#net ensemble x reader

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

rosé | f. odair

(final part of red wine)

part one, part two

summary: in the final part of the red wine series, secrets are revealed, and miscommunication threatens to tear you and finnick apart.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, blood, minor injury, mentions of forced prostitution, swearing,

notes: i’m sorry this took so long to come out y’all. thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this mini fic <3

word count: 4.1k

Finnick believed he had made a lot of smart decisions in his life—like rigging a net made out of vines to ensnare tributes in the arena, accepting secrets as a form of payment from his patrons rather than material goods, and mastering the art of seduction to manipulate his way out of various difficult situations. However, shutting you out was not one of them.

Half an hour had passed since the incident on the staircase landing. He lingered within the mansion’s extravagant walls, where other guests mingled and dined on a range of bizarre delicacies. He couldn’t eat a thing. His stomach churned at the image of your hopeless expression as he walked off. The expression he caused.

It had to be done. That is what he had been telling himself. It had to be done, otherwise, everyone in the Capitol would learn of his feelings for you. Snow would find out and most likely punish you for interfering with the arrangement he had—the sale of his body. And Finnick was very aware of what happened to people who disrupted the president’s plans.

Partygoers would have already begun to spread rumours of the scene in the courtyard. Hopefully, it would just be chalked up to a simple argument between friends. Friends. The label borderline disgusted him. You don’t fall asleep to the thought of someone and think of them the moment you wake up if you’re just friends. Nor do you look for them in every room you walk into.

Even now, Finnick was scanning the lavishly decorated banquet hall for a glimpse of your pure white gown, despite being the one who walked away. It was an instinct at this point. But there was no one in the room wearing white but him; his matching half was still outside, blending in with the winter snow. Or maybe gone home.

One colour did catch his eye though. A vibrant, almost tacky red, worn by a woman who was strutting towards him, her chin held high with pride. Finnick noticed the material of her floor-length gown. Silk. She was wearing your old dress, only the colour was incredibly off, and each hem was lined with red fur, conforming with her implanted whiskers. That was when he realised who the woman was.

Her ensemble was entirely made out of fur that clung to her body, complementing the whiskers that were embedded in her face which made her look feline.

“Where’s your dancing partner tonight?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.

The bright saturation of her dress was almost blinding as she stopped in front of him. He held back a grimace and plastered on a smile even faker than her voice. “She wasn’t up for it this time,” he lied.

“Well, everyone knows she’s out of touch with our way of life,” she said. Finnick ground his jaw, struggling to maintain his façade. Words could not explain how condescending these people were. “This dress is an adaptation of one she wore quite a while ago. Such a plain thing. I only liked the colour and bodice. The only way I could wear it in public was if I spruced it up.”

He thought back to the dress you had worn. Nobody had even come close to how phenomenal you looked. Where others needed extravagance and flounce to stand out, you only needed a simple red dress. Yet here this woman was, thinking she had the audacity to call you plain.

“I noticed. It’s very… striking.”

“Thank you, darling,” she purred. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes, like that of a wild cat about to pounce and devour its meal. “I was waiting for the perfect occasion to wear it.”

His forced smile twitched. “You’re certainly turning heads.”

“Did I turn yours?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Truth be told, Finnick hadn’t even remembered her existence until she walked right up to him. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her that, so he told her that she did. For a long period of time, they bounced back and forth, complimenting and flirting with each other, never dipping below the surface into a real conversation. Not that he wanted to anyway. Not with her. The only person he longed to conversate with was now out of reach.

The woman started talking about colourless topics such as the latest fashion trends in the Capitol and her opinions on the victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, all of which made Finnick wish she would just gouge his eyes out with her sharp claw-like fingernails. He couldn’t do anything but stand, smile, and agree. Doing anything else would result in Snow staying true to his very detailed threats

As the conversation continued, his attention began to drift. He surveyed the outfits of everyone in the room, amusing himself by deciding whether or not each person was making a fashion statement or tragedy. Only one person claimed the former title—the one in white.

Finnick watched as you entered the room. The giant golden chandelier cast down a bright light which caused your skin to glow with radiance; its glare enhanced the brilliance of your white dress. This brief moment ignited a fear in him that you had died in his absence because there was no way a mere human being could look so angelic.

“Finnick?” the feline asked, but her voice barely registered in his brain.

Captivated. He was utterly and completely captivated. One after the other, sudden realisations conjured in his mind. The first—there wasn’t a life worth living ahead of him if you weren’t by his side the whole way, and not as a friend or a fellow victor, but as his partner. His lover. The second—he would never let any harm come to you. He would keep you safe from Snow’s clutches, from the Capitol, from anyone who would put you in danger, even if it meant the two of you had to disappear into the vast forests of Panem.

And lastly, he was now absolutely certain that the woman in front of him could never compare to you, nor could anyone else in the ever-expanding universe. You were a basic human necessity to him. Without you, his heart might as well stop beating. Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your unwavering support—every part of you kept him alive.

“Finnick?” the voice that went disregarded hissed again.

With a half-empty wine glass in hand, your anxious eyes searched the room. Finnick wanted nothing more than to sprint over, pull you into his arms, and cast away every trouble plaguing your mind. He couldn’t. Almost all eyes were on you, yet you hadn’t even seemed to notice. Only one person finally seemed to gain your attention, and that was Finnick, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on yours.

The neurons firing in his brain signalled him to move and he did. But just as his legs started to walk, a forceful hand jerked his face to the side and a pair of harsh lips were crushed to his. Glass shattered on the marble flooring. Momentarily paralysed from shock, Finnick stumbled backwards, briefly catching the twisted triumphant smirk on the woman’s face before whirling around.

Your face was frozen with devastation; his heart dropped. Splatters of red wine had stained your gown, pooling in a crimson puddle of glass shards by your feet. Quiet mocking chuckles and whispers echoed around the room. Oh, if only he had his trident; they wouldn’t be laughing then.

An Avox rushed forward, attempting to clean up the mess, but you had crouched down with them.

“No, please,” Finnick heard you say to the Avox as he strode toward you. “Please don’t. I can do it.”

But delicate hands and glass shards never mix well. You gasped in pain. A jagged fragment you collected had sliced into your palm, creating another crimson pool in your hand.

Finnick’s strides quickened, eventually leading him to stop and kneel beside you. He wordlessly took your hand in his, cradling it as he inspected the damage. Blood coated his fingers, but he didn’t care. He might as well have cut your hand himself. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for him.

Pink blush overtook your face. For once, it wasn’t because he made you flustered or bashful, but because you were humiliated. He knew how much you disliked attention; now you were at the centre of it. Beside you was the Avox, tending to the mess of broken glass.

“Could you bring me a first-aid kit, please?” he asked with a polite smile.

They nodded and silently left. Finnick returned his attention to you, applying pressure to your wound. Your gaze was lowered, unwilling to meet his own. There was more to your demeanour than just embarrassment. There was sadness. Disheartenment. Neither of which were present when you walked in, only appearing after the feline woman had kissed him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, eyes unmoving.

The Avox returned holding a medical kit; Finnick thanked them, taking the box into his hands. He climbed to his feet, hesitating before offering you a hand up. Much to his relief, you accepted his assistance. And then, without a word, you began walking towards the nearest exit with apparent indifference to the engrossed eyes following you.

Finnick didn’t bother to conceal his icy glare toward the crowd as he trailed behind you and exited the room.

*******

Pain of a thousand unrelenting bees stung the broken flesh of your palm. Even the slightest movement of your fingers sent waves of throbbing agony up your arm. But it was nothing compared to the brutal ache of your heart.

You had entered the mansion in search of Finnick, determined to mend the crack in your friendship before it crumbled completely. What you got instead was humiliation and heartbreak. What you saw was another woman kissing the man you loved, whilst wearing a horrible adaptation of your red gown no less.

The air had been sucked from your lungs. Believing he would kiss you on the dance floor in the courtyard was nothing more than a fantasy, a dream, a pathetic fool’s wish—every term under the sun that defined something not real. At least now you understood why he was acting so differently. Because he had found someone else and that someone wasn’t you.

A lump formed in your throat and you knew tears were approaching. As if your night couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

Your feet carried you down a long corridor, far enough away from the banquet hall that listening ears and prying eyes were unable to reach. Finnick still followed behind you, though you weren’t sure why he bothered. How could he explain what you saw with your own eyes? Plus, the last thing you wanted was for his new romance to think something was going on between you and him. Only in your dreams.

Unsure of your destination, you decided to enter the first room you came across. It turned out to be a lavishly decorated library, walled with large wooden bookshelves which were filled endlessly with novels and historic paraphernalia. Sitting within the bookshelves was a stone fireplace.

The door closed as Finnick entered behind you, the silence so loud that the crackles from the fireplace reverberated through the room. Your hand still throbbed something awful so you looked down, taking in the gruesome sight of your dress. A stranger might have thought you had just murdered someone. If it were televised, it would have been deemed acceptable.

You sniffled, wearing a small bitter smile. “I ruined Snow’s pretty white dress.”

A few moments passed before Finnick replied. “Red always was more your colour,” he said, his tone anything but playful.

Ahead of you was a great wall of windows; in the reflection, you saw him staring back at you with an unfamiliar expression. His brows were pinched upwards, pronouncing the lines in his forehead, and the corners of his mouth drooped in a slight pensive frown. He didn’t look like the Finnick you knew. This Finnick looked pained. Anguished.

You dropped his intense gaze and ambled across the room. By the lit fireplace was a cushioned stool which you sat down on, eyes staring into the flickering flames. If you were lucky, maybe your dress would catch alight and whisk you away from your troubled life. Okay, perhaps the thought was a little morbid, but so was a broken heart. Of all people, why did you have to fall in love with Finnick Odair?

Cautious footsteps followed behind you, coming to a stop beside your feet. Without your acknowledgement, Finnick crouched down, eyeing the bloody mess of your hands with concern. His gaze lifted to yours, which was still on the fire, and he sighed.

“Let me take care of your hand,” he murmured.

Before you could refuse, you realised contracting an infection was worse than giving in to your stubbornness. So, you nodded.

Finnick opened the first-aid kit and began tending to your wound; his touch was so gentle it was like he was piecing together a broken china cup. Using an antiseptic gauze, he attempted to clean the damaged skin, whispering apologies whenever you winced in pain. After carefully applying a dressing, he began wrapping a bandage around your hand.

You stared into the orange flames, wondering how he would explain to that woman why he left her behind. You wondered when their relationship started and why Finnick continued to shamelessly flirt with you in her absence. You wondered if their relationship would be the end of your friendship.

“Are you in love?” you quietly asked.

His hands stilled at your sudden words, then he continued wrapping the bandage. “Not with her.”

He secured the binding with medical tape and climbed to his feet, placing the supplies back into the kit on a small side table.

Brows drawn together in confusion, you turned to look up at him. “But I thought—"

“Things are much more complicated than they seem,” he interrupted. There was a clear vase of white roses on the table. Finnick toyed with the petals, caressing them between his gentle fingertips. “No one understands me better than you do, and there is no one in this world I trust more. But… there are still things I’ve been keeping from you.”

The troubled expression on his face melted into one of vulnerability. This was a new appearance for him. Finnick was known nationwide for his radiant confidence and charm; he never let his guard down. You have had difficult conversations before, such as discussing each other’s hardships and innermost secrets, but none of them seemed to affect him like this.

“Everyone knows about my visits to the Capitol,” he continued. “How I spend nights with different people every time as if it’s all a game for my pleasure. But it’s not true. It’s not my game I’m playing.” He began walking over to the wall of windows, overlooking Snow’s gardens. “There’s a part of it that no one knows about.”

You rose from the stool, beginning to take slow steps towards him. “Which is?”

The fire flickering behind you deepened Finnick’s features. It intensified the shiny bronze of his hair and enhanced the defined contours of his face, making it easy to see the muscles in his jaw clench with apprehension. He stared out the window so intensely that you were sure his usual green eyes were blazing with their own inferno.

Even full of angst, he was painstakingly beautiful.

His chest inflated with a deep breath. “President Snow… sells me to the Capitol.”

Horror washed over you in monstrous waves. Sells? Only one explanation appeared in your head as to what he meant. You remained silent, praying he would prove your assumption wrong.

“After I won my Games, he saw my success as an opportunity to please his citizens. He began offering me to potential buyers—'admirers’ is what he called them—who soon became my regular customers. They would use me however they liked. Some would pounce on me the second I stepped through the door. Others were relatively tamer. Kinder. They would have me take them on dates or watch a movie with them, but one way or another, it all ended the same way at the end of the night.” He sucked in a sharp uneasy breath before continuing. “Then there were the rare few—the ones who treated me like I was nothing more than a ragdoll for their amusement. They did things that were… unspeakable.”

Nausea churned in your stomach as your mind conjured sickening images. It couldn’t be true. You refused to believe that human beings could stoop to such levels of atrocity to make one person endure so much cruelty. Then again, you lived in a world where children were sent into an arena to fight to the death on live television.

Finnick looked like he was holding himself together by a thread. Every word he confessed shattered your heart into a million pieces. How could this have happened to him?

“I’ve tried to refuse but Snow threatened to harm the people I care about—my family, my friends. After I met you, I knew you were added to that list.” He finally turned around to face you, his eyes filled with such anguish, it shook you to your core. “The Capitol owns me, Y/N. Body and soul.”

Despair riddled your entire body. As you stared at him, the image of a teenager appeared in your mind—eyes sea green and hair a fiery bronze. He was just a boy when it started. A child.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” you managed to whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Less of you? Finnick,” you said softly, stopping in front of him. Your eyes beckoned for his; you needed him to look at you, to really take in your next words. “There isn’t a single person alive I think more highly of than you. No one even comes close. Can’t you see? Just having you in my presence makes me feel whole. You make me whole.”

Tears glistened in his eyes as they flickered between your own, absorbing every reassuring word you said into his mind, his bones, his entire being.

“You have brought so much into my life,” you continued. “So much good. And I would never have made it to where I am now without you. So please, don’t ever distance yourself from me because you think I will judge you. I won’t and I never will.”

As the room stilled with silence, a lone tear rolled down Finnick’s cheek. His Adam’s apple bobbed, revealing the sob he was keeping restrained within his throat. And then a smile started to grow on his face, small at first, but then it stretched wider and wider, deepening those dimples that you adored so much.

You knew that your words had touched the deepest parts of him. That you had managed to convince him ‘less’ could never be a word used to describe him. He was more. More kind, more genuine, more caring than almost all of Panem.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in awe, looking at you as if he were witnessing the birth of the universe. “Sweetheart, you’re incredible. Do have any idea how rare that is for a person to be? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone like you in my life, but I swear I’ll do whatever I can to keep you. And if—” His gaze drifted, seemingly wrestling with a decision in his mind— “if that means I have to share all my secrets with you, then I will.”

“Have you got any more secrets, Finnick?”

He returned his attention back to your face. The indecision from moments ago had disappeared and was replaced with certainty, which was underscored by a sort of tenderness that settled in his features.

“Just one,” he murmured. He paused, observing the universe before him and wondering how on earth he got so lucky to have the privilege of having it staring right back at him. “I’m in love with you.”

Electricity shocked your heart like someone had placed a defibrillator over your chest and hit charge. Love? You? He was?

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have told you everything. Even if saying this means I’m risking everything between us, I can’t keep it from you any longer. God, sweetheart, I love you so much it fucking hurts. I always will, even if you never feel the same.”

Somehow in the span of twenty minutes, everything you thought you knew came crashing down. First, your heart was broken by the thought of Finnick kissing another, and then it was healed. And then it broke again as he voiced his arrangement with Snow. It could never fully heal again while Snow was alive, not with what he was forcing upon Finnick.

But Finnick pieced together every piece he possibly could with his confession, one heartfelt word of declaration at a time.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. His eyes held a mixture of anxiety and hope for your response. Time seemed to stretch out as you tried to find your voice. How do you declare your love as powerfully as someone who just bared their soul to you?

An emotional laugh bubbled up your throat, your eyes brimming with tears. “You idiot,” was what you said, the words spoken with utmost adoration. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Finnick’s eyes widened in amazement and a brilliant smile broke across his face. Before you had a chance to react, he had moved towards you in one swift step, pulling you into his arms and crushing his lips to yours in a powerful, passionate kiss.

Your hands were quick to cling onto him, desperately terrified that if you let go, he would vanish into thin air. Every ounce of yearning and hidden affection from the past year poured into this one single moment, into the movement of your lips against one another, and the feeling of your hands cradling each other’s bodies.

Emotions were running high. You could taste both your own and Finnick’s tears as they streamed down your faces, salty and palpable with affection. The sheer relief of finally being free to express your love was so unimaginable that you felt like you would be crying with happiness your whole life.

Finnick’s hand cupped the side of your jaw and he lowered his head, deepening the kiss as much as he physically could to make up for all the time he wasted. His lips were soft and adoring, savouring the sweet taste of your lips on his. His other arm tightened around your lower back, pulling you even further against him.

You felt like you were melting into his embrace and happily, you would have. It felt so right, so safe to be held by him. The world outside the library no longer existed; there was only Finnick and you. Your hands settled on either side of his jaw, staining his skin red from your blood-soaked bandage. You knew he wouldn’t care—the blood belonged to you.

And that is how you spent most of the night. In the library, in that one spot by the windows, in each other’s arms. At some point, you ended up sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, both covered in red and feeling blissfully content. Your back was leaning against Finnick’s chest, his arms wrapped around your middle as he occasionally pressed his lips into your hair.

You toyed with the fabric of his sleeves, your head leaning against his collarbone as you watched the flames once more.

“If Snow ever finds out…” you murmured.

“He won’t,” he reassured quietly. “I won’t let him. He’s taken too much from me; he won’t take you too.”

You turned your head to peer up at him, wearing a teasing smile. “Can’t live without me, Odair?”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “Never without you, sweetheart.”

Once again, Finnick’s lips were on yours, conveying every ounce of immense love he felt for you through his kiss. The only time either of you broke apart was to whisper sweet declarations of your devotion and reverence before returning to each other again. This was when you felt most complete.

When you felt whole.

tags: @queenofspades6 @powellssaturn @bellamybellamyblake @heroinhchicblog222

[lilacmingi]

CAPTAIN HOOK (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE

Pairing: Captain Hook!Yunho x fem!reader (ft Oneus + Dongmyeong from Onewe as The Lost Boys hehe)

Word count: 4,600

You huffed, pushing past the thick plants in front of you, large leaves smacking against your arms and face as you trekked ahead.

You just escaped those rambunctious group of guys who call themselves The Lost Boys—they were horrid. No manners, no respect, and certainly no dignity. Their leader was just as awful and drove you mad with all of his whooping and hollering.

You thought maybe they'd help you out, seeing as they were the only people you'd seen on this dreaded island, but all they did was party and play pranks.

Quite frankly, you couldn't stand it. So, you left. You'd rather be alone and lost in this dense forest than be stuck with those hooligans.

Now, here you are, trying to find your way through the thick greenery that overtook the majority of this forest; it seemed never-ending, like you were going around in circles. Everywhere you turned looked exactly the same, until you came to a small clearing.

You let out a huff, taking in your surroundings.

"Now what?" You inquired aloud, exasperated from pushing all the plants away from you.

You stood for a while, wondering where to go next. You turned left, trees and a thick overgrowth of leaves. You turned right, same thing. No matter where you went, each direction was akin to the other. You couldn't tell a difference between left and right, forward and backward. Next thing you knew, you had forgotten which way you came from.

"Seems like you're lost."

The new voice that seemed to come out of nowhere was accompanied by the rustling of leaves.

You spun around to face the man, stopping when you realized it was someone new—a person you hadn't seen before.

So there are other people here. You thought to yourself.

His attire was much different than that of the Lost Boys. Their clothes were messy and unkempt; shirts covered in dirt and tucked haphazardly into their patched trousers.

This man before you was dressed in a copacetic ensemble.

He wore a white dress shirt with ruffles around the collar, a deep maroon colored leather coat that draped behind him, and pants that matched the coat. His boots looked rather shiny despite him obviously traipsing through the dense undergrowth. One peculiar thing you noticed was that he had a hook for a hand. You'd be lying if you said the menacing appendage didn't put you on edge.

"I'm not lost." You lied, keeping your guard up.

"You're lying."

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I don't need help from you. I don't need help from anyone here." You spoke rather snappily, taking a step back.

Big mistake.

In an instant, a huge net emerged from the ground, yanking you upwards and trapping you inside.

The net swung back and forth due to the momentum of your whole body being snatched up into the air.

"This day can't possibly get any worse." You grumbled to yourself, wiggling around in the trap that was no doubt set up by the group of troublemakers—that's how you ended up with them in the first place, after all.

The man stood below, staring up at you with the most smug expression you had ever seen.

"What was it you said about not needing help from anyone here?" He smirked.

You scowled down at him.

"You know, I could be of service to you." He pulled the left side of his coat back, revealing a sword. "If you'll accept my help."

"I can get myself out, thank you very much."

"Okay, you have fun with that." He crossed his arms, staring up at you with an amused expression.

You wiggled around, hoisting yourself up by grabbing near the top of the net. You attempted to get into a standing position as you balanced on the netting below. This worked for a moment only to fail miserably when you lost your balance and your foot slipped through the netting.

"Need my help, now?" The man asked, quirking a brow.

"Fine." You huffed.

"Alright. I'll get you down... if you tell me your name."

"Why should I tell you that?"

"So you can get out of that awful trap you're in." He answered.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the man spoke again.

"Need I remind you, you just failed to get out on your own."

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Tell me your name first."

"Cut me down first."

The man made a tsk sound and shook his head. "No can do. I'm not cutting you down until you tell me your name."

"That's not happening."

"Alright then. I hope that net is comfortable, because you'll be stuck there all night."

"My name is Y/n." You told him, fed up with his stubbornness.

"What was that?"

"Y/n is my name."

He grinned proudly, pulling his sword from its sheath.

"Wait." You spoke up, clutching the net. "I'll fall if you cut it."

"It's just a five foot fall. It's not that bad."

You shook your head.

"I'll catch you."

Your eyes went to the hook on his left hand, staring warily at the sharp weapon.

"It's fake." He told you.

After you gave him a skeptical look, he pulled the hook off and tossed it aside, showing you his hand—his very pretty hand.

"See? I only wear it to intimidate people."

"Alright. Go ahead and cut me down."

He slung his sword towards the rope that was holding up the snare trap, which was cut in half immediately. He hastily stood underneath you, catching you just in time.

You let out a grunt as you landed roughly in his arms. When you looked up at him, you were breathless, and it wasn't from the fall. Sure, he was good-looking from afar, but even more so up close. His dark hair hung neatly around his features, the deep red highlights in his locks showing in the sunlight.

You quickly cleared your throat. "You can put me down now."

He then placed you on the ground and helped to remove the net.

"Those stupid boys set that up, I have no doubt." You huffed.

"You mean The Lost Boys?" The man asked.

"Yeah. Them." You grimaced.

"Troublemakers, aren't they?"

"Very much so." You sighed. "Anyway, thanks for getting me out of that. I should get going now."

"Wait." The man stopped you. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Somewhere."

"Why don't you come with me?" He asked, putting the fake hook back over his hand. "You know, I could use a woman on my crew."

"Your crew?"

"Of course. There's plenty of room on my ship."

"Your ship?"

"Ah. I haven't introduced myself. The name's Yunho. Captain Yunho."

"A pirate?" You questioned, quirking a brow.

"Of course." He grinned proudly. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I can't say I expected to see pirates here."

"Then you clearly don't know Neverland."

"Neverland? Is that what this place is called?"

"It is. You don't seem to know much about Neverland."

"Of course I don't. I'm not from here."

"That explains why you don't know your way around. Why don't you allow me to assist you? I could even give you a place to stay."

You narrowed your eyes at Yunho, still a bit suspicious of him.

"If you come with me you can stay on my ship with me and my crew."

You mulled the idea over in your head for a moment. This man did seem much more sensible than those scoundrels. Part of you would much rather go with this pirate as opposed to being out in the woods alone, falling into traps and running into animals.

"Alright."

"That's a yes, I presume?"

"It is."

"Very well then." He smiled. "Follow me."

The two of you trudged through the dense overgrowth of foliage and evergreens until the thick vegetation became more sparse. You emerged from the verdure and were met with the stunning view of a beach. The crystal clear turquoise waters beyond the shore were sparkling under the sunlight. Situated out in the water was a magnificent ship sitting proudly in the endless ocean.

"That's your ship?" You asked, your mouth hanging open in awe.

"That it is." He beamed, gazing out at the nautical vessel. "The Jolly Roger."

"Wow."

Yunho proceeded across the beach. You hurriedly followed behind, kicking up sand as you did so. The captain was tall and had long legs that carried him further than yours, so it was difficult to keep up, especially in the sand.

The Jolly Roger was even more impressive up close. The monstrous vessel towered over you and Yunho, bobbing ever so slightly with the waves.

"Come on." Yunho instructed, stepping down the dock.

You followed the pirate up the gangplank and onto the ship where one of his crew mates approached him, looking a bit frazzled.

"Captain, there you are." He seemed relieved.

"I told you I was going for a walk." Yunho told him.

"Yes, but you were gone longer than I expected." The man explained. He then glanced at you with a bewildered expression. "Who is this?"

"This is Y/n."

"A woman?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that, Smee?" Yunho asked, eyeing the man who you assumed was Smee.

"N-no, sir. Not at all." He shook his head frantically.

"Good." Smiled Yunho. "Let's set sail."

The wind pushed on the large sails, propelling the giant ship forward, away from the dock. You stood with your arms resting on the rustic wooden railing of the ship, watching as it departed. You could feel the crew's eyes on you letting you know that women on the ship was probably very uncommon, perhaps even taboo. You hoped that you made the right decision choosing to come onto this ship.

You heard the soft thumping of boots behind you, turning your attention to the sound. Yunho approached the railing, a soft smile on his face.

"Your crew is staring." You pointed out.

"Well, they're not exactly used to seeing women."

"Ever? At all?"

"There aren't many women here. Except mermaids, of course."

"Mermaids?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your tone.

"Yes." Yunho nodded. "They have their own lagoon where they hang around. I wouldn't get close if I were you, though."

"Why?"

"They'll drown you. They're rather jealous of women."

"Oh." You frowned.

You thought mermaids were supposed to be nice—apparently not.

"Would you like some fresh clothes?" Yunho offered. "Yours are a little dirty."

You glanced down at your current attire, seeing that it was indeed a mess. There were even some tears in your pants.

"Oh." You muttered. "I suppose I do need a fresh change of clothes."

"Follow me." He gestured, leading you across the deck and down into the sleeping quarters.

Yunho pushed open a door revealing what you assume to be his room. He began rummaging through a wardrobe, pulling out a shirt and pair of pants.

"I hope you don't mind wearing men's clothes."

"Not at all."

"I don't have any boots that would fit you, but I'm sure we can sort something out." He mentioned, handing the clothes to you.

"My shoes will be just fine for now." You assured him. "Thank you."

"You can change in here. I'll step outside."

You gave him a small nod as he left the room. As soon as you heard the door close, you began changing, tossing your soiled clothes onto the floor.

The garments Yunho gave to you were a bit big, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. Plus, you were grateful to have to have clean clothes that weren't stained with dirt and grass.

You gathered your old garments from the floor, wadding them up before opening the door.

Yunho pushed himself off the wall he was previously leaned against and turned to you, a soft blush blossoming on his cheeks.

He didn't realize how appealing you would look in his clothes. He was merely trying to assist you.

"Are they comfortable?" He managed to ask.

"They are."

"You might need a belt or something. That shirt is a little baggy. I have just the thing."

Yunho stepped into the room, momentarily removing his fake hook, and retrieved a scarf from his wardrobe. He held it up with a smile.

He approached you, his eyes meeting yours as he held the scarf out, as if you ask permission to proceed. You nodded and lifted your arms, allowing him to tie the thin scarf around your waist. You watched as his delicate and beautiful hands worked to tie the fabric, ensuring that your shirt fit better.

"There." He hummed to himself. "That should be much better now."

He turned around and retrieved his hook, slipping it back over his hand.

"Now, would you like a tour of the ship?"

"I would love that."

It had been four days since Yunho brought you into his ship and you couldn't be happier. You genuinely enjoyed your time with the captain and being at sea was more exciting than you thought it would be. Yunho and his crew often had celebrations on the deck, singing sea shanties and dancing like there was no tomorrow. The partying was often accompanied by some sort of alcohol.

During one of these celebrations, you and Captain Yunho shared a dance, which was so much fun and your favorite moment with him thus far.

"We're docking for a bit tomorrow to restock supplies." Yunho told you as you made your way to bed.

"Where do you get supplies?" You inquired.

"We scavenge the land for anything we can find and trade when we have to."

"Ah. How long will that take?"

"Not long. An hour, maybe two?"

"Okay." You nodded, letting out a yawn.

"You should get some rest." Yunho said.

You gave a sleepy nod.

"Goodnight." He whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

The gesture made your heart jump, but you were too tired to think about it too much.

Once you docked on the beach, you decided to stretch your legs a bit. Yunho's crew got to work quickly, scouring the land for anything they could use. You felt bad just standing and watching, so you asked if you could assist anyone. Yunho politely declined, insisting that you just relax, so you did. Letting out a sigh, you made yourself comfortable on a rock that had been warmed by the sun.

Yunho and his crew went their separate ways, leaving the beach empty and vacant. You stretched your arms and legs, letting out a long sigh as your body relaxed, the heat radiating from the rock soothing your muscles.

Moments later, someone's hand clamp over your mouth, causing your eyes to snap open. Your first instinct was to try and escape, which is exactly what you did. You began to writhe and wiggle, trying to squirm out of your assailant's grip.

You somehow managed to catch a glimpse of the person who currently had their hand over your mouth. It was Hwanwoong, the rowdy leader of The Lost Boys. Seeing him prompted you to try even harder to get away. You even tried to scream, hoping to get someone's attention.

"Shh! Do you want them to hear you?" Hwanwoong hissed.

You struggled in his hold as he dragged you across the beach and through the sand. He was quick to pull you towards a small strip of land away from the main island. He then towed you to a nearby tree line where you saw the dreaded group of six boisterous boys you had escaped from days before.

Once shielded by the trees, Hwanwoong removed his hand from your mouth, but kept a tight hold on you.

"What are you doing?" You whispered harshly.

"What does it look like? We're rescuing you." Hwanwoong stated.

"I don't need to be rescued."

"Oh no. He's already gotten in her head." Keonhee voiced.

"She's been fooled. We need to get her back to the burrow as soon as possible." Seoho stated.

"We'll have to put her in containment for a while until she realizes that she's been brainwashed by pirates." Hwanwoong shook his head, a somber look on his face.

"What? I haven't been brainwashed. I want to stay with the pirates."

"It's worse than I thought." Dongju gasped, dramatically.

"She thinks she belongs with them." Dongmyeong added. "Look. She's even dressing like them."

"That's not—" Before you could finish your sentence, Geonhak came up and tied a piece of cloth around your mouth, the piece of fabric between your teeth, preventing you from speaking.

"Sorry, Y/n." Geonhak apologized quietly. "It's for your own good."

You tried to respond, but it was muffled.

Keonhee approached you with a serious expression as he tied your hands together tightly.

"Alright boys, let's go." Hwanwoong ordered.

You had no choice but to follow them. There were seven guys all around you, there was no way you'd be able to escape.

"Don't worry, Y/n." Dongmyeong spoke up, slinging his arm over your shoulder. "You'll be back to normal soon."The boys took you back to their burrow and put you inside a homemade cell with wooden bars. You wanted to escape, but your hands were tied up and they kept a close eye on you all the way back, so you had no choice but to comply. The only good thing is that Hwanwoong removed the cloth from your mouth, however, your hands were still tied.

"Fellas, this calls for a celebration. We have our dear Y/n back!" Hwanwoong announced.

It didn't take long for the burrow to erupt in chaos. Every single one of them were yelling and throwing stuff across the room. You dropped your head.

This is exactly the behavior that made me want to leave in the first place. You thought to yourself.

"Y/n, aren't you happy to be back?" Dongju asked, approaching your cell, dirt smeared on his face thanks to his twin brother.

"I was happy right where I was." You snapped.

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head in disapproval. Keonhee then showed up, giving Dongju a pat on his back.

"Don't worry. A few days in there and she'll be back to normal." He assured his friend.

"I am normal." You groaned. "What don't you understand?"

"That filthy captain has her mind all mixed up." Dongju grimaced.

"Don't worry yourself. We have her back and that's all that matters. Let's celebrate!" Keonhee dragged Dongju away and back to the "party" leaving you to yourself.

Your finger traced patterns into the dirt floor, a sigh leaving you as you did so. You wondered if Yunho knew you were gone. Would he come looking for you? You would have assumed if he were looking for you, he would be here.

What if he doesn't come back? What if he didn't even notice you were gone?

The two of you had so much fun together over the last few days, you thought maybe you both had a connection.

You shook away the thought, finding it ridiculous that you would even think he'd abandon you, especially after all the fun you had.

Keeping your hopes up was harder than you presumed. The more time passed, the more you thought Yunho may not care about you as much as you thought he did.

He'll never come back and get me. You thought. He was only helping me because I didn't know the area. He'll probably forget about me if he hasn't already.

Meanwhile, Yunho was beginning to worry. Him and his crew were back on the ship, but you had yet to return.

"Captain, what's wrong?" Smee asked.

"Y/n hasn't come back yet. It's time for dinner and she's not here."

"Weren't you keeping an eye on her, sir?"

"I couldn't. Some of the crew needed my help."

Yunho remembered telling you to relax after you offered to help. He saw you lounging on a rock near the water not long after. You looked beautiful with the sun shining down on you, making your skin glow. Next thing he knew, one of his crew mates approached him asking for his assistance. When he came back, you were gone. He assumed you had gone on a walk and decided to wait for you, but you never showed.

"She can't have gone far." Smee assured Yunho.

"I don't think she would have ran off."

"You don't suppose something bad happened to her, do you?"

"I don't know." Yunho murmured, panic slowly rising in him.

He knew you were unfamiliar with the land and worried that you had wandered off to a place you didn't know. He didn't know if the mermaids had gotten you or if a crocodile had eaten you.

"We have to go find her, now." Yunho stated firmly.

"It's too dark. The sun has set, we won't be able to do a proper search, even with lantern light." Smee tells the worried captain.

"Then we'll go first thing tomorrow." He turned towards his crew who seemed to have noticed his uneasy behavior.

"What are you all looking at?" He snapped.

Everyone immediately got back to work, turning their attention away from the stressed Captain.

The next morning, Yunho woke up bright an early, preparing for his search.

Yunho knew that you had previously stayed with The Lost Boys and ran away from them. Having met these boys before, Yunho knew exactly where their hideout was. He's had some disagreements with the boys before, so this wouldn't be his first time in their burrow.

He gathered some of his crew mates to assist him in case things got ugly.

"I know exactly where to search first." He told his crew. "Follow me."

The group trekked through the forest, headed straight towards The Lost Boys' burrow.

Yunho didn't know if you were there or not, but going to the burrow first seemed to be his best bet.

You opened your eyes and sat up, your muscles stiff from sleeping on a thin blanket laid over the dirt floor.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Hwanwoong greeted, floating around the room.

You grimaced at him and turned away.

"Giving me the silent treatment, huh?"

You didn't answer.

"Listen, Y/n, we're only trying to help you."

"You're not helping." You snapped. "I was happy with Yunho."

"Oh, so you're on a first-name basis with that pirate."

"You guys just jumped to conclusions and took me away." You continued, angrily.

"But you were with us first."

The sound of someone coming down the slide to the burrow caught your attention, but only for a moment. You assumed it was one of the boys coming back from setting traps in the woods or whatever it was they do. That's why you were surprised to see who emerged from the slide.

"Yunho?" You gasped.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you.

"Y/n. Thank goodness."

"What's going on?" Seoho asked, hurrying into the room.

"We're under attack." Hwanwoong answered, pulling out a small knife.

"Give Y/n back and no one gets hurt." Yunho spoke.

"She belongs to us."

"No I don't." You spoke up. "Hwanwoong, let me go."

"No. You chose us."

"I didn't choose you. I thought you guys were the only people that lived on this island."

Hwanwoong paused.

"After finding out all you guys wanna do is play pranks and make messes, I decided to leave." You told him. "That's when I found Yunho. He offered me a place to stay and I've quite honestly enjoyed my time with him."

Hwanwoong's brows pulled together as he turned to Yunho.

"You heard the girl. Now let her go." The pirate ordered, his hand hovering over the handle of his sword.

