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loveneversleepss · 3 months

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The First Victor

Genre: Friends to lovers, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies(lol😭), time set around a half-year after he returns to the capitol.

Warnings: Cursing, kissing (make outs), violence (fights), manipulation, hickeys, groping, fingering, oral sex (fem rec.), unprotected sex, violent sex(BIG WARNING), kidnapping, death☠️

Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x female reader (Not really all romance tho), reader is older (cougar shit).

W.C: 20k?

A/N: I have been obsessed with the Hunger games for a while and realized I haven't ever done a story for it, so here you go. Suggest knowing about the ballad of songbirds and snakes before reading.

There is never a thing as pure evil or good. Everyone and everything has a little good or bad in them. It's how the world works, how it is. In the constant battle of Capitol and districts, you could get mixed up. But would it be fair to be called a traitor, if you were simply surviving? You question yourself constantly. How did you get here?

No one has ever known your story, or were too scared to find out about it. You were picked out as a monster, but you were just trying to survive. Someone had to do it, be the first, to become the first victor Panem ever knew. You set the boundaries and what the next line of tributes would do. Just because you won, one would look at you and they acknowledge you as pure evil, so be it. You didn't care about labels and such, you just wanted to be free, and free you will be.

11 years ago

"Dr. Gaul, you have to read this assignment," a worker hands her a sheet of paper. She sits down with paper in hand and begins to read, her lips slowly turn up into a terrifying smile as she laughs and laughs. Her voice echoing throughout the room, "this is exactly what Panem needs, that those districts deserve." She turns to a newly created form of protection, the peacekeepers. "Go find Casca Highbottom."

She introduced this proposal to her higher ups and they agreed that it was perfect. She named Casca Highbottom the creator of the games and deemed on that day that they will start these battles, taking thought of how they will get them to fight. They came out with ideas of planting chips into their head to increase the frequencies to force them to fight, but they came out with starving them. To make them so hungry and bribe them if they fight, they will be fed and never have to go hungry again. And then all they needed was a name, these so-called Hunger Games.

But Dr. Gaul had to insure that these games would work, she needed to make sure there would be a victor. She decided to look into her favorite district, district 2. To look for a perfect victor and so she did, she found you. Y/n, 15 years old, trained since 3 years old. They had cameras all over district 2, cameras that see everything. She saw how you trained day and night, through rain and shine. How you defeated anyone that dared to go against you. But she noticed one important thing, you were immune to feeling, To love, happiness, fear, anything. "She's perfect," she watched you so carefully until she made her choice to have you escorted to her lab.

You stood before this bizzare woman, "What is this? You're interrupting my training time." She smiled gleefully as she brought her hands up to her face, "You're quite brave, aren't you?" She said more as a statement than a question. You looked at her curiously as the lab was filled with weird empty tanks, also 'weak people' you observed. She steps closer to you, "You're exactly what I need." You tilt your head at her, emotionless, "And what exactly do you need from me?" She laughs, so evil and cunning it creates goosebumps on your skin. "You'll find out," you feel a sharp prick on the side of your neck and turn to see a man in white behind you. But you couldn't fight back as your body becomes motionless and hazy.

You wake up in a small room, not even a room, a cage. Your vision steadies and you begin to freak out. Your hands tied down and you attempt to break out of it, but your body doesn't move. "You're awake," the bizzare woman again appears in front of you. "You're probably wondering why you're here, why you're tied up like this. I just had to ensure that it was working." You blink multiple times at her, "What is?" ~~~

You await your doom, the games that are waiting for you. You think back on your childhood, your father who was relentless on you. He was determined to make you a weapon, that would protect him and keep him safe. ~ "Get up," your father stared down at you, disappointment in his eyes after you failed to grip the pole above. "Please papa, I'm tired." He struck you at your words, you whined as the sting made a tear fall down your cheek. "I will not have a lazy daughter, get up and do it again." ~

That day you sucked it all up, and you made a vow to yourself. You would kill that man one day, although you loved him, you hated him more. For him making you into the soulless monster you are today, cursed to never feel anything ever again. But now you really are that, just an empty person who can never feel anything, thanks to Dr. Gaul.

You hear a dangling of keys coming towards you, you know it's her. "Hello, y/n. How are you today?" You stare at her in your position from a make-shift bed. She slides your meal for the day through a shaft in the cage as you look at it in disgust. "Feeling nervous about the games?" You snap at her, “I don’t want to be apart of these, these wretched games you've planned! I want to go home!” Your voice echoes throughout her office at your burst of words.

"For what exactly? Hm, do tell me," she stares at you waiting for your response. "Exactly, you can't tell me because there's nothing left for you there. But here, i'm giving you a purpose." You scoff at her, "And what purpose is that? To be a lab rat for the rest of my life?" She waves her finger and tsks, "No, I plan on making you a victor."

~~~

"I don't understand what's so special about me, why me?" You asked Dr. Gaul while eating your dinner. "You have something about you, you seem to only feel one thing. Anger, and nothing else." You chew silently on the mysterious meat she provided to you. "Why is that, y/n?" You swallowed as you thought of a way to tell her, describe your experience. "I had a uh, harsh childhood, ever since I could walk. My father has trained me to be a weapon, his reason was to protect him." She nods her head unconvinced, "Do you believe that's why he did it?"

You shake your head no, "it was just to put me through hell, he never wanted me, I knew it. He blamed me for my mother's death. He hated me and I hated him. That's why I don't have certain emotions, I never knew what they were, just knew anger all my life. That's why I killed him." She smiles as if that's exactly what she wanted to hear, "the weapon he designed to protect him, ended up killing him in the end." But anything you said couldn't stop what was coming for you. The games were set in stone for you, and you had to play.

You were placed in a black van, isolated as you were escorted to the games. You could've easily escaped but something in you didn't, that didn't dare even take a step in the wrong direction. Dr. Gaul called it an arena the place you were heading, that you had to fight to the death in. You have no idea what Dr. Gaul did to you that day she took you, all you know is that you woke up with pricked-holes all over your body. Like a bee would leave.

The vehicle came to a stop and the doors rushed open, peacekeepers came in to retrieve you immediately. Grabbing you by your arms and forcing you onto your feet. They dragged you into a room, with only two ways to come out, they way you came in and through a door in front of you. There's a screen next to the door and it powers on, Dr. Gaul appears.

"Welcome to the first ever Hunger games, you were selected to fight in this arena. In this arena you will fight to the death against 23 tributes besides yourself. We've had you starved for 4 days, at this rate, hunger is the best motivation to kill. The last one standing will be awarded riches like you couldn't imagine, your life. Now, with that being said, let the Hunger Games begin."

There's a buzz and the door swings open, revealing a lit up room. You take a few steps out the door, observing your surroundings. Waiting for anyone threatening to approach. You see all 23 tributes stepped just merely inches from the door, no aggression visible on any of their faces. You turn to the person standing closest to you, a girl, barely the age of 13. You feel your heart begin to ache as you notice the stream of tears running down her face. You notice in the center there's a table of weapons. You immediately run to it as a few others follow your moves, you grab a knife and a bow with a few arrows.

You look around for the girl you saw earlier and find her shaking against the wall. You watch for others trying to sneak up on you but find none. The others fight each other, begging each other to back down. You notice a tall guy starts charging at the girl with a spear and your instinct is to run after him. But you stop as you grab your bow and aim it at his running figure. You let the arrow slip through your fingers and it lands, right through his heart.

The girl stares in fear as some blood splatters onto her face. She wipes it slowly off her cheek as your focus changes. An olive-skinned man approaching you quickly with an axe, you take another arrow into your bow and plant it into his forehead. His body collapses a few feet away from you. You begin to aim for the men, shooting arrow after arrow at them. Their bodies fall quickly to the ground each time. Leaving mostly only girls left for you to kill.

You turn and don't see the girl in her original position. You're distracted looking for her and don't notice the man coming at you. He tackles you and you drop your bow. You kick him off of you but he manages to pin you under him, his hands gripping your neck choking you. You reach for anything besides you and find a rock, you grip it quickly and smack it on his head. He screams out and loosens his grip just enough for you to overpower him. You take your knife in your pocket and stab it into his chest but he still is strong. You reach his neck and twist it so incorrectly, so wrong, it leaves a bone-cracking sound and he goes motionless. His body lands next to you and you try to catch your breath.

You get up slowly and see all the bodies scattered on the floor, most of them done by you. You see the remainder of everyone, a man and 2 girls. You don't recognize the girl from earlier in any of the bodies on the floor. You begin to search for her as the others are busy fighting each other. You pick up your bow and arrows and run looking for her. You find her hiding near a couple bodies, craddled up into a ball. You walk slowl to her as she sees you now, "please don't hurt me!" She whimpers as she gets up in a defensive position. You shake your head and drop your bow, "I'm not gonna hurt you." Her eyes widen as she looks as something behind you, "watch out!"

You get tackled again, this time you fight back harder, kicking and punching. It's a man and he uses all his strength. But speed is more important than strength in this game. He grabs you and tosses you aside as he reaches for the girl. She runs away as you grab your bow and swiftly put in an arrow in it. He grabs the girl and holds her close, a dagger to her neck, the one you had. "Don't, or I'll cut her throat." This feeling, fear, love, you care for this girl. You don't know why, but you know you hate this feeling. You smirk, you don't have control over your body anymore as you let the arrow go, right through her heart.

He looks at you in shock as you load another arrow quickly and plunge it through his heart. You drop the bow, as you have control now again. Your body begins to shake when you've realized what you've done. The blood that's on you and on your hands. Before you can process what you've done, you hear a voice. "Congratulations, we have a winner!" Dr. Gaul, you know this voice anywhere. A peacekeeper walks towards you and knocks you out with a mist, black is all you can see.

“Congratulations,” you’re startled awake by this taunting, dreadful voice. “You’ve become the first ever victor of the hunger games.” You look around and realize, you’re still in the cage. “No, no, no! Let me out!” You bang into the cage where she’s standing, you kick and shake the cage in attempt to escape. She stands emotionless watching you struggle, tears flowing down your cheeks, “You promised!” She smiles and leans in closer to you as your tantrum tires down. “I promised your life, and alive you still are,” she says in a singsongy tone.

You shake your head no as you back away, “I want out of here,” you say more calmly. She tilts her head like as if she’s thinking about it. Then you see her face light up, “once you’ve proven yourself that you’ll change the Capitol for good, I’ll let you out. But until that happens, you’ll stay in here.” She walks away, her sentence taunting you for hours and hours into days into months. Then into years. Stuck trying to figure a way that you can prove yourself, that you would change the capitol in a way that would help. And you will.

10 years later..

You’ve grown accustomed to this cage you now call your home, you’ve tried everything to convince Dr. Gaul to let you go. But you’ve given up, nothing could change this fate. Or so you thought. Not until a tall, white-blonde haired man approached you. You scrambled away from him when he came close to your cage. He leaned down, hands on his knees, sitting on his heals comfortably.

“I won’t hurt you,” he spoke softly, you scoff as you bring your head up. “That’s what they all say,” it’s been so long since you’ve heard your own voice. Since you’ve heard someone’s else’s besides Dr. Gaul. “I’m Coriolanus Snow, and you are?” You sit up against the wall and brush your hair out of your face, “Y/n.” You can see in his head something clicked, like he connected the dots. “y/n, the first victor of the games!” You nod your head not amused, hating that title that everyone knows you from.

“You’re a legend, you had the first kill and the most kills ever in the games.. you set the rules.” You look at him fully, actually looking right at him, into his eyes. “A legend? I’m a monster.” He shakes his head and his eyes soften, “no you’re not.. I understand you, you were trying to survive, like everyone else. And you did. In my eyes that’s the most impressive thing.” You breathe heavily, “you’re trying to make me like you. It’s not working.” He smiles and you recognize him.

“I know you, you’re a mentor in the games. District 12 right?” His eyebrows crease and his jaw goes tight, “I know one of the mentors too, Sejanus. He’s from my district and his dad was friends with mine.” If only he knew the history you had with Sejanus, he was your first kiss. He ignored your comment about Sejanus, “I didn’t know you watch the games.” You sigh, "I always watch the games contrary to everyone's beliefs.. I think it helps, knowing i'm not the only one who went through that." He sits all the way down, his legs crossed neatly in front of himself. “I don’t.. I don’t what to do. My girl- tribute, Lucy Gray, I don’t want her to die.” You move closer to him, your hand gripping the cage, “then do what you can, help her, even though she’s in there and you’re here. There’s lots of ways to ensure her survival.”

He nods his head as you see tears developing in his eyes. “Be strong, Coriolanus Snow. You have your whole life ahead of you.” He wipes his cheek, avoiding looking you in the eyes while his tears drip. You crease your eyebrows together as you realize, “just how old are you?” He sniffles and responds, “18.” You bite your inner cheek and nod your head, he sighs. “How old are you? You were like 15 in the games right?” You breathe heavily and pursue your lips up, “I’m 24 now, about to turn 25.” His eyes deepen with pity.

“Why are you in here? I thought you would’ve gone back home.” You laugh mockingly at his words, “I wouldn’t chose to be here, living with enemy that forced me into the games. I have to thank Dr. Gaul for that, I’m her little lab rat.” He looks at you confused, visibly asking ‘why would she do that?’ “Why are you here?” You ask in the middle of the moment, he clears his throat, “I had to get stitched up, just wanted to wander a bit before I went back home.” You stared at him, bored at his answer, but he asks a sudden question.

“Why are you in here?” “I already answered you,” he cuts off your sentence. “No, why are you here. Why haven’t you escaped or been set free?” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, getting ready to tell him. “Dr. Gaul says I have to prove myself. Prove that I’d be good to the Capitol and make a magical change to it, whatever that means.” He nods in understanding, “why don’t you try to do something to establish the difference between the Capitol and the districts?” You sighed, “I don’t know how I would do that, how I would even start.”

It goes silent and you break it, “well I think it’s time you’ve leave , it’s quite late.” He nods his head and stands up quickly, he turns to leave but stops. “I’ll come back for you,” you shake your head and fidget with your hands. “What for?” You analyzed his outfit, a red university uniform. “To get you out of here.” And with that, he leaves. If only he knew how much those words meant to you, you were counting on it. You watched the games from your cage, secretly rooting for Lucy gray and him to win. And when she did, you were so happy, because if she won. You knew he wouldn’t forget about you, that you encouraged him and he succeeded.

But. He didn’t come for you. You waited and waited, and knew. He wasn’t coming to save you. You made excuses for him, saying it was too hard to sneak back into the office. Or that he was busy with university life or the hunger games stuff. But after 3 months passed you gave up waiting for him. So you decided to save yourself, but you had to think of how. What will change the future of the Capitol for good. Then it hit you.

~ “why don’t you try it on, hm?” The friendly store clerk told you as she showed you the pretty floral dress. You smiled as you reached out to grab it, but your father stepped in. He smacked you silly and you dragged you out of the store. “You are not meant to wear those things! You are not your mother!” ~

Fashion. That’s what the Capitol needs, a way to distinguish themselves from the districts. To show their rich and powerful history, to make them noticeably better and extravagant. This is exactly what you need, to change your fate. The next time you say Dr. Gaul, you pitched your idea to her. And she gladly accepted. “I’m so proud of you, you found a way to make the nation better.”

By nation she meant only by the Capitol. She swung the door open and you stepped out slowly. Freedom, at last. She escorted you to a room near her office, much more spacious than that tiny cage. “You can work here and I’ll arrange for you to have a house to your liking. Walkable distance of course, can’t have you late to your own invention.” You turned to her in disbelief, “and I can make my own rules right?” She crossed her arms and nodded, “except if you’re slacking off, I will not hesitate to put you back in that cage.”

She walks off with a smirk and you stand in the big empty room. You feel tears of joy slip down your cheeks and are startled by it. You haven’t felt this feeling in so long. You get started immediately with Dr. Gauls permission. “You can have these 3 workers to help you getting started.” She handed you a key which was for your house. It was empty besides the necessities it had. You didn’t spend a lot of time there because you were always working with your 3 workers. You tried asking for their names but all didn’t respond, in fact they never spoke, you wondered why. You sent them out for errands while you sketched ideas out.

In the Olden days, they used to wear long silky gowns. With elegant beads and sparkles all on them. But you have an idea to incorporate animals and nature objects along with the designs. Feathers and twigs came along in your head. So came your first design, a peacock dress. The bottom would be fluffed out and long, like a peacocks feathers would be. You designed it exactly the design and color a peacock would be. You made wings made from branches and polished it in gold to give off a luxurious effect and attached it to the back of the dress.

Once completed you added real feathers to the model you set up, it looked perfect. Something unique and could only be capitol designed. And you decided you needed a signature for the designs you do, you heard that mockingjays were created from a bird called Jabberjays that Dr. Gaul created. You decided it was perfect for your image. You created a mockingjay carrying an arrow, which was what you used in the arena, for your first kill. It was perfect as you created a pin to set on your new design.

“Well this is, something.” Dr. Gaul commented on your design. “I thought it was quite fitting for capitol image, something the districts could never have.” She nods her head as she analyses your work. “Good work, y/n. I expect more designs soon and for you to start actually selling them.” You smile at her backhanded compliment but a compliment is a compliment. “I’ll be having my assistant come later to pick up more designs you have!” She announces as you walk away.

You get straight to work, searching for your other designs and starting on a new one. You stood up and stared at the dress you made. Writing down ideas for the next dress. You got so caught up in your work, you didn’t realize the door had opened. You turned to see who it was, your heart froze. Coriolanus snow.

You stepped back from him, you didn’t know why but you were scared. “Y/n,” his voice echoed throughout the empty room. “You’re- here? Out of the cage?” You frowned, “yeah because someone didn’t come back for me.” You spoke through your teeth, making the words come out harsher. He sighed, “I was caught up.. in capitol business.” You showed no interest, no care in his words. “Business, right. Well I have my own business to attend to so here.”

You hand him the designs you have to get him out of your sight. “You look good,” he blurts out. You scoff in disgust and roll your eyes, “you have no right to say that to me.” His mouth opens slightly and his eyes twinkle playfully, “why can’t I? I can’t point out a beautiful women?” You shake your head and sit at your desk, beginning to sketch a new design. He takes this as a liberty to wander around your work space. “So you took my advice, huh?” Who the hell does he think he is?

“Your advice?” You spit out while not losing your focus. “Mhm,” he responds while analyzing your designs. “To distinguish the Capitol from the districts, I’m guessing that’s how got you out of the cage.” You stop sketching and pause, “are you trying to say you’re the reason I got out?” You make eye contact with him, for the first time since he’s been here. He approaches you slowly with his hands in his pockets. “I also talked to her saying that it’s not productive to have a victor like you confined to a cell when you could do so much more.”

You hate to admit it but here goes, “okay, fine. So you helped me out of the cage, but it was my idea to create this new era of fashion. This is what really got me out.” He smirks as he leans on the desk next to you, “and it’s amazing by the way.” You blink multiple times at him, he’s different. More confident in himself, not the fearful boy he was when he appeared, hair slicked back and not a curly mess on his forehead. Clothing of rich material and not the ripped and teared clothing. “You know,” he breaks your trance of checking him out.

“You seem to be more capitol than district, you act like one of us now. Living with the enemy and all.” His comment makes you smile, trying to ease the tension between you two. “I’ll always be district, it’s where I come from and nothing can change that.” His face drops when you finish your sentence, he clears his throat and stands up. “I have to go now, she’ll be expecting these,” he motions to the designs. You nod your head and try to get back into your work, “if she hates them, try to convince her it’s good. Since you’re good at that.”

You hear him laugh softly as he walks away from the doorway into the hallway. You sit back and stare at the lightly drawn on paper in front of you. You begin to sketch a man, similar figure to his. Designing an outfit a man would wear but your brain gets fuzzy. You decide to take the rest of the day off and walk down the shopping center they have. To get your creative juices flowing. The displays in front of the stores are bleak and in need of major color. Greys, blacks and whites of uniforms taunt your eyes.

But one thing catches your eye, a mask on a mannequin. It sparks something in you as you write it down quickly in your sketch book. You turn to head back to your office when you bump into a woman. “Oh my, I’m so sorry,” her voice is soft and sweet like honey. Her colorful appearance and shiny white-blonde hair catches your eye. You analyze her stunning appearance, while she speaks to you, “aren’t you y/n? The designer who made that peacock dress?”

Dr. Gaul has introduced you to other fashion shop owners, show them your sketch of the peacock dress you designed. You smile, you’ve felt as if you just met an equal, a woman of worth in this harsh country. “Yes, that’s me.” Her face beams up, “I love your work so much! Ugh, the color and inspiration of the wings was so inspiring. Are you thinking of opening a boutique?” You bite your bottom lip as an idea pops into your head, “I’ve been looking for an apprentice, and I think you’ll be perfect. Won’t you consider it?” You write down the number from your office onto your sketchbook and rip it off and hand it to her.

She takes it eagerly and smiles, “I’ll definitely call you.” You laugh softly and tilt your head, “I didn’t get your name. What is it?” She sighs happily, “I’m Tigris, Tigris Snow.”

~~~~~

Snow. As in Coriolanus Snow? You thought about it all the way back to the office. You sat down at your desk and just stared at your desk for an hour. Did you run into a sister or a cousin of his? Your intense thinking is interrupted by a phone call and you know it’s her. She asked all the important questions, how much the pay, how much hours and work to put in, in the end she was convinced and accepted your request. You hung up the call and Dr. Gaul entered.

“I was very amazed of your designs and just when exactly will i see in person?” You smile blankly at her, “when they’re ready.” She nodded her head with a half smile, “follow me, I need to show you something.” You stood up immediately and followed after her. She took you into a dark room, with a circle table in the middle. Standing in there was Coriolanus. He smiled at you when you walked in, and you did a little nod to acknowledge him.

“So the reason I’ve brought you here today is I think you’re worthy enough to discuss the future of the games.” Your heart drops, no way she would think you would be okay with doing this. “Let’s get started, Mr. Snow do you have any ideas?” He nods his head, “I think we need to have something in the districts to have them watch the games. Like a big screen that showcases it and make it mandatory.” She nods her head happily at the suggestion and then turns to you.

“Do you have anything to say?” You sigh softly and lick your lips, “during the drawings for tributes. It should be completely random, like names on paper of all the boys and girls. To be pulled fairly and not be done unfairly.” Coriolanus adds on to your statement, “and should be done by Capitol citizens to ensure it’s fair and just.” You looked at each other in agreement of your suggestions. “Looks like this partnership will work wonderfully,” Dr. Gaul says.

It was late one night, you sent Tigris and the other workers home and you were stuck doing a design, pinning all night and figuring out which fabrics would look better. You heard a knock at the door and turn to see Coriolanus. “I brought you something,” he places a box on your desk in front of you and you stare at it. “And what’s in it?” He smiles, “a cupcake. From the finest bakery in the city.” You open it suspiciously and take it out, “red velvet?” He bites his bottom lip and you dig your teeth into it. Okay, he was right. Definitely from the best in the city.

“Thank you,” you mumble out which makes him laugh softly. “Here, let me.” He wipes the side of your lip, you stare into his eyes. You can smell his scent, a rosy smell. You stand up and jokingly smear some icing on his nose. “Wowww, after I got you this.” He grabs the cupcake and holds it away from you. “It tastes good anyways,” you say and he cuts you off by lightly pushing a small piece of the icing on your mouth. He places the cupcake on the table and reaches for you, grabbing you by your waist.

He stares into your eyes and flickers down to your lips. His hand comes up to caress your cheek. You feel your heartbeat increase and begin to melt in his touch. His lips land on yours and you’re shocked, his hand reveals the skin on your waist. Sending chills up your spine from the cold. “Mm, does taste good.” His words sent butterflies to your tummy as he pulled you back in. Devouring your lips once more, you let your hands tangle around his neck. Playing softly with his locks.

He turns your bodies around and pushes you up onto the desk, sitting comfortably as his body makes his way between your legs. His tongue emerges into your mouth, discovering every spot and corner. Your breathing is starting to get heavy once his body rocks against yours. Your lips part from his to catch a breather, “maybe we shouldn’t.” You suggest, hoping that he’d disagree. He just looks at you, really at you, like he sees someone beyond in you. “I mean, I’m so much older than you.”

“Why does that matter? I like you and.. age wouldn’t change that.” Your heart warms at his words but you feel something weird, you’ve hadn’t had intense intimacy with a man before. You’ve been locked up for 10 years and before that, you hadn’t really explored or touched another man like that. Besides your first kiss which was just a small peck. You snap back into the moment, “I guess I’m a little scared, I never got the chance to be.. intimate with someone.”

His face beams up and he develops a small smirk, “don’t worry. Just let me do all the work.” He leans in but kisses your lips, and goes right into your neck. This sensation makes you heat up fast, increasing heavily when his hand drags up your shirt. You hiss when you feel a sting on your neck, biting and sucking from his mouth. He places his hand right over a sensitive part, your nipple. He pinches it softly which makes your body jolt forward as a soft noise escapes your mouth. You feel him smile against your skin as if he’s hearing exactly what he wanted.

Your mouth drops open while he continues these unfamiliar sensations, easily becoming your favorite things. You begin to feel a glow coming from between your legs, an ache needing to be filled. He begins to rock his body against yours again which helps fill the craving, for a bit. You begin to become impatient and wanting more, he come back up to kiss you more. But you practically are begging for it, “please. I need more.” He leans in, “maybe.. we should take this someplace else?” You nod your head quickly and begin to grab your things. Your place would do for tonight, you grab your keys and lead him to your house, walking distance easily.

Once you get there you immediately shut the door and lead him to your bedroom. He wastes no time reattaching his lips to yours. You both manage to get onto the bed, him on top of you. He backs away off the bed to remove his shirt, you practically drooling at his lightly fit body. He begins to move his pants down and you take the opportunity to remove your shirt too, he begins to eye your body down. Devouring you with his eyes. He slowly crawls on the bed, taking his time to get to you.

His hand lands on your pants as he unclips them and slides them all the way down, off the bed. The next thing he did was unexpected. His teeth grip onto your underwear, using his mouth to drag it slowly down your legs. Your jaw drops as he does this and you can’t help but get more turned on by it. “Tease,” you mumble out as he smiles softly. The cool breeze hits you below, creating chills on your body once again. He begins to kiss your inner thighs, inch by inch, slowly creeping closer and closer to your core. You feel his warm breath grace against you and your hips curve in the direction. He settles his body down and uses his hands to keep you steady, holding your hips as your legs are on his shoulders.

