out. I couldn't get it out of my mind and just knew I'd never forgive myself if I didn't write anything inspired by it.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

"I don't love you."

Strangely, those words would have been easier to bear. But instead, you heard the ones that shattered you in ways you never thought possible: "I love you so much... but we can't go on like this anymore."

The ache was unbearable, as if your heart was tearing itself apart with every replay of his broken voice in your mind. You would have preferred if he had said his love had faded, that the spark was gone. At least then, you could grieve, accept, and move forward. But no—he still loved you. Deeply. And that cruel truth left you stuck in a purgatory of emotions, unable to let go.

Yet, you understood him. You always did. And perhaps that was the most painful part of all—knowing he was right. You had felt it too, this growing divide neither of you could bridge. But you hadn't been brave enough to say it aloud, to admit that love wasn't enough to hold together two people who simply weren't meant to be.

So, he said it for you. And now, all you had was the emptiness of what could have been, and the love that would never quite fade.

"It'll be alright, sweetie. Time heals everything," your mother murmured, her hand gently rubbing your back as you blinked away tears and refused to meet her gaze. Her tone was soft, even comforting, but you couldn't stand it—not when she sat there pretending she hadn't played a pivotal role in this heartbreak. You could almost feel her satisfaction simmering beneath the surface, hidden behind her facade of concern. After all, hadn't she always believed he would never measure up? That he was never good enough for you?

You hated it—hated her.

Hated how she had turned your relationship with him into a battlefield, her disapproval so loud, so ever-present, that it became impossible for him to feel at home in your life. How dare she sit beside you now, feigning sorrow, when her constant criticisms had planted the seed of doubt that grew into the conclusion you dreaded? How dare she, of all people, offer comfort when she had made you believe that love—your greatest love—wasn't enough?

Her words echoed in your mind, the ones she'd repeated time and time again: "Love and compatibility aren't the same. Love is powerful, yes, but relationships are more than just feelings—they require shared values, aligned goals, and practical compatibility." She had said it so often that it became a mantra, one you tried to ignore until it became impossible.

And then there was him.

You hated him too—hated him for giving in, for not fighting harder, for agreeing with everyone else. For being too selfless, too considerate, too good. He'd always told you, "Family comes first. Everything else—including me—comes second." You hated that he meant it. Hated that he let you go because he believed it was the right thing to do, the thing that would hurt the least.

But most of all, you hated yourself.

Hated yourself for knowing, deep down, that they were all right. That maybe love really wasn't enough. You hated yourself for being too afraid to defy them, too afraid to risk it all for him. While he was brave enough to let you go, and your mother was relentless in her convictions, you had been the coward. You let everyone else make the choice for you because you couldn't bear to make it yourself.

And now, you were left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of what-ifs and the haunting ache of knowing you had lost not because you didn't love enough, but because you hadn't been brave enough to fight for that love.

"The right person will come along," she said softly. You pressed your eyes shut, swallowing the lump rising in your throat. Without another word, you pushed yourself up from the dining chair, leaving your barely touched meal behind, and headed to your room.

Before you could step through the door, her voice followed you, cutting through the air like a knife. "You'll thank me one day when you meet a man who can give you all the things that boy never could."

Your fists clenched as you slammed the door shut behind you. Sliding down to the floor with your back against the wood, you let her words fester. Maybe she was right. You weren't getting any younger. Around you, friends and cousins were all settling down with partners your mother would call 'suitable.' And you hated it—hated that, in her eyes, Seonghwa could never be that person for you.

But then, the thought struck: you were your mother's daughter. How much of this was truly her fault? At some point, hadn't you begun to believe her? Slowly, insidiously, her words had taken root in your mind. You did this. To him, to yourself.

You remembered watching others build their perfect, storybook lives with partners who ticked every box society demanded. And you wondered—quietly at first, then louder—if you and Seonghwa could ever achieve the same. Could he be that for you? Could you be that for him?

It wasn't fair. Not to him, not to you. You hated yourself for the way doubt crept in, for how your mother's voice echoed in your head, pointing out the cracks and differences you had tried so hard to ignore. You hated yourself for wishing things could be different, for swallowing those thoughts because you loved him too much to ask him to change. He was who he was—his own person.

How could you ask him to mould himself into someone your mother would approve of? Someone society deemed 'right' for you? And if he did, would he even be the man you fell in love with?

It was those questions, those doubts, that began to live rent-free in your mind. Bit by bit, they widened the gap between you. And Seonghwa wasn't blind. He saw it. He felt it.

"You deserve someone better—someone who can give you so much more," he had said that final night, his voice breaking under the weight of goodbye.

It was your fault—your doubts, your actions, your silence. They had pushed him to that conclusion. And now, as the door behind you trembled with your suppressed sobs, you wondered: How dare you blame your mother for what you had done to him? To yourself?

How dare you?

"Gaming at San's place next, you coming?" Wooyoung asked, tossing a napkin onto the table as everyone scrambled to leave. The ridiculous game they'd invented—where the last one to leave had to pay the bill—had everyone laughing and darting for the exit.

Seonghwa's smile barely touched his lips as he shook his head and reached for his wallet. "Go on with them. I'll cover it."

The younger man hesitated, glancing at him before blurting out, "Dude, you can't always give in like this. Your poor financial planning skills are exactly why she left you."

The table fell silent, the air suddenly heavy. Wooyoung's grin faltered as he realised what he'd said, too late to take it back. Seonghwa didn't flinch outwardly, but the words sliced deep because they were true. Partly, at least.

It wasn't like he made much, not compared to the rest of his friends with their steady corporate jobs. And yet, he wasn't careful with what little he had. You had always been the one saving, planning, building a future he could barely contribute to. People his age were buying cars, investing in property, making strides toward a stable life. But he wasn't like them. He had chased his passion as a figurine crafter—a dream that didn't come with a steady paycheck—and he'd known the risks. Your mother was right: you deserved someone who could offer you the stability he never could.

"Hey, man," Wooyoung said quickly, guilt colouring his tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I got the bill already, so don't worry about it. Just come with us tonight, yeah? Relax a little."

But the eldest only gave a faint shake of his head. The apology didn't soften the truth of the remark. He was the reason things fell apart. Not because he didn't love you enough—he loved you too much—but because love wasn't enough.

He'd failed you. Failed to provide the kind of life you deserved. He couldn't believe you'd even agreed to be with him in the first place, so different were your worlds. Your family background, your education, your values, your ambitions—they all set you apart. He had nothing to offer someone like you. And yet, he had been selfish enough to hold on, to want you despite knowing he could never measure up.

He should have worked harder. Should have tried to step up and be the man you needed. But he hadn't, because deep down, he knew he couldn't. Perhaps he had always known it wouldn't last. That one day, you'd wake up and realise the same.

You didn't leave right away. You stayed longer than he deserved. And when you finally began pulling away, when the signs became impossible to ignore, he had to let go. It wasn't courage that made him end it—it was inevitability.

"Come with us, hyung," Wooyoung tried again, his voice gentler this time.

But Seonghwa shook his head once more. "You guys go ahead without me. I... I have somewhere to be."

It was a lie, and they all knew it. He had nowhere to be. Nowhere that mattered, at least. Just his empty apartment, where the echoes of your absence would greet him like old, familiar ghosts.

He didn't care if they saw through the lie. What mattered was that he deserved this—the loneliness, the self-pity, the regret. He had almost broken you apart from your family because he was selfish enough to believe his love was enough. He had almost stolen your future because he couldn't face the truth.

But now, it was over. You had given him the courage to do what was right in the end. He was grateful for that. Grateful you'd started pulling away. Grateful you'd given him the signs. Grateful you'd broken his heart with the words he couldn't bear to say himself.

It's time.

Time to stop pretending.

Time to let you go.

Time to let the misery end.

Yes, let it all go. Let the misery end.

He repeated the words in his head like a chant as he drove, gripping the steering wheel tighter with each mile. The familiar streets blurred past him, their lights shimmering in his tear-filled eyes. He swiped at his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept coming, warm and unrelenting. He hated himself for it. Hated that, even now, he could almost see you sitting beside him, your laughter echoing faintly in his memory.

These night drives had been your sanctuary. Just you and him, wrapped in the quiet of the world, as if nothing else mattered. Not the expectations, not the disapproving glances, not the relentless whispers about how you two didn't belong together. It had always been just you and him against everything.

But now, it was just him.

He didn't dare glance at the passenger seat. He couldn't bear the sight of its emptiness, couldn't face the truth of your absence. His mind played cruel tricks on him, filling the silence with phantom conversations, fleeting glimpses of your smile.

Everything around him reminded him of you. The way the streetlights hit the pavement, the faint smell of your favourite perfume lingering in his car, the songs on the radio you'd sing along to when you thought he wasn't paying attention. He wanted to escape it, but he knew going home would only make it worse.

Home.

The word felt hollow now. How could it be home when you weren't there? Every corner of that apartment held traces of you—the books you'd stacked neatly on the shelf, the coffee mug you always left on the counter, the sheets that still carried the faintest scent of your shampoo. He knew he should let those remnants go, pack them away, make it easier to move on. But the thought of erasing you felt like losing you all over again.

As the weight of it all pressed down on him, he slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. His hands trembled as he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, the cool leather grounding him for just a moment.

Is this hurting you too?

He wondered if you were struggling as much as he was. Part of him selfishly hoped you were, that you missed him the way he missed you. But another part—the part that loved you more than he loved himself—hoped you were finding peace. Hoped you were happier without him, that his decision to let you go had given you the chance to find the stability, the life, you deserved.

Clutching a hand to his chest, he finally let the tears fall freely. The ache in his heart felt unbearable, like a piece of him had been ripped away and might never grow back. Would he ever be okay again? Would he ever know happiness without you?

He didn't know.

He wasn't sure he wanted to. But he told himself, over and over, that this was the right thing to do. It didn't matter if he was happy. It didn't matter if he felt whole again. All that mattered was you. And as he sat there, broken and lost, he prayed you were finding the happiness he couldn't give you, even if it meant he would never find it again.

It's okay... she'll find the right person now.

The right person. Who even decided what that meant? Who had the authority to label someone as right or wrong for you?

Maybe it was the lingering ache for Park Seonghwa, the way his name still carried the weight of memories you hadn't yet learned to let go. Or maybe it was the frustration bubbling inside you, resentment toward your parents for tricking you into meeting this man—the son of your father's business partner—the one they couldn't stop praising.

Jung Yunho, the perfect man, as they called him. He was everything they'd ever wanted for you, a textbook example of stability, charm, and success. But the problem wasn't him. It was you. You weren't ready, not yet. Maybe not ever. Years had passed since the breakup, but the ghost of what you had with Seonghwa still clung to you, a shadow that even time couldn't chase away.

"Hey," Yunho's voice pulled you back from your spiralling thoughts. His gaze, warm and sincere, met yours as he leaned in slightly. "You feeling alright?"

Caught off guard, you glanced down at your untouched plate of steak and managed a small nod. "I'm fine, don't worry about me."

But he didn't look convinced. Instead, his lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile—the kind that could probably disarm anyone, just not you. "How could I not, when such a pretty lady is sulking before me?" he teased gently. Before you could reply, he reached across the table, taking your plate without hesitation. "Here, let me help you."

With careful precision, he began cutting the steak into neat, bite-sized pieces. The gesture was so thoughtful, so kind, and yet it left you feeling hollow. It wasn't the act itself—it was the way it lacked the weight of familiarity.

Seonghwa used to do the same thing, but it had always been different with him. He'd grumble playfully about how you'd never learn to do it yourself, though he never minded doing it for you. His hands were smaller, more delicate, and you'd always find yourself staring at the faint scars from his crafts. Yunho's hands, while steady and practised, didn't hold the same history.

"All done," Yunho said cheerfully, sliding the plate back to you. "Now you have no excuse not to eat."

You forced a polite smile, murmuring a quiet "thank you" as you picked up your fork. Yunho didn't seem to notice the distant look in your eyes, or perhaps he was kind enough not to point it out.

He was wonderful. Thoughtful, patient, and sincere. By all accounts, he was the right person. But as you sat there, forcing yourself to chew, you couldn't help but wonder:

What if the right person wasn't the one who checked all the boxes? What if they were the one who didn't, but still felt like home?

The rest of the night crawled by like a snail, every passing second stretching unbearably long. You shifted in your seat, wishing you were anywhere but here. Yunho was a great guy—attentive, charming, and genuinely kind. But that only made it worse. He deserved someone who could meet his enthusiasm with equal fervour, someone who didn't have her mind wandering to someone else entirely.

You sighed quietly, pushing your barely touched drink to the side. What the hell was wrong with you? This was what you'd agreed to, wasn't it? This was what you'd sacrificed so much for. Years ago, you walked away from the love of your life because it felt like the right thing to do, to pursue the kind of stability and compatibility everyone insisted was more important than love alone. And now here it was, right in front of you.

The right person.

Yet, as you glanced at Jung Yunho's radiant smile, so effortlessly warm, the thought of spending the rest of your life with him felt less like the happy ending you'd envisioned and more like a cage. A beautiful, gilded cage that offered everything a woman could ever ask for—security, stability, admiration. Everything except the one thing your heart still longed for.

