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maplecornia · 2 years

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chapter 59

infinite stars masterlist | BTS masterlist | masterlist | playlist

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.78K

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: bts x female!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: sometimes the calm exists before the storm, and sometimes the storm was upon us before we even had a chance

When Namjoon ordered you that today you weren't supposed to do anything other than rest, and the rest of BTS exuberantly repeated that same order, you rationalized it to last in a few-hour timeframe.

That's why you find yourself waiting patiently for your order in your favorite cafe. It's right around the corner from your apartment and smells comfortingly of fire, ground coffee, and a slight taste of sugar consistently hanging in the air. When you first stumbled upon it, you were immediately attracted by the homey decor, the way the windows are set so that the light beams attractively, the plants they hang from the ceiling, vines draping over counters, and across the paintings they've hung up. But perhaps the more important trait this cafe has is the way it comforts you. It's a safe space to you, a place where no one knows you, where you can unwind and just bask in the presence of existing, without anything else weighing you down. Almost like a breath of fresh air after a tantalizing storm.

So when you accept your drinks, turning on your heel, and bumping into the person walking behind you, you think your annoyance is justified. Even if it may be at yourself more than your victim.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so--" But when you catch sight of his face, you wonder if you're allowed to be even a little bit satisfied at the collision, despite the bitter taste of disgust that starts to turn violently in your stomach.

"Yen?"

You had forgotten the way your name sounded on Alex's tongue. You wonder when the moment was that you grew to despise the way it sounded from his lips. Was it when he betrayed you? Or did it begin before that, before you even realized you were falling out of love?

"Goddammit, why is it always coffee?"

He's been dabbing at his stain for the past ten minutes. You've already received a replacement cup for your spilled drink, and have finished half of your boba in that amount of time, your annoyance quickly peaking into frustration.

"You're going to need to wash it." You snap as he snatches the millionth napkin from its holder, and he rolls his eyes, continuing the process.

"It seems so, doesn't it?"

And yet, you're still dabbing at it like an idiot.

You sigh at his intended ignorance towards your advice, folding your arms and leaning back in your chair. If he doesn't want to listen to you, that's fine, but you don't see why you should have to pay for his drinks if he doesn't have to be a decent human being.

"Why do you even have coffee?" Alex snaps himself, throwing down the napkin in his ever-growing pile, in his own frustration. "You loathe how bitter it is."

"Because it wasn't for me."

He looks up at you at the statement, clear embarrassment beginning to turn his cheeks a darker hue before he looks away, trying to hide how the statement hurt him.

"Oh."

You would be lying if you said you didn't feel a bit bad. After all, he was your friend before he was your boyfriend, and if you're being honest; a part of you still cares for the man you knew in your relationship and still holds onto that fantasy of happy moments spent together.

"Were you going to meet someone?" Alex doesn't meet your eyes as he asks the question, and you take a deep breath bracing yourself for the argument that is sure to follow.

"Yes."

The statement isn't exactly false, after all, you got the coffee as a peace offering in case any of the members found you at the studio after you snuck in from your two-hour break.

"Who?"

"A friend."

You intentionally remain bleak about just who the friend is, almost testing him and his current views on your relationship. After all, the last time the two of you met, he was adamantly pledging that the two of you weren't over. You need to make it clear that the truth is so far from that.

So when he nods, scoffing to himself as his eyes drop from yours, you're nervous. Almost afraid the same patterns that lead up to this breaking point will repeat once again, and you won't know how to make it out.

But instead, his next words surprise you.

"I keep forgetting I don't get to know these answers anymore."

Even so, you can't let him off the hook that easily.

"You also forget you don't have a right to ask these questions."

Sighing, he looks up at you, almost pleading for a ceasefire. You can't help but notice the irony, of how the tables have turned between the two of you.

"Is this how it's going to be?"

You don't answer, you just stare at him, and if you're being honest, even if you wanted to answer the ambiguous question, you can't.

How do you want things to be? Do you want to go back to how they were? Do you want to go back to when he was just your friend? Do you even want him in your life anymore? How do you move forward from history like the two of you had? How can you even imagine a life where it could be different?

There was once a time when you thought the man in front of you would be the man you would marry. There was a time when you would have pledged on your life that he would never dare hurt you.

Now, where do the two of you stand?

"How long have you been here?"

Alex blinks, a bit confused as you change the topic so briskly.

"What?"

"I would have assumed you left after our last meeting."

At the memory of what occurred at your apartment, Alex sighs, chuckling bitterly to himself. It's clear that Yen doesn't want to talk about the current status of their relationship, which scares him. He doesn't want to lose her, and yet as she sits across the table from him, not even a few feet away; she feels farther than she ever has.

"My visitor VISA expires tomorrow, I was planning to leave today after a cup of coffee."

You nod at the statement, feeling a bit relieved, and trying your best to ignore the tiny part of you that still exists that despairs of his removal from your life.

"That's good."

And that tiny part of you, the part that longs to be held in his arms again, is still a big part of Alex's heart. He doesn't want to say goodbye, he doesn't want to let go of something he still remembers to be precious in his eyes.

“You know, I tried to see you again these past couple of weeks." Yen goes still at his statement, looking up at him. He's too afraid to meet her eyes, too afraid to face whatever is written on her face. Because if he faces it, it makes everything real. It confirms his greatest fear and the fact that he's lost you before he even realized you were gone. "I tried visiting your apartment, talking to your mom, hell I even requested a visitors badge to HYBE. And I saw you a couple of times, laughing, smiling...and when I saw you like that, content and living your life better, happier than when you were with me..."

You swallow hard as he breaks off, unable to finish the sentence. You both know what it means, and the unspoken realization that what the two of you had isn't there anymore.

"I couldn't bear to ruin that, show up again after everything I had done. I just didn't feel like it was fair. And you were right, I didn't have that right, I don't have any right to be in your life...not anymore."

And no matter how angry you may be at him, no matter how badly he wronged you, you still have the urge to deny it. Because even after everything, you still care about him.

"It's just...before all of this you were my closest friend. And a part of me didn't want to let that go. It didn't want to let you go."

He was your first, for everything. You dedicated yourself to him and planned your futures together. It would be hard for anyone to let that go, no matter how much they were hurt.

"I didn't want to let you go."

When you don't answer, he closes his eyes, bracing himself for what he wanted to say next. It takes all his might, but he finally meets your eyes, he finally faces you head-on. And for the first time, you see him as you saw him ever since he first told you he loved you. Stripped down to the very core, baring his very soul in his honesty. When was the moment he started hiding that part of himself from you? When did you look at him and say you had no idea who he was anymore?

"I’m sorry." You take a sharp inhale at the apology. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He was never the one to apologize first, much less admit he was wrong. His pride was always too great for that. "I know you’re tired of hearing that from me, but I am sorry. I didn’t want an end for us, and even if I did I wouldn’t want it like this.”

Yen wasn't planning on forgiving him, she doesn't even know if she can.

But when he holds his head in his hands, when she sees him break down before her at the thought of losing something so precious to him, she realizes she never hated him. Though for a long time she wanted to, she never could bring herself to do so. And that was the reason it hurt so much because she still thought of him as the first person she allowed herself to love, the first person she trusted herself to spend the rest of her life beside.

It doesn't mean she has to forgive him, nor does she have to, but she does understand him. And as such, the least she can do is bring him some peace.

“Do you remember when you told me you loved me? You said that you would never hurt me, that we would have hard times, and that it wouldn’t be easy, but you would never hurt me.”

This was harder than you had expected, and as you take a shaky breath, you have to remind yourself you are stronger than you were back then.

“And it was hard. You had a temper and I had my pride. But it worked, we made it work because we loved each other. We were happy and we wanted to live our lives together."

As you look into his eyes, he already knows what you're going to say, as though he sensed it from the first moment you walked out of his life, and all he's been doing since then was waiting for it to be spoken from your lips.

"But you broke your promise."

Even now, you can still remember the way it felt when he hurt you. The nightmares you had, the terrible pain clawing its way into your heart, a torturous repeat of the same day, the same pain reminding you over and over again of what he had done.

"I loved you so much, Alex, so much that it hurt. And I really thought that you were going to be the person I spent the rest of my life with."

Just as real as your pain, was your love. The love which made it even worse to bear. The thought that someone could have treated you that way, discarded you in that manner for someone else, someone who didn't even know him. And then the constant doubts if you were enough, if everything you went through, every moment you shared meant nothing in his eyes.

"But somewhere, somehow, things became strained. Things were no longer balanced, it was just chaos." You look at him, making sure he's paying attention, and that he understands what you're trying to say. "If I’m being honest, maybe that’s how it was meant to be, maybe we were meant to break."

And maybe that thought is the worst thought of them all. That the only reason the two of you met, the only reason you even existed in the other's life was to be a lesson. An obstacle to teach you something you never thought you needed to learn. You wonder if that makes everything any less real, and if you knew what you do now back then, if you would make the same choices that led you to this point.

"I think you realized it before I had, you just hadn't admitted it to yourself. You still haven’t."

But how could everything have been any less real just because you weren't meant for the other? Why does that make your feelings, the way you leaned on the other, the happiness your relationship had, mean nothing? And why should fate decide what isn't and is meant to be?

This relationship, this bond the two of you had wasn't because fate decided it, it was because you built it on the love you found in the other, the potential you sensed that your love could bring forth a lasting foundation.

The only thing is, you were wrong.

"But that night? That’s when I felt everything come crashing down. And I’m looking at you now, and I can’t feel anything. No anger, no despair, no bitterness…I’m just numb. Everything has become a memory, and the funny thing is not all of it was bad. A lot of it was good, and a lot of our moments were beautiful, but that’s all they are now. Memories." You smile, a sad, forlorn smile, almost hoping for a better ending, but grateful that at least you can find a way to close your story without hating the other.

"As though that was all they were meant to be.”

Alex looks away as tears blur his vision because he knows you're right. And though you may be too kind to say it aloud, he knows he hasn't received your forgiveness, nor does he deserve it.

“So this is it huh?" he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "The end of us.”

You nod, clearing your throat, as though to dismiss the lump that begins to grow in your throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

"I know. But I'm still sorry."

And as you look at each other now, the smile you share is genuine. It's a look filled with your memories, a smile that reflects each and every regret. You know where you failed, and you understand that yours was a broken relationship before it even had a chance to start. But at some point, you still loved each other. And that's what mattered, and the reason why neither of you can bring it within yourselves to hate the other.

But sadly, the peace now found between the two of you is short-lived.

As Alex looks up, he notices something on the TV screen behind Yen. Normally it wouldn't have been much of an issue, after all, a million interesting things are happening in the world today, and all of those could have been accounted for the way his eyes widen at the sight.

However, it's the way he almost immediately looks your way after seeing it, that makes you curious. Something in the panic in his eyes, makes a trail of dread start in the pits of your stomach, making its way slowly, but surely toward your heart as you turn to see.

"Yen wait--"

But it's already too late, you've already seen it, and as you do, you go frigid in shock, one word repeating itself incessantly in your mind at the sight.

Not her, please not her.

"Rumors have been circling lately around the renowned kpop group known as BTS, as they prepare for their long-awaited comeback after their unfortunate hiatus. Fans and admirers alike are abuzz with what they could bring us next."

Yen can feel the looks, hear the whispers that arise in the cafe, can feel a burning heat on her back as she sits there, amid everything. As though a target were just painted on her back, ready to strike at any given moment.

"However, with their return has come rumors and speculation as to the changes they may have experienced in their absence. More specifically, talk about their personal lives and relationships have grown more prominent."

As the photos shown before once more appear on the screen next to the newscaster's face, Namjoon shares a look with Suga before looking Hoseok's way.

"Talk began towards the middle of October when their label, BigHit released some teaser images a bit early, this time with a strange feeling to them. One member, in particular, Jung Hoseok's concept inspired some controversy considering it included an unheard of model feature, and resulted in some intimate photos."

Hoseok can't even return the gaze for he stands still, staring frozen at the television, the remote falling from his hands and clattering on the floor in his panic, a silent confliction clear in his eyes.

"While the label refused to reveal the model's name, fans couldn't help their curiosity as earlier this month, another round of photos became quite popular. This time, of a supposed staff member and her presumed close relationship with another member, Kim Taehyung."

As images from what was supposed to be an unreleased article flash across the screen, BangPD throws his fresh newspaper at the TV from his office in his aggravation.

Jojo, from her spot in the lobby, drops her coffee at the sight, startling the multiple people milling about and gaining the attention of other employees who rush to her aid. They ask if she's alright, but her eyes are glued to Jin's as he catches hers from across the room, and she cannot find it within herself to move, much less speak.

And as Jin turns to the massive screen hanging over the lobby of HYBE's building, his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, dread coursing through his body as though it had become a part of his very bloodstream.

"Comparing the two photos, it seems like this staff member had some similarities to the model from the photoshoot, and as such their fans have had an incessant talk about this figure on every form of social media, almost demanding to know who she is."

Jungkook can't help but look at Taehyung from where he sits perched on their couch glaring at the TV, his hands tightening into fists, and his eyes darkening in malice with every syllable and passing phrase.

"And now, as the rumors have reached their height, certain posts have become equally as popular on multiple forms of social media, this time concerning the BTS member, Park Jimin, and his relationship with the woman you see in these photos."

Jimin can feel his heart drop as he hears his name on the radio in the car. He lunges forward, begging the driver to turn it up, just in case he misheard.

He prays to God that he misheard.

"Unearthing a couple of weeks ago, these photos have been quite the talk amongst small groups in the fandom, and only recently have they received such notice after a photo of the suspected idol and this woman was revealed to show them involved in a very intimate manner."

You gasp as the most recent photo of your mother and Jimin is presented on the screen, a photo showing a precious moment between two people in love, holding cherished moments and feelings. A photo that no one, no matter who they are, should have the luxury of seeing, much less without the concerned parties' approval. And perhaps most concerning, is the fact that it is a photo that will procure malice and hatred, no matter how pure it may have been, or how true their feelings are towards the other.

You don't know how they managed to get those photos, you don't know how they could have been so careless, but what you do know is your mother is quite possibly in the most danger she's ever been.

"While many fans mourn, many more beg BigHit and HYBE to collectively make an official statement about the situation, if anything to ensure the safety of their artists and those who they hold dear. For there is one thing we are certain, whoever posted these photos did not do so out of good intentions."

Jimin's heart drops after the segment ends and the radio once more turns into bland news coverage. But Jimin is no longer listening, the world becoming a mere static in the back of his mind as his heart pounds loudly within his ears. Only one thought, one person taking up his entire being until he can no longer care nor understand anything else.

Jocelynn.

As you watch the TV numbingly, for longer than the interest of the cafe is kept, you have the same thought, the same worries, the same concern. Standing decisively, you turn to Alex to explain, but he's already shooing you off in understanding, knowing that this is more important than any unfinished business they may have had left.

So just as Jimin directs the driver to turn around, and back to Jocelynn's house, you rush out of the cafe. Away from the prying eyes, escaping from the growing whispers, and into the chaos of her mind as you quickly dial your mother's number.

And across the city, from within her small, calm apartment the flowers outside blowing gently in the wind, Jocelynn couldn't be more terrified.

It grips her, takes hold of her heart like a parasite, the images she had just witnessed replaying themselves over and over in her mind. And as she realizes what this means, not just for herself, but for her daughter, she shakes with the tantalizing emotion.

Dropping the remote she had gripped so tightly in her hands a few minutes ago, the clatter resounding violently around her empty house, and pounding deep into her skull, she collapses onto her couch, the entire world blurring and swimming as the noise grows louder within her head.

She stays there, unable to move, unable to breathe, as a singular chime from her phone sounds, unanswered and forgotten.

chapter 60 here

A/N :: since these next few chapters will be quite serious, I won't speak as much other than to thank you for reading, but I just wanted to comment on the fact that when it comes to idols, this is a real thing that very much so happens and is plausible to happen in the future, even if BTS were comfortable enough to come public about any relationship.

Just look at the way people reacted when rumors of Jennie and Tae came out speculating their relationship, or the way when a few photos of Jungkook with a female tattoo artist were released. Or even when Jimin was out in a club, having fun and recieved hate for flirting with a couple of people there.

Not even concerning BTS, there are multiple of other accounts where idols have gotten hate for being in a relationship, and for loving someone else that wasn't their fans. Dawn and Hyuna, Momo and Heechul, Baekhyun and Taeyeon, Jihyo and Daniel. But heaven forbid they actually want a future with them, heaven forbid they believe they can be happy with the person they love and still continue to be an idol.

Chen.

Bobby.

All of these are names amongst many who have faced the hatred and threats from the world just because they had found love, just because their number one priority was no longer their fans. What does that say about us? What does that say about this industry? What does that say about the way we treat idols?

I did this so that you can see it, feel it, in a different way. We've only ever understood, or emphasized, or hated through a screen. This time, I wanted you to at least try and feel what they go through, and how much this behavior affects them.

In any case, thank you for reading!

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drawing-way-outside-the-lines · 1 year

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➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖

Chapter 44 - Entering Kris.

Episode 2.

Across town

Andy: He was on his way home, after another full night of staying awake. He had just been out, trying to find a place open, to buy some snacks. He sat slumped by the steering wheel, lost in thoughts, the music booming in his red 1969 Ford Mustang Boss. Not paying much attention to the road, as the streets barely had people this time of year, this early in the morning. Then suddenly, out of an alley, stepped an individual. He stepped on the breaks, but still heard the inevitable BUMP and a thud on the ground as the person got hit. FUCK!!! He rushed out the car and around to the front, looking at the person laying in a pile of snow… luckily SHIT!!! Are you alright?!?! You came out of nowhere and it's slippery I-

Kris: The guy face-planted in the snow grunted a bit, then slowly sat up, wiping his face, looking at Andy with a tired expression

Andy: Oh… surprised to see it was a dude…. a handsome dude …. uh, are you uh… are you okay?

Kris: You barely bumped me he sighed soft and stood up, brushing his jeans lightly it's my fault anyway he mumbled in an equally tired voice

Andy: Well you came out of nowhere, but I honestly wasn't-

Kris: It's fine he forced a polite smile I haven't… it's cool… see you! he took another step out on the road

Andy: Wait! out of reflex grabbed the guys arm Sorry he smiled awkward and quickly let go again where are you going? I mean… if I can run you over, the least I can do is offer you a ride…

Kris: He shrugged lightly I don't know where I'm going, actually?

Andy: …… did you bump your head? he frowned worried

Kris: …. no he sighed lightly I live with a group of room mates… they've been partying all night, and apparently think it's hilarious to continue today… I haven't slept… I'm just kinda walking around aimlessly the past hours… I'm cold… I'm grumpy… and I'm fucking exhausted… which explains why it's entirely my own fault and not yours… I just need to… find a quiet place at least…

Andy: His eyes got wider ….. well…… uh…. he chuckled hoarsely and pointed back at his car I'm on my way home… I technically have room mates too… but, my room is quiet… I got lots of snacks… I haven't slept either, and I was just on my way home to crash with a movie… I mean…. if you wanted to…

Kris: ….

Andy: …. no that's weird right? Guy runs you over, and now asks you to watch movie with him and eat his snacks he chuckled even more awkwardly just forget I-

Kris: He shrugged lightly and walked around the car, grabbing the door handle Maybe I'm weird enough to accept the offer? Honestly, anything that gets me off the streets… I'm fucking frozen solid at this point!

Andy: He chuckled hoarse and surprised, quickly walking back to his car and got in, unlocking the other door for the stranger

Kris: He quickly got in and slammed the door behind him Nice uh… car he forced another polite smile

Andy: Thanks… so uh… what's your name anyway?

Kris: Kris…

Andy: He nodded lightly Andy

Kris: ….

Andy: ….. right….. I'm uh he looked up and down Kris a bit worried I'm not kidnapping you, am I?

Kris: … no.

Andy: And you don't have a problem going home with a stranger who nearly killed you once already?

Kris: He sighed and shrugged lightly I'd be the perfect victim. No one would miss me anyway. Go ahead.

Andy: ……..oohhhkay he planted his hands on the steering wheel and slowly rolled the car around the snow bank, driving a bit more careful and alert now. But as he few seconds later rolled by Dalton and Malou's place, he caught a glimpse out of his eye…. Dalton and Malou, kissing in the snow, in the tiny front yard…. he slapped his steering wheel and speeded up GODDAMMIT!!!

Kris: He lifted an eyebrow, observing Andy …. is this where I regret getting into your car after all?

Andy: He snorted soft No… just…. someone I have a crush on… kissing someone else

Kris: …. oh? …. the blue haired girl?

Andy: …. you noticed them?

Kris: …..

Andy: …. actually the guy…. Dalton.

Kris: ….

Andy: …. I'm gay.

Kris: ….

Andy: ……

Kris: …. he looked at Andy with a small frown You want me to congratulate you?

Andy: He chuckled amused no, I'm just wondering if it's an issue for you?

Kris: …. no, why would it be?

Andy: He shrugged lightly and slowly turned the car into the side, parking in front of his house I live with 3 other men… 2 of them I'm married to. They are also married to each other… and the 3rd man is married to one of the two guys I am married to.

Kris: … how do you have time for all that?

