#coral looks like she is so done with everything

[humaling]

Like Real People Do (Honey, Just Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips).

pairings: finnick odair x reader

summary: how does the quarter quell affect between two people who love each other but can’t seem to align on how or when to admit it?

warnings: allusions to prostitutions, miscommunication, jealous! finnick, the usual hunger games

word count: 5.2k

“It’s fake.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Finnick,” you mutter, sharp and quiet, turning to face him with a glare that could cut glass. “Trust me. I’ve been there. It’s real.”

The elevator dings before he can answer. The metal doors slide open with a hiss, and you step out first, desperate to put some space between you and his arrogance. The penthouse greets you with its usual blend of Capitol opulence and poorly disguised District Four touches—seashell sconces, netted drapery, coral accents meant to mimic home. Instead, it feels like a trap. A stage dressed like a prison.

You stride through the entryway, ignoring Finnick’s footsteps behind you, and head straight to the kitchen. A pitcher of cold water and an empty glass wait for you, exactly as you requested before training. On the nearby dining table, a spread of Capitol snacks glistens under too-bright lights, untouched and uninviting.

You pour yourself a glass and drink, letting the cold water soothe your raw throat. Training was brutal. Finnick had pulled you into the sparring room the second the schedule cleared, giving you no room to argue. Not because he enjoyed watching you struggle, but because he was scared. Scared that if the Careers came for you—and they would—you wouldn’t be able to hold your own. Not after years of political posturing and Capitol parties, not after falling out of the rhythm of survival.

So he pushed you. Hard. Not to prove anything, but to make sure you'd survive if he couldn’t protect you.

He didn’t hit to hurt, but every blow carried urgency, every move a silent message: You have to be ready. And even when you matched his pace, even when you felt your body remembering the fight, it wasn’t enough to erase the way he barked corrections or watched you with that infuriating storm of concern and calculation in his eyes.

That was the Finnick that mentored you a few years ago. Sharp edges and hidden soft spots. Acting like it was all routine, all strategy, when underneath it was fear—real fear—for you.

But he didn’t just train you physically. Everytime he opened his mouth made you want to shove a trident down his throat. The pestering, the hovering, the way he bristled whenever Peeta or Blight—or any male—got too close, was suffocating. He was always talking. Always picking. Always pushing. It was getting on your nerves.

Like just now—his smug dismissal of Katniss and Peeta’s relationship as a performance for the cameras. Like he’s an expert on love, like he hasn’t spent the last two years pretending to be in love with you for the Capitol’s benefit. Like he doesn’t know what that kind of pretending can do to someone who’s actually feeling everything they’re faking.

Because you’ve seen Katniss. You’ve studied her, even before this whole plan was handed to you. You’ve watched her in interviews, in Victory Tour footage, in parties where she clung to Peeta like he was the last solid thing in a world built on shifting sand. You’ve seen how her hands shake when he’s gone too long, how her eyes soften when she looks at him and thinks no one’s watching.

You can recognize it anytime. ‘Cause you’re living through it. You’ve been there, done that.

You’ve been playing as Finnick’s doting lover for the Capitol cameras for the last two years. Smiling on his arm, laughing at his jokes, brushing your fingers over his in interviews like it’s nothing. Like it’s all for show. But it never was. Not for you.

Every touch, every glance, every moment has been real.

And the worst part? He’ll never know. Because as far as he’s concerned, it’s all just another strategy. Just another game. Another way to survive the Capitol’s grip.

But you know better. And that’s why you know Katniss isn’t faking it. Even if she, herself, doesn’t know that yet.

“How would you know what’s real?”

You roll your eyes. Here we go again, you think as you turn around to face him, Finnick is there—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked onto you like he’s trying to read something buried just beneath your skin.

The low light casts a golden hue over his sun-warmed skin, softening the sharp lines of his face, but not the tension in it. His sea-glass eyes are hard, unreadable, swirling with frustration. The corners of his mouth are pulled downward, tight with whatever emotion he’s trying—and failing—to bite back.

You don’t blame him. Not really.

The only time you and Finnick actually interact is when the cameras are rolling. And even then, it’s all for show. Every touch, every whispered promise, every kiss—it’s part of the script. A performance crafted to sell the Capitol a fantasy they can root for. A love story polished to gleaming perfection.

None of it’s real.

At least, not to him.

The two of you haven’t had a proper conversation since the day you volunteered for Annie. Since your name replaced hers and the entire room seemed to stop breathing. You’ve either been biting each other’s heads off or pretending the other doesn’t exist ever since. Finnick’s furious about your recklessness. And you? You’re tired of being treated like you’ll crack under pressure. Like you’re some fragile porcelain doll that needs bubble wrap and constant babysitting.

It’s exhausting—acting indifferent toward the man you've loved for over two years. But you’ve had to. You needed to prove that you're not the naive girl he mentored nearly a decade ago. You’ve grown up. Hardened. Survived. Just like he did.

You made it out of your Games because you were clever, charming, and disarming. You knew how to make the Capitol fall in love with you—and they did. Enough to send gifts when it mattered. Enough to bet on your survival.

But all favors come with a price.

You still remember the weight of President Snow’s office, the way the air thinned when he leaned in close to whisper your choices: do what he says, or watch everyone you love die. The answer was obvious. And Finnick was there. Always was. Always would be.

Then one night, he showed up at your door with red-rimmed eyes and a scratchy voice, pitching the idea like it would save you both. Two beloved victors. Capitol darlings. A romance spun straight from fantasy. They’d eat it up. And they did.

At first, pretending to date Finnick made the Capitol easier to endure. Easier to stomach. But acting with him? That’s never been easy. Not for you.

It’s hard to play pretend when every smile you give him is real. Every touch. Every stolen glance. Somewhere along the line, the boundaries blurred—and you’ve been bleeding at the edges ever since.

Sometimes you wish you’d never said yes. That you’d just taken the offer and walked away. But sometimes—more than you want to admit—you’re glad. Because as long as you’re pretending to belong to him, at least you don’t have to watch him belong to someone else.

"Because I pay attention," you snap, voice trembling just beneath the surface. You turn to face him fully, shoulders tight with restraint. "Because I’ve seen the way she looks at him when she thinks no one’s watching. And I know what that looks like."

Finnick doesn’t flinch, but something shifts behind his eyes. It’s subtle—a flicker, like a crack in glass right before it shatters. Whatever he's feeling, he hides it too well, and that only makes the knot in your chest tighten.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” His voice is careful, measured. He sounds like someone inching toward the edge of a cliff, trying not to slip but knowing he’s already too close to the fall.

You let out a breathless, bitter laugh and place your empty glass on the counter with a sharp clink. “It means I’ve lived it,” you say, voice low and shaking with everything you’ve been holding back. “Two years of pretending. Smiling when all I wanted to do was scream. Playing the Capitol’s perfect little love story while my heart felt like it was splintering apart every time I looked at you and realized you weren’t really looking back.”

Finnick pushes off the wall, his arms dropping to his sides, fists unconsciously clenched. “That’s not fair.”

Your eyes flash, and the words pour out before you can stop them. “No, what’s not fair is you standing there, judging everyone else for playing pretend when you’re the best damn actor of all of us. Not everyone’s faking it, Finnick. Some of us just didn’t know how to say it out loud without it breaking us.”

The air in the room turns thick, suffocating. The Capitol penthouse around you seems to shrink, closing in with gold-plated walls and fake coral accents that only make the whole place feel more artificial. The silence between you is loud, louder than any screaming match, and it rattles something loose between your ribs.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Don’t look at me like you mean it… unless you actually do.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for your pulse to race—and then Finnick laughs. But it’s nothing like the laughs you've shared on camera. It’s hollow, bitter, and filled with something darker.

“You think I’m the one pretending?”

The words hit like a slap, but you refuse to let them show. You keep your chin high even as your heart stumbles in your chest.

“I begged you not to volunteer,” he says, stepping closer, his voice lowering to something sharper, more dangerous. “I begged you not to throw yourself back into that hellhole, and you looked me in the eye and did it anyway. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.”

Your jaw clenches so tightly it aches. “Don’t you dare twist this around on me—”

“Don’t I dare?” he bites back, his voice rising. “You’ve been avoiding me since we got here. Off camera, you’re colder than ice, barely speaking to me unless it’s to criticize or ignore me completely. But with everyone else?” His voice breaks into something laced with jealousy. “You’re warm, laughing, alive. You smile at Peeta like he’s an old friend. You let Haymitch make those idiotic jokes and pretend they’re even half funny. Blight—don’t get me started on Blight. One bad pun and you’re clinging to his arm like he’s your partner, not me.”

“I am not clinging to Blight’s arm for your information!” You defended yourself, clearly in disbelief at what he accused you of.

You throw your hands in the air, your breath catching with frustration. “It’s called surviving, Finnick! It’s called doing what we came here to do. Making sure the people involved in this plan don’t fall apart before it even starts. I’m trying to hold this together. I’m trying to help.”

“And what?” he shoots back. “That doesn’t include me anymore? I’m not part of what you’re trying to save?”

The words slam into you harder than you expect, and your mouth opens—but nothing comes out. Your body stills, like your thoughts can’t catch up fast enough. You see the moment Finnick notices your hesitation. His face falls, not completely, but enough to make your throat tighten.

“Right,” he mutters, taking a step back like the space between you is suddenly unbearable. “Guess I don’t matter. Not to you. Not anymore.”

“That’s not true,” you whisper, because it isn’t. Not even close.

But Finnick just looks at you, eyes glassy with something sharp and silent, something he won’t name. “No,” he says, softer now, and somehow that’s worse. “What’s not true is the way you walk around like none of this is killing you. Like you weren’t the one who used to look at me like I was your whole world. Now you look right through me like I’m just… some Capitol stunt.”

You blink rapidly, as if that might clear the ache building in your chest, but it doesn’t help. Nothing would.

“You want to talk about pretending?” he says, voice nearly breaking now, hushed but no less brutal. “I was pretending to protect you. That’s all I ever wanted. But you… you’ve been pretending not to care.”

The words crash into you like a wave, salt in a wound that’s never quite closed. You stagger beneath the weight of them—not outwardly, no. You stay standing. Still. Silent. But inside? You’re unraveling. You try to form a response, to reach for something, anything that could cut through the wreckage between you, but all you find is air.

Finnick holds your gaze a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to fight for this. For him. For you. But your throat locks around the words that could make it right, and all that comes is breath—shaky, shallow, useless.

So, he walks away.

You stand there, eyes burning, nails digging into your palms like maybe pain will ground you. Like maybe if you hurt a little more on the outside, it’ll match the chaos bleeding through your ribs.

You watch him disappear down the hall, his broad shoulders rigid, his steps quick—like he’s trying not to change his mind. Like walking away is the only way he won’t break. He doesn’t look back. Not once. And that—that—is what does it.

Because he always used to.

He always used to turn, even when he said he wouldn’t. He always gave you that last glance. The one that said I’ll come back. The one that made all of this feel survivable.

But this time, he doesn’t.

And it hits you all at once—how close you came to telling him the truth. How badly you wanted to say his name. To take a step forward. To let your guard down and finally just feel everything you’ve been burying under sharp glances and cold silence.

But you didn’t.

So you stay rooted in place, heart hammering, mouth dry, soul screaming every word you couldn’t manage to say aloud.

I did it for Annie, but I stayed for you.

I smile for the Capitol, but I bleed for you.

I never stopped looking at you like you were everything.

But it’s too late. The hallway is empty now, and the only thing left is the echo of your silence and the ache you’ll carry back to your room, wearing it like armor you never wanted to put on in the first place.

~

The ride back to the Tribute Center feels like suffocation in motion. The Capitol car hums too quietly beneath you, the soft glow of the ceiling lights reflecting off sleek black windows like a mirrored coffin. You’re boxed in—pressed between Finnick’s sharp-edged silence and the buzz of impending fallout.

It started fine. Mags met you with a tight embrace when you stepped off the elevator from the assessment room, her small arms wrapped around you in that way that made you feel ten years old again. Safe. Forgiven. Finnick didn’t say anything—just offered you a short, clipped nod and turned for the car with a clenched jaw and storm clouds in his eyes.

Now, with the car doors sealed and Mags seated on your other side, the tension thickens like fog. You barely have a moment to breathe before Vevina—the Capitol-appointed escort with wine-red curls and nails to match—erupts beside the driver.

“I cannot believe you!” Her voice cracks the silence like a whip, startling even Mags. “After everything we’ve done for you, after everything we’ve planned—and this is what you do?!”

Your spine stiffens. Finnick shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours with the weight of discomfort. Mags straightens, her brow arching in curiosity. You watch the gears click behind their eyes—realizing neither of them know what happened yet.

Vevina is all too eager to fill the silence.

“She refused to do anything,” she spits, turning halfway in her seat to glare at you with glittering disbelief. “Just stood there. No weapon. No display. Nothing!”

The words feel louder in the confined space. Mags frowns, her weathered hands folding slowly in her lap. Finnick’s jaw tightens as he finally turns his head toward you, eyes narrowing as he listens.

“She just stood there and said,” Vevina’s voice pitches higher as she throws her hands in the air, mocking your tone, “‘I’m already performing every day for your cameras. I’m done pretending I’m here to entertain you.’” She throws her arms wide in exasperation. “As if that won’t get her killed the second the arena begins!”

Silence crashes down again.

You don’t need to look to feel Finnick’s stare burning into the side of your face. You already know the expression he’s wearing. It's the same one he wore three days ago—when you first shattered whatever fragile understanding you two had left. That look of restrained rage and disappointment twisted into one perfect storm.

“Is that true?” His voice cuts through the silence like a blade. Low, dangerous. He’s holding back—barely.

You still don’t look at him. You keep your eyes locked on the passing blur of Capitol lights outside the tinted window. Each one leaves a smear of gold in its wake, like stars that never belonged to you. Your voice is flat when it comes.

“Yeah.”

The word hangs in the air like smoke.

You close your eyes and brace for impact—for him to lash out, to accuse you, to hurt you with that sharp tongue of his that’s only ever merciful when it’s lying to an audience. But nothing comes.

Just a breath.

A slow, heavy exhale from his chest as he leans back in his seat. Resigned. Tired. And somehow, that hurts worse.

Vevina whirls back toward him, incredulous. “You’re not even going to say anything? Not even for Mags’ sake?”

But Finnick stays quiet. And so does Mags. The quiet that follows isn’t passive—it’s electric. Laced with things no one wants to say aloud.

Vevina scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief and disgust. “If getting killed is what you wanted, then congrats,” she snaps. “You just punched your one-way ticket.”

You swear you see Finnick flinch. Just a twitch in the tight line of his jaw. But he doesn’t speak.

You don’t either. Not out loud.

But inside, your heart screams.

You want to tell them you had to do it. That every second of that performance room was agony and you refused to give them what they wanted again. That standing there and saying nothing was the only way you still felt like you—not their puppet, not their doll, not a prop in some grand Capitol tragedy. Just a girl with enough self-worth left to say “no.”

You want to scream that this is the only way you know how to fight anymore.

You want to turn to Finnick and beg him to see you, really see you—not the girl who keeps pushing him away, but the one who's terrified of needing him. The one who stood there in front of a panel of people who decide death like it's theater casting—and chose defiance over safety.

But all of it lodges in your throat like glass.

So you keep staring out the window, letting the city lights blur and smear like tears you're too proud to shed. Your hands curl into fists on your lap, nails biting crescents into your palms. And beside you, Finnick stays just as silent, like he knows that anything he says now might break you both for good.

The penthouse doors click open with a quiet hiss, and you step inside, barely registering the soft clink of your boots against the pristine floors. The walk from the elevator felt endless, but still not long enough for you to gather yourself.

The lights are dimmed—just the glow from the city seeping in through the towering windows, casting pale gold shadows across the marble. You drop your training bag by the door, more out of muscle memory than thought, and wrap your arms around yourself as you exhale.

You expect more silence. Or worse—a fight.

You expect Finnick to follow behind with that same cold expression he’s worn the last three days, full of wounded pride and unspoken words. You expect him to start pacing, to ask you what the hell you were thinking, to say your name like it's both a curse and a prayer.

But none of that comes.

Instead, as you turn around to face him, Finnick is already there. Right there in front of you. Closer than he’s allowed himself to be in days.

You barely have time to blink before his arms wrap around you, pulling you into him like he’s been waiting for permission he never got. His hands press against your back, one cradling the base of your neck, the other curling around your waist. There’s no hesitation. No performance. Just warmth, and the quiet kind of desperation that makes your knees falter.

Your breath stutters in your chest as your cheek rests against the crook of his shoulder. The scent of salt and sea and something uniquely him fills your nose. Your hands hover in the air, unsure, before finally pressing against his back like they belong there.

“I thought you were going to yell at me,” you whisper.

Finnick’s voice comes low, raw, and close to your ear. “I was going to. I had a whole speech rehearsed.”

You let out a shaky breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.

“So why didn’t you?” you ask.

His hand presses a little tighter against your spine, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter—like if he says it too loud, it’ll make the truth hurt worse.

“Because when you said those words in the assessment room, I wanted to be furious… but all I could think was how brave it was. How much it probably cost you to stand there and say them.” He swallows. “And how much I hate that I wasn’t in that room to take the fallout for you.”

Your eyes sting, throat burning with everything you’ve refused to let yourself feel these past few days.

“You keep doing this,” you murmur into his chest. “You keep breaking my heart by caring when I try so hard to stop needing you.”

His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, and for a second, it feels like he’s holding on for dear life.

“I don’t think you’ll ever stop needing me,” he says quietly. “And I really hope you don’t. Because I never stopped needing you either.”

You close your eyes. You don’t say anything else. You just stand there, wrapped in him, while the city lights blink silently beyond the glass. And for once, there’s no Capitol watching, no plan to uphold, no stage to perform on.

Just two people who’ve been worn down to bone and still find home in each other.

You think the moment might end there.

Just the quiet comfort of his arms, the soft echo of your breathing synced with his, the hush of a moment too sacred to touch. But Finnick pulls back slightly—not all the way, just enough to look down at you. His hands stay on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish the second he lets go.

And then his eyes—those sea-green eyes, always so guarded, so careful—begin to shimmer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice rough. “Like you don’t know.”

Your brow furrows, confused. “Know what?”

He exhales hard through his nose, the kind of breath that comes before a fall. And then he shakes his head and mutters, almost to himself, “I can’t keep pretending this is just strategy. I can’t keep pretending that this is just survival.”

Your heart starts to hammer against your ribs.

He takes a step back, just enough so he can really see you. His hands are trembling, slightly. His jaw tightens, loosens again. Whatever dam he’s kept up for months—maybe years—is finally breaking.

“I love you,” Finnick says, low and certain, like the words have always existed on the tip of his tongue. “I’ve been in love with you since before the cameras ever caught our first kiss. Before you ever stepped onto that stage and shattered everything I thought I knew about sacrifice.”

You freeze, like your body hasn’t quite caught up to the magnitude of what’s just been said.

Finnick steps closer again. One of his hands lifts to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing the skin just beneath your eye.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought it would hurt you. But every time you laugh at someone else’s joke, or act like I’m just your partner in this twisted Capitol show—I feel like I’m losing you.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

He lets his hand fall from your face, his eyes searching yours with a kind of desperation that makes your chest ache.

“And I know I don’t get to be angry about that. I know I don’t get to hate the way you smile at Peeta or lean too close to any of our friends or let anyone make you laugh. But it kills me. Because none of them know what your laugh sounds like at three in the morning when you can’t sleep. None of them have seen you hold a knife in your shaking hand and still choose mercy. None of them know you like I do. And I hate that I let you forget that.”

Finnick takes a breath, ragged and hollow, like he’s just laid his soul bare and now he’s waiting for you to hand it back shattered.

“I love you,” he says again, quieter now. “Not the way the Capitol wants me to. Not the way the cameras tell us to. I love you like I’m drowning and you’re the only thing that keeps me from sinking.”

He doesn’t reach for you again. He just stands there, heart open, waiting for you to do whatever comes next.

And for the first time, there’s no script.

No cameras. No Capitol audience waiting to dissect your every glance, every staged smile. No lines fed to you in passing, no whispered reminders to play your part. Just the two of you standing in the quiet hum of the penthouse, raw and exhausted, stripped down to the truth neither of you has dared to say aloud until now.

His words echo in your mind—I love you—so impossibly simple, but they splinter something deep in your chest. All the weight you’ve carried, all the silence you’ve swallowed, all the pain you’ve convinced yourself didn’t matter—it rises like a tide. You want to speak, to say something back, to offer him the same pieces of yourself that he just laid bare. But your throat burns and your heart is thundering and all that comes out is a shaky breath.

Your hands move before your thoughts can stop them. One rises to cradle his jaw, fingers trembling as they brush over the curve of his cheek. The other clings to the back of his neck, like if you let go now, he might disappear. Finnick doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. He’s just watching you, eyes wide and glassy, like he doesn’t know if this is real or another cruel illusion crafted by the Capitol.

It’s not perfect. There’s no grace to it, no slow-burn choreography. It’s messy and desperate, a little too hard at first, like you’re trying to pour every unanswered question into that single touch. Your lips are warm and trembling against his, and he tastes like salt and sorrow and the truth. His hands tighten around your waist as he kisses you back with the same aching urgency, pulling you in like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat.

It’s not like the kisses they’ve made you perform. This one doesn’t smile for the cameras. It doesn’t pause for applause. It’s not soft for comfort or sharp for show. It’s everything you’ve been too scared to admit—the longing, the rage, the love you thought would kill you if you ever let it out. You feel the years between you, the Games, the grief, the fake smiles, the lonely nights. You feel it all in that one, fragile moment.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads press together, your breaths still mingling in the space between. Neither of you speak. There’s no need. Finnick’s eyes are wet, his lashes damp, and his mouth trembles like he’s still afraid this isn’t real. Your chest is tight, your hands still curled into the fabric of his shirt, and you wonder if he can feel your heart hammering against his.

“You have no clue how long I was waiting to do that,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath between the two of you. A soft smile tugs at your lips, fragile but real, like you’re afraid it might fall apart if you let it grow too much.