The rest of The Lost Boys were watching cautiously, waiting to see what would happen.

"So you don't like us?" Dongmyeong asked you.

"No, that's not it. You're all just too rowdy for my liking. I wouldn't enjoy my time here."

"And you're not brainwashed?" Hwanwoong asked.

You sighed. "No."

"C'mon boys." Yunho urged. "What do you say? Will you listen to the girl and let her go with who she wants to be with?"

Hwanwoong glanced back at the boys who all gave him small nods.

"Fine." He sighed, walking over to open up the cell door.

He untied your wrists and allowed you to reunite with Yunho. You immediately ran up and enveloped him in a hug, taking in his natural scent that was accompanied by a hint of salt water.

"I'm never leaving you alone. I don't wanna lose you again." Yunho whispered.

"Alright. You have Y/n back." Hwanwoong stated.

"Yes. Thank you. We'll be on our way now."

The boys all gave a small nod as Yunho guided you to a ladder that led above ground.

"Y/n." Seoho called out.

"Yes?"

"Will you come and visit every once in a while?"

You turned to Yunho who gave you a nod.

"Of course."

Yunho hadn't let go of your hand all the way back to the Jolly Roger, even now that you were safe and sound on the ship, he kept his hand clasped with yours. The vessel departed from the dock. You and Yunho stood and watched as you drifter further away from land.

"I'm so glad you're okay." Yunho spoke up, his hand squeezing yours. "I thought something bad happened to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you had wandered off and that the mermaids got you, or even a crocodile."

"Nope." You chuckled. "Just kidnapped by heathens."

"I'm relieved. You getting kidnapped made me realize some things and l'd like to tell you them if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. Go on."

"I've really enjoyed my time with you over the past few days. You've brought immense joy to not only this ship, but me as well. I know we've only known each other for less than a week, but I care deeply for you and, if I'm being honest, I've grown quite fond of you."

Yunho's confession made you feel warm inside. No one had ever said that to you before and it made you happy. The pirate was right, you had only known him for five days now, but you felt exactly the same as him.

He brought so much joy to you as well. You were more than grateful that he offered his assistance and gave you a place to stay. He stayed on top of his duties as captain, but also made time to check on you and show you around the ship

"I've grown fond of you as well." You admitted.

Yunho smiled hearing that as he turned to face you. He seemed to have a natural glow to him as he gazed into your eyes, his heart pounding. Slowly, he inched his face closer, letting you know what he wanted.

You leaned in, closing the space between you and Yunho, your lips colliding. The kiss was short, but lingered on your lips even after Yunho pulled away. You glanced down at your feet, feeling bashful after the brief kiss.

Yunho place his finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"I have captain duties to tend to, but maybe later tonight you and I can have ourselves a little date." He quirked a brow, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards.

Your lips pulled into a smile. "I'd like that."

Hongjoong:Hades ⟡ Seonghwa: Maleficent ⟡ Yeosang: Evil Queen ⟡ San: Cruella de Vil ⟡ Mingi: Dr. Facilier ⟡ Wooyoung: Hyena ⟡ Jongho: Gaston

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

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[mscresta]

Tribute parade. //

Finnick x tribute reader.

Cw! anxiety, public crowds.

This is part 2! Read part one here: !!!!

It had been a day since you arrived in the Capitol, and they were already trying to show you off. Today was the tribute parade—second only to the Games themselves in terms of spectacle. It was the biggest event of the year, the first chance for sponsors to see the tributes up close and for the entire nation to start forming their favorites.

You sat in the dressing room, nerves twisting your stomach into knots. Finnick was leaning casually against the wall, trying to coach you through a few things, but you could barely focus on his words. All you could think about was your outfit.

“Relax,” Finnick said, giving you an amused glance. “You’ll look fine. Besides, no one’s going to be looking at the clothes. They’re going to be looking at you. That’s the point.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you muttered. You’d seen the parade broadcasts in past years—tributes dressed in ridiculous outfits meant to represent their districts, some of them so outlandish they looked more like jokes than competitors. The thought of being humiliated like that made your skin crawl.

Finnick stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet your eye level. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Your stylist isn’t going to make you look stupid. District 4 always delivers. Trust them. And more importantly, trust yourself.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “What if… what if they don’t like me? What if I mess this up?”

Finnick tilted his head, studying you. “You won’t,” he said simply. “But here’s the thing—this parade isn’t about getting them to like you. It’s about making them remember you. Be bold. Be confident. Even if you have to fake it, act like you’re the best thing to come out of District 4 since fishing nets.”

You snorted despite yourself, and Finnick grinned. “See? There’s the attitude we need.”

Before you could respond, the door opened, and your stylist walked in, a wide smile plastered across her face. She was a Capitol native, her hair dyed a shimmering seafoam green to match District 4’s aquatic theme. “Ready to make waves?” she asked, clapping her hands together.

You swallowed hard and nodded, though you didn’t feel ready at all.

The outfit, to your relief, wasn’t as ridiculous as you feared. Your stylist had gone for elegance, dressing you in a flowing, iridescent fabric that shimmered like the surface of the ocean. It hugged your frame in all the right places, giving you an otherworldly, almost ethereal look. Small details, like coral accents and a delicate netting draped over your shoulders, tied the whole ensemble together.

“You look stunning,” the stylist said, stepping back to admire her work. “Trust me, the Capitol is going to eat this up.”

Finnick whistled low as you turned to face him. “See? Told you. No one’s laughing now.”

You couldn’t help but glance at yourself in the mirror again. For the first time, you felt… powerful. The outfit didn’t make you feel like a spectacle—it made you feel like you belonged here, like you could hold your own against the others.

“Now,” Finnick said, pushing off the wall and straightening his jacket, “it’s showtime. Walk tall, keep your head high, and don’t let them see a single ounce of fear. They love confidence. You give them that, and you’re already winning.”

The sound of cheers echoed through the halls as the tributes before you began their procession. The reality of what you were about to do hit you all over again, and your palms started to sweat.

Finnick leaned in close, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’ve got this. Remember, they don’t own you. Not yet.”

You nodded, gripping the edge of your chariot for support as the doors opened, and the bright Capitol lights flooded in The doors slid open, and the roar of the Capitol crowd hit you like a tidal wave. The sound was deafening, a chaotic mix of cheers, gasps, and applause. The light was blinding, reflecting off the sleek metal of the chariots lined up in front of you. You clenched your hands tighter around the edge of the chariot as it began to roll forward, the movement smooth but somehow unsteady beneath your feet.

Finnick had been right. Your outfit shimmered under the bright lights, catching the eyes of the spectators. Heads turned, and you could hear the excited murmurs ripple through the crowd. You forced yourself to stand tall, lifting your chin as the chariot carried you closer to the heart of the parade route.

Your district partner stood beside you, decked out in an outfit that mirrored yours, though his had a more rugged, commanding look. He nodded at you, a silent gesture of solidarity, but neither of you spoke. Words weren’t necessary—not here, not now. All that mattered was the image you projected.

The Capitol citizens leaned over the railings, waving and throwing flowers as your chariot passed. Their faces were painted with garish colors, their hair styled in ways that seemed impossible. Their expressions were a mix of awe and delight, as though you were some kind of rare, exotic creature. It was unsettling, but Finnick’s advice echoed in your mind: walk tall, keep your head high, and don’t let them see a single ounce of fear.

You glanced up at the massive screens that lined the route, catching sight of yourself for the first time. The cameras zoomed in on your face, capturing every detail—the determined set of your jaw, the glint of your outfit, the way the lights seemed to reflect in your eyes. For a moment, you barely recognized yourself. You didn’t look scared. You looked… strong.

As the chariots approached the grand balcony where the Capitol’s leaders stood, the energy of the crowd seemed to reach its peak. President Snow was there, his cold, calculating smile fixed in place as he watched the tributes with an air of detached authority. His gaze swept over the procession, and for a brief moment, it felt as though his eyes locked onto yours.

A chill ran down your spine, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you raised a hand and waved to the crowd, just as Finnick had instructed. The response was immediate—a surge of cheers and applause so loud it made your chest vibrate. You caught Finnick’s smirk from the sidelines as you passed by, his expression one of approval.

The parade continued for what felt like an eternity, but you held your composure, forcing yourself to stay present. By the time the chariots came to a stop at the Capitol’s central square, your legs felt like jelly, and your hands were trembling from holding on so tightly.

As the anthem of Panem played and the tributes were officially introduced, you let yourself steal one last glance at the crowd. This was the Capitol—the place that would either make or break you. And for the first time, you felt a flicker of something unexpected. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close. You could do this. You had to.

When it was finally over, Finnick was waiting for you backstage, his arms crossed and a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Not bad,” he said as you stepped off the chariot, your legs still unsteady. “Told you they’d love you.”

You didn’t reply, too drained to form words, but the look you gave him said enough. You hadn’t just survived the parade—you’d owned it. For now, that was enough..

Likes and repost are very appreciated!

Read part 3 here!

[fatallyfalling]

Bitter Water 0.03 ~ ♆

“ Let the 67th Annual Hunger Games begin, “

{{ finnick Odair x Reader }}

{{ previous part || next part }} {{ masterlist }}

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, etc

{{ word count }} 4.5 k

{{ outfits }}

{{ prompt }} The tribute Parade comes and goes as training begins and the next two weeks all but fly past. Then after an intrusive interview the day of the Games arrives.

{{ a/n }} Super quick “highlights” up ahead !! This chapter jumps around a bit and is much faster paced than normal but i swear it makes sense in the long run I just didn’t want to bore you all with regurgitated details to be revealed later on. enjoy!!

You didn’t see Finnick again.

Not even after arriving in the Capital on the train platform. A small piece of you had started to regret your outburst, but a bigger part was too stubborn to admit that. Besides, the likelihood of you seeing the boy again was slim. Thatcher was right in saying you’d be “whisked away” because everything moved incredibly fast from then on.

Your transport to the Tribute Center was quick and efficient. You were barely able to settle before a prep team all but kidnapped you and whisked you away once more to the Remake Center to prepare for the parade and opening ceremonies of the Games.

The prep team’s techniques were invasive, to say the least. Almost every inch of your skin was examined, prodded at, scrubbed, washed, plucked, waxed, moisturized, and polished when they finished the lengthy cleaning process. Even The dried blood under your fingernails had been picked away. As more time passed, the more you really did start to feel like some kind of show animal or “prize-winning salmon” leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

Managing a weak thanks as you’re handed a flimsy gown to cover up with, your prep team gives a nod before leaving. That too-clean feeling from the train ride sends pinpricks up your spine again as you sit up to slide the gown on and peer around the sleek room. It’s wide open and similar to some kind of medical bay, although much more modern than the small clinics back in District 4. Peacekeepers line the outside wall along slanted windows. There are many smothered voices behind plastic, vinyl curtains used to separate the small prep rooms down the open corridor. It’s safe to assume you’re surrounded by the other Tributes.

A stylist introduces herself to you as Hyacinth, briefly explaining the vision behind the luxurious garment as it’s pulled from a protective sleeve on the hanger in her hands. Every set of Tributes was given costumes to match their District’s core industry to wear throughout the parade. District 4’s costumes, obviously, represented their many fisheries. The garment was difficult to distinguish from any other fishing net made on your ports back home, but as the stylist began to wrap the intricate material around your exposed skin it began to look more like a costume.

You were right about the ensemble being mostly netting. Thankfully, you were provided a bodysuit that had been airbrushed to match your complexion and painted details to resemble gills across the sides of your ribs. Large iridescent blue-green fish scales had been woven in and across the netting on your chest as if splattered there, crawling up your collarbones and wrapping around your shoulders. More scales were placed down your arms towards your fingertips, and the same process was applied to your legs with a sticky substance. The bottom of the netted costume had more scales adorning the hemming, their colors changing under the lights. You were left barefoot, which you felt was a bit dangerous, but you were too focused on their intricate handiwork to object to. Your hair was left in its natural texture, although Hyacinth laid a few pieces just how she wanted them. Ear cuffs made to resemble fins wrap around the shell of your ears. Your makeup was painted on in colors to match the color-shifting scales, and your fingernails and toes were painted an ocean blue.

“You look absolutely stunning Darling,”

Hyacinth had stepped back to admire her finished product, and you couldn’t help the insecurity churning your insides. A bathing suit revealed more than a netted outfit, but you couldn’t help feeling completely exposed. “I-It is very beautiful. Thank you,” You try not to stumble on your words as you do a small twirl in the mirror. Hyacinth’s smile spreads, and she gives a giddy clap of her hands, largely appreciating the flattery.

“Wonderful Darling!! Now, come, come, we must get you downstairs. Your chariot awaits!”

You’re ushered away from the small prep room and quickly transported from the Remake Center to an open-air stadium for the Tribute Parade. Upon entering a large open hall connected to the stadium floor, you notice the twelve shiny mental chariots pulled by beautiful inky Clydesdales. The horse’s mane and tails are freshly groomed, and their coats shine in the stadium lights. You can’t help thinking what magnificent creatures they are as you approach. The other Tributes around you are resigned to themselves, talking only to their stylists or one another. Your district partner and their stylist are already beside your chariot as well. You offer a small hello but wander over to the beautiful inky-colored creatures attached to the chariot.

One of the Clydesdales gives a soft whinny as you gently reach out to stroke its mane. You’d only seen horses less than a handful of times but had always admired the strong creatures. The remaining minutes you have before the opening ceremonies begin are spent stroking the horse’s strong neck and muzzle while whispering sweet nothings to the creatures.

Once an announcement is made that the ceremony is about to begin, you give the horses a sweet smile in farewell before stepping up onto the chariot beside your District Partner. You hadn’t noticed the odd look they’d given you, but their eyes quickly averted upon you meeting their stare. That familiar anxious knot twists your insides as the gleaming chariot lurches forward to follow the procession. Your knuckles turn white from how stiff your grip on the front of the chariot is.

The parade runs smoothly, though you find the loud cheers and hollers of the hundreds of thousands gathered to watch the event extremely overwhelming. Bitterness sets in your jaw as you remember they only care about the entertainment your death will provide. Your promise echoes through your mind as you take your eyes from the grandstands to look ahead toward the President of Panem, Coriolanus Snow.

You will not die.

Training begins in the morning, bright and early. There’s officially less than two weeks before the Games. All twenty-four tributes are transported to the Training center from their quarters and dressed in nearly identical uniforms consisting of black athletic long sleeves and pants with sleek black combat boots. Burnt orange accents run up the side seams and across the shoulders of their uniforms. The only distinction between Tributes is their district number embroidered on their backs in the same burnt orange as the accents on their clothes.

You scan the large training area as everyone spreads out to show off their personal strengths. Shifting your weight between your feet, you try to focus on your brief discussion with mags over breakfast. The goal of the training is to be observed by potential sponsors who can send aid in the arena. The more sponsors you get, the better your odds of potentially surviving. Your goal wasn’t to gain as many sponsors as possible by showing off but instead focusing on honing your skills to survive without the extra gifts. With a deep inhale, you make your way to a tall rope course that stretches the expanse of the upper levels of the hall and get to work.

The first few days spent in the Training Center, you work on getting through the ropes course, then getting through the course with weights, then doing both things while being as light-footed and silent as possible. You try to distance yourself from the other tributes, especially the growing pack of careers. Your best bet is to blend in and remain invisible to keep others off your back. Tensions increase after the first week, and a fight inevitably breaks out between the careers. Two female tributes are arguing for power within the alliance, ending in the pack dividing in two. You can only hope the grudges they now carry become their downfall in the arena as you resume your knife-throwing practice.

You’re not the best, but you manage to at least hit the target a few times. By the end of the next day, you’re hitting the target, although nowhere near the center or any crucial extremities on the human cutout. It would be enough to slow an opponent but nothing lethal at long range. You tried to push away the bile that threatened to rise in your throat whenever you remembered the high possibility of actually facing another human being with these knives. You hoped it wouldn’t come down to that, but your rationale knew better. The claim you spat in that bronze-haired boy’s face rang in your ears.

“I’d rather choose death than a life with blood on my hands.”

You scrape by with a score of six during the private Tribute Showcase, nimbly traversing the ropes course with a heavy weight on your back with barely a sound. Your goal of staying under the radar had worked.

Tonight, Hyacinth was fawning over another luxurious garment designed for your impending live audience interview with the ever-charismatic and flamboyant Caesar Flickerman. The stylist monologues her vision while zipping the back of the ensemble. Your costume tonight was made to represent the sea itself, a deep aquamarine bodysuit covered in various droplet crystals hugging your form, and a makeshift cape of the same deep color fades into layers of progressively lighter sea greens and blues, mimicking the sea foam of rolling waves on the coast. The many layers of the waterfall cape move in a satisfying cascade down your back to the floor, trailing behind you.

You’re given slim boots to match the bodysuit, and your hair is pinned up to showcase your bare back and the excessive cape. Ear cuffs nearly identical to the ones you wore during the parade wrap around your ears, and your makeup is honed more to accentuate your natural features than cover them. The polish on your fingernails is a muted sea green that causes a twist in your chest. The color reminds you too much of a certain bronze-haired boy.

Regret flashes through you again.

“Alright, Darling, shoulders back. Head high, you’ll be a spectacle no one will look away from,” Hyacinth coos as she brushes the fabric across your shoulders and adjusts finishing minute details. You offer a small smile with a sweet thanks before she loops your arm in hers and leads you toward the wings backstage. You really weren’t fond of the many cameras or prying eyes that awaited beyond your shadowy safe haven out of view, but you didn’t have a choice but to smile and play the part.

The male Tribute of District 3 is wrapping up their brief interview, and that anxious knot contorts harshly inside your chest. Soon, the interviewer and interviewee stand, shake hands, and the Tribute exits stage left.

“Now, Our next Tribute hails from the northern end of our beloved District 4,”

Caesar chirps through his introduction, and a nudge from behind urges you forward at the call of your name. You startle forward but manage to keep a sureness in your steps. The bright flashing lights and mechanical snaps of cameras form an overstimulating cacophony between the roar of the Capital citizens. The host of tonight’s event is adorned in sparkling silver, from the top of his slicked-back hair down to piercing eye contacts and a monochromatic tux that you could’ve sworn was closer to chrome from the gleaming shine.

You offer a wavering smile as you approach the host. Caesar Flickerman motions you to the seat beside him as he descends to the eggshell-colored swivel chair. You take your seat, adjusting the cascading cape to flow over the arm of the chair to remain because of the audience. A chorus of “ooo’s” and “ahhh’s” reverberates through the auditorium, and you can’t help the burning flush at the tips of your ears. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, my Dear,” Caesar compliments through a picture-perfect smile. You nod in thanks as he dives right into the questions.

“So, how has Capital life been treating you?”

“Uhm, it’s been very.. different, to say the least,” You stumble a bit through your response, but Caesar simply nods and leans out to the crowd with that picture-perfect smile and a laugh. “Well, what’s the most?” and a chorus of hoots and laughter rises from the audience again. Your faux smile falters, and your hands wring together in your lap anxiously. “It’s just more..extravagant than back home, is all. More colorful.” You reply shakily. The host nods in encouragement before moving on to the next question.

“Well, a little birdie whispered that a certain Sweetheart of the Capital arrived with you on the Tribute’s train. Our beloved Finnick Odair, one might say. Correct me if I’m wrong, but is there possibly a star-crossed lovers situation on our hands?”

Your blood runs cold as the phrase leaves Flickerman’s lips. He’s leaned forward, clearly on the edge of his seat, with the microphone pointed towards you, and the auditorium falls deathly silent. Your throat feels tight as all you do is stare in pure disbelief. “W-What?” You choke out, bewilderment on your face as your ears flush red from a burning embarrassment in your chest. The audience scoffs in disappointment at your response, and your confusion grows.

Caesar’s expression shifts as his smile falters, his eyes all but telling you to answer or make something up so he can move on. You stutter in reply while firmly shaking your head from side to side,

“No, no! It’s nothing like that at all. Honestly, I find him more irritating than anything. Besides, I’d never fall for a stuck-up Peacock like Finnick Odair in a thousand years!”

Your embarrassment turns into anger at the question as the audience groans in further disappointment, a few “Boos” echoing through the rafters above. However, much to your dismay, a few conspiring whispers slip through under all the noise that signifies your words weren’t taken as truth. This makes your blood simmer as Caesar barks a laugh, slapping a tanned hand on his silver knee.

“Ah hah! Well, that’s a mighty claim my dear, but I’m not so sure you’re well believed seeing that blush on your cheeks!”

Your jaw sets as you sit through two more equally ludicrous questions about your life before you exit the stage and return to your living quarters for the night. Upon returning to the Tribute Center and changing out of your ocean blue costume with the help of Hyacinth and her team, you immediately sink into the heavenly warmth of the large tub in your private washroom. However, not before receiving a thorough chew out from Thatcher over your once again “unprofessional behavior” when answering Caesar’s questions and for apparently “disrespecting” the Capital’s Darling.

Gently, you scrub yourself clean but remain in the comforting heat and steamy air till the water is frigid, trying to soak in the pleasuring warmth as long as possible while enjoying the brief privacy the washroom allows. Eventually, you drain the tub and towel yourself off, slipping into soft, lightweight bottoms, similar to the ones Finnick had thrown at you on the train, and an oversized short-sleeved tunic.

Finnick.

Unwanted pinpricks of regret stab your chest again, and a crease forms between your brows as the remembrance of the bronze-haired victor brings the interview questions surging back to the front of your mind. You grip your toothbrush tighter as you try to push away the embarrassment from earlier tonight. You didn’t know or understand how a rumor like that could even be an inkling in someone’s mind. You didn’t even see the boy at the station platform, and what business was it of a bunch of old snobby Capital Elites to reach after the love lives of children picked to slaughter one another in less than a day? Your stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.

Once you finished preparing for sleep, you pad your way over to your bed and find a comfortable seating position before flipping through a few of the ‘sleep aids’ with a small metal remote. The floor-to-ceiling windows in your luxurious, Capital-provided, bedroom flashed between different sceneries till you landed on one of the waves crashing on a foggy shore. The muddy sand of the beach drifted under the lull of the tide. Occasionally, seagulls cawed from the clouds above.

You knew you should be doing something with your last night of so-called ‘freedom’ before the Games begin tomorrow, but all you can do is stare at the waves. You wonder how your siblings and father are faring like you have every night since your departure from District 4. You could only hope they were learning to adapt with you being gone. Trying not to spiral over your fate, you drag your hands down your face to scrub at your eyes with a heavy sigh and thick swallow.

“I can do this…”

You mutter the mantra to yourself as you internally review the strategies Mags had made you memorize. There weren’t any clues given as to what the arena entailed. Rumors had been overheard in the Training Center, but the Gamemakers never repeated an arena. There could be anything in that dome of death tomorrow. The waves continue to crash on the screen, the whistle of a breeze blowing through the tall pines just beyond the beach that helps keep you grounded.

You could do this. You had to. Your father’s only word in farewell echos like many others.

“Survive,”

The morning comes too soon. You didn’t touch much of your breakfast even though you know you need as much energy as possible. Mags gives a pointed look your way, and you begrudgingly force a few bites down. Afterward, Mags, Hyacinth, and you are escorted by peacekeepers to a flight hanger near the Tribute Center. You receive an almost bone-crushing hug from your mentor that you graciously return with equal vigor.

“Thank you, for everything”

You murmur into the older woman’s hair. You feel her tears dampen the tunic covering your shoulder. Forcing yourself to pull away and wipe the tears from the elderly woman’s face as she signs her care for you. You offer a sweet smile and other thanks before a Peacekeeper takes your arm and leads you onto a hovercraft. Hyacinth follows, and you're pushed into a seat.

“Your arm,” The Peacekeeper orders while reaching out their hand. You hesitantly reach out, and they quickly place a device with an abnormally large needle into your arm. You grimace at the sting as a trigger is tugged, and a small glowing object appears beneath your skin. Your arm is dropped, and you place two fingers lightly over the slight bump caused by the device. “Don’t touch that. It’s your tracker.” The peacekeeper remarks, and you startle, returning your hands to your lap. The flight is long, but you don’t doze off as adrenaline pumps through your core. Tucking stray flyaways behind your ears, you look across to Hyacinth, who offers a solemn smile. The hovercraft eventually lands, a group of Peacekeepers in stark white uniforms meet you, and you’re quickly led to a small room.

The room is bare bones with only a rack containing your uniform for the Games, a small desk, and an overhead lamp. Two peacekeepers stand guard outside the door, and Hyacinth helps prepare you one last time. The uniform doesn’t give much away about what to expect of the arena besides its colors. Consisting of dark brown hiking boots, slim-fitted pants with multiple pockets in burnt umber, a warm brown skin-tight tank top, and a lightweight khaki-colored windbreaker. The possibility of a dry, warm climate arose in your mind as you examined the materials of your uniform. Hyacinth gave you a sad smile as she fixed the hood of your jacket.

“Good luck my Darling, it’s been my pleasure to know you.”

The stylist’s smile is sad, tears brim her eyes, and you can’t help feeling emotional. This was it. She would be the last person you saw before the Games began. You wrap your arms around the tall woman in a hug, surprising the stylist, but she gently accepts and returns the gesture. You give her your thanks before an announcement comes through a speaker somewhere in the room that the countdown is about to begin. With a thick swallow, you step towards the glass elevator indicated to ale you up into the arena. You hesitate, a shaky inhale entering your nose before gingerly stepping onto the panel. The glass door wraps around with a slick “shink” and your whirl to face your stylist. But she’s already left the room, probably unable to watch another one of her tributes enter the thunderstorm of the Hunger Games arena.

You don’t blame her.

A moment passes before the platform you’re standing on begins to rise, and your gaze turns skyward. The light is bright, causing your sensitive eyes to squint. You take note that you’re at least in an outdoor setting. The air that kisses your skin is dry and warm as your platform fully breaches the earth into the arena. Your head swivels as you take in the surroundings as a bright yellow countdown has begun in the sky above via hologram.

The arena of the 67th games was a ravine.

Half the tributes are spread on your side of the steep, open-mouthed drop, the other twelve across the wide mouth on a parallel cliff. There are trees behind, but there are no weapons because they’re all in the center across a woven net. The footholds are wide. If you’re not careful, you’ll trip and either plummet to the rushing water miles below or succumb to a Tribute’s attacks. Weapons and supplies are placed on a tarp in the center of the woven bridge. The Cornucopia. Maybe things would be over sooner than you thought.

The countdown is halfway.

Wetting your lips, you take a glance down and fight the urge to vomit, hearing someone else already do so over the side of their podium at the descent less than a foot from the cliff edge. Layers of cliffs jut out in makeshift ladders and walkways with alcoves to possibly hide in, but you quickly realize the only source of fresh water will be the rushing river at the bottom of the ravine. Glancing back up, you quickly try to stop the blanking panic in your mind as you try to recall everything Mags had taught you. Your best bet was to run. You can use your jacket as cover and get to the bottom to hide while everyone is too busy risking the crawl to the weapons. There was bound to be edible plant life at the bottom, or worse, you hunt for something better on the way down.

Ten seconds left.

Nine,

Eight,

Seven,

Six,

Five,

Four,

Three,

Two,

One,

“Let the 67th annual Hunger Games, begin.”

A bell sounds, and all hell breaks loose. No one yells, only the fierce grunts as Tributes race for the Cornucopia. You don’t see your District Partner, but you don’t stay static long enough to see the carnage that ensues as you bolt in the opposite direction. Two other Tributes bolt after you but veer straight into the trees beyond. Your heart feels like it’ll burst from your chest as you sprint down the edge till you find a slope to take you down. Falling to a slide, you slip down to another cliff as the first canon booms.

twenty three left.

Two more canons burst through the arena as you continue your rocky descent. Children are screaming above you, and you hurl what little substance is in your stomach as a body falls in front of you with a sickening crunch. The blood splatters across your skin, and you bite back your terrified scream. You have to keep moving.

Another canon.

Twenty left.

You dare take a glance behind and luckily manage to escape unnoticed. But you don’t hold hope on that factor as loud snaps reverberate down the canyon. Someone was cutting the net to the Cornucopia. There’s more screaming as you nimbly jump from the rocky slab you stood upon down to a jutting-out cliff, narrowly avoiding a fall to your demise. A pained scream catches in your throat through gritted teeth as your shoulder makes contact and you roll across the red earth. A dampness coats your tongue with a metallic taste of copper. Blood.

Forcing yourself to stand, your knees nearly fall out from under you, but you remain upright as you take another running jump to an even lower rock platform. By now, someone shouts above the screaming, “Go that way!” and you force yourself to move faster. You don’t have time to see what the voice originating the order meant. All you know is you have to get away. You land chest first on the edge of the cliff, and the wind is knocked from your chest. Blood splatters on the gravel, projected from the cough of air escaping your lungs. It’s an effort to pull yourself back up over the edge, slipping on sliding feet for a foothold on the rock wall, but you manage. There’s the crunch of boots above, and your terror amplifies tenfold as a spear shoots past you down to the depths. “S-Shit..” you gurgle on blood as you take off running once more, choking down small gasps of air that never seem to reach your lungs.

You can’t stop.

Another canon goes off and you hear another body fall to the depths, following another grotesque crunch of bone and muscle on rock.

Nineteen left.

A metallic clatter fills the expansive cavern of the ravine, and you spare a fleeting glance above just as the netting of the Cornucopia plummets. Metal cases, weapons, backpacks, and other supplies become entangled in the tarp they had rested upon as debris falls. Cases shatter and clang on the many cliffs. You do your best to evade the sharp debris but aren’t fast enough as a blade slices across the back of your left leg. You’re brought to your knees by the searing pain but again force yourself up, barely remembering to grab the small blade and continue your descent. White hot pain shoots ribbons through your entire leg, but you keep moving, albeit slower than before. Two more canons.

Seventeen Tributes left.

Seven children already dead.

You could only hope your canon wouldn’t fire anytime soon.

Another canon, sixteen left.

You will not die.

{{ taglist }}

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy @thehairington86 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @whens-naptime @violettbae @the-lonely-abyss @secretsicanthideanymore

[yutafrita]

The Eternal Tragedy- CHAPTER TWO

Chapter ONE/ TWO/ THREE/ FOUR/ P/ B

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DO YOU HAVE A COMRADE?

Pairing(s): Mafia!Yuta x Reader, Mafia!Sungchan x Reader Reader Pronouns: She/ Her Genre: Angst, Sci-Fi, Fantasy Chapter Word Count: 6.3K Warnings: Graphic violence, blood, alcohol use, references to catastrophic sci-fi events, references to sexual assault Masterlist

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It started with flowers on your mirror at work. It was a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped neatly in a red tulle. Always with a note attached.

You had no idea why Sungchan would spend as much money as he was getting you sunflowers. They were impossible to grow on Mars and could only be farmed from Earth’s moon, making them obscenely expensive. You had never even touched real ones until the day after you first declined Sungchan’s offer.

Sunflowers had always reminded you of earth and the stories from the planet your grandfather would share with you. Anytime you studied old artworks from the period when humanity was on earth, you could almost always see the sunflowers there, calling to you.

But, how could Sungchan have guessed that these were the flowers you had always dreamed about? Tulips and roses had become just as rare a commodity as sunflowers, yet it was these that he chose. 

Several days after declining Sungchan’s initial offer, you headed out to work. Opening your apartment door you saw Yuta perched outside. Annoyed, you quickly locked your door and pushed past him.

“Not even a ‘hello?’ Or a, ‘why are you here?’” he sniggered, quickly catching up and matching your pace out of your apartment complex and onto the street.

“How did you even get into my complex? You need a card to even enter,” you stopped to ask him, ignoring the toothpick jutting out from his teeth.

“I just followed someone in- your neighbors are very nice,” you wished you could punch that stupid smirk off his face. You huffed, tightened your grip on the backpack you took to work and started back down the block.

“You know, every bouquet of sunflowers costs about a half a million bucks,” Yuta continued, matching your pace easily. “Even dead, those things can go for a very pretty penny.”

“He can have them back,” you refused to have something as silly as flowers hanging over your head, no matter how much you actually did like seeing them.

Yuta shook his head, taking out his toothpick. “It’s just very bold of you to be carrying them so openly every night into your apartment.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You’re quite confrontational,” he mused. Yuta followed behind you into the alley, shaking hands with several of the vendors as he did so.

“I’ve already told Sungchan- I don’t want that job. And I don’t like you just… showing up at my home,” you hissed the last part, not wanting any of the alley patrons to hear you.

“Well, Sungchan is just concerned about your safety, and I’m no one if not a people pleaser,” Yuta kept his eyes on the alley, his eyes scanning the shuffle of vendors.

“Bullshit. He sent you to intimidate me.”

Yuta whistled, his tail wagging enough for you to see it. “You’re feisty- that’s going to get you into trouble.”

You were trying to develop a comeback before he walked away from you, whistling as he did so, tail swaying playfully. “Bastard,” you muttered.

Slipping past the security guard after you got your coffee, you were greeted by yet another bouquet at your station.

“He splurged this time,” Seulgi whistled at you. Irene was having Seulgi fasten her red corset, who nodded towards you as she tightened the fastens on her cat-clawed friend. Shotaro had themed the night Angels versus Devils. It was clearly one of Seulgi’s favorite nights judging by the fact that she temporarily dyed her bunny ears red.

Seulgi was right- he did splurge. The bouquet was a mix of yellow tulips and sunflowers, easily double the already exorbitant price he had spent on the previous ones. It was clear to you that he was ramping up the pleading. You tried to pay the bouquet no mind as you changed out from your street clothes into the outfit you had shoved into your backpack.

“Oh thank god I’m not the only one dressing as an angel tonight,” Goeun smiled as she saw you put the small white wings onto the back of your short white dress.

“Bor-ing,” Seulgi teased.

“I’m just reusing an old halloween costume,” you admitted. 

“Maybe Sungchan will think it’s boring too,” Irene hummed. 

Seulgi sighed. “I still don’t understand why you won’t just take that job.”

“Not everyone comes from a syndicate family, Seulgi. I mean- I’d take the job too, but she has every right not to,” Irene defended.

“A job’s a job,” Seulgi shrugged. You all got ready with minimal chatting before Shotaro entered, clipboard first with a small halo on his head.

“Good evening ladies!” he cheered. After you all took your assignments, you stepped out from the beaded curtain to head over to the bartop, a familiar figure speaking to the security guard outside of your dressing room.

“Pretend to be excited to see me again, at least,” Yuta teased, seeming to enjoy the irritated look on your face. Scrunching your nose slightly, you ignored him and maneuvered to the bar, noting that he was following closely behind you. You moved to take your place behind the bar to start setting up as the fox man sat in a stool in the corner of the bartop.

“We aren’t even open yet,” you snapped at him.

“I’m here under official business from the boss, so that doesn’t matter,” he took out the toothpick from between his lips and lifted it towards you. “Throw this out for me, angel?”

You frowned, “don’t call me that.”

He tapped the crown of his head, “I was referring to your costume, but I do like how much it bothers you.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching the toothpick from him and tossing it into the trash can without another thought. You continued to ignore Yuta, speaking openly with Goeun as you two continued to set up the bar.

“I’m really hoping these stupid costumes help with tips tonight,” you mindlessly admitted to her. 

“Me too! I’ve had my eye on this vintage movie collection for a while so I’m hoping I can put a bid on it tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s so fun! I was just putting it in my savings,” you chuckled. You always knew that Goeun was the cooler of you two, but it was small admissions like this that reminded you of this fact.

“I don’t trust banks,” she muttered. Goeun wasn’t alone in this hesitation. After earth became uninhabitable and humanity spread itself across the solar system, the banks crashed and caused billions of people to be penniless. Nowadays, despite most banks claiming to be extremely secure, citizens of the solar system tend to rely on older methods of finance and saving. Your mother stuck to the method of hiding the family’s savings under the mattress, and after some trial and error in your college days, you found the water tank of the toilet to be the best method for you.

“Me neither. I’m just trying to save to buy a house.”

“Bor-ing,” she giggled, gently shoving your arm. Shortly thereafter, the club was open and in full swing- customers asking for their drinks and the two of you moving as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“Can you get me some soju, angel?” Yuta asked, setting his empty glass of whiskey on the counter.

You shook your head. “You know the policy is fifteen minutes minimum between drinks.”

“I made that policy.”

You paused your mixing, shooting the fox man a glare. “Does every member of the syndicate have a hand in this god damn club?” it was getting aggravating for you. Between Jisung being trained in different areas of the club, your boss, the owner, and now the person following you around all having such ties to the club and the syndicate, you were exhausted trying to keep up.

“I'm the head of security. How do you not know that?”

“I don’t ask questions,” you returned to making drinks for those at the bar, shooting smiles as you did.