Andy: He chuckled softly I have more partners than that he quickly grabbed a bag of snacks from the back seat and got out, looking back in at Kris You still want to come in?

Kris: He looked a bit hesitating at Andy… not because of his sexuality or partners, cause he really didn't have an issue, or find it his business anyway. In fact he was gay himself. Closeted though. He sighed soft, it was more the matter of PEOPLE. Kris wasn't the most social person, rather reserved as a matter of fact. But since he was already here, it would look wrong if he didn't give it a chance at least. You said you had a private room, right?

Andy: Yeah he smiled encouraging Kris: He was by now not only frozen to the bone, but also wet after having dived into the pile of snow, walking around outside by now, would definitely make him sick

Andy: Kris… he sighed a bit worried I don't want to force you to do something that-

Kris: He quickly got out of the car, slamming the car door I'm uh he stuck his hands in his pockets, observing Andy with a bit of a hesitating frown not that great with people…

Andy: Fuck me neither! he smiled bright we'll go straight to my room, you don't even have to meet the others. Or I can drive you home if you rather

Kris: No he shook his head firmly. At "home" there were only drunk people and an ex waiting for him. An ex he still lived with, as he had nowhere else to go. No money, friends, family to crash with. Anything is better than home.

Andy: He frowned soft at the second hinting message Kris had so far let slip … alright… follow me then… He closed the car door and quickly walked towards the house, quickly unlocking the front door as they reached it Feel free to kick your shoes here he said in a friendly and inviting tone, as he kicked his own boots off next to the door My room is right in here *he gestured at a door next to them, go and make yourself at home, I'll just quickly tell the others I'm here and not to come running *he smiled friendly and placed the bag of groceries on the floor, as he closed the door behind Kris* I'll be with you in a minute or two. Then he rushed off further into the house

Kris: He looked around a bit, the house was big… but nothing flashy… cozy on the other hand. He slowly got his wet shoes off and grabbed the grocery bag, then quick and silently tipped over the floor, hurrying into Andy's room. It was a good sized room. But he didn't see a tv? Just a bed and a computer desk with a computer on it? Maybe that's where this Andy person would be watching movies? He looked around and spotted a skylight above the bed Nice… he nodded lightly, then sighed as he walked further into the room. Was it stupid he had come here? Of course it was stupid! He had literally gone home with a stranger. Every policeman in SGI would call him the dumbest and easiest victim ever, if only they knew! Well… in that case it was good the police force of SGI wasn't that large after all.

Andy: Hey he smiled friendly as he walked into the room, holding a 6 pack of beers and two 1.5 L soda, one Mountain Dew and one Cola in his arms I didn't know what you drink?

Kris: He shrugged lightly Anything really…

Andy: He studied Kris with a small frown Your pants are soaked man.. and your jacket don't look much better… let me find you some dry clothes you can borrow!

Kris: It's no big deal

Andy: You're shivering man! Of course it's a big deal! *He hurried by Kris, placing the drinks on a chair, then walked to his closet, grabbing a random pair of sweatpants, socks and a hoodie, handing it to Kris as he returned to him. There's a private bathroom downstairs.

Kris: Downstairs? he looked surprised at Andy

Andy: Yeah he chuckled lightly and pointed at a hole in the floor, and Kris instantly noticed the tip of a ladder reaching up through the floor I have another floor to my room, that's where my tv is, so we're heading down there.. if you still want?

Kris: He nodded lightly and rolled the clothes under his arm, looking a bit perplexed at Andy as now both his hands were full

Andy: He chuckled hoarsely I'll climb down first, then you can reach the stuff to me.

Kris: Got it he nodded agreeing

#Andy Shaw-Thompson #Andycorn #Kris Bradford #Kristopher Bradford #unicorntales

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grokebaby · 2 years

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Prev plant person's ex bc I also got attached to her

(she/her)

Large humanoid wolf person (furry/wolf demon or smth) with huge arms and paws, dark fur and long unruly hair. She has a few red and white streaks in her hair. Earrings, maybe? Some sort of horns, maybe? If horns she defo has horn ornaments. A portion of her torso (upper torso at least) is plush, meaning it's quite literally sewn together from a patterned fabric and stuffed with fluff. The same goes for her arms and paws (the hand paws, not feet paws). It appears as if she's wearing full-arm length fingerless gloves, and sometimes she actually does, but if not that's just how her arms look. Her (hand) paws are magnificently soft, sort of squishy, although they're not frail despite this. It appears as if she has big red claws, and while they're indeed used as that, in actuality they are her fingers. Referring to what I said about the fingerless gloves appearance, she can "peel" the bulk of her paws off to use her hands, which are quite slender with very long fingers. Her actual arms aren't that skinny though, and her hands aren't very small by any means but compared to the chonky plush paws they're much more graceful. She has a scar across her muzzle that connects to another one on her cheek. Her muzzle is dark while her nose is red. I haven't decided yet if her tail is organic or plush as well. She wears a particular suit/jacket most frequently, which is tailor made for her specifically. She was also born in the Void district, having been part of Hart's collection as a pup (Hart collects inanimate objects that resemble living things, like dolls or statues). Once she grew up and departed from it's collection however she felt drawn to take on a warriorly lifestyle and potentially move to the Wrath district but she got severely injured on her way and was taken in by [Prev plant person's] village. It's not so much a village as it is a garden, though. Non plantoid species also live there tho. To her fortune they had a seamstress living there who could put her back together, and the rest was taken care of [plant person]. She decided to also become a medic, and particularly a pediatrician like hir, and they eventually started dating. When ze decided to move away she followed, of course. Once they broke up in the Pride district she's been put to storage work due to her stature and strength but in an emergency [plant person] will call her to be a substitute doctor, since she's just as capable.

Her full name is Rochdale D Amon, but she's usually called any variation of: Rochi, Ramon, Damon or RD. Back when she actually worked as a medic she was commonly called Dr. Rd

#Ref #My ocs #Character notes #Rochdale D Amon #Demon oc #I love the design I've thought up for her.. I hope I can pull it off #And goddammit still need a name for the plant!!!!!

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aetheternity · 3 years

Text

When their meeting is about to start but they can't get their erection to go away.

Sprays the minors be gone spray

Warning: (Fem reader) In this scenario you have been in a sexual on again off again relationship with these guys individually. You're not dating them. The guys have all tried masturbation before coming to you. Also mommy kink for everyone except Levi.

Armin

Poor thing has been hard since he woke up which was about four hours ago.

He runs into your room almost slamming open the door.

"Mommy, please.. I can't make it go away."

He almost cries when he slips inside. The pain in his balls eased a bit as he wraps his fingers in the blankets.

Mouth open as he lets every noise out unabashedly.

He can't even begin to be ashamed of his noises when your wet cunt continually sucks him in.

"You're so hard baby." You moan as you tug him in close, running your hands over his undercut and through his hair. "What were you thinking about?"

"I wasn't being bad mommy, I promise.. I-I just-" He gasps as he sheaths himself all the way inside. Barely pulling out for each thrust.

Pretty blue eyes rolling towards the sky.

"Hmm?"

"I woke up hard and.. I tried to go back to sleep but it got so painful.."

You kiss his pretty red lips coaxing them out from where he's biting them.

Your legs stay spread for every rough pound of his hips. His cock pressed impossibly deep.

"I need you." He whines "I need you so much."

The ache inside him slowly being released.

"You're gonna make me cum.." He whimpers

You cover his mouth with your hand. His face impossibly red as his eyes finally flutter open.

Blue doe eyes filled with tears that quickly begin to trickle down his cheeks.

"Finish baby. You're such a good boy. Don't moan too loud ok? Let it stay our secret."

When he cums inside you his hips stutter and his screams are covered by your hands.

"That's it, good job baby." You moan back arched for him.

When you release him he inhales sharply letting out one last gasp as he fills you up.

"Mommy there's so much.." He heaves

"Hurry and get to your meeting ok?"

"Ok. I'll be back later to properly thank you." He says tongue curving over his lips.

He takes one more second to stare at his cum where it's flowing down to your ass and he almost gets hard again.

Waits until there's like 10 minutes left before the meeting starts.

Eren

Partially because he thought he could manage to get rid of it before then and partially because he was worried you wouldn't be up this early.

He just kinda awkwardly shuffles around until you notice the very obvious bulge in his pants.

When he does finally go to you he's glad to see you awake.

"I.. it won't fuck off." He grunts

The second you wrap your hands around his cock he lets out the deepest groan throwing his head back. And when it slides inside..

His soul almost escapes him.

"Mommy.." He grunts

You need a couple seconds to adjust even though it hasn't been that long since he last fucked you.

When he finally gets going he's so rough but slow as if he doesn't have a meeting to get to.

His hips pressed right up against your inner thighs and pelvis.

"Baby speed up." You gasp softly "You need to cum so you can get to that meeting."

"I know.. but fuuucckk."

He's absolutely losing his mind.

He's got the bed slamming into the wall, hands making permanent marks where they're squeezing around your waist.

Starts fucking your tight cunt a little harder when you start to sound breathless.

At some point he's pushing both your knees forward into the pillows using that leverage to fuck you so deep you can barely breathe.

He growls into every kiss he plants on your lips.

His cock pounding your g-spot so roughly you've started crying.

Starts to shake when he gets close.

His hands slipping from the backs of your knees to right next to your head.

"God.. fuck!" He huffs, cum painting your insides. "Shit.." He groans in your ear.

You can't even speak too focused on trying to catch your breath.

Veins dark where they show up in his knuckles.

Mouth hung agape as he pulls his now limp cock out.

Gives you a sweet kiss before he leaves.

"Thank you mommy." He smirks at your blissful expression.

Jean

"Help me? Please?"

Doesn't wait as long as Eren and Armin.

Probably around 15 minutes of stroking himself to zero effect before he's coming to you.

"What's the magic word, love?"

"..Mommy."

Has your legs wrapped around his waist. His cock mixing your insides and you can't help but let every sinful noise spill from your throat as he does.

Simultaneously kissing you and playing with your nipples

He's fucking you like you're his girlfriend and he doesn't have a meeting to go to.

"Jean, baby.. you gotta hurry."

Even you don't want him to hurry. Or stop.

"I promise I'll get to my meeting on time I just wanna spend as much time as I can here with you mommy."

Rubs your cheek in circular motions with his thumb when you sob over his pace.

Spreads his legs and presses as deep as he can with a hand on your stomach until you're whimpering on every thrust.

"You feel so fucking good mommy. So good, please keep squeezing my cock."

Till you're cumming around his cock.

Has you moaning his name and arching your back.

Only then does he actually speed up and give in to his need to cum.

Deep moans of mommy falling off his lips onto yours.

Every bit of your pussy full of him till his name is the only word you remember.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders. Keeping himself deep as he empties every drop of his load inside.

He stays in you for almost too long just giving you kisses all over your face and hands.

Whines your name in between little mentions of gratitude

Honestly you're a little sad to see him go.

Finally pulls out and gets dressed.

Connie

"I kept thinking about the mission tomorrow and that kept me up most of the night. Then I started thinking about you and that kept me hard the other half." He laughs

Abuses the fact that he can ask you for sex and you'll almost always say yes.

But it's more because it's you than because he's constantly after sexual pleasure.

Just a little. 🤏

You know because the first time you let him hit was surprising but the 45th time he's still in shock but he's adoring every second he gets to climb in your bed and touch every bit of your skin.

Bites his lip a little when he slips in balls deep.

Only because he loves the fact that it's you more than the fact that he can get off with someone.

As soon as it hits morning and he knows you're awake he's pulling himself out of bed.

"Shit.. mommy this is what I needed." His eyes roll back as he penetrates you from below.

Cock twitching inside with every thrust.

Somehow still manages to smirk and flirt with you while groaning in between each word.

"Mommy, you never deny me.. might as well tell me you're in love with me."

You snort, "Cum already so you can go to your meeting."

"I'll cum when you tell me you love me."

He tries he really does but he's getting so close and the way you're squeezing his cock just isn't fair.

Profanity flying from his lips when you slam your hips down using your knees as leverage.

"God mommy please.." He begs reaching out for your waist.

He lifts himself up latching his tongue to one nipple while his free hand is cupping your breast.

Groans low in his throat when he cums. His eyes fluttering shut

Whispers of fuck and goddammit cresting off his lips.

His cock twitching against your walls. The feeling making you bite your lip.

"You take such good care of me mommy." He cooes

He leans into your ear, "What if I just stayed here and fucked you all day?"

"Go to your meeting!" You huff, getting off of him.

He finally leaves when you give him a silent glare.

Levi

Walks into your bedroom without so much as a knock and locks the door.

He waits it out for almost 3 hours before finally going to you with all his pent up frustration.

He wants it to go away on its own so bad.

"What's up with you this morning?" You laugh as he tosses your panties aside haphazardly.

He doesn't need to answer his dick print speaks for itself.

Thrusts all the way inside with no warning.

Like Eren he has your feet in the air, knees pressed into the sheets.

You wanna tease him so bad for being this hard and a little loud this early in the morning but his cock feels like it's in your stomach.

You can only keep your head back, noises spilling off your lips with every thrust.

Eyes coasting north when he slams into your sweet spots.

Keeps fucking into you like you're his little toy. Simultaneously rough and gentle.

Angles his hips in a specific way to hear you scream and then mutters for you to be quiet.

Groans when your nails dig into his back.

Eventually he lets your legs go, allowing them to wrap around his waist as he finally picks a pace.

His thrusts so hard you can hear small clatters from the wood under the mattress hitting the floor.

And you're clenching around him so tight.

Screaming his name along with every curse word known to man.

He lets out a long drawn out moan as he fills your tight pussy with every bit of pent up frustration he possesses in all 160 cm of himself.

And surprisingly it's a lot.

And finally he's letting you go with a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Good girl." He whispers, thumb coaxing strands of your hair off your cheeks.

Meanwhile your heart beat is slamming against your rib cage so loud you're sure you'll bust.

You probably have shit to do today too but after that you just wanna go back to sleep.

#aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #jean krischtein x reader #armin arlert x reader #connie x reader #aot imagines #aot scenario #aot smut #levi ackerman smut #eren yeager smut #armin smut #jean kirschtein smut #connie springer smut

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sinnabonka · 4 years

Text

If you wish hard enough

Dean’s never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for, on AO3

Dean wakes up to a gentle caress on his cheek. It feels nothing like Miracle's wet slimy wake up call that's become a part of his daily morning routine, and he jolts, hands scavenging the sheets for his gun.

The emptiness under the pillow makes Dean’s guts flip, but his mind keeps searching for options. He remembers there’s a pen knife hidden in his boot under the bed, a demon blade in the jacket hanging on the doorknob, plus, there is always a lamp on the nightstand he could effectively fling.

Instead, running the numbers, he decides first to shed some light onto the scene, and paws his way to the switch and flips it.

He winces when the white dim light floods the room.

As his eyes refocus, he blinks, mouth falling open. Swallowing, his throat clenches around the fragment of a sound ready to escape. His fists ball on the comforter on both sides of his thighs as his stomach careens into the endless and weightless feeling of falling.

The light is weak, the outlines it draws are smudged and blurry.

“Hello, Dean.”

The room floor tilts like a ship deck in a storm, and Dean finds himself grasping on solid surfaces of the furniture in a rushed attempt to get out of the bed. His lungs ache at the lack of air to fill them up.

Dean makes one unsure step, then another. His knees buckle, but with the last ounce of strength he forces himself to stay upright.

He reaches out to what has to be a ghost, because what else can it be, and as he does, his fingers are trembling. A hopeful thought struggles, drowning in the white noise inside his skull.

And then there’s a touch.

“Cas.”

Dean chokes on the word, the one he kept whispering in the middle of the night for the last few months trying to speak it into existence. The name he was too broken and hurt to say out loud knowing the sound of it would defeat him if he did. The name he was sure he was never meant to say again looking into those familiar blue eyes, now staring back at him, expecting.

“Cas,” he repeats, finally finding the solid ground. His voice is low and trembling, but unlike all the times he’s been sobbing it half asleep, his voice is not hollow anymore. It may be a bit too emotional than Dean cares to admit.

“Hello,” the ghost repeats with an unsure smile.

“Hey,” Dean says back.

It’s just a moment before an unknown force pushes him forward. His hands fly, touching, grasping, pulling in. Dean abruptly exhales as the air gets punched out of him in a single moment when their chests collapse against each other.

“Cas,” he whispers, burying his face into the crack of Cas’ neck.

The wrinkled fabric of the trench coat under his palm feels real, so does the warm, soft skin under the pressure of his cheek and the hand slipping up to rest across his back in comforting circles.

Please be real. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows a single loud sob escape his lungs.

“I’m here,” says Cas, but Dean is not sure if he hears it or feels the vibration of the voice, pressing too hard to the source of it. “I’m right here, Dean. It’s alright now.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I thought the Empty…”

“Some things are beyond their control,” Cas says with a smile, before pulling away.

“But why?” Dean shakes his head at the way the question sounds and asks instead: "How?”

“Jack says hi,” Cas smiles knowingly.

It’s a short moment of silence between them, a moment of long-awaited comfort and relief, and Dean’s afraid to spoil it with words. He leans in closer and lets both his hands rest on Cas’ shoulders. He catches himself thinking that if he lets go, looks away or blinks too slowly, Cas is going to disappear, dissolve into nothingness, leaving him alone in the dim light of the bedroom.

He slowly shakes his head, staring into Cas’ eyes, as if gathering the fuel for his own bravery. He clears his throat before speaking up.

“I need to say something,” he starts, each word weighed and measured. “Last time you bailed on me and didn’t give me a chance to, so now I’m gonna jump straight to the...”

“Dean, I…”

“Goddammit, Cas, let me finish. I’m not the talking kind, you know that. This one is long due.” He clears his throat again, though it’s nothing physical he can simply cough out. Dean tries again: “I need to say it, okay? I never thought I’d get a chance, I’m still not sure I’m not daydreaming over a book or something.”

Cas looks as if he was about to interrupt him again, but never does.

“I promised myself that if I ever see you again, it would be the first thing I say, okay? No maybe laters, no tomorrows, just here, now, a’right? Last time it took Thee Death literally knocking at the door for one of us to speak up.” Dean smiles nervously. “That’s not happening again.”

Cas’ eyebrows raise, but he stays respectfully silent.

“I’m not losing you again, you hear me? So you gotta cut this self-devotion-take-me-instead crap. From now on, none of that. Clear?”

Cas nods, not sure if he still is not allowed to speak.

“Good,” Dean says with a dead serious expression etched across his face.

His heart is loud inside his chest, the even thuds echoing through his temples. He can’t think of what he’s doing even for a split second or he’ll find a thousand and one excuses not to. And he can’t afford it, not this time. His hand lands on the back of Cas’ neck and he inches closer, suddenly short of breath.

“Dean...”

“Shut up,” he huffs, freezing for a moment with his eyes glued to Cas’ mouth. He licks his own lips, he curses silently, and comes the rest of the way in one movement.

When their lips meet, Dean shakily exhales and sinks into the kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers against Cas’ mouth, as if just hearing it was not enough, as if Cas had to taste the sincerity of those words to believe them.

“I love you,” he repeats into the kiss, and he misses the moment when Cas’ hands wrap around him and press them together firmly.

“I love you, dumbass,” he smirks, “and I am not losing you again. You hear me?”

“Of course,” Cas answers.

It takes them another few minutes before they break away. Breathless, blushed, they look at each other with unmistakable fondness.

“What time is it?” Cas asks suddenly.

Dean looks over his shoulder on the clock, but for a moment can’t make out the numbers jumping under his blurry vision.

“Ten past midnight,” he says finally, and follows with, “Why? Gotta be home before you turn into a pumpkin?”

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says, instead of reflecting on the joke, and plants another quick kiss on Dean’s lips. “Jack asked to wish you a happy birthday, too, and to remind you that if you wish hard enough for something, it’s sure to come true. I guess it was him…”

“Yeah,” Dean interrupts, his face warming up, “Yeah, I know what that's about.”

He rests his forehead against Cas’, eyes squeezed shut, and thinks of how it took him forty two years to finally take his first full breath.

He's never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for.

“I love you too,” Cas whispers, and Dean’s heart sings to it.

He smiles at the thought of how later today, when he will be blowing out candles on his birthday cake, he will have nothing left to wish for.

#happy birthday Dean Winchester #destiel #spncreatorsdaily #destiel fanfic #destiel drabble #hbd dean #destiel ficlet #destiel fluff #dean winchester #deancas fic #spn fic #deancas #spn #castiel #spn 15x20 coda #sinnabonka writes

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altsvu · 3 years

Text

a little jealous, i suppose?

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!female!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: after being called in for a case in the middle of a romantic date, you and hotch have to talk to the lieutenant on the case, but they end up flirting with you at the same time. hotch gets a little jealous and proves it when you and him get back to the hotel room.

tw: sex talk, A SHIT TON OF SMUT, some fluff, swearing.

a/n: this is a long one lovelies! i had so much fun writing this! jealous hotch can be a bit naughty... but this is my first (completed) smut fic with hotch and i hope it doesn’t sound super weird or whatever bc i lowkey suck at smut

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist! ✯ text messages!