Finnick lets out a laugh—quiet, rough around the edges, nothing like the polished Capitol chuckles he’s known for. It’s breathless, like the wind’s been knocked out of him, and there’s something boyish about it, something stripped of performance.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, forehead still pressed to yours, his eyes half-lidded but bright with something warm and familiar. “Try being in my shoes. Watching you walk around every day like you’re untouchable. Like you don’t see me losing my mind a little more each time you smile at everyone but me.”

Your fingers tighten slightly in his shirt, heart stuttering in your chest as the weight of his words sinks in. You’re not sure what to say to that. You didn’t know he noticed. You didn’t know he cared that much. But he did. He does.

Finnick lifts a hand, fingers brushing gently over your cheek like he’s committing your face to memory. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he adds, quieter this time. “How hard it’s been to pretend it didn’t matter. To act like I didn’t care when you laughed at Haymitch’s jokes, or when you gave Peeta advice like it was the most natural thing in the world. All while I’m sitting there wondering if I ever meant anything at all.”

You want to tell him he’s wrong. That he’s always meant everything. That all the coldness, the distance, the biting remarks—it was never hate. It was heartbreak. It was the only way you knew how to survive loving him when you didn’t think you were allowed to.

So instead of saying anything, you lean in again, your lips brushing his with the kind of tenderness that aches. This kiss is softer, slower—less of a storm, more of a surrender. You let it speak for you. Every word you haven’t said. Every feeling you’ve been too afraid to name.

And when you pull away, just enough to rest your head against his chest and let his heartbeat calm yours, he wraps his arms around you like he’s afraid to let go.

Neither of you says anything for a while.

Because for once, there’s no need to.

[novacqnes]

✩ nights like this // sevika

⋆ summary: no coherent thoughts…just stressed councilmember!sevika coming home to you after a rough day.

⋆ warnings: a shit ton of sappiness & fluff, reader loving on sevika

⋆ pairing: sevika x fem reader

⋆ word count: 1.3k

embers of scarlet and coral smacked against the screen of the fireplace, silently stirring sevika from a trance. her head pounded against her skull, locking the rest of her body into place. now this sofa, cheaply made of leather and nylon, was her only comfort. fragments of light reflected off the glass windows, briefly illuminating the door right across from her. in its midst she could single out a you-shaped figure leaning against the doorway. small crescents adorned your eyes as you rubbed away the fatigue in them.

“come to bed,” you whispered, trudging towards her. you hit the sofa with a soft thud, pressing a light kiss to sevika’s soft lips.

she let out a low groan, snaking an arm around your waist, “not yet, go on without me.”

you nibbled on your lower lip, tilting your head to the side as you inspected sevika’s face. her features were tense, eyebrows drawn together with sharp, pensive lines decorating the space between them. her legs were fixed into the ground, boots still on, which was completely uncharacteristic of sevika. for a brief moment, her hazy grey eyes struck yours, they were gentle and radiant. it always amazed you just how hypnotic they could be. they revealed everything about this woman, but this time they weren’t brimming with intense sexual desire but a fervent need for comfort. 

“that bad?”

she shrugged, “something like that.” you waited for her to say more, but nothing else came. rather, you were greeted by an uncomfortable silence and the impossible task of trying to read her mind. her eyes flickered between the fire and your eyes, calling, screaming, pleading out to you so that there was no need for words. sevika’s body was rigid against yours; she looked as if she’d crawl from her own skin and right into the sofa. she detested this feeling. you couldn’t know. you couldn’t see. she needed to protect you. that’s what she told herself as images of the council and their disapproving glares riddled her mind. deeper and deeper, she became trapped within her own mind, leaving you with no option but to intervene. 

she felt your hands on her thighs first, slowly traveling down to her calves before reaching her boots. 

“let’s take these off,” you cooed. 

you started at the dark laces, pulling each one through the silver loops that decorated the sides. once this was done, you tugged them off sevika’s legs, exposing her fluffy rainbow socks. your lips perked up into a smile as your girlfriend quickly looked away, fighting to keep a straight face. it was progress, although you could see that she wasn’t fully comfortable, so you kept at it moving behind her.

you reached for her cloak, peering down at her for approval. “this okay?”

“mhmm….” sevika nodded, sinking further into the couch. she closed her eyes, humming lowly as the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly began to rise. sevika’s skin burned with each slight touch of your hands against her body. warm and hot with determination, you ran them across her smooth skin, moving to undress her in one quick beat. with the cloak tossed to the side, you peeled off her vest, shirt, and bra, leaving her exposed before you. you ran your palms over her sculpted chest, feeling the muscles tense underneath you.

“you’re with me, relax baby.”

she sighed, “i’m trying….i just hate bringing this shit home to you.”

you brought your hands to her face, rubbing your thumb along the scarred skin of her cheek. her eyes were reluctant at first, but you continued with a soft tone emanating from your voice, “look at me sevika, i’m okay. just let me take care of you.”

you moved the dark strands of hair from her face, eager to meet her eye. they were gorgeous. half-lidded and heavy, they were trained on your face, unwavering in spite of the fatigue that pulled on them. it was like a silent battle, a fight that you only saw slight glimpses of before, but sevika’s mask was cracking. in piltover she was utterly alone, and the mere thought of her shouldering that burden chewed at your soul. thus you moved your hands to sevika’s shoulders, desperate to be the support that she needed. once more you looked at her face for a response. silently she nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw before leaning back. 

time slipped by as you undressed her, softly massaging her skin, freeing her from the strain that tore through her body. slowly her features grew more relaxed, shooting you small grins every once in a while as you worked. from the corner of your eyes, a bright halo and its golden rays peeked into your home through the window. half of the living room was illuminated with a faint yellow glow, making visible the antique table in the center of the room and the rest of sevika’s body.

“how’s this?” you hummed, massaging out the kinks in her neck.

she slurred, “perfect…i swear if i have to hear the word contingency agai—“ 

“you’re doing the best you can.”

sevika shook her head as you removed your hands from her shoulders. “it’s not enough. y/n you should see the look on some of their faces; it’s like they don’t even see me.” hurt, frustration, and anger, it spilled from her in one stifled breath. you moved swiftly to her side, cupping her hand in yours. the two of you sat in silence, caught in the sun’s warmth. 

“sev,” you began, “you’re one person, you can’t put that on yourself.”

“i have too,” she whispered, her voice small. sevika’s eyes stung, they begged her to close them and stumble into your bed, but her mind argued the opposite. doubt crept to the forefront of her brain, pervading her perceptions of herself. was she strong enough to do this? could she be enough for you? in the midst of the murky clouds there was no definite answer, and that tormented sevika beyond belief. she’d stayed up for hours, the allure of sleep looming over her as she clawed for an answer, desperately seeking it in the form of solitude.

“i’ll go with you to piltover.” 

her eyes widened, a sheepish grin taking hold of her face as sevika brought a hand to her mouth, “oh, you wouldn’t last a second.”

“what?” you sputtered, playfully smacking her hand away. “i’ll go everyday if i have too…i hate sleeping by myself.” 

she let out a low chuckle, snapping her neck towards the sunrise, taking in the bright, soft pink and yellow hues that fully lit up the room. sevika looked back towards you, her heart beaming with an intense longing and love for the person before her. she adored the way the colors merged with your skin, basking you in a warm glow of sunlight. it captured your beauty like no other, making your girlfriend fall even deeper for you. bare and exhausted, sevika yearned to pull you close. she wanted to feel your skin hot against hers as you floated into a deep slumber, fleeing the world and its worries for just a moment. this was her answer. 

“i love you so fucking much.”

“do you?” you teased, leaning in to place delicate kisses to the underside of her chin.

she nodded, “yeah baby, i do.”

you moved to her ear, allowing your breath to lightly tickle the sensitive skin, “then you know that you don’t owe anyone anything. not those council members. not even us zaunites. you can walk away, and i will love you all the same. i just want you happy.”

“this makes me happy,” sevika smiled, rising from the couch before quickly scooping you up in her arms. 

“good, let’s go to bed.”

[headdinthewall]

SURPRISING GREETING ──  g.clarke  ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : you and george had been friends for a while, albeit mutual due to arthur hill, and being on INSIDE only seems to strengthen your bond. a/n : i did say that i would be willing to turn this into a series and someone requested it be a full series rather than a few odd chapters here and there, so bare with me while i edit the ones i already have uploaded & maybe take them down ALSO pink text = an interview in room 19 content : friends to lovers ,, reader is described to be very feminine & girly (sorry if you don’t like that ): )

─────── IT WAS DEEPLY unusual for you to be involved in a reality tv show where your screen time and presence on set was determined by your personality and like-ability. Being a social media influencer and ex-dancer, you’d faced enough criticism in your life, but now you were getting in face-to-face.

You stood in the elevator, clutching the handle of your light pink suitcase tightly, fingers fidgeting along it and looking around at the bright white rectangular box you found yourself.

“Really making me feel comfortable here guys, like I’m in solitary confinement.” You muttered.

“Hi, my name is reader, I’m 23, and I’m a social media influencer and ex-dancer, I can also sing too, but that’s like . . . back up content I post.” You laughed at your awkward addition.”

Once the elevator doors opened, you stepped into an airport security-esque room. You walked through the metal detectors and flinched as it beeped.

“Yeah, don’t mind me, entering INSIDE with illegal contraband.” You joked poorly, grunting as you lifted your ridiculously heavy luggage onto the conveyor belt.

“I think I’ll be okay about money spending, hopefully anyway. When I do buy things it’s usually impulsively and because I like the look of it … That doesn’t really bode well, does it? I think the main thing for me to get out of this is the experience of … not relying on my phone to do things and reminding myself that although my phone has everything on it, it’s not my entire life. Also I like the idea of doing weird challenges.”

Your white and grey New Balance 550’s shuffled along the floor, the tops of them covered by your flared grey joggers. You pulled the neckline of your baby pink tube top up, nervously running your fingers along it as you heard people already conversing.

“Hello …?” You called out, peeking your head around the corner.

“Oh my God, new person!” A curly haired girl exclaimed loudly as everyone stood up from around the marble table.

“Hi!” You grinned, waving as everyone suddenly surrounded you.

“Oh, you’re gorgeous! I’m Mandi, what’s your name?”

“My name’s reader,I love how you do your makeup!” You complimented her back.

“I follow you on TikTok!” A blonde girl in a coral tracksuit exclaimed, holding your wrist, “Reader, right?!”

“Yeah.” You chuckled.

“Oh my God, I’m Milli, I used to watch all your old dance videos wishing I was you!” Milli said excitedly and you laughed at that.

“You were a dancer?” A dark-skinned girl asked, hugging you in greeting after Milli stepped away.

“Yeah, until I was like 17.” You answered.

“Oh, that’s so cool, I’m Whitney.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled.

“Your nails are so cute, wait—!” She exclaimed, holding your hand in hers as she examined the cute acrylics you had done two days ago, “They’re like so different to mine, we can be like opposite besties, ennit?!”

“Yeah, yeah, one hundred percent.” You nodded before moving on to greeting everyone else.

All the girls were really sweet and happy to see you, as you introduced yourself to Farah, Cinna and Mya as well. The guys also seemed really nice but you didn’t get much time to say anything to them as your eyes landed on a familiar face you definitely didn’t think you’d find here.

“Oh my God, George!” You gasped, hugging him tightly. “You didn’t tell me you were coming on here!”

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me either, that’s kind of the whole point.” George poked fun, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently lifting you off the ground in his embrace.

“Oh, it’s quite nice to see a familiar face, I was expecting to have to introduce myself to ten people.” You laughed, pulling away after a while.

You and George had been mutual friends on Instagram for about five years now, but only met two of those ago due to being invited to a Sidemen shoot.

You got semi-close to him, becoming one of his closer friends and spending a lot of time at his apartment — but that was also credited to you and Arthur Hill being thick as thieves since day one.

“Wait, you guys know each other?” Cinna asked, her finger moving between you two.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” You answered, your body still standing instinctively close to him. “For a while now, actually.”

“Ah, that gives you an advantage already.” PK hummed, rubbing his chin, “Lucky, y’know.”

“Everyone seems to be really nice and welcoming, and I’m hoping that they’re not just putting an act up and being fake to win because … mmmm, actually I guess that’s quite strategic. Anyway, yeah, everyone’s…” You held your thumbs up, “Also, it’s nice to see George again.”

After everyone got acquainted with you, the group wandered off to explore the areas, including the bedroom situation, which consisted of eight single beds and two double beds.

People immediately began claiming their beds and sitting on the mattresses, trying to get used to the new surroundings.

“They must’ve spent all their budget on the set, because these mattresses are not it.” You commented, trying to show how not bouncy it was by bouncing on it on your knees.

“No, guys, stop trying to take my bed!” George fake-whined, sprawling himself out on the surface.

You and Dylan laughed at his slight dig towards the girls who were being overly picky with where they laid.

You just chose the bed in the tightest corner so that you couldn’t accidentally roll off in the middle of the night.

You tended to be a fidgety sleeper.

Once you all were content with where you were situated, you returned to the living room and gathered on the sofa to talk about yourselves in more detail.

“So you used to dance?” PK asked as he sat on the other side of the couch, you sandwiched between George and Mandi.

“Yeah, from, like, 2 to 17.” You nodded, smiling as you spoke. “I quit ‘coz I got bored, really. My teacher knew what I was best at and just kept giving me the same choreography to do so I would win trophies and it would look good for her.”

“Well, at least you were getting wins and that.” PK said, arm resting back on the sofa.

“How do you two know each other then? What’s that about?” Mandi spoke loudly, looking at you and George.

“Well, we have a mutual friend, Arthur Hill, don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him—“

“No, never.”

“Oh, the singer?” Cinna piped up, nodding.

“Yeah, so him and George are friends and I’ve been friends with him since I was … 12?”

“Wow, that’s bare time, y’know.” PK huffed.

“Yeah, so we sort of met through him on Instagram at first, and then the Sidemen invited us both to the same shoot, so we met in person. But then, ‘coz I was friends with Arthur and George lives with him, I ended up spending more time at theirs, and … yeah, that’s it, basically.” You summarised quickly.

“And the music video.” George scratched his eyebrow with his thumb.

“Oh, yeah, we were both in Arthur’s music video, too.” You added with a slight blush, the memories of that filming time filling your mind.

“Oh, no way!” Dylan gasped, “That’s awesome, what song?”

“Too Much Ain’t Enough.” George answered. “It was … an experience to say the least, it wasn’t supposed to be me, but the guy literally dropped out a day before, so I had to fill in. Nightmare working with this one.”

He nudged your side and you feigned offence, clutching your chest.

“So, you’re an actor too? Mad, you’re like a double threat.” PK said.

“She sings too, so make that triple.” George bragged for you.

“Yeah, cheers.” You sighed, crossing your arms over your stomach as you leaned your elbows on your knees.

“You sing too?!” Mya sat up straight, shocked by the information.

“Can you give us a little taster?” Farah pleaded.

“No, absolutely not, not unless it’s for a challenge.” You shook your head, laughing.

“So how did you get big?” Whitney asked George specifically.

“Am I?” George frowned, patting his stomach.

“Not like that! Like on social media.” Whitney rolled her eyes.

He laughed, successfully pranking her, “I started on TikTok, um …”

“Do you talk on TikTok?”

“Yeah—“

“Why don’t you talk in real life?”

“— Should I stop?” He joked, making you and Farah laugh.

“But you don’t talk in real life.” Whitney repeated, “I’m like, ‘George’?”

You laughed slightly at his awkward chuckle in response, nudging his shin with your foot, to which he returns the gesture.

There was a silent, telepathically conversed agreement that you and George would stick by each other no matter what, no matter how much the money went down or how tough the challenges got or how much other people tried to pit you against each other.

“Hello …” Toby said slyly as he, and the rest of the Sidemen, rounded the corner into the living area.

“Hello, everyone!” Simon greeted.

Everyone started getting really excited, making funny noises and exclaiming oddly. You saw George visibly relax at the sight of some familiar faces and you smiled softly at his reaction.

“Welcome, to a new series of Inside.” KSI introduced, hands out. The group whooped and cheered, clapping. “You will all be battling it out, for a prize fund that starts out at £1 million.”

“Yep, cheers mate, didn’t know that.” You quipped sarcastically, causing a good portion of chuckles.

The cheers were less enthusiastic but still energetic.

“You’re snarky and I don’t like that.” He scoffed, so in response you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Is that not enough for you guys?”

“They already knew.” Simon tapped his friends shoulder.

“There are going to be challenges that you will all be in every single day.” Vikk spoke, resulting in a few groans, “If you do badly in these challenges, you will lose money from the million-pound prize pot. So just don’t do badly, alright?”

“And as you can see, there’s not much in here because everything costs money.” Harry spoke up, adding his usual dramatic flare of finger waggling and poor posture, which Farah mocked. “But you’ll be glad to know—“ Everyone laughed at the mocking. “You’ll be glad to know, the shop is now open.”

A loud eruption of cheers happened, as KSI said, “Good luck, motherfuckers!”

“What a lovely way to speak to your contestants.” You mumbled.

“Wait, can I ask? When is the first challenge?” Farah put in before the Sidemen could leave.

But it proved pointless as the only response she got was from KSI, in which he stated: “Shut up.”

“Rude boy!” Farah shouted, eyes wide, “What you call this timing?! We were supposed to be collected at 10 AM, brother!”

“We’re not spending any money!” Mandi yelled as you all rose to your feet.

“Let’s go to the shop.” Farah said at the same time.

Quite the juxtaposition of sentences there.

You knew Mandi’s statement of no one spending any money would last approximately … five minutes, especially as you all moved to congregate in the shop area now.

“Let’s try and keep it at half a million, bro.” Farah offered.

This followed in a long winded debate as to what the goal amount of prize fund to have at the end would be. All hands were placed in the middle as you cheered for £800,000.

You shook your head at their naivety and George snorted, noticing your expression and placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to follow everyone as they viewed the shop items.

When you walked into the small room, you took note of the variety of items on show … in words.

“Oh my God, I’m not spending any money!” You cheered, turning around and giving George a solid high-five.

“What? How do you know already?” Dylan asked.

“She has this thing where, as long as the item isn’t physically presented in front of her, she’s not tempted by it.” George explained for you and you nodded in agreement with his words.

“That’s so weird, oh my God!” Mandi gasped, “How? Do you not even like … hear something you might like and think ‘Hm, yeah, I like the sound of that’.”

“Not really, not unless I 100% know what I’m getting, like …” Your eyes scanned the menu and you pointed to the item listed as a ‘golden straw’, “I don’t know what that is. For $2500? It could be anything. Knowing these guys, it’s most definitely just a normal straw painted gold and they’ve thrown it in to make us second guess ourselves. But I’m not tempted because I don’t know and don’t care.”

“That’s crazy, I wish I was like that.” Mya laughed, hand grazing your arm slightly.

“It’s a blessing in disguise.” You shrugged smugly, feigning nonchalance.

As a group, you all decided to purchase a table tennis bat and ball for £2,000, and upon finding out it was only one bat, Milli purchased another.

“I think we should get some snacks.” Whitney proposed.

“Yes, but in groups of two, so whatever you order you share with someone else to save money.” Farah pointed her finger.

“Do you want anything?” Milli asked you, “To share something?”

Your eyes scanned the menu and you shook your head, not entirely thrilled or enticed by the snack option, “Nah, but if you want to buy something I can share with you.”

Milli whined, “Ugh, okay.”

You laughed and squeezed her arm.

You looked back at George, who seemingly shared the same unimpressed demeanour about the menu variety, and took his hand, slipping back into the living room with the table tennis bats and ball.

“I don’t think our promise of 800K will last a week at all. I don’t even think it’ll last a day.” You laughed, “It’s just … everyone says ‘Oh, I won’t spend, I won’t spend’ but they’re already buying unnecessary shit that we don’t need. Like … we do get fed here, y’know that, right? It might not be the best, but I’m sure you can live on … rice and beans, or whatever the fuck they give us, for a week.”

“Whitney, would you share a pot noodle with me?” Milli shuffled into the corridor.

“The thing is, I don’t like pot noodle.” Whitney replied.

“Oh. Reader?”

“Sure, if you’re getting it.” You hummed, biting your bottom lip as you focused on smacking the ping pong ball at George.

After losing the game, you gave up in a fake strop and plopped yourself down in the bend of the couch, and George annoyingly sat next to you.

He slung an arm around your shoulders as you spoke with Dylan and Mandi.

“It’s great that we’re all on the same page, I think.” The TikTok news reporter expressed his opinions.

“It could be somebody else walking away with that 500 grand.” Mandi countered.

“Think about how great your life is outside of this. You only get one week to be put in deprivation, to be hungry, to not be on your phone—“

“For somebody else to win?” She sassed.

“Well, you’re not doing it for that. You’re doing it for the experience of, like, when are you ever gonna have deprivation, like, again? You may never.” Dylan philosophised.

“We had COVID. That’s enough deprivation for me, alright?” Mandi threw her arms out.

“Also, if you think about it. This isn’t really deprivation.” You hummed, looking over the back of the sofa at them, “We have light (natural and electric), semi-descent beds, other people to talk to, and food. Plus, we’re given the option to buy things to keep us entertained. If you want to experience deprivation, you should try solitary confinement or a high risk psych ward.”

After a short while of continuing this vaguely theological conversation, a ruckus began and Farah came into the room, exclaiming that: “PK is not to be trusted! He hid the pot noodle behind the sofa, and I sniffed it out.”

“I tried to order more guys, and then they closed the shop.” Whitney sighed.

“And if we do shit, we need to deliberate with each other.”

As everyone else congregated in the living area, discussing the non-issue, the TV chimed with a notification.

‘Lunch is now ready in the shop.’

There was a mixed variety of reactions, majority being optimistic and jovial, whereas George opted for a fed up approach. “You’re taking the piss. Lunch?”

“C’mon, grumpy bollocks, get up.” You heaved him up off the couch.

“What time is it?” He continued to complain, “Should be dinner.”

“Well, it’s not!”

By the time you’d arrived in the shop, it was already in a shambles, with people spending money on me an upgraded and an endless supply of moaning coming from Mandi and Farrah.

“This is fine.” Cinna shook her head as she ate the rice and beans.

“It’s rice and beans?!” You exclaimed, diving for a pot and opening it with a laugh. “I called it! I called it in Room 19, that they’d be giving us rice and beans!”

“Nah, you defo jinxed it, y’know.” Whitney groaned, cringing at the tastes in her mouth.