“That makes for a great accountant,” he smirked. You ignored him, forcing your smile as you poured over the drinks and slid them down to the patrons. You rubbed your sweaty hands on the hem of your dress, looking back up to meet Yuta’s gaze. He lifted his glass again, wiggling his wrist as he did so. “It’s been fifteen minutes.”

You absentmindedly handed Yuta his bottle of soju, moving down the bartop to continue your job.

“How’s it going?” Goeun maintained her smile as she mixed her drinks.

“As good as it can be!” your smile was still noticeably forced. Shotaro rarely had you working as a bartender and usually preferred to have you as a waitress as evident by your normal shifts. However, he also wanted you to occasionally bartend and not get rusty, so, during the week he found it fun to throw you behind the bar with Goeun.

As the night passed and patrons started to slowly dwindle, you began to clean up the counter, collecting tips as you went. The feeling of the cash between your fingers and weighing on your small apron made an authentic smile appear across your lips. You continued clearing out glasses and waving goodbye to your patrons, all the while well aware of Yuta’s eyes following your every movement.

“So, if you aren’t following me around to just force me into this job,” you were topping off Yuta’s last drink for the night, “what is the reason?”

“I told you. Sungchan’s worried about your safety.”

“Hm, just as I thought. He’s a bad bullshitter,” you moved away from Yuta, keeping the smirk on your face as you imagined his dumbfounded expression.

“I told him he should just move on and find another accountant,” this caught your attention, and you swiveled around on the heel of your boot to study Yuta’s expression. “It’s obvious you don’t want to deal with the price of being a part of the syndicate, and I respect you, angel.”

You were quiet, the soft hum of the closing of the bar being the only sound between the two of you. 

“You’re being serious,” it wasn’t a question, just an observation.

“Sungchan doesn’t take well to not getting what he wants. Guy like him doesn’t become the leader of a crime syndicate by taking no for an answer,” Yuta gently pushed the glass towards you. “I also haven’t seen him ever work so hard to appeal to someone's affections.”

This made you pause. “Affections?”

Yuta furrowed his eyebrows. “Affections. Duh.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “So it isn’t just about that stupid job?”

Yuta laughed, swiping under his eye before he replied, “he won’t admit it. I don’t think it’s about the job- although, it would be a plus to have that position filled.”

For the rest of the week, everytime you would step out of your apartment to work, you came to expect Yuta’s presence. Rather than lurking from a distance, he enjoyed annoying you into small talk. At the same time, whenever you would enter work, you came to expect some other object at your station.

With flowers, you found yourself accepting it mainly because of the fact that you knew they would die soon in the Mars atmosphere anyways. However, when Sungchan began leaving more permanent items as gifts- necklaces, handbags, and today, a laptop, you found yourself dumping them into Yuta’s arms on your way to your assigned place of work.

“For all he’s spending on gifts he could be paying someone else to do the damn job,” you hissed at Yuta.

“I told him the same thing,” he whistled, unphased as he handed the laptop off to another member of club security. 

Yuta had taken to being in a corner of the room whenever you worked- far away enough that he wouldn’t breathe over your neck, but always close enough that you could feel his eyes on you no matter what. 

It was still difficult to meet his gaze for a few reasons. One reason was simply because it bothered you that you had put up with Yuta following closely behind you at all times. The second reason was because you still weren’t used to observing beauty like his so closely. You may not like the fact that he was a syndicate member nor the fact that he wouldn’t leave you be, but you would be a liar if you couldn’t admit that he was one of if not the most attractive person you had ever seen. 

It didn’t help how you’d sometimes find your mind wandering whenever you did look at Yuta. You wondered if his lips really were as soft as they looked. You wondered if his fingers were as nimble as they were whenever he played cards with other syndicate members. You wondered if he was as generous as a lover as he was whenever he’d tip you and the rest of the waitstaff.

Difficult, was becoming an understatement.

All the while, you hadn’t seen Sungchan since your first encounter with him, now nearly a month ago. Despite all the gifts he had thrown your way, the note on each of them was the same: I wait for your answer -J.S.

It bugged you more than Yuta following you around did. You already gave Sungchan your answer- but it wasn’t the answer Sungchan had wanted. 

Before work one day, you were eating a small snack of dandelion cookies, scrolling through listings of houses on your laptop.

Condo on Mars!

HOME ON SATURN MOON.

Apartments for Rent on Jupiter's Moons.

You shuddered reading the ads for Jupiter and Saturn's moons. Jupiter, Saturn, and Neptune were the only planets in the solar system humans had not managed to properly colonize yet, but they have done a pretty solid job of colonizing their surrounding moons.

Begrudgingly, you shoved your costume for the night into your backpack and slipped out of the apartment. Like clockwork, you heard the sound of feet following behind you. You paused. These footsteps were different from the ones you had grown used to. Whipping your body around, your breathing halted.

“You look adorable,” Sungchan smiled, moving towards you with far too much familiarity. Instinctually, you stepped back. Sungchan stopped in his tracks, his eyes facing down at your feet.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more meek than you would have liked it to. Sungchan’s eyes moved up to meet yours and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as they did. He was undeniably handsome, but unlike Yuta, there was something lingering in the back of this young man’s eyes- something you noticed the first time but only truly felt now.

Sungchan straightened out his tie before he spoke. “I asked Yuta to make sure you were safe while I was away on business, but I’m back now. Don’t need to bother the head of security if I’m available.”

“I don’t need protection. I’ve worked at your bar for over two years just fine,” you huffed. Not waiting for Sungchan to formulate a response, you started down the steps and out onto the streets. You may not have seen him in a month, but you were able to stew in your anger the whole time.

“I didn’t know that you were there, though,” Sungchan had managed to catch up to you, walking side by side with you down the sidewalk. Upon seeing his accentors, people nearly threw themselves out of the way, and you caught the corner of his lip raise in a smirk. 

“Whatever that means. Can you just… leave me alone? I already told you- I don’t want the job as the accountant,” you plead. A small, foolish part hoped that if you were direct enough, that Sungchan would understand and leave you alone. 

“I would have left you alone a long time ago if I could,” he replied blankly, his eyes watching your expression closely. Foolish.

“Why do you keep talking to me like that?” you stopped outside of the alleyway, well aware of the gazes streaming through as they watched the head of the largest syndicate speaking openly to one of his waitresses while not on the clock. “Why are you so… ominous? And why are you talking like you have no pride? Or agency? My god… I thought you were the boss.”

“I am the head of the largest syndicate in the solar system, I have more agency than you could even dream of,” this seemed to have struck a nerve in the deer as he glared down at you.

“Then why can’t you leave me alone?” 

Sungchan clenched his jaw before he ran his hand past his face and through the front of his hairline. “Just… consider my offer. I’ll see you tonight,” he brushed past you then, moving to enter the front of the Garden.

***

Shotaro had handed you an outfit to wear for the night, much to your dismay. He seemed to feel bad about it as he saw you open the box and pull out the ridiculous costume- well, ridiculous to you at least.

“This is a brand new skirt from Louis Vitriol. It was just in Paris-York Fashion week,” Irene admired the short plaid skirt, taking it from the box Shotaro handed to you.

“This is authentic Venus craftsmanship… These garters are hundreds of dollars each,” Seulgi added, her fingers tracing over the leather work. You shook your head, the heat rising to your face as you stared down at the note buried inside the box indicating who it was from.

“I’m not wearing this,” you felt your chest swell in anger. Shotaro rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from you as if he were ashamed.

“If you don’t wear it, I was told to send you away for the night.”

“Fine!”

“And then to fire you for walking off the job,” he muttered, his eyes darting away.

“You can’t do that,” Goeun spoke for you, her anger stifled by the silly schoolgirl outfit she had on. The theme was back to school, and while the outfit you had originally planned was skimpy, it paled in comparison to what Sungchan wanted you to wear.

“You’ll be working in the downstairs area tonight, so no one else will see you,” Shotaro added as if to comfort you. 

“Who would see me, then?” you asked, knowing the answer. Shotaro was quiet as he took a step back, announcing everyone else's place for the night and getting them out of the dressing room.

“I’ll be right out here. Once you’re ready I’ll take you downstairs,” Shotaro leaned in closely then, “if he tries something you don’t like, book it out of there. I’ll make sure you keep your job.” There was a weight placed into your front pocket, and then, you were alone. The outfit Sungchan had forced you into left little to the imagination, but tucked into your outer thigh and strapped in by the garter belt was the knife Shotaro had snuck to you. You had never gone to the downstairs area of the club. You knew this was where Shotaro’s office was, but never cared to learn more. 

Shotaro had led you down the marble steps and simply said, “last door at the end of the hall.”

Walking alone, the only sound was your platformed boots squeaking along the marble floor. You felt miserable. It’s not that you weren’t confident in yourself, you just hated the feeling of being so exposed- especially against your will. Your ass hung out from the bottom of the miniskirt, your button up shirt showed a little more of your torso and tits than you would have liked, and the garter belt emphasized far more than you deemed necessary. 

You were marching into Sungchan’s office fully ready to quit. You didn’t need this shit! You had saved enough money, and hell, you had a masters degree! He may be head of the syndicate and have his finger in every pie in the city, but he couldn’t control you.

Steeling yourself, you didn’t bother knocking before turning the handle to enter the space.

You weren’t sure what you expected. Maybe a large torture room where he showed you what happens to people who refuse his bidding. You even half expected a ridiculously lavish lounge filled to the brim with gold and other silly, opulent objects.

What you didn’t expect was what you got- a simple office with an oak desk, and several overstuffed bookshelves along the walls. In front of the desk sat Sungchan in a stool not meant for someone of his height as he hunched in front of a blank canvas. He was facing another small stool that stood empty. Sungchan turned his head your way and unabashedly stared at your chest.

“My eyes are up here, dipshit.”

“I guess I was never subtle,” Sungchan turned his gaze back up to your eyes. “Take a seat.”

“Why?”

Sungchan furrowed his brows, seeming to suck out the small bit of courage you were feeling as he did so. He raised a free hand and dug into his suit jacket before yanking out a paper.

“I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking to buy a home away from Nuevo Seoul.”

You didn’t even bother asking how he knew this, for it was obvious to you that Yuta had heard your conversations with Goeun.

“What if I told you that I have in my hand a deed to land that is yours to have?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. Plus, I doubt-.”

“It’s on the moon, the part that faces earth.”

You were silent. The community on the moon consisted of two things- the extremely wealthy families who could afford the plots of land there, and the two farmlands that managed to grow earthlike crops for a pretty penny. It was as close to earth as you could possibly get, but even on your nice salary it would be impossible to afford, hell, even with as much as the syndicate made it still didn’t seem possible.

How could Sungchan have possibly known that this was what you wanted?

Your bottom lip trembling, you forced a false confidence. “How do I even know that deed is real?”

He tucked the paper away into his suit jacket, turning back to face the canvas. “Take a seat and we can talk about it.”

You stood still at the door, glaring at Sungchan’s back. You couldn’t deny that you were curious about the deed, but you also reminded yourself of the immense distress even being in the same room as him caused you. The time ticked. Slowly, you walked yourself past Sungchan and to the empty stool across from him and the canvas. You didn’t miss the small smile that appeared on his lips that vanished just as quickly.

“You look lovely.”

“I hate this outfit. Now, tell me about the deed.”

“Can you cross your legs and place both your hands over your thigh?” he instructed, pointing at you with the pencil in his hand. Pressing your lips together, you crossed your ankles and set your two balled up fist on your overexposed thigh. “It’s a house my family has owned on the moon since humanity first colonized the solar system.”

“And why would you give that to me?”

“Because I know it’s the one thing that would convince you to stay near me,” Sungchan replied bluntly as he started to lightly sketch. 

“Why can’t you take no for an answer?”

He paused on his sketch, meeting your gaze now. You hated how attractive he was- his brown eyes seeming to pin you down where you sat. He was younger than Yuta at least at first blush, but there was something in the younger man’s eyes that showed someone wise beyond his years.

“Why the moon?”

You purse your lips at his question. You had never verbalized the truth to anyone- even in your head it felt… silly.

“It’s because the earth calls to you, isn’t it,” Sungchan looked back down at this canvas, and your eyes widened. “It calls to you, and even though you know the earth is no longer safe, you wish to be in its orbit and as close to it as possible. Is this correct?”

“H-how…?”

“I know lots of things,” he hummed, “and I could say the same. I feel called to you, and I want to be in your orbit.”

There were a lot of things wrong with his response. For one thing- the earth couldn’t speak for itself while you could. Perhaps it was because he was the first person to ever put together your fascination with the deserted planet and seem to respect it, but you stayed on the stool, watching him slowly sketch.

“Why did you put me in this stupid outfit?”

“I just wanted everyone to see how adorable you are,” he countered, a sly smile turning his face up. You looked away in embarrassment, staring at one of the many bookshelves he had in his office. He scared you, but you couldn’t deny the way you felt flattered by his attraction towards you. “Eyes on me please… I’m trying to get this lighting right.”

You turned your face back, hoping the blush faded away.

“You don’t seem like someone who does art.”

“That’s a little judgemental of you, no?”

You shrugged. “When I think of the head of the syndicate, I don’t think of someone who is as young as you who also is an artist.”

Sungchan chuckled then, still sketching. “I’m a lot older than I look.”

“Your head of security seems older than you.”

“I knew it was unwise to have you spending more time with him,” Sungchan clicked his tongue, glaring down at the canvas before his eyes flitted back to you. You looked at his deer horns, and how in the dim lighting of his office, they seemed golden, making his wings appear heavenly.

“He’s nice,” you defended.

“I’m sure that’s all you think about with him,” Sungchan sounded bored, the bite in his statement not being there in the way you would have expected. Before you could remind him of the fact that he’s the one that forced Yuta to watch you, there was a loud pounding at the office door, making you jump slightly in your seat. Within the blink of an eye, there was a weight on your lap. It was Sungchan’s blazer.

“Put this on, if you want,” while there was leniency in his words, one look in his eyes showed that it wasn’t merely a suggestion. Annoyed but all the while pleased to have some coverage, you slipped on the blazer. 

“Sir we need final input on the se-,” the man walking in paused before squinting at you, “the stuff that is legal. Hey, weren’t you that waitress who trained little Jisung?”

“One of them, yeah,” you recognized the man from the night you met Yuta. He sat a few booths down and was notable to you only for the fact that he was the only one at the booth without any accentors. Tonight, he had on a full suit and held in his hands a manilla folder. 

“I thought you only did still life paintings,” Johnny looked teasingly at Sungchan who ignored the man's comment and took the folder in his hand.

“Hm,” was all Sungchan said as he glanced over the contents. He sat back down at the canvas, leafing through a few more pages. “How distraught is she?”

“Extremely,” Johnny replied, his lips pressed tightly together. “I don’t blame her.”

“Of course not. Well…” Sungchan looked up at you, cocking his eyebrow, “can you pick a number between one and ten for me?”

Your face twisted in confusion, Sungchan’s unmoving expression giving nothing away. You caught Johnny’s chuckle and felt a small twinge of irritation.

“Three.”

“You’re much too nice… Fine. Cut three fingers and three toes- but make one of them his thumb, that’s all,” Sungchan handed the folder back to Johnny who quickly shuffled out from the office.

You jumped off the stool, eyes wide in horror and disgust. “What the fuck?”

“Hm?” Sungchan seemed bored again, looking back at where you stood. “Ah can you sit back down? I was almost done sketching.”

“Don’t use me in your sick fucking games!” You shouted, throwing off his blazer and tossing it to the ground.

“He assaulted her.”

You froze where you stood, ice flooding your veins and keeping you from moving. “What?”

“One of the syndicate-run brothels had an incident where a client ignored the boundaries of our workers. I would say he deserved to be punished,” Sungchan hummed. “I normally would want them to be castrated but we’ll just have the cops do that themselves.”

You were back on the stool for what felt like several hours then, your mind wallowing in a shame you couldn’t even begin to articulate. You hated Sungchan for pushing your own boundaries and his numerous attempts to get you to do a job you did not feel comfortable doing, yet, you were still in awe at the realization that they actually took care of all their workers. 

Sex work on Mars was illegal, but in Nuevo Seoul (especially if you were connected to the Dragon Crime Syndicate), the cops were willing to turn a blind eye to the brothels. At your job, Shotaro and the security team were always helpful. You hated working for the syndicate not because of how they treated you, but because you feared the repercussions of getting caught. 

Then, a petty, stupid, thought intruded into your brain; if Sungchan was willing to torture a man for someone he didn’t even know, what lengths would he go to for you?

You were quiet until Sungchan checked the time on his watch. “Seems like it’s closing time,” he sat up from the stool and dug into the pocket of his pants, taking out his wallet.

You stood up from your stool and brushed past him on your way towards the door. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’ll be getting paid for your time in one way or another,” he replied, putting his wallet back in his pocket nonetheless. It was one thing for you to take money from patrons, but it felt like a whole other thing to take money from the owner of the bar, especially when you felt so sick in your gut. “I’ll be walking you home now.”

“I’d rather be alone,” you knew it was pointless, especially as you felt Sungchan set his blazer jacket back atop your shoulders.

“Neuvo Seoul may be safer than other big cities, but no way in hell you’re walking out of here dressed like that on your own.”

You clenched your jaw. “You made me wear this shit.”

He simpered, “I know.”

You followed behind Sungchan down the marble hall. When you initially made your way down, you had ignored your surroundings in a blind rage and fear. Now, you observed the different statues teeming about, the way each square inch of the walls held a priceless painting. You stopped in front of one, leaning in closely to confirm your suspicions.

“These are original paintings,” Sungchan answered for you. You didn’t turn around, knowing that he stood merely an inch away from your back. “It’s the abduction of Persephone.”

The painting was horrifying to you. The dark colors swallowed the two primary figures. There were hands clawing through the ground to try and save a struggling Persephone as she fought against her abductor. It was beautiful, this was undeniable, but you couldn’t deny the agony you felt when you saw it.

“I thought most Rembrandt paintings were destroyed when the earth was.”

“This one was a part of a big heist in the late 1900s, and whoever stole it sent it to the moon with some rich patrons decades later,” Sungchan explained. “Did you take an art history class?”

You shook your head, “my Mom works for the Paris-York Museum of Art.” 

“Ah, sounds like an interesting lady,” Sungchan’s voice sounded more distant. You turned your head back, seeing that he now stood several steps away, his eyes locked onto your own. 

The club was clearing out slowly, and as you made it back to the ground level, you saw Irene and Seulgi both gaze at you with clear looks of concern as they watched you re-enter with the head of the syndicate. 

“Good night!” Shotaro called over, his smile so bright despite the dark cloud that seemed to follow Sungchan. Maneuvering past other high up syndicate members all making sure to say goodbye to him, you and Sungchan were greeted by the chill of Mars’ night air.  While the man-made atmosphere made it possible for humans to generally survive on the planet, there wasn’t much it could do about the planet’s inclination to become frigid at night.

Begrudgingly, you slipped your arms through Sungchan’s blazer, sighing as the warmth enveloped your chest. You looked at the man who had his sleeves rolled up, arms tucked behind him as he quietly walked next to you.

“I like the cold,” he seemed to read your mind, his eyes glancing over at you. You averted your gaze, and focused on the nightlife that seemed to be slowly dwindling. You had gotten used to the odd schedule of finishing work at three in the morning, but you would never get used to Mars’ red moons in the sky and the citizens of Nuevo Seoul who also seemed to be finishing their own late night shifts. You looked back over at Sungchan, his wings fully exposed now that you wore his blazer.

“Do you cut out holes in all your shirts for those things?” you caught yourself absentmindedly asking. He stopped walking, his eyes studying you then. You realized what, to you, was an error- you felt comfortable enough around him to ask such a rude question. 

Then, he chuckled, “sometimes I do, but this shirt was tailored for me.”

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, nodding as you turned your gaze back down to your feet.

“You really shouldn’t be so curious,” Sungchan muttered. 

“I’ll have you know that I didn’t even know the head of security until a month ago, let alone… who you are,” you snapped.

“Ah, so you don’t know about the insane killing spree I had a year ago, that’s a shame,” Sungchan’s tone was serious. You met his gaze, and watched the corner of his mouth twitch, holding back a chuckle.

“That sounds like something you’d do,” you countered, pulling out your keys.

“Hm, not without reason,” Sungchan admitted as you entered your building's courtyard. Glancing up, you froze. Your apartment door was open and lights were turned on, and from what you could see on the third floor, men were teeming around the area.

“What the fuck?” Sungchan beat you to it, and looked over to you. “Stay here.”

“Fuck off!” you shouted, taking a step to move away from the syndicate boss before he moved directly in front of you. “This is my home,” your body trembled now as you looked up at Sungchan’s piercing eyes.

Sungchan grit his teeth, glancing up at the apartment before looking at your own shaking figure. “If I say to run, you run, okay?”

Even if you didn’t mean it, you needed the tall wall of a man to move out of your way somehow, so you nodded in agreement. 

Your apartment was in a disarray. Yuta stood at the front door, explaining himself to a visibly angry Sungchan.

“... by the time I got here the door was already broken open. They didn’t take everything, but-.”

“I don’t understand why the fuck you wouldn’t think to call me immediately,” Sungchan snarled.

You were too stunned to even interject. Yuta saw your dazed expression, and looked down in shame. “Sungchan asked me to meet you both here to make sure your place was safe… I should have gotten here sooner.”

“God dammit,” Sungchan pushed past the fox man, storming into your apartment as if it was his own. You surveyed the damage from the door, noting the two other men that greeted the angered boss as they cleaned up the broken glass scattered all over your floor. The flowers were all gone too, this much you could easily tell. 

Glancing to the side, your eyes widened in horror.

You shoved Yuta out of the way, rushing to your bathroom and seeing the worst sight imaginable.

“No no no no no no no no no no,” you repeated, your throat catching as sobs began to rack your chest. The lid of the toilet was tossed aside, and inside the water tank which formerly held your entire life savings, now just held water and two empty ziploc bags.

Gone.

It was all gone.

Tears were streaming down your face and you ran your hands against your cheeks in an attempt to stifle the sadness and anger welling up inside. All of your money was gone. You kept swiping your hands at your cheeks, snot streaking along the blazer as you stared down at the empty water tank. A hand rested on your shoulder, and you shot a quick look at the mirror.

“All of my money,” you told Yuta, your voice coming out in a croak.

“We’ll find them and get all of your money back, angel,” he tried to comfort you. “It’ll be okay.” You were so petrified and angry that you glossed over the stupid nickname he seemed to permanently assign to you.

You turned back around, meeting Yuta’s gaze. “Where’s Sungchan?”

He pressed his lips into a line, his fox ears twitching as if fighting back an urge you had no desire to decipher. “He’s on the line with some syndicate members, trying to get street camera footage.”

“Tell him… tell him I’ll take the stupid job."

CHAPTER THREE: SEE YOU COWGIRL, SOMEDAY, SOMEWHERE!

Taglist! @nini0620 @maleegayuh @projectxdemons @deakyspuff

[eggtoasties]

Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

.

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

[jingabitch]

I Love Recycling

SUMMARY: wherein water is a scarce and precious resource and you are given to Jennie as her recycler.

RATING: Explicit

PAIRINGS: Jennie x reader; side Rosé x reader

WARNINGS: smut | watersports | future au | dystopian au | idol au | kai-bashing (sorry) | inherent power imbalance | some D/s dynamics

WORD COUNT: 21.6k

A/N: !!! i was honestly scared to post this and I’m still kind of nervous so I hope you guys will be kind 🥺🥺 if i get hate on this i’ll probably delete my blog altogether lmao. this is for the handful of followers who wanted blackpink watersports.

Year 2086

Most mornings, Jennie didn’t really enjoy waking up, and would sleep past noon if she didn’t have any morning appointments. Even when she did, she often snoozed her alarm until she couldn’t anymore before getting ready.

Today, however, Jennie woke up before eight in the morning, excitement making it difficult for her to go back to sleep. Instead, she came out of her bedroom to the common area of the dorm, much to the surprise of her group members.

“Unnie, what are you doing up so early?” Lisa, who was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table having some fruit for breakfast, asked.

Chaeyoung, sitting next to Lisa and nursing a cup of tea, laughed at the question. “She’s obviously excited about today,” she teased, smirking mischievously up at Jennie.

The older girl rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen to get some coffee. “What’s wrong with being excited?” she asked when she came back to the living room, sitting across from her two bandmates. She meant to sound tough and sassy, but there was a bit of vulnerability that she couldn’t quite hide.

Hearing it, Chaeyoung immediately backtracked. “Unnie, there’s nothing wrong with being excited! We’re sorry we laughed. I think it’s really great that you’re getting a recycler.”

Jennie blew the steam off the top of her coffee mug to avoid making eye contact with her dongsaengs. “Really?” she asked.

“Yeah, I mean, this has been your dream since even before we debuted, right? We’re happy for you, really.”

That cheered Jennie up a bit, and she smiled at them. “Okay,” she accepted, grateful to have such supportive friends. Getting a recycler had been a big decision, especially since she didn’t live alone. She’d initially been nervous to broach the topic with them, terrified that they would say no to such a big commitment and having another person living in the dorm with them, but they’d been cheering her on the whole time.

It was common for idols, as well as other members of society’s rich and elite, to have recyclers. After all, water was a precious resource, and rationed to each individual or family unit based on net worth, contributions to society, and so forth. The distribution system was regulated by an algorithm so complex most people couldn’t understand it, and there were, unfortunately, people at the fringes of society who didn’t get enough water to survive.

The solution, therefore, was relatively simple and straightforward. People who weren’t assigned enough water to survive could sign up to be recyclers and be assigned to members of society who were given an excess of water, and the name was somewhat self-explanatory. Basically, recyclers… recycled the water the elites drank.

Put more bluntly, they drank pee.

It was highly regulated, of course – applicants who wanted recyclers of their own had to go through health checkups and maintain a healthy and responsible lifestyle before they were assigned a recycler. There were background checks, home visits and it was overall a very stringent selection process. Even as the only daughter of a wealthy family, Jennie hadn’t been able to qualify. It wasn’t until she was an established idol with a group and a thriving solo career that she finally got the letter informing her that she was now eligible to undergo the selection process to have a recycler if she wanted it.

And, well… she definitely did. Recyclers, because of the nature of their relationship with their assigned donators, grew very close to them, a bond that often lasted a lifetime. It was exceedingly rare for recyclers to apply for a new donator – approximately 0.1% of recyclers did, usually because their handler abused them or had contracted a disease that made it unsafe for them to continue donating their urine. Jennie did not intend on being part of that 0.1%.

As an only child, Jennie had often been lonely growing up, and after watching a documentary when she was in her teens about the intimate bond between donators and recyclers, had craved that kind of companionship. Today, a long-held dream was finally coming true, and she was going to be bringing her assigned recycler home today.

She still had a little bit of time before she was supposed to get ready, so she opened her laptop and pulled up the file she’d been sent on her recycler. The file was comprehensive – full name, picture, age, educational background and other details. Enough for Jennie to start constructing an idea of what the girl she’d been assigned would look like, but not enough for her to understand L/n Y/n, the person. Still, she supposed, there would be plenty of time for that in the coming years.

Really, the agency had done a remarkable job of finding her the perfect companion. She’d had only a few vague ideas about what she wanted – a girl, preferably, because she was just more comfortable with having a girl around 24/7, someone younger than her so she could dote on her and fulfil her older sister fantasies, and cute. The last requirement was something that she’d reluctantly added at the request of her management company. Having recyclers was a symbol of stature, and played into idols’ image of being successful and wealthy. Jennie didn’t necessarily like it, but they wouldn’t have okayed her having a recycler who wasn’t photogenic, so she’d had no choice.

As much as she knew about her recycler, Y/n didn’t know much about her at all, because she’d requested that her identity be kept strictly private. With the amount of public interest in idols’ lives, she knew her seeking a recycler would be leaked if she didn’t take the utmost care to keep it secret, and even though it was inevitable that everyone would eventually find out, she wanted to keep it to herself just for a little while. A few weeks to get to know her recycler without public scrutiny, was that too much to ask for?

Anyways, given that her recycler didn’t know anything about her or who she was, she wanted to make a good impression. She’d been thinking of what to wear for days now and hadn’t been able to decide, but now time was running out and she had to choose something fast.

“Aaaargh,” she cried, ruffling her hair in frustration as she stared at her closet. Half of her closet was Chanel and the other half was filled with assorted haute couture pieces, yet she couldn’t come up with something that she was confident meeting you in.

Hearing her scream, Jisoo slipped into her room sleepily. “What’s going on?” she asked, yawning. Jennie had woken her up, and she sat down on the bed, sighing. She wished she was still in her own bed.

“Unnie, I can’t figure out what to wear,” Jennie complained, turning to her bandmate.

Jisoo blinked at her. “Why are you having such a hard time? It’s not a big deal.”

“But I want her to like me,” Jennie whined, sticking her head back into her closet.

“She’s going to like you no matter what, Jennie-yah,” Jisoo said, her eyes drooping.

“You don’t know that! How could you possibly know that?” Jennie cried, sliding the hangers one by one along the bar in her closet to look at all her clothes.

Jisoo sighed. “Just don’t wear pants. It makes it harder to… you know.”

Jennie, who had been looking at a pair of wide-legged trousers, turned back to look at Jisoo with wide eyes. “Oh my God, that’s true,” she said, sliding it over to the right and beginning to browse through her skirts and dresses instead.

In the end, she went with a simple ensemble – a white, off-shoulder, cropped blouse with a large bow on the bottom and a short black pleated skirt. Because she was a Chanel girl at heart, she paired it with a small black Classic Flap and heeled booties.

By the time she was ready to leave, she was running late (despite her early start today!) and dashed out of the dorm, yelling a hasty goodbye to her roommates. As she walked towards her car in the underground parking lot of the dorm, she sent out a quick prayer of thanks that YG had finally lifted the ban on the members driving. This whole thing would have been all the more awkward if she’d had to have someone drive her there.

------------------------------

As she pulled into the parking lot of the Bureau of Water Distribution, Jennie pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. The security to get in was fairly rigid, since there were so many high net worth and prominent individuals who came to pick up their recyclers here. On the bright side, that meant no paparazzi, and everyone around her today would either be trained to ignore the fact that she was an idol, or famous enough that her presence wouldn’t faze them.

After parking her BMW, Jennie got out of the car and entered the building, psyching herself up to meet Y/n. It was just the most important day of her life, that’s all. You could divorce a husband, but recyclers were forever. She introduced herself at the counter and was almost immediately taken to a private room, where she was told to wait for her recycler.

With some time to kill, Jennie started looking around. The room was beautiful – marble flooring, leather couches, fancy furniture and art. This room was designed with its wealthy occupants in mind, and it showed. She squirmed in her seat nervously, her heart pounding from the nerves. If her recycler didn’t come soon, she was going to find her on the ground, unconscious.

Despite the anticipation, Jennie almost leapt out of her seat when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she said in a shaky voice as she stood up, her hands folded in front of her. The door opened and a stout lady in a pantsuit bustled in, clearly a member of the staff here from the lanyard dangling from her neck.

“Miss Kim, it’s nice to meet you. This is L/n Y/n,” she said, stepping aside so Jennie could take a good look at you.

You were clearly nervous, your eyes downcast and your hands, like hers, clasped politely in front of you. Without raising your eyes, you folded yourself into a deep bow, your torso parallel to the ground. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Kim. Thank you for choosing me as your—” Your eyes widened in shock as you saw the person who was standing in front of you for the first time.

“Right, well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other. When you’re ready to leave, just give me a call and I’ll give you the rest of the paperwork,” the staff member said before making herself scarce.

“Thank you,” Jennie said, nodding at the staff member as she left and shut the door behind her. Then she turned her attention to you. Your clear nervousness did a lot to put her at ease – she immediately slipped into nurturing mode as she saw how vulnerable you looked. Clad in the plain dress that came standard issue for recyclers, slightly hunched over, trying to make yourself smaller… the wave of tenderness that rushed over her almost knocked her clear over.

“Come sit down,” she said, sitting on the couch herself and patting the cushion next to her in invitation.

“Okay, Miss Kim,” you said politely, making a beeline for the couch. Clearly, you’d been taught to be obedient to your donator, but this was a little excessive, Jennie thought.

“You don’t have to be that formal, Y/n-ie. You can just call me Jennie,” she reassured you. “And you can relax. I don’t know what they taught you about how recyclers are supposed to act, but I really want you to become part of my family,” she continued, placing her hands over yours, which were still clasped together tightly.

Your gaze drifted from your hands in your lap up to her, and the apparent sincerity in her gaze as she smiled at you putting you at ease. It was still terrifying, of course – you hadn’t known until just now that your mysterious donator was a world-famous idol, and you didn’t quite know how to react. Still, the earnest expression on her face had you believing that no matter what, she would be right there with you. It was a nice feeling, and you couldn’t believe that someone you’d known for about five minutes was able to make you feel this way when no one in your life had ever succeeded.

“Thank you, Miss Kim— I mean, Jennie-unnie,” you amended hastily. “Sorry, it’s just that your file only had your last name, so I got used to calling you that in my head.”

Then you realized what you’d said and flushed scarlet, much to Jennie’s delight. It was reassuring to know that she hadn’t been the only one looking over your file almost obsessively.

“Don’t worry,” Jennie said, squeezing your hands lightly. “I’ve been excited to meet you too. I know my file was pretty empty, though, so I’m happy to answer any questions you have before we sign the papers.”

“R-really?” Your eyes lit up.

Jennie chuckled. It was so easy to make you happy, it seemed. “Go wild,” she encouraged.

“Does being your recycler mean being in the public eye a lot?” you asked the first question that came to your mind.

Jennie hummed thoughtfully. “It might,” she admitted. “But we’ll all do our best to protect you, so you don’t have to worry, okay?”

You nodded as you digested that, then asked the next question. “Will I be living in the dorm with the other members?”

“Yeah, at least for a couple of years. When the lease is up on the apartment, we probably won’t renew it. It’s weird for us to be so old and still living together.” Catching your dumbfounded expression, she laughed. “Why? Are you excited to meet the others?”

At her question, you immediately ducked your head, though she could still see how red your ears were. She laughed in delight. “Y/n, are you a fan?”

You yanked your hands out from under hers to cover your face, which was hot to the touch. “Maybe,” you confessed miserably. She definitely found this weird now and would request a different recycler; you’d screwed things up before it even began.

“That’s so sweet,” Jennie cooed, patting your head. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everyone will love you.”

That didn’t sound like she was upset. Peeking at her from between your fingers, you saw that she was smiling, so you slowly lowered your hands. “Really?” you asked with a small voice, and she nodded at you, still smiling.

“Okay.” You smiled shyly back at her, and Jennie could barely resist cooing over you.

“Are you ready to get the papers now?” she asked, and you nodded.

She used the intercom in the room to call the staff member back, and the paperwork was quickly dealt with. You both signed the copies of the agreement presented to you – one for each of you, and one for the Bureau’s records – and that was it, you were free to go. Before the staff member left, however, Jennie stopped her to ask where the restroom was.

“What? You have a brand-new recycler right there!” the staff member barely got out through peals of laughter. Jennie looked over at you and flushed. She’d asked out of habit, forgetting that this was your whole purpose.

“Take as much time as you need, you can leave when you’re ready. Have a nice day!” she said as she left. Jennie and you stared at each other with wide eyes for an awkward moment before you looked away, clearing your throat.

“Uh, right… how do you want to do this?” you mumbled.

Jennie gulped and looked around. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet. “Uhh… how do you prefer to…?” she asked uncertainly.

Your gaze snapped up to hers. “I’ve never practiced it,” you told her. “Donators usually like to train their recyclers themselves according to their preferences.”

“Oh…” Jennie was clearly way out of her depth, floundering for help, and you felt a deep tug inside you that compelled you to provide that guidance.

You placed your hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back onto the couch, then got on your knees in front of her. It was here that you hesitated – was it too intimate to help her remove her clothing? Was this something she would expect of you? – and you slowly raised your hands, giving her plenty of time to take off her own panties if she wanted to.

Instead, she continued staring down at you as you slipped your hands under her skirt, resting against the smooth, warm skin of her hips. It boggled your mind that you were in this position – you, who’d entered Bureau protection at the age of fifteen, who’d led a miserable, unspectacular life right up till this point, had been chosen as Jennie’s recycler. And she was so nice, too. Maybe this was an apology from God for dropping the ball on your life so badly.

“All right,” you murmured. “Here we go.” Then you hooked your fingers in her panties and started drawing them down. You’d never done this in real life, but there was an abundance of written material for recyclers, so you knew in theory how it worked. Swallowing hard, you pulled the scrap of lacy fabric down her legs gently, then set them aside.