✯✯✯✯

You and Hotch had been dating for almost a year and a half now. Upon dating, the two of you had decided that it was best to not say anything to the rest of the team. Although you wanted everything to be kept under wraps, everyone wanted the two of you to be together though, and they picked up on the many interactions that you exchanged with each other. It had been easy to keep the relationship a secret, or at least the idea of either you or Hotch being in a romantic relationship, until now when you came into the BAU floor wearing a revealing dress and a full face of makeup.

“Well, well, well,” Morgan whistled. “Looks like someone’s going on a date.”

“Shut up Morgan, you’re just jealous it’s not with you.” you laughed. “I am not jealous at all. You do look really good though.” he responded, in which you blew him a kiss.

“You look so beautiful! Your date is definitely gonna fall head over heels for you.” JJ squealed, coming up to give you a hug. You knew exactly who she was talking about. Hotch. She was the only person you were able to confide in about your relationship with him even though you had practically become best friends with everyone on the team. “Thank you JJ.” you smiled.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Reid asked.

“Or girl?” Penelope said.

You looked for some of your items from your desk, trying to avoid the team’s burning questions. “All I can say is that he’s... definitely older.”

“Well, you know what they say, the older the wiser.” Emily suggested.

“Yes, this man is very wise.” you replied, putting your badge and gun in your purse. Little did everyone know that they were talking highly of Hotch.

Rossi came out of his office. “Well, you’re not going on a date with me.”

“Unfortunately-“ you frowned, then paused mid sentence when your phone rang. You pulled it out and broke away from the group to make sure they couldn’t see the name.

“Sweetheart, you know I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look.” Hotch mused. You could tell he had a smile on his face. “Well babe, lucky for you, I’m about to leave. See you in 5 okay?” You replied.

“Of course.”

You hung up and dropped your phone in your bag, grabbing your coat. “Alright everyone, I’m off. Don’t miss me too much, I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay.”

“Walk you to the elevator?” JJ asked. You nodded sincerely. You then said your goodbyes to everyone and walked out with JJ.

“He’s lucky to be with a woman like you.”

“Yeah, I like to think that. I’m just glad he doesn’t treat me like a child, ya know. I may be the youngest here, but when we’re alone, everything’s just different.”

JJ lifted an eyebrow. “Ohhhh, I see.”

You playfully smacked her on the shoulder as the elevator door opened. “Girl stop. It’s more than that.” You walked into the elevator, blowing a kiss at JJ.

“Have fun!”

✯✯✯✯

“You look absolutely amazing, did I tell you that already?” Hotch complimented as you got out of the car.

“Yes you have, about 5 times already, but I appreciate the compliments. You look quite handsome yourself, Aaron.”

“Thank you, my love.” he said, kissing you on the lips.

The two of you went inside the restaurant and followed the waiter to the reserved table, which had seating next to each other instead of across and the environment was pretty chill since there weren’t a lot of people inside, so it felt even more romantic. It gave you more freedom to perform many forms of PDA, which was something that Hotch wanted to experiment more with.

“So... everyone on the BAU floor is questioning who I’m dating,” you started. Hotch looked up at you mid bite. “Really? What’d you say?”

“I’m dating an older man who’s very wise.”

Hotch sneaked an arm around your waist. “I’m glad that you think I’m wise.”

“I can think of a lot more.” you whispered. You then crept your hand up to the nape of Hotch’s neck and pulled him closer to you, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Mmm, I know what I’m gonna do to you when we get home.” Hotch murmured into your ear after kissing you back. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re gonna be shaking when you walk into the BAU tomorrow.” His fingers tickled your bare skin, and you hoped you weren’t getting an orgasm from his touch.

“Oh what a naughty, wise man you are.” you mused, taking the opportunity to kiss and nibble on the soft skin that was Hotch’s neck. You sucked on it hard, leaving a dark red mark.

You went back to enjoying your meal and chatting when you were interrupted by a phone call.

“It’s Garcia.” Hotch whispered. He then proceeded to answer the phone. When he got off the phone with her, he looked disappointed. “What is it?” you asked.

“We’re being called in.”

“Fuck.” you muttered under your breath, hearing your phone ring too.

Hotch took your face in his hands. “It’s okay. We can finish date night another night.”

✯✯✯✯

You had texted JJ that you would be meeting them on the plane to avoid suspicions from the rest of the team and you would be briefed when you arrived. JJ had grabbed your go bag for you as well.

“Y/N, how was your date?” Emily asked.

It was tempting to smile and look at Hotch but you were able not to. “Despite it being cut short, it was amazing. We had... plans after dinner.”

“Oooo, risqué.” Morgan cocked his head to the side. You pinched his cheek and collapsed in one of the chairs, wanting to sleep. In a way, you were a bit upset that you and Hotch had to be called away from your date, you seriously wanted him to be all over you, kissing you, sucking on your skin, massaging your forbidden spots.

“Very. Where are we headed?”

The rest of the team then briefed you on the case and when you landed, you’d have to go with Hotch to talk with the lieutenant that was the lead on the case and set up at the field office.

While you were looking through your copy of the case file, you got a text from Hotch.

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: That hickey on my neck won’t be going away for a while, Rossi’s already asking about it

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: he thinks i had “a little rendezvous” before being called in.

You stifled a laugh.

You: well... you did. With me of course

You: Keep him wondering, I’ll give you more in our hotel room 😘 and i’m also holding you to that promise

SSA Hotchner BAU ❤️: the things i want to do to you... i wouldn’t even be able to count

You bit your finger and looked out the window, wanting the day to go by fast. Hotch was sitting across from you, so he looked up at you for a slight second with a grin on his face, which caught your attention quickly. He gave you a wink and looked back down. Moments later, the jet was arriving at the team’s destination and you were eager to just change out of your date night clothes.

“Do we have time for me to stop by the hotel we’re staying in?” you whispered to JJ while getting off the plane.

“My beloved friend, we’re on a time crunch.” JJ started. “But, I’ll let you come with me to get the keys for our rooms.”

You sighed in relief and smiled a thank you.

✯✯✯✯

“I kinda wished you didn’t have to change out of that dress.” Hotch admitted. You side eyed him, knowing that he was joking. That was until you turned to look at him and he was staring at you, examining you almost. “Me too,” you smiled, turning to look at him. “But obviously that would be super inappropriate.”

“Well of course it would be.” Hotch growled, pulling you closer to him.

“There’s cameras,” you hissed.

“Good.” One of his hands grabbed your ass and you let out a gasp. Clearly Hotch did not care whatsoever about the cameras, all he cared about was you, and how amazing you looked in front of him. That, and closing this current case as soon as possible. He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips ever so passionately, stopping just in time for the elevator door to open. As you were approaching the lieutenant, you straightened your shirt in hopes that he wouldn’t think that anything suspicious was going on.

“Lieutenant Baker, I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is SSA Y/N .” Hotch said, shaking hands with Baker. When he got to you, a smile creeped up on his face and he lingered a bit after shaking your hand. A bit odd, you thought. “Thank you for coming,” he finally replied. “These suspicious murders have been going on for too long and I’d like to put an end to them as much as you do.”

“And that’s why we’re here.” Hotch agreed. “Is there a place for us to settle?” He led you and Hotch to a conference room with an evidence board, and as you were walking, you felt a familiar hand on your back, creeping to your waist. Goddammit Hotch. You glared at him to stop before he got caught and he only looked back at you with a smile on his face.

The rest of the time in the field office wasn’t bad, but you had a very huge feeling that the lieutenant was trying to make some moves on you.

It’s not like you weren’t used to this, men just found you super attractive. But you only found one man that was attractive.

Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey.” you turned around to find the lieutenant standing next to you. “Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“Nah, just putting these pictures and visuals up. Hotch and I are gonna review the case files until the family comes in to talk to us.”

“Ok, that sounds good.”

You noticed that Baker was still standing in your vicinity. “Is there something that you need from me, Lieutenant?”

“No, not at all. Let me know if you need anything from me, I’ll be trying to round up some potential witnesses.” Baker said, squeezing and rubbing your forearm for a moment and walking away to his office. He had a side grin on his face.

You, on the other hand, stood in your spot truly dumbfounded. Your mouth slightly gaped, you turned and watched Baker walk away. Suddenly your eyes made their way to Hotch, who was looking at you across the room, a grin also on his face.

“What was that about? He ask you if you were dating anyone?”

You rolled your eyes and finished putting up the map for Reid to use later. “Please, no.” Hotch was then standing by your side, leaning against the wall beside the evidence board.

“That wasn’t just any touch there.”

“Yeah well, it didn’t mean anything to me. Did you forget that I love you or something?”

Hotch pulled you into a kiss. “Of course not.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Then what’s the issue? A little jealous, I suppose?” You put emphasis on jealous.

“Agents? The victim’s mother is here.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Hotch replied. He turned back to you. “We’ll talk later.”

✯✯✯✯

It was nearing the end of the day, and everyone was tired. It was only the team’s first day in a small Nevada town, but a lot was accomplished.

Riding in the car with Derek, Emily, and JJ back to the hotel room, you let the breeze flow through your body. Nervousness washed over you as you thought about the morning upon arriving at the field office.

Hotch always had underlying meanings to even the simplest things he would say, which is why you couldn’t stop wondering if he was the slightest bit upset at the lieutenant for advancing on you, the person he loved with all his heart.

“Hey.” JJ poked at your arm. “What’s going on? Trouble in paradise?”

You smiled a bit. “No, uh, I guess there was a bit of tension since the lieutenant was flirting with me.”

“He was actually good looking, I think he’d be a great match for you.” Emily suggested, turning around.

“Y/N does attract almost every male species.” Derek commented.

“Guys, stop, I’m just... not interested in him.” You said simply, turning back to the window. The only thing running to your head was what Hotch had planned for tonight.

When you got to the hotel room, you found things the way they were, only Hotch’s go bag next to yours. You pulled out your robe and shower essentials from your go bag - you hated using hotel soap - and started to strip. When Hotch came out of the bathroom, you were only in your underwear, slipping on your robe, and he was only in a towel.

“You didn’t say when you came in.” Hotch whispered, planting a small kiss on your head.

“I know, I didn’t wanna bother you. I’m gonna shower quickly okay?” He nodded and you then went in the bathroom. When you were done, Hotch was in bed wearing a white shirt and grey boxer shorts. God, he looked so hot.

“What conversation did you want to have earlier?” You asked, wrapping your robe around a bit tighter.

Hotch gestured to you to lay next to him. “You know how I get when it comes to people flirting with you.”

“Yeah, you go feral. Internally, of course.” You paused. “Wait. Is Aaron Hotchner... mad?”

His hand snuck inside your robe, trailing up to your chest, cupping your right breast, sending chilling shockwaves to the rest of your body.

“Let’s just say I wanna show you that you belong to me.”

Oh, Hotch was jealous alright.

You turned to face him and that’s when he worked his magic. One side of your robe slipped off, and next thing you knew, he was teasing your clit, making you wet. Your shallow breaths and whimpers filled the emptiness of the room. He continued teasing you for a bit, then you watched as he pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit while staring at you dead in your eyes. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to make sure you knew he was the one in control, and that he would do anything to get off on your pleasure.

He made extra sure of it when he started cockwarming you.

Oh fuck you Aaron, you said in your head as small whimpers escaped your mouth.

“Yeah, you like when I do that to you?” Hotch- well Aaron, asked roughly. “You like feeling my cock inside you, don’t you?”

He was enjoying the sight of you, close to him, almost orgasming on the spot. But he wasn’t gonna let you get off that easily.

“What’s wrong, my sweet girl? Hmm?”

“I- I need you, Aaron,” was all you could croak out.

Aaron shifted on top of you and you curled your legs around him.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to speak up for me to give you what you want.” Aaron teased, taking of his shirt.

“I need you Aaron,” you repeated a bit louder.

Aaron smiled and thrusted hard and fast into you, in which he took no time. “Good girl.” He let out a fierce groan when he did so.

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You do,” you moaned. “You make me feel good Aaron.”

He kissed you fiercely in response with one of his hands gripping your neck and the other holding on to your leg. “God, you look so sexy under me, my sweet, sweet girl. You take me so well.”

He knew you wanted to come, your flushed face gave it away. But when you asked, ever so politely, he responded with a firm no.

“You don’t get to come until I do.”

“But Aaron, plea-“

“No.”

As he was going faster, you felt yourself nearing an orgasm, and all you wanted to do was melt under him.

He pulled out just after he reached his high and smashed his lips against your clit, stimulating you even more. When he finally let you come, it came on strong and heavy, and a loud, broken “Aaron” escaped your lips. You did not care whatsoever if two of the other team members in the next room heard you. Aaron on the other hand was enjoying every moment of it. “Oh, my sweet girl, you taste amazing.” he mused.

When he was done he collapsed next to you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just... that was super hot.” you breathed, moving closer to him.

“It was. I think now you know who you belong to.” Aaron whispered, caressing your cheek.

“Much more than I did before.”

Aaron offered to clean you up, and after, the two of you slept soundly for the rest of the night.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @averyhotchner @storiesofsvu @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @dr-omalley @morcias @mstrinnyb

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post-modern-prometheus · 3 years

Note

Okay so I saw the AU where Peter manifest his metal bending abilities (I can’t spell it) during AoU before his super speed, and I got this idea.

So essentially, when the Accords are put into place, Wanda and Pietro obviously refuse to sign. Wanda and the other members of Team Cap get put into Raft, Pietro manages to escape along with Steve, but Peter gets captured too. But Ross also knows about his ability to control metal and knows he can’t put Peter into Raft unless he wants him to escape, most likely with the others.

So where does he put this small eleven year old child who is way too young to be in prison in the first place?

Why the Pentagon, of course.

They put a shock collar on him, force him into one of those straightjackets, and shove poor Peter into a cell. Not just any cell though, one of the only cells without a trace of metal inside.

But he isn’t alone.

To say that Erik was surprised when the guards dropped a child - a literally fucking child - into his cell is an understatement. But he doesn’t get the chance to wonder about it because the kid is obviously terrified and in pain, so Erik gets up and helps the kid out of the straightjacket, but unfortunately, the collar isn’t made of metal so he can’t get it off.

Still, he helps the kid out as much as he can. They can’t really have a normal conversation bc of the shock collar, so Erik doesn’t learn Peter’s name, but that doesn’t stop Peter from at least trying to communicate. And to be honest, it’s kind of nice to have someone other than the guards as company, even if it IS a kid.

But Erik has a lot of questions. Mainly about why an eleven year old was put into the Pentagon and treated so horribly. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that the kid is a mutant, and he’s obviously enraged bc why should a kid be tossed into prison for being a mutant? That is literally the exact thing Erik was fighting against for most of his life.

And one day, after Peter gets another nasty shock from the collar, Erik decides that he isn’t going to let this torture continue. He tries to come up with some sort of plan, but the cells are almost impossible to break out of without outside help.

But then Tony appears.

Tony heard about Peter getting captured, and he also heard about him being put into the Pentagon instead of Raft. And when Tony finds out that Peter was put into the same cell as fucking Magneto, he’s pissed. Ross says that they’re working on another metal-free cell, and that him being placed with Magneto is just a temporary arrangement, but Tony insists on seeing him.

He is horrified to see the shock collar on Peter’s neck, even if he had been expecting it after seeing the same thing with Wanda, but what he isn’t expecting is to see Peter curled up at Magneto’s side, fast asleep as the man glares up at the guards through the glass ceiling. It’s at that moment that Tony realizes that Peter and Magneto actually look... kind of similar? But he doesn’t dwell on that for long. He just knows that he needs to get Peter out of here bc he’s 11 goddammit and does not deserve to stay in a small ass cell for the rest of his life.

So, later that night, Tony sneaks inside and plants all sorts of metal items all throughout the place before eventually heading over to the cell where Erik and Peter are. Erik senses the metal and uses it to break the glass, and when he asks Tony why he did it, Tony is just like ‘that kid means a lot to me and my team. You better fucking take care of him.’ Bc Tony knows that the first place Ross will look for Peter and Erik is all of the Stark properties, so as much as he hates to admit it, Peter would be safer with someone else. Even if that someone is a terrorist.

With Tony’s help, Erik gets the shock collar off of Peter, and with one last grateful nod in the billionaires direction, Erik takes Peter and gets the hell out of there.

yeah really i can't add anything to the beauty that is this

i just.

wow

#peter maximoff #erik lensherr #dadneto #tony stark #TONY STOP ADOPTING EVER CHILD NAMED PETER THAT YOU SEE CHALLENGE

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siriushxney · 3 years

Text

➛ searing light | chapter three

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow & bone

— wordcount ; 2k

— warnings ; death, blood, guns, cursing(?)

— note ; this chapter was super fun for me to write, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

previous | next

if it hadn’t been for the squallers standing over head, hands held in front of them manipulating the air around them to glide them forward — you wouldn’t have been able to tell which way was west.

with the only light sprouting from a blue lantern — a light specificity designed by the materialki as to not draw the volcra’s attention, yet provide the otherwise blind grisha and soldiers present on the skiff with light.

wilbur had wandered off slightly — far enough that with the minimal light on board, you weren’t able to make out his facial features, but close enough that if something did happen, he would be able to get to you swiftly.

niki had chosen to stay by your side — out of the two of you, she was unsurprisingly the most confident and collected given the circumstances.

“you’re worrying too much,” niki’s voice was soft — not even loud enough to be considered a whisper, but with the fold demanding utmost silence, you could make her out.

“it’s hard not to worry when you’re in the middle of a place you were taught to fear,” the darkness stretched for miles on all sides of the skiff. “wilbur shouldn’t have even been on this damn thing, let alone me.”

“well whose fault is that?”

not offering a response, you turned your back to the blonde as much as you could. grisha stood at every corner of the deck. there were squallers, heartrenders, a single inferni, and niki — the durast.

they had for the most part gone with grisha that could inflict damage without a dramatic show — but the inferni was there for if things flipped suddenly.

the sharp and ice-like wind didn’t cease the further you had made it into the fold — instead, it’s currents were stronger and more harsh — its temperature making your fingers feel as if they had frostbite within seconds of being exposed.

if you didn’t die from a volcra, maybe the cold would do it.

you swayed forward with the gust of wind that carried from behind — a foot coming to balance yourself alongside your hands placed on the edge.

“shit!” a tiny whisper was heard from your side, but as you turned to look — you couldn’t make out anything.

while her presences was still beside you, you couldn’t see her at all — wilbur either.

“what just happened?”

“the lights out,” niki’s voice was more distanced now, no doubt trying to get the light back on without causing a fuss. “it’s not lighting.”

“just give it a few seconds,” another voice joined her own — it was the inferni.

clicks and taps could be heard from the two as the poke and prodded at the light, desperate for the thing to light up once more.

“miss, what’s happening?”

“the light is out, but we’ll get it back on in a few moments, soldier.”

you had heard it before you had seen it.

the attempted drags of it against the side of the box, the nervous and desperate pants, and the sound of the flame bursting to life.

an orange light emitted from the single match held in carey’s hand.

grisha stood dumbfoundedly and soldiers starred in fear.

“blow it out!” the inferni rushed forward, stopping only short so she wasn’t directly in the light. “you need to put that flame out right now, or you’re going to get us killed!”

carey’s hands shook as he brought the match closer to his face — his shaky breaths making the flame dance wildly the closer it got.

but with the dancing flame and the devastatingly fear-stricken boy, the thing behind him was illuminated as the flame was brought to his face.

“carey-“

the creature screeched as it launched up and off of the skiff, swooping down to sink its claws into the boy's shoulders, and dragging him into the darkness above — his screams echoing through the fold.

orange, yellows, and reds erupted from beside you — the match that had once been in carey's hand now laid in the center of a large and rapidly spreading fire.

volcra’s cries and wings flapping could be heard drawing closer, and with the ever growing light, you could see the shapes of them swoop and fly overhead.

“everyone get down-“ the inferni was grabbed by a volcra — the creature dragging the girls body towards the side of the skiff and through the wood and steel entirely.

splinters of wood and shards of grisha steel bursted upon impact, sending you and those around it back and shielding yourself with anything you could. with clumsy and stiff feet, you had fallen to the deck — hands and arms brought up to protect your face from the wood and steel.

“are you okay!” niki called from the pole that held the blue light — no longer concerned with lighting it, but hiding and protecting herself.

“I don’t know-“

screams of soldiers and grisha alike polluted the air — the scratching of claws on the deck, the sound of flesh being torn, guns firing from all angles, and pleas for help going unanswered.

they were being picked off one by one by the volcra.

“Y/N, look at me!” you turned your head from the scenes of violence — too shocked and fearful of what you were witnessing to fully pay attention to your surroundings. “you stay right there okay? you don’t move from that spot — i’m going to try and get wilbur back here, okay?”

wilbur.

where was wilbur?

“oh my saints-“ you were on your feet in an instant, shakily walking with knees about to give out, searching for your best friend- your family.

“wilbur!”