You screamed as George flicked a spoonful of rice at you, causing grains to get stuck in your hair.

“George, fuck off!” You cursed, hitting him with a closed fist and glaring.

You shimmied off out of the shop and took a seat on one of the bean bags, preferring to eat your food sat down. George followed you, taking the bean bag and putting it plonk next to yours, sitting and entangling your legs together.

His foot kept sliding up your leg, purposefully pushing your flared leggings up to annoy you.

“Would you give it a rest.” You growled with fake animosity, shoving the cloth back down to cover your shin.

He cackled and shoved a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Guys, there’s food in there that was uneaten.” Cinna announced, coming back in with her arms full of containers. “And, who bought this?” She held up the golden straw.

“Can I have it? I don’t care who bought it.” Whitney reached for it and Cinna gave it.

“It was you, ennit?” She accused, looking at you, “Saying it don’t tempt you and then you bought it for yourself. Clever play.”

“What, no?!” You exclaimed, covering your hand with your mouth as you ate.

“I can— I can confirm,” George held his hand up, “She was with me the whole time and didn’t buy that.”

“Thank you.”

“Was it you?” Cinna walked towards Mandi, laughing and grazing her shoulder, “It was— It was you, wasn’t it?”

“I swear it wasn’t.” Mandi said smugly, not even trying to hide the smirk on her face.

You laughed, slapping your knee, “Your face! There’s no way it isn’t you!”

“Someone did it though!” PK argued, pacing the floor.

“It was me!” Mandi admitted, standing up and flapping her arms about.

“Was it? Was it actually you?” Milli asked.

“Yeah.” She shrugged.

“And you … nobody had any idea.” George joked sarcastically and you laughed, leaning into him.

“I wanted the straw.” Mandi defended, shrugging like it didn’t matter, because it really wasn’t that deep.

£2,500 of £1,000,000 wasn’t that much at all, but it was the knowledge that every dollar spent would eventually add up that irked the group.

“Why?” Jason questioned in a whiney voice.

“I wanna drink my coffee with it, so I don’t damage my teeth.”

“Babe, I wanted to use it first!” Whitney complained, looking upset.

“We can share!” Mandi took the straw from Jason and put it on the table.

“If any one wants to buy and food from the shop — even if it’s just for yourself — it’s fine, just tell everyone.” Farah reasoned as everyone settled.

“Who’s good at math? Should we have a calculator?” Whitney put forward.

George scoffed and gestured to you, resulting in a harsh glare.

“Reader! Reader! She’s excellent at maths!” He said dramatically.

“Are you actually?” Cinna hummed, arms wrapped around her knees.

You shook your head rapidly, “No, dude, I got a C. I barely passed.”

“Hello, Insiders …” The voice of Tobi rang through the speakers, “It’s time for your first challenge.”

Everyone screamed in excitement, getting up and enthusiastically moving to leave towards the Challenge Arena as instructed. The corridor was grey stone, as was the rest of the set, with purple and dark blue lights shining from underneath it.

You had to credit the Sidemen, it was clear a lot of thought and money had gone into making this a real thing, and now you were living it.

“No pressure, yeah?” George muttered to you, a personal whisper that he shared with no one else as you waited outside the Challenge Arena doors.

“Yeah. Sure.” You nodded, blushing slightly at the close proximity of his mouth to your ear. “No pressure, at all.”

[medievalharlot]

An Eventful Evening 彡 Geta x f!reader x Caracalla

find my masterlist here!

Pairing: Geta x f!reader x Caracalla

Synopsis: You finally give into them, so they reward you by teaching you how to please an emperor

Wordcount: 2,7k

Tags: Smut 18+ minors DNI, threesome, oral (both m and f receiving), implied breeding kink, degrading kink, praise kink, fingering, male masturbation, hint of deepthroathing, cuckolding (?), dirty talk, nipple play, Caracalla has mommy issues its canon

A/N: The long awaited smut! I have decided to make it a little serie since y’all love it so much. Decided to make Geta and Calla a bit of polar opposites. I love pathetic mommy’s boy Calla and dom teasing Geta sm. If you wished to get tagged in the next part please join the taglist here!

While sitting at your vanity desk, you let your maid brush your hair, in your hands you nervously play with the coral bracelet that Geta had gifted you a while back. The night air swept through the room, making the silk curtains dance ever so slightly. It was a calm night, the calmest night since you had gotten to Rome so far. Usually, you could hear a banquet from one of the senators, one of the emperors’ orgies or a mewling cat on the streets. But not tonight. It was eerily quiet on Palantine Hill. You had promised the twins you would join them for dinner and you knew where that was going to lead. You wanted to make sure you looked presentable and to their liking. Since noon you had been busy. Your maid, Alba, knew exactly what the two emperor’s would like. She had soaked you in donkey milk bath, scrubbing you squeaky clean. Then she insisted on rubbing beeswax with saffron on your skin. Alba knew exactly what she was doing. Deep down you had no idea what to expect. Of course, you knew how everything worked. You just had never done it.

“You will make a fine empress, my lady.” Alba spoke as she applied some rouge on your cheeks. You looked at yourself in the mirror. She had applied some paste to make your skin more even, erasing any blemish you might have. You didn’t look like yourself, but if this is what the twins would want you to look like you were going to have to get used to it.

“I am no empress yet, Alba.” You nervously roll the beads of red coral between your fingers. “What if I am not to their liking? They will throw me away like a used toy.” You couldn’t help but confess your worries to her.

“They would not have vouched for your attention this long if they do not want to keep you around.” Alba helps you into your gown. It was a sheer silken stola that had a slight purple tint to it and gold trimmings. Your nipples harden because of the cold air, perking through the sheer fabric. You had decided to keep your hair down, an intimate gesture. Despite the simple look, you thought you looked beautiful.

Alba smiles at you. “Trust me, my lady, they seem to be fond of you.” She continued to brush your hair, letting the shiny locks fall into her caring hands. “They have not been interested in a noble lady before, they must intend to marry you.”

The thought was exciting to you. To be the empress of the greatess nation on the planet. Not only that, you would have both the emperors’ attention and love. It also made you nervous, you grew up on the country side. How would you manage to actually survive in a city like Rome for the rest of your life. Surely, there were people here that would want you dead. It was a threat you rarely faced back home.

Home. You did miss home a lot. Your family, the animals and most definitely the peace and quiet. Almost every night in Syracuse was as quiet as this night in Rome. But Rome was your new home now, you knew the emperors would not let you leave after tonight. Not that you minded, you came to enjoy the idea of living with them over time. Besides, Clemens would come to the city soon. You would have your family close again.

A knock on the door made both of you turn your head. It was soldier. He had told you the twins were ready to receive you. You inhale and exhale deeply, pushing down your nerves. After bidding Alba farewell you followed the soldier. Alba had given you a sympethetic look as you left, She knew your faith, as did you.

The soldier announces your name and titles as you entered their chambers. You took a good look around. The room was twice as big as your own. The dining table was already filled with all sorts of food. You followed the marble pillars in the room to a bed. They were making you have dinner in one of their bedrooms.

“Please have a seat, my lady.” Geta’s voice made you flinch. Caracalla was already seated at the table, slouched in his seat. He did not say a word, biting the nail of his thumb as he watched you. Geta offers his hand for you to take, leading you to your seat. He was at the head of the table, Caracalla was across from you. “I hope the food is to your liking, it would be a waste to throw it all away because of your lack of appetite.” There was a certain threat in his voice. They did not want you to wither away as you have been these last few weeks.

“The food looks divine, Ceres has truly given us her blessing this year.” You smile politely while grabbing a fig. The juice was dripping down your chin after you bit into the ripe fruit.

Caracalla had been watching you the entire time. First just your face, then he noticed your gown. Without any shame he had been staring at your chest, then back at your face, and then your chest again. Still, not a word came out of his mouth.

“I assume your brother has received our invite?” Geta spoke again, his voice echoed through the room. “You see, our citizens get rewarded if they are compliant, my lady.” A grin spreads onto his features. Suddenly, Caracalla was watching his brother. Geta gets up to walk to the side of the bed, he never was a patient man. “Come.” He basically commands you.

“But your majesty, the food-”

“I said come.” His tone was harsher. There was no room for debate. You get up, your hands folded infront of you as you walk to Geta. Like a cat, Caracalla maneuvered around you as he followed you to the bed.

“That wasn’t that hard, now was it.” He reached out to touch your body, his hand landing on your hips. It trailed up to your breast, brushing softly over your nipple. Geta watches your reaction like a predator watching its prey. “You have been so good to me, to Caracalla. Haven’t you?” He whispers as his thumb circled over your hard nipple, he got a small moan in return. You could feel the heat rise between your legs.

You look around, trying to find Caracalla. He had managed to sit down on the bed without you noticing. There was a big smile on his face as he watches his brother take what he wanted to have for weeks now, the look on his face mirroring that of when he was watching the games in the Colosseum.

After brushing over your nipple one more time, Geta’s hand travelled up to wrap around your neck. He wasn’t squeezing your throat hard, it was probably to test your reaction. When he noticed you did not protest he moved to slip his fingers under the straps of your stola. Gently, he pushes them off your shoulders, making the gown pool around your ankles. The sight alone of you, bare, in front of him made his loins stir.

There you stood, naked. The cold night air hit your skin, making you shiver. Geta’s smile only grew when he finally got see what he had been dreaming about all this time. He places a finger under your chin, making you look up him. “You have been hiding this beauty under those clothes all this time.” Geta brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, moving his hand to cup your cheek. “You want this, don’t you?” He was coaxing the right answer out of you.

You couldn’t even speak, your desire clouding your moan. Not trusting your voice to do the talking, you just merely nodded. In return you got a hum of approval from Geta. “Let me show you how to please your emperor.” He turned to Caracalla, who was still sitting in silence on the bed.

Geta leads you to the bed and within the blink of an eye, Caracalla was all over you. His lips were attached to your breast, his hands softly kneeding the other. He sucked them like a man dying of thirst. ”You are so divine, my love. The Gods should hide in shame because of your beauty.” He muttered between his kisses.

You lean back against Geta’s firm chest, who was drinking up every sound you made. His large hands find your thighs, slowly spreading them for his brother. Caracalla latched off your breast and smiled at the sight of your wet cunt. He couldn’t help himself as he lowered himself between your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses on your stomach. “So beautiful.” He spoke before diving between your legs, lapping at your core.

You couldn’t control the moans that left your lips. With the way Caracalla was eating you out and the way he was looking up at you, you felt like you were up in the clouds with the Gods. “You like that don’t you? Not so innocent now hmm?” Geta started to whisper all sorts of filth in your ear. “Can’t wait to fuck you pregnant, would you like that my lady?” You could feel his hardness against your lower back, he was getting off on watching his brother eat you out.

“Yea — ah, Yes please.” You moan as Caracalla sticks two fingers into your sopping cunt, he was going to have to prepare your virgin hole to take either one of them. He slowly pumps them into you as you started whining. “You sound almost like a whore, my love. Are you sure that we are you are not a whore?” Geta bit your earlobe as he continued to speak depravities into your ear. “Well?”

“No! Y-You’re my first.” You couldn’t even think straight any more. This was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Of course you had tried pleasuring yourself, but in the fear of your father finding out you always stopped your attempts before you got anywhere. This was all extremely overwhelming.

Caracalla removes his mouth from your core. He sucks on your breast again, his fingers still pumping into you. It leaves you feeling needy so you turn to look at Geta. He smiled, kissing your cheek. “Is the lady needy?” He says as his hand travels to your clit, his finger softly rubbing the sensetive bud while his brother still had his fingers inside you.

It was all a bit too much. They’re hands were everywhere, turning you into a moaning mess. The combination of Caracalla moaning sweet nothingness’ and Geta whispering absolute filth into your ear made your head do summersaults.

With the way you were clenching around his fingers Caracalla knew you were going to orgasm soon. He dove between your legs again. “Wanna taste you cum.” He mumbles, pushing Geta’s hands away so he could suck on your clit again.

Geta was smirked, you could feel it against your ear. “You’re gonna cum already? Go on, cum on your emperor’s tongue.” His hands strays upwards to play with your tits. Just as you were about to cum, Geta kissed you, swallowing up all your soft moans. Your orgasm washed over you, painting Caracalla’s tongue with your juices.

You laid against Geta’s chest for a moment, catching your breath. Caracalla gave your pussy another kiss before sitting up straight and giggling at your blissful face. “We should have that painted, hang it up for the senate to see.” He grins as he sits on his knees, his cock painfully hard through his blue robes.

“Such a good girl.” Geta wiped his spit of your lips. “We have been awfully generous, how about you return the favor, hmm sweetheart?” He nodded toward Caracalla.

“I don’t— I’ve never done that before.” You stumble over your words after you understand what he was getting at.

“Don’t worry, I told you I would teach you wouldn’t I?” He said, gently placing a hand on the beak of your head and pushing it down. You followed his lead, hovering your face above Caracalla’s dick. It was larger than you expected, bright red and standing proud.

“Spit.” He told you. You opened your mouth and let the spit fall onto Caracalla’s cock. “Now give it a few pumps.” Like a dog you obeyed his command, wrapping your hand around his member. It felt heavy in your hands. “And now you suck it like the good little whore you are.” Geta pushed your head a little again.

You followed his lead once more, wrapping your lips around the tip. Caracalla threw his head slightly back at the feeling of your warm lips. He replaces Geta’s hands on your head, burrying his hands into your hair. “You gotta—” He helps you bop you head on a comfortable pace. “Just like that, so pretty. Taking me so well.”

You could feel Geta move around on the bed, you nearly choked on Caracalla’s dick when you felt Geta drag his tip along your wet slit. Instictively, you moved your hips back. Geta clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Tch, you would like that wouldn’t you? Want me to fuck you full of cum.” He collected your slick with his dick, giving himself a few strokes before he sat down next to his brother.

“Such a nasty girl. Not tonight tho. Wouldn’t want to upset Juno by giving you my child before we are wed.” Geta knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to crave this as much as he craved you. And as far as he could tell from the way your pussy was drooling for him, it was working.

“Can you stop it. She is supposed to be paying attention to me.” Caracalla sneered at his brother, giving your head a harder push. He tried his luck, pushing your head all the way down so your nose touched his red hair. When he noticed you struggling he quickly let you go.

“As long as you don’t break her, she isn’t one of your whores.” Geta retorted, jacking off to the sight of you sucking dick. The tears in your eyes only spurring him on more

Carcalla was a little gentler, but his grip on your hair was still rough. The sounds he made went from groans to desperate whines and moans. Once again, he melted under your touch. He was petting your head, mumbling incoherent sentences. His cock hit the back of your throat when he started bucking his hips.

“Can I cum in your mouth? Please?” Geta had never seen Caracalla ask, but something in you brought that side out of him. It was beautifull display, watching his future empress naked on all fours sucking cock. He didn’t care that it was his brothers’.

Before you could even try to reply, Caracalla pushed your head down again. With a breathy moan he came in your mouth, shooting rope after rope of hot seed into your throat. He let you stay there for a moment, before letting you go.

When your mouth popped off, Geta quickly moved his finger under your chin. “Not yet. Just hold it in there a little longer.” He kneels, furiously pumping his cock infront of your lips. “Open up sweetheart.” With his fingers he pried open your mouth, shooting his cum into your mouth aswell.

He sits down in front of you when he was done, both their seed mixed in your mouth. Geta placed a hand on your throat. “Now swallow.” He could feel both their loads get swallowed, a smirk on his face as he watched.

Gently, Caracalla crawls to kiss you everywhere. Your neck, your cheek, your lips. “You’re so good to me. So sweet.” He mumbles as his hands kneed at your flesh again. Like a needy child he pulls you close to lay with him in the bed, revelling in your warmth. He latched onto one of your nipples again, sucking it softly. Though this time it seemed he did it for comfort, not as a sexual act.

Geta sits next to you. He looks at you, a gentle look on his face. “Are you alright?” He asks, cupping your cheek.

“I am fine.” You smile, your voice was a bit hoarse. “That was fun.”

He kisses your forehead, also laying down besides you. He leans in close, his hands around your waist. “Can’t wait to pump you full of my children, my empress.”

taglist: @Robinbuckleywife , @punkrockmlchael , @yearsbecomingcool , @samslvrgirl , @doves1120 , @frensiswithnogun , @fandomgirl1999 , @fariecherry , @eddiesguitarskills , @nicestgirlonline , @jeangeniex , @happysparklingshadows , @emxxblog , @littlemissholy , @duckyhowls

[pukefactory]

Do you have any hcs for coral glasses x reader?

.・゜✧ MISS ICY BONES ✧゜・．

╰► Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Coral Glasses X Reader

╰► Character(s): Coral Glasses (Ena: Dream BBQ)

╰► Genre: Headcanons, SFW

╰► Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

╰► Image Credits: @JoelG

›› Coral Glasses might act standoffish or cold, but deep down, she’s constantly thinking about what she’s saying, second-guessing herself. When you speak to her, she’ll go quiet for a few seconds before awkwardly responding with something dry or blunt, her face flushed with sweat. She often apologizes after—her mind over-analyzing every conversation. She doesn’t mean to be rude, but her thoughts tend to drown out her social cues.

›› She’s not great at socializing, so sarcasm comes out in ways she doesn’t even realize. For example, if you ask her to do something, she might say something like, “Well, it’s not like I had a choice in the matter. But sure, I’ll do it.” She doesn’t mean to sound like a jerk—it’s just how her nerves translate.

›› Coral Glasses can get lost in her thoughts, and sometimes she finds herself zoning out and staring at you. When you notice, she quickly looks away, her sweat intensifying. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I was just… lost in thought… about… something completely unrelated to you…” It’s always super awkward, but she doesn’t know how to stop doing it.

›› If you ever ask her for help, her first instinct is to offer a series of “I’m not sure” or “I don’t know if I’m qualified for that.” Her confidence is nonexistent in most situations. “I—uh, maybe you should find someone else? I’m not… good at this. I’ll try though.” But if you push her a little, she’ll eventually help, albeit with a grumbling, “I’m just doing my job, okay?”

›› Coral Glasses has a weird way of showing she likes you. It’s almost a backhanded compliment, as if she’s too socially awkward to express herself properly. “Y’know, you’re… not as irritating as most people around here. I mean, that’s a compliment, okay?” Her face turns red after she says it, but she’s not one for grand displays of affection, so this awkward phrasing is the best you’ll get from her.

›› Coral Glasses is the type to quietly do all the heavy lifting behind the scenes. You’ll rarely see her actively engaging with others or drawing attention. But if you do, she’ll mumble, “I’m just here to do what I was hired for… so, yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” If you thank her, her face turns beet-red, and she mutters something about it not being necessary.

›› There’s something almost melancholic about Coral Glasses. She’ll often go on these small, bitter rants to herself. “Every day feels like a ticking clock… like I’m running out of time to fix everything, but I’m just stuck in the same place.” If you catch her saying something like this, she’ll quickly pretend it never happened, brushing it off with an awkward chuckle, though it’s clear something’s bothering her beneath the surface.

›› The unintentional comedian: Sometimes, in her attempts to be overly straightforward, she’ll come off as unintentionally hilarious. “I think I’ve broken a record for being awkward. I should probably get a trophy or something for how good I am at it.” Her dry delivery might make you smile, and when you do, her face becomes a little softer, though she’s still caught in her self-imposed awkwardness.

›› Coral Glasses isn’t interested in mingling, but she’s obsessed with working and proving she can get things done. If you try to talk to her during her shifts, she might look up from her work and sigh, “Look, I’m really not the ‘friendly’ type, but if you need something done, I guess I’ll do it.” She’ll constantly remind you how much she’s sacrificing by being there, as if it’s the worst thing that could happen to her, but deep down, she’s just trying her best.

›› Coral Glasses is always drenched in sweat, no matter what the situation. She doesn’t know why. It’s just how her body reacts. “Ugh, not this again,” she mutters as she wipes her forehead with the sleeve of her black suit. It gets worse when she’s around you, because she’s conscious of her awkwardness. “Can you just… pretend I’m not sweating? It’s, uh, not something I can help, okay?”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hey, could I request a fic for ena dream bbq? Ena x reader who's a slightly funky version of a mars rover.

They look like the spirit/opportunity rovers for the most part, with the whole robot head and solar panel wing thing going on. But, their wheels are floating just a little off the ends of their leg thingies, and they can separate into individual pieces making up hands/feet, and their body and legs are a bit more articulated, so the reader can stand up in a more humanoid shape if they so choose.

And on their head, they have a small screen near their cameras, which they use to show emotion using emoticons, because it's a low resolution screen that pretty much only displays a few characters of text. So they just kinda go :] <:D >:/ :P BJ X0 ;3 ':2 c: D8 ',:) :7 (individually not all at once) when they are talking to people. Sometimes they display a word or a few symbols instead tho, like "there's a 37 percent chance of that happening" and their screen says 37%, or they go ??? When confused or something.

They usually stay in regular rover form while traveling, driving on their wheels, and go humanoid when they need to carry something, talk to people, or generally are in a situation where hands are useful. They do have one arm that isn't one of their wheels, but it has somewhat delicate scientific equipment in it, so they don't use it as much for everyday stuff. They also turn off their screen when they aren't actively trying to convey emotions, so usually only when alone or around people they know well and trust.

theyre working together with ena, and on the side just casually taking soil samples and pictures of interesting things. Write whatever you feel like, one shot, hc, anything, whatever you feel inspired to write. Preferably platonic, but if you wanna write a romance I won't stop you. (If you wanna add any other characters like coral glasses or Kane or something that could also be fun, even someone from the series like classic ena or shepherd, but that makes things more complicated so you very much don't have to)

Have a nice day! :D

(sorry this ask is so long and probably goes into unnecessary detail, im a rambler and decided to give a whole character description for some reason ':∆. You don't need to write this if you don't wanna)

This is a cool concept! I don't mind the extra details! Hope hcs are alright

..........

While you don't recall when or where you were built, you do know your purpose: take pictures of intriguing subjects, steal soil and rock samples, etc. etc. Everything you've once done in space, you do here on this world.

But it felt less like a job and more like a hobby. Something that stimulated your circuitry and allowed you to experience "joy" (which you once thought was strictly reserved for living organisms) in everything you found.

