#Who taught him and gave him sweets and who were betrayed

[acewizardinspace]

We see the attack on the jedi temple in ep 3, the Kenobi show and from Grogu, and they all show how horrific it was, but none of those have shown us the elderly.

It is only logical that during the war most of the people in the temple were those too old or sick to fight, yet, in all of these scenes we are only shown what appears to be mid-life adults.

But I just can't stop thinking about the elderly jedi.

The jedi who haven't picked up their lightsabers in 10 years, let alone actually turned it on, standing up to protect their homes. The jedi who gave themselves one final mission, to save as many of their people's children as they can. The jedi who fought in their hover chairs, who didn't even try to evacuate, who tried to stall the onslaught for just a little while longer.

I get really emotional thinking about the elderly jedi who are typically forgotten in these discussions.

[nemesyaaa]

losing my religion // dark!cult leader!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; god loves you but not enough to save you.

warnings : mentions of religions. manipulation. cult. smut. corruption kink. small town church trope. religious trauma. purity/innocence kink. slight of god complex. first time. dark/soft!rafe. mentions of murder. sweet lamb trope. coercion. smoking. little age gap. heaven goal. mentions of size kink. glorification. be careful with the warnings. minors DNI.

author's note : it's around 5k words. pfiouuuu. televangelism by ethel cain playing in the background please.

“ father, will i go to heaven ? ”

“ father, will i be this good all my life ? ”

“ father, where was god when i thought he was there ? ”

“ father, did god let me sin on purpose ? ”

you lived in a small remote village, the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and where there were no secrets. well, you thought there were no secrets because everyone here was a true and firm believer. all the locals lived for god. and you would do anything for him and for your ticket to heaven. you had been baptized as a baby and had grown up as a child of the lord, and his most faithful angel. you have acted so well since your childhood and were sure that your death will be a pleasant trip to paradise.

you went to church every day because you always had something to say to god, to ask him, to make him understand. you prayed to speak to him, for him to see you, for him to hear you, for him to know how grateful you were for the life he had given you. your parents had always recommended that you cherish your existence, but also everything that happened to you, the misfortunes as well as the pleasures. life was neither all rosy, nor all white, nor gray or black. you were the only person to give it color. so your religious sister told you that you just needed to know how to paint, but that sometimes you would fail, you would fail but that it didn't matter. because you will make a masterpiece again sooner or later.

you were a devoted child, a faithful lamb with no anger inside, but above all full of love. you gave it to everyone when god had taught you and commanded you to share it as much as possible, that it was this feeling that would bring peace on earth. and who did not want peace, who did not want to please his creator? you were a good girl, so sweet and innocent, the kind sweetheart of the town, incapable of harm or sin, always dressed in your white dress and your little black shoes. you wear everything that can please god. you walked through the church hallway to join the choir, holding the candles. the world had his eyes on you, but especially this tall man lodged in the dark corner.

this man was not god and you knew it, because god would never look at you that way.

you wouldn't know how to describe this gaze on you, but it made you uncomfortable. you continued to move forward, holding the flame preciously against you. you sang with your angelic voice, glory to the almighty, glory to the one who made your existence so beautiful, to bring your back to life every time you felt, and this guy was still staring at you like you were the only person that existed, like the world had taken away the entire universe except you.

maybe you were an angel. after all, you were among the Lord's faithful.

you had never dated a man in your life. your parents and god forbid you, because you needed to stay pure for the good one. you had to remain virgin and clean for your future husband. you were forbidden to look at them, touch them or talk to them except for church activities. you were so loved by god so you had no right to sin, no fucking right to betray him. you had to remain as intact as the mother of everyone, as virgin mary.

you were as holy as the bible, the treasure of the creator. you were devoted like a lamb to his owner, as the followers to the cult leader.

you had never experienced something like touching yourself, making yourself feel good, and anything that included carnal pleasures. you didn't know about pornography, sexuality and lust. you walked away from it as if it were the devil. you were unable to make your god mad, you were too scared for that.

you were faithful to the lord. you helped the people of the village, homeless, the destitute, poor children, the elderly, you helped the world become a better place even when it seemed to be turning against you.

at the end of the mass, everyone, the priest had sent you to collect the funds from the locals.

you were standing in front of the steps. people were always kind and smiling to you as you were collecting funds for the church.

and you had been waiting for this voice to come at you.

“do you really want to go to heaven ? ”

you turned to face the man from earlier, the one hidden in the benches. you answered him with the sweetest smile, and the most nervous look. "yes, i do everything to go there. am i not good enough ? "

“everything?” the stranger had laughed kindly, but it had offended you slightly with that soft giggle.

“ why are you laughing ? this is not funny. ”

“ slow down, baby. you're too pretty to get on your nerves. ” he had pulled out a cigarette.

“will you forget God for a second and be an angel to me ? ”

“ God is in my heart, is in me. i can't forget him, even for a second. he's the reason why i'm living. ”

“ be sweet, angel and light it for me. don't say no, your divine father is watching you, you don't want him to catch you refusing to help a stranger and be mad at you? ” you looked at him with strange open eyes but you accepted. because he was right.

you didn't know how to say no to people. God didn't teach you to say no. people needed to help the people.

you lit his cigarette, and during the whole process he looked at you, his glare scanned your face. you were staring at him, and saw your own silhouette in his eyes, your shadow dancing in the perfect blue of his pupils.

you felt the heat in your cheeks, the burn of his gaze on your skin. you were unwell. you didn't like this situation, the unsteady feeling, the stranger proximity.

when you met him, you felt like a sinner more than a believer.

but he smiled at you. the soft kind of smile that made you forget everything, that made you feel so dumb.

“would i go to heaven now?” you teased him with a small laugh to echo his words.

“not yet but i can help you if you want if you're serious about that.” he answered.

“ i'm serious. ” you were really curious, and he had your full attention. you knew it wasn't good to talk for that long with a man. especially, older. but you took the risk.

you should have stopped when he complimented you because your parents said that men who are nice to girls like you always have bad intentions. but there was also something so charming and bewitching about this man. the way he was adorable. you didn’t see the evil in him.

“i really want to go to heaven, i swear on my life, sir. ”

“ sir ? such a polite thing but i'm not that old, sweetheart. i'm tall, not too old. ”

“ anyways, i really want to go to heaven !! ”

“you already said it, doll. i think God is tired of hearing it now. he wants proof, you know. he needs to see how devoted you are to him. ”

“how can i prove it to him?”

"i know God. i talk to him every day. i am his ruler. do you know what that means? that i am the one who decides for him whether people go to heaven or not. i am his most loyal servant, so he trusts me.”

“are you really connected to God?”

"you are too. we all are but the difference is that i can take you to heaven. i promise you." he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently , a tender and unique gesture that made you shyly smile. “i’m not an angel. not yet.”

"yes, i assure you. i knew it as soon as i saw you in that church. join me." he announced with a warm voice.

“you have always been divine, i never doubted it. you have to go to heaven, you understand? you can't behave so well, be so charitable and disappoint God? and you wouldn't dare doing it, don't you, pretty lamb ? because do you think he will forgive you ? no, sweetheart. you will be punished and rejected like every sinners. ”

“ you're wrong ! God loves me ! ”

“you don't understand. you must be perfect until the end, you must be a great god masterpiece, not his biggest failure. you can't just be the chorus of this choir, be the beautiful thing who holds the candles at mass, the kind soul who helps others. you can't be just that when i can offer you even better and absolutely everything you want. any of your wishes. join me and i will make all your wishes come true, i will make you the new face of the paradise. i will make God see you everywhere. ”

"it seems so unreal...i don't know..."

he had cut you. he didn't want to give you time to think, leaving room for the barrier of doubt."you have to join me, isn't that what you wanted? for me to find you? if you believe in god, you have to be a good girl, make the right choices. "

“okay….” you finally agreed.

he waited for you in his car, one hand on the steering wheel. and you joined him inside. there was so much euphoria in you. you felt like you were doing something so right, so you had this goofy smile on your face.

"does God think i'm a good believer ? i pray every day, i attend mass every time, i sing in the choir and in my rooms all the songs dedicated to him. i only have the Bible as a book and i read it all the time. i can't do anything wrong. i'm good, i promise, i'm good. ”

"is that true? you'll have to show me so I can tell."

“I’m going to pray for you too.” you added. “I pray for all the souls in this world.”

“oh yes my angel will pray for me. i want to hear your prayers, all your prayers about me. but not in front of me. "

“ why ? ”

“ seeing you bent on your knees for me will make me sin. i wish you could see the kind of temptation you are. ”

you had arrived in front of a mansion. you were so flustered and nervous. you didn't understand what you were doing in front of this place, and why he had brought you here. he took your hand, reassuring you with his touch, and guided you inside.

you were not alone. there were other people, women and men. all dressed slightly the same, as if there was a regulation outfit. the atmosphere was strange, a little sectarian. there was an organ playing in the background, and everyone was looking at you kindly so you tried to relax.

"don't be afraid. they're like you, they just want to go to heaven. can you understand?"

you nodded and he showed you around all the places. he even showed you a room and said it would be yours. she was pretty, absolutely perfect but she wasn't yours. not that of your house.

"I'm not going home?..."

"what do you mean? this is your home now. we're a family."

"a family? i have parents, they will worry…”

"i thought you wanted to be close to God. were they lies? you know, you shouldn't joke with religion, and with words. if you want to be a good little christian, if you want to go to heaven, it is to me, and only to me, that you must be devoted.”

"I...I...no, i promise! I'm sincere! i'm sorry, really, I'm sorry. " you now felt terrible. there were so many tears in your eyes, you couldn't even see the room clearly.

the man smiled before taking you in his arms. "it's nothing, you just need to be clearer with your words, okay? I'm your only savior, you don't need others.”

he had wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I have a gift for you…” he whispered and you found your smile again.

no one ever gave you gifts. it was so rare. “open it” he told you.

it was a dress. not the one you usually wore. “you have to put it on. don't you want to shine, shooting star ? ”

" now ? "

"now." his voice was a little firmer.

“i can’t change in front of you…” you admitted. "you're a man...and I'm a girl...it's sinful, it's like having sex! we have to get married to have that intimacy. "

he smiled and laughed. "you've never been naked in front of someone? you've never left this body in front of someone else?"

he had approached, slipping up behind you, towering over you with his height, his hands resting on the corners of your trembling shoulders.

“my sweet thing, it’s as if you’re begging me to corrupt you.”

“what do you mean?”

“that i must see this body.”

" Is it bad?"

“What would be bad, angel, would be to upset me.”

he had pulled the tab of your dress to lower it a little. there were shivers in your body. you felt like you were doing something wrong.

"you're not doing anything wrong. this is what god wants you to do. he told me."

" It's true ? "

“ only the truth. just now. i wouldn't dare lying to you, my sweet. ”

there was nothing you could refuse god. If it were his will, you would do anything.

"but I've never done anything like that? I always thought it was wrong, that I didn't have the right."

he pulled your dress down to the floor, your naked body revealed in the mirror. you could feel his gaze growing more intense as he took in everything you had shown him. "is my body okay? I mean, this is the first time anyone has seen it so..."

"sweetheart, I've never seen anything so beautiful. but I don't just have to see it to judge it, I have to touch it. will you let me ? "

“Lust is a sin.”

“do you want to know my name?”

you had just now realized that you didn't even know his identity. you nodded your head.

“rafe.” he spelled it. “ you must know my name to pray for me, but also to glorify me.”

“glorify ?”

"you must glorify me. salute me and worship me. these are the rules if you want to go to heaven. you must be devoted, I told you.."

" fine…”

he sat on the bed, and you moved closer but he stopped you.

"no, no. all this sweetness but no useful brain ? ” he mocked. “ to worship me, you must be on your knees. ” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“ treat me as the same way you treat your god, angel. because this is what i am to you. i want to see your legs bow down for me, i want to see them treading the ground up to me. i want to see that precious look at the same height of my knees, let me see that head lifted up to glory me. "

he had lit a cigarette, the fourth since you had spoken, and had smiled when you started walking on your knees towards him.

he pressed his hand against the growing bulge in his pants.

“open your mouth.” he commanded and you obeyed, and he slipped his cigarette between your lips. “don’t smoke it, hold it only. don't go against my rules. can i trust this dumb baby brain for once to not disappoint me ? ”

he had taken off his pants, with his boxers. and you turned your head, strongly ashamed by his action.

he mocked gently. “in your place, i would not look away, that would avoid unpleasant surprises when this thing will be buried inside your virgin cunt, sweetheart. ”

he had retrieved his cigarette, and turned your head towards him.

"I can't believe you've never seen one. you've been such a good girl to me. you've been waiting for me. "

“will god hate me?”

“how can i show it to you?”

"it's not god you have to fear, it's me, sweetheart because I'm the only one who will decide for you from now on. do you understand? I have to be sure that you are deserving."

“give me your hand. let me guide you...do you trust me? ”

“ i trust you, rafe. ”

he had positioned your hand on his cock which was already hard. you shivered. your hand was clumsy around his painfully boner. yet you had heard him let out a grunt.

his fingers moved with yours, accompanying you in his lewd movements. you had god in your head, heart and body but your fingers fisted around that thick dick made you warm and good. you hated that feeling, but you can't deny the pleasure. it was the first time. you weren't used to it. you moved back and forth with little confidence, while he kept your grip around his bulge. you followed his back and forth, pumping him with fragility. you weren't sure if it felt good but his muscles had tightened.

your fist slid over his length, your hand working massively. your touch was divine, he threw his head back. you could feel his abs twitching in synch.

“open those legs. let me see that sweet untouched pussy. i'm gonna take such good care of it. are you still trusting me ? ”

“ yes…”

you didn't want to. it flowed between your thighs, the wetness spurted in a mess on the floor. and you weren't sure if that was a good thing. you couldn't tell if it was pleasure or not. it was new to you.

“trust me, you don’t want to make me repeat that a second time. do you ? ”

and that was enough for you to bend to his will.

"you feel, baby ? the sweet mess between your legs ? don't hide from me. ”

you continued to masturbate him up and down. you turned him on so much that he already wanted to come in your hand. his cock twitched in your hold and his balls slapped repeatedly against his skin.

"does that make you feel good? do I need to do better? do you want me to put my lips on..."

he had cum on your face. and you stepped back in surprise. “let me clean you up…”

you came back to him thinking he was going to wipe you but he caught his seed with his fingers, and brought them to your mouth. “if you don’t want me to put them down your throat, you better lick them now.”

you lapped up every last bit of cum on his fingers until they turned white again. you knew he was serious when he threatened you. "that wasn't really a warning, I'll do it someday. I really want to use every part of your body. and you'll let me. yes ?”

“whatever you want...”

he smiled and stroked your hair. “you learn quickly.”

you didn’t really know why but his recognition made you happy. she had an impact on you. you needed, and sought, his validation. it promised you to be even closer to god, to show god that you were faithful to him.

you had this urgency to please rafe, to show him that you could be really good.

for rafe, you were another girl that he led into his cult, another lamb in the troop. you were perfect, you always had the profile. he knew it as soon as he saw you.

he had come to the church only to see you. he attended every mass and ceremony hoping to corrupt you. you were so innocent, so kind and so sweet, and above all, you were ready for anything.

you prayed every day and read the Bible. so you had a desire, a goal, a faith.

he had placed you on his legs, his hands caging your waist, wrapping each part of your hips. “I’m going to make you an angel.” he had said, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet entrance.

“I’m going to go to heaven?”

"it's heaven that will beg for you to come to it, I can even say. but you still have to do one thing for me..."

“tell me. I’ll do anything.”

" good. i really want you to take that dick. show me how much you want to reach eden, i want to see god in you when i'm fucking you. i want to hear prayers in that mouth for how i make you feel, how perfect i am to you and that sweet cunt of yours.”

you rubbed your dripping pussy against his cock, feeling the feverish, leaking tip against your slick folds. you had gently entered him between your impenetrable walls until now, letting out a long and loud moan when you felt his dick getting even harder inside you. It took you several bounces on his thighs to get used to, your pussy stretching around him. you could feel every inch of his length filling your canal but also widening it.

his large hands covered your ass, gripping the gummy flesh of your cheeks, his body moving and following your movements. he had grabbed your face to force a kiss from your already open lips, sliding his tongue against yours. a drool dripped from your jaw, as your pelt slammed and bounced violently against his. your hands were around his neck, trying to keep up the pace.

seeing you struggling and jiggling, he laughed. “even if you had prayers, you couldn’t even say them, too fucking dumb for that shit, right now ? ”

and it was true, you weren't even able to say a word without gurgling. you had tears streaming down your face, your moans were locked against rafe's glossy and pretty mouth, and you were trying hard to take his big cock as best you could. his dick was stuck between your sticky walls, your breasts hitting her toned chest.

“keep going, you’re perfect…” his smile was evil because it motivated you.

you were riding him without even being able to think. you were a fragile little thing doing bad things with a bad guy.

but you wanted to please him. you wanted rafe cameron to think you were good and deserving. you wanted to go to heaven, so you did your best.

and he knew it. you had broken your purity for him.

you were convinced to do something right, convinced that god saw you and that he would be proud to see you so devoted to him.

you didn’t see the harm. you were an angel and you let a demon corrupt you.

you had succumbed to man and his vices, you had let sin enter into you, and let it do you good.

rafe knew what he was doing. you had been his prey. and he couldn't wait to see you at his feet, to make you his perfect doll that he could handle so easily.

because it was only the beginning before you were completely his, completely in control of you, choosing what you eat, what you want, what you wear, what you think.

you were his and his only.

you were his nice girl, not god's one, the one who smiled at everyone, who always prayed in the church pews, who helped those most in need.

he had found you and snatched you from god. because it wasn't him to whom you owed your life. you were wrong and he had to correct that.

you were an angel, and he loved seeing you cry for him. your tears was made for being looked by his ocean eyes, to felt loved by his kisses.

he was completely buried inside you, plunged so deep that you were completely dizzy. and every time you thought he couldn't go any further, he surprised you. you were pretty sure he could put a baby inside you right now, just from the way his cock thrusted inside you, invading your shaking body.

you had squirted and cried, accompanying your tears with apologies. "you're fine. it's just means you liked it. it will also happen to me, angel. don't worry.”

the more he called you angel, the more you began to believe that you were one. you had squirted again but now you weren't scared anymore because he had reassured you. you had been afraid that it would be a disgusting thing and that he wouldn’t want you anymore.

but it was so strange. he was both gentle and cold.

“stop...I’m going to be pregnant!”

"that's not how it works...but if that's what you want, I can take care of it...whatever the angel wants.”

after that day, your life had been totally different, completely transformed by rafe.

you were part of this community now. you were all brothers and sisters, united for a common goal. you always prayed. but above all, you were completely manipulated. you were so controlled that you forgot your family, your friends, your entourage, your involvement in church. only god remained with you. he was still there.

you wore the outfits rafe wanted you to wear, you ate the food he wanted, you only talked about topics he allowed, you became someone else. you were what he wanted you to be.

but one night you heard god. you were sure it was his voice in the darkness. you were sleeping in rafe cameron’s arms, his bicep resting on your stomach. it was strange to see him sleeping like a child when he behaved like that.

you had begun to follow god’s voice in the darkness, your feet pacing and pacing through the empty hallways. the light guided you, it was he who accompanied you. he pulled you out, into the huge garden.

“do you think you can leave? do you think you can leave me ? are you that fucking dumb ? ”

Rafe’s voice made you jump. you weren't sure if you woke him up because you were a quiet person. but now he was in front of you, and he really didn't look very happy.

"I have to leave..."

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

“god spoke to me.”

"oh really? god may be talking to you but you need to listen to me. aren't you grateful for the life i gave you? didn't you want to be good? you're tear up your ticket to paradise. just bury yourself alive at this point."

tears had started to fall down your cheeks. you felt trapped because you didn't know who to listen to. god or this man?

your feet moved towards rafe. as you approached, his arms stretched out as if to reassure you.

“i’m sorry….i'm really sorry…..”

“i know you are but you also know that it’s not enough.”

“so tell me what i need to do to be good enough? ”

“you must sacrifice yourself. ” he said with that deep serious tone.

you looked at him with fear. you couldn't kill yourself.