“Uh, okay…” You looked up at her. “So, how do you want to do this? Do you want me to close my eyes, or…”

Jennie just looked blank. Clearly, she hadn’t given much thought to the details involved in recycling. Well, you thought optimistically, this was preferential to the donators who fetishized the act.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted.

“It’s okay,” you rushed to comfort her, squeezing her ankle. “We can figure it out together.” Sooner rather than later would probably be best though, since she was starting to squirm in her seat. Pushing her knees apart, you positioned yourself beneath her, opening your mouth and looking up at her face.

“Is this okay?”

“Uh, I guess?” She was still gnawing her lip uncertainly, though, so you sat back to regard her.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked, your brows knitting together in concern.

“I don’t know, this is just kind of weird, isn’t it?” she fretted. “I don’t want to accidentally spray you in the face.”

You bit back a laugh. You were literally drinking her urine, and she thought you were afraid of getting some on your face? That was kind of cute, you thought. “Even if you do, they always keep wet wipes and towels in the rooms so that’s not a problem. If you’re really worried, I can form a seal with my mouth, but I read that sometimes it’s harder to pee like that.”

“Okay, let’s try that first, and then if it doesn’t work, we can go with the wipes?” she suggested. Your new donator was honestly so cute, and it was so different from her onstage persona that you were confused. Compartmentalizing it all and prioritizing her current needs over your disbelief that any of this was happening was the only way you were getting through this, but there would be plenty of time later to sit and mull over your thoughts.

Shuffling back slightly, you bent down to press your mouth to her bare pussy, being extremely careful with the… placement of everything so you didn’t make it awkward. Once you were settled, you remained still, focusing on not moving your tongue at all. Not knowing where to look, you ended up focusing on the ceiling. As a result, you didn’t see Jennie’s face twist slightly as she tried to focus on releasing her bladder.

Even though you couldn’t see it, you heard her huff in frustration and effort and felt the minute movements as she clenched and released her pelvic muscles, trying to start the stream. You waited patiently, your hands resting in your lap, forcing your body to relax to avoid stressing her out.

Eventually, she managed to do it, a little spurt trickling into your mouth. After that, it felt like the floodgates had opened as she started peeing more forcefully, forcing you to gulp it down hastily if you didn’t want to choke.

Urine, you’d read, tasted bitter and/or salty, depending on the diet of the individual. You’d been prepared to get used to it, knowing that you didn’t have much of a choice, but thankfully Jennie didn’t taste awful, which was probably because of her healthy diet. It just made you all the more grateful to have been assigned to her.

The stream eventually petered out, and you waited for a second to make sure she was done before pulling back, not sure if she wanted you to help clean her off. You looked up at her uncertainly and found her staring at you with a look of such sheer contentment that you couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Thank you, Y/n-ah,” she said, still looking blissed out, and you helped her get dressed before standing up. She stood up too and took your hand as she led you out of the building.

When you stepped out, you blinked, slightly disoriented. You’d barely left this place for five years, and now you were leaving for good. It felt weird – even though you knew that this day was coming, especially after you received the file on your donator, it still felt strange to be walking out like this, with Kim Jennie from Blackpink, no less.

Jennie caught your bewildered expression and paused. “Are you okay?” she asked, taking a step back so she was standing next to you again.

“Uh, yeah, just… it’s been a while since I came in,” you replied dazedly, looking up at the building. It looked so ordinary from the outside.

You didn’t have that many things, having led a fairly spartan lifestyle in the Bureau, so there wasn’t much to load up her car with. Jennie had been informed, of course – donators were expected to provide for all their recyclers’ needs, which was one reason why the income requirements for donators were so strict. You slipped into the passenger seat of the BMW, looking around with wide eyes and sitting carefully with your hands folded in your lap, not wanting to touch anything unnecessarily.

“Relax, Y/n-ie.” She laughed at you as she started the car. “Put on your seatbelt,” she reminded, pulling out of the parking lot. You buckled yourself in but continued sitting uncomfortably.

“Seriously, chill out. You’re going to be spending so much time in this car; you can’t possibly stay like that forever.”

“Okay,” you said shyly, relaxing just a little into the seat. The windows were all tinted so no one could see in, which was probably for the best, since you were not ready to be plastered all over the tabloids.

“So tell me more about yourself, Y/n-ie,” Jennie requested. “You mentioned earlier that it had been a while since you came in. When did you join the Bureau?”

“When I was fifteen,” you explained.

“Really? That’s young. I thought people could only sign up to be recyclers when they turned eighteen.”

“That’s true, but there are exceptions for extenuating circumstances, like where families are unable to provide for their children.”

“Oh,” she said awkwardly. “I’m sorry.” You could see her wincing, like she was afraid she’d said something wrong.

“No, don’t be,” you assured her. “I never had the best life anyway. It actually got better when I was emancipated from my family. I got to finish my GED and everything because I joined the Bureau.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said a little lamely, not sure how to process that. She’d always known she was fortunate to be born into a family that could afford to give her all the opportunities that had led her to where she was today but seeing the difference between her life and yours so starkly forced her to confront her privilege more directly.

She directed the conversation back to more neutral topics and the drive home passed relatively quickly. As they took the elevator up from the underground carpark, Jennie prayed with all her might that the others hadn’t decided to do something completely over-the-top and ridiculous to welcome you into their home. You already seemed overwhelmed with everything that was happening (and yeah, maybe she should have consented to letting you know her identity before today) and she didn’t want to stress you out anymore.

Thankfully, there were no streamers or anything like that, although all three of the girls were seated on the couch, eagerly waiting. When the door opened, they leapt up as one, rushing to the door. You were, of course, startled by the sight of the three celebrities all but tripping over themselves to come greet you, and hid behind Jennie, clutching the back of her shirt while you peeped at the others over her shoulder.

As annoyed as she was with the others for being so extra, she couldn’t help but enjoy the way you were clinging to her, seeking protection and comfort. This was exactly what she’d been craving her whole life, and on the day that she met you, you provided it for her so effortlessly.

“Guys,” she frowned at them, but none of them were buying it since they could all see the subtle signs of her happiness that she couldn’t quite hide. It was in the way her eyes softened slightly and the relaxed posture of her shoulders.

“Sorry,” Lisa giggled. “We were just so excited to meet our new roommate.”

“Well, this is L/n Y/n,” she introduced you, stepping aside so the others could take a good look at you. Deprived of your shield now, you seemed to fold in on yourself.

“Hi,” you said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. Your greeting was accompanied by an awkward little hand wave, and Jennie could see the rest of the girls melting over you.

“Okay, let’s get you settled in, sweetie,” Jennie butted in. You nodded and followed her to her room like a baby chick, and she busied herself with showing you around and telling you where your stuff was, trying her best to ignore the sound of the others sitting in the living room cooing and giggling to each other.

When she was done, which honestly didn’t take that long since the apartment was rather modestly sized anyway, they returned to the living room where Jennie sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and you knelt politely next to her.

“I’m hungry, did you guys order lunch yet?” she asked the others, looking at the impressive collection of takeout menus spread out across the coffee table.

“No, we thought since it’s Y/n’s welcome lunch, she could order!” Chaeyoung explained, smiling at you.

“You guys, that’s so nice!” Jennie was moved on your behalf, but you were basically frozen, staring with wide eyes down at the menus. You had no idea what to do – at the Bureau all meals had been provided (and none of you had ever had any money anyways), and back when you’d lived with your parents, takeout had been a rare luxury.

“Um, what do you like, unnie?” you immediately turned to ask Jennie, the person you were the most familiar with in the house, albeit not by much.

“You should choose what you like today, Y/n-ie!” Jennie, absolutely unhelpfully, encouraged.

“Uhhh…” You turned back towards the dizzying selection of menus. “Maybe we can just get some kimchi stew?” You went with the most simple, basic option you could think of. Your mother used to make it for special occasions, and it was one of the few good memories you had of your childhood home.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Chaeyoung cheered enthusiastically, sweeping aside the mess to pick up the menu for her favourite stew restaurant. “What do you guys want? I’ll order it,” she asked the others, and soon all four of them were poring over the menu, their heads close together as they discussed what dishes to get.

Since you’d already chosen, you sat back on your heels, watching them. Really, for being one of the most popular groups in kpop today, they seemed surprisingly normal to you. You hadn’t known what to expect coming into their home, but they were doing their best to make you feel included and comfortable with them.

Even as you were looking on fairly contentedly, ruminating on your good fortune to have gotten such an amazing second family, Jennie reached over to your lap and took your hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. When you looked over at her, she smiled at you, trying to convey without words just how happy she was that you were here.

For the first time, you started to believe that maybe the Bureau had been right when they’d assured the recyclers that they would help them find new homes far better than the ones they’d left.

---------------------------------

After lunch, all the girls retreated back into their rooms for naps. You and Jennie ducked back into her room – well, you amended, it was your shared room now – and Jennie shut the door in Jisoo’s face as she tried to come in after them. “Sorry, unnie, but she’s my recycler,” Jennie said, giggling at Jisoo’s stunned face before closing the door.

When she turned back to you, however, her expression was a lot more uncertain. “I hope that was okay,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You smiled back at her. “No, of course not,” you rushed to reassure her.

“Oh, okay, good,” she replied with visible relief. “Um, I do have to…”

“Right, of course.” You’d watched her casually drink glass after glass of water with lunch, after all, so this wasn’t really a surprise for you. It had been a little disconcerting, sure, because you were pretty sure between the four of them they’d easily consumed a day’s worth of water for you during lunch, but then again, they were rich and famous idols, so that was to be expected.

“How do you want to do this?” you asked, though you didn’t have much hope that she had an actual answer for you, based on how lost she’d been earlier.

Predictably, she just stared at you with wide eyes. Your lips twitched. “Do you want to do this in the shower?” you offered. There were a number of positions you’d studied, but obviously you’d never tried any of them out. She nodded, and you made your way to the bathroom together.

You knelt in the shower and waited for Jennie to join you. She stepped in hesitantly, standing in front of you. “Hey,” you greeted, smiling up at her as you held a hand out for her to take. She placed her hand in it and let you pull her over. “You okay?” you asked, running your thumb across her knuckles.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling down at you. Letting go of her hand, you slipped your hands up her skirt again to pull her panties down and off. She stepped out of them, then stepped closer to you.

“You have to open your legs a little more,” you murmured, before ducking your head slightly so you could look up at her pussy. Getting the idea, she widened her stance, then frowned. It still felt awkward.

Seeing her discomfort, you shuffled back closer to the wall, then guided her into a different position. Her hands were braced against the wall above your head, and she’d raised one leg, her knee pressing against the wall for support. “Is this better?” you murmured.

She nodded, then closed her eyes, concentrating. In this position, your mouth wasn’t pressed against her, so the first spurt missed your mouth entirely, spraying your cheek and dripping down your neck. Ignoring it, you adjusted your position and came a little closer to catch the rest of it neatly. Her taste was quickly becoming familiar to you now, and as you gulped it down, your eyes wandered up to her face, catching the blissful, relieved expression she was wearing. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly open, her brow furrowed slightly as she leaned her face against her arm. It was so cute that you couldn’t look away for a moment.

When the stream finally waned and then stopped, the last bit dripped against her thigh instead of falling into your mouth. You went to clean it up for her, then hesitated, not sure if she would be comfortable with it. Jennie had caught your aborted motion and asked what you were doing.

You looked up at her with an embarrassed flush. “I was, uh, going to clean it up for you,” you admitted.

She giggled at you, resting her forehead against the wall to look down more comfortably. “Go for it,” she urged, and you drew your tongue up her inner thigh, following the trail. You paused when your tongue hit the crook between her thigh and her body, and she just smiled at you encouragingly, so you continued, lapping up the droplets that clung to her.

Jennie helped you get yourself cleaned up after, then tucked you in next to her for a nap. As you drifted off to sleep, you squirmed a little closer to her, seeking her warmth and comfort.

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The day that Jennie had come to pick you up from the Bureau, you quickly learned, had been a rare day off for all four of them. Most days, even if they didn’t have group activities and appearances, Jennie had her own solo appointments, like interviews, meetings with Teddy for her solo work, Chanel appearances and so on. Because you couldn’t be away from her for more than a few hours, you went with her for most of them, though you stayed behind the scenes.

Since you’d come to her with so little of your own, Jennie had been having a field day shopping for you. Whenever she was free, she’d be on her phone or laptop browsing the different shopping websites with you. At first you’d been reluctant to buy so many new things, only selecting cheap clearance items, but with her repeated encouragement, you’d gotten bolder with choosing clothes and accessories that you liked.

Today, you were dressed in a cute summery outfit, a loose V-necked blouse with ruffled half-sleeves tucked into high-waisted dressy shorts. Loafers completed your cute ensemble, and a Chanel pendant that Jennie had lent you sat between your collarbones.

Jennie was supposed to be focusing on the photoshoot, but her gaze kept drifting towards you, sitting behind the photographer and watching everything with rapt attention. After being in the spotlight for so many years, all of this was commonplace to Jennie, just another day’s work, but it was all new and exciting for you, and seeing your fascination with photoshoots and music recording was refreshing for her.

The photographer knew Jennie was distracted, but the expression she was wearing, soft and open, was far better than the neutral, slightly pouty one she usually showed the camera, so he didn’t complain or direct her attention back to the shoot. This was amazing stuff, and fans would go wild for these photos.

He’d wanted to include you in the photo shoot and tell the world about Jennie’s new recycler, but that had been strictly forbidden. Jennie wanted to be able to tell the public about her recycler on her own terms and when you were ready, and you definitely weren’t yet. It was becoming somewhat of an open secret in the industry since you followed her almost everywhere, but everyone knew that if they were the one to leak it to the public, they would be blacklisted by YG, so no one dared.

When the photoshoot ended, you went back to the dorm together, Jennie driving while you chattered on excitedly about what you’d seen at the shoot. It appeared that Jennie wasn’t the only one who thought you were adorable – the other staff members there had too and indulged your many questions. The makeup artist had even done your makeup, and you were still giggling about it when you left the shoot venue with Jennie.

Tonight, however, Jennie was a little distracted, because she was going to see Kai for the first time since she’d gotten you, and she was worried about leaving you at home. You’d started to get along well with the others, so she wasn’t concerned about that, but for the last two weeks or so that she’d had you, you’d barely left her side. Was it weird to get separation anxiety from her recycler?

When you got back to the apartment, Jisoo and Lisa were still out with their own appointments, but Chaeyoung was hanging out in the living room watching Netflix on the TV, so you skipped off to join her while Jennie went and got ready. She called you into her room before she left to use your services, and you slipped off the couch to enter her room.

By now, you’d figured out your favourite way to do this, and Jennie had bought a special chair for this purpose. You rested under the seat comfortably, your body on an incline with your head slightly back, while Jennie sat down. She’d decided that she liked it better when your mouth was pressed against her, telling you that it was because it made less of a mess but actually rather enjoying the warm, cozy feeling of your lips against her, so the chair was set up so that your face was almost peeking through the seat.

She was wearing a pretty dress, which was currently scrunched around her waist, her panties in your hand. From her position on your face, she was staring at your legs, which were stretched out across the floor. This was the position that was the most comfortable for both of you given the limitations of the chair, and even though she’d been self-conscious at first about the way you were basically looking directly up her ass in this position, you’d rightly pointed out how silly it was to get shy about that, all things considered.

You really were a godsend, she thought as she relaxed and started to urinate in your mouth. So sweet and kind to her and everyone else you were around, and really, having you around meant she didn’t have to spend as much time fighting with the other girls for access to the bathroom, which was great in itself, but this comfortable set-up felt like the epitome of luxury to her. She was starting to love the experience of pissing in your mouth, and she wondered if you were aware of just how much she liked it.

When she was done, you conscientiously licked her clean, as usual, another aspect of the whole experience that she deeply enjoyed, then she got up off your face. You smiled at her as you extricated yourself from under the chair, then held her panties out for her to step into.

“Have fun on your date tonight, unnie,” you chirped, seeing her to the front door where she put her shoes on. She gave you a hug and a forehead kiss before departing.

You returned to the couch, curling up next to Chaeyoung with your legs folded beneath you, and she unpaused the show you’d been watching. It was just the two of you tonight, since Jisoo and Lisa had plans too. You didn’t mind – after Jennie, Chaeyoung was probably your favourite. You rested your head on her shoulder as you watched the movie quietly.

When the credits started to roll, Chaeyoung switched off the TV and the two of you made your way into the kitchen to get dinner. As you were chopping up the kimchi for the kimchi fried rice, Chaeyoung, who was stir-frying the pork, struck up a conversation by asking you how your day had been.

Excited, you started chattering on about how much fun you’d had tagging along on Jennie’s photoshoot, continuing even after dinner was ready and you moved back to the living room to start eating.

Chaeyoung, who, like Jennie, was so used to photoshoots and the like that they’d completely lost their charm, thought it was absolutely adorable how excited you were about what to them were regular, daily events. When you finally wound down, she asked, “So what was it like for you growing up?”

You put down your spoon and finished chewing your food. “I didn’t come from the best family,” you explained. “I was emancipated when I was fifteen and joined the Bureau and lived there until I was old enough to come here.” Jennie knew most of the details surrounding your past, courtesy of sleepy late-night chats almost every night, but the others didn’t.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chaeyoung apologized, thinking she’d brought up unpleasant memories.

You shrugged. “It’s all right. My parents tried their best, but there was never quite enough water and money. It was a relief for us all when I left, I think. And I’m here now, so it worked out,” you concluded, smiling at her.

“I guess you’ve been enjoying your time with us then?”

“What gave me away?” you giggled. “Everyone’s been really nice, especially Jennie-unnie. I’ve never had so many clothes and things.”

Chaeyoung was surprised by how happy you seemed to be. Even though recyclers were fairly commonplace, she’d always expected that they would be kind of unhappy about their lot in life. “Really? So you don’t mind the whole drinking pee thing?”

You’d just put a spoonful of rice in your mouth when she said that, and in your surprise, some went down the wrong pipe, causing you to choke and cough. “Jesus,” you wheezed when you finally recovered.

“Sorry, sorry!” Chaeyoung cringed. “That was a really personal question, wasn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you shrugged, “but it’s okay. And to answer your question, I don’t really mind, I guess. Like, I learned at the Bureau that some people taste pretty gross, but Jennie-unnie tastes okay. And it makes her so happy.”

“Yeah, it really does.” Chaeyoung had to agree. In the past few weeks since you’d come to live with her, Jennie had smiled more, and doted on you like crazy. Plus, it was clear the arrangement suited her – the satisfied smile she wore whenever you emerged from her room together had become somewhat of an inside joke among the girls.

“Are you thinking of getting a recycler of your own?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand as you regarded her. Your expression was open and friendly, and Chaeyoung hesitated, looking away shyly.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for the commitment,” she confessed.

“I understand that,” you said, nodding. You really did – a recycler was a whole person that she would be responsible for, and you knew it was a big responsibility. “I think it’s really great that you’re aware of your limitations.” You reached over and patted her hand.

With a rush of bravery brought about by how nice you were being, she finally said, in a slightly embarrassed tone, “I’ve always wanted to try it, though.”

“Try what?”

“Uh, you know…” Having utilized her store of bravery, Chaeyoung hid her face in the crook of her elbow on the table.

“Oh,” you said, then, as the meaning of her words sank in, you repeated, “Oh.”

Even though her head was resting on the table, you could see her shoulders drawing up around her ears as she let out a miserable whine, regretting having said anything in the first place. Your lips twitched in amusement. This was honestly pretty funny, and even after being here for a couple of weeks, you couldn’t believe that little old you got to see the famous pop stars like this.

“It’s okay, forget I said anything, please,” Chaeyoung begged, finally lifting her face off the table to face you.

You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing at her. “No, it’s okay, really,” you rushed to assure her when you were sure you could speak without gigging. “Have you talked to Jennie about it?”

Chaeyoung shrugged. “No, why would I?”

“She might be able to tell you more about it,” you said, then hesitated before making your offer. “Plus, if she doesn’t mind, I could… you know.”

That caught her attention. “Really?” she asked, perking up.

“Yeah, if Jennie-unnie is okay with it, I guess I don’t mind,” you said, shrugging. After all, you’d been around her long enough to know what her eating and drinking patterns were like, and she seemed to have a pretty healthy lifestyle, so you didn’t have any concerns.

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It was past midnight when Jennie came home, and you were already in bed, doing something on the laptop she’d gotten you last week. You looked up when you heard the door open and smiled at her when she came in.

“Did you have a good date?” you asked as Jennie set down her bag and sat at her dresser to remove her makeup.

She smiled at you in the mirror. “Yeah, I did,” she told you. It was true – Kai knew that she’d gotten a recycler since she’d been texting him with updates while he was on tour, and was interested to know how you were settling in, plus they’d had sex at his apartment after dinner, which was why she’d returned to the dorm so late.

As she went to the bathroom to shower, she thought about something weird that had happened, though. Kai had been almost too interested in you. At first she’d brushed it off, happy that he was taking an interest in you since you were now an important part of her life, but he’d kept asking intimate questions that she didn’t quite know how to answer.

Plus, she’d had to use the toilet at his apartment since she couldn’t hold it anymore, and after weeks of pissing exclusively in your mouth, it had felt strange and almost unpleasant. Would it be weird to take you along on date nights, she wondered. It was almost inevitable that you would meet at some point if her relationship with him continued, so it might be best to introduce you two anyway.

By the time she went back to the bedroom, clad in her pajamas, you’d put your laptop away and were snuggled up in bed, on the side closer to the wall. You smiled softly as she padded through the room to get under the covers next to you, turning onto your side to face her. Excitedly, you asked her for more details about your date, and she acquiesced, recounting every detail of it to her attentive one-person audience.

“Wow,” you sighed as you closed your eyes, “that’s so cool. I’ve never been on a date like that before.”

“Really? Never?” Shocked, Jennie turned onto her front and propped herself up with her elbows on the mattress so she could look down at you.

“Yeah, I went to live in the Bureau when I was fifteen, remember?” you said, opening your eyes.

“Right.” Jennie lay back down, starting to feel bad for you. If you were her recycler, chances were you’d never be able to experience many things that she took for granted.

“And you’re dating Kai from EXO too, wow,” you sighed. “I love EXO.”

“Well, maybe you’ll be able to meet them one of these days,” Jennie said lightly. Now that she knew you were excited about EXO, she felt a lot better about introducing you to her boyfriend.

“Maybe,” you said, before letting out a massive yawn.

“Okay, sweetie, good night,” she said, leaning over to kiss your forehead, before turning off the light using her phone.

--------------------------------

The next morning, you and Jennie slept in, and by the time you emerged from her room, the others were already hanging out in the living room. Jennie went to get breakfast for both of you in the kitchen while you sat on the couch with Lisa.

Chaeyoung, seeing Jennie, got up and followed her to the kitchen. After exchanging greetings and niceties, she got straight to the point, too excited and nervous to beat around the bush. Last night, she’d barely gotten any sleep from thinking so hard about your offer, and the more the thought floated around her mind, the more she found herself craving it.

“Unnie, can I ask you a question?”

Jennie, still slightly sleepy, grunted as she poured herself some coffee.

Understanding that that meant yes, Chaeyoung forged ahead. “Do you like having a recycler? Like, I mean, the actual recycling part,” she clarified.

Jennie turned to blink at her, the coffee pot still in her hand. “Are you asking me if I like having Y/n drink my pee?” she asked slowly. She wasn’t much of a morning person, and Chaeyoung could hear the gears in her head slowly grinding as she thought about the question.

“Uh, yeah,” Chaeyoung confirmed, a little abashed now as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” The thought of it put a little smile on Jennie’s face as she took her coffee and turned to lean against the counter, raising the mug to her lips.

“Great, that’s great. I was talking to Y/n-ie about it last night, and uh… I was wondering if I could try?”

“Try… what?” Jennie raised an eyebrow.

“You know…” Chaeyoung, now shy, looked down at the floor. “Recycling.”

“Oh…” After pausing to take a sip of her coffee, Jennie shrugged. “I mean, it’s her choice. If she says yes, I’m not going to stop her.”

Hearing that, Chaeyoung’s eyes lit up. “R-really?!”

Jennie blinked, not sure why she seemed so surprised. “Yeah, she’s still her own person. I can’t make these decisions for her. But only if she wants to, okay? You can’t pressure her into it.”

“No, of course not,” Chaeyoung assured her. “She was the one who offered, actually. Yay! Thank you, unnie!” she cheered. “I can’t wait to tell her about it.”

At the blatant display of enthusiasm, Jennie rolled her eyes and raised her coffee cup back to her lips to hide how cute she thought her dongsaeng’s excitement was. As much as she tried to play it cool, she could relate – she loved recycling too. It was probably a strange comparison to make, all things considered, but you’d spent more time down there with your lips pressed to her than Kai ever had, and she was starting to enjoy you cleaning her off way more than she should, given that it wasn’t necessarily an erotic act for you.

Still, she thought as she downed her coffee, that seemed like a problem for a different time, when they didn’t have to get to the studio to practice. Placing the mug into the sink to wash when they got home, she left the kitchen to eat breakfast and then get ready.

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Watching the girls practice for their new comeback was seriously the best thing that had ever happened to you, you thought as you sat in a corner of the dance studio with the dogs. You’d taken a liking to each other, and Kuma was lounging comfortably in your lap while Dalgom sat next to you, whining every time you stopped petting him.

Their comeback song was really catchy too – Teddy had really outdone himself this time, and you couldn’t wait for their comeback. It was so different, though, seeing all the behind-the-scenes prep for everything before the final product, and it gave you a way better understanding of how hard the girls actually worked.

Jennie’s skin tasted different, too, during and after dance practice, which was something you probably should have expected, but it didn’t occur to you until after she’d settled on your face, her thighs bracketing your face. Since you couldn’t bring her chair around with you, for obvious reasons, the two of you had had to figure out a more minimalist way of doing this while you were out of the house.

Since there were so many prominent people in YG, almost every room had some facilities to cater to recyclers, like a screen for privacy. It meant that Jennie didn’t have to spend as much time going to the bathroom down the hall, which did make them more efficient, because she had to pee all the time, but since the other girls didn’t have recyclers, it didn’t really help that much.

Still, it was nice taking breaks to feed you her piss. You always smiled at her, and had sweet words of encouragement, telling her she was doing a good job even if it didn’t feel like it. It was almost worrying how much she was coming to depend on you, not just for her physical needs, but for your companionship and emotional support as well.

Plus, having you lick her clean sent a little thrill down her spine every time, and that definitely helped to cheer her up. Although she shied away from thinking of it as an erotic act, it did feel a lot like unconditional acceptance, especially when she knew she was sweaty. You never even made a face, easily going with the flow (pun unintended).

It wasn’t uncommon for recyclers to form close bonds with their donators, Jennie knew. YG had many donators among its ranks – TOP from Big Bang had adopted one after he cleaned up his act enough that the Bureau considered him eligible, and his recycler, who’d been with him for three years now, was doing a remarkable job at keeping him on the straight and narrow. Being so directly responsible for someone else’s welfare had really made him more careful with his own body.

When the girls declared that it was time for a lunch break, you tagged along with them to the cafeteria. The food at the YG cafeteria was famously delicious, and you always enjoyed eating there. Plus, you got to see the trainees, idols and actors come and go, which was always fun, even if you sometimes had trouble not staring.

After lunch, the girls were going their separate ways – Jennie had to work on her solo album, Lisa was going to work on a dance collaboration, Jisoo was going to film for her new drama and Chaeyoung was off to an event. After waving goodbye to the other girls, you followed Jennie to the recording studio.

Seeing that you were alone there since you were a bit early, Jennie took the opportunity to ask you about her conversation with Chaeyoung earlier. Sitting you down on the couch, she rolled a desk chair over so she could sit facing you.

“Chaeng asked if she could try, uh…” Really, she thought, it was ridiculous how much difficulty she had talking about when it had become such a significant part of her life.

Fortunately, you remembered your conversation with Chaeyoung last night, and understood what she was trying to say immediately. “Uh-huh?” you nodded, looking at her attentively.

“She said you were okay with it, but I just wanted to check if you’re really okay. I mean, you don’t have to feel like you have to just because she’s my friend and all, and if you don’t want to I can tell her no—” Jennie was starting to ramble, so caught up in assuring you that you didn’t have to feel forced into anything because of your position in the household.

“No, I was okay with it,” you cut her off with wide eyes. “I was the one who offered. Is that what you were talking about this morning?” Come to think of it, Chaeyoung had left the kitchen in such a good mood this morning that you should have realized that something was up. You’d been playing with Lisa’s cats, though, so you hadn’t given it much thought.

“Yeah, she asked me about it in the kitchen,” Jennie confirmed. “I just wanted to check if you were okay with it.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” you said with a smile. “Oh, unless you mind,” the thought came to you suddenly. “I’ll tell her no if you don’t like it!” you rushed to assure her. You hadn’t even considered that she might have a problem with it when you opened your big mouth (again, pun unintended).

“No, no! I don’t mind. You can do whatever you’d like, of course. I won’t stop you.”

“Oh… okay. Great!” you said slightly awkwardly, not sure what else to say in this situation. Thankfully, Teddy entered the room and saved you from having to say any more.

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Based on the way Chaeyoung was staring at you over dinner, you were pretty sure Jennie had already green-lighted things with her. The anticipation in her gaze was almost disconcerting in its intensity, but truth be told you were kind of flattered that she was so excited about it. Jennie had a boyfriend, so you knew that this act was nothing sexual for her, but you’d learned during your time preparing to be a recycler that for many donators, having someone consume their urine directly from the source was often an intensely sexual experience.

From Chaeyoung’s almost predatory gaze, you were fairly sure she was one of those people. Still, she hadn’t said anything to you about it, so you figured she would probably just do it and then dismiss you to take care of herself.

After dinner, you all brought your dishes back to the bucket your delivery had arrived in and left it outside the door for the delivery person to retrieve. Usually all of you went back to your rooms after dinner, but tonight, as you were about to follow Jennie back into the room you now shared, Chaeyoung grabbed your hand.

You turned, your eyes following the hand clasped around yours to the determined gaze of the girl who owned it. Biting your lip, you nodded and followed her into her room instead. As you disappeared into Chaeyoung’s room, you didn’t notice Jennie watching you.

Even though you’d been living here for a few weeks now and had seen Chaeyoung’s room from the outside, you’d never set foot in it, since there hadn’t been a reason for you to up till today. As she shut the door behind you, you stood awkwardly, wringing your hands and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Chaeyoung, on the other hand, was way too excited to feel nervous, and giggled as she pulled your hands apart by grabbing one of your wrists. “Come on,” she beckoned, drawing you closer to her.

“How do you want me to do this?” you asked. Her excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her. You were quickly learning that there was a part of you that loved to please others.

“How do you usually do it with unnie?” She responded with another question, and you blinked at her in surprise. Somehow, you’d been expecting her to already know what she wanted – after all, she was the one who’d been so enthusiastic about this.

“Uh, you remember that new chair that was delivered?” When she nodded, you continued, “She usually sits in it and, uh, it’s a special chair so I can rest under it…”

“Right,” Chaeyoung looked around her room thoughtfully, then frowned. “I don’t think I have anything that would serve the same function.”

“Oh, you don’t have to have anything like that,” you rushed to reassure her. “I mean, it’s not like there’s a chair in the studio or anything.”

“That’s true.” She perked up at that. “So how do you usually do it?”

“Well…” you knelt down and looked up at her. “Usually she stands over me, or if we’re at the studio she sits on the couch and I kneel in front of her.” Jennie had taken to the first position you’d shown her, even after you’d tried out all the different ones the Bureau had suggested to find the ones you liked best.

“Hmm,” Chaeyoung hummed. “This doesn’t seem that comfortable, though.”

Eventually, you managed to figure something out – you sat with your back against her bed, your head resting on the mattress, while she knelt on it, hovering over your face. As she looked down at you, sandwiched between her knees, she smirked, an expression that had you clenching involuntarily. This was new, you noted with some surprise.

“You ready?” she cooed, so like the sweet, thoughtful woman you’d gotten to know and like over the past two weeks, but also different somehow, confident and enticing. Entranced by this new side of her, you nodded, opening your mouth under her pussy.

“Good girl,” she praised, smiling down at you. She was holding her shirt up slightly so she could see your face more clearly, and she let out a sigh of relief as she relaxed her pelvic muscles, starting to pee. It missed your mouth at first, landing on your forehead, and she let out a giggled “Oops!” as she readjusted herself so that she was peeing into your mouth.

You’d offered to do what you did with Jennie to minimize mess, pressing your mouth to her, but she’d declined, and now you realized why. She enjoyed the visual of the urine descending the short distance from her pussy to your mouth, relished in the power to soak your whole face if she wanted. Your eyes were focused on her core, which was still gushing, but you could hear her sighs and whispered praises.

When the stream dwindled and eventually stopped, Chaeyoung sighed like she was disappointed – and she was. She’d been holding it for hours, since lunchtime, in anticipation for tonight, and it had been over so fast. This experience had been everything she’d dreamed it would be, and she was only sad that it had ended. She had no expectation that this would be anything other than a one-time thing, since the way she’d asked you, it had seemed like a research experience.

However, you weren’t done yet. There was still the cleanup process, so you lifted your hands to her bare hips and pulled her down gently onto your face. This time, she looked down at you with some surprise, and you returned her earlier smirk right before you dragged your tongue up her slit.

“Mmm, God,” she gasped, shuddering as you continued licking her clean. “What the hell are you doing?”

Now done, you licked your lips and grinned at her. “Cleanup,” you replied in a matter-of-factly tone. “I do it all the time for Jennie-unnie too.”

“No wonder she looks so pleased all the time now,” Chaeyoung grumbled jealously, and you giggled. It hadn’t escaped your notice while cleaning her that she was wet too, her slick possessing a markedly different flavor from her piss. You weren’t that naïve, and if she was amenable, you were more than happy to help her with that too.

After all, you had Rosé of Blackpink sitting on your face right now. Who were you to throw away such an opportunity?

“I want to please you too, unnie,” you cooed, batting your lashes at her. You were somewhat surprised at where all this bravado was coming from, but she seemed to enjoy it, so you were rolling with it too.

“Ugh, you’re so sweet, who taught you to say such sweet things?” she asked.

“I’m just being honest,” you responded coquettishly before sliding your tongue through her folds again.

Chaeyoung moaned, throwing her head back luxuriantly as she widened her stance to lower herself further down on your face. “Such a good girl,” she praised, starting to rock her hips back and forth, sliding herself over your tongue.

You’d never done this before, so your movements were a little clumsy, but your sheer enthusiasm more than made up for it, as you licked and sucked at her, letting her grind down on your face as she pleased.

“Stick your tongue out for me, sweetie,” she prompted, smiling down at you when you did. She fucked herself on your tongue, sliding along it until it bumped her clit, then sinking down on it. Your tongue was inside her now, and her clit bumped against your nose. All you could smell and taste was her, and when she looked down at you, she could only see your eyes since her pussy was firmly planted on the rest of your face.

“You look so pretty like that,” she said before continuing to fuck herself on your face, her movements growing faster and choppier as she chased her orgasm. Breathy moans and gasps spilled from her lips, increasing in volume and frequency as she grew closer. “Mmf, fuck, you’re so good at this,” she cried out a second before she ground herself down harder on your face, uncaring of your need to breathe as she came.

Her sloppy movements smeared her slick all over your face and in your mouth, and when she finally lifted herself off you, you took a deep breath before grinning cheekily up at her and making a show of licking your lips. “Did you enjoy that, unnie?” you asked, and she huffed out a breathless laugh as she shuffled out of that position straddling your face and lay back against her pillows.

“You know I did,” she teased. “Now come here, I want to return the favour,” she demanded.

Immediately, your head came up off the bed and you turned yourself around so you were kneeling on the ground, facing her. “Oh, uh, no, you don’t have to, I—”

She rolled her eyes. “Come here,” she ordered, holding her hand out to you, and you had no choice but to let her pull you close. She tugged so hard you ended up falling into the pillows next to her and knocking the wind out of your lungs. You squirmed around a little so that your head was resting on her shoulder as you looked up at her.

“If you don’t want me to, that’s fine, but I really want to,” she said in a low voice. “I want to see how wet you are from eating me out so good, Y/n-ie, and make you cum all over my fingers.”

Her words had you squirming, and you breathlessly agreed. She guided you into a kneeling position so that you were straddling her hips, then dipped her hand into your shorts, her fingers ghosting over your clit. At the same time, her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you down to her.

