in your favour
| In your favour | pg-13 | super junior | henry/ryeowook | 925w |
In which Ryeowook played the audience but hoped for far too much. Hunger Games AU.
The thing that saved him in the end, the one thing that the commentators (all nine of them, rotating on and off in eight hour groups to provide the best coverage, live as they happen, so you never have to miss a moment!) all agreed on, was his face.
The audience loved the hollow of his cheeks, the sharp point of his chin, the intense stare of someone for whom the next meal relied on keen observation. But of course, the Capitol audience didn't associate those as marks of starvation. They made a fad of it the next season, after he was crowned Victor (not win, none of them ever really win), made a fad out of the sunken eyes and too-sharp cheekbones of malnutrition.
In short, he had a face that looked harmless to his opponents, but was too helpless to resist for grandmothers with too much jewellery on their hands. For his games, Ryeowook had not wanted for food nor water, but in the later stages, he was deliberately wasteful. He knew from experience that hunger, when it burrows from your stomach to your limbs until your whole body feels hollow, can dull the sharpest of minds. So if that silver parachute was a little too tattered, or the wrapping too clumsy, or its contents tasting just a bit off - well, his opponents certainly never noticed.
-
The first thing Ryeowook did after coming home was to announce his lover to the entirely of Panem during a mandatory broadcast.
Henry had looked shocked, then confused, then, by some miracle, a blush crept up his cheeks that saved them. We're not /like that/- he must have been thinking, but he played along because he trusted Ryeowook, because Ryeowook never did anything without an extreme amount of deliberation and forethought.
And the reason was simple.
Ryeowook had learned from previous victors that the safety of your loved ones did not lie in their anonymity, in your efforts to hide them from the reach of the Capitol, but in how much the Capitol audience loved them, loved seeing you happy. It all depended on how much they loved the romantic storybook you have woven into life.
So Ryeowook had spun them an epic romance, a happily ever after right out of the sappiest fairy tales.
-
Ryeowook knew that he was keeping at least five different publications afloat by the “exclusives” he gave them, whether they be interviews, pictures, or a tape of a private moment not meant for the public eye. He had made them into a household name - the Victor and his Spoil (they thought it was so clever, so perfect, so they both bear it with the barest clench of the jaw) - a pair that no one would ever think of parting.
To have their romance end would be the biggest scandal of the century! Oh! The audience could not even bear to think about such tragedy, so Ryeowook didn't have to make appointments with strangers with grotesque faces and fat wallets, and Henry, well, Henry didn't have to take out tesserae or go hungry anymore. They lost the privacy they had in District Three, but they were here, both alive and adored and provided everything they could ever want -
And Ryeowook had maybe wanted a little too much. Dared to hope for a little more than he should have, because all of a sudden, those small, inconsequential donations he had been making to an obscure, underground newspaper in District Three would no longer go through.
Two days later, his old mentor sat him down in his living room and asked, very offhandedly, if he had ever considered a vacation somewhere far, far away from the Capitol.
-
Ryeowook knew, by the smell of blood and roses on the envelope, from whom the letter was issued. He tore it open with shaking hands, hoping against hope that, what? They'll be safe? Safety was a relative term in the Capitol, so instead, Ryeowook hoped that they would both be alive.
When Henry came back from his violin lessons (one of the things Ryeowook had wanted and got because, really, playing the audience was second nature to him now), he found the house pungent with the odour of charred flowers and paper, and Ryeowook was staring into the fireplace, blank and not all there.
It’s not fair that the moments you most want to forget are always burned so deeply into your memories, Ryeowook will reflect upon this later, because
Hope you are enjoying your new home in the Capitol, the letter had said, and then -
duties of a district’s Victor, it said, and then -
If I am not mistaken, this year will be Mr. Lau’s final reaping, it said. May the odds be ever in his favour.
-
As it turned out, he was wrong.
The audience loved the fairytale romances, but they loved the tragic ones even more.
Ryeowook’s stylist had dressed him in a shirt that was almost too indecent for polite company, but he still unfastened the top two buttons and slid into the seat across an older woman whose face stretched too tightly across her skull.
His mentor had pointed out, earlier that evening, that she was the wife of the fourth richest man in the Capitol, so Ryeowook tilted his head to the side, exposed the pale line of his throat, and murmured, “my tribute had an unfortunate encounter with the local wildlife today. Might I tempt you into buying him some antivenom?”
cleaning out my hard drive again, yay! i keep wanting to write more for this au...it's too much fun.
