#MARK'S FACE!!! MARK TOOK THEM TO THE GAME!!! no the killer certainly did not stop him.

[whoslaurapalmer]

laura (1944) / laura by vera caspary -- baseball games

bonus still from a deleted scene where mark makes it to the game (with company) --

[prompt-master]

Bear Trap (Part 1/3)

Request fill for @hibiscuswolverine and art done by @doodles-by-noodles

The world was starting to heal.

Little by little, everyone who survived Hope's Peak Academy's killing game was bringing about change to the world. It had only just started, and they likely wouldn't live to see their vision fully realized, but there was hope. Hope the world hadn't seen since the tragedy broke out in the first place.

Yep, Naegi Makoto had a lot of work to do, but he also already had so much to be proud of. He and the survivors had already proven themselves to adapt to a world that was nothing like the one they left behind. They had been given a warning from Enoshima Junko herself, but even with the knowledge of killer robots and rampaging despair-induced rioters nothing could really prepare them for life on the outside.

Honestly, they had never expected to make it to where they were right now. Proud members of the Future Foundation, able to work together with the higher ups to take down the biggest threats against the world's progression. It felt like just yesterday they were sleeping in the rubble of what once were apartments, tightly packed together in case anything were to break in. And now Makoto stood proud and tall, going over his next mission on video call with a member of one of the higher divisions.

"I suppose I shouldn't be terribly surprised that the Ultimate Hope would be so adamant on these matters."

Makoto smiled, still as strong and inspiring as it had been back in the killing game, "Really, you don't have to call me that. I'm nothing special, just Naegi is fine."

She completely ignored him, looking over the notes he'd sent to her one last time. He and Aoi had accidentally discovered a distress call from a group of survivors in an unsafe area. There was no way he could ignore something like that, he wouldn't ignore any possibility that someone was suffering like his class did. Even if there was an equal possibility that it was a trap.

"Well, your plan asks for Ultimate Detective Kirigiri Kyoko and Ultimate Affluent Progeny Togami Byakuya to go with you. With those two, plus the Ultimate Hope, equipped with hacking guns then I see no reason to be concerned for any mishaps. Your mission is approved."

Makoto's smile widened at that, feeling a rush of pride and hope at her words, "We won't let you down! Promise!"

She didn't even look up at him, simply humming to let him know she heard. But he could tell, there was a slight smile on her face. Makoto managed to melt his fair share of hearts even if he couldn't explain how. The call blinked off, and Makoto shut his laptop gently, but with no regard to what it was running.

He let out a loud sigh, slouching back into his chair. Any and all office calls felt so nerve wracking. Each one held its own weight in importance. Every exchange oversaw the future. He pulled his arms over his head, stretching them as far as they could go.

He could already feel himself getting pumped up. A small, prideful smirk snuck it's way onto his face. The plan wasn't anything extreme, but he knew with his friends by his side it would all be ok. They were meant to go together in a group so that they could protect themselves in the event of a trap or other unforeseen circumstances. The distress call came from a fallen city mostly blocked off by a collapsed building. They would drop off inside the city's bounds, and continue on foot to find any survivors they could. They knew there would be some despaired within, but that was a given anywhere they went now.

It would all be worth it to save them.

Now he just had to tell Byakuya and Kyoko the good news

It was clear to anyone near the survivors that Byakuya, Kyoko, and Makoto were a force to be reckoned with. While the general public has no qualms with calling Makoto the leader of the group, it was more so all three of them were coleading. Each taking charge in their own way, from the start of their new lives to now. The three of them were all incredibly smart in their own ways and their combined skills lead to a team that could likely conquer any despair they faced. But it took an even closer eye to see the emotional connection the three shared with each other. 

Makoto walked in front, leading since he had heard the distress call in the first place. It was certainly an interesting relationship that the three had. Although Makoto certainly didn't see himself as the leading type it seemed that Byakuya and Kyoko both trusted his guidance entirely. And he did the same for them. There was no way to describe the significance that lay underneath the floorboards of their bond. For the two most emotionally shut off of the survivors to so openly trust him? To Makoto that was enough to lay their hearts out in the open for him to see. And not to mention…

Makoto glanced back at the two. Byakuya was messing around with his hacking gun, glasses slipping down his nose, and hair nearly hiding his eyes from Makoto's view. Kyoko was taking in her surroundings, trying to figure out sooner rather than later if this whole thing was just a trap as suspected. Her eyes may be void of emotion but the color and warmth was vast. Makoto faced forward again, his face feeling just a bit hot. 

They were both really pretty. 

No, no he can't focus on his silly crushes. Yes, crushes plural. Because Makoto's sensitive heart was so big he managed to give it away to two different people. That didn't matter right now though, because the focus was on the mission. 

The town was about as decimated as it looked from the outside. It reminded him of his first experiences out in the new world, making him wonder how many survivors might be hiding under rubble, scared to come out. So far they hadn't run into any sort of trouble. No robots, no despaired, no survivors. There was really...nothing here. It was starting to look more and more like a trap. 

Makoto stopped walking at a split path, "The call said to find the convenience store but...I can't tell where to go since everything's been destroyed." 

Byakuya came to stand by his side, "Not that it should matter much all things considered. Let's just get this over with so we can clear out those insane idiots and rebuild this place already." 

"Togami-kun!" Makoto pouted, Byakuya may have softened up but he still had a habit of harsh thinking first, "don't say that. I'm sure there has to be someone here who needs saving. There's people who need to be rescued everywhere we go!" 

"Indeed" Kyoko chimed in, "but it's not a bad line of thought. If we stage a rebuilding operation here then that increases our chances of finding survivors then if only a search team walked around." 

Byakuya smirked, pushing up his glasses in that annoyingly arrogant way of his, "And to do that, we need to weed out the problems first no?" 

"Yes...yes we do." 

"Besides what would you rather do? Try to talk to the despaired? And get clubbed again?" 

"It was one time, Togami-kun!" 

Byakuya laughed, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around, "Come now, this way. All these buildings are too destroyed to make any sort of distinctions regardless. And by your sentimental logic we should be checking more than just the given location, wouldn't you agree." 

Byakuya didn't wait for an answer, he walked ahead to begin searching the first building to their left. Makoto had to break into a light jog to catch up to him; damn your long legs Togami! 

That marked the start of their exploration, building after building. They found nothing. Not to mention everywhere seemed like it has been residential, no sign of the store they were told the survivors were. Even Makoto felt like something was a little bit off but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Regardless he kept up hope, he had heard those survivors speak with complete clarity in their voice. They had to be here. He wouldn't give up over a simple bad feeling. 

Byakuya stepped over broken glass, moving further into the crumpled home he was currently inspecting. A surprisingly intact kitchenette caught his eye, and decided a thorough search was necessary without telling his company. Although they didn't need much prompting to understand when he went off trail again. Kyoko thought if he was going to focus on possible material goods stored away in this forgotten piece of life, then she could at least see if there was any current piece of life hiding away as well. Makoto stood at the door of the house. He'd given nothing more than a glance to Byakuya before turning toward the outdoors again. Looking for anything. Any sign of life lurking under the foreboding red sky. 

Nothing. 

He sighed, turning his attention down to what used to be a grass area. Not much was left of that, in fact it looked almost like any plant life besides the weeds in the street cracks were...set on fire. The ground had this grey ashy feeling to it. And when Makoto scuffed it with his shoe….yeah, that was definitely the remains of something burning. That was a good sign right? It meant that someone was alive. This couldn't have been that long ago. 

Makoto opened his mouth to call for his friends, when a cold hand slapped over his mouth and forcefully tugged him backwards. 

Huh

Huh?!

Makoto was immediately kicking and yelling. He bucked like a disturbed wild animal, trying everything he could to get out. Wiggling, kneeing, elbowing, even trying to bite the hand over his mouth but none disturbed the individual. The house was getting farther and farther away but his voice was too muffled to ever reach it. There was heavy breathing in his ear, the air wet and warm against his skin in a way that made his body shudder. He forced himself to look up at his kidnapper. An individual with a wide smile on their face and eyes that spoke of a spiraling psyche. Everything about them...from their expression to their actions to their lack of reaction to pain...it all said despair. 

Eventually Makoto was dragged into the street and thrown down like a slab of meat. Makoto was about to scream again for help, when a hand quickly reached out for him. He couldn't help but flinch back, shoulders bunching up in an attempt to shrink away. His tie was yanked off, the force pulling his body upwards. When the tie snapped off he fell back again, he could feel rocks digging into his skin from the fall. Then his hands were tied behind his back. This was bad. This was so bad. Bad didn't even BEGIN to cover it. 

His captor came uncomfortably close, having lost all concept of personal space in the madness the end of the world has provided. Makoto tried his best to keep calm as they placed their arms to either side of him so that they were above, staring down below. There was a tense moment where neither moved, they simply tried to catch their breaths so that the silence would stop being filled with panting. It felt like a test. Like they were waiting for him to even dare to try to escape. They wanted to show Makoto what happened when he disobeyed! He could see it in their eyes! In the manicale look, in the smile that kept opening and closing like a strange gutted fish. The way their arms trembled and shook by Makoto's head, just waiting with the high of excitement.

Arms still shaking, mouth overflowing with spittle and pupils pinprick sharp, they began to slowly lower themselves. Makoto held his breath, willing his body to sink further into the concrete. His heels scraped against the ground, but he willed himself not to move in fear that any sign of escape would reward him with a slit throat. Their noses pressed against each other. The captor let out a shaky relieved sigh, as if the contact was the greatest thing they'd felt in a long time. Their eyelids fell half lidded, their smirk from excited to downright sadistic.

"I've got you now, Mr. Ultimate Hope."

Stay calm. You've dealt with this kind of person before. 

Makoto's nails gave a tug as he ran them against the concrete in an attempt to ground himself, dirt filling the space between skin and keratin. His heart hammered in his chest as if he were a scared rabbit, but there was no time to panic here. His life depended on it.  The despaired were completely delusional...which meant..

Makoto felt a laugh rise out of him, nervous and high in pitch.  A bit too high in pitch. He scraped the ground again, enough so that it began to hurt from the force. Calm down. Stay fucking calm. 

"Heh...heheh! Yeah! You got me..!" A smile graced his face, "what did you...get me for?" 

They pulled back, but not enough so that the pungent smell of smoke and ash left Makoto's nose. Their head tilted, daring to make an innocent face, "You know who you are, right?" 

"I do. And who are you?" 

Their body moved back and forth as they laughed with everything they had, their knees closing in so that Makoto could feel it against his leg. "Me? Me? Mememe?? Forget that! You're the Ultimate Hope!"

"That's right…" 

"I wonder what Miss Junko would say right now. Seeing you pinned down like this?" Their eyes flickered to the sky at the fantasy that no doubt filled their mind. 

Makoto tried his hardest not to cringe, and just attempted to change the subject instead, "Do you want me to do something for you?" It was a loaded question. One that made Makoto feel like he was picking all the wrong dialogue choices. 

"I do!" 

Progress. He wasn't sure if it was good progress, but it was, in fact, progress. 

"What's that?" 

Their voice dropped to a whisper, waning and cracking in excitement once again. They reached into their pocket. 

"I want you to watch this" 

They pulled out a little remote that looked horribly put together. Even with how much their hand trembled he could see that it was made of what seemed to be the remains of a torn apart scrap pile. Before Makoto could ask what they meant, they pressed the only button built in. 

What ensued was a large explosion. 

------

BOOM 

A loud eardrum breaking noise filled the previous silence. Byakuya was forced to grip the kitchen countertop as the world around him shook, a sudden intense burst of wind following soon after. The heat uncomfortable against his face. He made his way to the open wall, Kyoko not far behind him. 

"Was that an explosion?" Kyoko asked, not wanting to waste any time. 

Byakuya looked outside at the smoke and fire that overtook the sky. It was suffocating just to look at. Shit, it was definitely a trap then. "Looks like it" 

They watched frozen, transfixed on the horror as a building toppled from where it was standing, joining the others as rubble for them to walk on. They still stayed in place. They knew there was nothing they could do to prevent or help the issue. 

Byakuya was so focused on the sight, thinking about how he had to call for an early pick up that he didn't even notice until Kyoko asked. 

"Where's Naegi?" 

------

Makoto gasped and gasped as he ran for his life. After whatever that person had rigged went off he found himself surprisingly not being pinned anymore as the person sat cackling nearby. He had managed to slip away when more despaired came over and argued with the individual who had been pinning him.  Now he was running as fast as he could hoping he wouldn't get caught once again. 

He struggled against his traitorous tie, feeling it chafe against his wrists uncomfortably. Untying it would have been enough of a challenge without the running aspect. Now he found himself tripping over his own feet trying to think about the two things at once. 

Before he knew it, his feet had slipped right out from under him and he barely caught himself before faceplanting. 

Taking the fall as a hint, he stopped to catch his breath, looking around the area to gauge where he was. It seemed like more of the same until he saw a rather structurally sound convenience store. It was surprisingly big too for how little damage it had. A smile overtook his face. Aren't I lucky? Maybe the people inside can help me get this dang tie off. 

After letting his breathing calm down he made his way toward the store. Elation filled his heart, a familiar hope that kept him going. He knew it couldn't have all been a trap! Almost there now. Once inside he'd have someone untie his hands, and then he'd find his friends and-

His friends. He hoped Byakuya and Kyoko were safe. He had no idea how far the damage of the explosion traveled, but if it was enough to collapse an entire building there was certainly the risk of them being in hot water. Not to mention the multiple despaired that were walking around, who knows what sort of danger they could walk into. Then again, if anyone was capable of holding their own it would be Byakuya and Kyoko. But he should probably focus on his own safety instead of imagining Byakuya and Kyoko taking down their enemies in the most attractive way possible-

He was right there. He'd reached the convenience store. All the windows were covered up so that he couldn't see inside, but he knew someone inside was waiting. He just had to- huh? What's that? 

Makoto looked down to see a familiar, very unwelcome sight. It was a Monokuma with yellow and black stripes. At the top of its head was a red siren. And they were making eye contact. 

"Shi-" 

Instinctively he reeled back at the loud, sharp noise. The sound raised and lowered it's pitch smoothly, reminding him of tsunami drills he had to do back when he was in school and the implications it brought were similarly horrifying.

So much for being lucky. Makoto felt himself panicking again, the siren was loud enough to hurt his ears. He couldn't tell if his ears were ringing or if the siren was just that obnoxious. But he didn't have time to complain about that. The noise and the light… no doubt others would be coming soon. 

"Shh...shhhh!! Stop it!" He couldn't break the machine with his hands the way they were...he had to settle for getting help. 

Makoto stopped in his tracks before he could approach the door of the convenience store however, because there was someone watching him through the window. They'd opened the curtain to check what the commotion was. Makoto saw no madness or instability in their eyes...the survivors really WERE here. Makoto smiled, wishing he could wave and gesture for help, but he had to hope his expression was enough. 

The survivor frowned, eyes fixated on the Siren Monokuma. Without looking at Makoto again they closed the curtain.

No one was coming to help. 

Makoto backed away. That's ok. There was still a chance. If he ran quick enough maybe he could get away before reinforcements arrived. 

The growling he heard mocked his fruitless thoughts. That was the deranged sounds a Beast Monokuma made…he couldn't hope to outrun one of those. They were like real rabid bears but worse because they never got tired. They never stopped running once they had you in its sights, just like this one. 

But Makoto tried anyway to flee, only to end up taking a riot shield to the face from a Guard Monokuma. 

"Oof!" 

He fell back hard feeling all air leave his lungs. The snarling and pounding of the Beast Monokuma was getting louder. Too loud. Makoto rolled onto his side, scrambling to get up. He winced as a claw grazed his cheek, first blood of the night welling up. 

He felt like an insignificant worm with how he desperately rolled on the floor, hoping to find good enough footing in his panic to stand. But when he got to his knees he was met with another riot shield. He almost didn't react in time to dodge another slash from the Beast, managing to get the tie around his wrists cut. 

He'd never gotten to his feet so quickly before in his life. Bits of gravel stuck to his palms and blood ran down his right arm. He scrambled to find something -anything- to defend himself with, but he was already surrounded. It was too late to even bother going for the Siren Monokuma. How the hell was he supposed to-? 

He yelled out as sharp metal claws dug into his back, seemingly deep enough that he feared for his spine. The claws rake along his back as the beast removes them. If that wasn't enough to bring him back to reality, he was quickly overwhelmed, bruises being beaten into every inch of his skin from the shields, and slashes from regular Monokuma's on his arms. And worse of all the Beast Monokuma that was trying its best to chomp his head off with it's twitchy manic movements. He tried his best to fend it off, pushing at it personally with his bare hands despite the continuous relentless assault he was receiving. 

Another good hit with a shield and his hands slipped. In a split second moment that he didn't even get to think about, he reached a leg up and kicked at its face. He only had a moment of victory.

It bit down on his leg and didn't let go.

Now the interesting thing about Makoto is that even though he doesn't seem capable, he's grown to be able to keep himself calm when it mattered. Even at his own execution, where he was slowly heading towards his untimely demise, With frequent reminders of what was about to come, he had managed to keep as calm as possible. Even well he fell stories down into the garbage. He refused to make a peep and panic when every one of his friends could see. But right now no friends were watching.

Naegi Makoto screamed.

-----

"I'm going to kill Naegi my damn self for running off when we find him." Byakuya was, as per usual, annoyed as hell. 

Kyoko sighed, "Calm down. I'm sure there's a reason, you know he isn't like that." 

Byakuya rolled his eyes, but didn't say a word. Kyoko was completely right, but he would never give her the satisfaction of admitting that. His silence was enough. 

They had made way for the source of the explosion only to find the path to the other side of the city was completely blocked off by the collapsed structure. Due to the closed off nature of the cities remains that left them with only one option: go the long way around and hope those entrances aren't blocked as well. 

When it was just Kyoko and Byakuya there was always this weird silence. Sometimes comfortable, sometimes tense. Makoto was always the one to fill it, he was like the bridge between the two. Kyoko wished he could tell Byakuya to cheer up -his attitude was getting on her nerves- but Makoto's absence was the whole reason for it in the first place. 

"Keep your guard up" she reminded, her own hand staying close to the pouch strapped to her thigh. Inside was an all weather purpose mini notepad and a handheld taser. She quite liked her taser, it was both heavy hitting and satisfied Makoto's wish to not kill anyone: even the despaired. "I'm certain that explosion was rigged up by a person." 

Byakuya scoffed, "I am Togami Byakuya" he kindly reminded her. Kyoko rolled her eyes, she'd heard that way too many times to count. "My guard is always up and my reaction time is perfect. Maybe you should worry about yourself instead." 

"Incorrigible as usual, I see." 

He glared back down at her, still walking forward with overconfident strides, "I'll have you know-" 

There it is. Another rant which consisted only of Byakuya boasting about his own skills. She shut him out without a second thought, focusing on her surroundings instead. It's not as though Byakuya would provide any sort of new information anyway. 

"Wait." She interrupted, which Byakuya hated, but his feelings be damned, "do you hear that?" 

Byakuya paused, facing towards the direction she was looking. There was a sound in the distance, something familiar. It was far, but if he focused hard enough he could figure it out. 

Kyoko and Byakuya looked at each other, both having recognized the siren's undeniable screech at the same time. With a nod, they began to run. Makoto or not, whoever was caught by that Siren Monokuma was in danger. Byakuya steadied his hacking gun in his hand and Kyoko effortlessly pulled her taser from it's bounds. Despite their great desire to find Makoto meer seconds ago, they hoped that anyone else would be caught by the Monokuma's. But, this was Makoto after all. 

It took an undetermined amount of time for them to loop around to the convenience store, but the time spent felt uncomfortably long to them both. When they did arrive they found it was a chaotic mess. There was a group of Monokuma's huddled together over one unseen person. There was blood scraped across the concrete as though someone was dragged with their horrible injuries and all. But there were no sounds of a struggle. The sight was more akin to school yard bullies gathering to kick a victim than a genuine fight. 

Without wasting much time Byakuya fired at the Siren Monokuma, destroying it without a second thought. "Damn noise was getting on my nerves" He said. 

Kyoko shook her head, "Focus" she pointed her nose towards the pile up. Byakuya's uncaring attitude toward the situation showed that he believed the person was already dead. One by one the machines fell apart or destroyed themselves. And in their wake was a small, bloodied mess in human shape. The smell of copper and the sickening sight of messy pink was one they had gotten all too used to over the years. But that didn't make it easier when you recognized one of those bodies as someone you cared about. 

Byakuya felt harsh, furious breaths of air pushing in and out of his nose. The action was an almost unconscious response. He couldn't help but let anger well up at the sight of Naegi Makoto laying on the ground curled up on his side.

He grit his teeth, "Is he…?" Dammit. A Togami didn't hesitate. Certainly not Byakuya.

"No." Kyoko's voice was barely more than a whisper, and for a split second he thought she was simply in denial. But no, she had caught  sight of Makoto's chest moving up and down. She made way to him, hands hovering over him unsure of how deep his injuries ran. The first thing she saw were vicious claw marks running down his back. There were bits of debris clinging to the wound. They were ugly and jagged things. She wanted to roll him onto his back to get a better look at him but was it even safe to move him at all? She didn't want to risk paralyzing him. Not to mention she'd be pressing his wound to the ground. She glanced to his leg. A complete mangled mess, she could tell the unit that attached itself to his leg was relentless in its attack. Shaking and thrashing and the like. The fabric that once covered his leg was all but torn to shreds leaving the whole injury on brutal display. There was blood pooling underneath where he lay on the ground. His skin was pale from blood loss, breaking into a cold sweat that made her certain shock was already setting in. Almost all exposed skin was blossoming into a different, unnatural color indicating a plethora of bruises. His breathing was quiet but heavy, he'd already lost a lot of blood. When her eyes finally trailed up to his face she felt a small bit of relief that his features were marred by only a small cut on his left cheek, with a lazy stream of blood pouring from it. 

Byakuya and Kyoko were two individuals with a massive disconnect of their emotions brought about by their upbringing. Byakuya turned any emotion he felt into anger and disdain. Kyoko snuffed out most emotions she felt so that nothing would show. They had the emotional resolve of steel, it wasn't easy breaking down their walls. Makoto was that strange part of the equation that ruined all of that. He managed to get Byakuya to be intrigued by someone so seemingly insignificant and he managed to get Kyoko to act pouty and almost childish during the game. Yes, their entire lives were spent crafting these defenses. And now they had to fight to keep it all together with only elmers glue in their arsenal.

Kyoko was up close and personal with all the gruesome details of his attack. She tried to shove it all down so that she could completely focus on ensuring Makoto's survival. But he was looking up at her with a dazed half lidded look, as though any second the world would slip away from under his feet. And despite that Makoto smiled when he caught eyes with her. Kyoko's heart cracked. 

Byakuya could only watch with his fists by his side. He had set out to ensure all the survivors of the first killing game continued to survive and here we are. He forced all these feelings to be translated into anger. But he knew the underlying causes. He knew there was a part of him that simply was scared for his friends sake. 

The two of them both understood the others emotional grievances. And that's exactly why Byakuya's heart skipped a beat when Kyoko looked up at him with fear vibrant in her eyes. 

"It doesn't look good." 

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 4: The Interviews

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 8.1K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2, 3

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Very little was said throughout the rest of hearing the other tribute’s scores, and as soon as that was finished you were hurried into a car to the studio to begin getting ready. You were pleased to discover that each tribute was granted their own dressing room and you didn’t have to share with your district mate. You wondered if this theatre was uniquely built for The Hunger Games given the twenty-four individual dressing rooms. As you were ushered into the make up chair and had a black cape draped around your neck, you thought about all the other female tributes from district four that could have been seated in this very room before you. You wondered how many of them had lived beyond the next week.

Before you could fall into a depressive spiral you were yanked back into reality by the team as they began to work on styling your hair with an array of wands, brushes and sprays. From the corner of your eye you could spot a rack of dresses two of the stylists were arguing over, but you couldn’t turn your head to properly look at the options with the way your hair was being pulled.

Unlike the chariot ride, where your hair had been pulled into a partial up-do and styled with various decorative clips, extensions, and a tiara, your stylists were discussing with each other how best to show off your “natural beauty”. Their reasoning seemed to be that in the arena you would not be wearing make up, so they wanted to create a look that could somehow capture your beauty and still transition from the stage into the games.

They had chosen to leave your hair down and loose, the treatment from a few days ago still feeling soft and looking healthy. They had elected to tame your natural wave into a smoother style, running a straightener through your hair before going back over it once more to apply a very soft curl towards the ends. With the hair finished the team quickly moved on to make up as the two stylists, who had previously been arguing by the clothes rack hurried over with the dress they had decided on.

“Isn’t it perfect!” Garnet sighed, holding up the white gown that seemed more fitting of a bride than a teenager, but you couldn’t help admitting that the dress was indeed very beautiful. Made of lace with a pattern of flowers and vines crawling across the fabric, the dress was adorned with shimmering crystals that resembled snowflakes throughout the fabric. Although you didn’t understand how it was supposed to fit a “natural beauty” aesthetic. You didn’t bother questioning it, the logic from Capitol people was something you had far given up on trying to understand.

Ruby and Quartz chimed their agreement as the rest of the team all chorused their approval whilst hurrying to start picking out matching accessories and select coordinating colors for your makeup. The fact no one had bothered to ask for your opinion wasn’t lost on you, but it’s not like you could see anything else on that clothing rack, or anywhere else around the room, worth arguing to wear instead. You were forced to shut your eyes so the artist could begin applying your eye shadow and in the resulting darkness you imagined yourself walking out on to the stage in the casual attire you were still dressed in, no make up, and damp hair still not properly dried from your earlier shower. You smiled to yourself at the imagined scandalized reaction from the audience, pretend Caesar sputtering as he somehow tried to carry on with his interview, and imaginary Finnick watching backstage with his head in his hands. If only you were allowed not to care about all of the showmanship of these stupid games. You dress up, smile and wave, and still get slaughtered anyway, so what good did playing along with their little show do?

'Sponsors!' Imaginary Finnick answered your own thoughts, although this time his voice in your head was an echo of a real memory.

From what time you had spent strategizing with him, the most important thing he had reiterated was always the importance of sponsorships, and the repetition of how he acquired his stupid trident. Easy for him to say when he had his carved face and had nearly been six foot back when he was fourteen. But Finnick had also been quick to rebut your snark with his reports and clips on how well received your chariot appearance had been in the Capitol. With training and the nightmare of dealing with Hoseok keeping you otherwise occupied, you hadn’t had any time to monitor the reactions of the people who were supposedly going to be betting on you. According to Finnick over the last few days, you were by far the most popular female tribute. As he walked you to the dressing room before, he told you that your surprisingly high Tribute score had done even more wonders for your odds, and all you really had to do now was show up on stage and look pretty. If everything worked out, you may actually have a shot of surviving this thing.

Was it fair that your only chance of survival in these games depended on outside interference?

No.

Did you care when a fair game would mean a guaranteed death?

Also no.

So you passively sat in the chair and allowed the team to work, until they told you it was time to stand up and change into the dress. You were lead to a privacy screen in the back corner of the room, and told to put the dress on as far as you could before you required help. You wondered how hard putting on a dress could be, but as you stepped into the lace and put your arms into the sleeves you realized the garment had a corset in the bodice, and you would need someone to pull the threads. You took a moment to enjoy the last few easy inhales and exhales you would enjoy for the next hour before calling on someone to assist. One of the triplets – you weren’t capable of telling them apart on their own – had you brace yourself against the wall as they set to work tightening the ribbons around your torso.

When she was done you fidgeted, trying to adjust to your newly restricted range of motion. Thankfully the corset was only under the bust so it wasn’t pressing upon your chest as badly as you were expecting. You uncomfortably stepped out from the privacy screen and ignored the staff reaction to your dress. You had already seen them fawn over you before, during the chariot parade, and you couldn’t care less how pretty they thought you were. Instead you looked around before spotting the pair of shoes that went with the dress; glittery silver pumps, with a modest heel so you could easily walk on stage. They were next to a full length mirror, so you walked over and slipped them on, before taking a step back to assess your appearance.

Oh.

The dress had appeared as merely a nice piece of fabric on the hanger, but actually being worn, it truly was stunning. The garment looked like a whimsical winter garden, the various jewels glimmering like snowflakes on the lace patterned white leaves and flowers that crawled across the fabric. The bottom part of the gown was long and flowed to the floor, with extra fabric underneath to create more volume. The corset cinched your waistline in tightly before ending just below your bust, pushing your breasts up, in the sweetheart-neckline bodice. The dress had below-the-shoulder sleeves that were sheer, with snow embellishments ending at your wrists. Your makeup was flattering; a neutral lip with a little gloss, and a focus on the eyes. Shimmery pearls and purples were used to create a smoky eye and crystal gems had been placed on the outer corners. You looked like an ice princess.

A knock at the door broke up your self assessment, before Finnick walked into the room.

“Show’s starting now, District 1 will be on in five, you’ll be up in about another fifteen minutes.”

Finnick stopped to take in your appearance, nodding his approval to the team, before coming over to stand before you.

“You look wonderful,” he spoke softly, reaching to pick up one of your hands and hold it both of his. He gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” you whispered, with a mild squeeze back.

“The Capitol already adores you after your chariot ride, so tonight just seeing you again, looking this beautiful will be all they need. You’ve done the hardest part with your tribute score, so just try to relax as much as possible.”

“Easier said that done,” you replied with a shaky laugh.

“I know that all too well,” Finnick conceded with a lop sided smile.

You envied him and his natural charm. But you supposed you had to have some of your own to have caught the Capitol’s attention, not to mention Hoseok’s too. You hadn’t been trying for either of those, so perhaps that was your best tactic to use with Caesar.

“How’s Namjoon?” You asked, your district-mate hadn’t said a word to you since the scores were read back in the living quarters.

“Calm.” Finnick replied honestly.

“Can’t even tell you what his plans are ‘cause he barely even tells me anything. Makes it hard to try and strategize, but if he doesn’t want the free help then I’m not going to force it.”

“But I thought you guys spent heaps of time together?” you frowned. If Finnick wasn’t helping you much, and Namjoon didn’t want his help, then what had he been doing? You guessed he had work to do with trying to gather sponsorships or trying to extract information out of the other mentors.

“Hardly. What little time you may have felt that we spent together is more than twice the time I’ve spent with him.” Finnick dismissed with a shrug.

“For the record, you’re my favorite between you, and I’m not just saying that based on your scores tonight. You’re humble and you listen. Arrogance doesn’t go far in games like these.”

“It did for you.”

Finnick huffed out a laugh.

“Keep that wit with you on stage and you’ll be swimming in sponsors. But to be clear, my arrogance was tactical, and I took outside help when it was offered.”

You nodded, not really knowing what more to say.

Finnick stepped past you to turn on a TV in the top corner of your dressing room. Krystal appeared on the screen, wearing a silk red dress and matching lipstick, laughing at something Caesar had just said. From the looks of it, her interview was nearly finished.

“Interviews are usually three minutes each, so not that long. There’s twenty-four of you and they have to keep the show under two hours,” Finnick explained as Caesar bid Krystal farewell.

Yoongi was quickly announced and stepped up on to the stage, to a round of applause from the audience.

“It’s worth paying attention because Caesar can be very tricky. He’s a showman and he needs to extract interesting information and reactions for ratings. Sometimes a tribute will accidentally let too much of their game-plan slip, and you can take advantage of that in the arena. Some of them crumble and you can pick out the easy targets, others become too hot headed so keep an eye open on people to avoid too.”

Finnick explained, as you simultaneously listened to Yoongi explaining how he volunteered upon hearing his sister’s name being drawn. Much like you had already suspected, his goal was to ensure that Krystal is the one to survive. You wondered how Hoseok, Athena, and Namjoon felt.

Once your supposed final six broke down there would already be a team of two. Knowing Hoseok he’d have to have some plan in place, especially given he was goading Yoongi over Krystal earlier. You didn’t like how his plan had involved you in it, immediately making you a threat to the alliance the same way Yoongi and Krystal were. But at least you had a friendship with Krystal. Maybe that’s what Hoseok was banking on. A team up of the two teams, to take out the outliers of Namjoon and Athena, then a fight between the duos. Hoseok could easily take Yoongi, but if this was his plan, he was giving you far too much credit against Krystal, who had kicked your ass most of the time in spar training. But he had been watching you and had to have known that too. Maybe he was planning to take her out another way? Maybe Krystal’s entire reason for being kind to you was to bring you into a team of three with her brother for their added protection, which also gave you a better shot of surviving against the likes of Hoseok and Namjoon in a final showdown. Or perhaps you would all be taken out by some rogue from an outsider district. You had seen a couple of pretty respectable scores of 7s and 8s.

“I’m going to go make sure Namjoon is ready, I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded in recognition at Finnicks words, whilst keeping your glazed over eyes in the direction of the TV. You weren’t actually paying attention to Caesar starting to wrap up Yoongi’s interview, too busy lost in your thoughts of how impossible this whole game was. Having strategies for the arena almost felt entirely pointless given how many things had to go right in order for them to work out vs the millions of ways something could go wrong. Alliances stab each other in the back, other districts are underestimated, the Capitol always throws out insane and deadly traps. Hoseok had to be insane to think he could somehow plan for all of these factors. But perhaps insanity would be the biggest advantage in the arena.

Finnick’s knuckles wrapping against the door broke your reverie and you turned to face the sight of him and Namjoon in your doorway.

“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, walking out to join them and following along as Finnick started on a path through the corridors.

“That’s the spirit,” Namjoon sarcastically cheered at your monotone, clapping his hand over your shoulder to give it a shake.

You immediately swatted his hand away with an annoyed twitch of your nose. Finnick sighed, not even turning around as he continued to lead you, but you could see him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He didn’t have time to stop and scold, as you could see you were approaching the backstage area. Several Capitol workers were busily rushing around each other, clasping clip boards, coffees, headsets, camera equipment, and a range of other items. A woman dressed in black impatiently waved her hand in Finnick’s direction with a frown. You weren’t sure if he was late or if she just hated her job.