“Do you like that?” she whispered against your lips as you shuddered. No one else had ever touched you before, and all of this was new to you. You nodded silently, biting your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” she praised as her fingers slipped into your panties. “And so wet,” she exclaimed with delight. Dipping her fingers into your folds to collect some slick, she then started circling around your clit with slippery fingers. In response, your head fell onto her shoulder as you held on to her tightly.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this,” she continued with her filthy litany as she started fucking you with her fingers, letting you grind your clit on the heel of her hand. You let out a moan as you rocked your hips, feeling everything get wetter as you grew more aroused.

“Unnie, please—” you whispered, not knowing exactly what you were asking for. She knew, though, and sped up the movements of her hand.

“Are you going to cum for me? That’s right, sweet thing, cum all over my hand like a good girl,” she purred. Helplessly, you pushed your clit further into her hand and ground it in, shuddering as you came like she asked you to. She continued to work you through your orgasm, only withdrawing when you grew too sensitive.

Seeing how shiny her fingers were from the thick coating of slick on them, you flushed, but she just winked at you as she popped them into her mouth. “Delicious,” she commented, smacking her lips.

You giggled, her nonchalant attitude making it less awkward than you’d imagined it would be after everything that had just transpired. “Likewise,” you murmured, ducking back in for another kiss.

After staying there for about ten more minutes, trading kisses and flirtatious remarks, you figured it was time to go back to Jennie’s room and you said as much, slipping out of Chaeyoung’s embrace and off the bed.

“All right,” she acquiesced when you told her, yawning as she lay back in her pillows. “It was a good time, though. Do you wanna do it again sometime?”

Your hand on the doorknob, you turned to wink at her. “Definitely,” you said before leaving the room.

Jennie was sitting on her bed, flipping through a magazine, when you entered, and she looked up to smile at you. “Did everything go okay?” she asked, her expression completely neutral. She knew, of course, what had just happened between the two of you. You’d been gone way too long to have just drank her piss, and the walls weren’t soundproof. She didn’t mind, but just wanted to make sure that you hadn’t been coerced into anything.

“Yeah,” you replied with a bright smile, putting her at ease.

“Good.” She stood up and started walking over to the chair. You were familiar enough with each other now that she didn’t need to say anything; you got it immediately, rushing over and kneeling on the ground to help her with her clothes, then maneuvering yourself under the chair. In light of your new experience with Chaeyoung, however, this act took a different light now.

You weren’t stupid or blind; you’d known all along that Jennie was gorgeous, and you’d been a fan of Blackpink for years before you came to live with them. You just hadn’t thought about this act in a sexual light because you knew that it wasn’t really sexual for Jennie, and you didn’t want to be that creepy weirdo. Plus, learning about the technicalities of it all in the Bureau for years kind of sucked all the joy out of it.

Jennie sat down on your face, wriggling slightly to get into the position that was the most comfortable for her. From her vantage point, the only part of your face she could see was your chin, and she wondered if this was how Chaeyoung had done it too. Not that it was any of her business, of course.

Your mouth stretched open under her, and she relaxed with a sigh, listening to the hissing sound of the pee leaving her body and the quiet noises of you swallowing. You usually held on to the edges of the seat, and today she stroked her fingers across yours. Taking the cue, you released the seat, letting her guide your hands to cling to her thighs instead.

When she was done, you licked her clean as usual, but this time you couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt to eat Chaeyoung out until she came, and you found yourself getting a little cheeky, sliding your tongue along Jennie’s slit a little slower and deeper than usual, flicking her clit just once before you closed your mouth.

Jennie, however, didn’t seem to react, standing up looking completely composed and turning to smile down at you. You helped her fix her clothes then went to take a shower, washing Chaeyoung off your face.

Once you were gone, Jennie let out the breath she’d been holding in a long exhale, lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling. She was pretty sure that had been accidental, but boy had it felt good.

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It was only a couple of nights later that Jennie took you to meet Kai. She figured there was no time like the present – plus, given her reaction to what was no doubt an accident on your part, Kai needed to take his conjugal duties more seriously.

Tonight, the three of you were in the private apartment he’d bought. He still lived with the rest of his members in their dorm, but most of them had investment properties. It was handy when they needed their own space, like tonight.

In all honesty though, you weren’t sure how you felt about Kai. Sure, he was handsome and famous and you’d been a little starstruck at first, but the way he was talking to you and looking at you was making you feel a little uncomfortable. It was difficult to put your finger on it, but when he looked at you, you wanted to curl up into a ball and hide. He was just asking way too many personal, intimate questions about your experience as Jennie’s recycler.

Now that dinner was over, you were all sitting in the living room, and you were seated next to Jennie on the couch, half-curled into her, automatically seeking her protection. She too had noticed that Kai was looking at you kind of strangely all through dinner, but didn’t know what was up with him.

“So, Y/n-ie…” he said, leaning forward. You turned from Jennie to face him. “Have you enjoyed being with my Jennie?”

You looked back towards Jennie uncertainly, slightly confused about what he was asking. “Uh, yeah,” you replied when you turned back to look at him. “Jennie-unnie’s been really nice, and the other Blackpink unnies have been nice too.”

“I’m sure they’ve been,” he brushed off your answer patronizingly, “but what I mean is, have you enjoyed being with her?”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Jennie again, this time begging her to intervene. Sensing your distress, she squeezed your leg. “Oppa, Y/n-ie doesn’t understand your question, and neither do I,” she said slightly sharply.

Instead of taking the warning, Kai laughed it off. “I’m just curious, you know?” he said with a shrug. “You can’t blame me. I bet she’s closer to you than I am.”

At your clear discomfort, Jennie changed the topic and Kai didn’t turn the conversation back around to you again, not wanting to jeopardize his chances of getting lucky tonight. Eventually, he invited Jennie to the bedroom with a flimsy excuse – “please come help me with something in the bedroom” – and you remained on the couch, reading the book you’d brought with you and listening to music with the noise-cancelling headphones Jennie had specifically gotten for you while they were occupied.

After they were done, Jennie came out of the room since she had to pee. (What? It’s good to pee after sex, okay?) Since Kai was still in the bedroom, she figured it would be comfortable enough to do it on the couch, and you easily acquiesced, getting into the position you both preferred.

This time, however, when you pressed your mouth to her, Kai’s cum dripped out, thick, salty and altogether unpleasant. You tried to school your features, but even though you hadn’t been together for that long you’d made up for that with the sheer amount of time you spent together each day, and Jennie caught the grimace in the instant before you hid it.

Still, she figured, she could talk to you about it later but right now she really had to pee, so she just started going in your mouth. You were pretty much an expert at this time, so you sucked it down without any problem, but because you really didn’t want Kai’s cum to be the taste lingering on your tongue later, you licked her clean perfunctorily, avoiding her slit as much as possible.

When you were done, you pulled away quickly, hiding your distaste – or so you thought – by smiling sweetly up at Jennie, the way you usually did. “All clean,” you chirped at her.

Attempting to hide her unease, she smiled back at you before heading back to the bedroom.

Kai was still lounging in bed, his arms folded behind his head as he smiled lazily at her. He was supremely confident of his own body – and, of course, why wouldn’t he be? He looked like an Adonis. “Come back to bed, sweetie.”

Jennie, of course, was more than happy to acquiesce. She lay back down next to him and let him cuddle her close, resting her head on his shoulder. “Jennie-yah… I want to ask you something.”

“Hmm?” she said, only half-paying attention. Her eyes were sliding shut.

“Is it nice to pee in someone else’s mouth?”

Opening her eyes, she adjusted her position to look him more fully in the eye. “Everyone keeps asking me that,” she muttered. “Is everyone really so curious about it?”

He shrugged, jostling her slightly. “It is a pretty big lifestyle change,” he pointed out.

“It’s all right, I guess.” For some reason, she didn’t feel entirely comfortable talking to him about it.

Bending to kiss her temple, he said, “I’m lucky to have you.”

Jennie smiled, bemused. “Not that I’m disagreeing, but why?” she asked lightly.

“Well, you’ll let me use her too, won’t you?”

She frowned, sitting up. “I’ll let you?”

“Yeah, I mean, you let Chaeyoung-ssi use her.” He still looked nonchalant about it, like he fully expected her to agree with him.

“Oppa, Y/n-ie was the one who agreed to that. I can ask her, if you really want to.”

To Jennie’s shock, he started looking really pouty and put out, like she’d done something to offend him. “Okay… yeah, will you please ask her for me?” he finally asked.

“All right,” she accepted, hoping that he would drop the topic. The atmosphere remained somewhat tense though, like he was still upset about it, and when she left with you, he was still sulking.

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Jennie had worried that your experience with Kai might affect your relationship with her, especially after you’d seemed to reluctant to drink from her after she’d slept with him the other night. Thankfully, by the next morning you seemed to be back to normal, enthusiastic and conscientious when she had her morning piss.

She was so relieved (ha) that you weren’t mad at her, and so reluctant to say anything that might exacerbate the situation, that it wasn’t until almost a week later that Jennie tried to broach the topic of Kai’s request. She didn’t really want to, because it seemed like you weren’t the biggest fan of him, but she’d promised. She made sure to wait till it seemed like you were in a good mood, when the memory of Kai’s weirdness wasn’t quite so fresh in your mind.

You were already in bed when she brought it up, and she was sitting at the dresser applying her skincare. “Y/n-ah…” she started.

“Hmm?” You were starting to fall asleep, half-listening and half-floating in space.

“What do you think of Kai?”

Your eyes snapped open, suddenly awake. “He’s all right, I guess,” you said politely, not wanting to upset her.

“Okay,” she accepted, and you sat in silence for a moment longer. “Would you… be willing to lend him your mouth?” she finally asked.

Your immediate instinct was to reject the request – vehemently at that, while making a disgusted face, but the tentative expression on her face gave you pause. “Do you want me to?” you asked instead. You thought she might want you to do this as a favour for her even if you didn’t want to since Kai was her boyfriend, after all, and her approach to this might be different from how she’d treated Chaeyoung’s request.

“Well, he wanted me to ask, but I won’t force you,” she said carefully.

“But will it damage your relationship if I don’t?” You picked up easily on the silent tension. As much as you felt uncomfortable around Kai, he was Jennie’s boyfriend, and you didn’t want to sabotage it. If you had to, you supposed you could do it. Just once, as a favour.

Jennie, of course, understood immediately what you were trying to say. “That’s not your responsibility,” she said firmly. “If you don’t want to do it, it’s fine. I’m not going to force you or guilt you. Anything that happens to my relationship with Jongin-oppa is ours to deal with.”

After mulling over it for a moment, you gave her your answer. “Then I don’t want to,” you said, shrugging. “Sorry, unnie, but I don’t feel great about Jongin-ssi.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” she muttered. “He was kind of weird the other night. I’ll talk to him about it, and try to find out why.” He wasn’t usually like this around people, years of idol training and living with others giving him great people skills most of the time. A conversation seemed necessary if she was going to keep the both of you in her life.

With her skincare routine done by the end of the conversation, she got into bed next to you and turned out the lights.

“Good night, unnie,” you mumbled, squirming closer to her for cuddles, which she gladly gave you.

-----------------------------------

Since you had expressed discomfort about being around Kai, and she knew you being around would only make him more insistent on ‘trying you out’, as he put it, she decided to go on dates with him without bringing you. This decision had a few implications – first, you ended up spending a lot more time separately, which meant you were hanging out with the other girls a lot more; second, Jennie’s dates with Kai grew shorter than they had been before since now that she was used to peeing in your mouth, she never wanted to go anywhere else.

It was this combination of factors that led to a slight strain in your relationship with her. She didn’t want to say she was jealous, because she wasn’t. She was pleased that you were becoming close with the other girls, especially Chaeyoung. It just stung sometimes. Even when she was home, there were times when you would be hanging out with the others instead of her, and you were less clingy too. Some people might think that was a good thing, but in all honesty, she’d liked clingy.

As your relationship with the other girls – and your friends-with-benefits thing with Chaeyoung – flourished, it seemed like Jennie’s with Kai was headed in the opposite direction. Having to rush home after sex because she didn’t want to use his toilet was becoming somewhat of a sore point, especially since she refused to bring you to their dates. He’d also thrown a fit when she told him you didn’t want to drink him, and it had led to one of their only fights throughout the entire duration of their relationship.

“Hey, did you ask Y/n yet?” he’d prompted almost the second she got into his car.

Jennie looked at him askance. The most perfunctory greeting kiss ever, and now this? What was with this obsession? “Yeah, she didn’t seem into it,” she said vaguely, hoping that he would take the hint and drop it.

“What?!” he exclaimed instead, sounding furious. Jennie sighed. Okay, it seemed they weren’t going to go the chill, reasonable route.

Turning to look at him, she said, “She doesn’t have to, you know.” Truth be told, she was kind of put off by his attitude. Ever since he’d met you, he’d been acting like this was owed to him. Just because she had a recycler didn’t mean she was obliged to share it with anyone.

“Yeah, but you let Chaeyoung-ssi use it,” he pointed out. “I’m your boyfriend; shouldn’t I get the same rights?”

She raised a brow. “Rights?” she asked. “Chaeyoung doesn’t have a right to use Y/n’s mouth as she pleases, you know. Y/n is very much a willing participant,” she said, slightly bitterly. Okay, maybe she was slightly put out by your blossoming relationship with her dongsaeng.

“You know what I mean,” he grumbled. “You could just make her do it.”

“Make her? I don’t make my recycler do anything she wants to do. She’s not my slave,” Jennie pointed out.

“That’s not what I meant! You’re always twisting my words!”

Needless to say, that night had not gone well. Kai was still slightly sulky about it, sometimes making snide remarks about you. Truth be told, this side of him was not one she’d seen before, and she didn’t like it. Even though recycler rights were sometimes controversial, among their circles most people agreed that recyclers deserved the same rights of freedom of choice as the general population. Kai’s revelation that he was apparently not one of them was turning out to be a problem, because she now felt responsible for protecting you from him.

She hoped that tonight’s date would go better, since they’d declared a moratorium on talking about you. All day, though, she’d had to endure the giggles and sidelong glances you’d shared with Chaeyoung, and she was pretty sure you were going to be up to no good while she was gone.

She was right. You saw her off graciously as always, giving her a hug at the front door and telling her you hoped she had a good time with Kai tonight, and that you would be waiting for her. The moment she left, though, you ran through the apartment straight into Chaeyoung’s room.

“Unnie!” you cried excitedly, throwing yourself on the bed so enthusiastically that you bounced.

Chaeyoung smiled at you. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t quite friends either, and she’d definitely grown very fond of you (and your mouth) over the couple of months that you’d been living in the dorm with her. Whenever Jennie was out without you, you’d come hang out with her, and by this point you had a pretty nice routine: you’d get delivery, then maybe watch a movie with the others before retiring back to her bedroom.

Tonight wasn’t any different, and you found yourself in the living room, eating fried chicken with the others while watching a movie. Chaeyoung was drinking a lot more water than usual, looking meaningfully over at you every time she reached for her glass. You knew this was in preparation for later, so you winked back at her every time.

All this flirting wasn’t lost on Lisa and Jisoo, and by the time the movie ended, the two of them grumbled good-naturedly about how they didn’t need to see all of this as they went back to their bedrooms. You and Chaeyoung giggled together as you bade them good night, knowing that they didn’t really mind it and were just teasing.

Once you were alone, Chaeyoung immediately took your hand and pulled you closer to her, going in for a kiss as your bodies collided. You slid your hands along her hips, groping her ass shamelessly.

“Mmm, we should probably take this back to my room before we get in trouble again for leaving fluids all over the living room,” she breathed against your lips. You couldn’t agree more and let her drag you into her room by your hand.

“Strip,” she ordered once the door was shut, already following her own instructions. You laughed at her enthusiasm even though you knew you would pay for it later, pulling your shirt over your head and shucking your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop. She did the same, and almost lunged for you.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” you teased even as you lay back on the bed.

“Shut up,” she growled. “I have to pee so bad, you don’t even know.”

“You were the one drinking all that water earlier,” you pointed out as she straddled your face. She was facing your body, so your face was basically in her butt. Not that you minded. It was a very pretty butt indeed. You wanted to squeeze it some more, but she was kneeling so that her legs were resting on your shoulders, restricting your movement.

“Don’t act like you don’t love drinking my piss,” she said, sounding strained as she looked down at you between her legs.

You winked at her from the gap between her thighs. “How could I even pretend? You’re so thoughtful, making all that delicious piss for me…” you breathed, a moment before she started peeing.

The first bit of it missed and glanced off your cheek, but you knew now that it was intentional. She loved watching the way her stream found its way into your mouth after first landing on your face somewhere, and you didn’t really mind either. The stream of dirty talk that she kept up the whole time was getting to you, and even as you gulped down her piss, your hips were rocking into the mattress slightly, seeking out that little bit of stimulation.

Chaeyoung noticed and leaned forward to pull your legs apart, which caused her pee to splash against your forehead instead. You made a noise of protest and she readjusted with a giggle, sinking a little lower so that her pussy was closer to your face.

“Mmm, it feels so good to pee for you, sweetie,” Chaeyoung groaned as the last of her urine dripped out.

“I’m glad you enjoy it, unnie,” you giggled. She widened her stance further to lower her pussy to you, and you eagerly started lapping at it. Meanwhile, she was holding your legs open and licked a broad stripe down your slit, from your clit to your tight, clenching hole.

“Mmf—” you let out a muffled groan into her slick flesh. She’d never done this before, and you were a huge fan. No wonder she got so crazy when you’d licked her for the first time.

You were busily eating each other to orgasm when the door swung open without any warning. At first, neither of you paid any heed, until you heard the disgusted exclamation coming from the entrance.

“My God!” Jennie cried out as she opened Chaeyoung’s bedroom door, only to come face to face with a more direct view of her member’s asshole than she’d ever wanted to see. Taking a step back, she turned away. “Y/n-ah, can you come here for a second?” she asked, directing her question at the hallway.

Now aggravated beyond all bearing, you groaned. “Unnie, can this please wait?” Not only were you busy, you really didn’t want to stop what you were doing right now to eat Kai’s creampie.

“No, it can’t,” she snapped, irritated. She’d been holding it since she left, and she needed to pee now. And how dare you talk back to her like that, anyway? Had you forgotten why you were even here to begin with?

“Fine,” you capitulated, sensing that this wasn’t the hill to die on. “Give me a minute, I’ll meet you in your room.”

With that, Jennie stalked off, and you sighed, tapping Chaeyoung’s hip to make her get off. “Sorry, unnie,” you apologized as you got up and started putting your clothes back on.

“It’s all right,” she excused graciously. “She seemed like she was in a mood, though. We might need to take a rain check.”

You pouted back at her as you started walking backwards towards the open door. “I don’t wanna,” you whined. “I’ll be right back?”

“Okay,” she chuckled, and you were on your way.

You arrived in the room you shared with Jennie to see her already pacing impatiently in front of the chair. “Hey, unnie,” you greeted as you sank to your knees to help her strip. You were obviously distracted and in a rush to get back to Chaeyoung, and moved quickly to get under the chair.

As Jennie sat down slowly, she caught a glimpse of your grimace, and anger flared through her, but first she needed to take care of her needs. Perhaps pettily, she sat without care and started peeing even before she was sure that you were in position, causing you to have to squirm under her to prevent a huge mess.

When she was done, you licked her clean as quickly as you could, and she felt a stab of irritation – she refused to acknowledge it as jealousy – that you could eat Chaeyoung out so enthusiastically but were now so reluctant to even clean her up. She stood up and scowled down at you as you got out from under the chair.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked snippily. Perhaps not the best way to start this conversation, but she was too angry to care.

You looked up at her in surprise. “Nothing, why?” you asked. If anything, you thought, you should be the one who was annoyed. You didn’t know what it was, but she’d been so eager that she’d started even before you were in the right position, and there was urine all over your face and neck, some even dripping into your hair.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you giving me an attitude,” she accused. “Every time I come back from Kai’s you act like this. I’m sorry if you dislike my boyfriend—” her tone of voice was most decidedly not sorry “—but you’re being so unreasonable! What are you, jealous?”

Your temper flared for the first time since you’d been living here. “Jealous?!” you scoffed. “Of your relationship with that ignorant manchild? I don’t think so. Sorry,” you sneered, turning it back onto her, “that I don’t like to eat Kai’s cum out of your pussy every time you fuck him. I’m your recycler, but I don’t need to be treated like that.”

With that, you stormed off to wash her piss off your face and body from where it had trickled before you’d managed to get your mouth firmly over her. Jennie, on the other hand, lay on the bed, feeling incredibly guilty for blowing up at you just now. She hoped you’d come back soon so that she could have a proper conversation with you about just now.

------------------------------

You ended up spending the whole night with Chaeyoung. Even though you weren’t exactly in the mood to continue your exploits with her after your fight with Jennie, she was happy to welcome you into her room and gave you lots of cuddles, letting you rant patiently until you wore yourself out and fell asleep.

In the morning, you were still reluctant to leave the room and face Jennie, preferring to continue sulking in Chaeyoung’s bed. Unfortunately, nature called, and she dragged you out of the room for breakfast. You were surprised to see that Jennie was already in the living room, and when she saw you walking out, she immediately stood up and called your name. “Y/n, can we talk?”

Not in the mood to be reamed out again first thing in the morning, you responded coolly. “I’m hungry, can this wait until after breakfast?”

Chaeyoung, standing behind you, nudged you. She could see in Jennie’s expression and body language how much the fight with her recycler had bothered her and felt kind of bad for her even though she did think that Jennie had been out of line in what she’d said to you last night.

“Fine,” you grumbled.

“Thank you,” Jennie said quietly before turning and walking into her room. You followed, closing the door behind you but standing right in front of it.

“Y/n-ie, please,” Jennie pouted at you, patting the bed next to her. Obviously, you couldn’t resist that look, so with a put-upon sigh, you crossed the room to sit next to her.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she said. The unexpected apology threw you for a loop, and you blinked at her, speechless. “I shouldn’t have said those things and accused you. That was rude of me.”

“Uhh…” you managed to get out, sounding, of course, like the most articulate genius who had ever roamed this earth.

“And I’m sorry for getting in the way of your, um… relations with Chaeng. I should have been more respectful, and I support your relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” you murmured. It was the only thing your mind could focus on at the moment.

“You’re not?” Jennie blinked.

“No, we’re just, um… friends with benefits, I guess,” you clarified.

“Oh.” Then, after a beat of silence, “Well, it’s none of my business anyway. I just want you to know that I think you deserve your privacy, and I was really rude last night.”

Feeling bad now, you reached over to take her hand. “Unnie, don’t say that. Of course it’s your business. You’re still my donator and I want us to be close too. I promise to be more open about it with you, okay?”

She made a face. “Not that open, I hope. I’m still traumatized from seeing Chaeng naked.”

You giggled. “You’ve lived together for years! You don’t mean to tell me you’ve never seen her naked before?”

“I never had to stare straight up her asshole before,” Jennie countered, causing the both of you to erupt in fits of laughter.

“Duly noted,” you conceded past giggles. “You seemed like you were in a bad mood last night too, unnie. Is everything going okay with you and Kai?” you asked with some concern.

She made a face. “It’s okay. He’s just having trouble adjusting to me having a recycler,” she explained. Last night they’d gotten into yet another argument over you – specifically, over her refusal to simply command you to get on your knees and drink his piss just because he wanted it. She didn’t quite understand why it was so hard for him to accept that you were a person, and she wasn’t about to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.

Almost against her will, she started comparing Kai to you, even though she knew that was an unwise idea that was sure to have no good consequences. You, who was always there for her with your big eyes and big smile and a hug every time she felt bad, who knew the best and worst parts of her and didn’t shy away. It was unreasonable for her to expect the same of Kai, who was busy all the time with his own career and who obviously wasn’t as comfortable with her body as you were.

“I’m sorry I’m causing problems in your relationship, unnie,” you said, your eyes filled with remorse.

“No, it’s not your fault,” she rushed to assure you, pulling you into a hug. “He’s just being a dick right now.”

“I’m sorry for being mean last night too, unnie,” you apologized, looking at her with those wide, sad eyes that she couldn’t resist.

“It’s okay, baby, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize how unpleasant that whole experience was for you,” she said, making a little face. It hadn’t even occurred to her, but now that she thought about it, she realized how it would have been pretty gross for you, especially if you didn’t particularly like Kai. “I’ll talk to him about it to figure something out, okay?”

Your face was buried in her neck, but she felt your nod anyway.

---------------------------------

Perhaps she should have expected that the demise of her relationship would come soon after she started comparing you with Kai in her head. After all, there was no way he could have won that competition, even if he’d been the nicest man alive – which he definitely wasn’t.

Still, she hadn’t expected her relationship to end quite so soon and so abruptly. Sitting in the driver’s seat of her car in the basement carpark of Kai’s private apartment, she was crying too hard to be able to drive safely.

The night had started relatively well – Kai was on his best behavior after their fight the other night, and they’d had a nice dinner together. After that, however, when they retired to the bedroom, was when things started going downhill. Out of consideration to you, Jennie had brought a box of condoms that she tried to convince Kai to use, and he didn’t take it well, to say the least.

“What is this? Are you accusing me of something? We haven’t used condoms in months!” he said irritably, knocking the box out of her hands.

“Oppa, please, it’s not like that!” she pleaded.

“Then what is it? Are you off birth control?” he demanded.

“No… the IUD is still in,” she said meekly. YG had made them all get them before debut so that they wouldn’t accidentally get pregnant, even if they were having secret relationships.

“Then tell me why!”

“Why does there have to be a reason?! Isn’t it enough that I want you to use them? It’s my body too!” she yelled, getting defensive.

“I’m not saying no, I just want to know why!” he rebutted.

“Fine,” she said, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Y/n doesn’t like it when you leave your load inside me. It drips out after and she doesn’t like how it tastes.” She’d been hoping that the explanation would be enough, and they could get on with their night, but he grew even more angry at hearing the reason.

“Y/n?!” He exploded. “Who the fuck cares what she thinks? She’s your recycler, for God’s sake, not your girlfriend!”

“Oppa, please, she’s still my responsibility and we’re going to be together for a long time! I just don’t want to make her upset!”

“No, you don’t, so you’d rather sacrifice our relationship!”

“Our relationship? Oppa, please be reasonable, it’s just one little thing!”

He stopped short and looked at her somberly. “It’s not,” he told her. “You’re literally putting your recycler above me, above our relationship. You think her happiness is more important than mine.”

“It’s not! Oppa, please!” she begged, tears in her eyes.

“If you insist on the condoms… we’re over, Jennie-yah. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t prioritize me in her life.”

The ultimatum took her aback, and she stared at him with wide eyes for a minute, silently begging him to take it back, to explain that he’d just said that in the heat of the moment, and he didn’t actually want to end their relationship. But he didn’t, sitting down heavily on the bed instead and looking away from her.

Sadly, she began to collect her things from the room. “I didn’t want it to end like this, oppa,” she said softly.

“I know.” That was the last thing he said before she left.

With her vision still blurry from the tears, Jennie fumbled in her bag in the passenger seat to get her phone. She needed to hear your voice.

“Hello?” You picked up almost immediately, having had your phone next to you while you ate with Chaeyoung and Jisoo. Lisa was at the studio again practicing for a dance shoot. “Unnie? What’s up?”

Jennie sniffled. Hearing that, your mind shot into overdrive. “Unnie? Are you okay? Are you crying? Where are you?”

Right. Words were necessary. “We broke up,” was all she could say, though.

It was enough. You stood up so quickly that both Jisoo and Chaeyoung looked over with concern. “What? Are you still at his place?”

Jennie nodded, then realized you couldn’t see it. “Carpark,” she confirmed. “Can’t drive.”

“Okay, you just wait there, okay, unnie? We’ll come get you,” you assured her.

“Okay,” she sniffled, but didn’t want to hang up. “Y/n-ie? Can you stay on the phone?”

“Of course,” you promised. “Just give me a sec, okay?” She put the phone down and quickly explained what was going on to Jisoo and Chaeyoung, then the three of them got up and drove over to Kai’s apartment complex. On the way, you stayed on the phone with Jennie, continuing to talk to her about nothing while she just listened, letting you distract her.

You had some trouble with the security at the building, since of course they weren’t about to let some random people into the apartment complex, but since both Chaeyoung and Jisoo were in the car, they figured nothing bad could happen and finally let you in after you promised that you were just there to pick up someone.

It wasn’t difficult to spot Jennie’s car in the parking lot, since it was fairly empty, and you got out of the car and sprinted to her, pulling open the door on the driver’s side and peering in. Jennie was hunched forward, her hands grasping the top of the steering wheel and her forehead resting on her hands, and she turned to look up at you when she heard the door open.

“Y/n-ie—” she managed to get out, before bursting into tears again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, leaning in to give her an awkward hug and stroking her back. “Let’s get into the backseat, okay? Jisoo-unnie can drive your car home.”

Sniffling, Jennie nodded, climbing out of the driver’s seat and into the back. You followed after her, shutting the door, and Jennie immediately lay down with her head in your lap.

As you stroked her hair, Jisoo got into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine, starting the drive home. Chaeyoung followed in her own car.

Jennie continued crying for a while, then seemed to fall into a light doze while you draped your arm around her. You had to wake her up to get her back into the apartment, but you hadn’t let go of her the entire time, offering support and physical comfort where words failed you.

------------------------------------

Over the next few days, all the girls seemed to coalesce around Jennie, giving her hugs and making sure she was eating and drinking. The difficult part about being an idol was that even though she felt like shit about her breakup, she still had to go to fan meetings, interviews and events, acting like she was happy and chipper and that nothing was wrong.

It was during those times that she sought your support the most. You were always there in the wings or in the audience, milling around with the staff and sending her encouraging smiles and gestures whenever you saw her looking at you. During breaks and between commitments, you would always be by her side, holding her hand or giving her cute hugs and telling her what a great job she was doing.

Even as time passed and she started to get better, she continued to rely on your encouragement, which you eagerly gave. Your relationship grew closer than ever, and Jennie would have been pleased if she hadn’t been so confused. She’d initially wanted a recycler for the sisterly relationship she thought she could foster, but even though you were doing all the things she’d expected and hoped for, she didn’t think of you as a sister.

Instead, she found herself looking at you while you were doing other things, admiring the way your lashes rested against your cheekbones and the focused furrow of your brow. The times of day when she would seek you out because she had to pee became her favourite, purely because she had your entire attention.

Okay, that was a lie. She was starting to love the inherent eroticism of the act, even though that had never been something she’d considered before. The feeling of your lips caressing her slit, your eyes looking up at her with such joy and devotion even as she was peeing in your mouth, the conscientious way you always licked her clean after… she hoped you weren’t noticing the way she would bite her lip when she felt your ministrations on her.

Once, on a really hard day when she’d been at an awards show that included EXO, you’d been extra sweet to her when she decided she couldn’t take it and excused herself to go to the restroom. You’d found her in a deserted corridor, pacing around with her hands on her hips.

“Unnie?” you called, skipping over to her. “You okay?”

“Oh,” she relaxed as she looked up and saw you. “Yeah, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a little stressed out from everything.”

Reaching her, you gave her a hug that she gratefully sank into. “I’m sorry, unnie. Just a little longer, okay? Fighting!”

Pulling back to look her in the face, you were surprised when she instead leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re always so good to me, Y/n-ie.”

You giggled bashfully. “It’s the least I could do, unnie. You’re always so thoughtful of me! I just want to make you happy too.”

Your cuteness made her want to hug you more tightly, but the urgent needs of her body had to take precedence for now. She let you go and pulled back, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Stress drinking water was really not the way to go when at an awards show, she admonished herself.

“You look like you’re in a bit of a state there, unnie,” you teased even as you dropped to your knees in front of her.

“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, leaning against the wall and throwing her head back as you pulled her panties and safety shorts down. The short dress she was wearing may look impractical, but it was actually immensely helpful for situations such as this.

“It’s okay, unnie,” you soothed as you stroked her hip, shuffling closer. “I’ve got you,” you said right before pressing your lips to her pussy, your mouth open to catch her urine.

The feeling of your soft, warm lips on her pussy and the tender, reassuring words you said right before you put them there was almost too much for Jennie, and she had to close her eyes to regain composure before she did something ridiculous like try to grind her clit against your face. Focus, she reminded herself sternly. She wasn’t going to be one of those donators who exploited her recycler, someone who was in a position completely dependent on her.

By this point, peeing in your mouth was as natural to Jennie as using a toilet had been in the past, and it didn’t take any effort at all for her to start the stream. She let out a big sigh of relief as pee started jetting out of her. She’d really had to go, and the feeling of letting it out was almost euphoric, making her shudder with how good it felt.

Your gaze drifted up to her face, her brow slightly furrowed and her mouth open as she continued peeing in your mouth. You were gulping it down as quickly as possible, trying desperately to keep up with her stream, but you couldn’t help but notice how sexy she looked like that. You could almost imagine her making that face for a different reason, and slightly embarrassed at the direction that your thoughts had taken, you lowered your gaze once again.

As you did so, Jennie opened her eyes and looked down at you, struck by the view. You looked completely focused on your task of drinking the pee she’d held in her body for so many hours. Was there a purer expression of devotion, of care, than this? The last of her pee drained out of her into your mouth, and you smiled up at her before licking her clean.

This time, you took extra care to get every bit, swirling your tongue gently as you lapped at her core. When you were done, you pressed tender, wet kisses to either side of her, then one directly over her clit, gazing up at her as you did so. She definitely deserved a little bit more love today. Kai had been staring at her the entire time, and you knew she was stressed.

When you were done, you helped her back into her clothes silently. “Shall we head back, unnie?” you asked with a smile.

“You go ahead,” she demurred. “I need a minute before I can go back in there.” She intentionally phrased it so you’d think she was talking about Kai, and you squeezed her arm sympathetically before leaving her, licking your lips clean as you went.

When she thought about what she’d done next instead, she still flushed. Instead of cooling off, she all but ran into the restroom down the hall, a room she’d honestly thought she’d never have to set foot in again, and had her hand in her panties the moment the stall door clanged shut. With one hand frigging herself desperately and the other covering her mouth to make sure no errant noises escaped, she brought herself to a hasty, unfulfilling orgasm. It didn’t matter, though. It was enough to cool her blood for the time being.

After washing her hands and cleaning up, Jennie returned to the awards ceremony, where Jisoo immediately draped an arm around her shoulders and started stroking her hair comfortingly. You must have told the other girls that she’d been having a hard time with Kai here, she thought. She appreciated your concern, but it really made things all the more awkward for her when instead of freaking out about it, she’d been off masturbating to the thought of you drinking her piss and eating her out.

The situation eventually grew more serious, to the point that Jennie was sure she was doing a piss-poor (ha) job at keeping it a secret. How was she supposed to get her head on straight when you literally had your mouth on her cunt multiple times every day?

---------------------------------

You could, in fact, confirm that Jennie wasn’t keeping her growing attraction to you under wraps. It wasn’t her fault – she couldn’t exactly help the fact that she was often wet when you got on your knees from her. You could literally see the arousal shining on her pussy before she covered your face with it, and the way the slick smeared on your face was kind of a dead giveaway.

Still, you didn’t say or do anything because you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, trusting that she would speak up if she wanted to. It would only make things awkward if you pushed her before she was ready. After all, if she turned you down or denied it, you’d still be stuck to her 24/7, for the foreseeable future.

No, it was better for things to remain the way things were, you determined.

Despite your better judgement, however, you were still a little shit at heart and took pleasure in riling Jennie up and possibly hinting to her that you’d be open to a development in your relationship. You were getting increasingly bold with the liberties you took under the guise of ‘cleaning her’, sometimes even giving her clit a naughty little suck just to ‘get it all out’, or sliding your tongue so deep along her slit that you could taste her arousal.

She never broke though, even though you could feel the minute movements sometimes as she rocked her hips slightly in response to your ministrations, and she often ran off right after getting up off your face, probably to masturbate somewhere. Every time she did, you’d sigh and lick your lips clean, wishing she would let you help with that too.

Chaeyoung, predictably enough, found the whole thing hilarious. Having a front-row seat to your mutual crushes on each other was seriously top-notch entertainment, she thought, especially since you were both so utterly oblivious about your feelings. As your feelings for Jennie grew, you stopped seeking Chaeyoung out for sex, and your relationship instead mellowed into a tightly knit friendship. There were no hard feelings on either side, since Chaeyoung had mostly been in it for the sex anyway. Being a gay idol was really hard, and you’d provided physical and emotional support for a period of time.