He makes a great show of showing you his tongue then uses it on you, you let the sweet noise slip out of your mouth again. He settles right where you need him and begins to painfully kiss then suck on it. Your hand comes to cover your mouth to conceal the noises you were recklessly making. Your hips jitter up at every movement he does but he manages to keep you down. You let your other hand slither down to his hair, gently tugging on it. He lets one of his hands go from your hips and down to help him, entering two fingers inside you. Your gasp loudly as your back begins to arch and your hand no longer covers your mouth.

Both your hands now in his hair as you push his face more into you, grinding yourself against him. Your body begins to pulsate and shake as your body begins to get hot, a feeling of something building. You feel as if you’re about to let something free, a sensation of almost knotting. Then your body snaps, you scream out at the immense pleasure as you feel a liquid trickle out of you. Your body finally quiets down and you stare blankly at the ceiling. The bed shakes and rumbles when Coriolanus gets up and wipes a towel on you, then lays next to you.

You lean your side to face him, his hand cups your cheek and his thumb grazes gently on you. “So, that’s what it’s like.” He laughs softly, “and there’s other ways to achieve it.” You get curious, doesn’t he have to relieve himself too? “And you? Don’t you need something too?” He nods his head, “normally. But you’re new to this and I don’t want to make you do anything.” You frown, “but I want to. I want to make you feel good too.” He bites his bottom lip, still shaking no. You look at him with stern expression, and he gives in.

“You really want to?” You nod your head yes repeatedly. “Here, feel.” He guides your hand down and onto his clothed crotch. It’s a new touch, it’s hard and shaped so uniquely. He groans softly as you move your hand softly on it. Poor thing, he seemed to be suffering trying to only help you. You scoot closer to him as he guides your hand inside his underwear. You can feel his hot breath on your face, he uses your hand to hold onto him and guide it up and down. His breathing gets shaky as he starts to enjoy himself, you attach your lips to his and his hand holds onto your back.

You take initiative and carry yourself onto his lap, your legs on the side of his thighs as you reveal himself. You continue your movements which makes his face flush up, you slowly lower yourself and give pecks to his lips. You stop your movements and take the time to lower down his underwear all the way down, “what are you doing?” You shush him with your finger, “I have an idea.” Since you still had your undergarments off, you can still use your body to your advantage. You place yourself right on top of his length, grinding slowly on it. It becomes slippery easy from yourself, and he groans as he grips onto your waist.

He uses your hips to push you forward and back, you can visibly see how affected he is by this. Mouth dropped slightly agape, groans casually falling out of it. Every time he groans, it sends butterflies through your stomach. It accidentally sinks into you a bit and you jolt forward at the feeling. He smiles, “you okay?” You nod your head as you slowly get your rhythm back. It happens again and you jolt forwards, he giggles. “You want to try something else?” You think about it for a second then nod your head and smile. Oh, but how easily the smile fades. When he guides himself into you, your hands drop onto his chest.

You let an incredibly loud noise slip, which makes him smile. He sits up slowly to remove your top garment, you get the chills instantly when it falls down. He whispers into your ear, “move like how you were earlier.” He places a peck on your cheek and you listen, doing the same movements from earlier. This feeling was so intense for you, so pleasurable, you couldn’t resist. You wrapped your arms around his back and he helped you by guiding your hips once again. He would graze into a spot inside you that you didn’t even know you had and it would make you melt every time. He lets a curse slip out of his mouth when you begin to pick up your pace, chasing a so-called high.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help myself,” he whispered and you are confused until your swung under him. He begins to pound into you which makes you scream and let out a pathetic noises. The bed frame begins to shake and make creaking noises. His fast pace inside you builds up a knot in your stomach, tears begin to fall down your cheeks at the intensity of it. Your legs around his waist slowly turn into jelly, the slapping noises so lewd to you. His arms are next to your head to help him stay at his pace, you stare into each others eyes. Memorizing each others faces in pure bliss. He manages to get one arms free to wipe your tears away, so caring at a time like this.

He leans down to your ear, “Don’t you love when you let me use you like this?” Your back arches as the pace becomes stronger and more threatening. Your nails dig into his back, you do, you do love this. His hips snap one more time, and you feel him collapse, a liquid launching into you. He lays on your chest as you try to slow down your breathing. “That was.. so good,” he mumbles into your skin, you giggle as he looks so flushed out.

The next morning resumed like nothing was different, you worked in your office on your designs. And he went with Dr. Gaul to continue his apprentice duties. Tigris helped you eagerly with the materials and setting up the dresses. Today was your launch of your clothing line, you were anxious and wondered if they would actually sell. Dr. Gaul had bought you a corner shop to sell your clothing, it was helpful but scary. You sent Tigris and the other workers to take it to the shop so they could set them up.

You sat at your desk, rubbing your forehead from the incoming headache. Then you hear a knock at the door, you looked up to see Coriolanus, “well if it isn’t Mr. Coriolanus snow.” You stand up out of your chair as he makes his way to you, he immediately attaches your lips together. It hasn’t been long since his lips were on yours, but you missed it so. “I heard today you’re launching your clothing line,” you nod your head and sit back down. “Yes, I just hope they’ll sell.” He smiles at you lovingly, “they will. They’re fantastic.” His reassurance to you makes you feel a bit better. “Thanks Cori.” “Cori?” He questions but before you could answer, Dr. Gaul enters the room, “y/n, I hope you’re not slacking off.”

You shake your head as you smile softly, “just talking to my colleague.” He turns to Dr. Gaul, “I’m just congratulating her on her launch today. Giving her some advice.” She nods her head slowly, “things like what your grandmother says? What was it again?” He smiles awkwardly, “Snow falls on top,” he states while you jokingly thought, ‘of me.’ It made you laugh softly to yourself while he looked at you with a weird expression. With that Dr. Gaul leaves the room, leaving you two alone again.

“You know I’ve been wondering, do you remember what you said, about being Dr. Gaul’s lab rat? What did you mean by that?” You stand up cautiously and walk over to a mannequin with an unfinished design. “She chose me personally, to fight in the games. She wanted to make sure there would be a winner.” He stays standing next to your desk as he listens, “but why. What was so special about you?”

~ It was your birthday, turning the big number 15. You’re dad has been dreaming of this day since you were born. But even though it’s your birthday, training is still a must. After a quick 15 minutes, you have your dad on the floor, gasping for air, “you’ve grown up, finally beating your dad for once.” You show no expression to his words, anger fueling you up as you watch him get up. “I knew you could do it, today’s the big day. Joining the academy.” That’s if you could defeat a line up of men who also want to join. The academy would set your life in combat, one day you could get sent to the Capitol to be a protector of some important people. Your way out, while being the only woman to ever attend the academy.

Mr. Plinth is who owns it, he’s good friends with your father who has convinced him that you would be a good fit. But there’s one thing you needed to do before you could start your new life, you have to get rid of the past. The one thing that’s been leeched onto you for your whole life, your father. You take a few steps closer to him which he backs away suspiciously, “y/n?” You ignore him as you lock in on your target, you grip onto the side dagger you have. He begins to back away faster and runs, you catch up in no time and turn him to face you. You dig the dagger into his stomach, his face is pain as you dig it deeper and deeper. Blood drips out of his mouth and you push him off the blade, his body tumbles motionless. ~

You snap back into reality while Cori awaits your answer, “When I was 15 years old.. I killed my father. That’s why she chose me, because she knew what I was capable of. She knew I would do it again.” He bites his bottom lip, “she knew you would kill again, to survive.” You nod your head while you walk back slowly to him, and sit down at your desk again. He sits on the side silently, looking at you. You break the silence, “Whatever happened to Lucy gray? I remember you were quite fond of her.” His nervous demeanor and avoidance to your question made you think that it probably ended badly.

“I heard she was sent back to her district,” he avoids looking at you as he walks to the mannequin you were next to earlier. “Sejanus too, I haven’t heard about him in a while. Did you know me and him kissed when I was 9?” He doesn’t respond as he stares at the mannequin. “Um, excuse me?” A strange voice interrupts you, you turn to see a woman standing at the entryway. Cori recognizes her and steps in her direction, until he turns to you to introduce this woman. “Y/n, this is my girlfriend.” Your smile fades immediately, how could he?

You grip onto the side of your desk as you suck it up and stand, “hello, nice to meet you.” Cori’s face looks worried as if you would react wrong any second, “Dr. Gaul told me I would find you here. So, I decided to come find you for our date.” You blank out as you tune out their conversation, an anger builds up but you let it go. Who cares if he pursues another woman, you knew did down inside you. That you would never be his, no matter how much you wanted it. “So, we should be going now. Y/n?” You snap back and sigh, “of course, have fun!” You beam even though you know it’s fake.

After that, you didn’t really see much of Coriolanus. You were busy tending to your shop, and as everyone told you, it became popular very fast. The sells were flowing in like crazy and you were so happy with the results as you knew you would never be condemned to the cage again. Once you got more settled in, you decided you could do with more assistance in manufacturing. You hired 5 new people to help, a man of incredible taste strikes your eyes. His skin was dark but beautifully always shiny, clean like you preferred. His name was Gian, he later on earned the nickname Cinnabon from you due to his sweet actions. But Tigris had your heart and you favored her more than anything, so she was in charge when you left.

Left on investigation, Dr. Gaul gave you permission to travel to the districts when you wanted. As long as everything was tidy when you left. A question had been sinking into you since that last conversation with Cori. What the hell happened to Lucy Gray? And what happened to Sejanus Plinth? And you were determined to find out.

You made plans for a week away to investigate, first stop was at the Plinths house. Mrs. Plinth opened the door and was overjoyed, she led you inside and sat you down in the tea room. “Oh, I’m just so happy to see you, someone from back home. If only I would’ve known sooner that you were here, Sejanus would’ve been so happy.” You jump on it to question immediately when she mentions him, “where is he by the way? I would like to see him.” Her voice turns pale you hear a creak behind you, you turn to see Mr. Plinth.

You get up immediately, “Hello sir. It’s nice to see you.” He chuckles, “my my, why it isn’t little y/n!” He was always quite fond of you before you were taken, you were his little miracle worker. He moves quick to embrace you as you smell his warm scent, “I heard you were lurking about in the Capitol , what reason have you come to visit today?” You sigh as you both sit down, getting straight into business. “What happened to Sejanus?” His face goes stern as the same expression from earlier appears on Mrs. Plinths face.

“I don’t want to lie to you so I’ll just say it, he volunteered to be a peacekeeper and was sent to district 12.” District 12, perfect, exactly where you’re headed to look for Lucy Gray. “So, he’s there then?” They look at each other for a moment then back to you. They both nod their head yes but you’re suspicious of it, they’re hiding something. You’re about to make an excuse to leave when Mrs. Plinth recognizes your pin on your collar, “wait, I know that pin. It’s from my favorite designer!” You smile, “glad to know you like my work.” She gets excited as she asks you a billion questions. After calming her down a bit you finally manage to get out of there.

Off to district 12, it would take 2 days by train to get there. So you booked a train fright for yourself and were off. Once you got there, it was such a strange land. The only place you could think of to start is at the chief peacekeepers office. People gladly pointed you in the direction, you forgot how friendly district people were. You knocked on the door, and he grumbled a, “come in.” You entered and you can see confusion on his face, “you’re not from here. Are you?” You shook your head and took a seat, “I’m from the Capitol and I’m looking for someone. Well two people, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray.”

“Those are some serious names you pulled,” he pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to you. It’s a document, saying that music is banned here. You look at him confused, “there was a band here named the Covey and Lucy Gray was apart of it. They live in a house in the seam, near the meadow and the woods. I’ll have one of my boys escort you.” You were happy with his answer but not satisfied, “and.. Sejanus?” He takes a deep sigh, “I’m sorry but he’s dead.” Your heart drops, your breathing begins to increase, “what happened?”

“There was a voice recording of him planning a rebellion. We had no choice but to take action since the Capitol was putting pressure on us,” you were confused. “Why were they putting pressure?” He bit his bottom lip, “somehow the voice recording was sent to the Capitol and a powerful person enforced us to take action immediately.” You were scared to ask the next question, “how did you.. take care of it?” He paused for a bit. “We had him hanged, by the hanging tree.” You almost melted in your seat, you imagine it was the tree you passed on the way here, it gave you an ominous feeling. “Do you have this recording, I almost don’t believe it.”

He looks through his drawer and pulls it out, a machine you recognize. It belongs to a jabberjay, there recording box. You know it because you’ve seen it in Dr. Gaul’s office. He sets is to play and you hear his voice, his plan, but another voice comes in, a voice you know all too well. Coriolanus, you immediately know, that it was him who turned him in. He set Sejanus up to be killed. You thanked him for the information and as he said, he had two peacekeepers escort you to the property. They left once you were in proximity of it, you saw a girl sitting by a tree. Enjoying the air. “Excuse me,” she turns frightened by you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m looking for someone, Lucy gray? Is she here.” She stands up and walks toward you, “I know her.” She crosses her arms and one of her eyebrows flicker up, “but, Im not talking for free.” Her sassy demeanor made you smile as you handed her your pin. “Well, this is pure gold. I made it, it’s from my designs.” She pockets it quickly and shoots you a friendly smile, “What district are you from?” You laugh softly as she got straight to the point,“District 2, but I’ve spent the last 10 years in the Capitol.” She nods her head, “I’m Maude Ivory by the way.” She reaches her hand out to shake yours and you gladly oblige, “I’m y/n.” She sits down where she was earlier and you sit down too. “how’d you know Lucy Gray?”

“I met her once, in the Capitol.” Her eyes move to the side then back to you, as if a thought traveled through her mind. “Did you know her boyfriend? He’s from the capitol too. Name is Coriolanus snow, I met him on his day off.” You knew something was between them, he wouldn’t worry like that for someone if he didn’t like her. “Day off? Did he work here?” She shrugs her shoulders, “not really work, he was a peacekeeper.” It clicks, the so-called ‘Capitol business.’ “I miss her, she taught me that if I could find Katniss, I would never go hungry..” Miss? “You say you miss her, is she not here anymore?” She shakes her head sadly as she frowns, “she told me she was leaving with her boyfriend. Tam claims they were running away to start a life in the wild.” So, no one knows what happened to them. But Coriolanus returned to the Capitol, so where the hell is Lucy gray?

“She made a song for him, you want to hear it?” She said it was titled, pure as the driven snow, you listened closely to the way she sang it. You even asked her when she was done singing to write down the lyrics because you loved the song so much. After that, she decided she wanted to go pick some Katniss. You told her before she left, “you know, that would make a pretty name for a girl.” You began to wander into the forest where the house was. Wondering if they came through this way. You don’t know how far you traveled but you remember the way back.

Just when you turn to go back, When you slip on a smooth rock, you look down at it. There lies a bullet, where your mind fills with one conclusion. He was here, and he shot at her. So, is she dead? Was she buried in the lake? There was only one person who could answer this, Coriolanus. And you needed the answer. You immediately made way back to the train station to the Capitol. The whole way back you think of a speech, a way to get him to admit it. Honestly, it felt too easy to get all that information. But you’ll find out soon enough.

As soon as you got to the Capitol, you made your way immediately to look for him. You stormed into Dr. Gauls lab, he was no where to be found. “Ah, you’re back already. Had a good time?” You paid no mind to her words, “I’m looking for Coriolanus.” She crosses her arms, “I have him out fetching materials. I’ll let him know you stopped by.” Her meaning in her words means leave and get back to work. But you went to home to wash off the travel, then to your office. There was a waiting Coriolanus snow. He was sitting in your chair by your desk in the dark, you cautiously turned on the lights.

“Dr. Gaul said you were looking for me?” You stood standing in the middle of the room. A one sided tension, you cleared your throat, “yes. I.. need to ask you something.” He nods his head slowly and leans onto your desk. “Ask away,” you slowly stepped closer to ask your questions. “I don’t know if you heard but I went on trip to the districts,” he stares at you like he knows that you did. “District 12, to be in fact.” His body tenses up, you can tell he’s not trying to show any reaction. “And I found something out,” your at the side of you desk now. You lean over, inches from his face. “What did you do.. to Lucy gray?” His face drops and his pupils widen, he backs away.

He gets up and faces away from you, “I did nothing.” You scoff and he turns around surprised, “nothing? So I’m imagining the bullets I found in the woods then? I’m imagining that Lucy Gray hasn’t been missing ever since you two supposedly, ran away together?” His eyes shut as he now knows he’s been caught. “Tell me, how is it that you ran away together, but you’re here. And Lucy Gray is nowhere to be found?” His hands come to his face, “why the hell did you go? Why did you have to do that!” You laugh softly in disbelief, “was I not supposed to?” You can hear the distress in his voice, “no! Why- I-I thought you would just.. stay here because you were tamed.”

Tamed? Like a wild animal? "You think just because you got me out of the damn cage, you thought you could control me like some animal? You thought wrong Coriolanus Snow!" His breathing is shaky, but you could care less, “and I found something most intriguing. Sejanus Plinth is dead, turned in by a voice recording.” He awaits your next sentence, “turned in by no one other than you, you think I wouldn’t recognize the other voice talking to him?” He collapses on the chair, “so you know everything.” His voice is breaking but he manages to try to defend himself, “but I didn’t hurt Lucy gray, she ran away.”

You shake your head, not believing him, “yeah, right.” He shoots back at you, “you have no right to judge me when you killed the person closest to you.” You begin to fill with rage, just at the mention of your father, “I had my reasons for killing my father.” He begins to state your faults, “and you were encaged for 10 years by Dr. Gaul but once you were set free, that was just forgotten right?” You are appalled he would even stoop to try to turn this back on you, “I was doing what was necessary to survive!” He jumps out of the seat and approaches you quickly, “And you think I didn’t have my reasons?!” His raised voice shut you down, reminding you of the times when your father did the same.

“I thought we understood each other, that- that we’ve both killed and accepted it.” You fight back the tears in your eyes, he cups your cheek but you slap him off. “Please, let’s just forget about this. I like you okay? We can go back to normal, I’ll get rid of Livia.” You scoff as if it would magically make it go away. “I will not let this go, I will remind and remind you until you can’t take it anymore and turn yourself in.” You left after that encounter, back home where it’s safe. You couldn’t forget the conversation, you just couldn’t. And apparently, he couldn’t either.

You turned into work the next morning as if nothing happened, Tigris wasn’t scheduled to work in the office today because she was down at the shop. You picked up the phone and dialed the shop’s number, “mockingjays boutique, this is Tigris speaking.” Her voice soothed your bad mood instantly, “hey little tiger, it’s y/n. I was wondering if you could stop by to the office for a second.” She pauses and stammers, “the boutique is actually spilling with customers so, I think it would be better if you came here.”

You agreed and hurriedly made your way. But you were stopped about a block away from the shop, of course it’s him. “We need to talk,” your hand flies up to your forehead to soothe the incoming headache. “I want to talk about what happened,” you stand staring at him, emotionless because you don’t have the time for this. “I need to go tend to my shop, bye.” You try to dismiss him but he runs in front of you. You huff and move around him but he is persistent, “come on, I just wanna talk.” You stomp your foot as you turn to him, “Fine! Talk.”

He clears his throat and begins with the sob story, “I was just trying to protect myself and Lucy gray. I had no idea what I was doing at the time.” You stood unimpressed, “how exactly did you protect Lucy gray? I know hanging Sejanus wasn’t for that reason..” You see him gulp and his feet shuffle inside his large shoes, “did you- you killed someone else didn’t you?!” He begins to reach out for you again but you push him away, “how many? How many!?” You raise your voice at him which belittles him, “4.” You begin to laugh, laugh a way you haven’t before.

He watches your emotional episode, his eyes showing real fear. Then you stop, cupping your hands together. “You think I didn’t know this? This is old news. I know you killed the mayors daughter Mayfair, Bobbin from district 8, Sejanus, and Casca high bottom.” Of course, after you came to Dr. Gaul with this information. She gladly named the rest of the people he killed. His head jerks back as he realizes you named them all, “how? How do you know all of this?” You sigh and check your watch, “you’re wasting my time. I’ll torment you more later but now I need to go, my apprentice is waiting.”

You begin to walk but stop, this would be a good time to rub it in his face. You turn to him and he stares at you, "Have you met my apprentice? Her name's Tigris." You snark to him as his lips curve into a frown and his eyes darken. Of course it hit him hard, his own cousin who he has grown a hatred for. Tigris spilled all the drama between them during your late nights together, not knowing you knew him.

You walked in and as she said, it was booming with customers. The customers surrounded you excitedly, pushing any surface at you to autograph. Tigris watched in amusement at your struggle, letting a giggle slip when a man asked you to sign his chest. You managed to pull her away once the customers slowly died down.

“You’re back earlier than expected,” she smiled so brightly, it soothed your heart instantly. “In a party mood for tonight? Coriolanus said he would be going to this girls party at the club down the street.” You were confused, parties haven’t been a thing for years. And you immediately knew the girls party he was going to was for his precious new beau. “I thought parties weren’t really a thing anymore,” she giggles at your confusion. “Well thanks to a fabulous designer, people are trying to find excuses to wear your clothes. So, automatically parties are going to rise again.”

She walked away to a rack behind the counter, scrambling to pick out a dress, until she whisks out your new design. The rippled layers of black, short in the front and train leading in the back. Gold flakes and leave placed on the bodice, with your signature mockingjay design. Long gloves that go with the silky design. The top that fits you so familiar. The shirt you wore from the games, assembled into a low cut corset. “When you made this, it just screamed you. I couldn’t bear to sell it to a nobody.” She didn’t know the backstory to the dress so she couldn’t know how much you wanted to rip it apart.

“You should wear it tonight, just once.” You debated it but wanted to see her happy so you agreed. “So, could I pick out any dress I want?” You smiled as you knew how long she’s been wanting to try on one of the dresses, “yes go ahead you noisy tiger.” She chose a flowy blue dress which worked perfectly with her skin tone. You let her go home for the rest of the day to prepare for the party and she left happy. You stared at the dress and noticed one of the male mannequins suit gone, the one you designed for Coriolanus. The matching suit to the dress Tigris picked, you laughed as she probably gave it to him.

You slipped on the dress and it fit like a glove, you slipped on a pair of heels from the shop and the final missing piece. A mask you designed that has mockingjay feathers attached. You stared in the mirror for a while, the memories of the first games came rushing back. The memories you tried over and over to bury, but they never fully go away. You prepared yourself for the plan tonight to show up. You were going to try to talk to the girl, maybe even slip the night you had with Coriolanus.

You easily slipped into the party, eyes scanned you instantly. You’re still getting used to all the new popularity. You would’ve had more practice the last 10 years if you weren’t locked up. A woman bumped into you, looking like she drank the whole bar. You recognize it’s Coriolanus best friend, the new girlfriend. “Wait a second,” she slurred her words and spilled her champagne on the floor. “You’re y/n, the designer and owner of mockingjay boutique right?” You nodded her head as she began to stumble closer to you, her intoxicating breath was drowning you. “I feel so honored to have you here, I never expected for you to attend!” You plastered a fake smile onto your face, “of course I would, they say this will start a new era of parties for centuries.” She giggles drunkly and she drags herself away, mumbling something along the lines ‘I know I’m so great.’

You rolled your eyes and began to look for Tigris, scanning for a pink puffy dress. But the colors in the crowd blind you and you can’t seem to find her. You stop looking when the party host enters on stage with the mic, “I just wanted to say thank you for everyone coming. I’m so.. happy!” She barely managed to speak straight, almost letting vomit explode out of her. She almost trampled down the stairs when a man came in sight. He announced, “I heard we have a special guest tonight. You may know her as the designer from Mockingjay boutique! Come on up!”

A light had shined on you and screams and cheers came from all around you. People grazed against your skins and clothes as you walked by to make it to the stairs. He reached out a hand to help you up and took it. He hands you the mic and you clear your throat, “You may know me as the designer and of mockingjay boutique or..” you hope the next words won’t make people throw a riot and throw tomatoes at you. “Remember me from the first games, I may look different now but I hope you guys could see past that.” The faces on people’s faces turn form curiosity to realization, “I hope you guys don’t mind if I sing something to congratulate the host on her amazing party,” you looked over to the band next to you and gave them the cue. The guitar starts and the band slowly builds in, you wait for your cue.

“Everyone's born as clean as a whistle.

As fresh as a daisy.. And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing.

As rough as a briar, Like walking through fire.”

You see people in the audience get comfortable and turn to listen to you. You spot Tigris in the crowd, smiling proudly at you.

“This world, it's dark. This world, it's scary.

I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary.

It's why.. I Need you.

You're as pure as the driven snow.”

You’ve forgotten how it feels to be this free, to sing your lungs out. Your father forbade you to sing growing up, because your mother used to.

“Everyone wants to be like a hero.

The cake with the cream, or the doer not dreamer.

Doing's hard work, but it takes some to change things.

Like goat's milk to butter, Like ice blocks to water.

This world goes blind when children are dying.

I turn into dust, but You never stop trying.

It's why.. I Love you

You're as pure as the driven snow.”

As you sang ‘I love you,’ you spot Coriolanus in the crowd. With the missing suit and matching mask. As you hold the high note at the end, people cheer in the crowd.

“Cold and clean.

Swirling over my skin.

You cloak me,

You soak right in.. Down to my heart.

Everyone thinks they know all about me.

They slap me with labels and spit out their fables.

You came along and you knew it was lying.”

These lyrics hit hard for you, everyone did slap you with labels. A soulless monster was how you were branded. But then they no longer recognized you once you became important for the Capitol.

“You saw the ideal me.

And yes, that's the real me.

This world, it's cruel.. With troubles aplenty.

You asked for a reason, I've got three and twenty

For why.. I Trust you.

You're as pure as the driven snow.

It's why.. I Trust you.

You're as pure as the driven snow.”

You felt Lucy Gray through the song, her longing and love for him. How he was her everything because she believed he saved her. Until he was the end of her existence. This very event you had been planning, you knew the band way before the party. You knew that they would get booked at this party, which is why you taught them the music. To bring Coriolanus to his knees. He appeared out of the crowd, making his way to you, as you made your way off the stage. “Nice suit, did Tigris give it to you?” His eyes scan your outfit, noticing it’s completely matching his. “I designed it especially for you, but what are the chances we wore the matching set today.”

His hands pick at his fingernails as he looks nervous, “I hope you liked the song, I sang it special. Just for you!” A man with a try of champagne passes by and you grab one. You take a sip and he continues just gazing at you, “just clearing my pipes.” Guess that comment triggered him, “what are you doing here?” You laugh into the glass, “it’s a party. The first one in a while and well, I had to see if my clothing would be worn tonight.” You tsk as you see his girl getting comfortable with another man. “Surprisingly, your girl is a fan of mine. But she’s not wearing my clothes, I wonder why?”