Your creators have long since forgotten you...or maybe they all died and didn't think you'd outlive them. You had no orders to follow. No signals to relay. No real mission to accomplish.

So you took it upon yourself to join Ena and Froggy's group, wanting to have some sort of directive, even if it meant helping them accomplish whatever business called for them to do.

Some days, you'd be in the Hub, assisting Coral Glasses with her work regarding the Horse Door, faxing her blood samples and other interesting specimen you've picked up, or she might print a picture of something bizarre she found and ask for your input.

You weren't programmed with a voice (which she doesn't mind since she's not a fan of social interactions and lengthy chats). Instead, you communicate through a screen next to your cameras, which display a variety of emoticons, emojis, and symbols. It's not the greatest resolution, but it gets your point across.

Some icons are indicative of approval, some of disdain, and others...would be confusing for the average person to understand.

For Froggy? He tends to mistranslate what you're trying to say and has the nerve to ask why you made a >:( face.

For Kane? He gets it half the time.....but he's more worried about getting his coins stuck in your wheels again.

For Ena? It's no problem. She knows exactly what you mean every time, acting like she's been there since your construction, while also respecting your autonomy.

When your new and current directive became "eliminate the smoke", you thought the tasks leading to its completion would be simple.

But with Ena, it turns out to be anything but that.

In the Lonely Door, you noticed that the Uncanny Streets had a dry deserted terrain. You had a phobia of dust storms and your wheels getting stuck in sand traps, but thankfully the conditions here don't permit such occurrences. And your solar panels are always keeping your batteries charged, as it never gets dark, either--so in short, travelling around would be the least of your concerns.

While your screen initially displays nothing as you scan the environment, Ena somehow knows what you're thinking and pats the top of your head.

"This will be a great opportunity to gather vital intel and ask invasive questions!" Salesperson grins. "I can smell the opportunities from up here, my friend. Don't you?"

":U....<:)"

"That's the spirit! I couldn't have said it better myself! I vow to get to the bottom of this mysterious Gen--bAthR00M."

"🚽?"

"Ew! I didn't need to see THAT!!!" Meanie pretends to retch. "Go take 300 pictures of that cloud for me, you hunk of metal!!"

Funny enough, you don't take her demands as an insult. Your storage is like a bottomless pit, so you could hypothetically take 300 pics of one singular cloud if its shape and placement in the sky intrigued you enough.

But you'd rather stick with her and assist her with the different jobs she's been given.

You can shift between your primary vehicle mode and your more humanoid one for easy interactions with folks--although you being taller than Ena in that latter form leads to Meanie pouting and grumbling under her breath when she thinks you can't see her.

Too bad for her, as your camera/eyes can see 360.

While she talks to people (which is really them messing with her and claiming to be the boss, insulting her species, and eventually giving her something to do), you're just taking pictures of things like the giant melded into the building, the black tree without leaves that's wandering about the outskirts, or the alienlike Wanderers in the sky.

Rescuing Shoryo's pets/babies is easy, as you're able to maneuver around tight spaces and let them rest on your platform, driving them back to the horselike entity.

He felt flattered that you "delivered them to [him] on a silver platter"...which left you wondering if he intended to eat them.

Before you can question it, there's an explosion and you see Ena and the Shaman outside of the now-destroyed Seal House.

After she's given the humanboard, you discover fertile soil deposits around the streets, learning that the head can grow into a full body and help her reach higher places.

The ribcages buried within the dirt intrigued you, but oddly enough...she didn't want you to take any bone samples.

All you wanted to do was perform a light brush, a gentle abrasion on the surface. Just enough to get a microscopic calcium extract so you could determine how old it is.

You had no idea what overcame Ena when her clawed hand latches onto your delicate arm unexpectedly, threatening to damage your analyzers, drills bits, and other scientific equipment embedded into it.

It sets off internal alarms, red lights flashing across your vision, but you silence those in favor of staring at her. "🦴❌?"

"I just....don't want you to do that. It might hurt him.." Meanie's voice drops into a low whisper, something extremely uncharacteristic of her, as her mitten hand trembles and cradles the humanboard closer to her chest. Like some maternal instinct had overtaken her. "Please.."

Your screen goes dark, but you comply and leave the soil alone.

Perhaps not everything needs exploration.

[nana-mania]

since it's canon that izana loves fishies, what if he meets his s.o in a waterpark (she ain't a fish enthusiast but was just dragged along by her girlfriends) and he kept staring at her as she stared at the aquarium full of fishes. (she's nonchalant af)

"WATERPARK ENCOUNTER" a coincidental meeting with his future wife..?

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : izana kurokawa

࿐*ೃ fandom : tokyo revengers

࿐*ೃ extra : fluff, fem!reader

THE giant aquarium stretched across the wall, filled with vibrant fish gliding through the water. Schools of neon tetras darted between the artificial coral, while larger koi and angelfish drifted lazily, their scales glistening under the dim blue lighting.

You, however, remained unimpressed.

Arms crossed, you stood before the display, scrutinizing the fish with a judging look. Your friends had dragged you here, claiming it would be “fun,” but all it had done was put you in a situation where you were now stuck staring at fish. What exactly was fun about this?

As you stared, you felt an odd sensation. The distinct feeling of being watched.

You shifted your gaze slightly and immediately locked eyes with someone across the tank. He was positioned at the other side of the aquarium, leaning against the railing, his silver hair catching the glow of the water. His sharp yet dangerously beautiful lilac eyes were focused directly on you, his expression unreadable yet strangely intense.

Most people would have awkwardly looked away after being caught staring. But this guy? He didn’t.

Fine. If he wanted to play that game, so be it.

You stared back.

Seconds passed. Then a full minute.

Neither of you blinked. Neither of you looked away. The fish continued swimming between you, entirely unaware of the silent battle of wills taking place.

Eventually, you were the one to break the silence. “Enjoying your sightseeing so far?”

The corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if amused. “Yeah. You?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just judging the fish ‘cause I’m bored. My friends dragged me here for some reason.”

“Hm.” He didn’t sound surprised, nor did he question it. Instead, he glanced at the aquarium briefly before looking back at you. “What’s your verdict?”

“The koi are the only ones that look decent. Everything else is just floating around, doing nothing.”

“Sounds like you’re describing half the people here.”

That actually got a small exhale from you—too short to be considered a real laugh, but close enough. You tilted your head, regarding him. He was… interesting. And, considering your current situation, maybe a potential escape route.

Without much thought, you asked, “Wanna go eat something?”

His eyes narrowed, as if trying to decipher your motive. “Why?”

“Revenge.”

Now he was intrigued. “On?”

“My friends. They dragged me here, so I’m gonna disappear and let them freak out for a bit.”

A pause. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he gave a slow nod. “Alright.”

And just like that, he fell into step beside you as you walked off, leaving behind the aquarium and your unwitting friends.

The café inside the waterpark was a cozy, semi-outdoor setup, offering a decent selection of snacks and drinks. You and the white-haired stranger sat across from each other at a small table, a plate of pastries and two iced drinks between you.

“So,” you started, stirring your drink lazily with your straw. “Who are you?”

“Izana,” he answered casually. He didn’t offer a last name, nor did he seem to care if you recognized it or not.

You hummed, leaning back in your seat. “Izana. Cool name.”

He tilted his head, watching you. “And you?”

"Y/n." You told him your name, and he nodded as if committing it to memory.

For a while, the conversation drifted from topic to topic in an unexpectedly effortless way. He wasn’t overly talkative, but he responded smoothly, his dry wit making the conversation surprisingly enjoyable. You told him about how your friends dragged you here against your will, and he admitted that he came alone—just to see the fish.

“You actually like fish that much?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah. They’re quiet. Peaceful.”

“Unlike people?”

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. “Exactly.”

You studied him for a moment, realizing that, despite his sharp and almost intimidating appearance, he had a strangely calming presence. You could see why he liked fish—they moved with the same silent, effortless grace he did.

“Guess you’re more passionate about this place than I am,” you mused.

Izana shrugged. “Maybe. But you still came here.”

“Against my will.”

“You still came.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you took a bite of your pastry, only for a bit of powdered sugar to land on the corner of your mouth. You didn’t notice it, but Izana did.

Before you could react, he leaned over the table, raising a hand. His thumb brushed against the corner of your lips, wiping the sugar away.

You froze mid-chew.

He didn’t say anything about it, simply returning to his drink as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You, on the other hand, were left staring at him. “Did you just—”

“There was sugar,” he said simply.

Your brain short-circuited for a second before you swallowed your food. “…You could’ve just told me.”

“Easier this way.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but he only smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“…You’re a bold one, huh?” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Depends.” He took another sip. “You’re not running away.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Why would I? You’re entertaining.”

Izana chuckled under his breath, the sound low and amused. “Glad to know.”

At some point, the conversation shifted to the people around you. You both started making sarcastic comments about random park-goers—like the kid aggressively trying to eat an ice cream bigger than his face, or the couple who were clearly on an awkward first date.

You didn’t know when, but at some point, Izana had leaned his elbow against the table, resting his chin in his palm as he watched you with that same unreadable look from earlier.

“You’re interesting,” he remarked suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yeah. Thought you’d be more boring at first.”

You huffed. “Rude.”

“But I was wrong,” he continued smoothly, not even fazed. “You’re blunt but fun. And you didn’t hesitate to drag me along for food.”

You shrugged. “You were staring first.”

He chuckled at that, but before he could respond, the distant sound of your friends’ voices calling your name echoed through the café.

Izana glanced toward the entrance, then back at you. “Time to return to them?”

You sighed dramatically. “Looks like it.”

“Want me to disappear?”

You considered it for a moment before shaking your head. “Nah. I wanna see how they react.”

Sure enough, when your friends spotted you—sitting comfortably with a stranger, laughing over drinks—they rushed over, demanding to know where you’d been.

You just sipped your drink, watching them with an amused look. “Oh, you know. Just enjoying the fish.”

Izana smirked beside you, taking another sip of his drink.

Something told you this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

[willowsnook]

"The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” (JB)

Joe Burrow x exbsf!joe

request from @d00d13b0p prompts here

—------------------------------------------------

You hated the color orange. 

It was loud. Unforgiving. The kind of color that didn’t just enter a room—it announced itself. Orange reminded you of construction zones, of hazard cones, of warning signs that screamed don’t go there. And maybe that’s why you always avoided it. Because it reminded you too much of things you didn’t want to face.

Even in makeup, you avoided coral lipsticks, peach blushes, anything that leaned toward that cursed hue. Your phone case was grey. Your water bottle? Navy. Your apartment? Decorated with earth tones and soft blues, not a single touch of citrus in sight.

More importantly, orange represented everything that Joe Burrow was. 

Joe Burrow. Joey, as he used to be to you. The one you’d call to walk you home when you were leaving the library late at night. Your plus one to every date party your sorority threw.  Your confidant, your rock, your best friend. 

But then LSU was calling. The promises of “nothing is going to change between us” were quickly proven to be empty. Daily calls turned to weekly to monthly to never. The last time you hd spoken to him was two years ago, and it was the last time for a reason.

Flashback

“Joey.”

You hated how soft your voice sounded. Like it didn’t belong to the girl who swore she was done. Who swore she wouldn’t call. Who swore she wouldn’t care.

“You said we’d make time,” you said, gripping the phone like it could hold him accountable. “You promised me.”

“I’m trying, alright?” Joe snapped, breathless. “I’m drowning in film, in practice, in interviews—I’m doing everything I can and it’s still not enough for you.”

Your silence cracked, sharp and sudden. “Not enough for me? I’m not asking for the world, Joe. I’m asking for a text. A call that isn’t at 1 a.m. when you know I’ll be asleep.”

“I can’t do everything, okay?” His voice rose. “I can’t be your perfect little best friend and be perfect on the field.”

“I never asked for perfect,” you said, voice shaking now. “I asked for present.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the kind that said you don’t get it. “You think I don’t want to be there? You think I don’t miss you every damn day?”

“Then act like it!” you shouted. “You don’t get to say you miss me and then disappear. That’s not friendship, Joe. That’s convenience.”

He went quiet. Too quiet. And for a second, you hoped—hoped he’d say the right thing, hoped he’d fight for you.

But all he said was, “Maybe we’re just not in the same place anymore.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah. Maybe we’re not.”

End of flashback

It had been two years since you'd spoken to him. Two years of carefully avoiding ESPN highlights, muting his name on social media, and changing the radio station whenever football commentary threatened to invade your carefully constructed Joe-free existence.

But then the Bengals drafted him. First overall pick. Suddenly, he was everywhere - billboards, commercials, magazine covers. Orange and black. Everywhere.

And now here you were, staring at your phone, at the text from a number you never deleted:

JB: I'm in town for the weekend. Coffee?

You'd typed and deleted a dozen responses already. What was there to say to someone who had slipped out of your life so easily? Someone who made promises he couldn't keep?

Your roommate Ellie poked her head into your bedroom. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Worse," you muttered, showing her the screen and she raised her eyebrows at you. 

“What are you going to say?” She asked and you sighed. 

“Honestly, I think I’m going to leave him on read,” you said and she nodded in approval. 

“Good, you deserve better.” Ellie had been your roommate in college too and had witnessed the dramatic end to you and Joe’s friendship. It felt worse than a breakup when it happened. There was a hope buried so deep inside of you back then that one day you and him would take the step to be something more; so maybe that’s why you were still this bitter years later. 

“Still going on that date tonight?” She asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah, we’re going to that new bar downtown, the craft cocktail place,” you said.

For about a month, you had been dating someone from your office building. It wasn't anything serious, just enjoying each other's company. He was kind and had a good sense of humor, though there wasn't a strong chemistry. Still, it felt easy, so you continued spending time together.

Ellie kept you company while you got ready and you appreciated her distracting you from the whirl of emotions going on inside of you. How could one text make you spiral like this? It was very irritating. Jackson had texted that he was outside, so you bid your friend goodbye and headed down. 

“Hey gorgeous,” he greeted as you slid into his car. You smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. 

“Hi.”

“Ready?” He said, pulling back out on the street. “I’ve heard great things about this place from my friend Sam. You met him last week at the karaoke bar.”

You let him ramble on for the car ride, too caught up in your own mind to fully pay attention which didn’t go unnoticed by him. He offered you his hand as you got out of the car, but didn’t move to walk towards the bar. 

“You okay?” He asked, concern written all over his face. “You’ve been quiet.” 

“Yeah,” you said with a forced smile. “Just a long day.” 

“Nothing a dirty martini won’t fix,” he joked and that got a laugh out of you. You took a deep breath, pushing all the thoughts of Joe out of your mind. 

“You know me so well,” you said, slipping your hand into his and heading into the bar. 

The bar was dimly lit, with exposed brick walls and copper fixtures that gave the place a warm, intimate feel. A jazz quartet played softly in the corner as a bartender in suspenders shook cocktails with theatrical flair. Under different circumstances, you would have been enchanted by the atmosphere.

"Two seats at the bar just opened up," Jackson said, guiding you with a light touch at the small of your back.

You slid onto the leather barstool, accepting the menu from the bartender. The cocktail list was extensive, each drink described with flowery language about infusions and house-made bitters. You ordered your dirty martini, and Jackson opted for an old fashioned.

"So," he said, turning toward you once your drinks arrived. "Want to tell me what's really going on? I've never seen you this distracted before."

You traced the rim of your glass with your finger, hesitating before deciding to be semi-honest. 

“I got a text from an old friend that wants to meet up,” you said. “The last time we talked wasn’t pleasant, so I guess it’s just brought up a lot of old feelings.” 

He pondered for a moment before speaking, “How long has it been since you talked?” 

“Two years,” you told him and he let out a low whistle. 

“That’s a long time.” 

You nodded, taking a sip of your martini. "Yeah. We were best friends in college. Inseparable, really. Then he... moved away for his career, and things fell apart."

"Must have been some friendship," Jackson observed, studying your face. His eyes were kind, not accusatory. "For it to still affect you like this."

You felt a pang of guilt. Here you were, on a date with a perfectly nice guy, and your mind was stuck on Joe Burrow. It wasn't fair to Jackson.

"It was," you admitted. "But it's in the past now. I'm sorry for being distracted. Tell me more about that project you mentioned yesterday?"

Jackson smiled, launching into a story about his work, and you made a genuine effort to engage. The martini helped, loosening the knot of tension in your chest. By your second drink, you were feeling much better. You were laughing at something he was saying when suddenly he stilled, his jaw dropping. 

“Don’t look now, but there’s a celebrity here,” he said excitedly. 

Laughing, you turned your head, “Who-”

You froze. Staring at you from across the bar was none other than the man himself. 

“Joe Burrow!” Jackson whispered. “He’s in the NFL.” 

“I know who he is,” you said weakly, nerves spiking as you watched Joe make his way across the bar. He stopped when he was a foot away from you, and Jackson shot you a confused look. 

“Y/n,” Joe said. 

“Joe,” you replied quietly. 

His blue eyes bore into yours, that familiar intensity making your stomach flip in the same way it always had. He looked good—too good—in a simple white t-shirt and dark jeans. His hair was shorter now, more polished than the shaggy look he'd sported in college.

"You didn't answer my text," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

Jackson glanced between the two of you, realization dawning on his face. "Wait, you know each other?"

"We used to," you said quickly, gripping your martini glass like a lifeline. "Joe, this is Jackson. Jackson, Joe."

The two men exchanged terse nods, sizing each other up in that primal way men do. Joe's jaw tightened as he took in your proximity to Jackson, the way your knees almost touched on the barstools.

"Sorry to interrupt,” he said tightly. 

“No big deal, join us,” Jackson said, motioning to a hightop table that was empty nearby. You closed your eyes for a moment but didn’t protest, moving to the table with the two of them. 

Joe sat stiffly in the high-top chair, fingers drumming once against the wooden tabletop before he folded his hands together, like he was trying not to snap a pool cue in half. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you once. Not when you’d laughed nervously. Not when Jackson had gently touched your back to guide you to your seat.

Jackson broke the silence first. “So, uh, how do you two know each other?”

Joe didn’t even blink. “We go way back.”

You opened your mouth to elaborate—maybe to ease the tension—but Joe continued, gaze locked on Jackson. “She was my best friend for years. We were pretty much inseparable.”

You flinched inwardly at the word were. Past tense. But the way Joe said it didn’t feel so past. It felt like a challenge.

Jackson smiled politely. “Sounds like you guys were close.”

Joe leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “We were. Closer than most people ever get.”

There was a weight behind his words, a not-so-subtle implication hanging in the air like smoke.

Jackson raised an eyebrow, still playing it cool. “And then what? You lost touch?”

Joe’s jaw twitched. “No. I fucked up.”

You looked at him, startled, but he wasn’t looking at you—his eyes were on Jackson, like this was his confession, not yours.

“I chose football. I let her down. Didn’t mean I stopped caring.”

Jackson nodded slowly, but the temperature at the table had noticeably dropped. “Well, I’m glad you care,” he said evenly, “but she’s doing just fine now.”

That did it.

Joe sat back, arms crossing over his chest. “You think you know her after what—four weeks? Five?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Joe—”

“No, really,” he said, finally looking at you. “Does he know you can’t start a movie halfway through or that you hum when you’re anxious without realizing it? Does he know your coffee order hasn’t changed in five years or that you hate bananas so much that you would know if someone even put a slice in a smoothie?”

“Joe,” you warned, voice quiet but firm.

He looked back at Jackson. “I knew her. I know her. And you don’t get to sit there like you’ve earned that.”

Jackson’s expression hardened. “Man, I’m not trying to step on your nostalgia. But if you knew her so well, maybe you wouldn’t be sitting here talking about what used to be.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply immediately. You could see the storm behind them.

You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest. He looked like a man at war with himself—furious, regretful, and too proud to hide either.

Jackson looked at you then, not Joe. “Do you want me to go?”

And suddenly, it wasn’t about the two of them. It was about you. About the choice that had haunted you for two years.

“I—” You paused, your voice caught somewhere between the past and the present.

Joe’s voice, softer now, cut through the tension like a plea: “Just give me five minutes. Alone.”

You looked at Jackson. He gave you a small, understanding nod.

“I’ll be at the bar,” he said, standing.

When he walked away, Joe leaned in, blue eyes tired and full of something that almost hurt to look at.

“Why are you here?” You asked, exasperated, putting your head into your hands. 

Joe didn’t answer right away. He ran a hand through his hair, let out a long breath, and leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Because I’m lonely.”

You froze.

Slowly, you lifted your head from your hands and stared at him, wide-eyed.

“You’re lonely?” you repeated, voice rising as anger cracked through your exhaustion like lightning. “You are lonely?”

He winced. “Yeah. I—”

“No,” you snapped, sitting up straighter. “You don’t get to say that to me. You don’t get to look me in the eye and say you’re lonely when you were the one who left.”

“Y/n—”

“You left me, Joe!” your voice broke, raw and sharp and furious. “You chose everything else over me. You stopped calling. You ghosted me when I was still trying to hold on. You let me sit there, night after night, wondering what I did wrong. Wondering if I mattered at all!”

Joe’s jaw clenched, his eyes pleading. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did! That’s the thing, Joe. You meant to let go. You let me fall out of your life because it was easier that way. And now what? You show up because you’re lonely? Because you saw me with someone else and couldn’t stand it?”

“I never stopped caring,” he said, almost desperate now. “I thought about you every day. I missed you every day.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?” you cried, tears welling in your eyes now, but you refused to let them fall. “Why didn’t you reach out? Why now?”

“Because I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” he said, voice low. “Because I was scared. Because I was ashamed. I was living this dream life that felt so empty without you in it, and I didn’t know how to fix what I broke.”

You looked away, jaw trembling. The truth of his words hurt even more than the lies he never told.

“You don’t get to walk in here, drop your guilt on me, and expect what? Forgiveness? A second chance? Joe, you shattered me.”

Silence fell between you. Thick. Heavy. The weight of everything unsaid crashing around your feet.

Joe finally whispered, “I just wanted you to know that I love you.”

And for a moment, the world stopped.

You stared at him. Really stared at him. And you could see it—all the things he never said. All the things you once wished he had.

But love without effort, without presence, without trying, wasn’t love at all.

Your voice was calm now but cold. “That’s the thing, Joey. You don’t get to love me when it’s convenient.”