All you could ever find inside yourself was the same man you'd tried so hard to let go of.

Park Seonghwa.

Your chest tightened at the thought of him, your mind betraying you with memories you'd worked so hard to bury. You wondered how he was doing, though it wasn't as if you hadn't heard. Mutual friends kept you updated more than you cared to admit, their words painting glimpses of a life that no longer included you.

You'd heard he was finally making progress with his work, his passion—the very thing you'd once defended but later doubted. He'd opened a small store, modest but filled with so much of himself. It sold various collectable art pieces: action figures, miniatures for tabletop games, and custom character figurines crafted with meticulous care. Fans of Star Wars and Animal Crossing flocked to him, drawn to the detail and love that radiated from every piece he touched.

And you were proud of him. God, you were so proud of him.

He'd stayed true to himself, despite all the judgement, all the whispers about how he'd never make it, how he'd never be good enough. He'd proved them wrong. He'd built something meaningful, something entirely his own. You were happy for him, truly, but beneath that happiness lay an ache you couldn't ignore. You regretted not being there to witness it, to cheer for him when he finally achieved what he'd always dreamed of.

But maybe that wasn't what he wanted. For all you knew, he'd moved on, found someone who stayed by his side through all the highs and lows. Someone who loved him openly and without reservation, who didn't make him feel like he'd never measure up.

Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe he'd sworn off love entirely after the way things ended between you two.

Either way, you couldn't blame him. You wouldn't blame him. Not after the pain you'd both endured.

Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present. "Is... everything okay? You've been quiet tonight." His concern was genuine, his eyes soft with worry, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

But deep down, you knew you weren't fine. And you didn't know if you ever would be.

"How much for that one?"

The tiny voice drew Seonghwa's attention, and he glanced down at the little girl standing on tiptoes, her small finger pointing eagerly at the figurine encased behind the counter. It was the only one displayed under glass, like a prized treasure—and in a way, it was.

He hummed, his eyes softening as he turned to look at the figure in question. The Kuromi figurine sat proudly on the top shelf, right next to the LED sign that glowed softly with his store's name: Star Mars. The design was intricate, every detail was carefully crafted with love and precision.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said gently, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. "That one's not for sale. It's reserved for someone very special."

The little girl pouted, her lips forming a perfect curve of disappointment, and his heart melted a little. But no amount of adorable pouting—or even persuasive whining—could ever convince him to sell it.

That Kuromi figurine wasn't just a piece of art; it was a promise, a memory frozen in time. It was one of the first figurines he'd perfected, the culmination of years of practice and the relentless pursuit of his passion. He'd made it as a gift for you—his favourite girl.

It still is yours, if only you wanted it.

The child's father stepped forward, lifting her into his arms as he gave Seonghwa an apologetic bow. "Don't worry about her, Mr Park. I'll convince her to go with the Isabelle one instead."

Seonghwa chuckled softly, standing upright as he waved off the father's concern. "No problem at all. Isabelle's a great choice," he said, though his eyes lingered briefly on the Kuromi figurine.

As the father and daughter moved on to browse the other displays, Seonghwa found himself lost in thought. He didn't display that piece out of pride or for show—it was there because it reminded him of you. Of the nights you'd spend sitting cross-legged on the floor of his studio, playfully teasing him about his obsession with getting every detail just right.

"She looks like you," he'd said when he showed it to you for the first time. You'd laughed, brushing it off, but the glint of affection in your eyes told him you secretly loved the comparison.

He'd planned to give it to you on your birthday, but the timing never felt right. And then, before he knew it, you were gone.

The bell above the door jingled, the familiar sound slicing through the haze of his thoughts and yanking him back to the present. He straightened up, plastering on the polite smile he reserved for customers, though the weight in his chest never eased.

"Good evening! Welcome to…" His voice faltered mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat as his entire world screeched to a halt.

There you were.

It had been years, but time seemed to melt away the moment his eyes landed on you. You stood there in the soft glow of his store lights, more beautiful than he remembered—if that were even possible. Your silk dress shimmered gently with each subtle movement, an elegant coat draped effortlessly over your shoulders. The once long hair he used to run his fingers through was now cropped to your shoulders, framing your face in a way that made you look older, wiser—but still you.

Even after all this time, his heart betrayed him. It thundered in his chest, each beat screaming your name. He clenched his fist tightly at his side, willing himself to stay rooted where he stood. Every fibre of his being ached to run to you, to close the distance, but he couldn't. He shouldn't.

Slowly, shakily, he mustered a smile, though it felt like his heart might burst from the sheer force of its racing. Then, to his astonishment—and heartbreak—you returned it. A soft, familiar curve of your lips that nearly undid him.

But then, it fell apart.

The moment shattered as a tall, striking man stepped in behind you. He moved with easy confidence, his presence commanding attention as if the universe itself had tilted slightly to make room for him. Without hesitation, his hand found its way to your shoulder, resting there with an ease that spoke of familiarity.

"See anything you like?" the man asked, his deep voice carrying the warmth of intimacy as he looked down at you.

You blinked, startled, as if shaken from a dream. "Oh… I was just…" Your voice trailed off as your gaze flicked back to your ex-boyfriend, lingering for a moment longer than it should have.

Seonghwa's smile faltered, but he quickly schooled his expression, burying the ache that clawed at his chest. He nodded politely, forcing himself to focus on the customer standing in front of him—the both of you.

The Kuromi figurine sat silently on its shelf, bathed in soft light, waiting for a moment that might never come. The air inside the store suddenly felt stifling. Seonghwa stood behind the counter, his hands gripping its edge like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Welcome to Star Mars," he said, his voice steady but his smile trembling under the weight of emotions. He forced it wider, hoping it would mask the whirlwind within. "It's been a while. How have you been?" His heart clenched as the words left his mouth. He wanted to sound casual, as though you were just another customer, but he couldn't. You weren't just anyone. You never had been.

You gave him a hesitant smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I've been good. How about you?"

Before he could answer, the man beside you—tall, broad-shouldered, and exuding warmth—stepped forward, his curiosity evident. "Oh, you two know each other? What a small world!" His voice was friendly, his smile sincere, and Seonghwa's chest tightened further.

He should feel relief. This man, presumably your boyfriend—or worse, your fiancé—seemed perfect for you. He was everything Seonghwa had wanted for you when he stepped away, believing he could never give you the life you deserved. And yet, it felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him.

You cleared your throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Yes, this is Seonghwa. He's... an old friend of mine."

Old friend. The words landed like a punch to his stomach, but he kept his composure.

The man extended a hand toward him, his smile unwavering. "I'm Yunho. It's nice to meet you! Next time my nieces and nephews need new toys, I'll know who to come to."

Seonghwa took his hand, shaking it firmly while managing a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too." His gaze flickered back to you, catching the way you avoided meeting his eyes.

As if on cue, Yunho's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he excused himself, stepping outside to take the call. For the first time since you'd entered, the air felt heavy with unspoken words.

You turned back to your ex, your eyes meeting his briefly before dropping to the counter. "Congratulations... Seonghwa," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a fragile memory. "It's good to see how far you've come."

He nodded slowly, his smile softer now, though the ache in his eyes remained. "Thank you. And... congratulations to you as well," he said, glancing toward the window where Yunho stood. "He seems amazing."

The kindness in his tone made it hurt even more.

"No," you blurted, shaking your head. "He's not... we're just... friends. I don't..." Your words faltered, your voice trembling. "I'm not with anyone."

His brows lifted in surprise, but he stayed silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. You wished he'd say something, anything, but the way his eyes softened, brimming with a mix of emotions—relief, hesitation, and something deeper—was answer enough.

Your breath hitched when your gaze landed on the figurine behind him. Kuromi. Encased in glass, displayed on the highest shelf. You remembered the countless hours he'd spent perfecting it, the way he'd proudly shown you the finished piece.

He still kept it.

Before you could find the courage to ask why, Yunho reappeared, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade. "Hey, sorry to cut your little catch-up session short, but something urgent came up at work, and I—"

Seonghwa straightened, his polite smile snapping back into place. "Of course, don't let me keep you."

Your heart sank as he turned to you, bowing slightly. "It was nice seeing you again."

You forced a smile, though your chest ached with everything left unsaid. "It was nice seeing you too."

As you followed Yunho out, you couldn't resist glancing back one last time. Your eyes met Seonghwa's, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though a thousand words passed between you.

Regret. Longing. Love.

The bell above the door jingled again as you stepped out, your heart heavy with the weight of the encounter. Yunho was quiet as he drove, his hands steady on the wheel. The silence between you felt thick, almost suffocating, but you didn't know what to say. How could you explain the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you without sounding selfish or ungrateful?

"It's him, isn't it?" Yunho's voice broke through your thoughts, soft but resolute.

Your head snapped toward him, your heart pounding in panic. "What… what do you mean?" you stammered, the guilt already clawing its way to the surface.

He sighed, pulling the car to a gentle stop in front of your home. Turning to face you, he gave you a small, knowing smile. "The man from the store. Park Seonghwa, right? He's the one you've been thinking about all night. Tell me if I'm wrong."

Your breath caught, your hands fumbling with the seatbelt as you tried to come up with a response. But the look in his eyes told you that lying wasn't an option. "I…" You paused, finally managing to unfasten the seatbelt, but your words seemed caught in your throat. "I'm sorry, Yunho. I didn't mean for this to happen."

He leaned back with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You don't have to apologise. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I knew from the beginning that you weren't exactly thrilled about this arrangement, but I still went along with it, hoping… I don't know, that maybe something would change."

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "You deserve better than this," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Hey." He reached out, his hand covering yours with a comforting warmth. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you turned back to him, your vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You don't owe me anything," he said gently. "This… whatever this was supposed to be, it wouldn't have worked if both of us weren't fully in it. And that's okay. You know why?"

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. "Why?"

"Because this decision—choosing who you want to be with—it's for you, not for your parents, not for me, and certainly not for anyone else. It should never be about what people think or what they want. It's your life. Live it for yourself."

His words struck you like a bolt of lightning, unravelling years of self-doubt and regret. He was right. How had you allowed yourself to be swept up in everyone else's expectations, losing sight of what truly mattered to you?

You sat back in your seat, letting his words sink in, feeling a strange mix of guilt and liberation. After a long moment, you nodded, your voice steadier now. "Thank you, Yunho. For everything."

He smiled, his eyes kind and understanding. "Go on," he said, tilting his head toward your house. "And don't let fear hold you back this time."

As you stepped out of the car, his words echoed in your mind, igniting a spark of courage you hadn't felt in years.

You turned back, watching as Yunho drove away, his figure disappearing into the night. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sliver of clarity.

It wasn't too late. You still had a choice to make. And this time, you'd make it for yourself.

The shop was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of paper as Seonghwa meticulously wrapped the Isabelle and Grogu figurines the pair of father and daughter finally agreed on getting. His movements were precise, his focus seemingly sharp, but his mind was elsewhere—stuck on the brief yet piercing encounter that had just walked out of his life again.

"That Kuromi one… it's for the pretty lady earlier, isn't it?"

The father's voice broke through Seonghwa's haze, and his hands froze briefly before resuming their task. He didn't look up, focusing instead on folding the edges of the wrapping paper with unnecessary care. "You might be right," he said after a pause, his voice quieter than intended. "But it doesn't matter if it is."

The man tilted his head, a subtle frown forming as he cradled his daughter closer. "And why's that? It clearly still means a lot to you both."

Seonghwa finally glanced up, forcing a polite smile, though it faltered almost immediately. "You saw it yourself... she's with someone else. Someone better." The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, laced with a resignation he didn't quite believe in.

The man sighed, shifting the little girl in his arms so she could hold her new Grogu figurine. He regarded your ex with a look that felt far too knowing. "I also saw how she looked at you," he said softly. "And she didn't look like someone who's better off."

Seonghwa blinked, caught off guard, but the customer wasn't finished. His gaze drifted toward the cute purple figurine that was not for sale, and for a moment, his expression softened into something fragile—something etched with pain.

"You know," he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "my wife used to love Sanrio too. She had this little Cinnamoroll keychain she carried everywhere." He chuckled faintly, the sound bittersweet. "I always thought I'd have more time to make her smile, to give her the little things that made her happy. But time doesn't wait for anyone. One day, it was just… gone."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and Seonghwa felt something tighten in his chest.

The man glanced at him then, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity that seemed to pierce through Seonghwa's carefully built walls. "I don't know what's between you and her, Mr Park. But I do know this: regret is a heavy thing to carry. Don't let it weigh you down, not if you can still do something about it."

He gave Seonghwa a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of lessons learned too late, before taking the bag of purchased items. "Sometimes, all it takes is one step in the right direction. Don't let the chance slip away."

And then he was gone, the bell above the door jingling faintly as father and daughter disappeared into the night.

Seonghwa stood motionless behind the counter, his gaze drifting back to the Kuromi figurine in its glass case. The light reflected off it, casting faint shadows on the shelf behind it. It was meant for you. It had always been for you.

The father's words replayed in his mind, unrelenting in their simplicity and truth. He leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on the figurine made just for you, but his thoughts were elsewhere—back to you, back to all the moments that had led to this one.