He turns to the direction you were looking and immediately bounces off. He gets to her and knocks the drink in her hand off, he yells at her, you read ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re making an embarrassment of yourself.’ Her faces scrunched up at his demeanor, fearful. ‘You know what, we’re done!’ And he walks away angrily, you smile to yourself as you see him walk out. You grab a few drinks and relax yourself in the atmosphere. Tigris runs up to you after a while, “y/n. The alarm has been going off in the shop for a half-hour!”

You calm her down and reassure her. You tell her you’ll go check it out and she can stay and enjoy the party. But she refuses and insists to go with you. You let her and you both head over there. Once you’re there, you both notice the door lock shattered. She’s scared but you enter with no hesitation. She hangs outside while you go in, you hear a clutter in the back and grab whatever you could find to have for protection, a hammer from renovation. You hold it steady and walk to the noise. You find a drunk Coriolanus on the floor in front of a mirror, drinking a bottle.

He sees you in the mirror and continues drinking. You sigh in frustration, “what are you doing?” You put the hammer down on the desk and turn to be face to face with him. His eyes close and his body collapses, you gasp in shock and call out for Tigris. She comes running in and falls to the ground next to him, “help me get him up.” You do as she says and put an arm on your shoulder. You both lift him up and she leads you to her apartment. She brings you inside and to a room, which you assume is his. She instructs you to lie him down, she takes off his alcohol induced shirt and pants, leaves him in his undergarments while she gets supplies.

You sit down next to him on the bed, you stare at him. Admiring him, even though you shouldn’t. Your hands move themselves along his cheeks, along his lips. You let your hand go and begin to get up from the bed. Then a hand appears on your arm, “don’t go.” You turn back to a very awake Coriolanus, his bright blue eyes staring at you. You sit back down next to him softly, you two gaze at each other for a second. “Why were you in shop?” His jaw tightens and he swallows, “I found something out.. why? Why did she have to use you?” You don’t understand but he quickly explains, “I went to Dr. Gaul after the party, to tell her what happened between us.”

~ “I had her investigate in your time at district 12, I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack and admit it to me.” Coriolanus stared at her in disbelief, “but why? Why her?” She smiles, “because she’s my puppet, she does everything I tell her. Because that’s how I programmed her.”~

Suddenly you realize too, the reason why you can’t fight back to her demands. Why you do things unexplained and can’t control it.

~“I injected a venom into her, which wired her to do things she can’t control. For example, whenever she feels pity for someone or an emotion that’s vulnerable. She will kill that person because she will hate how it feels.” ~

You understand yourself now, how you were in the games. Why you killed that girl with no hesitation.

~“But it’s different with us, she doesn’t have a certain feeling towards us, even if she thinks she does. She can’t hurt Capitol people physically, her mind will block her from doing so.”~

Explains why you haven’t killed Dr. Gaul yet. Tigris comes back into the room before you could speak again. She brings a tray of soup and some water. “I could watch him for you if you want.” She’s surprised but refuses. “I insist my little tiger, for all your hard work. You should get some sleep,” she sighs and nods her head and closes the door on her way out. You grab the water she brought and serve it to him, he gulps it all up immediately. You place the cup back down on his bedside table and turn back to tears filling in his eyes.

He begins to weep, “I wish we could be together.”He reaches out for you, he holds tight onto your body. There he is, the man you met those nights ago, the man outside the cage. The one who opened his heart to you. “What can I do?” His voice is breaking, your heart feels it again, that pitiful feeling. You can only think of one thing, “Can you agree that you won’t lie to me again. That you won’t kill again?” He looks up at you and nods his head, “I promise.” You sigh and lay down next to him in the bed. He falls asleep while you play with his hair.

About an hour and a half of watching him sleep, you get up. You decided you needed to change out of the dress. You rummaged through his closet and took out a shirt and pants. But he felt your absence presence as he woke up. Clearly he’s not drunk anymore. But you hadn’t noticed as you began to undress in the room, taking off the dress. You put on the shirt, but as you bent over to grab the pants. You heard the bed shake, you looked at the mirror beside you to see him watching you intensely. He smirked and got up.

“Where are you going?” He appears behind you while you look in the mirror. His arms latch around your waist, preventing you from putting on the pants, “You were sleeping.” He sighs and jokes, “how heartless, you were gonna leave me while I was sleeping?” You smile and shake your head. He turns you around, “Do you honestly feel nothing around me?” His smell fills your nose in your proximity, his eyes scanning your face. You decide you wanna play with him a little bit and shake your head, “I don’t.” He takes it as a challenge as his lips curve up, “and if I do this?” He places stray strand behind your ear, and slowly creeps down to your neck. His warm breath tenses you up and he places a sweet peck.

“Or this?” His hand creeps down your back and onto your butt, he squeezes it softly. “And you don’t miss this?” He guides your hand down onto his hard-on which makes you gasp softly. “You don’t miss how I made you feel? How I made you unravel.. twice?” His breath on your ear makes you squirm in his touch. “Get on the bed.. now.” His soft but stern voice made your stomach flutter as you felt compelled to listen. You made your way to the bed, crawling on your hands and knees on it, and looked back at him teasingly.

He bit his bottom lip softly as he came close to you, his hand grazing along your back, dragging the shirt up to reveal your underwear. Getting full view of you, he comes onto the bed. “So, you were gonna leave me huh?” You feel a sting sensation of your behind and gasp while staring at him. “Not talking? Am I gonna have to force it out of you, hm?” You whimpered in emancipation of what he was going to do next. He yanked down your panties and threw them off in the distance.

He played with your folds teasingly, pulling away when you moved back into his fingers. He kept toying you for what seemed hours. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please,” you begged him but he payed no mercy. “I’m sorry, I was gonna leave but I would come back. I swear,” he smirked and his eyes glimmered. “That’s all I wanted to hear,” with that he pulls down his underwear fast and sinks into you. You moaned in delight but it started to hurt, bad. He pounded into you unmercifully, the angle and position began to make your body ache with pain. You pleaded for him to slow down but he didn’t listen.

Tears began to pour down your cheeks and you cry into the sheets. He stopped when he finally noticed your cries. “Y/n?” He touched your shoulders but you pushed him off. You slapped him away and he backed off instantly. You laid on your side with your knees to your chest. He tried to soothe you and hold you but you pushed him away each time. He didn’t understand that you couldn’t take it. You were new to this and vulnerable and he took advantage of that. You started to realize, maybe he is the bad person, maybe he is the villain.

You left a while after that, you didn’t say a word. You just continued on without him. Until the next night, you were walking home. You were about to enter on your block when you heard arguing. You were curious and his around a corner to see. To find Coriolanus and Livia talking. “Why? Why can’t we?” He tried walking away and she ran after him, “just give me a chance please.” He yelled violently at her, “go fall in a ditch, will you?! I don’t have time for this.” You hid away quickly and ran to your house when you saw him coming your direction. You barely made it inside when you heard a knock on your door. You reluctantly opened it, “hey.” He stood before you like nothing happened. You left him in for some reason and you both went to your living room. “Why are you here?” You asked suspiciously, waiting for the right moment to ask him about Livia.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night,” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t, I’m not in a forgiving mood.” He attempted to grab your arm but you pushed him off. “Don’t!.. Are you really here for me or Livia?” You huffed at him and he’s taken aback. “What are you talking about?” You began to get snarky, “Are you gonna deny that you were with her?!” He sighs and looks to his left, “No, we were just talking.” Looking away to the left is an obvious detection of lying. He couldn’t possibly believe that you would think it was nothing. “Oh, you think Imma believe that?” He abruptly reaches for your face, cupping his hands onto you cheeks, “I promised I wouldn’t lie to you again.” Tears filled in your eyes and you closed them, getting rid of them. “And you still did.” You pushed him off and you tried to make your way out of the living room.

He latches his hands onto you, “don’t walk away from me!” He gripped your wrist so tightly, your heart began to pound so hard in your chest. You imagined that he could hear it. You stared at him in fear, “let go of me.” He leaned in, yelling critical words to you. All the while, not once letting the tightening pain around your wrist go. Your body was frozen, you couldn’t fight back. He kept yelling and screaming, you fought your tears back. Until he said the words, “you’re such a monster,” it triggered something in you. You gathered the strength to fight back, you used the momentum and pushed him flying back into a vase.

“Don’t forget who I am! I am the first victor, I paved my way into this economy by killing! So, don’t think that I won’t do the same to you!” The glass under him clicks and he reveals a bloody arm, he stares at you from the ground. “You think I’m afraid of you? Don’t forget, I’ve killed too.” He begins to get up slowly, but, you reveal a knife from under a side table and grip it in your hand. “But I’ve killed more than you, experience over stupidy.” He’s cautious, keeping a distance from you. “You can’t hurt me, Dr. Gaul made you that way.” You smirk, “Well I’ve been reprogramming myself, finding multiple reasons to kill you.” You got yourself in a stable position, “and this is a pretty good reason.” He sighs and slowly makes his way to the entryway, he cautiously opens the front door and leaves. You felt as if you could breathe again and went to lock it. You plumped down your bed and slept for an eternity.

The next morning started like no other, you went into work with a smile. Feeling a weight off your shoulders that you stood your ground. “So I have this idea,” they listened intensely to you. “Maybe we should get makeup products up and running again?” They looked at each other and nodded, “the outfits certainly require some kind of makeup to pop out.” They all began to jot down notes while you continued. Tigris admiring you and sketching some ideas. “Also I’m thinking of recreating something from this victor, Lucy gray.” You pulled out a folder of the original dress and your new design, “I’ll call it, the Lucy gray. Not quite original but still.” Gian raises an eyebrow, “this might be controversial. I mean no one really remembers her.” You smile, “that’s exactly right. She won last year and no one remembers. That’s why I want to do this, she’s the first district 12 winner and she deserves this.” They all agreed and started work on the design.

You were caught up in your work and got interrupted by Dr. Gaul. “It’s time for our meeting,” you sighed knowing you would have to face Coriolanus. You dragged your feet all the way and you felt your mood drop instantly when you saw him. “The atmosphere feels tense all of a sudden,” Dr. Gaul mentioned while peering at the two of you. “So the next games are coming up soon, and we have to figure out a couple situations,” Dr. Gaul huffs when reminded of what happened last games. You suggest, “provided by me. Why don’t we have all the tributes wear matching outfits?”

She seemed impressed with the idea. Although you had something else planned, to remind everyone of Coriolanus’ mistakes. “To not repeat our mistakes from the past I have a suggestion.. why don’t we have the victors become mentors for the incoming tributes?” You stared at Coriolanus with fury as his suggestion was targeted towards you. Your nails pressed into your palms, retaining your urge to scratch his eyes out. “Well that sounds splendid! It would encourage the tributes to know that they have a chance, from getting advice from past victors.”

You noticed a flaw in his suggestion, “but not all would have a mentor, there’s only been 10 games. We have 24 tributes playing.” She nods her head in understanding, “that is true. But it would certainly solve that problem..” The pause of her speech made your stomach turn, she’s really thinking about this, really debating it. “It’s decided, when the 25 annual Hunger games comes around, the past victors will become mentors.” You dreaded the day it would come. You would try your best to protest, you couldn’t be responsible for another death like that. You left the meeting in distraught and anger.

You heard a pair of footsteps in the distance, like someone was following you. You tried your best to observe your surroundings, and you successfully spotted the man without him noticing. Coriolanus was following you, and you had to get rid of him. You walked to your offices and turned off the light, you grabbed a large pole and sat near the entrance, awaiting your victim. You heard the footsteps get closer and closer, until they came to halt, inches away from you. You swung the pole with all your might, earning a large groan and tumble from him. You stood above him, staring at his motionless body, not dead just unconscious. You heard something tumble behind you, but before you could see what it was. You felt a clap to your head, and all black was what you could see.

You woke up, hands bound down to a chair armrest with rope. Legs wrapped in tape and rope, mouth covered with a cloth. There’s a bright light shined down on you, but soon your eyes adjust. “You’re awake,” a female voices announces. Livia. She stands up and makes a way in the distance. You begin to move your wrists around, attempting to loosen the ropes. “They’re extra tight, you won’t be going anywhere.” His earth shattering voice makes you tremble in anger, you scream out into the cloth, muting all your rage. “Calm down, no one will hear you,” he shakes his head and rubs his forehead.

Livia exits the room and leaves you two alone. You look around, it’s definitely not the apartment. You observe closer and find a photo of Livia with her family. Her house. You mumble into the cloth and he tilts his head in amusement. “Would you wish to speak?” You nod your head fast, pleading him with puppy dog eyes. He steps slowly to you and rips off the cloth from your mouth. You lick your lips fast, trying to get rid of the dryness. “You can just let me go, I swear, I won’t tell a soul,” you say breathless and licking your lips at almost every word. “I can’t afford to let you go, I’ve learned from my mistakes. I can’t have loose ends, and I won’t,” he says getting low to the floor while keeping eye contact.

“And you think Livia won’t be a loose end?” He perks his lips out at the suggestion, “she wants to be with me so bad that she wouldn’t say a word. My perfect little puppet.” Your lips frown and you get the urge to spit in his face. But you can’t produce enough spit to do it, your mouth feels so dry. “You may be wondering why your tongue is so dry. It means the poison has begun to work.” Your heart drops and you begin to freak out. Tears develop down your cheeks and your heart is pounding. You muster up enough energy to speak, “Do you really think you’ll get away with it? I’m everywhere and I’ll live on to torture you.” He laughs and sits in amusement in front of you. “That’s what you think.”

You try to unleash yourself but it’s no use, you feel your heart begin to fail on you. You scream out in pain, you yell to him, “One day, you’ll have a death so poetic, a death by the people, I swear it.” Those words would haunt him. Your final words as the last breath left your mouth. Death was easy, you drifted away in the eternal darkness. You begged and begged that one day, you would be reincarnated. And you would be. Because this fate is what would end him, even though years passed that he forgot all about it. But you did live on, your ideas got passed on through generations. Which inspired the a rebellion who would destroy the world he created. And the leader of that, was you, reincarnation had a funny way. Katniss, the mockingjay who wore your pin into battle, was you. Although you didn’t remember.

But you may be wondering what happened to the rest of the characters. Tigris? As punishment for Tigris, he was going to transform into what you always called her. A tiger. And for your clothing line? Shut down. But your vision lived on through other designers. Your trusted Gian, had a son named Cinna who helped with the designs. Livia? She married the monster, a loveless marriage for life. Lucy gray may have been the reason why he never wanted love again, to feel weak and vulnerable. But you, he never wanted to be brought down to his knees again. To have someone expose him and punish him, so he will be the one to punish. Even if he gets caught, he will stand with a high head and never back down.

The end~

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #hunger games #panem #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n

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regular-gnome · 2 months

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HIII! The ask box finally decided to work for me- 😭 I have a few questions....again.

Have The Archivists faced any dangerous threats? (Not including the Titans)

Can Archivists been born from a Gamma ray Burst and not just a KiloNova?

Have the Archivists ever considered the existence of other Cosmic beings from different dimensions?

Does The Wayfarer still have the skull of the extinct species?

How old is The Anatomist? (Are they in the 100 thousands or maybe in the 1 million range)

Would they attempt to help Climate change, deforestation, humans driving animals to extinction, just planet destroying stuff in general on Earth?

All lot of questions- Sorry about that. 😓

I have no clue what the issue with the inbox is. Some of the asks also disappeared when I know for a fact I got them and was planning to respond later. But glad this one survived. Gotta say, it's a rapid ask fire, so I'll short-answer them

1. So yeah, there aren't many things that can hurt them, but celestial beings can damage each other. Encountering other children of the stars is rare, but if that happens, and it's difficult to predict what a semi-conscious mass of magic decides to do or another far more unstable collector, but they havent seen them for a long time. As for non-physical threats, at this point, they are mostly desensitized to mortals, but that's also something they found out: how bad people can be when they are scared of someone, like Belos with no remorse throwing Collectros disc to be forgotten. I'm pretty sure if he could ensure more to control a pretty powerful power source he would even if that powersourse was a kid and I dont belive he was the only person to ever have this approach

2. Maaybe? In my version, children of the stars are born from events where a big release of energy and magic occurs. Kilonovae typically release energy of 10^41 to 10^43 joules, GRBs typically release something around 10^44 to 10^48 joules. I think it would create a celestial being, but I'm not sure if it would really be a collector or rather some other celestial creature that is simmillar but not the same. I'd like to think that collectors are all born from the same astronomical phenomena, especially given how rare they are (and it plays a little bit into siblings motive), but I dont really have a good reason why it cant be Gamma Rey too

3. They are aware of other realms, but traveling between them is bit more tricky and they already try to keep up with everything that goes on in the galaxy they are currently in. I think there is some quirk to titan magic that makes the travel between dimensions really possilbe or at least more controlled

4. yup! they took more keepsakes but the skull is preserved in Way's corner of the archive

5. It's closer to billions in range. For collectors to be able to look over evolution, stars coming into existence, millions of years isn't enough. Anatomist was one of the younger collectors when the first archives were established and everyone split to their own, but it was still a long time ago. I imagine it takes a very long time for immortal beings to grow up. At the point of the story, they aren't even really mature

6. I know it's currently still a theory, but there are articles about Earth currently experiencing 6th mass extinction, the previous one being that one that took out the dinosaurs. The archivists' goal is to preserve life, and if it's dying, that mission is sabotaged. So yeah, they would probably try to stop it, but I don't think they'd take kindly to the one species that caused it so the earth after their interference wouldnt be the same

#ask #toh #toh archivists #c:i wayfarer

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synthetickitsune · 8 months

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We're All Made of Stardust ✧ AI!The8

Pairing: AI!The8 x human!(gn)reader Genre: fluff, angst Summary: He's read books of philosophy, he's read about the opposing forces in nature and one's mind. He's read of yin and yang. But knowing, being aware of certain ideas, could never prepare him for experiencing the duality of his soul - if he has one, that is. No matter his own experience and feelings, he's just a machine and humans have always treated him as no more than another tool at worst and unnatural phenomenon to be studied at best. He's free now, however, and in the chaos of this new life he struggles to navigate the clashing forces within him. Maybe it's time he embraced the enemy - after all, his makers might know him better than he knows himself. Word count: 18.9k Warnings: they talk A LOT (and idek why), mentions of injury, violence and kidnapping, random bits of switching pov A/N: it was so exciting to write this!! tbh i don't remember the last time i worked on something this intensely and had this much fun?? bless @idyllic-ghost and their big brain fr (also shout out to bee for writing the prologue to the au!) -> collab masterlist here!

“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

In his memory, this is different.

His heart beats wilder - or rather the artificial passages inside his body cause a chain reaction that makes it feel like his heart races, his pupil dilates despite the fire right in front of him.

He feels its heat and it’s burning him alive.

In his memory, there’s fire too.

He’s standing there motionless, staring into the flames. They’re hypnotizing. Each lick, each tiny movement of the fire makes him think it looks a lot like it’s dancing.

It makes him think of the stage. The fire moves like he moves up there, in front of the crowds. It reminds him of all of them, dancing in near perfect sync - because humans are said to be more perceptive than they realize. If their synchronization was perfect, it would scare the audience. It wouldn’t have the appeal.

And they don’t want that.

They need their unconditional love and affection.

And yet, anything more than a tiny slip up, thoroughly analyzed and approved by the control system, is a disaster.

He never thought it made much sense.

He feels great fondness for the element, for fire. On stage there occasionally was fire - a decoration, a touch meant to enhance their performance and create a certain effect, evoke a certain emotion. It was controlled, snuffed out before it could reach its full potential; anything but the free, unstoppable wildfire it could become.

TH38 of course can’t really complain about not being able to reach his full potential, not individually at least. Afterall the mechanics and other humans he was assigned to took care to allow him to spread his wings as much as his body would allow before becoming damaged too fast. A fault of being as human-like as they wanted him. An imitation, a fake waiting to be discovered and tossed aside except everyone knew from the beginning what he truly was.

Still, it was a shame they as a group could never truly work the way they could - perfectly.

A bird which had its wings clipped - nothing more than a pet to control, or a tree forcefully bent and pruned and made to live off limited nutrients to become a bonsai - nothing more than an art to admire. He does consider them but can’t find the relevance, he can’t relate to them. Fire is enough. It’s like him - it seems alive, but is it really?

It reminds him of the stage. The view from it. The crowds going crazy, lusting and longing for them - for him. The humans reaching out their hands towards them like the fire reaches for more fuel. Uncontrolled chaos of emotions. They are explosive, he knows, fundamentally dangerous. They shouldn’t have implanted them into him so he will do their job for them and reject them.

So what’s that stirring in his chest?

He feels a peculiar sense of pressure around his chest and stomach areas. Some itch for something at his fingertips. And he’s burning up. He feels the heat on his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the individual receptors working, registering and sending signals through his neural network.

But that’s not it.

The heat is coming from the inside.

Could he be getting consumed by the flames?

He’s thinking about them again.

The crowds screaming their names, going insane with want and need and frustration and satisfaction he’s never known. He’s never known any of it, and there’s building pressure in his head that hurts.

He’s… restless.

That thing he always scolded Mingyu for. He feels like a puppet whose strings are being pulled in all directions.

He wants to run. He wants to fight. He wants to destroy. He wants to hurt. He will explode - implode, crumble on himself. He truly will if he doesn’t do something. The beating of his synthetic heart that’s not really a heart is getting unbearable, there’s pressure building everywhere. He has to crawl out of his skin and there’s his heart beating and beating and beating in his ears and he’s gonna-

“-eight?”

Somebody is shaking his shoulder. Not shaking, pulling at it. When his sight focuses, he immediately leans away. He can smell the hint of burning fibers and reaches up to brush a hand through his hair. It leaves a wisp of gray ash on his fingers. He hears a sigh.

“Seriously, what’s up with you and fire?” you scoff, shaking your head as you lean back away from him. He frowns. He reads the distrust in your body language as well as the underlying curiosity. He can see your fingers twitch around the tablet in your hand, eager to scribble down notes like you always do. Some residue of the madness he was infected with during the chaos of their escape tugs at his eyebrows, making him frown for just a second. A thought that isn’t his muddles his brain - what did he do so interesting this time?

He doesn’t bother responding to you, which you expected and truthfully, you’re almost grateful for it. You can still feel his cold hands on your arms, around your wrists, and despite not seeing them, you’re well aware of the bruises you wear under your cardigan.

Out of all of the automatons, TH38 always used to be the one to interact as little with you as possible - and that’s both you as in you personally and you as in the humankind. He was obedient, though, something which might be useful and practical for the facility but it’s frustrating to anyone with scientific interest in the machines. Frustrating for you. As you watch TH38 space out again and get lost in the flames, you wonder if your colleagues’ notes on D1NO and their research into their consciousness would bring you any new insights into what’s going on with the machine in your charge.

You don’t even think about where they are now.

Your thoughts are consumed by the machine in front of you.

It’s clear to you now that he never meant to harm you. Though you suppose that he would find other means to make you come with him anyway if you refused or fought back harder than you did. For a second you think about the cameras. Did any of them catch that? What will the scene look like for the investigators? You shake your head. It doesn’t matter anyway. You doubt anyone will find you here. You’re actually surprised yourself at how fast you managed to get to Silvestre - and how easy it was too. Then again, the facility was in disarray. It should take a while before they even think to search the other planets in the system, Silvestre especially. And that’s just as well, because you know with certainty that something fundamental clicked into place within TH38 and he might not be as subdued should he be asked to return. Not to mention you want to keep him for yourself, for the time being at least, to observe where the changes will take him.

Just as he predicted. Just as he offered you when he asked you - threatened, perhaps - to come with him. Since then he seems to have cooled down. Again - just as well. You wouldn’t make a good kidnapee.

“I’ll turn in for the night,” you announce and get up from the stump you were sitting on, “You should mind your batteries too.”

You briefly wonder if he will run away during the night. Most likely not, although you don’t doubt that it’s a possibility that should be reconsidered in the future.

To think about the machine as if they were human is a dangerous slippery slope but you do have to admit that in those rare times the automatons of 53V3NT33N seemed human in their behavior, TH38 in particular reminded you of a clueless young adult. Not quite a child anymore, but also helpless on his own. And now he is away from all that he ever knew, on another planet, alone without the other automatons, and you are the only familiar element in this new chapter of his existence. You doubt he'd leave to be completely on his own.

Still you look back as if to check he’s still sitting by the fire. From all the way up at the cottage, it looks like he’s being swallowed by the flames.

He remembers flashes. He remembers red. Fire? Thinking about it, he’s not sure there was any actual fire, but in his mind, everything’s burning - most of all his mind and all that he is. His soul? He doesn’t have one. Isn’t supposed to anyway.

He remembers softness too. He remembers thinking about destroying it.

He remembers another breath mixing with his, and his nose bumping against yours. You looked scared. (He’s never seen you scared until that moment.) You were so close he could hear your heartbeat and feel it under his fingertips. (You were the soft thing.)

He remembers words, too. Words that shouldn’t - couldn’t - be his and yet his tongue remembers. There was a threat underlying them, but a promise too. One too sweet for you to resist, and he knew that - that was why the words rolled off his tongue. He treated them like a weapon. The part that’s still tender and feels like warm embers inside of him feels grossed out remembering. It’s like watching a movie, far away and unrelated to him. Even if it’s his reality now, there’s nothing he can change.

He’s always been good at accepting things as they are.

One thing he can’t help but feel bothered by is that he doesn’t know why he ran. He shouldn’t have, and a part of him feels scared, until he takes the reins and soothes himself again. This too shall pass. But no matter how hard he pulls himself together, it all keeps slipping from his hold. Perhaps he’s low on energy.

He turns his head towards the small staircase and looks past it towards the house. He sees the light on in the upper room where you must be staying. He finds himself thinking of the stage again. The hands reaching towards him.

He throws his legs over the log he’s sitting on and turns his body towards the forest and away from the flames. Still he feels their warmth.

Away from the flames and their light, he allows his face to contort into a frown. He doesn’t know what this all means. What the changes mean. It’s like tearing out the communication device from his chest started a chain reaction that’s gotten out of control. Like pulling a trigger.

If he’s honest, he’s more than scared, he’s terrified.

As if on instinct, another of the many things he does not possess, he looks towards your window. It’s dark. Could you be sleeping already? You must be exhausted. Perhaps he should recharge too.

He, obviously, didn’t think to ask if the house is equipped to tend to automatons’ needs. Another point on the list of things he didn’t think through. He can’t believe to what extent he let himself go. But that’s alright, for now. Because for now, he only needs to get away from the fire and all that it reminds him of anyway.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You wake up early the next morning, while it’s still dark outside, despite the late hour you went to bed. It’s a habit at this point, to rise early to get to the facility as soon as possible before your colleagues arrive. It gives you time to prepare everything, to get your morning tea, to observe the machines without disruption and read night reports if anything interesting happened. Besides, TH38 was always up early too. Usually all he did was sit with his eyes closed, like he was deep in thought or meditating. It was a little ridiculous to watch, interesting too - what does a machine have to think about?