And with that, you stood up, leaving your half-empty martini glass behind. Jackson followed you out of the bar and you made it two steps out before the dam broke. His arms wrapped around you quickly, pulling you into his chest. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” he murmured into your hair as you clung to him. Once you caught your breath you pulled back, his arms still around you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

He was quiet momentarily, bringing his hands up to your face to wipe the tears from under your eyes. “Seems like a little bit more than friends no?”

“It’s complicated, well was complicated,” you corrected. He smiled at you.

“You are an amazing girl and way out of my league,” he said, and you let out a shaky laugh. “But c’mon, I can’t compete with Joe Burrow.” 

You rested your forehead against his chest. “No, you can’t.” 

“Can I give you some advice?” He asked, rubbing your shoulders as you leaned against him. 

“Of course,” you whispered.

“It’s pretty brave to admit mistakes like that, especially when you haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Jackson said. “The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” 

You closed your eyes and let the sentence settle in your chest, heavy and warm. Forgiveness. It didn’t mean forgetting. It didn’t mean erasing the hurt or pretending it never happened.

It meant letting go of the weight you’d carried for too long.

Jackson’s hands were still on your shoulders, grounding you. You looked up at him with a small, grateful smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For tonight. For understanding.”

He nodded, brushing a hair behind your ear gently. “You don’t owe me anything. But I hope whatever you decide… it gives you peace.”

You nodded. “It already is.”

You stepped back, gave his hand a squeeze, then turned and walked back inside.

Joe was still sitting at the high-top table, head down, elbows on the table, hands clasped like he was praying. Or waiting. He looked up the second the door opened.

You walked straight toward him, and his eyes widened with something like hope—or maybe disbelief.

You didn’t sit. Not yet.

“Come with me,” you said quietly.

He stood without hesitation.

You led him outside into the cool night air. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the sidewalk as the sounds of jazz faded behind you. You stopped a few feet from the bar, turned to face him.

“I’m still angry,” you said honestly. “I’m still hurt. But I don’t want to be anymore.”

Joe’s eyes were locked on yours, cautious. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

You studied him for a moment. The man in front of you wasn’t the boy who left. He was older. Weathered. And maybe—finally—ready.

“I don’t know where this goes,” you said, voice quieter now. “But I’d like to find out. If you’re willing to show up this time. If you’re willing to mean it.”

His breath hitched. “I will. I promise you, I will.”

You let out a small laugh, half in disbelief, half in relief. “Okay, Joey.”

He stepped closer. Slowly. Gently. And when you didn’t pull away, he wrapped his arms around you, and everything that had felt broken inside you began, piece by piece, to fall back into place.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t simple. But it was real.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[marymary-diva17]

she is the boss

The metekayain had many things to learn when it comes to be with a human, and dreamwalker as life would be dramatically changing for them. As they will be seeing that even their challenges they had to going through, as young warriors didn't prepare them to being with a human who had grade aura to themselves and will not allow only to get away with anything.

y/n " ........" the home was very quite right now as the everyone seem to be out during their own thing, and it made you happy to see your family getting out and during their own things.

aonung " you two are such fools"

tsireya " no aonung you are the fools and act like you know everything"

rotxo " I agree as well aonung you are acting like you are the best just because you are the oldest"

y/n " hey" the kids soon looked to see you standing there as you looked at them, and soon made your way towards them.

y/n " so tell me why my little ones are fighting"

aonung " they started it they will not listen to me"

tsireyo " he being a sxkwangs mama"

rotox " he didn't want to hear us about only saying he the oldest"

aonung " no I didn't"

tsireya and rotxo " yes you did"

aonung " no"

tsireya and rotxo " yes"

aonung " nah"

tsireya and rotox " yah ha"

y/n " okay no more we are not going back forth all day on this game"

kids " yes mama"

y/n " good because right now you are all to nice or civil towards each other, as I will not have you fighting one another right now so tell me what happened"

aonung " babas had asked us to collect some things for them and we said yes, but we couldn't agree on the right things to get mama"

y/n " okay what did they ask for you all to give them"

tsireya " shells, broken coral, some pearls, and few other things"

y/n " okay and did you bring that stuff home"

aonung " yes but not that much and now babas will be mad at us, and mad with me as I'm the oldest and I should do better"

y/n " oh my aonung you have done well my son all of you have done well"

rotxo " thank you mama"

tsireya " yes thank you mama"

y/n " I love you kids so much you know that"

kids " yes mama"

y/n " good now run along my crazy kids and go have some fun" the kids soon laugh as you looked at them, as they prepared to leave the house they soon ran into your husbands.

tonowari " there you three are we had come to see how the task was going"

aonung " yes baba we brought home what we got today"

tsireya " yes did it a mixture of many things as you have asked"

rotox " we worked together as well"

ronol " oh show us what you brought home" the kids soon showed their fathers what they brought home, as it was something they were not expecting.

tonowari " well kids this si a good haul"

ronol " yes you all had done a good job"

aonung " really"

tonowari " yes"

y/n " see my children there was nothing to worry about at all" the kids had smiled brightly being so proud of themselves at the moment.

aonung " come on let go play and tsireya and pick the game"

tsireya " really" aonung had nodded his head as the kids had taken off leaving you with your mates.

tonowari " they got into a fighting didn't they"

y/n " I don't know what you are talking about my kids are good"

ronol " that one way to explain them as they are copies of you, there no lying there"

y/n " what was that my dear husband"

ronol " oh nothing just myself tell you how much I love and adore you"

y/n " nice try handsome but I heard you as I recall our children, are much like their fathers"

tonowari and ronol " ......."

y/n " I take the silence as I have won the debate here and next time, you both decide to leave home without word we are going to have a nice and long conversation"

tonowari " yes ma y/n"

y/n " good" you soon noted your head as you soon started walking away to go check on the kids, as they watch you walk away they had leaned the hard way you were the boss. When you told them anything you are true to your word, and they didn't mind that all all. That what them and many others had to get use to when they settled down with a dreamwalker.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sharks V

Meadema x Child!Reader

Summary: It's your birthday

"This is a big thing, liefje," Mummy says to you, smoothing back your hair," And you have to promise me you can be responsible."

"I can!" You say.

You've just come back from your birthday party. Well, it was more like your birthday celebration. You didn't have enough friends for a party so Mummy and the Arsenal girls took you to the aquarium and Peanut and her mummies flew over from Spain to join you too.

You showed Peanut everything at the aquarium and she even gave you a whale shark that she and her mummies adopted for you that you could track anywhere in the world.

Mama couldn't come with you today and that was sad but she got you up this morning and made you a special birthday girl breakfast.

You missed her today at your celebration but Mummy's being very secretive and said that Mama's got a surprise for you.

You let Mummy take off your shoes and hang up your coat as Mama comes down the stairs.

"Mama!" You cry, running into her arms and letting her squeeze you nice and tight.

"Hey, liefje," She says," Did you have a good birthday?"

You nod. "Me and Peanut saw the seahorses."

"Wow, that sounds fun."

"Is it my surprise now?" You ask," Because Mummy said you couldn't come because you're making my surprise."

Mama laughs and nods. She covers your eyes with her hands and Mummy helps you up the stairs.

You have to concentrate really hard to work out where you're going. You know you've moved past the adult room and your one too but also the office. You think you're going into the spare room.

It's kind of like your play room but it's mostly empty.

"Okay," Mama says, sounding oddly excitable," Are you ready, birthday girl?"

You wiggle.

"Ready!"

"Okay, one, two, three!"

Mama takes her hands off your eyes.

The play room is different now. For one, the big light is off. You like that because you're not a fan of the big light in this room. It's too bright and it buzzes sometimes.

Instead, the only light is coming from the backdrop of the massive aquarium that's been moved in while you were away.

You're practically vibrating as you run over to it.

Mama's done a very good job because it's massive and takes up a lot of the room. There are plants and little hideaway caves and coral everywhere and you gasp when you spot the creature floating along the bottom.

"Wobbegong!" You exclaim, pressing your face up to the glass as close as possible without scaring it. "Mummy! It's a shark!"

Mummy laughs and nods. She doesn't seem to want to come any closer though. "Yeah, you're right. It is a shark."

You look between her and the wobbegong. It's not very big so you don't think it's very old yet. You kind of know how big adult wobbegongs get so you step back to look at the series of interconnecting tanks to see if it will be big enough.

It is.

You smile and point at it.

"Mama! You got me a shark!"

Mama, unlike Mummy, comes forward. "I did. Do you like it, liefje?"

"Love it!"

You giggle when Mama tickles your tummy and sends you on your way to thank Mummy too.

You know that Mummy doesn't really like sharks. She thinks a lot of them are scary looking so you don't make her come to you. You hug her really nicely though.

Mama drags a chair over so you can stand on it and see your shark better.

"Do you know any facts about wobbegongs, liefje?"

"Er..." You think for a second. "They're lazy 'cause they sleep all day and come out at night."

"Wow," Mama says," What else do you know?"

"The mummy wobbegongs don't lay eggs. They have live babies like people do."

"Very interesting. Are you going to give it a name? I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. Sorry, liefje."

"Hmm." You look at the shark, studying it closely.

"Carpet," You say.

Mummy laughs. She's still keeping her distance from it all but she's got her phone out and you think she's recording. "Why do you want to call it Carpet, liefje?"

"'Cause wobbegongs get called carpet sharks like how I get called liefje!"

Mama grins, stroking through your hair. "I think that's an excellent name."

"Mummy," You say," Can you send a picture of me and Carpet to Peanut's mummies?"

Mummy laughs. "Alright. Go on and pose and I'll take a picture."

"Peanut got me a shark in the wild and you and Mama got me a shark at home!" You say," This is the best birthday ever!"

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part ten

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: playlist coming v soon!!

series masterlist // playlist

Coriolanus lets out a scream of anger as he pulls the weight of the cement block down on the boy again, dishing out every last bit of rage he had over the inconvenience he had caused. He had to. He was sure the tribute was already dead, but one more hit couldn't hurt- not when he needed to make sure he was really done; not when it felt so powerful the first time.

He's breathing heavily, staring down at the body in front of him with his curls falling in his face, preventing him from seeing reality. Shielding him from seeing you.

You open your mouth to speak, but you can't. To ask if he's okay, but clearly he is- that final blow was too late to be a hit out of desperation, panic, or pain. It was pure, unnecessary retaliation. It went against everything you stood for. Everything you said.

Coriolanus was Coriolanus indeed; you could see it in the darkness that suddenly appeared behind his eyes. It was like he had done it for fun.

He looks up only when you take a step back, shoe crunching over the rubble underneath your sole and alerting him to your presence.

"Y/N-"

You look between the boy you thought you knew and the battered body on the ground. You take another hasty step back.

The power he thought he felt was replaced instantly by guilt when he saw the look on your face. He wasn't sure your kind features were even capable of showing an emotion so abrasive as disgust- but that was all he could think of to describe what he had to guess was going on behind your eyes. Betrayal, maybe. Horror, even, at something he had done. He moves to take a step toward you, dropping the metal rod in his hand so maybe you'd give him the chance to explain but you were taking off like a bird in the street threatened by a moving car the second he moved a muscle. He freezes, hand extended toward you despite you being too far to reach.

You were scared. Of him.

He very quickly had more pressing matters than your understanding or coping with the idea that you had run from him since he was now hearing the war cry of Coral and her pack as they ran from the tunnels toward the exit he was standing under.

He was grateful you had fled before that, hoping they didn't see you before you hid away again. He hops back over the gate, grabbing Sejanus and forcing him through the front entrance just in time.

"For Coriolanus, when I am gone."

He reads over the words on the outside of the intricately folded note over and over again, sitting at his desk and trying to ignore the stitches pulling at his back. Sejanus had given the note to him when he was discharged from the hospital. A note from you. It was a goodbye, he knew it. Something about your delicate handwriting on the outside felt so sacred to him.

"My Dearest Corio,

For once, I cannot express with words what I need to say to you. Regrettably, Sejanus is waiting so I must find something to say soon. I'll begin with thank you. You told me not to thank you until you had done something for me, but what you didn't understand was that you already had. Having a friend at the end has meant the world to me. I wish I could tell my family about you. When I can't sleep at night, I think of how much they would love you, and how we could sit together in the field at night and look at the stars. I hope one day you get to see them.

I apologize that I have to ask one more thing of you. I admit, I do not know how your mentorship works, but I hope with all my heart that I have done enough for you to win your prize. I regret that I will never know. I'm sorry that you ended up with me, you deserved better. I feel like you weren't given a choice, though I know you would never admit that. I digress. All I ask is that you do not forget me. You don't have to feel guilt, or think of me all the time, I just hope you read Romeo and Juliet one day and guess which parts were my favourite. Or that if you're out on cold nights when the breeze chills your skin, you'll think of us. I also hope that is not too much to ask of you. I suppose, again, I will never know.

If I can take your position for a moment and mentor you; I have some advice I would like to offer. Be whatever you want to be, do what you want to do. Don't let anything or anyone stop you from being good. Your kindness, Corio, was not lost on me while I had the pleasure of knowing you. I've seen who you are, and I will never forget.

I must tell you posthumously that you are the closest thing to my own Romeo Montague I have been lucky enough to have in my life, but our story is different. You get to grow up, change, have a life, and fall in love. Please do. See the beauty in everything and do not let the cruelties of the world change the goodness in your soul.

"Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!"

With love and not nearly enough time,

Y/N

He couldn't resist unfolding the page in his hands and reading it. Every inch of the page was covered in your scrawled print, urgent from not wanting to keep Sejanus waiting for too long. You were still very much alive, but he was probably dead to you and he saw that in your eyes as you looked at him with nothing short of fear. He was supposed to be your Romeo, or at least you thought so when you wrote it. And he wanted that for you. He regrets so deeply that he took that perspective from you. It was a mistake- but maybe, if you won, you would see that for what it was and forgive him.

He wanted to crush up the note and throw it against the wall, tear it to shreds and light it on fire and burn away the fact he had ever met you, but he knew he didn't want to. It was all he would have left of you. He couldn't lose it, even if he hated himself for ruining what you could have had.

Instead, he folded it back up and put it on the shelf where his mother's compact once was before crawling into bed and crying until he finally passed out.

"You can explain it to her, Coryo. I know she will be reasonable." Tigris smiles sadly at him, helping him once again with his blazer following yet another back injury.

He hadn't said anything to trigger her sympathies this morning besides having puffy eyes in her presence. Though, the wall that separates their bedrooms is thin- it was likely that despite the muffling of his sheets, she had heard his cries. He had told her everything, he always did.

"Would you like me to come with you today? I can miss just one day of work, no harm will be done." His cousin offers. He wants to decline, her income is all they had, but if Coryo was being honest with himself, he needed someone in his corner.

"Okay." He agrees quietly and she smiles, patting the front of his uniform.

"I'll grab my things, can you wait a few moments?" She asks, already heading for her room.

"Of course." He nods. In another moment of self-honesty, he realizes he doesn't even want to go. But he had to be there. For you. If you had even survived the night.

When you decided there was enough daylight, you crawled back deeper into the vents. Seemingly you were safe there, if you had to guess it was almost noon and no one had bothered you. You were on your way to check on Jessup- that was a better use of your time than dwelling on what you witnessed last night and slipping deeper and deeper into a downward spiral.

You approach the grate in the vent you entered through, peeking in to see if he was still there. "Jessup?" You whisper, unable to see him. Worried when you get no response, you slide the cover off and hang your head out of it to look around. He was curled up against the wall across the room, and he looked distressed. Shaking, crying, skin ashen.

"Jessup?" You call toward him again, beginning to climb down to go check on him.

He's not responsive to you, not as you take a few hesitant steps closer. "Are you okay?"

His head snaps up to look at you. "Y/N?"

You smile a little, surprised he even remembered your name in his state. "Hi." You crouch down in front of him. "What do you need? Are you holding up okay?"

Again, no response.

"I'll get you some supplies." You whisper to him, knowing that if the microphones pick it up, Coryo would likely send you nothing when you emerge into the open area. He was very clear that you shouldn't share, but Jessup clearly needed help. He'd been down here for over a day without food or water, but now, you didn't know that you had anyone to help. You had Coryo and Sejanus, but now Sejanus hated you and Coryo was never who you thought he was. It had haunted you all night.

"I'll be back soon, okay?" You smile at Jessup reassuringly, standing and untying the scarf so you can get back up into the vents.

Coryo hadn't heard what you said to the boy, but when you reemerged from the vents after checking it was mostly clear, he knew what you were there for. It was decently safe, spare for Reaper who had collected and covered several bodies with a torn flag while you were gone. Making eye contact with him startles you, but you don't move. Neither does he. You give him a nod of understanding as he kneels next to the aboveground grave, which he returns. Lamina wasn't on her beam anymore, and that makes your heart clench. It took you a long time to get from one place to the next using the vents- anything could have happened in the time you weren't watching.

Now that you've established that you're safe, you look to the nearest camera with hopeful and tired eyes. Coryo knows you want to bring whatever he would send back down to Jessup.

He chews his lip, looking between you and the small screen in front of him. He shouldn't enable you to help another tribute, but it did look fruitless. Jessup was not well, not at all, and it would be a waste to even bother feeding him. At the same time, after what he had done last night, after what you witnessed, he would have to buy back your trust. Allowing you to help your friend is his only way to do that, at the moment. So he selects the water and sends it, followed by some bread.

You receive it, giving a weak, almost hesitant smile to the camera with the food and water tucked against your chest. "Thank you." He can only read your lips before you disappear again.

Climbing back out of the vent, this time with a water bottle and some bread in hand as you drop to the ground, you startle your friend. "Hey, Jessup." You say, raising your free hand to calm him. "I brought you something to eat."

You approach him carefully as he stares at you. You hold the items out to him, but he doesn't take them. "Do you want some help?" You offer, kneeling down in front of him. "Here," You tear off some of the bread and try to hand it to him. After not eating enough for so long, smaller pieces would probably be easier. "It may be a little dusty from the vent, but it's still good. You need to eat."

Then, without warning, he slaps the items out of your hand and shoves you back. "What did you do to it?!" He shouts as you fall back on your butt, quickly shuffling yourself back away from him.

"Nothing! Nothing, Jessup, shh, we gotta be quiet down here..." You try and calm him, still backing away.

"You're trying to kill me!" He yells, ignoring your pleas for him to be quiet, reaching for the now empty and broken water bottle that spilled out over the floor.

"I would never, I just want to help!" You try and assure him, standing up and backing away. Clearly, he doesn't want to talk as he's jumping at you, now with a weapon in hand.

You have to run. There's no time to get back into the vent, making a run for the door and throwing yourself through the hole at the bottom.

"Why would you do this?!" He shouts after you as you run down the halls of the tunnel, still trying to stay as quiet as possible through your heavy breathing. "What have you done?!"

"Lyssie- what is he doing?" Coryo asks his classmate next to him, thankful now that you are apparently such a fast runner.

"I- I don't know. He wouldn't betray her like this." She replies with a slight shake of her head, eyes glued to the screen.

"She's fast enough, but she can't get back in the vents while she's being chased." Coryo says, as if either of them could do anything, but he was as helpless as you were.

You slide to a halt in the long, rounded hallway when you see Coral round the corner in front of you. Jessup was sick, he wasn't fast, but you couldn't turn back. You were cornered, and there was nowhere to go but up. You look up, scanning the overhead vent system for a grate but see none. Turning quickly, you look along the ceiling toward Jessup as he makes his way toward you with the broken water bottle. You'd rather try your odds with him than Coral and the others.

Your eyes land on a grate just ahead of you as you hear footsteps and shouting closing in on you from both directions. With shaking hands you scramble to untie the scarf as you run back toward Jessup, throwing it back over the pipe and using all your strength to pull yourself up into the ceiling, hitting in the grate and pulling yourself inside. "Jessup, Jessup! Run! Hurry!" You try and urge him, but it's like he doesn't hear you, jumping to jab at you with the bottle. He misses, luckily, but Coral never does.

Coryo watches with bated breath while you struggle to pull yourself up, abandoning your friend to his fate. He cringes as he watches Jessup fall, the inflicted wounds being just hidden by Tanner's form and the buzzer goes off.

"Oh, and that's the end for Jessup as his district partner climbs into the ceiling!" Lucky's voice sounds distant to him. "Lysistrata, get out of here and Coriolanus, you may want to start packing your things as well."

He wouldn't budge. He's not packing a single thing until you're done taking your final breaths. Lyssie sighs and shakes her head, tears in her eyes as she pats Coryo's shoulder. "If this is it for her, I'm so sorry..." She apologizes before taking her leave.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you pull yourself almost fully into the vent. You don't make it smoothly, though, crying out in pain as you feel the prongs of Coral's trident plunging into your calf. Your blood drips down your leg and on top of the other tributes as you finally make your way all the way in. You don't have time to feel any pain as you quickly crawl away. They know where you are, she could stab up into the vent just below you and catch you again- you had to find a way up farther.

"Y/N! We know where you've been hiding now, you're not safe in there!" Coral calls after you, and you have to ignore it as you slide through the metal tube, feeling it get slick from the blood pooling underneath you with every movement.

You don't hear them following you, though, so when you finally make it to where you can climb up to the next level, you feel a lot safer. Your chest is heaving as you sit up on the edge of the drop-down to the tunnels, just given enough room in the T intersection of the vents to take a breath and look at your leg.

You hiss as you lift your leg, assessing the puncture wounds. They wouldn't be fatal if you stopped the bleeding. You exhale shakily, pressing down on the flesh with your palms, pain shooting up your leg and into your back. You don't have anything to use to help besides the scarf, but it was Coryo's. You don't want to ruin it.

You didn't have a choice. You grab the material that you had dragged along with you, wrapping it tightly around the skin. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry,.." You cry, knowing he can't see or hear you.

Coryo is already panicking. Just like Highbottom had said, you could be dead in there and he wouldn't know. The panic only escalates when the cameras follow Coral, Treech, Tanner, and Mizzen as they go back up to the main floor, and Treech and Tanner go for the two main vent entrances, all of them too focused on you to even notice or care that Reaper was sat in the same clearing.

You don't hear it for a few minutes. The bleeding in your leg had mostly stopped, soaking the silk material by the time you heard the familiar clang of shifting metal. Someone else was in the vents.