These days, you mostly hid in Chaeyoung’s bed to whine about Jennie and cuddled her when she felt like she would never find a girlfriend, given the restrictions on her life as long as she was an idol. Jennie, however, didn’t know that, and increasingly was filled with jealousy whenever you disappeared to look for Chaeyoung. Once, when she’d seen pictures of a wedding between two of her cheer teammates, you’d ended up spending the whole night with her as she cried.

Jennie tried to be understanding – she knew that she didn’t own you, and that Chaeyoung was clearly going through something. But she was going through something too, god dammit, and she wished you would cuddle her and kiss her forehead and tell her it was all going to be okay the way you did with Chaeyoung sometimes on the couch.

Well, it would be difficult for you to do that with her since her issue was that she was falling for you, but still.

Chaeyoung was fully aware of Jennie’s jealousy, too. It wasn’t like she was even trying to be subtle about it, looking over and sighing or pouting whenever she saw the two of you wrapped up cozily together.

Eventually, when it got boring for Chaeyoung to deal with the longing, sidelong glances and wistful sighs, she finally decided to talk to Jennie about you.

Predictably enough, Jennie was reluctant, but Chaeyoung had, by this point, had years of experience prying secrets out of her older member, and was now adept at it. Call her the Jennie whisperer, she thought to herself as she invited Jennie for coffee, just the two of them, like they’d used to as trainees when Lisa and Jisoo were off doing whatever it was the two of them did alone.

Sipping her iced coffee, Chaeyoung eyed Jennie, noting the sadness she thought she was hiding as she stirred the sugar into her drink. “Unnie, are you okay? You just seem really down lately,” she prompted the older girl.

Jennie looked up in surprise, then relaxed. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just Kai, y’know?”

“Unnie, that was months ago! What’s really bothering you?” Chaeyoung pressed.

Abruptly becoming defensive, Jennie’s shoulders drew up around her shoulders. “Nothing’s bothering me,” she said.

“All right,” Chaeyoung accepted, though it was clear from her raised brow that she didn’t believe her. “I’m glad we got to do this, unnie,” she continued with a smile. “We never get to spend time together anymore, just the two of us.”

“That’s true,” Jennie agreed. “We’re always so busy these days…”

“Yeah, and Y/n is always hanging around you too…”

It was like a cloud abruptly formed over Jennie’s head when she heard your name. “She’s not always hanging around me,” she muttered with some bitterness. Sometimes she was spending time with Chaeyoung, after all. It was just a little bit annoying for the person who’d been stealing time with her own recycler to be saying that.

“Unnie, come on! She never leaves your side,” Chaeyoung laughed. She was intentionally goading Jennie, but the older girl seemed to be falling for it hook, line and sinker without even realizing that she was being played.

“That is so not true,” Jennie huffed. Her jealousy got the better of her, and she snapped, “She’s always hanging around you these days.”

A beat of silence, then Chaeyoung said with delight, “Unnie, are you jealous?”

“What? N-no!” Jennie denied, flustered now. “Why would I be jealous? She’s just my recycler. She can sleep with whoever she wants.”

“Wait, who said anything about sleeping together? I thought we were talking about just hanging out.”

“We were, I mean—oh, fuck.” Caught red-handed, Jennie slumped miserably onto the table in front of her, hiding her face from her dongsaeng.

“You know, you should really just talk to her,” Chaeyoung said, uncaring of Jennie’s dramatics.

“I can’t,” Jennie protested, her voice muffled. “I have to be responsible for her. She’s going to think that I’m trying to pressure her.”

“Unless…” Chaeyoung trailed off, and Jennie raised her head to look at her.

“Unless?” she asked.

Chaeyoung winked. “Maybe she feels the same way about you.”

-------------------------------

Now that Chaeyoung had planted that thought in her mind, Jennie couldn’t stop thinking about it. She saw hints of it in the way you happily ran to give her a hug when she came home, the way you snuggled up to her at night, and in all the thoughtful little gestures that showed how much attention you paid to her. You brought her snacks and water during her meets and shoots when they ran overtime, and always encouraged her during practice and recording sessions.

As much as she tried not to overthink it, it was impossible not to read into the little ways you made her feel special especially when you were drinking from her. The cozy way your face nestled into her ass when she sat on the chair, or the almost reverent, worshipful way you looked up at her when she stood over you, the way you licked her clean so slowly and thoroughly that there was no way you were oblivious to how wet she became, and those sweet, soft kisses you’d taken to littering on her pussy when you were done licking her.

There was no way you’d do all that unless you felt some type of way for her, right?

Despite Chaeyoung’s intervention and her own increasing desire for more between the two of you, it actually took a rather embarrassing mistake on her part to force her hand.

Since she’d broken up with Kai, she’d entered somewhat of a sex drought, which meant it was easier than ever for you to turn her on, something you took pleasure in doing, especially at home on days when she didn’t have any schedules. She knew this, and yet she could never bring herself to stop you by getting up before you were done ‘cleaning’ her, always hungry for more.

On this particular day, your face was under her on the chair when she made the mistake of looking down at you between her legs. She could only see the lower half of your face, of course, yet the sight of your tongue so eager to please was definitely her new kryptonite, she decided on the spot. As you licked a stripe from her clit to her asshole, she shuddered and let out a soft moan, rolling her hips slightly to get more friction.

A second later, she paused and stiffened, hoping that you hadn’t heard that.

Unfortunately, from your giggle, she knew that was not the case, and started to rise, intending to beat a hasty retreat. Before she could get up, however, your arms shot out, grabbing her by the hips. “Unnie,” you whined.

“Y-Y/n,” she stammered, trying harder to shake off your grasp and stand up. Eventually, you let her, but when she turned back to look at you, you were pouting up at her through the hole in the seat.

“Unnie, don’t you want me to finish?” you asked.

“You— I— what?” Reduced to stammering now, she started backing away from you, and you hastily got out from under the seat to sit on the ground.

“I mean, I knew that you were liking it more than you wanted to admit,” you told her, your eyes wide with sincerity. “I don’t mind helping you out, you know.”

“But… but Chaeyoung…” Jennie was grasping at straws now.

You shrugged. “We haven’t slept together in months, unnie. I want this,” you said, leaning forward. “If you’re okay with it, that is.”

“Wait… what is it you want exactly?” She didn’t think she could handle just being friends with benefits with you, even if her libido was screaming at her to take what she could get.

“I want to be your recycler… friend… girlfriend, if you want…?” You peeked up at her from under your lashes, nervous now from laying all your cards on the table.

“Really?” She knelt on the floor to look you in the eye properly. “You really want that? You’re not just saying it because you think I do?”

“You do?” Surprise coloured your tone. “I thought you were just horny after your breakup.”

Jennie flushed. “Well, I mean, there is that,” she coloured. “But no… I really do have feelings for you. It’s probably part of why my relationship with Jongin-oppa didn’t work out.”

You giggled. “Well, if you don’t mind… I’d love to give this a shot,” you confessed.

“I would love that too,” Jennie breathed, leaning in to kiss you, because she needed to occupy her mouth with something before she blurted out something stupid, like that she loved you.

To her surprise and displeasure, however, you leaned back when it became clear what she was trying to do. “Wait, wait! Don’t you want me to brush my teeth or something?” you asked, clapping a hand over your mouth.

She laughed. “I don’t care, silly,” she said, pulling you closer with a hand on the nape of your neck. With that out of the way, you eagerly draped your arms around her neck and pulled her close for a kiss. It was soft and sweet and everything you’d dreamed of with her… until she broke away to pull you to her bed.

“Moving a little fast there, aren’t you, unnie?” you giggled as she straddled you. She hadn’t put her clothes back on, so she was wearing only a shirt.

“You’ve been teasing me for months,” she complained as she leaned down to kiss you again, this one deeper and filthier, leaving you breathless.

“Fair enough,” you said, letting her pull your shirt off. You retaliated by stripping hers off too, and then she shuffled down to take care of your shorts and panties. “What do you want to do?”

She moved with a sense of purpose and drive that indicated she’d thought about this a lot, shuffling up to your face and straddling it, facing your body. Leaning forward, she pulled your legs apart and ran her fingers along your soaked slit before raising her fingers to her mouth. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw Chaeng on top of you,” she growled before lowering her pussy to your face.

You ate her out ravenously, excited after all those months of stolen moments where you gradually pushed the limits to see where she would draw the line. You already knew how she tasted, but you wanted her to use you for her pleasure, grind on your face and moan and scream when you made her feel good.

Diligently, you lapped at her clit, experimenting with different strokes and speeds until you found one that seemed to make her go crazy. She dropped her head, pressing her cheek to your thigh for a few seconds before regaining composure and redoubling her efforts to make you cum. Of course, this was a competition she was bound to lose, since you’d had a head start earlier.

“Unnie, your cunt tastes so good,” you moaned into her core between the sucking and licking. “Your piss is so fucking tasty too, I love it.”

Your nasty words spurred her on, and she ground her pussy against your face, groaning at the stimulation on her clit. “Fuck, you feel so good,” she huffed, forgetting about your pleasure as she chased her own relentlessly. “Such a nasty little slut for me, aren’t you?”

Since it didn’t seem like she had the bandwidth to, you took over stimulating yourself, rubbing at your clit with your fingers. “Yeah, I’m your dirty slut, unnie,” you gasped, before sucking her clit into your mouth and flicking it with your tongue repeatedly. The movement sent her stratospheric and she cried out as she came, gushing cream straight into your mouth.

“Oh, God,” she exhaled shakily when it was over, lifting herself off your face. “You’re such a good girl,” she praised, her fingers sliding along your cunt again and knocking your hand out of the way as she began fingering you in earnest, wanting to pay you back for the orgasm you’d just gifted her.

“Ah, unnie,” you moaned, your hips rising off the bed as you chased her touch. “That feels so good, yes, yes—” Your eyes closed, and you gasped, small, choked cries leaving your mouth as you came, clenching down on her fingers. She worked you diligently through it, only pulling her hand away when you started to make small noises of pain as overstimulation set in.

“That was so good, unnie,” you said in a soft, tired voice as she collapsed on the bed next to you. Pulling her close, you nuzzled your nose against hers.

“Likewise,” she smiled before her lips met yours in a kiss, this one chaste and sweet after your mutual lust had been slaked.

“Thank you for giving us a shot,” you murmured, closing your eyes in contentment.

“No,” she corrected you, wrapping her arms around you. “Thank you for being mine.”

You knew what she meant, and your lips lifted in a small smile. You would always be hers, and she would never forget to appreciate it. Neither of you were willing to call it love yet, but you knew that would come. There was no rush – you were her recycler, you’d always be together.

[bae-del-moon]

Finding You || CH.1

TITLE: Finding You (Mini-Series) || Chapter 1

RATED: M (for Graphic Descriptions, Violence, Language [Curse words])

GENRE: Romance, Fantasty, Angst, Dystopian

PAIRING: Lee Hyunjae/Jaehyun x Reader

WORDS: ≅3.7k

⚠️<<TRIGGER WARNINGS: Fire, Burning, Alcohol, Human Experimentation, Vulgar Language (Curse Words) & Kidnappings/Abductions>>⚠️

BLURB/SUMMARY: The Abandoned never had much to their names. They lived in camps, shared tents with those they deemed friends and family, and wandered the main city’s bordering woods. So, when the person who decided to make your business theirs, and integrated you into their family, is ripped away, nothing is going to stop you or them from finding them again.

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A/N: Been in the works for a while. Decided to post today because it’s Hyunaje Day/Weekend! This is a Mini-Series just fyi, not gonna have a lot of chapters. I hope y’all enjoy!

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People screamed all around you. Dark gray plumes of smoke rose into the night sky while another layer of smoke spread across the campsite, plunging everything into a dark haze. Angry red and orange flames devoured hundreds of tents. Its inhabitants ran past you, ahead of you, all around you as they inhaled the smoke, screaming for their loved ones.

You knew they’d blame this fire on you, on your kind. But, the people here knew. They knew this hadn’t been your fault, any of your faults.

“Hyunjae!” You screamed, coughing right after, “Sunwoo! Sangyeon!” You paused. A coughing fit overtook you as your lungs filled with smoke.

This had to be their work. This had to be them.

Another raid on the Orphaned Camps to try and find your kind. Who else would try to find your kind like this?

Fire to draw you out.

Fire to make everyone believe this was your doing. To make them believe you were monsters.

“Help!” Someone screamed, stumbling out of a tent, fire crawling over their clothes. Through the haze of the fire, you could see them throw themselves on the ground and attempt to roll around though nearly impossible with everyone running panicked.

You ran towards them, hands outstretched. All you needed was a single lick of fire to touch your skin.

The fire touched your fingertips and raced into the palms of your hands, as you held them down. The fire seeped into your skin, lighting your palms a bright red-orange color as it lived inside you.

You choked in a breath, trying to keep it inside of you.

Under you, a girl no older than fifteen cried, “Thank you.”

You nodded, “Is there... anyone else inside?”

“No,” she answered as you stood up and stumbled toward the tent.

“Go,” you choked out, “run.” The fire inside of you fought to escape from you, and rather than have it escape you in an ill-timed moment, you reached out to touch the fire of the tent and let the bit trapped inside you rush out.

Around you, the orphaned started to run in the opposite direction you had been heading in.

It was dangerous, you knew, to head against the current. One wrong move, a momentary loss of strength, and you could be trampled. Then, if you managed to not get trampled, you’d have to recognize the fact that you were most likely walking in the direction where—

“It’s them!” Someone screamed. “Snuffers!”

Snuffers.

Snuffers were a myth, legend. They were rumored to raid and kill orphan camps to capture flaming souls-- people like you who were able to create and manipulate fire, knowing fully well that people like you were always abandoned.

No one knew who they worked for, why they did the things they were rumored to do. They were whispers, tales to be told at night when you wanted to scare someone.

Now they were real.

“Hyunjae!” You screamed again, knocking the elbows and shoulders of others as you went against the current. It didn’t take long for them to part for you. It made it easier for them to run past you and for you to run past them.

In the distance, there were figures clad in full-on black ensembles. An electric, blue light cracked across their armor, like nets made of lighting. It illuminated them momentarily and revealed the atrocities they were committing.

“HYUNJAE!” You screamed louder. You stuck to the burning tents, letting the fire be your camouflage as you near them.

You held back the whimpers that threatened to escape you as you watched the Snuffers grab people at random while they tried to evade them.

You hoped Hyunjae had already gotten away, that you were yelling for him in vain.

Minutes before the fire had been started, he had told you and Sunwoo, another friend you had made and lived beside you, that he was going to see if the rumors were true. A rumor that had spread like the wind. A rumor about free food that was going to be handed out at the front of the camp that day.

A rumor whose origins seemed very clear now.

“Hyunjae!” You screamed again.

You jogged closer to the Snuffers, as close as you dared to get at the risk of being seen. The tents there burned the brightest and were closest to being destroyed. You didn’t have much time before they gave way.

The Snuffers there worked silently, unfazed by the fires that roared around them, even reaching out to touch them. You wondered what gave them the confidence to act so rashly until you realized the fires weren’t hurting them.

Were they like you?

No.

The crackling, blue, net of light crawling over their armor raced down their arms and covered them like a second skin. Between the gaps, it formed a lighter, blue light that covered them, repelling the fire.

You looked away frightened, only to find a handful of Snuffers shoving their captured into a line at the entrance of the camp, their hands tied behind their backs. All of their clothes were singed by the fire, all, except for one, whose defiant stance-- head held high, shoulders squared back, told you who it was.

One of the Snuffers walked up to him first, ignoring the rest, and brought up his hand to press against his cheeks.

Your breath hitched as you watched the man, who you had a horrible feeling was Hyunjae, scream in pain. The suit burned bright blue like a lightning bolt had just struck it and brought it to life stronger and angrier than ever.

As the blue light flashed across his face, your heart came to a sudden stop. Even whilst dark shadows were thrown across his face, you knew that face belonged to none other than Lee Hyunaje. It was the boy, no, he’d stopped being a boy long ago, it was the man who you had met long ago.

It was the man who had integrated you into his family so you wouldn’t have to be alone.

The Snuffer nodded at a second Snuffer standing behind Hyunjae, who grabbed his elbow and pulled him backward, toward a fleet of thick, black vans that had begun to arrive.

You shook your head, “No.”

They knew.

“No.”

They knew.

“No,” you said again, taking a step forward.

“No.”

“No.”

“No.”

Your legs started to run on their own accord. You knew nothing of what you were doing. All you could think at that moment was the impossibility of what was already happening.

“Hyunjae!” You screamed right before a hand clasped over your mouth and started pulling you away.

You struggled to get out of their hold, kicking and wriggling in their hold. One particular pull was enough to get you out of their hands. You sprinted forward then, screaming, “Hyunjae!”

Broken.

Painfully.

Hyunjae twisted around at the sound of his name. His eyes searched as far as he could as the Snuffer pulled him toward the van, tripping over his own two feet because of the force.

Then he met your eyes, and you felt your world come to a screeching halt.

“Hyunjae!” You screamed.

The officers seemed to notice for once, the ruckus you were making, above the hiss of the fire.

They threw Hyunjae into the van roughly, before slamming the doors shut.

Everything sped up again.

“Hyunjae!” You screamed again.

Your legs bent, winding up to run again, but a hand shot out and pulled you back before you could. You twisted around to kick the person who had detained you, only to freeze in place.

Sangyeon- the big brother, leader of your family, held you in place. Soot and ash littered his frowning face.

“We have to get Hyunaje,” you choked out before twisting around, intent on running to Hyunjae. But, when you turned around, and, your eyes found Hyunjae brown one’s through the small, plastic, circular window of the car, you ended up freezing again.

Around you, the Snuffers started to move. They had found you.

The vans roared to life.

Sangyeon pulled on your arm again.

The Snuffers started moving in your direction.

The fires encompassed the entirety of the camp.

A shuddering breath escaped you.

“Hyunjae!” The loudest, most painful scream that had ever escaped you.

Sangyeon pulled you again, dragging you away in your petrified state before throwing you over his shoulder and running.

Like two magnets repelling off of each other, both you got further and further away from the other. The van he had been thrown in sped down the dirt path, away from the camp and, Sangyeon ran as fast as he could, heading towards the old shabby, run-down vans the orphaned kept hidden away in case of raids.

Sangyeon had saved you.  

But, they had taken him.

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You often wondered how a group of orphans could have a stash of alcohol in stock when they had no money under their names. Food was a struggle to garner, being that no one ever handed out food to street-begging orphans. But, alcohol was always there, though it only saw the light of the moon when there was something to celebrate.

A long time ago, Sangyeon had let you follow him on a run to find supplies in the city. That day, on your way back, he had shown you where he kept some of the stock hidden. Food, alcohol, everything beyond what they needed to survive for a month.

You had asked him how he had managed to find a bottle of liqueur in the trash bins, but all he gave you in response was a lesson on how those in the elite, main city lived-- partying every night and drinking until they couldn’t remember their names or where they were. “They’re wasteful,” he had said, “Everything they have comes from the effort of the splintered cities around them. Guards may walk their streets both day and night, protecting them from us. But, even they won’t ignore the offer of the elite to wine and dine with them.”

He’d meant to teach you a lesson, and he had, though you hadn’t really ever bothered to figure out what it was beside the main city being the home of rich non-waste waste. But, he’d also taught you where the liquor was hidden and that people used it to forget.

Now you had a bottle of a tequila resting on the ground in front of you, mocking you for your hesitation.

You’d stopped crying an hour ago, eyes tired and drained of all its tears by the time you reached the top of a cliff that overlooked the stream that ran through the entirety of the county, as the sun went down. A part of you wanted to know where you were, where in the damn forest you were now living in. But, even then, you knew it would be useless to know. The forest was vast and deep, the majority of it laid uncharted. Sangyeon could tell you where they had settled the new camp but, you still wouldn’t be able to understand where you were.

Forest, not desert. Not anymore.

Hyunjae wouldn’t know that.

A choked sob wracked through your body again. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to hold back the tears. You reached out blindly to find the bottle, hands reaching for air until you opened your eyes and realized it was gone.

“Have you drank any of this?” Sunwoo asked, studying the bottle under the light of the moon.

You bit your lips and folded your hands in your lap instead of answering.

“Have you?” He asked again while unscrewing the cap of the bottle. He waited for your answer, taking a swig of it for himself.

“No,” you whispered.

Like out of thin air, Sunwoo took out a red cup and poured some tequila into it. He held it out to you, “Here, take it.”

You trained your gaze on it, fingers curling around it hesitantly. You held back a cringe as its strong scent invaded your nostrils.

“What are you waiting for?” Sunwoo asked you as he took another swig. “Do it. You’re the one who brought it out, weren’t you? Go ahead.”

You frowned. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you brought it up to your lips. But you couldn’t do it; and, a shuddering breath slipped past your lips as you lowered the cup onto the ground.

“I can’t do it.”

“Why?” Sunwoo snapped, “I thought you wanted to be like the asses in the main city. That’s why you took it out from the stash, isn’t it? To forget. To blackout just like they do.”

More tears slipped down your face at his words.

“I just can’t. I don’t… it hurts!” You cried. “Hyunjae’s gone, and it’s my fault!”

“Your fault?” Sunwoo sputtered, indignation all over his face.

“It’s my fault,” you cried, “I saw him! I saw him as they were lining up and- and I did nothing. I didn’t move. I didn’t help. I just stood there. I just stood there,” you sobbed.

“So?” Sunwoo asked. “If you moved, you would have been taken too. There was nothing you could have done.”

“You don’t know that!” You sobbed. “What if I had, and he was still here right now?!”

“So, your answer is to drink until you forget?” He scoffed, “Drinking won’t fix anything, will it? You would have blackout today but woken up tomorrow, and we’d still be in the same situation.”

“Then why the hell are you drinking?” You seethed, glaring at Sunwoo through the blurriness of your vision.

“Because,” he snapped, “I wasn’t planning on drinking until I passed out.”

“Fuck off, Sunwoo.”

“Do you think you’re the only one who’s hurting right now? Hyunjae was our brother. For heaven’s sake, we’ve known him longer than you have.”

“What? So that gives you the right to mourn him but not me?”

“I never said that,” Sunwoo growled, “But you seem to be forgetting that you are our family now too. Hyunjae made you family.”

A whimper escaped you at the sound of his name.

“Don’t think he would have liked to know that you were planning on downing all of this--” he shook the bottle in the air next to him, “because you were blaming yourself for something that wasn’t even your fault.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” You cried again, hands curling around the red cup again.

“Down what I gave you, pull yourself together, and stop acting like he’s dead because I would have thought you’d be the first one to try and figure out how to get him back.”

“What?” You asked, whipping around to look at him as he stood up.

“Hurry,” he said, “Sangyeon’s waiting for us.”

And just as the fire that lived within you felt to everyone who didn’t carry it, did it feel as it rushed down your throat, burning your tongue in its wake.

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Leaves crunched under the weight of your feet as you made your way through the forest. The sound of a hot fire crackling in the distance sent a shiver down your spine and forced you to remember the fire that had run amuck at the other camp.

It made you walk faster, fear coursing through your veins. But, as you ran past the tree-line and into the section of the camp where you had set up your tents, it died. Everything was fine.

It was all in your head.

“You made it,” Sangyeon said, poking at the campfire inside the circle of tents with a stick as he sat on a log across from it.

You hummed in response, making your way to an empty space on one of the logs around the fire. The rest of your orphaned family was already there. Sunwoo, Juyeon, Chanhee, and Eric sat across from him, forming a half-circle, all waiting for you, it turned out.

“Why are we sitting around a fire?” You asked as you sat down next to Eric. He threw an arm around your shoulder, letting you lean into his side as you settled down.

It felt ironic and torturous to be sitting in front of a fire despite everything that had happened a few days ago. It felt like it was mocking you. Yet, you knew that the fire in front of you was necessary to stay warm.

“It’s been a while,” he said solemnly, smiling sadly while he stared at the fire before he locked eyes with you, “since we’ve gathered around a fire and told stories.”

“Scary stories,” you mumbled, “I don’t think we need any of those.”

“No?” Sangyeon asked, “There’s one story I think it’s time I told you all.”

“I’d rather not hear one,” you whispered, moments away from throwing Eric’s arm off you and heading into your tent.

“Y/N,” Sangyeon said, voice stern and heavy. It froze you. When you made no motion to move, he threw another log in the fire and continued.

“A long, long time ago, society was full of people who could do different types of things. Things… that seemed like magic. Inside every person, there was a seed of water, of wind, of fire, of elemental manipulation. For some, it was just a tiny bit, but others had so much that it seemed that they were made of it. But, one day, something changed. A group had been formed. It was like a secret society, a society made of the people who only had an ember of it inside them.

They wanted more, and they were hell-bent on figuring out how to get it. So they kidnapped people, and they  experimented on them, and when they were done, they killed them. Eventually, everyone who had the most of it inside them disappeared; and everyone else stopped using their gifts because they feared that these people would come and take them away.”

“What are you talking about?” Eric asked above you, staring at Sangyeon with a fierce look in his eyes.

Sangyeon held up a hand, biting his lips before answering, “Just… let me finish first, okay?”  

He paused for a moment, swallowing as he waited to see if anyone else wanted to interrupt before continuing. “Like I said, these people stopped using this… seed, of theirs, repressing it and teaching their kids to repress it until it eventually started to disappear.  Of course, there were these kids that started to be born with the same unimaginable power hundreds of years later. But everyone had already forgotten that it was something they had already had, and they just saw these kids as… bad omens. They could control things that nobody else could and bring destruction.”

“Wait, is this about us?” Chanhee asked, interrupting Sangyeon.

Sangyeon sighed, “The secret society— no one knows what they were doing with these people besides experimenting. That was the most that ever got out, and that in the form of a rumor. No one ever found out where they operated either. They were like a myth, a legend, except when they suddenly weren’t. These kids were often abandoned, left at the edge of the woods, hidden by the trees so no one would be able to see them or save them. But these people - this secret society, came and picked them up. Society would see them wander in without anyone and come back out with a child.

That secret society is that myth we know as Snuffers, and those children were like us. They had fire living inside them.”

“Sangyeon,” Eric whispered, tensing.

“Why are you telling us this?” You asked, voice croaking.

“Do you guys remember how I left a couple of years ago, on my own?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo answered, “three years ago, when Eric got sick, and you had to go look for medicine. You took a long time to get back.”

“We almost thought you weren’t coming back,” Eric whispered.

Sangyeon nodded, “We were deep in the forest and too far from the main city. I got lost on the way there and ended up lost. But I wound up stumbling into this girl—” he smiled though, it looked bitter, “this crazy-haired, dirty girl that was frantically running in the opposite direction. She ended up dragging me along too, saving me from the inevitable imprisonment I was walking into.”

He sighed and chuckled sadly, hitting the palms of his hands against his thighs as he turned his gaze to the star-filled, night sky, a shuddering breath leaving him before he forced himself to continue. “There were probably ten of them-- Snuffers, running after her. I didn’t know that was them at first. I just watched them run past the hole she had shoved us into. It wasn’t until later when she decided to come with me and help me find my way to the main city, that she told me that those people she had been running away from were Snuffers.

She had been taken as a baby. She had grown up in their facilities, like a pig for slaughter, waiting for her fire to fully manifest so that they could…”

“So that they could what?” You asked. A new wave of fear was starting to settle in the pit of your stomach, somehow causing your muscles to tense and your skin to prickle.

Sangyeon met your eyes for a moment, “She told me about the things they did there. Showed me a journal she had kept where she wrote everything down once she was able to steal a notebook.”

“Sangyeon.”

“I never told any of you this before because there’s nothing we can really do. Not the seven of us. But, we can’t let Hyunjae go through any of that. We have to get him back.”

A shot of adrenaline shot down your spine, forcing you into an upright position. You almost shoved Eric off the log at the speed you were moving at.

“But you just said—” Chanhee started but was cut off.

“It’s a suicide mission,” Sangyeon gulped, “But there’s always the chance that we can get him out. I’m not forcing any of you into this—”

“I’m going,” you told him, eyes bared wide. Your hands clenched in your lap at the thought of getting Hyunjae back.

“I’m going too,” Eric nodded.

Sunwoo, Juyeon, and Chanhee shared a look with each other before nodding.

Juyeon turned to Sangyeon and nodded, “We’re all going.”

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[joontier]

“One-Love”

--> Summary: Love translates to zero in the tennis scoring system – the only thing keeping the scoreless player on the court is his love for the game. 

--> Pairings: jung hoseok x female reader; kim seokjin x female reader 

--> Genre/warnings: tennis player hoseok! au; tennis player seokjin! au; crazy rich asians inspired! au; fluff, humor (as usual), eventual smut; more warnings as the story progresses

--> Words: 2.2k

--> A/N: AAAAAAHHHHH this story really hits home and is inspired by true life events,,, please tell me whatcha think <3 I'll try to update this next week too!!  

“One-Love” MASTERLIST

Chapter 1: The First Day

You continue to gawk at all the cars lined along the driveway and those parked in an open area nearby. Each vehicle seemed costlier than the last and… was that a Bentley?! People drive Bentleys to school? You’ve lost count of how many other luxurious cars you have passed by as you watch the other kids get out of their customized vans while their chauffeurs hold the doors open.

These people were rich, rich. In big, bold letters.

Sure, it was a different feeling when you first visited the school a month ago – when no one else was here. Now that you see students in specks of blue, identical to the uniform you’re wearing right now, you suddenly feel out of place. A simple girl from a small town, you, _______, officially a Thames International student? Doesn’t exactly have a nice ring to it.

You shrunk in your seat. How were you supposed to fit in with these people? Truthfully, the only thing that reassured you when you migrated was that you got to study in an international school specially in a country whose language was far from yours and barely spoke any English but the sheer grandness of this school afforded you the least solace.

Your dad speaks up when he notices you’re awfully quiet beside him. “You okay, kiddo?” You give him a small nod in reply and he gives you a short rub on the back to soothe you. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there are plenty of nice kids inside,” he assures you, yet you still feel that glint of worry laced in his voice.

How exactly did you end up here again?

Your father had been a tennis coach for the longest time. Life used to be okay, but with the arrival of your younger brother, who’s eleven years younger than you, things were harder to get by. You love your little brother to bits though, no doubt.

With a decreasing number of students wanting to learn tennis with each passing year and your mother giving up her career to take care of Carl, your brother, some sacrifices had to be made. Your family moved a lot (this wasn’t new to you then, the only difference this time was that you moved to a different country) which only meant you transferred schools a lot of time too. Your father made enough for your family to get by every day.

One day, a good friend from his golden days came to visit your father along with the chance to work as an instructor in an international school. Your dad couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He had left a month after he had finalized his work papers. Two years later, he got to petition the whole family to come live with him and that’s how you ended up at Thames International.

One of the many perks that came with being an instructor was that he could have one child study for free at the school, provided that he won’t be having a basic salary like the regular employees but he was given a daily allowance, and he earned extra money from private lessons with the students.

Hence, here you are, sitting in the passenger seat of your family’s Honda CR-V, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the European cars you’ve passed so far.

You weren’t born into wealth and you are not nearly a hundredth of how much worth these people probably are, but it makes you all the more proud that you’re here right now, just a simple girl from a small town probably ten thousand miles from here and yet your breathing the same air as they are, you’re in the same uniform as they are, and you are just as human as they are.

Truth be told, your father was more concerned about the sudden change in environment you had to cope with. It’s only been a couple of weeks since your family has migrated; there were a few cultural differences that had to be adjusted to, you’re also learning a few phrases here and there to get by your daily living, and now you’re going to be attending a school that not one of you even dared to dream of. To say that he was worried was an understatement.

Back home, your parents had enough to send you and you brother to a private school but Thames International was clearly on a different level. The richest kid you knew in school owned a restaurant. Here at Thames though, you recall your father mentioning that these kids have parents who own and run multinational corporations – so much for a teensy restaurant.

Your dad parks by the tennis court and you give him a quick kiss on the cheek as you head off to the main building with only twenty minutes left before classes start. Although you’ve already had a school tour when you registered your classes, there’s a completely different feel now that the hallways are packed with students.

The school’s corridors seem narrower than usual with students loitering the hallways, talking about their summer vacations. The floor has been polished so well you reckon that a few more waxing will have you staring at your own reflection when you look down. You thought hallways like these only existed in movies, except this one is way better.

There’s a faint chattering as you near the classroom and you take a deep breath before entering through the back door. This is it. When you step in, silence breaks throughout the room and you’re suddenly all too aware of the small squeaks of your sneakers against the polished floor.

Some kids stared at you while the others went on with their own businesses. Fortunately for you, the awkward air didn’t last for long. You take a seat near the back, setting your bag and taking out your binder. A boy with bowl-cut hair approaches you from the front.

“You must be new here,” he starts with an achingly wide smile and his head out for you to shake. “The name’s Jimin. Jimin Park.” You reply with your name as your hand reaches out to return the gesture.

Jimin then proceeds to point out each of the other students’ names and informs you that he’s been elected class president for the school year and wants to make sure that every student, new or old, settles in nicely.

“Like he’s been for the past seven years!” Another guy butts in from the same row where Jimin came from and the rest of the class snickers at the comment.

“Don’t mind Mark, he’s just pissed he had to spend his summer here instead of the skiing trip to Switzerland he’d been talking about non-stop last year,” Jimin shoots back while the class goes into a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at his remark.

-

“So how was your first day?” your dad takes a seat beside you, removing his cap momentarily to fix his hair underneath. Your first day at Thames went…unexpectedly well. After Jimin introduced himself earlier this morning, the other kids briefly greeted you before your first period started. You had also met Nadia who was thankfully in the same year as you so you shared plenty of classes together.

She had filled you out most of the students complete with family backgrounds, who was dating who, who used to date who, the friend groups. She had also given you a brief tour of the school, definitely more animated this time compared to the monotonous lady who gave you a tour a month ago during registration.

“There’s so much to tell! And I think I’ve made a new friend today.” He smiles at that, relieved that your first day went better than what he’d expected. You continue to tie your shoes on when you see a boy come down from a sleek, black, BMW van, clad in an all-white tennis ensemble, accompanied by a duffel bag on one shoulder and a tennis bag on the other.

Any stranger passing by would’ve mistaken this guy for a professional athlete – complete gear and an outfit to match, however, you recognize the boy, Hoseok Jung, the numerical genius from your Math class. You recall earlier how a seatmate jokingly asked the unsuspecting boy what was the product of 351 and 624 and the latter responded with the correct answer within ten seconds. How he managed to answer that quickly though was beyond you.

However intimidating at first, Hoseok’s athletic aura comes to a quick end as he misses the small gap between the pavement and the court, and almost falls on his knees if he didn’t grab onto the metal fence surrounding the area. Your father sends you a glare from beside you when you fail to hide the snicker that falls from your lips. This day was bound to get interesting.

Once Hoseok has settled down his stuff on a bench, your dad calls him over and introduces you to each other, which was more of a few nods exchanged and in a blink your dad sends you off to the other court to let you warm up on your own. Turns out, the boy has never even touched a racket before, let alone know a single fact about the sport. Hence, your dad had to start from the basics – proper warm-up, the racket and its grip, the rules of the game, and the lines of the court.

You take a break from your warm-ups just as Hoseok starts to head to the court to start practicing so you take a seat on a chair across the court they were staying at. “Okay Hoseok, we’re going to start trying to hit the balls now,” your dad says from across the net and Hoseok gets into position, swinging his racket gently as he stands on the service line opposite your father.

Your dad then throws a ball in his direction, and as Hoseok swings his racket backwards but completely misses the ball as he lets go of the racket. He mutters an apology as he picks up the forlorn instrument. Your dad waves it off, reassuring Hoseok that it was normal for first-timers.

“One more time then.” Your dad throws another ball, Hoseok thankfully hits it this time but now with too much power that he sends the ball flying straight to your father’s head. Your father being the charismatic person that he is, pretends to lose balance and stutters backwards, slapstick comedy at its peak.

Unable to control your amusement as well, you laugh along with the two, glad that Hoseok isn’t the type of person to dwell on embarrassing moments like these. When a few more students arrive for their lessons, your dad tells you both to take a break first so you both head to the water dispenser right outside the court.

The two of you walk in comfortable silence, passing beyond the lines of the courts so as not to disturb the other players. “So, tennis huh? I never thought you’d be one to play the sport.”

“Are you implying I don’t look athletic?” Hoseok asks, holding out the chain fence open for you to get out first. “N-no! Absolutely not! I just- I…” You’re at a loss for words, worried that you might have offended him and moreover, lose a student with potential.

He laughs loudly at your unnecessary worry, assuring you that no offense was taken. You can’t help the smile that etches in your face when you hear his laugh. There is something infectious about how he laughs – pearly whites on full display, his eyes turn into tiny crescent moons as he throws his head back, and the way he claps excitedly all the while.