You quickly found it was a combination of the two when she immediately scolded Finnick for showing up ‘one minute’ late as per the official schedule, before launching into snapped instructions on where you and Namjoon were to stand, how you would be called on stage, and where to go after. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Namjoon, just nodding docilely as additional staff hovered around you both; clipping on a tiny microphone, putting a small listening piece into your ear and applying last second touch ups to your hair and makeup. From here you were then escorted into a waiting section, at a wing on the side of the stage.

You swallowed a lump in your throat at the feeling of claustrophobia that the wing created. You were surrounded by large black curtains that hid you from sight and created a backdrop behind the constructed stage pieces. At the very end you could faintly see a tiny part of the stage, and a crop of short blonde hair you recognized as belonging to Athena. A few feet in front of you, behind a section marked off with red tape on floor, were the tributes from District 3 and their mentor, and at the corner of the curtain waiting with his own mentor and a stagehand, was Hoseok.

You vaguely recognized his mentor from a Hunger Games a few years ago. You didn’t recall her name, but from the sharp teeth you could see, you remembered her as the victor who had literally ripped a tribute’s throat out. You swallowed thickly thinking about Hoseok’s earlier bloodthirsty threats against your own alliance.

He was peering out from behind the curtain, watching his district mate with a bored expression, the angle giving you a view of his sharp side profile. He was dressed in a suit; fitted black pants, a white shirt with a thin black tie, topped off with a black jacket that was covered in black sequins. His outfit was completed by a pair of bronze boots, which complimented the shade of his russet hair that was styled in loose curls that framed his forehead.

His head turned at the sound of your heels on the floor, piercing brown eyes making contact with your own. You instantly froze, as if his eyes somehow were capable of inducing paralysis. He was eerily stunning, handsome beyond belief, but there was something more about him that sent shivers of fear down your spine. Memories from merely a few hours ago of him trapping you in the hallway, isolating you from the others, and forcing you into a kiss came to mind. You hated yourself for how weak you had felt, not even capable of pushing him away, again you still weren’t even sure that you wanted it to stop. Even now you could still feel the lingering tingle upon your lips, like a remaining taste of electricity that he had sparked. That same electricity was hovering in the air as the two of you stared at one another. But did you actually want him? Were you actually attracted to him, or was your fear of the games causing you to project these feelings?

“Two! You’re on!”

The stagehand’s instructions caused Hoseok to break the eye contact, nodding to the staff before turning to walk out. But not before he could look back at you once more, leaving you with a final wink. You shuddered uncomfortably, suddenly feeling cold and raising your arms to cross over your chest. You glanced up between Finnick and Namjoon, the latter watching you with a look of amusement whilst Finnick was staring out at the stage with a concerned frown. You knew he didn’t like Hoseok from the details you had already told him, so you could assume that little display didn’t help with his impression.

It was clear very early that the Capitol had taken a liking to the District 2 male. Hoseok walked out to loud applause, cheers, and a few whistles. He took it all in his stride, waving to the people, and smiling in a way that flashed his dimples and almost made his mouth look like it was in the shape of a heart. He charmed Caesar and answered his questions about his home life in two confidently (“We work hard to provide The Capitol with the finest weapons and masonry we can provide, in return the Capitol provides us with everything we need”), along with providing some details of his family life (“what can I say, I’m a momma’s boy at heart”). His mentor watched on stoically by the wings, the barest hint of a nod every now and then being her only reaction. You could tell Finnick was trying to get a read off of her, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Meanwhile the mentor for Three was doing all they could to try and reassure their tributes they weren’t going to die on stage.

“What are your expectations?”

Caesar’s question brings your focus back to their interview and you pay extra attention for this answer, given Hoseok has always been extremely vague with his actual game plan besides ‘kill everyone except you’.

“You know, it’s funny Caesar, the thing about these games is you can never truly expect anything. I spent eighteen years of my life training myself for this moment to come. I’ve studied all the arenas, prepared as much as I could for wherever we may end up, but nothing could prepare me for who was going into that arena with me. I showed up to the chariot ride and training, expecting to meet people who I would just see as targets to kill. Instead I’m now going into the arena with the love of my life.”

Oh no.

You feel your stomach drop as you instantly realize Hoseok is about to talk about you.

“Three days is an awfully short time period to fall in love with someone, don’t you think?”

“It took much less time than three days, Caesar. I was in love the second I saw her.”

Shit.

“So what was it about these games that made you realize your dormant feelings for Athena?”

Hoseok balks at Caesar’s assumption, his eyebrows raising, before he quickly moves to smooth his expression over with a laugh

“No, my feelings are for YN.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Mother fucker,” Finnick curses beside you. N

amjoon merely looks amused, whilst you also notice Hoseok’s mentor has now turned her attention from the stage to you. You feel even further unnerved from the fact she doesn’t seem remotely surprised by his words. She is far from an expressive woman, but you somehow get the feeling from her as she assesses your appearance, that it’s out of interest to know who her tribute has been talking about the last few days.

Meanwhile you wish that the floor would somehow open up and swallow you whole. Away from Hoseok’s advances, all the unwanted attention it resulted in and away an imminent painful death.

“But this is The Hunger Games, surely you know only one of you will come out alive?”

“I’m faced with an impossible task, but I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life. Maybe we will both die in that arena, and that will be our way to live together in eternity in the next life. However, I do have one idea, and it’s a crazy long shot, but for her I have to to try.”

“Well I am just dying to know what that one idea is, but I have a feeling if I asked you wouldn’t tell me anyway!” Caesar exclaims with his trademark uproarious laugh at the end.

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok shrugs and shoots him a grin.

Caesar’s laugh continues and the audience joins in before the host bids him farewell and Hoseok leaves the stage.

You’re still lost in your desire to no longer even exist anymore that you barely register anything that has happened. You vaguely hear Hoseok’s concept of a long shot plan but it seems so unrealistic that it’s not even worth considering what it might even be. It’s not like you were planning on going along with it anyway, especially not after how he had just thrown you to the wolves in his interview.

You realize that Finnick is talking to you again, he’s trying to process Hoseok’s interview just as much as you are and has quickly taken to offering advice now. “This may not actually be too bad, maybe we can work this to our advantage. Hoseok is the top betting favorite, so potentially this can boost your odds too” … “Caesar loves gossip so the more time he spends talking about Hoseok in your interview, the less time he’s trying to extract things that could make you slip up” … “talk about your loved ones back in four” You’re not sure if you’re capable of processing his advice but you nod along anyway.

Namjoon continues to say nothing, but you don’t like the expression on his face. He has a smug air about him, similar to the one back in the apartment when his scores were read. You have an eerie feeling from him and you don’t like it.

The time district three takes for their interviews passes in what feels like seconds. Before you know it you have the stage hand waving you on stage and Finnick whispering a rushed “good luck” as you’re ushered out.

The first thing you realize is that you can barely see the audience, the bright lights being directed upon the stage are nearly blinding and you can’t see much from behind them besides a warped blur. The next thing you realize is that although you cannot see the audience, you can definitely hear them. You are met with a loud reception of applause and cheers as you make your way over to the directed couch. You attempt to take it in your stride, smiling and waving before you dip to a curtsy as you take your seat.

“Isn’t she lovely folks!”

You turn your painted on smile to Caesar, who is even more green in person. His hair is shockingly vibrant, his emerald suit reflective in the stage lights and you can see the sparkling details of his matching contacts.

“Now YN,” Caesar immediately launches into business and you mentally begin a countdown clock of the 180 seconds that you will be forced to remain in his presence. “I simply must say that you are gorgeous on camera, but even more stunning in person! I almost can’t even believe you’re a real person and not some divine creature!”

You respond with an awkward shrug and humbly averting your eyes to the floor, your hair flows down over your shoulder at the movement. The audience cheers again and whistles their approval at Caesar’s assessment of your appearance.

‘Shallow cunts.’ You remember Finnick’s words from the train, and you huff a small laugh to yourself in agreement. You allow this to bring a more natural smile to your face as you raise your eyes to meet Caesar’s once more.

“Oh Caesar, you really are too much. I assure you that much of this is the work of my talented stylists and make up artists.”

“Now, now don’t be so modest. Surely your beauty must still exist without these glamorous outfits for you to have District 2 so enamored with you!”

You have to mentally restrain yourself from scowling at the mention of Hoseok and his interview. Instead you settle for attempting to coolly rebuff him.

“I’m flattered, but really I don’t even know him.”

Caesar isn’t deterred and continues with his angle.

“But yet Hoseok still fell in love with you. And who could blame him folks I mean look at her everybody isn’t she gorgeous!”

At this the crowd launches into another round of applause. You attempt to appear bashful, yet flattered. You pretend to hide behind one hand whilst waving to the audience with the other.

“Now come on YN, tell us what you really think of Hoseok,” Caesar begins to press and you find yourself becoming increasingly frustrated with how he’s making your interview about another competitor. As if you are only in these games to exist as a romantic interest for a man.

“I don’t.” You reply bluntly, and if you weren’t in a fight for your life that relied upon being likeable you would have folded your arms and left it at exactly that. But instead your force yourself to continue on.

“At least not in an emotional sense. These games are so intense, from the parade, to the three days of training, the assessment, and now this interview, and that’s before we even step inside the arena. I barely have time to breathe, let alone develop a romantic connection.”

You hope this is enough to get him off your back.

“She’s really not going to give us anything!”

You’re confused for a moment before you realize that Caesar thinks you’re lying.

“I swear, it’s the truth,” you try to implore, looking at Caesar in the eyes before trying to see into the audience as if begging them all to believe you.

“The only man I love is back home in four, my father. I can’t allow myself to get distracted by anyone when I need to win to see him again. My mother died a few years ago and I’m an only child. All we have left in this world is each other.”

You have to stop and take a deep breath as by the end your throat is starting to choke up. You’ve barely allowed any thoughts of home to enter your mind, as you know it will only lead to you becoming upset and you have to remain focused for any chance of survival.

Sensing your distress Caesar finally starts to change the topic.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry about your mother,” he coos and you hear similar hushed “awes” from the crowd.

You refrain from snapping that they’re clearly not sorry about the loss of life to prevent the annual slaughter of twenty teenagers. Instead you settle for a demure “thank you”.

The remainder of your interview is spent talking about your parents, your home, your work on the boat and ends on a final note of your skills with a knife. By the end you are exhausted; emotionally spent from the topic of your parents and feeling like Caesar had somehow drained the energy out of you through his exuberant and overbearing presence.

After your final courtesy to Caesar and the audience, you are directed to an exit on the opposite end of the stage from which you came. You don’t stick around to watch Namjoon from the side, all you want is to be by yourself and you figure that your dressing room is probably the best place for that. Following signs that are up on the walls of the hallway, you easily navigate yourself back to your room. Though you pass some of the other tributes who are approaching the stage for their interviews, you are relieved you don’t see anyone you really recognize.

Entering your room, you head straight for the chair you had been sitting in before, noticing that the TV had been left on from before. The camera was focused on Namjoon who sat comfortably on the lounge, and gave the impression that he was totally at ease.

“…doesn’t know what he’s talking about when it comes to Y/N.” you catch him mention your name and frown.

“He thinks he’s fallen in love with her at first sight just because she’s beautiful, which of course she is, I mean come on Caesar we all have eyes.”

He pauses to look to the audience with his arms outstretched, as if he’s stating the obvious, and they respond with a laugh. Caesar cackles along, clearly please to have a guest that is hamming it up for the cameras.

“But she’s my teammate. We’ll work together in the career pack as long as we can but when that inevitably reaches the end I’ll be the one protecting her, not him. He’s known her for less than a week, we grew up together.”

What?

“Why Namjoon, is there a bit of a love triangle going on here!”

“There just might be”

Whatever relief you were hoping to find upon your interview being over and finally having some time alone was absolute gone. For the second time in less than half an hour, you feel as if your stomach is made of lead and plummeting to the floor.

“Tell us more! You simply have to tell us more! When did you first realize your true feelings for our darling YN?”

He doesn’t!

“There was no moment, no instant spark, because that’s not how love really works. Love is the familiar, the regular presence and comfort she brings just from knowing she’s in my life. Her name was never meant to have been called at the reaping and I wish when I volunteered it could have been in her pla-”

“What a load of bullshit!” Your cry at the television, cutting off the sound of Namjoon’s lies, as you threw the remote at the screen.

Perhaps the Capitol had experienced tribute outbreaks in the past because it merely bounced off the surface, however it thankfully turned off the stream. You bunched the skirt of your dress in your hands, preparing to storm out onto the stage and call out Namjoon’s bluff yourself. You turned towards the exit of the room, only to swirl into a hard surface. You grunted at the impact of hitting a muscular body, the toned figure made you think it was a Capitol security guard coming to investigate your TV tantrum, but a familiar drawl suddenly caused your blood to run cold.

“What’s the rush, darling?”

Even in all his terror, Jung Hoseok truly was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. The television cameras failed to do him justice. They didn’t capture the warmth to his skin, the softness of his hair, nor the addictive scent you were being forced to inhale from his sudden presence.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice was unintentionally soft as a whisper, almost as if you were praying he wasn’t really in the room. But your hands on his chest from where you had collided reminded you he very much was real, as you tried to push yourself away. He only hummed in contentment upon feeling your touch on his body, locking his hands upon your wrists to keep them there. Hoseok’s long fingers were like iron chains, grasping so tightly you couldn’t even think to try and push past him.

“Get out, or I’ll scream,” you hiss, trying to sound threatening, but the instinctual fear that Hoseok’s presence set off only caused your breath to shake and your words to sound pleading.

The corner of Hoseok’s lip raised upwards into a cruel curl as he stepped forward, you instantly took a matching step back. But this only continued until your back collided with the wall, his body pushed against yours and your wrists held tightly in his clutches.

“I thought you were going to scream?” he taunts, cocking his head to the side, his eyes seeming to sparkle with glee as he mocked you. You were trembling, you had wanted to scream, but the second he started to advance upon you all of your thoughts had instantly turned into flight mode, foolishly backing away until there was no space left to go. Oh god, you truly were dead once you stepped into that arena tomorrow. Over his shoulder you could see the door shut on the other end of the room, with no way for anyone to see him inside of your room. How had he even managed to get inside without being noticed?

“HEL-”

Before you could even get a word out, his forearm was pressed against your windpipe, cutting off your cry. Your already panicked eyes blew wide open in fear, unable to move or breathe.

“Shhhh,” he coos, leaning in so his lips were ever so slightly hovering over yours as you tried to push him off – your lungs starting to burn from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I promised not to hurt you love, but if you’re going to be that fucking stupid then you leave me no choice.”

Restricted between his body and the wall, it was all you could do to vainly scratch your nails against his grip on your wrists, desperately trying to get him to release his hold. But all Hoseok did in return was gently brush his lips to yours, in a move that contradicted his violent chokehold, before pulling back to watch you struggle.

“C-a-nt … br-eee…” with no air, you barely made a sound, eyes watering in pain. You try to kick, but Hoseok’s body is too close, his hips and thighs pressing against yours making it impossible to move.

Finally, his pressure relaxes, although his arm still remains resting upon your throat.

You inhale a choked gasp before letting out a broken cough. You weren’t sure how long he had cut off your airway, every second burning in agony had felt like a minute, and the impact left you struggling to regain your breath even after he had backed off. Meanwhile Hoseok released his hold on your hands to snake his arm behind your waist and pat against your back, as you continued to splutter trying to suck in air with tears streaking down your face.

“You’re insane,” you wheeze, voice raspy and barely audible, but Hoseok’s quirked lip breaking into a wicked smile showed you that he had heard.

“Only because you drive me crazy,” he grins, moving his arm away from your throat to catch a tear rolling down your cheek with his thumb.

Your head was spinning and your vision was filled the kind of black spots you would get if you stood up too fast. Your throat was sore and your lungs still burned as you tried to regain your breathing. Too weak to fight back, it was all you could do to try and lean as far away from him as you could, turning your face to the side. But Hoseok wasn’t having any of that, tightening his hold on your waist.

A choked whimper escaped from your lips, the sound similar to that of an injured animal. You were frightened by the ease he had overpowered you, contrasted by his sickening affection. With his arm holding you around the waist, he gently rubbed his palm up and down against your back. His other hand came to rest on the side of your head, tenderly running his fingers through your hair, as if soothing a child woken up by a nightmare.

“I hate you.”

Your voice was a strained whisper, as your eyes deliberately focused on the ground to avoid his burning stare.

Hoseok merely hums in recognition, content to remain in this position for as long as possible – trying to ingrain everything into his memory. The softness of your hair was like liquid silk passing though his fingertips. Despite the thickness of the bodice, he could still feel the warmth of your body beneath his palm through your dress. As he looked down, he had a direct view of your exposed cleavage pressing against his chest, watching the swell of your breasts heave with every breath.

‘Soft, soft, soft’ his mind repeats over every little detail. From your hair, to your skin, to your breasts and your scent, everything about you was so delicate and enticing. He almost felt bad for how roughly he had handled you, except that doing so had resulted in you becoming so pliant in his arms. ‘a necessary evil’

“Good,” was his eventual reply.

“I hate you,” You repeat again, raising your chin to glare at him for dismissing your anger so flippantly.

He only smiled at you fondly in return.

“I love you.”

It was somehow like he had knocked the winds from your lungs all over again. In his interview it was possibly an insane strategy, but seeing the burning intensity in his eyes as he stared at you like you were the only thing in the universe, made you truly realize that this was what he actually believed.

“That’s impossible, we’ve known each other for three days,” you hiss back. “And you don’t hurt someone you love!” 

Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slowly.

“Oh but darling, you hurt the ones you love the most”

As if to emphasize his words, his hands in your hair tighten into a painful grasp, causing you to whimper. You reach both of your hands up to hold onto his grip, trying to get him to release. In turn, he does, but only ever so slightly, just so he can enjoy the feeling of your hands touching him.

He leans further in to press his lips to the shell of your ear, the tickling feeling of his breath causing you to shiver.

“I love you so much it causes me far more pain than whatever you’re feeling now. I looked at you for one moment and you were like an insidious vine that crawled inside of my veins to wrap around my heart. So now it belongs to you, beats for you, burns for you and craves only you.”

“Please, I didn’t do anythi-”

You tried to beg, but he immediately cut you off.

“That doesn’t matter.” He snaps and you flinch.

“The instant I saw you it was like every tie that once bound me to this earth was cut, and then every thread was tied to you. In just a second you become my oxygen, my gravity, my entire reason for being.

Every night since the moment I saw you, I have dreamed of you. I dreamed of kissing you senseless at the chariots, like how I wanted to do the moment we met. I dreamed of you during training, that it was my bed you came back to at night. When I saw you in this dress I instantly knew that tonight I will dream of making you my wife. And I have a plan that will make that dream a reality.”

Finally, he released his hold on your body, stepping back to watch as you slump against the wall and slowly fall to sit upon the ground in a combination of exhaustion and horror. Your eyes were wide in a shell shocked daze.

Slowly, he steps backwards towards the door, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. But you don’t even notice. You’re no longer even looking at him anymore, just staring emptily at the room, but not seeing anything inside

“If you try to run from me tomorrow, I will find you. I will hunt you down and drag you back to me, where you belong.”

For a brief moment you regain a sense of clarity to ask him the question that has been burning in your mind ever since he started his insane proclamations.

“What happens when we’re the last two? Who dies?”

Stepping out of the room, his answer offers you no sense of closure before he shuts the door behind him…

“You leave that for me to deal with. All you need to know is that you will leave these games by my side, or not at all.”

 ***

 After Hoseok had left you in your dressing room, you had immediately scrambled to your feet to lock the door behind him. From there you rushed to strip out of your dress and back into your lounge clothes. Grabbing wipes from the counter, you angrily scrubbed off all the make up from your face. You weren’t sure if you had to go back out on stage at the end with all the other tributes, frankly you didn’t care.

“Hello?”

You’re startled by a knock at the door.

“It’s Finnick, can I come in for a moment?”

You suppose he’s only asking to be polite, given he very likely has access to any room you’re in as a mentor. With a huff you storm over to the door, unlocking it and wrenching it open.

“Did you tell him to say that about me?” You snap, referring to Namjoon and his earlier interview. Finnick hurriedly enters the room and pulls the door shut behind him.

“Is this part of your little fucked up plan for the tribute with the better prospects to actually win, by using me to try and humanize that bastard?” You continue to yell.

“No!” Finnick replies, vigorously shaking his head.

“Then what the fuck was that?” Your pent up frustration and anger comes out in a harsh shove, causing Finnick to stumble backwards, though he quickly regains his balance.

“I only told him to show that he cared about you as a teammate” Finnick sighs, holding his hands up in a surrender gesture, whilst emphasizing the word ‘teammate’ slowly. “I swear I never told him anything about acting like he had romantic feelings.”

You immediately feel bad for pushing him.

“Whatever rage you feel at me, and especially at him, save it. Save it and use it tomorrow the first thing you wake up because that is what you’re going to need to become a killer.”

“Can I kill him tomorrow?”

The question slips out before you can think it might be a bad idea to confess to your mutual mentor that wish to kill your district partner.

“If you think you can, that is the game after all,” Finnick shrugs with a lopsided grin.

You’re too stressed to properly laugh, but you let out an amused hum at his quip. You’re grateful for Finnick’s good nature towards you.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” you apologize.

“It’s fine,” Finnick quickly shrugs it off.

His relaxed demeanor quickly tenses though, before he turns back to the door to make sure it’s locked behind him. You mentally kick yourself for not doing that earlier.

“Listen, I’m here because I wanted to tell you that it appears the president has taken a liking to you.”

You blanch.

From all the ridiculous shit you have heard today, the president joining your little fan club is the least thing you expected.

“President Snow? But why?”

“I’m not one hundred percent certain, but if you remember when we first met on the train I told you that the Capitol loves beautiful things. I wanted to at least warn you.”

You nod to show you remember the conversation, but you’re still confused as to how this involves the president.

“But isn’t this a good thing? Maybe I might even be able to survive if the president wants me to. All those ‘natural disasters’ that game makers can cause and all”

“Yes, it’s very likely you won’t be impacted by that in the game. I especially wanted to tell you that alone, because I feel Namjoon would be too short sighted and threatened by any idea of favoritism, to see the long term benefits of keeping a protected tribute in his alliance.”

You nod again.

“Is that all?”

“No.”

Finnick pauses.

His intended break slowly extends into an uncomfortable silence. You want to ask him what he’s trying to say but you can tell he’s struggling to find the words, so you remain quiet and let him think.

“If you win, you don’t just survive the games and retire in peace in the victor’s village.” He eventually begins. “You have to keep coming back; for the victor’s parade, as a mentor, for visits to the Capitol for all your adoring fans”

“I… I could do that,” you respond, but the pained look in Finnick’s eyes tells you that there is more.

“But you don’t deserve to have to.”

It’s a strange moment to watch your mentor, the person you trust to be strong, the survivor of these games, appearing vulnerable before your eyes. The six foot one man in front of you is suddenly just another teenager, around the same age as you.

“As a tribute, what I wish more than anything my mentor had warned me about, wasn’t what was inside of the arena, but what awaited outside. I can forgive you for being preoccupied and not noticing but I haven’t been spending any of these nights in my own bed since we’ve been here and that’s not by my own choice”

“Why?” you whisper, although a sickening sensation in your gut tells you, you can imagine the reason why.

“The Capitol loves beautiful things.”

You don’t know what to say. There’s nothing you ever could say to express your sympathy for his situation. You’re torn between wishing to offer comfort that you cannot, and a newly awakened fear that this could be what awaits you should you somehow make it out alive.

“I wish I could say that you are too young to hear this, but I needed to hear it at fourteen, and I have spent every day since winning those games regretting the fact that I did. There are fates in life that are much worse than death. By all means fight to protect yourself in that arena, no child or barely legal adult deserves a painful death, but if an opportunity presents itself to go in peace, seize it, or else you will spend every waking moment of your life outside in regret.”

[halothenthehorns]

Catch a Falling Star

by  bookhater95

5 Times Remus was afraid to fly and one time he wasn't. Wolfstar galore

Sirius had already decided that Lupin kid was the odd one before they'd all lined up next to their brooms, him last with tentative steps at the bit of wood. All he did was sleep up in their dorms whenever he wasn't poring over homework, you'd think the lad would enjoy a bit of fun they were being forcibly taught.

James leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I can't decide which is funnier to watch, that guy, or Snivilius?"

Said pompous Slytherin was standing next to his own broom and glowering down at it as if ready to throw a hex at that instead of them for once. How was it possible they seemed the only two ready to have some fun?

A whistle was blown and Sirius' jumped right into his hand of course, he even swung his leg over already before even being prompted and sat proud and ready to do more than just hover, when he again glanced over and saw Remus Lupin looked quite green around the edges, putting some color in his usually gray face.

Pity warred with hilarity, all the idiot had to do was get off the ground, but then, he'd also offered his notes already before they'd even had to ask as a sign of good will if the two promised to keep it down at night, which they'd graciously been doing by being ten times louder in the common room.

At least when they came up and he was snoring away it didn't bother them, Snape on the other hand had been nothing but a useless waste since the train and deserved to have that smarmy look brushed from his face. The fallback would just be happenstance.

A quick curse at just the right spot, and the broom went bucking wildly away with its rider shouting profanities even Sirius didn't yet know. A girl burst out laughing in delight, while Remus watched the progression in horror as if his worst nightmare were being played out. Sirius winced as he realized he hadn't thought that all the way through, but then the other boys eyes caught his, and he smiled. He'd seen him do it, and he mouthed 'thank you' as Snape hit the mud, disbanding their flying practice for now.

2

The pitch had long since emptied out, James in the lead as he ran across the entirety of their school with excitement for making the team, but Sirius hung back as he sat in the warm sun and trimmed the tails of his precious broom for practice that evening.

Remus came down from the stands and sat beside him until he was finished with that quiet air of his, he hadn't even brought a book this time, just watching him handle his broom with fond exasperation. "I'll never understand you lots appeal to this madness," he told yet again as if he hadn't been doing so for over a year now.

"And I'll never understand how anyone can hate being in the air," Sirius said back at once. "Won't you give it a go, just once?" Remus blanched in disgust and finally took a leery step away from him, eyeing the cloudless sky above as if a hand would reach down and squash them all. "Don't you trust me?" He wheedled. "I've never fallen off a broom and I'm not going to just let you!"

"I'd really rather not," he pleaded. "Honestly Sirius, isn't the promise of sitting in the stands and watching enough for you?"

"For now," he pouted as he slung it over his shoulders and clapped him on the back. "I'll get you one day though, you mark my words."

"Haven't you learned by now not to bet against me," Remus said back with a challenging smile he only ever showed around them.

"You cheated, not getting caught last time!" Sirius was instantly distracted and pulled into the argument as he allowed himself to be steered to lunch.

3

The moon was three quarters full above them. The stands were empty and every snatch of wind had them standing closer together than normal as they shivered and sized each other up.

"Sirius, this really isn't necessary," Remus whispered. "I said I forgive you, and I do, please stop trying to make it up to me, especially like this."

"Please?" He was, actually begging. He looked as distraught as when he'd confessed what he'd almost done to Snape.

"Why is this so important to you?" Remus wasn't even sure he heard he spoke so quietly.

"Because I," Sirius was still clutching the broom and looking at him with hungry eyes. "I want to, prove that I'm worth, more than just a killer. Moony, I want to give you good memories too."

Remus stepped close and cupped his cheek. Sirius leaned into the touch without breaking eye contact, watching his every inflection carefully. "You've given me more than I'll ever dream of Padfoot," he promised, putting special emphasis on the dog nickname. "I look forward to the future because of you."

Sirius melted in his palm, turning his face just enough to kiss his wrist before covering his hand with his own and smiling. Just a sweet, simple gesture that meant the world to him, that Sirius even seemed to enjoy his touch was a miracle he'd never believe anyone would because of his affliction and Sirius proved wrong every day. "Okay," he whispered, dropping the broom and pulling him in closer.

4

"What are you up to?" Remus asked, trying to keep the worst of the poutiness out of his voice for going out into the cold November air given the occasion.

"Nope," Sirius refused to answer, again. "It's my birthday, it's my surprise!"

"Pretty sure that's the opposite of how this is suppose to work," he corrected in exhaustion, but was ignored as Sirius got him all the way out to the broom shed and pushed him inside before closing it and leaning in to grin up at him.

Remus started to frown already, his gut clenching unpleasantly at how this was starting even as Sirius tried to coax otherwise by trailing his hand up and down his zipped pants suggestively. "So, shall we do what does work then? Our last year here, I'd love to get the full experiences of life."

"Like getting ourselves expelled early," he tried to curb, plenty distracted by Sirius' nimble fingers but eyes still darting around to all the broom tails suspiciously, the strong smell of wood polish was making him nauseous. "Please be gentle with whatever's about to happen." Sirius laughed lightly, but there was a hesitation now as he prodded at the button but didn't move farther like he was second guessing himself now. "Sirius?" He asked uneasily.

He let his hand drop and pouted up at him. "Never mind, I guess. I thought, I don't know, but never mind."

"Well at least tell me what you were thinking?" He offered in consolation even as he relaxed in relief.

"It's stupid, you'll laugh," he muttered, moving to hold his neck now and pull him in for a proper kiss. "Just, bloody shag me, yeah?"

Guilt tampered out the need though as he gently kissed him back before leaning out and frowning. "You're making me feel like an arse, just tell me, I promise I won't laugh."

"I, um," his eyes darted to his and away to his own broom before going back and repeating the pattern several times before reluctantly blurting, "I was hoping you would, let me give you a ride. Just a small one, I swear, we'd barely hover off the ground, but you clearly still don't want to, so let's just let it go."

Remus bit his lip rather than go back to kissing him as he stroked his hair absently for a few moments and watched hope war with his insistent expression to let it drop back off. "This really means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"No," he impulsively lied. Something of that eleven-year old who still wanted to laugh at anyone being afraid of heights though would always be in his boyfriend, and Remus knew that. "I've never pushed you, have I? Just, thought you'd want to give it a try now, it's been so long, and a lots happened since then. The wizarding world is literally at war Remus, we don't even know how many more birthdays we're going to get, so I just sort of thought this little thing of yours had fallen off. I was wrong, I won't bring it up again, promise."

Remus kissed him then, because he was incapable of doing anything else in that moment or he'd explode. Sirius snogged him back eagerly, and as always let himself be guided anyway Moony wanted as he started pushing and nudging him to whatever position he desired. Sirius obviously wasn't expecting to be let go though when they were in the center of the little space and blinked his eyes open in concern to see Remus reaching out and holding his broom.

It was a gift from the Potter's he'd screamed like a delirious child over, it was the same one he rode on every Quidditch game, so it's not as if Remus grabbed at random. His heart stuttered with hope, but then he just watched in confusion as Remus let it go at chest height. It hovered in place, and then Moony moved fast, he squealed in surprise a noise threat of death couldn't make him admit had issued from his throat as his waist was seized.

"Ask me again after the war," he whispered as he sat him down on it sidesaddle, stepping in-between his legs. "Doesn't mean we can't have some fun in the meantime?"

Sirius laughed in delight and vowed, "I'm going to remember that."

5

"Her name is Elvendork," Sirius told him with pride as he ran a rag over her chassis one last time.

"Of course it is," Remus nodded without surprise. "Do you plan on many broken bones at once, or just one at a time?"

"Moony, how dare you," Sirius scowled. "I've never fallen out of the air in my life, I most certainly won't start now!"

It was no use telling him otherwise, Sirius was a natural skyborne and he knew it. "Just please be careful," he asked instead. "You and Prongs, watch your back, you promise?"

"Her christening night out Remus!" Sirius reminded with the same delirious happiness he'd had the entire time he'd put her together. "Voldemort himself couldn't knock us out of the air!" He stopped and watched him roll his eyes and bit down hard on his lip to stop himself asking just like he had every other time the idea popped into his head. Remus would say no, he hadn't even gotten within arms length of his beautiful motorcycle. "Kiss for luck never hurts though," he added as he sat astride her.

Remus stepped forward willingly and moved their lips together with eagerness. Blood rushed so fast through Sirius he didn't even stop to consider himself as he abruptly stood up and grabbed him, trying to pull him forward and down with him, and to his utter amazement Remus complied, settling himself down and opening his mouth in an invitation Sirius greedily accepted. Moony even began knotting up his long hair in his fingers and grating against him, it was intoxicating and he longed to let his fingers itch off his waist and just casually flick the engine on, maybe even just being astride it with the power activated would be okay, and if they happened to start getting a bit off the air while he kept Remus distracted than surely-

"Oi! Padfoot! Are you coming or what?"

Sirius startled and fell off the bike as James' voice echoed from his pocket mirror. Remus watched him with amusement as he got up and offered him a hand.

"I hate all of you," he groused as he dug it out.

"Love you too," Moony gave him one last promising peck before stepping back away.

And 1

The Shrieking Shack had been their reunion, but Sirius Black abruptly showing up on his doorstep with a stolen hippogriff while being on the run from the world was their official homecoming.

"Ah Padfoot," he chuckled for old times when Sirius' latest crazy stunt wouldn't surprise him. Actually, that was a lie, Sirius continued to surprise him his whole life with every turn they took. "You know I can't go on the run with you."

"I know," Sirius nodded, he hadn't even dismounted but just smiled down at him as he reached out and gently traced one of the scars he hadn't been there for. "Just couldn't leave without saying goodbye first."

The awkward silence hung as they watched each other. To many words from their past hovered between them, it may even take another long thirteen years to unravel it all and really be able to talk again. Maybe distance would help. Neither still moved away.

"You all unpacked yet?" Sirius stalled even as he drew his hand away. "Settling back in to, whatever the hell you 've been up to."