—

niki watched as you abandoned your place of safety, despite her words encouraging you to stay put.

you were stubborn — and that was going to get you killed.

with a frustrated grunt and a quick glance around the deck, niki searched for anything she could use as a weapon. as strong as she may have been both in sheer power and the small science — her hands were of no use against them.

she manipulated metal, glass, and plants — not flesh and beasts.

instead, she searched for a weapon.

a lone gun, no doubt dropped by a now fallen soldier, laid in the middle of the deck, catching her eyes as it glinted in the light.

with outstretched and still hands, niki focused on the molecules of the steel that made up most of the firearm — drawing them tighter and tighter as if she was gripping it with her own bare hands.

she jerked her hands closer to her body, the weapon following — the gun slid across the deck of the skiff as it knocked into her boot.

picking up and inspecting it quickly, she nodded. “you’ll do just fine.”

looking up, her eyes searched through the chaos on board, trying to find either you or the lanky boy that she had come to learn was named wilbur.

“why couldn’t you have stayed put, and why did you have to walk away?”

—

“wilbur! where the hell are you!”

a soldier knocked into you in his haste to get away from the beast that flew overhead. while you had expected the volcra to follow after the screaming man, it swooped in for someone else — their gun falling from their hands, and their body dangling from the creatures boney and grey claws.

it had taken you a moment to realize what was unfolding in front of you.

“Y/N!”

“oh my saints- wilbur!”

the man clawed at the grotesque talons that gripped his uniform, trying desperately to get the creature to let his body drop.

frantic eyes looked for something to help him with, but you came up short — every thing that could have been helpful, was too far away — and with the height that the creature held him at, there was no way to reach for him.

“move!”

a body crashed into the side of yours, and a gun was seen in your peripherals. niki stood, shoulders squared and eyes full of disgust and determination — no one was fighting back, so she would take this into her own hands.

the trigger clicked as she pulled it — bullet after bullet emptying into the creatures pale skin causing blood and anything else you could think of, falling down onto you and the deck.

with a final round buried into the creatures flesh, it’s talons loosened and gravity pulled wilbur down — his body crashing into the wood below.

your feet moved before you could even process anything — niki following shortly behind.

sliding on the deck was painful — your knees filing with splinters and soaking in the blood of the now deceased, and your own from your own wounds. but you paid no mind to it — not when wilbur coughed wildly, clutching his chest as he blinked up into the darkness.

“are you okay!?” your hands searched for any wounds that could’ve been caused from the nasty creatures sharp claws.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he brushed your searching hands away — and while his eyes told you that he was in fact okay, they also held fear.

that could’ve been the end.

this could be the end.

“not to break up this cute moment, but I advise us to get to the back of the skiff — we’ll be sheltered there.”

wilbur sat up with the help of niki and you — his chest still rapidly rising and falling from the adrenaline that had rushed through him moments before.

he looked up, his eyes taking in your watery and distressed eyes — you had seen your life flash before your eyes despite being the one watching his life get out on the line.

it was terrifying to watch someone that you considered family teetering on the edge of life and death.

taking your hands into his own, wilbur smiled to the best of his ability. “i’m fine, Y/N.”

you offered a smile back.

and watched as his eyes widened, and mouth opened in a shout.

this time, you had felt it before you had heard it.

the claws ripping through the fabric of your uniform — parts of your skin being scratched and bloodied by the creature dragging you up.

wilbur's hands held onto yours — niki gripping your arm as if it was her lifeline, desperate to get you out of the volcra’s hold.

the gun that had been used before laid bulletless and ultimately useless now.

there was no way to help you like you had wilbur.

“goddammit! let them go you bastard!” wilbur screamed at the creature as if it would understand him. at this rate, he was going to attract a lot more volcra with the screaming he was doing.

“wilbur, you have to let go-“

“for once in your life, worry about yourself more the those around you!”

volcra grew closer and closer to the last remaining soldiers and grisha on deck — wilbur and niki in the open for attack.

you had been here to protect wilbur.

and it seemed that you might be the one to get him killed.

“wilbur- wilbur look at me!”

his eyes met your own — tears falling without care as he watched you give him a grim look.

“you have to let me go-“

the volcra jerked your body in attempt to free you from their grip — but the two persisted and held on. but the heat from the flames and the fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins caused their hands to slip — the grip they once had faltering as your body was pulled higher and higher.

with one last jerk of its body, the volcra had torn you away from the duo who now sat horrified, looking up at your body that was being pulled further and further up.

this was the end.

it had to be.

heat had been the first thing to flood your body. cold fingers and cheeks that felt like ice, now turned to hot blood pulsing under the skin.

the next thing was the light. a searing light, before you felt the claws that held you in the air disappear, sending you hurtling back down to the deck below.

— tag list ; open

@dreamslittlebitch // @sleepingalaska // @infinitelycharmed23 // @dovesgrangers //

#🖇.dreamwastaken #searing light #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp fanfiction #dream x reader #dream imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine

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novelconcepts · 4 years

Text

fic: the shape of it

for a prompt from @karatam

They expect the Lady to come, one day. They expect the Lady to take Dani, in the end.

They did not expect it to go like this.

“She’s going to take me,” Dani says in a voice so thick with resignation, it nearly kills Jamie outright. Says it like a foregone conclusion, like something biblical ingrained in her from childhood. Jamie looks at her, and thinks, She believes it. Nothing else matters. She believes this with her whole heart.

Jamie takes her hand anyway. Offers her company anyway. Loads up the car with bags and dreams of outrunning all of it anyway. The way she sees it, it’s the only path forward. Anything less would leave bits of Dani--bits of Jamie, too--behind in this house forever.

They are not running away together, exactly. They are moving slowly, carefully, checking the road ahead for obstacles and cracks in the pavement as they go. Slowly, the distance between the pair of them and Bly Manor expands. Slowly, the world stops looking so much like a ghost story. Jamie, more and more every day, thinks, She believed it with her whole heart, but maybe not so much anymore. Maybe not so much.

Even so, even as the months turn to years, Jamie can’t forget the certainty in Dani’s face that day as she said it. She’s going to take me. The most certain Dani has been about anything except Jamie herself. Though the days are gorgeous, long and lazy, stretching on like there will be millions more ahead, Jamie can’t forget. She’s going to take me.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she murmurs, brushing Dani’s hair back. She’s fallen asleep on the couch again, her head in Jamie’s lap, and though it’s well past midnight, Jamie can’t bring herself to wake her. Moments like this. Moments like this are so many, and so precious, and so much more than how very small they seem.

Dani thinks the Lady will take her, someday. Jamie thinks Dani knows her own mind better than anyone. In two very different ways, they’re both primed to fight.

And even still, when it begins, it’s a blind strike to the side of the head.

***

Dani has lost her key.

It sounds so small, so nothing. She turns up at the shop an hour after she’s gone home to get dinner started, looking more than a little sheepish. Jamie, wrist-deep in repotting some of the hardier flowers, cocks her head.

“What’re you doing back? Don’t tell me the apartment caught fire.”

Dani, head bowed, sits behind the counter. “Can’t get in,” she says miserably. “Left the key somewhere.”

Jamie smiles. Dani hates making silly mistakes--she sometimes thinks it’s this vaguely type-A attitude that drew her toward teaching in the first place, toward helping kids not screw up the little things in life. It’s endearing, the rare occasion Dani lets her see a side of error not confined to her tragic inability to make a hot beverage.

“I’m sure it’s in with the laundry or something,” she says, brushing off her hands and setting aside her trowel. “No worries, I’m just about finished here anyway. You want to pick up tacos on the way?”

No worries. That’s how it feels, as a pouting Dani tucks her arm through Jamie’s bent elbow and follows her out of the shop. People misplace things every day--it’s not like Dani pitched her key down a gutter or something. It’ll turn up.

And, within an hour of arriving home with the best Mexican food suburban Vermont has to offer, it does: under Dani’s purse, dead center of a couch cushion. Jamie produces it with a flourish, dropping to one knee like a knight of old and raising it upon her palms like a magic sword.

“M’lady,” she drawls. “Your treasure.”

Dani laughs. She plucks the key from Jamie’s hand, tucks it into her hip pocket, pulls Jamie into a giggly kiss--and just like that, the matter is forgotten. A nothing. A moment.

If she looks a little puzzled, a little irritated with herself, it passes before Jamie can even comment.

***

The plants in the back are wilting.

Jamie stands, hands in her pockets, regarding them with some alarm. Shouldn’t be a problem, she thinks, running through the possibilities. Roots should have plenty of space. Lights are working fine. No sign of rot anywhere to be found. They just look a little...

“Dani,” she calls, eyes still on the yellowing leaves. Dani pokes her head through the door, a bundle of roses in her hands.

“Yeah?”

“Have you, uh. Watered these recently?”

She waits for the obvious answer. Dani always waters this side of the room. She takes the left, Jamie takes the right, and everybody gets the nourishment they need.

When Dani doesn’t answer for a full ten seconds, Jamie turns to her with a frown, surprised to find Dani’s brow furrowed like she’s thinking hard.

“I...thought I did,” she says slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I must have.”

“How many times this week?” Jamie asks. Dani closes her eyes as if counting.

“I...” She steps into the room like she’s half-asleep, staring at the plants so hard, it’s a wonder the flowers don’t burst into flame. “Twice? Three times, maybe. Or...”

More than that, Jamie thinks, gently lifting a drooping leaf and inspecting its unhealthy pallor. If she didn't know better, she’d say Dani had watered this poor thing twice a day for the last week.

“S’okay,” she says, though a faint bloom of annoyance is opening in her chest. “It’s salvageable, I think. Just so long as we let ‘em dry out some. Leave this side to me, okay?”

Dani is staring at the plant nearest to her like she’s never seen one before. Whatever annoyance Jamie feels at having to quite possibly start over with previously-perfect plants vanishes at the sight of her expression.

“Hey,” she says, taking Dani’s hands and squeezing. “Honestly, Dani, don’t worry about it. These things happen.”

Dani’s frown deepens as if to say not to me, they don’t. Jamie gives her hands a gentle swing from side to side until that frown lightens.

“Maybe I take care of the watering for a bit, yeah? You can supervise.”

She doesn’t look too closely at any of it, at the way Dani’s brow creases like she’s still trying to keep track of how many days are in the week. She doesn’t look too closely at why she’s just heard herself say “supervise” instead of “keep the books”, as she normally would. Don’t look at it. Dani’s fine.

Just a little scattered today, is all.

***

“It’s, uh...hang on...”

Dani is scowling at the ceiling, racking her brain for something Jamie can’t help with. There was a woman, a woman in the grocery store, who spoke to Dani as though she’d done it a hundred times.

“Barb?” Jamie suggests, plucking a name out of thin air. “Carol. Monica.”

Dani shushes her, flapping a hand for silence. Jamie shuts up, her mouth pulling into a relaxed grin she doesn’t quite feel.

Dani’s been doing this more and more lately--stopping mid-sentence to grope for some detail Jamie can’t see behind her eyes. It shouldn’t worry her. She doesn’t want it to worry her.

These things just happen, she tells herself, watching Dani bend forward to press her face with frustration against her knees. They’re getting older--have been together almost ten years now--and their lives are busy. Busy brains are easily worn out by an abundance of minor details, and sometimes, the less important stuff slips. It’s okay. It’s nothing to be concerned about.

Except Dani looks like she’s on the verge of tears, scraping around in her head for the name of some woman they ran into in the bread aisle. Dani is dragging deep breaths in that old familiar way that says the trigger is small, but the imminent explosion could take out the whole night.

“Poppins,” Jamie says, prodding at her ribs until she sits up and stares with wet eyes into Jamie’s face. “Is this a woman I’m meant to invite to dinner?”

Dani shakes her head. Jamie shrugs.

“Then I’m going to go right ahead and call her Honeywheat, and we can just be done with it.”

Dani laughs--not a real laugh, but a huff through her nose to tell Jamie she’s trying. Jamie smooths a thumb across her cheekbone, pretending this hasn’t been happening more and more frequently. Pretending she hasn’t noticed just how badly it pulls at Dani’s threads, each time she loses track of something small.

“Charlene!” Dani says, half an hour later, practically shouting the word into the silence of the living room. Jamie jumps, losing her place in her book, looks up to find Dani staring at her with a fierce sort of pride that scares her. It’s a look that says I did it, and I’m okay, goddammit, and this is not happening.

“Charlene, hm?” Jamie repeats. “I think I prefer Honeywheat.”

***

The day of the fire, she has to admit there’s cause for concern.

She thinks, at first, it’s just her. That she’s had such a long day at the shop, been yelled at by far too many young men who didn’t understand why it’s less than appropriate to give your spouse flowers by way of asking for a divorce, and her brain has been scrambled. It’s the only explanation, she thinks, for smelling smoke the minute she walks into the apartment building.

Except it gets worse as she heads up the stairs. Worse still, until she’s fitting the key into the lock, opening the door, realizing with a jolt of horror that the smell is both very real and very much coming from the kitchen.

“Dani?” she calls, and her voice sounds to her own ears like a scream echoing over a moonlit lake. She forces the panic down, forces herself to walk--not run--to the kitchen and survey the damage.

A plate of something undefinable is sitting in the microwave. It is no longer on fire, she notes, but the microwave is still, as she wrenches it open, counting down. The little green numbers flash 40:03, blinking at her, waiting to resume their cook time.

“Dani!” she calls again, jamming her thumb into the Clear button and slamming the microwave shut on a wall of acrid smoke.

“Yeah?” Thank Christ. Dani, poking her head out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body. “You’re home! ...what’s that smell?”

“You tell me,” Jamie says, more sharply than she intends; her heart is in her throat, blocking off anything resembling restraint. She staggers toward Dani, whose face is the picture of bemusement.

“It’s not...coming from our kitchen?”

“Dani.” Jamie takes her by the shoulders, reassured by the soft slide of Dani’s skin against her palms. Real. Here. Okay. “You had something cooking. Did you...”

Forget, she doesn’t say. The color pours out of Dani’s face, answering the question so completely, Jamie sags against her.

“Threw it in,” Dani says slowly. “Leftovers. Just...”

Jamie thinks she can guess. Threw it in, walked away, forgot it completely. Would have been fine, if that had been all. If Dani had simply spaced on the idea of retrieving the dish before it grew cold, if she’d opted for a shower instead, there would have been no harm done.

Except that counter was so high. Except Dani had, plainly, set the timer for nearly an hour.

Dani is looking at the smoke hazing the air, polluting the hall, with an expression of such grim anxiety, Jamie nearly forgets to breathe. Pull it together. She needs you to keep focus.

“I’m sorry,” Dani says, so softly, Jamie would have missed it if not for staring at Dani’s face like it might slip away at any second. “I don’t know how...”

“It’s okay.” Jamie pulls her close, struggling to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest. So much could have gone wrong. If they hadn’t gotten lucky. If she hadn’t gotten home in time. So much could have-- “It’s okay.”

“Jamie?” Dani’s voice is tiny, her face turned against Jamie’s neck. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

***

She calls Owen after Dani falls asleep, careful to keep her voice down. France is six hours ahead, and it’s clear her call catches him still in bed, but his voice is cheerful all the same.

“Jamie! Big surprise. How’s everything--”

“How did it start?” Jamie keeps her voice low, her eyes on the hall. She doesn’t like leaving Dani alone in the bedroom, doesn’t like the idea of Dani waking and not knowing where she is. Make it quick, then.

“Sorry?” Owen sounds confused, and rightly so. “How did what start?”

“Your mum.” She can’t think of a cleaner way to approach it, a nice, easy route to opening Owen’s old scars. “How did it start, with her?”

He’s silent for so long, she wonders if the connection has severed. Finally: “Jamie, what’s going on?”

She can’t. She can’t get into it. If she says too much, if she explains what she’s been seeing in drips and drops over the past few years, it might cement the whole thing into reality. She can’t.

“Please,” she says, hearing her own voice break with exhaustion. “Just tell me.”

***

There are tests. Dani doesn’t want to take them, and Jamie quite frankly doesn’t want to force it, but there are tests all the same. CT scans, and doctors who ask probing questions that grit Dani’s teeth and put fire into her eyes, and Jamie thinks for a hopeful few minutes that this is stupid. That they don’t need to be here. That Dani is okay, and fierce, and strong, and here.

“I’m not going to say there’s no cause for concern,” the doctor says, when Dani has jumped through all his hoops. “But your scans don’t show much yet, and your grasp on those questions seems strong. Keep an eye on it, all right? Call me if there’s any change.”

He’s looking at Jamie like he knows why she’s here, why she’s standing just a few inches from Dani’s side. She nods once, sharp, and he pats Dani lightly on the shoulder.

“You’re young,” he says, like youth means anything at all where tragedy is concerned. “I have a good feeling about this.”

***

Jamie starts coming home when Dani does, starts waiting for her to get ready before going into the shop. She can’t help when Dani loses track of details inside her head--the date, their plans for the weekend, a longtime customer’s name--but she can help with other things. With knowing exactly where Dani’s purse is at all times. With knowing exactly where Dani’s favorite earrings are. With knowing exactly when Dani last ate.

“You don’t have to do that,” Dani says in a voice like iron. Jamie raises her head from the salad she’s preparing for lunch.

“Don’t have to...?”

“Fuss,” Dani says, almost coldly. “I’m fine, Jamie.”

It hits her like a punch, almost doubling her over, the look in Dani’s eyes. Some horribly chilly combination of frustration and anger, maybe not at Jamie, but directed her way all the same. She pauses, setting the cheese grater down, looking Dani in the eye.

Really? Only, the last time I didn’t set us up with a timely meal, you went ten hours without eating anything and nearly passed out on me.

She doesn’t say the words. Instead, she says, “I love you.” It’s become a mantra in moments like this, when Dani is so not herself, it’s like staring at someone else in a mirror. I love you. I love you on bad days, and I love you when you remember every detail of our first kiss, and I love you tomorrow.

The fight goes out of Dani’s body, her hand cupping around her eyes. The gold of her ring stands out in the afternoon sun, and Jamie thinks, It’s still her. It’s still her.

“I’m sorry. I just...I feel...”

Jamie moves toward her slowly, like approaching a trapped animal. She's never moved like this with Dani in all the time they’ve been together, never felt the need, but lately, Dani is so unpredictable it hurts.

“Trapped,” Jamie suggests softly. Dani nods into her hand. “I’ve been hovering.” Dani nods again. “Too much?”

Hesitation. A final nod that is also sort of a shake. Jamie sighs.

“Just want to make sure I don’t--” Lose you. “--miss out on something important, is all. I’m sorry, too. I can back off some.”

It terrifies her to say so, to promise that when Dani sometimes looks around the living room like it’s brand-new. But Dani’s right. She isn’t a child. She doesn’t need Jamie to treat her as such. She’s okay. She’s still here.

“I love you,” she says again, and Dani walks into her arms like she’s the only thing in the room not spinning.

***

She tries not to panic, when Dani doesn’t come home. Tries to will herself back to ancient therapy techniques, to breathing rituals, to steady reminders that Dani is okay. Dani is fine. Dani has had a really good couple of weeks, in fact, and when she told Jamie she wanted to stop off at the store after work, Jamie had agreed.

An hour passes. Two. Jamie’s pacing, doing fevered mental math: the shop is a ten-minute walk from the apartment, the grocery store a five-minute walk from the shop. How long does it take to pick up eggs, cheese, tomatoes? Half an hour?

Okay, she thinks, forcing a calming breath through her nose. Okay, so that’s five--fifteen--forty-five minutes...

Not five minutes after this less-than-bracing thought, she’s throwing on a jacket and storming out the door. A fifteen-minute walk to the grocery store, she completes in eight. The cashier is a teenager in an outdated Nirvana t-shirt, looking at her like she’s out of her mind when she blows through the doors and says, “Blonde woman, brown jacket, one blue eye, one brown. Seen her?”

He has not. She forces herself not to sprint through the tiny store, peering doggedly down each aisle in turn. No sign of Dani.

The shop, then. She makes her way back, cups her hands around her eyes as she leans into the dark window. Door is still locked, and not a light is burning. Dani wouldn’t shut them off unless she was at the door--no matter what happens, no matter how confused she gets, she never plunges herself into darkness until she’s ready to make an escape into light.

Breathe, Jamie thinks. Breathe. Maybe she’s just taking a stroll.

She walks for blocks, her legs carrying her at twice the normal speed, looking around every corner with absolute terror. When she finds Dani at last, seated on a bench outside their favorite Mexican restaurant, the relief almost stops her heart.

“Dani.”

Miserable eyes turn up to her, Dani’s face shell-shocked. “How long,” she says brokenly, “have we lived here? In this neighborhood.”

Jamie swallows. “Fifteen years.”

Dani nods, like she’s just given a complicated multiplication problem to a student who got it right on the first go. “Fifteen years,” she repeats. “Jamie. I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember--”

Jamie drops down beside her, arms wrapping tight, not caring who might be looking. Dani is so small, hands gripping Jamie’s shoulders, shaking all over.

“I’ve got you,” Jamie murmurs. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

***

“It’s her,” Dani says. They’re laying in bed, Jamie’s head on Dani’s chest, Jamie trying desperately not to count all the things that have gone wrong in Dani’s head this week. How Dani stared in confusion at an order she’s put together a hundred times. How Dani snapped at a customer, who looked at her like she’d just stabbed his mother. How Dani had been midway through a joke when she lost track of the punchline, and looked ready to burst into tears.