“ i can’t kill myself, rafe…”

“i know, angel but don't worry, i will. ”

“ what do you mean ? i always did what you wanted me to do, i always been so good to you, i never be against you and your rules ! you promised me heaven, you promised me....everything. was that a lie ? you 'ever be serious to me ? answer me...never ? rafe, i was all what you wanted me to be, even that was not enough for you ? ”

“ i really wish you were. any last word, baby? ”

“ can you at least shoot me in the heart ? ”

“ tell me why...”

“ it's the last part of me you never took away from me. but now that i will die, you can take it. it's all yours. ”

[dreamwritersworld]

His daughter (sully family x reader) part 2

Y/n’s anxiety was the worse growing up, if she hadn’t done it right or if her father didn’t approve she’d panic. Anything she did was effortless and beautiful but neither of them saw that. If you challenged Y/n, she’d prove you wrong immediately.

For as long as Y/n could remember everybody loved her. She never knew exactly what it was. She just knew that she had something special, something intangible, something immeasurable, and it gave her “confidence”.

However no one knew much she put into getting all her skills in check. There was so much stress in such a young girl to please the people. She saw her father as gold at the top of the mountain and her mother’s proud smile as the sweetest item amongst Eywa creations. She wanted their approval so badly..

*

Y/n had scrapes and mud along side her knees and body, it only got worse as she crawled further up the small trunk of a tree. Here she was moving her fastest as she goes against Neteyam who had been given a simpler task of obstacles. She struggled to breathe through the tight space…panicking at the realization that she wouldn’t succeed

I want it, I wanted it bad

The bloodshed and exhaustion was getting to her

but there were so many red flags

When she crawled right through, Neteyam had already been rewarded, the dirtest part of him being sweat and very little mud. Y/n’s sorrow was written all over her face, that afternoon she walked home covered in mud, drops of blood and sweat..she weeped to the empty forest that night begging Eywa to give her the sweetest reward on her…to save her and have her succeed further than she could imagine..

*

She loved her father and his approval, she wanted it more than anyone else. He knew this, he made her dependent and knew she’d crave it. If Y/n couldn’t stay with him forever, he’d find a way so that she would. Sure, Tuk was younger but Y/n was his real baby, she had almost died on him and he wasn’t going to let her go after that.

When Y/n wasn’t with Jake, she was with Neytiri. She wasn’t only her mother but Y/n’s best friend. Their relationship was so strong. On the days Y/n was exhausted she rested her head right on Neytiri’s lap as she played with her hair, she looked like a cat, calmly sleeping in her mother’s lap. It’d be hard to decide weather she was a daddy’s girl or mamas girl…but you’d have to take into consideration that when she was with Neytiri she at least provided a sense of that peace..mamas girl. It was true, Y/n spoke very highly of her mother constantly even if she had betrayed her…

*

Y/n had been speaking to one of the little girls who was asking to learn about human culture that Jake had taught her growing up..

“…mmh and Mother’s Day is the day people celebrate mommies?..”

“yes sweetheart!”

“What do you think about your mother?”

“My mom is a very important person in my life. And I think she taught me a lot of lessons in life, how to respect the public and the rest of my family. And I think it’s very important to have a mother and I want to be like her.”

Y/n’s voice was clear and you can tell she meant every word. The moment was cut short when an adult asked Y/n to aid them in healing..so she left the child alone with her mother. Neytiri’s eyes watered to her daughter’s sweet answer..

“And you? What about you?”

The young child looked dearly and innocently at Neytiri, filled with excitement to get a deeper connection between the two.

“Growing up I always told y/n to not change her way of being. You know, to all the time be humble and caring how she is with everyone..She’s a very special girl. Same as my other kids, all kids are special of course but..without her, I can’t imagine a life without her…she’s very important, she keeps my family together..”

Everything Neytiri had stated was true, Y/n made sure to develop a close relationship with her siblings. Her parents had been so connected to her and all was well with their family, as long as Y/n was there. As soon as Jake was gone she’d comfort her siblings and give them all her love. That was just the type of person she was.

*

Jake and Neytiri ripped Y/n apart. Their love was toxic to the child..

Jake would practically tell Y/n not to listen to her mother when she instructed her to stay behind during training and Neytiri would have Y/n sit on her lap while she cried, it may have seemed sweet until you realized that she was crying from the stress of canceling on her father and him yelling at her while her mother sat and watched..there’s no denying that she’d loved them until her final breathe.

They isolated her..

*

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! What you waiting for?”

“Please come out and play with us!”

“Y/n likes to stay in the house children..she can’t play right now.” (Neytiri)

“Oh..please let her come out and play with us now..”

“She can’t, she has important Navi’s to meet today..” (Jake)

Jake passed a smile at the young children, he heard himself say pure bliss. Y/n was being set up to meet perfect leaders that will help guide her and Neteyam as clan leaders. The child sat in silence with a saddened face, making eye contact with the children right before her father closed the curtain..

M-A-M-A-G-I-R-L

mama’s girl

mama’s girl

D-A-D-D-Y-G-I-R-L

daddy’s girl

daddy’s girl

*

When it was time for dinner in the morning, Y/n ate in silence. Her eyes were red from the crying. Jake didn’t even dare to stare longer, knowing that he too was upset..

Tsireya and Ao’nung had interrupted their breakfast to let them know that they’d be ready to teach as soon as they’re ready and to meet them at their Maui. The entire family walked in silence ready to greet the Tonowari, Ronal and their kids.

Ronal was instructing Tsireya on what’d it be best to start with today..however a certain someone in the small crowd of demon bloods caught her attention. All teens were quietly discussing amongst themselves except Y/n…she was dazed and looking right past Ronal, sheeply smiling at the home.

“Y/n!..are you tired today?”

The exhaustion was practically noticeable to the healer who can feel it. Y/n immediately glanced at her father, seeing his smile had dropped and she was now frightened that he’d be upset and start an argument right then and there.

“..no.”

She passed a gentle smile, attempting for it to wash over.

“No..okay you look a little tired.”

“Perhaps, it’s all the traveling..im sorry. I can assure you , your home and island has done me good the last couple of hours..sorry.”

Ronal was satisfied in Y/n’s answer. Soon it was time to begin training and the adults and children went their separate ways.

Ao’nung didn’t know where he’d even begin to start a conversation with her…but he found a way.

“..so not tired?”

Y/n turned and laughed at his awkward attempt, smiling at his efforts, being silently grateful.

“I am, but that’s between us! Your island is very beautiful..”

“Once you get used to it, it’ll be ordinary..normal!”

“Yea..when it’s not an everyday thing, you’ll learn to appreciate it I guess. Sorry, what’s your name? Just asking so I get it right!”

“Ao’nung, and your Y/n correct?”

“Yes Ao’nung. How about we run in the water together!”

The young boy liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, she said it as though she knew him forever. Y/n made their conversation comfortable, and she even offered a good race. The rest of the practice went well and the group got awfully comfortable. Ao’nung and Y/n connected immediately. When Y/n got home that bond seemed to be the hottest topic at the table..

“How was practice today? Everyone did good?”

“Yes sir! Everyone did great, their ways are different but good to learn.”

Neteyam spoke proudly, despite his sadness about leaving his position back at home he felt good to learn new ways of life.

“..mmh im sure of that. Anything else?”

Everyone knew Jake was trying to get Y/n to talk, but her stubbornness wouldn’t allow it. She was furious with him, he had yet to feel bad about anything he said. Lo’ak however thought it’d be best to make his twin sister smile; he just didn’t realize what he was about to say would be the wrong place to bring it up.

“Ao’nung is crushing on Y/n!”

All four siblings turned to the brother, shocked that he’d bring up the topic they thought they had silently agreed not to.

“Hehe..no he’s not.”

Y/n replied with an awkward frustrated laugh and stern voice, telling her brother to be quiet.

“…Ao’nung mmh…you know you can’t y/n-“

“I never said I would.”

Jake’s face was surprised at how quick she was to talk back and he immediately got defensive.

“Well I’m ordering you not to.”

“Im not a soldier, Ao’nung and I are just friends.”

Y/n had left a distaste in Jake’s mouth that made him no longer want to speak. The family tried moving past it while Y/n stayed silent. In the back of Jake’s mind he was panicking, afraid Y/n wouldn’t focus on training and that she’d fall behind and never learn their way. All the issues would fall like dominos…if she fell behind, she wouldn’t learn, if she didn’t learn she would become dependent on Ao’nung, if he wasn’t there she wouldn’t know what to do, if she didn’t know what to do…she wouldn’t survive at all. He didn’t even take into consideration that Ao’nung was the one teaching her the way of water, he just thought of him as some boy..oh how was he so wrong..

!🎀!

REMEMBER MY INBOX IS OPEN!!!! 💕

@ruyaas-world @neteyamyanw3 @elegantkidfansoul @adaydreamaway08 @luxiniary @venomsvl

[boyfiejay]

Home.

PAIRING : Park Sunghoon x gn Reader

GENRE : hurt, comfort, established relationship

Warning : Sunghoon panics a lot (could even be called a borderline panic attack), crying, struggle breathing

Word Count : 0.9k

Author's Note : requested. this is somewhat of an insert of myself as I used to be a swimmer (and I was taught by my dad so the pressure was doubled😝)

In your 7 months of relationship with Sunghoon, not a day passed when you felt a little less loved. His love for you just seemed to grow day by day.

He was honestly the best boyfriend, always making time to take you out despite his busy schedule.

You were on a date with him at the ice rink, as an ex-figure skater, Sunghoon wanted to show you his professional side. But he forgot one thing, the bad memories that come with the stinging coldness of the rink.

He felt the walls closing in on him, the cold air suffocating him as he remembered all the times he fell, and all the times he was denounced for it. The disapproving looks as he failed yet another step, or the way he was only praised and sweet talked to when he did good.

Never best, only good.

It sucked, especially because Sunghoon loved the sport. He loved the free feeling the ice gave as he glided on it. But the freeness didn't last long when he was put in official training. Everytime he stepped on the ice, all he could feel was a sense of being trapped.

Was all that he went through really worth it? He left the sport as soon as he could, wanting to be away from the familiar coldness and those disappointed looks. God everyone treated him like a machine, one that's only purpose was to win that damn medal, even if it meant sacrificing his sleep, health and mental state.

It sucked when everyone who wasn't related to the rink saw him as some kind of god, or a loser because apparently figure skating isn't a sport.

Going through all that and yet being bullied because the sport isn't manly enough.

Sunghoon couldn't breath, his breath coming out in short gasps as his chest rose and fell fast. Fast enough for you to notice.

"Sunghoon." he heard, or maybe it was his mind. His ears were ringing. His vision was blurry and he felt dizzy. God why was he back here, with you at that.

Like a ray of light in the darkness of his thoughts, your hands came up and cupped his face. Your hands were warm in contrast to the coldness of the ice.

"Hey, are you okay?" you said, worriedly looking in his eyes to search for something, anything other than that face. God you were so pretty, so pretty he forgot what he was so overwhelmed by.

"Sunghoon, what happened? Say something." you said, getting annoyed as he kept staring at you.

Cupping your hands in his large, cold ones he said, "Can we go home?"

His voice came out shaky. He really didn't want to worry you but his voice was betraying him. He just wanted to go home and lay in the bed, cuddling you and forgetting all of those memories.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his question, after all you had arrived at the rink just 10 minutes prior. "Why? What's wrong?" was the simple question on your mind.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and letting go of your hands, "I just want to go home." He was avoiding your eyes.

"Sunghoon, you know you can tell me anything, right? We can go home if you aren't feeling well, but at least tell me the truth." you said, cupping his cheeks to make him look at you.

"I-" he stopped suddenly, wide eyes filling with tears as he attempted to wipe them away, it was of no use his tears continued to flow.

You were taken aback, you had never seen him cry. His friends had said numerous times how Sunghoon isn't one to cry easily. So what was it about the rink that made him cry so much?

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers through his hairs and whispering sweet nothings in his ears. You were trying your best to calm him down, but you knew that he really needed to get these emotions out of him.

Pulling away from him, you softly wiped away the remaining tears.

"I just have too many bad memories from when I was a figure skater. The pressure was too much for me, every other day my coach would t-tell me how much of a disappointment I was. And I-" he said, gulping down the lump in his throat. His eyes filling up with tears again and his breathing picked up.

" Hey, hey, hey, calm down, Sunghoon, look at me. Breath with me." you said, slowly breathing in and out with him.

" We can go back home if you want, but I want you to know one thing, hoon, you're now far away from the coaches and the pressure. And I know It was a hard time for you, but didn't you say to yourself that skating on the ice makes you feel alive? You can't run away from something that brings you joy." you said, softly running your thumbs on his cheeks.

Sunghoon leaned down, connecting both of your foreheads and closing his eyes, "God, I love you so much." he breathed out, finally feeling calm. "Guess there's no running away from you then?" he says with a cheeky smile.

"Nope," you said, popping the 'p', "you ain't getting rid of this one."

This was reason number 98179357 why Sunghoon loved you. You seemed to know exactly what to say and how to calm him down. It would take him sometime to look at the familiar rink and not think about the past, but he knows that he'll create many memories with you at this same rink to replace those.

After all, home for Sunghoon is wherever you are.

[sluts4matt]

Can you do one where y/n is inlove with nate since she was 14 but she's the sturniolo tirplets little sister and her best friend is in love with nate now she's 19 and still in love with him, she is dating this bot but he's not so nice to her and nate gets mad at him and one night y/n gone to nate while he was in LA and tells him that her boyfriend broke up with her because she didn't want to lose her virginity to him, nate is there for her so she kisses him realizing she betrayed her friend and brothers but nate tells her he likes her back they go on a couple of dates and 8 mouths later y/n loses her virginity to her high school crush meanwhile they have sex y/n best friend comes over and her best friend and her brothers didn't know they were dating till they hear her moan/or nate and y/n feels like bad friend but none of them actually care

SECRET

pairing: nate doe x sls!erika sturniolo

summary: she had hidden her feelings away for years, but with growing up and toxic relationships it was all starting to resurface.

warnings: none

word count: 1631

authors note: a miniseries, whaaat. i am so fucking sorry this took me as long as it did @mssturniolo, next chapter in a few days most likely.

having feelings for your brothers' best friend had always been a no go. or at least that's what the movies always taught me, i found myself loving the trope from a young age, before i truly understood what liking a boy meant.

now i know, and am in fact involved with the same beloved trope of all of my favorite movies.

the feeling was planted when I was fourteen, my mom and brothers brought me to watch a friends hockey game. his blue eyes and blonde curls captivated me basically immediately. of course, i knew about the infamous nathan doe, he had been nick, matt, and chris' best friend since middle school.

i just hadn't had an actual conversation with him until he skated up to our area. nick, matt, and chris had all been freshmans' in high school while me and nate were still stuck in the eighth grade.

he had skated right up to us, the biggest smile i had ever seen, which i had thought was impossible because of the contagious one chris almost always wore. "hey guys'," he grinned, "hey erika," he said, the name falling from his mouth as if he had spoken it a thousand times before.

my cheeks flushed as i nodded and gave him a small wave. the butterflies felt instant and like they weren't gonna go away. the buzzer rang, signaling for everyone to get in their positions.

we watched as nate skated away on the ice, the silver blade of his ice skates carrying him away. "always such a sweet boy," i heard my mother marylou state from beside me.

after watching the game and watching nate score the winning goal, we all made our way out of the arena, nate quickly joining us. he swung an arm around chris' shoulder as he fell in stride beside me.

"you guys did good," i state, ignoring the heat i felt going to my cheeks. "yeah?" he asks, his boston accent thick, and i can tell he wants me to keep talking. "yeah, it was pretty impressive," i say. "im glad you thought so," he replies, and his smile is even wider now.

i feel my face heat up more as the words 'he's talking to me!' repeat in my head. "you guys staying the night?" he asks, turning to the three boys who all looked basically identical.

"can we?" the three of them ask, practically jumping up and down. "of course!" marylou answers, and the four of them start cheering.

my alarm blared, bangs coming from my door. "hurry up erika," i could hear nicks agitated voice, "you're gonna make us late," he continued with a groan.

i looked over at my phone, seeing that my alarm had been going off for ten minutes now. a gasp left my lips as i got up, frantically moving around my bedroom.

i pulled the first clothes from my drawers that my hands landed on, pulling my pajamas off and replacing them. i quickly put on deodorant and brushed my teeth before brushing through my hair. i applied a few layers of mascara to my eyelashes, watching the black envelop them and make them longer and bolder.

i heard nick groan once again, as i walked to my door. i opened it being met with his eyes staring down at me, "what's the point of an alarm if you don't wake up to it?"

"hurry up," chris sang from the bottom of the stairs, "we have to go get nate."

a smile was brought to my lips, before i quickly replaced it. nate and i had gotten closer in the past two years, most of our freshman classes were with each other so we grew accustomed to each other's company.

he always came to our house after practice or games, sometimes he would just show up unannounced to hang out, typically with the boys, sometimes me if they were busy.

he was an incredibly sweet person, he was always helping around the house and never expected anything in return. he was also extremely funny and had a great sense of humor and could make even the toughest situations funny.

"bye mom," the four of us stated, walking out the door. me and nick got in the back of the van while matt and chris sat in the front, matt being the driver.

nick started a conversation with the three of us, one that i mostly tuned out, only catching a few words here and there. the drive to nates house was short, like always.

matt parked by the curb and i watched chris pull out his phone to send nate a text. not even a minute later nate was walking out of his front door, a black baseball cap sat backwards on his head, his blonde hair peaking out slightly.

he wore a grey sweatshirt and black jeans, a bag slung over his shoulder. a wide grin appeared on his face as he saw the car, running and throwing himself into the back.

"morning," he smiled towards us all, scooting in beside me. "morning," we all mumbled, giving tired smiles. "why are you so happy," nick grumbled, leaning his head against the window.

"because we get to go to school, where they'll teach us, and fill our heads with knowledge," he said, grinning. "okay, now the truth," i giggle, poking his side.

his hand grabbed my finger, holding it. a smile stayed on his face, as his thumb grazed over the back of my finger, sending goosebumps up my arms. "i just have a good feeling about today," he answered. "okay psychic," chris joked, not taking notice to nate's hang wrapped around my index finger.

"well im glad you're so happy," matt added, smiling at nate. "are you guys excited for homecoming?" nate asked, looking at us. "no," me and matt respond at the same time, neither of us were one for big crowds and god knew that's what homecoming would be.

chris and nick on the other hand, had already bought tickets and were planning their outfits. chris was planning to take some girl named juliette while nick was trying to figure out how to ask his best friend to go as friends.

no one knew who nate was going with, at least not me. he didn't talk about it much in all honestly, today had been the second time i've heard anything from him about it in a month.

"who are you taking again?" chris asked, turning back to the three of us. "ava," nate smiled, causing my heart to drop. ava michaels was pretty, i had always envied her.

the way her skin looked flawless and clear all the time, her clothes, everything. her eyes were a deep blue color, and her hair was a dark brown color, almost black. her lips were plump and naturally pink, she was known as one of the prettiest girls in our school.

"lock it down bro, we'll be popular forever," nick joked. "it's not a date," nate chuckled, "just friends," he added, causing me to let out a breath i hadn't realized i was holding.

out of the corner of my eye, i could see nate look over at me, though i chose to ignore it. the rest of the drive was silent, except for the occasional joke or two.

when we finally arrived, matt parked the car in his original parking slot, putting it in park before he turned the key over, shutting the ignition off.

the four of us unbuckled and exited the vehicle, following the stream of kids entering the school.

the day seemed to move by in a flash, and i had found myself in the library, sitting next to nate, waiting for the bell to ring so the librarian could tell us what our english teacher had planned.

"did you do the homework?" i heard nate whisper. i looked over at him, his head was laying down on his crossed arms. "yes," i state, already pulling the paper from my bag so he can copy the answers.

i watched his eyes widen slightly, before a small smirk fell onto his lips. he sat up, scooting his chair closer to mine. his knee brushed against mine as he copied the answers, the touch sending a shiver down my spine.

he was close enough that i could smell his cologne, and i had to admit that i liked it. "thanks," he whispered, putting his paper away as the librarian began speaking.

"welcome, welcome, mrs. wilson called out sick very last minute, not giving us time to find a substitute," she explained.

"so instead you all will be working with a peer partner, groups of two, mrs. wilson says she doesn't mind who you work with as long as you're quiet and respectful," she finished, a smile appearing on her face.

"any questions?" she asked, but no one raised their hand. "perfect," she grinned, "get in groups of two," she said.