Back then, he'd convinced himself he was doing the right thing, letting you go so you could find the happiness he didn't think he could give you. He thought he was being selfless, noble even, sacrificing his own heart so you could find someone better—someone who deserved you. But now, the cracks in that logic were glaringly obvious. What had any of this accomplished? Neither of you had found happiness in the way he'd hoped.

The truth was harsh: he hadn't even tried. He hadn't fought to be better for you, to grow into someone worthy of your love. Instead, he'd accepted the version of himself the world seemed to see—a man with dreams too small and ambitions too impractical. He'd let himself believe that you deserved someone like Yunho, someone who fit the mould of what your parents and society thought was 'right.'

But things were different now. He wasn't that man anymore. He'd worked hard, not for anyone else but for himself. Every step he'd taken to build his store, every figurine he'd crafted with his own hands, every small milestone he'd achieved—it was proof that he could create something meaningful. And if he could do that, maybe he could create a life with you.

His heart clenched at the thought of you with Yunho, not because he doubted the man's worth, but because he knew Yunho could never hold your heart the way he still did. Yunho was everything society said you should want—stable, charming, perfect on paper. But love wasn't about paper. Love was about the way you used to light up whenever he showed you his newest creation, about the quiet nights you'd spent talking about everything and nothing, about the way your hand had always felt right in his.

Suddenly, the idea of the 'right person' seemed so absurd. There was no such thing. The right person wasn't someone who ticked all the boxes. The right person was the one you chose to love, again and again, flaws and all.

And you had chosen him once.

The real question now was whether you still would.

He straightened, his resolve hardening like molten metal cooling into steel. What kind of love was it if he could stand by and watch you settle for less than what you deserved? Not less in status or wealth, but less in the kind of happiness that made life worth living. What kind of love let you spend the rest of your days with someone who could never truly make your heart race?

Seonghwa wouldn't let that happen—not if he could help it.

His gaze lingered on the Kuromi figurine one last time before he moved toward the back room. He needed to think, to plan, to figure out how to tell you everything he should have said years ago.

If there was even the slightest chance that you still felt the same way, he would take it. Because this time, he wasn't letting fear or pride or anyone else's expectations get in the way.

This time, he was going to fight for you.

"Well...? Aren't you going to ask me how it went?" you asked, your voice sharp, as you stepped into the house. Your mother flinched, bowing her head slightly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron. She hesitated for a moment before coming up to you slowly, her eyes brimming with guilt.

"Yunho called," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "He said he wishes not to force you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any humour. "Of course, it took an outsider's words for you to finally see how exhausting this has been for me," you said, your tone cutting. "All this talk about marriage, about finding the right man... who is it really for? Who am I doing this for, hm? Is it for my own happiness? Or... oh, right." You smiled grimly. "It never was about my happiness, was it? It was about keeping up appearances, about pleasing everyone but me."

Your mother's face crumpled as her gaze fell to the floor. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken truths.

Your father, who had been sitting silently at the dining table, let out a long, weary sigh. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together as though trying to steady himself. "We thought we were doing what was best for you," he said, his voice low, burdened with regret. "We thought... if we guided you toward someone like Yunho, we were ensuring a future where you'd be safe, secure."

"Safe?" you repeated, your voice breaking. "From what? From being myself? From choosing the person who actually makes me happy? You never trusted me to make my own decisions. You never thought I was capable of knowing what I want, what I need."

Your mother reached for your hand, her touch tentative. "It wasn't like that," she said, though her voice wavered. "We were scared. Scared that you'd make a mistake, scared that you'd regret it later, scared that—"

"You mean you were scared," you interrupted, pulling your hand back. "Scared of what people would say. Scared of what the neighbours, the relatives, society would think. But you never stopped to ask me what I thought. What I felt."

Tears glistened in her eyes now, spilling over as she shook her head. "You're right," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You're absolutely right. We were selfish. We thought we knew better, but we didn't. We never meant to hurt you, but we see now that we did. We hurt you by not listening, by not trusting you."

Your father stood, his movements deliberate, his face sombre. "If he's the one you want, if he's the one who makes you happy, then we'll support you. No more pushing, no more trying to control your life. It's your choice. It always should've been your choice."

For a moment, the room fell silent. The tension that had loomed for so long finally began to dissipate, leaving behind a tentative sense of relief.

You inhaled shakily, the weight in your chest lifting just a little. It wasn't a perfect resolution—there was still so much to work through—but this was a start. A start you'd been longing for. "Thank you," you said softly, the words fragile but sincere. "Thank you for finally understanding."

And as your mother pulled you into a trembling embrace, you allowed yourself to hope that things could finally change. She smiled softly, brushing a hand against your cheek as if to assure you it was okay now. Your father stood behind her, his expression a mixture of pride and something deeper—perhaps the weight of finally letting go.

They exchanged a glance before your father nodded toward the door. "Go," he said quietly, his voice firm but warm. "Go where your heart tells you to. We'll always be here."

You blinked, stunned by their words, and for a moment, you couldn't move. But then, the weight in your chest lifted, replaced by an urgency that made your pulse race. Without another word, you turned and rushed out, barely remembering to grab your keys on the way.

Your car roared to life as you sped through the streets, your destination clear as day in your mind. Star Mars. The silly name you'd suggested in passing all those years ago, never imagining he'd actually use it. Your heart pounded harder with every turn, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. Would he still want you after all this time? Did it matter? Even if he didn't, you needed him to know. You needed to tell him how you felt—how you still felt.

Parking haphazardly in front of his store, you didn't waste a second before bolting toward it. But as you reached the doors, your heart sank. The store was dark, the lights off, the doors locked. "Closed" hung starkly on the door, though the shops around it buzzed with life.

You froze, staring through the glass, confusion and dread pooling in your stomach. It's not even closing time yet... Had seeing you earlier bothered him that much? Had you pushed him away again, without even realising it?

Slumping against the door, you bit back tears, the overwhelming sense of missed chances clawing at your chest. Sure, you could come back another day. But you'd already lost so much time, wasted so many years pretending you didn't want this, pretending you didn't love him. You didn't want to waste another second.

Your gaze drifted inside the store, scanning the shelves. Your breath caught when you noticed something was missing. The Kuromi figurine—the one you'd lingered on earlier—was gone. You frowned, stepping closer to the glass. It had been there before. Where had it gone?

"Looking for this?"

The familiar voice made you spin around so fast you nearly stumbled. There he was, standing just a few feet away, the Kuromi figurine clutched in his hand, still encased in its protective plastic.

Your breath hitched as tears filled your eyes. "You took her off the shelf?" you asked, your voice trembling with emotion as you took a tentative step toward him. "Where were you planning to take her?"

He smiled softly, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears of his own. "I was going to take her to her rightful owner," he murmured, his voice steady but tender.

Your heart stopped at his words, and you whispered shakily, "Was? So you're not taking her anymore?"

He shook his head slowly. "No."

"Why not?"

He hesitated, the weight of years of longing and regret pressing against his chest. But then, the words of the customer from earlier echoed in his mind. Don't wait until it's too late. He looked at you—really looked at you—and knew, without a doubt, that this moment was the answer he'd been waiting for.

Taking a careful step forward, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing softly against yours. His breath hitched when your fingers instinctively curled around his, holding on as though letting go would shatter everything.

"Because you're already here," he murmured, his voice trembling with unspoken emotion.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, your heart felt whole again. The ache of countless nights spent longing for him, convinced you'd never feel his love again, melted away. Here he was—right in front of you—just like all those years ago. Yet, it felt different now. It felt... right. Because this time, neither of you would let fear or doubt stand in the way. This time, you were both ready to fight for it, to grow, to compromise, and to hold on.

"Hwa, I... I need to tell you something," you began, your voice shaking, each word heavy with the weight of years spent in silence. Your eyes searched his, desperate to convey everything your heart had been screaming in his absence. But before you could say more, he smiled—a small, trembling curve of his lips that held every ounce of love and pain he'd been holding back.

His eyes glistened as he leaned in, his forehead gently meeting yours, grounding you, binding you in a way that no words ever could. The moment felt infinite, a pause in time where your souls met in unspoken understanding.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, raw and honest. Before you could process the words, his lips found yours, soft and warm, carrying all the unspoken promises, all the years of longing, all the love you thought you'd lost.

The world blurred and softened around you—the hum of the street and the glow of the city lights dissolving into nothingness. All that remained was him, the familiar scent of his cologne, the steady warmth of his hands cradling your face, the way his heart seemed to beat in perfect rhythm with yours.

In that kiss, you felt everything: the heartbreak, the yearning, the hope, and, most of all, the love that had endured time, separation, and pain. It was as if every broken piece of your heart was mending, every crack filled with the warmth of his love.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads remained pressed together, your breaths mingling in the quiet night. His thumb brushed away a tear you hadn't realised had fallen, his touch tender and sure.

"This time," he murmured, his voice steady but full of emotion, "I'm not letting you go."

And you knew—you both knew—that this time, nothing would keep you apart.

Istg, this wasn't meant to be so long. I wasn't even sure I wanted to give it a happy ending at first, but then I just kept getting carried away and voila. I swear I am working on Yunho's chapter of By Order of the Black Pirates bit by bit hehe just had to get this out of my system first.

As always, thank you for reading and hope y'all liked this one! Do let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #non idol au #exes to lovers #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez angst #ateez oneshot #seonghwa angst #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa oneshot #ateez fic

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keeryhours · 3 days ago

Text

real love, baby - chapter two

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You have another talk with Billy, and remember your first time together.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), Pregnancy, angst, talk of abortions, p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N:

I’m so excited you guys are digging this series 💕 Thank you so much for your support!

6 Weeks Pregnant

Being pregnant was weird. You were only six weeks along, but it felt like so much had changed already. Your period never came, obviously, which was honestly a welcome change. You got sick regularly, which was much less welcome. Your boobs hurt and were definitely bigger. You were so bloated your jeans didn’t even fit anymore. And you were crying over everything.

Especially Billy. You cried over him so hard that night you made yourself sick, your face and eyes red and your head aching. You knew it was a possibility that he wouldn’t stick around, but the things he had said to you…that he wanted you to get an abortion and wouldn’t be there at all. You were really on your own. You couldn’t expect someone else to be a dad in his place.

How were you supposed to do this with no help? No money, no job, not even done with high school. You knew your parents wouldn’t help. You dreaded them finding out, knowing it wouldn’t go well. At least you could hide it for a while longer.

You couldn’t even let your parents find out about you getting sick, because then they’d want to take you to the doctor before you could stay home from school. So instead you dragged your weary body to school, enduring the stares and whispers from your classmates.

At least you had Eddie. Eddie, who never left your side and stood up for you any time someone had the guts to say something to your face. The whole school assumed he was the father, anyway. Eddie didn’t mind. And it’s not like you could correct them. Billy still acted like he didn’t know you.

Carol and her bitch friends were the worst. You hated them. They were constantly staring at you, whispering and giggling to each other as they popped their bubblegum and twirled their hair. Their fake sweet voices as they taunted you - “How’s the baby?” “Aww, are you still feeling sick? I heard that goes away in the second trimester.” “Is Eddie excited to be a daddy?”

You wanted to punch them in their stupid smug faces. Maybe if they knew who the father really was, they’d have less to say.

Sometimes you thought about telling them. You thought about rubbing it in their faces, throwing Billy to the wolves and letting the whole school know yeah, Billy Hargrove fucked The Freak.

Their speculations about Eddie weren’t entirely unfounded, but they didn’t know that. There was nothing romantic between you and Eddie, but you had lost your virginities to each other around a year ago. It was more of a You’re my best friend and I trust you kind of situation rather than a passionate, romantic one. And you hadn’t done it again. It had been incredibly awkward the next day. And he was most definitely not this baby’s father.

You examined your body in the mirror every morning, wondering when you’d start to see a change. You would splay your hand across your stomach, affectionately almost. You admitted you were growing attached to the little baby growing inside. That’s why you couldn’t agree to an abortion. You somehow felt love for the tiny little guy already.

The next time you interacted with Billy, it was days after he found out. You were headed out of school to meet Eddie again when he pulled you aside beside the school. He looked around, making sure no one was anywhere within eyesight.

“So?” He said, whispering urgently.

You looked at him confused, your eyebrows furrowed. “So, what?”

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking away from you like he couldn’t believe you. “Are you getting the abortion? I told you I’d pay for it. I’ll take you, whatever. I’ll take care of it.”

You shook your head. “Billy, no. I don’t want an abortion.”

Billy stared at you like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. He rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated. When he looked at you again, he looked pissed. “Come on, man. Don’t fuckin’ do this.”

“Don’t fucking do what?” You asked, keeping your voice down even though you were exasperated. “It’s my body. It’s my baby.”

Billy leaned forward. “It’s our baby,” he hissed, “Remember? I have a say in this too.”

“But you don’t get to tell me to have an abortion!” You huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“You don’t understand what this is going to do to me,” he said. “It’s going to ruin my reputation-“

“As if mine isn’t already ruined,” you said angrily. “It always has been.”

“It’s going to ruin my chances of getting out of here and going home to California,” he continued without missing a beat. “And- you have no idea how my dad is going to react.”

You looked at him. You didn’t know anything about Billy’s family, he never offered any of that information. All you knew was he had a little sister at the middle school he drove home most days. You realized you didn’t know much about Billy’s life at all.