“It’s her,” Dani repeats. Jamie raises her head.

“Dani...”

“It’s. Her.” Dani reaches for her hand, fingers pressing down on the gold band she once hid in a plant. Jamie closes her eyes, inhales.

“Dani, I don’t want you to--you can’t go thinking--”

“Every day,” Dani says, her eyes on the ceiling. It’s like she thinks looking at Jamie would splinter her self-control. “Every day, I feel it a little less.”

Jamie waits. She’ll go on, eventually, explain herself. Jamie hates cutting her off, hates stepping in the way of a thought, lest Dani never quite get it back again.

“Every day,” she says at last, “we’re here. Living our lives. I see that, I feel...I feel you touching me, I feel how much we...and still, it’s like...like someone’s putting up glass. That fogged-up glass you can only see shapes through, you know? I can see us through it, but every day, that fog gets a little thicker.”

Her voice trembles, her throat working. Jamie shifts until her fingers are threaded with Dani’s, clenching tight.

“You’re here,” she says, unable to think of anything more reassuring. It’s what she’s been telling herself about Dani for months. Years. That Dani, no matter what else is going on, is still here with her. Still smiling at her. Still whispering her name in the dark.

“What if I’m not?” Something in Dani’s voice wavers to breaking, a hairline fracture in the words. “What if I’m looking at you, and I...I...”

Jamie can’t breathe. A muscle is jumping under her jaw, straining against the sob she’s been holding back for days.

“What if I’m looking at you when she takes me,” Dani whispers, and Jamie breaks. Can’t not. She presses her face against Dani’s skin, tears coming hot, and Dani holds fast to her like they both know the ship is going down.

“I love you,” she says, that same voice Jamie’s been leaning into for almost twenty years. “I love you. I love you. I love--”

***

“How is she?” Owen crosses his legs, sips his beer. Jamie’s own leg is fidgety, sock-clad foot hammering a mad rhythm against the floor.

“She’s...”

“How is she?” Owen repeats before she can polish off a pretty lie. She shuts her eyes against his too-kind stare.

“Told the same story four times yesterday.”

He’s nodding, sympathetic. “Mum used to get stuck on one about the best dinner she ever made. How she rescued it at the last second from burning. Proudest moment of her life, I think, except for the day I got into culinary school.”

Jamie sighs. “It was about the kids.”

“Ah.” He leans back, surveying her as though looking for cracks. If he finds any, he wisely keeps it to himself. Jamie, bottle still angled toward her lips, leans a little to look down the hall. The bedroom door is shut, no sign of Dani waking.

“I tried to get her to stay up,” she says, wondering why she feels the need to convince Owen, of all people. “She does miss you.”

She doesn’t tell him about the heartbeat of confusion, the way Dani’s brow had knit when Jamie mentioned he was coming into town. How, for a second, Dani had seemed uncertain if she knew Owen from Bly, or from Iowa.

“There’s always breakfast,” he says, placidly keeping tempo with this song they’re tossing back and forth, the one that goes everything is okay, everything is just fine, so long as we don’t look at it.

It’s good to be around someone who understands, even if she doesn’t really want to talk about it. Good to know Owen, who is watching her with knowing eyes, remembers all too well what it feels like to watch someone slip away.

“Seem to remember,” she says, taking the last swig and dropping the bottle against the breakfast bar, “saying once that this was a just shoot me situation. That it wasn’t fair.”

“And now?” He unfolds from his seat, moving in three strides to the fridge to replace her drink. Owen Sharma, at home in any kitchen without even trying.

“Now,” she sighs, “I don’t care about fair. I don’t care about burdens. I don’t care about anything except making sure she still....she’s still...”

He hands her the bottle, leans his elbows against the counter. There’s an abundance of gray in his hair these days, and contacts in his eyes. He smiles like Owen, though. Always that familiar, warm smile.

“She’s still your Dani,” he says. It isn’t a question. “Even on the days she isn’t. It’s the hardest part, maybe, remembering that. When she slips up, or can't remember the apartment number, or gets angry because you’ve reminded her of a gap she knows shouldn’t be there. But, Jamie, remember. She is still Dani.”

“I know.” Jamie scuffs a hand under her nose, rubs hard against her wet eyes. “I know. And sometimes she is so Dani. As if she was never anything else.”

As if, she doesn’t add, there wasn’t something else in there with her. Wiping her away a little at a time. Something else, matching her movements. Waiting.

“To Dani Clayton,” Owen says, raising his bottle and clinking against her own. “Your anchor.”

***

She thinks she’s getting used to it, if this is something one can get used to. Thinks she’s building a rhythm, a routine, around Dani’s bad days. Little jokes work sometimes. Little kisses and touches. Dani responds to Poppins better than her own name now, and Jamie leans into it, trying to pretend that doesn’t tear at her. Trying to pretend she can go back to a time when safety was a nickname, a silly joke on her lips to keep the well of feelings from overwhelming her good sense.

She says, “Morning, Poppins” and “I love you, Poppins”, and “G’night, Poppins”, like she hasn’t mostly been calling Dani by her real name since the day she admitted just how in love she was.

Even so, it’s a method of getting by. Dani is still Dani, after all, just as Owen said. Maybe sometimes she thinks it’s 1987, and maybe sometimes she thinks there are ghosts in the mirrors, and maybe sometimes she looks sharply up from a movie with the name “Eddie” harsh on her lips. Sure. Sometimes. But, mostly, she is still Dani.

Jamie is prepared, most days, for the mood swings and the bewilderment. For finding Dani’s toothbrush in the bedroom, or relocating Dani’s wallet back into her bag. She’s prepared for almost all of it, after so much time.

Nothing. Nothing can prepare her for the day Dani forgets her name.

They’re setting about readying for the day--readying themselves for the plane, in fact, which is slated to leave in three hours--and Dani has gone off to the bathroom to shower. She returns in one of Jamie’s softest shirts, her legs bare, her hair dripping. Jamie raises her eyes from last-minute packing, smiling.

“Nice and clean, then?”

Dani freezes. Turns slowly on her heel. Stares at Jamie like she’s never seen her before.

Something in Jamie cracks. Something in Jamie, something she didn’t even know could break, splintering wide open.

“I--who--” Dani, backing up fast, backing toward the door. It’s like she walked into her apartment to find some burglar lurking at the foot of her bed. Her hand extends, warding Jamie off, and Jamie realizes she’s been trying instinctively to move closer. To take Dani into her arms. To remind her.

“Dani. Poppins. Hey.” Each word, a knife turned back on herself. Each word, a question. She’s never said Dani’s name like this, with so much uncertainty weighed into each letter. “Dani, please.”

It’s the please that really breaks her. The please, like begging Dani for the kindness of her own name on Dani’s lips is something she ever thought she’d need to prepare for.

Dani blinks. Blinks again. Raises her left hand, stares hard at the band wrapped around her third finger. As Jamie watches, she touches the heart, the hands, the crown.

“Jamie?”

She’s on her knees, she realizes, on her knees on the floor with her arms wrapped around herself, and Dani is all but running to her. She’s on her knees, sobbing, feeling as though she could not be more wrung out if she’d walked in to find Dani cold on the bed.

Don’t let me find out, she thinks desperately, please, fuck, don’t ever let me find out how that feels compared to this.

“Jamie,” Dani says against the top of her head, holding her, “Jamie, hey, shh, come on...”

She doesn’t know, Jamie thinks wildly. She has no idea where she just went. No idea what almost washed away just now. She doesn’t know.

“Still here,” Jamie rasps through a sob. “You’re still here?”

Dani is silent a moment, and Jamie knows she’s heard it: the question at the end of the sentence, placed there for the very first time. Her hand tucks beneath Jamie’s chin, guiding her face up until her swollen eyes are staring into Dani’s tired ones.

“Still here,” she says softly. “I promise.”

***

Twenty years. It’s been twenty years, almost to the day, and California is glorious. Vermont is home, and Jamie would never trade it, but there’s just something about California she loves. The air is sweeter, somehow. The people, warmer. Or maybe they just care less.

Dani holds to her arm like a life preserver as they make their way through people much younger and more aloof than they’ve been in years. Jamie tries to stand taller, tries to look as though she belongs among Flora’s friends. Flora, who barely knows who she is, even--her eyes coasted right over Jamie when she walked up, right past Dani’s smile, the polite disinterest of a stranger.

It’s different than what she’s been watching with Dani. Different--but no less harsh, in its own quieter way.

Miles, practically a man now, shakes their hands with undue formality. Henry, just this side of relaxed, kisses her cheek. Embraces Dani. Jamie tries not to notice how her wife goes stiff in his arms, like there’s some part of her that can’t quite put a finger on why he feels entitled to such friendliness.

“Flora’s uncle,” Jamie whispers against Dani’s hair under the guise of a kiss. Dani nods once to show she understands, smiles at Henry like it’s summer, like it’s ‘87, like she couldn’t forget her past no matter how hard she tried.

“Lovely to see you both,” Henry says, oblivious to it all. Jamie’s glad she kept this to herself, kept it between Dani and her and Owen. No one else knows Dani here, anyway. No one needs to pry into the battle she’s been waging for two decades.

The rehearsal dinner is pleasant--everyone drinking a little too much, Flora beaming up at her groom-to-be, Owen telling bad jokes and advising them both to run off to Bali. With Dani’s hand gripping hers on the tablecloth, in full view of the world, Jamie almost feels at home. If she has to lean over from time to time to whisper a name in Dani’s ear, if she has to gently guide Dani to the bathroom, it all feels fitting of an out-of-town wedding. It’s fine. It’s okay. They can do this.

They’re sitting in the parlor of a presumably-haunted wedding venue, Dani leaning out of her chair to hold Jamie’s hand, when Jamie hears herself say it. She hadn’t planned on it in advance. It feels like flirting with fire, somehow, something that might keep them all warm or burn them all down.

“I have a story,” she says, Dani’s fingers warm around her own. “Well. It isn’t really my story...”

She glances up, catching Dani’s eyes, and for a heartbreaking moment, finds them blank. Dani, looking at her with jaw clenched and brow furrowed, trying to place herself. Trying to ward off the thing still working so hard to take her from all of them.

“It isn’t my story,” Jamie says again, a question, seeking permission. Dani’s face clears. She smiles. Nods once.

Jamie leans forward, takes a steadying drink. This may not do anything, she cautions herself. May not matter beyond the scope of a single night, with a room full of strangers waiting on her next words. Tomorrow, Dani might wake and not have the first idea whose bed she is sharing.

That, Jamie thinks firmly, is tomorrow.

“The teacher,” she begins, squeezing Dani’s hand, “was, by choice, a solitary young woman...”

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #this is 1000% jess' fault #she knows it #and I genuinely wasn't sure I could write it but #here it is anyway #I promise future stories will make up for uhh any emotional damages

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Quarter Quell II

Yandere Jungkook, Hunger Games AU

Warnings; gore, death, yandere behavior, killing, strong language, kids murdering other kids, male on female violence (special trigger warning: if you have suffered abuse or are extremely sensitive to like-mannered scenes I want to take a moment to warn you that there is certain scenes in which male tributes will hurt and overpower other female tributes. If this will trigger you, please refrain from reading and I apologize beforehand.)

Words; 12.8k

The Capitol of Panem maintains its’ hold on it’s 12 districts by forcing them each to select a boy and a girl, called Tributes, to compete in a nationally televised event called the Hunger Games. Every citizen must watch as the youths fight to the death until only one remains.

The end had arrived.

Faintly, in the back of your mind, you could hear a doomful melody accompany your death march. Hauntingly beautiful bells and strings swam in your consciousness, making the awfully bleak scene even more gothically tragic. A personalized soundtrack for your promised annihilation.

On either side of you was a peacekeeper, each of them holding a gun to ensure your spineless obedience.

You followed them silently...wordlessly...mindlessly.

The sound of footsteps echoed in your ears as they bounced off the surface of the concrete walls. They guided you deeper into the grey, sterile and fluorescent-lighted corridor. Each pace forward only further locked in your fate. And as a slave to ruthless destiny, you continued onward.

You were marching to your death.

Yet, you felt no anger.

No fear.

Not even a lick of grief or pity entertained your empty mind as you followed the path of your own demise.

Your body had gone into a semi-shock, not allowing you to fully grasp the severity of the situation in hopes of postponing a mental breakdown. All functions had suddenly gone numb, protecting you from the wrath of panic that would thunder upon you if you focused too closely on this dire moment. You welcomed this sensation and allowed it to coax you into a zombie-like state, even if this tranquility was phony you still willingly clung to it.

Perhaps the reason for your lack of reaction was due to an acceptance of death. You held the benevolence of a queen approaching the guillotine, if nothing could change your sentence than the least you could do is hold your head up and never let them see you break.

You kept the charade up until the peacekeepers halted beside a door marked ‘10 F’.

Your breath hitched.

One of them then reached over to open it, the other grasped one of his gloved hands onto your arm to hold you in place, somehow expecting a fight, before shoving you into the room.

It was the resounding slam of the door that finally cracked your resolve.

Tears began to well in your eyes as you observed the last room you’d ever see before the hellish arena.

It was small, as to be expected. White tile lined not only the floor but also the walls, the bright lighting reflected off of them and almost blinded you in the process. In the center of the room was a metal table, sat upon it was the tribute wear. Dark grey camo pants lined with utility pockets, a tight black tank top, and a blue windbreaker-like jacket. To top it all off, a pair of black combat boots sat on the floor next to the table.

The outfit you would die in.

You choked back a sob as the postponed sadness made it’s belated arrival.

It seeped in like a flood does to a house with a weak foundation. The sticky and awfully heavy dread took its’ time peeling away the decaying layer of denial with steady ease. Then, it clung to your bones…. melting itself further and further until it eventually made its’ way to your core and wrapped itself around it.

You suddenly couldn’t breathe.

The air had evaporated before it could reach your desperate lungs. Replacing it was the icy shock of terror as it consumed every fiber of your being. In response, your chest began to heave up and down as your body began a hyperventilation process in search of more oxygen.

“I-I’m too young to die.” your broken whisper barely penetrated the pathetic whimpers and wheezes your body was also making.

Out of nowhere, a tiny spark of anger ignited within you. Anger at who, you did not know. But you felt an unfairness like no other in that moment. You felt robbed of basic humane rights, such as living your life up till it’s natural and uneventful end. Why? Why cut your life so short? You never thought of yourself as young but goddammit, you didn’t think your teenage years were enough to be called a ‘full life’. How heartless were people to look at the youth in the tributes and demand such short lives of potential to be cut even shorter?

“Dearie, what good would crying do at this point?” A purring yet somehow also grutal voice called out from behind you, breaking your inner dialogue of misery.

You turned to face your designer in all her capitol glory.

Her name fit her in the most pretentious way. They called her Topaz, and her bronze skin, that was always pressed with expensive Capitol body oils, resembled the characteristics of the infamous gemstone. To compliment this coco complexion, she often wore gold makeup with green or yellow dresses that flowed behind her tall amazon body. Her black curls were always flowing freely, sometimes with a crown on her head to feed the superiority complex she without a doubt had.

But today she toned it down for the seriousness of the occasion.

Her figure-hugging dress was black, as if to attend your pseudo funeral because you sure as hell weren’t getting one after this. Her curls were tied up into a tight bun to further emphasize her slender and bare face that was free of any noticeable makeup besides and odd golden-glittery lipstick.

“I know you must be very scared, but we only have a few minutes to get you ready.” She placed a hand on your shoulder whilst shooting you a soft and barely sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach those amber orbs of hers. Then rather roughly, she proceeded to guide you to the table and gestured for you to take your clothes off.

Such invasion of privacy would be uncustom if she had not waxed your entire naked body and hosed it down the minute you entered the capitol.

Slowly, you peeled away your casual outfit as Topaz eagerly handed you the tribute one, bit by bit.

It was awkward, tense and additionally pathetic with the occasional sounds of your sniffles and continuous streaming of tears. All the while she eyed you with this soulless blank stare that unnerved your already high-strung nerves. You briefly wondered how many times she did this exact ritual. How many kids from your home district did she watch break down and dress in the clothes they’d eventually be slaughtered in? Did she also smile at them and offer forged empathy, pretending to understand what it was that they were going through in their last moments...as if she wouldn’t return back to some Capitol cafeteria and eat a luxurious brunch whilst watching the bloodbath that would unfold.

Instantly you got a wave of nausea.

How was it that both you and this woman were both species of the same human race, with beating hearts, souls and brains yet one could turn so corrupt while you ended up with the fate of a mere prey? Was even a tiny molecule of her guilty for the kids she looked in the eye before sending them to their premature deaths?

You avoided her gaze with a new sense of disgust and focused on zipping up your jacket.

“Don’t forget the boots.” Topaz added before reaching down to grab them and hand them to you. You took them wordlessly and knelt down to put them on. Whilst you were doing this, your designer apparently felt the need to lighten the dark aura around you with some ‘comforting’ words. “You know Y/n, you’re actually quite lucky that you’re playing this Quell. No weapons means no bloodbath. The first ten minutes of most games are the deadliest but that can’t really be said with this one. I doubt there’s even going to be a Cornucopia.”

Oddly enough, this was indeed slightly soothing. Although you felt very offended that she dare call you ‘lucky’, she did have a point. No weapons meant that there wouldn’t be a race to get them, and the first ones to get their hands on them couldn’t turn and attack the others. That should at least buy you enough time to slip away and find cover, if no one bigger decides to gang up on you.

Suddenly you got a flash in your minds’ eye of a certain black-eyed career who made his infatuation with you all too known.

You physically flinched at the prospect of Two getting his hands on you the first thing in the game.

All you could do was pray that the gamemakers took mercy on you and didn’t station him too close.

Blearily, you stood back up and looked towards the corner of the room to spot the item that would eventually spit you up into the arena. It was a glass tube, nothing spectacular about it. But you knew the moment you would step in it, the rounded glass doors would envelop shut and trap you in. You stood there for a minute, staring at it as if your stare could eventually burn right through it if you truly tried.

But alas you were without luck or fortune.

“It’s about time, Y/n.”

The ominous words were enough to stop the beating of your heart.

A pitiful and begging voice began a mantra in your head, ‘I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t wan-’

A nudge was given to your back and successfully shoved you closer to the tube. Goosebumps raised on the surface of your skin and the instinct to dry heave became too much to bear.

Topaz continued pushing you further and further, until you were at the edge of the object and a mere inch away from being in it. Your body had frozen stiff in attempt to plant yourself to the ground, but it sadly wasn’t enough to alter your fate.

With one more final shove, you were in the tube.

Topaz was half in and half out of the cylinder, her hands on your shoulders and her chin by your shoulder to whisper her last version of ‘break a leg’.

“If you win this, I’ll personally buy you a name-brand dress.” You could practically hear her proud smirk as she said this. “Good luck, hun.”

The audacity was enough to make you whip around in preparation to slap that smug smile off her face. Was the need to live not enough motivation? Did she think that hanging an expensive piece of cloth over your head would be the push you needed to survive? How fucking dare she-

You opened your mouth to holler and even raised a hand, but when you fully turned around the glass doors had enveloped shut and Topaz was on the other side of it, waving ‘bye’ in a content manner.

Your jaw dropped in horror as you heard an odd ‘whoosh’ sound occur from above you.

You looked up to see that the roof of the tube had slip open.

Right above it was the arena…. waiting for you with the utmost promise of lost innocence and bloodshed.

Your heart and breathing began to accelerate as you felt the pedestal beneath you begin to slowly rise, bringing you closer and closer to the top.

Closer.

And closer.

You clenched your eyes shut and tried to soothe this upcoming panic attack that was looming over the horizon of your sanity.

You took a deep breath and attempted to rationalize.

Blurry memories of previous games fogged up in your mind like some sort of warning. Images of shell-shocked tributes in the throes of denial who would stay frozen during the opening of the game, unable to fully process their situation….they were usually the first to go.

You couldn’t let that happen to you.

‘Calm down, the first minutes of the game are detrimental. If you freak out now and stall, you’ll miss your chance to escape.’ You thought to yourself.

As awful as it was, you were in this game for better or worse. No time could be saved for moping, survival mode had to be switched on now or never. From here on out, you would have to think like an animal and solely focus on methods to outrun the predators. Humanity had to be abandoned.

The pedestal stopped rising, letting you know that you were now fully in the arena.

You swallowed, whether it was to help your mouth that suddenly gone dry or to keep the bile at bay you did not know.

The temperature around you was cool, yet also somehow humid and damp. Your nose took in a voluntary sniff and discovered a scent of must, earth and...mold?

You opened your eyes to behold the 100th Annual Hunger Games arena.

You were underground, all around you were gigantic rocky caverns. It was similar to a dome, except the walls in which you were enveloped were ridgy and a hundred feet high. There was also smaller tunnels at the edges of the arenas’ center in which the tributes were located. They were so huge and abyssal that one felt like an ant standing in the middle of it all. Everything was dark due to no natural lighting beyond the small cracks in the rocks above that allowed very little sun to seep through.

You looked around in awe.

The arena was a series of underground caves.

You would’ve preferred a forest or a jungle. At least then there would be more chances for food and water. But you supposed you should’ve been grateful that it wasn’t an arctic habitat or a desert one.