"We can talk about that later," he promised. "You'll owl me, won't you? The birds won't trace back to you, I swear."

"I'll get word to you Moony," Sirius promised solemnly. He turned away then, looking at the horizon with long dormant eyes that were finally waking up again.

He couldn't bare to watch him leave again without a proper smile. "What's the matter with you, not even going to offer me a ride first?"

"What?" Sirius just looked at him in pure confusion, blinking dazedly like he'd forgotten he was here.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Remus whispered. There was no need to watch him for any hint of a joke. The haggard lines of his face, the mess of his hair and prison robes, it was like looking at a warped mirror of the teenager he'd once loved with all his heart and given out on.

"Forgot what?" Sirius asked in concern. Shit, it wasn't Remus' birthday. Azkaban had taken away memories, but not facts, he still knew dates.

Remus seized his shoulder and climbed without a second of hesitation, hooking his boot into the notch in Buckbeak's wing-joint like a pro as he swung himself up behind him. Wrapping his arms tight around Sirius' waist after thirteen long years felt as natural as breathing, but Sirius remained frozen beneath him in surprise unlike usual. "Padfoot?" He whispered in concern.

"Are you, really offering, I mean, I'd swear I remembered, but maybe I was wrong," he began babbling and wasn't even twitching, unnaturally still.

"I did use to be afraid of heights," he promised, squeezing his hands and resting his forehead against the back of his shoulder. "Please don't do that to yourself. I once told you though I'd give this bloody flying thing a try after the war, and well," he swallowed as he heard how hollow this would probably sound to someone who had never really left the war, time had abandoned Sirius in there. "I won't waste anymore time being afraid of something as silly as a little height. Not when I have you again."

To his horror, Sirius' chest stuttered beneath him, he gasped in a breath and Remus leaned forward to see his old love was actually crying.

"Sirius?" He asked again in concern, moving to get off now and get him to come with him inside. Instead his hands left the birds neck and clamped down on his knees still resting on the wings to hold him in place, breathing raggedly but refusing to move, so Remus waited. He rested his chin on the shirt and leaned over to kiss his wet cheek and neck gently, closing his eyes and just letting him be.

"We can't go back," Sirius finally spoke, and Remus fought back his own sob at hearing true emotion in his voice again, the likes of which he'd thought stripped away from him forever. Love, Sirius still loved him, his past he was still piecing together. "I keep hoping I'll find something out here that hasn't changed, now even shit I didn't know about is different. You'd never get on a broom with me before, would you?"

"No," he admitted, "but I never said I had a problem with winged creatures. You just never asked."

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. That sharp barking noise he'd gone far too long without hearing. "A hippogriff. You're really telling me I never thought of that?"

"I'd never lie about something like this," he grinned, nuzzling as tight into his back as he could. "Now please, the poor creature's getting restless." Buckbeak had been remarkably still and calm beneath them the whole time in fact, but Sirius didn't call him out on it. "Can't I have that ride?"

"Anything for you Moony," Sirius' voice was brimming with excitement, his brittle fingers squeezed Remus' legs before nudging him around a bit, making sure his feet were securely behind the coming wingspan. Remus just held on tighter to his chest and leaned into his every motion with anticipation as Sirius rode with his legs and their hippogriff began a soft walk at once. "Hold on now," Sirius dug his fingers back into the deep gray feathers, sitting properly with his back straight but nearly vibrating with anticipation.

"I'm not letting go," he promised.

Sirius did something with his legs again, and their ride moved to a fast gallop in one stride, Remus worried for a moment his hold went painful on Padfoot but he merely whooped with delight and shouted, "get ready!"

There was no warning that he could tell, the wings burst forth and unfurled with a beautiful glory of streaming feathers already flapping and beating the air around them as they launched into the dark night, the two laughing the entire time.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

More Than You Bargained For: The Party Timestamp

Summary: Jensen’s not too excited to be going to a party with the reader but she ends up making his night in another way...

Masterlist

Pairing: Ex-Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language

“Do I have to go?” groaned Jensen. He stood by the bottom of the stairs with a pout on his face, Jared snickering from the hall. “Shut it, Padalecki or I’ll make you go as her date.”

“Sorry but you are officially on bodyguard duty, Mr. Ackles. I got a hot date myself tonight,” said Jared. You sighed as you stepped down the stairs, Jensen smiling up at you. “Would you look at that? She’s not the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Kiss my ass, Jared,” you said with a smile.

“You look very beautiful,” said Jared.

“Gen picked it out,” you said with a wink. “Speaking of which, get out of here on your romantic weekend away. We got it from here.”

“Alright, I’m gone,” he said. “Call me in an emergency.”

“Goodnight, Jared,” said Jensen.

“Have fun guys,” said Jared, heading down the hall and out the front door. You smiled as you stood on the last step, fixing Jensen’s bowtie, giggling when he started to cross his eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Do I have to?” he whined again. “I’ll give you all the sex and brownies you want? You like both of those things.”

“I do like both those things a lot, but I need a date and my other husband wasn’t available,” you teased.

“Had to marry a fucking famous person didn’t I,” he sighed. “Spoiled brat.”

“Asshole bodyguard,” you said, leaning up as he came down for a kiss. “I won’t tell anyone you’re actually sweeter than molasses.”

“Only if I don’t let it slip that you’re the hardest working, most amazing and kind person I’ve ever met and that your favorite fancy store is Target,” he said.

“I fucking love the shit out of that store,” you said.

“I know. You were there for three hours on Sunday. Toothpaste. I asked for one tube of toothpaste. You came home with three shirts, two throw pillows, a cookbook and a coffee mug. Oh, and no toothpaste,” he said, flashing you a smile.

“I went back and got it,” you said with a laugh. “What’s up with you? You’re extra nervous tonight. This isn’t the first time you’ve ever gone with me to an event.”

“S’first time since I was gone…” he said, glancing down at his wrist, a faded thin scar over the top of it. “I’m not the bodyguard anymore. I’m your husband. Your previously kidnapped husband. There’s going to be attention on me whether I want it or not.”

“I know,” you said softly. “All you have to do is stand there, smile and get your picture taken for two seconds. Alex will get you out of there and into the party like that, I promise. We already went over it.”

“Who’s going to be with you then?” he said.

“Jensen. I’ll be fine on my own for a little while. You being comfortable is what’s important to me,” you said. “Plus you know I can kick ass, even in heels.”

“Alright,” he said. You finished with his tie, smoothing out his jacket before you stepped onto the ground and into your heels. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you said. You walked with him to the front door, spinning around and holding up a finger.

“Forget something?” he asked.

“Yup,” you said, opening your clutch and pulling out a strip of fabric.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Trust me?” you asked. He nodded and you tied it over his eyes, Jensen smiling when you finished. “All set?”

“Sure...what are you up to?” he teased.

“Covert mission. Like some special ops level stuff. Don’t worry about it,” you said, grabbing his hand.

“Oh, do you get to be my bodyguard? I think I like that game,” he said, chuckling as you pulled him outside. “Dammit. Part of me really wishes you were going to drag me upstairs and have your way with me.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be sure to do that later on,” you said, kissing his cheek.

“You better,” he said. You got him in the passenger seat before you were off down the road, spotting Jensen touching his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Leave it, Jensen,” you said. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”

“I don’t like not knowing where we’re going,” he said.

“We’re going to the party,” you said. “There’s going to be a surprise when we get there. Can you keep it on for me, please?”

“Mhm,” he said. When you were stopped at a light, you reached over and held his hand, Jensen humming to himself.

About fifteen minutes later you pulled into a parking spot, helping Jensen out as you saw his ears perk up.

“No, no. No bodyguard mode, just enjoy the surprise,” you said.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He let you hold his arm as you led him into a building and down a hall, his head unable to help but turn and try to figure it out. You put him at a stop outside the room, leaning up to give him a kiss. “Alright, I think I could get use to this if you keep that up.”

“Down boy,” you laughed. “Alright, alright. I know you’re getting antsy.”

You reached up and undid his blindfold, Jensen looking around.

“Snuck me in the back to the party?” he teased. “I thought you wanted to show off your smokin’ hot husband.”

“Oh? Now he’s cocky,” you said. “I figured you’d like this better.”

“A little. I knew what I was getting into though when I married you. I can be the center of attention a little bit for you,” he said.

“I’m glad,” you said, more than glad he just assumed you were at another event and not actually in the back of his favorite restaurant. “Let’s head on in then.”

You smiled as he held your hand and you went for the pair of double doors leading to the event room you’d rented out.

“Happy birthday!” he was greeted with the second you opened the doors. He opened his mouth a few times before he spun to look at you, shaking his head.

“I knew you were being sneaky!” he said, biting his bottom lip. “I should have known.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to plan a surprise birthday party for you,” you said. “And actually surprise you.”

“There was definitely some covert ops going on,” said Jared, Gen right by his side. “We had a little help though.”

Jensen turned and saw a group of guys heading for him, his face in a big smile.

“No way! I thought you guys were overseas and-“

“And when your little wifey got a hold of us, of course we came. Not like we missed the wedding or any of the other shit that’s happened since,” said Mark.

“Did you really get stabbed by a serial killer?” asked Jason.

“I’m more curious how that sweet girl took the freak down and saved Ackles’ ass,” said Lyle.

“Oh? Is that what everyone thinks happen?” asked Jensen, cocking his head at you.

“S’what I remember,” you said with a smile.

“Of course it is,” he teased.

“Go, catch up with your friends,” you said, pushing him towards his special ops buddies, some of his teacher friends joining in. “I know it’s been a while, honey.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“So...should I be expecting this elaborate of a birthday party for myself?” asked Alex after you’d left Jensen’s parents somewhere by the food table.

“I’ll buy ya a happy meal at the drive thru if you get me an extra week off work,” you said. He chuckled, smirking as you both watched Jensen on the other side of the room. “Do you think he was actually surprised?”

“I think throwing him a surprise party two months after his birthday certainly threw him off. Hard to surprise a guy like that,” said Alex.

“Think he’s noticed I’m not drinking yet?” you asked, giving Alex a shy smile.

“He probably thinks you’re just being a good DD. When you going to tell him?” he asked.

“When we get home,” you said. “Think you’re ready to be an Uncle?”

“Eh, I dealt with your whiney little butt and Jensen. How hard’s a baby?” he said.

“Still dealing with my whiney little butt,” you said, leaning back in your chair.

“You never whined,” he said after a moment. You turned your head, Alex not looking at you. “You were just...afraid. Of a lot. Then you were just lonely and you chose a career that’s extremely lonely and why do you think I came to be your manager? To watch your back.”

“Dad told me that once,” you said quietly. “We had a fight over something stupid, you and me. I think I called him to vent and he revealed to me that you just said one day you were going to finish your degree online and be my manager and that was it. He told me to remember that whenever you drove me nuts.”

“Like when I tricked you into a bodyguard?” he teased. “Bet you love that decision now.”

“It made me feel small again,” you said, his face finding yours. “Jensen sort of terrified me he was so...he had me memorize like a hundred rules. I couldn’t get any privacy, it felt like he was watching me all the time...but his job was to do those things, not because he or anyone else wanted to control me. He was just keeping me safe.”

“On the bright side, he’s like a ball of fluff under the hard shell,” he said.

“Ain’t so hard nowadays. Someone else was a little lonely too,” you said. Jensen gave you a wave as he walked over before curling his finger at you.

“Mind if I steal this one?” asked Jensen, holding out a hand for you.

“Nah. I got a fiancé to go find and harass myself,” said Alex.

“I taught him so well,” teased Jensen, pulling you to your feet and over toward a quiet corner. “I haven’t seen you much tonight, my buddies have been hogging me. Must be what it feels like to be you.”

“Jens,” you said.

“Walk with me?” he asked. You hummed and followed him outside, finding yourselves out on the sidewalk, his pace slow. “So...something you want to tell me?”

“Seriously? How do you always do that? I bet the freaking doctors office gave it away. I swore I told them not to tell dad anything until I-“

“Dad?” he said, stopping in his tracks. You went wide eyed, a smile creeping onto his face. “Are...am I going to be a dad?”

“I bought cute little boots and everything to surprise you when we got home,” you said with a nod, Jensen throwing his arms around you. “Yeah, you’re a dad. Even if I totally ruined my own surprise.”

“A baby…” he said, smiling at your stomach. “Okay, I will admit I was surprised by the party and suspected you were planning something else tonight but this one takes the cake. How long have you known?”

“I found out earlier this week. I thought I was working too hard and that’s why I was late and then I remembered what we did on your actual birthday and...you did say you had a good feeling on it after all,” you said.

“Baby,” he said, tentatively reaching his hand out, your own grabbing it and giggling as he rested it against your stomach. “We made a baby.”

“Yeah, we did,” you said. “Are you happy?”

“More than,” he said back, running his thumb over your dress. “It’s just funny is all.”

“What is?” you asked.

“This is going to be the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life, which is saying something, but I can’t wait,” he said.

“You know I’m glad my brother hired a psychopath. Never would have found you,” you said.

“I can just hear you telling the story of how mom and dad met to this kid someday,” he laughed. “They’ll never believe it.”

“That’s a long ways away,” you said.

“Thank you, honey,” he said, pulling you into another hug. “I feel normal. You made me feel so normal again after everything that happened in my life.”

“Our lives are so not normal,” you said.

“Maybe they aren’t but you are and I am and we’re going to have a baby that has two good parents,” he said.

“Jensen?” you asked. He hummed, lightly spinning you around. “You want to go tell your family the good news?”

“In a minute. I want to remember this next time I have a not so great day,” he said.

“Okay, sweetie...Jens, there is another surprise actually,” you said, ducking your head down.

“What?” he asked, looking back but you turned his face to you.

“I had an ultrasound, it was eight weeks and all so…” you said.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Babies, Jensen. Babies,” you said. He tilted his head, looking down at your stomach.

“Bab...more than...two? Twins? We made…” he said.

“Twins,” you said with a smile. “I’m thinking one of each but it’s still early to be betting.”

“Two babies,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Actually triplets,” you said, his eyes wide. “I’m just messing with you. It’s twins.”

“You were two seconds away from me having a heart attack,” he said, taking a deep breath. “How the...screw it, we figured it out so far. We can do this too.”

“Well my brother knows but even he doesn’t know it’s twins if you want to one up everybody in there,” you said.

“Definitely,” he said, giving you a kiss. “Love you, princess.”

“Really?” you said, Jensen chuckling as he skirted away and you laughed, trying to throw your shoe at him. “Asshole! You know I hate that.”

“I love you too, princess!”

[clovd-9]

fateful findings | ateez

You are the most recent Victor from the 74th Hunger Games and have been reaped for the Quarter Quell. Before your victory many overlooked your abilities—deeming you a lost cause due to your humble beginnings within District 8. With help from your mentor, Jeong Yunho, you proved your worth effortlessly. While your outstanding agility and sharp eye for observation was more than enough to show your true potential, your charismatic persona truly won the hearts of the Capitol. This presented you with numerous sponsors, and during the Game, you continued to win them over. As your death toll rose to the double digits, there was no denying your power. Despite your seemingly cold-blooded act, hints of your benevolence seeped through as you spared and saved the lives of those who were truly vulnerable. This led to you being the hot spot of gossip for fellow Victors and the media alike. However, your charming persona quickly dissolved after your win as you voiced your contempt for the Games. You quickly changed from being the nations’ treasure to the face of an uprising rebellion. 

Now, with the Quarter Quell in motion and your sponsors on the line, you must decide how to play and who to play with. Your decision will determine your fate—so choose wisely. 

Choi San

From District 1—the District of luxury

Specializes in the use(s) of: throwing knives and stealth

Won when: 12 

Current age: 21

San is the youngest person to have ever won The Hunger Games

He is the nation’s bad boy and other competitors worst fear

Due to his early age of winning the games he has had enough time to train and be the most vicious mentor and victor known to date

Given that he lives in the most luxurious district, most would call his behaviors that of a spoiled brat

So when the Quarter Quell was announced and he realized he might lose his life of comfort—the media took notice

While he is known as the Midnight Assassin, many of his fans fear they will lose their beloved District 1 victor

Will you choose to partner up with the nation’s deadliest bad boy—or will you choose someone else to keep you company during the games?

Kim Hongjoong

From District 2—the District of weaponry

Specializes in the use(s) of: daggers and speech

Won when: 15 

Current age: 21

Hongjoong is said to be the Prince Charming of the Capitol

Everyone either loves him or wants to be him

Many sponsors placed high bets on him when he went into the Games after seeing what District he came from

And due to his total of 13 kills during his time in the arena he has earned lots of support from the media

As well as being marked as a potential serial killer by fellow victors

Not only that, but he regularly has appearances on talk shows and is painted out to be a total player

The Capitol eats this up, of course

But when the announcement of the Quarter Quell hit headlines,’many feared to lose their beloved red-haired prince

However, he reassured them that he’d make it home by any means possible with a grin and a sinister twinkle in his eyes

So, will you choose to partner up with this killing machine—or will you decide upon another victor to watch your back?

Park Seonghwa

From District 4—the District of fishing and aquatic agriculture

Specializes in the use(s) of: spears, survival skills, and knowledge of numerous environments

Won when: 17 

Current age: 22

Seonghwa is the last of the careers, but certainly not the least

Even before his game, many were blown away by his stunning looks and stoic personality

Due to his District being on the coast, his sun kissed skin become something to die for (no pun intended)

This along with his outstanding skills and unexpected deadly nature quickly made him one of the nation’s favorite heartthrobs

His demeanor is rather quiet, yet he is seen as very wise by his fellow victors

He has never yearned for the limelight and is far more humble than his skills allow him to be

However, when the other career from his district was hurt during his game, he dropped everything to nurse her back to health

Many people see this soft spot as a weakness while many people living in the districts see this as a symbol of humanity within the games

The day of the Quarter Quell his face was stoic as usual but those who paid close enough attention could see the clenching of his jaw and fists in what was most likely anger

He has never openly supported the Capitol and declined all requests to be in talk shows or featured in any media streams besides his mentor position

That being said, will you choose this modest candidate to be your teammate—or will you follow in the lead of another victor?

Kang Yeosang

From District 6—the District of transportation

Specializes in the use(s) of: camouflage and stealth

Won when: 18 

Current age: 21

Yeosang is one of the lesser known victors given his District and how fresh his win still is within the Capitol

This being said, not much is known about him

However, much is known about his beautiful works of art

He is said to spend his time locked away in his home painting for his collection within the Capitol gallery

And although he’s a massive homebody, that’s not to say he doesn’t have any fans because of his looks

His distinct and charming visuals have placed him numerous modeling gigs from many brand name designers

His performance in the games is rarely a topic, as he won by rather peculiar means

Those being that he stayed hidden for more than half of his game and only had a kill streak of one

When news of the Quarter Quell broke out, very few people had hopes of seeing their beloved artist again

Will you look past the low expectations for this artistic shut-in—or will you take your chances with someone more trusted within the eyes of the public?

Jung Wooyoung

From District 7—the District of lumber and forests

Specializes in the use(s) of: axes, stealth, and agility

Won when: 16 

Current age: 20

Wooyoung was an instant fan favorite among the Capitol

“Everybody’s favorite pretty boy” as Ceaser Flickerman would like to call him

With his young age, the cockiness is expected, and the other victors absolutely despise it

His kill streak was only 4 people during the game, but do to his speed and creativity, all bets were almost immediately placed on him

He won his game with axes covered in blood and a devilish grin on his face

What he does out of the media’s eye is a total mystery, though most speculate he tries to woo the ladies of his District and the Capitol

He has also taken up a rather peculiar hobby of modifying himself—whether it be his hair, teeth, eyes, or skin

But when the Quarter Quell was announced, the pretty boy act dropped and was replaced with an unexpected rage

Never had Wooyoung gone against the Capitol, but now, some are unsure of his reliability

Will you team up with this quirky double edged sword—or will you rely on another victor to have your back?

Jeong Yunho

From District 8—the District of textiles and fabrics

Specializes in the use(s) of: intelligence, physical strength, and swords

Won when: 15 

Current age: 21

Yunho is one of the most beloved faces in all of the Capitol

The nation’s boyfriend material if you will

He’s a charmer that won the hearts of many sponsors during his game

Hilariously enough, during his game, many of his opponents wrote him off as another pretty boy to be dealt with

However, that proved to be a difficult task as his intelligence levels were above almost every other candidate

He won the games by setting up traps or having unsolvable courses of action

It is said that this raised level of intelligence came from working at his District’s textile factories every day and solving any problems with the machines

His back story is a tragic one—mother and father died due to a fire at one of the factories

And his only sister was reaped into the game with him

Yunho rarely speaks of this, though, and keeps a warm smile on his face

But the day the Quarter Quell was announced, the slight tremors in his hand became unbearably noticeable even though he had a smile on his face

He merely waved at the cameras to wave off any uneasiness from his fans and took his place on the platform

However, some say his smile is a facade, and is slowly breaking with each day gone by

Will you entrust your life with your mentor once again—or will you find yourself alongside another?

Choi Jongho

From District 10—the District of animals and livestock

Specializes in the use(s) of: sickles, stamina, and physical strength

Won when: 17

Current age: 19

Not much is known about Jongho—his District is very small and his win is still fresh in the eyes of the media

Most victors look at him as a child still given his young age

His duration spent in the game was anything but childlike, though

Due to his background as a butcher, his technique of killing was precise and clean

He only killed when he needed to, which seemed weak to some, but smart to others

He didn’t have very many sponsors because he was a mere minnow in a pond of much bigger fish

This did not stop the media from putting him into the limelight, though

After his win, the media, however, has come to fetishize him being the youngest victor

When asked about his views of the Capitol and the Games, he tends to find a way to incorporate its downfall without directly saying he hates the Games

This is written off as teenage rebellion

However, when his silence suddenly shattered during the promotions of the Quarter Quell, many came to see it was not just hormones that led him to have such disdain towards the games

Will you team up with the Capitol rebel—or will you choose another victor to take his place?

Song Mingi

From District 12—the District of coal

Specializes in the use(s) of: herbal medicines, first aid, and survival skills

Won when: 13 

Current age: 21

Mingi is that of a gentle giant to the Capitol

He was never as brutal or cold as many other Victors in the games

This image of humanity led to inspire many within the Districts

He did what he had to to defend himself, and even then, he did it by the least harmful means possible

His extensive knowledge of foraging led him to survive the games, as he only ever killed people by poisoning them

He also kept himself alive with the native plants in the arena

The media played him up to be vicious due to his rather intimidating looks, but his shy demeanor quickly struck that idea down

He spends most of his time tending to his family and many people of his District

So when the Quarter Quell was announced, his entire District began to rebel

This has caused a rather dark mark upon his image, leaving him with very few supporters

Will you take this gentle giant as your teammate—or do you have your eyes set on another?

Voting is pivotal to this series. Comment or reblog with the member you decide to create a alliance with. the most voted for member will have their story written first.

Best of luck and may the odds be ever in your favor

[mlm-writer]

The Long Ride (John Kennex x GN!Reader)

Pairing: John Kennex x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: E for Explicit but also for Emotional  Words: 2026 Summary: John has issues with his synthetic leg. You want to help him, but you can’t if he stays in denial about having a synthetic leg in the first place. Oh and you ride him to show you can have a good time without the leg. The sex is very emotional. Note: Ok I know the request said smut and there is smut, but I also have so many emotions when it comes to John Kennex. I would die for this man. I mean look at him. Fluffy hair and puppy face and that body hgdjksgasflsjfk Tags: Emotional sex, psychological rejection of his synthetic leg, communication, riding, protected sex (AS IT SHOULD BE), hurt/comfort, angst, swearing and idk man I got carried away

“God fucking dammit,” John cursed as his synthetic leg ran out of batteries, making him lose his balance and slip. You closed your eyes, but your boyfriend was dexterous enough to push himself out of the way, causing him to fall face-down next to you rather than on top of you. A string of curses left him as he struggled to change his position. 

“Relax, it’s been a long day,” you reassured him as you helped him getting in a sitting position against the headboard. “We should’ve charged it over dinner, but we’ll do that next time, yeah?” You smiled at him as you sat on your knees in front of him. He looked beyond angry and you knew it was not a mild inconvenience that got him riled up like this. You never complained about your sex life, but it was less than ideal half the time. John’s leg had a record of acting up, but as long as it had battery life left, John tried to ignore it and muscle through. It was a huge mood killer. 

John pretended like his synthetic leg was a real one and he was not disabled, so you tried playing along. The truth was, he was disabled. He did need special care and you didn’t mind that. What you did mind was pretending he did not need special care, just to stroke his ego. 

“Sorry, tonight’s a bust,” your man muttered, not even looking you in the eye. You kissed his cheek. You tried to keep it at that, but he pulled you back in for a kiss on the lips. You loved how he kissed you. John was not short on passion. He was known for his passion for his job, but even that was nothing compared to how precious and loved he could make you feel with just one kiss. Your hand ended up on his chest as he ravished your mouth. It travelled lower, resting on his lower abdomen, afraid that he didn’t want to do anything anymore tonight and that you were pressuring him into more. 

You had a feeling you were right when John took a gentle hold of your wrist and lifted your hand away. You pulled away, your other hand cupping his face. “There’s lots of things we can still do, love, but we don't have to do anything if you don’t feel like it,” you whispered. Your smile disappeared as John’s face turned sour. Sometimes it just was too easy to say the wrong thing to him. 

“Don’t treat me like I’m fucking made of glass. This stupid…” He pushed you aside to forcefully remove his leg. You wanted to help him, but knew that he did not want help right now. “Leg! Isn’t even made of… Fuck!” He leaned back and covered his face with one hand, when he failed to get the thing off. You wanted to get it off for him, but John was pretty clear on how he felt about his leg, even though you never talked about it. He always kept your hands away from it by either changing positions or holding your hand. 

“John, don’t take your anger out on me,” you warned him. He let out a grunt in response. You sighed and moved to get off the bed, but John had taken a hold of your hand in a second. 

“I’m not angry at you.” 

“I know you’re allergic to apologies, but just say you’re sorry and look at me.”

John sighed, removed the hand from his face and looked at you. He looked older now, tired, a little resigned. “I’m sorry.” You had hoped for more, but it was a start. You shifted on the bed, showing you were no longer leaving, but John kept a hold of your hand, his eyes trained there to avoid looking at yours. “I know our sex life sucks, so I kind of hate it when you pretend it doesn’t,” he confessed.  

You chuckled. “The only sucking our sex life is doing is how often I got your dick in my mouth,” you joked. John finally looked at your face, probably trying to guess if you hated sucking his dick or not. “The rest just has been… inconvenient,” you placed a hand on John’s thigh, but far enough above the line where it was no longer organic, “but that’s because you try to act like your leg is normal.” John looked hurt by your words and you felt sorry to break the news to him. “I know you hate the leg, but pretending it works just as fine as your other one is just not working. I don’t mind the leg, but you got a shitty attitude about it.” 

He let out a bitter laugh. “So what you’re saying is the problem is not the leg, but it’s me?” You winced. That’s what you said, but you didn’t mean it like that. “No, it’s okay baby. I get it.  I just… I want to do right by you. I don’t want you to feel like I need special care.”

“But you do, John!” You groaned in frustration. “That leg needs special care to work properly and if you don’t give it that care, it will work like a shit machine. I’m not gonna carry you around, but maybe let me help you remind charging it, cleaning it and maybe rub in some oil from time to time. I would just really like it if you just stopped blaming the leg and start looking at how you take care of it.” You didn’t mean to rant, but the frustration was up to your head to the point that you didn’t realise you were still naked, until John casually pulled the sheets towards you. You took them, covering yourself a little. 

“Okay, noted,” John sighed, clearly doing some mental work to not throw a tantrum right now. There was an awkward silence between you. Things were said and you both needed to process a little. John ended up breaking the silence. “Could you… help me getting the leg off?” You were surprised that he was just ready to let you touch it out of nowhere. You hummed and pushed the sheets off his right thigh, your fingers gentle but quick to remove it. You’ve seen it often enough to know how it should be done… and you asked Dorian. Either way, it required the gentle touch John never had with it. 

The leg came off smoothly and you discarded the sheets to get up and put it on the charger. You admittedly stuck your ass out a little more than needed, knowing John liked looking at it. “You know… I am still a little loose and slick from our foreplay,” you mused. You couldn’t help it. Your favourite detective was naked in bed and had prepped you earlier to get his dick inside you. It was a waste to just ignore that effort. 

“Babe, I love it when you get me off, but I wanted you to have a good time tonight.” You crawled onto the bed, smirking in his face. 

“I will, if you let me ride you like this.” You saw John swallow heavily, the idea rolling in his mind. 

“Grab the lube and condom,” he ordered and you happily obliged. You wanted to take care of everything, but John insisted on getting himself hard and ready to fuck himself. You sighed, before leaning back, shamelessly watching him. “Not complaining now you get to enjoy the show, are you?” 

You huffed. “Two can play that game, detective.” You leaned back on one arm, your other travelling down your body until you reach your crotch. You briefly remove your hand to stick two fingers in your mouth. You got as much saliva on them as possible, before slipping one finger inside you. It met with little resistance, so you joined the second one immediately. You lifted your leg, giving yourself a little more room to finger yourself. The sight certainly helped John. You were just about to enjoy yourself, when your boyfriend was ready to go. You eagerly straddled him, using your clean hand to pull him into a hungry kiss. John ravaged your mouth. You reached behind you, guiding his cock towards your hole. You rubbed it over your entrance, your breath getting heavier. 

“Stop teasing,” John grunted, his voice always ten times sexier when he was turned on. Usually you would challenge him, but he was right. You pressed your hips down onto his cock, shaking when the head entered you. 

“Oh fuck you feel so good.” You put your hands on his shoulders and rode the head of his cock. He kissed your neck, sucking and biting a little, leaving small red marks that would be gone by morning. You needed more and pressed down further, moaning when you got his entire length inside you. John was not particularly big, but he had a delicious girth. Your hole was tight around him, dragging over his cock as you rode him. 

You were enjoying yourself, your head thrown back while you fucked yourself on your boyfriend’s cock with abandon. John could never do a very fast pace, because his leg never cooperated, but you were not limited by that. “Fuck, baby, slow down,” John groaned, his fingers finding your ass and digging into the soft flesh there. 

“Don’t want to,” you replied, every word a moan. You whined when John lifted you off his cock with his strong hands on your ass. 

“Stop being greedy, baby,” he warned, making you moan at the voice he used. You nodded, knowing you had to agree or he would keep you there, all empty, for longer than you wanted. He stopped keeping you up and lowered you back down on his cock. You rolled your hips, keeping a slower pace. “That’s good,” John praised, his eyes locked with yours, “you’re so sexy and,” he stopped to let out a small moan himself, “I love you.” 

You cried. He had said it before, but it felt different after the emotional debacle from earlier. “I love you too,” you said, before grabbing his face and bringing your lips together. You stopped moving for a moment, his cock balls deep in you as you kissed him as if you hadn’t done so for months. “I love you so much, John, and I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy so much.” Emotions poured out and John led you through them, his hands and lips reassuring, letting you have your moment, before wiping your tears away. 

“I hope I can make you happy,” he whispered. You continued to move, your hips moving slowly over his cock, making you feel every inch of it entering and pulling out of you. You rested your head on his shoulder and he kissed yours. 

“You do,” you told him, your hips gradually moving faster. You went back to your original fast pace, making yourself see stars on John’s length. “I want you to cum while inside me,” you whispered in his ear. He groaned, his hands on your hips and helping you. He came first and you rode him through it. One raspy whisper in your ear and you came undone as well, his cock all the way inside you and not a single need for anything but that to make you see stars and cum. 

He held you in the aftermath, listening to you rambling how much you loved him. You knew he probably did not know how to deal with your words, but he would have to figure that out himself. Once you stopped, he helped you get off him. You plopped down beside him, resting against his shoulder and hugging his arm. He complained as you made tying off the condom hard. He tossed it onto the floor to be dealt with later. His head came to rest on yours and you could not feel happier. 

“You should ride me more often.”

You laughed.

“I will. After all,” you snuggled against him, “I’m with you for the long ride.”

[back-and-totheleft]

‘There’s still a presence out there reminding people not to speak about JFK’s killing’

Oliver Stone is not a fan of “cancel culture”. “Of course I despise it,” the Oscar winning filmmaker says, as if utterly amazed that anyone needs to ask him such a dumb question. “I am sure I’ve been cancelled by some people for all the comments I’ve made…. it’s like a witch hunt. It’s terrible. American censorship in general, because it is a declining, defensive, empire, it (America) has become very sensitive to any criticism. What is going on in the world with YouTube and social media,” he rants. “Twitter is the worst. They’ve banned the ex-President of the United States. It’s shocking!” he says, referring to Donald Trump’s removal from the micro-blogging platform.

It’s a Saturday lunchtime in the restaurant of the Marriott Hotel on the Croisette in Cannes. The American director is in town for the festival premiere this week of his new feature documentary JFK Revisited: Through the Looking Glass, in which he yet again pores over President John F Kennedy’s assassination in November 1963.

“I am a pin cushion for American-Russian peace relations… I had four f***ing vaccines: two Sputniks and two Pfizers,” Stone gestures at his arm. The rival super-powers may remain deeply suspicious of one another, but Stone is loading himself up with potions from both sides of the old Iron Curtain.

He has recently been travelling in Russia (hence the Sputnik jabs) where he has been making a new documentary about how nuclear power can save humanity. He also recently completed a film about Kazakhstan’s former president Nursultan Nazarbayev which – like his interviews with Vladimir Putin – has been roundly ridiculed for its deferential, softly-softly approach toward a figure widely regarded as a ruthless despot.

Dressed in a blue polo shirt, riffing away about the English football team one moment and his favourite movies the next, laughing constantly, the 74-year-old Oscar-winning director of Platoon, Wall Street, Natural Born Killers et al is a far cheerier presence than his reputation as a purveyor of dark conspiracy thrillers might suggest. He is also very outspoken. For all his belligerence, though, Stone isn’t as thick-skinned as you might imagine. I wonder if he was hurt by the scorn that came his way when his feature film JFK was released in 1991.