“I mean- we can get through this. If you help me, we can be okay.”

Billy laughed again, the kind of laugh that sent chills through your body and made you feel sick to your stomach. “There is no we. If you don’t want the abortion, you’re on your own. So think hard about it.”

He turned and left then, leaving you standing alone. Again.

Before

It was your average day at school - hell. You were ready to get home and away from all these people, to work on your D&D campaign with Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.

The hallway was deserted as you grabbed your stuff from your locker - you liked to linger in the library until most of your classmates had already left. Your guard was completely down, so it made you jump when you heard someone call your name from behind you.

You turned to see Billy Hargrove of all people. He was pretty new to Hawkins and already the most popular guy in school. You had never interacted with him before, so you were confused as to what he’d want from you.

“Hey,” he said with a cocky smirk as you faced him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Um…hi?” You said. You looked around the hall, seeing if Carol or Tommy or Tina were hiding somewhere, setting you up.

“I was thinking you might want to go out with me sometime?” He asked, suave smile on his face.

“Me?” You asked, eyebrows raised. “Go out with you?”

Billy chuckled, looking away before his eyes landed back on you. “Yeah. Maybe we could go for a drive?”

You looked around again. “Now?”

“Sure,” he said. “Or I could pick you up tonight.”

You stared at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” he said with a laugh. He moved closer, placing a hand on the locker next to your head and leaning in closer to you. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

You blushed furiously. No one had ever called you hot before, least of all someone like Billy. In fact, Carol and her friends made fun of you daily and called you a Freak. “Uh…well, I have D&D stuff right now, so…”

Billy laughed again, then gave you his best charming smile. “I’ll pick you up at 7 then?”

Your heart beat wildly in your chest. This felt like a bad idea. It felt like you were being set up. But at the same time…you did have a crush on Billy, just like every other girl in school. You just never thought he’d give you the time of day. You usually saw him lingering around Tina.

“Okay,” you said, voice nearly a whisper. “7 is good.”

Billy smirked, pleased with himself, as you tore a piece of notebook paper and wrote your address. He took it between his pointer and middle finger, holding it up as he walked backwards away from you. “See you then, princess.” Then he turned and left.

You were still reeling from the interaction when you met Eddie at his van. He could tell immediately that something was up.

“What happened?” He asked as you climbed into the passenger seat of his van.

You turned towards him. “Billy Hargrove just asked me out.”

Eddie stared at you, before he started laughing. “Okay, yeah, right.” He started the van, the engine coming to life.

“I’m serious,” you said as he backed out of the parking lot. “He came up to me in the hallway and asked me out. I told him I had Hellfire stuff right now and he asked if he could pick me up at 7.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment. He glanced over at you. “You’re serious?”

“Yes!” You laughed. “I couldn’t believe it either.”

He let out a rush of air. “You’re sure he wasn’t fucking with you?”

“It didn’t seem like it. He…called me hot.”

“Well, you are hot,” Eddie laughed. “At least someone besides me finally recognized it.”

You laughed, pushing lightly at Eddie’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Are you going to go out with him?”

You thought for a moment. “I mean, yeah, I guess so. I gave him my address and told him 7 was okay.”

Eddie hummed. “I just…be careful, okay? You know his reputation. I don’t want him to use you and have to see you hurt.”

You smiled at your best friend. “I know. My expectations are low.”

He laughed, reaching over to pat you on the leg. “Just take care of yourself. And tell me everything tomorrow.”

When Eddie dropped you off at home after Hellfire, it was already 6pm. You sprinted upstairs to your room, thankful that your parents still weren’t home. It was probably date night, or whatever.

You changed out of your jeans and t-shirt from school and rummaged through your closet for something cute to wear. Most of your wardrobe consisted of jeans and band shirts, to be fair. Finally you landed on a cute sundress, black with flowers on it. It fell to mid thigh on you, something a little sexier than you usually felt comfortable wearing.

You went into your en suite bathroom, plugging in your curling iron. You quickly did some light makeup while waiting for it to heat up, then you styled some light curls in your hair. By the time you were done, it was almost 7.

You went downstairs and sat on the couch, nervous as hell as you waited. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door, and you jumped up, fixing your hair to perfection as you approached the front door. You opened it to see Billy standing there, having changed since you saw him at school. He wore a button up shirt with nearly half the buttons undone and showing off his toned chest, a necklace laying between his pectoral muscles. He had on his signature tight jeans and black boots. His curly hair looked perfect, like he had gone home and nervously styled it just like you had.

“Wow,” he said, giving you his most charming smile. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed, smiling back at him. “Thank you. You look handsome.”

Billy laughed, then held his hand out for you. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” you said, trying your best not to sound as nervous as you felt. You took his hand as he led you out of the house, closing and locking the front door behind you. He escorted you to his Camaro, opening the passenger door for you and helping you in. He started the car and began driving.

He turned the radio on, Metallica playing over the speakers. You smiled at the music choice - “I love Metallica,” you said.

“Really?” Billy raised his eyebrows at you with a smile. “Good taste.”

You enjoyed the music as he drove, the evening already turning the skies dark. He drove until he turned down a dirt road, eventually coming up on Lover’s Lake and killing the engine.

Billy turned to you. “I thought we could spend some time out here…where no one will bother us.”

You were nervous. You knew couples only went to Lover’s Lake to make out, and usually more. Eddie was the only guy you’d ever kissed or had sex with.

Billy leaned towards you, his hand coming up to gently push a lock of hair behind your ear. “You really are beautiful, you know that?”

You blushed again, smiling as you turned away from him. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He cupped the side of your face with his large hand, turning your head to look at him. “You are. I wouldn’t just say that.” He leaned forward until his lips were brushing yours, butterflies going wild in your stomach and your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. “You’re one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you couldn’t believe what was happening. Billy Hargrove was kissing you. His lips worked against yours expertly, nothing like the awkward, messy kisses with Eddie. His tongue slipped between your lips, insistently pressing against yours. You weren’t as experienced as him so you followed his lead, letting him control the kiss.

He kissed the corner of your lips then down your jaw and to your neck, biting and sucking at the skin there. You’d never felt that before. Your eyes closed and you moaned, feeling Billy’s smirk against your neck.

His hands felt you up over your dress, sliding up your bare thigh then caressing up your side until he was pawing at your tits. The way he moved was so hungry and primal, it made you dizzy.

“Billy,” you moaned, and he nearly growled, biting harder on your neck. His left hand moved back to your thigh and slid up your dress until he was playing with the band of your panties. You gasped when he traced his fingers over your clothed pussy, the material wet from your excitement.

“Already wet for me, huh princess?” He mumbled, fingers rubbing your core over your panties, making you shudder under his touch. His hand moved up to slip beneath them, and you gasped again at the feeling of his calloused fingers against your bare pussy. He rubbed between your folds, fingertips circling your clit. Your back arched against the seat, a high pitched moan accidentally slipping past your lips.

“Feel good?” He asked, his voice low. “You look so pretty like this.” His fingertips moved down, prodding at your entrance. You gripped onto his arm, like you might fall away if you didn’t have something to hold onto.

He pushed a finger inside, pumping it into you slowly. It wasn’t long before he added his second finger, curling them deep inside you and pressing against a spot that had your legs shaking. “Billy,” you moaned again, head falling back against the headrest.

He continued thrusting his fingers inside, his thumb rubbing against your clit. You felt pleasure rising in your belly, your thighs shaking around his arm as he brought you higher and higher. “C’mon, baby,” he muttered against your ear. “Cum for me.”

His words pushed you over the edge and you came around his fingers, crying out his name and squeezing your eyes closed as the pleasure tore through your body. When Billy removed his fingers you were sad at the loss, but your eyes went wide when he brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. Fuck.

“Why don’t we get in the backseat?” He said, kissing you again. You could taste yourself on his lips, which was strange.

“O…kay,” you said, climbing into the back with your shaking limbs. He crawled back behind you, maneuvering through the seats with a bit more difficulty. In the back he wasted no time grabbing onto you, pushing your dress up as he kissed you hard again.

Your head was spinning as he pushed your dress up and up, pulling it over your head and tossing it onto the floor. You were grateful you’d chosen a cute black lace matching bra and panties set, because Billy seemed to approve. You decided to make a bold move and unbutton the rest of his shirt, his hands sliding up your back and undoing your bra with the kind of ease only experience brings. You tried not to think about that right now.

He slid your panties down your legs, feeling the smooth skin as he slid his hands up your body. Then he reached for his own belt buckle, undoing it and his jeans and pushing them down just enough along with his boxers.

Your eyes widened again as his cock sprung free, long and hard and thick with precum leaking from his red tip. He had been straining against his clothes for a while, cock aching to be touched. He looked at you.

“Do you wanna suck it?” He asked, wrapping his fist around the base of his cock. He slowly stroked himself, watching you the entire time.

“I’ve never…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, blush rising to your cheeks as you admitted just how inexperienced you were.

“That’s okay, princess,” he said, suave as ever. “Do you wanna try?”

You did. He looked so good like this, you wanted a taste. He smirked as you leaned forward and replaced his fist with your own, your tongue coming out to lick the precum from his tip. He groaned, which encouraged you to keep going.

You sucked at his tip, and he rested his hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to take more. You sunk farther down on his cock, your mouth stretched wide as you did your best to take all of him. You gagged and coughed around him when he bucked his hips up into your mouth unexpectedly.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, voice strained. “Just felt so good.”

That gave you the confidence to keep going, your lips stretched around his girth as you began bobbing your head along his length. He tightened his grip on your hair, guiding you up and down the way he liked. The groans coming from him were so hot, it made you want to do even better for him.

You pulled off of him and licked all along his shaft, worshipping his cock, making a mess on him. The way he moaned let you know you were doing a good job and he loved this, loved when you sucked his cock all messy like that.

“That’s so good, princess, you’re doing amazing,” he praised you. You never thought you’d like being praised so much but it did something to you, and you enveloped him in your mouth again, taking his massive cock all the way down your throat until your nose was pressed against his base. Billy let out a strangled moan before he was pulling you off of him.

You looked at him confused - you thought you’d been doing a good job. You felt embarrassed until he said “That was too good, baby. Didn’t wanna cum in your mouth…at least not this time.”

He moved over you, making you lay back on the seat, the leather cool against your skin. He grabbed your hips and pulled until you were flat on your back and exactly how he wanted you. Your legs spread, he looked down at your pussy, licking his lips as he took in the view.

“I wanna taste that pussy next time,” he said, “but for now I need to be inside you.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a foil packet, ripping it open with his teeth. You watched as he slid the condom onto his cock, so hard and flushed with his desire.

He traced his dick through your folds, collecting your slick on the condom. Then you felt his thick tip prodding at your entrance. You held onto his arm as he pushed inside, stretching you out intensely. Your back arched off the seat, a long whine coming from your lips as he pushed in deeper and deeper, seemingly endlessly. It felt like his cock went on forever.

When he was buried to the hilt, he shuddered, the feeling of your tight pussy nearly pushing him over the edge immediately. He wasn’t about to let that happen - it had never happened before and he wasn’t about to start now. He pulled back and thrusted into you, pulling another whine from you.

“Feel good, princess?” He asked, leaning over you as he set a steady pace, burying his face in your neck as he bit and sucked at the skin there again.

“You’re so big,” you whined, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “So so big.”

Billy chuckled, his hips speeding up as he slammed into you harder. Your eyes rolled back in your head - you’d never been fucked like this before. With Eddie it had been slow, awkward and sweet, but this was anything but. “Feels good though, yeah?”

“Yes,” you moaned. The car was rocking, the windows fogged up from the heat you were creating together. You knew if anyone came by, like Hopper, they’d know exactly what you were up to. The idea made your cheeks heat in embarrassment, but the pleasure was so good you didn’t really care.

Billy dug his fingers tighter into your hips, fucking you hard and fast. Soft grunts came from him with every thrust, his eyes falling closed before he forced them open again, watching your tits bounce as he fucked you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned. “Fucking perfect. Perfect little pussy, so tight and hot and wet, taking me so good. You’re a natural, baby.”

His praise had you getting even wetter, pussy clenching around his cock which made his hips stutter. “Billy,” you moaned again and again, “Billy Billy Billy-“

It was stroking his ego, the way you were falling apart on his cock. He hadn’t even touched you yet, you were this pathetic and needy with nothing but his cock inside you. Knowing it would give you the final push you needed, he moved one hand from your hip and rubbed quick circles over your clit.

He was right, and you came hard, pussy throbbing around his dick as your back arched and you saw stars, calling Billy’s name over and over and over again as you came.

Billy had a smug smile on his face, he couldn’t believe how easy you had fallen apart for him. He fucked into you hard a few more times, grunting hard with every thrust until he stilled inside you, filling the condom with his cum as he groaned your name. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

When both of you had caught your breath, he pulled out of you, pulling the condom off and throwing it somewhere outside. He collapsed onto the seat next to you, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He handed you your clothes and you awkwardly put them back on as he tucked himself back away and re-buttoned his shirt.

You weren’t sure what would happen next. You felt a little uncomfortable, wondering what this meant for you and Billy. He climbed back into the front seat once he was dressed and you followed, settling back in the passenger seat and buckling your seatbelt. Billy started the car, pulling out of the spot and beginning the drive back to your house.