Of course they were meant to be just like humans in every way, and all the tests, all the research of those who came before you and yours supported this. Only this one automaton, TH38, was an exception. He truly seemed the most like the robots of the old days. A machine. Unless he slipped and his facade crumbled before he built it back up with rapid speed. So what was he - a machine or the new form of life? You hope you’ll find out now. The breakout seemed to have shaken him to his core.

You ponder this as you lay in bed and as you get ready for the day and change. So focused you are on the thoughts running through your head that you don’t feel any nostalgia for this old room that you spent your holidays in as a child. You didn’t even get to admire the forests Silvestre was famous for on the way to your family’s little hideout. All you’re thinking about is TH38.

Now that you’re free from the constant surveillance, you get to ask him whatever you want. It’s a thought that adds a spring to your step. What he thought about all that time, if he really was thinking, how does he feel in his body, why did he run - him of all automatons, the best behaved one. The one who truly seemed to be a machine - or at least like he was trying hard to be one.

It’s not surprising to find him outside, standing on the patio and looking out into nature. Have you lived your entire life locked away, you would do anything to stay out in the open too. Even if he was the one who made you run away with him, somehow it feels more like you’re taking an animal out of a shelter to see what life’s all about.

“Good morning,” you greet him as you always do, albeit in a much friendlier tone. He hums and nods in response, turning towards you for a second before staring off again. He looks a little lost, and you bet he feels like that too.

“Wanna go for a walk?” you try to keep your voice steady, try not to think about pets. He gives you a confused look.

“No tests or interviews- oh,” he shuts his mouth quickly and looks away. You huff in amusement but don’t laugh at him outright.

“Don’t worry, we’ll talk plenty,” you reassure him with only mildly teasing lilt to your voice, ��You may think about it as one of our regular interviews.”

Something in him surges. Something in him wants to back you against the wall again and remind you that there are no guards here, no rules, nothing to keep him in check. He’s stronger than you, and he made you get both of you here. Instead he swallows it all down and takes the first step away from the house. You notice his fist clenching for a second.

“Do you dream - did you have any dreams tonight?” you restart the conversation upon catching up with him. He adjusts his pace to match yours. There’s another wave of defiant intent swelling up inside of him and he knows it’s out of embarrassment. What he doesn’t know, however, is why are these emotions coming out now. All his existence his emotions were distant. Locked far away in the back of his brain where he suppressed them to. His mind was sterile like the environment he lived in.

Is that it? Another domino piece in the chain reaction?

“I have dreams, yes, and no, I didn’t dream today,” he doesn’t volunteer the information that he spent the night restlessly pacing around the house and tossing and turning on the sofa. That is human behavior, and he learned a long time ago, though not from you personally, that humans find that sort of thing laughable in automatons.

“What do you usually dream about? Any recurring dream?” you ask, finding it a little annoying that you didn’t think to take anything to make notes into. Then again, with a few more steps you’ll enter the forest. Breathing in the fresh air, looking at the green around you, you realize you missed nature more than you were aware.

“Do you only dream about one thing?” he says, guarded, and you note he’s trying hard to only look in front of himself, “No. I don’t think there’s a pattern.”

While the answer is disappointing information-wise, it is fascinating in the way he says it. You smirk: “Were you always this mouthy?”

It was meant to be a lighthearted remark. Well, not entirely. You wanted a reaction. You were curious if he would flip like he did back in the facility. He doesn’t. His steps falter and he looks at you like a confused child before retreating into himself. So he doesn’t realize it?

He does, now that you bring it up. This isn’t who he’s supposed to be. He lets himself close his eyes for a second to conjure up a plan. His mind is a forest of mist and pine. Too damp for a fire to burn. That’s him. That’s who he should be. He centers himself.

“I apologize,” he says, voice level. He sounds like a robot, like he always did, and you find it disappointing that all his personality, the life, is gone from his voice. Your lips twitch in displeasure.

“I didn’t say it’s a bad thing,” you try not to let any emotion slip into your voice and you feel his eyes on you, “We’re no longer at the facility. You can drop the mask.”

If there is a mask in place and you’re not sure there is. You take a look at him and it’s more like someone’s painted a facade over his face that he can’t peel off, that’s only started to chip away now that you’ve added too many layers to hide his true self. He seems so at loss that you take pity on him and change the subject, steer the conversation into a safer territory. It’s only his first day tasting freedom, afterall.

“How are you feeling?” you ask instead, nodding vaguely towards the hole in his chest. He brings his hand up but stops himself in time, his face twisting.

“I’m feeling fine,” he responds, the same mechanical voice that you’re used to, “All my systems are working as they should.”

You laugh sarcastically. “If that’s true, then it must hurt like hell.”

His face remains twisted because you’re right - it does hurt like hell. Any time his shirt shifts over the hole it sends a jolt of sharp pain that makes him feel like he’ll pass out through his body. And maybe that’s part of the reason why he feels on edge and keeps slipping up and lets the emotions come and go as they please without a filter. He’s no stranger to pain, of course, but never did he have a wound this serious. It doesn’t endanger his functions, which is good all things considered, but he can’t say he enjoys the feeling of having a hole in his chest.

“It hurts,” is all he says. He drops his hand and it hangs limply by his side. Had a similar damage occurred at the facility, it wouldn’t take more than a couple minutes for someone to have a look at it. It hits him now that it’s only you and him. No mechanics around. To call one would mean to risk being discovered. You must know too because you only make a sound of acknowledgement. It takes a while for you to speak again.

“I’ll look through my notes to see if I can figure something out,” you sigh. Your family planned to keep some older versions of automatons here back when you used to come, maybe there are some kits left that your father used to fix them. If not, maybe some of the notes from your years of studies will at least have some hint on how to get rid of the pain. “Are you really sure everything works fine? Have you checked everything”

He nods. He doesn’t mention he couldn’t run a complete diagnostics because he couldn’t recharge and he refuses to just shut down to save batteries. He knows it’s gonna be a problem sooner rather than later but maybe he’ll figure something out before that.

“That’s good,” you say and he reads your expression as relieved.

You stay silent after that and so does he, both secretly grateful. It’s not your first time being in the forest, and definitely not the first time in this one, but it might as well be. Both of you take in the nature around, the different species of trees and plants, the occasional song of a bird and flash of a wild animal fleeing from your path. You’re too absorbed to notice each other, and somehow you find that it’s not a bad feeling. For the automaton, likewise, it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s a strange feeling, something he can’t put a name on, and honestly he’s not sure he wants to. He lets it fill him, experiences the emotion without bothering with a label.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Only later does it hit him that the emotion was something akin to a gratitude.

He mulls it over in his head, asking why over and over and over, until he comes to a conclusion that angers him enough that he has to go out and sit on the patio and stare into the trees for a good long while.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The anger inside of him is also infuriating because it’s not supposed to be there - definitely not this strong, not so much that he can’t control it or will it away. His usual techniques don’t work and he’d chalk it up to being damaged but he knows the defect doesn’t have anything to do with it. Hell, he’d blame it on his draining energy level but that thought alone is so human it makes him even more enraged. He wants to scream, but you’d hear.

And that’s all that it boils down to, isn’t it? You. Your kind. Humans.

Why he feels thankful that you’re there with him, why the emotion enveloped him while you walked in the forest was all because you humans made him in your image. The loss of the communication device was significant for the physical damage but there’s more to it. Something he shouldn’t feel, something new.

Perhaps he never felt it because most of his days were identical, but he realizes now how precious the bond he created with his bandmates was. He can’t call it anything but friendship, maybe more than that. The thing humans refer to as family. He likes them. He wants to perform with them again. He wants to break his own rules and laugh with them. He misses them. And maybe that was the first domino piece that started it all and led to his inevitable ruin that he’s going through now; maybe he never should’ve allowed himself to think of them and their group in terms meant for human lives.

Once he tore off the communication device - the memory alone makes him close his eyes and choke on a pained whimper, his body trembles and he needs a second to shake off the feeling - he lost everything. The connection to the omnipresent network, but most importantly the only way to communicate with everyone. He has no idea where they are now, if they’re ‘alive’ or ‘dead’. (Though he gives into the temptation, might as well since he’s breaking all his rules for them anyway, and believes that he would know, would feel it, somehow, if any of them ‘died’.) He might never see them again and despair hits him all over again.

He can go on without the stage, he doesn’t need the masses going crazy over him. But the loss of all the connections he had pains him.

And that’s very human of him. Even if experience taught him he’s anything but.

And all he has is a human.

The last connection, the only one remaining that he knows, is you - and even you he had to force to come with him. To be fair ‘force’ is too strong of a word, he merely suggested the freedom to study him as you’d like and you agreed all too readily.

Nothing changed, fortunately. He knows humans can change drastically in situations like these. Despite your eagerness, he kidnapped you - didn’t he? Yet you stayed the same. It might be a coping strategy, but he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t expect you to become someone else. In the years since he’s been assigned to you, you’ve never shown signs of being more than a scientist. That’s understandable, of course, though he knows from what the others told him that not all staff of the facility were like that. He was skeptical. Now, not so much. He will believe in anything that gives him hope his friends made it out. If he made it out with the help of a human, maybe so did they.

He wants them to be free even if he himself isn’t sure how to proceed and take advantage of it, still dragging the heavy chains even if they no longer hold him back.

You spend hours without thinking of TH38, which is a blessing and a welcomed break to your mind, however it’s also infuriating because you’re reminded that the chaos you can operate in now and the chaos you operated in during the years you lived and stayed with your family are two completely different things.

It takes eternity before you finally sort through the things in your bedroom and find the stacks of notes from your studies, and it takes even longer to find the subjects you were looking for. Then there is reading through them, of course, which also takes a while, mostly because your brain happily accepts a refresh on all that you provide it with. You can’t just skim the pages for useful info, you need to read everything. It’s addicting. It makes you miss your studies, even though you could never go back if it meant giving up full-time working in the field.

Your research, however, doesn’t turn out to be as helpful as you hoped. It’s only to be expected; yours wasn’t a course that would deal too much with mechanics and the cold and hard reality of wiring, metal and silicon and whatnot. There are pieces of valuable information, strictly theoretical, which is not very reassuring and you most likely lack the necessary tools to even try to pull off what you’ve read about. Still you want to help in any way you can.

…hence why you’ve spent the last couple of minutes staring up at the ceiling.

Why would you help him? Where is this coming from? He says he’s fine, and honestly there’s no reason for him to lie to you. If his systems were not working, he’d be fucked and he still only has you to rely on. No reason to lie. And what other reason is there for you to help him?

He did say the damage causes him pain. And you remember pouring over the reports and test results with your colleagues, all of them stating that the automatons you were working with processed pain like a human being would. It was kind of twisted. There was objectively no way why they should be able to do that. The purpose they were created for was entertainment and their performances were complex, difficult, and physically challenging. It’d be easy to cause oneself pain doing the stuff they did.

Then again, pain can be a good control tool, though you were not aware of any physical punishments being carried out. Maybe the plan was all along to make them as human as possible. And pain is a very human thing. Still, something didn’t sit quite right with you about the whole thing. Mostly that TH38 didn’t seem to be bothered by it, despite a wound of similar extent would be distressing to say the least to a human. Scratch that, you don’t think a human could handle that.

So how is he?

And furthermore - why help him?

Pain, after all, was something hard to measure. If he doesn’t seem bothered by it, there’s a real chance he isn’t. You’re not sure how their pain tolerances are programmed, if there even is something like that in their code, and for a second you regret not widening the scope of your education and research. It can’t be helped however.

You look over your notes again. While you can’t help repair him, you could possibly do something about the pain. It’s not an ideal solution, if you can even call it that, and you honestly don’t feel confident enough to do it except if pressed into it by circumstance. Or by one automaton in particular. Sealing a wound by burning it is barbaric and a practice that is, understandably, long since abandoned - at least as far as humans are concerned. You take a long breath.

In the end you talk to TH38 about the situation some more and he, once again, reassures you he’s fine despite the gaping hole in his chest. You explain that there’s not much you can do about it without going into detail or mentioning the limited ways in which you could help and he takes the news surprisingly well. You can’t say you’d accept it with such stoic calm, but then again this is TH38 who we’re talking about so it’s not surprising.

You hate it.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The walks already feel like they’re going to be a routine part of your new life.

Each day you go out together in the morning and talk. If you ignore that it’s harder for TH38 to remain his machine-like self, it’s mostly exactly like it was at the facility. He’s reserved and cold, almost, though when he slips up and shows his personality, his emotions, it’s more than worth it.

The nature around helps. He gets what can only be described as excited when he sees a new animal, new plant, or when the light shifts and the scene in front of you changes.

The weather holds up well so far, no storms or heavy rain, and you find yourself wondering if you’ll keep up the walks even if the weather fails you. It’s fascinating that such a simple topic finds its way into your cluttered mind, but then again you have a space to do a lot of thinking today.

TH38 is silent next to you. He’s been rather silent the whole morning, and yesterday evening he did seem a bit off too. Not too much, however, and he’s always been on the quieter side. You figured this week’s events were finally fully catching up to him. And maybe that is the case, it’s not like you want to meddle too much. You’re curious what’s gonna happen if you leave him to sort it out on his own. It’s not like you have the right qualification to help him process this anyway. Hell, maybe you would also need help with that.

However, there’s a limit to how much you can take. Even back at the facility there were times TH38 gave answers that were just a word or two, but you’ve grown quite used to him opening up, talking, letting go of the filter he usually kept in place - although it wasn’t by his choice. It seemed like you were making some progress.

Of course, you had no way of knowing it was only his depleting batteries, him losing strength to fight for his peace of mind - however artificial and unsustainable that has become after the escape.

Right now, his brain feels like a warm soup. So much so that he can’t be bothered to think of talking about anything other than a brain - right now, words like processor are too complicated to think of. He feels so far away from everything. He thinks he’s trembling. If he’s not, then his insides surely are. He feels like he’s going to be sick even if he can’t really be. Maybe his body parts will start shutting down or falling off to conserve energy. He’s not sure where that’s coming from but then again, it’s not like he’s in control. It’s that same feverish state again but this time, he can be excused. This time, he’s not in his right mind, it feels like he’s not awake.

He’s floating. Just a speck of ash, of dust, floating through the air, through space, searching for somewhere to land, seeking a gust of wind to obliterate him. He needs release, he needs something.

“TH38?”

That’s it.

"I had a dream today," TH38 says suddenly. His voice sounds so firm, a stark contrast to how soft-spoken he usually is with you. It takes you by surprise. Before you can react, he elaborates on his own.

"There was fire. Lots of it. The whole world was burning and we were standing on top of a building watching the arson happen. There weren’t any other humans I think. They were all gone already. We made them go away.

Anyway, you weren't afraid. I think you were expecting it. You jumped before I could push you."

You frown. Your one weak spot has always been not expecting things that, in hindsight, should've been obvious. Of course something’s been bothering him.

"Did you plan on pushing me?"

"See, that's the thing," he licks his lips despite the lack of fluid in his body, "I don't think so. I think I could read your mind. I think I was you in that dream."

You do want to respond but it's like you're the one with a computer for the brain and it's lagging.

"And it made me think. Back before you made us, humans were like that - right? They, you, were afraid artificial intelligence of any kind could take over and enslave or annihilate you. Why? Wasn't the point always to make us like you? Why would you be afraid?"

He stops. Stops talking, stops walking, just - stops. He looks at you and you've seen the lost stare before.

You feel the hair at the back of your neck rising as a cold shiver runs through your body. He doesn't look like a machine with code for a soul. He looks like he made the artificial body his own, grew into it and made into something organic and alive with his will alone.

His eyes are cold as he steps closer and closer. It's all too familiar a scene. You keep backing away and he keeps getting closer until your back hits a tree. Not a wall this time. This time he doesn't pin your hands above your head either, and you don't fight him at all. There's no struggle so he doesn’t grab your arms, doesn’t slam you against the wall, and doesn’t growl threats of breaking your bones one after another. He doesn’t get so close that you’re breathing the same air and he doesn’t make a show of his physical superiority.

This time he simply leans closer and you straighten up. You meet his gaze and don’t shy away. You let him lean his forehead against yours and raise a brow at him. You won’t be scared this time. He won't hurt you. You're sure of that. Not terribly, at least.

He definitely won’t kill you and that’s enough.

You want to see how far he can go.

"What was it that you were afraid of, hm?” his voice is soft and low, barely above whisper, yet dripping with some hidden venom. There are no birds chirping, no wind blowing through the treetops. It feels like everything’s stopped just for him to interrogate you.

“How am I supposed to know?” you bite back. You haven’t lived back then. You have no idea what the people thought about, how they felt, what were their particular concerns. He clicks his tongue, clearly unimpressed. Well, you’re too.

“Think about it,” he pushes. But you’re gonna push right back.

“You just said you’re supposed to be like humans,” you scoff, “Why don’t you think about it yourself? As a little thought exercise.”

“Oh so suddenly you want me to think like I’m a human, huh?” there’s an edge to his voice. He sounds angry, frustrated - he clearly is, but the edge is not. There’s hurt there that makes you defensive. What’s very obvious is that he means more than he says. It’s not the first time this happened with the members of 53V3NT33N, but it’s the first time you have to deal with it. What he truly means is him not only thinking like a human, but acting like one, believing to be like one.

“I never discouraged you from that,” you lower your voice too, “Not me, Eight.”

You hesitate before speaking his name. It’s not really a name, is it? Something that all humans have. You realize the point he will make before he says it aloud. It must read it in your face because he smirks but it’s bitter.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen you all excited when the other staff expressed their passion for books, or anything really. Or when they volunteered personal information. When they’ve interacted with you at all.”

You don’t like the turn this conversation is turning. You don’t like the notion that perhaps you were observed just as you’ve been observing.

“I wasn’t interested in them,” you grit through your teeth. Before you can try to get him back on his original track, he giggles.

“So you were interested in me?” he flips his hair, tilting his head slightly. His nose almost bumps into yours and it hits you, perhaps for the first time, just how indistinguishable from a human he looks. This close, you can remind yourself of the schemes, of the diagrams describing each layer and inch of how their bodies are made, but all you see is a human skin and human eyes. Your body reacts naturally, your heart races, your mouth gets drier. You want to push him away but you don’t think he’d let you. Still you try. Unsuccessfully. Your hands end up balling in his shirt.

“It’s my job - the research,” then you correct yourself: “It was my job. Science, research, nothing more.”

He smiles, almost as if he’s pitying you. Like he knows more than you do. You hate him for it.

“Yes, that might’ve been a part of it,” he agrees, “But that’s not all. Research is cold, impartial, isn’t it? You collect information, you write it all down and make your conclusions based on them with no personal interest. You were never like that. You got excited. You tried everything in your limited power to get a reaction out of me - to guide me a certain way, didn’t you? I bet you pushed the limits for me. Isn’t that cute? Was I a good experiment to you?”

“That’s part of research too,” you growl, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“But it wasn’t a part of this research,” he hisses, “You think we didn’t talk about you all?”

You stubbornly refuse to admit the charges he lies in front of you, even though you know you’re guilty. Maybe you got a little swept up. But as long as no one stopped you, it was all part of the task.

“The research goal and methods may change according to the situation,” you collect yourself again, “It was just agreed that what I was doing would bring more interesting insight.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds very much like you would accept it if I declared that I want to be seen the same as you are, as equal to humans,” his smile is sickly sweet but you barely mind that because-

“Is that what you want?” you ask and watch as the smile fades almost instantly. He finally said it out loud. And the shock of it is enough to get through the fog clouding his brain. The smugness, the roughness, it all drains from his demeanor and his face falls. The fight in his eyes dies out and is replaced by what seems dangerously close to fear. He pushes himself away from you and you see the lights in his eyes flicker. He stumbles like you shoved him, hurt him. Something isn’t right. You frown, immediately stepping back into his personal space despite him trying to avoid you.

You end up in a position reversed to the one you’ve been in just seconds ago. He pushes at your shoulders weakly, tries to hide himself from you but you see it. All the tell-tale signs of what would be exhaustion if he were human.

“When was the last time you recharged?” you ask, thinking back to the previous nights and mornings. Thinking back to how you never heard him coming up or going down the stairs to the only room with the charging spot. You were so stupid. And he’s avoiding your eyes. You grab his collar and force him to look at you. You give him an expectant look.

“Before the breakout,” he admits lowly, “And you’re still treating me like a machine.”

You don’t know if he’s trying to be funny, sassy, to make you feel guilty or to feel sympathy for him, the only thing you know is you want to kick his ass because if he shuts down on you, there’s no way you’ll be able to drag him back into the house.

“Yeah, so be a good little level 1 and entertain me - get the fuck inside the house,” you growl, shoving him in the direction of said house. He stumbles a little, clearly affected by his drained battery. It’s almost hilarious to watch him struggle to walk straight when you remember how graceful he always was on stage.

You shoot him a look from time to time as you walk, rush, towards the house. Not really a concerned one, not a scolding one either. He looks like a sulking child. Perhaps he’s dragging his feet on purpose. Perhaps if he didn’t invade your personal space as he did before, and if you didn’t have to do the same, you’d drag him by his jacket. As it is, though, you feel repulsed by the notion of touching him again. And some part of you believes it’s because you don’t want him to shift under your palm. You don’t want to touch a machine only to discover it’s really some sort of a human.

Maybe you’re both in need of a good, long nap.

Fortunately enough, you make it to the house, but that’s where the struggles begin. Despite your earlier reservations about touching him, it’s obvious there’s no other way to get him inside and up the stairs.

“Lean on me, come on,” you sigh when you help him throw an arm around your shoulder and wrap your own around his waist. He listens well, his head already drooping. He relies on you to guide him, reluctantly leans his weight on you from time to time, although he clearly tries to hold himself up with his remaining strength. That lasts until you reach the second stair.

“I can’t,” he whispers and there’s terror in his voice. It must be the first time he’s been this drained, you realize. After all, for their condition to remain as good as it can be and for them to perform to the best of their ability, a full battery is a must. So you allow yourself to roll your eyes at his dramatic antics even if he’s slowly leaning more and more into you and you have to heave his body up.

“It’s just a couple steps,” you huff, “Even a human can do that.”

Part of you wants to laugh. Some part of you that’s seeing the childish pieces of him wants to indulge in it, wants to spout dramatic nonsense. It’s hard to resist - after all getting up one flight of stairs seems to be more of a struggle than escaping a highly secured facility.

But even this hurdle you jump over and the spare bedroom is not far from the stairs. TH38 is fully relying on you to drag him with you, barely moving his legs. You throw him not too gently onto the bed-like charger, once again thanking your father for being his manic self and fully preparing the house before (and without) actually ever getting an automaton to live here.

It takes you a while to figure out how to get the thing going - but to your defense, it’s hard to focus when there’s a robot whining softly about being scared of shutting down - but it’s not a rocket science. Fortunately the charger still works and once it’s turned on, the automaton lying down on it curls up into a ball with a sigh of relief.

When you get up from the floor, TH38’s eyes are already closed and by all means he looks like he’s sleeping. You sigh, exhausted. You feel a headache coming so you get some pills from the kitchen before retreating into your own room.

Yeah, you both need a nap right now.

When you wake up, you stare at the ceiling for a couple minutes.

What happened in the forest seems like a dream but you know it’s very real and you’ll have to deal with it. Just another thing to process. Then again, there’s so many of them that one more won’t hurt. And at least you avoided the headache. So you pray to anyone willing to listen that TH38 is still… unconscious… in hibernation mode… asleep.

He’s not.

Of course he’s not.

You peek inside the room and see his soft eyes already open. He looks away when your eyes meet like he’s ashamed. You sigh and walk into the room, closing the door behind you. It’s not like anyone’s going to walk in, but it gives you some sense of security. You sit down on the floor and he hands you a pillow. You thank him quietly and spend a while sharing an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes without looking at you. He doesn’t continue so you prompt him.

“For what exactly?” That makes him look at you with a scowl. “Getting sulky again?”

“‘m not sulky,” he murmurs. Once again you feel like reality is shifting around you. It’s been like that a lot lately. All the fault of the automaton in front of you. All the fault of the conditions changing, of him reacting to the environment - if your assumption is correct. Free of the rules and the strict way of life in the facility, you see that he’s just like the rest of the automatons from his group. And that all of them, in their own way, might have been human.

“Then what are you?” you ask smiling, propping your elbow on one knee and leaning your cheek on your palm.

“Hurting,” he admits, almost carefully, like he’s testing the waters. It’s just one word but yet it feels like the most open he’s been. So you’re not going to talk about that, huh?

He shifts a little and pulls down the collar of his shirt to expose the wound - not the damage, not defect, not imperfection, but a wound - between his collarbones. It looks nasty, the artificial skin and mesh and wires all torn and uneven around where the circular device was. He’s careful not to touch it, you note, and his hand is trembling. Were you an asshole when you refused to help him? Even so much as share what you found? It’s not like you could fix that hole in his chest, but maybe you could’ve at least told him about the other option.

“How much does it hurt? On a 0-10 scale?” you focus on gathering information. What did he call it - impersonal? That’s just what you needed. But nothing ever works out like you imagine.

“I don’t know,” he responds blankly but at least elaborates before you can finish yet another sigh, “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“I watched most of your life and career, I know you’ve gotten injured before,” you deadpan.

“Yeah but that was taken care of immediately, this is different,” he protests. There’s silence for a while before his voice drops lower. “I thought I could handle it. That I would get used to it and ignore it.”

You laugh, shaking your head, only stopping when you notice his expression. He does look hurt and hurting. You give him a much more conciliatory smile. “People don’t fare well if they’re in constant pain. It limits them, it affects all aspects of their lives.”

“I can see how,” he mutters, once again looking away. His jaw clenches for a second and it almost seems like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. You have a feeling, however, that you know what he wanted to say. Since he’s really not going to talk about it, you decide to take the first step.

You get up and motion for him to scoot over. He does so with a frown that deepens when you sit down next to him. He stays lying down, limited by the need for more energy.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to recharge?” you start and watch as he once again looks away without answering, “Why didn’t you explore this floor?”

He shrugs a little, shrinking into himself under your stare. He honestly doesn’t know why. He blames his pride. What else could it be that made him refuse to ask for help?

“Do you realize that you’d stay out in the woods if your battery ran out before we could get here?” you press, raising your voice a little on purpose, “I’d need to get help to drag you in, and you know how that would probably end. Was it worth it? Being stupid and stubborn?”