"hey partner," nate grinned, and the butterflies in my stomach erupted. "hey," i smiled, feeling a blush fall onto my cheeks. "so what do you wanna do?" he asked, his knee bumping into mine again, this time purposefully.

"shakespeare?" i suggest, and he nods, a smile on his lips. "what's your favorite play?" i ask, pulling out a sheet of notebook paper. "romeo and juliet," he smiles, making me smile as well.

"i knew you were basic," i joked, and his jaw dropped. "im not basic," he defended, a fake gasp escaping his lips.

i laughed, rolling my eyes as i wrote the title of the play on the paper. "we could compare and contrast the original play with the movie," he suggested, and i nodded, writing.

"good idea, let's start."

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72 @nicksmainbitch @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @catalina-island @stars4chratt @gbaabyyyy @monkeyscientist22

[backmuscles21]

Where Is She?

Tsu'tey x Reader, a little bit of Quaritch x Reader

Summary: You didn't get a chance to leave with Jake when they left Hell's Gate, Quaritch ensured that you'd be stuck in his room not that glass cell. Jake led the clan to victory, Tsu'tey still wondered where you were and if you were okay. When they raid Hell's Gate for supplies they'll find out if you really are okay or not.

Don't ask why I keep coming up with fucked up things. Quaritch screams abusive energy and I'm here for it, apparently. I also keep doing stuff with being with Quaritch and going after Tsu'tey, don't ask why either because I don't know why.

Warnings: physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, psychological abuse, references rape/non-con, kidnapping, blood and violence, torture, implied starvation.

You were abruptly taken out of your link, your eyes rolled back as your body dropped to the forest floor. You woke up as the tube was turning off, the top opened and you looked around you. Everything was blurry and muted, a side effect of being thrust out of the link. You saw Grace screaming and Jake throwing a punch, you heard more yelling and calling from all around you. Once you gathered yourself together, you kicked the man who stood by the link bed. You got out of the link bed and went to punch him; you were angry and everyone else around you was screaming.

Before you could throw the punch, a fist full of your hair was grabbed making you whine out and lean back to avoid some of the pain on your scalp. You tried to turn around enough to see who had you by your hair, but they had it right by the scalp.

“I thought I told you to be a good girl.”

The whisper in your ear brought chills down your spine.

Quaritch, that’s who had a hold on you.

You didn’t respond to him, you couldn’t, it would only make things worse.

You got told that you were leaving Pandora, that Earth would be your home again. Jake, Grace, and Norm were brought to a glass cell, the avatar program was shut down fully. You were supposed to be in the cell with the other avatar drivers, the only problem was that Quaritch wouldn’t let you go that easily. He took you to his room and locked the door, it was this room that you’d rot in for quite some time.

You remember the look on Tsu’tey’s face when Jake told them what he was actually doing here. You didn’t know Jake’s full involvement with Quaritch but it shocked you to hear it, regardless you still knew that they wanted to take home tree down. Tsu’tey’s face held resentment and pain, he chose you, he mated with you and you betrayed that. This was how you chose to repay him? By hurting his people, by taking his home.

He loves you, or rather, loved you, how could you do this to him?

You never wanted to hurt him, becoming one of the people was one of the best things that has happened to you, meeting Tsu’tey even more so. You didn’t want to hurt him; you never wanted it to end up like this. He taught you how good someone’s soul could be, he taught you that you were deserving of such immense love. You tried to remember the feelings Tsu’tey gave you as Quaritch beat the shit out of you in his quarters. You missed the sweet words Tsu’tey would say to you or the way he’d lightly kiss your head or the feeling that warmed your body when you mated for the first time.

You tried your hardest to remember how terrible Quaritch was, you tried to remember how amazing Tsu’tey was. But that didn’t matter, not once Quaritch apologized to you for hitting you then kissed you and held you. You had to admit, Tsu’tey was good for you, he treated you well. Once you met him, nothing would compare. Being with Quaritch initially was amazing even when he started to physically and emotionally abuse you, you’d forget all about the bad stuff and only remember the best parts.

Tsu’tey made you realize how awful he was, Tsu’tey made you distance yourself from Quaritch but you could never fully shake him. Quaritch wouldn’t let you go, he knew how to fuck with you, he knew how to get into your head. He liked to threaten you and scare you; he knew how he could keep you with him.

After the initial first day of being stuck in his quarters, it would only get worse. He came back the next night, after dealing with the avatar drivers skipping town and bringing a link unit with them. That night you really got it; he was angry and he was pissed. He punched you and kicked you and he wouldn’t stop, he only saw red. As he hit you, he’d ask where they went or where they could’ve gone. You, obviously, had no idea, which only served to make him madder because clearly, you had to know.

He would leave his room for the next few days with bruised and bloodied knuckles. He didn’t care, he was doing his job, he was trying his best. You kept thinking about Tsu’tey as you lay half naked on his floor, you stopped crying from the pain and the fear a long time ago. You could feel blood dripping out of your nose and various other wounds on your body, you would spit it out of your mouth every now and again as well. You wanted to be safe in his arms again, you wanted him to hold you as you cried out all the physical and emotional pain in your body.

When Jake went back to the Omaticaya people as Toruk Makoto, he landed the Ikran in front of them and begged for their help. He needed to help Grace who was dying, he needed help to take out the sky people. They agreed, they would help him, they would fly with him.

“My mate, is she okay?” Tsu’tey asked Jake afterwards.

Jake didn’t want to answer, mostly because he didn’t know, she wasn’t with them. He wanted to avoid the conversation, he didn’t know if you were alright or not and that ate away at him.

“I do not know. She is not with us.”

“Then where is she?”

“With the sky people still. They have her. She wasn’t with us when we escaped.”

“How do we get her?”

“Once we take them down,” Jake said as he walked off.

After Grace passed away, things were getting worse. The RDA kept tabs on the growing population of Na’vi, waiting till it was time for them to head in.

The battle was long and arduous, but the Na’vi won thanks to Jake.

Jake and the other Na’vi pushed the sky people out, they were sent back to earth by force.

After all the sky people were out of the base, they went in to raid any supplies that the scientists that were staying would want or need. They went through there grabbing supplies and going through all the rooms to get supplies out of them and making sure everyone was gone.

Scientists were boxing things up and taking whatever they could, a few of them went down halls and opened doors. Until they got to a door that was locked, the master unlock code wasn’t working either. Once they found out who it belonged to, they understood why, the head of security had some tricks up his sleeve.

They shot the door in and when they entered, the room was dark but they could already tell something was off. Max was the one who turned the lights on, he and Norm were there and they saw the blood on the floor and you lying on the bed. Your naked back was to them, your back was bruised and they could see your spine and rib pressed against your skin.

They only knew who you were once they went closer to you and saw your face.

“Jake?” Norm said over the comms.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You’re gonna wanna get in here. Down the dorm hall.”

“On it,” Jake replied and headed in.

Once he saw them down the hall, he got closer to them and they both looked at him.

“What is it?” Jake asked.

“We found her,” Norm said.

Jake took a moment to realize what that meant, his eyes went wide, “is she okay?”

“She’s alive. Okay is another thing.”

Norm and Max moved out of the way for Jake to duck down to look in the doorway.

“What the fuck?”

“I think it was Quaritch. It’s his room. He’s had her in here probably since we left,” Norm said.

“You think he’s been hitting her since then?”

“More than likely, the bruises and the lacerations tell me that it’s been happening a while as well as the scarring,” Max said.

Jake went into the room to look at you closer, you were just in your underwear. Jake kneeled down and covered you with the bed sheet, his hand rested on your shoulder and slowly shook you to wake you. You woke up with a jump and you looked at Jake.

“What are you doing here, if Quaritch sees you, he’s gonna-“

“He’s dead. All the sky people have been forced to leave.”

“What?”

“He’s gone. No one else is here aside from the avatar drivers and a few scientists.”

“He’s gone. Like never coming back, gone.”

“Yes. Now, let's get you out of here. Tsu’tey has been asking about you nonstop.”

“Tsu’tey,” you whispered.

“He’s been missing you.”

“Where is he?” you sat up and looked around.

“He’s good, he’s outside. We should get you cleaned up and dressed.”

“I wanna see him.”

“We will get you outside and you can see him.”

“Can you grab me the shirt and shorts there,” you said as you pointed to a pair of folded clothes.

They were Quaritch’s but it didn’t matter, you didn’t have any of your own clothes here. They handed you the clothes and turned around as you changed. When they turned back around, they could see your face fully. The bruises were healing but you had two healing black eyes and your nose looked more than likely broken. Blood was staining your skin and teeth, your lip was busted and your cheek had a deep laceration, your nose had smeared blood under it. Your brow was split with blood smeared around your eye, probably from when it dripped down and you wiped it.

They couldn’t believe their eyes; your arms and legs were covered in bruises and cuts. The room had blood on the floor and walls, there was shattered glass on the ground and a framed picture broken and on the floor. You were handed an oxygen mask and you walked out with them, Jake picked you up and walked carrying you like a child. You could barely walk; you were weak and your body was so frail. You got closer to the door to the outside, seeing the light made you smile, showing off your blood-stained teeth.

You saw all the different scientists and Na’vi getting stuff together to move to their new home base. You looked around and that's when he caught your eyes, your mate.

“Jake, put me down. I wanna see him.”

“I’ll go over there,” Jake said to you as he walked over.

“Tsu’tey, brother,” Jake started and Tsu’tey turned around.

Tsu’tey’s eyes light up, your condition scared him, it took a moment for him to process that you were the human version of his mate. His hands touched your cheeks over the mask and he got closer to you.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Tsu’tey took you from Jake’s hold, they shared eye contact for a moment before Jake left to help out again.

Your arms were around Tsu’tey’s neck, he kissed your head, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“What happened? I was so worried. No one knew where you were.”

You couldn’t respond, your eyes closed as your lips quivered and stretched. You started to sob; your head rested on his shoulder as you let out all the pain you’d been holding back for months. His large hand rubbed your back as he held you close to his body; he said loving things to you in Na’vi.

“What happened? Please tell me.”

“When we tried to warn you about home tree, we only had a short time to try and get you out of there. After that, we were told that we were to be sent back to Earth. They got put in a cell but I never did, I was taken to this room of the guy I was seeing before you. He is very possessive and didn’t want to get rid of me but I never wanted him. Once you showed me what love was, I never had it with him. I just thought about you, all I wanted was you. He would beat me, ask me where Jake went, he would kick me and punch me…he’d rape me. He was like this before I met you, I just let it slide. You showed me what it meant to have self-worth. I just thought of you and that got me through it,” you were dry-heaving and choking as you talked to him while still crying.

Tsu’tey kissed your head again, “thank you for telling me.”

“Can we please go; I just want to be alone with you.”

“Yes, tiyawn. Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll take you back. We should get you linked up to find your other body too.”

“You wanna bathe with me?”

“I don’t have to, but if you’d like.”

“Oh, I’d like.”

Tsu’tey flashed you a rare smile and walked off.

[zer0brainc3lls]

my safe haven tmr headcanons 🫶 (also random ones)

All of these are sweet, will make angst ones tho 🤭 Newtmas included ofc

- Thomas blushes super easily

- Brenda loves heavy metal

- newt writes to cope, just about his day and whatnot. (This is sorta canon in crank palace but i think he would continue to write if he lived)

- when Thomas & Minho get drunk together they get up to the most INSANE activities it’s not even funny

- If newt & Brenda are drunk at the same time they bet who is going to get injured first 😭

- minho LOVES Halloween. Absolutely LOVES IT. His costumes are phenomenal every year

- newt is SO GOOD with kids, the kids in the safe haven gravitate towards him and they all love him 100% (uncle newt?!?)

- Thomas on the other hand is like so bad with kids, has absolutely no idea how to talk to them 😔 the kids 100% ask him 2863382 times a day “are you uncle newts boyfriend?! :O” and he has no clue how to respond

- Minho teaches the kids curse words on accident 💀 he would like fall over or something and go “OW FUCK” and they would copy him, newt has scolded him so many times for this

- speaking of Minho and cursing, HE CURSES ALL THE TIME. THE MOUTH ON THAT MAN. It somehow gets worse when he’s drunk

- R.I.P Brenda you would’ve loved thick and crazy eyeliner

- Sonya made matching bracelets for aris and Harriet, aris accepted immediately 😭 Harriet sorta raised a brow but accepted as well but she NEVER takes it off. EVER. Aris on the other hand has lost it so many times, and freaks out every time he does

- Sonya will braid anyone and everyone’s hair. She knows so many hair styles it’s actually ridiculous 💀 she doesn’t remember learning them though. :[ (when she and newt were taken she would brush & braid the other girl’s hair like her mum taught her)

- aris slowly comes out of his shell in the safe haven, and every time he does something “bold” Sonya and Harriet silently cheer for him

- Newt and Sonya got REALLY close in the safe haven, they clicked like instantly and helped each other heal :) “she’s like a sister to me!!” “He’s like a brother to me!!” Is used OFTEN. (Little do they know.. ☹️)

- When Newt is extra pissy his accent is way heavier, and Thomas already being into his accent as is when newts mad at him.. I’ll just give you an example:

Newt *oblivious*: THOMAS WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?! YOUR SO DULL SOMETIMES I SWEAR-

Thomas *face hotter then the sun, sweat dripping down his face*: Uhm-

Minho & Gally *with popcorn*: *watching the whole thing go down while holding back tears of laughter*

- newt never practically had a favourite flower, he thought they were all equally beautiful until one day Thomas came home with a sunflower, gave it to him and said “oh this reminded me of you” let’s just say after that day sunflowers were his favourite.

- frypan immediately knew when Thomas and newt first started dating, when he realised he went up to Thomas, patted him on the back and said “so you finally got together huh? Good job man” and walked off leaving Thomas SHOCKED

- if Teresa never betrayed everyone Newt and her would’ve been BFFS. “I remember when you liked Thomas I was so mad” “I was mad at you too!!” “REALLY?!” *whilst making flower crowns*

- Newt loves to read and this is common knowledge, Brenda also loves to read & wears reading glasses and one day newt caught her and she was like “if you tell a soul I’ll kill you. Wanna read together?”

- Newt = ambivert + Thomas = ambivert

- Newt LOVES tea and Minho gives him so much shit for it 😭

- Minho would be the type of guy to carry around a speaker and blast white girl music

- karaoke night once a week or two, Brenda and Minho sing barbie girl ATLEAST ONCE every time

- Thomas is still incredibly smart, like really smart but there is never really opportunity’s to show it ☹️ but like Newt will lead him a 600 page book or something thinking he won’t finish it and like 2 days later Thomas is like “I finished it! Yeah it was really good I really liked-“ goes on a full in depth analysis

- Newt is autistic 🙏🙏 (if yall want a whole headcanon list just for this I will do it because I’m autistic myself and would love to do that lol)

I hope yall enjoyed my ramblings 🤭 I’m gonna post more but the next one will mostly be post death cure, how they cope and how everything has effected them etc etc so angst

[beetlebug-bii]

Part 3 of feral mc but with Belphie being released from the attic. Just imagine Belphie trying to kill mc and they just bite him. Not even Barbatos could handle the child so I highly doubt Belphie could either lol.

Feral Child Mc (part three)

MC Gets Betrayed & Bombastically Side Eyed Their Way To Beating A Bitch.

A/N: I like my writing to be nothing short of silly goofy, i also wrote this at like 4am two weeks ago and was so surprised to see it in my drafts. Did i proof read it? No.

Enjoy anyways💕

Now, you have been a menace since you've arrived

Only truly unstoppable by Diavolo, Lucifer and Barbatos on a good day

Today

Was not one of those days

No

Not at all

You see

Late in the night after being very snuggly tucked in

And then duck taped to the bed

And then your pajamas stapled to the bed

And then tied to the bed

In their defense

Not a single brother has gotten a single decent night of sleep

Not since Mammon awoke one night to see your little face peeking out from the vents

You screamed at him and launched from the darkness, stealing his sun glasses before scrumbling deep into the walls

no one has ever heard Mammon scream so loudly

Needless to say they were pretty fucking done with your scrumbling

Besides, they tied Satan to the bed and look at him! A totally chill and normal member of society :D

Anyways you were built different and managed to escape

You had to check on your little friend in the attic after all, it had been a few days

Upon going in, you glared at eachother for exactly three minutes and fourteen seconds

Before he started the whole sweet act on you

"Awh hey, you can let me out now right? You can do that? Whose a good little human?"

Offense taken

You werent a dog

though you wont lie and say you havent growled back at Cerberus before...

No you know what

Who does this man think he is?

You are a child with 6 of the deadliest pacts in the world!

...

...

...

Wait a second

Who thought that was a good idea

Genuinely

You are feral

A monster

The other students at RAD cower before you

You made the Angel's cry

YOU CHOKED BARBATOS WITH A SHOE LACE

WHO IN THE 7 CIRCLES OF HELL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO MAKE A PACT WITH YOU OF ALL PEOPLE

well whatever it's not like this is gonna come back and bite you

But you werent gonna release the bitch from his kennel

Not without a price

Mammon would be so so proud of you!

It took a lot of back and forth, but he promised 12 firecrackers, a new plushie, and a trip to the candy store

Hell yea candy

Open up oh magic lock

Oh he fucking kicked you across the room

Well that's not fucking candy

Lying prick

So this fucking incel loser started ranting about something or other

To be honest you didnt care

In fact you decided he didnt get a monologue

You were pissed off

You freed him

Were you the embodiment of capitalism while doing so?

Maybe

But that doesnt mean he can just hit you

Like

You have such a cute face

He's just mad that you're the baby of the family now

And that thought gave you a great idea!!

"I'm telling Lucifer"

Would have been your final words

Had you not been

Well

You.

Next thing you know he's chasing you down the stairs, grabbing you and choking you out

Which

Not gonna lie

Was a bitch move

So you kicked him square in the jaw and started screaming, just like papa lucifer taught

Stranger danger kids

Dont release strange men from the attic in exchange for candy

It's not worth it and they are lying

So obviously you pissed off what's his name

You're pretty sure its bitch boy

Anyways so you pissed off bitch boy and he started trying to stab you with a chair leg

Which was like

So rude

And the others were like bro stop

Except more panicked you're pretty sure but you werent a crybaby bitch like this loser so you know

You had to go for the knees

You slid around him, kicked him in the back of the knees

This wasnt your first rodeo

Apparently

Because you climbed on the demonic cow and grabbed the horns man

You were holding on for dear life before you just bit into his head

Like

I dont think he even knew what to do at that point

You ruined his WHOLE SPEECH

THEN FOR SOME REASON YOU GOT MAD AT HIM

gee I wonder why

THEN HIS BROTHERS SHOWED UP

THIS WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE HOW IT WENT AT ALL

PRICK

Recounting this tale now, a few months later, you'd like to think that he was just being the most frfr brother out of everyone

You two had to be torn apart like a pair of summer popsicles

You were kicking and screaming

He was kicking and screaming

Mammon was kicking and screaming, somehow his leg got caught in between you two

It was a warzone

The hallway was destroyed

Multiple bedrooms? Just gone

The brothers?

So

So tired...

None of that fake shit

Deep down you know you would've won though

You still call him bitch boy💕

[siriuslygay1981]

Ugh...just thinking about Effie watching her boys suffer.

Her first child, her baby...dying before he can raise his own sweet child. So many life experiences taken away from him so young. She hurts thinking of all the years she got and all the years James couldn't have. James who had wanted something more, who didn't want to be an auror but had put aside his dreams to help the war effort. James her sweet brave boy. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his love all consuming. She couldn't shield him from the world, she hasn't been able to for years by the time she left...it didn't stop her from trying though. In the end his heart was what got him killed, she did not think about how that made her feel.

She feels deep sadness at seeing what Peter had become, once a sweet young boy helping her set up the table when the other kids were rough housing outside. She can't help but feel a burning hatred, not towards her Peter, her sweet Pete...but towards this person that wears her boys face. The young man who betrays friend after friend, the one taking lives...that's not her boy, not her petey. He gave her a handful of flowers on mother's day, his face pink. Her Peter held James up in the sidelines, when no one noticed James breaking down...Peter could. Peter who she taught family recipes to because besides James, Peter was the only other decent cook. She thinks back to the boy with wide blue eyes, freckles dotting his nose and his cheeks, his blonde hair just slightly too long. She remembers brushing it out of his face tenderly and telling her how proud she is of him. She knows he always felt like he was being left behind, like he didn't quite deserve the role he had in all their lives. To her, she lost Peter too. Maybe he was the first one she lost...