It was silent in the car on the way home, besides his music blaring from the speakers. You didn’t think he’d hear you even if you tried to speak. He finally turned it down when he reached your house, pulling to a stop out front. He turned to you then.

“Can we keep this between us?” He asked, looking at you for the first time since you’d finished.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“You know, keep it between us. Don’t tell anyone.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It just…wouldn’t be good for me, if this got out. But I do want to see you again.”

You were shocked, and a little hurt. But you didn’t know what else to say. “Okay.”

Billy smiled at you then. “Good.” He leaned forward and kissed you one more time. “I’ll pick you up this weekend?”

“Sure,” you said. Then you climbed out of the car, walking up the front walkway to the front door. Your parents were still gone. You unlocked the door and closed and locked it again behind you before heading back upstairs to your room. You laid down on your bed, replaying the evening in your mind.

Eddie had been right to tell you to be careful.

tag list

@rincallistis @holb32 @missingbillyhargrove @fandom-princess-forevermore @kenmasabg @pinklyred @seedlingghost @swiftieintheupsidedown

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nanazta · 2 days ago

Text

YOU BREAK UP WITH THEM (bnha)

“One day, I will stop falling in love with you Some day, someone will like me like I like you” let you break my heart again, laufey

Katsuki

He wouldn't believe it at first. He would get agitated and nervous (making him seem aggressive, but he is just desperate throwing arguments) and point out yr mistakes (since you mentioned his), finally he would leave cursing and slamming the door.

He would be childish. Sometimes typing messages talking about how you made a mistake in the relationship and that it was also your fault, sometimes apologizing (he would delete everything in the end and not send it).

If you were in the same place, he would turn to pout, or check you out of the corner of his eyes.

he would only vent to Krishima, the fact that he hated how he seemed the only one to blame, or admitting guilt (he would really be bipolar, he doesn't want people to think badly of you, and at the same time he wants them to convince him that he's not wrong) .

I would miss your "boring" touch and the "idiocy" you say.

Iida

"Are you sure?"

Honestly, it would take him a while to digest this.

The first person he would talk to would be Izuku while they were drinking (he clearly cried).

He would use the excuse that you forgot clothes at his house to see you (and try for a possible reconciliation).

“Miss u :(“

He had really gotten used to you in his routine, and this sudden loss made him feel lost and depressed.

Denki

He didn't believe it at first either.

"Stop it babe".

He would kind of have a blank head, but when he processed it, he would say that he could change and ask for another chance (desperately).

After all the arguing, he would just turn away (he was crying) and wait for you to leave (to start crying again).

He would try to be mature by talking to you normally, but in the end it would always end with him weighing the mood asking for another chance.

He would try to change and impress you.

"I miss my ex" :)))

Izuku

"I don't understand...why?"

He would try to convince you to try again, but if you didn't accept he would stop.

He would be like a madman trying to find a way to get closer again (not chasing you).

He would also make a list of pros to argue if he saw you.

He would vent to his friends (Iida and Shoto probably).

He would become more thoughtful and discouraged, he would also wonder if it was all his fault.

Shoto

He would ask a lot of questions and also say that he would try to change. As he realized the situation, he would become a little exalted(nervousness).

“Please...just dont leave, ok?”

You were his safe haven, so this loss kind of made him break down somehow.

He would try everything to get you back, and would probably buy you lots of flowers.

He would take you out for something to eat and try to reconcile, "I'll give you some time to think, just take it calmly.." he would say.

Insomnia due to so many thoughts circulating in his head.

He would ask his sister for tips.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #denki x reader #iida x reader #shoto x reader #izuku x reader

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shezzabee · 2 days ago

Note

What are your thoughts on the idea that Inho's obsession with Gihun might do with the fact that Gihun reminds him of his dead wife?

I'm biased because I absolutely eat it up. I never been the same after seeing a post here that compared Gihun's s1 smiling photo with a photo of Inho's wife smiling.

There's also the fact that in s2 ep4, Inho called his wife stubborn, and how theres no point in arguing with her once she set her mind on something (going through her pregnancy despite her being very sick).

It made me think of Gihun's dedication of finding the Recruiter/Salesman, his insistance on being put back in the game...and him not listening to Inho when being told to get on the plane.

With this in mind, Inho's "Just get on the plane. It's for your own good." can be read more that just one man telling another man with who he shares similar trauma, to get the good life he doesn't have (but it's absolutely valid!!)

It could also be Inho (without realizing it) pleading for Gihun (his wife) to listen to him (the doctors), and (this time) survive. But just like with his wife, Gihun isn't budging with his decision. He made up his mind, go argue with a wall.

(Now it doesn't mean that Inho saw his wife in Gihun in an instance. It happens slowly as Inho gets closer to him)

Hi! Thanks for the question. I think I know the post you’re referring to—my shipper brain absolutely devoured that too, not gonna lie. XD

Even beyond the shipping lens, though, everything you’ve said really resonates. It feels like the core of their dynamic, doesn’t it? In-ho is clearly drawn to something about Gi-hun’s refusal to compromise on his principles, his unshakable belief in humanity, and his conviction that things can still turn out for the better. The only other person In-ho has explicitly mentioned as being just as stubborn as Gi-hun is his late wife, which feels like a significant parallel.

Now, of course, this is all speculation, and we won’t know In-ho’s full motivations until Season 3 (hopefully) sheds some light. But I don’t think In-ho has ever truly moved on from his wife’s death. He’s still grieving, still carrying the weight of that loss. He’s angry—angry at himself for not being there when his wife and child died, angry at the world for the circumstances that led to it, and probably angry at the Games themselves for existing. (I’ll die on the hill that In-ho hates the Games, despite being their enforcer.) He’s also angry at humanity at large for failing people in need, for letting the world get to this point.

And I think there’s a part of him that’s angry at his wife, too, (don't kill me, hear me out). She was self-sacrificing to a fault, willing to risk her own life to save their unborn child. That mirrors what we see in Gi-hun, especially at the end of Season 1. In the final game, after Sang-woo is defeated, Gi-hun refuses to abandon his morals to win, even when the easier path is right in front of him. That kind of unyielding determination, that refusal to bend—even at great personal cost—has to strike a nerve with In-ho.

Since In-ho can’t confront his late wife or tell her she was wrong to risk it all, to leave him alone, he directs all that unresolved grief and anger toward Gi-hun instead. Gi-hun becomes a constant, painful reminder of everything In-ho lost—and everything he’s come to resent about the world.

So, what does In-ho do? He sets out to break Gi-hun. To tear apart everything and everyone Gi-hun cares about until all that’s left is despair. Maybe then, In-ho can finally say: “See? There’s no point. None of it means anything. You were wrong—just like she was wrong.”

It’s a cruel and calculated move, but also deeply human. If he can prove that Gi-hun’s ideals and morals are meaningless, it would, in a twisted way, justify the choices In-ho has made and the person he’s become.

In the end, it’s not just about Gi-hun or his late wife. It’s about In-ho’s own pain, his need to make sense of the senseless, and his desperate attempt to validate the path he’s taken—even if it’s at the expense of someone who still believes in the good.

#squid game #457 #gihun x inho #ginho #squid game 2 #001 x 456 #character study #hwang in ho #seong gi hun #meta tag #is it meta?? i dont know i just fucking love this man #squid game season 2 #squid game meta #inhun #gi hun x in ho #gihun x frontman #the frontman #front man

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phyx-m · 3 days ago

Text

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 33: Ruin

Content warning: Blood (from the previous chapter), light bondage, Sukuna’s two cocks, male masturbation, oral sex/vaginal/anal fingering (female receiving), degradation, spit as lube, rough sex, implied hate sex, double penetration, spanking, choking, double creampie, no aftercare, angst? (probably).

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Tunnel Lights - Chelsea Wolfe (Crosses remix) Change (In The House Of Flies) - Deftones Closer - Nine Inch Nails

* * * * *

Chapter 32

* * * * *

Tips of tongues. Teeth, then hands. Hot and insistent. When Sukuna’s mouth collides against your parted lips, you’re lost. Completely gone. Because the kiss is an assault, a drawn-out battle—one you’ll likely lose but one you’ll not forget.

With his lower hands trapping your hands at the small of your back, you’re helpless against him. A woman tethered, held at his mercy, ready and willing to be offered up to a sensation that feels both forbidden and wrong.

And Sukuna must feel it too, because he takes. Gods, how he takes, like a man starved, denied sustenance for a lifetime.

Mouth opening wider against his, your gasping pants slip through the narrow space between. Your knees grow unsteady at the sound of his heavy breath, coiling through you like sin. It’s everything you’ve imagined him to be. His body, raw power, looming over you, impossibly tall, a beast ready to consume.

Tilting his head, the King of Curses deepens the kiss, the edges of his mask brushing your cheek while the massive hand cradling the back of your head holds you firmly in place, unable to break the embrace even if you wanted to. And that control sends a searing heat through you, yet some defiant sliver inside pushes back. As his dominance sinks down, you rise onto your toes, pushing up into his mouth with equal carnality.

Laving your tongue slowly across his bottom lip, you earn a guttural grunt in response. Emboldened, your teeth follow on the next pass, pausing briefly before sinking in and biting down. Hard.

A growl travels up inside his chest, and the hand at the back of your head tunnels deeper into your hair. Fingers tightening around the strands, he fists them, and without breaking the kiss, he yanks your head back, wrenching you painfully.

“Fucking bastard,” you breathe into his mouth, the words steaming between you as you drag the spot you bit back between your teeth.

Another graze. Another bite. Harder. Until you taste copper on your tongue. His grip on your hair tightens in warning.

“Reckless little bitch,” he muffles a hiss against you before capturing your lips again while his upper left arm—the only one not touching you—catches you around the waist.

In an instant, Sukuna lifts you, your feet slipping free from the floor, leaving a slick puddle of blood behind. Pressing you firmly against his chest, he strides forward and, in one, two, three steps, shoves you back. The kiss remains unbroken, your spine slams into the nearest wall, and a sharp burst of pain radiates through your wounded body. When a soft cry escapes you, your mouths come apart for the briefest heartbeat. But Sukuna doesn’t let you pull away. On a growl, he crushes you back to him, capturing every sound with the greedy smack of his lips.

You moan, a mix of pain and pleasure.

Closer.

You need to be closer, or you’ll lose your mind. Which you likely already have.

“More.” A breath into him.

Dizzy, you can’t tell if the word escaped or still lingers, trapped inside your thoughts.

He pushes his pelvis forward, knocking into you, rolling his body into yours. And you can feel them—the swell of his bulge.

Fuck.

“Give me more of you.”

You’re just as uncertain who said that.

Him.

Growling deeply, Sukuna drags his open mouth over yours, and you eagerly part your lips to meet him.

The kiss grows frantic, angry, bordering on violent.

Together, you seek every corner possible, every dip and curve of the other’s mouth. Your teeth release his lip, and your tongues thrust together, his curling around yours. You kiss until you can’t breathe. Kiss until you hear his heavy breath against your face again, and that sound alone draws another moan from your throat, louder and more desperate than before.

Yes.

Madness.

This is insanity.

Lowering your feet back to the floor but keeping you pinned to him, Sukuna’s legs cage around yours, his wide hips sinking forward to trap you between the wood at your back. His upper hands shift to engulf either side of your jaw, thumbs sliding up to press into the soft skin before your ears. He forces your head to tilt up while you try to find every new angle of him you can reach. It’s still not enough—though it should be. You should be thinking of the regret that will follow.

But there’s no room for that now.

No time.

This is a need that demands to be satisfied.

With a slow slide, his upper right hand shifts, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. It feels as though he wants to touch your lips not just with his own but with his fingertips, too—like he’s trying to memorize their shape.

The action momentarily pulls you back. You’re unsure what to think.

But as your mouths realign, the kiss changes.

The earlier brutality eases. Bruising presses soften, replaced by slower, lingering touches. It becomes a lazy exploration. Where his thumbs rest, they trace tiny circles, and your noses nudge and brush together. A deep purr rumbles from his chest, and you grow weak against him. Tongues glide now, smooth and crawling, speaking not of dominance but of something frighteningly tender.

A longing.

And one more emotion that’s—

“Enough!” Sukuna growls, yanking his head back abruptly.

The embrace topples.

The spell shatters.

Your eyes flick open, and reality crashes back down once more.

Staring up, still pinned to the wall, both your laboured breaths intertwine, caught in the heat where your bodies almost touch. He glares down at you, panting, as if you’d just tried to kill him.

“We’ll not do that again,” he murmurs thickly, voice rough. The eyes on his mask appear a little bit larger, heavy-lidded but burning as they pierce down and into you.

“We’ll not do what? Kiss?” you say, the sneer curving your lips impossible to hide. “Even though you’re the one who had me crushed between you and the damn wall.”

You wriggle in his tight hold for emphasis, and Sukuna leans back, his mouth twitching with irritation.

“If you think you’ll find that kind of warmth here...” His gaze falls to your swollen lips, staring for a moment longer before they lift. “You won’t.”

Warmth.

As if he ever understood what that was to begin with.