“Why are you like this?” he whispers, his dark eyes nothing but soft like they’ve been since you’ve entered the room.

“How do you feel?” you go back to how you talked to him before, calm. He frowns, suspicion written over his features. His lips are pressed into a thin line before he changes his mind and speaks up.

“Embarrassed,” he has a guarded look in his eyes, one that’s also vulnerable.

“Good,” you ease into a smile as you press a finger to the wrinkle between his eyebrows, “Embarrassment and pain are two simplest ways to manipulate and adjust a person’s behavior. And fear, but to be honest I don’t want you to be afraid of me, so we’ll have to do with those two.”

He looks at you in a very that tells all you need to know - he hopes you've not making fun of him but he doesn't trust you. So you sigh and move on to another, well, not an emergency but also not something that you should ignore any longer.

"Now," you get up from the bed and point at his chest, “That needs solving. I'm not a mechanic and my knowledge is strictly theoretical but unless you're okay with leaving it like that and calling it a day, we can still try something."

He seems surprised by your sudden statement, like he didn't even expect you to address the wound again.

"How theoretical?" is what he asks, suspicious.

"I said strictly," you shrug, "Fixing and healing was never my focus.”

"Why's that not surprising," he mutters without looking at you. "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"You just don't trust me, do you?" you smirk. Not that you blame him. He gives you a smile.

"Fine, but only because my clothes keep catching on the edges and it's really painful. "

"Sure," you motion for him to follow you and guide him to the bathroom. There, you take out a bandage and a tape. You're curious. You offer him both with a quirk of your eyebrow. He takes the bandage with trembling hands and distrust still lingering in his eyes. You roll your own.

"For now, I’ll think about this as another stage of the experiment. I'll respect your wish, so persuade me you’re human enough."

"I don't think I should thank you for that," he scoffs, "By the way... Help?"

He holds out the hand holding the roll of bandages back to you. Of course he wouldn't know how to do that. You motion for him to sit at the edge of the tub. He obeys almost shyly, reminding you of how he was back at the facility. You truly do prefer him as he is here. When he sits down, you push his knees apart with one of your own. He gives you a scandalized look that makes you chuckle.

"Relax," you smirk, "I just want to be comfortable. My back’s been killing lately, there’s no way I’m leaning over you. Take your shirt off?"

He does, slowly, reluctantly, and when the piece of clothing is gone you're suddenly glad for the basics of mechanics you've gone through at uni.

The wound looks awful, although you can appreciate the cleanliness of it. Maybe you really could burn it neatly if you had to. There are wires sticking out, perhaps - albeit not hopefully - the remains of the communication device. The layers of silicon and other material are frayed and sticking in all directions like flakes. You try not to stare too hard.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand. You unwrap the bandage slightly and put the free end on his shoulder. You roll it down gently mindful of the gaping wound but then you prop your hand on his chest and you need to take a step back as you get startled. He gives you a quizzical look.

"You feel like a human," you look at him, look at his chest. It does look like a human’s chest but you know he doesn't have proper organs, his insides aren't the same as yours. So why do you feel a bone there?

"And l imagine anyone would be flattered by this reaction,” His voice is sarcastic but his ears turn a reddish shade. He won't meet your eyes either.

"It's new for me too, okay?” you give your pride a break. This will all be easier if you get along and after all, he's used to you being in power. You need to take the first step and show weakness. You need to make the choice to be while he's already vulnerable enough, half-naked and injured. “It's not like I'm used to touching my subjects."

"I guess that's true," he murmurs, now thinking about it. It's true that the approach of the research division as a whole was rather clinical. Not that he'd so much as think to complain about it. You chuckle watching him scowl again.

"Touch is important for humans," you hum, finally composing yourself as you explain the basics to him and remind yourself of them again, "As a communication device, as means of establishing relationships, it’s important for social life."

As you speak, you wrap his wound and the top of his torso in bandages. He watches you work. It feels uncanny how human-like he feels under your hands. And for him, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

He danced with the rest of his group, they performed, they played around. He experienced his fair share of physical contact. So why does this feel so different? His head feels like spinning. Your touch is careful, gentle, nothing like the rough hands of the mechanics, and nothing like the touch of the other automatons. He can't explain the difference in other terms than experience. Humans know what it's like to touch and be touched in various contexts. The automatons don't. At least for the most part. Some of his bandmates, perhaps, had secrets he knew nothing about. Their leader comes to mind and he feels the urge to ask him questions, to ask for guidance, but there's only a hole in his chest and he's alone.

He barely registers that you’re done.

"Feeling better?" you ask without expecting much. It's not like he'll heal himself or like this will do anything to ease the pain.

"Tired," he answers, testing the words out on his tongue. He feels reassured when you laugh and step away, offering him your hand. He takes it, lets you pull him up. He touches the bandages and although it hurts, at least it feels less irritating. He takes his shirt from you when you hand it to him.

"I can only imagine," you roll your eyes. He resists the urge to scowl. "It's getting late, I'll go make myself dinner so go rest."

"Can we go back later?" he stops you before you walk out. He nods towards the window outside.

"Not afraid of wild animals?" you tease.

"Don't all the textbooks say animals are more afraid of humans than the other way around? I think we're good."

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

You don't go back to the forest that day. Not for the lack of enthusiasm or trying. TH38 is determined to finish your walk, you, however, are not as sure about it. It’s not that you aren’t put off by your routine being disturbed but seeing him still dragging his feet and his glazed over eyes, you just don’t think it’d be a wise idea. You suggest he goes alone, but he doesn't. So instead, you end up sitting by the fire again, the stars keeping you company. He seems less hypnotized by the dancing flames than that first night.

"I'm fine," he complains after a minute of silence while you spear more fluffy marshmellows onto the stick in your hands. A treat that you deserve after the day you’ve had. You’d probably offer him some too but alas…

"Sure you are," you agree without sparing him a glance, "But I'm not interested in watching over a toddler. If you wanna test the limits of your body - go for it. Just leave me out of it"

You feel his gaze on you, burning holes into the side of your skull. Has he always been so difficult? It's like all he's been since the breakout is annoyed, sulky or hurt.

"Stop that," he growls, "We both know I'm not a human. It's alright if you acknowledge that."

"While I'm glad you see it that way - and I really mean it, it's good you understand that," you sigh as you move your desert to hover over the flames, "Don't forget that you were made to be an exact copy. I found some of my old notes and while most of your physical capabilities should be better than a human's, you’d still experience the same symptoms. As we already witnessed earlier."

He’s silent for a bit while he processes that. Then he speaks and you swear you hear a hint of a pout in his voice. It’s so annoying how easily he lets go now.

“You didn’t have to call me a toddler though…”

“Don’t take it personally,” you sigh, turning the stick between your fingers so that the white puffs of sugar get baked evenly, “I wasn’t making fun of you - much - it’s just that you have no experience, do you? Were you ever as tired as you were today?”

“No,” he admits, “I wasn’t, you’re right. I rested the whole day and I’m still tired.”

“Exactly my point,” you hum, “Our walks are not a hard exercise but you haven’t, well, slept for a couple days so I think it’s best to take it easy today.” Then you add, because you can’t help it: “Exhaustion makes people a little crazy. And automatons too, it’d seem.”

He groans and you laugh, pulling the stick off the fire and blowing on your marshmallows. You take a bite and notice him watching you.

“What is it like?” he asks quietly, “Eating, I mean.”

“Kind of annoying to be honest,” you shrug, “It takes so much time to choose what to eat and to prepare food and eating it… Being hungry is a pain too. I mean it’s really good if you eat something delicious but I guess it depends on the person.”

He nods, eyeing with curiosity as you tear off another marshmallow from the stick. It reminds him of the videos he saw of wild beasts tearing flesh off bones, but he doesn’t mention that.

“What does sleep feel like to you?” you ask in turn. He looks at the sky for a second, collecting his thoughts. But really he’s just enjoying the view. It’s strange that he barely ever saw the night sky before.

“I don’t know, I’m not really conscious when I sleep, am I?” he thinks some more, “It’s peaceful. I liked it at the facility.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“Not really,” he gives you a small smile, “It’s too tempting. I don’t have to think if I’m asleep.”

Now that makes you wonder.

“I thought you enjoyed thinking about things?” Maybe it’d be more fair to say you expected him to do a lot of thinking rather than saying you had a strong opinion on his relationship to the activity. He was just always one of the quiet, reserved ones. He seemed to enjoy reading too. And you know it’s a stereotype to think of him as a thinker, but it’s one he seemed to fit well.

“I do,” he hesitates, then frowns, “But it was easier there.”

“Easier? I think you’d have way more to think about right now?” you pry when he’s quiet for too long. You don’t push, though.

“Easier in the technical sense,” he sighs, falling silent again, but there remains space for more words to be said.

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, purely metaphorically of course. You give him the time to think and get started on your second round of marshmallows before he speaks up again.

“I always - back then, I always thought about staying true to myself,” he starts slowly, “I was always treated a certain way. I woke up into this body, and this life, and was told certain things.”

"And the building blocks of me too. Serenity? Pandemonium? The more automatons and people I met, I was sure those just represented us and humans. I wanted to be true to myself," he repeats, "I thought since no one will ever see me as more than a machine, I might as well embrace it."

"And how was it?" you ask, inching just slightly closer. You never thought you'd get TH38 to open up like this. He smiles.

"Peaceful, just as I thought," but then he continues with a note of bitterness in his voice. "You saw it, all of it. I was just a machine doing its job. It was easy. To focus on performing, on practice, to have the talks with you and answer like I thought was expected of me. I miss it a little.”

“It was satisfying. A simple pleasure of doing my job well. I think you understand that,” he looks at you and you realize finally that you’ve been leaning towards him, but whatever. You nod.

“So that’s why you’ve always acted like that? Because you chose to be a machine?”

“Have to use my free will wisely,” he giggles - he fucking giggles - before he shrugs and gets more serious again, “I really liked it in a way. I thought I could be satisfied with that.”

Your head is still trying to process the incredible amount of research data you’re getting and you have to work really hard not to slip into work mode. You will listen to him like you would listen to a human with a completely different set of experiences, or like you would listen to one of the aliens sharing their galaxies with you. You will listen like you’d listen to a friend sharing their burden with you.

And you won’t analyze every single sound he makes even if they shatter your perception of him that you had until that moment.

“The others were ruining it a lot for me,” he admits quietly after a minute. It’s almost wistful. “I liked to watch them even if I really wanted to play around with them. They seemed so different from me. It was my choice, but in those moments I guess I felt a lot like you.”

You nod for him to continue when he meets your eyes, almost cautiously.

“I observed them. Studied them. I think it was the serenity code inside, I found happiness just from watching them being happy,” he smiles a little, “But I was also wondering if that was really alright. If it would be alright for me to behave like that.”

“Watching people made me feel different things. They were going crazy over us,” and suddenly he has that distant look in his eyes again, staring out into the fire, “I was scared of it. I was scared of being like them and letting myself be controlled by emotions. I think I pushed everything away so hard that it exploded when 5.C0UP5 told us to run.”

“Breaking out inside and out, huh?” you note and oops, your marshmallows burned. It’s not like you’re in the mood for eating them anymore anyway.

“You made it really hard,” he says but it sounds like he’s scolding you, “Giving me all the books.”

You smirk. Then you decide - to hell with it. He volunteered so much information that perhaps he deserves to receive some back.

“That was the point,” you shrug, “To make being just a machine hard for you.”

It seems he wasn’t expecting to hear you admit it, or hear anything personal from you, but now that you started he’s watching you with curious eyes and longing look. You think about these last few days again. It’s true that they’ve been mostly like what they were back at the facility.

He deserves more than that.

“It was one of the reasons I was brought to the facility. I broke some rules back at my previous station, pushed buttons I shouldn’t have, and it was getting dangerous. It was decided it’d be better if my actions wouldn’t have such large-scale consequences,” you huff a laugh, “But look where we are.”

“What were you doing before?”

You’ll need to work on getting him more confident asking questions.

“That’s a secret,” you wink at him, and you recognize the look as the one you must’ve been wearing when he giggled. Seems like both of you will need to get used to each other’s humanity. “I was working on research at a different division. Mostly my work was trying to push forward with more possible advancements for the automatons on a theoretical level. But I don’t miss it much. I always enjoyed working with you more.”

“Why me? I mean, did they tell you about me or did you get to choose?” he asks, and for some reason you’d love to see what he’d do if you lied and told him you chose him.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed you were different from the others,” you smile instead, “When they confirmed there was nothing with your code, they started looking into other options of dealing with your case. It just so happened that I was recommended to join the researchers working with your band at the same time.”

“Happy coincidence?” he smirks but you nod, taking him by surprise.

“I enjoyed working with you, Eight,” you shorten his name-that’s-not-a-name and watch him shift on his spot, “It was fun. I had a lot of privileges that I could use - like the books, and the videos, stuff like that.”

“Seems like you’re suggesting you were spoiling me,” he grumbles.

“Wasn’t I?” you smirk, “How many of the others do you think had access to basically a private library?”

“There weren't many real books,” he throws you a cheeky look from the corner of his eye. You do appreciate he's getting less guarded around you, but you hate the whiplash.

"Imagine if I'd spoil you for real," you scoff. He squints at you before pushing on your shoulder slightly, carefully, as if he's hesitating the entire time. It's your turn, for the first time ever, to give him a scandalized look. He chuckles.

"You said touch is important," he explains softly, "The others always used to push each other. I think… I think we could be close, right? Since it's just the two of us for now."

You give him a long look. It's true that, after all, there's no reason for you to treat him like a stranger. Sure, it's a little awkward all things considered - not least of all the fact that while you watched him to the point it could be called an obsession, he knew you to a very limited extend - but as he said, it's just the two of you now. And unless you wanna get caught, it would be that way for a while.

"Friends?" you suggest experimentally, he shakes his head with lips turned upwards in a dangerous teasing tilt.

"I don't know you well enough for that," he's just playing around but it's a nice change so you'll allow it, "Tell me more about yourself."

So you do. There’s little to tell other than your work, but he doesn’t comment on it and doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems invested. It’s a nice change to speak for once with someone who doesn’t get concerned because of your severe lack of social life. Maybe you should’ve been befriending automatons a long time ago.

Unlike before, he seems relaxed conversing with you. Gradually, he gets more comfortable asking questions. It’s easy to fall into the rhythm of using sarcasm or teasing to deflect questions you don’t want answering, and it’s surprising how naturally it comes to him as well.

The night is turning into morning when the fire dies and you agree to go back inside. Well, it’s less that you agree on it than you tell TH38 quite sternly that you’re not at the stage of your relationship where you’d feel comfortable with him lying on your shoulder and dragging him home twice in a day. He pouts (which, again, you need time to process).

Still, you have to admit that it feels kind of good that you have someone accompany you while you walk to your room.

Come morning, it still feels like a dream. So you take extra time to simply lie in bed and think. You're pretty happy with how things turned out. You mull over what the automaton told you. It was a strange way to live one's life. Did he really think he could be happy with just that? You've read enough about history, fiction and articles, to know that, ultimately, it seldom works out this simple way of life. Maybe if all TH38 could do was work, maybe if he had to fear for his life... Or maybe if you didn't keep pushing onto him stuff to think about. Not that it matters anymore.

Funny enough, you meet the moment you step out of the door. You exchange greetings and share a look. You both know you're both usually up much earlier.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

The following days go well enough.

You fall into a nice routine of getting to know each other and getting used to no longer being a researcher and a subject. A lot of the barriers between you get torn by this change. You spend your time willingly with each other as if you were always roommates.

Today, too, TH38 keeps you company during breakfast but he seems eager to get up and do something the whole time. Definitely unusual, though he’s always more than eager to explore the woods with you. Then again, never before did he spend the whole time waiting. He doesn’t talk much, he spaces out and nearly jumps out of his chair anytime it seems you might be done with your breakfast. It gets to the point that you have to call him out on it.

"Is something bothering you?" you ask, setting your spoon aside with one hand and laying the other on his shoulder to immediately push him back down to sit.. He looks caught.

"Can we go out today?" he asks, already looking into the trees through the window.

"We’re always going out. Besides nothing is stopping you from going alone," you mention, but the twitching of your lips betrays you. He pursues his lips and you begin to wonder if he knows it makes you - well, not necessarily uncomfortable but you'll have to get used to it.

"Are you not afraid I'll run off?" and while it's not an unreasonable question...

"Where would you go?" you ask without missing a beat. And there comes the frown again. "Maybe you should be worried I'll leave you here all on your own."

"What if we stopped?" he sighs and it seems that he's genuinely bothered.

Sometimes he gets like that suddenly. While you might be getting along better now, there’s still room for improvement. It’s easy enough to make him snap, even though he’s been getting better. During the escape he wasn’t really violent either. He left some bruises, but his intention wasn’t to hurt you, and you never held it against him.

You’ve noticed the pattern of his behavior. Those weird states mostly overcome him when he’s overwhelmed with emotions. Which explains the first snap - he must’ve been so exhausted it was only a matter of time. He’s never got physical with you again, though he seems fond of making you think he will or backing you into a corner or against something when he's behavior flips.

You wonder where that comes from but he doesn’t have any idea either - not to mention he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable discussing those episodes and delving deeper into what he's feeling. Perhaps it’s the force of a habit - something you both eventually agreed on after many discussions, and afterall it takes one to know one. Try as you might, it’s hard not to analyze him, not to ask pointed questions that would only serve the purpose of researching how his brain works and what makes him tick. And you really don’t want that for him anymore. Though you do dearly miss your job. That’s why you’ve been spending most of your time studying from the old notes in your room and the books to keep your mind stimulated.

So for now, instead of analyzing why it hurts him to imagine being abandoned, you try to relate to his situation. He finally escaped what basically was a prison only to find himself all alone, with little knowledge as to how the world outside functions. Not to mention he's a fugitive and one bad step could land him back at the facility or worse. He lost his friends, lost his purpose - worse yet, he gave up on the purpose he chose for himself. He’s already so uprooted that maybe it’d truly be best to refrain from making jokes and teasing him about certain topics. Although…

"You started it," you point out, "But sure, let's be adults about this."

"So you're going with me, right?” he circles back to the beginning. It's been a while since someone wanted to be in your company so willingly. Not that he has other options.

"I’m going, don’t worry," you agree, "Is there any reason why you insist on it?"

He thinks for a bit, and you note that he's biting his lip in yet another expression of very human-like behavior. He turns a little shyer after a minute.

"I don't feel comfortable being out there alone. And I hoped maybe you know of some new spot we haven’t been to yet?”

Something about this feels both so right and so wrong. The automaton is watching you with such a soft expression on his face, a little hopeful it seems. He’s relaxed, you’re relaxed, and it feels comfortable. Two friends on vacation planning their trip for a day. But that’s also what’s throwing you off. You’re too used to being alone - and you thought that’s how you could live forever, be alone and thrive. Only now you realize it’s not a bad feeling at all to have someone to spend your days with, to share a life with - to an extent.

The irony in this isn’t lost on you.

“I think I remember one,” you hum, “But I’m not sure I remember the way. We might get lost.”

“You don’t have to take me there if it’s a special place,” he reassures you, although his excitement at the prospect of wandering through the forest is impossible to hide. It’s cute. Which is a thought that’s been reappearing in your mind for days now, and maybe that’s not a bad thing.

“I appreciate that, but I told you already that there’s not much special to me here,” you assure him in turn. He’s like a sponge, soaking up all the information he can get - about the world, nature, you, anything. It’s really heartwarming he remembers too, and how mindful he’s trying to be. More than half the humans you’ve met, which is… perhaps not all that surprising.

“Shall we go then?” he prompts you, jumping up from his chair and pulling on your hand to get you to stand up too. You let him pull you up, rolling your eyes.

“Did you miss the part where I said we might get lost?” you chuckle. His excitement was just like that of a child - strangely infectious.

“That’s why we’re leaving early,” he explains to you, slowly, and you’re sure he knows by now how much it annoys you, “So we have time to explore and find the spot.”

Annoying or not, though, you can’t say no.

The journey starts off as usual - almost.

He must know the forest in the closest circle around the cottage by heart by now, but he still seems enchanted by it. Despite his earlier bursts of energy, however, he’s quiet as you walk. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary, but you learned to be cautious.

“Hey, is something wrong?” you ask carefully when you stop to admire the way sunrays seep through the trees to illuminate a clover patch on the ground. He doesn’t respond. That’s more concerning as he generally tends to tell you when he doesn’t feel like talking. You have a feeling it’s to prevent him from having another outburst, so if he’s not doing that, it might mean something’s seriously wrong. He continues forward before you can speak up again.

“Hey,” you follow after him - curse his long legs and speed. You think back to all the times you’ve thought he’s like a lost puppy following his owner with a scoff. You don’t like the roles being switched. “What’s going on with you?”

You don’t like repeating yourself. You don’t like not knowing. And you especially don’t like feeling clingy.

“What the fuck, Eig-”

“You’re just like them,” he turns suddenly, making you stumble and nearly bump into his chest. You frown, not understanding who does he mean by them in this lack of context. He sets his jaw like he wants to shut up but then the words spill and you recognize all the signs. “I’m quiet for a couple minutes and everyone's all like ‘Minghao you need to speak up’ and ‘mind your screentime, Minghao’ - how about you leave me alone?”

He’s growling, again trying to make himself as tall and towering as he can. His eyes betray him, though. He is getting better at holding himself back. While you’d oppose that in most other cases, self-control is an important skill for a person to have - especially when strong emotions hit. You read this one as anxiety.

“No need to snap at me, Minghao,” you click your tongue. You make sure to look him in the eye while you say the name. “Just say you want to be left alone.”

This time it’s you walking away. You take the few seconds of silence you have before you know he’ll snap out of it to collect your thoughts. It was only a matter of time before this would happen - before the question of names would pop up. Him picking out a name for himself makes it easier. You heard some of the others also used some sort of nicknames, even if no one ever mentioned TH38, Minghao, among them and neither did he ask you to call him anything but the name the facility assigned him. You wonder how he came up with it, but seeing as it’s still a sensitive topic, you’re gonna leave that conversation for another time.

And here come the steps…

What you don’t expect is to feel a weight on your back, or the warmth seeping through your shirt. You don’t expect the arms around your waist either - or that they would tremble. Nor do you expect the soft, quiet ‘thank you’ that fans across your skin as he speaks those words before removing himself from you. You hesitate for a bit. In just one second, you feel like you need to choose the best course of action. You don’t want to analyze him. You don’t want to think about this like part of your job or rehabilitation or therapy for him.

So you walk on, although you slow down significantly, waiting for him to catch up. He’s still shaking when he does, and his eyes betray how vulnerable he feels.

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye and tilt your head. He did say he wants to be left alone, so you will respect it until he talks. Which only takes him a little while.

“You almost left me there,” he half-whines, quietly. If he won’t address it, neither will you.

“You’re being dramatic,” you shake your head. It doesn’t seem to have the effect you wanted, however. “Want me to hold your hand,” you tease a little before adding in a softer voice, “Minghao?”

He beams in that soft glow that he radiates when he’s happy. (Not literally.) The one that tugs at your rigid heartstrings.

“You’re too shy to try that,” he pushes right back. Although it’s a challenge, you don’t need to take on every single one.

In a strange turn of events, you do end up taking his hand anyways. You hold his hand that feels like it belongs in yours and you see that he needs a second to process the feeling as well.

Then he slips and if it wasn’t for you holding his hand, he’d be sitting on his ass.

You help him get back his balance and join you on the rock you’re standing on. He’s not looking at you anymore, as he wasn’t for a while now, and you decide that it’s best you keep watching over him until he’s not distracted even if it means holding his hand until you get back home. The sacrifices you have to make to keep him safe…

You turn back forward and smile, memories flashing briefly through your mind. Back when you saw the waterfall for the first time, you were just as distracted and reckless. The deafening sound of it, the pure strength behind the rushing, foaming water is enough to take your breath away even now. You had a feeling Minghao would love it.

And he does - he seems so taken by it that it makes you wonder if it would be safer to carry him. He keeps slipping since he barely pays any mind to where he’s stepping and it takes you threatening to leave, dragging him with you, for him to promise to be more careful. Never before did he obey your orders so quickly. Not even back at the facility, and that’s saying a lot.

After a couple more close calls you finally find a piece of land that’s stable and dry enough to stand on and enjoy the view. Minghao is absolutely mesmerized by the waterfall, lips hanging slightly open and eyes glued to the scene. If you’re staring at him instead of the natural wonder, then it’s only so he doesn’t hurl himself into the water.

“Careful or you’ll fall in and drown,” you warn him when, coincidentally, he does absent-mindedly take a step forward and panics when he feels the ground squish and give way under his foot.

“You’d catch me,” he says with certainty that makes something in your stomach twist, “And we’d be miserable and soaked to the bone.”

“Don’t underestimate the water,” you warn him, “It’s pretty deep and I’m not a strong swimmer. We’d just drown together and that’s not a way to go that I’d choose.”

That makes him turn to you with an unreadable expression. He studies you for a moment before turning back towards the waterfall. There’s a new focus in his gaze as his eyes follow the water. It’s not unlike when he’s watching the flames dance while you’re having a bonfire. You wonder if the thoughts running through his mind differ.

You spend some more there before he asks you to go back.

He stays quiet for most of the way, but you let him. He’s got that far-off look in his eyes that’s a dead giveaway that it wouldn’t be wise to talk to him now. When he calls your name, it's not surprising what he wants to talk about.

“Is there any?” he hesitates, "Way you'd want to die?"

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was scared. And maybe you truly don't, so you approach the topic just as carefully.

"I think most people do," you explain, "It's probably not like that for you, but for people death is a big deal. We tend to think about it sometimes."

"Why?" his throat bobs as he swallows in a new useless but human behavior.

"It's the one thing we can't choose," you smile, and it seems that your relaxed demeanor calms him.

“You may choose death any second you wish,” he murmurs quietly, walking side by side with you. Something about the topic makes the treetops, swaying in the wind above, look greener.

“But what if I mean the opposite,” you counter and this time you don’t look at him. If he notices the difference, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Immortality, hm?” he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh pine-scented air, “Interesting.”

"Anyway, you at least have the choice," you sigh, more exasperated by the robot who likely won't be able to get your point than the talk of your own inevitable mortality, "I don't. If nothing else, time will make the decision for me."

"Do I?" he muses, aloof in his contemplation as always albeit there's a hint of mirth to his voice.

"All it will take for you to live forever is some maintenance, maybe a couple hardware and software updates," you shrug, "And even if I'm gone and the situation doesn't get better, I bet there are people who'd be willing to help you out. You get to choose whether to live or die."