“I was more of a younger man. It was painful to me,” the director sighs as he remembers being attacked by such admired figures as newscaster Walter Cronkite and Hollywood power broker Jack Valenti for listening to the “hallucinatory bleatings” of former New Orleans DA Jim Garrison when JFK came out. “It was quite shocking actually because I thought the murder was behind us. I did think there was a feeling that 30 years later, we can look at this thing again without getting excited. But I was way wrong.”

Garrison, of course, was the real-life figure portrayed by Kevin Costner in the film; he was the original proponent of the theory that the CIA were involved in the killing of the US president, after his 1966 investigation. Garrison wrote the book On the Trail of the Assassins, on which the movie was partly based.

Even the director’s fiercest detractors will find it hard to dismiss the evidence he has assembled about the JFK assassination in the new documentary. Once I’d seen it and heard him hold forth, I came away thinking that only flat-earthers can possibly still believe that Lee Harvey Oswald shot President Kennedy all on his own. It’s that convincing.

Stone blitzes you with facts and figures about the Kennedy killing and its aftermath. At times, he himself seems to be suffering from information overload. “I am sorry. There are so many people,” he apologises for not immediately remembering the name of Kennedy’s personal physician, George Burkley, who was present both at Parkland Hospital, where Kennedy was first taken, and then at Bethesda, where the autopsy took place. Burkley was strangely reticent when giving evidence to the Warren Commission.

“I think there’s still a presence out there which reminds people not to speak. I’ve heard that in, of all places, Russia,” Stone says. He was startled to discover that the Russians knew all about his new documentary long before it was discussed in the mainstream press. “They said, ‘We heard about it.’ I said, ‘How?’ They said, ‘We have our contacts in the American intelligence business. They are not very happy about it.’”

Stone believes that no US president since Kennedy died has been “able to go up against this militarised sector of our economy”. Even Trump “backed down at the last second” and declined to release all the relevant documents relating to the assassination. “He announced, ‘I’m going to free it up, blah blah blah, big talk, and then a few hours before, he caved to CIA National Security again.”

The veteran filmmaker expresses his frustrations at historians like Robert Caro, author of a huge (and hugely respected) multi-volume biography of President Lyndon Johnson, for ignoring the evidence that has been turned up about the assassination.

“I can’t say [LBJ] was involved in the assassination,” explains Stone, “but it certainly suited him that Kennedy was not there anymore and he covered up by appointing the Warren Commission and doing all the things he did.”

Stone tried to cast Marlon Brando in JFK in the role as the deep throat source Mr X, eventually played by Donald Sutherland.

“I realise now I am grateful that he turned it down because he knew better than I that he would make 20 minutes out of that 14-minute monologue and it wouldn’t have worked.”

Nevertheless, he filled the film with famous faces. He thought that having familiar actors would make it easier for audiences to engage with what was an immensely complicated story.

Getting Stone to stop talking about JFK is like trying to pull a bone from a mastiff’s jaws. To change the subject slightly, I ask if he is still in touch with WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange. He is and is utterly horrified at how Assange is being treated, especially given that Siggi the Hacker, a key witness in the extradition case against Assange, admitted recently that he lied. Stone praises Assange’s partner Stella Morris as “the best wife you could ever have. She really is smart, she’s a lawyer … he has two children. He can’t even touch them or see them. It’s barbaric. It indicates America is declining faster than we know. It is just cutting off dissent.”

The mood lightens when I invite Stone to discuss some of his favourite films. He recently tweeted a list of these, which included Darling starring Julie Christie, Joseph Losey’s Eva starring Stanley Baker and Jeanne Moreau, and Houseboat, a frothy comedy starring Cary Grant and Sophia Loren. “I love films, always have. People don’t know that side of me. I could go on forever.”

Between his darker and more contentious efforts, Stone has made a few genre films himself, for example the underrated thriller U-Turn starring Sean Penn and Jennifer Lopez. He notes, though, that even when he tried a sports movie, he ended up right back in the firing line. The NFL was furious about his 1999 American Football film, Any Given Sunday. “They (the NFL) are arrogant, very rich people who close down any dissent, so I had to change uniforms and names… but they got the point.”

Last year, Stone published the first volume of his autobiography, Chasing the Light, which took him from childhood up to his Oscar triumph with Platoon. It was well received but it didn’t make nearly a big enough splash for his liking. “There was a curtain of silence about that. Maybe it is Covid… it was not reviewed by many people,” he says. “I wish the timing had been better. The publisher was terrible. They didn’t really promote anything. So now I have to start over again if I am going to do a second book, which I would love to do. But I have to find the right publisher.”

The book contains a barbed account of Stone’s experiences as a young screenwriter working in London for British director Alan Parker and producer David Puttnam on Midnight Express. “I wrote about it in the book, so you got my point of view. They were not very friendly people. I gave my criticism of Parker that he had a chip on his shoulder. He was from a poor side of the English. There is this phenomenon you see in England of hating the upper classes until they approve of you.”

No, they didn’t stay in touch. “And Puttnam is a Lord, right? He reminds me of Tony Blair. He is such a weasel.” For once, Stone feels he has overstepped the mark. He doesn’t want to call Puttnam a weasel after all. “Put it this way, Tony Blair is a weasel. I wouldn’t trust Tony Blair. Puttnam is a supporter of Blair. Let’s leave it at that.”

On matters English, he isn’t that keen on soccer either. He watched the semi-final between England and Denmark but had no intention of tuning into the final.

“Soccer is a different kind of game. It’s a different aesthetic. It is constant movement. The United States game allows you to re-group after every play and go into a huddle and so it becomes about strategy. I still enjoy it although people think I am brutal.”

Ask him why he so relishes American Football and he replies that he “grew up with violence in America … we were banging – cowboys and Indians, a lot of killing and that stuff. How do you get away from that? We weren’t playing with dolls.”

Stone’s feelings about the US are deeply ambivalent. He is old enough to remember a time in the late 1940s and early 1950s when “everything in America was golden” and part of him still seems to love the country but his mother was French and he talks about the US as a nation now in near terminal decline.

Perhaps surprisingly, his real political hero isn’t JFK. It’s the former President of France, Charles de Gaulle. “He said no to NATO and he said no to America. He understood the dangers of being a satellite country to America. You have no power in Europe. Don’t kid yourself. The EU is just an artificial body that was amazingly stupid in cutting off Russia and cutting off China too now.”

He doesn’t much like Boris Johnson either. “Boris, listen. He’d simply throw you in jail in a second.” He rails against the English for holding Assange in Belmarsh prison.

When he is not on a crusade or unravelling a conspiracy, Stone relaxes through Buddhist meditation. “Moderation in all things,” the man who came up with the phrase “greed is right, greed works” says with no evident sense of irony. He enjoys hanging out with his friends. “I have a nice life. I’m lucky,” he says before quickly adding, “I wish I had been more honoured and respected in my lifetime, but it seems that I took a course that is in conflict with the American Empire.”

Stone’s films have had relatively few strong female characters. Ask if he welcomes the #MeToo movement and the challenging of old gender norms and he gives a typically contrary answer. “It cuts both ways, though. There are reasons for patriarchy through the centuries,” he says. “Tribes tend to have a strong leader. You need strong leaders, but I do see the feminine impulse as being important, especially when situations become too militant. The feminine impulse, I’m talking about the maternal impulse not the Hillary Clinton/Margaret Thatcher version of feminism. They’re men. They’re not women,” he says. “I don’t want women in politics who want to be men. If a woman is a woman, she should be a woman and bring her maternalism. It’s a leavening influence.”

The director deplores the rush to judge historical figures about past misdeeds from a contemporary point of view. “I am conservative in that way… don’t expect to rejudge the entire society based on your new values.”

He met with Harvey Weinstein in Cannes a few years ago to discuss a potential Guantanamo Bay TV series. “At that point, maybe he knew he was on the ropes; he was delightfully charming and humble.” The project was scuppered by the scandal that that engulfed the former Miramax boss, who is now behind bars as a convicted sex offender. Stone’s gripes with Weinstein are less to do with his sexual offences than with the way that he attacked films like Born on the Fourth of July and Saving Private Ryan to boost his own movies.

“The press loved him [Weinstein]. Don’t forget, they loved him in the 1990s,” he says, remembering the disingenuous way in which Weinstein portrayed himself as the underdog taking on the big, bad Hollywood system.

“I think he robbed Cruise of the Oscar, frankly,” Stone huffs at the intensive Weinstein lobbying which saw Daniel Day-Lewis win the Academy Award for Best for My Left Foot, denying Tom Cruise for Born on the Fourth of July in the process.

Stone acknowledges his status in Hollywood has diminished. “All that’s gone. The people have changed,” he says of the days when the studios doted on him and his films were regularly awards contenders. Now, he’ll often finance his work out of Europe. He is developing a new feature film (he won’t say what it is). “Never say die, never say it’s over,” he says of his career.

Stone is based in Los Angeles and also has “a place in New York”. During the pandemic, he still managed to travel to Russia to make his nuclear power/clean energy documentary. “I got my shots over there because the EU is so f***ing stupid,” he says of the of the Europeans’ refusal to recognise the Sputnik vaccine. “It’s ridiculous, part of the political madness of this time.”

Now, he is putting all his energy into his new documentary about nuclear power. He waves away the idea that the Chernobyl and Fukushima disasters show what can go wrong – they were accidents.

“Accidents you learn from. If there were not a few crashes, how would you fly?” he says. It’s a line that somehow seems to express his entire philosophy of life.

-Geoffrey Macnab interviews Oliver Stone, The Independent, Jul 15 2021 [x]

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #13)

(cw: graphic descriptions of wounds) <-Previous | Next-> ----------

01/01/88   10:54 PM

Hey.

It’s not really an everyday thing to begin with, finding an Easter Egg, so it’s gotta be a shock finding one half-dead on your doorstep.

A Nicelander’s scream startled me awake. By the time I saw her, she was already hopping out of view and calling Fix-it for help. The Nicelanders’ patented annoying catchphrase even slipped out, that grating “Fix it, Felix!!” Which, to these little squares, could be the equivalent of wetting their tiny pants. She called up to his apartment around the corner, and I heard the fire escape rattling as he hurried down, but Wreck-it actually got to me first.

That is to say, he saw me first. He lumbered to the bottom of his bricks a good distance away, and just stopped dead in his tracks. I wasn’t in love with the idea of him seeing me like that, used and abused and all, but I couldn’t really do anything about it. His face turned white as I stared back at him, and he was clearly at a loss, anxiously waiting for Fix-it to come down and deal with me. If I were to give him the benefit of the doubt, I would say that he kept his distance because he knew his hulking fists were the last things I needed. If not, I’d say it was because he’s a big squeamish baby who’s scared of a little blood. 

Could be both, I guess.

Gasps and screams spilled around the corners of the building as more Nicelanders flocked in, but I didn’t bother looking until I heard the very effeminate shriek of my cousin. He rushed up and overflowed with whispers of “Mavy,” and “Oh my land,” and “Good gracious,” you know, the works. At first, it was like he was trying to decipher the situation just by looking at me, which I think could be some kind of party game -- Mangled Mavis: Guess with your eyes, win a cool prize.

But then he wanted to guess with his hands. He reached out, and I jabbed him in the gut with my walking stick. The Nicelanders gasped, and he coughed, but he didn’t seem shocked. He took that as a scolding for not fixing me first, so he pulled out his hammer. I just jabbed him again. He wheezed out, “Why, Mavy?”

It almost made me smile.

I just didn’t want him to patch me up while everyone watched. I hated being reduced to some object of their morbid curiosities -- the Nicelanders don’t actually care what happens to me, and they never have. They only ever want something juicy to talk about in their boring-ass lives. A broken brush and your name cut into my body made a juicier morsel than they’ll ever deserve. Hell if I was gonna give it to them.

I still couldn’t quite speak, but Fix-it got the hint after a good deal of obvious gestures. He let me into the back of Niceland once I’d gotten to my feet (having insisted on doing it myself), and made me wait inside for a moment while he addressed the crowd. I heard him tell everyone not to worry, that everything was alright, that I just needed some space right now, and that they should all just go back to their apartments for the night. Maybe the Nicelanders couldn’t tell, but he was freaking out hardcore. I could hear it in his voice. I was not looking forward to that getting worse as the evening went on. 

He’s so impossible to deal with when he’s worried. Things panned out even worse than I anticipated. 

After a sufficiently awkward elevator ride, we arrived in his apartment, which was just as freakishly pristine and tidy as the last time I saw it. I sat on his couch, he sat on the coffee table in front of me, and he asked what in the world happened. He wasn’t satisfied when I just shook my head, but he healed my cheeks for me, anyway.

As he asked more questions, like if I’d gotten in a fight, and how long I’d been waiting by the door, I just sat there stewing in how much I didn’t want to talk to him. Whatever had just happened to me, I didn’t want to say a word about it to anyone. All sorts of pitiful labels were already being slapped on me left and right: “Delusional,” “hysterical,” “heartbroken,” “junkie,” and so on. The last thing I wanted to do was add “victim” to that list. 

So I didn’t tell him. Big deal. He could heal me without knowing I was almost murdered. 

But he couldn’t heal my injuries without seeing them. That was the catch -- I didn’t want to show him, either, but I had to suck it up. The wounds were just too… intimate, you know. Aimed to hit me in a very personal way. I wish I could say that they didn’t succeed. 

Nonetheless, I opened the little smock-sack on the cushion next to me. Therein sat what was left of my tools -- the bundle of splinters and the split golden can still flashing with binary. Fix-it made a sound like someone poured cold water on him. I even heard him breathe “Sweet Nana Litwak,” which is a pretty harsh curse coming from him. Then, of course, came the grave stares, whispered questions, and more futile attempts to put the metaphorical pieces together. His hands kept hovering around my tools like they were some dead animal that he was too mortified to decide what to do with. Watching it just brought my headache back.

Just when I started reaching for my walking stick, he came to his senses and repaired it all. Brush, paint can, and smock. Then, I think I made a sound like someone poured hot water on me. My tools erupted with intense pins and needles and I broke into a sudden sweat. It was like my code was spinning and grinding itself back into place, and the friction could have sent smoke out my ears. It did not feel nearly as good as I would have liked.

Finally having my tools back, though, was relieving in ways I can’t even describe. After seeing them in pieces, it felt like I was holding them for the first time all over again. You know how important they are to me. But until then, I don’t think I ever appreciated just how beautiful they are. I just wanted to hold onto them and never let go.  

With my tools whole and near, my right leg finally stabilized and took solid form again. All the pain from those bite wounds really woke back up. I wasn’t ready for it -- I didn’t even think about it, honestly -- and I yelped. Fix-it was on it instantly. For a minute, he was even blessedly free of questions.

Except the dumbass couldn’t get to the wounds, because he fixed my pants by accident. So I had to take them off.

That bothered him way more than it bothered me. His face was red as a beet. You know I’m not shy about my body. I’ve never understood the big deal -- it’s just a freakin’ body. But what was admittedly terrible about it was that, since my knees were still basically locked, he had to help me get my pants off. That image, that concept, still haunts me. But I take some comfort in the idea of my shredded legs haunting him. Once they were fully bare, all that beet red was sucked right out of his cheeks. He blanched so hard I thought his hair would turn white.

I’ll give him this much: They certainly were not for the faint of heart. I had grossly underestimated how bad they were through the tears in my pant legs. 

Two bites were so deep that I could actually see a little ridge of deep pink meat jutting out. My skin had been flayed off in several thumbprint-sized patches. There were dozens of puncture wounds in curved lines, gouges nearly an inch long, claw marks like long, dirty blisters, and weaving through it all was a tangle of blackening purple welts that bled into feverish reds and nauseous yellows. And of course, they were absolutely covered in dried blood and dirt and Devs know what else.

I definitely deserve a medal for walking anywhere with those.

After making sure he was not going to hurl all over me, Fix-it quickly set to work on my right leg. Each hit felt like a killer muscle cramp at first, but Devs, the fading of that pain was dizzyingly sweet. Then he had to sully it by speaking again. He asked an impressively stupid question: “Are these bite marks?” 

I didn’t really mean to answer. I think the pain relief had loosened me up enough for the door in my throat to open just a crack. As if the word had been loaded and ready from before, I just said, “Dogs.”

Fix-it jumped. I immediately regretted speaking when I saw the way he was looking at me, as if I’d been suddenly and miraculously cured of my lifelong muteness. He took it to mean that I was open to questions. They came flooding out again, way more insistent this time. To my dismay, he even stopped healing me in favor of interrogating me, and, amazingly, that didn’t earn him any answers. But for every second that I stayed quiet, he just escalated. He leaned towards me and really got into the hand gestures and kept trying to coax a reply out of me in this annoyingly urgent tone, “Mavy!” pause, “Mavy!” pause, “Mavy!!”

I’d had enough. I snatched up my walking stick, ready to give him a ‘back to work’ jab, but my blow didn’t land. Instead, the exchange (and, consequently, the evening) took a completely unexpected turn -- Fix-it caught the stick in his hand, yanked it away from me, and raised his voice.

“NO, Mavis! ENOUGH of this!”

He even dropped the nickname. 

I was too stunned to react. He tossed the stick out of my reach, and we were both quiet for a short-lived moment.

There are a lot of words coming up. I remember it all surprisingly clearly -- I mean, how often is it that Fix-it loses his temper -- but I’ll still be paraphrasing here.

Words sort of burst from his mouth, and it visibly shook him. He said, “This is just too much, Mavis! This is too much for you to give me the silent treatment right now! You can’t just keep me in the dark like this! I’m not your paramedic, I’m your cousin! I’m your family, Mavis!”

Yeah. Dramatic. Just like that, he lost me. I didn’t know when Fix-it would grasp these simple concepts: I am not touchy-feely, I absolutely detested the ‘F’ word, and I so genuinely, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, did not care. 

He kept going, but I didn’t catch a word of it. I figured I’d let him get it out of his system while I mentally checked out. I just stared at the ceiling, fruitlessly trying to process the last 24 hours. They didn’t feel real. They felt like a nightmare. But I’d been down that road already; I knew it was all real. It just wasn’t sinking in -- it was looming above me and sucking up my emotions like a sponge. There was a feeling, almost physical, telling me that it could all rain down at any second. It would weigh down the already crushing load on my shoulders, and just like that, it would be too heavy to bear anymore. I’d crumple beneath it. I’d break into a million pieces. 

I just… didn’t know what to think, what to do, what to feel. I was floundering.

I came back into Fix-it’s rant just as he was saying, “...even listening to me right now? Hey, young lady. Did you listen to a single word I just said?”

To say that I wasn’t in the mood would be a massive understatement. I tried to massage the ache out of my forehead and gave a “Mmhmm.”

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “Well, what have I been talking about, Mavis?”

“Something about…” I felt too sick to be witty. “...pies n’ hammers n’... blue shirts…”

“Do you think this is a joke?!”

I deadpanned, “It’s pretty funny.”

Fix-it is well-known for his long quarter queue, but by the look in his eyes, I could tell he was on his last coins. That famous patience was worn razor-thin. Kind of an accomplishment on my part, really, but I was too tired, sick, and an all around mess to enjoy it. He stood up and started pacing around the room, leaving me couch-bound with one useless leg. His voice wavered from an effort to keep his volume down. “I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help everyone. I’m trying to be here for you and run this building-- this GAME, even-- and I feel like I’m not asking much, here! Why, oh why, are you deliberately making it so hard for me?”

“That’s,” I interjected, “what she sai--”

“MAVIS!!”

“Well, get to the point!”

He paused, sighed, and lowered his voice just a tad. “Look, I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through right now. I know this has taken its toll on you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But Mavis, you’re not the only one affected by all this, you know!”

Now he had my attention.

The absolute nerve of him to say that, after what I’d just dealt with! As if any of his minor inconveniences and uncomfy feelings could even slightly compare! I had both of those points ready to throw in his face, but in my rage, I kind of forgot that I was, you know, wounded. I tried to jump to my feet and tell him off, but I didn’t get past “NOT THE--!!” before the pain dropped me back into my seat. Fix-it stepped forward, looking concerned, but I waved him off. 

Wincing through the pain, I said, “Is that a point you really wanna make right now?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Mavy, but please, let me finish. This is a really terrifying time for the whole arcade. Everyone’s been affected in one way or another, but, mostly, everyone’s just… scared. The Nicelanders have all been losing sleep over the thought of getting unplugged, and they look to me for reassurance and security, and I just… don’t always have it! How can I convince them that there’s nothing to worry about when, every night, you come home looking sicker than the night before, covered in cuts and bruises, with Devs know how many buffs in your system? I don’t even know what you’re really doing out there, and you won’t say a word to me about it! How can I tell them not to worry when I’m worried, too?”

“They’re worried I’ll go nuts.” I did not ask, but stated.

He tried to disagree, but he’s a terrible liar.

I continued, “They’re afraid that I’ll get their game unplugged. I know. Let ‘em join the freakin’ club forming out there. Think I don’t know what everyone’s saying about me? That it’s just a matter of time ‘til I lose it, too, and, as they’re so eloquently putting it --” I gave very heavy quotation marks, “-- go Turbo?”

I’m gonna be honest, here. Seeing your name in my handwriting feels… weird. I’ve actually been avoiding it until now, because… well, saying it out loud to Fix-it felt like a punch to the chest. Even he winced, but I’m not sure why.

It was a struggle not to shout as I went on.

“Oh, must be terrifying, being stuck in a box with a tickin’ time bomb. Every rough day I have just pushes me one step closer to the edge, is that it? It ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows out there, y’know. I won’t act like I’m having the time of my life just so your little babies don’t have bad dreams -- get ‘em freakin’ nightlights, for cuss’ sake! I could not give less of a crit about your NPCs’ emotional stability! Just do your job and fix it!”

Fix-it looked exhausted. “I’m trying to do my job right now! That’s all I’ve been doing since-- since--... you know! There are so many jobs to do, so many problems to fix, coming at me higgledy-piggledy from everywhere, and here I have my cousin digging her claws in the dirt!”

I was way more exhausted. “Well, gee, if I’m such a problem, why not fix two birds with one hammer and throw me to the curb!? I’m gone, Nicelanders are happy, your life’s freakin’ perfect again.”

“No, Mavy, that’s not…” He sighed and sat on the coffee table again. “No one wants that. I’m not here to just make you go away. Yes, my job is to fix things, but I don’t want to fix you. Right now, my job is to help you. That’s all I want to do. But, by golly, I need you to work with me on this. You’re not a problem. You just… have a problem.”

I’m not sure how he thought saying that would go. I’m not sure why he thought that would be an appropriate time to say it. But damn if he didn’t say it. I just glared daggers, daring him to elaborate. 

He suddenly looked anxious, and mumbled, barely loud enough to hear, “A… lot… of them…”

I wanted to fight him on that. I wanted him to point out everything that he thought was a problem, so that I could fight him on each and every one of them. Who gave him the authority to determine my problems? Who told him it was any of his Dev-damned business? How many times did I have to beat it into his head that I knew how to look after myself, even if it was not in his way? Too many freakin’ times -- so many, in fact, that just the thought of doing it again doubled my headache. As pissed as I was, I didn’t have the energy for that particular fight. I just wanted him to heal me so I could leave.

After a few tense minutes, he continued cautiously, “I’m so sorry, Mavy. All this… grief… hasn’t been kind to you. We can-- I can help you find ways to cope that aren’t so harmful. You don’t have to handle all this on your own.”

What a load of crap, I thought.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why, Mavy?”

The truthful answer to that would have been a whole other can of worms. “I just do. You couldn’t understand.”

He said insistently, “I could if you would give me a chance.”

I was more than ready for this conversation to end. He was giving me the heart-to-heart eyes, and I’d be in for a world of gross if I let that go unchecked. 

“Why would I let someone help me when the only reason they’re doing it is so their annoying-ass NPCs will shut up?”

He looked appalled. “How could you think--”

“Look, Fix-it. I can tell there’s a lot on your plate, so let me help you. Firstly, apart from stuff like this,” I pointed to my chomped up leg, “I don’t need your help, I don’t want your help, and will not accept your help, because I know, with full certainty, that you can’t help me. So you can cross me off your list and forget about it -- problem solved. As for the Nicelanders? You’re practically a Dev to them, dumbass, they’ll trust anything you say! You know I’m not dangerous, not… that way. You know I’m no threat to the arcade. Just keep telling ‘em that, and they’ll smarten up!”

Silence.

“I mean… you do know that, right?”

I have a bad relationship with silence. I’ve found, in my life, that the worst answers are the ones I don’t receive. The ones that make me fill in the blanks. It’s like the Devs don’t have the guts to give bad news to me straight. 

Or, in this case, Fix-it didn’t.

He tried to backpedal and reassure me, but I told him to save it. The pregnant pause already said it all. My heart sank into my gut at this revelation and everything it meant. Fix-it believed nothing but the best of me since day one. In all likelihood, I could have set him on fire and he would still say that I meant no harm by it. He trusted me, definitely more than anyone ever should. I guess I thought that would never change. But the loss of his faith in itself wasn’t really the issue; I didn’t really want his moral support. It’s just that he’s always thought more highly of me than anybody. If these rumors about me were so rampant and convincing that even Fix-it bought into them, then everyone did. If he didn’t believe in me anymore, then no one did. 

I was alone. I was really, truly alone. 

My understanding of reality turned over itself. In an instant, the arcade became nothing but a bunch of boxes jam-packed with sprites who wanted to kill me, peppered with ones who would actually try. Somehow, I felt like they were all watching me already, hundreds of burning eyes trying to smother me with the sheer volume of their hatred -- and it was working. The room around me started to swim. I could inhale and exhale, but I couldn’t breathe. If I had been standing, I would have collapsed. 

And then, in the midst of it all, I noticed Fix-it getting closer. Whatever willpower I had to deal with him was all but crushed. I had so, so much sickness in my head, churning and whirling like a tornado of black smoke. Next to all that, Fix-it was dwarfed. Insignificant. His presence just felt like a fly buzzing around my ears, which would have been annoying on a good day. In this case, it made me want to scream.

So I did.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” 

He jumped backwards, clear over the coffee table, with a ‘boing’. I obviously scared the cuss out of him, but still, the fright in his eyes faded into an expression that may or may not have been one of pity. I sure read it that way at the time.

“STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!!” I tried to get up again, to no avail. My leg was still wrapped in a vice of pain, and that squeezed my screaming back down to shouting. “When were you planning on telling me you’d turned your back on me?!”

Fix-it almost matched my volume, but it was obviously forced. He’s not known for his yelling. “I haven’t!! I believe in you, Mavis! But this isn’t you! You haven’t been you since-- since that day! That-- that spark in your eyes is just gone! I never see you eat, I know you’ve barely been sleeping, you don’t even frequent Tapper’s anymore -- all I hear about you is that you’re fighting, or-- or attacking sprites--”

“I never ATTACKED anybody!!”

“--taking buffs all the time, and snooping around other games! Mavis, a lot of sprites think you’re looking for a game to-- to-- you know!”

“And you believe that crap?!”

“No!” He paused. “I don’t want to believe it! But it’s the only side of the story I’m getting!”

I seethed. “You shouldn’t NEED me to tell you that I’m not a murderer!! Do you really think I’d do something like that?!”

“No, Mavis, I don’t! I just don’t know if I can rely solely on my own judge of character to keep my game safe now! I mean, we didn’t think--” he paused, avoiding your name like a curse word, “--didn’t think he was capable of that, either, but he still--”

“BUT THAT’S--!! HE WASN’T--!!” my stomach was twisting over itself. I felt just about ready to breathe fire. “Nevermind what HE did! We’re not talking about him, we’re talking about me! I’m still me! I can’t believe I have to spell that out for you! It’s like the whole arcade just got together and agreed that me being-- I don’t know, me being around him all the time just made us carbon copies of each other! Like I’m coded to be his-- his sequel or something! And you REALLY buy into that?!”

“No!”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO THE SPRITES THAT DO?!”

“I’m TRYING not to!” I half expected him to start pulling his hair out. “It’s hard when they’re the only ones actually speaking to me! I want to listen to you, but you won’t-- you won’t talk to me! I’m on your side, I really am, and I’m trying to stay there! But, darn it all, it’s like you’re trying to push me out! Let me be on your side! Let me help you through this! Trust me, so I can trust you! All I am asking is for you to just-- just--” he clenched his teeth and grasped at the air, “--TALK TO ME!!”

He was exhausting me of coherent thought. I was just running on a fun cocktail of mindless frustration and hopelessness. If I had a filter at any point, it had dissolved. Words fell straight from my head and into my mouth.

I shouted, “WHY?! What’s so SPECIAL about you?! You’re just a dime-a-dozen privileged GOOD GUY!! Living that cushy life of luxury, making more credits in a day than I do in a month, deluding yourself into thinking you’d still want to help a dirty wretch like me if it weren’t in your job description -- gimme a freakin’ break!! You wanna tell me I’m NOT ALONE, while you’re out there siding with them!? You don’t get to jump on the Mavis-hating bandwagon and then come back here, SPEWING THAT SAME TIRED CRAP ABOUT US BEING FAMILY!!”

I didn’t even realize what I’d said until the silence that followed it.

It was like his sprite froze. He just stared at me, with a look in his eyes like he’d been struck hard enough to leave a crack. The tell-tale face of emotional overkill.

As soon as I saw that look, I realized my mouth had gotten away from me. I’m so used to arguing with you, and your skin is way, way thicker than my cousin’s. He’s too decent for language like that. I can honestly say that cutting him that deep was an accident. But I can’t say that I didn’t mean it, and I didn’t say I was sorry.

After a pause that lasted far too long, wherein we both just tried to breathe evenly, he took up his hammer and finally set to fixing my left leg. He finished quickly and silently, and as I tried not to pass out from the onslaught of pain relief, he backed away and gestured to the door.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” he said in a tone that sounded profoundly disappointed, yet somehow still polite. “If you need healing again, I’ll be here. But please come to me ready to talk. Take care of yourself, and be safe out there, Mavis.”

‘Out there.’ Those words made my blood run cold.

Something had shifted since I realized how alone I was. Up until that point, all I’d wanted to do was be healed and leave. But once he finally expected me to go, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I froze up. My guts twisted around inside me. I even caught myself gripping the couch, lest he try to force me out. Behind that door was nothing but a regular hallway, more doors, and an elevator, but it felt as if he wanted me to walk the plank into shark-infested waters. After being caught completely by surprise in Dragon’s Lair, I’d been hit with the chilling realization that I couldn’t trust my own senses. I couldn’t trust my own perception of safety. Someone could ambush me again, anytime, anywhere, and they could have a mind even sicker than the first offender. I needed a second pair of eyes to literally watch my back. Even if they were eyes I wasn’t sure I could trust anymore.

We weren’t exactly done yet, either.

I said, “Wait.” Fix-it looked at me, confused and a bit apprehensive.

The wound on my chest was the most personal of all. It stayed well hidden behind my weird cowl, and Fix-it didn’t bother asking why I wasn’t properly wearing a shirt -- I guess that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. I’d been dreading taking it off and showing him. If I bared those cuts, I’d be baring all the shame, the weakness, the worthlessness, degradation, humiliation... I’d be digging back up all the psychological terrors I’d just been forced through. I wasn’t even ready to face those again on my own, let alone open them up to someone else. But I had no choice. I had to lay it all bare in front of Fix-it and risk him painting me as a victim at best, or taking me for a maniac at worst.  

“Just…” I started, but had no idea what to say. I’m not one to really… you know, open up verbally. In the end, I’m always better at showing than telling, even in situations where I’d rather do neither. So there seemed little point in wasting time. If Fix-it was so bloody desperate for answers, he could find them written in my skin.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled the cowl off over my head.

I heard no reaction from him. I heard nothing at all, save for the thumping in my ears and that thick hum of an awkward silence. I put off opening my eyes for as long as I could stand to. Even just feeling his gaze on me was enough to drive me mad. But after another long, steadying breath, I opened my eyes. 

There was a ghost standing where Fix-it had been a second ago. He had gone white as a sheet, stiff with shock, one hand clasped over his mouth. His eyes were wide and glassy, and I just hoped to the Devs that he wouldn’t start crying. But I couldn’t get a good read on what he was taking away from the sight of me, and he just wouldn’t move. With every passing second, I became more and more anxious that all I’d done was prove myself a lunatic. If he didn’t do something, I was going to throw up.

When I tried to speak, to snap him out of it, I found my throat door locked once more. But I couldn’t sit in silence a moment longer. It took an unreasonable amount of effort to force words out, and even when I did, they were clipped and staggered. 

But I said to him, as clearly as I could, “I--... didn’t--... do this.”

Finally, his hand slowly fell from his face, and he took in a short breath that I almost thought he would hold forever, before exhaling, “Who… did this to you?”

I shook my head, wishing I had a real answer, and said, “I-- don’t know…”

I waited for another question, a response, anything, but he just fell silent again. There were gears turning in his head, and I couldn’t stand not knowing where they were going. Everything inside me screamed that they were going the wrong way. 

“I didn’t-- do this,” I restated, but when no response came, a heat rose in my belly and words boiled over. “I didn’t do this. This wasn’t me. I couldn’t have-- I didn’t want this. I didn’t do this to myself.”

There was a pause, and Fix-it might have spoken if I’d let that pause go any longer. Those few seconds of silence were enough to give the impression that he wasn’t listening to me, and that drove me right over the edge.

“You don’t--... This--...” I couldn’t breathe, again. “This wasn’t me! It wasn’t me! It wasn’t my fault! Stop-- Stop LOOKING at me like it was my fault! IT WASN’T! I DIDN’T DO THIS! IT WASN’T MY FAULT I DIDN’T DO IT THIS WASN’T ME IT WASN’T MY FAULT--!!”