You look behind you, trying to discern which direction they were coming from, but it was nearly impossible to tell with the echo. You had to move, but you could be crawling right into your fate. Maybe you should just stay and wait and let it happen.

As the noises got closer from both sides, accompanied by coughing from the dust, you knew you couldn't just wait. You'd made it this far, and as far as you knew, no one else knew the vents nearly as well. That was an advantage you had sought from the very beginning, and now was the time to use it.

You gently lower yourself down to slide back the way you came, hitting the bottom level with a bang before ducking out of sight and around a corner. It couldn't have been Coral up there, she would be taunting you by now, but she wasn't. It was quiet until you heard whispers up from where you just were.

"There's blood on this side. She must have gone back down." You recognize Treech's voice when you hear it, and you hold your breath as you fiddle with the compact in your pocket. Stroking your thumb over the carved metal over and over again, trying to stay quiet. "Look, there's a trail going that way."

"Down we go, then." Tanner replies, making your heart stop. You couldn't fight them off, you knew that, and there was a trail of your own blood that would lead them straight to you. You couldn't hide.

You slowly pull the compact from your pocket, turning it over in your palm. You swore you wouldn't participate in the games. You wouldn't harm anyone. But maybe, if you 'accidentally' spilled its contents in the vent before you had to move on, they would stop following you.

Before you can think too much about it, you're holding your breath and opening the small clasp. It just looked like salt. Yeah. It's salt. You already believe it as you gently tip the container, making a thin line of the substance across the bottom of the vent. Salt is for protection. The salt will keep me safe.

You pocket the compact again and quietly crawl away.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @baybieruth , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore ,

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry! hopefully for part eleven it'll be business as usual!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[hermitscratch]

Joel & Etho - 21, for the writing ? :3

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

21. A kiss to shut them up, Joel/Etho, 957 words

[ Inspired in part by this lovely artwork by @plumadot ! ]

"So I've got a theory," Joel started.

It was a nice day; temperate in a way that heralded the approaching warm season. A lot of hermits were taking advantage of it to check the things off their to-do lists that weren't easily done in cold or wet weather. Etho had broken off from the others for just that purpose, but as soon as he mentioned needing coral, Joel invited himself along.

Which meant a return to form in the shape of them, once again, sharing a boat.

"Do I have to listen to your theory?" Etho asked. The answer didn't matter much when he was a captive audience, but their conversations up until this point had been general, casual nonsense. How they spent their morning, how they liked their steak cooked, what ore they'd most be willing to eat. Time killers at worst, amusement at best.

Joel scoffed. "Don't act like you don't want to know what I'm thinking," Etho felt an elbow land against his ribs without any real force. It might have been rougher, if they weren't currently faced away from each other. Joel liked watching the wake the boat left behind, so they were pressed back-to-back. "It's about your obsession."

"My obsession? Don't you mean yours?" He retorted. Joel snorted, and Etho could imagine the smug grin that'd be accompanying it.

"This projection is getting embarrassing, Etho," Joel said with thinly veiled glee.

Etho rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Just tell me about your theory," He said through a chuckle.

From behind him, Joel wiggled like he was trying to look over his shoulder. The boat rocked hard to the left, and Joel stilled before crowing, "I knew you wanted to know!"

Etho stopped rowing to peer over the boat's edge. The ocean here was deep, illuminated only faintly by magma pockets and the occasional rogue glow squid. They'd made a lot of headway, but there was still a ways to go to reach an untouched reef. "I wonder if I could swim back to shore from here..."

"I'll push you overboard myself if you don't let me get a blummin' word out," Joel griped, even as he fisted a hand in the back of Etho's shirt. It wouldn't do much if Etho decided to move, but the idea that Joel might want him to stay was more than enough for Etho to do so.

Not that Etho would ever tell him that; his ex-soulmate's ego was big enough.

"You're the one stopping, though?" Etho answered, rebalancing the boat and adjusting the oars to continue rowing. Joel's inhale was audible, and before he could argue, Etho urged, "Let's hear your theory."

Joel crossed his arms with a huff. Etho grinned. Joel was probably pouting and everything. "D'you remember what Gem said this morning?"

"Hmm," Etho had to think the question through. They'd been hanging out with Gem, Impulse, and Scar that morning, a lot of things were said. "Mmmmaybe?"

After a few minutes of fruitless sifting through snippets of conversation that Joel might have found noteworthy, he threw Etho a bone. "When we were arguing about who built a better cherry tree, still me by the way, she said-"

Ah. "'Just kiss already', or something?" Etho offered.

Joel clapped once, "Exactly."

Etho laughed, pitching his voice up in a mockery of Joel's, "Oh no, I'm not obsessed, I'm just chasing him making smoochy sounds and thinking a lot about Gem telling us to kiss-"

"That first thing was literally your fault!" Joel argued, "And I'm not thinking about it, alright? There's nothing to think about, it's just a thing that is!"

"What is?"

Joel seemed to shrink, curling forward so their backs were no longer touching. "If we kissed, the world would sorta collapse, wouldn't it?"

Etho stopped so abruptly that he almost dropped an oar. What? "Uh. No?"

"Of course you'd say so, it's stupid how bad you wanna kiss me," Joel scoffed. The turn in conversation was so jarring that Etho didn't even argue the point about wanting to kiss Joel. "But the stir it'd cause would be massive. Gem would explode. Bdubs would probably explode, maybe Grian? Scar and Skizz, definitely, we'd never hear the end of it."

Etho locked the oars and turned around in his seat. If Joel noticed, he gave no indication, plowing relentlessly forward as if he'd realized there was no going back now that he'd started. Etho recognized that habit from their time together in Double Life- an anxious Joel with no other outlet would ramble himself breathless.

"Your mask as well," Joel continued, "Nobody's seen you without it-"

Etho tugged his mask down.

"-that's probably grounds for server obliteration in itself-"

He put a hand on Joel's shoulder.

"-if the first time anybody saw your face was for a kiss like that, then-"

He turned Joel to face him.

And before Joel could say another word, Etho kissed him.

Silence. Bliss. Etho's lips were dry from the mask, and he kept the press of them soft until he felt Joel's stiff body melt, meeting Etho's lean halfway. He tilted his head, and he could feel the flutter of long lashes against his face as Joel's eyes shut. The world kept turning, and Etho let it, stealing a moment just for them.

It only ended when Etho pulled away, leaving a dazed Joel to process what had just happened. Etho didn't bother putting his mask back up when he grinned. "Still alive?"

"Wh- y-?" Joel floundered. Etho chuckled, and Joel scowled, even as a dusty blush painted his cheeks pink. Even as he turned to face Etho properly, dropping his head against Etho's shoulder. Even as Etho felt lips against his racing pulse.

"Oh, shut up, Etho."

[fameandfiction]

IMAGINE PART I: “Nipple Theory” — Reneé Rapp x Reader

— Chaotic makeup session.

You knew agreeing to let Reneé do your makeup was going to be a thing, but you didn’t expect it to be a full-blown theory.

It starts with the sound of a drawer slamming.

Then a gleeful gasp.

Then—“Oh my GOD, remember when lip liner was supposed to match your nipples?! Like... that was the trend. That was the whole aesthetic. That’s where we were as a society.”

She turns to you like she’s discovered the Library of Alexandria. Except instead of literature, she’s holding a stubby pencil in a shade called “Bare Seduction.” You’re sitting in her bathroom, legs curled under you, robe slipping off your shoulder, while Reneé rummages through a bag of expired Glossier products like a witch brewing lip combos.

"Reneé, please—"

"No, no, no. You don’t get to 'please' out of this," she interrupts, spinning on her socked heel, gum snapping between her teeth. “This is sacred. This is nipple-coded. I’m taking this seriously.”

You give her a look — half-exasperated, half aroused. She’s wearing boxer shorts and a sports bra, her hair twisted up in a claw clip, and she’s dead serious about your cosmetic alignment with your areolas.

"You act like I have a Pantone chart of my boobs lying around," you mutter.

She squints at you. “Do you not? Amateur.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Reneé Rapp has this way of saying the most absurd things like they’re law — like she’s the Greek chorus of hot girls and all of them are behind her, cheering.

"I’m not taking my top off just so you can match lip liner to my chest."

She clicks the pencil cap off dramatically. “Then describe them.”

“Reneé—”

“Warm rose? Cool blush? Terra-cotta titty? Give me something to work with.”

Your hand flies to your face in secondhand embarrassment, but your cheeks are already heating. Of course. This is so her. There’s not a single moment in your friendship where boundaries haven't been bent like wet mascara wands. It’s part of the charm. Or the chaos. Both.

She chews her gum like a devil at the gates of Sephora.

"Fine," you sigh. "They’re like... mauve? Kind of dusty pink. Not too bright. Definitely not coral."

She beams like you handed her state secrets. "Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it, baby?"

Baby. There it is again. She throws pet names around like confetti, but somehow when it’s just you, when it’s quiet and she’s standing over you with her wrist at your chin and her tongue in her cheek, it doesn’t feel harmless.

It feels... intentional.

She leans in. Close enough to count her lashes. Close enough to see that little freckle under her left eye twitch when she’s concentrating.

“No talking,” she says, all serious now. “This requires surgical precision.”

You sit still. Lips parted. Breath steady. Her fingers are warm when they cradle your jaw, tipping your head back like something delicate. The pad of her thumb brushes your bottom lip before the liner ever does.

And then — slow, careful strokes.

You feel the drag of pigment against your skin. You feel the shift of air between her chest and yours. The scent of her — vanilla lotion, coconut hair oil, peppermint gum — folds over you like a blanket made of everything you’ve ever wanted to taste.

"You’ve got good lips," she murmurs, not looking at your eyes. “Plump. Naturally lined. It’s unfair. You could ruin someone with these.”

You arch a brow, but your mouth doesn’t move. She’s right there, pencil tracing the edge of your cupid’s bow like a map she’s memorized.

"I’m starting to think this whole thing was an excuse to stare at my mouth," you whisper.

She doesn’t flinch. “And you’re only just starting to think that?”

Another stroke. Another pause.

You can feel her breath when she exhales — soft, sharp, amused. Her eyes flicker up to yours, and for a second, neither of you moves.

The vibe between you ripples. Lowkey. Tense. Familiar.

“Okay, I’m done,” she says, stepping back, but her voice is a little too breathless. A little too proud.

You blink yourself back into the moment. The mirror shows you something... different. Polished. Sharp. A little sensual. The lip liner does match. You’re not sure if it’s the color or the context that makes your throat dry.

“See?” she says, hip cocked, gum snapping. “Nipple theory never lies.”

You smile despite yourself. “You’re such a menace.”

She leans in again — much closer this time, eyes on your mouth. “Yeah. But admit it... you’re kind of into it.”

Then, just before you can think of something smart to say, she kisses your jaw. Right below the corner of your mouth. Lip liner and all.

“I should name the shade after you,” she murmurs against your skin. “Call it... 'Muse Mauve.’”

Your body goes still.

Reneé steps back with a wink. “Perfect match.”

[cabinseventheaterchick]

“Never look down on anybody unless you’re helping them up.”

—Jesse Jackson

Portrait done by the incredibly talented @oceans-corals-and-poisons

Please, if you'd like to interact with me, use at least two sentences. This isn't a super strict rule and I absolutely understand that less is more in some scenarios, but I like to have something to play off of, and this way we can keep the roleplay fun!

Kat if she had a Wikipedia page (her lore summarized)

Oh, hey! Didn’t see you see there. I’m Kat Carter!

Okay, let's go! I'm sixteen, a daughter of Apollo, and I'm currently at Camp Half-Blood with my homies <3

When I’m not at camp, NYC is my home base. You can probably find me in Apollo cabin: practicing songs for the campfire, playing matchmaker (it’s not just for Aphrodite kids!), or staging a kitchen coup d’état so I can bake something delicious.

Shoot me an ask, camp can get kinda boring!

he gets his own category:

@ellis--wakefield — my boyfriend <333

he’s really cute and he’s great at capture the flag and he’s nice to the newbies and damn he’s just idk how to even describe him ‘cause words cannot

Former… um… let’s just say people I used to know:

@lukemessedup — Good boss, bad business

@lieutenant-of-kronos — I regret letting him convince me to join up but he’s a nice guy.

@alabaster-c-t — Yep. You read that right. Bro is apparently not dead, nor has ever been.

@the-song-of-the-moon — We’re starting an ex-Titan Army therapy group together :3

Uncle Kronos (links to the Wayback Machine of the first version) — Literally cannot believe I wrote this. Uncle Kronos was a good person. I think I’ll always miss him, but I’m glad he found peace. Here’s to you, Uncle K.

@existence-is-pain-ahhhhhhhh — need I say more? He’s awesome. Case closed.

@the-better-castellan — new addition to the List Of People Who Aren’t Dead After All! They’re cool trust me

@peyton-is-cool — I missed him loads. Thank the gods he’s safe—he’s been in Texas? I guess?

Totally irresponsible pseudo-father to half of CHB (he does actually care about campers but he’s got a reputation to uphold):

@dionysus-god-of-all-things-wine

My fellow campers, love y’all:

@thanatoss-favorite-demigod — best murder road trip buddy a gal could ask for

@thehadescabincounsler — I’ve adopted them into Apollo cabin. They’re now officially an honorary child of the Sun Dude.

@thatonebitheaterkid — my sibling. too many pets (affectionate)

@that-dam-daughter-of-poseidon — my absolute bestie <3

@poseidons-favourite-daughter — training together ⚔️! She’s so sweet and a year rounder so I won’t be alone come fall

@yes-im-a-daughter-of-hades — she just got back from Tartarus, so you know what that means!… binge watching everything pop culture. Phineas and Ferb say what?

@lady-ariadne-of-milan — my coolest big sister. Be nice, she’s been trapped as a flower since, like, the Renaissance.

@bill-son-of-boreas — Ayyy! My Norwegian bestie!

@internal-bloodshed — I’m like ninety percent sure he wants me dead. If I step a toe out of line and hurt Ellis, my body will apparently never be found.

@the-better-stoll-brother — If anyone messes with him one more time I’m throwing hands.

(Psst. My general tag is #kat carter on the case, and my lore tag is #from the archives of kat carter)

(Extra psst. Do you want more Kat Carter content without actually having to roleplay? Send me an ask by picking something from my tag #ask game!)

[atinyjules]

With Every Look Ft. Werewolf!K

A/n: This might just be the longest five I've ever done. I liked how it turned out 🥹🤍

Genre: Fantasy au, Werewolf au, Romance, a little bit of angst, fluff

Pairings: Werewolf!K x Mermaid!Kaori (fem oc)

Warnings: not much, just a little bit angsty at some parts.

In a town nestled between forested mountains and the vast, whispering sea, lived a small but vibrant community. It was the kind of place where the supernatural wasn’t whispered about—it was celebrated. Werewolves made up the majority, their pack-oriented nature shaping much of the town’s traditions. But mermaids, though rarer, had found their place too—working beside wolves to keep peace and charm within the town.

Kaori had always kept to the edges. A mermaid girl with long black locks and dark-blue eyes, she had a softness to her that made her seem almost ethereal. She lived with her aunt near the beachside cliffs and volunteered for nearly every community event, hoping—maybe foolishly—that one day he would notice.

K.

The town’s heartthrob. A werewolf with tousled dark hair, sharp amber eyes, and a smile that left trails of flustered sighs in his wake. He was warm, charming, helpful to everyone—and painfully unaware of the crushes trailing behind him like lovesick shadows. Kaori was just one of many admirers, but unlike the others, she had never dared speak more than a handful of words to him.

It didn’t help that being a mermaid didn’t exactly win popularity points. The werewolf girls adored K and weren’t subtle about it either. Kaori had watched them crowd around him at bonfires and festivals, laughing just a little too hard at his jokes.

She didn’t blame them. He was magnetic.

But still, she couldn’t help but wish—just a little—that maybe he’d look at her the way she looked at him.

Preparations for the annual Winter Dance had begun. The town hall, usually reserved for council meetings and birthday parties, was being transformed into a glowing wonderland. Strings of lights, garlands of white and silver, glittering snowflake cutouts—it was all coming together.

Kaori sat cross-legged in a corner of the hall, a pile of satin ribbons in her lap. She twisted one gently, her fingers skilled in folding them into delicate rose shapes. Beside her sat Haru, her closest (and possibly only) real friend in town—a fellow mermaid with coral-dyed tips and a blunt way of saying things.

“Another perfect rose,” Haru commented, tossing her a teasing glance. “You trying to impress someone?”

Kaori didn’t answer, eyes flicking toward the other end of the hall where K was helping hang lights. His sweater sleeves were pushed up, revealing strong forearms dusted with glitter, and he was laughing at something the town elder said.

“Kaori,” Haru said, voice low and firm, “you’ve got to say something. You can’t just keep making ribbon roses and hoping he telepathically gets the message.”

Kaori sighed. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, K, want to go to the dance with a mermaid who’s too nervous to even say hi properly?’”

“Better than saying nothing at all,” Haru shrugged. “You don’t make a move, someone else will. That werewolf girl, Mina? She’s already planning to ask him. With a glitter heart and everything.”

Kaori’s heart sank a little. But she kept folding the ribbon. Rose after rose, silent and steady.

“C’mon,” Haru said gently. “You’ve got magic in you. Not just mermaid magic. Real, heart-stopping, Kaori magic. He’d be lucky to see it.”

Across the hall, K looked up.

His eyes met Kaori’s.

And for a moment—just one—he smiled.

Haru caught the smile too. Her brow lifted, smug and knowing.

“See? He so likes you.”

Kaori blinked and looked away quickly, pretending to fuss with the folds of her ribbon rose. “Haru, he smiles at everyone. And he says hi to everyone. That’s just K. He’s… nice.”

“He’s not that nice,” Haru scoffed. “He’s charming, sure, but he doesn’t go out of his way for everyone. Remember when he carried your whole box of seashells last summer just because you dropped one?”

Kaori stayed silent, her fingers folding slower now.

Haru leaned in closer, her tone softening. “Look. I’d rather see him end up alone than with someone not you. You’ve been in love with him since we were kids. Even when you didn’t say it, I knew. You’ve always looked at him like he hung the stars.”

Kaori’s heart twisted.

“And I know he’s got that ‘golden boy’ thing going on,” Haru added, “but he’s real. He’s kind. He’s the kind of guy who sees people. And you—you always hide. He won’t know unless you let him.”

Kaori let out a quiet breath, folding another rose and placing it in the finished pile. “It’s just a crush, Haru. And that’s all it’ll ever be. He’s… too perfect. And I’m just—me.”

But before Haru could respond, a voice as sharp as icicles cut through the moment.

“So~ the Winter Dance is coming.”

Both girls froze.

Mina—clad in designer boots, her wavy hair cascading down her back like a shampoo commercial—approached with the grace of a predator. Her crimson lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she plopped down beside them, legs crossed.

“I’ll have you two know,” she said, brushing invisible lint from her fur-lined coat, “K is mine.”

Kaori blinked. “K?”

Mina’s smile widened, clearly enjoying herself. “Mm-hmm. I’m asking him to the dance. And he won’t say no.”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a sugar-coated sneer. “So you two fishes better not get in my way.”

Kaori’s heart pounded in her chest. Haru’s jaw tightened, her hand clenched around a ribbon. But they said nothing.

And Mina just sat there, satisfied, as if she’d already won.

Haru didn’t even blink before snapping back, “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, actually helping instead of disrupting our chore?”

Mina raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Relax. I was just being friendly.”

“Right,” Haru said dryly, “because threats sound so friendly.”

“And anyway,” she added, folding another ribbon rose with a sharp twist, “it’s not like K will say yes.”

Mina scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

With a final smug smirk, she turned and strutted away, heels clicking like punctuation marks against the wooden floor of the town hall.

Kaori let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “She’s so insufferable…”

“I know,” Haru sighed and patted her thigh gently. “But she’s asking him, Kaori. Whether you like it or not. You have to make a move soon.”

Kaori looked down at her half-finished ribbon rose, the petals blurry at the edges. “I… don’t even know what to say to him.”

“Start with hi, maybe?” Haru teased gently, bumping her shoulder.

Before Kaori could respond, the air shifted—the kind of shift you feel before a storm or something important. A warm scent of pine and salt lingered faintly in the air.

Then—

“Hey.”

Kaori jumped slightly.

K had plopped down beside her, just like that, casual and warm and impossibly close. His smile was soft as he greeted them both. “Hey Haru, Kaori.”

“H-Hey,” Kaori stammered, trying to make her voice sound normal.

K reached into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a small handful of delicate, pale shells, glinting softly in the light.

“I went for a run at the beach yesterday,” he said, looking at Kaori with a small, almost boyish smile. “Found these. Thought you might wanna add them to your collection.”

Kaori stared, mouth slightly open, as he held them out to her in his palm.

Shells. For her.

Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure Haru could hear it too.

Kaori gently took the shells from his palm, her fingers barely brushing his, but it was enough to make her heart leap to her throat. They were beautiful—smooth, pastel-toned, with delicate spirals and tiny specks that shimmered like sea glass.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Haru, of course, couldn’t resist. “Wait, how’d you know she has a collection?”

K let out a soft laugh, his canines just barely showing. “Come on, I’ve known forever.”

Kaori looked up, startled. “You… have?”

“Yeah,” he said with an easy grin. “Back in middle school, I used to walk home through the cliffs. I’d see you and your mom down at the shore almost every day after school, picking shells and humming songs. You’d hold them up to the sun like they were little treasures.”

His gaze was soft now, nostalgic, sincere.

“I always thought it was cool,” he added, “how you saw beauty in the small things.”

Kaori’s heart skipped a beat—then maybe another.

Haru’s eyes practically glowed with excitement as she nudged Kaori none-too-subtly with her elbow, then turned to K with an innocent smile.

“Soooo,” she said, dragging the word out with practiced casualness, “have a date yet? For the dance, I mean.”

K blinked, then gave a lazy shrug, running a hand through his hair.

“Nope. Not yet.”

Kaori looked down quickly, pretending to smooth out her skirt, hoping he couldn’t see the flush rising on her cheeks.

K glanced between the two girls, his brows lifting slightly with curiosity.

“What about you guys? Got dates yet?”

Haru grinned. “I do. I’m going with Aki from the flower shop.”

K nodded with a small smile. “Nice. He’s a good guy.”

Then his eyes shifted to Kaori.