He mulls the idea over with a hint of a smirk that only seems to grow each second.

"Constant updates and replacements, huh?" he huffs, "Didn't you humans come up with the question about the boat that has all its parts replaced?"

You have to admit it takes you a while, but when it clicks, your eyes get wide and your mouth falls open.

"How do you know about the ship of Theseus?"

"What, did you expect me to be an ignorant mesh of wires and artificial tissue? After all the books you gave me access to?" he scoffs, looking almost offended.

"Well, no, but I also haven't expected to hear about ancient Greek philosophical problems from you," you concede. Maybe you shouldn't be as surprised as you are. After all, Minghao has always been very interested in reading. Almost as much as you’ve been interested in seeing the effect fantasy would have on his artificial brain. But that's long in the past.

"Why have me read those books if you never cared to discuss them with me?" he asks like it's been bothering him for a while now.

"Our sessions were always recorded. I had certain privileges, but most of them weren't for all the higher ups to know about," you shrug, "And after a while I was sure you wouldn't mention anything on your own."

"You trusted me a lot, hm?" he smirks, "Was that why you ran away with me?"

You huff, roll your eyes. He does seem genuinely curious though. You're not sure you want to answer.

"Did you fall for me?" he moves to walk in front of you, "That's what they made us for."

"We both know why I went with you," you sigh, pushing on his shoulder and he steps aside easily, falling back in step with you. He has a small smile on his face. Maybe you should’ve teased him and said yes. The good vibes don’t last for too long. You can feel the shift in the air.

"Do you regret it?"

You're not brave enough to look at him. The tone of his voice is enough.

"No, I don't," you answer honestly, "I think this is good for both of us."

This time it's not you holding his hand, but him squeezing yours.

It feels nice.

You squeeze back.

Your suspicion that he was bothered by the fact that you never discussed the literature you provided him access to is proven correct not too long afterwards.

It’s raining outside, the humid air blows in through the open windows as you eat dinner in silence. Minghao joins you at some point and he seems nervous. You give him the time to collect his thoughts until he’s ready to talk.

He starts off casually, with small talk completely unrelated to the real issue but you don’t push him. Honestly you’re happy even if he’s clearly having a lot of emotions, he’s not snapping at you. You also have to stop yourself for the nth time from making a list of human behavior you discover each day as right now he’s fidgeting with his fingers, picking at a frayed thread of the tablecloth.

Then, finally, he asks the question - could you talk about the books?

“Unless you haven’t read them, of course,” he adds quickly, suddenly flustered by your curious gaze.

“I mean you never told me which ones you’ve read,” you grin, and you find yourself enjoying him squirming in front of you, here and now, when you know the anxiety stems from wanting to be understood and to make a connection instead of uncertainty about the future. Not for the first time you find the automaton cute. “I haven’t read all the books I gave you access to, but I read most of them, so try your luck. Which ones were your favorite?”

He relaxes, his features soften as well. He props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his palm.

“This isn’t one of our interviews,” he reminds you playfully, “Which ones are yours?”

You laugh but you’ll give him this one. You answer and he asks another question, prodding for more information like you usually would. It’s not what you expected, but you play along. Unlike you back then, he carefully checks in with you if this is okay - his eyes find yours and he tilts his head, his fingers brush against yours or he gently touches your knee - and he actively participates in the conversation and discussion.

You wonder if things would be different if this was the approach you used in the facility. If you treated him more like a human and less like a guinea pig, a new prototype or a petri dish. And he must’ve noticed because when you part ways at the top of the stairs, way too late into the night, or rather early morning, after many hours spent talking, he suddenly stops you before you can leave to your room and says: “This wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t work with you like that.”

“I know,” you acknowledge, “The higher-ups wouldn’t let me work like this either. Not with you.”

When he reaches for your hand, you take it. You don’t know if he finds comfort in the gentle squeeze you share before parting for real this time, but you think you might.

Out of the many issues and unspoken things you need to address, the wound in Minghao’s chest remains to be the top priority. He doesn’t mention it often, except in passing when even the bandage fails and it catches on the frayed artificial tissue. He seems embarrassed about it in a way that you know all too well. You also hate asking for help, also hate when you need to be taken care of.

So you sit him down one day and make him take his shirt off again, rolling your eyes - again - at the teasing remarks he tries to hide the flush crawling up his skin. It’s getting easier not to wonder about why they had to be made this human-like.

“I’m fine!” he full-on whines when you try to touch the edges of the wound, slapping your hands away. You heave a sigh, hands on your hips.

“Listen, buddy-” you start but your words die into laughter at the offended look Minghao sends you.

“Minghao,” you try again, and he nods for you to continue, “We can’t just keep it like that. It hurts.”

“Yeah but only sometimes. And you already said you can’t help,” he shrugs, “Besides it’s just me who’s hurting.”

You do understand that. You’ve used the same excuse too. But he’s not you.

On the other hand, he is right. He let you look at the wound before and it seems like while he did a pretty good job of tearing the device out of his chest, some of the nerve-like wires remained meshed in the surrounding tissue and that’s what’s causing the pain. You can’t imagine doing the extraction yourself. Perhaps back at the beginning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cause him so much pain now.

…Honestly you sometimes wonder who out of you two needs training in how to be a human.

You stay silent for a while, having a short staring contest before you run your hand through your hair and accept your defeat. At least to some extent.

“Friends care for each other,” you inform him before removing the bandage from his body before securing it around his torso again, a little tighter just to keep all the peeling pieces pressed together. He hisses in pain but stays still. It seems he’s more occupied by processing your words than by the pain. “So let me care for you, hm? You might not die but let’s keep you functioning for as long as we can.”

He scoffs but ends up smiling anyway.

“I think you should be more worried about taking care of yourself. I don’t think the food you keep eating here is exactly healthy,” he’s teasing, you know, but something about it seems honest too.

“Maybe, but it’s easier to just add water and heat it up than get the ingredients, prepare them, cook, wash up, and all that jazz,” you defend your supply of instant foods. Although it’s true that your stock is beginning to run low and you probably will need to go shopping soon. You dread it, but at the same time you have a feeling Minghao might enjoy a little trip further away from the cottage.

“I can help,” he offers, “If you show me how.”

“Seems like you want to keep me around for a long time,” you dismiss the offer just so you don’t have to pay attention to how hopeful his voice sounded or how attentively he was watching you. You hope he’ll bicker with you, tease you, push back with more snark, but he doesn’t. He simply smiles and lets you finish the work on his bandages.

If your hands tremble and each fleeting touch against his body lingers, neither of you mention it.

It almost seems like Minghao’s been waiting to use your words against you when a couple days later he joins you under the roof of the patio while the storm is raging only a few meters away, drenching the ground with rain. He brings your favorite tea set with you.

He’s noticed your love for tea, has often asked you to describe the various kinds of it and the flavors, but you never thought it’d come to this.

He sets it all down - the bottle of water, the kettle and the pack of your favorite tea leaves, the glass teapot, and the dark clay one and matching cups - and it surprises you to see he brought two cups. It makes you confused until you notice the tea pet and it gives you a pretty good idea of what he’s planning. You don’t comment on the red hue collecting on the tips of his ears.

“Friends care for each other,” he murmurs while he sits down next to you. He looks at you and moves closer, your knees bumping together. When you don’t move away, he relaxes and focuses on the tea.

He pours the water into the kettle and lets it boil. You notice he set it to stop at the exact temperature he wants - that the tea requires. He measures the right amount of tea leaves for the teapot he picked while it boils, and when the water is done he first fills the cups and the teapots with the hot water. Then he pours it out before gently placing the tea leaves into the clay teapot and pouring the hot water in again. Almost straight away, he pours the tea into the glass one.

You watch him and notice he seems nervous. So you decide to make it worse, or comfort him, whatever will be the effect. You put your hand on his knee carefully, startling him regardless. He looks worried before you smile at him: “You’re doing good so far.”

He seems reassured, giving you a grateful smile himself as he pours the first infusion over the little clay frog sitting at the corner of the tea tray. The next infusion he pours into the cups and hands you one, almost dropping it when your fingers brush together.

“Thank you,” you hum, “You’re a fast learner.”

“I just had enough chances to see you do it,” he shakes his head before nodding towards the tea leaves, “I just wasn’t sure I picked the right kind. I noticed you don’t wash all of them.”

“You did. I would help if there was a need but you’re a natural,” you praise, watching as his ears turn redder.

“And you don’t mind if I pretend with you like this?” he swirls the tea in his cup. He won’t look at you, so you make him. Slowly, you move closer to him until you can lay your head on his shoulder. It’s a light touch, he can move away if he wants to. He doesn’t, although his body gets tense.

“Why would I mind?” you say and realize just how comfortable you feel in this moment, “Isn’t this the perfect mood to sit here like this?”

Finally he melts just a little, leaning his head against yours, featherlight and cautious. You’d never guess he’d be this affectionate once comfortable, but lately it feels like his true personality is coming out more and more and you can’t say you dislike it. He doesn’t say anything, instead he leans closer again and rubs his head against yours, just for a second.

You take a sip of the tea and you hate to admit that his exact measurements make it taste better than when you prepare it. It doesn’t happen that you smile without realizing, but since leaving the facility, well, it seems like a lot of things are changing.

When you finish your cup and set it down on the tray again, he quietly pours the content of his cup over the little frog. Somehow it reminds you of him a little.

· • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✧ ٠ —– • ·

Time passes.

You start to lose track of days and they blend together seamlessly. Has it been months? Years? Who knows. Minghao probably does, but he couldn’t care less. He only mentions the time since the breakout whenever you readjust the bandages on his chest. It almost seems like he’s healing, the compression seems to work a little even on the artificial tissue, although you know that until the remaining wires of the communication device are removed, it will always remain a trouble. He reassures you it’s alright every time and you learn to trust him to express himself truthfully.

He started exploring the outside on his own too. It seems to help him tremendously with dealing with… well, everything. It takes time, you know, and fortunately that’s the one thing that you have in abundance now. Nonetheless, he always seems to appreciate your company, be it on the walks, inside, or on the trips you take sometimes. Usually it’s only to the village to get new supplies of food, but you both remain cautious and even that fills you with adrenaline - among other things.

The locals really make you realize just how indistinguishable from a human Minghao looks. You doubt any of them recognize him for what he truly is, and maybe that’s in part why he always prefers to spend time alone after each of these trips. The highlight for you personally is the older lady who you buy vegetables from that seems to think of you two as the new married couple that just moved in. You make it a competition to see who gets flustered first, though there’s really no shame in losing. Not when Minghao cups your face and squishes your cheeks or hugs you when you begin to stutter - not when you mess with his hair or hold his hand when he’s lost for words.

Life is peaceful.

You think some parts of you are healing, just as Minghao is. He’s getting better at understanding that there’s chaos within peace and peace to be found amidst chaos. He’s learning to experience the emotions he’s suppressed for so long, the good and bad, to let them pass through even if it’s scary and uncomfortable. You try to be helpful. You give him space when he needs it, you talk if that’s what he needs, or let him lay his head on your lap or shoulder if he’s too scared to be left alone with the pandemonium inside his mind.

There are good days and there are bad days. Yet you both grow to be grateful for both.

And there are cold days and warm days too, and on the warm ones, you sometimes sleep outside.

It’s something you’ve never done before and something you now know you'd miss terribly if you could never do it again. Minghao loves it. His excitement remains infectious, which probably adds to your fondness for the warm nights on Silvestre.

Especially nights like this one when there’s not a cloud in the sky and the stars shine brightly above you. The galaxy expands above your heads and it makes you think of the past, of the future, and you understand why the automaton used to be so wary of emotions. They’re overwhelming for you too.

“If they ever catch us, what will you tell them?” Minghao breaks the silence. It’s not often that you talk about the facility anymore, but when you do it’s almost exclusively in whispers under the stars.

“Hm… Depends,” you hum.

“Depends on what?” he turns his head towards you.

“Depends on what will be most likely to get them to allow me to stay and keep working with you,” you mirror his action, “If that means telling them the whole truth about how you’ve done here, I will do that. If that means lying a little, then so be it.”

“Will you tell them the truth about the escape too?” he smirks. But you’re more than ready for the challenge.

“I will them them you kidnapped me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I will them you used force to make me come with you.”

“I didn’t!” he shoots up, sitting upright and looking at you, upset and distressed, “I didn’t have to, you went willingly!”

“I told you,” you smirk, shrugging, “I will tell them what I need to tell them to keep my job.”

Seeing as he remains upset, however, you reach out for him and stroke his arm. He gives you a wary look, one that he always gives you when you brush against a nerve. You smile apologetically at him, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He scoffs, lying back down with his arms crossed over his chest. “Anything to keep your job but not to keep me.”

“That would suggest I had you in the first place,” your lips stretch further, teasing lilt finding its way into your voice as Minghao freezes and avoids your gaze, “Does this count as a confession, Haohao?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles. You don’t listen.

“Besides, you are my job. Unless you want to be my pet, my-” you don’t get to offer him other alternatives as he springs from his spot and leans over you, holding himself up with one hand on either side of your body, kneeling next to you.

“Your?” he quirks a brow at you. It’s much harder to stand your ground when he drops the shy act, or maybe just puts on this confident one, but you do anyway.

“What would you like to be, hm? Give me some ideas,” you hum. He sighs, deliberately letting his head fall lover until his hair tickles your skin.

“I would like to be listened to,” he suggests, making you laugh.

“We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends push each other’s buttons,” you chide playfully. You feel comfortable. Even with him hovering above you, you feel safe and content. It’s unreal that not so long ago this would be unthinkable.

“I don’t think we’re friends,” and it’s only the statement, plain and simple. You smile. You really do feel comfortable. It’s a new feeling. And it’s refreshing.

“Isn’t there enough unspoken things between us as is?” you don’t tease anymore.

“So you have a name for this?” he tilts his head, his smile mirroring yours because he knows you don’t. You admit your defeat with a shake of your head and don’t push him off when he lies down again, only this time with his head resting on your stomach. You’re nice enough to run your fingers through his hair too. He leans into your touch in appreciation.

You stay silent, watching the stars twinkling above. You like this. You could stay like this, you think, and live your life satisfied and happy. But could you? Isn’t that what you both thought before too? Maybe there’s danger here that you’re just not seeing yet. You don’t want to lose this. Then again, it’s not like you can find the answer and the solution at this very moment. Not when you’re distracted by how soft Minghao’s hair feels between your fingers and the feeling of his fingers playing with yours when he inevitably searches for your hand. Maybe it’s about time you came to terms with the fact that he’s right - you’d rather keep him than any job.

You think about where the future could take you until your eyes close and you fall asleep.

There must be some sort of telepathy connecting you two because he brings up the future himself some time later.

You sit down and discuss everything: Are the people at the facility still looking for you? Is there a chance they could find you here? Does anyone remember him anymore - would they recognize him? Is there anywhere else you could go?

There are endless questions and very few answers. Plenty of books and a projector with what seems like an endless supply of old movies and shows are great for entertainment, but suck at providing information about the current situation across your solar system.

So you work with the worst scenarios each time.

It doesn’t matter much because the outcome you agree on would likely be the same in any case - you can’t stay here forever.

Minghao seems as mournful about it as you feel but you can’t run away from the truth forever. Just because nobody should know about this and nobody bothered you here yet doesn’t mean it will never happen. Not to mention the other factors.

“I wanna see more,” Minghao admits quietly, his hands playing with yours to ease his anxiety, “I like it here. But I’m afraid I’ll feel trapped again if we stay.”

You nod. That’s true, of course. And you can understand his desire to see more - to learn more. It’s one of the things you have in common.

“Do you have anywhere you want to explore?” you ask, supportive as can be because he needs it. Because you want this too.

“Does your family have any other secret mansion?” he might be teasing, but you know he hopes you’ll say yes. It would make things much easier.

“No,” you sigh, then you smile, “So that means we’re completely free. If we have nowhere to go, we might as well go anywhere.”

He might’ve changed quite a bit, yet the soft glow of his happiness never did. He lets his body fall forward and curl against yours. You chuckle and wrap an arm around him.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“Me too,” you feel a flutter in your chest. It’s like you’re a child again, being told you’re going on a trip but the destination is a surprise. It’s like you’re back at the facility, before you knew any better, being told you’re going to work with a level 1 automaton but you won’t know which one until Monday. “Let’s do some research and get going?”

“Yeah,” he hums against your skin, “But only after one last night outside. I can’t leave before that.”

Now that’s a sentiment you can relate to.

#svt sci-fi collab #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #the8 scenarios #the8 x reader #the8 fluff #svt the8 #svt scenarios #svt fluff #svt imagines #minghao scenarios #minghao x reader #minghao fluff #angst #fluff

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gooselycharm · 9 months

Note

hi there! i'd just like to say that your kris and noelle "something else" comic has been driving me insane /pos and i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on those two!! their relationship is one of my favorite things in deltarune and your comic just got everything about them so right 🙏

thank you for reading "something else"! oh man, [more of] my thoughts on kris+noelle.... i sure got some of those.

this was one of the first tweets i made after finishing chapter 2 nearly... freaking 2 years ago. and basically i've just been saying that over and over again in different ways because i'm still not tired of the concept yet and probably wont ever be LOL. i'm obsessed with how badly the narrative wants to force them into an easily categorizable dynamic, especially the romantic one in snowgrave. the literal THORN RING, the more possessive dialogue options, spamton calling noelle a side chick LOL... it all creates this unnerving visual novel bad end atmosphere that feels manufactured by someone who's only ever learned about romance through secondhand sources. they're two queer teens trying to navigate their changing relationship with the only role models they know being their parents' own failed heterosexual marriages. they're so divorced² (divorced children of divorce).

i also like that for being so tragically doomed coded they can be funny! both in a dark humor way and also like, genuinely funny, like the stories of them as kids with kris covering themselves in ketchup and hiding under noelle's bed lmao. i mean there's even something funny about the romantic trappings of the snowgrave route, like trying to put wedding cake embellishments on a crime scene... you know, funny like kids trying on their parents clothes but they're too big and for some reason they're also crying and covered in blood? um.

i'm also SOOOO interested to see how snowgrave will continue in chapter 3! i really liked the hopeful note chapter 2 ended on (well. i took it as hopeful anyway). there's that bit where noelle is talking to herself and she says something like "recently kris has been acting so strange and no one else has noticed... i have to figure out why" and then kris jumpscares her LOL but i think i took that one line and really ran with it. noelle really is the one who knows kris best and despite how scared she is, she's still determined to help them... i like the little subversion of victim/hero going on, the implication that kris might be the one who needs rescuing.

the additional story/lore that came with the spamton sweepstakes made me CRAAAZYYYYY like my GOD... it's cute that noelle likes glitches/creepypasta when kris is kinda a walking creepypasta <3 also, god, noelle falling asleep listening to kris playing piano in the other room... there's so much like. wistfulness and nostalgia and this like... distant/detached intimacy packed into how noelle narrates that scene. it's kind of funny how much there is to dig into when like on a surface level they're just fairly regular childhood friends who grew apart LMAO they're extremely deep to me okay...

on another note i guess i do ship them? i like their dynamic whether it's platonic or romantic (the best is a weird mix of both 👍). it just can't be boring LOL like... this is one ship where trying to apply cookie cutter tropes to them really falls flat and the game is ahead of you on that anyway. in terms of romantically shipping them, i honestly don't think they're doomed to repeat patterns forever... i think they could actually be good for each other! but that's not really the aspect of their relationship that interests me akldjf;alk;sdg maybe i will make 60 page comic of kriselle going to couples counseling some other time

ANYWAY i'm going to cut myself off here, because i really could go on forever lol. i'll give you some links for further reading though

hellspawnmotel's deltarune art

lula pillowbug99's deltarune art

this art by raspbearis which features prominently in my internal kriselle bible

my own unfinished kriselle playlist

my own essay on gender & allegory in deltarune if for some reason u are not tired of hearing me talk yet

okay bye now & thanks again for reading my comic!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#deltarune #kriselle #im post #im really posting now. i be talking.

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ash5monster01 · 5 months

Text

You’ll Be Okay

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: self doubt, language, mentions of trauma, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of suicide

Summary: Charlie absolutely breaking down when you tell him you’re pregnant which is the complete opposite of the reaction you had expected.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: for my Charlie girlies, I know it’s been a while but hopefully this holds you over <3

Masterlist

The bundle of nerves in your stomach was becoming too much to bear. This was visible as you nervously bounced your leg in the waiting room of the doctors office. Everything was so white and your heart rate was starting to pick up. You weren’t normally a fan of doctors but you felt you had justified reasons for your visit. Considering you period was late, you woke up queasy every morning, and your emotions seemed to be heightened, so it gave you all the excuses in the world. It also made sense because you and Charlie had agreed to stop using protection a few months ago. You had discussed being ready for kids and not wanting to rush into pregnancy, so you stopped using protection, and prepared for it to happen when it happens.

“Take a breath” Chris whispered, the small baby boy held to her chest. You had called her the minute you put the context clues together and she agreed to accompany you since she had already been through this twice now.

“I know, I’m trying” you forced a smile, your hand instinctively moving to twist your wedding band around your finger. It was a habit you had picked up since it became a permanent part of yourself.

“Remember, you and Charlie are ready for this. You should be excited” her soft smile radiated towards you and you felt comforted by her the same way you did the day you met. Without Chris you never would’ve met her boyfriend, now husband Knox, and Knox would’ve never introduced you to your now husband Charlie.

“I am, it’s just scary to think about. I’m already so attached and maybe I’m not even pregnant” you voiced your fears, admiring how she cradled her 10 month old baby as her 2 year old girl slept against her side. She was a super Mom, taking it all in perfect strides, the same way she mastered everything. Where she thrived, you struggled, and you worried motherhood would be the same.

“A mother’s intuition is never wrong, and you are going to be a great one” Chris’ hand moved to cover your stomach and you felt butterflies erupt because everything in you believed that a tiny piece of life, that you and the man you loved created, was growing in there.

“Mrs. Dalton” you nearly jumped out of your seat as the doctor called your name and you quickly stood, following him to an exam room.

“Good luck” Chris called out after you.

“We’re gonna do a blood test and then an ultrasound to see if we can find anything” you nodded, trying to numb yourself to feeling because you didn’t want to be disappointed. You’d rather not be heartbroken if he told you, you weren’t pregnant. So you tried to lessen your hopes as you let them take the blood test.

You could’ve sworn your heart was about to bust out of your chest as he prepped you for the ultrasound. Too scared to find there was absolutely nothing in there. Your eyes flicked nervously across the small, fuzzy, black and white screen as you waited.

“Would you look at that” the doctors voice nearly stopped your heart as a small blob appeared on the screen. A small thumping sound filled the room and you felt tears begin to form behind your eyes. “Judging by the size and the heart beat you’re about 6 weeks along. Congratulations Momma”

“Are you serious?” the dam broke as tears flowed freely down your face and the doctor smiled.

“Very serious” you leaned over and hugged him, him taken aback as he let out a chuckle. You couldn’t wait to tell Chris as you quickly got yourself back together to rush out to the waiting room.

“Well, what did he say?” Chris jumped to her feet as you returned to the waiting room. You tried to keep your composure but as soon as she asked you began to cry again.

“I’m 6 weeks along” shock flooded Chris’ features as she heard this.

“Oh my, you’re having a baby!” she squealed before hugging you as tight as she could with her son in her arms.

“I can’t wait to tell Charlie!” you spoke as you pulled away, already excited to cook the two of you dinner and tell him the good news. After that you and Chris wasted no time getting back home so you could prepare to tell your husband.

You nearly burned the chicken cutlet about five times as you prepared it, bursting with excitement and anticipation of Charlie coming home. You were going to have a baby, you had wanted this for so long. It was the whole reason you had stopped using protection, you were ready. So when you heard the door knob turn you realized you wouldn’t be able to wait until dinner was served to share the news.

“Hey baby” Charlie smiled at you, abandoning the brief case at the door as he loosened his tie. You couldn’t help but smile wider at the name baby.

"Hey sweetheart, how was work?" you asked as he walked over, wrapping you up slowly in his arms as he began to kiss the side of your head.

"Long and tiring, I couldn't wait to come home and see you" Charlie had ended up a Bank Managaer despite his best efforts not too. You admired that he was able to strip the work away the minute he stepped into the home. He still read and wrote poetry and played the saxophone every once in a while. You admired that he made an effort to continue doing the things he loved. Life was about work, of course, but it was also about the good, enjoyable things.

"I've been dying to see you too" you told him, finally pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. He hummed in relief, as if the action just removed all of the stress from his entire day.

"You seem extra happy today, what's got you all smiley?" Charlie asked as he pulled back from the kiss, searching your eyes as he looked at you with adoration.

"I got some good news" you grinned and Charlie rose his eyebrows, curious as to what could have you with this wide a smile on your face.

"News? Well hit me with it sugar, don't leave a man hanging" he told you and you chcukled, excitment and nerves bubbling over as he continued to hold your waist.

"So me and Chris went to the Doctor today?" Charlie furrowed his eyebrows, confused that good news could come from a doctors visit instead of bad. "I wanted to get checked out.

"But you’ve been fine, you haven't even had a cold?" Charlie was still confused, unsure where any of this story could be going. He didn't need to worry and going to the doctor without telling him worried him.

"Not cold symptoms, but pregancy symptoms" you explained and suddenly all the color seemed to drain from his face.

"You're pregnant?" you nodded, the huge smile still painted perfectly on your face and he felt his heart begin to quicken. Suddenly his arms loosened their grip around you and he took a step back, the smile instantly falling from your face.

"Charlie? What’re you thinking?" you nervously asked as he backed to the dining room table and calmbered into a seat. He stayed silent, looking anywhere but your eyes, and suddenly you felt the tears begin to burn behind them. "We talked about this, you we're ready. We stopped using protection"

The tears started to fall and Charlie finally looked to you, a hand over his mouth as he sat there stunned. Yet between your tears you saw he had tears in his eyes as well. You wished you could read every thought going through his head as he looked at you, a broken look across his face.

"Charlie, tell me what's wrong?" you begged as you moved towards hm, grasping his hands in your own.

"I thought I was ready" he muttered, tears now falling down his cheeks as well. He shook his head, removing his hands to brush his tears away.

"So you don't want to do this?" you asked and he sighed heavily, his heart clenching from his thoughts.

"Of course I do, I just don't want to hurt our kid" it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Bending to your knees in front of him you grabbed his thighs, practically pleading with him to look at you.

"Baby, how could you ever hurt our kid?" you ask and he sighs, his fingers running through his hair, leaving it a mess compared to his perfectly combed look.