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey,” Fix-it finally spoke up, albeit softly and cautiously. He slid closer, palms open, voice low, as if he were soothing some spooked animal -- kind of demeaning, but at least he was doing something. He sat in front of me again, his eyes wide in that painfully honest way, and took off his hat. “Mavis--”

I choked, “It wasn’t my fault.”

His hand moved to touch my shoulder, but he caught himself and drew it back.

“I believe you, Mavy.”

Part of me didn’t believe him. The rest of me wanted to take that sentence, curl over it in a hole somewhere, and sleep off this entire nightmare.

Fix-it didn’t ask me to leave again after that, and I didn’t try to go. We both silently agreed that I’d be staying the night, something I’d not done willingly in about four and a half years. He fixed my chest wounds, the bruises over my ribs, and the bump on my head. His hammer doesn’t exactly clean things, though, so he gave me a fresh towel and an extra pair of pajamas so I could shower while he threw my clothes in the wash. I wasn’t keen on wearing his fancy-pants rich boy pajamas, mostly because they belonged to him and that’s gross, but I welcomed the shower. I hadn’t bathed at all in a couple weeks.

I had no interest in seeing myself in the bathroom mirror, but it happened regardless. I still looked like a sick parody of myself, like some sullen, exhausted girl with greasy hair, caked almost head to toe in blood, dirt and sweat. Most of your name was still visible on my chest, but inverted, like clean lines scrubbed into a wall of dried blood. But there were lines on my face that were far more alarming -- streaks through the smeared blood on my cheeks, running down from my red, puffy eyes.

Apparently, I’d been crying.

I just hoped to the Devs that it hadn’t been for long.

[contentforthecrystal]

Romantic SkekMal headcanons

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous; hopefully this is what you were expecting. I might add more later when I rewatch the series.)

- Okay let’s be real skekmal isn’t romantic; he’s a coolblooded butcher who barely has a heart and has only truly been interested in slaughtering things and collecting them as trophies. You were almost met with the same fate when you came across him while trekking deep within a forest.

- You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, not noticing the sounds all around you although that isn’t exactly your fault; even if you were trying to listen for something you probably wouldn’t even hear him. All of a sudden you saw a streak colors and you were thrown to the floor; you scrambled, crawling backwards while looking at the attacker who loomed wickedly over you. You had heard stories of him; everyone had, but none of them compared to the real thing.

- His eyes ran over you; not Gelfling, Podling, definitely not Gruenak, so what then? Had he been hidden among the trees for so long that a new species was created right under his nose? He took a calculated step forward and you crawled back some more, nervous, afraid-no... terrified, oh how fun.

- You had pleaded then, hands shooting up, halting him even though he’d usually ignore such pathetic gestures. It was interesting hearing you speak, voice soft, a tremor running through your words. You had a family, like he cared? Did you really think that would stop him, the only thing stopping him was your intriguing appearance.

- It’s because you’re so interesting that he decides to “keep you”. You find yourself being dragged to your feet and hoisted over his shoulder as he makes his way back to his campsite. 

- You’re practically his trophy pet, a beautifully interesting capture of his that proves his excellence and skills. So basically you’re a prisoner kept locked away from the rest of the world and always in his line of sight to make sure you can’t escape. And for a while that’s all you are; that is until he begins to find you more and more attractive.

- He begins taking note of different qualities of yours he enjoys as well as the seemingly pointless yet endearing hobbies you’ve been able to keep up with while being with him. Soon enough he sees you as more of a companion then a trophy.

- He won’t outright make it clear that you’re now together but chances are he’s snuck in some Skeksis courting rituals while interacting with you; none of which you understand nor pay any mind to, so in his eyes since you hadn’t objected and just obliviously went along with them you are now his.

- Even though he doesn’t make your relationship clear he will get fiercely angry if you show interest in another or if he’s ever been around to see someone attempt to flirt with you. You’ve almost gotten a few people killed before you realized that SkekMal was trying to or had already been courting you without your knowledge.

- Chances are you were made fully aware of the predicament you were in because of his jealously. Someone had been flirting with you while you passed through a town with him which you were quite enjoying until Skekmal nearly tore their limbs from their body. When you rightfully got upset by his reaction and demanded an explanation for his behavior while he roughly dragged you away he had roared about all that he viewed as you accepting his courtship.

“YOU AGREED! YOU SLEPT IN THE BED! YOU USED THE DAGGER! YOU ARE MINE!” (I’m improvising, perhaps I’ll make a skeksis courting rituals headcanons later)

- You’re stunned into silence and he snaps his mouth shut as he studies your oddly quiet behavior, his head tilting to the side. He’s quite confused as to why you’re suddenly not attempting to yell at him.

“I’ve... I’ve agreed to be yours?” You all but whisper.

“...indeed.” And a silence falls over you two, fairly uncharacteristic for the violent creature before you.

- From then on you have a sort of unspoken relationship.

- He’s fairly temperamental; one moment he’s calm, might even tough you gently, nuzzle his face into your neck, the next he’s a flash of red hot anger or a swirl of confusion and mixed emotions, storming off and disappearing for hours.

- He gets aggravated without your presence. He never would have imagined that he would rely on another being in any way but whenever you’re gone he realizes just how much he genuinely craves your company or just being able to come back to you after hunting.

- You’re probably the one to introduce him to actual good tasting food, like homie survives on jerky and mud water 90% of the time so anything you make is delicious compared to his usual meals.

- Rough grips around your wrist, whether it be to bring you somewhere or pull you close to speak into your ear. His touch by nature is not gentle so really any time his hands are on you it’s going to be rough.

- He watches you while you sleep and once he knows you’ve fallen into a deep slumber he’ll sometimes stalks towards the bed and sit on the edge, inspecting you more closely. Occasionally he’ll drag his hands across your skin and marvel at the smoothness or curl up next to you listening to your breathing; not quite cuddling with you but not too far from you.

- Jealousy and possessiveness obviously, you’re his trophy, you’re his and his alone. Thra have mercy on anyone who dares even think about taking you away from him.

- He’ll often mark you to show his territory to others whether it be with a nip or scratch of his claws. Rumors spread and soon enough its well known that the Hunters “wife/husband” will have a certain mark on them. This also ensures you aren’t very welcome in any city if you ever try to run from him. 

- Of course you don’t look like a Skeksis so many are very confused as to why SkekMal has seemingly claimed you, particularly the other Skeksis when they find out. They can’t deny you’re interesting but they would never imagine courting something so “lowly”.

- Obviously he likes a good hunt so just try to run from him or storm off when you’re angry or fed up, it won’t take him long to find you again and when he does he’ll certainly be quite excited/amused. 

- Occasionally you’ll just play an innocent game of hide and seek just to “warm him up” when he’s about to go off on a serious hunt.

- You receive little trinkets or gifts often bones or weapons, things like that. He’s heard that you’re supposed to give your significant other gifts and even though he doesn’t quite understand the sentiment he gives it a try. He’s never around when you find the gifts  but you can be sure he’s watching you from somewhere you can’t see. 

- He gets a swell of pride he can’t exactly explain when he sees that you like said gift or finds it placed somewhere special.

- Sometimes he just picks you up and carries you under his arm when he feels like you’re moving too slow for his tastes or won’t comply with his decisions.

- Quiet campfires; he doesn’t speak very often unless you ask him something and even then he will sometimes not answer deciding to leave you guessing. Occasionally you’ll manage to get him to tell some of the stories of his hunts and you can watch him a bit nervously as he animatedly describes a fairly horrendous series of events that include gruesome murders.

-You have to have a tough stomach if you’re going to be around him, he’s a savage and gruesome killer. He finds no reason for you to be disgusted in seeing guts or entrails and he certainly wont understand why you’re acting so squeamish but if you are more weak hearted then he’ll make an effort not to turn up to your camp covered with or carrying somethings insides.

- Hes not great at accepting compliments that don’t pertain to his hunting skills, he’ll most likely tell you to keep quiet all the while his heart slowly begins to stir inside his chest.

- He’ll silently patch you up whenever you get hurt. It’s interesting seeing him so focused and quiet; no telling you how foolish you’ve been or anything, just his rough yet attempted gentle touch. 

- Hearing the incessant sharpening of his blades especially when he’s in a mood. Occasionally he’ll let you hold his weapons usually after some persuading on your side. His face softens while he observes you although you’re usually too focused on the blade in your hand to notice. If you’re lucky you’ll look up just in time to notice, if you ask him why he’s looking at you like that he’ll just shake his head and look away.

[obsidiancreates]

Youse Gonna Fit Right In

(Hey guys, remember my post about Yancy and the Random Encounters collab egos making an Acapella group?)

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

Yancy watched the other egos mill about in the living room. He kept to the doorway, not really willing to join in.

They were all so... so... he couldn’t find the words to describe them. He just knew he didn’t feel like he belonged.

He watched for a moment longer. Illinois was being interviewed by Wilford, casually telling stories of his adventures as Wilford overreacted to every word. Google and Bing were fighting, something about who could go for longer with too many tabs open and running? He could see Magnum running around outside, playing with Dark Chica. The Host was in the corner, facing where Yancy stood. Yancy felt a shiver run down his spine.

He turned and left. He would find somewhere else to hang out.

He wandered around the house for a bit, still not sure where everything was.

He knew the prison like the back of his hand. No, he knew it better. 

He didn’t like looking at his hands very much. Sometimes he could still see blood on them.

Somehow, he ended up descending a staircase to what he assumed was the basement. He hadn’t even been aware there was a basement...

Well, at least it would be quiet.

He paused a few steps from the bottom. Was that... singing?

“No phones, no screens, no more...”

Who the hell was singing? He didn’t think any of the other egos were interested in music.

He stepped down into the basement. 

There was a small living room, and three egos Yancy hadn’t met yet. 

Two of them sprung up, grabbing weapons. The one who had been singing, an ego with bright red hair and a security guard jacket, aimed some kind of flamethrower-chainsaw at him. The other one, who was just covered in dirt and what Yancy was pretty sure was blood, brandished a machete at him. 

The third stayed sitting, a cup of tea in his clawed hands. For some reason the cup had a face. Yancy tried to ignore the way it’s empty eyes stared at him.

“Who are you?” the red haired one demanded. “Were you sent by Fazbear’s? I’m not going back! I don’t want the freaking CEO job!”

Yancy put his hands up. “Whoa, no needs for those! Whose the hell is Fazbears?” 

The red haired ego relaxed. The dirty one did not. He got up closer to Yancy and looked him over. “Well, you’re not a monster,” he said, putting away his machete. He turned to the third one. “No offense.”

The third one tilted his head and grinned, the dim lighting glinting off of his horns and sharp teeth. “None taken.” He stood up, putting his teacup down on a little stand shaped like a body. The hands rested on the side of the cup, like it was a head.

It looked like it was screaming.

“So, care to tell us your name?” he asked, towering over Yancy by at least a foot. He wasn’t as tall as Magnum, but he was certainly taller than the majority of the egos. 

“Uh, Yancy. Whose are youse guys?”

The red haired one put his hand out. “Security Guard Mark. Or FNAF Musical Mark. Whatever you want. I’m uh, not exactly a canon ego. Don’t really have a real name.”

Yancy shook his hand. 

“Resident Enis Mark. Same boat as Security Guard, no real name.” He shrugged. 

“Devilplier. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Uh, nice to meet youse toos.”

“So... new ego, I’m guessing?” Security Guard said.

“Uh, yeah. Only been here... a month and a half? Somethin’ like that.”

“What brings you down to our little hellhole?” Devil asked, still grinning.

“Just lookin’ around.” Yancy shifted uncomfortably, trying to move away from the devil. “What are youse doin’ down here?”

“Were non-canon,” Resident Enis Mark said. “We don’t always live down here, we’ve got our own house. But Goop and Mask were summoning things.”

“... Who?”

“Goop and Mask. Some other non-canons. There’s a lot of us.”

“Oh. More! Good, I’m reals glad about that.” Yancy’s shoulders slumped.

“The canon guys a little much for you?”

“I just want to go back to prison.”

“Oh hey, Security almost got arrested once.”

“Almost?”

“They left the car unlocked.”

“... What’d you do?”

“I shot a guy thinking he was a killer animatronic. Put three rounds in his chest, he recovered perfectly! I still don’t understand it. What about-”

“Hey, why were youse singing?” Yancy said, cutting the other man off. He didn’t feel like talking about his own crimes. “I thought I was the only one here who liked doing that musical stuff.”

“FNAF musical, remember? All three of us are from musical collabs Mark did with another channel.”

“I had to deal with a sparkly singing vampire. With a kazoo.”

“I was from the Cuphead musical. Are you familiar with the game?”

Yancy’s eyes flicked to the teacup. Oh. “We didn’t have those in the clink.”

“Hmm. Shame.”

“Wait, you sing too?”

Yancy straightened up a little. “It’s my passion! I had a whole musical number and everything! And all my friends-”

Yancy stopped, his mood suddenly plummeting.

“... You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Jus’ missin’ home.” Yancy blinked back the tears and hoped they didn’t notice. “Uh, my friends were a part of my singing group. I just miss havin’ one, is all.”

Resident Enis Mark snarls. “They took you away from your friends to live here too? Jerks.”

“Yeah, they’re assholes.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“... Youse said jerks.”

“Oh. Right.” RE Mark sighed. “Random Encounters, the channel our videos are on, don’t curse. Every time we try, the word changes.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

“Eh, it’s fine. Most of the time.”

Devil puts a hand on Yancy’s shoulder. “You know... we could help out.”

“How?”

“We could be your new singing group, if you’d like.”

RE Mark and Security Guard looked at Devil. 

“Uh, what?”

“Come again?”

“Oh, come on boys. We’re the only musical egos here. Why not?” 

They all looked at each other for a bit. And then Security Guard shrugged. “I’m down. I miss having other people to sing with.”

RE Mark sighed. “Fine. But on a trial basis.”

They looked at Yancy.

Yancy looked at them.

They weren’t Jimmy the Pickle, or Bam-Bam, or Tiny, or Shithole Hank.

But they were the first people he’d met since he gotten to this place who he could actually relate to in some way.

“Eh, let’s give it a shot.”

[laurazepamwrites]

The Chemicals between us ~ Chapter 1

The numbers on the digital clock screen turned to 03:00 am. The watchpoint was silent save the few still functioning Domiciliary bots quietly moving through the corridors and the screech of some local wildlife far off in the distant. The world was dark and still and peaceful. No sane person would be awake at this hour.

She didn't feel sane.

It was that dream again. The suffocating nightmare that woke her up most nights thrashing and tearing off covers before finally leaving her huddled in a ball, dampened with cold sweat and whimpering. Mei’s breathing had finally slowed enough to a steady rhythm. Slowly and tentatively she sat up brushing her tousled hair out of her face. She wiped away the tears with her palms and took a deep breath. The only light in her small room came from the soft blue glow of Snowball the Droid silently charging nearby.

She had been in Gibraltar for 2 months, part of a skeleton crew in a forgotten watchpoint for a forgotten organization. She certainly had concerns of coming here, she still did. The Petras act made any overwatch activity illegal and its participants prosecuted. Mei was struggling to come to terms with her malfunctioned cryostasis and now had ten years of change in the world to catch up on. Seven months ago Winstons message had woken up the eco point, waking Mei up to a world that had abandoned and moved on without her. She threw herself into her work, there was years of data and information stored in the various ecopoints around the world. Not strictly working within Overwatch but still having to get permission from the UN to access the sites, this was made even more complicated by the fact she was declared dead. She had to work, if she stopped she would think, then dwell, then sink into despair. She had no family left, her sister had grieved and moved on with her life. Her mother had passed away whilst Mei slept and her own father no longer recognized her and murmured that his little Xiǎoxuě was gone as he rocked back and forth in his room in the nursing home.

So she had worked and travelled, occasionally checking in with Winston who urged her to always let him know where she was. She had put this down to guilt on his part as head of science in Overwatch. She had never confronted her feelings on blame. She buried them, donning her well known cheerful optimistic persona, and worked. It wasn't until her friend Dr Angela Ziegler had called her, telling her to look at a recent article in the news from Greece. A former Overwatch agent had been found murdered at their family home. Further research showed they were not the only former agents killed. She had angrilly called Winston demanding answers, now realizing why he needed to know where she was. She and other agents were potentially marked people. For all Mei knew she was walking around with a target painted on her. It was a long and an emotional call, Mei also learning that Commander Morrison and Captain Amari were both alive and moving against Talon.

Mei didn't want to be involved in a war. She joined Overwatch for scientific purposes, to better the world and preserve it for future generations. Now being an unassuming climatologist for Overwatch had potentially put a mark on her head. Now she was urged to go to Gibraltar where past agents answering the call could work against a terrorist organization and the looming threat of a second crisis brewing in Russia. New recruits had even been silently brought in based on merit and skill. The Mech fighter Hana song, newly recovered from injuries sustained whilst single handedly fighting omnics. Lúcio Correia dos Santos, a freedom fighter, revolutionary leader and musician. Aleksandra Zaryanova, Sergeant within the Russian defence forces and former Athlete. Brigitte Lindholm had come with Reinhardt and was a highly skilled armourer. Fareeha Amari had also travelled to Gibraltar and had stayed despite a heated argument with her Mother. Even two Omnics Zenyatta and Bastion had joined their ranks. All fighters, all skilled combatants. Mei was no soldier. She could barely call herself a fighter. She was a scientist and she felt useless here, cut off from the eco points and only so much data to work from.

Still, at least she was safe here. Wasn't she?

She looked at the clock, 03:55. It had taken her nearly an hour to settle after her nightmare. A few more hours and she would be in the morning briefing. She moved her hand along her bedside table feeling for the small lamp and turned it on, squinting slightly at the sudden light. She put on her glasses and picked up her tablet, absentmindedly scrolling through the latest news, a headline caught her eye of the two criminal Junkers who had apparently blown up a corporate building in Sydney, their whereabouts now unknown. She gave a soft ‘hmph!’ They had travelled the globe near as much as she had. How on earth had they not been apprehended yet?

‘How long before ‘you’ are apprehended?’ Her mind asked. She ignored the question and continued to scroll through headlines...An interview with LumeriCo CEO Guillermo Portero… Speculation on Dva’s ‘supposed’ dismissal from duty...Lucio’s cancelled tour...Tensions in Russia, a climbing death toll…murders….

Mei sighed. She was still emotionally charged and worrying news would not help her relax. She shivered slightly and pulled her cover back over herself, settling back into bed and began playing a silly game on the tablet. It wasn't long before she fell back into an uneasy sleep.

Jack Morrison walked into the 07:00 morning briefing and looked around the room. Winston was talking to Fareeha who stifled a yawn. To her left Lucio, Hana and Lena avidly spoke about a race around the watchpoint. Jack noted to maybe nip that in the bud before someone breaks their neck. Next to them was Mei, sitting quietly holding her tea in both hands, smiling politely when Angela sat down beside her. Torbjorn was sitting back in his chair, both hands folded on his stomach as he dozed, grumbling a curse as McCree used his prosthetic to light his match for his cigar then proceeded to put both feet up in from of him. Zarya gave him a distasteful look from across the table.

 ‘This isn't enough’ He thought to himself. A team of barely twenty people with very limited resources operating under the radar against a large, well funded, terrorist organization. And things were only getting worse. He cleared his throat and the chatter died down, eyes turning to him.

 ‘Good morning, as you know those not here are currently on assignment and will be due back soon. We are still pursuing leads in Iraq, Western Africa and Russia, however we need new intelligence before assigning any agents to the field there. I won't have anyone going in blind whilst we are this limited. Now, I called this meeting this morning because my sources have traced known Talon agents moving across Australia.’

Jack turned on the large projection in the centre of the rounded table bringing up a map of Australia and highlighting towns and cities of the sightings.

 ‘Now..we have a pattern. They are moving purposely, town to town. It's my belief that they are following these two…’ Jack brought up two photos of the Junkers Mei had read about much earlier that morning. ‘...If you are not aware who these two are, The one in the mask is Mako ‘Roadhog’ Ruthlege. Mercenary for hire and Killer. The other, possibly more dangerous one is Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes. Demolition and explosives expert. Both from the settlement called Junkertown in the Australian outback. After their little crime spree around the world both touched down In Adelaide. They've certainly been keeping quiet until totalling a building in Sydney. Since then they have been on the move, coincidently being in the same areas as Talon. Whether they have been hired by Talon or being followed I have yet to learn. But what I do know is either way I want them in. They Are too dangerous to let Talon have and if Talon do want them than I want to know why..yes Jesse?’

McCree had lazily raised his arm to speak. His gave his cigar a long drag before he spoke. ‘I know of these boys Jack, got a pretty bounty on their heads. Now they’ve slipped through every sheriff in every countries fingers. What makes you think we can find them?’

‘Genji is currently in Darwin northern Australia, he's been surveying theirs and Talons movements for over a week, he’s been using old contacts who are less than savoury but they had the information on where they may be. He’s sure he’s got a location down. A team will be on route tonight.’

Winston cleared his throat ‘Err..Commander Morrison? Surely If Talon wanted to hire them they would have approached them by now? It seems a great deal of effort to track them the length of the country. What could they possibly want from them?’

‘Maybe they want more firepower?’ Suggested Torbjorn.

‘No they got plenty o’ that’ said McCree, stubbing out his cigar on his prosthetic hand ‘I heard a rumor from an old Aussie bounty hunter looking for those two..he told me the kid supposedly found something in the Omnium ruins. Something valuable.

Zarya scoffed ‘Anything shiny is valuable to those scavengers. Its nothing’

‘Regardless,’ continued Jack ‘We get to them before Talon does. Myself, McCree, Winston and Lena will be leaving tonight. We’ll rendezvous with Genji at his location, find them and bring them here.’

‘Here?’ asked Fareeha in a worrying tone ‘Im sorry commander but is that a good idea? You want two criminals who take fun in destroying things..here?'

Zarya nodded in agreement. ‘They bad people, you bring them here this whole base blow sky high.’

‘We have a lot of valuable equipment and wouldn't our data be at risk if-’ Began Mei, until Hana thrust her arm in the air for attention.

‘Ooo ooo! Can I ask them about the Mech fights they have?’

Lucio laughed ‘They’re not here to hang Hana.’

‘Have you seen those things Lu? All spikes and flamethrowers and then there's the undefeated champion called Wrecking ball and no one knows what he-’

Winston coughed getting the young girls attention whilst pointedly looking at Jack who stood with a look on his face that suggested his patience was wearing very thin.

Hana gave an apologetic grin ‘Opps, sorry’ she whispered and settled back into her seat.

Jack sighed. The scars on his face taut as he frowned.

‘Talon wants them so I want them’ Said Jack with a steel stubbornness ‘They can choose to cooperate and come quietly or kick and scream, I don't care. What I do care about is knowing Talons next move. Once I get the information I want then I’ll toss them to the authorities. Any more questions?’

If there was no one spoke. Jack grunted.

‘Good. Those going we leave at 12:00 hours and with good time touching down at 22:00 hours, prepare yourselves and the Orca. Lena I want you to make sure stealth and auto modes are good for flight.’

Lena saluted ‘Aye aye!’

‘Everyone staying here, wait on your orders. Amari is due back tonight, should our mission in Australia be successful or not we will debrief on return, but for now you are all dismissed.'

The room began to empty slowly as Jack stayed behind, seemingly studying the holographic map in front of him. He glanced towards the door as the final person left, watching it shut completely. Once he knew he was alone he turned off the large projection and brought up a smaller screen in front of him. He types in a code, a small ping noise signalling granted access. Jack glanced at the door again, then proceeds to type on the interactive screen in front of him. He was contacting someone.

  :Are you sure they are at the location you gave me?

He typed He stared at the screen, waiting on a reply. Another glance toward the door. What felt like an eternity passed when finally a return message popped up on screen.

  :You know it's polite to say hello first?

Jack grunted, and swore under his breath. He was not in the mood for games.

  :Is the location correct? :……………

He waited.

 :I am offended you have to ask… :(

As Jack began to type a rather angry reply another message appeared on screen.

  :Location correct. Keep your Ninja on visual. Strike team moving tonight. Time unknown.

  :Why these two?

 :The Tank is disposable. They want Fawkes. I don't know why.

 :Anything else?

 :I give it two days before you try to kill him.

 :Anything important?

  :No, but do let me know why Talon wants him.Did I tell you no one wants to tell me anything here? I feel so left out and the big bosses are very angry after your cowboy got involved in the great train heist. Whatever he threw into the canyon was vital.

  :Just do your job. Both of them.

  :Oh how you two sound so alike.

 :I mean it. And be careful.

 :Im offended. You know one slip up and i'm dead? Dr Lucky charms will do the deed herself. Now she really doesn't like me.

 :Signing out

  :Wait!

  :What is it?

 :….You know it's polite to say goodbye!!

Jack signed out hoping it was as passive aggressive as it possible could be, deleting the message file as he had done for years and turned off the projection. He stood for a moment as if deep in thought before sighing deeply and walking to the door, letting it softly shut behind him.

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 1: The Reaping

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader 

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 4.6K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

What little shred of hope for survival you may have had, after hearing your name announced from the reaping, was immediately squashed minutes later by two simple words. “I volunteer”.

Volunteers from District 4 were not uncommon. There was a not-so-secret training complex the capitol turned a blind eye to, in a warehouse near the docks. During your time in school you knew of several kids who trained before and after classes. At the age of twelve some of them dropped out all together, with the sole purpose of training every waking second of the day so they could volunteer at eighteen. There was no need for an education if your only purpose in life was to compete in a death match that offered a lifetime of rewards to the winner.

After the misfortune of having your name drawn you looked around, silently begging for one of the girls to come up and replace you, only for no takers. But when Kim Namjoon eagerly announced his intentions of volunteering (the reaped twelve-year-old boy on stage immediately bursting into grateful tears and rushing back to his mother in the square) it was easy to understand why no one had stepped up this year. Back when you had attended school, before dropping out to assist your father on his fishing boat after your mother died, Namjoon had been in some of your classes –although he very rarely showed up. He was immensely popular with everyone; in part because of his handsome physique and model like dimples, partially because of his superior intelligence, but mostly because it was well known he was by far the leader from all the kids in training.

You had never attended a training session (more fool you for thinking you would never be unlucky enough to have your name drawn, and banking on one of the girls who did train to take your place if you did) but the center near the wharf was close to where your family’s boat — that functioned as both a fishing ship and your house — was docked. During the many occasions you had walked past, you sometimes stopped to peer through a crack in the doorway and watch. A majority of the times you had seen Namjoon inside amongst the group of around twenty regulars; working out with weights, sparring with an array of weapons, or climbing the rope attached to the ceiling that was surely 30 feet high with nothing but cement to drop back down to. The years of work had turned the dimpled twelve-year-old you once shared a math class with into a lethal killing machine. And now you were going to be stuck in an arena with you as one of his targets.

You stood frozen as Namjoon strode up on stage, a grin on his face, waving to the camera before shaking the hand of the capitol’s representative — a pastel blue haired woman by the name of Periwinkle Eveweather. You could tell Periwinkle much preferred Namjoon to you from the twinkle in her eye at how well he was playing up to the camera. There would be no need for her to have to force him to act like being slaughtered like an animal was an honor, like she would for you. The next moments passed far too quickly in a blur, being lead off stage to bid farewell to your families. As you sobbed in your father’s arms, an only child saying your last goodbye, Namjoon was getting a pat on the back from his older sister, a previous volunteer and victor. Shortly after you were ushered on board to the train where you now sat, Namjoon at your side and your mentor sitting across the table.

A small part of your brain found it difficult to take Finnick Odair as a mentor seriously given he was younger than you. But your rational side was quick to silence that judgment with a reminder that exact dismissal of his age was a major contributing factor to his win three years ago. The feeling of despair ate away at your insides as Finnick took an immediate liking to Namjoon. You couldn’t blame him for it, Namjoon was by far the more likely of the two of you to survive, so it only made sense for him to put more attention on the candidate with the best chance, but it still made you feel awful none the less.

“And what about you YN?”

You jumped feeling Namjoon’s hand tapping your leg softly under the table, his head wordlessly nodding in Finnick’s direction without making any eye contact to you. You had become so distracted by the mug of tea in a decorative porcelain cup in your hands, you failed to recognize your mentor’s piercing sea green eyes were now focused on you.

“Sorry, what about my what?” you mumbled dumbly, feeling incredibly insecure at Finnick’s sigh.

“Your skills, what do you bring to the games?”

Well that explained why you had tuned out, there was no need for you to listen to Namjoon describing all the potential ways he was going to kill you within a week or so. And there were a hell of a lot of ways.

“I don’t know really, I’m not someone who’s trained like Namjoon,” you paused to think, pretending not to notice Namjoon’s smug smirk in the corner of your peripheral vision as Finnick frowned slightly.

“Neither was I, and that caused a lot of the careers to underestimate me,” Finnick replied, shooting Namjoon a pointed look which caused his smirk to disappear. You tried not to smile at that, settling instead for relaxing slightly into your seat.

“I can fish, so depending on the arena I can potentially find food, but more importantly I know my way around with a knife,” you declared, feeling a little more confident. The hopeless despair was still overwhelming but the least you could do for yourself, and your father, was to go out with honor.

“Very good,” Finnick nodded “don’t underestimate your face either.”

“My face?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “How am I supposed to kill anyone with that?”

Finnick sighed, leaning further back into the lounge he was occupying on his own, pinching the bridge of his nose on his handsome face in exasperation.

“Both of you listen, this is potentially more important than all of those little training sessions or fishing catches the both of you have ever made combined. You’re clearly genetically blessed to continue District 4’s reputation of having the most beautiful tributes, you in particular” He paused to lazily point in your direction. “If you actually want to win the games, you want the people of the capitol to adore you. And they’re a city of shallow cunts,” another pause to shoot a charming smile in Periwinkle’s direction “no offense”.

“Offense taken!” Periwinkle gasped indignantly but Finnick was already speaking over her without a care.

“And as shallow cunts what these people love, more than anything in their pathetic little vapid lives, is beauty. You,” a point to Namjoon, “have been training your whole life for this and will have a body to represent that. Show it off. They love flair, they love confidence, they love a show. Flex those biceps for them, they’ll go mad. Flash your abs and they’ll fall in love. And work those dimples, cause these suckers sure worked for me, got me a trident,” Finnick grinned to show off his smile and twin indents on each corner of his mouth, Namjoon mirrored the gesture and you felt your heart clench at how easily he seemed to turn on his charm. Tall, well built and handsome, he was just as gorgeous as Finnick. Too bad he was very likely about to be the literal death of you.

“And you,” Finnick turned his attention to your direction and you felt Namjoon’s eyes burning into you from the side “you’ll be the prettiest thing they’ve seen in years, possibly in the history of the games”

Your face flushed at the comment, even though you knew it wasn’t intended as a compliment. There was no point in sweet little lies to butter you up and the fact of the matter was you knew you had an aesthetically pleasing face. Your facial features were in perfect balance, skin clear, thick hair that fell to the middle of your back and eyes that you had been told sparkled like stars in the night.

“They’ll love that shit,” his finger lazily circled around pointing to your cheeks that were flushed in embarrassment at his candid assessment of your appearance.

“These people are so used to artificial, that something so beautiful and pure will be coveted like the fattest diamond they could possibly hang from their necks. You ever fucked a guy, sweetheart?”

“Excuse me?” you balked at the invasive question, earning a sharp laugh out of Namjoon, a scandalized shriek from Periwinkle, and an eye roll from Finnick.

“I’ll take that for a yes and don’t worry I’m not interested. The capitol thrives on corruption, greed, and a need to claim rare treasures for their own. Put an innocent little dove like you, with a face like yours, in front of them and they’ll go insane. Act right at the parade and in your interviews and you’ll have sponsors gifting you everything you could ever need in that arena”.

You sat wide eyed not even knowing how to respond. You didn’t bother with arguing over the status of your supposed virginity because whether it was true or not didn’t actually matter, it was all about the perception. If getting dolled up and fluttering your eyelashes could potentially result in a knife being dropped from the sky in the arena, you could suck it up and give these disgusting people what they wanted.

X

The train ride to the capitol took just under three days in total. During that time Finnick and Namjoon spent a lot of time together, which you weren’t surprised with in the least. It was only natural to favor the tribute with the better odds, as much as Finnick’s little speech on the first day tried to make you think you could have a chance. Finnick still made some time for you though, which was mostly spent on guiding you how to attract sponsors. You spent a majority of the time in your room, a lot of it crying, most of it sleeping, and some of it playing around with technologies you had never had access to before in your life. The only time you really saw Namjoon was during breakfast and dinner where you ate together with Finnick to discuss district strategy. You weren’t surprised at all by Namjoon’s plan to join the career pack, but you were slightly surprised when he spoke of you as a part of that plan. You were a little annoyed he didn’t even think to ask your opinion, but logically speaking it’s not like you had any option. It was either join them or make yourself an easy target. Plus, any alliance with Namjoon reduced your need to have kill any other tributes personally. The only thing now was to hope districts 1 and 2 were as receptive to the idea as you were.

When you arrived at the capitol you were immediately ushered into a clinic that was like a fusion between a spa and a hospital. You were stripped, examined, and assessed by a doctor before being dressed in a paper thin hospital gown. After a painful injection (“that’s your tracker dear, so the capitol can monitor you in the arena”) you were passed over to the beauty department who scrubbed, exfoliated, waxed, showered, moisturized, treated, conditioned and polished your entire body from head to toe. But at the end when you were standing before a mirror, you could see the results were worth it.