In which Ryeowook played the audience but hoped for far too much. Hunger Games AU.
The thing that saved him in the end, the one thing that the commentators (all nine of them, rotating on and off in eight hour groups to provide the best coverage, live as they happen, so you never have to miss a moment!) all agreed on, was his face.
The audience loved the hollow of his cheeks, the sharp point of his chin, the intense stare of someone for whom the next meal relied on keen observation. But of course, the Capitol audience didn't associate those as marks of starvation. They made a fad of it the next season, after he was crowned Victor (not win, none of them ever really win), made a fad out of the sunken eyes and too-sharp cheekbones of malnutrition.
In short, he had a face that looked harmless to his opponents, but was too helpless to resist for grandmothers with too much jewellery on their hands. For his games, Ryeowook had not wanted for food nor water, but in the later stages, he was deliberately wasteful. He knew from experience that hunger, when it burrows from your stomach to your limbs until your whole body feels hollow, can dull the sharpest of minds. So if that silver parachute was a little too tattered, or the wrapping too clumsy, or its contents tasting just a bit off - well, his opponents certainly never noticed.
-
The first thing Ryeowook did after coming home was to announce his lover to the entirely of Panem during a mandatory broadcast.
Henry had looked shocked, then confused, then, by some miracle, a blush crept up his cheeks that saved them. We're not /like that/- he must have been thinking, but he played along because he trusted Ryeowook, because Ryeowook never did anything without an extreme amount of deliberation and forethought.
And the reason was simple.
Ryeowook had learned from previous victors that the safety of your loved ones did not lie in their anonymity, in your efforts to hide them from the reach of the Capitol, but in how much the Capitol audience loved them, loved seeing you happy. It all depended on how much they loved the romantic storybook you have woven into life.
So Ryeowook had spun them an epic romance, a happily ever after right out of the sappiest fairy tales.
-
Ryeowook knew that he was keeping at least five different publications afloat by the “exclusives” he gave them, whether they be interviews, pictures, or a tape of a private moment not meant for the public eye. He had made them into a household name - the Victor and his Spoil (they thought it was so clever, so perfect, so they both bear it with the barest clench of the jaw) - a pair that no one would ever think of parting.
To have their romance end would be the biggest scandal of the century! Oh! The audience could not even bear to think about such tragedy, so Ryeowook didn't have to make appointments with strangers with grotesque faces and fat wallets, and Henry, well, Henry didn't have to take out tesserae or go hungry anymore. They lost the privacy they had in District Three, but they were here, both alive and adored and provided everything they could ever want -
And Ryeowook had maybe wanted a little too much. Dared to hope for a little more than he should have, because all of a sudden, those small, inconsequential donations he had been making to an obscure, underground newspaper in District Three would no longer go through.
Two days later, his old mentor sat him down in his living room and asked, very offhandedly, if he had ever considered a vacation somewhere far, far away from the Capitol.
-
Ryeowook knew, by the smell of blood and roses on the envelope, from whom the letter was issued. He tore it open with shaking hands, hoping against hope that, what? They'll be safe? Safety was a relative term in the Capitol, so instead, Ryeowook hoped that they would both be alive.
When Henry came back from his violin lessons (one of the things Ryeowook had wanted and got because, really, playing the audience was second nature to him now), he found the house pungent with the odour of charred flowers and paper, and Ryeowook was staring into the fireplace, blank and not all there.
It’s not fair that the moments you most want to forget are always burned so deeply into your memories, Ryeowook will reflect upon this later, because
Hope you are enjoying your new home in the Capitol, the letter had said, and then -
duties of a district’s Victor, it said, and then -
If I am not mistaken, this year will be Mr. Lau’s final reaping, it said. May the odds be ever in his favour.
-
As it turned out, he was wrong.
The audience loved the fairytale romances, but they loved the tragic ones even more.
Ryeowook’s stylist had dressed him in a shirt that was almost too indecent for polite company, but he still unfastened the top two buttons and slid into the seat across an older woman whose face stretched too tightly across her skull.
His mentor had pointed out, earlier that evening, that she was the wife of the fourth richest man in the Capitol, so Ryeowook tilted his head to the side, exposed the pale line of his throat, and murmured, “my tribute had an unfortunate encounter with the local wildlife today. Might I tempt you into buying him some antivenom?”
cleaning out my hard drive again, yay! i keep wanting to write more for this au...it's too much fun.