She froze, her fingers suddenly very interested in rearranging the shells in her lap. Slowly, she shook her head.

“No,” she said softly.

Before K could respond, Haru chimed in—because of course she did.

“She didn’t even wanna come, actually.”

Kaori gave her a look, but Haru just smiled sweetly, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.

K’s expression shifted into genuine surprise. “Wait—what? Why not?? It’s literally one of the most fun events we have in town.”

Kaori chewed her bottom lip and gave a weak shrug. “I don’t know. I guess… it just feels like it’s not really for people like me.”

K tilted his head, brows furrowing. “People like you?”

Haru shot Kaori a subtle look—see? now you’ve done it—but Kaori stayed quiet, heart racing under his gaze.

And K looked at her like she’d just spoken a language he didn’t understand.

K looked genuinely confused for a second, then said, “Kaori, what are you even talking about?”

She glanced at him, one brow slightly raised.

“You do know you’re literally placed number one in the beauty tally, right?” he said, casual like it was common knowledge.

Kaori blinked, then sighed. “Oh… that old thing?”

Haru snorted. “You knew about it?”

“Of course I did,” Kaori replied, continuing to arrange the shells in her palm. “My mom told me once. Said the elders had too much time on their hands.”

K laughed, clearly amused. “You don’t think it’s flattering?”

Kaori shrugged, her voice calm. “Not really. Feels like I’m being watched and ranked for something I didn’t ask for.”

Haru gave a little hum. “Yeah, but still. Number one is number one.”

“She beat Mina by a landslide,” K added with a grin. “That’s gotta count for something.”

Kaori gave him a dry look. “Which probably explains why Mina wants to drown me half the time.”

K leaned a little closer, his smile softening. “You’re a mermaid, Kaori. You wouldn’t drown anyway.”

The way he said it—gentle, teasing, almost protective—made Kaori’s chest warm in a way she didn’t expect. Her fingers stilled on the shells, and for a moment, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

Haru, ever the observer, smirked knowingly but said nothing as the air around them settled into something quiet… and a little heavier.

Across the hall, a couple of voices called out—someone from the committee waving K over to help with moving the light stands.

K looked in their direction, then back at the girls with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls.”

He stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. But before he turned away, he paused and looked directly at Kaori.

Then, with a gentle touch, he reached over and gave her a soft pat on the head—fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Rethink your choice, okay?” he said quietly, his tone warm but firm. “I don’t want you to miss out.”

Kaori blinked, startled by the tenderness in his voice.

And just like that, he was gone—walking off with that easy stride of his, slipping back into the center of attention like it was second nature.

Kaori sat there, her heart doing this slow, fluttery flip that made her breath catch.

Haru let out a low whistle next to her. “Girl…”

Kaori didn’t answer. She was too busy replaying that soft pat and those words over and over in her head.

Kaori still hadn’t moved.

Haru gave her a long look before nudging her knee with her own. “You okay over there?”

Kaori finally exhaled, her gaze still lingering where K had just been. “He… patted my head.”

“Yes,” Haru said slowly, “and told you not to miss out. Which is, in boy language, basically a love confession.”

Kaori scoffed, a light flush coloring her cheeks. “It is not.”

Haru raised a brow. “Kaori. He brought you seashells he remembered you liked since childhood. Said people notice you. Pat your head. Said he doesn’t want you to miss out. What do you think he meant?”

Kaori looked down at the shells in her hand again, silent.

“I swear, if you keep brushing this off, I’ll ask him for you,” Haru threatened, only half joking.

Kaori groaned, finally cracking a small, helpless smile. “Don’t you dare.”

Haru smirked. “Then do something. Before Mina sinks her claws in.”

Kaori sighed, her smile lingering as she softly traced the edge of a shell with her thumb. “He’s just... too good to be true.”

Haru gave her a knowing look. “Maybe he’s just good for you.”

The sun had dipped low by the time the decorating wrapped up, casting a golden glow over the small town. People were starting to head home, laughter and chatter still echoing faintly through the crisp air.

Haru had left halfway through—her mom had called, urgently needing help at the supermarket. Kaori had waved her off with a smile, promising to walk home alone.

Now, with the streets quieter and her steps unhurried, Kaori found herself passing the little boutique near the town square. A small group of young girls, no older than ten or eleven, were gathered at the window display, squealing and pointing excitedly at the mannequins.

“Look at that one! The blue one with sparkles!”

“I’m gonna wear that when I go to the winter dance one day!”

“Nooo, I’m wearing it! You can have the pink one!”

Their voices were filled with unfiltered joy, their eyes shining with dreams and sugarplum fantasies.

Kaori smiled softly, her steps slowing. Her gaze drifted to the dresses behind the glass—frosted blues, soft pinks, flowing whites. All magical in their own way.

Once upon a time, she and Haru had done the same. They used to press their faces to this very window, giggling as they imagined themselves in those dresses, spinning under twinkling lights with boys they hadn’t even met yet.

Well… maybe not completely unknown.

Kaori had always pictured him.

K.

Even back then, before the height and the muscles and the jawline that could cut stone—he had still been K. With his crooked smile and bright laugh and warm voice that always made her heart do something weird in her chest.

She exhaled, watching the fog of her breath melt into the cold evening air.

Maybe that dream hadn’t faded as much as she thought.

Maybe it had just been waiting… quietly.

She was still staring at the display, lost in memories, when she heard it—

“Kaori!”

Her head snapped up.

Across the street, framed by the soft glow of the streetlamps, K was waving at her, his familiar smile lighting up his face. He jogged over, his breath fogging slightly in the chilly air.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he said as he caught up, slightly breathless but still smiling. “Figured you’d already left.”

Kaori blinked, her heart giving that now-too-familiar stutter. “I was just… walking slowly, I guess.”

K glanced at the boutique window and the girls still chattering by it. “Dream dress shopping?” he teased gently.

She smiled, a bit shy. “Something like that.”

He looked back at her. “We should walk together. We’re neighbors, remember?” His grin widened. “Might as well keep each other company before Mina hunts me down again.”

Kaori chuckled, looking down for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”

They started walking side by side, the air quiet around them except for the crunch of their footsteps and the distant laughter from town.

He didn’t say much at first, just occasionally glanced at her with a quiet smile, like her presence was enough.

And Kaori… well, her heart was doing all the talking she couldn’t.

The night air grew colder as they walked, a sharp breeze sweeping down the narrow street and rustling Kaori’s hair around her face. She shivered before she could stop herself, arms instinctively wrapping around her own body.

K noticed instantly.

Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, the warmth of it still clinging to his scent—earthy pine, clean air, and something distinctly him. Before she could even protest, his arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her into his side with an ease that made her legs go a little weak.

“What's up with you, hm?” he said with a soft laugh, his voice low near her ear. “You’ve become so quiet now.”

Kaori blinked, momentarily stunned by how close he was—and how right it felt.

“I’m always quiet,” she murmured, hugging the jacket tighter around her.

K gave a playful scoff. “Not with Haru around, you’re not. I swear, you two could out-chat the whole town council.”

That made her smile, and he looked down at her, eyes softening.

“Seriously though,” he added, voice a little gentler now, “are you okay?”

Kaori glanced up at him, then quickly looked ahead again. “Yeah… just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he teased lightly, squeezing her shoulder once.

She laughed softly, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest that had nothing to do with his jacket.

And for once, the walk home didn’t feel long enough.

They turned a corner, their steps slow and easy, and his arm remained draped over her shoulders like it belonged there. Kaori couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so warm on a cold night.

K glanced at her, his expression thoughtful now—quiet in a way that tugged at something inside her.

“You know…” he started, voice a little softer than before, “I missed hanging out with you.”

Kaori looked up at him, surprised.

“I mean, we used to talk more, didn’t we?” he went on, his eyes staying on the road ahead, like saying it too directly might make it too vulnerable. “After school. On weekends. At the beach. I dunno. I just… noticed we kinda drifted.”

Her heart gave that too-familiar flutter. “I guess we got busy,” she said quietly.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Still. I think we should walk home together more often. Like this. It’s nice.”

Kaori swallowed, cheeks warm as she looked down at the pavement. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It is.”

His fingers gave her shoulder a light squeeze, casual but comforting.

And in that moment, with his jacket around her, his arm holding her close, and the stars blinking softly above them, Kaori felt like maybe… just maybe… her crush wasn’t so impossible after all.

They stopped just outside her gate, the warm porch light spilling over them, casting a soft glow in the night.

Kaori reached up to shrug off his jacket, fingers just brushing the collar when his hand gently caught hers.

“Keep it,” K said, his voice low. “I was gonna get a new one anyway.”

“But—” she started to protest, only for him to take a step forward and wrap his arms around her.

Her breath hitched. She froze.

He held her close, warm and solid and smelling like comfort and forest air. One hand slowly rose to her hair, his fingers combing gently through the strands in a gesture so tender it made her heart ache.

He didn’t let go right away. And honestly, she didn’t want him to.

When he finally pulled back, it was just enough to look down at her.

“Sorry,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… kinda missed you, I suppose.”

Kaori blinked up at him, her voice soft and unsure. “But… we’re neighbours.”

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile. “Yeah, but… I feel like I never see you around anymore.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked into his eyes—genuine, a little vulnerable, and full of something she didn’t quite have the courage to name.

The air between them felt charged.

And suddenly, that winter dance didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The next day, Kaori and Haru were outside the town hall, sweeping up the dead leaves that had piled up after the chilly night. The air was crisp, and everything seemed peaceful, a calm that didn’t last long.

Kaori was just about to sweep a pile of leaves into the dustpan when she heard footsteps approaching. She looked up—and froze.

Mina.

Her eyes were narrowed, her lips curled into a sneer. There was no mistaking the fury in her expression.

Before Kaori could say anything, Mina was upon her, shoving her hard enough to make Kaori stumble back, knocking the broom out of her hands.

“H-hey!” Haru gasped, rushing to Kaori’s side. “What the hell, Mina?!”

Mina didn’t even spare Haru a glance. Her eyes were locked on Kaori, a venomous glare that made Kaori instinctively take a step back.

“I told you,” Mina spat, her voice dripping with malice. “Go near K again, and I’ll feed you to the dogs.”

Kaori’s heart skipped a beat at the words, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn’t sure why, but she found herself cowering back under Mina’s stare, her hands instinctively clutching at the front of her sweater.

Haru, eyes wide with anger, stood between them. “You can’t just say things like that, Mina! What the hell is your problem?!”

Mina didn’t flinch. Her eyes flicked briefly to Haru before returning to Kaori, her voice icy. “My problem?” she repeated, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “You should be worried about your own problem, fish. Stay away from K. He’s mine.”

Kaori felt the heat rise to her face, her pulse quickening. She tried to steady herself, but the weight of Mina’s words left her feeling small, unsure.

Mina turned away with a final glare, her heels clicking on the pavement as she walked off, leaving Kaori and Haru standing there, the tension still thick in the air.

Haru was the first to speak, her voice firm, though Kaori could tell she was trying to keep herself composed. “Don’t let her get to you, okay? K’s not hers to claim. Don’t ever forget that.”

Kaori swallowed, looking down at the ground. Haru’s words were comforting, but the fear that lingered from Mina’s threat still made her uneasy.

"Maybe… maybe I shouldn't get in the way," Kaori mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Haru turned to her sharply, her face softening. "You’re not in the way, Kaori. She is."

A while later, Kaori and Haru were inside the town hall, working on airing out the silk curtains by letting the sun pour in. The warm light filled the room, making the space feel brighter, even though Kaori’s mind was still clouded by the events earlier.

She tried to focus, her fingers delicately tugging at the corners of the curtain as she hung it, but Mina’s words kept replaying in her head. "Go near K again and I’ll feed you to the dogs." The harshness in her voice made Kaori hesitate, her heart heavy with uncertainty. Was she really getting in the way? Was it even worth it?

Just then, she heard footsteps approaching, and a familiar voice called out to her.

"Kaori!" K’s cheerful tone brought her back to the moment, and she turned to see him walking toward them with a smile on his face.

Kaori’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt herself blush. She’d been trying to avoid thinking about him, especially after the tension earlier, but here he was, standing in front of her like he always did—warm, friendly, and so easy to talk to.

K dug into his pocket as he got closer, his movements slow and casual, and he pulled out a few small shells, holding them up with a grin. “I went back to the beach yesterday. Found some more shells. Thought you might like them.”

Kaori’s heart fluttered, but she hesitated. She glanced at the shells and remembered what Mina had said. Stay away from K. He’s mine.

For a brief moment, doubt clouded her mind, but when she looked at K’s face, the warmth and sincerity in his smile made the hesitation fade.

She didn’t know what to say, so she simply held out her hand, but before she could say anything, K reached out and gently placed the shells into her palm.

“They reminded me of you,” he said quietly, his voice soft but clear, making Kaori’s heart race. “I always think of you when I find something like this.”

Kaori froze, her fingers curling around the shells as her pulse quickened. The warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come out. All she could think about were the feelings swirling in her chest. Did he mean that? Was he serious?

She looked down at the shells in her hand, her gaze drifting back to K, her heart thudding loudly. The weight of Mina’s warning still hung in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t ignore the way K made her feel—safe, cherished, and important.

K tilted his head, his eyes watching her carefully, as if waiting for her response. “What do you think?” he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You like them?”

Kaori felt the tension in her chest ease slightly, though her heart was still racing. She nodded, her voice small. “I do… Thank you, K.”

The way his name rolled off her tongue felt different now, like it meant something more than just a simple greeting. K’s smile widened at her response, and he gently patted her hand.

“No problem,” he said with a wink. “I’ll always bring you more if you want them.”

Kaori couldn’t help but smile back, the weight of Mina’s words momentarily forgotten. It felt like she was back to where she was before—just Kaori, talking to K, sharing a moment like they always did.

But deep down, she knew she had to make a decision soon. Mina’s warning wasn’t something to ignore, no matter how much she wanted to. The last thing she wanted was to cause any more tension between herself and the people she cared about.

A while later, after they’d finished airing out the curtains and tidying up, Kaori had to leave early—her mom had sent a message asking for help at home. She waved a soft goodbye to K and Haru before slipping out, the shells tucked safely in her pocket.

K was still there, chatting with one of the other volunteers when Haru made her way over. Her usual carefree smile was nowhere in sight, replaced by a firm, serious expression. She crossed her arms and tilted her head at K.

“Hey,” she said, her voice steady. “Can we talk?”

K blinked, a little surprised at her tone. “Uh… sure?” He followed her to a quiet corner, away from the bustle of the others still packing up.

Once they were out of earshot, Haru didn’t hold back.

“Tell your fangirls to lay off, will you?” she said, straight to the point. “Mina keeps bothering Kaori. Like, seriously. She threatened her again this morning—and she even shoved her.”

K’s expression darkened instantly.

“She what?”

Haru nodded, jaw clenched. “Yeah. Pushed her right in front of me. Said if Kaori went near you again, she’d feed her to the dogs.”

K’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“If it keeps going on,” Haru continued, eyes blazing, “I’m fighting back. No cap. I don’t care if she’s got claws, I’ve got fins—and they slap hard.”

K let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t know it had gotten that bad…”

“Well, it has,” Haru snapped. “Kaori’s not gonna say anything. She never does. But you? You could stop this. Talk to Mina. Make her back off.”

K looked toward the door Kaori had just walked out of, his face tight with frustration and something else—guilt.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said, voice low. “I’ll handle it.”

Haru gave him a look. “Good. Because if she lays another finger on Kaori… I swear, I’ll make a tsunami in the middle of this town.”

Despite the serious moment, K huffed a tiny laugh. “You mermaids are terrifying.”

“We’re protective,” Haru corrected with a raised brow. “Especially when it comes to people we love.”

K’s gaze flickered again toward the door. “Yeah… I get that.”

Right as K finished his sentence, a too-familiar scent hit the air—cheap perfume and overconfidence.

Mina.

She strode over, hips swaying like she owned the pavement, her glare slicing through Haru before melting into something sugary and fake as she faced K. “There you are,” she cooed, completely ignoring the tension in the air. “I was just looking for you.”

Haru rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, but K didn’t say anything. He just stared as Mina stepped closer, fluttering her lashes.

“So~ I was thinking,” she purred, twirling a strand of her hair, “we should go to the Winter Dance together. We’d look amazing, don’t you think?”

K scoffed, expression unamused. “No.”

Mina blinked, caught off guard. “Wait… what?”

“I said no,” K repeated, sharper this time. “You’re not my type, Mina. At all.”

The smile faded off Mina’s face like a mask slipping. “Excuse me?”

“I know everything you’ve been saying to Kaori,” he said coolly. “Haru told me. The threats, the shove this morning—‘feed her to the dogs,’ was it?”

Mina’s lips twitched into a sneer. “That little—”

“Say one more thing about her,” K cut her off, voice low and calm—but dangerous. His eyes glinted, golden like the moonlight that came with his kind. “And I swear, it won’t be the dogs you’ll have to worry about.”

He leaned in just a little, voice dropping to a warning growl.

“Keep going, and I’ll be the one who feasts on your blood.”

Mina froze, her face paling slightly.

Haru stood tall beside him, arms crossed with the most satisfied smirk she’d worn all day. “Told you.”

Mina’s fists curled at her sides, but with a sharp huff and one last glare at Haru, she spun on her heel and stormed off.

Once she was gone, K ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

The salty breeze kissed her skin, cool and refreshing, as Kaori sat at the edge of the shore with the tide gently brushing over her feet. The shells she’d collected were scattered around her like little gems, glistening under the afternoon sun. She ran her fingers over one, a pale pink spiral, and let out a long sigh.

Tomorrow was the dance.

And even though Haru had told her everything—about what K said, how he stood up for her, how he’d even threatened Mina—Kaori’s heart still felt tangled in a web of fear and uncertainty.

How was she supposed to tell him?

She picked up a shell and tossed it into the water, watching it skip once before it sank.

Her thoughts were a blur until something shifted in the wind. A sound—like heavy pawsteps padding across wet sand.

She turned—

“AHHH!” she screamed, scrambling back from the massive black wolf just a few feet from her.

It startled slightly before shifting, muscles contorting and shrinking until a familiar face emerged, tousled hair falling into kind eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me!” K laughed, hands raised. “It’s just me, I swear!”

Kaori clutched her chest, breath catching in relief and leftover adrenaline. “K—you scared the life out of me!”

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry. I saw you from the cliff and… I guess I forgot how terrifying I look in wolf form.”

She shot him a look but couldn’t hold it for long, not when he looked so apologetic—and so… warm.

He stepped closer, slowly now, like not to startle her again. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You okay?”

Kaori nodded, though her heart was still beating a little too fast—and not just from the scare. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“About the dance?” he guessed, lowering himself to sit beside her, close enough that their arms nearly brushed.

She looked down at the shells in her lap and nodded again. “It’s tomorrow.”

K tilted his head to look at her. “You still not going?”

Kaori hesitated.

Then, softly, “I don’t know.”

He nudged her knee with his. “Well, I think you should.”

She looked at him, lips parting slightly, and he gave her a crooked smile. “It wouldn’t feel right without you there.”

Her heart squeezed.

He meant it.

And tomorrow was the dance.

So why was it still so hard to tell him?

Kaori lowered her eyes to the shells in her palm again, fingers curling around them as the sea breeze lifted her hair slightly.

“I don’t feel like going,” she murmured, her voice quiet beneath the sound of the waves.

K frowned gently, leaning in. “Why not?”

She opened her mouth, hesitated. Her throat tightened as a thousand thoughts swirled in her chest—Mina’s words, the stares, the way everyone seemed to want a piece of him. She clenched her fist around the shells.

“Just…” she said, forcing a small shrug. “Just don’t want to.”

But K wasn’t convinced. “Kaori…”

She turned her face slightly away from him. “Don’t ask,” she said quickly, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t want your pity.”

K’s expression softened. The wind picked up, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her profile—the way her lashes trembled, the way her shoulders were pulled in too tightly, like she was bracing for something.

“Pity?” he repeated, almost like it was a foreign word.

Kaori didn’t answer, just kept her gaze out toward the sea, where the sun dipped lower over the horizon, tinting the waves in orange and rose.

He was quiet for a moment, then slowly reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before his hand settled on her shoulder.

“I don’t pity you, Kaori,” he said softly. “Not even a little.”

His tone was sincere—quiet but strong—and her heart thudded painfully.

“Then why are you always so nice to me?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Why do you give me shells, and your jacket, and say those things like… like you actually see me?”

He blinked once, then leaned a little closer, eyes not leaving hers.

“Because I do see you,” he said. “And not just as some girl next door. Not just some mermaid with pretty shells.”

Kaori’s breath caught.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t just being kind.

He meant it.

“Come to the dance,” he said again, softer now, thumb brushing gently along her arm. “Not because you have to. But because I want to see you there.”

She looked at him, the sea between them and the sun bleeding into the sky behind, and her chest swelled with everything she’d tried to bury.

She looked at him, eyes searching. “Why do you want me to be there?”

K smiled gently, not even hesitating.

“Because you’re one of my best friends… and I don’t want you to miss out.”

Her stomach dropped. The ache came slowly, blooming in her chest as if something inside her cracked open. Best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

She looked away, trying to blink the sting out of her eyes. But it clung to her like salt in the air, sharp and impossible to ignore.

Without another word, Kaori stood up abruptly, brushing the sand off her skirt. She didn’t meet his gaze.

“Kaori—”

But she was already walking away, heart pounding, not even daring to look back.

“Kaori, what’s wrong?” K’s voice grew more urgent as he followed behind her, footsteps crunching against the wet sand. “Just—stop for a second, please!”

She didn’t.

“Kaori, talk to me!”

Her heart pounded harder with every step, but she refused to look back. The ache in her chest was too much, the heat behind her eyes too heavy. If she turned around now, she’d crumble.

So she kept walking. Kept ignoring the sound of his voice chasing after her.

Because nothing hurt more than realizing the boy she loved only saw her as a friend.

The lump in her throat grew, threatening to choke her. Kaori felt the sting of tears pooling in her eyes, but she couldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not now. She pushed herself harder, her legs moving faster until she was sprinting, the air rushing past her ears, mixing with the crashing waves.

She had to get away.

She needed to disappear for a little while, to hide from the ache that had settled deep inside her. The weight of his words, his friendship, suffocated her. Best friend. She couldn’t bear to hear it again.