As Finnick had stated, you were already beautiful to start with, but it was like taking an uncut gem and polishing the stone to make it shine. Your hair was a couple of inches shorter with all the damage from years of saltwater being trimmed off. A treatment of conditioners you couldn’t care to remember had tamed your thick locks into smooth waves that had been layered to frame your face and flow prettily down your back. Whatever impurities that existed on your skin before had been entirely lasered away, and your whole complexion was now soft and glowing. Your eyebrows had been plucked into identical manicured arches and some sort of needled gun had permanently filled them in. A gel had been applied to your lips to boost their plumpness, without overly inflating them or drastically changing their shape, giving your mouth a cherubic quality. Staring at your reflection you raised a perfectly manicured finger to poke at your cheek, feeling the new silky smoothness beneath your fingertip, watching as your mirror image copied the action. It was surreal. You recognized the person in front of you as yourself, all of your features were still the same, but just somehow perfected?

You mostly ignored the gushing of your newly assigned stylist team — a set of triplets named Ruby, Garnet and Quartz — as they picked out garments, stretched measuring tape across and around your body and argued over what colors would bring out your eyes the best. They were sweet and well meaning with their compliments, but the growing nerves over being prepped for the chariot parade in a few hours made you unreceptive.

The concept they eventually decided on for your fishing district was ‘Rulers of the Sea’ and you were dressed in a Grecian inspired gown. The iridescent blue and green material, that sparkled like the sun reflecting off the ocean, was clasped at the top of your left shoulder with a silver broach in the shape of a starfish. Intricate embroidery was patterned around around the waist where the fabric was cinched tightly to create an overly enhanced hourglass silhouette. The bottom half flowed to your sandal clad feet and seemed to sway with the slightest of moments, a split on the right ran to the middle part of your thigh. Your eyes were a smoky combination of the colors from your dress, lashes coated in extensions and a layer of mascara to give you a seductive yet doe eyed appearance. There was a strange dichotomy in your styling where they were attempting to preserve your ‘natural’ and ‘innocent’ traits whilst simultaneously taking full advantage of the fact you were eighteen in order to market sex appeal.

Your favorite part (that you hated to admit even liking given the circumstance you were even in) was your hair. A section from each side had been pulled away and pinned at the back in a princess style, with numerous tiny clips of glowing sea shells and starfish holding it in place. Glittery extensions had been clipped in tastefully creating an appearance as if your hair was literally shining. This was then finished off by an ornate tiara placed on the top of your head.

By the time you were finished your stylists were practically in tears, fawning over you and calling you’re their greatest masterpiece. They mistook your eyes watering as pride in their work and not disgust at their pride in dressing a cow off before sending it to the slaughterhouse.

“No dear, you can’t cry and ruin all that make up we just spent so much time perfecting” Ruby chided, dabbing at your eyes with a tissue as Quartz and Garnet guided you out the door and into the small vehicle which was about to take you from the clinic to the parade. You didn’t dignify her with a response, merely grabbing the tissue from her hand as you were forced into the car. As soon as you were inside the car sped off, arriving at the destination very shortly after. From behind your tinted windows you could see horses being lead to empty chariots and your first sight of the other tributes, the people you were either going to have to kill or be killed by.

When the car stopped, Finnick was the one to open your door and offer you a hand to get out, which you accepted. As you stood up he appraisingly ran his eyes over all the details of your make-over, before nodding his approval.

“They did well,” he stated and you nodded your head in passive agreement as he dropped your hand to press his to the small of your back and guide you towards your chariot. Namjoon was already there, dressed in his own Grecian toga of the same fabric with a crown on the top of his newly styled hair. Sensing your arrival, he turned to look at you. Namjoon’s eyes widened comically before quickly composing his features almost as instantly as he had reacted. “Very well,” Finnick whispered, and you allowed an amused puff of air out.

“Your chariot awaits my dear,” Finnick said with a mock bow as he nudged you towards Namjoon, who extended his arm for you to hold on to. Not sure what else to do, you placed your hand delicately on his forearm, his other hand then coming to rest over the top. For a brief moment as Namjoon guided you both into the chariot, you could almost imagine you were a princess being taken to a ball by a handsome prince, but any such delusions were ruined by what Namjoon whispered next.

“It’s such a shame there can only be one winner, you really look good by my side.”

Your jaw clenched and you moved to rip your hand off his arm but his grip over yours instantly tightened with a laugh, as if expecting that exact reaction.

“Calm down princess, I don’t plan on killing your pretty little face for a while yet.”

You looked up at him like he was insane as the chariot began to move forward. He thought your reaction was from fear he was going to kill you now? And not that he perceived your life as only having value from being pretty enough for him? You were furious and about to rip into him before you heard the approaching roar of the crowd ahead at the end of the tunnel. Namjoon was oblivious to your rage, a perfectly poised smile, flexing his dimples that Finnick would be proud of, already painted on his face. You paused, for all you knew that could be an attempt to psych you out before facing the crowds, potentially losing you sponsor opportunities. Turning away from Namjoon, you took a deep breath to try and compose yourself. You plastered the docile soft-smiled wide eyed expression on your face that you had practiced with Finnick on the train, as your carriage emerged form the tunnel and onto the road lined with screaming spectators.

The entire parade was a blur of flashing lights, fireworks, thunderous cheering and echoes from the microphone that distorted whatever message the president greeted you with. By the time your chariot returned to the tunnel your mind was entirely blank but with the satisfied nod from Finnick as he waited to welcome you both back, you knew you had done well.

“If District 2 is anything to go by then you’ve won yourself a lot of admirers tonight” Finnick practically sang as he helped you down. Confused by his words you turned around looking for the other district to see the duo from two, the carriage over from yours. Dressed in gladiator styled garments, that was common from them every year, the girl was fiddling with a ruby dagger (you hoped was just a prop) whilst the boy was staring straight at you. ‘Boy’ was the wrong word to describe him, as he definitely had to have been the same age as you, if anything he looked slightly more mature than the legal age to even be here. He was tall, though not as tall as Namjoon, and lithe. Beneath a decorative breastplate you could see his sun kissed golden skin adorned with the toned definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. His face was incredibly handsome, by far the most handsome of any of the male tributes. Rich copper hair had been styled to frame his aristocratic features; a high bridged pointed nose, high cheekbones, sharp jawline and rich dark chocolate brown eyes that were intently focused on you.

“Speaking to other tributes before training is technically not allowed, but it’s enforced the same way as your training centers are, so not at all. You’ve got five minutes until those cars arrive to take you to the living quarters, go talk to the careers and work out an alliance,” You broke the eye contact to look at Finnick as he spoke, clearly having witnessed your little interaction.

Namjoon took the lead, confidently stepping off the carriage with a winning smile and striding towards the pair from two. With a sigh you hitched up the long material of your dress and followed behind him. You could still feel the male’s eyes burning into your skull as you looked across to notice the pair from District 1 also making their way over — their own mentor likely having given them the same advice as your own.

“I’m Namjoon and this is YN,” you weren’t particularly pleased by Namjoon deciding to speak on your behalf, but chose to roll your eyes behind him rather than interrupting. “We’re interested in continuing a long standing tradition of successful career pack alliances. I assume from you joining us over here, that you are as well.”

“I would typically say that to assume only makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’, but in this instance you are correct,” the other male from District 1 spoke. You tried to stifle a laugh, but the warning glare Namjoon shot you from the corner of his eye told you that it wasn’t successful. You merely smiled back and blinked innocently with a shrug.

“My name’s Yoongi, and an alliance would be in all of our best interests.” He was shorter than Namjoon and District 2, only an inch or two taller than yourself, but somehow still just as intimidating. His pale skin was contrasted by pitch black hair and sharp coal like eyes that were openly assessing the group of you.

“Krystal,” his district mate offered by means of introduction, and you wondered if the two were siblings. She shared his light complexion, dark eyes and her sleek midnight hair was dead straight down past her waist. Both were dressed in black, their outfits embodying the luxury their district was known for; Yoongi in a tailored suit with subtle embroidery detail, Krystal in an elegant fitted gown made of the same fabric, both topped off with luxurious fur capes draped over their shoulders.

“I’m Athena and he’s Hoseok,” the girl from two spoke. She appeared to be the same height as Yoongi but you noticed a heel on her sandals giving her an extra few inches. You couldn’t bring yourself to look across to Hoseok, knowing his gaze still hadn’t broken since staring at you from the carriage.

“Is that real?” you asked, gesturing towards the dagger Athena had been playing with before that was now held limply in her right hand.

“Why don’t we find out,” she replied with a smirk, instantly flipping the dagger in her hands to point the tip between your eyes.

“Athena!” Hoseok hissed dangerously, slapping the dagger from her hands and cause it to fall onto the ground below. The lack of metallic ‘clang’ revealing it as fake.

“Calm down, it was a joke!” Athena snapped back, reaching down to pick it back up, whilst shaking her head in annoyance. Before you could assure her it was fine, Hoseok stepped forward to present you with his own version of the prop. Reaching out he grabbed your wrist to place the ‘dagger’ in your hand.

“See, the material is just a type of fiber that gives the illusion of metal, but is really not hard at all.” Gently he ran the blade along your palm, and true to his word there was no edge at all. But the image still looked real and seeing a blade dancing across your skin, knowing someone was going to try to kill you with a real one very soon, made you feel ill. Sensing your discomfort from the trembling hand, Hoseok immediately pocketed the knife, but still maintained his hold on your wrist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, angel,” he spoke softly and you frantically looked to the others to see if they could hear him. Namjoon who was the closest merely looked amused, Athena was showing Yoongi the fake dagger, whilst Krystal had her eyebrow raised in your direction.

“I hope not,” you awkwardly tried to joke, pulling your wrist slightly to subtly try and break the hold, but he only tightened his grip forcing you to look up and back into his eyes again. His gaze from a distance had already been intense but up close it was heart stopping. There was a passion in his eyes you had never seen before in your life and it was solely focused entirely on you. It was frightening, you couldn’t imagine what you had possibly done to warrant being on the receiving end of something so intense. You tilted your head down and away from the others, humiliated over being so easily intimidated. If an attractive man holding your wrist and making eye contact with you was all it took to fluster you, you may as well just sign your own death certificate now.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, dropping your wrist to place his finger on your chin and raise your head back upwards, though you kept your eyes lowered, staring at his jawline to avoid direct eye contact again.

“I’m promise I won’t hurt you, love. Not now, not ever.”

You were about to ask him how he could possibly say something like that given you were about to become direct competitors in a battle to the death, when a sharp whistle stole your attention. Snapping your head to the side you saw Finnick jerk his head, indicating for you and Namjoon to return. You exhaled in relief, grateful for the reprieve.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Namjoon said to the group, moving next to you and causing Hoseok to pull his hand away. You nodded to show your agreement with Namjoon whilst making eye contact with the other three you barely had a chance to speak to. You hoped they didn’t think that you were somehow forming something just with Hoseok based on his actions. You were going to need all the help you possibly could get if you wanted a chance to survive.

“Tomorrow,” Krystal agreed, making proper eye contact with you for the first time. She was smaller in height than you, thinner too, but somehow carried a cold and intimidating aura. You offered her a polite smile in return and a nod, relieved when she nodded back, before you returned to Finnick with Namjoon.

“How did it go? Looked pretty good” Finnick asked just as the capitol vehicle pulled up to take you to the tribute quarters.

“It seems our little dove here won’t just have the capitol for an admirer,” Namjoon smirked, getting into the car.

“So I saw,” Finnick muttered as a reply to Namjoon’s back, then turned to face you.

“Don’t let him psych you out,” he said, stepping aside so you could follow Namjoon into the vehicle.

You glanced at Namjoon before turning back to see Hoseok standing by his car but staring directly at you again. His eyes were still radiating the same intense passion from moments ago, you had no idea what to make of it.

“Who?” you whispered back to Finnick, ducking your head as you stepped inside. Finnick moved to shut the door.

“Both of them”

This is basically an introductory chapter to gauge reception. Future updates should be longer. I have the whole fic plotted and the outline itself is 5.9K words and this chapter was only based on the first paragraph. The next update will focus on the training sessions/interview with Caesar and the update after should be the one where they actually enter the arena.

Feedback is much loved, but please avoid asking for updates. I don’t have a schedule but I do have crippling depression so I write when the motivation hits lol

[rosy-night-sky]

Of Treasure and Adventure

Genre: Treasure Hunter/Indiana Jones AU

Pairing: Ot7 x reader

Summary: Your grandmother gave you a gift that she won in a game, so naturally you are curious as to the origins of it. A decision was then made that you should seek the answers to your questions. However, you never expected your decision to lead you on a treasure hunting quest.

Warnings: Violent and suggestive themes

Tag List: @sevenincubistolemyheart @xxqueenwxtchxx @technicolor-blues @taevkimchi @youcantbesiriusremus @vannilacake @baby-hobii @catsandstrawberries

Chapter 6

You seriously considered going into therapy after this whole fiasco. Gunshots rang throughout the stone room and nearly shattered your eardrums. Each shot was even louder than the last, making you constantly flinch repeatedly as you tried to make yourself smaller behind the tree you and Jungkook hid behind. The colt Jungkook gave you laid unused at your side as you curled up into a ball, wanting all of this to desperately stop.

Why the bloody hell were people trying to kill you?! You thought  this was going to just a simple expedition with the worst being killer crocodiles and the occasional mugger, not a whole pack of men sent from bloody wherever they came from just to kill you!

Jungkook pulled himself down with a sharp curse hissing through his mouth. A few bullets skidded by in between the two of you, chipping off bits of wood and bark to shower upon you. You yelped squeakily hearing the sound of wood splintering and cracking and feeling the sensation of shards of pelt your face, torso, and arms.

Jungkook held the shotgun against his chest, once in awhile peering over the tree to get a better view of the enemy. After he heard your shriek, his jerked his eyes to you frantically, worried that a stray bullet might have injured you. However, once he noticed your terrified form and the untouched colt on the ground, his concern was instantly replaced by the furrowing of his eyebrows bemusedly. “Why aren’t you shooting?!” he demanded, shouting over the sound of enemy fire.

You brought your horrified gaze to his and looked at him as if he suddenly grew two heads. “I’ve never shot a gun before!!!” you screamed, your voice cracking under panicked strain. “And you want me to fucking murder people?!” You couldn’t believe how serious he was. Did he really expect you to just suddenly pick up a gun and start filling people with bullets?

He scooped up the gun quickly from the floor and roughly pushed it into your shaky hand, careless about the fact that you were ready to piss yourself. “You’re not murdering them if it’s self-defense!” he pointed out, pausing to pop up and shoot a round at the attacker. “And you’re a photographer! It’s just like using a camera! You just aim and shoot!”

You stared at him with wide eyes in wild disbelief. He really was daft, wasn’t he? “This is nothing like shooting a fucking camera!!!” you cried, ready to start pulling out your hair in frustration and panic. You screamed once more when an enemy bullet embedded itself in the wall in front of you, causing chunks of rocks and dust to pour upon you.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung called from his spot with some of the others. “We could use some back up over here!”

Jungkook fired once more before crouching down next to you. He grabbed his pack lying on the ground and rummaged through it before pulling out a Thompson sub machine gun. Your eyes widened so large it looked as if your eyes were bulging from their sockets. Your jaw dropped unceremoniously at the sight of the large gun. “You have a bloody Tommy gun?!” How the fuck did that fit in his pack?

Jungkook ignored you and loaded the shotgun with a few more cartridges before standing back up. “Tae!” He tossed the shotgun carefully but yet forcefully across the room. You assumed Taehyung caught the gun because right away you could heard the sound of gunshots blasting into your ears.

“Just how many of these guys are there?” you wondered out loud, more to yourself than the boy sitting next to you. You just assumed that there was the one man, but now it sounded like there were multiple people trying to kill you and the rest of the team.

Jungkook quickly clicked the magazine into place before giving you a judging look. “If you got up and started shooting, you could find out,” he jeered, his tone light as if he said the most obvious thing in the world. He then got back up and shot repeatedly at the enemy.

Like hell you were going to pick up that gun. You wanted to know if there was a way you could perhaps make a run for it? However, you figured that the moment you poked your head from your hiding place you would get a bullet right between your eyes. Maybe you should just leave all of this to Jungkook? This was his job, after all. He was meant to keep you safe.

You slammed your eyes shut and covered your ears with your hands, blocking out the chaos. You just wanted all of this to go away, to stop. You hoped that this was all a very horrible nightmare, that you could just wake up and forget everything. This just couldn’t be real. Why would anyone want to hurt you? It wasn’t like this was private property; you weren’t trespassing. Certainly it wasn’t the police. So who was it?

You snapped from you thoughts when you felt something hit your foot. As your eyes flew open, you looked down to see what touched you. At first, you guessed it was a rock or some chunks of wood, but, no, it was far worse. You saw a grenade roll casually on the floor like a child’s ball without the pin. Your stomach lurched to your throat as all the air in your lungs disappeared.

 Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Your instincts took over in that moment. All reason and caution was thrown into the wind like a paper bag as you dove for the explosive. When you gripped the cold metal tightly in your hand, you shot up and leaned over the fallen tree, completely forgetting the possibility of getting shot. Your free hand landed on Jungkook’s shoulder as you sped forward and yanked him back as you chucked the grenade with all your might. “GRENADE!!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs as the explosive in question soared through the air.

While the grenade flew ahead of you, you fully grabbed a hold of Jungkook and wrenched him down to take cover from the explosion. You hoped that wherever you threw the grenade wasn’t in close proximity to any of the other members, but all you could do was wait fearfully for the inevitable while clinging to Jungkook tightly.

As you expected, a loud combustion exploded a few meters from you, shaking the room from the shock waves and causing dirt and dust to spray both you and Jungkook. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as if it was ready to burst. A group of shrill screams rang throughout the room, and you feared for a moment that your teammates were caught in the crossfire.

However, your fears dissipated when you heard Jimin call out, “Nice one, y/n!” Relief washed over you. Thank God, you must’ve thrown it in the general area of the attackers.

You turned your gaze to meet Jungkook’s round eyes. You held his gaze for a few moments, staring deeply into the soft expression swimming around in his eyes. Then they twinkled with amusement as he pulled away back against the tree. “Oh, sure, you can pick up an explosive ready to go off, but you can’t even pick up a gun?” he taunted, his lips spreading out into a broad grin.

You would’ve snapped back a retort, but your attention was snapped from him by a series of gunshots. You flinched once more as you dove back into your previous. Damn, you thought the grenade would’ve gotten most of them, but that didn’t seem to be the case unfortunately.

Your eyes wandered slowly back to the colt lying undisturbed on the ground. He did have a point. You just held a grenade in the palm of your hand just seconds prior. You could’ve died just as easily as you would shooting a gun. Besides, even if Jungkook was the muscle of the team, you couldn’t just sit by and risk his life protecting you. You needed to pull your own weight.

Scooping the gun off the ground, you popped up from your hiding position along with Jungkook and took aim at anyone who you didn’t recognize. You quickly noticed that the grenade you threw back destroyed the pedestal in the center along with a crater with bodies slumped around it. Huh, you supposed you really did good.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement from a man wearing all black hiding back a pile of debris. His shoulder peeled out enough for you to maybe get a kill. You aimed at his shoulder and released the safety before pulling the trigger. The gunshot was a lot louder than you expected, and the shock from the kickback ran up your arms. You felt a sharp pain blossom from your injured arm, and a groan escaped your lips as you gritted your teeth.

You saw that your bullet made its mark, but it unfortunately only injured him. You pulled down as you heard him cry out loudly in pain. You hoped that you would’ve been able to kill him, but this was the first time you ever shot a gun. You didn’t expect to suddenly become a professional gunslinger.

 “Not bad,” Jungkook commented as he downed two men. He pulled down just as a series of bullets embedded themselves in the wall just behind him. “Your stance is much to be desired though.”

You scowled deeply, an irritated snort leaving your lips. “I don’t think I have time for a lesson,” you bit back, peering over the tree to see if anyone was open.

“Weren’t you crying on the ground a few minutes ago? Where did this attitude come from?” he chuckled teasingly, unloading another round at a few more men.

 You opened your mouth to retort but was interrupted when you saw someone scurry to your side frantically. You shrieked and instantly aimed your colt at the intruder. However, you relaxed when you saw it was merely Hoseok, staring at you with wide eyes with his hands raised in the air in surrender.

“Hey! Hey! Whoa! It’s just me!” Hoseok babbled, panting erratically from fear.

You lowered you gun, willing yourself to calm your rapidly beating heart. “Hobi, are you alright?” you asked, looking him over for any injuries.

Hoseok collapsed at your side, hand hovering over where his heart was. His eyes fluttered shut as he focused on returning his breathing back to a normal pace. “That first bullet got Namjoon,” he revealed, causing your heart to nearly stop. “Hit him right in the shoulder. Tore some muscle tissue. He’s damn lucky the bullet didn’t hit his subclavian artery. His chances of living would be a whole lot different if it did.”

“Is he going to survive?” you asked desperately. Your throat stung with the whirlwind of emotions than coursed within you. You don’t know what you’d do if the historian died. You’ve grown very close to him, and he obviously thought very well of you.

You noticed that one of the sleeves on Hoseok’s shirt was torn off. He must’ve made a makeshift arm sling for Namjoon. The doctor released a drawn out breath. “His chances of living are looking good so far.” He wiped the cold sweat that collected on his brow. “I don’t know how I was able to get the bullet out. I’m not used to preforming emergency surgeries with gunfire going on around me.”

You released an airy laugh verging on the brink of sounding hysterical. “Oh, Hobi, you’re a godsend.” You wrapped your arms around his sweaty and sticky torso. You almost cried tears of relief hearing that Namjoon was most likely going to survive.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He pulled away, jerkily looking around as if paranoid that an enemy would pop out of nowhere. “Thank me when we get out of here. I guess you and Kookie are holding up pretty well here?”

You nodded distractedly, noticing one of the men in black making his way toward you and Hoseok. With a determined look flashing over your features, you raised your gun and filled his chest with a number of bullets. The man convulsed for a moment before dropping down dead. Hoseok yelped loudly when you shot past him, covering his ears to block the loud noises.

“Yeah, we’re doing pretty jolly good here, I think,” you answered nonchalantly, ignoring the shocked expression that painted the doctor’s face.

“Shit!” Jungkook cursed, pulling you and him down as bullets blazed last you all. He gritted his teeth in frustration. “These guys never end! We’re holed up like rats in here!”

“There’s no way we could blast our way through?” you demanded, keeping your head low to avoid exposing yourself.

Jungkook shook his head furiously. “Not in here. Those guys are camping in the other room where our only exit is. Even if we managed to power our way through, the cave provides no cover for us. We’ll be slaughtered like dogs if we get caught in there,” he responded, glancing over every once and awhile.

“There’s got to be another way out!” Hoseok exclaimed, his breathing returning to an erratic pattern. “Our ancestors must’ve gotten out of here somehow!”

You looked at the walls frantically, your head jerking around in search. “A hidden door, maybe! There’s got to be an exit somewhere!” you shouted.

“If there’s a hidden door around here, it would’ve revealed itself already!” Jungkook argued, ripping off the empty magazine and snapping another on aggressively.

Hoseok began hyperventilating next to you. “Oh my God... we’re gonna die down here,” he sobbed, fingers gripping his hair so tightly his knuckles turned paper white.

You grabbed the doctor by the shoulders and yanked him forward so the only thing he could see was your frustrated face. Your steadfast gaze bore into his alarmed eyes, his eyes flickering around searching your face. “Hoseok, calm down,” you instructed, feeling his breathing fan your face. “We’re going to be fine. We can’t have our doctor on the verge of a meltdown, okay? You can’t help anyone if you’re in the middle of breakdown.”

He nodded almost violently, swallowing a lump that was seemingly caught in his throat. “Okay,” he croaked quietly. “I’ll be fine...”

You nodded affirmatively and searched the room once more, looking for anything that could aid you. Anything would do at this point. Finally, your wandering eyes landed on the one thing that could be the possible door to salvation. The hole in the ceiling... it’s definitely large enough for all of you to climb through. That had to be the way out.

“Jungkook!” you gasped, hitting his forearm to gain his attention. Once he turned his focus to you, you jabbed a finger wildly at the hole in the ceiling. “We could get out through there!”

Jungkook followed where your finger was pointing and shook his head in disagreement. “No way, we’ll get shot down before we climb up there!” he protested, shooting a few more men before continuing, “If you know a way to buy us a little time to get through, then that’d be our best shot.”

Bollocks, now you needed to figure out a way to distract the men long enough to get everyone through the hole. You peered over the tree to explore the room once more, searching the doorway that Taehyung blew up for any weakness that could be exploited.

Wait...

Taehyung...

That’s it!

“Tae!” you screeched across the room, locating the demolition expert hiding behind another tree.

He unloaded his shotgun into another man, blood and flesh spraying forth from his body. Hearing your call, he momentarily looked in your direction before refocusing on the men pouring in. “What is it?!” he yelled back, blowing another man’s head clean off.

“The doorway! Make the doorway cave in!” you shouted, pointing at the hole in the wall where the gunmen were pouring in.

His eyes snapped to the doorway and puzzled together what you were insinuating. Once everything clicked in his mind, he grinned broadly and flashed you his smile. “Y/n, you’re a genius!” He retreated back to where the other boys hid, shooting with their own pistols they had in their packs. He shoved his shot gun into Jimin’s arms, who didn’t hesitate to take it and begin filling some bodies with bullets.

Taehyung scoured through his pack frenziedly, as if he were a wild animal. As he did so, you blasted anyone that you knew you could certainly kill. The shock that ran up your arms from the kickbacks caused your injuried arm to throb with pain, but all you could do was bite back the pain and continue shooting. Your life was on the line here. You couldn’t afford to stop.

Taehyung, with a triumphant shout, pulled out another grenade from his pack. You noticed, however, that this appeared to be rather different from the one you chucked earlier. Somehow, it looked more deadly than yours, although you couldn’t place a finger as to why.

He ripped the pin from the explosive and hurled it toward the doorway. It bounced around the fumbled scattered around it before settling down in a crevice. “Everyone get down!!!” Taehyung roared before diving down behind cover.

Everyone did as he said and took cover wherever they could. The explosion was almost immediate. It shook the room more violently than before, and more chunks of rock and dirt poured down upon you. You heard the sound of rock collapsing on top of each other along with the shouts and cries of enemy retreating or getting buried under the rubble. For a mere moment, you feared the whole room would cave in on you.

Luck seemed to be on your side. As only the doorway collapsed upon itself, cutting you and the team from the intruders. Well, save for the occasional man that was already in the room before the explosion. However, they were quickly gunned down by Jungkook or Jimin before they could make a move.

Once the dust settled and the chaos seemed to end, everyone slowly got up from where they hid, looking around for anything that meant them harm. You helped Hoseok up and took a few steps out into the open, relief washing over you as you realized that everyone was momentarily safe.

Jin wandered over to one of the dead men and searched his body, his face completely still with solemnity. His hands left nothing overlooked, rummaging through every pocket and cavity. Finally, he pulled out a slip of paper from one of the pockets and unfolded it. His eyes ran over the words scribbled onto it before he growled furiously and crumpled up the piece of paper in his hands. He suddenly shot up. “I fucking knew it!” he seethed as he flung the crumpled up ball across the room.

“What is it?” Namjoon questioned weakly, using Jimin as a support. His arm laid limply in a makeshift arm sling, and you noticed the deep scarlet stain the shoulder of his shirt.

Jin didn’t reply at first. He inhaled deeply before exhaling with just as much fervor, attempting to quell his fury. “The Japanese were notified of us.” There was a pause of stunned silence before he suddenly laughed humorlessly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “And you want to know who notified them?” He threw an arm in your direction, and, for a moment, you were afraid that he was going to accuse you again. “Your apparent mugger was actually a spy for them.” He chuckled once more, wringing his hands in thought. “Oooooh, the irony is just too good. History repeats itself once more! The Indian traitor reveals to the enemy the location of the Koreans’ whereabouts and then come to slaughter them!”

Your mind boggled with the number of questions you wanted to ask. “What? How? I didn’t know some Indian civilians were even loyal to the Japanese government!”

“He didn’t have to be loyal,” Namjoon remarked somberly. “He could’ve been forced to. The Japanese could’ve easily threatened him into doing their bidding.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “But why pose as a mugger?” you questioned.

Jin shrugged his broad shoulders indifferently. “Maybe to clarify that it was us without rousing too much suspicion? After all, it’s rather odd that a group of foreigners decided to come to this area for ‘tourism’.”

Yoongi folded his arms irritatedly. “Doesn’t explain how they found us so quickly,” he mentioned.

“Well, it wasn’t like we were trying to be subtle,” Jimin pointed out, readjusting Namjoon’s hold on him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if our screams were heard from China.”

“I blame Hoseok. His screams were the loudest.”

“What?! I wasn’t trying-!”

You interrupted Hoseok by slapping a hand over his mouth, giving him a look that meant that he was proving everyone’s point. The doctor mumbled grumpily into your hand before pulling himself away.

Taehyung grabbed his pack and threw it over his shoulders before grabbing the shotgun from Jimin. “Well, this has been fun and all, but I think we should be getting going before the Japanese find a way through that.” He gestured to the large pile of rocks before taking a few steps toward the hole in the ceiling.

Everyone silently agreed and followed toward the center of the room, paying small attention to the shattered pedestal strewn about. Jimin unhooked his grappling rope from his belt and swung the hooked end a few times until he tossed it up. The hook caught itself on a tree root that was threatening to spill over into the hole. After he tested it to make sure it was secure, he held out the rope for anyone to take.

Namjoon shuffled in his spot for a few moments before suggesting, “I should go last. That way when everyone else has gone through I can just hold onto the rope, and you guys can pull me up. Then I won’t have to injure myself even further.”

“Just try not to strain your pectoral muscles when holding on, okay?” Hoseok added before wrapping his hands around the rope. He made a move to start climbing up, but Jungkook grabbed his arm to stop him.

“I should go first,” he declared, glancing up at the sunlight pouring in. “In case any soldiers are up there waiting for us. I’m the one with the most training in arms and combat.”

No one argued with him, and Hoseok moved aside for Jungkook to climb up. The youngest smoothly scaled up the rope in a matter of seconds, and it surprised you at how effortlessly he pulled himself up. You imagined that your trip up wasn’t going to go quite as swimmingly as his did.

After a few moments of tense silence, Jungkook popped his head back down the hole, his hair flopped upside down. “It’s safe!”

 After Hoseok, Jin, and Yoongi climbed up, you grabbed the rope almost hesitatedly. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to go up. No, if anything you never wanted to return to this godforsaken place as long as you lived. Rather, you were unsure if you could actually climb up. The climb relied on strength, considering that you had nothing to pushed yourself up against.

Nonetheless, you hopped up and made your ascend. Embarrassingly enough, your trip up was a little slower than everyone else’s, seeing as you’ve never done anything like this before. However, when you got close to the top, Jungkook reached down and offered his hand, which you gladly took. He then effortlessly pulled you up and through the hole, landing on soft, plush grass.

As you laid on the ground looking around for any Japanese soldiers, Taehyung and Jimin made their trip up as quickly as they could. They knew that they had to be quick in order to avoid risking the soldiers locating them. Jimin moved himself so he sat next to you, also looking out into the distance.

“See anyone?” he murmured quietly so only you could hear.

You leaned closer to him, not tearing your gaze away from the scenery in front of you. “If I did, I would’ve let you guys know already,” you replied, stating the obvious.

Jimin hummed in reply, ignoring your comment, before adding, “If we’re lucky, we can hopefully get out of here before anymore soldiers find us.” He craned his neck around to look behind him. “The Jeep is probably our safest bet out of here, but I wonder if they’ve already found it.”

Your attention was snatched from Jimin when you heard Jungkook groaning. You saw the youngest pulling up the rope with all his might, jaw clenched and sweat building up on his forehead. Namjoon finally came into view, and you and the others all rushed to grab him carefully without injuring him further.

Namjoon rolled onto the grass next to you, once you all pulled him through. Sweat ran down his face in small rivers, and you guessed that he must’ve placed a lot of strength in just being able to hold on with one arm. Hoseok knelt down at his side and checked his wounds over, looking to see he tore anything else during the trip.

Hoseok sighed in relief. “You didn’t pop your stitches, thank God.” He looked up at the rest of the team, concern etched across his face. “We can’t move quickly. Namjoon is in no condition to.”

Jimin suddenly went through his pack and took out his map. His eyes flickered across the paper, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “I marked where we left the Jeep. Right here.” He pointed at the spot where he made a small  X in pen. “Then we went northeast for a few kilometers, and then Yoongi and y/n’s tumble took us south east. Then the trip through the cave took us direct east.” He paused to mumble to himself so quietly that not even you could understand his gibberish. “If we take into mind the sudden elevation from the outcropping we went through, I’d estimate we are right... here.” He jabbed his finger down at a isolated area on the map, quite a few centimeters from where the Jeep was located. He groaned exasperatedly yet quietly, as if upset with the discovery. “Shit, that’s fifteen kilometers.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your sockets. He had to be joking, right? “Fifteen kilometers?” you repeated in astonishment. “That’ll take us a whole bloody day!”

“Actually, it’ll take us at least five hours to hike with the rocky conditions, possibly even more taking Namjoon’s health into account,” Jimin corrected, folding up his map. “If we start heading west, we should be right on track.”

You wiped your hand against your sweaty forehead, careless to the fact that you smeared some dirt on your skin. “I want to die,” you grumbled to yourself.

“I’m sure the soldiers would be happy to oblige,” Yoongi suddenly popped in. He appeared to be even more exhausted than you looked. Because of such, he had this permanent scowl on his face that warned everyone to not test him.

Once everyone rested up for a few moments, you all got up on your feet and started your trek once more. Your feet dragged heavily behind you as exhaustion settled on your shoulders. All of this excitement certainly did a number on you both mentally and physically. You wouldn’t be surprised if this experience left you traumatized.

Jungkook went through his pack and took out a few handguns. “Alright, who doesn’t have a gun?” he asked, looking up to see the number of hands in the air.