Remus whose suffered every month for years and has a bad view of himself because of prejudice. How could her smart boy be so so stupid. He was worthy of love and it pained her to see him hunch over, trying to hide himself. She watched as he gave himself to their headmaster, to use because he shared a kindness that no one else had shown him. She couldn't tell him that he owed Dumbledore nothing. She wishes she could come back just to give that old bumbling man a piece of her mind, manipulating Remus was unforgivable. Remus who was sarcastic but so so sweet, smart and also so dumb. She didn't miss the way he smiled at Sirius, the way the two looked at each other. She cried for hours after Remus got the news. She wasn't sure if he'd ever open up again. How could such a kind soul be given such a cruel fate- he was once again alone and she wasn't sure she could handle it. But...if he got through it so would she.

Sirius who never had the love he deserved. Shunned and hated at every turn. How could they think Sirius, her baby, could ever betray his other brother. Sirius who was never shown unconditional love, who still flinched when she moved suddenly. She seemed to be the only one, besides James, to see the way Sirius stiffened when a voice was raised, even with no malicious intent. Sirius, betrayed and framed. Her second son, taken from cruel hands just to be stabbed in the back by one of his own. So suspicious of love that he suspected one of the closest people to him. Still grieving his younger brother, still in so much pain. He hadn't yet gotten to live, hadn't really been free for long. A handful of years at most and then he was sent away because of his last name.

The world wasn't kind, it seemed even less so towards the ones she held dear, to the generation cursed to fight in the war. She watched the eyebags deepen, their softer edges hardening and becoming ragged and barbeb with wire. It was unfair, it was gut wrenching, her boys were strong, they held on for so long for as long as they could and she was so proud of them. But...she felt relief, as bad as it sounded, when they finally were able to rest. They had fought so hard for so long the least the world could do was reunite them and give them peace. She hoped they weren't too hard on themselves, for the small stupid mistakes, the miscommunication, the stupid arguments and the silent treatment, all the times they could've spoken up or taken a moment to really think.

[yellow-dejavu]

- Paradise is free of pain and sorrow. Everything we've ever done is forgotten there. Any pain that we've ever felt is erased. And all the dead live.

I find it curious how the belief in paradise affects some of the characters, so I want to make a little speculation about how I think it might have worked. Franziska, Magnus and Agnes were part of Sic Mundus, but it is really unclear how they see it. So I will mainly focus on Noah, Elisabeth and Silja, who are known to really believe in paradise.

When Noah and Elisabeth meet, he shares his belief in paradise with her. Then they are separated by the disappearance of their daughter, and Silja as a child is brought to Elisabeth. Elisabeth shares her belief in paradise with Silja. The way I think it might play out is that Elisabeth knew this child who had just lost her mother, and she wanted to comfort this little girl by sharing something that had given her comfort since she was a little girl. I also think that Elisabeth was specifically told to form Sic Mundus in the post-apocalyptic era and protect the plant.

So Silja was raised in a cult until 1888, where she continued her life and died with an earlier version of the same cult. Her husband was part of the cult since his late teens until his death, and their kids were raised in a cult. There is little or no information about the family of Bartosz, Silja, Hanno and Agnes. So I have some assumptions about their family dynamics. Silja named her son Hanno after her late mother Hannah. Hanno was very young when his mother died. So I think the way she may have introduced Hanno to paradise is as a bedtime story. I mean Silja gave her son something from her mother, which is his name, so I think it would make sense if she gave her son something from the other parental figure she had in her life, which is Elisabeth. Something that gave her comfort in hard times and now she could share with her little boy in better times.

I also think I could connect this with Bartosz death. What if Bartosz wanted to keep this image of a "perfect paradise" as a way for his child to remember Silja?

It would be even easier to manipulate a little cult boy into thinking that betraying his father is an act of love. Adam believed in paradise, but not in the same way. His version wasn't as optimistic; their version was easier to manipulate and use in his favor. Sic Mundus can make Noah believe that his father's detachment from the prophecy is forgetting his mother's memory, and he knows that his father is clearly in pain. Bartosz has lost his faith, but Noah can still free him from all that pain and take him to Paradise. Noah must save his father by killing him.

If he thought something like that, it made me think of the phrase Noah repeated more than once, "he also said we'd become friends before you betray me". Noah always knew that he would be betrayed, but he didn't imagine that his baby would be stolen by his own baby and the mother who was also her baby's daughter, all ordered by Adam. I think Noah always taught that Adam would kill him. Maybe he would lose his faith like his father and Adam would betray him. He would save him by killing him like Noah did with his father. Jonas would do it because he loves Noah and it would free him from all his pain. Adam is his savior.

After the experiments failed and Charlotte's birth was difficult, Noah didn't feel his faith was as strong. He was hopeless. But they're going to make it, they're going to fulfill the prophecy. Noah will have to travel and teach a younger version of himself. He has never seen a much older version of himself, so it could mean that his time is near. But could paradise ever be as sweet and real as what he's building with his family? it doesn't matter how he feels, he just wants Elisabeth to keep her hope, and he would give her the strength he doesn't have for himself.

[sighed-the-snake]

I am listening to I'm Afraid of Americans by David Bowie, and one of the lyrics gave me an idea:

God is an American.

And so is Warlock.

In Good Omens, there are the three boys: Adam, Warlock, And Greasy Johnson.

Crowley and Aziraphale think they are raising the antichrist, but there has been a switcheroo: The antichrist is with a normal family, Warlock is raised under occult influences, and Greasy is the spare who grows up having a normal life alongside Adam.

There is some evidence that Greasy Johnson is the Messiah. (thanks to @thesherrinfordfacility for the great meta!)

But, I started thinking about the ways Neil and Terry subvert our expectations, and God's sense of humor in Good Omens, and a thought struck me:

What if Warlock is the Messiah?

Think about it. Greasy Johnson is connected to fish, like Jesus, sure. But also like a red herring. His purpose in the story is to be a bit of a mystery, a distraction from what's staring us in the face.

What if Aziraphale and Crowley were raising exactly the correct child who needed their influence? It just wasn't the antichrist. It was the Messiah.

Kindle page 62:

Warlock now found himself being educated by two tutors. Mr. Harrison taught him about Attila the Hun, Vlad Drakul, and the Darkness Intrinsicate in the Human Spirit. He tried to teach Warlock how to make rabble-rousing political speeches to sway the hearts and minds of multitudes.

Mr. Cortese taught him about Florence Nightingale,* Abraham Lincoln, and the appreciation of art. He tried to teach him about free will, self-denial, and Doing unto Others as You Would Wish Them to Do to You.

Warlock was exposed at a young age to the pain and darkness in human hearts. He was taught by a demon who's very good at temptation (according to Aziraphale) how to sway the hearts and minds of humanity with his words.

He's taught by an angel about compassion, thinking for himself, and doing the right thing.

These are vital lessons if you're going to be the savior of mankind who needs to convince billions of humans to listen to you.

Names have power in this story. Adam Young is named after the very first human and ends up on the side of humanity.

Harriet Dowling looked at her baby and said, yep, this kid looks like a traitor.

Warlock has not yet lived up to his name. What institution is branding him a traitor? Who is he betraying? What oath is he breaking? What responsibility is he refusing?

Could it be that Heaven shows up to tell him he's Jesus reborn and he has a destiny and Warlock firmly gives them a double-dose of middle fingers?

If Adam the Antichrist is a sweet kid so influenced by humanity that he goes against his nature to save them, is Warlock the Messiah going to be such an insufferable rich kid bratty politician's child that he'll refuse to pass judgement on a single soul because no one tells him what to do? Is he going to use his influence to harness humanity against Heaven and Hell? He's already had a demon for a nanny and grew up with an angel in his garden; he's not afraid of occult forces. Occult forces wiped his bum and told him to love slugs.

Some fun implications here. Jesus being American feels very Terry.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Mkay but how many times has Silco ripped out someone’s tongue with his teeth. What’s your headcanon please I would like to hear it.

tw: violence

tw: assault

As Zaun's premier kingpin, Silco has reached a saturation point in terms of tongue-ripping.

These days, he confines himself to cutting out the rare tongue of a double-crossing chem-baron - or descending on an unlucky lackey who's proven disloyal in ways so egregious, he/she must be made an example of.

Younger, however, he can count on one hand the number of people whose tongues he's bitten off - and for good reason.

The first time was pure self-defense. As a scrawny child growing up in the worst parts of the Fissures, he learned the hard way that people will take from those they believe can do nothing. He'd been cornered and mugged at knife-point more times than he can remember - but this was the first time he'd been boxed in by a predator with a different stripe of sport in mind.

It was instinct that kicked in - and he still remembers the mess of blood and screams afterward. But his assailant fell back, and that taught him a valuable lesson: sometimes a willingness to go the extra mile is all you need to turn the tables.

The second time was well into his adulthood. He'd been sent to Stillwater after being convicted of sedition following the Day of Ash. Most inmates met his crimes with approval and even respect. Others gave him wide berth in case they were implicated by proxy. But the prison guards were a wholly different beast, and they were eager to remind him that daring to change his lowborn status had consequences.

The first beating - and the sixth - he took in relative silence. By the seventh, one of the guards decided to play a different game - and learned the hard way that even cornered prey will fight back nail and teeth if it means survival.

Emphasis on teeth.

(They kept him muzzled for the remainder of his sentence. It's something he still looks back on with a wry breed of satisfaction.)

And the last time? That was a former lover. She betrayed him as an ally in the drug trade. She also stole his recipe for shimmer, his entire livelihood at the time, and was threatening to sell it to the highest bidder. He went through the motions of cajoling, reconciliation, embrace… and then took her tongue out of her mouth.

Then he took her hands and eyes, too.

Titus Andronicus, eat your heart out.

Nowadays, he prefers his knife. The only thing he takes with his teeth is the occasional cigar tip, or a sugar cube, when he's indulging his sporadic sweet tooth.

But he still keeps his teeth as sharp as his blade.

You never know when you'll need them.

[jsehungergamesau]

Jameson Jackson, winner of the 26th Hunger Games

[Please check the pinned post on our blog for trigger warnings. This can be read as a stand-alone fic set in the same universe. Sorry in advance :) -Mod Oakley]

°○°○°○°

"Jameson Jackson!" Read the colorful woman from the Capitol.

The young man couldn't hold the gasp in the back of his throat at the sound of his name being called. All heads turned towards him and he looked around with bewildered eyes, but he took a deep breath and stepped out of the holding area for the 17 year olds. A pair of peacekeepers guided him to the stage but Jameson kept his head high and he.. smiled. Not only that but he hummed a familiar jaunty work tune as he neared the stage. He knew he couldn't let them all see his true emotions. No, Jameson was the one who always lifted the spirits through the hard work days, he couldn't let them see how terrified he truly was.

He might have been smiling, yet try as he might, his eyes betrayed him when he scanned the crowd. They were damp with unshed tears that caught the light of the warm summer's day sun. He looked from the crowd up to the treetops, one more time before being led away to the city hall clock tower.

Saying goodbye to his aunt Marry was filled with hugs and tears. Promises to take care of herself and to do what she needs to to survive. The older woman gave her nephew an iron locket with a small picture of his parents inside. A token to remember home while in the games. Jameson held it close to his heart and hugged her for as long as their time allowed, singing a quiet soothing song to Marry before being separated. 

A few friends from the paper processing mill came and Jameson couldn't help but laugh, "Be sure to have a song written for me, would ya, lads?" He joked, playfully hitting one of their arms. Only a few of them smiled. "Buck up now, I've taught you all enough! You can lead the tune without me. Even if Jerry does sing like a broken water pipe." That got them laughing.

This is how he wanted to be remembered. Positive and joyful even in the face of the worst possible thing to ever happen to a young person in this country. He smiled goodbye until the doors closed.

Finally his best friend came to see him, and he let his mask slip. Maria was a slight girl with tanned skin and long frizzy blonde hair she kept up in a bun, and she hugged him tight enough to bruise. Maria was born without a voice in her lungs, so the two taught each other to sign from an old book when they were little. She loved when Jameson would sing and when they would dance together at the harvest close festivals.

Jameson had nicknamed her Maple from her love of the sweet syrup from the trees. They've only had the chance to taste it a few times because peacekeepers would punish them if they got caught dipping their fingers into the collection buckets. But it was Maria's absolute favorite. So the nickname stuck.

Neither of them ever saw each other romantically. They had shared a kiss once but almost immediately decided it didn't feel right. Yet they still remained thick as thieves. In his private thoughts, Jameson wouldn't have minded if they shared a home together. Perhaps not as husband and wife, but it would be theirs and they would be happy. Especially compared to the alternative that was his imminent fate now. 

They stand with their foreheads pressed together in the quiet and Jameson quietly humming from his chest. There wasn't much to say, really. They said their goodbyes this morning when they split into their standing areas. So the two of them try to savor the other's company for all that it's worth.

She kissed his cheek, “Goodbye, Jamie.” She signed, and any idea or dream of a happy future with Maria was extinguished as soon as the heavy doors closed behind her.

°○°○°○°

Everything became a blur after that.

The train ride, speaking with his mentor and fellow tribute from 7, pulling up to the Capitol, the ridiculous outfits, the chariot ride. The whole time he smiled and waved and laughed- he felt unmoored. Floating in his own mind as he watched himself perform the jolly tribute from District 7 act for the entire country to see. 

Jameson came back to himself while in the training center. A pair of identical faces had joined him at the camouflage station without him noticing, and upon realizing he wasn't actually going crosseyed he jumped.

Oh right, the twins from District 8. The brother, Tim, had volunteered as tribute to be with his sister, Tamery, who was reaped from the bowl. Neither of them could stand being separated, so they walked into the games together. Jameson wondered if either would walk out, and if one did, which?

"See, if you add a bit more of the raspberry juice you get a darker mixture." Tamery explained as she took the bowl Jameson was idly swirling around, smashing a few of the red berries into it and mixing it around with a stick. Dipping her fingers in, she painted a swatch on her arm to demonstrate, "See? It's almost black now. If you added some charcoal it would be easier but not everyone can make a fire."

Tamery then began mixing several things together as Tim leaned back on his hands, watching Jameson with a faint grin. When she was done, Tamery had made a color that when swatched on her own skin, basically disappeared. It matched her skintone perfectly. 

"That's incredible! How did you learn to do that?" Jameson was impressed, looking from her arm back to their pale faces and ashy blonde hair. They must not have gotten a lot of sun working in the factories. Jameson could relate since his own complexion outed him for working in the paper press mills back home.

"We worked with the dyes back in 8." Tamery explained with a small shrug.

"We have to figure out how to make everything the exact shades of colors the customers want." Tim picked up from his sister, "Sure there's standard recipes for each color, but most of the time we have better results by eyeballing how much of each dye to use." He grinned, using some moss to paint a deep purple texture onto his arm that made it look bruised. 

"Fascinating!" Jameson exclaimed, truly intrigued by the pair, "In the paper mill, we usually just make white, so we just bleach the tree pulp. But occasionally we use these powders to make colored stationary. It took weeks for the gaudy orange to wash off my skin."

The twins barked similar laughs to each other. 

"Oh tell me about it! When we were dying a batch of red silk, it looked like we had bloody hands for ages!" Tim snorted. Nobody comments about how it might become a reality soon.

"Though seeing the Capitol folk walking around with dyed skin makes me think that they were inspired by us." Tamery rolls her eyes with a smirk. "It took the preps almost two hours to finally scrub us clean. I think they had to take some skin with 'em as a souvenir to make it work. To add insult to injury, one of them was dyed robin's egg blue."

Tim scoffs with a roll of his eyes as well and they all go back to painting, listening to the instructor on how to use stones and bark and other unconventional materials to hide themselves from plain sight. Jameson was okay at it, but when the new trio moved to the traps and snares station, Jameson picked up the skill quickly. 

After learning the basics, the gears in Jameson's mind turned and he fashioned a tripwire that would drop a massive weight onto a test dummy. The weight crushed it's plastic skull and for a quick moment Jameson felt pleased with himself. Then he remembered he had an audience and scanned the room, several tributes had watched him and he could feel his cheeks burn. He was used to people watching him perform, but this was different. This was showing the others his skillset, even if it was new to him as well. Tim and Tamery clapped for him but they all quickly moved on to another station.

Jameson and the twins got on like a house on fire. They were all witty and laughed like the career pack at stupid jokes. And without saying anything, they all decided to team up in the arena. It made for better odds to be in an alliance than staking it out on your own.

It was a good thing too, because Jameson watched Tim wrestle his instructor to the ground and Tamery disarmed her knife wielding instructor in seconds. Jameson had tried to pick up a bow and a spear but they didn't feel right. He found some small throwing axes and hit the targets from a good distance away, but his mind kept going back to the hunting snares.

So while most of the other tributes took their lunch break, Jameson stayed behind a little longer to learn some more complicated traps. Whipping branches, pitfalls, small stone catapults, rope snares that left people dangling 20 feet up. He stuffed his brain with as much knowledge as he could until he was pulled away by the twins, one grabbing each of his arms and dragging him.

“C'mon, pull your own weight, James!” Tamery laughed.

Two days later while showing off their skills to the Game Makers, Jameson didnt hold back. Taking several minutes to construct an elaborate trap from rope and weights and netting. 

When he used a spear to trip the wire, a cluster of ropes with small weights on the ends got flung a few inches off the ground and tangled around the ankles of a practice dummy. And before it could fall over, two weights dangling from ropes were released- and met in the middle to crush the dummy between them.

The people observing him gave a few impressed nods before dismissing him.

He scored a 10.

°○°○°○°

Jameson resisted wiping his hands on his sleek navy blue suit as he walked up the stage to meet Lucky Flickerman, shaking the weather man- turned host's hand firmly with a brilliant smile and having a seat.

"Jameson Jackson! What a very musical name you have!" Lucky proclaimed as an icebreaker, his copper powdered hair shiny and perfectly in place. Jameson quietly admired his mustache as he chuckled at the host's words. "Very bouncy and fun to say!" Lucky then repeats Jameson's name to a jazzy tune a few times that makes the audience giggle and clap.

"Yes well I am actually quite musical myself, according to my mates back home in 7. They can hardly get me to shut up sometimes." Jameson grins cheekily, causing the audience to laugh, "Though, those guys just call me JJ for short."

"JJ! Incredible! So you do sing? Did you put on any performances growing up?" Lucky asks, leaning forward as the crushed velvet of his blue suit shifts under the lights.

"Hah, maybe one or two when I was younger at school. But mostly I sing to pass the days in the paper mills. Keeps the spirits up, yaknow? If everyone is happy while working, then you know the paper you write your love letters on is made with love." Jameson has to resist rolling his eyes. That was corny even for him.

But the people love it, it makes the audience collectively aww and put their hands to their chests at the sentiment.

"Well you can't hold out on us, then! Would you like to sing a little something-something for the people?" Lucky looks to the audience conspiratorially, "What do you think, folks?"

The citizens of the Capitol roared with cheers and encouragement. And Jameson pretended to hide his face in one hand and wave them all off with the other, but this just seems to goad them on until Jameson sighs dramatically and stands, “Alright alright, you've swayed me!”

Lucky shushes the crowd and Jameson took a deep breath, singing from his stomach a tune from back home, his voice rich enough to fill the large room by himself. He thinks of Maria as the people hang on to every note that pours from his mouth.

Stay with me til dusk my dear,

Sway with me til morning comes.

Together we'll sing 'long with the breeze,

And here we'll sleep for eternity. 

Stay with me, my dear, my love.

Stay with me,

Stay.

As he holds the final note the audience erupts into applause and Jameson humbly takes a bow with his hands clasped tightly together. 

"We're almost out of time but Jameson, that was enchanting! Absolutely enchanting! Thank you so much, was that a song from your District?" Lucky Flickerman asks, his stark white teeth gleaming unnaturally under the studio lights. 

"Yes it is. It's sung as a lullaby for many of the children." Jameson lies. Yes it is a lullaby, but its a song about two lovers seeking sanctuary in the forest. He didn't want them all to latch onto the wrong idea about him though.

"Incredible, absolutely incredible. Well, here's hoping that all of Panem won't lose your special gift so soon, James."

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that." Jameson smiles winningly.

Lucky gestures for him to take another bow as the timer dings for the next tribute to come on, "Jameson Jackson, ladies and gentleman!" The crowd cheers and applauses again, sending Jameson backstage where his face falls and he heaves a dramatic breath.