“Mom thought it would be nice to stretch my limbs more, as if waking up in the morning isn’t enough strain for my muscles…” he sighs dramatically. “Anyways, I’ve been passing by the courts since last year because our driver started parking there. One day, while I was walking by, there was this one guy who was playing, I think his name was Andrew, and he looked so cool hitting the balls like ‘peeeuw’ and then ‘paaang’ and his opponent was hitting it back just as strong. Plus, I used to watch Prince of Tennis so…” You’ve never seen anyone so… for lack of better words, animatedly bright.

This boy could easily render the sun jobless with his charisma and energy.

The short water break ends quicker than you’d expected, your father calling you both to the court so that you could practice together. Much to your dismay though, the rest of the lesson goes by pretty quickly with Hoseok’s determination to learn the sport.

Your dad sees Hoseok’s van around the corner and decides that tennis is over for today. “Hoseok, your driver’s waiting for you.” He looks up from a corner with a frown, still trying to figure out how to pick up balls by slotting it between your shoe and your racket. “Can’t I skip my violin lessons just this once?” He calls out to the chauffeur and the latter shrugs, not wanting to tempt the kid.

Hoseok drags his feet towards the bench, your dad chuckling when he sees the forlorn expression on the boy’s usually bright facial features. “Ah, don’t worry kid, we’ll see each other again on Wednesday.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow too Hoseok!” you add, waving your goodbye.

“You can call me Hobi,” he replies with a smile. ‘I’m looking forward to see you too tomorrow.’

[fatallyfalling]

Bitter Water 0.00 ~ ♆

“ Let the Reaping of the 67th annual Hunger Games begin, “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

{{ prologue || next part }} {{ masterlist }}

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

{{ word count }} 2.6 k

{{ outfits }}

{{ prompt }} Panem is cruel - bloodthirsty even. Every year twenty-four children must fight to the death as a sick form of entertainment. Today is the 67th annual reaping in the seaside District 4 - may the odds be ever in your favor.

{{ a/n }} Warning there’s a lot of exposition for what i think life in District 4 would be like though it may not sound 100% accurate to the canon ideation! I did way too much research on District 4’s presumed location and the general pacific northwest seafaring system for accuracy. This chapter is a lot of scene setting to reference later on top of the reaping occurring - please enjoy !

The Pacific-Northwestern region of Panem was home to District 4. Otherwise known as the “Fishing District”.

Most of its citizens are concentrated directly on or near the salty coast of the sea, working the many sailboats or on the bustling ports that harbored them. Children of the district learn to help from an early age, shucking oysters and various mussels or helping their mothers weave and repair nets for the local fishermen. Everyone smelled of the sea - fresh air, sea salt, and a damp pine, with sand clinging to their shoes and linen clothes.

Though a majority of the year brought overcast skies and rainy weather, the better parts of mid-July through late August were filled with warm, sticky sunshine and cloudless skies. Come autumn and winter, cold snaps and heavier rain storms were regular visitors, with many homes donning rain barrels to collect the excess liquid to be boiled down for drinking or bathing. The northernmost edge of the District sometimes saw snow, bringing ice fishing and skating to measured popularity amongst locals.

The port towns were anything but sleepy. Community in a constant hustle and bustle while watching out for one another in tandem with the intense seafaring labor. Days spent on the beach were filled with tugboat horns, captain's orders, and elated shrieks of children wading in the spray of the ocean. There was always a game of who could find the best cliff to dive from, or conch shell to hear the distant whispers of waves inside and whatnot. A group of older kids developed a make-believe currency of sand dollar bits to trade wooden beads, small clusters of natural quartz, seashells, rope bracelets, and more to entertain the younglings on an outcropping speckled in tide pools on the rocky shore.

More often than not, a walk down the boardwalk as dusk neared brought warm golden lights flooding from old taverns with deep, joyous shanties of the past and banter amongst hardworking sailors merging with joyous whoops and hollers of young women and barmaids. Everyone knew one another like family, and the seaside town practically breathed on its own with the rolling push and pull of the tide.

However, the Fishing District was silent today.

Waves crashed on the beach as boats creaked in their ports. Scarred wooden tavern signs wailed in the eerie breeze on salt-rusted chains. The absence of sound in the sand swept cobble streets was almost unsettling. There’s only one day a year that invokes such an abrupt halt in District 4’s beating heart.

The annual Reaping of one female and male Tribute set to compete in a fight to the death against twenty two other children from the districts all for the Capital’s sick reminder of what rebellion once cost the “great nation” of Panem.

The Hunger Games.

You knew the odds were never in anyone's 'favor'.

“It’s fine. Everything - everything is going to be fine…”

The repeated mantra is barely a whisper under your breath as you make a futile attempt the smooth the front of your lightweight, sage colored ensemble. There was a tremor in your fingertips. The idea of getting cleaned up like this just to attend your own prospective funeral made your stomach twist painfully. Tucking a few stray hairs behind your ears and a deep sigh through your nose, you take one last look in the foggy mirror on your dresser before making your way out to the main room of your home.

Although the Fourth District was deemed wealthy among the remaining 12, your seaside cottage was quaint - and quite a ways from the beach, in all honesty. The home was small, if not cozy. The outside wooden panels were worn with smears of grey from age due to the weather, paired with a tin slabbed roof that allowed every raindrop to be heard throughout the house when it rained. The inside wasn't much better. Little furniture adorned the household and appeared washed out in the summer light. Ivory walls were marked with the mayhem of childhood and clumsy hands. The large main room held a mantle and hearth with a makeshift stove built in and a rickety dark stained wood table with four chairs connecting to a barebones bathroom and two bedrooms. There were fixtures and switches for lights but no electricity. Candles were placed where lightbulbs would be for nights when the hearth wasn't keeping the house warm.

"Come on, we've got to get moving, or we'll be late."

You groaned as the younglings, twin boys with hair like your father's, sat on the oval roving rug you had finished braiding two springs prior. "You were supposed to get them washed up." You quip towards the older man seated at the worn-out table. His only reply is a gruff rumble as you scoff, stooping to rub soot off the boy's cheeks with your thumbs. They burst into giggles, and you can't help the tight-lipped smile that crosses your lips.

You tried to be patient with your father. There had been too much loss in recent years, but it wasn't an excuse to neglect his boys. You had enough trouble picking up the slack as it was, from taking extra hours on the shipyard and staying up late mending sails like your mother used to. She passed away some years ago. There had been complications delivering the twins, and there wasn't anything the midwife you'd called could have done. It left your father resigned to himself, taking up more time at the nearby tavern than on the shipyard hauling crates due for the Capital. A foolish miscalculation and one too many drinks ended up costing him his dominant hand and forearm in a freak accident at the port.

To say you had fallen on hard times would be an understatement. It was more akin to plummeting down one of the tall cliffsides bordering the port and smacking face-first into the water like concrete.

Eventually, you managed to wrangle the little rascals into their shoes and straighten the collars of their matching olive-green tunics. Hoisting one onto your back with a huff, you tried to calm the drumming of your racing heart. Your father stood with another grunt and shrugged on a deep brown leather coat to cover what was left of his arm. Allowing the other half of the youngling pair to weave their fingers through his, your father offered a firm nod in your direction, and the four of you set out toward town.

Looking back on that moment, you regret not taking in that quaint little cottage one last time.

The trek to town was about a mile or two. The beat down from the summer sun brought sweat to your brow and the nape of your neck, forcing you to set down the toddler on your back halfway. "I know it's hot, but we have to keep going," You cooed when the pair began complaining about the lengthy trip. This would be the first Reaping they might remember, not to mention the first they weren't in diapers for. You'd done your best to keep them healthy, sometimes at the expense of yourself, but it was worth all the risk in the world.

With a little more commentary from the twins, the tall brick clock tower above the judicial complex at the center of town came into view above the pine trees, and you let out a shuddering breath that made your chest squeeze. "Almost there," You muttered. Averting your gaze to the dirt path under your feet. The sun was almost at its peak when you converged with the lines of other citizens. Many reeked of sweat and body order, having traveled through most of yesterday and this morning to get to the Reaping on time.

You didn't allow your fear to show more than a tightness in your jaw as you gripped your siblings tight in an almost bone-crushing hug. You refused to say goodbye as it felt like admitting defeat before the duel with death had even begun. After a few long moments, you heard the automated voices of Peacekeepers in stark white uniforms and government-ordered guns slung across their chests, and you had to let go. "I'll come back in just a few minutes," You promised, though your voice felt meek and caught in your throat. Ruffling their hair and sparking a fit of spritely laughter, you lifted your gaze to the hardened eyes of your father. "See you soon."

"See you soon."

Another brief, tight-lipped smile, and you forced yourself to turn away and join the other prospective tributes for check-in. Families were forced to remain in a balcony above the judicial complex due to such a large population and past "complications" from reaped children's family members. Anxiety and anticipation brought a tension thick enough to be cut by a knife through the courtyard of people. Wetting your lips following a thick swallow, you tried not to focus too much on the looming Peacekeepers overseeing the procession. When it was your turn to check in, you didn't stutter when asked for your name but scrunched your nose as they pricked your finger, squeezing to pool the blood before pressing it into the paper list and scanning with a device that flashed green. "Next!" The peacekeeper barked, shooing you away with a wave of their hand. Your gaze danced around the all too familiar formation of children as you fell in line with the older Tributes.

You were led in groups through a few back hallways before being brought into a widely open auditorium. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall with long Red capital banners hung on the dividing stone pillars. Clenching your trembling hands into fists, your fingernails digging into your palms, you tried again to steady your racing heart as it pounded against your ribcage.

Things were going to be fine.

Another thick swallow forced its way down your throat, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. The anxious habit often left your bottom lip puffy, if not bleeding from the repetitive action, but you couldn't help it. Shuffling into place to stand in rows and columns with the other prospective Tributes, you had to will yourself not to look anywhere but ahead. You couldn't break till this was all over. It was a long process to get everyone inside. But once the large wooden doors behind you slammed shut with a contagious shudder shifting through the crowd, you knew this was it.

The deafening cry of an unfocused microphone wails through the room, causing your nose to scrunch and your head to lean into your shoulder in discomfort. A stocky, overdressed Capital escort appears on the short stage made of stone to match the rest of the auditorium. They release a small gasp at the noise and allow a brief dismissal before tapping the microphone twice, the poor device exerting two loud "thumps" for good measure. Clearing their throat with a phlegmy cough, the escort begins a crawl of lines that were evidently rehearsed and regurgitated the same way every year to every district.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games!"

The escort's tone is elated, making you feel sick at the pride they seem to take in their position. Your jaw set in place as they continued their spiel.

"Before we begin, I'd like to share this wonderful message from our dear President and our beloved Capital!" They exclaim while gesturing to a letter they seem to pull from thin air. A small "shink" whispers through the mic as the letter is opened. The escort pulls a sheet of parchment out, discarding the envelope in a dramatic toss behind themselves and another phlegmy cough before reading the page.

"Dear Prospective Tributes,"

"It is an honor as the President of Panem to welcome you all to the annual Reaping for this year's Hunger Games. As you all have learned from birth. War, destruction, and rebellion have brought great shame to our nation. A shame that runs so deep that our Districts must be reminded of the consequences and retribution that rebellion costs. War brings death. War brings dead children, dead mothers, dead sisters, and dead brothers. To raise war against your Capital, which has provided you all you've ever needed, is treacherous. To bring war against your home is treason. These Games preserve our past. And these Games protect our future."

Signed, President Coriolanus Snow."

There isn't a single round of applause that rolls through the crowd once the escort finishes reciting the letter. The letter has been identical at every Reaping you've attended since you were twelve. The silence in the auditorium is loud enough to hear a pin drop. Your palms grow warm as blood slowly seeps from where your nails dig in, but you don't bother to take notice.

"Well then, if all is said and done, we shall now move on to selecting our two wonderful tributes who will hold the greatest honor of representing District 4 in the 67th annual Hunger Games. As always, ladies shall go first." The escort exclaims once more, accompanying animated waves of their gloved hands towards the pristine crystal fishbowls on either side of the stage. Both bowls are brimming with slips of paper. Your heartbeat thrums in your ears now.

Everything is going to be fine.

The escort all but skips their way to the crystal mouth of death on the right side of the stage. Your heart feels like it might as well burst out of your chest and splatter against the backs of those in front of you. Your eyes are glued ahead as the escort makes a show of sifting their gloved fingers through the name slips for what feels like an eternity. At last, a slip is chosen in a dramatic swipe up into the air to be displayed to the crowd.

The anticipation is suffocating.

The escort comes back to center stage, coughing into the microphone again as they peel away the black seal of the name.

As the chosen name booms through the auditorium, it's as if you're suddenly underwater. But you can't be underwater because you're standing still, and nothing's wet.

The name booms through the open room again.

This time, you're shocked out of your thoughts at the recognition.

It's your name.

You have been chosen as the female Tribute for the 67th annual Hunger Games.

You barely register the prod of a gun at your back or the jab to your side to force you out of line towards the stage.

This really was going to be your funeral, and you couldn't stop it.

A wail rips apart the blanket of silence as one of the twin younglings cries out for you. On instinct, your head whips towards the cry, but your temple connects with the butt of a gun, and you're knocked to the concrete below. Somehow, a sound akin to a growl emits itself from your throat on your hands and knees as you force yourself to stand back up. Your head throbs with white hot pain from the contact point, but a bitter, spiteful decision solidifies itself in your mind as you're led towards the jaws of certain death on that stage.

You will not die.

{{ taglist }}

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy

[kumkaniudaku]

Wing Man: Three

One. Two.

Chadwick Boseman x Black!Reader 

Warnings: Mild Language. Hella Angst.

A/N: (3/29/19) Names have been changed to separate fiction from real life. Thanks for reading. 

Atlanta, Georgia (2015)

“Alright, let’s take five and then we’ll get into the rooftop fight sequence. Good job, guys.” Anthony Russo shouted over the assortment of conversations in the vicinity.

Chadwick quickly removed his helmet, inhaling deeply in an attempt to recover from the environment that made breathing impossible. He still wasn’t used to living inside of the suit he would work in for the next few years.

“Good work, Your Highness,” Tasha’s smooth voice called over his shoulder, sending his stomach into uncontrollable knots. She sounded much better without a receiver distorting the husky tone of her voice. Exhaustion faded into a wide smile before he turned to grab the bottle of water in your hand.

“Why do your compliments always sound like sarcasm?”

“Probably because they are,” she laughed, inviting Chadwick to join. 

It had been three years since the dynamic duo had seen each other in person. Tasha’s job with the New Jersey Nets didn’t translate to Brooklyn when the franchise relocated before the 2010 regular season, sending her to look for work elsewhere. Luckily, with connections and a grueling interview process, a job within the Atlanta Dream front office opened up, landing Tasha a new role as the Director of Communications. Chadwick was proud, but quietly resented the job responsible for pulling Tasha from her safety net and from him sooner than either of them had hoped.

When Chadwick called CoCo to visit him on the set of Captain America: Civil War, she jumped at the chance, rescheduling every meeting on her calendar for the day and practically floating to the Buckhead area.

She felt giddy with each GPS directed turn. At stoplights she would check her makeup, wondering if she still looked the same from the last time they looked each other in eyes. It was a coincidence, really. A moment orchestrated by fate. 

On a random trip for the Mrs. Carter World Tour, Tasha and her girls found themselves weaving through throngs of club goers as the fought to reach the bar at the center of the lively venue. While she hung back to let her friends order, she caught a glimpse of a familiar half scowl posted in a section above the crowd. Chadwick sat off by himself while those in the immediate area enjoy the music and “party favors”. Without hesitating, Tasha shot him a text that asked him to smile and watched as his head shot up to find her in the mix. They spent the rest of the night together, leaving the club and finding greasy comfort food a nearby diner. When the sun rose, Tasha reluctantly left his hotel suite with the promise to stay in touch and visit him LA when she had the time. Unfortunately, she never made it to Southern California, making this opportunity that much more special.

“It’s good to see you, CoCo; your smart mouth included. You look good.” His eyes trailed from Tasha’s full lips to the curve of her waist and, finally, at the brown skin of her thick thighs peeking from beneath her dress. He didn’t think it was possible, but she were more stunning than the last time he saw her.

“It’s good to see you too, Aaron.”

“Woah, woah,” He exclaimed covering her mouth with the palm of his hand “Let’s keep the middle names to a minimum.”

“My bad, Prince T’Challa. I’d hate for you to kick my ass out here with your new muscle suit and what not.”

“Suit? Co, this all me! I’m the Black Panther at all times,” he laughed.

Tasha’s mind wandered to what he looked like sans Black Panther ensemble. The thought of how his body would glisten under the blazing Georgia sun, accenting each ripple and jagged cut on his arms and back. Explicit visions of his body hovering over hers, like the night that had never been discussed, and finally finishing what they had started began to take shape in CoCo’s brain before she shook her thoughts to focus on the conversation.

“I gotta get back to set but, I want to see you again. Maybe we can go get dinner or…”

“I’ve got a better idea,” she cut in, excited to share news from her personal life. “I’m having a housewarming party tonight and I have someone that I want you to meet.”

“Are you trying to set me up again?”

“Maybe…” She trailed off with a smile. When Chadwick began to frown her arm extended to grab his hand and squeeze. “But she’s a nice girl! Just promise me you’ll show up.”

His deep brown orbs rolled in frustration. There was no resisting Tasha’s request when he glanced at her pout and doe eyes.

“As much as I wanted it to be just the two of us, I’ll come,” His sentence was barely audible over her squeal of approval. “But, if your girl is boring, I’m leaving with my gift.”

“Fair enough!”

“Can we get all actors back to set? We’re ready to begin on the rooftop.”

Turning to Tasha, Chadwick grabbed each of her hands, placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight. We can work out the details for future outings later.”

Though the statement didn’t sound like one, his raised eyebrow indicated that he was asking a question.

“Y-yeah, sure,” CoCo croaked, throat suddenly dry as cotton in the sun. The sensation from the innocent kiss was beginning to travel elsewhere. “We’ll work something out.”

“Chadwick to set please. Chadwick to set.”

“You’d better go.” she whispered using her head to motion towards the aggravated directors. Reluctantly, he kissed her hands again before jogging towards the set.

“See you later, Aaron! Good luck!”

                                                        ---------

Chadwick stepped nervously into the large Atlanta home, blown away by what was in front of him. The foyer alone was large enough to swallow the apartment he was renting while he filmed in the city. A large chandelier provided an amber hue to the rest of the area, lighting the party guests that mingled in and around the kitchen and main sitting room. The aroma of food that reminded him of his days in Anderson, South Carolina wafted toward his nose, setting off a series of rumbles in his abdomen and reminding him that the superhero diet that he was on wasn’t nearly enough food to feed a grown man.

His eyes slowly scanned the location until they settled on his prize. 

Tasha stood in the entryway leading to the backyard, enthralled in an animated conversation with a woman he couldn’t recognize. While her guest was also beautiful, she couldn’t begin to come close to the woman he’d loved since he was old enough to understand what love was.

A yellow slip dress clung to CoCo’s body perfectly, expertly blending with your yellow undertones and rich, dark skin. Though he’d always thought she was beautiful, he had to admit she had filled out the scrawny body she sported in college. Her strappy stilettos were the appropriate compliment to her legs, adding the right amount of height to make her ass stand out for his unabashed viewing pleasure.  Her usually low ponytail was now replaced by a large ‘fro, the definition of the curls indicating that her twist out was fresh for the celebration.

His tongue haphazardly rolled across his bottom lip as he made his way toward CoCo, only stopping to carefully place a large hand over her eyes.

“Guess who?”

”Hmm, I’m gonna say...a low budget Denzel Washington.” She laughed. Chadwick feigned sadness, throwing his hand up to his chest.

“Ouch! I guess I’ll just take this bottle of your favorite wine back home with me then.”

“Oh my God, you remember!” Tasha exclaimed, pulling the cheap bottle of Reisling from his hands. “Man, we used to get so drunk off of this in New York. You had the endless supply of oatmeal -”

“And you had the wine,” He finished with a smile. “And we’d stay up all night talking about our future. Well, I’d talk. You’d mostly just tell me how much you believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

For a moment, it seemed like everything and everyone around them vanished. They only saw each other in his dingy apartment scarfing down tasteless Quakers and writing 10 year plans. CoCo’s guest clearing her throat broke their trance as they pulled your eyes away from each other and snapped their heads to look at her.

“Oh, right,” Tasha spoke to recover from the tense staring match. “Chadwick, this is my friend Charmaine. She’s a singer and is out here for a little while to work on her demo.”

Chadwick grabbed Charmaine’s outstretched hand, giving it a light shake and adding a smile. He had to admit, Tasha had a way of picking beautiful women. She knew his type like the back of her hand and had never steered him wrong in the love department. Charmaine’s complexion was a toffee shade, contrasting her dark wavy hair. She was taller than Tasha and stood closer his tall, lean stature. Her tiny waist gave way to an assortment of curves that, had he not been infatuated with what CoCo’s body would look like tangled with his, he’d surely test his theory with her friend.

While the exchange seemed platonic on Chad’s part, Tasha could see the attraction in Charmaine’s eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was this handsome in person?” She cooed.

“It just … slipped my mind?” Tasha replied. She didn’t tell her he was handsome because Charmaine was the one that asked to meet him. Though CoCo weren’t sure where her friend was going with her flirting, she decided to keep your mouth closed. Far be it from her to interfere with a love connection. 

As Chadwick passively made small talk with Tasha’s guest, the real surprise made his way towards the with two champagne flutes in tow.

“Here you go, baby girl.” He said handing Tasha a glass and placing a kiss on her cheek.

The unknown addition was the less famous equivalent of Chadwick. Tall, dark-skinned and lean, though his frame carried a bit more muscle mass. His dark suit indicated that he did something important yet boring during the day. A banker, he thought to himself. Maybe a lawyer, but nothing that garnered any real cool points when introducing him to friends and family. Surely no competition. 

“Who is this?” The two male voices clashed together, inquiring about each other’s place in Tasha’s life in contrasting tones.

While the first voice was genuinely inquisitive, Chadwick’s voice was almost angry as he eyed Tashsa’s “surprise’s” hand around her waist in a possessive grip.

“Elijah, this is Chadwick Boseman, star of ‘42’ and ‘Get On Up’ and my best friend since undergrad at Howard. Chadwick this is Elijah, my... boyfriend.”

“Your what?”

“Elijah Thomas. What’s up,bro?” Elijah said, holding out his hand for Chad to grab. Instead he was met with a cold glare that moved from his hand to Tasha’s face. “Oh-kay.”

“Tasha, can we talk? Outside?”

Before she could finish her nod, his calloused hand gripped her wrist and roughly pulled her toward the front door and out into the warm air.

“You brought me here to meet your fucking boyfriend, CoCo,” He shouted. “You could’ve texted me that shit.”

“Excuse me? What is your problem?” Chadwick’s anger had transferred to Tasha, apparent in her wide, defensive stance. Her arms folded across her chest as she shifted all of her weight to one side.

“My problem is you inviting me to your house under the guise of me meeting a friend of yours only to drop a goddamn bomb on me.”

“A bomb?”

“Yes!” He seethed. A long silence filled the space between before he resumed his interrogation. “How long?”

“How long what, Aaron?”

“How long have you been with the Dwayne Wayne look alike?”

“Eight months.” She answered, missing the confidence she had in her head. Tasha intended to tell Chadwick about the relationship when she met him on set  but, he seemed so optimistic about spending time together. Introducing him to Charmaine was supposed to soften the blow. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You damn right! Now I look stupid in front of all these people.”

While he paced back and forth across the paved path leading to the front door, the reason for his sudden outburst dawned on Tasha.

“Are you upset because I didn’t tell you or are you upset because, now, you don’t have someone to stroke your ego?” She accused, stopping his restless movements.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid, Chadwick. For almost 20 years I’ve chased behind you, practically begging you to acknowledge my feelings! I’ve watched you date a shit ton of women, never once paying attention to me. Who was there encouraging you in New York, huh? Using my money to get you to and from auditions? Rubbing your back and telling you everything would be okay like the good little second option? Me! Not Danielle, not Jayme, but me!”

“Co,I-”

“And now, now I’ve finally valued myself enough to stop following you around like a lost puppy and find someone who loves me.”

“I love you.” Chadwick answered while stepping forward to embrace Tasha. His statement was intended to reassure her but instead served as reassurance for him. He meant it and knew that saying the words now placed him years behind the curve. He expected some sort of positive reaction from CoCo but stood stunned when she used her hand to stop his advances.

“No, you don’t. You love the idea of me. You love having someone to love you without you having to put in the emotional labor to love them back. If you loved me, it’d be you hosting this party with me, not Elijah.”

“That not true! I’ve loved you forever. I just,” Chadwick stopped to compose a coherent thought. “Let me talk to you away from here. We’re both a little tense. We can cool down with a drive or something. I just need a chance to explain. Please.”

“Save it.” Tears cascaded down Tasha’s cheeks slowly, mourning the friendship before she could process what was happening. Maybe three years had been too much to salvage. “It’s too late now.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not too late. I’m asking you listen to me.” Chadwick pleaded. Turning her back, Tasha began her trek toward the door, intent on ending the conversation and returning to her duties as hostess. Chadwick remained hot on her heels. “CoCo, please, don’t walk away from me. Give me a chance to explain.”

“The entree is about to be served,” She began, ignoring his request. For a second, she felt her resolve slip. Every fiber of her being wanted to follow him to wherever he wanted to take her. She tried to rationalize the compulsion with the the promise of closure, but she knew what would happen. She’d give in to whatever he requested and in limbo again. She couldn’t risk sure love for a stupid childhood fantasy. 

“If you want to eat, I’d suggest you hurry. If not, you should go.”

“Tasha, stop!”

“See you later, Aaron. Good luck.”

Tasha spared Chadwick a final, longing look, silenty pleading for him to press again. She would give him the chance he desired if he pressed again. 

But he didn’t. His mouth opened and closed without another plea and she turned to walk back into the party and away from her past. The large wooden doors closed with a soft click, ending the exchange and symbolically ending the complicated relationship.

Chadwick wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and place kisses of apology all over her face, yet he couldn’t will his body to move. He did love Tasha but realized that he’d waited too long to make it known. 

Instead, he watched her close the door to your home and to her life. Tasha was gone and there was nothing he could do to change her mind. Another man was on the other side of that barricade with his arms around her when it should be him. It was too late. His negligence forced her into a decision and, as much as he wanted to be in Elijah’s place, he’d rather CoCo be happy.

Taking one last look at the door, Chadwick turned on his heels toward his car. The celebratory mood he’d been in was suddenly zapped, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of loss.

It was too late and he’d have to live with that.

TAG LIST: @thegirlonhamilton @idilly @wakanda-4evr @redvonlace @onyour-right @wakandan-aesthetic @chocolate-flavouredcondom @lalapalooza718 @greenswishbish @sweetpeachjones @imaginewhoever @fullofmelaninsacasmandepression @wakandawinning @supersizemeplz @mermaidchansons @90sinspiredgirl 

(Let me know if you want to be added)

[jokerslimelight]

Mistah J’s Doll - Joker x Reader Imagine

Request: Sorry to bother you but I think your stories are great and I would like to request a jokerxreader where it's Halloween and the reader dresses up as a sexy doll just for her mistah J. Again, sorry to bother you.

You guys are never bothering me, with that being said I am so sorry I haven't posted anything in ages I am back now and will be updating regularly. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV 

It was early in the morning when woke I woke up to cold sheets lying next to me, showing me that J had left earlier this morning for his business meeting. I stretched my tired bones out, popped a few joints then slowly wandered out of our bed. Today was halloween one of my favorite holidays and you know damn well I was about to get spooky maybe a little sexy for Mistah J. 

I went threw my morning routine of getting ready, I started with my hair and makeup then moving to my outfit for the day. I found a my long jean jacket, pairing it with my white cropped tee and black jeans. 

Grabbing my keys off the mantle I wandered over to my black Ferrari that J had bought for my birthday last year, smiling at the memory I got in and headed to my favorite halloween shop. 

It was easy for me to go out in public since the press hadn't figured out who the Joker’s queen was, to everyone on the streets I was a normal citizen of Gotham. Which to me is more terrifying for the people since a criminal was lurking in the store shadows.

I wanted to give Mistah J a treat tonight so I needed to find a sexy little costume to play around in. Moving through the aisles I went to the adult section gazing at all the costumes. 

A small black costume caught my eye it had gold and black jester signs labeled all over the corset of the costume. I picked it off the rack and some small black booty shorts that were next to it. The fish nets across from the costume would fit perfectly with the rest of the ensemble, I payed the cashier with money from my account even though I haven't worked in months I still have quite the savings account even though Mistah J says I don't need to pay for anything, but we all know what his method of payment is. 

Shortly after arriving back at the penthouse I played the outfit on the bed and heading to take a shower so I could be all fresh for the rest of the night. Mistah J would be home in a couple hours and I wanted to make sure I was ready for our little spooky night. 

J had planned to go out on a murder spree tonight in order to wreck havoc on his favorite holiday but I had convinced him otherwise. I styled my hair in beauty waves with a bit of definition and I did my makeup in a doll look that had a sexy touch to it. 

J would be home in a half hour so I slid into the tight costume that should my mid drift and quite a bit of my butt, it was more of lingerie then a costume at this point but I knew that J wouldn't mind at all. I slid into the black heels that sat at the bottom the bed and whipped around to look at myself in the mirror. 

Damn did I look good, J will be ecstatic to see me in this. 

Downstairs I heard the door open and the sound of J’s voice echoed throughout  the penthouse calling out for me. Strutting down the hallway to the balcony that overlooks the living room where J was standing I mischievously giggled catching his attention.

“My my doll don't we look ravishing.” J spoke with a low growl that always seems to get me a little worked up.

“I got all dressed up just for you, J.” The words flowed out of my mouth as if they were made of silk. 

“Now why are you just standing there doll come give me a kiss.” He speaks slowly after stretching out his arms signaling for me to come to him. 

Gliding down the stairs moving my hips ever so slightly to tease him, I couldn't help but get excited for what was coming. 

A low growl escaped his clenched teeth as a strutted towards him embracing myself in his strong arms and catching his lips with mine. J had pulled away after a short kiss and spun me around checking out my entire outfit. 

“You did this all for me doll?” J asked with a sly grin slowly spreading across his pale face. 

“Yes Mistah J.” 

J looked as if he was pondering for a second before demanding that all the henchmen leave the main area of the penthouse. His grin growing larger. 

“Now doll, lets enjoy our halloween shall we?” 

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Im so sorry this was so dreadfully awful I will be posting more better quality imagines!

Requests are still open so let me know what you guys want! 

-M

[stunudo]

That Got Away: A Criminal Minds Fanfiction 2/?

A/N: I am so humbled by the amount of love the first part of this new Spencer x Reader story has received. I do not own any characters, lyrics or images. xoxo Stu

***Update: I wanted to apologize with the chronological error I originally made in a paragraph about Hotch. It had Haley and Jack in Witness Protection too soon. A genuine thank you to everyone for not being judgemental about it, it has been fixed! xoxo Stu***

Inspiration: Katy Perry’s ‘The One That Got Away’ and Darlin’ Companion sung by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash

Setting: Season 4      Rating: Teen    Warnings: Grief, Teen Angst, Bad Kissing

Spencer Reid had held Y/N until she had cried herself to sleep on the floor of her hotel room. He very carefully covered her half-naked form, cushioning her head with extra pillows from the bed they hadn’t made it to. He remained there, watching her sleep, the gentle rising of her back a hypnotic rhythm. Spencer did not want to leave her, but she needed more rest than he had time to give. He sat at the oddly placed desk, found the hotel stationary and prepared to write Y/N a confession.

Hotch had the hotel issue wake up calls for the BAU team at 6:30am. Spencer had made it back to his (much simpler) hotel room around two in the morning. The four hours of sleep left the doctor with an anxious stomach. After showering and dressing in a very typical Reid ensemble; he headed to the lobby. It was there he, naturally, bumped into Prentiss at the coffee cart.

“Morning Emily,” Spencer’s soft voice greeted the black haired beauty.

“Well, well, good morning, Reid,” Prentiss teased, feigning surprise in seeing him.

He remained patient, anticipating all the inevitable questions he would be fielding after leaving the team at the precinct to return Y/N’s luggage the previous night. His utter exhaustion was ensuring a shorter temper than was strictly professional.

“Late night?” Prentiss pressed after taking her coffee from the barista.

“You could say that,” Spencer nodded, his voice cracking. “How was your evening?”

“Mine?” Prentiss sighed, “Wild night. I took a bath and passed out to the hotel access channel.” She waxed sarcastically. “See you by the cars, Reid.”

Spencer placed his order, thanking the barista with a slight tilt to his head. He noticed Hotch near the entryway, speaking on his cell phone. Hotch was on edge with The Reaper in the wind. Spencer felt awful for him, knowing Hotch had lost his marriage to the job already. A tenuous situation was that much more paralyzing for someone like BAU chief Aaron Hotchner, someone who had to be in control.

The team assembled into the waiting SUVs and returned to Pasadena Police Department shortly after 7:30 am. The team dispersed into the previous decided assignments; Reid and Prentiss going through Y/L/N’s contacts and research. Just after 8 o’clock, a distinguished man in his fifties was escorted to the office the BAU had annexed for the case, by Detective Chang.

“Agents,” Chang announced,”This gentleman claims to be the guy who wrote the threatening letter sent to Dr. Y/L/N last month.”

“Who are you?” Emily Prentiss approached the new suspect.

“Byron Osbourne, ma’am,” the man nodded to the female agent with an English lilt to his voice. “I saw the press coverage footage this morning and knew I had to come forward before anything got out of hand.”

“Dr. Y/L/N is dead,” Spencer uncharacteristically spat at the man,”I would say we are passed out of hand.”

Agent Prentiss eyed Dr. Reid suspiciously. She then formally arrested and cuffed Mr. Osbourne. After reading his Miranda Rights, she passed him to the stocky lead detective who escorted him to interrogation room 1.

Spencer was quick to make the call to Quantico. “Garcia? We need background on one Byron Osbourne, a possible British national. He just voluntarily admitted to writing the suspicious letter Dr. Madison mentioned that Graham received nearly a month ago.”

“Good Morning, to you too, Boy Wonder,” Garcia grumbled. “I am all over this, but in the mean time... “How’s your reunion going?” The savvy analyst coyly pounced on the inexperienced doctor.

“I am going to hang up now,” Spencer responded testily, “And catch the unsub that killed my mentor.”

“But!” Garcia couldn’t use her vicious wit against a grumpy and determined Reid.

At some point during the night, you had found your way into your excessively large bed. Your body was stiff from traveling and sleeping on the unforgivably flat surface of the hotel room floor. The inside of your head was inflamed from dehydration, your chest gaping with the hollowness of grief.

The only reason you made yourself get out of bed for the day was because you knew you had absolutely no reason to do so. Across the pillow tops, you recognize the scrawl on a folded piece of paper Spencer left for you on the bedside table. You leave it, knowing that whatever he had to say could wait.

“But Aristotle didn’t say that,” Spencer argued, “That is attributed to Plato.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Your 18 year old self teased,”Ancient Philosophy isn’t on my course schedule until spring semester.”

Spencer had stopped over on a Tuesday afternoon the second summer you knew him. You were clearing the debris from your built in swimming pool, one of the many chores your Dad made you help with. You obliged because you were, in fact, the only one who used said pool.

“I’m just surprised you got that quote wrong.” Spencer twisted his lips in a smug smile.

You eyed him, shaking your head at his taunts. “Watch it, or you’ll end up in my net too.” You intended to whip a trail of pool water at the skinny genius, but he had hopped backwards, avoiding your wrath. You, however, lost control of the momentum along the length of the net, which knocked you off balance. You fell into the pool, fully clothed.

You remember the dread of trying to act normal when internally you were freaking out over the pair of black granny panties you had on underneath your now soaked khaki shorts. You stayed in the pool, chatting and cleaning until Spencer had to leave for the day. He always had to leave quickly, it was almost like he was sneaking over to see you. Though you knew your dad was fine with you spending time with his young protegee, you guessed your dad knew you didn’t interest Spencer that way.

You remember waving at him from the shallow end of the pool, as he walked his bike out of the side gate.

Morgan and Rossi were waiting for the M.E. to bring them back to examine the body of the late Professor Y/L/N, Y/N’s father.

“Oh, Baby Girl, please tell me you got some dirt for me!” Derek Morgan crooned into his phone.

“Easy there handsome,” Garcia directed. “I’ll give you work now, and need-to-know later.”