You noticed that only Hoseok and Namjoon were the only ones who claimed they didn’t have a gun, which left you rather perplexed. Jungkook gave you and Taehyung both a gun; so that meant that Jimin, Jin, and Yoongi already had guns in their possession. You supposed it made sense that the survivalist had a gun, but the mechanic and the millionaire? Your throat suddenly went dry remembering that Jin had threatened you back in the previous room. Things could’ve easily escalated from there. He could’ve shot you without so much as a second thought.

You then remembered the relationship between the two of you now. His paranoid meltdown left a thick air of tension between you and him. You didn’t know if you could confront him about this or demand why he didn’t trust you. After all, he brought you into this expedition in the first place. There must’ve been some form of trust before the incident.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Jungkook handed one of the handguns to Hoseok, who stared at him as if he just offered him, well, a weapon. “What?! But... I-I can’t take that! I’m a doctor! I’m supposed to help people, not kill them!” he protested, hugging his medical bag to his chest.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and released an annoyed scoff. “Geez, you sound just like y/n,” he remarked, shoving the gun into his chest, but still the doctor refused to take it.

“‘It’s not murder if it’s in self-defense’,” you repeated his words from earlier, although your tone sounded more childish.

He rolled his eyes once more before redirecting his attention back to Hoseok. “Just take the gun. Namjoon can’t carry a gun in his condition. So someone has to protect him,” he persuaded.

Hoseok stared at him for a few seconds, debating internally of what he should do, before he reluctantly took the gun from his hand. He held it anxiously as if it would go off at any second and then slowly tucking it in his belt loop.

Namjoon snorted in annoyance. “You don’t need to act like I’m crippled, Jungkook,” he lightly scolded. “I’m just... indisposed right now.”

 “Indisposed? I’ll say.”

Unlike your first trek of the day, this one brought a lot of anxiety and paranoia with it. You found yourself constantly looking over shoulder, thinking that you saw someone unfamiliar out of the corner of your eye only to discover it was merely a large plant or rock structure. What happened down in the caves had everyone on edge, which cast a thick air of tension around the group.

You hiked down a steep hill, holding tightly onto other people’s hands at Jimin’s instruction. He certainly didn’t want another repeat of Yoongi and you falling down. The hill developed into a pathway with a thick layer of plants reaching your waist. Tree branches hovered over you, providing shade and cover from searching eyes.

Suddenly, Yoongi stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulders with a bewildered look on his face. His eyebrows furrowed deeply. You also paused your walking and followed his eyes. “What’s wrong, Yoongi?” you asked, seeing nothing but vegetation as far as your sight could take you.

He didn’t answer at first. His face remained completely still as he took in the seeming silence. “Do you hear that?” he wondered out loud, flickering his questioning gaze to you.

Everyone stopped at this point, all looking with confusion and a faint hint of apprehension. The tension in the air almost crackled as everybody halted everything to listen to what Yoongi was hearing. You noticed that, if you listened hard enough, you heard a delicate sound of rumbling. “Yeah... I do...” Your voice trailed off as you looked at the others, noticing the looks of realization randomly appear on their faces when they also caught onto the low rumbling.

“Isn’t that just the wind?” Hoseok said uncertainly, although you could tell he knew it wasn’t the wind. The clamor unanticipatedly became louder and louder, as if the source was coming closer to the team.

Yoongi shook his head distractedly, his attention fully on the distant noise. “No, it sounds more... mechanical...” His eyes the shot wide open with realization, and he jerked his head back to everybody in a rush. “Hide!”

Everyone split in a random direction in a alarmed panic, scrambling to find anything to hide behind. You bolted for the nearby line of trees, leaves from the plants slapping at your knees and calves. You would have continued past the trees if not for the random hand that shot out and grabbed you by the wrist. You struggled against the clasped hold but was lurched toward whoever gripped you tightly. You continued to thrash and jerk yourself around in an attempt to free yourself, but immediately stopped when your eyes connected with two familiar eyes.

You sighed softly in relief. “Tae, give me a warning next time,” you scolded in annoyance.

Taehyung held you tightly to his chest with his arms wrapped around your torso. Whether or not he held you so close to comfort you or himself, you were unsure of. He swallowed a large lump lodged in his throat. “And alert everyone around? I think not.”

Your quirked an eyebrow at his response. “You know I could’ve found a spot on my own, right?” you reminded quietly.

“I don’t want to lose my lucky charm.” He grinned charmingly at you, to which you couldn’t resist the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Ignoring the feeling as best as you could, you scoffed, “Lucky charm? If anything, I’ve been a curse.”

“Awwww, give yourself more-“

You interrupted him by clamping a hand around his mouth. He let out a surprised muffle and furrowed his eyebrows as if he had been offended. You shushed him and averted your gaze to what caught your attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw an armored truck speed by, crushing all the plants underneath. You almost sagged your shoulders in relief when it past you, but, of course, you were indeed cursed and not lucky.

The armored vehicle skidded to a halt, which caused nearly all the air in your lungs to instantly disappear. You unconsciously removed your hand from his mouth and cranked your head ever-so-slightly to get a glimpse of what was going on. Men with rifles in their arms hopped out of the truck and slammed the car doors loudly, causing you to flinch in Taehyung’s arms.

“What’s happening?” he whispered softly, not daring to look around the tree.

You watched the armed men for a few moments before replying, “Some men with guns got out of a truck. I don’t know what they’re doing though.”

Taehyung subtly nodded. “With any luck, they’ll lose interest and leave.”

Your eyes followed every move the men made. They scoured with the barrel of their rifles through the leaves thoroughly, leaving nothing neglected. You were curious as to what they were looking for.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers barked something to who you assumed to be the leader. All of them then hurried over to join him and looked at what he discovered. The leader knelt down slowly and reached for the item in question. When he lifted it up for all to see, you felt your soul sink to the lowest depths of hell.

“My tapestry!”

 This time Taehyung shoved your face into his chest to muffle your soft cry. Although you would’ve frozen at the amount of contact you were having with his toned chest, you were in too much of a panic to really care.

“What?!” Taehyung hissed almost silently. You could tell he desperately wanted to turn his head to see, but he managed to control himself. “How? When? I thought it was in your bag!”

“It was! I had it right-“ You cut yourself off when you saw the open flap of your bag. It must’ve unclasped itself during the chaos. When you ran to hide, the tapestry must’ve somehow jolted out of your bag. You whipped your gaze back to him wildly. “We have to get it back!”

“I know! I know! Just-” He then sighed as if he were in pain, then regained his calm composure. “How many are there?”

You quickly counted the men without making a ruckus. “Twelve.”

“Shit, those aren’t good numbers, especially if they’re armed.”

The leader then shouted an order to the rest of the men, and they all began to spread out with their guns lifted. You muttered a curse under your breath. Great, things couldn’t possibly get any worse. “They’re looking for us now,” you notified, hiding your head behind the tree.

Taehyung paused for a few seconds, quickly thinking up of a good plan to deal with the situation. “Perhaps we can take them by surprise and knock down their numbers a bit?” he suggested, looking at you for approval.

You then moved your head to peer around the other side of the tree, trying to avoid the watchful gaze of the soldiers. You saw a bit of movement from behind a tree quite a few meters from where you stood. You squinted a tiny bit so you could perceive what it exactly was. You were fairly certain it was one of the other members, but who you couldn’t guess.

However, soon you noticed the familiar white tainted red armsling, and your heart lurched to your throat. A soldier’s was just a few paces from discovering Namjoon. “Shit, Tae, they’re close to find Namjoon!” you faintly exclaimed, gripping his shirt tightly in your fists.

“And he’s not armed... Damnit, he’ll be dead if we wait any longer.” After a few seconds of panicked silence, he then whipped his head to face you, determination blazing in his eyes. “Y/n, I need you to trust me and follow my lead.”

“What-?”

Before you could even finish your question, Taehyung roughly grabbed you and yanked you around the tree, revealing both of you for everyone to see. He aggressively wrapped an arm around your torso so that you were secure against his body. Then he pulled out a hand gun from his holster and pressed the cold, metal barrel against your temple almost violently. To say you were shocked was a deep understatement.

Taehyung bellowed out words that you couldn’t understand. You guessed it was Japanese, considering the soldiers seemed to understand him. Remembering that you needed to play your part, you began to scream and thrash yourself around, begging and crying for your ‘captor’ to release you. Man, if only Charlie Chapman could see you now. He would be impressed with your acting skills.

The Japanese soldier that was heading for Namjoon abandoned the area along with the eleven other soldiers to come point their guns at you. You almost sighed in relief that Namjoon was safe, but seeing how the soldiers ready to fire at you and Taehyung made you think that the opposite of what he hoped for was occurring.

Taehyung continued to shout and yell at the men, shoving the barrel even more roughly against your head. “Shut up, bitch!!!” he roared into your ear, causing you to cry and whimper in response. You quieted down and surrendered yourself to his whims, forgetting your resolve to fight against him. You even quivered your bottom lip for good measure.

The leader raised his hand toward his men who, in response, lowered their guns. He looked a lot older than you; in fact, he could be around your father’s age. The man took a few steps forward, and, in reaction, Taehyung took a few back, pressing the gun harder against your temple. The leader merely chuckled at Taehyung’s attempts and grinned broadly.

“Isn’t this young lady with your team?” he asked bemusedly, his accent coming in rather thickly.

Bollocks, you forgot about the spy for a minute there. How could you be so stupid? Of course the spy informed them of your involvement!

Taehyung frowned deeply, murder flaming in his eyes. If looks could kill, this man would’ve been ashes where he stood. You were almost intimidated by the gaze he gave him. “You really thought she was with us? An English woman?” He scoffed humorlessly. “She’s only a hostage for us. Something to protect ourselves with. You might say she’s... insurance for complicated situations.”

The leader nodded in understanding. “Ah... I see.” He nodded a few more times before continuing, “I have had reports from my men that a woman was seen attacking them at your side. How do you explain that?”

Taehyung grinned cheekily to match the man’s own. “Oh, you know how women are. You sleep with them for one night, and their hearts are yours to command.” The hand that gripped you tightly suddenly began to wander up slowly, cupping your breast fondly before giving it a playful squeeze.

No longer were your acting skills necessary, for the squeak that escaped your mouth was one hundred percent genuine. Your cheeks blazed with the heat from embarrassment. Damn him! You knew that you both were in a life-or-death situation, but the nerve he had to pull a trick like that without giving you so much as a warning in advance!

“Y-you disgusting pig!” you managed to get out before slamming your heel into his foot. If he was going to play dirty, then you weren’t going to sit idly by and let him get away with it.

Taehyung cried out in pain, which you were fairly certain was also very genuine, and instantly wrapped a hand around your throat after nearly doubling over in agony. “You little whore!” he growled in your ear. His voice sent shivers up your spine, but you instantly quelled the burning feeling before it could jeopardize the mission.

You noticed that behind the soldiers were the other members, save for Namjoon, sneaking quietly up to them with their handguns ready. You were proud to even see Hoseok ready to help out and abandon his fears. In order to keep everyone’s attention on you, you tried to lurch forward toward the leader with a pitiful gleam in your eyes. “Please, sir!” you begged, making your voice crack for dramatic effect. “You have to get me away from these... these... monsters!”

“Be quiet!” Taehyung yanked you back and tightened his grip around your throat, cutting off your windpipe. Now you were unsure if he was necessarily acting as well...

The leader chuckled once more at your feeble attempts of begging and returned his attention to Taehyung. “What makes you think I won’t just kill you now and take the girl for myself?” You almost vomited at his words. This man emitted creepiness and disgust.

Taehyung smiled innocently in reply. “Because I’m going to kill you first.” With that, he pulled the gun away from you and shot him right in the forehead.

The leader’s eyes rolled to the back of his head before he collapsed to the forest floor. Before the other soldiers could even react, the other boys were on them like a pack of wolves. Jungkook, Jimin, and Yoongi all headshot two people in a swift movement by the time you pulled your gun from you bag. You aimed directly at a man attempting to gun Jin down and shot him twice in the chest, killing him instantly. Hoseok and Jin both killed a soldier quickly, Hoseok staring at the dead man with wide eyes as if he couldn’t believe he just killed someone. Taehyung quickly shot the last man down, who cried out in ultimate agony, and shot him in the head to end his misery.

Everyone released a collective sigh that was trapped inside. It was over. No one was hurt in the struggle, excluding Taehyung’s throbbing foot. You scooped up your tapestry that was clutches tightly in a dead man’s fist, and grumbled, “Eugh, great, it’s got blood over it.”

“There wouldn’t be any blood on it if you made sure it was still in your bag,” Yoongi snapped bluntly, slipping his gun back into his holster.

You sighed dejectedly. He had a point. No one would’ve been killed if you kept the tapestry secure in your bag, even though the dead may have deserved their fates. “I know, I’m terribly sorry for making you all worry,” you apologized, fasting your gaze to the ground. “I’ll try to make sure I won’t repeat the same mistake.”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, we’re alive, and we’ve got the tapestry back thanks to our amazing actors!” He gestured to you and Taehyung with an adorable smile.

Taehyung bowed dramatically with a proud expression plastered on his face while you folded your arms irritably. “Speaking of which...” You snapped your head to face the demolition expert, your fists tightening into little balls from the anger that coursed through you. “What the bloody hell was that, Tae?! Groping my tits for no reason!”

Taehyung looked at you with wide eyes. “Oh, sorry, y/n! I got a bit carried away… I wanted to make it seem as real as possible.” Taehyung bowed deeply, “I apologize, y/n. I won’t do it again.” But before he rose, he tilted his head up, eyes meeting yours from beneath his bangs. “That is, unless you want me to.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met Taehyung’s, intense and full of deeper meaning. Something resounded within you, like a strum of a guitar, and you could feel your face heating up. “J-Just don’t do it again!” You said with as much anger as you could muster in the moment. 

Taehyung dipped his head again before straightening up. He had a small smirk playing at his lips, and his eyes were dark with what you could only imagine was want. You couldn’t deal with this right now, what with the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, and so with all the willpower you could muster, you tore your eyes from Taehyung and turned back to the group.

Everyone was pretending not to have seen the exchange between the two of you, but when you met Jimin’s gaze, you saw the teasing glint in his eyes, and you had to hold back a frustrated groan from making its way past your lips. Lucky for you, that was when Namjoon decided to make his presence known again.

“Guys? Is it safe to come out now?” he called out, exhaustion painting his words. You took this opportunity to busy yourself, hoping that the exchange between you and Taehyung would be forgotten, and went to Namjoon.

You offered your uninjured hand to the historian once you finally reach him, to which he gladly took. “Good,” he remarked, his voice strained as he pulled himself up, careful to avoid moving his wounded shoulder. “I thought it got a little quiet there for a moment and feared the worst.”

You shook your head. “Nope! We just had a little quick discussion!” you lied with a bright smile.

Little quick discussion, my arse, you scowled mentally.

Namjoon seemed to buy your pitiful lie and nodded his head. He opened his mouth to add something but was interrupted when Jimin called out, “Guess what? We won’t have to hike anymore!” He dramatically gestured to the armored truck with a wide smile.

“Oh thank the Lord.” You weren’t sure if you could stand to hike another hour. “Is Jin driving again?” You noticed that Jin wasn’t wearing the same clothing as before. He now wore one of the dead soldier’s uniform, and, you must admit, he looked the part very well.

Jin didn’t answer but climbed into the driver’s seat regardless. You frowned at the fact he completely blew you off. Jimin, seeing how the millionaire was ignoring you, shrugged his shoulders. “I guess he is?”

Jin suddenly grumbled to himself irritably. “One of the guards has the keys.”

“No need for keys,” Yoongi disregarded and entered the vehicle by crawling under Jin’s long legs. He ripped off the knee blocker, causing bundles of wires to spill out. “It’d be nice if I had my wire cutters, but...” He pulled out a switchblade from his back pocket and went to work. He snipped wires and moved parts that he deemed worthless to the side. All the while he hummed a little tune to himself. Finally, he took two wires and lightly pressed them together, causing sparks to fly with an electrical zap. Suddenly, the vehicle roared to life, and Yoongi crawled back out with a smug, triumphant look on his face. “What can I say? Genius.”

You all climbed into the back of the armored truck, and you secured a spot directly next to Namjoon. He was the only one oblivious to what occurred minutes ago, and so you took that opportunity to avoid teasing from the other boys. As you sat next to him, Jungkook closed the flap to conceal everyone and shrouded you in darkness.

The truck took off without a hitch as Jin stepped on the gas pedal, impatient to get back to the Jeep where all the supplies were located. Luckily he avoided every tree that suddenly jumped out him. Wouldn’t that be just great for him to crash the vehicle you just killed for?

You looked at Jimin concernedly. “You don’t suppose the Japanese have found where we hid the Jeep, did they?” you questioned, not wanting to have to go through another shoot off.

He pondered the possibility for a few moments before answering, “I don’t think so. We hid it under a few trees and placed some branches over to cover it. The chances that the soldiers pass right by it in the middle of nowhere are pretty low.”

“Despite that,” Jungkook began, reloading his many weapons with new magazines, “we should be prepared for the worst to happen. I say we come up with a plan for if there are soldiers by the Jeep.”

“Okay, how many men should we expect?” you inquired. You then noticed a small can full of bullets and took out your colt from your bag. You opened up the cylinder and emptied the bullet shells before replacing them with new ones. “Do you think there’ll be twelve again?”

Yoongi shook his head in disagreement. “Probably not, their main focus is tracking us down. So they’ll be sending how as many men out here searching. I’d estimate at most seven guards,” he predicted, also reloading his handgun.

“You have to remember our fight just minutes ago,” Jungkook added, slipping a few guns back into his pack. “We made quite a bit of racket. So everyone is probably following the sounds of our gunfire. If anyone sees us driving away from the source, then they’ll get suspicious.”

Taehyung pinched the bridge of his scrunched nose, now realizing a mistake they made. “We all should’ve taken their uniforms. That would’ve made us less suspicious if we ran into others.”

Damn, he had a point. It seemed Jin was the only smart one out of the bunch, since he already changed into a uniform. You cupped your chin in thought, thinking of how to get everyone safely out of here without alerting every single soldier within a few kilometers. “We could do this stealthily,” you proposed, raising your gaze to meet everyone’s. “Exchange our guns for knives and take them out quietly.”

Everyone contemplated your suggestion for a few seconds before Jimin said, “It could work, but it’d have to be executed perfectly, since we would be at a major disadvantage. One little slip up and we all could be done for.”

“I have an idea,” Namjoon perked up, snapping his fingers like a genius would. “We can quickly knock down their numbers if Jin tells one of the men that he has us already dead in the back of the vehicle. The guards will most likely believe us since they’ve probably heard our gunfire and know that there was a fight. They’ll have their guard down when they come to check us, and that’s when we strike.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jungkook agreed while everyone nodded before tapping on the window to gain Jin’s attention. “Hey, hyung, did you hear that?”

Jin craned his head back slightly so he could hear the youngest better. “Hear what?” he replied, shouting over the loud sound of the engine.

“If there are any guards surrounding our vehicle, you’re gonna tell them that your unit killed us and our bodies are in the back!” he explained, then quickly added, “Then we’ll take them out when they open the flap quietly!” He paused for a mere moment to take out a knife from his pack and offer it through the window. “You need one?”

Jin looked at the rear view window to see the knife and shook his head. “No, I already have one!” Damn, he had both a gun and a knife on him, and he didn’t kill you down in the caves? Man, you’re extremely lucky.

 Jungkook returned his focus back to the rest of the team and held up the weapon. “Who needs a knife?”

“Does a bone saw work the same?” Hoseok asked innocently as he pulled out a medium sized bone saw from his medical bag.

Everyone’s eyes widened at the fact that Hoseok remained so innocent despite holding something so deadly like a child’s toy. “Why the bloody hell do you have a bone saw?!” you cried, your mouth agape.

The doctor smiled at you angelically but yet almost sarcastically. “To cut oranges, of course!” An annoyed frown instantly replaced his pure smile. “Why else would I have a bone saw?!”

Jungkook interrupted the conversation by quickly commenting, “I think that’s a bit overkill. Here, Hoseok, just take the knife.” He shoved the handle toward the doctor’s chest, to which he took without any hesitation. “Anyone else?” He offered another knife to Yoongi sitting next to him.

The mechanic lazily shook his head. “No thanks, I already have a few on me.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up. “A few?! Why do you have so many?”

Yoongi stared at the youngest for a few moments before the corners of his lips curled into a casual smirk. “Would you believe me if I said I really like playing the knife game?”

Jungkook refused to respond, unsure and slightly scared of what to reply to a question like that, and continued to dish out knives to anyone who needed them. You remembered you had a Swiss Army knife in your possession and so declined the offer. When you started this trip, you assumed you would be using the knife to cut rope or open boxes, not stabbing people in hopes of killing them. Man, life certainly had a lot of surprises in store for you.

The rest of the drive was filled with utter silence as everyone braced for what might occur. You prayed to anyone who was listening that no one found the hidden vehicle and you could just get away from all this madness. If you went back in time and told your past self that you would be fighting for your life like some mafia member, you would’ve thought your future self had gone completely insane.

“I see our Jeep,” Jin suddenly announced, snapping you from your tired thoughts. “It looks like they found it unfortunately. I think I see five men guarding it.”

Dread washed over your entire being as your shoulder sagged heavily. Nothing could just go your way for once it seemed. You truly were cursed.

Jungkook nodded toward everyone, giving a knowing but yet disappointed stare. “Alright everyone, just follow the plan. We have the advantage of numbers. This will be easy.”

“Please don’t jinx it,” Namjoon begged. “We don’t need someone else getting shot.” He gestured to his own bullet wound.

You felt the truck slow down as you approached the patrol. You clutched your weapon tightly as if you could accidentally drop it at any time. The vehicle finally halted, and you heard loud voices holler at Jin. The millionaire replied to them calmly despite the anxious tension. Huh, you guessed he really was a good actor.

One of the soldiers barked at him harshly, as if he reprimanded him for making a mistake. Jin defended himself with just as much passion, his tone almost sounding whiny. Footsteps could be heard dragging and clunking against the sandy ground, and everyone’s eyes reactively followed the sound as it moved around the vehicle. You noticed out of the corner of your eye Jin hopping out of the driver’s seat, his sleeve concealing the knife he gripped in his hand.

Taehyung and Jungkook slowly edged themselves closer to the  exit as quietly as they could, ready to pounce on the soldiers when the flap flew open. The footsteps stopped at the back of the vehicle, and everyone inhaled sharply in anticipation. Through the cloth flap you saw the outline of the two soldiers standing outside the truck. Blood roared in your ears despite it being deadly silent. You dared not to move a single muscle for fear of jeopardizing your cover. This was like the deafening calmness before the raging storm.

Suddenly, the flap opened, and chaos ensued. It wasn’t like the mad chaos like before though, you noticed. This time, it was a like an organized chaos. Taehyung and Jungkook flew from their seats and nearly tackled the men to the ground. Jungkook swiftly sliced his blade over the man’s unprotected throat while Taehyung stabbed the other in his jugular. One gurgled as blood poured from his neck like a scarlet waterfall while the other released a shuttered gasp before slipping into his eternal slumber.

Jimin and Yoongi rushed out of the back and swooped around to meet the other two guards who sensed that something was amiss. Before the soldiers could even raise their guns, they were tackled to the ground and killed in an instant. It almost scared you at how proficient they were at killing, and a tiny voice at the back of your mind told you that this wasn’t the first time they’ve done this before.

You remained in the back of the vehicle with Namjoon, thinking that it was probably for the best that you stayed with the historian. That way you could protect him if one of the guards slipped by to see if anyone else was in the truck. Hoseok exited in case something got injured during the struggle, but you figured that wasn’t going to be an issue.

Your mind snapped from its thoughts by the loud crash you heard. You realized it came from in front of the truck as peered through the window to see if anything was wrong. Your eyes widened slightly as you saw Jin push a guard down onto the hood of the car and plunge his knife deep into his neck. Blood sprayed onto the hood in tiny droplets.

“I never knew Jin knew how to fight,” you commented, finding yourself staring at the gruesome image before you. A large lump  formed in your throat, and you found it to be rather difficult to swallow down. “He always appeared to be a gentleman.”

Namjoon chuckled almost humorlessly. “Well, he certainly is no Jungkook, that’s for sure, but he definitely knows how to defend himself,” he responded, smiling as if reminiscing a fond memory.

“But isn’t he a businessman?” you inquired, finally tearing your gaze away to look at the historian. “He sells... wristwatches, right?”

He nodded in agreement. “Yep, took up the family company after his father passed away,” he revealed, then added, “Being a CEO of a company guarantees a lot of enemies. Jin always told me the industry was rather cutthroat.” He chuckled once more, and you realized that the exaggerated joke was, in fact, quite literal.

Interrupting your conversation, the flap flew open once more to reveal Jimin’s smiling face. It slightly concerned you that he was grinning after he murdered someone, but you brushed the thought away. He was probably glad that no one was injured during the conflict. “It’s safe to come out now!” he announced, causing you to sign in relief. “Come on! Let’s get out of here. We don’t want to hang around for a second longer.”

You helped Namjoon step out of the back and onto the forested floor and saw the boys taking down the branches and leaves used to conceal the Jeep. You almost cried tears of happiness thinking how close you were to being safe. The tension and anxiety that coursed through you for so long nearly gave you a cardiac arrest on multiple occasions.

As you rushed over to the Jeep, you tried your best not to look down at the corpses that littered the floor. You didn’t know if your stomach could handle seeing such a disturbing sight. Previously, the only time you experienced the death of others was when the grandmother you grew so fond of passed away with you at her side. You were only a child then, but you cried for days and days. However, your grandmother died peacefully. These men were brutally killed like dogs. You’ve never experienced death in such high amounts.

You climbed into your seat quickly, eager to get out of this godforsaken forest. You sat in the middle once more with Jimin on your right. You hoped Namjoon would sit next to you again, but that hope instantly disappeared when Taehyung hopped in next to you.

Oh no...

When the demolition expert saw you next to him, he gave you a wide grin and inched himself even closer to you. “Well hello again~” he greeted cheekily as you quickly averted your gaze.

Jimin chuckled seeing your anxious state. “Be careful, Tae,” he warned teasingly. “Y/n here might implode if you keep going.”

“That’s fine. She’s always more fun like this.”

“Can we please not do this here?” you fretted, tucking back strands of your hair anxiously. “There’s people trying to kill us, and now you think it’s a good time to start...” You threw your hands in the air frustratedly as you couldn’t find the proper word to describe this. “Whatever the bloody hell this is!”

They both shrugged indifferently. “Fine, we’ll do this when there aren’t any distractions.” Jimin gave you a flirtatious wink before turning his attention away from you.

When everyone else finally climbed into the Jeep, Jin didn’t hesitate to floor it out of there, causing nearly everybody to fly out of their seats with a shriek. Wind whipped past you as sand kicked up and pelted your face. You sputtered a few times, wiping your mouths clean of any dirt. Jin certainly wasn’t going to go easy.

As trees and plants flew by, your hands unconsciously rested on the camera hanging around your neck. You hoped that during the violent madness that you underwent that it didn’t break, or, even worse, rip the film inside. The film was absolutely vital, the most crucial part of your job. If the film was damaged in some way, then... You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts. You didn’t know why you were so worried. If it ripped, it ripped. It wouldn’t have if you weren’t ambushed.

Your eyes crept toward where Namjoon laid in the back as Hoseok tended to his injury. His face scrunched up a tiny bit as the doctor cleaned the wound once more, wiping away dried blood that stuck to his skin like paint. You knew that there was nothing you could do that would lessen his pain, but that didn’t help the sharp feeling that you didn’t do enough go away. You really wished that you could rewind time and somehow prevent him from getting shot, but time was cruel in that regard. Your decisions and choices were set in stone as soon as you made them.

Your body suddenly jerked to the side as Jin made a sharp turn at the last second. Jimin almost fell off from the movement of not for his quick reflexes. You opened your mouth to scold the driver but quickly shut it when you realized why he did so. Another armor truck flew out of the trees from nowhere and would’ve crashed into your had Jin continued in that direction. You saw the other driver’s eyes lit up with recognition as the team sped by and swerved to give chase after you.

“We’ve got company!” Jin announced panickedly as he slammed the gas pedal down, causing the Jeep to lurched forward.

“Fucking shit!” Yoongi cursed, watching the truck in pursuit. His hands immediately reached for his gun and pointed it at the driver. “Can we never get a break?!”

Jungkook, from the passenger’s seat, took out his Thompson sub machine gun and swung off the side of the vehicle, half of his body careening over the forest. He kept one hand firmly around Jeep to stabilize him while the other shot bullets at the pursuing truck. You saw some of his bullets landed, marking cracked holes in the windshield but, other than that, nothing calamitous.

He spun himself around back into his seat when he saw another man peering out of a window with a rifle of his own, bullets zooming past you and making dents into the vehicle. “Why the hell did you rent a Jeep, hyung?!” Jungkook cried, shooting daggers at the driver. “We’re sitting ducks here!”

Jin’s mouth fell agape offendedly, his eyes blown wide as if Jungkook just shouted every curse word he could think of. “How was I supposed to know people would end up trying to kill us?!”

You instantly pulled out your colt ready to fire but then realized how useless your attempts might be. You didn’t know how good your aim was considering you’ve never used a gun until hours prior. Your shots might not even hit the truck, much less any of the men.

The truck suddenly floored it until it was side by side with you. At first, your feared they were trying to ram you off the road but then saw one of the doors open and a man jump out onto your car. The man landed practically on top of Taehyung, knife pulled out to give him a fatal wound. Your instincts took over you once more, and you aimed the colt right at the man’s head. However, before you could even pull the trigger, a rush of movement flashed in front of your eyes. Before you had time to process it, you saw the image of Hoseok burying his bone saw deep into his neck. The man screamed out in pain as blood sprayed out in tiny droplets, some of it landing of Taehyung’s face.

Hoseok then ripped out the rigid blade with a grunt, taking bits and pieces of bloody flesh with it. Your stomached churned nauseously as you took in the sight of the gaping hole in his neck. It looked like a tree in the process of being chopped down. Only this time, it wasn’t wood but strips of mutilated flesh with a waterfall of blood pouring from it. The doctor then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him of the vehicle into the dirt road for him to bleed out.

You’ve never seen Hoseok like this. Usually he was constantly smiling, but now his eyes were ice cold with determination freezing them over. His lips formed a disgusted frown as he wiped the blood off his face. You would hate to be on the receiving end of his chilling glare.

“Hoseok! I said the bone saw was overkill! Why didn’t you use a knife?!” Jungkook shouted after firing a rain of bullets at the truck. Jin swerved the vehicle quickly to avoid getting rammed by the armored truck.

The deadly expression on Hoseok’s face disappeared in a flash, as if Jungkook snapped him from a daze. “What if I missed?! I have better precision with the bone saw!” he argued, lifting up the weapon covered with blood and flesh.

“How can you miss with a knife?!” Taehyung demanded, wiping his face clean of scarlet.  

“I don’t know! I just panicked!”

For some reason, and you don’t know why, as if all reason and logic was just thrown out the window without a second thought, and you brought out your colt once more and shot a few times at the passenger window. It blew open and the man inside aimed his rifle directly at you. You fired once more and managed to gun him down before he could make a shot.

“Tae! Grenade!”

Taehyung’s confused eyes connected with yours for a few moments before looking back at the armored truck. He saw the broken window and instantly caught onto what you were insinuating. Giving you a quick, mischievous grin, he took out a grenade from his pack and pulled the pin effortlessly before tossing it casually through the passenger’s shattered window. The driver glanced at what was thrown at his side for a few moments before panic took a hold of him as he scrambled to grab the explosive, causing the truck to swerve and slide all over the place.

“Jin!” Jimin yelled frantically, seeing Taehyung toss the grenade. “Get us out of here!!!”

Instead of jerking the vehicle down another path like you expected, Jin slammed his foot down on the breaks. The breaks squealed and ground against each other as the Jeep lurched to a skidded halt, causing nearly everyone to go flying forward with a screech. The wheels kicked up dirt and rock right into your face once more, almost blinding and choking you. The millionaire then quickly shifted the gear into reverse and stepped on the gas pedal, gaining as much distance from the truck.

The armored truck continued flying past you for a few good meters before the grenade finally detonated. A wave of heat bombarded your skin, and you could’ve sworn it singed the hair right off your arms. Your hair flew back as if a gust of wind caught it in its path for a few seconds. Sparks exploded in the air as streaks of fiery red, orange, and white painted the view in front of you. Certainly no one survived that explosion.

Taehyung next you sighed dreamily, his eyes softening lovingly at the image in front of him. You saw the light reflect off of his dark eyes like fireworks in the night sky. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he wondered out loud to no one in particular. “The bright, vibrant colors, the musical sound of it discharging, the feeling of the shock waves coursing through you...” He rested his chin on his hand as he watched the colors slowly fade away. “That’s art.”

Yoongi stared at him for a few moments. His face completely morphed into disgust and confusion. His eyes then flickered off to the side, as if thinking to himself if what he just saw was real and not a figment of his imagination. “Everyone is so fucking weird,” he muttered sharply to himself. “Jimin gets off on being in dangerous situations, Hoseok loves killing with this bone saw, Jin thinks everyone is out to get him, and now Taehyung gets high on watching explosions... Great... What’s next? Namjoon is secretly a masochist?”

Namjoon groaned as he sat up for the first time since the car chase, resting his hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he informed Yoongi, wincing for a mere moment. “But seriously, Tae, can you stop it with the explosions?! Now everyone in the area knows we’re here!”

“Don’t look at me!” Taehyung protested after getting ripped from his euphoria. “It was y/n’s idea!”

“Don’t throw me under the bloody bus!” you retorted, furrowing your eyebrows. “You didn’t have to go along with my plan!”

“Well, it was certainly better than waiting around to get shot at!”