"That was a lot." Jameson chuckles faintly, hands on his knees as if he just ran a mile. He felt a pat on his back from Tamery as she passed him to go on stage.

"Thanks for the bode of confidence, James." She remarks, fluffy rainbow skirt bouncing around her hips as she walks on stage when her name is called. 

Tim then helps Jameson stand again, his own suit colored in a bold gradient to match the sunset, “You blew us all away, JJ.” He pats Jameson on the opposite shoulder before lightly pushing to send him back to his team.

°○°○°○°

Jameson lied awake for a long time in his room the night before the games. He should have been sleeping, but his mind was like an angry trackerjacker hive. Staring up at the ceiling, gently rolling the grape sized locket in his fingers, he couldn't help but think of home. Occasionally bringing it up, he clicks the locket open to see the yellowed pictures inside. 

He stared in the dark at the small hand drawn portraits of a husband and wife he never remembered meeting, but shared so many similarities to himself. His father's soft eyes, his mother's nose and faintly rounded cheeks. The same thick curly black hair. Jameson couldn't help but smile at his father's styled mustache. It curled in a funny way towards his nose that Jameson always assumed he must have greased it to keep its shape somehow. He remembers his Aunt Marry using the word “dapper” in a teasing tone to describe the unique look of her late brother.

To Jameson, Aunt Marry was his true mother in every way. But she insisted that she always wanted to be an aunt, so the title stuck like sap. She raised James by herself and never once complained- never complained around him, anyway. She taught him all the songs he knew and so much more about how to survive. How to live and how to smile despite the hardships. He wishes there was a picture of her in the locket, but there was barely room to fit his parents into the cramped space.

The surface of the locket had a relief of a maple seed- a "helicopter" as the older folks of District 7 had described them when they began to shower down in autumn. Twirling all the way down like dancers until they touched the ground safely. Jameson wasn't sure what the nickname for the seed was referring to, but he remembers picking up small handfuls of them and tossing them in the air so they spun back down into Maria's hair. Revenge was swift as Maria got back at him by shoving a handful of the seeds- and some dirt for good measure- down the back of his shirt. Jameson couldn't blame her, it was a nightmare trying to untangle the deceptively spiky seeds from her frizzy hair. The frizz always collected debris so easily when it was let down.

He absently ran his thumb over the polished gray metal as tears rolled down his cheeks. He missed District 7. He missed home so badly. 

Exhaustion finally took over him at some point. The sound of his younger self's laugh and the crunching of leaves under Maria's shoes echoing in his dreams, before they slowly morphed into nightmares.

°○°○°○°

Jameson could hear the blood rushing in his ears as the metal platform slowly raised him up.

He made a plan with the District 8 twins on the last day of training that they would try to meet and stay as a group. Jameson told his fellow tribute from 7 that if she could find them she could join if she wanted to, but she just shrugged and told him maybe.

The cornucopia glared like a raging hot fire against the harsh sunlight, reflecting golden light into everyone's eyes. Jameson tried to get his bearings of the surrounding area but all he could see was white. 

He understood quickly why his jacket was so thick and why his pants were lined with some kind of warm water proof material. He pulled his knitted hat more firmly over his ears as a harsh wind bit through his little exposed skin.

Snow. 

The arena was a snow covered forest of pine trees nestled between three mountains. The sun was dazzling against the brilliant sparkling white of the snow and Jameson had seconds for his eyes to fully adjust- and take in what was directly in front of him.

“Let the 26th annual Hunger Games… BEGIN!” Announced the air before the bongs of the final countdown began.

Jameson knew he wouldn't stand a chance in the middle of the bloodbath, but he did see a small backpack not too far from him. And when the alarm rang out he bolted for it. About half the tributes slipped immediately and fell and Jameson nearly joined them. Catching himself on a knee before springing forward again.

He slid right past the backpack the first time because the entire ground around them was pristine glass-like ice, but he quickly scrambled back up- just in time to dodge a spear being thrown at him. He turned his torso just enough to avoid being stuck like a kebab as the spear stuck into the ice, sending a web of small cracks across the ground. Jameson didn't hesitate, he grabbed both the pale blue backpack and the spear sticking out of the ground. To say the least he was not great with a spear in training, but it was better than no weapon at all as he skated across the ice field- finally gaining traction in the snow at the edge of the field and sprinting for the treeline.

He didn't dare look back as he crashed through the naked brush. The echo of canons followed him the deeper into the sparse forest as he went. He knew he wouldn't be able to easily hide his footsteps, but neither could anybody else without great effort. So Jameson decided to get as much distance as he physically could and ignore the trail he blazed behind himself.

It took about an hour of traveling through ankle high powder before Jameson found a rock outcropping to hide under and take stock of his mystery supplies. He'd never been this exhausted in his entire life. Sure, he sometimes went and chopped up branches when they were too big for the wood chipper, but he worked in the paper mill. He wasn't a proper lumberjack. While he could climb trees and did so often, he was a shop kid who worked in the paper presses. He didn't have the same level of skill for scaling trees like a squirrel, or the stamina from long work days in the forests. Shaking the doubts in himself aside, he carefully started pulling everything out of the bag and laid it all in a neat row.

There wasn't much.

Thick dark tinted goggles, flint and steel, a shiny piece of plastic material that Jameson realized is a thermal blanket, a small pack of jerky, and an empty tin thermos that was already cold to the touch. And of course the spear, which looking at it now, Jameson saw it had something- someone's- blood on it already. 

Okay. Horrifying. But he could work with this. Hell the silvery blanket was already way more than he could have prayed for in an environment like this.

He throughly cleaned the blood off the spear with snow- throwing some fresher powder over the stark red stain when he finished- and slipped the goggles on, already so thankful that he wasn't being blinded by the sparkling snow anymore. He was starting to get dark spots in his vision from looking at the blinding white for too long.

Jameson debated for a while after packing everything away if he should keep waiting for the twins here in the rocks or move on– when he heard the noise of snow crunching under foot. 

Two sets of feet. But was it them?

Jameson tucked himself deep into the rocks, spear at the ready, he strained his ears to get an idea of who was here.

"Are you sure he went this way? I can barely see anything out here!" One person, a boy probably, whispered harshly. Jameson could hear his teeth chattering already from his hiding spot.

"Yes, I'm sure.” The second voice, probably a girl's, snapped. “Besides, we've followed the tracks this long. It's either JJ or somebody else. Let's just hope it's not that little boy from 10. He seemed like a sweetheart." 

“Okay, but if they try to kill us I'm killing you again myself.”

The girl let out a snort for a laugh.

Jameson perked up at the familiar bickering and carefully peeked his head out from his hiding place. Immediately brightening when he saw the matching pair of friendly hazel eyes look in his direction when he called out.

As soon as they get into the outcropping Jameson says, "Are either of you hurt? Did you manage to grab anything before getting out of there?"

"Tim managed to get a few ice picks and some kind of spiked shoe cover things. I grabbed a bag of apples and some rope but that's it. Tim got into a bit of a scrape over the ice picks, but I shoved the girl off and we got away with only a few small cuts." Tamery said, vaguely waving to a thin slash going across her eyebrow and cheek but missing her eye entirely. Tim was sporting a few slashes in his jacket and a slightly bruised eye but that was about it. Jameson checked them over but there wasn't any deep gashes, so they should be fine. He gently pressed some clean snow to Tim's cheek and told Tamery to use clean snow and wash the blood off her eyebrow. They were all incredibly lucky.

Jameson wondered how long the luck would last.

It turned out, not even a day and a half.

The first night was horrible. Jameson and Tim wrapped themselves around Tamery as they all shared the thin thermal blanket. They had dug out a small burrow in the snow with their hands and ice picks, hiding themselves inside for the night. At least they weren't out in the wind or exposing themselves with a fire. Tim poked his head out like a rabbit when the projections of the dead tributes shone across the sky to the tune of the anthem. 

When it finished, Tim snuggled back in, relaying the 5 tributes who were killed today in the bloodbath. He frowns and looks at Jameson, "I'm sorry, JJ, the girl from your District… she didn't make it..." 

Jameson pales as Tamery hugs him tightly, he clings back and hides his face against her jacket, hoping the cameras couldn't see his tears while they were in the burrow.

No fire means no extra warmth, so the three huddle close and fitfully tried to sleep through the night.

As soon as the sun broke over the mountain the three went hunting. They had basic knowledge of snares from their training but not much in the way of hunting with weapons. Jameson took the rope from Tamery, unraveling it into thirds to make thinner cord and setting up some simple traps to hopefully catch some hares. Tim spotted the tracks for them so they crossed their fingers that it would work.

In the meantime they all debated the pros and cons of starting a fire. 

It was daylight so it wouldn't be terribly noticeable like it would be at night, but the smoke could signal somebody to their location. However if they strayed from other tributes for too long the game makers would probably send something at them. Something far worse than getting jumped by a career pack.

They decided to risk it and built a small fire inside their burrow to conceal the smoke somewhat. Jameson shoved as much snow as he could into the cup of his thermos and set it on the coals to melt and hopefully boil. He repeated this several times while Tim kept watch. Tamery used the end of JJ's spear to slice into an apple and passed out slices to each of them.

It was quiet for the most part. They all decided to stick together and have nobody wander off. So when the trio went to go check on the snares for any rabbits, they were slightly more prepared to face off against the boy from District 4. 

The fight was brutal, and Tamery thought her wrist was broken, but Tim got the final blow and used JJ's spear to finish off the other boy. The canon fired and Jameson immediately searched the boy's belongings for any food. Tamery debated shucking off his jacket, but Tim turned it down, queasy about the blood soaking through it. Instead he took the laces from the boy's boots and his gloves which were a little tight on Tim's hands but worked.

They watched the hovercraft carry away the body over the small mountain range and Jameson felt a little sick holding the new knife and small sack of bread. But what else could they have done? The boy was just as ready to kill them as they were. He swallowed back his tears and checked on the snares.

They decided to try and move uphill after making a splint out of branches and one of the boot laces for Tamery's wrist. Tim holds tightly to her other hand as Jameson leads them through the trees. It was when the sun was about to kiss the opposite mountain goodnight when a scream echoed up from deeper in the forest. Another canon sounded. Could have been anyone. They decided to make camp for the night.

About a quarter of the way up the mountain the next morning, they came across a pool of some kind. It was frozen over with a layer of powdered snow so they didn't have a good sight of what was under the ice. Tim tapped the glassy surface with his spear and it chimed like one of the crystal glasses at the dinner table back in the tribute's center. The hairs on the back of Jameson's neck stood up as he whipped his neck around. Something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

"Hey, Tim? Maybe lets leave the weird glass pond alone." He says slowly, trying to pinpoint what changed. The ringing of the ice still sang around them in a sweet tune. Carrying much longer than it should have.

"But nothings happening?" Tim replied uneasily but lifted the spear to tap the surface again.

"Well don't do it again!" Tamery hissed, grabbing the spear to stop it. The twins began to bicker then there it was. 

A low rumbling coming from higher up on the mountain they were climbing. All three heads slowly turned up and in the distance they saw a massive rolling wall of snow. It was somewhat unclear if tapping the lake caused it or another tribute higher up did, but they did not stick around to debate. Sprinting as fast as they could back down the mountain as the avalanche chased them with accelerating speed and hunger.

The avalanche was louder than anything Jameson had ever heard in his life, and he had visited the giant dam in District 7. But this, it was roaring loud and deep unlike anything Jameson had ever known. 

He and the twins were going as fast as they could, but Tamery slipped on a hidden patch of ice so Jameson had to double back and help her up before they all kept sprinting into the trees.

"CLIMB!" Jameson commands as they make it a few trees in, he boosted up Tamery and Tim first before scampering up behind them. Unlike District 7 kids who have an innate ability to scale, it seems that District 8 kids don't have the same climbing ability. But they are going as quick as they could as Jameson looked back to the too-close avalanche. "Hold on! Hold on!" He called, wrapping his arms tight around the trunk of the tree and the twins do the same. He thinks Tamery is screaming in fear but its drowned out by the crashing sounds of the snow rushing into the forest. Jameson is just praying the tree holds steady and the snow doesn't pile high enough to bury them from the ground up.

The tree they cling to as a lifeboat shudders and threatens to give way a few times. Jameson pressed his forehead to the trunk and thought he faintly could feel his fingers bleeding from gripping so tight to the bark as stray snow and ice chunks pelt his back.

Jameson was about to call up to the twins and see how they were holding up- but something hit the back of his head. His eyes rolled in his head and blacked out almost immediately. The last thing he was conscious of was feeling his grip slip from the bark. 

Then nothing.

°○°○°○°

In his dreams he's looking up at the gold dappled light through the trees. The first warm winds of spring blowing through the branches and his hair. He looks to his right and finds Maria- his Maple- using her deft fingers to weave a crown from the fresh green grass they were laying in. He reached towards her but there was some kind of unseen barrier between them. He sits up and touched it again, the invisible surface rippling under his fingers and Maria did not seem to notice him at all. But she did turn her head in the opposite direction, and Jameson followed her gaze.

The trees beyond them were breaking and curling forward, as if they were snapping joints into place to create some kind of rooted mass of a beast. Giant spikes for teeth and claws, the approximation of where eyes would be; burning like hot coals. But Maria didn't move, simply staring at the monster that was coming to kill her.

Panic settled into his bones, he started pounding on the invisible separation, screaming her name to no avail. He couldn't even hear himself. Just the gentle rustling of the leaves over head and the gnarled snapping of trunks and branches barreling towards them.

Maria slowly stood up and turned to face Jameson, and he jumped back in horror. Her eyes were now deep black gouges where sockets should be, her jaw hinged and hung low on her head, broken. She was made entirely out of wood. She was a wooden puppet and suddenly Jameson could see the strings that held her up disappearing into the dark sky above- when did it become dark? He looked back to her in horror, but her empty eyes stared empty into his. A block of wood acting as her hand waved to him. Jameson goes to put his hand over hers but found his hand had also been transformed into timber. Looking down so has the rest of himself, it was all roughly carved into a mockery of a person's body. He wanted to scream but he felt his jaw unable to move. He uselessly paws at his face and found that he doesn't even have a mouth.

James suddenly snapped his head up as the howling tree monster barreled into them both, breaking whatever barrier was there and snapping strings, trampling them both bodies into sawdust and splinters. He could feel the arm-like logs crush every part of him, collapsing what was once his ribcage and knocking Maria's head from her body entirely.

He tried to scream again, but the only sound came from inside his own head, as if he was trapped inside a wooden casket with no hope of escaping.

°○°○°○°

He's not sure how long he was out for, but when Jameson's eyes fluttered open it's a herculean effort to not let them close again and go back to sleep. His head throbbed in pain, but more so than that, he was cold, and his body immediately began shivering. Which in turn did not help his pounding headache and he groaned low in his chest. 

Tim was the first one to enter his vision and the boy from eight's smile was like a ray of sunlight, "Good morning, James. Thought we really lost you out there. Have a good nap?" He laughed shakily, tucking some of Jameson's hair back under his hat and pulled it more snugly over his ears. 

When he managed to push through the pain in his head and ask how long he had been out, Tamery pipes in that it had been about a day. The twins took turns explaining what had happened up in that tree. 

Jameson got knocked out by something- a chunk of flying ice- and Tim leaped down to catch him. Tamery held onto Tim as he held onto Jameson's dangling body over the rushing snow. It was a miracle the branch didn't snap while it held all three of them at once. They used some of the rope to tie everyone to the trunk and they both held onto Jameson, hoping he wasn't dead.

Eventually the avalanche did stop, and weirdly it seemed like the extra snow just distributed itself across the arena evenly. Must have been some weird game maker stuff. They didn't spend too long thinking about it. The twins worked together to lower Jameson's body down and they assessed the damage. The back of Jameson's head was bleeding sluggishly, but after cleaning as much blood as they could they found it wasn't that deep of a cut- but it still left him out cold. 

They loaded Jameson onto Tim's back and they started walking away from the mountain, seeking shelter so they could take care of each other. Tamery's wrist is properly broken now after trying to catch Tim and was sporting a new splint. The twins managed to find a tight cluster of pine trees and Tim dug out another burrow. Tamery held onto Jameson so he wouldn't lose more body heat and Tim started a low fire just outside their burrow. They needed to keep Jameseon warm as best they could.

5 tributes were killed in the avalanche.

Evidently, the fire did attract another tribute, but Tim had finished them off quickly and drug the body away from camp for pick up. 

Jameson felt a bit numb. Already Tim had killed 2 other tributes. He looked over to him and could now see the slight hollow look in his eyes despite his easy grin. 

"Why didn't you let me go?" Jameson asked, "You could have just dropped my body and let the avalanche take me. Why did you risk your necks for me?" 

Tim scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, "Because we're a team. And I'm not the kind of man to let my friends go without a fight. You can't ditch us that easily, James.”

Friends. Jameson could feel both his stomach twist and his heart warm at the word. It was wonderful that the three of them had bonded, but then reality crashed back onto him like a dead tree. 

Only one walks out. Only one person walks away from the arena alive.

He swallowed that down and pulled Tim into a hug the best he could while laying down. Faintly Jameson was aware they're on camera, so he reached his hand out to Tamery and pulled her into the hug as well.

That night, after they coaxed him into eating and drinking something, Jameson was squished between the twins. They had extinguished and buried the fire under snow, but Jameson still stayed awake for a while, listening to the world outside their little bubble. 

There were no faces in the sky that night.

°○°○°○°

The next morning, they decided to stay hunkered down and give Jameson some time to recover. 

Tamery checked to see if the coast was clear before collecting some sticks to build another small fire once the sun didn't cast the mountain's chilled shadow over their little sanctuary.

All things considered, they were doing okay. They had food and some water left, a small source of warmth and company.

"I didn't see any names last night. What about the night I was knocked out?" Jameson asked Tamery while Tim was out setting some more snares. They lost their original traps to the avalanche and the jerky and bread were gone. 

Tamery hummed in thought as she set two apples next to the fire to roast them, "Girl from 12, and boy from 11 I think. I didn't really pay attention to all of them but I heard a few more canons during the avalanche so that's…" She paused to count in her head, "13 total? I think?" 

Jameson nods slowly. 13 dead, and he would have been one of them if Tim's hand slipped. He's extremely grateful as he bites into his piece of the last frozen bread roll.

They spent about 2 days in this location. The trees provided cover and they had a good amount of food to ration thanks to the traps. The trio spoke quietly of their lives back home, the family and friends they miss dearly. They even swapped stories to pass the time and keep Jameson from focusing too much on his pain. 

At some point, another canon fired in the distance, and some time later a silver parachute hangs itself neatly on a tree branch. Tim scampered quickly to get it and brought it back into the burrow. 

They're not sure exactly who it was for, but inside was a steaming pot of hot chocolate. Little white puffs still floated around as steam lazily rose up. They each savored one large sip of the creamy drink before they decided to save the rest for later. For a special occasion.

The next morning Jameson decided he's well enough to move again. The twins shared a doubtful look with each other but they packed up camp anyway. The trio decided to head for the opposite mountain. Tamery pointed out that there wasn't snow at the top of one so maybe the rocks were warmer somehow? They didn't think too hard about it, the hot chocolate helped a little but the cold had been slowly getting to them. They needed to move.

Unfortunately they weren't the only ones who had this same idea about the rocks without snow.

When they got to the rock shelf up on the mountain they quickly realized it was occupied. 

A fight broke out and everything happened so fast Jameson barely processed any of it at the moment.

Two larger tributes were cooking at a fire when the trio approached. They had a sword and an axe and they rushed the three of them. Tamery tried using her good hand to swing an ice pick but it was barely any good. Jameson tackled the girl with the axe and wrestled her for it, ripping it from her hands as Tim stabbed at the boy with the spear. Jameson rolled away from the girl and kicked some of the hot coals into the other boy's face- causing him to thrash wildly with the sword. It had cut Tim's arm deep enough for him to drop the spear and the other girl to nab it. Tamery came around behind her however and plunged an icepick into the girl's back. The other boy screamed and turned on Jameson, but Tim stepped in front of him as the sword plunged deep into Tim's side. 

Jameson was in shock and couldn't move- watched Tim fall to his knees clutching his side. Tamery snarled and leaped at the bigger boy. Jameson didn't see what she did because he was focused on Tim, but soon enough two canons fired and Tamery limped back over. Covered in blood. Jameson was just quick to leap and catch Tim as he finally topped over.