You quickly turned your attention to the other tributes.

As custom, you were all aligned in a giant circle. The closest kids to you were still ten or so feet away. You noted with relief that you couldn’t make out Jungkook anywhere near you. But to be fair, it was hard to make out anyone in such dim lighting. But from what you could tell it was the boy from Four and the girl from Nine stationed on either side of you.

Unlike any other games, there wasn’t a Cornucopia to behold.

All you could see was an orange, hologram number ‘10’ floating about 50 feet in the center of the circle of tributes.

A robotic voice thundered the arena with a chilling, “Welcome to the 100th annual Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor. We begin in 10…”

The holdram morphed into a 9 to symbolize the beginning of a countdown.

“9.”

“8.”

“7.”

“6.”

“5.”

“4.”

“3.”

“2.”

“1.”

The sound of a cannon shot through the silence as the hologram instantly depleted into nothingness. The sound so chilling, especially when you know that the cannon would be the first of many.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you flew off of your pedestal like a bat out of hell.

You threw your body in the opposite direction of the circle, rushing outwards in hopes to seek cover in one of the smaller tunnels and worm your way far from all the other tributes

You heard yelling and the sounds of wrestling or tussling, but you refused to look back to witness the unraveling of any tribute-on-tribute amicability. You briefly just hoped that Chenle and Taehyung were agile enough to get away without any trouble.

Your boots hitting the rocky ground was the only sensation you allowed yourself to focus on, along with the sight of a medium sized cavern that you had your sights set on and were running towards. Your heart was beating so fast it would’ve been a medical mystery how it didn’t burst out of your chest, but you only had one instinct to escape. If luck was on your side, the tunnel wouldn’t be a dead end and could eventually lead you into another one.

You were about 15 feet away from entering the cave when something caught around your ankle, causing you to fall face first with your arms barely coming out in time to catch the brunt of the fall. When you were fully on the ground, something heavy and strong began to straddle your hips, successfully pinning you down.

You looked up to see the boy from Four.

He smirked down at you, his sun kissed skin glowing eerily in the dim lighting of the cave.

You didn’t know if he was a career or not, but he was a strong tribute that scored well during the personal assessment and wasn’t one to be messed with. You don’t recall doing anything to offend 4, so to say you were confused would be an understatement. The way he glared down at you was terrifying and implied some sort of personal vendetta.

“Get that scared shitless look off your face, doll. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He laughed humorlessly in response to your pathetic squirms. “You see, Two demanded that we try to get you first thing in this game. You’re kinda my meal ticket into that career alliance.”

Your heart only raced faster, finding no assurance in his promise to not hurt you.

Fuck, he was one of Jungkook’s little foot soldiers and was planning to use you as some sort of trading piece. You now felt so foolish for assuming that Jungkook would be your only problem, his allies would be gunning you down as well.

You began to thrash wildly out of fear, desperate to get him off you knowing that his plans would lead to a fate worse than death. Panicking, you began to plead for your freedom. “Please, you don’t understand! Jungkook is lying! There’s nothing going on between us!”

Four just stared down at you blankly before rolling his dark eyes and pinning your arms above your head.

You suddenly went limp as tears began to stream down your face. You looked around you and saw that most if not all tributes were making a mad dash to the hidden caves, no one stopping to help you or pay you any mind in favor of saving their own asses.

Four was huge and if he didn’t want you to get up, then you weren’t getting up. You had a better chance of melting into the very ground beneath you than fighting him off.

The tanned boy smiled in response to your now powerless form, all too grateful to see your cooperation and lack of hope. “There’s a good girl. Now-”

A loud ‘crack’ sounded, prematurely cutting him off.

Four’s eyes suddenly rolled into the back of his head before his entire body slumped forward.

A black haired, tall, pale but sturdy boy stood behind Four. He was holding up a rock and you concluded fairly quickly that it was he who smashed it into the back of four’s head. Your lungs began to hyperventilate, not knowing if he was going to use that same rock to bash your head in next. His dark eyes drank you in, noting your panic and seeming to scoff at the display, oddly unimpressed by it. The boy then dropped the make-shift weapon before breaking into a sprint.

As he passed you, he yelled one thing. “Run, you idiot!”

Those were apparently the magic words you needed to hear. They snapped you into action as you hurriedly scrambled out from underneath Four’s heavy but unconscious form to continue your journey into the tunnel.

One thought stayed with you all the while, long after you made it into the dark, empty but safe cave.

Why did 12 bother saving you? --

Part two

“Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. I don’t care about any of them.” -Finnick Odair, Victor of 65th Annual Hunger Games.

The cave was very small, you found it after running into a large tunnel, taking multiple random turns and searching very hard to find a hidden little hole that was closed off by some large boulders. It was so tiny that one had to army-crawl to get in, but you liked it that way. This meant that you weren’t out in the open, that you were so well hidden that tributes would walk past it without knowing you were even there.

It was a cramped but perfect little hide-out, you barely had enough space to cross your legs and rest against the wall but you didn’t mind. At least you felt safe. So thus you sat in pitch-black darkness and listened closely to the sounds of your breathing echoing back to you in the intimate little spot you now called home.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on calming down.

The adrenaline was still running through you like some sort of drug, the hairs on your arms stood stubbornly and your chest continued to heave up and down with a sense of pending doom. Your body wasn’t allowing you to relax, somehow still expecting a surprise attack and not wishing to fully give into tranquility. You had to pull a mind over matter and trick yourself into not having another anxiety attack, which is very hard to do in the middle of an arena.

If your sense of time was correct, the game had been on for about 20-30 minutes.

Meaning, the canons were scheduled to go off any minute now. Usually after people scrambled from the bloodbath and the careers did their killing, the gamemakers would sound off all the canons at once. This only happens on the first day though, after the first day the canons would trigger instantly when someone dies. But since most deaths occurred on the first day and happened all in quick succession during the bloodbath, it suited both the tributes and viewers well to count the canons after everything had calmed down.

As if reading your mind, a booming sound pierced the fragile blanket of silence.

The sound was thundering and vibrated the entire arena, or maybe it was just your mind that perceived it that way due to your current circumstances. Nonetheless, it was terrifying. Especially when one keeps in mind that one cannon symbolizes one childs’ life cut short.

They began to trigger, one by one.

“One.” You counted to yourself. “Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.”

The series of cannons suddenly halted and bled into another irksome silence.

Six…

Six lives lost just a meer half hour ago.

Six lives that could’ve been you….but weren’t.

A montage of all the tributes suddenly ran through your head, taunting you as you couldn’t help the famished hunger to know who died that burned through your chest. Was it Taehyung? Was it Chenle? Did the boy from Four survive the blow to the head? Did ‘god’ really answer your prayers and killed some of the career pack? Maybe even, dare you say it, Jungkook himself?

Your heart raced faster as you shook your head, not liking where your train of thought was going and the added affect it had on your body. Your attempted to rationalize with yourself, you could wait until tonight to see the faces of the fallen tributes via the hologram update that happened every night. You would just have to wait until then, you wouldn’t be doing yourself any favors by going crazy with worry now.

Instead you decided to do some mental math. Twenty four minus six equates to eighteen

Eighteen kids were still alive. One of which was you. You now had a 1/18th chance of making it out of here.

The feeling was bittersweet. Because although each trigger of the cannon represented a life lost, it also meant you were that much closer to the end and possibly being the last one to survive. Maybe you should shift your mentality to one of pessimistic idealism? Perhaps the key to getting through this was by seeing the good in the bad. Yes, every death was awful and you’d never condone it. But, if they were dead anyway then what’s the harm in trying to take their demises as well as possible? It was always best to think positively, right? That’s probably how past victors thought, given the mental stability was just as important as the physical stability.

You remember past games where tributes lost their minds. One boy from Six even went crazy and started eating the corpses of other dead tributes. You couldn’t eat meat for a week after watching that. A girl from Eight once went loopy from the freezing cold arena and stripped her clothes off before breaking out in song and dance. There was also a really old game, probably one of the first ten games, where the arena was a desert and there was no water, you vividly recalled watching a young kid of probably 12 or 13 cut himself just for the sake of lapping up the warm blood.

You couldn’t allow yourself to fall into that-

Wait, what were you thinking?

What was wrong with you? You’d only been in this arena for an hour or so and were already allowing your morals to be compromised if it could buy you some cheap peace of mind. Of course every death was depressing, no one deserved to play in this game! What was wrong with you? Why were you almost relieved that kids were dying and putting your chances into a better perspective?

Maybe you and the careers weren’t so different after all….

This conclusion was so bone-chilling and vile that you couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped your lips.

You quickly concluded that pondering was no longer for you.

Another rule you’d have to adapt; your mind can be your worst enemy in here, best not get lost in your thoughts.

You suddenly felt awfully exhausted. Not a type of tired where you’ve been up for a little too long or had just done a tedious amount of physical work, but a type of tired where you simply no longer wanted to be conscious or aware. Your body felt somehow extremely light but heavy at the same time, your eyelids drooping in insistence for some shut eye.

But you couldn’t fall asleep just yet.

If you fell asleep now, then there was a chance that you would miss the fallen tributes segment. You needed to stay up, if only just to find out if Chenle, Taehyung and Jungkook were still out there.

For the next few hours, you just sat there. Blankly staring at nothing and trying to busy yourself with dumb little songs or riddles that you allowed to occupy your mind for the time being. You never thought you would say this; but when you weren’t fighting for your life and clawing for survival, the games could be rather boring. It was a ridiculous notion- to be bored in this very vital time period where your life is a stake with every waking moment you spend in this arena. But it was the truth, there was nothing to do.

Until, something abruptly halted your colorless daydreams.

You didn’t know how to describe it. And to be honest, you felt it more than you heard it.

The ground beneath you suddenly began to shake with such intense ferocity that you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an earthquake. Then your ears picked up on the noise; and what awful sounds they were.

First, it was like a crash that never stopped. A sudden falling of countless heavy objects, most likely rocks or boulders given the habitat. It sounded as if they just kept raining down, their heavy mass hurling upon the ground and striking anyone in it’s way.

Next, the screams followed.

They were tortured and pained hollers that echoed down the tunnels and vibrated the air around you. You heard both male and female voices, crying in agony and begging for help in what you could assess was a little less than 20 yards away.

Your body began to shake as you cupped a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out.

You were hearing the last wails of young kids who were surely going to die.

Boiling hot tears streamed down your cheeks in realization on what must’ve happened.

But, did you dare wander out of your safe cocoon to investigate?

It wasn’t the smartest choice, but what if one of those desperate shouts belonged to Taehyung or even Chenle?

With that concerning thought, you were hastily crawling out of your little hideout with little regard for your own safety.

Once you were out of your miniature cave, you hurriedly snapped your head side to side to see that the tunnel was void of any other tributes. Knowing you had very little time, you broke into a sprint and followed the direction of the screams.

As you ran through the dim and mossy cave, you only had one thought running through your mind.

‘Please don’t let it be them.’ you prayed.

When you finally reached the site of such mayhem, your stride completely stopped as you lost all strength in your legs due to utter shock.

You fell to your knees and gagged, the luxurious breakfast you had in the Capitol was seeping its’ way upwards and threatening to make you vomit.

The sight in front of you was…. grotesque.

One of the caves had given out and collapsed.

And in result, tributes were crushed.

Their mangled bodies were twisted inhumanely under such hefty rocks that were now stained ruby red with their blood. Some of the tributes had eyes budging out of their sockets, along with their tongues due to the numerous amount of pressure that was weighing down on them. You only saw two bodies, but you heard choked screams of some others that were out of sight.

But all those cries were ignored by you, your focus solely on one body that was also pinned beneath such monstrous boulders.

His eyes were shut, face peaceful yet blank and body limp as if boneless.

He almost looked like he was sleeping….but the puddle of blood that dripped from his mouth and onto the ground told you everything you needed to know.

And if that didn’t, then the cannon that sounded sure did.

Taehyung was gone.

Part Three

“He wasn’t much but...he was from home.” -Johanna Mason, Victor of 71st Annual Hunger Games.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been crying.

But from the way your eyes were practically swollen shut, head pounding ruthlessly and throat dry and scratchy in result of your numerous groans of grief, you could conclude that you must’ve carried out this sob fest for at least a couple hours now.

The scene of your distract mates’ death was stained to the back of your eyelids, greeting you with gory misery everytime you so much as blinked. This would obviously cause another round of cries from you and thus began a never-ending cycle.

Taehyung was dead.

But not just any type of dead. He was crushed to death and most likely suffered through every single pound of rock that slowly sucked the life out of him. His body was squished so brutally, as if he was nothing but a small insect for the gamemakers to step on.

Somehow the nature of his death offended you beyond belief.

Taehyung wasn’t a loud or overly-sweet person, but he deserved more than to have his life ended like that. He was quiet, but you knew that beneath his silence lingered a remarkable intelligence and code of honor. His face was always wearing an aloof expression, but that’s just due to his guarded nature and unwillingness to let anyone see his weaknesses. He wasn’t the closest to you, but the way he helped you with Jungkook showed his true nature- he had the protective instinct for you that you’d assume an older brother might have.

Something about his end just didn’t sit right with you.

Taehyung was gold-skinned from hours upon hours out in the sun, hands calloused from rough labor, he was tall enough to have to peer down at almost everyone he spoke to, body lean but sturdy and voice so deep and grutal that you couldn’t even picture how he must’ve sounded as a pubescent boy. Taehyung was such a strong figure worthy of respect in your eyes.

So to see him pale, limp, lifeless and under thousands of pounds worth of debris and rock was….unnerving to say the least.

How the mighty have fallen.

After you saw Taehyung, you had cried for a minute before vomiting up your breakfast, being unable to stomach the sight and ultimately losing the battle with your stomach. You were tempted to stay with your District mate until the very end, to wait by his side until the ship would take his body, but the pained groans and cries had seemed to attract other tributes to that area as well.

You had heard footsteps echo from the tunnel opposite of the scene, across from where you sat next to the corpse of Taehyung.

It sounded like a group of people, you couldn’t make their words out properly but they sounded curious and were confidently jogging closer and closer to the disaster.

Somehow you just knew that it was the careers.

You felt conflicted; you wanted to stay with your counterpart until the very end, but there was only one person in this game who terrified you to your very core.

District Two’s Jungkook.

Otherwise known as the head of the career pact.

And if he spotted you…

Your flight or fight instincts took over.

You had rushed towards Taehyung and hastily pressed your lips against his forehead, trying not to cringe at how ice-cold his skin was.

You whispered one thing to him, logically aware that he couldn’t hear it but wishing that his greater conscious would.

“I’m sorry.”

Then like that, you quickly turned around and ran as fast as you could back to your little-hide out.

And here you were hours later; huddled up in your little hole whilst still shaken and miserable.

One could argue that it was ridiculous to be so sad about his death, given you could count on both hands how many conversations you had with him. But it was not for someone else to understand; the feeling of losing the one person who originated from the same place as you. Everyone else in this arena was just a bunch of faceless threats from places beyond your knowing. Taehyung was the last piece of home you had left, the last person you could fully relate to and to have him ripped away from you so soon...you felt robbed and alienated.

Your last goodbye to him suddenly entered your mind.

You didn’t know what you were sorry to Taehyung for, but you just felt like you needed to say it in that moment. Maybe you were guilty that you didn’t try harder to become his ally and team up in the arena. Or maybe you were just sorry that his end had to be like that, that you didn’t get to him sooner. Perhaps even being sorry that you couldn’t stay with his body like you had wanted to.

Yet maybe it was a good thing that he died on the first day. Some might even say that those who died first were the luckiest...they wouldn’t have the torture of carrying on the game for days on end.

This stream of thought was prematurely cut short when the Capitols’ anthem suddenly began to echo inside the caves.

You were dreading seeing Taehyung’s face splayed up as a fallen tribute for everyone to see, but you had no choice but to watch and get a full count of who was left. Reluctantly, you crawled out of your hole so that just your upper half was out, peeking out like a turtle in case there was any other tributes.

You quickly found the segment projected onto the ridgy walls of the rocky caverns. Right now it was just the bright blue symbol of the capitol as the trumpets and drums continued to play. You braced yourself, held your breath and waited...and waited...and waited. But eventually the anthem just faded out as the symbol remained.

Your face scrunched up in confusion.

Had the fallen tributes segment glitched? Why hadn’t any faces been displayed?

Out of nowhere, a smooth and deep voice purred over the unseen speakers, almost startling you back into your ‘shell’.

“Why, I see so many befuddled expressions out there.”

A gleeful chuckle followed.

Your eyes widened as you recognized who was speaking to all the tributes. The only person allowed to make announcements was the one and only head game maker. And when the head game maker went out of his way to speak to the tributes...well, it was never a good sign.

“As part of the twist of the Quarter Quell, the gamemakers have decided that knowing your enemy is a huge advantage. It can be argued that it’s rather generous of the Capitol to allow you such luxury of seeing the fallen every night.” A brief pause. “We then wondered how you all would fare if you didn’t know who was alive and who was dead. So for the first time ever, the fallen tribute tradition has been temporarily...suspended.”

Your jaw dropped as you slowly but surely realized what was happening.

They couldn’t, could they?

“Instead, every night we will display a number. This number will represent how many tributes are still alive.”

Reacting to his words, the capitol’s symbol instantly morphed into a giant number ‘14’.

The head game maker let out a thoughtful hum. “Fourteen of you left. Interesting… may the odds be ever in your favor, one out of fourteen isn’t a bad shot when you really think about it.” The statement shook you to your core, the makers’ soothing and accented voice saying those words was somehow too real for you to handle. He finally concluded the announcement with one more farewell, a smile being heard in his voice as he finished it all off with a simple; “Goodnight.”

The display depleted back into nothingness as the speakers cut out with a definite ‘click’.

If the goal of such announcement was to taunt and rile the tributes, then they achieved this goal rather well.

A burning itch of irritation bubbled under your skin, your face burning bright red and a random desire to yell out curses to the gamemakers overtook your mind in that very moment. The audacity to not tell the tributes beforehand, the slimey pettiness to rub it in their faces via an announcement and the offensive “one in fourteen” comment was all too much for you to bear. You weren’t a violent person by any means, but if given the chance you’d probably bash the head gamemakers’ face in.

You weren’t naive.

You knew what they were doing.

This wasn’t planned until later, because if it was part of the original agenda; the tributes would’ve been briefed on it so they could strategize accordingly. The game makers decided on this later, most likely because they thought it would make better ratings or quicken some tribute-on-tribute story lines.

But what could’ve made them pull the trigger on something like this-

No way.

A horrid epiphany struck you as the gears in your aching and groggy mind began to turn.

Who was the most beloved tribute of this game so far?

Two.

What was said tribute most vocal about during his interview?

You.

And who did district four try to obtain you for?

Him.

During his interview it was obvious how wrapped around his finger he had the viewers. It wasn’t a far stretch to assume that most if not all of the Capitol truly bought into his one-sided romance propaganda. So, if you were an average viewer of the games and saw that you and Jungkook weren’t together... then maybe it truly would be more entertaining to not have you two know if the other is alive or not. Did they want to see the ‘secret lovers’ break not knowing if their soulmate was okay or dead?

On top of that, you could only assume that many tributes were also separated from their District counterparts and were understandably concerned about their partner’s fate. This was, regrettably, the perfect way to get in their heads and could even be traced back to the quell’s theme of ‘no support system.’

You hated how evilly brilliant it all was.

Although it didn’t seem like much, the paranoia didn’t take long to seep in. Was Chenle still alive? Did the boy from Twelve make it out? And most importantly; was Jungkook still out there...looking for you?

Instinctively you crawled back into your little shelter, as if just thinking about him would magically make him materialize in front of you.

You instead refocused your mind onto the number displayed just seconds before.

14 people were still alive.

Earlier, you had counted six cannons. Which means four people would’ve had to died during the cave collapse, although you didn’t spot every single corpse in favor of mourning over Taehyungs’ specifically. So all in all, ten children died today. This left a little more than half of the original tributes left.

Out of nowhere, the bleak yet bittersweet feeling spiked within you once again. It was hard to feel any good about the short lives that were ended unfairly, yet if the games kept going at this pace then the whole nightmare showed signs of being be over sooner rather than later. This thought lead into another question; how come so many died today?

Natural diasters weren’t uncommon and they were obviously simulations created by the gamemakers. They usually happened within the second half of the games though, when deaths were slowing down and the viewing experience became a little too boring for the Capitols’ taste. So how come they chose to start off with a disaster right away?

It was terrifying and worth concern for everyone, especially when considering that tributes could do nothing to combat them if the gamemakers just chose to have a volcano erupt near you or something like that. When you think about it, anyone could’ve been in Taehyung’s place. It was just a matter of being at the right place at the right time. Luck was a bigger theme than odds were. How hypocritical of them to say may the odds be in our favor when they’re the ones constantly manipulating them against us?

You sighed and tried to rest comfortably against the wall of your little cave.

You decided to just conclude that they must’ve made the cave collapse to make up for the lack of blood bath deaths. It was the only explanation that made sense. In other games with a Cornucopia and weapons, so much as 10 or 13 tributes would die trying to obtain supplies. Obviously this couldn’t have been done with no weapons to fight over and most tributes just scattering away this time. The gamemakers must’ve brainstormed other ways to up the death count and decided on collapsing part of the arena.