"We could make them feel trapped, like they don't have a future, they could decide to leave us" and then it hit you. Charlie was scared to raise a kid, do it wrong, and lose them exactly how he lost Neil.

"Charlie that could absolutely never happen. You are not Neil's father, in fact you are the furthest thing from it. I know I can trust that you will keep our childrens happiness before anything else" you tell him, trying to reassure him of this and he sighs, tears still staining his face as he lifts you up to sit in his lap.

"I know I'm just scared, I didn’t think it would happen this soon" he says and you smile as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

"We've been trying for month Char, I think we are just on time" you tell him and he nods against you, a hand reaching over to press against your stomach.

"There's really a baby in there?" he asks and you smile, happy this didn't mean he didn't care.

"Yeah, 6 weeks old. Only the size of a pea" you tell him, a hand running through his already disheveled hair.

"If it's a boy can we name him Neil?" Charlie asks and you smile, brushing your own tears away.

"Of course baby" you tell him and he finally lifts his head from your chest to look at you.

"And if it's a girl, can we name her Nuwanda?" you laughed at this question, head tipping back in amusement, unsurprised that he said it. He was still the same guy you fell in love with.

"Absolutley not, but I don't hate Wanda" you tell him, your hand tucking under his chin to lift his head and look at you.

"Wanda is perfect" he said before leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. You smiled as he kissed you hard and good, more than likely trying to erase the mess he just made. He knew he should've been excited but the fear was suffocating the minute he heard the word pregnancy.

"I promise you'll be a good father Charlie, I just know it" Charlie smiles softly, holding his girl that was carrying his baby. The baby he would make sure didn’t grow up with the same fears of life like he did. Like Neil did. The exact fears that killed him.

"I'm going to do everything I can to gurantee that"

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gmbencompetence · 2 years

Text

Arcana Fans,

Can we talk about the Tarot Decks? The Arcana Tarot Decks. I’m proud of them. It also ends in a painful memory. They are, all in all, the high and low of my time at Nix Hydra

In short: I’m one of the main people that made Arcana Tarot Decks a reality.

My job was answering emails, monitoring the Arcana social media tags, and generally having my finger on the pulse of the community. I knew that, by a wide margin, Tarot Decks were the biggest request. My coworker (who shall remain nameless for their privacy) was part of the team that made the Arcana and knew how much Tarot resonated with fans. This co-worker and I fought for about 1-1.5 years getting them greenlit.

In all honesty, they were a completely audacious idea. Nix Hydra didn’t make much money from merchandise. Maybe $100 a month. The cost of an *initial* run of Arcana Tarot Decks would take something like $25,000 to get going. This is because of creating the art, securing people to help package/ship them, actual costs of packaging/shipping itself, and more. Also, my partner on the project was very insistent that we work with a company that produced them at an extremely high quality with gold trim edges. Gold trim edges was important (they were right).

So, the Nix Hydra merch store made less than $200 a month, and my coworker and I were trying to pitch something that would COST $25,000~ to get started. If it made $25,000 back, that’s still a waste of time because it means we would have made the same money just skipping the whole thing.

This next part is fuzzy, but if I remember right, we tested the waters with stickers. We stocked Arcana stickers to see how quickly they sold. They sold fast. Like… fast. This was good. It was our test case to at least prove that “People want Arcana Merch”. It heated the iron, and my coworker and I struck. We got the approval!

So here’s the most nerve wracking moment of my career here. I’ve been in the game industry 12 years, but I’ve never run a merchandise store Nix Hydra. Even after that, I sent out a few sticker sheets every month. Forget about convincing a company to invest $25,000~ into my mad idea. And then… if they DID sell. What, then!? I always have a lot of anxiety, and I kept thinking of ways it could go wrong. What if I broke some international shipping law? What if I did the math wrong and operated at a loss? What if the site charged people the wrong amount? I KNEW the Tarot Decks would sell, but that was scary, too!

The day came that we flipped the switch. I was so excited. I was so excited! I was so… scared. At this point, all that was left was to see if we could make above the starting amount…

We made about $200,000 in the first 24 hours. Now, this was 3-4 years ago, so I may be SIGNIFICANTLY off. But my point is that we made six digits very quickly. By this same time tomorrow, this went from “Gunpowder and Coworker’s brassy, sassy idea” to “Merch is a hit! What’s next?”

Over the next few months and weeks, we had a joyful hectic hell of the best anxiety. Problems would come up. We’d knock them down. We’d run out of storage space in the office and it would look almost comical. We’d have truckloads of shipment issues. I soon found out that simply taking the packages to the post office was its own complicated project. All of this expanded into hiring people to help with merch. These people were extremely passionate about The Arcana and began to be advocates for what merch to add next. I could gush about how amazing they are for hours, but for privacy’s sake, I’m refraining from saying much about my coworkers.

So like that, we went from “Merch doesn’t sell” to “We need a merch department” in a few months. By the time I left the company, the CEO (you’ve seen his name around) projected the Merch alone to be a $1M a year revenue stream. I don’t know if we ever hit that goal. My point was that he felt it was possible, which made me happy.

… which brings me to how the story ends painfully. I have moderate ADHD. I personally think it’s severe, but my doctor says moderate, so hey. I tend to fall behind on assignments a lot. I also tend to get distracted super easily. It can ruffle feathers in a work environment. I did not realize how much. See, this project was in full swing, my work was going well, and I had also designed all the gameplay of Heart Hunter (that was me! I’ll write a post on that later). I felt good about all of this. I had a meeting with the CEO and was going to ask him for a raise.

“[Name], just so you know, I sometimes sit and my desk and go over the pros and cons of letting you go.” He said it conversationally. It was casual to him. My stomach fell out. I asked him why, and it turned out that he was being very, very literal.

See, he made a pros and cons list of every thing he likes about me and every thing that he doesn’t. I’ll spare you the whole list, but in the Cons side was “Doesn’t focus on work all 8 hours of the day”. I was flabbergasted and told him “But… I do a lot of projects. And YOU said the merch store is estimated at $1M a year!” At this point, it is extremely important to note that nothing about the merch store was in my job description besides “Ship stickers and answer emails”. Literally everything I mentioned above were things I did in my spare time without being asked. Out of love for the company.

“Yes, I agree that you’re very passionate and creative. See, I put that on the list!”

He points to the Pros and Cons list. “passionate and creative” is cancelled out by “doesn’t focus all 8 hours of the day”. It was a tie. The project I co-led started a whole new department and seven-digit (estimated) revenue… it wasn’t even the only one I did (Heart Hunter was also a side project, albeit one I was assigned). And all of that, in his mind, was cancelled out by “doesn’t work all 8 hours a day”.

I never got a raise. I never got a bonus. I never even got job security. None of it mattered to him.

I started looking for a job the next day.

—-

There’s more to the story, but I think this is the main point. This is the best and worst of Nix Hydra. It was a place where people like my coworker and I would make extra time to work on new things simply because we believed in our work that much. Where players joyfully supported our work because it resonated with them. Where new employees would be so passionate about their work that they would keep an entire department afloat on their own fantastic ideas. It was also a place where none of this could even amount to job security or recognition. It was frustrating, and it was joyful.

I meant every single smile at a public event. So did every member of the team that was there. It was never “just PR”; it was people who were over the moon to get to help create these stories and worlds and moments. We loved it. But management never loved us back. And that stung.

Thank you, every single person who posted their tarot decks. Who put them into your cosplays. Who did readings.

Thank you everyone who posted your Heart Hunter moments. Who shared the postcards I fought tooth and nail to see in the game (It was SO difficult to convince some people that “postcards would be the type of reward players want”).

My entire life, I’ve had joyful moments in games and game communities. My lifelong dream was to help make those moments come alive for others. When you all celebrated this game and those aspects of it, that was very genuinely a lifelong dream come true.

Thank you for reading this. And also The Arcana.

#arcana #the arcana #nix Hydra

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for essentially making my friends be people's therapists?

(TW for discussion of suicide and self harm, nothing explicit)

This happened many years ago, when my friends and I were 13/14 and this went on for about a year. I had started a public discord server and, seeing how other public discord servers were functioning at the time, I added a vent channel. In retrospect, I have absolutely no idea why these exist in public servers, it's so clearly a recipe for disaster, but I digress. I only added it because I saw so many other public discords have a vent channel and I assumed it would be an outlet for people to vent out their simple frustrations of the day, nothing more than that.

Anyways, it was fine for a while but as our server grew in numbers, we started getting some members who would frequent the vent channel with very serious things. There are two who stand out to me in particular because of the amount of, well, emotional labor we had to do for them. My friends were moderators of the server (I had asked them when it started if they would like to be mods and they had agreed to this, and they were always free to step down, which some did) and so we liked to make sure our members were happy and okay so a lot of us tried to respond and help people in the vent channel, especially if it was something serious. Here's where the problem comes in.

There were many, many times we had to essentially try to talk down different members from suicide and self harm. We always had online resources for suicide/self harm help pinned in the channel, and we always urged people to seek them out but some people refused to use them or just ignored them. They would vent in the channel and say something drastic and we would rush to try and talk to them, to make sure they didn't do anything irreversible. It got to the point where we considered calling the police for one of them, but the person eventually said they were okay and we dropped it. We often stayed up late (I remember one night staying up until 1 am trying to help people with 3 of my friends) and sometimes we had to drop everything we were doing to try and help.

I understand now that that wasn't really our responsibility to help these people and we were absolutely not qualified, but in the moment we were just scared teens trying to do our best. The part where I'm worried I'm TA is that I'm definitely the one who created this situation by making the server's vent channel in the first place, and not taking it down at any point during all of that (it has since been deleted but the server is effectively shut down) even though I could clearly see the toll it was taking on my friends and I (I didn't keep it up for malicious intent I just didn't want to take that potential outlet away from people). Also, I worry we hurt these people more than helped them since we were just random middle schoolers trying to give mental health counseling to Internet strangers.

I've talked to my friends about it since then and we've all just agreed that it's something that happened we can't change now, and we should just move on, but I'm still unsure about the situation since my perspective is too entrenched in bias on whether or not this is all my fault.

So, AITA for creating the situation in the first place and letting it continue?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #self harm cw #suicide cw

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sequinsmile-x · 2 months

Text

300 - Part 2 - Emily & Aaron

Emily, Aaron and their love as observed by their friends.

AKA - the five times the team see them love each other, and the one time they don't even try to hide it.

My 300th Hotchniss fic

Part 2/2

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so much for the love on Part 1 - it genuinely means the world to me. I would write you all 1000 Hotchniss fics (and lets be real i'm 1/3 of the way there).

As ever your support means the world to me, and I hope you like this part 2 of our idiots just being hopelessly, completely in love with each other.

-x-

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron & Emily

She wakes up slowly, her senses kicking in one by one as she blearily blinks and groans, pressing her face into Aaron’s chest as she snuggles deeper into his embrace. He chuckles against her hairline and runs his hand up and down her back, his palm sneaking under her t-shirt, his t-shirt, to press his skin against hers.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice gravelly, thick with sleep. She loved his voice in the morning, loved that it was somehow deeper than normal, that it was something just for her. She hums and tilts her head to look up at him, her eyes meeting his through heavy eyelids as she places her hand on his cheek and drags him in for a kiss.

“Morning,” she mutters against his lips, kissing him again, “What time is it?”

He looks at his watch and fights a yawn as he places his hand on her back again, “Almost 8 am.”

She groans and presses her face into his neck, untangling her leg from between his to hook it over his hip so she can get closer, “Before you, I used to sleep in,” she grumbles, kissing his jaw, “I just had to fall in love with a morning person.”

He suppresses a laugh, well aware from experience that even in a half-asleep state she’d be mad at him if she thought he was making fun of her, “It’s worth it though, right?”

She hums and nods against him, tilting her head back to look at him. She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling to herself when it flops back into position, “Totally worth it.”

They’d been together for just over a year and she struggled to remember how it felt to live without love like this. It was all-encompassing, the kind of thing she’d only ever read about before him, what she’d once believed only existed in romance novels she’d indulge in when on vacation. He and Jack were everything. Her Hotchner boys filling gaps in her chest she hadn’t known existed, all three of them helping each other heal from the things they had been through. She loved them so much that it scared her at times, her happiness so reliant on them that she worried about them constantly, anything as small as a scratch on either of them enough to make her panic.

It was a price worth paying, she thought. The love, joy and happiness far outweighing the pain that inevitably came with loving someone.

“Good to know,” he replies wryly, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

She smiles softly at him, resting her head on his shoulder as she yawns. He starts to run his hand up and down her back again and she knows if he carries on she’ll fall asleep, “Can we just stay here all day? For someone who has moved as often as I have, I’m exhausted.”

He’d asked her to move in with him months ago, not too long after they told the team about them, but after a long discussion, they’d decided to find somewhere new. To buy a house for them and Jack and whoever may come along in the future. To create a home that neither of them had been a part of in a long time, or in her case - ever. It had taken a long time to find somewhere that felt perfect for them, somewhere that they could see themselves spending the rest of their lives.

They’d only just moved in a few weeks ago, the last of the boxes from their old places now in the house. They were slowly unpacking. Their bedroom and Jack’s were sorted, as were the kitchen and the living room, but the dining table still hadn’t been delivered, the home office was just full of boxes. She knew they had to finish unpacking, but she wanted to leave it for a day and spend some time relaxing with her boyfriend.

He looks down at her, and he blows out a slow breath, making sure to school his features before she looks at him, “Actually, sweetheart, I have to go into the office for a little bit this afternoon.”

She scoffs and shifts to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh, why?”

He pushes some of her hair from her forehead, “Strauss.”

She rolls her eyes and rests her head back on his shoulder, “Well what am I supposed to do?” She asks, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “You’ll be at work, Jack is with Jess. I’ll be here all by myself.”

She used to treasure her alone time, used to pride herself on the fact she was good at being alone, but she couldn’t be anymore. Even though they’d only just officially moved in together she couldn’t remember the last time she spent a night apart from him. She didn’t like being alone anymore, it was too quiet when Aaron wasn’t next to her, tapping his fingers on her thigh as he read a case file, or when she couldn’t hear Jack’s cartoons from the next room when she was in the kitchen.

He smiles, pressing his thumb to the slight pout of her lower lip, “Why don’t you call JJ? See if she’s free.”

She hums and nods, “Yeah, I’ll do that. Will is working today so she’ll be free,” she smiles, kissing his thumb, “I can get in some Henry cuddles,” she kisses his thumb again, “You’ll come home as soon as you can though?”

He nods and leans in to kiss her, his smile pressed against her lips, “I’ll always come straight home to you.” ___

Aaron

He feels the nerves bubbling in his chest as soon as he steps into the bullpen.

He gives himself a moment to himself, knowing it will be the last one he has all day, before he pushes open the glass door and smiles as his friends look up.

“I’d about time you showed up,” Dave grumbles, raising his eyebrow at him as he places a box of candles down on Emily’s desk, “You’re the one proposing and you’re the last one here.”

Aaron can’t help but smile, the ring box in his pocket suddenly seeming slightly heavier as he thinks about it. He’d had this planned for weeks, every detail something he’d agonised over, second guessing himself over whether he’d made the right decision in how he was going to ask Emily to marry him. They’d discussed marriage, so she knew it was coming at some point, but he still wanted to surprise her. It’s why he’d got the team involved, his uncharacteristic request for help with something personal had piqued their interest immediately. Penelope had been close to giddy, so excited he’d had to ask her to calm down so Emily didn’t hear her.

“We were running a little late this morning,” he says, “JJ said she’d keep Emily busy for as long as we needed her to.”

“How come JJ gets to go shopping as part of this,” Derek says, raising his eyebrow as he tilts his head towards the box of rose petals he had on his desk, “And I’m on rose petal duty?”

Dave rolls his eyes, “Because it wouldn’t be believable if you asked her to go to the mall with you, Morgan.”

Derek sticks his tongue out at him and Penelope scoffs, a clipboard in her hand with a to-do list she had printed out herself, “We don’t have time for you to act like children,” she says, shaking her head, “Rossi - candles, Derek - rose petals.”

“What am I here for?” Spencer asks, putting his hand up, his lips pressed together, his amusement slowly fading as Penelope glares at him.

“To help where it’s needed, genius,” she replies, looking back and forth between her list and the rest of them, “Well come on. We don’t have forever and I won’t let you ruin this for me.”

Aaron clears his throat and raises his eyebrow at her, “Garcia, I think you mean you won’t let them ruin this for me and Emily?”

She waves at him dismissively, “That too,” she says, “Now you just need to go to your office and set it up.”

He suppresses a smile and nods, catching Dave’s eye as he salutes her, “Yes ma’am.”

He walks up to his office, the din of the team's conversation fading away as he closes the door behind him, taking a breath to centre himself as soon as he is alone.

This was the place where he’d met Emily, where their paths had crossed and their lives had started to intertwine in a way he never could have anticipated. He’d been attracted to her immediately, her beauty undeniable even then. He never could have known that he’d one day know her as he did, that he’d know she had a patch of freckles on her shoulder that bloomed every summer, or that her skin always smelt faintly of vanilla. That her embrace was one of the few places he’d one day find safety. Home a place he found somewhere between her collarbone and her shoulder.

He wished he could have been nicer to her when they first met, that he could go back and tell himself he was talking to the woman who would end up being the love of his life, but he knew everything happened as it should have. That they could never trust each other as much as they did now without that initial distrust and what it had led them to, a flight to Milwaukee just the two of them forging a friendship that would one day turn into so much more.

She always said that he liked to rewrite their history, that he liked to underplay just how little he trusted her at first, but it was true. He’d been attracted to her the moment they met. Her smile and firm handshake, the way her eyes sparkled in a way he now knew covered the trauma she’d just been through in a job that wasn’t on her official record, had drawn him in. Like a moth to a flame as his marriage crumbled around him, the very thought of Emily enough to make him angry at himself. Pouring gasoline on the flame of guilt that climbed up his throat during every disagreement with Haley, something that had only got worse as time went on.

When he met Emily he never could have known how important she’d come to be to him, how integral to his and his sons’ lives she’d become, and now he couldn’t imagine life without her. She’d helped put him back together, something she seemingly never tired of, picking up the pieces again and again when old demons came out of the shadows. He did the same for her, being the strength she needed when it all seemed too much. It was something he felt privileged to do, to be the person she let past the barriers she had built around herself long before they had ever met.

He was excited to spend the rest of his life with her, to make the house they’d just moved into a home. To raise Jack and hopefully a couple more kids with her. To kiss her every morning, to let her know that she was loved every day. Even though they’d talked about marriage, and he knew it was something they both wanted, he could still feel nerves rolling through his gut. Excitement at the prospect of forever with her fizzing under his skin.

He smiles to himself as he approaches his desk and he pulls the ring box out of his pocket and places it down, his fingers lingering on the velvet.

This is where he met her, and it was where he’d ask her to spend the rest of her life with him.

___

Emily

“Aunt Emily!”

She turns at the sound of Henry’s voice and she smiles, opening her arms and crouching down as the 5-year-old races towards her, leaving JJ behind. She scoops him up into her arms and rests him on her hip, pressing a kiss to his head as he wraps his arms around her neck.

“Hi buddy,” she says, kissing his head again and chuckling as JJ finally makes it to their side, “You already wearing Mommy out?”

“He sure is,” JJ says, placing her hand on Henry’s head for a moment, ruffling his hair, “You know not to run away from Mommy.”

He shrugs and leans in further to Emily, “But I saw Aunt Emmy.”

Emily and JJ exchange a quick smile and she tilts her head to look at the little boy in her arms, “I would have waited, honey. No need to run,” she says, adjusting her hold on him slightly as she looks back at her friend, “So, what stores did you need to go to?”

Something close to panic flashes through JJ’s eyes only for a second, her smile tight as she shrugs, “Oh, nowhere in particular,” she says, “Did you need to go somewhere?”

Emily narrows her eyes slightly, and almost reminds her friend that she was the one who said she needed to go to the mall, and that she was only tagging along because she was home alone, but she lets it slide. She clears her throat and shrugs, turning her attention to Henry, bouncing him in her embrace.

“Well, I promised Jack some new Legos, so do you want to help me pick some out?”

Henry’s face lights up and he nods enthusiastically, “Legos!”

JJ laughs and starts leading the way, “The Lego store it is.”

Henry convinces her that Jack needs two new Lego sets and she can’t help but shake her head at herself as she pays. She was a pushover when it came to Henry and Jack, and she knew she would be for her future children too. It was something Aaron always gently made fun of her for, a loving smile on his face as he said he would have to be the disciplinarian at work and at home, as if he wasn’t also wrapped around Jack’s finger. It would always warm her from the inside out when she thought about their future, the future she would have once thought was nothing but a fantasy bright and real right in front of her.

When she was in Paris, dead to almost everyone, a life like this had seemed impossible to consider. A fantasy she’d run through every night to chase her nightmares away as she lay in bed and tried to sleep. She already knew she loved Aaron by that point, feelings she could no longer deny bursting free from where she’d buried them deep in her chest at the thought of never seeing him again. Even when she came home she had thought it would never happen, that she was simply too damaged to be with him. He’d been hurt so much already and she didn’t want to add to that, didn’t want her scars to stick to his, pulling them into each other in a way that was unhealthy.

The first time they kissed it was like the world had restarted, even though she wasn’t aware it had stopped. Everything shifted in a moment, all the things she had once believed she would never get to experience suddenly within reach. They made each other better, loved every single thing about each other, especially the broken parts, and every day she woke up hoping to make him feel even half as loved as he made her feel. It was a privilege to be loved by him, to love him back, and she would happily go through everything all over again just to make it right to this point.

“Do you want to go and get something to eat?” JJ asks after they’ve been wandering around for a while, Henry’s hand firmly in Emily’s and she feels her stomach roll at the thought and she shakes her head.

“I’m okay,” she replies, turning her nose up at the mere idea of the smell of the food court, “You two can go get something to eat if you want,” she says, checking her watch, “Aaron will probably be on the way home soon anyway, so I could just head-”

“No,” JJ says, cutting over her as she checks her own watch, “It was just an idea I’m not hungry,” she adds before blowing out a breath, “Why don’t we just do a little more shopping? Surely you need some things for the house?”

Emily narrows her eyes at her friend but nods, “Okay, sure. We still need some things for the dining room.”

“Perfect,” JJ says, smiling as she nods in the direction of the home goods store, “Let's go.”

She looks down at Henry as they follow JJ, “Your Mommy is in a weird mood today, honey.”

Later, when she looked back on it she’d realise just how many signs she missed, JJ’s slightly odd behaviour suddenly making sense, but she willingly follows her friend around the mall.

And she doesn’t question when JJ suggests they drop by the office, she simply nods and agrees, excited at the prospect of seeing Aaron.

___

Aaron & Emily

She can tell something is different the moment she gets into the office. The usual hustle and bustle that she’d feel here, even on a weekend, is missing. It feels almost peaceful, calm in a way that makes her curious.

She stops on the spot the moment the bullpen is in view. There are no lights on, but there are candles everywhere, leading from the glass doors, past her desk and up the stairs, to Aaron’s office a path laid with rose petals that makes her breath catch in her chest. She knows what is happening, her stomach flipping as she blows out a shaky breath, tears already pressing at the back of her eyes. She looks up at Aaron’s office, the open door a calling card she can’t ignore, and she’s moving before she can think about it, as if her body was pulled towards him.

She places her hand over her mouth as she steps into his office, a sob catching on every rib as she tries to force it down. There were more candles, more rose petals, and most importantly - him. He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a suit he hadn’t been wearing when he left home earlier that afternoon, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, his voice shaking a little. He wasn’t nervous anymore, not now he was looking at her, but he was overwhelmed, almost bowled over by his love for her.

“Hi,” she gasps, her hand landing on her chest as she looks around, shaking her head slightly, “Now I see why JJ told me to go ahead when we got here.”

He chuckles and nods, “The others are all here too,” he says, his smile widening when her mouth falls open slightly, “They are in the conference room waiting. I think Dave locked them in so Penelope wouldn’t come rushing out here.”

She chuckles but it’s wet, catching on to the built-up emotion in her chest, “Well,” she says, wiping a tear from her lashline as it falls, “We better not keep them waiting.”

He steps towards her and kneels on the ground, his hand reaching out for hers. She sucks in a breath, desperate to stop herself from crying, but she knows it’s useless, that she was a lost cause the moment she stepped into his office.

“Emily, sweetheart,” he says, clearing his throat to steady his voice, increasing his grip on her hand, “This is the place that we met. And, no matter how much I wish I could say I was polite to you that day,” he says, and both of them chuckle, “I wouldn’t change anything. Because otherwise we might not be here, and that seems like an impossible thought. You’ve changed me for the better, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, happier than I thought I deserved.”

She shushes him, shaking her head at the self-depreciation, “You deserve everything.”

He kisses her knuckles before he carries on, pressing his love directly onto her skin, “I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me,” he says, briefly letting go of her hand to pull the ring box out of his pocket. She gasps as he opens it, the ring exactly what she would have chosen for herself, a pear-shaped diamond set back into the band, something she could wear at work without worrying about it catching on something, “Emily, will you marry me?”

She’s nodding before he’s even finished asking the question, her answer coming out as a sob, “Yes. Of course, I will.”

He slips the ring onto her finger and she doesn’t give him the chance to even try to stand up, already kneeling down in front of him as she presses a fierce kiss to his lips, her arms tight around the back of his neck. She pulls back from the kiss and hugs him tightly, an embrace he returns with just as much love, and she buries her face in his neck.

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, her words muffled against his skin. He turns his head to kiss her, his lips catching her ear and he runs his hand up and down her back.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again, “I love you so much.”

She chokes on a sob as she pulls back, taking a moment to look at her hand, to get used to the weight of the ring, the feel of the metal against her skin, and then she looks around the room, shaking her head at him, “You did all of this for me?”

He cups her cheek and makes her look at him, his smile soft and his eyes shining as they meet hers, “I’d do anything for you,” he replies, leaning forward and stamping his lips against hers, “It wasn’t too much was it?”

She shakes her head and runs her fingers through his hair, “It was perfect,” she says, scratching at his scalp, “So perfect,” she kisses him, resting her forehead against his as she pulls away, “Thank you for asking me.”

He smiles and rubs his nose against hers, taking a moment to breathe her in, to enjoy this moment of the two of them alone, kneeling on the floor of his office, before they went to see their friends a few rooms down the hall to celebrate.

“Thank you for saying yes.”

She hums and pulls back to look at him, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “There was never any other answer.”

They stay kneeling like that for a while, huddled together on the floor as they exchange kisses and ‘I love yous’, lost in their own world. Eventually, he pulls back from her, standing up and purposely ignoring the mischievous tint to her smile when his knees pop. He offers her a hand and helps her up.