Tamery's face broke as she fell to her knees with them and ripped her brother away from Jameson's hands to hold him close herself. She wailed into the quickly cooling night air and Jameson crawled over to be by them. Taking Tim's hand he whispered to him over and over again, "I'm sorry, Tim. I'm so sorry. Why would you do that-? You- I'm so sorry…" 

Tamery tried her best to choke off her tears as she pressed her hand over the rapidly spreading red stain on her brother's light blue jacket. 

Tim coughed faintly, his breathing was shallow but he looked up to the two above him. His lips cracked as he smiled again, "Mind.. mind singing me away, James? Better-" He coughs again, specks of blood spraying out. "Better to hear that than my dumb sister crying." He chuckled wetly.

Tamery smacked him, but it was barely a tap. She pressed her forehead to his and tried to swallow her tears and noises down.

Jameson quickly wiped his eyes and nodded quickly. He took a shaky breath and started to sing a gentle tune, never letting go of Tim's already cold hand. A song about the warmth of home and being surrounded by those who love you most. Jameson cursed himself for letting his voice shake, but Tim didn’t seem to mind. His hazel eyes drifted from his beloved twin back to Jameson and finally settled onto the sky. Strange lights of greens and blues and purples danced over their heads. Tim thought they are the most beautiful colors he had ever seen. 

His hand went slack in Jameson's and the canon fired. 

It took a long time to pull Tamery away from her brother's body after Jameson slipped the other tribute's and Tim's unneeded supplies into his own backpack. 

"Tam, we have to go-"

"No! I'm not leaving him!" 

"Tamery, it's not safe here- more people will be coming soon. We have to move!" He pleaded.

"Fuck you, James! Its your fault this happened! If you had just-"

"What could I have done?! We were both fighting and he stepped in front of me! So much was happening I-"

"YOU COULD HAVE NOT LET MY BROTHER DIE!" She screamed, her voice echoing across the arena. "IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!" It felt like the whole mountain shook under the weight of her grief. 

Jameson swallowed hard and set his mouth into a tight line. He knew deep down she was right. But there wasn't anything he could do. In that moment he swore he was going to get them off that fucking mountain. The easy way, or the hard way. 

Turned out, to nobody's surprise, it was the hard way. Jameson had to pry Tamery away from her twin's body and practically drag her down the mountainside kicking and screaming. Which was impressive in its own right because she gained a massive gash in her leg to match her broken wrist during the fight. 

It took about an hour for Jameson to find a cave and pull Tamery inside. She was exhausted at that point, refusing to look at JJ as he did his best to clean and wrap her injuries with the new medical kit he took. He handed her a cup of water from the thermus and some rabbit meat and sat against the opposite wall to her. She spent a long time just staring at the objects in her hands uncomprehendingly before she finally took a bite. When she did, Jameson suppressed a sigh of relief as he moved to make a small fire on the stone floor. They're deep enough in the cave he wasn't too worried about their light being spotted immediately. 

Though upon lighting the small blaze he realized they're not a cave. What he thought was the back of the cave seemed to stretch further into total darkness. It was a tunnel. A tunnel that stretches past the pitiful light of the fire and down deep into the heart of the mountain. Jameson swallowed hard then suddenly hoped Tamery didn't notice. What could be in there?

Tamery didn't notice as she pulled her knees close to her chest and buried her face in her arms, effectively blocking out the world. Jameson's heart broke for her. He could not even begin to fathom what must have been going through her head. Losing a sibling was one thing, but your twin? The person you had literally spent your entire life with? That was something else entirely.

"Guess I'll take the first watch." He mumbled to himself half heartedly, warming his hands over the small fire and scanning back and forth. From the pitch black night at the mouth of the cave, back into the pitch black nothingness in the throat of the tunnel. The fire seemed to temporarily protect them from being swallowed with its small bubble of golden light.

He didn't dare to even hum to comfort himself, afraid that a tune would carry farther than he'd think and alert someone- or something, whatever- to their location. 

Jameson watched the coals burn low and wondered to himself if he could have done anything to save Tim. Maybe it should have been Jameson that died on the mountainside with the twins watching over him instead. But no. He stepped in the way, and Jameson couldn't stop stubborn Tim even if he had a chance to try.

Jameson's head was dipping dangerously low when he decided he couldn't stay awake any longer. He got up and gently shook Tamery awake, but she wasn't asleep at all. Her gray eyes rimmed red and her cheeks were damp. Heavy purple bags rested under her eyes as tears quickly cooled her face. Jameson took Tim's- his glove off to wipe them away before they froze to her skin. 

They stared at each other, grief and regret bouncing between them like a hall of never ending mirrors, until Tamery grabbed his jacket front and pulled, hugging Jameson tight. He did not hesitate to return it just as fiercely. 

Backs against the cave wall, Jameson dozed on Tamery's shoulder with the thermal blanket wrapped around them both. They didn't utter a word to each other as the fire flickered out.

°○°○°○°

It was hard to tell what time Jameson was shaken awake. It was still dark outside the cave's mouth and Tamery looked panicked as she slapped her good hand over his mouth. Jameson was about to protest when there was the sound of something inside the tunnel.

Breathing. Low and slow. Sleeping.

Their eyes silently met and communicated. As fast as they dared, the two picked up their camp and carefully made their way to the mouth of the tunnel. Pausing every few steps to let the faint crunching sounds of their boots on rock settle back into harsh silence.

A shift and rumble of an unseen beast's body made them pause after a few more steps. Daring to look back, they saw a set of glowing yellow eyes illuminated in the darkness.

There was a beat of stillness.

Jameson and Tamery bolted, practically threw themselves out of the mouth of the tunnel and down the mountainside like two bullets shooting from a gun. All the while an enormous furred beast chased them with slobbering snarls and booming steps. When it roared, Jameson and Tamery couldn't stop their own screams of terror as they fled, half running and half rolling down the lower part of the snow covered mountain. 

Adrenaline gave them the wings to fly through the ice-covered powder in the dim early morning light and Jameson's mind reeled.

Where could they even go? 

There were very few places to hide, and there was no way Tamery could climb a tree fast enough with her leg. His head throbbed with the remnants of his lingering concussion. 

Suddenly, an idea hit Jameson like a block of ice. 

"Get to the cornucopia!" He yelled, turning on his heel as he threw the axe at the hulking white monster that was all dingy white fur and yellowed teeth. Some kind of muttation that Jameson vaguely figured was inspired by a bear of some kind. If the bear was built like a brick house and had two extra rows of shark teeth where its gums should be.

The axe struck the creature in the shoulder but it easily dislodged from its flesh, the weapon flying away in an arch before being lost to the powder immediately. But it bought Jameson enough time to catch up to Tamery who was limping as fast as she could. He managed to help drag her along and he forced himself to ignore her cries of pain. He yelled encouragingly at her to keep moving. Just keep running. They were almost there!

As soon as they broke through the trees that surrounded the golden cornucopia, the careers who made camp inside it immediately burst out with weapons drawn. When the beast shatters two trees in its rampage, however, the tribute's faces turn from a pack of dogs on a hunt, to a bunch of terrified children.

There was a flurry of confusion as Jameson and Tamery ran across the ice- the cleats on their boots gripping into the ice and allowed them to not slip on their asses. In fact, it allowed Jameson to shove Tamery out of the way as they split off, sending her skidding across the ice with a shout and allowing the giant beast- with no traction on the ice- to slide right into the career pack.

The sounds of screams and crunching bones filled the crisp morning air and Jameson froze for a moment to witness the carnage. 

The stark contrast of bright red blood on the pristine white snow was dizzying. He could feel the meager dinner from last night churn in his stomach, but he had no time to throw up,  as one of the careers from District Two tackled him to the ground. She was furious, yelling at Jameson and trying to plunge a massive hunting knife into his head. He dodged left and right before getting his spiked boots under her and kicking her off to go sliding- away from the beast. 

A couple arrows stuck out from its matted fur but it barely seemed to notice as he was tearing into the stomach of the girl from 1. Jameson quickly scrambled to his feet and looked for Tamery in the confusion, spotting her darting into the mouth of the cornucopia. He quickly joined her and they both hid behind a black crate, splattered in the blood from the other tributes. 

Tamery clutched her freshly bleeding leg. Teeth clenched so she wouldn't cry out when Jameson put pressure on her reopened wound with a cloth. They both listened for an agonizingly long time as the beast tore the small career pack to shreds. The wet sounds of meat being torn from bone and whimpers of agony ringing out into the air as snow began to fall. Snowflakes immediately melting into the warm pools of blood.

Jameson located a small handheld crossbow among the piles of supplies located inside their hiding place. He loaded it as quietly as he could. He knew it wouldn't do much against that creature, but if a tribute came in there all it would take is one shot to the head…

The sound of the three booming canon shots seemed to scare the beast back to its cave, grunting and huffing with every step to keep its balance on the ice.

Jameson and Tamery stayed where they were, not wanting to expose themselves to survivors or draw the attention of the monster back. 

They waited and listened as the hovercrafts retrieved the dead before they let out matching sighs of relief. Jameson handed the crossbow to Tamery before moving to check on her leg. The torn cloth bandage was soaked through so Jameson turned his back to look for a medical kit, “They have to have some proper bandages stashed somewhere in h-”

He froze in place when he heard the click of the safety being flicked off of the crossbow. Horrified, Jameson didn't need to turn around to know that Tamery had the bolt trained on Jameson's back. He slowly lifted his hands in surrender and turned around to face the stand-alone twin. 

Jameson searched her face and could barely get the whisper out around the knot in his throat, "Why?" 

Tamery just shook her head, face hard set with tears cutting through the smudges of grime and blood on her face. "Get. Out." She spat through her teeth. Jameson felt himself shaking.

Confused and still pumped with adrenaline. He shook his head and went to speak again but she cut him off, "Get out, Jameson Jackson! I don't want anything more to do with you!" Her voice was rough, it starkly contrasted the anguished scream from last night with a coldness that cut through Jameson's bones. "You have put me and my brother into so much danger. It was your idea to climb that mountain and it was your idea to lead that THING into the careers! How long until you get me killed with your stupid plans! Just like Tim!" Her eyes narrowed, “Was that your game plan from the start? Make us trust you then get us all murdered?”

“No! Tamery I would never-”

“Bullshit! One one of us walks out of here Jameson Jackson and it shouldn't be you.”

"Then why don't you pull the trigger?" Jameson asked, his chest twisted into a harsh knot. This is probably the first time in his life he has truly felt betrayal.

Tamery hesitated. Jameson could see her hand shaking the small crossbow, "Because," she took a deep breath, her hazel eyes once holding glimmers of a rainbow, now were dark like a raging thunderstorm, "Because Tim would be so disappointed in me."

For the second time in 24 hours, Jameson's heart shattered.

“Tamery-”

“Go.” She growled, baring her teeth with a cornered animal.

Jameson swallowed hard and slowly stood up, never turning his back on the crossbow trained on him as he grabbed a sack of random supplies. He wanted to say goodbye, but something from the treeline startled him. He took off running as soon as left the mouth of the cornucopia.

He swore he could feel his heart bleeding in his ribcage. 

This was the nature of the games. It was better this way. Better than having your friend kill you at the end of the line. He held in a sob.

Jameson ran deep into the forest before scaling a tree, wrapping his arms around the trunk and allowing himself to break. Just a little. Hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks before they could freeze to his skin. Taking deep shaky breaths he tried to center himself again. But the images of Tim dying and Tamery's fury flashed in his mind and the tears started up all over again.

He had to get it together. Tamery had half of the supplies when they escaped the cave so Jameson maybe had a day or two left of food if he rationed. She took the flint and steel as well as his silver thermal blanket. Upon searching the sack of supplies he hastily grabbed, all he could find was more rope, a knife, and some sort of.. wheels? He picked one out of the bag and realized it was a pulley. There were only a few of them but the rope threaded into them perfectly.

Gears turned in Jameson's mind and he started formulating a plan. Afterall, there were only so many of them left.

Going back to their old camp in the cluster of trees, Jameson began using his ice pick to dig a new burrow. But he wouldn't be sleeping in there. No, under a layer of snow, Jameson carefully laid out a rope snare that led back to the highest tree in the cluster. Carefully weighted with a heavy branch, all Jameson had to do was wait for someone to go inside and investigate and the trap would go off.

He built a fire, not caring that it gave away his position in the quickly setting light. That was the point. He toasted the last apple, boiled more snow into water, and sipped the hot chocolate. The sweet creaminess of it felt bitter in Jameson's stomach now, but it was warm and filling. He threw some green pine branches onto the fire, immediately making it more smoky, before he traced his own steps in the snow towards the big tree. Jameson had made sure to thoroughly stomp around the area so his tracks would be harder to follow to his hiding place. He shook some of the lower branches free of their snow, just for added measure.

Then he hunkered down in a high up branch and waited.

This was by far his worst night in the games. 

Without Tim and Tamery's body heat or the protection of the thermal blanket, Jameson could feel his body heat being leached out of him with every gust of frigid wind. He tried to see it as a blessing when the snowflakes started coming down in larger globs. The fact that it was snowing at all meant it was technically warmer than a cloudless night sky. And feeling the snow pile against his back, he convinced himself it would add more cover from the wind. Jameson pulled the hood of his jacket tight over his face and tried to stay upright. 

His head was pounding from his concussion and the exertion of the day. Between that and the bitter cold he wanted so badly to just sleep. He didn't feel the cold as much when he slept, but he knew it would be a bad idea.

Catching himself dozing, Jameson began to wrap some extra rope around himself and the trunk of the tree when he heard it.

Snap!

Jameson tried not to jump, instead freezing in place and listening carefully to the movements below.

In the distance he heard a canon fire.

Who was that? Tamery? Jameson thought to himself before getting thrown back into his own situation. 

He looked down and saw a tribute, cautiously walking into his fake camp like a nervous rabbit, ready to bolt at any moment. It was hard to tell who it was- they were bundled so much in a long blue scarf that Jameson couldn't see much of their face. But it didn't matter. 

Setting his resolve, Jameson put a hand on the log weight attached to his trap and watched as the tribute approached the fire. He watched the tribute take their thin gloves off to warm their hands- Jameson could see from his place in the tree that their fingers were blue. Almost touching the licking flames with seemingly no fear of being burned.

They did this for a minute, giving up as they turned to the burrow, carefully crawling inside hoping to seek shelter from the wind. 

There was pressure on the rope.

With a heaving push, Jameson shoved the heavy log out of its wedge and the rope snapped tight, ensnaring whoever was inside by their ankles as it dragged them out. The burrow collapsed on top of them before their body got ripped across the firepit. They let out a scream as the hot coals caught on their clothes and started to burn almost immediately. But the rope and pulley system Jameson rigged wasn't finished in its trajectory. Jameson must have miscalculated-  because it practically flung the tribute into the air before gravity clutched them in its fist and slammed them back down onto the frozen earth. It looked as though something invisible grabbed the tribute's chest and tried to drag their heart directly into the ground.

There was a sickening thud and crunch, but no canon fire. Jameson scuttled down his tree with his knife in his teeth. He didn't want whoever that was to suffer- so without even registering their frostbitten face, he plunged the knife down. Through their scarf, and into their throat. 

The canon sang. 

This was the first person Jameson had directly killed. Sure, he led the beast to the career pack, but before that it was Tim and then Tamery who had actual blood on their hands. This was the first time it properly stained his now-gray gloves.

Red oozed from the tribute's neck, seeping deep into the pristine white snow. Globs of snowflakes were already working hard to try and cover the red as Jameson cut the tribute's ankles free and backed away into the shadow of the falling sun's light.

As soon as the craft crested back over the mountain out of sight, the Panem anthem began to play, displaying the faces of those who had fallen that day.

Three out of four members of the career pack, someone Jameson barely recognized from the training center, and the little boy from 10. The one Tamery wished would join their party if they ever found him. Was he the one Jameson just killed? 

He immediately discarded the thought, knowing it to be true deep down but if he let it, the thought would break him. 

No, that person was too big to be the boy. He remembered the twelve year old being so much smaller. It couldn't have been him. But he was so much lighter than Jameson expected for any of the older tributes…

He slammed the lid shut on that train of thought before it could go any further. He screwed it tight and hid it away deep in his mind. He couldn't afford to lose his grip now.

Only one walks out.

It shouldn't have been Jameson.

It should have been that little boy.

What did they all think of him now back home in District 7?

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jameson carefully took apart his trap and stashed everything in his backpack. Sparing a glance to the blood stain in the snow before turning harshly and walking out of the ring of trees. 

He couldn't stay here and let the guilt swallow him whole. 

°○°○°○°

Trudging through the snow was difficult when it had gotten to knee-height and he could barely see in front of his own face. Jameson forced himself to keep moving, steering clear of the hollow areas under the trees where no snow collected. 

He remembered his aunt warning him and Maria never to play in them when they were children. Yes, it looked like a perfect place to build a fort, but Marry grabbed one of the branches and gave the whole tree a harsh shake. It sent pounds of snow crashing down through the branches and filled the gap almost instantly. 

"You would be buried under there and suffocate in the snow. Nobody would be able to find your tiny bodies until spring when it all melts away." 

Maria had burst into tears at the scary thought, but they both got the message loud and clear. 

Still, the patches of dry-ish earth under the canopy of a pine tree looked extremely inviting. A shelter ready and waiting to keep someone trapped forever. Maybe one of the faces in the sky had tried that already.

How many of them were left now? Jameson thought to himself, shivering with each step he took. He counted in his head as he wrapped his arms around himself. 

He had to stop when he realized. 

Killing that other tribute meant that Jameson was now in the top three. Everything was happening so fast in the games he barely registered that they had made it that far.

It was him. Tamery. And the career girl from District 2.

Jameson immediately scaled up a tree to hide, a new shot of adrenaline heating him from his core. Surely the game makers wanted a grand show for the finale. So what on earth could it be?

It took about an hour of him clinging to the tree, the cold slowly tempting him to doze off when he got his answer.

The mountain with no snow on its top, it wasn't a mountain at all.

It was a volcano. 

The top of it burst into a shower of orange fire and rock. All Jameson could do was watch in horror as the lava rapidly spewed out like a giant canopy, sending burning rock and magma across the entire arena.

But after the first spew, Jameson watched helplessly as the main river of lava flowed directly towards the cornucopia. Replacing the ice field with boiling magma. The steam from rapidly melting snow connecting with the unrelenting lava blocked out any visibility in a barrier of white. Jameson couldn't see what was happening down there but all he could think about was Tamery.

All of the lava seemed to flood directly into the ice field, but burning hunks of rock still flew across the entire arena, catching some patches of the forest on fire in an instant. Jameson knew he had to move, but where could he go? 

Even if he did try to run away, the game makers would try to either flush him back towards the others or lead them to him. He was paralyzed with indecision until he heard the canon fire. Jameson snapped his head up to the sky to see the image of Tamery, his friend from District Eight, blaze across.

“Tamery…” Jameson whispered, willing himself not to let it come out as a cry.

Something inside of him shifted. It was like he was drawn back into his own mind as his body moved without his input.

Jameson climbed down the tree, ignoring how the top had caught alight. 

He couldn't fully comprehend what he was doing or what was happening around himself. His hands moved independently from his mind.

Tying knots, looping rope around branches, a small ball of fire whizzing past his cheek-

He chased the ball of fire to where it landed. It had melted a deep hole through the snow and partway into the ground. He followed it with his ice pick and started to dig.

By god did he dig.

His icepick moved fast but rhythmically down, down, down into the earth as the world around him began to glow brighter.

At some point he found himself grunting with effort to climb out of the hole he had made. 

How had he dug that so fast? It didn't matter. 

Jameson watched his stiff hands as they set up a very similar snare to the one he made earlier that morning. The one that killed the small boy from District 10. Only someone so small could have flown so high.

Jameson found himself wishing that this trap would actually work on someone bigger than a scrawny twelve year old.

It didn't matter. His mind blurred as he finished his project, not fully sure what this thing would do but he covered the pit with a layer of pine branches and snow. 

Jameson climbed a tree that wasn't on fire and waited.

Naturally, the game makers didn't want this going on forever, so it wasn't long until Jameson heard crashing footsteps and unhinged laughter from the woods. The girl from District 2 staggered into view from below, and Jameson felt nothing.