You fight back a sardonic laugh that is eager to rise. Even with your limited experience of whatever this warmth is he speaks of, you know there’s no place for it between you and the King of Curses. Especially now. Anything that might have been possible is already buried.

But choices remain, and there’s still something you want.

You want to make this man regret every moment of knowing you. You want him to hurt as he has hurt you. You want to walk away from this, knowing you’ve left a permanent fucking scar on his soul.

You want to ruin him as he has ruined you.

“And what is it that I’ll find here?” You lift your chin, your face solid and emotionless, even as you battle against the sensation of blood soaking through your garment.

The pupils of Sukuna’s ripple-like eyes dance and move across your face, then drop, tracing the lines of your figure.

“You already know the answer,” he coos lowly.

Shifting his upper right hand, it leaves your neck to trail downward, grazing the neckline of your sodden yukata before taking hold of the front panel.

“What we’ve both wanted.”

There’s a pounding starting in your chest.

While his upper left hand joins the right, his lower hands readjust their hold, keeping your wrists firmly pinned. And slowly, he begins to part the garment.

The pounding turns into a flutter that forces its way through your pulse—whether from arousal or the fact that you’re still bleeding out, you’re not sure. But you refuse to drop to your knees and beg for him to heal you.

“And you presume to still know what that is,” you murmur, gaze fixed on his face, defying the pull to look down at the hands undressing you.

The King of Curses gives another tug at the garment, revealing the curve of your clavicle, and the skin around his four eyes crinkles with a growing smirk.

Arrogant.

Leaning in close, a few unruly strands of pink hair slip free.

“Don’t I?” he whispers smugly, tilting his head, then pushing the fabric open further. Without the pressure of the yukata, the wound on your shoulder trickles a thin line of crimson down your chest, tracing your sternum before descending to the floor.

“Then tell me to stop.” His voice drops, becoming a low rasp.

That thumping in your heart turns racing, the beat echoing too loud inside your throat. Hands finding more garment, he pushes it open further, exposing the ends of your collarbones and cool, damp skin pebbles where the fabric disappears.

“Tell me to stop…”

Your pulse hums and brightens, heat sliding down your body to your stomach, then settling between your thighs.

“I won’t.”

“Say it.” His aroused gaze dips, lower eyes following the curve of your shoulders as he reveals more of you. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

You shake your head softly.

“I can’t.”

Because it would be a lie.

You want to give in to your desires, to be taken by him, to pull him under and keep drowning him. Drag him further into his perceived suffering.

Sukuna’s hands still, his eyes slipping back to yours.

“Then don’t,” he murmurs.

Away from your shoulders, the ruined fabric is pulled aside, and you shudder as the tops of your breasts are exposed. With another slow push, it parts cleanly down your torso, falling off your shoulders and down your arms. Using the coordination of his four hands, he carefully threads the sleeves loose, ensuring your fingertips never brush him. The swell of your breasts spills free, peaked nipples catch in the dim light, but Sukuna doesn’t look. He keeps his eyes held with yours. Once the garment catches and hangs loose at the resistance of the waist sash, his upper hands plane smoothly across your stomach toward it, fingers teasing the fabric. You swallow softly, aware that with a single tug, the yukata will fall.

“Look at you…” he whispers, loosening the simple knot slowly. “Covered in blood…” He pulls one end of the tie. “Just like the first time I saw you, all those years ago.”

The sash slides free. The layers drop, and fabric slips from your body, pooling silently on the floor at your feet.

Standing there, exposed before him for the first time, a wave of insecurity peaks, your eyes hesitating under its weight. You fight the urge to look away but keep your attention on Sukuna’s austere expression. He still doesn’t look down at your naked figure. Instead, he leans in, his upper right hand moving to the laceration he cleaved into your shoulder, and with a single sweep, he heals it, the hurt flaring then fading. Gently, he wipes away some of the dried blood with his thumb. After that, his upper left hand climbs around to your back, finding and tending to the final wound etched in there.

Eyes falling shut, you exhale with relief.

But suddenly, there’s a yank at your wrists. Your eyes snap open. Sukuna forces you into an arch as he bends your arms behind your back.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demand, shifting on your feet as he binds you with your yukata sash, tying it tight around your wrists and letting them rest securely against your body.

“That’s funny.”

He pulls away once he’s finished and turns, offering you his muscled back, before striding toward the unlit iron brazier in the corner.

“What is?” you grind out, tugging against the strip of fabric holding you, but it doesn’t give.

Swiping a hand over the brazier, Sukuna revives the fire within. A pocket of soft red flares, touching his figure in a dark glowing silhouette.

“If you think I’d trust you not to touch me,” he mutters, head tilted down toward the flame, “just to try and kill me while I take you, then you’re proving, yet again, to be far more naive than I thought.”

He pauses, then steps away.

“I’ll not have you touch me again.”

Your nostrils flare. Of course, neither of you trusts the other.

“Besides,” he continues, stepping to the garden door. He pauses in the open threshold, facing the velvet night with his back still turned to you. “Seeing you bound while I fuck my cocks into you while spread out beneath me will be...” He trails off, leaving the thought unfinished. Whatever circles around in his twisted mind has drawn him into silent contemplation.

“You’re aware I can’t use my gift again so soon after you provoked me, right?” you growl, tapping a small step in his direction.

The firelight crackles and cuts, dancing over and illuminating his back and sirwal. It’s still smeared with blood and dirt from your encounter in the forest—an encounter where you awakened something you never knew you were capable of.

“If you were more disciplined,” he spits, resting a hand on the delicate panel of the sliding door, “you could.”

“Not everyone is as cruel and powerful as you,” you snap back, anger cresting in the timbre of your voice.

Those thick, inked shoulders tense and swell.

“A martyr through and through.” Sukuna shakes his head. “And with that, you’re fragile. Always needing someone to mend you after every little hurt!”

He slides the door shut with a sharp bang, making you jump. The force stirs the air, causing the firelight to flicker, shadows to scatter apart before reshaping themselves again.

“One day, that weakness will cost you everything!”

A notch grabs at your brow.

The fucking hubris of this man.

The urge to yell back at him digs into your tongue. You want to demand why it even matters to him, why he cares at all.

You open your mouth, take another step, but before the words even slip free, he turns, and his eyes fall on you.

You freeze.

In an instant, Sukuna’s anger banks into one of heavy silence.

Quiet.

He takes you in, takes you apart.

Every aspect of you.

Your chest rises and falls, and his gaze follows its familiar path, beginning with your eyes. It lingers there briefly before drifting slowly downward—tracing the curve of your face, the line of your neck, and continuing lower to your torso and hips. His eyes crawl across the apex of your thighs before continuing down your legs, before finally stopping at your feet, perhaps even pausing on the tips of your toes. At the extreme amount of dedication he pours into studying your body, your throat dips softly, and you swallow.

When Sukuna drags his four eyes up, deep hunger darkens the edges of his red irises. The pupils dilate. Swollen and black. They’ve become lust-ridden, and he’s become a different creature in the span of a heartbeat.

Without breaking eye contact, his upper hands move to the knot securing his sirwal, and with a simple tug, it unravels. His lower hands follow, hooking his thumbs into the waistband, and slowly, he pulls the garment down. Your entire body tenses as you watch, your brow furrowing in anticipation. As the fabric slips over his two jutting cocks, they strain against his abdomen, causing blood to rush to your cheeks. Looking at them, it’s difficult to breathe. They sit atop the other, thick and big and hard and in the fiery light, you see the soft, distended veins that run along the underside. You see the tips, swollen and red, leaking with precum, see two black banded tattoos encircling each, one near the base and another below the crown.

He is…

Well, words can’t do him justice.

Squeezing your thighs together, a throbbing settles in your folds. You should be running in the opposite direction, not standing here face-to-face like this, because it becomes harder to look anywhere else, leaving you so exposed and vulnerable, especially after everything that’s happened tonight.

“Sit.”

The command pulls you out of your thoughts, and finally, you avert your gaze. Sukuna lets his garment fall completely to the floor before pointing to the raised futon.

Nervously, you step across the room, your eyes following the shifting patterns of light dancing on the ground to distract yourself. As you near the futon, tucked in the softer shadows, your heart begins to thump out a harder rhythm. Bound and reaching it, you turn and perch on the edge, letting your feet dangle, toes grazing the wooden floor.

The room remains silent.

Soft crackles hiss from the brazier, and warmth fills out the space.

But it’s too quiet. Uncomfortably so.

From the cool blue shadows near the garden door, where Sukuna stands, his lower red eyes watch you, unblinking. Then he finally moves, pulling away from the frame.

“Lay back and open your thighs for me,” he orders flatly, sliding a hand through his hair.

Taking his time to cross the space, his sturdy tattooed thighs flex and strain under his weight, his heavy cocks swaying while resting against his abdomen with each step. Coming to stand at the edge of the futon, towering over you, the slit on his torso begins to part, and the maw awakens. Another flutter rushes into your pulse.

“Are you planning to shove me between its teeth again?” you ask, nodding toward the abyss.

Sukuna says nothing, lost in an inward retreat. He’s gone so withdrawn and guarded that it's painful to even look at him.

With a quiet huff, you edge backward as best you can, keeping your balance until you lie back and carefully drop your knees to the side. Once they rest into the soft, whispering folds of the quilt, your eyes wander up and latch on to his.

“Wider,” he growls, jaw clenching. “Show me the spot that has you aching the most.”

You do, pushing your legs out further until the muscles of your thighs burn. You present him with your core. It’s throbbing, aching and growing wet under his intense gaze dripping over you.

“Better,” he mumbles, raising his two bottom hands to his cocks. “Just like that, keep them open.”

Hands curling around each rigid shaft, he palms them into his fists, and slowly, so fucking slow, wrists moving, he begins to stroke himself.

Up and down, and up and down.

You watch him take pleasure in himself, a little too mesmerized by the soft sound of his skin and the rhythm of his massive hands gliding over his dicks. It’s erotic and intoxicating. And just the very idea that he’s standing before you, pumping himself while his upper eyes rest on your face and the lower pair hungrily devours your cunt, draws a heat across your skin. An urge to touch yourself climbs into you while he works himself, but you can’t, not like this.

“I can see that pretty shine forming while you watch this.” It takes a moment, but slowly, his heavy body relaxes, the tension leaving. His breathing grows audible, and a flush moves across his skin.

“It's making you drip all over my sheets like a filthy whore,” he admonishes you roughly on an upstroke that grows faster, his heavy balls lifting and falling, and your head grows tingly at the sight.

“Tell me, how wet are you for me?”

Swallowing, you subtly lick your lips and push up on your elbows.

“Soaking,” you murmur half-heartedly, too busy watching his cocks drooling for you, watching how his fingers grip tightly around their girth, imagining your tongue or your hands on them, touching the veins ridged down his shafts or tonguing your way over the swollen heads.

Only then do you realize this is the first time you’ve seen a fully erect man before you, and it’s embarrassing how captivated you are by him.

Ryomen Sukuna is, to be clear, perfection.

“Louder!” he orders, his voice a growl. “And bring those perverse eyes up here.”

Your gaze moves to his smirking face.

“I said I was soaking!” you hiss, trying to match his tone with your rising voice. “Asshole…” you finish in a mutter.

Tipping back his head, he reveals the strong column of his throat—a throat you once wondered if you could strangle. Sukuna grins, like the devil himself, before widening his stance and staring down at you along the length of his broad nose.

“Good girl.” The praise is enough to set your blood hot and emerges from his lips in a husky purr, followed by a ragged exhale tearing from the back of his throat. All four of his eyes remain on you, devouring you as you lay stretched across his sheets like an offering.

Aroused, you start to move your hips—soft, lazy undulations, back and forth to ease the tension in your core.

“Fuck,” Sukuna breathes quietly, eyes tracing the subtle movements with his lower eyes.

He likes this.

The skin-on-skin contact of his hands and shafts grows louder, and heat scorches you further as you watch his fists squeeze tighter, his strokes becoming heavier and faster. His mouth tugs slightly, then parts, the muscles along his abdomen flexing and tensing. The tips of his cocks well with more pearly beads, enough that on the lower one, a droplet slides down the length of his shaft until it pulls away and falls to the floor. Your breaths become unsteady at the sight of it. Of his members becoming slick and glistening. They look like they’re aching, desperate to be touched.

“Look at your sweet virgin cunt begging for me to fuck it,” he grunts past his teeth, and you’re almost panting as his voice becomes coarse with arousal.

Subconsciously, you bring your legs together and squeeze, hips and thighs gently moving back and forth for friction.

“With the way you’re looking at me, practically eating me alive while stroking yourself,” you say, your words catching slightly, “it seems like you want it too, maybe even a little desperately.”

Sukuna’s mouth twitches at your comment. Dangerous to tease him like this, but you keep going.

“You haven’t fucked in months.” You push and grind your thighs harder, and he watches, stroking his cocks in rhythm. “Since the weather was warm.”

Still unsure what’s truth and what’s lies, you watch his reaction closely.

Nothing.

You pause and tilt your head before opening your legs wide for him again, tempting and rolling your hips back and forth.

“Haven’t fucked since—” You raise an eyebrow as if you aren’t afraid of the consequences. “Since the day after I arrived… have you?”