You just hoped that tomorrow would be more bearable than today was.

You hugged your jacket closer to your from after zipping it all the way up and buttoning it for good measure. You didn’t know much about caves, but you figured that they most likely got really cold at night.

You were weary with exhaustion, all the running and crying had drained a significant amount of energy from you. Part of you wanted to stay up all night and be on the lookout for any other tributes, but it wouldn’t be realistic nor smart to begin a cycle of sleep deprivation this early in the game. You would have to set your paranoia aside for some much needed rest.

You allowed your eyelids to fall as you tried to steady your breathing.

A few minutes passed and the ever comforting rem cycle was not too far away from you, yet your nose suddenly twitched at a foreign smell, bringing you out of the lulling state.

A gentle yet heavy scent of lavender and cinnamon overpowered your senses, startling you and causing you to open your eyes to investigate.

You couldn’t see anything due to how dark it was in your hide-out, but the aura was only growing more and more potent every passing second. Weirdly enough, your body was growing limp and relaxed although your mind was panicking and racing for some sort of explanation.

You cupped a hand over your mouth and nose, suspecting that this odd fragrance was the cause.

You hurriedly tried to crawl out of your nook, the task being difficult with just one hand available to you. But when you finally made it out, you saw what was truly occurring.

You felt like a bucket of ice was dropped onto you as you quickly caught onto what was happening.

The barren tunnel was seeping out some sort of fog-like gas. It was artificially purple and smelled sickly sweet, almost enough to make you gag. You mentally cursed the gamemakers before holding your breath and making a mad dash in the opposite direction of the gas.

It must’ve been poisonous to anyone who breathed it in. Why else would it be here?

You kept running and running, trying to ignore the burning of your lungs knowing that any breath you take will most likely be your last if you didn’t get away from the fog.

But the gas was gaining ground at an alarming rate, almost biting at the back of your ankles with how close it was.

Your eyes welled up with tears as your face grew blue due to how long you starved yourself from oxygen.

You spotted another cave a few yards away and pushed yourself to it, knowing it was your only hope of escaping. But when you entered it, you let out a frustrated scream at what was there to welcome you; more gas.

It was attacking you from every direction and you were unable to hold your breath any longer.

Your eyelids grew droopy as you fell to your knees.

Was this the end?

Black spots entered your vision, growing in size until you couldn’t see anything else.

Your body fell over and the last sound you faintly remember was the triggering of a cannon.

Part Three

“No! I can still do this! I can still do this. One more kill. It’s the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district…. Not that it matters.” -Cato Porcious, fallen tribute of 74th Annual Hunger Games.

Jungkook didn’t know what to feel when he first woke up to the second day of the 100th annual Hunger Games.

First, he felt relief.

He thought for sure that the violet gas of last night had taken him out for good.

But then, he felt confusion.

It took only a few seconds for him to process these emotions, study his surroundings, then jump up to his feet in bewilderment.

In all his years of watching the games and preparing to one day play himself, he never could have anticipated this.

His jaw dropped as he slowly swiveled his head around in order to fully observe what had happened during his rest last night.

The arena….it changed.

It was hardly believable and didn’t make a lick of sense, but there was no doubt about it. The musty and dark caves no longer encased them. Instead, Jungkook and his allies were lying in the middle of an abandoned street that was surrounded by tall yet barren buildings.

It looked to be a city, or at least it was at one point.

The metropolitan area had endured lots of damage, some buildings even looked as though they have been bombed at some point. There were loose bricks and concrete debris spread everywhere; dust, dirt and shards of glass caking lots of surface. The skyline above was gray and cloudy, an odd film of brown stained the horizon in what must’ve been a pseudo pollution detail.

It was a massive dystopian city.

“What the hell?”

The groggy yet deep voice of the boy from One interrupted Jungkook’s silent awe, causing him to snap his attention back to his allies.

They were just waking up, although Chanyeol seemed to have the head start as he was already sat up and studying what had become of the underground cave system with eyes of exasperated wonder. For a moment the two were silent, waiting until Joy and Jeongyeon fully awoke and also realized the situation they were in.

“Well,” Jeongyeon stretched her arms above her head and yawned leisurely, somehow totally causal despite the giant revelation that just collectively went off in their heads. Jungkook could never tell if she was genuinely as friendly and aloof as she acted, or if she was just that good at putting on a show for the viewers. “at least now we know that the purple stuff wasn’t deadly. Probably was just used to knock us out.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and refrained from scolding her for pointing out the obvious. He routinely wondered to himself if he had the patience of a saint for putting up with District One’s peacock ways. Their thirst for screen time would’ve been laughable if it weren’t for Jungkook’s high strung nerves that made him more irritable than usual.

Luckily, Joy also saw the comment as stupid and had no trouble pointing that out. “No shit, bimbo.”

Jeongyeon frowned at this, still not used to Twos’ blunt and borderline mean nature. She turned to her counterpart in search of back up, but the tired oaf of a teen just offered her a shrug and stood up for a morning stretch of those long legs of his.

“How is this even possible?” Jungkook murmured to himself, still trying to piece together all the logistics of how the gamemakers did something as drastic as changed the arena with all the tributes unconscious.

“I don’t know man. Who are we to question their high-end shit? They probably just built all this stuff around us.” Chanyeol said, overhearing Jungkook and budding in as was his custom.

Jungkook scowled and tried his hardest to swallow down the hellish tick that crawled up the back of his neck.

Now, he never thought that the games would be a cake walk per say. Even the strongest of victors had to go through some pretty odd and seemingly unbearable circumstances to win. Jungkook just assumed that he was capable enough to put up with any shit the gamemakers tossed his way; and it shouldn’t be a lot given he played into their little game and charmed his way into the forefront of the viewers’ minds. But he guessed he could finally conclude that he underestimated just how difficult they were going to make this Quell.

It was hard enough to attempt to track you down in the series of underground caves, how the hell was Jungkook going to find you if the very arena changed every single day?

He felt his eye twitch on its’ own accord as he scanned every single building that stood proud in the doomsday skyline, knowing that there was no possible way he could search through every single one in his journey to find you.

If you were alive.

14 tributes remained but no one said you were one of them.

His face darkened.

How foolish had he been to assume that the gamemakers would just give him his love? They were going to use you like bait, reeling him in and making him jump through hoops as if he was a dog yearning for a treat. But to be fair, his pride was reduced to that of a dogs’ when it came to you.

Joy took notice of her counterpart’s gloomy mood. She licked her dry lips before commenting on it from her criss crossed position on the vacant road. “What’s your problem, loverboy? Shouldn’t you be happy we’re not dead?”

The rest of the career pack turned to their ‘leader’ who currently had his back turned towards them. It was a bold move to taunt Two’s infatuation for you by calling him such nickname, but Joy was just a bold person in general. It has yet to be said if Jungkook held a soft spot for her by allowing her passes to say such things, or if he was just waiting for the right time to bash her head in.

“Of course it’s good we’re not dead. But this twist is going to make everything so much harder.” Jungkook bluntly responded, pretending to not notice the subtle jab.

Joy snorted. “You mean it’s gonna make everything harder to find Ten.”

Jungkook’s sudden silence only made her laugh harder.

“Yeah, about that…” Chanyeol trailed off, wondering if now would be a good time to ask the unknown. “What is going on with you and the girl from Ten? Why are we looking for her?”

“She’s mine.” The reply was short and brutal on Two’s part, shutting down any further inquiries as if he believed that any elaboration would be wasted on such fools.

Joy’s snorts only got louder as she eventually rolled over, clutching her stomach in delirium.

“Like your girlfriend or something? I thought the whole thing was an act.” Jeongyeon scratched her head in confusion, how the hell would two tributes get into an exclusive relationship in the week before the games?

“Or are you trying to track her down and fuck her? I heard that the kids from Districts like that stay virgins till marriage.” Chanyeol conversed, it wasn’t totally unknown for tributes to try to get their rocks off before or even during the games. Lots of kids didn’t want to die virgins and found the solution within each other. Of course, this never blossomed into a real romance given there could be only one victor. Survival outlasted all other primal instincts.

Jungkook suddenly found himself wondering if it was too late to become a lone wolf in this game. District One was proving to be as dumb as ever and his own counterpart wasn’t helping matters in the slightest.

The brute of a teen opened his mouth to spit out a retort, but quickly closed it when he realized he didn’t even know what to say.

The thing was; Jungkook didn’t feel the need to explain shit to anyone. It wasn’t for them to understand. Hell, even if he tried there was no possible way he could properly describe it... much less get them to understand.

“Everyone shut up! We need to get moving. There’s still nine other tributes out there that we have to kill.” Jungkook ordered, smirking in slight satisfaction when they all immediately stood up and got ready at the metaphorical snap of his fingers.

The next two hours of the day consisted of the pack roaming the ruined streets of the city, silent and on high alert for any other tributes unlucky enough to come across the blood thirsty four. The only sounds to be heard was the light ‘crunch’ of the debris under their combat boots that resulted with every step they took. What also followed them was an odd chemical smell that appeared to loom in every crevice of the city; a burning rubber scent that caused a scrunch of ones’ nose. Jeongyeon voiced her concern for it being radioactive, but the three just shrugged, it’s not like they could do anything about it even if they wanted to.

As the morning faded away to be replaced with the afternoon, it became barringly obvious that all other weaker tributes would be spared given the careers had yet to spot a single soul. This lack of action mixed in with hunger and thirst spiked tensions. Soon enough Joy halted her steps in favor of plopping down on what looked to be a curb, pouting up up at Jungkook in bratty refusal to move any further.

The pack halted and set their gaze on her.

Two pairs of eyes peered confused, while the last pair glared ruthlessly.

“The games is more than just killing other people, Kook. We need to survive too. If we don’t find food or water soon, we won’t even be able to overpower others.” Joy complained loudly, rubbing her sore ankles as if to prove her point.

Jungkook let out a low growl under his breath, wiping the sweat away from his forehead while trying to remind himself that he was on camera at all times.

‘Don’t blow up, don’t blow up, don’t blow up’

“Joy might be onto something. God only knows what arena we’ll wake up in tomorrow. The only food we could get from the caves were insects and algae, we should search through these buildings for any scraps.” Chanyeol attempted to be the voice of reason, without a doubt catching on to the fight that loomed in the near future if Joy and Jungkook didn’t get on the same page quickly.

“I need to find her.” This was said through gritted teeth, Jungkook’s patience being worn too thin to play the amicable act any longer.

“Why must everyone suffer for the sake of your obsession?!” Joy scoffed, irritated that some mute country girl from Ten was being placed as priority one over her well-being.

Jungkook felt his brow tick. The familiar burning itch of a fury only infatuated men could understand graced his sensations once again. The fact that your importance was being questioned was almost blasphemous to Jungkook. Were they blind? Of course the first objective had to be you, everyone else was just mere distractions getting in the way of his goal. He was the big dog in this game, the undeniable winner and if his fellow “allies” knew what was good for them then they’d play along to his plan.

“Joy, get up.” Jungkook licked his lips before continuing in a bleak voice; “I won’t ask again.”

Joy rolled her raven eyes and stood up, taking one step forward towards the pseudo leader with a snarl-like expression twisting up the usually pretty features of her face. “Like hell I’ll follow you! If you’re willing to place some random girl over your allies then maybe we need a new change in leadership.”

Jungkook could practically feel the unseen cameras zoom in on the scene. The viewers most likely gasping in shock or clutching their pearls with excitement at the power dynamic impasse that the most powerful alliance in the game was facing.

It was silent for a moment, Jungkook boring his ruthless eyes into hers as if to give her a second chance to step down in submission.

But she never did.

Instead she looked at the pair from One, whom for once looked rather uncomfortable, and called out in a smug grin; “I’m sure you guys are thinking it too. Is it irrational for me to question the head of our pack when he values a random girl over our lives?”

Neither Chanyeol nor Jeogyeon answered, instead they both avoided eye contact.

Jungkook let out a humorless chuckle at her failure to sway a rally against him.

Now, it was his turn.

“Joy I’ve been nothing but lenient with you because we’re from the same District and two heads are better than one. But if I have to strangle that pretty little neck of yours until your face is blue and that cannon goes off, then I will.” Jungkook’s voice was emotionless and barren, as if he was simply reciting lines and not truly expressing his inner most thoughts. The only reaction to be seen from him was the slight smirk he had when he witnessed Joy’s proud expression drop into a look of doom.

He continued, “In fact, I don’t owe anyone here anything. If I truly wanted to I could kill all three of you and not even feel a lick of remorse. I could rid myself of liabilities and dead weight to further myself in the game. This alliance is hindering my full potential. It is me who shows you mercy, keep that in mind with every waking second of your life in this game.”

Joy took a step back whilst Jungkook took one forward.

“You all saw what I did to Four. I’m not above killing other careers if they get in my way.”

“Kook-”

Jungkook raised his hand and silenced her with a harsh backhand to the face. The speed of the action was so quick that the only way Chanyeol and Jeogyeon even realized what had happened was the echoing sound of the hit and the response of Joy cradling the left side of her now redden face.

Jungkook wasn’t finished either.

In fact, he seemed all too proud to make an example out of his very own district mate.

He snatched her hair and dragged her to the ground, forcing her into a crouched position as he lifted his knee to jut her in the stomach.

She let out a tortured scream at the pain, looking at her other allies for aid only to cry at the realization that she was alone to face his wrath.

She stared up at the monster of a man, pleading to spot some remains of mercy expected of rational humans.

But his orbs were empty of any emotion other than pure hatred.

Jungkook raised a clenched fist once again as Joy screamed.

Part Four

"You know, they're not the only ones who can form alliances" - Victor Katniss Everdeen to Rue Culler in 74th Annual Hunger Games.

It was the third day of the games.

You awoke to a feeling of sticky humidity clinging onto your skin. It was only when you managed to tear your swollen eyes open and sit your weakened body up did you finally discover what hell awaited you that day.

It was a jungle, an awful hot and loud one that was crawling with various types of animals far beyond your understanding. This was evident in the different sounds you heard echo amongst the trees and bushes; monkeys, birds, frogs and god knows what else. All the plants around you were vibrant and bursting with colors, practically stunning your tired retinas with the intensity of the shades.

Perhaps if you felt better you would’ve taken a moment to observe the strange and foreign land that you’d never get to experience again, but the third day was already proving to be the biggest hurdle to overcome.

The lack of food and water was finally taking its’ toll on your body.

Your stomach was persistently growling and your lips were so cracked and dried that you’d routinely have to lick off blood from them. Your esophagus burned due to the scratchy lack of moisture while your cranium pounded ruthlessly. Even as you got up to stand, you managed to stagger as if half of your strength had magically depleted overnight.

If you didn’t find food or water soon then you were as good as dead.

As you took off your wind breaker to tie it around your waist in attempt to adapt to the sudden climate change, you began to ponder possible ways to obtain food and water. Luckily this new arena was filled to the brim with animals that you could hunt and consume. Although eating possible insects or exotic pests wasn’t exactly something you’d be proud to do, it was all in the name of survival.

However you decided that water was the more vital need. You were already pushing the envelope for dehydration, the expected time without it was three days. If you had to, you could last a few more days without food.

Jungles meant waterfalls, right?

Or at least rain?

You wiped your forehead and heaved a deep breath in preparation for another day that could be your last.

Although it wasn’t the best strategy, you had no choice but to wander seamlessly without any direction. What else could you do when the arena changes every 24 hours? Any knowledge you could retain about your surroundings would prove to be useless come the following day. Thus you set off into the tree line, hoping to come across some sort of clean water source.

Out of the three natural settings you had been put into, this jungle was quickly becoming your least favorite. The very air was heavy with the worst type of heat; a sticky and itchy one that delved into your very pores. Bugs were constant and slowed you down, they swarmed you as if your blood was a siren and continuously bit at an open surface of your skin. There also wasn’t any clear pathways to follow, you had to fight your way through all the greenery. You just hoped that none of the plants you brushed past were poisonous.

If you had to guess, you would estimate that it had been 15 minutes into your aimless journey when something rather unusual happened.

You heard a rustle occur from a few feet away from you, a slight one that shook some leaves from a bush nearby.

Normally, this would be cause for concern in an arena. Yet this jungle was so noisy and bristling with movement that it was hardly noticeable at first. Hell, it was practically more alive than you were at this moment.

Your logic was that it was most likely an animal of some kind instead of another tribute. Nonetheless you stilled and held your breath, anticipating a sudden appearance. You hardly bit back the urge to run as fast as you could in the opposite direction, but if it was indeed an animal then that action would only trigger a violent reaction against you or even a brutal hunt.

You fought against the instinct and waited while counting the passing seconds. ‘One, two, three, four-’

A boisterous yell broke from deep within the chest of an unseen attacker.

In a blurry spasm of movement, you caught sight of a tall yet slender female form burst from the greenery in an insane jump to get to you.

You barely had time to leap backwards, and even then it was far too late. The strange girl managed to land on top of your legs, successfully pinning you down to the jungle floor as you helplessly wiggled and tried to get a clear view of her face.

Her long brown hair managed to block most of it, but by the little glimpses you struggled to get you could see that she was extremely pretty. Her face was slender yet round with well-defined features and near flawless skin. Her body was sturdy as she had no trouble keeping you down, even letting out a casual huff as she pushed against your shoulders to keep you in place (as if you were more of a slight bother than a real hassle) when you attempted to sit up and swing.

You wanted nothing more than to give her a good hit before booking it and never looking back, but the odds were insurmountable. It didn’t take long before you deduced that she must’ve been fairing far well compared to you. While your energy had been burned down to simmering ashes as hunger and thirst consumed you, this nameless tribute seemed all too healthy and willingly aggressive.

Her hands against you shoulder slowly crept up to your neck, slowly curling around the base and pressing her sharp nails into the skin.

You let out a strangled cry, your dry throat not being able to manage a full out scream.

“Wait a minute.” Her husky voice rasped before she took one hand to brush her hair back, allowing the sun to capture her now bare face.

Your breath caught in your throat and suddenly your struggles became more frantic.

It was the girl from Seven.

While not a career by any means, she still proved herself a worthy competitor with a high personal score. And by the way she was glowering above you, it was obvious that she was not afraid to kill to get ahead.

“Aren’t you the girl that Two is in love with?” She questioned with an indescribable look upon her face.

You stilled.

There are moments in every game where you can directly affect your fate in a very drastic manner. Camouflaged in her simple question was a bigger dilemma that could either make or break you. The issue was that you didn’t know which one it will be. Either you can agree that 2 was indeed in love with you and maybe even give a little white lie about him being your ally. That had a high probability of scaring her, as who in their right mind would want to mess with him, and by extension you? However it could be argued that it was also a double edged sword. Perhaps she was just as ambitious as the careers, if not more so, and would have no problem poking the bear that is Jungkook via killing you. Maybe she would even enjoy it more knowing that she involved herself into the ‘star-crossed lovers’ story line and put an end to it all, stealing attention from you to her.

Your eyes furiously swept side to side in attempt to get a better view of your surroundings.

All chances of escaping were futile.

If you disagreed, her plans to hurt you wouldn’t change and she’d carry on with her murdering of you. But if you went along with it, there was an almost sure guarantee that she’d have a reaction. That reaction could be good or bad, but it was the only chance you had. It was scary to flip a coin on your chances of survival, but what other options did you have?

“Yes, w-we’re together.” You stuttered out, hoping that she took your awkward tone as a result o her practically smothering your windpipe and not you lying through your teeth.

Her brow raised at that, her stern expression uplifting for a brief moment to form an over-exaggerated look of confusion and concern.

“Where is your boy toy then? Pretty stupid of him to let you wander on your own.”

“He’s nearby.” you fibbed, faking confidence and glaring up at her as if she just signed her death wish.

Jennie let out a giggle, a sound that would be somewhat cute if the circumstances were any different than her about to commit murder. “Let’s say I believe you. Do you think he’d get back in time to save you and capture me?”

You hated to falter, but she did have a point.

If she was smart, she’d take her chance now to get rid of you because god only knows when she’d come across you again. And clearly she had the advantage, you had no ability to fight back. Even if Jungkook was close (which he wasn’t), she’d still have ample time to end you and run far into the jungle before another tribute could even stumble across the unfortunate scene.

Tears welled up and blurred your vision.

You were going to die.

The end of your simple, short but honest life was going to occur in the middle of some artificial habitat, via a bloodthirsty stranger making a show out of your demise in which your friends and family from home would be forced to watch along with the rest of the nation. May your corpse be one of many examples the capitol shall use for warning against any possible rebellion.

You lasted three days, a pathetic 72 hours would be the wrap up of your entire existence. In some weird twist of desperation you thought about how you could’ve played this game differently. Would you have survived if you teamed up with Two and the rest of the careers? If you tried harder to ally yourself with your District mate? Or if you decided to chase after the kid from Twelve and form a team?

But while those different paths were clouded in unseen potential, they were void of anything tangible much less useful given your current circumstance.

You fell limp and gazed up at her hallowly, managing to catch a glimpse of your crying expression in the reflection of her dark orbs.