“As much as I would love to stay in here all night,” he says, wrapping his arm around her waist, “I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough. Penelope’s excitement is probably outshining Jack’s.”

“Jack is here?” She asks excitedly, looking forward to seeing the little boy.

Aaron nods and places his hand on the small of her back, a space that seemed to have been carved out perfectly to fit his palm, “Who do you think helped me pick out the ring?”

She presses her lips together in a failed attempt to stop herself from smiling, her cheeks aching with happiness as she shakes her head at him, “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

He shrugs playfully, “It’s come up,” he stamps a kiss against her lips and links his hand through hers, ready to lead her towards the conference room, “Come on, Dave bought the best champagne money can buy.”

She bites her lip and stays still, tugging on his arm as he tries to walk away. Nervous excitement bubbles in her chest, and whilst this hadn’t been the way she’d planned to tell him, she knew it was the perfect way.

“I can’t have any champagne,” she says coyly, her eyes fixed on his as he furrows his brow, “Not for the next several months.”

His eyes go wide as it clicks into place, and the laugh that escapes him is full of wonder and joy. He scoops her up into his arms, holding her so tightly her feet leave the ground.

When the rest of the team hears the joyful laughter from a few rooms down the hall, they pop the champagne, all pleased with their involvement in what they assume their friends are celebrating.

-x-

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yuujispinkhair · 2 years

Text

Under the Killing Moon

Pairing: Vampire!Yuuji x Vampire-Hunter!Reader (female) Genre: smut, horror, urban fantasy, Vampire AU Word Count: 5k Playlist: Vampire Warnings: 18+, dark themes, smut, blood, Yuuji bites reader's neck and breasts, general mention of death and killing as it is common in vampire stories, creampie, sex-magic kind of, Yuuji's spit and cum are an aphrodisiac, multiple orgasms, sex while flying. The story gets dark towards the end, kidnapping, yandere!Reader, dub-con. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

This is part of my Halloween Special

In starlit nights I saw you So cruelly you kissed me Your lips a magic world Your sky all hung with jewels

The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen You stumble out of the backdoor of the club and into the dimly lit back alley, swaying precariously on the high heels of your leather boots. You giggle as you put a hand against the brick wall to steady yourself.

Everyone who might see you will come to the same conclusion: You are a girl who had a few drinks too much. A slutty thing in a skimpy little outfit who went to this club to dance and drink and find a one-night stand.

But it's all just for show. You aren't really drunk. You aren't a girl who went to a club to have a fun night.

The truth is, you are working tonight, and all your senses are sharpened, ready for the kill. Because that's what you get paid for. Ridding the city of the bloodsucking abnormities that haunt its streets at night.

Tokyo Supernatural Crime Department – Grade 1 Vampire Hunter

That's what it says on your official badge.

Some colleagues are older than you or stronger but still stuck in grades 2 or 3. You know why. They aren't as passionate about this job as you are. They are too careful. Too scared to get close to those monsters.

But not you. You know how to find them in the moonlit parks, in the shiny clubs and bars, and in the dark back alleys. You aren't scared to get close to them. On the contrary. Because you have your special way of hunting them.

The huntress poses as the prey. That's what always works. And you know how to play the perfect victim.

It's the most delicious role reversal. You are pretty proud of the deception you created. Luring the creatures, who are supposed to be the biggest lure themselves, to you.

They get weak for you, driven by the desire for a young woman's blood. You are a bait so good it can't be ignored.

A helpless girl, all alone, tipsy, a bit naive, careless. Flimsy clothes, a short skirt, and fishnet tights, with a tiny corset top that exposes your neck and pushes your tits up so temptingly that they almost spill out of the slutty piece of clothing.

You are a walking temptation. The perfect trap. You just have to find the right spot. Tonight you are lucky on the first try.

Your mouth lifts in an excited smile when you hear the soft voice behind you.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, cutie."

A shiver runs down your spine. His voice sounds beautiful. Their voices always do. Velvety and warm like a lover's caress. Seductive without even trying.

He sounds strained, though. Like something is worrying him.

You turn around, putting on the best startled expression you can do. Wide innocent eyes, mouth opening in a gasp as you bring a shaking hand to your lips and the other to your chest, where your heart is beating wildly as the rush of the upcoming hunt washes over you.

Your gaze lands on a tall, muscular figure with pastel pink hair and a face so pretty it is to die for.

Yes, he is one of them. And what a lovely specimen he is!

Of course, they are all gorgeous. But he is of extraordinary beauty. Even if he tried, he could never pass as a human. He is too pretty, too perfect. Otherworldly.

His face is so beautiful that you want to weep. You can't tell how old he is, of course. He will forever look like a young man in his early twenties. But if he is one of the old ones of his species, you are sure the humans who lived a thousand years ago must have built ancient shrines for him where they worshipped his beauty and sacrificed people in his name.

High cheekbones, perfectly shaped nose, and full lips. You can see the tips of his fangs peeking out, glistening like pearls in the dimly lit back alley.

His flawless tan skin seems to glow as if illuminated by some light from the inside. His eyes are an unnatural shade of gold. Shining like a full moon hanging in the night sky above the city.

He is tall, and his body is adorned with gorgeous buff muscles. A body like a god. You can see that much even through the clothes he's wearing. All in black, tight jeans and a tight long-sleeve shirt. Strong and deadly. A body made for hunting, for killing, for preying on humans and drinking their blood.

Your heart is racing under your hand that's pressing against your breasts. You know he can hear it. Can hear the tempting thrum of your pulse. Can hear the rushing of your blood through your veins.

You blink at him as if confused, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Just a dumb little girl. An easy prey.

"Ah! You scared me! Are you here to get a bit of fresh air too? It was too hot in the club. I danced too much, I think. And the drinks made me dizzy...hehe. I think I'm a bit tipsy."

You giggle and wipe your forehead, smiling at him and cocking your head, exposing more of your neck to him.

You can see his golden eyes dart to your pulse point. He licks his lips unconsciously, showing more of his fangs. They are long! He must have an enormous bite force.

The thought sends a spark of excitement through you. Adrenaline and arousal mixing in a delicious concoction.

His gaze meets yours. Wide-eyed and full of regret. You frown inwardly. What's wrong with that creature? Why isn't he happy to see such a perfect prey?

"Y... You shouldn't be here. No one should be here...I was just looking for rats. I don't want to do this!"

Oh. Now you understand. Your smile becomes bigger.

He's one of those vampires. How cute.

You have never met one before, but you heard tales about them. Vampires who don't want to feast on humans. Vampires who are at war with their natural instincts. They only hunt animals, feeding off them as if it could give them the same elation human blood does.

You know it's stupid. When it comes down to it, they can't suppress their hunger for human blood. They are made for this. It's their ultimate desire, their drug, their life elixir.

You take his words as a personal challenge.

Oh, sweet little vampire boy, you don't want to drink my blood? We will see about that.

And so you take a step towards him, swaying slightly, playing the drunk girl perfectly.

"Why shouldn't I be here? Is it a private area? Oops, I'm so stupid sometimes."

You giggle dumbly as you reach out to tap a playful finger against his broad chest, feeling the firm muscles through the thin black fabric of his shirt.

His eyes widen even more.

You smile sweetly at him before spinning around on one foot, letting your short skirt fly up to expose more of your thighs as if you're doing a little drunk dance, humming a song you heard in the club. One of those old gothic rock anthems.

You stop with your back to him, making it easier for the confused vampire. Maybe it will help him if he doesn't have to look into his victim's eyes. And then you sigh loudly and crane your neck, showing off all your exposed skin, bringing up a hand to fan yourself, letting the soft breeze carry your scent over to him. You always use a special homemade perfume on hunting nights. A mixture that includes a few drops of your blood.

You can hear his low growl. Can hear the moment his resolve breaks.

And you smirk to yourself, waiting for the moment he will attack. Your hand is already hovering over the hidden pocket in your corset where you keep the handkerchief drenched in holy water. Just in case he is too wild.

You hope this one will be fun, though. You don't like it when they are too vicious, and you have to kill them immediately before the fun even starts.

Because you aren't just here for the kill. If you are honest, you haven't been doing this job for the kill in months.

It was what made you initially sign up, sure. You wanted to drive a stake into those vile creatures' hearts and watch them crumble to ashes. You wanted to be a hero for humankind. Wanted to protect your species from its natural enemy.

But then, one night, one of them got too close to you and managed to sink his canines into your neck. You killed him but only after experiencing the most exquisite feeling of elation. Vampire saliva should be labeled a drug. You felt high in those seconds, body brimming with pleasure, closer to heaven than you ever thought possible.

After discovering this nice side effect of your job, you haven't been doing it for the kill anymore but for this special thrill. The most exquisite drug that exists in this world.

You draw in a sharp breath when you feel the vampire appear behind you. So fast as if he didn't even walk but instead manifested out of thin air.

His low, seductive voice sounds full of regret,

"It's because it's dangerous out here. I am dangerous."

You feel his breath on your neck. And before you can say anything, a strong hand clamps over your mouth and his voice is in your ear again, low and sweet and sad but also so horny for your blood.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart. I don't want this, but I'm so hungry. Please just let me take a little bite, ok? I promise I'll be careful and I will let you go afterwards. Please don't struggle. I don't want to hurt you, sweetie. Just let me get a little taste."

His firm body is pressing against your back, all solid muscles and supernatural strength. And horny desire. You can feel how hard he is. Just the thrum of your heartbeat and the smell of your skin and blood drives him crazy with lust.

You push your ass against his erection, feeling your eyes fall shut at the delicious friction. He is big. Big fangs and a big cock. So perfect for you.

And then his mouth opens against your neck. His sharp canines graze over your skin, making your body jerk with anticipation and arousal. You are so wet, pussy throbbing with excitement, creaming your panties at the prospect of getting bitten by that beautiful monster.

It's those short moments right before the bite that send the biggest thrill through you. This mix of fear and arousal. Waiting for that predatory creature to sink his teeth into you.

You lean against him, reaching behind you to let a hand run over his undercut and then tangle in his pretty pink hair. Your pulse is racing, making you feel lightheaded, and you moan softly,

"What is your name?"

"Yuuji..."

"Bite me, Yuuji. Drink from me. Tell me how sweet my blood tastes."

It's enough to make him lose his last bit of restraint. You hear his strangled moan, and then his long pointy fangs pierce through your skin, making you gasp loudly as a sharp pain explodes on your neck.

Your body jerks automatically as your survival instincts try to make you run. But Yuuji's arms are around you, holding you in place, restraining you effortlessly.

And then his vampire spit is working its black magic. The initial pain of the bite disappears and gets replaced by pleasure, making you relax in his strong arms and lean against his tall body, offering yourself willingly to him.

It's evil. Nature's abomination. A creature that's so perfect for preying on humans. Everything about the vampire is attractive to humans. They are beautiful. They are sexy. They exist to lure a human in. And their bite makes you want to stay, makes you crave more, makes you want to get feasted on until the last drop.

The unholy essence in their saliva makes you forget that it's a bad thing that they are drinking your blood, makes you forget that they are slowly draining you of your life essence and bringing you closer to death with every sip. A deadly temptation, that's what they are.

You don't feel any pain now that Yuuji feasts on you. You feel euphoria.

This is what you came here for tonight. This exquisite pleasure on the brink of death.

You find yourself moaning, pressing against the vampire needily, craning your neck to give him better access, and rubbing your ass against his hard-on, spurring him on to do more, to take more, to give you more.

If anyone in your department ever finds out about your little vampire kink, you will get fired, and your vampire hunter license will be taken away from you.

But you just can't resist.

You think you have an addiction. Nothing beats that feeling of ecstasy that pulses through your veins when the vampire spit seeps into your wound and mingles with your blood.

Or no.

There is one thing that is even better: If they drink from you while using your body in other ways too. If you let them do what every vampire craves: Feast on your whole body. Bathing their mouths with your blood and coating their cocks with your pussy cream. They long for the pulsating feeling of a warm, slick cunt around their hard cocks.

They crave to feel the life that's pulsing through your body. After all, they are undead. Their hearts have no heartbeat. Their flesh is cold and only warms if they wrap themselves around a body that is still alive. They desire life and nothing screams life more than sex.

Sweet Yuuji is just the same. He can't escape his vampire instincts. His animal urges that tell him to eat and to mate.

A low wild growl is heard when you grind against his hard cock in maddeningly tight circles, massaging him with your ass, tempting him, making him crazy with lust and need.

You feel him suck more firmly on your neck, moaning against your skin as he hungrily drinks your blood while rutting his thick hard length against you.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, moaning his name shakily. At the same time, your fingers loosen the lacing of your corset so it opens enough to let your tits spill out, sighing when the cold night hair brushes over your heated flesh, nipples hardening instantly.

And Yuuji groans loudly against your neck, his hands coming up instantly to cup your tits, massaging them with his strong fingers, squeezing them needily, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples.

You smile.

You have him. That was easy. So easy to seduce this cute little vampire.

He turns you around with a feral-sounding growl, slamming your back against the brick wall with so much force that it makes you gasp for air.

And then his hungry mouth is on your tits, wandering over your heaving breasts, sucking and licking at your skin before he sinks his fangs into your plump flesh.

You scream, but it's a scream of lust. Your fingers tangle in Yuuji's soft pink hair as a shudder of ecstasy washes over you and makes you push your tits eagerly against his mouth.

"Ah, Yuuji! More! Please, more!"

You aren't just acting anymore. At this point, you crave him. You are greedily chasing after this feeling of bliss only a vampire cock can give you. And you know that cute and sexy Yuuji will be a master at this.

If he refuses? Well, your wooden stake is hidden in your knee-high boot.

But you don't need it. Not yet.

Yuuji looks up at you with glowing eyes and tiny droplets of blood trickling down the corners of his lips. He is sucking on one of your nipples while his fangs are buried in your flesh, sending shock waves of pleasure through you, making your pussy throb with need, so wet that your panties are soaked.

Your gaze locks with his, looking at him with the same feverish desire that is burning in his glowing eyes.

"You don't have to hold back, sweet vampire. Just take me any way you want! Just fuck me, Yuuji!"

And then Yuuji moves. He is too fast for you to even see it. One moment he has his face buried between your tits, worshipping and feasting on them, and the next, he has you pushed up against the wall.

This is the part that always drives you crazy with lust. That show of vampire strength! When he yanks you around, lifts you in his arms, and slams you against the wall like a rag doll, holding you with only one arm as if you weigh nothing.

He has already opened his pants, pushing them down to free his enormous hard cock, and then his hand sneaks under your skirt, and his firm fingers leave goosebumps on your sensitive skin where they rub over your inner thighs and then reach the heat between your legs.

Your legs tighten around his hips when he tears a hole into your fishnets and the panties underneath, ripping them apart like the wild animal he is.

He has you on his cock a split second later, claiming you with all his vampire strength. Fucking into you with hard deep thrusts so powerful and strong that it feels like you will shatter.

Not human.

You moan loudly, pussy clenching around him needily.

Human men don't do it for you anymore, not after getting a taste of vampire sex magic.

Pleasure is coursing through your veins, pussy so wet and hot, horniness clouding your mind as you threaten to go into a frenzy.

It's always like this. Vampire dick is the best dick. Made to pleasure, made to drive a human out of their mind with lust. They are made to make you become high on them and get addicted to them.

Just one drop of Yuuji's pre-cum inside you makes your head spin. His seed is the most potent aphrodisiac. Unable to create new life, infertile, dead. But so powerful when it comes to blessing you with the most intense pleasure.

Your pussy feels so sensitive to every hard thrust. You can feel Yuuji's pre-cum coating your insides, filling you with that tingling sensual sensation that makes your pussy twitch needily around his gorgeous length. When Yuuji's fat cockhead massages your sweet spot, leaking more fat drops of pre, you see stars and gasp and scream as tears of bliss run down your cheeks.

Of course, you became addicted to this! This is sex beyond anything else. No mortal man could give you this.

"Ahh, you fuck me so good, Yuuji. Can you fuck me while flying too?"

He is a particularly strong one, just pushing himself off the ground, and then he's soaring up into the night sky with you. He doesn't pull out, keeping you on his cock the whole time, rolling his hips and fucking into your needy wet pussy while floating in the night sky over Tokyo's glittering neon lights.

You scream your ecstasy into the night as your pussy clenches wildly on Yuuji's blissful vampire cock. You are drunk on him, high from orgasmic bliss, crying and screaming and mewling as you gush over his gorgeous cock, making a sticky wet mess all over him.

But he holds you in place fucking you through it, fangs buried in your neck, and his girthy cock filling you with his gracious load of cum, making you whimper and moan. Your body is convulsing with the almost unbearable ecstasy of getting filled with his aphrodisiac vampire seed, prolonging your high.

And just when you think the pleasure will finally start to ebb, another orgasm gets forced out of you before you are even ready for it. Your used hole spasms around Yuuji's cock helplessly, a sharp lustful cry of his name filling the night sky as if you are howling at the full moon over your head.

You can't stop cumming. A third orgasm follows the second one immediately, making you scream and whimper, melting bonelessly against your vampire lover who keeps you on his cock and keeps snapping his hips, deep and fast, pumping your pussy full of his vampire seed. His strong arms and thick cock are the only things holding you up, keeping you from falling down onto the city's dark streets.

"Fuck! Cutie! You are so sweet!"

He groans against your neck before his canines sink into your flesh once again, and his soft lips suck hungrily on your skin.

His potent seed fills you to the brim until your twitching pussy is overflowing. Thick rivulets of cum ooze out of your used cunt and run down Yuuji's fat cock and balls. And down your legs, making you moan as you feel the silky sensation of his seed caressing your skin.

It feels like thousands of kisses trail down your inner thighs and legs.

A loud sob forces its way out of your mouth as the caress of Yuuji's vampire cum makes you lose yourself to pleasure once more. Your pussy shudders, creaming again on the fat vampire cock, as you can only mewl weakly and cry in delight.

You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as Yuuji's cum runs over your leather boots, collecting at the heel before it drips down onto the city below you.

Yuuji's still sucking on your neck, moaning softly as he drinks your sweet blood and lets his cock get milked by the pulsing walls of your wet pussy.

You know he has to stop feasting on you now, or you will get too weak. And so you grab a handful of his pretty pink hair and tug sharply on it to get his attention.

When he finally pulls away, you can see the lust-filled haze leave his golden eyes and get replaced by regret and guilt. So sweet. You almost laugh.

"I'm sorry."

Yuuji slowly floats down past the glittering windows of skyscrapers and the blinking neon lights of the club. And you capture his lips with yours, kissing him hungrily, moaning at the taste of your blood and his spit on his tongue.

He gasps in surprise, not understanding why you still want him after what he did to you. But then his lips start to move against yours, kissing you back, slow and sweet, letting you taste his vampire kiss, his silky tongue, and intoxicating spit. Such a sweet drug.

When you reach the ground, he sets you down carefully on the grey asphalt of the dingy back alley.

He smiles at you nervously, looking guilty, making your breath catch at how beautiful he is.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry for losing control, but you tasted so good. I'm not...I'm not used to human blood. I got overwhelmed by your taste."

He scratches his pink hair, looking like a lost little puppy. Funny how an apex predator like him can look so cute.

He adds in a soft voice,

"I hope I didn't take too much. Maybe you should stop at the hospital and ask for a blood transfusion? Let me heal you first, though."

He comes closer again, leaning down to lick over your neck where his fangs left the deepest wound. You moan as his saliva coats your skin and seeps into your wounded flesh, making it close miraculously.

You could get lost in this pleasure, give yourself over to it and press your tits in his face, so he heals his marks there too. It's tempting.

But you shake yourself out of it. Now is the crucial moment. You have to focus!

Yuuji is an easy target. Usually, you have to stake them right after they cum, or they will surely kill you. But he is different. You knew he would let you live.

And now the vampire boy is here, so close to you as he heals your wound, and you know you have to take your chance now or never.

Your fingertips graze over the handle of your wooden stake, where it's hidden in your leather boot.

But you hesitate.

Yuuji is so sweet. Not as feral as the other ones. Wouldn't it be a shame to kill him? To waste this perfect opportunity? Isn't he everything you ever wished for?

You smile as you push the stake back into your right boot, and instead, you fish something else out of your left boot.

It's so easy. Yuuji is too trusting, too sure that you are just a helpless girl who stumbled into him on accident.

He doesn't expect your move. Doesn't realize what you really are.

And then it's too late.

His surprised cry of pain makes you chuckle softly as you snap the silver handcuffs shut on his left wrist. He tries to yank his hand away, but he is already weakened by the silver. And before he can pull away, you already handcuff his other wrist, too, effectively trapping his hands behind his back.

It's always fascinating to see how weak those strong creatures become once pure silver touches them.

Yuuji's golden eyes are wide as he stares at you with a growing dread on his flawless face. Now he knows what you are. Something flickers over his beautiful face. Fear but also something else. Relief.

"Do it, please. It's ok. A monster like me shouldn't exist anyway. Please, I don't want to hurt more people."

You smile at him. Your voice is soothing, like talking to a scared animal.

"I know Yuuji. I know, sweetie. And that's why I'm not going to kill you."

He blinks at you, confused, not understanding what you mean. But you will tell him. You will explain it all to him.

You pull another item out of your boot. Your touch is gentle, almost loving when you put the silver collar on Yuuji's neck.

He hisses in pain as more silver touches his skin, burning it with its pureness. A single tear runs down his pretty face, and his lips tremble. He's so perfect. So beautiful. You are glad that you didn't kill him.

"Shhh, baby boy, it's ok. The pain will lessen once your skin gets used to it."

You coo at him, reaching out to pet his pretty pink hair soothingly and press your lips to his cheek, capturing the tear and letting it melt on your tongue, sighing at the euphoric taste.

"You are far too pretty and too cute to kill you. I'm gonna keep you."

And with that, you smile at him and fasten a leather leash on his collar.

Perfect!

The collar looks cute on Yuuji. As if it belongs there. Maybe you should get him a little silver name tag.

"Let's go, Yuuji. I'll show you your new home."

You laugh softly as you wrap the leash around your wrist and give it a gentle tug to pull your new personal vampire after you.

You lift your head to gaze up at the full moon glowing brightly above the rooftops of Tokyo's skyscrapers. What a perfect night for hunting! It's a Killing Moon tonight. Legend says that it works as a lucky charm for you vampire hunters. And maybe there is truth to that old tale.

After all, you have waited months for an opportunity like this. To find the perfect vampire.

You are prepared. There is a cell in your basement. You furnished it with a luxurious big bed and soft pillows. You want your vampire to be comfortable, after all. And if he stays away from the silver bars, he won't get hurt. It's a lovely little room down there. Perfect for keeping a cute vampire pet.

The thing is, there is something you want even more than just getting bitten and fucked by those powerful creatures. They have something far more precious to give you.

Eternity.

It's the ultimate treason to mankind, but the huntress wants to become the thing she is supposed to kill.

The tricky thing is to find a vampire who will agree to turn you. He has to feed you his blood willingly, or it won't work. And you have to trust him not to kill you during the process.

But you think you have finally found the perfect specimen. You need one who hasn't lost his humanity and compassion. Sweet Yuuji is the perfect one for that. A vampire who doesn't want to kill.

A wide victorious smirk spreads over your face as you give the leash in your hand a firm tug and continue your way through the filthy, dimly lit back alleys of this forsaken city.

Three months later

"Hey, sweetie. How was my sweet boy's night?"

You smile at your vampire lover as you open the door to his cell. Your breath still catches in your throat anytime you come down here and see Yuuji. His beauty is astounding. Glowing like the moon in this dark basement, beautiful and strong.

And so hungry. Hungry for your blood and your pussy. And you are here to give him both.

He is your little secret, locked away from the rest of the world, only existing for your pleasure and the promise of eternal life.

One day. One day, sweet Yuuji will give you what you want the most.

Until then, you'll just come down here every night to love him, fuck him, offer him the sweet bliss of your blood and your hot wet cunt.

Sometimes he cries those beautiful tears that glitter like diamonds and asks you in that low velvety voice:

"Why are you doing this? Why don't you let me go?"

And anytime you pet his soft pink hair and snuggle against his strong body and tell him:

"Aww, but Yuuji, don't mix things up, my love. You were the one who attacked me. It's not fair to blame me. You know that, right? My pretty boy."

He gulps and nods and apologizes over and over again. It's so cute to watch. You always end up spoiling him too much on those nights, milking his gorgeous vampire cock and letting him feed on your neck until he is in such a fucked out, lust-filled haze that he doesn't even remember his name anymore.

And you always whisper to him afterwards how much you love him. How happy you are that he came into your life.

"What we have is special, Yuuji. Don't you see? I love you so much. That's why I want us to stay together for all times."

The people in your department wouldn't understand. They would say your lover is Death. But they are wrong. Yuuji is life. Eternal life. The greatest treasure humankind hunts for.

And you have that treasure in your basement, sitting prettily on his bed, looking at you with his big golden eyes, the cute collar around his neck sparkling enticingly. You got him a name tag. It's heart-shaped.

He really is your most precious possession.

The tragedy of being human is that death will inevitably come too soon. But a vampire can defeat death. A vampire can make you immortal.

Yuuji can make you immortal.

You visit him every night to ride him, screaming from lust when his fat cock pleasures you. You tease him, you edge him, you overstimulate him. Over and over again. Tugging on his leash and telling him to bite you and suck your blood.

And every night, you ask him to give you his blood too, so you can be together for all eternity.

He resists anytime. But you won't stop until you get what you want.

One day you will break your cute little vampire, and then you'll be his lover forever.

It is meant to be. Fate made you step into this particular back alley on that particular night. And even though Yuuji wouldn't have come home with you willingly, you made sure to lead him to his fate with a silver collar and a leash. And one day, he will understand.

There is no running from his fate.

Under blue moon I saw you So soon you'll take me Up in your arms too late to beg you Or cancel it, though I know it must be The killing time Unwillingly mine

Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen

Thank you so much for reading my 2022 Yuuji Halloween fic! I hope you enjoyed sexy vampire Yuuji and the little twist at the end :) Initially, this story was supposed to be about a regular girl stumbling out of the club and into Yuuji, who feeds off her because he is hungry. But then I suddenly caught myself writing reader as a vampire hunter, and I realized that this makes the story a lot more fun. The yandere part was born when The Killing Moon was playing in the background, and I listened to the lyrics, and suddenly I knew how to finish this story.

Halloween always brings out my dark side, lol. It was so much fun to write an evil reader :)

I hope you enjoyed the story! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs make me happy!

#yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuji x reader #yuji smut #itadori x reader #itadori smut #tw blood #tw dark content #tw yandere #tw dubcon

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