You’re clenching and throbbing around nothing, and the King of Curses’ nostrils flare.

“I wonder why that is,” you taunt, swivelling in tighter circles.

Sukuna stops pumping his cocks but grips them tightly at the base.

“Am I wrong?” Your voice becomes light.

He says nothing, but his mouth twitches. And now you’re fighting a cocky grin.

So, not a lie?

“You know,” he growls dangerously, dropping his hands from his shafts. “The more you try to speak with such overstated pride…” He steps forward, bending, then reaching so his fingers dig into your thighs. He drags you to the edge of the futon. Your eyes come level with his, indignation spreading across his snarling face. “The more you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

With his upper left hand curling around the back of your neck, he forces you to sit up on your knees, back arching in a contorted position. He bends further, keeping his eyes with yours.

“Open up for me,” he hisses angrily into your face, gaze darting to your mouth, then back up.

That demand, that stupid demand. He’s said it to you before, and now that everything is laid bare and coming from him again, it sounds so different.

You hesitate.

Watching you sternly, he reaches down to his upper cock, and runs his thumb along the tip, collecting the precum that has beaded there.

“I said open.” He nudges his chin and brings his hand forward just shy of your mouth. “I’ll not ask again.”

Catching his gaze, you part your lips, tongue pulling away to peek out slightly. His eyes hood, becoming heated with lust as he stares at your open mouth. Slowly, you watch as he brushes his slicked thumb onto your bottom lip, where he drags it across. Curiosity has the tip of your tongue darting out to taste the pad of his finger. His eyes darken further, while you savour the saltiness of his early seed.

“Since you’re desperate enough to pry into my private life, I’ll tell you.” His voice roughens. Finger pressing harder, he pulls your lip down, revealing your teeth. “No, I haven’t sought out anyone else since you arrived. For a while now…”

He pauses, his words trailing off, and you wonder if he’s reflecting on the seven years spent despising you.

“My thoughts have been consumed… elsewhere,” he concludes with a grumble.

You stare at him, searching his face.

“A truth, for once?” you murmur, his finger still resting against your drawn-down lip.

It steals a half smirk from him, and he nods. Leaving you unsure of what to say. But the expression he wears quickly fades. His jaw clenches as though he’s holding back the rest of that truth.

“And with that arrival,” he continues, tracing your bottom lip back and forth, lower eyes tracking the movement. “I’ve wondered for a while what this mouth would look like wrapped around my cock. What it would feel like to do the most depraved things to you.” His thumb leaves your lip, and his hand slips to grip your neck. “To witness you kneeling before my feet and worshiping me while I fuck your throat raw… watch you choke on it until your eyes well with tears that belong only to me.”

His fingertips trace the curve of your neck with care, sliding down to rest in the hollow of your throat.

Words fail to form. The possessiveness behind what he says and the image he’s pushed into your mind. It leaves you with only soft, unintelligible sounds.

Dipping his thumb into the groove of your clavicle, Sukuna pauses.

“However…”

His eyes narrow to dark ruins.

Whatever truth or reflection was there vanishes.

“I’ve waited too long for this.” A growl edges his voice, lip curling back, he bares his teeth.

Without warning, he releases you and pushes you roughly onto the bedding, where you land with a sharp inhale. As you shift, trying to find a comfortable position for your bound hands, you catch sight of him sinking to his knees at the edge of the futon. You look up just as he grabs your ankles, pulling you closer to the edge. Without pause, he roughly hoists your calves onto his broad shoulders and dips his head between your open thighs, working his jaw as he does. Making eye contact with you, he opens his mouth and spits onto your entrance. Your breath catches at the sensation before he reaches forward and starts to rub his thumb along your slit, swirling the saliva up and down and then slowly, he sinks two fingers in deep.

Blinding heat spills across your vision. The intrusive pressure of being filled by him again has your mouth dropping open silently, but a long moan soon follows from up your throat, making Sukuna’s eyes hood.

“That’s it,” he husks, pushing further until you see his knuckles softly brush your skin. “Let me hear you.”

You’ll not restrain yourself any longer.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine around the increasing pleasure of him working your body so well, mesmerized by the sight as he pulls and drives his fingers in and out. Your juices and his spit make soft, sticky noises that mingle with the crackling of the fire.

Erotic.

Pumping his fingers, his lower left hand comes up and switches, replacing his fingers that were in your cunt only to drag them down lower while the other one slips back inside your wet heat. He pauses at your asshole before leaning in to spit there. Your body jumps, and then he’s pressing one solid finger against your tight hole. Shifting side to side, you feel uncomfortable at the pressure and try to shut your thighs closed, but when his eyes shoot up to your face, you still.

“Relax,” he grumbles quietly, looking away and dipping his head down to drip more saliva onto your ass. “I’ll not let it hurt.”

Pushing his upper hands under your asscheeks, he spreads them wide, letting the spit curve down to reach his finger, and finally, with a gentle twist, he slowly breaches the ring of muscle.

There’s a bright ache.

“Sukuna!” You don’t mean to wince out his name, but it comes along with the new sensation of having that hole filled for the first time.

“There you go,” he coos darkly, working his fingers, pumping them, stretching you open. He brings his head down and adds his tongue to the mess, licking and nipping at your drenched folds before nudging, then flicking right across your tight nub.

You tense, a knot forming in your abdomen, then you’re gone—falling, deeper, farther, endlessly.

Losing yourself to him again.

A pull too strong.

One you can’t seem to deny.

Fingers fucking into your holes, lips sucking, and tongue moving steadily back and forth across your clit, pleasure darts through you. You’re quickly becoming a moaning mess beneath his mouth. And bound at his mercy, all you can do is let your back arch off the sheets, let your legs press inward over his tattooed shoulders until your heels dig into his skin. The King of Curses muffles a deep grunt into your damp sex and adjusts the hold he has on you.

A tight hold. One you can’t break.

Back and forth, in and out, faster, more pressure.

“Pathetic.” Sukuna pulls his mouth back, red eyes staring up at you from the planes of your body.

“What—ah!”

He adds another finger inside each hole, and your question cuts into a mangled whimper at the stretch. Guiding his mouth back down, he breathes heavily across your cunt, his tongue pushing up and into your lips and assaulting its way across your swollen clit over and over again. And you’re gasping, moaning, squirming in his grasp so much that his upper hands abandon their grip on your ass to pin your hips down.

“Look at that,” he mouths against your slit, tonguing you before tugging your folds impatiently into his mouth, and you clench. He teases your pussy again before releasing it to lift his head.

Both your eyes wander to each other, staying for a moment.

“Look at your tight cunt and ass relishing in being played with by the very monster you failed to kill.”

He pauses.

That look. His gaze is cruel.

“You should be embarrassed!” he sneers.

Humiliation snags in your chest.

“Fuck you!” you hiss, and he drives his fingers deeper to hit a sweet spot making your mouth fall open on a whine.

No longer able to form something combative, your soft pants turn into frustrated groans, loosened muscles trembling and contracting under the constant stimulation as your orgasm builds. Head falling back deeper into the mounds of pillows fitted across the futon, your eyes drift to the ceiling before sliding shut.

“That’s what I thought,” he growls, his words muffled as he eats at you eagerly. “Look how well your body is enjoying this.”

The tip of his tongue lashes back and forth across your sensitive nub until all you hear is wetness clicking. You open your eyes, shake and tremble under his mouth and under his words.

“You enjoy me,” he adds, his licks and sucks becoming firmer, pumping fingers harder, head moving up and down to reach your flushing core.

Back and forth, in and out, faster, more pressure.

You moan loudly.

The approaching orgasm causes a warmth to reach and unfurl inside your belly, forcing your eyes into a soft squint and brows to furrow. Opening his mouth, Sukuna circles and flicks his tongue rapidly across your clit again, and you rupture. Your sex clenches. Mouth dropping open, a desperate cry rips out of you, and you cum, grinding your pelvis to prolong the sensation. And Sukuna is groaning loudly into you, lapping up the arousal that softly gushes out of you.

If the clash between you earlier in the night didn’t wake the entire shrine, the sounds of pleasure he’s tearing from your soul and the ones escaping him surely would.

Both of you undulate together. Breathe deeply together.

Sukuna drinks and sucks at your entrance, his eyes finding yours, and you watch him.

“And you enjoy me just as much,” you choke out, words lost in your throaty cries of bliss.

“Say it louder! I can’t hear over all your whining and moaning,” he rumbles at you before dragging his tongue around the fingers plunging in and out of your pussy, spit dripping down to soak the ones inside your ass.

Lifting your head higher, you blink down at his massive figure, kneeling at the end of the futon.

“I said you enjoy me just as much, if not more!” you hiss spitefully. “Just admit it.”

Pulling his fingers out of you abruptly, he shoves your legs off his shoulders, pushes you flat against the bedding, and rises. You sit up instantly, but he’s already closing in, crawling onto the futon and toward you. Your pulse kicks into overdrive as you scramble to create space, but his massive body comes closer, his stomach mouth huffing, tongue laving out. And bound as you are, moving away is useless, and he seems to know it. A sadistic chuckle rumbles from Sukuna as he slaps a hand around your ankle and tauntingly reels you back to him. You slide across your backside until you’re face to face, him hovering over you, the grin on his lips widening into something twisted.

Smoothly, he flips you onto your stomach, and your skin sinks into the soft quilt beneath you, but your body stiffens as his lower hands glide possessively over your thighs to your hips before yanking them upward. With your arms pinned awkwardly behind you, tension coils tightly in your chest. It only winds further when his massive frame settles heavily behind you.

“You want to know how much I enjoy you?” he whispers into your neck before swiping his tongue up to your ear. You shudder at the feel of it, pushing back against him with an exhale.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He huffs into your skin. You shut your eyes.

The heat of his naked body pressing against yours feels foreign, yet everything about this moment feels inescapable, though you didn’t want to admit it.

“I’ll just let you feel it instead,” he purrs deeply, easing a knee between your thighs to spread your legs apart.

His two bottom hands move to grasp your waist, clamping down and hauling you back. Eyes opening, you suck in a tight breath. There’s tension as you feel the press of his pelvis hovering near your backside, and the tip of one of his leaking cocks slides against your seam, sending a thread of nervous anticipation through you.

“And like I said once before.” He loops his upper right arm around your chest. Lifting your torso from off the futon, he keeps you suspended there, arching your body taut like a bowstring in his hold, then takes your jaw into his upper left hand, fingers angling your head back, your gazes meeting.

“You’ll watch as I enjoy taking everything from you.”

From over your shoulder, his lower left hand leaves your waist and fists his upper cock. Using the arm twining around your chest as leverage, he pulls you back while he comes forward. There’s nudging against your soaked folds, pressure, and then stretching. Your eyes hold onto each other, his red ones boring into you. Strangely, it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Guiding you back, the thickness of his girth starts to fill out your pussy, making your brow softly pinch and mouth drop open. You groan, breathing through it. It aches, acute and burning. The sensation of being taken by him, taken by anyone for the first time, it’s overwhelming. Sukuna starts to breathe heavily, his cock pressing deeper, and you watch his face, the way he concentrates, and the way it twitches. Despite all the animosity, the way he pulls you back—slowly, carefully—his chest rising and falling, eyelids heavy, is gentle. Time spent wondering what it would feel like to be filled and fucked by him, touching yourself, imagining it, and now you’re about to find out.

Once his hips slot against your backside, you’re shaking, and he tosses his head back, exposing the line of his neck.

“You’re so tight.” With his voice taut with pleasure, he hisses the words toward the ceiling, a loud exhale following as his fingers tighten on your jaw. He starts to slide his cock out, then thrusts forward to fill you in again. You moan. It feels good, especially with his lower member gliding and rubbing against your clit, making your belly coil.

Tightening every hand he has on you, Sukuna’s pace is slow but hard, shallow thrusts, easing the heaviness of himself into you. And when longer moans begin tumbling out of your mouth, he drops his head back to look at you.

“You like that little slut?” he growls through his teeth. Red eyes soaked with arousal, his thighs keep flexing, and he keeps pumping into you in rougher spurts, skin slapping sharply, pussy so wet, staring down at you, filling up your body with him.

But suddenly, he eases to a stop.

Your brow folds.

“What are you doing?” Your protest has him grinning.

“It’s time to take all of me,” he coos deviously.

Reaching down with the same hand, he pulls his soaking upper cock from your pussy, and presses the thick head up against your asshole. You gasp, choke on a breath as he feeds it into your hole, taking his time to enter you so you feel every ridge and swell. The tip of his lower dick comes next. Using his left hand, he guides it into your cunt, your legs shaking.

Halfway into you, he tugs back on your hair.

“Eyes here, nowhere else,” he murmurs, pupils swelling to blackness, and he leans forward, pressing his chest into your back. So close and intimate, you nod and keep looking at him.

Fingers pushing into your hips, he comes forward, bringing his pelvis and you together. Deeper. Tighter. It stings. You moan and whine when it comes, both his dicks filling you so completely, your inner walls tighten, squeezing around them until his eyes narrow, and he groans.

Buried inside, he pauses, leans back and looks down.

“Exquisite,” he purrs, rubbing his lower right hand along the curve of your ass while gazing down at you impaled on him. “You’re so perfect like this, taking all this cock so deep and so well.”