Dancing flames licked at the trees behind her as she called into the night air in a sing-song voice, “Jaaaamesooonnn,” She sang and Jameson became an ice statue. 

“Jamie-son, Jamie-son, Jamie-son JACK-son!” The girl sang in the same jaunty tune that Lucky Flickerman had playfully done at the interview. He could see her now through the branches, half of her body was covered in cuts and burns, her snow clothes flaked away from her in chunks of ash. “Come on out, little songbird.” She mocked in a cooing tone, another cackle seemed to rip from her throat unbidden, “COME ON OUT!” She yelled, arms throwing her loaded bow around with an arrow nocked into place.

Between the cave beast attack and the volcano, she must have completely lost her mind. Her voice dipped low as she scanned the trees around her, singing quietly in a haunting tone,  “Come out, come out wherever you are…” She giggled as if this was a child's game of hide and seek. 

Jameson felt himself slipping, so he carefully tried to shift his weight to get a better hold onto the tree-

The branch snapped under his hand in betrayal. As quickly as it broke the girl from 2 let an arrow fly, striking him directly in the knee. 

A cry rips from Jameson as he feels his entire kneecap shatter on impact. One hand shook as it hovered over the arrow sticking out of his body and he debated if he should pull it or not.

Jameson's gaze locks onto the girl just as she shot another arrow at him like he was an unsuspecting squirrel clinging to the bark. His hand flew up instinctively to try and catch the bolt as it lodged right into his throat.

He tried to gasp as Jameson fell from the tree like a bird shot from the air. His leg with the arrow through it slammed against a branch on his way down before he fell onto his side in a pile of snow. He was choking on his own blood as he tried to grip the arrow in his neck, too in shock to pull it out or do anything at all except struggle to breathe through the blood.

As he desperately struggled to breathe, the girl from two couldn't stop laughing. Her cackle ringing like scrapes on a chalkboard through the air. He looked at her with one eye that wasn't full of snow and just watched her, unable to do anything else. 

Her arms were clutched over her stomach, her laugh howled like one of those hyena muttations Jameson had seen the year prior. She dropped her bow and stumbled around in circles, smiling wide at the sky, “Ladies and gentlemen!” She called, the cloud of her breath easily seen as she stepped backwards towards Jameson, “Your winner… of the HUNGER G-” 

Her words were cut short as she stepped back, directly into the hole that Jameson had dug. 

Her weight broke through the thin layer of branches that concealed the pit and her body dropped down like a bag of stones. She screamed before the rope caught around her throat- cutting off her windpipe and quickly snapping her neck thanks to the extra height of the short drop. 

Jameson lied there, dumbfounded and drowning in his own blood when he heard the canon fire.

It was like a dream when a disembodied voice spoke like a fading radio in Jameson's ear, “Ladies and gentlemen, our winner for the 26th Hunger Games!” 

Jameson allowed himself to close his eyes as the fire blazed around him. He finally felt warm even as the snow tried to blanket him in white.

°○°○°○°

They told him it was two days later when he woke up.

For what felt like a short eternity, floating in the darkness of his own head, Jameson Jackson was certain that he was dead. 

He was certain that if he kept searching this void he was in, eventually he would find his parents and maybe the twins somewhere. But no.

When his eyes fluttered open, he knew immediately he was alive because everything hurt.

His head was pounding, he couldn't move his leg, and his throat felt like he swallowed some of that lava directly. When he cried out in pain his voice sounded gargled, completely unrecognizable. It had even hurt to whisper. 

Very quickly the doctors ordered him not to speak as they injected morphling into his system. The drug dulled the pain almost instantly, and all other emotions that tried surface as well, allowing him to float on a pink cotton cloud of blissful nothingness.

He was very lucky, so they told him. It was hard to believe anything when his mind felt like cloud soup. 

They said they were quick to extract him from the arena. That they were able to save his leg for the most part though he would probably walk with a limp. And they said they managed to drain the blood that had collected in his lungs. But there was something else. 

A doctor with a soothing voice, one that was kind and had a soft face full of sympathy, gently told Jameson that they weren't so lucky with his vocal cords. 

It was a miracle in itself; the chin of his locket had caught the arrow just enough so it wouldn't fully enter his throat. It was that small amount of extra resistance that saved his life. But he was still pierced in just the right way. The woman held his hand and told him he would probably never speak clearly again. 

These words didn't sink in until they weaned him off the morphling two weeks later. Then it came to him all at once like a crushing wave.

Jameson Jackson would never speak again. 

Jameson Jackson… would never sing again.

He followed the doctor's orders and did not even so much as hum. They gave him a wheelchair that his mentor used to push him onto the stage to meet Lucky Flickerman again. The show host obviously carried the conversation after a joke about him being quieter than an avox as they went over the two hour highlight reel of the games. 

The world around Jameson was completely gray. Eyes not able to focus on anything as everyone's words sounded like his head was completely underwater.

He felt hollowed out, like an empty puppet getting moved across a stage without any of the strings in his own hands.

At some point, Jameson registered that he was finally home, back in District 7, but it wasn't his original house. No, they carted him directly to one of the houses in the Victor's Village where his Aunt Marry had already begun moving some of their belongings into it.

For a long time Jameson just stayed curled up on the couch. Staring off into space or gazing into the fire with a heavy pile of blankets over him. He vaguely understood when people came to see him, but none of the pairs of legs or blurred faces registered in his brain. The gentle fingers that ran through his hair were unfamiliar as they lulled him into fitful nights of sleep.

He didn't really know when he came back to himself. But one day, Jameson found himself sitting in front of the fireplace as it was burning low with glowing embers and.. wood shavings?

Jameson looked down, confused, at his hands and was surprised to find a whittling knife in one and a piece of wood in the other. The wood didn't have a defined shape, not really. He slowly turned it in his hands trying to decipher what it was he was making with curiosity. It looked vaguely like an oval. All the corners and edges were rounded, but nothing else remarkable aside from the texture. 

Looking down at himself again, he found his lap full of wood shavings, some shifted as he lifted his arms in mild bewilderment. There was way more than what should have accounted for the wood piece currently in his hand.

He blinked, unsure how he got here, but tentatively resumed adding to the pile. The glide of the small sharp knife steadying his mind.

Some of the wood shavings flew off into the fire as he worked and Jameson realized that's probably why he was sat here. To get as many pieces as he could into the fire and then mostly likely sweep the rest in afterwards.

But he didn't remember where he got these things. He didn't remember moving from the couch. How long had be been sat here?

Upon registering that he did, in fact, have a body, his leg screamed. 

Jameson tried to scream too, but it came out sounding horrible. Choked off and gnarled and like it's still full of pine smoke. Jameson dropped his tool and gripped his leg tight, trying desperately to stop the shooting pain that traveled from his knee to his ankle and all the way back up to his hip and spine. Every movement felt like knives in his bones as hot tears rolled down his face as he let out strangled sobs. 

This seemed to alert someone nearby because Aunt Marry quickly came around the doorway, completely in shock. But it passed as she rushed to him with someone Jameson couldn't see behind her in tow.

When they got Jameson back to the couch and brushed off most of the wood shavings, they carefully helped to prop his leg up on a stool. He kept his eyes screwed shut as the waves of pain rolled through him. A hand found his own and he squeezed. 

A minute later when the pain finally subsided, Jameson opened his eyes to see tanned hands holding out a small plate of food and a cup of water. He takes the cup and plate in shaky hands as he finally looked to his Aunt beside him, and up at the girl before him. 

Maria. His Maple. She was here and smiling down at Jameson with barely contained joy.

“Map-” He tried to say, but his throat felt like it caught fire again, sending him into a coughing fit. He felt soothing hands on his back and heard Marry gently encourage him to drink the water. 

He did and it's the most refreshing cup of water he has ever had in his life- downing the rest of the cup quickly. 

Maria pulls one of the plush chairs over and sits in front of Jameson as his aunt sits close at his side, an arm wrapped around his shoulders protectively. 

Maria begins to sign, “I… We thought you were gone for good, Jamie.” 

It takes a second for Jameson's brain to click back into place to remember how to sign, but tentatively he does so back, “I think I was. For a little while.” 

Maria's honey brown eyes sparkled with tears, “But you're back. You're home.” 

For the first time, it actually hit him.

Jameson Jackson had won the Hunger Games. 

He had won and now he was home again. Home with his aunt and his best friend and his District. He felt a lump form in his throat trying not to cry. He just opened his arms out to Maria.

She didn't hesitate as she threw herself from the chair into his arms, both of them clinging to each other like either of them would disappear if they let go. Aunt Marry wrapped her arms around both of them and they sat quietly like that for a very long time, bodies shaking from time to time with tears of relief.

°○°○°○°

The flashbacks had become part of Jameson's new normal. Alongside with his leg occasionally giving out from under him and needing a cane to walk, and almost exclusively using sign language to communicate, the flashbacks and nightmares have become part of his routine. 

He does pick up the lumberjack's woodpecker code for easier translation around town- tapping out small phrases against his cane fashioned from an off cut oak branch- but he doesn't get much of a chance to use it when something reminds him of the games. A sound of breaking bone from the butcher, a particular cackling laugh, the first cold wind of winter- his mind slipped back into the arena. 

Most often it just makes Jameson freeze, mind drifting off and becoming unresponsive. But on more than one occasion now, Jameson has snapped back into himself when a large pair of peacekeeper arms hoisted him into the air. He quickly took stock and realized he attacked another person in the middle of the square. The people around him looked a mixture of angry and terrified.

Another part of his new normal, for obvious reasons, was the people of District 7 began to avoid Jameson. Either from politeness, a fear of awkward conversation, wariness due to his actions outside the games, or even to avoid their own sadness of never hearing him sing again. It didn't matter.

They kept their distance. And in turn so did Jameson. 

He would only leave his house to purchase food or more off cuts of timber, then go back to his house as quickly as his leg would allow. No friendly waves. No lingering. No small talk. Keeping everyone at arm's length so he wouldn't reach for them when his mind replaced their faces with the boy's who killed Tim.

°○°○°○°

The Victor's Village was left mostly untouched for a long time in 7, having only been built a handful of years ago along with Snow's changes of the entire proceedings of how the games were conducted. 

The houses were a bit gaudy in Jameson's opinion. Though, he did enjoy the extra privacy being separated from the rest of the District gave. But he knew Aunt Marry wasn't as thrilled about it.

Before going on his Victory Tour, Aunt Marry told Jameson that she had decided to move back into their old home over their small general goods store. Jameson tried not to take it personally, he knew Marry's knees weren't like they used to be and the shop was on the opposite side of town. He told her it was alright and pulled his childhood wagon that carried her things.

The camera crew came a week before he was set to board the train, and Jameson gave them a tour of his new home. Showing off a small collection of the creations he has whittled since being home again. 

It was a new thing the Capital was trying along with many other ideas. The victor of the Quarter Quell, a girl named Marvin from District 4, was so fascinating to the citizens of the Capital that they wanted to see more of her after her victory. So they sent a crew to her home and interviewed her. She showed off the hobby she picked up to spend her free time and the people adored it. Marvin's pastime was tying overly intricate, decorative nets- weaving beads and crystals and colorful pieces of coral into some. So because of this popular concept,  Jameson was advised to do something similar to show to the people of Panem on television what the heck he's been up to. Minus the nightmares, the flashbacks, the crippling anxiety, and the chronic pain he now dealt with.

So he stuck with wood carving.

He whittled a myriad of things by that point. Mostly animals he would see running around their forests. Figurines of squirrels, birds, little bears. He also tried creating more complicated things. Spinning tops, perfectly smooth spheres, pipes. And… dolls. 

The camera crew actually flinched when Jameson first pulled them out.

Little dolls with linked-together limbs, they could be moved about by strings from above. Jameson had made a little under a dozen wooden marionettes that were carefully carved and painted to resemble tributes from his games. 

The girl from District Two who shot him. The little boy from District Ten he killed with the trap. The three careers that were killed by the snow beast mutt. The two larger tributes up on the mountain that killed Tim. Tamery and Tim. And finally, one of himself. That one wasn't as carefully made as the others, Jameson's stylist pointed out, “I think the leg on this one is broken. And there's some kind of scratch here on the neck.” Jameson pretended not to hear the comment.

“I plan to carve all the other tributes,” Aunt Marry translated Jameson's sign for the cameras when they started rolling. “I may not have interacted with many of them personally, but it's my way of trying to honor their memory.” That collected a round of heart-warmed coos from the crew, despite their obvious discomfort of how creepy the whole hobby seemed to them. 

“The faces freak me out, JJ!” One of the members of his prep team had cried when he first saw them, “They almost look dead!”

“They are.” He signed and Marry translated uneasily.

They stopped making comments about the puppets after that and tried to wrap up filming quickly. Good. He wanted them all out of his house.

Yes, Jameson did want to honor the fallen in some way of his own. But in reality, this strange hobby was one of the only ways for him to stop seeing the dead in his nightmares. 

He would lock himself away in the attic of the house and spend days, sometimes even weeks on a single marionette. Carving and painting away in hopes that the subject's ghost would stop haunting him in his dreams. But they would always come back eventually. 

The completion of each project gave ease for a few days, not showing up in Jamesons dreams at all. But a new face would take their place. The previous ghost would come back occasionally, but they were no longer screaming.

Each stroke of the knife dug the tribute out from a prison of wood, revealing their features so they were no longer trapped in an awful, dark place. The only time his hands didn't tremble was when he painted them. 

°○°○°○°

Returning from the Victory Tour around the entire country, Jameson was exhausted. 

Smiling for the cameras and standing in the center of the stage signing to the families of the fallen tributes. He didn't try to say anything other than what was written on the cards. Jameson found out quickly when trying to say more to the parents of Tim and Tamery in District 8, that his Capital escort did not actually know sign language, so she was completely lost as a “translator” if he went off script. He tried not to be too upset, it wasn't her fault, but he felt completely silenced by the restraints. There were so many apologies and pleads for forgiveness that the lone standing parents would never get to hear. Jameson just prayed that they could see all the anguish in his eyes and hoped it would be enough. I would never be enough.

The only positive thing out of the entire trip was that he got to meet a handful of the Victors from previous games. 

Marvin from District 4, and Henrik from District 3 connected with Jameson quickly and he really liked them. He made pleasant conversation with them once he had acquired a small notepad and pen. 

Marvin was clever and playful in that almost sharp cat-like way. She laughed easily and was liberal with any shreds of gossip she heard from her time in the Capital. Jameson was surprised somebody so vicious and cold in the arena could act like this afterwards. But then again, he knew all too well how strong certain masks could be.

She put Jameson at ease immediately when she glared daggers at the host behind the camera. The young hotshot made a joke about Jameson needing to speak up, and if they weren't being broadcast live, Jameson was sure Marvin would have ripped the host's throat out for good measure. She gave him a hug and told him to write and not be a stranger. Jameson hugged back tightly and promised he would try.

Jameson was genuinely surprised that Henrik was the last Victor in the original arena based in the Capital. A broken down gladiator-inspired theater that once upon a time hosted events like the circus. But was transformed into the death ring it was inspired by originally to host the Hunger Games. Henrik lived in terrible conditions before the games even began and it was remarkable that he didn't die from exposure or infection before entering the arena. 

President Snow changed the proceedings of everything for the 25th Hunger Games. Henrik, for better or for worse, had just missed the change in management.

He was still lanky and thin, but not quite the sickly skeleton he was when he stepped in the ring. Henrik was very intelligent and curious, asking Jameson almost endless questions about sign language and how he learned it.

Jameson decided he liked Henrik when he started taking notes on his palm for an idea, “I lost hearing in my right ear during my games.” Henrik explained, “Learning sign language could prove to be very helpful. Though not many know it in Three… I think I might have an idea.” 

Jameson really did try to follow along with Henrik's techno-babble, but the drinks had started getting to him by that point so he just listened to the soothing tones of his voice without much comprehension.

Jameson wished he could have spoken more privately to both of them, about their experiences in the games and how they try to cope with it all. But the cameras never left his back on the tour, so neither did Jameson's pleasant mask.

He entered the attic almost as soon as he returned home, planning to lose himself into a new project before the ghosts could even try to find him. Stepping inside his now familiar space, his small haven, he stopped in his tracks.

By his work desk, surrounded by piles of wood shavings he never bothered to sweep up, stood Maria. Her frizzy golden hair acted as a halo against the gray snowy backdrop of the window. In her hands she held one of the wooden dolls Jameson had started making before leaving for the tour. 

She turned, revealing to Jameson what he already knew, and his cheeks burned with shame. It was the beginnings of a carving of Maria.

Maria ever so gently set the wooden version of herself back onto the work table, supporting the head as if it were an infant, and turned to fully face Jameson, “Do you see me as dead too, Jamie?” She signed, face trying not to twist in hurt but failing.

“It's not like that, Maple,” Jameson signed back quickly. The only sound in the room was the winter breeze trying to push its claws into the cracks of the house. He repressed a shiver and pushed forward, “I don't make these just for the dead. I make them because I don't want to-” 

“What? Not to lose me?” She snapped, knowing Jameson too well, “Jamie- you're the one who is pushing away from you! Your friends at the paper mill have only seen your face a handful of times since you've come home!” 

“They don't look at me the same anymore! They treat me differently.” He tried to reason.

“Because you can't be their personal radio anymore?” She rolled her eyes with a bitter laugh.

“Because I've killed people, Maple!”

Jameson and Maria had fought only a small handful of times before. Words choked Jameson's throat when he was upset, so they both signed in rapid fire at each other. He remembers once Maria's father had broken them up by saying “Stop yelling!” And it made them all burst into giggles. But in the attic space, they were alone.

Jameson frowned deeply, “I killed innocent people! Children! It doesn't matter that it was the games, I still have their blood on my hands and it can never be washed clean. And since I can't tell anybody what actually happened in my own words, they see me as a murderer. I can't tell them! They think I'm a monster so now they treat me like I'm- Like I am a-”

“A freak?” Maria finished for him, a scowl deep in her features.

Jameson flinched, immediately realizing what he said and his anger flowing out of him in an instant, “Maple-” 

“You think they see you as a freak because you can't speak anymore?” She scoffed, “Jamie, they see you differently because you are different now. When you came home from the games you were catatonic for days! Barely able to move or show you were still alive in your brain! When you did start moving around, all you did was carve. Not even making anything, you just shaved blocks of wood into kindling. And when you did finally wake up you started avoiding everybody like they were going to stab you in the back!” 

“Can you blame me for that?!” 

“No! I understand that! But I do blame you for pushing us all away when all we want to do is help you, Jamie! You have barely spoken to me at all since you've come back!”

“Not like I can speak anymore!”

Maria laughed, bitter and a hint of self-deprecating, “I wonder what that's like!”

Jameson growled in his chest, he didn't care that it burned, “I don't want to hurt you! I've attacked people!”

“You can't control-”

“I don't want to hurt others-”

“I don't want you to hurt yourself!” Maria hiccuped, roughly scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and glaring at Jameson, eyes damp but not allowing tears to fall. 

They stand in the silence. A cold draft danced by Jameson and he instinctively wrapped his arms around himself with a harsh shiver. He hated the cold now. When the first snow of the year came he rarely left the warmth of the fireplace for anything. The first draft he felt sent him into a panic attack. 

Maria sniffed loudly, signing slower, “You don't take care of yourself when you lock yourself away up here.” She looked around the room, it was still somewhat empty, but a shelf held a collection of small statues, and the marionettes of the fallen tributes hung from the rafters. “You ignore me when I knock and throw pebbles at your window, and you don't eat the food Aunt Marry brings you. You… You disappear, Jamie. And it scares us so badly. We think that you won't come back again every time.” 

Jameson was stunned. He didn't realize he got so engrossed in his work. He looked to his side and seemingly for the first time, noticed a small stack of plates next to the door, untouched. He looked back to Maria and didn't know what to say. His hands fluttered, stumbling over his words and unsure how to respond. 

“Let me stay.” Maria said suddenly.

Jameson was completely bewildered, “What? Why?”

“So you don't have to be alone anymore. So someone can be there to take care of you.”

“No I don't-”

“Why?” She asked quickly, “Why do you so badly want to push me away, Jamie?”

“I don't want to hurt you!”