“Guys, everyone, shut up!” Jimin interrupted the argument, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. He then sighed tiredly, his should visibly sagging as if a heavy weight was thrown upon them. “We need to get out here right now. Namjoon is right. That explosion alerted everyone around that something isn’t right. So we need to get to a safe area as soon as possible.”

Jin shifted the gears once more, a groaning sound emitting from the vehicle. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, pressing on the pedal.

The Jeep smoothly drove out of the forest past the flaming truck. The nauseating stench of burning flesh hit your nose like a truck, no pun intended. Your hand instantly shot up to hover over your nose as your stomach churned queasily once more. Any second longer in that area and you were sure you would’ve vomited.

As the car made it way out of the forest, you began to reflect on everything the occurred in the last few hours. The Japanese government were now searching for you; they knew your face now. You were a wanted criminal in their eyes. You could possibly be in their national newspapers tomorrow, listing you and the others as the nation’s number one enemy. This didn’t bode well with you, the thought of people chasing after you. It must’ve shown on your face because Jimin subtly took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Your brought your worried gaze to meet his eyes. His lips curled into a soft smile, as if silently telling you that everything would be fine.

You knew it wouldn’t be, but you held onto that false hope with a tight grasp.

—————————————

Luckily for the team, you managed to get out of the wilderness without anymore violent interruptions. During the entire drive, everyone was on the edge, waiting for another vehicle to appear out of nowhere and attempt to drive them off the road. A few times your heart lurched to your throat whenever you saw a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. However, your nerves calmed, and you mentally chastised yourself when seeing that it was only an animal or the wind brushing against the leaves of plants.

The golden sun sunk low in the horizon when Jin drove through Darjeeling, painting the sky with soft hues of pink, purple, orange, and yellow. Taking in the beautiful sky helped relax your anxiety. Lord knows how close you were to cracking.

The team discussed that it probably wasn’t safe to stay in Darjeeling for the night, considering that the Japanese soldiers were still nearby. You agreed wholeheartedly with the others that the group should move to another city where you could easily hide in. After everyone agreed to leave Darjeeling, Jin drove the Jeep for another few hours to another city. What was its name? You couldn’t recall it no matter how many times Namjoon repeated it. You remembered it sounded rather long and complicated.

When you entered the city, you couldn’t get over how modern everything appeared. Why, it looked just like a city back in England! A bout of homesickness and longing washed over you as you thought of your home country. It’s been about a month since you first left London to report on the Indian independence movement and then a few weeks since you were hired into the expedition.

As you longed for England, you began to wonder what it was like for the boys. They’re also away from their homeland, but could they really call it ‘home’? How could it be home if it was overrun by a whole different country? Not to mention, a country with a government full of imperialists, it seemed. From what you’ve heard, their home country is being ripped of their national identity.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Jin pulled up in front of what appeared to be the nicest and wealthiest hotel you have ever lain your eyes upon. Its sleek and smooth appearance reminded you of the Ritz back in London. You’ve never stepped inside the Ritz; but from what you’ve heard from your wealthy colleagues, it’s definitely one of the best.

As you stepped inside the lobby with your luggage full of supplies, you first noticed the plush red and gold carpet that matched with the rest of the interior followed by the soft tune of jazz playing. One night here would certainly cost you your entire year’s wage. You wheeled you luggage past Jin, who was in the middle of paying and asking the attendant behind the counter if the group could be listed as anonymous, and handed it to one of the nearby porters.

Yoongi suddenly appeared at your side, also handing his luggage to the same porter. “Jin is apparently getting all of us the suite,” he mentioned, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your sockets upon hearing those words as your lips slightly parted. “The suite?” you repeated, your voice coming out in an astonished gasp. Jin certainly didn’t care about the expenses.

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, we’ll be getting our own rooms.” He sighed wistfully. “As soon as I get to my room, I’m hitting the sheets. This day has completely wiped me of my energy.”

You couldn’t help but nod your head in agreement. Exhaustion weighed you down as if a large boulder was roped to your back. “You and me both, chap,” you replied, releasing a tired sigh from your lips.

The mechanic suddenly chuckled, as if a joke appeared in his mind out of nowhere. “I suggest getting to your room as soon as possible. Taehyung has his eyes set on you tonight,” he advised, a cheeky smirk curling his lips.

You whipped your head toward the demolition expert in question. You saw him handing his luggage off to a nearby porter before his eyes connected with yours. His eyes narrowed mischievously as a playful smile tugged the corners of his mouth. As you felt your cheeks heat up, you jerked your head back toward Yoongi. “I’m surprised you aren’t trying to win me over by inviting me to your room to hide or something like that,” you muttered quietly to him.

“As much as I like the idea of that,” Yoongi began, tilting his head lazily with a grin, “sleep is more important tonight. I’m sure you understand.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line as everyone joined you two. Jin came by with the room keys in hand, giving each their respective key. He gave you yours without so much as a glance, causing your pressed lips to tighten further. You remembered he hasn’t even given you an apology for what went down in the caves. Who did he think he was?

As you crammed yourself in the golden elevator with the others, Hoseok piped up, “Oh! Before everyone goes to bed, I should check each of you over to make sure everybody is in top condition, especially Namjoon, Yoongi, Jin, and y/n. You guys have been hit the hardest out of us.”

Your eyes lit up hearing his words. Perfect! This was the best opportunity to avoid Taehyung! You could just have Hoseok check you over first and hopefully give you a reason to turn in early.

“I’ll go first!” you exclaimed, trying your best to mask your excitement but failing. You knew that Namjoon should go first, considering that he was in the worst condition, but you needed this. When everyone gave you questioning looks, you quickly added, “I think the kickback in the gun did something to my arm. It hurts like bugger.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. Your injuried arm still slightly throbbed.

Hoseok cocked his head in thought, pondering over your description. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious, but I’ll check nonetheless to make sure that you don’t have something worse.”

When the doors opened you to your floor, you instantly grabbed Hoseok’s hand and pulled him out of the elevator, looking like a mother dragging her child behind. The doctor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced back to the other boys, receiving confused stares and shrugs in reply. You dragged Hoseok into your room, not bothering to take in the beauty, and took him over to a nearby couch. You quickly shut the door and hopped onto the couch, jutting out your injured arm to him.

Hoseok arched an eyebrow, perplexed by your restless attitude. “Someone’s eager,” he commented before clicking open his medical bag. He rummaged through it until he took out his roll of clean, white bandages.

You noticed that the bandage wrapped around your arm had dirt and grime covering every inch of it, giving it a dirty tan color.  You supposed scouring through the forest was going to result in you getting filthy. Hoseok took out the clip holding your bandage together and unraveled it, revealing pink and tender skin. You noticed the sticky shine your skin gave off, most likely due to the slave the doctor put on it. Around the cut, you saw spots of purple and blue painting your arm. You bit your lip at the sight; it certainly didn’t look good.

Hoseok examined the wound for a few seconds before pressing a few fingers against the skin next to your cut, applying a bit of pressure. “Does this hurt?”

“A bit.”

His fingers followed the bruises until they landed around the inside of your elbow, where you noticed how the bruises turned into black, blue, purple, and spots of brown. It certainly appeared to look painful. His fingers urged your elbow to bend slowly. “Tell me if the pain gets to be unbearable.”

You waited for a few moments, only feeling a dull ache stretch in your elbow. Suddenly, sharp pain exploded along with a popping feeling when your arm was nearly folded. You groaned loudly and visibly winced, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t realize just how injured you were.

Hoseok instantly pulled your arm back, the pain instantly ebbing away. “Torn ligaments in your elbow,” he diagnosed, then gave you a smile. “Basically, you sprained your elbow. The kickback must’ve irritated the torn ligaments. Hopefully, that didn’t worsen the injury.” Then he went through his bag once more and pulled out a small, brown, glass bottle. You realized it was another slave, although you didn’t catch the name. He applied the new slave to the puffy cut along your arm as he continued, “You need to rest for your elbow for next four weeks. Don’t put your arm through any more strenuous activities until I say you can. You’ll also need to ice your elbow for the next four day for about anywhere from ten to twenty minutes. I’ll give you some painkillers to deal with the pain for a little while.” He stopped spreading the salve and began re-wrapping your arm with the clean bandages. “As for your cut, you’ll only need to keep it bandaged for at most two weeks. Hopefully it’ll heal by then.”

When he finished wrapping and clipped it together, you gave him a grateful smile followed by a short laugh. “Thanks, Hobi,” you said as you examined your arm for a few seconds. “You’re seriously a miracle worker.”

You smiled as he wrapped your arm, “Thanks, Hobi. You’re seriously a miracle worker.” Hobi grinned as he wrapped, never taking his eyes off your arm. As he neared your wrist, however, he paused before leaning down and kissing the inch of skin still bare. 

Your breath hitched in your chest as you felt his warm lips on your skin. Hoseok’s eyes met yours as he looked up, his lips finally leaving your skin before he finished wrapping your arm. “Everything heals faster with a kiss you know. It’s been proven.” 

You felt your heat crawling up your neck as your gaze never left Hoseok’s. “I-I guess you would know. You are a doctor after all.”

“That I am,” he replied, still holding your arm. “Now,” he continued. “Let’s talk about why I’m really here.”

You froze, his words finally taking root in your head. Did he think that your eagerness to get him to your room was an invitation? You could see why he might come to that conclusion, but he couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“Pardon? What do you mean-” Hoseok cut you off as he leaned in close. “I know I’m here right now because you’re avoiding Taehyung. And after that little scene in the jungle I don’t blame you.” He moved so one arm was on either side of you, effectively trapping you. 

“How…?” You choked out, completely caught off guard by his accurate guess.

“I may not be the smartest member of the team, but anyone can see that you’ve been avoiding him ever since he riled you up.” He teased.

You were taken aback. “He didn’t rile me up…” you argued, but even you could tell it wasn’t convincing. Hoseok simply chuckled, his voice low and warm. Richer than you were used to, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“Then would you mind if I riled you up?” Hoseok leaned in further, his lips a breath away from yours. His eyes found yours, and you could see the desire reflected in those dark pools. 

Your brain struggled to keep up with what was happening. It screamed at you to put a stop to this, that it was unprofessional and would just lead to complications down the road, but your body had other ideas, and the sigh that escaped your lips seemed to tell Hoseok all he needed to know.

He caught your lips with his, his hand coming up to cradle your face. He wasted no time, quickly nipping at your lower lip, asking for entrance, which you readily gave him. He deepened the kiss, leaning further into you and resting his knee between your legs. You had to stop yourself from rolling your hips forward as your body cried for more.

Eventually the kiss was broken, both of you needing air. Hoseok leaned back, his chest heaving as he unbuttoned his shirt. “You taste like heaven, y/n.” He cooed, a smirk playing at his lips.

Your brain finally caught up with you as you leaned back against the couch, you skin hot against the cool wood of the frame. “Should we be doing this? You have the others to check up on. They must be wondering-” 

Hoseok cut you off as his hand gripped your hip, the other traveling up your side before pulling the collar of your shirt open, leaving your collarbones exposed to the air. “I’m not done treating you, though. I can imagine how much pain that arm is causing you, and you deserve only the best painkiller…” His eyes, hooded and dark, met yours before his head dipped to your neck, his lips working to make sure no patch of skin was left unadministered to. He left a trail down your neck to your chest, tongue darting out to lap at the sweat glistening your skin. 

You bit down on a moan, your body responding to his with eagerness. Your hands moved to his back of their own accord, sneaking under his shirt to roam over the lean muscles there. Hoseok leaned away, licking his lips as he gently grabbed your arms and pulled them away. 

“What did I say, y/n? You need to rest your arm.” He trailed kisses from your hand all along your injured arm. The gentleness with which he treated you made you want to melt on the spot, but his next words had heat pooling in your very core.

“Don’t make me punish you for being a naughty patient.”

His eyes were dark with hunger as they gazed up at you from where he had been kissing your wound. You felt his fingers trailing up your inner thigh, and even though your mind was screaming that this was a bad idea, your body wished he would hurry up already.

He seemed to see your thoughts reflected in your face as he quickly knelt back on the floor before gripping your leg with one hand and lowering his lips to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You threw your head back, a moan escaping your lips this time. You could feel Hoseok chuckle against your skin as he moved further up, but before he could do much else, the rap of knuckles on your door left you both frozen in place.

Hoseok snapped up toward your door, glaring daggers at it. You could tell he absolutely hated being interrupted, but he closed his eyes and calmed himself down before yelling, “I’m in the middle of a checkup!”

“This is important.” You recognized that voice to belong to Jin. Oh no, what did he want now?

Hoseok groaned, eyes rolling in frustration. “Can it wait until after I’m done?” he asked, trying to mask the irritation in his voice. You had to admit, seeing the doctor so ticked off turned you on a bit. You mentally slapped yourself for having such thoughts. No! Now was not the time!

“No, I need to see y/n... now.”

Hoseok turned his gaze back to you, anger still flaring in his eyes. You held his gaze for a few moments before he sighed defeatedly, pulling himself off of you. “Just a moment! I’m almost done bandaging her!” He grabbed his shirt and threw it on before buttoning it up again.

You sat up on the couch and embarrassingly buttoned up your own shirt, reflecting on the what happened moments ago. You didn’t serious just...? You bit the inside of your cheek, your fingers fumbling to get the buttons through the hole. You didn’t know why you were so flustered. You hadn’t done anything with him. However, that sheepish feeling still remained.

After Hoseok straightened himself out, he fixed your appearance so you didn’t appear so disbelief and obviously in the midst of sensual acts. “I guess I’ll have to give your painkillers later, unfortunately,” he pouted before releasing an exaggerated sigh. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t finish up your checkup.” A ghost of a smirk passed over his lips.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and replied, “I... um... it’s fine... we’ll just...”

Hoseok chuckled seeing your adorable face heat up. He pecked your lips, catching you off guard, and grabbed his medical bag at the foot of your couch. He made his way over to the door and swung it open, revealing an impatient Jin on the other side. “We’ll finish up your checkup later, y/n.” He gave you a knowing wink hidden from Jin before scowling at him. “Please don’t interrupt my business next time.” He then left you alone with the millionaire.

You fidgeted in your spot, still flustered by the your session with Hoseok moments before. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves sheepishly, unsure of what to say to him. He had been ignoring you all day and now suddenly he needs to talk to you? You had to admit, a small flame of irritation flared up within you, but you ignored the angering sensation.

“So,” you began, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, “you wanted something?”

“Yes.” Jin stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him, his dark eyes never leaving you. You gulped nervously, hoping that this wouldn’t end up with you getting another visit from the doctor, this time concerning your beaten up state. His eyes were narrowed into a serious stare, causing sweat to build up on your back worriedly.

“And that is?”

His fingers rested on the smooth brass of the doorknob for a few moments. “We need to talk.”

His hand reached down and locked the door with a click.

[ineffably-good]

Flufftober #30: Costumes

(Ok this isn’t really the prompt - the official prompt was pumpkins, but I already covered that pretty specifically in a prompt #4 -- so I made up my own.) 

__

“Crowley, look, we’ve been invited to a costume party!” Aziraphale said, his voice rising in excitement. “Oh I do love Halloween!”

Crowley frowns. “Well I don’t. Demons hate Halloween. Haven’t we talked about this already?”

“I know, I know,” Aziraphale says, considering his best moves in this situation. “And if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. But – you like spooky! You really like spooky. And you like misbehavior, right? Few places are as rife with chances for misbehavior as a costume party! You just think it over a little bit…”

And with that he sat back and buried himself in his book, while secretly watching Crowley’s face.

Crowley did give it some thought. He remembered how much of a good time he used to have at masked balls in eighteenth century France, for one. Somehow people thought that just by putting a lacy mask across a tiny portion of their face, they were completely unrecognizable and all the normal social mores no longer applied to them. It was like ground zero for the temptation trade; people were up for almost anything when they found themselves in costume.

Plus there was the fact that Aziraphale clearly wanted to go. He did try, generally, to let the angel have what he wanted, at least when what he wanted wasn’t likely to burn anything to the ground.

“Whose party is it?” he asked.

“Oh, one of the charities I donate to. Rented a hall up in Primrose Hill and is having a big swanky party on Halloween night.”

Crowley drummed his fingers on the edge of the couch. “Okay,” he said finally, “I could probably go. But I’m not wearing anything stupid, so don’t get any big ideas about us being dogs or flowers or anything like that.”

Aziraphale beamed at him and was clearly not trying to bounce. “Oh no, of course not, my dear! I’ll find us something just perfect, don’t you worry.”

Crowley felt a small seed of worry begin to take hold. “You have to run it by me before you purchase anything, angel. Seriously. Don’t do your usual on this one, okay?”

Aziraphale laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll gather some options for you tonight, just have to do some research first.”

++

They went out for sushi that night, and Aziraphale waited until Crowley had a couple of cups of sake and a few nigiri in him before he broached the subject again.

“So,” he said warmly, “I have a few thoughts on possible couple costumes for us.”

“Couple costumes?” Crowley said. “Why do we have to do that?”

Aziraphale looked a little hurt. “You don’t want to do a couples costume? I mean… we are a couple after all…”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but only a little. This was neither the battle nor the hill he wanted to go down on, no question. He raised a hand in defeat. “Okay, angel, I’m sorry – of course we can do a couples costume. It’ll be –” he squinted and made a face like he’d tasted a bitter lemon “—fun.”  

Aziraphale took a swig of his sake and looked at Crowley consideringly. Should he start with the easy ones to reject, or with the best ones? He wasn’t sure.

“Well?” Crowley said. “Lay ‘em on me. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said, pulling out a small notebook that looked suspiciously similar to the sleep experiment notebook. “First up would be your classic superhero/sidekick combination. Something like, perhaps, Batman and Robin. I, of course, would be Batman, and you would be… well –”

“Could be fun, but I’m not going as Robin, angel. And why would you be Batman? I’m more his type.”

“I could be dark and brooding!” Aziraphale insisted.

“You’re not the type. You’d be better off wearing those ridiculous green booties and the tights,” Crowley said. “You’d look great!”

Aziraphale gave him a long, slow stare, then deliberately took out a small pen and crossed that one off the list.

“Next there are a variety of historical options. Henry VIII and Anne Bolyn?”

Crowley grinned. “Henry II and Thomas Becket would be a lot more fun. We could spend the whole evening trying to smite each other.”

Aziraphale sighed and crossed that one off. “You could be a white rose and I could be a red rose and we could be the war of the roses?” he said hopefully.

“Angel,” Crowley said, distinctly and clearly. “I thought I said no flowers. Did I not say no flowers?”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale made another note. “How about Romeo and Juliet?”

“You’re Juliet,” the demon countered quickly. “And only if we can play out the death scene.”

“You’re ridiculous,” the angel said. “Okay, how about Punch and Judy?”

“Would one of us get to hit the other with a large board?”

“Why,” the angel asked in despair, “are you so violent tonight?”

Crowley shrugged and stuffed another nigiri in his mouth. Aziraphale retaliated by gather most of the remaining salmon pieces onto his plate.

They went through many more entries on the list, Crowley mocking or adjusting each of them as needed, until they were left with very few options.

“Well perhaps we should go to a costume shop and look around,” Aziraphale said finally, in defeat.

“I’m game for that,” Crowley said. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

++

 The next day they went to an obscure historical costume shop in the theater district to look at possible outfits. Aziraphale tried to be on his nicest behavior, charming the proprietor, because he suspected Crowley was going to be quite a handful. As usual, he was correct in this assessment.

“What are you gentleman looking for?” the man asked them.

“Something amusing, I suppose,” Aziraphale said, “possibly historical or liter –”

“Nothing stupid,” Crowley cut in, “and no flowers. Something cool.”

The proprietor blinked, taking this in, and set off to see what he could find. He brought out a rack full of options a few minutes later and took them off in pairs to show them. Kings and princes, Hamlet and Ophelia, jokers and jesters, Romans, Egyptians, Medusa and Perseus (“I like the snakes on that one!” Crowley said), Vikings and gladiators – somehow nothing really caught their fancy.

“Well what might you be interested in?” the proprietor asked, nearing the end of his patience.

“Got any serial killers?” Crowley asked. “Or how about rock stars. Got any Sex Pistols? Sid and Nancy?”

Aziraphale sighed quietly.

 ++

“I think we made a good choice!” Crowley said brightly on the way home. “That was a brilliant last minute save that man made, there. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself!”

“It’s certainly unusual,” Aziraphale said. “I’m not sure how I feel about wearing that, to be honest.”

“Oh, come on, angel, it’s not that bad,” Crowley cajoled. “Wear it for me?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Whose idea was this whole party thing? I’m not at all sure we should even be going.”

Crowley reached over and took his hand without comment.

 ++

One week later, the night of the party arrived.

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale after dinner. “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“Oh, dear, I don’t know –” Aziraphale said. “You’re going to have to help me with the spray paint, yes?”

“Angel, you don’t have to spray-paint yourself,” Crowley pointed out. “You’re an ethereal being with powers. Just do it!”

“That’s true,” Aziraphale said doubtfully. “I still think I’m going to look ridiculous.”

“You’re going to look hot, angel.” Crowley said, closing that conversation. “Now come on, let’s get changed.”

Crowley had a very easy time of it, slipping into his outfit easily and excitedly. He actually couldn’t believe he’d given the angel such a hard time about this – he was truly rather excited about this one. Aziraphale, however, was locked away in his closet making fussy noises as he tried to work out his half.

“You ok in there, angel?” Crowley called.

“Just fine! Out in a moment,” the angel called back.

Crowley wandered downstairs and carefully made himself a martini while he waited. Finally, after having time to slowly sip half of it, he heard Aziraphale making his way downstairs. He turned around and gasped at the vision before him.

Aziraphale was clad head to toe in a tight gold dress that clung to his form, and his skin was covered everywhere with a thick layer of gold to which he’d added just a bit of angelic glow so that he looked radiant on all surfaces. His hair had been smoothed out of its usual curl a bit and swooped down over his forehead, and if Crowley wasn’t mistaken he’d modified his corporation a bit to be a little more female-shaped – it nipped in a bit more at the waist and flared out becomingly below.

Goldfinger, Crowley thought. I knew there was a reason that movie was one of my favorites.

“Why do you get to be Bond and I have to be the Bond girl again?” the angel asked plaintively.

“Because! I’ve got the bullet marks in my car. Plus, I never get to wear a tuxedo,” Crowley said. “Besides, you kind of like it, admit it.”

“Of course I like it, you look amazing,” Aziraphale said, sincerely.

“I meant, you kind of like what you’re wearing.” Crowley grinned. “Don’t you? Just a little tiny bit?”

Aziraphale flapped a hand and tried to stifle a returning grin. “Oh stop. I suppose I do look better in gold than you do,” he said, preening a little. “And the skin tone is sort of fun. Haven’t dressed as a lady in quite some time!”

Crowley sauntered over and kissed him. “You look delectable, Ms. Galore. You’re going to be the hit of the party.”

The demon offered his arm most dashingly and Aziraphale took it, casting one last look in the mirror as they headed out. The things you do for love, he thought, casting a glance at his devastatingly handsome date in his well-cut tuxedo. He took a moment to make the heels he was wearing just the tiniest bit taller and magically more comfortable, and then straightened up.

He tossed his hair back and tried to assemble the best Bond-girl attitude he could manage. He hadn’t even shown Crowley yet the pretend pistol he’d strapped to his thigh. He’d save that for later, when they were dancing. He was certain that detail would bring the evening to a rather pleasant resolution.

[fuckapuck]

Injured

Mikko Rantanen x fem!Reader

Warnings: none. A little sad though

This is my very first fan fic! I got this idea into my head and couldnt get it out so i had to write it up! Idk if its any good i certainly hope it is! Im posting this on mobile so idk how it will look posted. Sorry! Its kinda a long one

Mikko sighed as the doctor stitched up his cheek. It had been a rough game against the preds and he ended up catching a skate balde with his face. It was a nasty gash that went from his temple and on to the corner of his lip.

It hurt and he wasn't ashamed to say he cried.

Lots of local anesthesia and a few stitches later there was just a very dull throbbing in the left side of his face. Some one had come back to tell him the 3rd period started and he desperately wished he could be out there right now. He was taken back to the locker room told to keep his bandages dry and get cleaned up and changed.

He shed a few more tears out of frustration. He knew he would have to sit out a few games to let this heal a bit before he could get back out on the ice. He grabed his phone. He didn't have any texts or missed calls from (Y/N) as he expected. You were working tonight and wouldnt get off till almost 2 am, so you wouldn't find out about his injury until your shift was done. Hopefully. You hated that job and Mikko often told you just to quit and not to worry about expenses. He would take care of anything that was needed. He washed up and changed back into regular clothes. He couldnt wait to get back to the hotel and put on soft stretchy clothes.  He sat down in his stall and stared at his phone. Should he text (Y/N)? You were working and he didn't want you to worry. There was still had 5 hours left of your shift. He let out another sigh and hung his head as he shut off his screen.

His thoughts were interupted as whoops and cheers came from outside the door. It burst open and his teammates poured in. He smiled as much as he was able and was embraced by a few guys. Gabe and Z took their time talking to him making sure he was doing fine.

"I won't really know how I feel until I'm not numb." He joked with them. His mood was brightening as his captain and friends told the story of their victory. He ignored the pain in his chest for not being there.  That he didn't get to see it. 

The night continued and interviews were completed. He declined doing one until his face felt better. He was more than happy to use his cheek as an excuse to not talk to media. Normally he didn't care, but he just really didn't want to do it tonight. As the reporters cleared and the team finished getting changed Barbs came over and smacked him on the shoulder.

"Hanging in there Rants?" He smiled at the finn.

"Oh yeah, just a little out of it." He head was a bit fuzzy still but getting clearer and more painful by the minute.

"Nice. They must have given you the good stuff!" Barbs nudged him again and mikko felt more at ease. He could do this. The playful chirping of teammates. He didn't have to think about his face. The light hearted fun continued. Until his name brought his full attention back.

"Huh?" He blinked.

"I said I would help you get back into the single life!" Barbs laughed and a few other joined him.  A sudden unease took over mikko.

"What do you mean?" He questioned. The unease growing.

"This." mark poked his own cheek and nodded at mikko. "Gonna be single by morning!"

Mikko stayed silent and just stared. He felt like he couldn't breathe. The guys seemed to see that this particular chrip hit a sensitive spot.

"Fuck barbs! Shut up." Gabe hissed. Mikko zoned out and found himself trapped in his mind. It was a horrible injury to his face. He wouldn't look the same after this. He would be scarred. His mind was reeling and he didn't remember when he got back to the hotel. Only that he made it back. He was in mild pain now the medication wearing off. He hoped he could get to sleep before he could feel all of it. He changed his clothes in a daze and climbed into bed. He stared at the ceiling trying to get to sleep but he couldn't. He just kept thinking about you.

How you would smile at him and kiss his face. How you would grab his cheeks and nuzzle into him calling him beautiful and handsome. His chest felt constricted and he threw the covers off of himself. He laid there as thoughs of you circled his mind. Your words that he so loved to hear now haunting him. You wouldn't think he was beautiful anymore. You wouldn't look fondly at him and caress his face. Would you cry when you saw him? Would you be angry at him for ruining his appearance? What would he do with out you? He heard his phone vibrate he looked over. You were calling him. He moved his eyes back to the ceiling. It stopped and a few minutes later he heard the message notification sound. He ignored it. He couldn't bring himself to see what you had to say.

An uneasey sleep came over him only an hour and a half before he was suppose to get up. He packed quietly and jumped when someone knocked on his door. He opened it to find his coach and a medic. They wanted to check on him.

He was sat down as the doctor went over how to clean and bandage it again. He handed him a bag of perscription pain killers and extra bandages. Coach had a hand on his shoulder. At the end of it he was told he would have to sit out for at least a week and then they would look at how the healing was doing and if everything was good he could go back to playing with a face cage until it was fully healed. Coach gave him some pats on the back and told him to take two or three days after they got back to rest. Take it easy.

He packed silently and watched his hands tremble. You wouldn't leave his mind. Your soft skin and gentle touch. Your laugh and your smiles. How he could always tell how you were feeling because your eyes showed everything. What would they show now? Disgust?

He loaded into the bus. Some of the guys came over to him but he pointed at his cheek and shook his head.  The bus arrived at the airport and everyone loaded into the plane. Taking their seat. He put himself buy a window toward the back. Gabe and Nikita sat by him. About 30 minutes in Nikita gently nudged him.

"What barbs said. It was joke you know. He did not mean it." He spoke softly to Mikko. Gabed turned towards them.

"He's right Mikko. You know (Y/N) would never do something like that." Gabe reassured. Mikko  closed his eyes and turned his head away from the window and looked at his two friends.

"Tell me the truth. If you were in my place, if this was your faces not mine, would your wives leave?" Mikko asked. His heart beating in his ears he needed the answer.

Nikita and Gabes eyes widened. Z looked down at his hands not saying a word. Gabe opened and closed his mouth trying to think of something to say. Mikko turned back to the window and felt tears stinging his eyes. Yes, they would. They wanted handsome pretty husbands and a scar like the one this will leave will not be pretty. The rest of the flight was silent between them.

Mikko couldn't help but think of the way (Y/N) normally greeted him when he got off the plane. She always tried her best to be there. She always would grab his face, kiss him and give him a tight warm hug. She would tell him that she loved him and promise a delicous home cooked meal. Would it be the same? Would she even be able to look at him?

The plane landed and he dragged himself off of it. They approached where the WAGS would normally wait, but he couldn't look up. He was so afraid that if he did, you wouldn't be there.

He felt a nudge and looked to Nate who nodded his head forward. Mikko looked up and there you were. You were smiling but it was different from normal.

Mikko walked up to you and almost had to hold back tears as you embraced him. It felt just as tight and warm as it always did he felt one hand so very softly touch his uninjured cheek.

"Lets go home okay?" He couldn't look you in the eye. He walked silently by your side and held your hand loosely. There was no kiss. No usual excitement. He felt his world becoming smaller. Maybe if he asked nicely you would let him hold you one last time before you left him forever.

The car ride was quite on his part. Your gentle voice talking softly about little things that had happened in his week away. He couldn't muster up the courage to say anything to you. Afraid it would be the last thing he would ever say to you.

You pulled into his spot at his apartment and attempted to help with his bags But Mikko carefully took them from your hands and carried them himself. The two of you went up to his place. He put his bags on his bed and started to unpack. You came up beside him and started to help. He wanted to object but couldn't. Time passed and soon everything was unpacked and the two of you were sitting on the couch. (Y/N)  kept a small one sided conversation going and Mikko mearly stared on.

"What would you like for dinner?" You asked, but Mikko said nothing.

"Mikko? Why won't you talk to me love?" She asked gently and her small, soft fingers gently brushed his uninjured cheek. Suddenly he couldn't help it anymore. It was too much. Why were you still being kind to him if you were going to leave him? He began to cry. He couldn't stop it. Instantly you were there. Holding him and comforting him with kind hands and words. He almost let himself relax into your warm body. But he couldn't. It was too painful.

He stood up abruptly and stared down into shocked concered eyes.

"Just do it already! Stop playing with me and do it!" He tried to sound stern but he just sounded broken.

"What are you talking about? Do what?" You asked and went to reach for him. Mikko stepped back out of your reach.

"End it. End it like you want to. I know you do. Just leave me already and stop making it hurt!" Mikko practically shouted. You stared at him with wide hurt eyes.

"Leave you? Why would I do that?" You asked your voice shaking. Mikko couldn't look at you.

"This," he pointed to his bandage, "my face will be different and ruined. I know you want to leave me. Just do it." He ended quietly and weakly.

"Do you honestly think I'm that shallow?" He could hear the pain in your voice. He just shrugged. "Mikko Rantanen you will look at me right now!" You snapped. Mikkos head shot up he eyes locking with yours. He saw pain and anger in those eyes.

"You listen to me right now. I love you. I have loved you since I met you. Not because of your face, but because of you. How you treat me and talk to me. How you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when I know I'm not. I would never leave you because of an injury! For fucks sake you are a hockey player! Injuries and hockey go hand in hand!" You yelled and got closer to him. "I knew what I signed up for when I started dating you. I'm in it for the long haul and I won't be leaving just because of a scar!" You jabbed him in the chest with your finger and crossed your arms. You deflated a little the anger subsiding and hurt remained.

"Do you really think so little of me Mikko?" You barely whispered out your arms dropping to your sides. Mikko couldn't take it. Your pain and saddness. His doing. He moved suddenly and wrapped you in his arms the good side of his face against the top of your head.

"No. No I don't. I promise. I love you. You are the best woman in the world. The kindest and most wonderful and beautiful. I was just scared. The boys said - " mikko rushed out. You had relaxed against him but the quickly pushed away and look up to him with anger in your eyes.

"What did the boys say?" You ground out. Mikko explained Barbs chirp and Gabe and Z's silence on the plane. Suddenly you weren't in his arms but pacing the living room as he watched on fondly.

"Those stupid little- UGH! Let me tell you if their wives ever find out about that they will be pissed. Fuck! They will give them some scars to worry about. Those absolute idiots! And I'm going to kill barbs. Those kind of jokes aren't funny. I'm gonna kick his ass! I'm going to practice tomorrow and im gonna beat him with his hockey stick!" You ranted on furiously. Mikko just laughed and came up and wrapped his arms around you.

"Please don't kill anyone. I'm very sorry my love. I am very very sorry." You again relaxed in his arms and nuzzled into his chest." I got worried and to into my head and then you didn't kiss me and-"

"Kiss you? Mikko I didn't want to hurt you! Your mouth was injured too not just your cheek!" You laughed at him in exasperation. Mikko blinked down at you.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.'" You rolled your eyes, and leaned Into him, "I love you mikko and I won't stop." You pressed your face into his chest and his grip tightened.

"I love you too" he swore to himself not to doubt you again. And felt secure in his knowledge that you loved him.

"I am gonna get barberio back though." She warned. He chuckled and press a very soft kiss to her head.

"I know."