Heat fists inside your stomach at the sound of his praise.

“Now...” Slowly, he eases out, body coming away until only the tips rest inside. Meeting your eyes, he lowers his head and releases another drop of spit onto his upper shaft. “Let me break you.”

Inhale. Exhale.

You breathe.

Shaking.

Again, you feel his enormous size, and again, he takes his time. Admiring. And you wait. Panting.

He pauses his savouring, then moves his lower hands, finding their way to your waist while his other hands follow—one sliding into your hair, the other wrapping around your chest to grip your throat, keeping you lifted off the futon. You gasp at the sensation of being held up by him, completely under his control.

“So perfect, in fact,” he purrs seductively, and out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of him towering over you, the flash of teeth as he grins wickedly.

“That I could just—”

Snap!

He slams his hips forward, burying his cocks inside you.

A harsh, uncontrollable scream scorches up your throat, spilling out and filling the room.

You’re unprepared when he starts to pound into you, driving his lengths deep, fucking you hard like some hedonistic, mindless animal, rutting into you violently.

And all you can do is surrender.

Surrender to his control. Let go of everything you’re meant to be and fall into chaos. Let him guide your body. Let him take his pleasure just as you take yours.

Thrust after thrust after thrust. Your entire being jerks and sways within his monstrous hold, back and forth. Thrusting in deeper. Harder. The tops of his muscular thighs smacking into the back of yours over and over, his thrusts becoming more brutal than the last, and almost all his weight pushes into you, heavy. Full. You feel so completely full. It’s overwhelming. So much so that only broken, high-pitched sounds escape your lips, mingling with Sukuna’s thick, heaving grunts.

Despite being unable to see his face, the sounds escaping his throat and the way he moves paints it all in vivid detail. Deeper breaths, his mouth slightly agape, brow furrowed with lust, eyes locked on the sight of your bodies colliding—the way your sweaty, wet skin moulds into his hands, how it slaps against him, how he’s taking you apart bit by bit on his massive lengths.

Thrust after thrust after thrust.

Bliss and ecstasy.

It’s so much.

So good.

Eyes hazy, they lift and settle on the fading mural stretched along the wall before you, landing on the depiction of winter, where a single flower, hued in red, peeks through the snow.

A winter flower.

Surviving just barely.

So familiar.

Dizzy and already fuck drunk. Questions crawl through your mind lazily—things you long to ask and understand. But the way he’s taking you, with such urgency, speaks of something else entirely.

And then, something inside you breaks.

Overcome by a melee of warring emotion, you toss back your head and chase down your anger, desire and shame.

“Harder!” you shout out your demand of him.

Sukuna’s hips lift back while pulling your body with him, then slams into you once, your whole being shuddering. He pauses, his balls resting against your sensitive clit.

“Harder?” His warm breath tickles against your neck as he tilts your head gently toward him. “Is that what you want? Harder?”

With heavy-lidded eyes, you dip your chin.

Even if it’s from him, you crave a reminder of something beyond self-loathing and emptiness. And you know Sukuna is more than capable. Able to be the one who can unearth you, expose your depths, and bury all the thoughts that follow you.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Fuck me hard. As hard as you can.”

His mouth twitches at your request.

“If you’re so desperate to be claimed like that, convince me. Beg,” he growls through his teeth, staring at your lips, fingers gripping your hips painfully. “Beg for me to take you like that.”

Your skin rages hot. His cocks twitch inside you.

“Please.” It’s the only word you can manage.

“Again!” His eyes flare wide and feral. “Beg me more!”

“Please!” you seethe harshly at him, vision squinting blurry so you don’t see the triumphant smirk spreading across his face. “Take me harder! Just as much as you hate me!”

Sukuna’s whole presence goes taut.

He tenses and stares.

“Please…” you add quietly.

His jaw clenches.

Then, slowly, agonizingly slow, he begins to withdraw—only to pause.

You wait, breath held.

Snarling, he drives back in and starts hammering into you. You let your screams dissolve into sobs. It’s the only thing you can do before his hips surge forward, and he pushes your upper body down to meet the futon, the curve of your ass in the air. Two hands remain on your hips while one shifts to hold you pinned by the nape of your neck. Turning your head to the side, you watch his last hand sink into the bedding next to your face, and then the King of Curses’ chest curves over you.

You can’t breathe.

He’s everywhere. It’s all-consuming.

His large body sheltering yours, hiding the light and only giving you him.

And it’s all you want. Want to forget everything for a moment.

Again and again.

Faster, harder, deeper, he takes you with brutal abandon, his body crashing into yours, fucking into you rough. You are nothing but tension, spiralling out of control. The sound of his balls smacking against your damp skin grows louder than the fire burning in the corner, putting you on the verge of release.

“Yes!” you cry out, the word trailing in your ears, “just like that. Don’t stop!” You push back against him, meeting his rigid pounding, feeling his swollen dicks pulsate.

“Filthy whore!”

His movements grow urgent, rougher. He keeps thrusting, keeps fucking.

“Then take it!” he hisses in pleasure, and one of his lower hands suddenly lifts away from your hips. A splitting pain burns across your right ass cheek, his hand coming away with a loud crack. You whimper, jerking forward uselessly atop the soft bedding, the stinging slap collecting tears in your eyes at the intensity.

“Ah!” you breathe out, and the ache of it all has you clenching around him. “Again!”

He groans.

Thrust.

Your heart hammers.

Crack!

A harder slap collides across your sweaty, naked backside, the sound filling the room. Moaning, you tip your head back, his fingers moving to flex around your throat.

“More!” Another plea. “Make it hurt!”

“Yes,” he rasps in primal satisfaction, his voice so deep and dark it stings, pulling you down further, smothering you in him.

Crack!

Harder.

A louder cry. The skin along your ass burns with agitation, which he soothes with a rub of his palm.

Bringing another hand up, two of Sukuna’s massive hands engulf your throat. Your watery eyes flutter as subtle pressure is applied until your vision dances.

Controlled and dedicated. You know he won’t hurt you—he’s already done enough of that. Even if a shadow within him still harbours the desire, you’re certain, in some way, that he can’t bring himself to follow through.

At least, you hope.

Turning your head to the side, he leans in, bringing your faces close enough to share a breath. Pelvis punching forward, he takes you with his whole body. Fucking you with his supposed hatred. But the way he looks at you says otherwise.

There’s always been two battling sides to him, two sides clashing, and you can see it now as he stares into your ecstasy-ridden face. The way he claims you, like he’s desperate to feel you after all this time. After all this wickedness and madness. But the intensity behind it makes your eyes slide shut.

“Look at me,” Sukuna breathes quietly.

A gentle squeeze at your neck draws your eyes open. His gaze floods with heat and torment—the same torment you saw that day when you asked about the denial of something he truly wanted.

Your stomach knots.

“Look at me,” he repeats, his grip firm as he takes hold of your jaw, his thumb dragging slowly over your bottom lip.

“I am looking at you, Sukuna…” you whisper, your voice quiet and your eyes honest. The bedding stirs under you, shifting with the rhythm of your uneven breaths. “I have this whole time… far longer than all of this.”

The air between you both goes still. Sukuna slows his pace to nothing.

He retrieves his thumb from your mouth, and the King of Curses stares at you.

As if knocked by the small vulnerability hidden there in your tone, his nostrils flare, and his slitted eyebrow furrows deeply. A shadow of something dark slides over his hauntingly beautiful mien.

Now, you want to look away. Every aspect screams for you to, but you know better. Having pried open this small part of yourself. You hold his gaze, and you wait.

A moment passes.

With the hand pressing against your jaw, he begins to angle your face away from him, forcing you to look at the narrow space before you instead. And with that, he shuts you out completely, raising every wall and sealing himself off.

Instantly, you regret yourself.

“Now, you cum for me,” he demands aggressively from behind.

Sudden weight pushes down on you, pulling you up and out of that momentary quiet. Sukuna dominates his way into you, taking your body and ramming it vigorously into the futon.

In that moment, you exist solely as a vessel for his pleasure.

Two hands gripping your throat and two sliding to hold on to the swell of your ass, he guides you back into a bouncing rhythm. Back and forth, skin slapping together, rebounding you again and again while his massive lengths plunge into your wetness, seemingly trying to take you apart.

And you’re about to. You’re about to come undone.

So close.

Sukuna squeezes your throat harder, and you squeeze your eyes shut, ready to surrender to the sensations when warmth spreads up your spine, lavishing and crowding across your back. It tingles, wet and sticky, accompanied by bursts of hot air—his stomach maw. Writhing beneath this monster, the massive tongue maneuvers around your hands, licking, twirling along your tailbone and breathing at the centre of your back, sending little bursts of lightning shooting up your body. The muscle moves further down, coming to swipe sloppily around your holes that are being pounded, making them even more soaked.

So filthy and wrong.

Lovely sin and a lovely perversion.

More.

More of everything.

Face falling forward into the pillows, you cry out in bliss. Bound wrists tugging at your back, your fingers curl into themselves, desperate to grip something, but you can’t.

To your right, the bedding suddenly dips under pressure. Your eyes cut over to find Sukuna’s right foot planted firmly there, his leg extending past your right thigh.

The new angle. The leverage.

He pauses and readjusts his grip on every contact of your body, pulls out, pauses, and drives his dicks into you. Short. Hard. Furious.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

So thick and deep inside you.

You scream, climax building to a peak—

“Fucking cum for me!” he roars.

—and then it releases.

“Oh god!” You cum, your orgasm crashing over you, violently and blissfully taking you apart. Screaming, you arch up and back into his tight hold, trying to reach for his hips. Holes clenching and swallowing his swelling dicks, and you’re cursing and moaning, giving him everything. Every bit. All the while, his thrusts turn erratic, unsteady, urgent.

Over and over.

Another thrust.

Another.

Another!

“Fuck!” he snarls, slamming down one final time and stilling himself balls deep. His cocks pulsate, then he’s pumping you full and tight with his cum. Your nerve endings burn apart as the heat pours into your pussy and ass, holes soaking wet with his seed until it trickles out, hot and scorching down your thighs.

Sukuna lets out a low, guttural groan. Goosebumps flush along your skin at the sound of it.

Clutching you tight, he rides you through his pleasure while one of his hands leaves your backside to touch the warm trail of release that leads back to where you’re connected. He grinds into the mess a few more times, breaths shaky until he mumbles something quietly to himself before easing his hands away from your neck, and you turn your head to the right, eyes finding the wall.

Muscles tender and trembling, your limbs loose—you feel good, but also numb. You don’t want to feel numb. You don’t want to look at him either. But this is what you wanted—what you took for yourself, damning the consequences.

Easing a bit of weight off you, something nuzzles into your back. Dragging along the curve of your neck, you realize it’s the tip of his nose, tracing a path into your hair. Warm breaths and the faint heat of his mouth graze your nape, making you shiver.

Now, you want to turn around, but you don’t.

The touch lingers before it drifts lower, trailing down to your back.

“I should have stolen you sooner,” he whispers, his voice barely reaching your ears as you lie beneath him. Instead, the words slip into the space between your shoulder blades, searing hot against your skin before dissolving and leaving nothing behind.

Another warm pressure there has you relaxing before it’s quickly replaced with the cool air of Sukuna’s absence. He pulls away.

You don’t make a sound when he does.

And you don’t make a sound as he holds your hips and slides his softening cocks from your exhausted body, and don’t react as his seed drips out of you, don’t move as he begins to undo the tie binding you.

Between you, it’s quiet, only the fabric of the sash whispering as he tugs it loose.

“Since all that lies between us is hatred and distrust,” he suddenly begins flatly from behind.

One more tug, and your hands are freed. Quickly, you bring them forward and push them into your front to hold on to yourself.

“And since there is nothing else but a desire to destroy each other,” he continues, the futon dipping under his weight before his bare feet tap softly across the room. “You’ll have your wish.”

There’s a pause, followed by the faint rustling of clothing.

Then, silence.

You listen.

“Call it a consolation,” he grumbles, “...if you like.”

Curving your body inward, you don’t turn to look at him, though you can feel his eyes on your naked figure, on his cum that trickles from between your thighs.

“Before you drag me any further into this worthless spiral.” The fire crackles and hisses, fracturing the quiet while he tends to it. His heavy footsteps retreat soon after. “Today. I want you gone.”

The chamber door slides open, stirring the red glow that flutters against the wall you stare at.

“You’ll take your mare and leave before the sun rises… I won’t come for you again.”

Another pause, and you curl tighter into yourself, wishing to vanish into the sweaty, rumpled bedding that smells too much of the sex just shared between you two.

“I release you from this union.”

Your eyes collapse shut against the words.

You say nothing to the King of Curses because you owe him nothing. Because this is what you asked for—what you wanted. You should feel free and unbound. Instead, you feel unmoored and drifting somewhere you cannot name.

Inhaling, you wrap your arms around yourself for comfort.

Now it’s clear why he took you so hard and desperate. He was purging you from his system for good.

A sickness that needed to be culled and then cured.

And he did.

After a moment, Sukuna exhales deeply, his feet tapping lightly against the wooden floor. A pause lingers before the door closes with a soft, muted click.

And with those departing words, his footsteps fade down the corridor, leaving you alone in his chambers—in more ways than one.

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