She stared back at you; a mutual understanding of what was to come.

Gone was the show or theatrics, now all that had left to be done was the actual act itself of killing you.

She the predator, you the prey.

“Any last wor-”

A blurry and hurried movement cut her off, it was so sudden and unexpected that all you were able to process was that 7 was now off of you. Instead of gazing up at her, your line of sigh was now met with the blue sky and branches of the taller trees.

You blinked slowly in bewilderment.

Seven was seemingly knocked off of you...but how?

Strangled yelps and more wrestling movement occurred somewhere beside you, the vibration and intensity of it causing the ground underneath you to quiver, but due to your state of shock you weren’t focusing on it at all. You were slowly gaining your senses back, you body taking it’s time to adjust to the new ability to breathe freely all the while adapting to the sudden postponement of your death.

You sat up, ignoring the pounding ache that your cranium responded with, and twisted your head to the side in order to behold what became of your killer.

You let out a bleak and disbelieving chuckle at the scene that greeted you.

The hunter became the prey.

In some ironic twist of fate, Seven was now pinned under another tribute. By the throat to be exact, an almost perfect replica of the position you were in just seconds ago.

Seven was spluttering out, trying her best to yell or at least make some type of noise, but all attempts to do so were futile.

She stood no chance against the girl on top of her.

Said girl had inky black hair that was strictly fastened into a high ponytail, her skin was fair and glistening with what must’ve been sweat and her body was lengthy and muscular; making the act of strangling Seven look like a walk in the park.

It was odd to feel sympathy for the girl who almost just killed you, but watching Seven’s face turn red and eventually blue as she silently screamed was heartbreaking enough to almost make you want to push the mystery girl off of her.

Almost. But not quite enough.

It took some time to strangle someone, so by that logic you should have enough time to get up and run. This would’ve been a flawless plan if it weren’t for the fact that your legs were numb due to all the time you had Seven on top of you, and thus essentially rendered useless.

The absolute most you could achieve was some pathetic army-crawl, and obviously that was not going to get you far enough.

But could it be argued that if this unknown girl truly wanted you dead then she would’ve let Seven had her way with you before offing Seven herself?

That line of thought was your only chance of getting out of here alive.

The struggles of Seven eventually subsided, her eyes glazing over unfocused before closing entirely. Her body went limp as if she suddenly fainted, but the truth was she finally succumbed to the lack of oxygen and died.

The sound of a cannon shot through the jungle.

You watched as the girl slowly got off of Seven, heaving a huff and rubbing her hands together as if exhausted from the strenuous activity of literally wringing the life out of someone.

You lips began to move on their own accord, both pleads and questions racing to get out first.

She turned to face you.

Your jaw dropped.

Technically you weren’t lying at all to Seven.

Two was indeed close by, but it wasn’t Jungkook.

It was Joy.

Her porcelain face was marred with blue and purple bruises, the color so contrasting to her otherwise flawless skin tone that you couldn’t help the inaudible gasp that escaped your lips.

Who did that to her?

She scoffed down at you, unimpressed with your spineless yet shocked state.

“Calm down, I’m not gonna hurt you idiot. Why would I save your sorry ass if that was the case?”

“What do you want then?” You attempted to bark back, trying to keep some sense of pride in this obvious imbalance of power.

“Allies.” She shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing.

“And why would I team up with you?”

She glanced at the fresh corpse behind her before looking back at you, staring at you meaningfully as she said; “Because I’m the only one who knows the truth about you and Jungkook and probably your only chance of fighting back.”

^^^ me pretending to not see the 100+ people glaring at me for taking literally months to update. Anyway, I’m sorry Jungkook isn’t in this part that much but this will be the last part before Y/n’s and Jk’s game fully intertwine. I planned a really big plot twist to end on but I think I’m just gonna save that for it’s own chapter bc I think I’d need like 10k to do that twist justice. I think part one was better but like...oh well. Please comment, reblog and send asks in, all that good stuff. I miss writer/reader interaction, bro. Also, the reason the scene descriptions of the arenas are short is bc I originally had plugged in photos of the habitats but the links weren’t working on tumblr. I can repost them if anyone’s interested.

EXTRA INFO; For those of you who were with me since part one, I did a beta reader thingy for chapter two and I’d really like to do that again for chapter three. Last time I gave out a quiz and the winners got the chance to read the first 5k and eventually have 24 hour access before it was posted publicly. This time, I want more in-depth analysis. So if you wanna be a beta reader for chapter three, please reblog this with an analysis of your own about the story and my writing. At the end put something like (BR) so I know you are trying out for a beta reader position. I think I’ll chose around 8-10 people. And I will reach out to those people when I have them picked out.

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 3,736 Sam x Reader Summary: Dean stays behind while Sam and Y/N head to the local bar. Suprisingly, sparks fly and what starts seemingly as a drunken hook up could be more. Warnings: sexual content A/N: A little flirtatious banter, a little bit (maybe a lot) steamy, a little humor, a lot of cute and fluff... Trust me. You want to read this fic. Also, that second gif... *fans self*

Your name: submit What is this?

You looked over at Sam across the pool table, leaning a little on his cue, and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. “Are you gonna go or just stare at the table all night?” you prompted, drawing what was clearly only a half-serious annoyed look.

“Will you just give me a minute?” he laughed. “I’m figuring out the angles! It’s a little hard to do mental geometry with you over there scoffing every 5 seconds!”

“Scoffing, huh?” You shook your head at him. “You know what?” You lined up a shot and knocked in two of your balls.

Sam’s jaw dropped open. “What?! Are you kidding me? It wasn’t your turn!” But he was laughing through his amazement at your gall.

You raised your eyebrows at him and leaned heavily on your cue, shrugging carelessly. “You were taking too long. And if I’m not mistaken, I just sunk two, so it’s my turn again!”

Sam shook his head and bit his bottom lip. “You’re a cheat,” he said. You grinned back at him.

“Alright, cheater. I’m gonna go get us some more drinks while you finish out your ill-gotten turn,” he said, giving you a last scolding look. You only returned a satisfied smile and began lining up your next shot. You didn’t see Sam pause on his way over to the bar to take another look at you over his shoulder. There was warmth on his face as he laughed to himself and signaled to the bartender. He returned in a couple minutes with two drinks and immediately let out a laugh when he saw the table was cleared except for his balls and the cue ball.

“Looks like you lost, Sam,” you said accepting a glass from him and wiggling your eyebrows.

“It looks that way, but did I actually lose if my opponent cheated me out of the game?”

“It’s not my fault you can’t shoot based on pure instinct like me,” you retorted, grinning at him and taking a deep drink of the whiskey in your glass. “If I had waited for you to take that shot, you’d probably still be standing there ‘doing geometry’,” you teased him.

Sam laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not playing with you anymore!”

“Good,” you said, putting your pool cue away in the rack on the wall. “Because I usually like to finish a game faster than if I were playing my dead grandmother.”

Sam gave you another look and shook his head, but he too stashed his cue away on the wall rack. You grabbed a nearby stool at a high-top table and he came over to join you, sipping his drink. “This is good,” you said with a content sigh and a small smile still on your face. “I needed to blow off some steam after today.”

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes wandering over your face freely while you glanced around the bar. “Yeah. Same here. But I hope Dean isn’t too upset we went out without him…”

You laughed. “Who cares? We invited him. He’s the one who decided to stay at the hotel and pout.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s true,” he said, sipping his drink. “I just hope he doesn’t purposely try to be unpleasant when we get back…”

You snorted with laughter into your drink. “He can be unpleasant enough without trying,” you laughed also drawing laughter from Sam.

“Yeah… imagine growing up with him. Add some father issues and teenage hormones into the mix… Yikes.”

You smirked at Sam. “You mean to say that you don’t have father issues?” you teased him, your skepticism lifting one eyebrow.

Sam let out a loud laugh that lit up his whole face. “No, I don’t mean to imply that at all. I have father issues. I have hella father issues,” he laughed and you joined him, giving him a somewhat sympathetic look. “No point in trying to lie to you, Y/N, we all know it.”

You nodded and stared down into your drink. “Well, hey, um—same,” you laughed. You downed the rest of your drink and continued your evening with Sam full of laughter and also quite full of drinks. The time passed easily, swapping hunting stories and goofing around. And by the time the two of you left the bar to walk back to the motel only a few blocks away you were a little unsteady on your feet. In fact, you missed the small step coming outside and Sam put an arm out to catch you as you stumbled.

You pressed a hand to your face, which was red, and laughed at yourself. “Woops. I seem to be a little bit drunker than I expected,” you laughed.

“Shocking with the way you’re always bragging about how you can hold your liquor,” Sam teased you. His arm was still around you and there was a beat where you looked up into his hazel eyes and your lips parted slightly to speak, but you suddenly couldn’t get the words out. Sam’s eyes were just… wow. Both of you seemed to perceive the sudden tension in the air between you and Sam felt a tightness in his throat and slipped his arm from around you. You cleared your throat a little nervously and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

What the hell was that? you wondered, your heart still racing in your chest. You’d never felt that before with Sam… Had you? You walked the short distance back to the hotel, managing to fall back into conversation easily but the mood seemed to changed again as you neared your room, which was only a few doors down from the one Sam and Dean were sharing. Sam hovered nearby to make sure you got in okay. You slipped the key into the lock and turned it, the clank of the deadbolt unlatching sounding loud in the quiet of the parking lot. You turned around to look at Sam and gave him a small smile. “Tonight was fun,” you said. His hands were crammed into his pockets, and you didn’t know it, but it was because he was suddenly inexplicably nervous. And he couldn’t stop looking at the color of your eyes, richer and deeper in the shadows of the inky night around you.

“Yeah, it really was. I should let you cheat at pool more often,” he joked, his heart leaping a little when you laughed.

“Or maybe we should piss Dean off more often?”

“I don’t think he needs any help with that,” Sam laughed again. “Well…”

“Well.” You didn’t know you were doing it, but you subconsciously were biting your bottom lip, and there was a wave of warmth slowly expanding in your chest, rising up like the tide.

Goddammit, Sam thought, and he just went for it. The tension between the two of you was unbearable and he couldn’t just let it fade again. Maybe it was just the booze… Probably it was just the booze, right? But he wrapped an arm around your lower back and his other hand slid into your hair, and he was suddenly pulling you in against him and kissing you with a heat and insistence that was overwhelming, and you were stunned but instantly kissing him back with the same fervor.

Suddenly he pulled back, out of breath, his eyes wide, searching your face, which was locked in an expression of stunned surprise, but with a disbelieving smile thrown in. “Wh—what was that?” you asked, your voice breathy.

Sam shook his head, his eyes still wide. “I don’t—I don’t know,” he said, still holding you. “Oh God—” he said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re drunk,” he said guiltily. “I don’t want—I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I’m so sorry!” He started to release his hold on you and back away but you interrupted him.

“Shut up,” you said forcefully. “And kiss me again. And I swear to God, Sam, I am giving you permission to take advantage of me.” Sam gulped at your words. “I want you to take full advantage of me and if you don’t I will 100% take advantage of you,” you said, a smile growing on your face with each word.

Sam stared down at you still in his arms for another moment with wide eyes, disbelieving. “…Are you sure?”

You nodded. “God, yes.”

And that was it. Sam was kissing you feverishly again and you were sinking into him. He pressed against you and you backed up into your hotel room, Sam carelessly kicking the door hard to shut behind you. You suddenly felt his hands on your ass and laughed into the kiss as he picked you up so you were straddling him, your arms around his neck. You sighed as his lips moved from yours to your neck, one of his hands now splayed out on your back and wandering up to tangle his fingers in your hair. His lips found yours again and you gently bit his bottom one. Sam immediately deepened the kiss and the next moment you let out a gasp as you tumbled down onto the bed with Sam over you. You broke apart for a moment, both wearing matching grins, out of breath, hearts racing, searching the others eyes and seeing the same fiery desire. Sam bit his bottom lip and shook his head vaguely, like he couldn’t believe this was happening, which only widened your smile.

You pulled him in again to crash his lips into yours again, feeling his hands wandering over your curves and edges hungrily, and yours doing the same. You slipped one hand underneath his shirt and scratched your nails lightly down his back. The feeling of the powerful, tense muscles under his skin making your head feel suddenly fuzzy. Sam let out a sigh and his hand squeezed your hip. What happened next was a sizzling whirlwind. Suddenly you were both just skin on skin, gasps and moans of pleasure, your nails digging into his back, his shoulder. Sam planting kisses along your collarbone, his breath hot on your neck, hair rising with goose bumps and electricity. His fingers fitting between yours, palms squeezed together, hips moving in unison. Sam’s fingers tangling in your hair, tugging it just enough to turn your head so he could kiss your neck, drag his teeth lightly over your earlobe, the feeling of the rough stubble on his face exhilarating. You laughed and squealed as Sam pulled you on top of him, his fingers digging into your hips, his face overwhelmed with the feel of you, the sight of you. Another few minutes and he had you pinned below him again, his eyes locked with yours for a long moment before your lips met again in a passionate kiss. The waves of pleasure were building toward the top of the crescendo and you were overcome with sensations. Sam’s fingers interlaced with yours and he broke the kiss to look down at your expression as you reached the height of pleasure, gasping out his name and squeezing his hand tight in yours, completely overcome. Sam did the same, capturing you in another kiss as the waves white-capped and started to recede, his kiss growing softer, and soon you were both just heaving gasping breaths through unsure smiles.

He fell into bed beside you and let out a disbelieving laugh, looking over at you, his eyes flitting between yours. You could feel that your face and chest were flushed and you shyly smiled at him, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. Sam’s fingers lightly brushed the strands of hair away from your eyes, studying your expression. You giggled and bit your bottom lip again, rolling over on your back to stare up at the ceiling. Sam watched your eyelashes flicker as your blinked.

“That was, umm… a little unexpected,” you said, turning to catch his eyes again.

His mouth fell slightly open and he mouthed wordlessly for a moment, which only brought another wide smile to your lips and a hot blush in your cheeks. “I didn’t—did that really just happen?” he laughed.

You nodded. “I’m pretty sure…”

Sam propped himself up on one elbow so he could study your face again and then clasped it gently and kissed you. It was soft but somehow still intense and you felt starry-eyed when he drew away. You could see every fleck of multifaceted color in his eyes and you were grateful to be laying down because it felt like everything suddenly shifted at that moment. You were dizzy from Sam.

“Can I just say… it’s weird how natural that felt?” he said. “I mean—nothing was awkward or… I don’t know.” A surprised smile was on his face and your heart skipped a beat.

“I was kind of thinking the same thing,” you said. Sam reached over and slipped his arm underneath you before pulling you close against him. You rested your head on his shoulder and your hand on his strong chest. You could feel his heart still pounding like yours.

“I mean, honestly,” he said, “I’ve been dating people where our first time was waaaay more awkward.”

You laughed and pressed a hand over your face as you blushed again. “Same,” you agreed.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be hiding those blushes! I earned those!” Sam said, gently taking your hand and pulling it away from your face. He laced his fingers with yours again and his expression softened. “What are you thinking right now?” he asked you.

You chewed your bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. “Mmm… I’m thinking ‘Thank God Dean didn’t come out tonight.’” You grinned up at him and he returned it.

“Me too.”

Not long after, both of you sunk in to one another, and after Sam captured you again in another soft kiss, you drifted off to sleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Dean woke up fairly early, having gone to bed much before his usual time in frustration with the research he was attempting. He was surprised he didn’t wake up when Sam came back in but a glance over at Sam’s bed explained why. It was undisturbed. And the next moment Dean was on his feet in alarm, his mind immediately rushing to worst case scenarios. He checked his phone to see if Sam had left a message or sent a text with an explanation. Nothing. Dean quickly threw on some clothes and stepped out into the early morning light, pistol at his hip, making a beeline straight for your room to see if you knew where Sam was.

He faltered as he approached. Your room key was still in the lock, dangling down. Dean gulped. Something was seriously not right here… Adrenaline started to flow into Dean’s veins and he gulped at the tightness in his throat. He withdrew his pistol and carefully grasped the doorknob, testing it ever so slightly to see if it was unlocked. It was loose. He heaved a steadying breath, gritted his teeth, and burst in through the door.

The crash startled you and Sam awake and you let out a scream and instinctively reached for your knife on the bedside table. Sam had his gun up and aimed at the figure in the doorway, who was silhouetted by the morning light and thus difficult to make out clearly until his eyes adjusted. Sam was protectively shielding you behind him. When you saw who had just burst in you let out a string of expletives and in your attempts to duck beneath the sheet accidentally fell out of the bed.

Dean’s face contorted into shocked perplexity and he lowered his gun. “…Sam?”

“Uhh…” Sam’s eyes went round as he stared at his brother, now also lowering his gun. He turned his attention to you where you were on the floor by the far side of the bed, thankfully still wrapped in the sheet. “Are you alright?” Sam asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, looking up at him, feeling your face burn. You stayed put on the floor, hiding just below the edge of the bed.

Dean was watching the scene before him with his mouth hanging open in confusion and disbelief. “This is—this is Y/N’s room,” he said. He turned to look at the number on the door as if to confirm he hadn’t gotten the room wrong and burst into a random one that simply happened to have Sam in it.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked back at his brother. “Uhh… yep…”

Dean’s brow lowered heavily over his eyes. “Did you—“ he cleared his throat and asked in a near-whisper, “—did you bring a girl back to Y/N’s room???”

Sam’s lips tightened into a thin line. Dean was really not putting this together. Apparently in his mind you and Sam hooking up was not even the shadow of a possibility. Sam avoided his eyes and pulled the blanket up. “Dean—would you mind getting the hell out of here?”

“Oh—right. Yeah, but… umm… where’s Y/N? Did she hook up too?” he asked in surprise. Down on the floor your pressed an exasperated hand to your face.”

Sam nodded, his eyebrows lifting. “Mhm. You know, I think she did. So. If you don’t mind…”

Dean seemed to come back to his senses. “Heh—right. Sorry. I don’t normally burst into hotel rooms but your bed wasn’t slept in and I thought something bad had happened and—” he pulled the key out of the door and tossed it on the spare bed, “—then I saw the key in the door—Y’know, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m going,” he said, his face finally cracking into a boyish smirk. “Way to go, Sammy,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out and shut the door.

Sam let out an exasperated noise and fell back onto the pillow, one hand in his hair. He glanced over in your direction, but you were still apparently hiding on the floor. “Hey—Y/N?”

Your voice drifted up over the edge. “Yeah…”

Sam laughed a little to himself. “Are you okay?”

“…yeah.”

“Well, Dean’s gone. You can come back up here,” Sam said, a question in his voice.

“Umm… I know…”

Sam heard some uncertainty in your voice and he rolled over across your side of the bed to peer down at you. “What’s the matter?”

You chewed your bottom lip and shrugged. “I mean, that wake up call wasn’t great…”

Sam laughed and nodded in agreement. “Yeah… Listen, I had something much better in mind, so can we start over?”

Your eyes flitted up to his but still looked a little unsure.

“Please? I need you back up here though…”

You took in the pleading expression on his face and the soft, warm light in his eyes and you couldn’t resist. You slid back into bed beside him and Sam’s face immediately broke into a warm smile.

“Alright, now come here,” he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close just the way you had been before Dean burst in. Your heart was beating fast with nerves. “Now, close your eyes,” Sam said. You did as he asked and for a long moment he just studied your face and waited for you to sink in against him. Sam gently turned toward you and you felt his hand caress your cheek so lightly it was like a breeze, and then his lips met yours with a soft, sweet kiss. “Good morning,” he said. You could feel his voice reverberate in his chest and your eyes shot open to look right into Sam’s. You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face to match his. “Better?” he asked.

“So much better.” You had hardly finished answering when Sam captured you in another kiss, and this one you returned with fervor.

Sam’s eyes were flitting between yours when you broke apart and he relished the sight of the blush on your face. “Listen, if you don’t feel this way that’s okay but I want to put this out there. On my end,” Sam started, licking his lips because he was feeling suddenly nervous, “this did not feel at all like a ‘hook up’ regardless of how it may have started.”

You laughed through a wide smile. “You mean, you taking ‘full advantage of me’?”

Sam laughed. “You remember that, huh? Not gonna lie… that was super hot.” This only drew more laughter from you and increased the heat in your face and chest. “But really, I think I always wanted this, but I didn’t admit it to myself until it was already happening.” He rubbed a hand anxiously across the back of his neck. “If that makes any sense.”

You felt wildly happy in that moment and you grabbed him and pulled him into a passionate kiss, his arms wrapping around you immediately, his fingers lightly tracing over the bare skin on your back. “It makes perfect sense,” you said. “Because I feel the exact same way.”

Sam’s face lit up with a huge smile.

“One thing,” you asked. “How exactly are we going to explain this to Dean?”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “You know, it’s funny. I really don’t care.” He leaned back down onto his pillow. “The only thing I can think about right now is carrying you into a hot shower and taking advantage of you again.” Sam’s eyes darted over to your face.

You were wearing a stunned expression, your eyes a little wide at his boldness. It made Sam laugh. But the next moment you were giving him a warm look that suggested you were entirely on board with that plan, and a moment later he was showering you with kisses.

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