Her breath came in sharp gasps as she reached the rocky shore, where the sea met the sand. Her heart hammered in her chest, urging her to move faster, to reach the water before her emotions broke free.

The sea. She needed to become the sea.

Without a second thought, she pulled off her shoes and stepped into the shallow waves, the coldness of the water numbing her skin. She let the sea swallow her feet, her heart, and then she felt it—the familiar pull of the ocean as her body began to change.

Her skin shimmered, the fins on her legs slowly emerging, her body transforming into something that felt more like herself than anything she’d been all day. She breathed deeply as her tail swished into the water, her legs no longer burdened by the heaviness of the land.

But just as she was about to dive in completely, she heard K’s voice, panicked and full of desperation. “Kaori! No—wait!”

She froze, her hand hovering above the water, her breath hitching in her throat as she heard him shout her name. She could feel his presence closing in, the panic in his voice unmistakable.

"Kaori!" K's footsteps splashed through the shallow water as he sprinted toward her, his voice shaking. "Please don’t do this!"

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Not now. She couldn’t let him see the tears that were threatening to spill, the pain that had swallowed her whole.

Kaori took a deep breath, pushing herself off the shore and diving into the water, her tail propelling her forward. But as she submerged, she could still hear his voice, distant but filled with panic.

“Kaori, please don’t go—please!”

But she didn’t stop. Not this time. She swam faster, deeper, the ocean surrounding her as she lost herself in the waves. And though she could still hear his calls echoing in the distance, Kaori refused to turn back.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Evening had fallen, painting the sky in hues of indigo and deep plum. The moonlight spilled across Kaori’s room, soft and pale through the window. She stayed curled in bed, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, the soft hum of the waves barely reaching her ears.

She’d cried herself empty earlier, cheeks raw from dried tears and throat sore from silent sobs. But her heart—her heart still throbbed.

Kaori shifted slightly, her blanket slipping as she turned to glance outside through the thin slits of her curtains. Her breath caught in her throat.

K was still there.

Standing under the streetlight in front of her house, jacketless in the growing cold, his arms crossed as he leaned against the gate. Waiting. Not pacing. Just… waiting.

She pressed her forehead gently against the cool glass, watching him, her heart aching all over again. She wished he’d just go home. She wished she hadn’t run. She wished he’d said anything else but the one thing that broke her.

With a quiet sigh, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and sank back down onto the mattress, trying to will away the hollow feeling in her chest.

Earlier, Haru had stopped by. She didn’t stay long—just enough to check in, to hold Kaori’s hand and say, “You don’t have to talk yet, but I’m here, okay?” Then she had left, knowing Kaori needed silence more than anything.

Now, as the wind whispered through the cracks in her window, she heard it.

His voice.

Soft, muffled through the glass, but still clear.

“Kaori…”

And just like that, the dam broke again.

Tears spilled down her cheeks like rivers, and she clutched the blanket to her chest, trying in vain to muffle the sobs that wracked her body. She buried her face in the fabric, the sound of her cries soaked into the cotton.

He couldn’t hear her

But in that moment, she swore he could feel it.

The hours dragged on, heavy and quiet, until night fully settled. The hum of cicadas had quieted, replaced by the occasional rustle of the wind. Kaori lay still beneath her blanket, her sobs long since faded into exhausted silence. Her eyes were puffy, her throat dry, but her heart still ached with the same dull, raw throb.

She turned onto her side and peeked through the curtain again.

And there he was.

Still there.

Still waiting.

She squinted at the clock on her nightstand. 1:47 AM. Her jaw clenched.

What was he doing? Freezing out there for no reason? Did he think standing there all night would fix what he said? That it would magically erase how it made her feel?

With a huff of frustration, Kaori sat up and tossed her blanket aside, stomping toward her window and unlatching it with more force than needed. It creaked open, the cold air rushing in as she leaned out.

“K!”

He sharply looked up at the sound of her voice, startled. His eyes were wide, hopeful, like a puppy finally acknowledged.

But before he could say a single word, she snapped, “Go home.”

He blinked.

“I don’t want to talk to you...” Her voice cracked at the end, from emotion or exhaustion—maybe both.

She began to pull the window shut when, in a blur of movement, she heard a shift.

Then claws scraped against the shingles above.

Her eyes widened as K, now in his sleek, dark wolf form, leapt up with grace and urgency, landing on her roof with practiced ease. In a flash of shimmer, he shifted back into his human form, breath misting in the cold night as he reached the window just before she could close it fully.

His hand pressed against the frame, gently but firmly keeping it open.

“Wait—please.” His voice was low and hoarse, eyes pleading. “Just… don’t shut me out like this.”

Kaori stared at him, frozen. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Everything inside her told her to slam the window and lock it. But her trembling fingers wouldn’t move.

Not yet.

Kaori stared at him, her heart tangled in a mess of guilt and confusion. He looked like he hadn’t moved an inch since she first shouted at him hours ago. His eyes were tired, but not angry. Not frustrated. Just… soft. Patient.

She sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly as the fight inside her dulled.

“…Okay,” she muttered under her breath, glancing away. “This is stupid. I was being stu—”

But before she could finish the word, K reached out and cupped her cheeks, his palms warm against her cold skin. He gently squeezed them together, squishing her face just enough to make her blink in surprise.

“Don’t,” he said softly, brows furrowed. “It’s not… stupid.”

She tried to speak, but the squish made her lips pucker slightly, and he gave her the smallest smile—sad and fond.

“Whatever the reason… even if I didn’t realize it… it still hurt you,” he murmured. “So let’s talk it out, okay? Don’t run away from me.”

Kaori just looked at him, eyes wide and shimmering under the moonlight. And for the first time in hours, the ache in her chest began to ease—just a little.

Kaori sighed again, softer this time, and finally pushed the window open wider. Without saying a word, she carefully climbed out, her bare feet quiet on the shingles. K instinctively reached out, steadying her with a hand to her waist to make sure she didn’t trip or slip.

She sat down beside him, arms loosely wrapped around her knees, the air between them thick with unspoken things. For a moment, all they did was watch the stars in silence.

Then she spoke.

“I liked you,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet and fast, like she had to say it all before her heart changed its mind. “Well—like, past tense. Liked, you know? Not now. I mean, it’s fine now. I’m over it.”

K turned his head sharply toward her, eyes wide with surprise.

“I just… I just needed to say it,” she rushed on, looking anywhere but at him. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You don’t have to feel bad. It’s not your fault. I just misunderstood things, and it’s fine. I was being silly. I mean, we’re friends, and I’m glad. Really. I promise.”

She finally looked at him—and instantly regretted it. His expression was stunned, lips parting like he was about to speak, but before he could, she reached out and slapped her palm gently over his mouth.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything. Just… don’t. Please.”

Her eyes flickered with something fragile—hope or fear, even she didn’t know.

“I just wanted to let it out. That’s all.”

Kaori kept her palm over his mouth, but when she noticed the subtle flicker of shine in K’s eyes—something deep, unreadable, and maybe even a little sad—her expression softened. Her other hand gently moved to rest over the one covering his mouth, as if to anchor both of them in the moment.

She let out a breath and began to ramble, her voice a mix of nervous energy and quiet vulnerability.

“I—okay, I liked you. Like… for basically forever. Since we were kids and you’d always bring me shells and tell me they looked like me,” she said quickly, eyes darting toward the night sky rather than him. “And I always wanted to say something, but I didn’t. Because… because you were always popular, and everyone liked you, and I felt like it’d be so awkward if I said anything and ruined it.”

Her voice dipped a little, fingers tightening over his.

“But it’s fine now. Like, I’m okay. I’m getting over it. Like… not entirely over it yet, but I’m in the process, you know? So you don’t need to worry or feel weird or anything, I swear.”

She gave a shaky smile, still not daring to meet his eyes fully.

“It’s just something I had to say. That’s all. Just… let me be the weird one for tonight, okay?”

Kaori took a deep breath, her fingers still lightly resting over his.

“I’m gonna remove my hands now,” she murmured, “but you have to promise me something first.”

K tilted his head slightly, eyes still wide with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“You cannot talk or ask anything or comment on anything I just said, okay?” she said firmly, looking at him with pleading eyes.

He blinked, clearly bewildered, and opened his mouth slightly in protest.

“Please,” she whispered, so softly it barely carried in the breeze. Her voice trembled just a little, and her eyes finally met his.

K stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze again—like he was trying to say a thousand things all at once but couldn’t find the words. Then, slowly, he nodded. Hesitantly. Reluctantly.

Kaori pulled her hands back, gently, and stood up with a small sigh. “Thank you,” she said, her voice a little steadier now.

She dusted off her hands and offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Really… it’s fine. I’ll eventually make everything normal again, so don’t worry.”

Turning toward the window, she climbed back inside her room. As she stood by the frame, she looked back at him one last time.

He was still sitting there, watching her. A sullen look had settled over his face, one that pulled at something deep inside her.

“Good night,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying to him.

And slowly… she closed the window.

The sun filtered through K’s curtains as he stood in front of the mirror, the morning light casting a golden halo around him. His usually lazy, boyish expression was replaced by something steeled—fierce, focused.

A face that screamed determination.

His hands worked steadily, tightening the knot on his necktie with practiced ease. Each movement was precise, full of purpose. There was a certain fire in his eyes, one that hadn’t been there the day before. He had stayed up the whole night thinking, tossing and turning with a storm of emotions crashing in his chest.

Half of his heart had soared—She liked him. She had always liked him.

But the other half had cracked. She didn’t let him speak. She didn’t let him feel.

But not today.

Today, he was going to tell her everything. He was going to break through the walls she’d put up.

He wasn’t just going to confess—he was going to make her fall for him again. Properly. Fully. Without hesitation.

With one last tug, the tie was secured. He picked up his thumb and ran it along the edge of his brows, smoothing them into place as he held his gaze steady.

“Koga,” he said to his reflection, voice low and sure.

“You got this.”

๋ ࣭ ⭑

K stood outside Kaori’s house, bouquet of simple white baby’s breath in one hand, the cold nipping at his fingers through the fabric of his suit. His heart pounded beneath the crisp fabric of his blazer, and yet his smile didn’t waver. He took a breath and rang the doorbell.

After a moment, the door creaked open.

“Ah… K?” Kaori’s mother blinked, surprised. She looked him up and down, taking in his perfectly styled hair, the tailored suit, the navy tie that brought out the color in his eyes. “You look… really good.”

K gave a light, charming grin. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “But… why are you here? I thought Kaori wasn’t going to the dance.”

K nodded, softly. “I know.”

He looked her straight in the eyes, something gentle but unshakeable in his tone.

“But I’m not going without her.”

Kaori laid on the floor, her legs resting up on the bed as she stared at the dress she'd originally thought of wearing. From her upside-down view, the fabric looked like a dream that never got to bloom. Fully lace, soft ivory in color — delicate, full-sleeved with a fitted bodice and a graceful up-down hem. The train spilled like a quiet whisper across her rug. It was simple, elegant, and completely her.

The door creaked open.

She didn’t even care to look.

Still, her eyes flicked up, and she let out a small shriek before sighing and slumping back down.

“I thought I told you I don’t want to talk about last night,” Kaori mumbled, her voice quiet, dulled with emotion.

K didn’t say anything. His gaze shifted to the dress lying there, his expression unreadable. Then, silently, he stepped in further.

Without a word, he dropped down beside her on the floor, mimicking her — legs propped up on the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. She blinked, confused, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he tilted his head and gave her a small, easy smile.

“What are we looking at?” he asked, like he hadn’t just barged into her mess of a heart.

Kaori stared at him, pure disbelief on her face.

Kaori furrowed her brows and glanced sideways at him. “What are you doing?”

K tilted his head with a casual smile. “Are we looking at the dress?”

She scoffed softly. “Shouldn’t you be at the town hall?”

“I could say the same thing for you,” he replied, without missing a beat.

Her lips pressed together and she went quiet, turning her eyes back to the ceiling. She didn’t want to admit how good he looked — because somehow, K looked even better than usual tonight. It was unfair. And dangerous. She couldn’t even look at him without feeling her chest tighten.

“If you don’t want to go to the dance,” he said lightly, “we can just chill here and stare at the ceiling together.”

That made her scoff as she turned to face him again. “What do you mean by we? It’s me. You should be going to the dance and enjoying.”

K shifted so he could properly look at her. “I’m not going without you,” he said, softly but firmly. “If you want to stay in your room, then so be it.”

He gave her a small shrug. “I don’t mind just laying on the floor.”

Kaori exhaled sharply, eyes flickering back up to the ceiling. “I don’t need your pity, K.”

K sighed quietly, then shifted closer. He turned his body toward her and carefully slid one arm under her neck to support her head. His other hand gently rested against her cheek, thumb brushing her skin in the softest caress.

Kaori stiffened instantly, her face turning red as heat bloomed across her cheeks. The sudden closeness made her heart stutter. She didn’t move, couldn’t move. Slowly—hesitantly—she dared to glance at him.

K was already looking at her, his eyes soft and unshifting as his thumb continued to gently caress her cheek.

Then, he said it.

“It’s not pity,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath. “It’s love.”

Her breath caught.

Love.

The word echoed in her chest like a dropped stone into a still lake. It felt too big. Too heavy. She looked away quickly, heart racing. “You… you don’t have to lie,” she whispered, her voice trembling at the edges.

But before she could say another word, he gently covered her mouth with his hand, just like she had done to him the night before.

She froze again, eyes wide as she looked back at him.

“Maybe you’d believe me,” he said softly, “if you had let me speak last night.”

His expression was calm, but something burned behind his gaze. His hand stayed over her lips as he leaned a little closer.

“Now,” he whispered, “it’s your turn to be quiet… and listen to me.”

K kept his hand gently over her mouth, eyes steady on hers as he spoke.

“I’ve always known I loved you,” he said quietly. “Ever since kindergarten… when we’d sit next to each other and you’d share your crayons with me even though I kept breaking them.”

A small laugh escaped him at the memory, and Kaori blinked, still frozen beneath his hand.

“As we grew up, and I started getting more attention… it got harder and harder to get to you. Not because you were far, but because… I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know how to tell you that it’s always been you.”

He moved his hand slowly, giving her space to breathe, but she didn’t speak. She just listened.

“I know I act all confident sometimes, but… truth is, I get shy too. Especially with you. Because you’re—” he paused, eyes softening, “—you’re stunning, Kaori. You always have been. But now? You’re so beautiful it… it scares me sometimes. I look at you and forget what I was even trying to say.”

Kaori’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly, but she still didn’t speak. Her heart thundered in her chest.

K smiled gently and leaned in just a little closer.

“But I’m not going to hold back anymore,” he whispered. “Not when I almost lost the chance to tell you. I’m going to show you. Every single day, just how much I truly love you. How much I adore you.”

K slowly removed his hand from her mouth, his eyes still locked with hers—soft, unwavering.

Kaori swallowed hard. “I don’t… I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice shaky and small.

He let out a gentle chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from her face before cupping her cheek again with such care it made her heart ache. His thumb stroked her skin as he leaned a little closer, eyes flickering from her lips to her eyes.

“Maybe this,” he murmured, voice low and full of warmth, “will clear all your doubts.”

Kaori blinked. “What—?”

But she couldn’t finish her sentence because in the next moment, K was leaning down slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could feel it. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes shut and—

His lips met hers.

Soft. Warm. Gentle.

His hand stayed against her cheek, grounding her as his mouth moved with hers, tender and full of unspoken feelings. The kiss deepened slowly, a wordless confession. The world outside her room faded until all she felt was him—his scent, his touch, his heart pressed close to hers.

And for the first time in a long while, Kaori stopped running from what she felt.

K slowly pulled back just enough to look at her, his breath warm against her skin. His eyes searched hers, nervous at first, until he saw it—the shimmer in her gaze, the softness in her expression.

Kaori’s heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest. Her lips still tingled, and her hands trembled slightly before she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

She held him tight, like she was afraid he’d disappear.

He froze for a second, then smiled—wide, relieved, overjoyed—and wrapped his arms around her just as tightly, resting his cheek against her hair.

Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t need to.

๋ ࣭ ⭑

A little while later, K stepped back into the room—only to stop dead in his tracks.

Kaori stood there in the fully lace ivory dress, the soft fabric flowing elegantly with every breath she took. Her pearl-and-shell necklace rested delicately on her collarbone, matching pearl earrings twinkling beneath her tucked hair. Her makeup shimmered subtly, catching the light just enough to make her look ethereal.

K didn’t move. He just stood there, staring like he was seeing a goddess.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kaori mumbled, her cheeks already heating up.

He clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling back a step. “Too late. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

She groaned, turning around slightly to hide her face. “You’re impossible.”

His chuckle filled the room before he stepped toward her, gently pulling her by the waist until they were close. “For you? Maybe.”

Then, from behind his back, he revealed a bouquet of delicate baby’s breath—the soft white blooms matching the romance of her dress perfectly.

Kaori blinked in surprise. “You—?”

“It reminded me of you,” he said with a sheepish grin, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Soft. Pretty. And impossible to ignore.”

She bit her lip to hide the smile that wanted to spread.

K held the bouquet out fully. “You’re definitely going to be the prettiest girl at the entire event. No competition.”

Kaori shook her head slightly, but her smile gave her away.

“Let’s go make everyone else jealous, yeah?”

๋ ࣭ ⭑

Outside the town hall, the golden lights spilled from the tall windows, casting a soft glow on the path ahead. Music thrummed gently through the air, and Kaori stood frozen at the edge of it all, her fingers clutching her bouquet tightly.

K, who had been walking slightly ahead, turned when he realized she wasn’t beside him. He looked at her and immediately caught the nervous glint in her eyes.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled that calm, boyish smile of his before stepping in front of her and holding out his hand.

“Trust me?” he asked softly.

Kaori glanced at his hand… then at his eyes. The warmth in them grounded her. She let out a small breath before nodding and placing her hand in his.

“Always,” she whispered.

With fingers laced, they stepped through the grand doors together.

Almost instantly, the chatter in the room died down and was replaced by a ripple of gasps and hushed exclamations. Heads turned. Eyes widened.

There was K—undeniably handsome in his sharp suit—and Kaori, radiant in lace and pearls, her hand securely in his. It was a sight that none had expected… but no one could look away from.

Near the front, Haru stood with her date, her eyes going wide before she squealed in delight. “KAORI!!” she mouthed dramatically, grinning from ear to ear.

Kaori caught her gaze and laughed softly, her nerves slowly melting as she returned her friend’s smile.

She squeezed K’s hand gently.

He looked down at her. “Told you,” he murmured. “Prettiest girl in the whole damn room.”

K leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Kaori’s forehead, lingering just enough to make her heart skip.

From the corner of the hall, Mina—who had been sipping punch and very much minding everyone’s business—gasped so loud it was borderline theatrical.

“OH MY GOD,” she mouthed, clutching her chest like she’d just witnessed a public execution. “He kissed her. He kissed her!”

Her date blinked at her, confused. “Uh… yeah? Aren’t they like… together?”

“That’s not the point!” she hissed. “Forehead kisses are sacred.”

Meanwhile, Kaori’s face was glowing—not just from the makeup, but from how warm and flustered she felt. K gave her hand another squeeze before pulling her toward the dance floor.

The music shifted into a soft, upbeat tune, and K spun her lightly before doing a dramatic moonwalk that made Kaori laugh so hard she nearly dropped her bouquet.

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggled, as he tried to do a serious ballroom move but added a playful shimmy halfway through it.

“And yet,” he said with a grin, twirling her under his arm, “you’re smiling.”

They continued to dance like that—light, easy, and totally in sync. Not every step was perfect, but it didn’t matter. K guided her with gentle hands and laughter, and Kaori followed, cheeks sore from smiling.

Under the fairy lights strung across the ceiling, it wasn’t just a dance—it was their moment.

That's it for this one!

The ending seemed kind of rushed, so I apologise for that, but I hope yall enjoyed it anyway 🥹🤍

Taglist: @yeosangsbabygirlsblog

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated ♥️ ✨️

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

What’s your take on Vincent’s personal life? From what I’ve gathered he wasn’t greatest husband and father - cheated on wives, neglected children like crazy. I like him as an actor but kinda wish I’ve never dived into research of his personal affairs lol.

He's a human. Humans make mistakes. Of course he had done things in his life that he probably wished he could take back. From what I've heard, he didn't neglect children. I've heard he was a wonderful father. His first wife took his son Barrett to live with her, so he only got visitation. But he loved him. The letters to Mary early in their marriage shows how much he cared about his son.

He did have sexual trysts with men throughout his marriages. It was a day and age when gay, bi, etc., had to sneak around and do that. Doesn't mean he's a bad person. He was finding who he was. I'm sure he loved his wives. I'm positive he did. But he had to do what he had to do. He was bisexual, after all. Which makes him even sexier in my book.

Victoria, his daughter, has said on MANY MANY MANY occasions that she loved her parents and she is so thankful that she had the two parents she had (Vincent and Mary). The many pictures I've seen, and from all I've heard, Vincent loved his daughter with everything in him. He sent postcards, money, etc.

Also, his job called on him to go here, there, everywhere to film movies, TV shows, etc. of course, you can't always take your kid to work. Not on a movie set, anyway.

She did get to see him live as Peter Pan though. She was two years old and her mom took her to see him as captain hook. She became scared. Seeing her father with a hook as a hand, and scaring little kids on stage was too much for her, bless her, and she began to cry.

Her mom took her backstage to see that her dad was still her dad. He kissed her boo boo away and she went from tears to smiling. That doesn't sound like neglect. To me, anyway.

As far as cheating, he did cheat. But then again, the number or people who cheat on a daily basis, are a dime a dozen. Is it right? No. But do people make mistakes? Yes. He did end up divorcing Mary after he met coral, but I did hear from his daughter that he and Mary were still close friends. He sent her post cards, called her, and even bought her her favorite perfume (Joy) every single year until shortly before his death when he could no longer do so. According to his daughter, Victoria, it wasn't always easy for them to remain friends, because of Coral.

He's a celebrity. A human being. So, his personal life sounds like any personal life to me. Shit happens. Even to celebrities of his calibre. And he's still alright with me. :)

PS. Here's some of my favorite photos of he and his daughter. Doesn't look like neglect to me...