“That’s my girl!” Derek chuckled. His brilliant smile lighting up the dreary corner’s office.

“Byron Osbourne just confessed to writing that threatening letter to Dr. Y/L/N. Hotch and Prentiss are going to question him, very soon.”

“Garcia, who is this guy?” Rossi chimed in.

“He’s, well he’s, a wannabe,” Garcia confided,” He comes from money, old British money to be exact. He uses philanthropy to strut his family name about academia. But he never finished “university” himself.” She finished in her own mock accent.

“Wonder what the professor did to set this guy off.” Rossi supposed.

“Penelope,” Derek added, “Were the victim and Osbourne on any boards or committees together?”

“Oh sugar bear, you know I am all over that like a cardigan is on grumpus Reid,” Garcia muttered,”Hotch and Emily already have what they need. Now do you have time for the need-to-know? Or do we get to rendezvous later?”

“Later, Baby Girl, sadly I have a very different body to go examine,” Derek lamentably flirted. “Just warn me if this one is off the rails.”

“Nope, peaches, you’re good. I mean, Reid is good, “Garcia bumbled, “Well, who knows if that’s true, then. I’m going to stop thinking and talking now. Okay? Okay, bye!”

Rossi looked at Derek sideways, “That woman is very multi-faceted.”

“Oh, Rossi, you have no idea, man,” Derek agreed, shaking his head.

You had slowly gotten dressed. Remarkably you were early enough to make the tail end of the complimentary continental breakfast buffet held in the small nook off of the hotel lobby. You rifled through the remaining stale doughnuts, claiming a chocolate cake flavored one, that was calling your name. The ambience was perfect there, the warm sun coming through the skylights. You lied to yourself, pretending you were vacationing for a few quiet moments.

Your phone buzzed beside your mug of bland coffee. You check the name before answering.

OLIVIA MADISON

“Olivia, how are you,” You answer quickly.

“Y/N, hi, how are you?!” Olivia rushed back.

“As good as can be expected, I suppose.” You recite.

You make small talk and arrange to take lunch the following day. Cal Tech’s spring break was over, so Olivia would be lecturing for your father’s senior seminar in the morning. Your stomach lurched at the image. As another female nontenured professor in academia, you respect the shoes that Olivia has been asked to fill. You would be excited for her, if it weren’t so devastating.

Spencer had just left his mother with a therapy group she had been attending for the summer months. He was finding it harder and harder to balance school and care for his mother as her disease progressed. The long summer days found him yearning for a more normal life, a less complicated, a less responsibility-riddled life. He rode his bike on the familiar route to Y/N’s house. Spending time with her made him feel like a regular seventeen year old guy, not a prodigy, not a caregiver. She was intelligent, funny and so easy to talk to. Y/N was a geek, too, a sheltered only child with a single father who was a celebrated Mathematics professor.

“Oh, a little saucy mare like you should have a steed. Oh, a little bridlin' down from you is what I need.

Darlin' companion, I tell the mountains and the canyons, Long as I got legs to stand on, I'm gonna stick by you.”

The crackling recording poured through the Y/L/N house as Spencer pedaled up the welcoming driveway. He knew that you were home alone, Dr. Y/L/N would never let you keep the speakers at that high of a volume. He left his bike near the back door that lead into the kitchen. The door was unlocked, so Spencer went in to find Y/N.

This was always when he began to panic, the time between entering their house and finding Y/N. Spencer scratched his neck as he made his way up the winding staircase in the house’s cavernous center. He wiped his palms on his pants and continued towards her room. The song had finished leaving the hum of the speakers awaiting the cd change in the air. Spencer cleared his throat, his head down as he knocked on the door frame to her bedroom.

The door was ajar, he didn’t hear Y/N inside as the next cd began. He knocked again as he pushed the door open, strolling into the room. Spencer froze, he had no idea how to move. There she was, on the bed, sitting on a bath towel, rubbing lotion on her outstretched leg. Completely naked. His prodigious mind was useless as his pants constricted around his sudden boner.

“Spencer!” You screeched when you finally saw him. “What the hell?!” You struggled with the towel beneath your butt, trying to cover your bare body.

Spencer spun on the spot, but didn’t flee. He just started reciting facts. “Did you know that many people attribute the model Betty Grable as the inspiration for women to start shaving their legs? The shorter skirts of the forties and stockings made it more desirable for women to emulate the style icon...”

“Spencer,” You shouted. “It’s okay, um, I’m covered now.” You had shut off the deafening grunge band that had followed the Man in Black. Spencer just stood there with his back to you. After a moment he sort of side stepped to the desk chair, where he crossed his legs. Finally he looked at your face. You were both blushing and couldn’t hold eye contact. You had thrown on your awful yellow terrycloth robe.

“Did you try “Margaret Thatcher” to cool him down?” You asked out of nowhere. You slapped your hand over your mouth. Why did you always say what was on your mind?

Spencer open his mouth to respond, then closed it. He thumbed his nose and sheepishly answered. “I don’t think I understand that reference, Y/N.”

“Ignore me, it was from a movie, when this British spy was trying to stop an erection,” You tried to explain, like you always did with pop culture to Spencer. “And I just said erection. Again.” You finally stopped talking. After a few agonizing minutes, you sat down on your bed.

“Spencer?” You asked, cautiously. Remarkably he hadn’t left, you both had just sat there looking around your bedroom and not at each other.

“Yeah?” He replied, his voice faint.

“I am very flattered.” You admit. “Is that alright to say? Like, I know it is does not prove anything, it’s just a thing that happens to guys and it does not reflect my level of attractiveness or not-attractiveness...”

“Y/N/N?” Spencer interrupted your rambling.

“Yeah?” You ask, your face growing warm and your chest feeling tight.

“I am sorry, that was rude of me to walk in without a confirmed invitation,” Spencer was talking to the pile of clothes on the floor. “Also, I want to apologize if I in any way offended you or jeopardized our friendship by making unintentional advances towards you. I just could not help it, honestly you took my breath away.”

What? Your brain was repeating the last words he spoke like a broken answering machine, ‘you took my breath away’. Shocked could not cover the amount of surprise that was flowing through your bloodstream at that moment.

“So you’re not like, traumatized?” You push, “Like seeing me, all of me, doesn’t change how you feel? Is it going to be weird now?”

Spencer, cleared his throat. “It only makes me care about you that much more.” He actually looked at you now, his brown eyes searching for yours. But he only holds your glance for a second, because this is so new, so unique for two friends to overcome in a few moments’ time. He smiles nervously, you are stuck in place as a ribbon of hope is sliding through your mind.

“Spencer, can I kiss you?” You said it, out loud. “I mean, is that something that would interest you? Am I a girl that you would like to, with, maybe?” In the entirety of your friendship you had not heard him mention girls like the guys on the floor of your dorm did, this was not a weird question.

Spencer blushed. “Am I a guy you would like to kiss? Or is this a test?”

“Not a test,” You held up your hands in mock surrender, smiling nervously. You stood up, walking towards your friend, who was now one of the only people to have seen you naked. Spencer stands up as you approach him, backing up into your clutter filled desk.

“Um, Y/N, I don’t know if we should be doing this.” Spencer’s hand was pulling at his hair, his voice catching.

“Spencer, can I kiss you?” You asked, but it was stronger than the first time. You wanted this and you were not getting reasoned out of it now.

“I don’t know how,” Spencer whispered.

You caught his bony face in your hand, looking up into his scared eyes you smiled, calming both of you for a split second. You took a deep breath and leaned in to him, with eyes closed and heart on your sleeve. After kissing his chin, you found his lips, his large hands were resting oddly on your shoulders. This went down in your shared history as the most awkward moment of your lives.

”The murder weapon appears to be a long, metallic, needle like instrument, about four inches long.” Dr. Shearer stated.

Morgan and Rossi were taking notes. Dr. Y/L/N was a typical guy in his fifties, he could have been one of Rossi’s buddies from his days in the Marines. The agents were being extremely diligent, for Reid’s sake.

”How many stab wounds were there?” Rossi verified.

”Thirty-seven.” Dr. Shearer replied.

”And no defensive wounds, Doc?” Morgan double checked.

“Correct.” Dr. Shearer answered. “The tox screen does show a decent amount of alcohol in his blood, but not over the legal limit. Perhaps he was asleep when the assailant struck, agents.”

”It’s possible, but he was sitting up right at his desk.” Rossi countered.

”No, that tracks; no defensive wounds, late night, maybe he had someone over for a night cap?” Derek worked further.

”What kind of strength did our unsub have?” Rossi went back to the coroner.

”Moderate, nothing impressive.”

”Are we looking for a female unsub?” Rossi asked cautiously.

“Mr. Osbourne, can you tell us why you would send such a violent letter to Dr. Y/L/N’s office?” Hotch asked succinctly.

“Well, frankly, I am extremely embarrassed about it now, as you can imagine.” Osbourne smiled placating.

“Let’s start at the beginning then,” Prentiss pressed. “How do you know Dr. Y/L/N?

“We were on the Board of Regents at the school, agent, surely you know that.” Osbourne cheeked.

“What made you write a letter stating that you, “Would see him destroyed?” Hotch asked.

“Well, he just so happened to vote against the use of some funds that would have benefited the school, greatly.” Osbourne elaborated.

“And would have trumpeted your name.” Hotch deduced.

“Well, if we had gotten to that stage of the development, yes, my name would have been attached to the project.” Osbourne admitted. “As it should be, I was a major backer and had spearheaded the development.”

Spencer shifted on his feet in the observation room. This man was a narcissist, but not the unsub. His patience was straining, he left Hotch and Prentiss to continue the interview. His long legs brought him to the evidence boards, his racing mind, back to the stack of evidence bags holding the papers Dr. Y/L/N was reading over the night he was killed.

Spencer Reid lost himself in the equations before him for the next few hours.

Your phone rang with an unfamiliar number. The amount of planning you had started with your dad’s lawyer had you seeing spots. Welcoming the distraction, you took the call.

“Dr. Y/L/N.” You answer.

“Yes, hello, this is Agent Morgan with the BAU.” A sultry voice answers you.

“How can I help you, Agent?” You wonder why someone besides Spencer was calling you about the case.

“I was calling to inform you, that the Medical Examiner has released your father’s body, ma’am.” Agent Morgan gently explained. “Now if you need help with arrangements, of any kind, please let us know and we will ensure you are getting the help you need.”

You exhale a ragged breath, “Thank you, um, Agent Morgan?” You answer, forgetting who you are speaking too.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Can you tell me, did my father suffer?” You ask because you need to know how much to hate this son of a bitch.

“No, ma’am,” Agent Morgan soothed. “He was asleep when he was attacked, he never saw it coming.”

A single tear leaves a trail on your cheek, you sniffle loudly over the line. “Thank you, again. And, please, catch this guy.”

“We are doing everything we can, ma’am.” Morgan confirmed, “I don’t know if anyone told you, but we have our own personal genius working on it as we speak.”

You smile through your tears, this guy was a good egg. “I might have heard about that guy, takes a lot of sugar in his coffee?”

A pleasant chuckle answered your retort. “Yeah, that’s our guy.”

To Be Continued...

Part 1    Part 3

@reiding-and-writing @holagubler @imagicana @hotchnerfuckmeup @speedreiding

[ichigopanhpff]

Ignis x Reader Fic: Next To You Pt. 8

This was one of the tougher chapters to write. I intended it to go a different route, but ultimately decided to go with this. That and I’m a sadistic af writer who love torturing her readers xD

While you’re reading, I’d like for you to listen this ONE OK ROCK song. I think it best reflects the mood of what I was trying to capture.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Last night felt like a dream. Dinner and dessert was perfect. Then it all came crashing down.

(Y/N)’s eyes lazily fluttered open with a blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. She found herself in the darkness of her bedroom. Streams of light snuck through the small break in the blinds, suggesting it was near noon. She sighed aloud and turned to the other side, hugging a stray pillow.

Being alone was fine. She didn’t have to hurt anyone nor anyone her. This was predestined for those of the (Y/LN)s. Build bonds only to break them. Love only to use them. Blackmail only for self-gain.

She felt herself regressing back to being numb to everything as the pain radiated in her chest. Her world was turning back into the monochromatic one she’s grown so accustomed to from her youth. Mechanically reaching for her phone, she debated messaging Ignis but decided against it. She’s done enough.

She lost her one and only friend, her confidante. If someone were to jump into her room and kill her right now, she wouldn’t even put up a fight.

As (Y/N) drifted back into a dreamless sleep, her phone suddenly chimed with a message, jolting her up. Her eyes desperately scanned the notification, only to leave her disappointed.

“Don’t be stupid...” she assured herself aloud, feeling her eyes heat up with the need to cry again. She tossed her phone back on the nightstand with a clatter. “He’s already rejected you.”

How foolish of her to think she could be in the brilliant light like him while running from her shadows. They were at opposite ends of the same coin, always parallel to each other. As much as she reached out, no one could reach back to save her from herself. Unable to sleep anymore, (Y/N) rolled to the opposite end of her bed and reached for her phone again to check the message.

It was from her father; there was to be a family meeting at the house tomorrow and she had to dress up. No exceptions. A sudden uncomfortable feeling rose up from the pit of her stomach; tomorrow was the treaty signing with Niflheim. The timing’s all too coincidental.

What could they be scheming?

Maybe it’s time to dive back onto the Dark Net for some intel. It’ll make for some good emotional distraction.

–

When the morning of the treaty signing came, she hesitantly reached for a box buried underneath her bed and pulled it out. The top was lightly covered with dust bunnies and cobwebs. This was one of the many things she never wished to show Ignis. Reaching for the lid with shaky hands, (Y/N) balled them up tightly into a fist to steady herself. She had to remind herself she’s only wearing it to appease her parents and won’t become what it represents. Taking in a calming breath, she lifted the lid and revealed a neatly folded black garment.

The Phantom Fatigues, the only known signature clothing from her family. 

Made of air light breathable material and resistant to almost all the elements, it allowed the wearer maximum mobility and speed without making a sound. Wearing this also allowed them to vanish at will and into stealth mode; perfect for sneaking in and out of places. As nice as that sounds, it always felt suffocating for her as it was a constant reminder of her being bound to her so-called weighty family legacy. Each piece she put on heightened her anxiety to the point where she physically shook. Taking deep, drawn out breaths to calm down, she squeezed her eyes close to find her happy place.

The first person that came to mind was him. (Y/N) never realized how dependent she was on Ignis up until now. Almost every aspect of her life revolved around the crown adviser. How did that happen? Whatever the reason may be, it worked. Nervously taking a step forward, she walked up to the small full length mirror leaning on the wall. Gods, the outfit was exactly how she remembered it. She didn’t care her face looked like shit from crying and drinking whiskey.

The long sleeve loose fitting asymmetric top with a hood draped just past her hips. Her bottoms consisted of bandaged leggings with mesh panels and a pair of black shorts on top. To complete the ensemble, a pair of sturdy black leather boots with interior sheaths for weapons. Sighing heavily at her appearance, she figured the sooner she got this done, the sooner she can get out of these clothes.

Grabbing her go-bag, she took one more look around her apartment and left. Making her way out to the street, she looked at her phone again.

“Stupid girl,” she uttered to herself. “Ig’s gone. Let it go.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes to collect her focus and emotions. She reopened them and ducked into a narrow side street and jumped up to a building rooftop like a dragoon. She couldn’t possibly take the train in these clothes. Even regular Lucians would find her suspect. Throwing the hood over her head, she willed herself to vanish and made tracks to her parents’ house. The Kingsglaive would be on high alert and seeing someone jump on rooftops wouldn’t help calm them down either. After hopping over a variety of city buildings and admiring the skyline of Insomnia and the oncoming parade for Niflheim, she arrived with a few minutes to spare before the meeting time and reappeared after making sure no one was around.

She’s always hated her familial home. The concrete fort-like exterior with dark window frames always made it feel more like a prison than anything. The only sunlight the house got were in the hallways leading to the study and dining room. As a child, she’d often stay there, staring out at those very same windows wondering about the world outside; wondering if she’d ever be able to bask in the light like everyone else. Her room was often dark as it was at the far end of the house. When she had the chance to leave, she did so without hesitation and opted for a place with the best angle for natural lighting.

Staring at the cold, intimidating structure, she took a breath and went through the small entrance gate. Her presence was greeted with faint, echoing footsteps from far away and deafening silence. Before going to the meeting spot, she stashed her bag behind one of the many curtains in the main hallway to make a quick getaway; hiding it in her old room would be too obvious and she’d be trapped. She removed her hood and heard two sets of footsteps approaching her way. (Y/N) quickly turned to see her brothers in their respective fatigues and dark slacks.

“Azrael, Chronos,” she tersely greeted her older brothers. “What the hell happened to your face?” Azrael asked with contempt. “So sorry the way I was born offends you so much,” she snarked back and rolled her eyes.

Her brother merely huffed an annoyed breath and the three slowly made their way to the study.

“Either one of you have any idea what this meeting’s about?” “I overheard we’re to have some guests arrive,” Chronos replied and had to do a double take at (Y/N). “You’re in uniform.” “At the request of father,” she listlessly pointed out. “I’m surprised it still fits you,” Azrael sneered. “You and me both.”

They walked on in tense silence with the midday sunlight dancing past them from the wide french styled windows. Every nerve in her body was screaming danger up ahead as her mind played through the infinite amount of scenarios in what it could be; and the information she found on the Dark Net wasn’t helping any either.

“Why are you nervous, (Y/N)?” Azrael pointed out, noticing her fidgeting fingers at her sides. “I’m sure whatever we’re meeting ‘bout doesn’t concern you.”

She stopped in her steps and turned to her brothers, pausing their pace.

“Don’t you think it’s weird dad called us here on the day of the treaty signing?” she abruptly blurted out. “What do you mean?” Chronos asked and saw the hesitation in her expression. “I think… it’s some kind of trap,” she quietly spoke with bated breath. “Mom n’ dad would never set us up like that,” Azrael dismissed the theory and placed his hands on his hips. “With you, maybe.” “But what if they are?” she challenged. “They’ve been bitching non-stop about reclaiming our proper place.” “You know how they are: they shoot the shit to pass the time. They’d never side with the Niffs,” Azrael firmly concluded. “We may be fuck-ups in the eyes of the Lucis Caelems, but we’d never stoop that low for influence.” “That may be, but what do we have to lose now that the King’s agreed to the ceasefire?” she argued back. Chronos saw the top of the her dagger handles sticking out of the sides of her boots and inquired, “Is that why you brought those, (Y/N)?” “Call it insurance.” “We shouldn’t dawdle,” her middle brother dismissed her theory and walked ahead. “Let’s go, (Y/N),” Chronos called.

Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating like a double-pedaled bass drum at her throat. Everything felt heavy and off. But what choice did she have?

It was time for a ‘go as you see fit’ strategy as she entered the Lion’s Den.

–

Days passed and news of Insomnia’s fall hit the radio waves and papers. Mixed emotions hit the four royal travelers: anger, worry, fear, rage, and most of all, revenge. After retrieving one of Noct’s Royal Arms with Cor’s help, they received a call from Iris to confirm her safety and slowly made their way to Lestallum from Hammerhead. While resting at a camper at Coernix Bypass at night, Ignis’ mind wandered to (Y/N). He’d tried to reach her on several occasions unsuccessfully when he was alone. Sighing and staring at his blackened phone screen, he decided to give it one more try, hoping to the Six she’s alright.

Hearing the phone ring twice on the line, a click suddenly connected. His heart leapt anxiously and heard the most discouraging message.

“I’m sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected.”

Disconnected…

Did the Niffs capture her? Or was she already among the dead? Reaching up to his necklace, he unconsciously ran his thumb over the hand-carved skull she made for him, trying his best not to think of the worse case scenario. There were still so many things left unsaid between them since their kiss. But that would have to wait; his priority right now is to get to Lestallum and regroup with Iris. (Y/N)’s whereabouts had to be second.

Gladio entered the camper and noticed his friend’s sullen expression in the breakfast nook area.

“Iggy, you alright?”

His head jolted up and nodded.

“Yes, thanks for the concern,” he dryly responded, his face still full of worry. “Have you heard anythin’ from (Y/N)?” “Unfortunately, no.” “I’m sure she’s fine,” the Shield tried to persuade his friend. “She’s a fighter.” “That she is…”

He suddenly clapped his hand on Ignis’ shoulder, making him look up.

“Trust in her like you trust us.”

After a few rounds of “King’s Knight,” the four turned in for the night and it’s back on the road at the break of dawn. The change in the air was very noticeable as they drove through the Clegine area. The humidity clung onto their skin even when standing still. And wearing full leather attire certainly didn’t help either. They pulled over to the side for a quick photo op Prompto requested.

“Ugh, it’s so damn hot,” Noct complained after the photo was taken and wiped some sweat off of his forehead with his arm. “It’s most likely because we’re so close to the astral shard,” Ignis remarked and rolled up his sleeves. He left his jacket back in the car. “Alright, let’s head out!” Prompto called and retracted his tripod.

Placing their personal effects back into the Regalia, they hit the road again and arrived at Lestallum an hour and a half later. Feeling the wind and humidity blow past them in the underpass, the city welcomed them with a sultry sun above. Ignis parked the car and they all exited the vehicle.

“Nice little town,” Prompto remarked and looked around, taking in the relaxing atmosphere. “People seem friendly enough.”

The aroma of food coming from the stalls danced around the humid air, catching Gladio’s nose. “I smell meat skewers. Let’s get some after we meet up with Iris.”

The four explored the town to take in the local flavor and energy. It was certainly different from Crown City and was definitely a nice change of pace from hunting beasts and cave explorations. Gladio’s wandering eyes couldn’t help but look at all the females passing by in local clothing.

“The women here are… really well built,” he muttered to himself and checked out another one with an ice cream cone in hand, nearly breaking his neck in the process.

While walking along, Ignis couldn’t help but feel like they were being watched. He quickly looked over his shoulder with suspicion and found no one in the vicinity. As he turned back, he could’ve sworn he spotted a someone from his peripheral. They were already gone by the time he darted his eyes back.

“Ignis?” Prompto called. “You alright?” “Yes...” he hesitantly answered and glanced around once more for good measure before rejoining the group to The Leville. Everyone was relieved to see Gladio reunite with Iris, Talcott and Jared as they greeted one another at the hotel lobby. At least one good thing came from the trip. With everyone tired from traveling, they decided to check into the hotel and rest up. The front desk clerk called for Ignis after their accommodations were set up by Jared.

“Is something the matter with our rooms?” “No, sir. It’s just that there was something left for you,” the clerk responded and reached into a nearby drawer. He took out an envelope and handed it to him. “Did you see who gave this to you?” “Unfortunately not, sir. I couldn’t get a good look at their face.” “I see… Thank you.”

Ignis looked at the unaddressed item with furrowed eyebrows, unsure of who it could be from. Erring on the side of caution, he pocketed it and decided to read it upstairs in the room. After spending some time to catch up with what happened within Insomnia with Iris, the four boys were emotionally and mentally exhausted. Once everyone fell asleep, Ignis snuck out to the balcony for some privacy with the letter.

Staring at it with unease, he opened it and read the contents. It was from (Y/N). When they were children, they created a system and code names for each other in the event either one came into a life threatening situation. Should their messages get intercepted, it’d look like nothing more than gibberish to the third party.

He let out a small breath of disbelief upon reading it. From what he could decipher, her parents turned their allegiance to Niflheim, her brothers were killed and she’s either on the run or in hiding. The Niff’s attacks will start coming their way at a more aggressive pace and may be a while until they can see each other again. His disbelief then turned over to concern.

She used the initials W.R. as a sign off. It was the abbreviated codename her parents gave her.

Had she finally decided to fully embrace the part she fought so hard to deny?

“(Y/N)...” he whispered to himself and gripped the edge of the letter. “Please be safe.”

A few more days passed by and the boys found themselves staying around Cleigne occupied with hunts for funds, helping out the locals and getting the second Royal Arm. Upon blowing up the first nearby Niflheim base to exact revenge for Jared’s death, they realized they needed more information on the enemy. Vyv, the local tipster slash editor in chief for a magazine publishing company, reached out to them for pictures for some Niflheim bases.

When asked where he found out about the locations, all he said was his source wished to remain anonymous. Knowing they won’t get any more out of him, they hit the road to locate the bases. Pulling the Regalia aside upon finding the second base, Ignis noticed a figure surveying something at the top of the wall with the sun setting behind them. Squinting his eyes to get a better look, he was interrupted by Noct calling for him.

“We’re good, specs! Let’s get outta here before they decide to give us the full welcome wagon,” the prince noted.

The adviser nodded and made tracks to regroup with his friends. He turned to look back again, only to find the person was already gone.

“Iggy, you alright?” Gladio asked. “Yes...” he trailed off. “Just seeing things.” “Maybe you should clean your glasses,” Noct joked. “A fine idea.”

The four lost track of time wandering and going after extra hunts as the night crept up. Nearing a safe haven, exhausted and dirty from nature, a Red Giant suddenly ambushed the four with a swing of its blazing sword. Just the force from the aftershock alone knocked them all down. Prompto was the first to get up and fired a Starshell up in the air while Noct Warp-Striked the daemon as it flinched in pain. Gladio and Ignis backed Noct up by taking the creature’s blind spots. Frustrated with the two-legged ants, the beast roared angrily struck the ground, knocked them all off their feet from the shaking.

Having exhausted the last of their curatives from the previous hunt, they had to make a tactical retreat. With the daemon slowly creeping up to them step by thunderous step, the four conserved what stamina they had left to make a sprint for it. As it raised its sword above its head, the monster swung down at Ignis’ direction, only to have it intercepted by an invisible force. He staggered backwards from the reverberating ring of the clash of metals.

The figure he saw earlier at the top of the fort wall appeared out of thin air in front of him. The adviser quickly noticed the unmarked clothing made of flowing, air-light material; they were Phantom Fatigues.

There was only one family he knew who wore those. She faced the Red Giant with unflinching bravado with a pair of fabricated curved blades at her hands. The daemon quickly parried her attack with its giant sword and she quickly jumped back. The figure then wrote something illegible in the air followed with swirling red wisps surrounding her. Lunging at the creature again, she jumped up into the starlit night sky and landed the dual blades onto the shoulder blade of its sword arm. The giant roared in pain as she freed one blade, turned and beheaded it with one swift movement from behind.

Holy Ifrit. She took down a Red Giant alone.

As the daemon melted back into the black puddle it spawned from, the four boys saw their savior dismount back on the grassy earth, waver and collapse on the ground in a short beat. They slowly picked themselves back up and gathered near her fallen form.

“Who the hell is she?” Gladio panted out. “Whoever it is, they saved us,” Prompto chimed in. “That’s all that matters to me.” “It’s (Y/N),��� Ignis finally answered in a hushed voice. “It appears she’s been watching us.” “Let’s get outta here first before more of these things wanna come out to play,” Noct finalized with a huff of breath.

Ignis scooped her up into his arms and hurriedly made their way to the haven. He felt (Y/N)’s muscles were stressed and heavy, her breathing shallow like she was teetering at Death’s door. While Gladio, Noct and Prompto set up the camping equipment, Ignis stayed by (Y/N)’s side to make sure she was comfortable. He folded his jacket up into a makeshift pillow for her. Upon removing her hood, he found it strange the glasses he was so used to seeing her wear were replaced with a mesh fabric blindfold. His worries and concerns were slowly drifting away now that she was in front of him.

When she slowly came to, a soft groan escaped her lips and her eyes fluttered open. They gradually widened to meet Ignis’ worried ones. Before he could say anything, (Y/N) jumped up and assumed a defensive position as panic rose up. Gladio and Noct jumped while Prompto and Ignis remained neutral. Heaving hard breaths, she looked like a cornered feral animal ready to pounce. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Prompto soothed with his palms up. “(Y/N), i-it’s us! You’re safe.” “Where...” She spoke through a clenched jaw, still hyper-sensitive of her surroundings. Her veiled eyes darted around with fear. “Where are we?” “Camp,” the blond boy tranquilly answered. “We’re at a safe haven.”

She softened her stance and collapsed on the ground, letting a drawn out shaky breath. Her hand reached up and gripped the side of her head, lightly hissing in pain.

“(Y/N)...” Ignis softly called and reached out to her, only to have her violently flinch away. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed and shook in place.

He tried to get a good look at her; her fragile state of mind and heightened senses indicated she hadn’t slept much, if at all. Even the smallest sound could scare her away. He needed to act quickly before she decided to run.

“(Y/N)… I received your letter. At the hotel in Lestallum,” he quietly spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

She merely nodded and wiped away some stray tears streaking down her cheek.

“Stay with us tonight. You’ll be safe here,” Ignis suggested in a soothing voice. 

She silently agreed with another nod of her head while the prince and the Shield let out a small breath of relief. The four boys then gathered at one end of the haven.

“So what should we do?” Noct asked and looked over his shoulder at (Y/N), placing his hands on his hips. “Leave her be,” Ignis replied. “Let’s get the fire going first and I’ll start food.” “Iggy, we can’t leave her like this,” Prompto objected. “Look at her!” “Prompto, just trust me,” he tiredly insisted. “There’s nothing we can do right now.” “You’ve… seen her like this before, haven’t you?” Gladio quietly inquired. “Unfortunately, yes.” He sighed and pushed his glasses up. “From when she locked herself away from the world.”

They went about their usual tasks while (Y/N) stayed stationary and silently observed. The pain from her temples died down to a pulsating numbing sensation like a caffeine withdrawal. Her eyes then wandered to Ignis’ back profile, who was in the middle of preparing dinner. She never realized how wide they were, as if he could shoulder the weight of the world on them. Sensing a presence to her left, her head quickly jerked to see Gladio with a cup in his hands.

“Here,” he softly said and handed her the mug. “Iggy said the tea would help.”

Meekly thanking the muscular man, she took it from him and slowly sipped it, taking in the aromas of honey and chrysanthemum. The two sat quietly. Eventually, Noct and Prompto made their way over to her end.

“How’re you feeling, (Y/N)?” Prompto gently asked with worried blue eyes. “Bit better, thanks,” she quietly answered hoarsely. “You really saved our asses back there,” Noct chimed in and rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks.”

She curtly nodded at the prince and went back to sipping from her cup, exuding an aura of not wanting to talk. Dinner was ready after a short moment and Ignis handed out everyone’s portion. He then gestured to (Y/N) to sit in his chair, to which she shook her head and declined.

“I’m fine on the ground,” she muttered out and stirred her food with her spoon. Tonight was Dry-Aged Tender Roast Stew. She took a small bite of food and paused to take in the flavor. She then took a bigger bite, as if trying to make sense of something. Her body felt like it was being healed and comforted with every spoonful.

It tasted different than his usual cooking, it was… deeper. She glanced up at his side profile, focused on eating and deep in thought. Did he make this with her in mind?

Ignis felt (Y/N)’s stare and turned to her.

“Is the food not to your liking?” “N-No. No...” She immediately looked down at her now empty bowl. “It was… delicious.” “I can see that.” Gladio noticed the amount of earth on her clothes and asked, “How long have you been out here by yourself?” “Four, five days, maybe...” “When was the last time you slept or ate?” “Four, five days...” “That would explain the paranoia and disorientation,” Ignis concluded. “Earlier today… that was you on top of the Niflheim fort, wasn’t it?” “I was looking for weak points,” (Y/N) responded emotionlessly and set her bowl down. “To infiltrate.” “By yourself?! You lookin’ to die?!” Gladio scolded. “I refuse sit by and watch everything burn.” She stared down the tattooed man down through her blindfold. “Not anymore.”

The five sat in silence while the fire crackled into the dark night. Prompto was the first to break the ice.

“So how come you’re wearing a blindfold, (Y/N)?”

She unconsciously reached up and gently touched it, trying to think of the words to explain.

“It’s… complicated.” “But you can still see, right?” the blond gunslinger asked with concern. “My vision’s more than substantial, yes...” She took a small breath and lightly sighed, fully aware of what’s running through their minds. “I’m sure you all have questions about what happened and I’ll… try my best to answer them.” Gladio was the first to jump at the opportunity. “So how were you able to take on that Giant alone?” She searched for the right way to answer him. “You were awakened,” Ignis assumed. “Forcefully, yes,” she dejectedly confirmed. “Awakened?” Noct asked. “Everyone in the (YL/N) have a different ability based on their personality,” she explained. “There are three ways to awaken; Kill someone closest to us, experience a traumatizing situation or willingly transfer your powers to the last person you’re thinking of before dying.”

She took a brief pause before continuing.

“It’s rare an ability’s repeated in our bloodline, but it’s happened. It’s considered a blessing from our ancestors. Both my brothers, Azrael and Chronos had that. It was only natural for my parents to think they were the gifted ones.” “So what’s your ability?” the crown prince enquired. “Remember how I told you at the start I was a taker?”

She inhaled and raised her right hand up. She scribbled the kanji of “sound” with her index finger. The character then dissipated into a wisp of air and almost instantaneously, a loud buzzing rang in their ears as they looked around in confusion. Prompto opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He grabbed his throat and tried again, only to be met with silence and started panicking. She then negated her previous action with a simple wave of her hand.

“–DUNGEON ALL OVER AGAIN–” the blond boy screamed and abruptly stopped by clasping his mouth shut with his hands. His voice echoed into the vast darkness, where distant roar from a daemon replied. “Do go on, (Y/N),” Ignis disregarded the blond boy’s outburst and casually rubbed his ear. “My ability, ‘Spirited Away,’ allows me to take things and use it to my advantage. When I took away ‘sound’, I could fully utilize my stealth and efficiently eliminate a threat. With the Red Giant, I took its ‘strength,’” she revealed. “However, I can only use half of what I take and the time-limit has built up to around three to four minutes.” “Do you have conditions that need to be met when you use it? What about the rebounds?” Ignis questioned with concern. “As expected of a Scientia to do their research...” she applauded. “It seems the only condition so far is the opposite party can’t know my ability exists. Otherwise, its effects are nullified. As for the rebound, well...” she wryly chuckled. “You saw for yourself.” “If your ability’s to ‘steal’ something, how was it that you used dual blades with the Red Giant then?” Noct questioned. “The answer to that is condition number three.” “Your brothers…” Ignis concluded. She merely nodded in silence as a confirmation and sighed heavily. “The blades, Silentium Ferro,” She held her hand out and summoned one with a grey haze exuding out of her arm. The curved black blade gleamed with ill will from the reflection of the camp fire. “Were Azrael’s. And…” (Y/N) removed her blindfold and slowly opened her eyes, revealing golden orange colored orbs. “These were Chronos’. The blood binding us makes rejecting them impossible. Our powers feed on the darkness of our souls, so the more we kill...” “The stronger you become,” Gladio finished.

(Y/N) then released Ferro from her hand and dissipated back into the air. Her expression was dark and emotionless, as if the memory of how she obtained her brothers’ relics played on repeat in her mind. “Their abilities are much more draining to use due to the weight of their sins compared to my own.” “You said your family forcefully awakened you...” Noct circled back. “What exactly happened?”

(Y/N) sighed and looked down at the rocky ground. “It started with the day of the treaty signing...”

[blogdasuma-blog]

Statistical Mistakes and How to Avoid Them

New Post has been published on http://dasuma.es/es/statistical-mistakes-avoid/

Statistical Mistakes and How to Avoid Them

This article was posted by Adrian Sampson on his own blog. Adrian is an assistant professor in the Department of Computer Science at Cornell University, where here is also part of the Computer Systems Laboratory.

Computer scientists in systemsy fields, myself included, aren’t great at using statistics. Maybe it’s because there are so many other potential problems with empirical evaluations that solid statistical reasoning doesn’t seem that important. Other subfields, like HCI and machine learning, have much higher standards for data analysis. Let’s learn from their example.

Here are three kinds of avoidable statistics mistakes that I notice in published papers.

1. No Statistics at All

The most common blunder is not using statistics at all when your paper clearly uses statistical data. If your paper uses the phrase “we report the average time over 20 runs of the algorithm,” for example, you should probably use statistics.

Here are two easy things that every paper should do when it deals with performance data or anything else that can randomly vary:

First, plot the error bars. In every figure that represents an average, compute the standard error of the mean or just the plain old standard deviation and add little whiskers to each bar. Explain what the error bars mean in the caption.

Second, do a simple statistical test. If you ever say “our system’s average running time is X seconds, which is less than the baseline running time of Y seconds,” you need show that the difference is statistically significant. Statistical significance tells the reader that the difference you found was more than just “in the noise.”

Other topics in the article include:

2. Failure to Reject = Confirmation

3. The Multiple Comparisons Problem

To read more, click here.

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