“You could never hurt me, you're so kind and gentle-”

“I hurt Aunt Marry!” He burst out and that made Maria stop. Jameson took a slow breath, not meeting her eyes for a moment in complete shame. Once he gained the courage again, he looked her in the eye, “Once when I was…” He laughed bitterly, “Gone. She tried to bring me back by touching my shoulder. I must have been back in the arena because I lashed out at her. I wasn't in control of myself, I didn't know what was really happening.” Jameson took a deep breath, “But I hurt her… and if you stay, I could hurt you too. I could kill you, Maple.”

Maria closed her eyes, hiccuping again before wiping her cheeks of the tears that managed to escape. 

He tried to step forward, tried to go comfort her, but his leg screamed, sending daggers from his knee outward. He didn't have his cane so he reluctantly froze in place, putting his body weight onto his other leg with a hiss.

When she opened her again, she looked at Jameson with a hardness of finality that sent an icicle through his heart. He immediately regretted his words and wanted nothing more than to take them all back.

“Maple, wait-” He reached for her.

“I can't do this.” She started to walk towards him, moving to the door behind him. “I'm not standing by and watching as you push me away. I-” Maria shakes her head and throws her hands down in frustration, trying to shove past Jameson but he catches her in his arms.

Maria struggled for a moment before they both lock eyes. Maria's honey brown steady and wet, and Jameson's pale blue desperately searching for… what? A sign that she was joking? No, it was obvious that she was very serious about not wanting to stand by and watch him destroy himself. Perhaps he was looking for a second chance? Again, nothing. Jameson's shoulders slowly slumped in defeat as he forced his eyes not to water.

Maria scanned his face and sighed, standing slightly on her toes to kiss his cheek so lightly he almost didn't feel the whisper of her lips, “Goodbye, Jamie.” And she stepped back slowly, Jameson released his grip, and she left.

Just like that she was gone. Jameson stood still, frozen in time until he heard the front door open and close downstairs. He tried to tell himself that this was for the best for the best, that Maria would be safer and happier away from him. 

His resolve crumbled as another draft of cold wind swept through the room, cutting through to his bones. He finally let his leg give out and he crashed to the floor on his hands and knees. When the pain stabbed him again he rolled onto his side on the floor and hugged his knees to his chest. He tried in vain to curl so tightly into a ball that he would completely disappear. Fold in on himself enough times he would become a speck of dust and fly far, far away from here. But he didn't turn into a speck of insignificant dust. He laid curled on the floor, ignored the splinters from the stray wood shavings, and screamed.

It took over three weeks for him to finish the doll of Maria.

°○°○°○°

As the years go on, Jameson is expected to be the mentor for the tributes of the reaped District 7 children. Every year he sternly told himself to not get attached or grow actual bonds with any of these children. It would be harder to let them go if he let them find places in his heart. He never followed his own instructions. Because for the next 5 years, he watched over, cared for, and witnessed the death of 10 children from his district. Every time the canon fired for one of his own, it shattered his heart like the arrow shattered his knee. Even though he knew that he did everything he could by treating these children with kindness and encouragement and empathy, it felt as crushing as Tim's death each and every time.

He had marionettes of them all, alongside several others now.

Capital people that taunted and gawked at Jameson like he was an animal at the zoo, filler for his nightmares, they looked more like actual colorful puppets with their ribbons and feathers. You would think that they weren't real people at first glance, with all of their bright colors and painted faces. But they were. And they were discarded into a corner of the room when he was finished. It felt satisfying in a way, throwing them aside like they did to him when his novelty ran out.

Among the colorful cabinet of Capitals, there was also one marionette that was made to look like the young President Snow. A small silk flower acted as the signature rose on his lapel, and Jameson had added the detail of painting the president's hands red. He thought about Tim telling him about the red dye and how it stained his skin to look like blood. Jameson added some gloss to the red on Snow's hands to sell the effect better.

This one, this likeness to the president of Panem, had its strings knotted beyond hope of untangling and wrapped tightly around the puppet's throat. It was thrown harshly into a dark corner of Jameson's workshop, broken and almost buried in the wood shavings that carpeted the attic space up to Jameson's ankles now in certain piles.

This year, like all the others, Jameson put on his clean shirt and favorite blue vest. Carefully doing up the buttons with clever hands and adjusting his simple black bowtie snugly around his throat to hide the scar. He trimmed his mustache and brushed away the remaining wood shavings off his black slacks. Grabbed his cane, and made his cryptid-sighting appearance on the stage. 

His knee always ached worse on Reaping day, but he tried to stand and smile at the blurry faces of his District. He forced himself not to search for Maria in the crowd, again, as he took his seat and waited as the tribute's names were drawn. He forced his hand to not grip and wrinkle his pants against his bad leg.

Ivy Cinders, and Chase Brody. This year's District 7 tributes for the 32nd Hunger Games. And Jameson's new wards.

Seeing the young woman in the crowd, who was obviously pregnant, crying her eyes out for the boy on the stage made Jameson's heart twist in a strange way. And he knew right then and there that he would be breaking his own rule to not get attached for the sixth year in a row.

[movedtolilmouzee]

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖎𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖑𝖑... 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖜𝖔

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘯, 𝘑𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘚𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘋𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵, 𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦. ( 𝚉𝚎𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 - 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢, 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝, 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛 <𝟹)

One. Three.

Rindou wasn't sure of the new emotion he felt upon hearing that his brother was now dating his ex. Anger? Sadness? Guilt? He didn't know, he didn't hate Ran for taking you, You finally had someone who loved you, wouldn't hurt you but seeing you with someone else made rindou realize just how badly he messed up.

Rindou's jealously grew larger and larger with each word his older brother said about you. It was almost like ran was rubbing it into rins face that he lost you, betrayed you, hurt you, and pushed you away and in all fairness, rindou did. Rindou was your first true love, the person you dedicated your life too, even had a baby with, rindou just couldn't love you even if he tried, until now.

Rindou knew how much he meant to you, Rindou would never knew how much his behavior hurt you. Countless nights of crying alone, wanting to beg him to come home, calling Ran just to have someone tell you everything was going to be ok even just to have someone acknowledge that you hurt, to validate your emotions. Rin would never know how many nights Ran came to comfort you. What rindou did know was that you finally had someone who did love you. Someone who would show you the same love you show them.

Everything with ran was a dream come true, you had someone appreciate your efforts. Ran didn't tell you to get out of his face and to fuck off, Ran didn't make you cry so much you had no more tears, Ran didn't make you question if he loved you. Ran showed you that you did deserve love showed you that you didn't have to question if you were just a toy.

Ran did acknowledge how toxic rindou was to you, He saw how much suffering you had been through with his younger brother, saw how you considered killing yourself because you truly felt worthless but now it was all over. You didn't have to feel like a peasant, you could feel like a queen with Ran and Your baby boy. Nothing was missing from your puzzle.

Even though you left Rindou, you still felt like he was with you. Physically rindou wasn't but emotionally he was. You still held onto the good moments the two of you had. Remembering the time rindou taught you how to properly DJ like him, How to play his favorite video games, every good thing you held onto it like someone was going to steal them from you. You had Ran now to make new memories with. Memories that could replace every bad thing that previously happened.

Ran loved you like he'd lose you any moment of his life, which could happen but Ran would be caught dead first before that happened. He gave you such soft and sweet kisses, made you your favorite breakfast in the morning even if it meant he'd be late to work, Ran lived to help you heal from the abuse.

[invisibleraven]

Tell me what to do and I'll do it

Sweet tarts

Carrie lifted the bell that lived on the little table beside her, letting the soft tinkle ring out through the house, waiting for someone to acknowledge it.

It was Reggie who came, giving a small bow. "Milady."

Carrie looked the handsome man over-looking smart in his livery, and gave him a considering eye. "Peters, you're loyal to me correct?"

Reggie looked surprised for a moment before carefully schooling his features. "Of course ma'am. Your family has kept me employed since I was a boy and have treated me with utmost kindness."

"So I can ask you to do anything for me?"

"As long as it's not illegal," he said with a chuckle before sobering a little with a cough. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Nothing illegal?" Carrie asked with a smirk.

"Not after the scandal concerning Lord Grantham's eldest," Reggie replied. "Word is she involved her lady's maid and I have no wish to see the inside of a prison, no matter how loyal I am to you."

Carrie frowned at that-she had heard such rumours, and shook her head. "No, I would never. I was merely wondering if you would convey a message to the valet for Lord Evans."

Reggie straightened at that, his face betraying nothing but professionalism. Carrie quite understood-none of the staff were fans of her suitor, nor his staff. Truly Carrie would rather court anyone else, but her father had set up the match, and she hated to disappoint him.

Yet...Carrie wanted more out of life than the dull Nicholas. He was an adequate man, in all accounts, but possessed no outlying skill, and his dancing had left much to be desired.

"What is the message milady?" Reggie asked. "Or do you have a note for me?"

Carrie held out the paper, nodding when he took it. "I realize this must be below your duties, but I trust no one else with this missive."

"You honour me with your trust milady," Reggie said, giving her a genuine smile-one that made her melt a little inside.

It always had to be honest-she and Reggie had spent many an hour playing together as children when he wasn't working as a junior hallboy-her nanny saw no objection at the time. Reggie had taught her how to scale trees, how to make flower crowns, and she had relayed her lessons to him so he got more than his aborted schoolhouse education.

However, as they grew, they grew apart. Her to the training of a young lady, him to the ranks of first footman, and she knew that when Stiles retired he would become butler to this estate.

That however did nothing to erase the feelings he ignited in her as he grew even more handsome. Nor could she ignore how his eyes would sometimes follow her as he held open doors or served her at the table.

If life were different-if she had the choice, she would throw Lord Nicholas over for her handsome footman in a second.

But Carrie had little to her name but a trust from her great grandmother, which would become her dowry, and enough education to run an estate or become a governess at best. A life she knew she would not be suited for.

"is that all milady?" Reggie asked.

"For now," she replied. "Please do wait for his response though, if you could?"

"Anything for you," Reggie said with a bow, but she caught the salacious tone to her voice and she flushed at it.

She watched Reggie go, admiring the fit of his livery once more before the door shut. Hoping that he would be quick in returning, if only to see his smile once more.

With that, she picked up her novel once more, hoping to distract her thoughts until he returned. At least this realm of fantasy didn't involve her, though she did admire the author's ability to throw off the yokes of society in their writing.

But even as she read, she kept imagining the pirate captain in the novel to possess green eyes and freckles while the lead bore honeyed tresses and her own brown eyes.

And a delicious thought of telling Reggie to do something for her that would scandal the whole county. He did say to tell him what to do after all...

[fenharel-enaste]

Smiles among Scrolls || Elendil x fem!Reader

Rating: +18

Summary: You're an apprentice in the Hall of Lore and and new visitor catches your eye... and you his.

Content: Mutual pining, idiots in love, lots of feelings, unprotected sex (don't do this pls), p in v sex, fingering, smutty smut.

Word count: 5.2k

Requested by: @thetempleofthemasaigoddess (I'm so sorry for the long delay omg)

Tagging: @starlady66 , @grinkitty, @wint3r-h3art

It's also on AO3!

You had only been an apprentice at the Hall of Lore for a few months. On a daily basis, you took care of simple tasks, such as organising texts and helping visitors to find what they needed. But what you enjoyed most was studying and learning about the new (and not so new) writings that came in. The day you were accepted to study with the masters and begin a career full of learning was undoubtedly one of the most exciting days of your life. 

But you hadn't expected to find much else there besides knowledge. 

You would never forget the day you first saw him. Elendil was his name. And you could swear you had never seen a more attractive man in your life.  

You were organising the books and scrolls of the library when you heard a deep, soft voice behind you. 

“Excuse me, my lady.” A voice that almost gave you goose bumps from the very first moment. You turned to see the face of the person who was speaking to you. And you were met with such a breathtaking visage and gaze that you felt your heart had stopped beating for a moment. He was unbelievably tall and handsome. 

“I...” His gaze roamed over your face for a few seconds before he looked away and cleared his throat to speak. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lady. My name is Elendil, I’m a captain of the sea guard. I was wondering you had any charts of the former maritime trade routes south of Númenor. I could use some from thirty or forty years ago. Would it be possible?” 

He spoke that last question looking back at you again, this time with a polite, sweet smile on his face. You felt so nervous you almost dropped the scrolls you held in your arms, but you pulled yourself together when you realised the unknown visitor was waiting for an answer. 

“Uhh yes! Yes, I think so. Please wait here, my lord, while I search for it.” 

You turned away from him more abruptly than you normally would. What was wrong with you? He was just a person. He was just a person. You hurried to the shelves where you knew all the maritime charts from the Second Age were kept, neatly arranged by geographic area and date. 

You returned to Elendil as soon as you found what you were looking for and offered it to him with a slight bow of your head, as you had been taught to do. "Thank you, my lady, you are most kind,” he said returning the gesture as he received the documents with a grateful smile. 

Elendil. That's what he said his name was. And you couldn't get it out of your mind for the days that followed, wondering if you'd ever see him again. 

---------------------------------- 

A week had passed when it seemed the Valar had finally answered your prayers. You were assisting a visitor when you saw the captain who had just entered the library. 

His eyes wandered around the room until they met yours, he nodded his head as a greeting as he gave you that same smile you hadn’t been able to get out of your head all week. You returned it shyly, for longer than you thought it seemed, because you realised too late that you had stopped listening to the woman in front of you. 

After apologising and handing her the documents she had requested, you approached Elendil, who was intently admiring one of the ancient canvases on the wall. You found him even more attractive than the last time, if that was possible. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting sir, how could I help you?” You tried to sound as professional as you could, but you felt a slight quiver in your voice betraying you. 

“It gladdens me greatly to see you again, my lady.” You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks at his words. “Do you remember those charts I requested from you last time? I'm afraid I need to have another look at them, I seem to have made a mistake in my notes...” 

“Of course, my lord, at once.” You had to force yourself to look away from his ocean blue eyes and turn around to look for the maps once more. 

When you handed them to him this time, your fingers touched briefly and you couldn't help but look away. You started to turn away so he wouldn't notice your blush, pretending to be in a hurry to get back to work, but you were interrupted by his velvety voice. "Wait." For a second, you thought you saw pleading in his eyes. “Would it be inappropriate of me to ask your name?” 

Why...? No other visitor had ever asked you that. The only questions they had were about where to find the documents they needed or if you could help them translate something. It caught you by surprise. “My name?” 

“Yes, I... you do not have to respond. I would simply like to know since I’ll have to come here quite often for a while. Matters of the sea guard. And...” He hesitated and smiled shyly before speaking further. “And I would very much like to know the name of the so kind lady who might be so helpful to me in the coming days.” 

You were speechless at his request. He was simply asking your name, but the way he did it felt... like the best compliment you had ever received. Your reply emerged from your lips timidly. 

“That’s a lovely name, my lady. It will for sure be one hard to forget,” he said before slowly walking away from you to the same table he used last time. And you returned to your work, or tried to, as you found it impossible to take your eyes off that dashing man as he closely studied his maps. At times, you had the impression that he was looking at you as well, but you were aware that these were just no more than naive delusions. 

---------------------------------- 

Days, weeks went by, and Elendil was coming more and more regularly, since his research was taking longer than he expected. Not that you were complaining, for that was what kept him coming back so often. 

You were surprised when one day he invited you to join him to keep him company while he studied his elaborate charts, but you were happy to oblige. And the same happened the next day and the next, until it became a routine for both of you. You would sit across the table from him and talk for hours. 

The captain would ask you questions about your days at the Hall of Lore with genuine curiosity on his face; what you found most interesting about that place, anecdotes about the rarest books you'd ever been requested. And also about your life; where you grew up, what had led you to become an apprentice there, what you did in your leisure time... 

You learned a lot about him too. He told you he grew in western Númenor, things were very different from the capital there. He had three wonderful children, and he shared with you what he loved most about each of them, and also what got on his nerves. 

One day, he even told you about his investigation. The sea guard had been hunting for some time now a band of pirates who were becoming a problem for trade in the city. They were supposed, or so the rumours said, to be using old trade routes for their smuggling operations, but these routes had changed significantly over the years. There were too many possible options. And these were also said to change every few days, so that one week's research work might be of no use for the next. 

Every day you woke up hoping to see him there, sometimes you would even learn about those sea routes he mentioned in order to help him. Or maybe you did it just to have a conversation with him. You loved listening to him talk about the stories he had experienced at sea, you could see passion in his eyes when you would ask him about them and you couldn't stop smiling the whole time. 

You got to know each other better as the weeks went by. Although there were days when the number of visitors made it difficult to spend too much time with Elendil. But, as always, you were unable to take your eyes off him. This time, you were fully aware that he stared back at you sometimes, and you smiled at each other knowingly. 

The attraction you felt the first few days was still there and you couldn't help but blushing every moment and getting flustered every time he was around. But you knew that attraction was evolving into something else too, and you couldn't stop thinking about it. He was charming, kind, attentive, handsome... perfect. On days when he wasn't there, you spent hours daydreaming about him and the different scenarios that could happen. 

There were times when you even wondered if he might feel the same way, but you convinced yourself that these were nothing more than fantasies. One day he would complete his work there and he'd have no reason to see you again. You had to remind yourself of that to avoid the suffering later on. 

But to hear his voice, his bad jokes and the sound of his laughter... at least you could have that for the moment. 

---------------------------------- 

It was an autumn afternoon when it began to rain heavily outside the Hall of Lore. You loved the view of the dark sea and sky from the safety of the ancient library as the torrential rain poured down. It was clear it would be a fairly quiet day, as no one in their right mind would go to that place so far from civilisation in such conditions; and it was to be assumed that Elendil wouldn’t show up that day either. 

You and the other few lore keepers who lived there finished your chores early and were allowed to take the rest of the day off. You decided to spend it at the same desk where you had grown so used to your conversations with Elendil several days a week. You read about the fascinating stories that inspired you to become an apprentice almost a year ago now. 

The sound and smell of the rain and the howling wind always helped you to relax during your reading time, and today you felt your eyelids getting heavy. You were about to fall asleep when you heard a soft, familiar voice call your name. 

You were dreaming about him again. You smiled at the thought. 

But, after a few seconds, you noticed the sound came from outside your mind. You jolted at the realisation and looked up towards where the voice was coming from. 

There he was. 

“Oh forgive me, I wasn’t aware you all were resting. Should I come back another time?” He looked genuinely concerned about having disturbing you somehow. 

“No! No, it’s no bother at all, of course. What do you need to-...?” Your words vanished into thin air when you realised that he was drenched. The rain was still falling heavily outside. “Wait, did you really ride all the way here from Armenelos with this storm?” 

He chuckled at your surprised tone. “It’d be definitely worse if I was sailing out there, believe me, I know.”  

“I see...” You then noticed the water drops falling to the ground from the hooded cloak that covered him, he must be soaked to the bone. “May I take your cloak at least?” 

He nodded and reached for his clasp to take it off. Normally you wait for visitors to hand it to you once they've removed it, but you walked over to him and placed your hands on his shoulders to help him. It was a completely impulsive act. You felt his body tense slightly at the contact. You feared you might have crossed the line with him. “I’m sorry,” you muttered with a trembling voice. 

“There’s no need to apologize, my lady. You are so kind. As always.” He was staring at you intensely but so sweetly from above. You sometimes forgot how tall and imposing he truly was. And you were very, much closer than ever before. You could feel his breath on your cheek. And he made no attempt to pull away, he just kept looking at you in that way that made your legs weak. 

You wanted, needed to kiss him right at that moment, it was the only thing on your mind. You needed all your willpower to come to your senses and break away from him. You couldn't bear the thought of crossing a boundary of his twice in the same day. But the thought of him rejecting you was even more unbearable. 

You folded the cloak in your arms and began to turn towards a nearby hanger... and you felt a grip in your arm, impeding your movement. You turned your head to see Elendil staring at you even more intensely than before. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but only a sigh escaped his lips along with a soft 'thank you' before he slowly let go of your arm. 

What on Arda was that? 

After a few seconds of bewilderment and placing the cloak on the hanger, you managed to ask him what he needed today. 

“Yes, we... we received a new rumour this time. It may be the reason why we haven’t found the smugglers yet.” He paused, sorting out the ideas in his head. “We know for sure they only use old maritime routes, which we’ve been relentlessly investigating. But we’ve only considered the ones used in this Age so far.” 

You could see what he was trying to tell you. “And you need information about the ones used in the First Age.” He nodded at your response with resolution on his face. You knew he was unlikely to find answers in those charts, but the man was persistent. 

You explained to him that you had very few maps from that time, most of them were lost long ago in wars or had worn out over time. Besides, they were from a time before Númenor, only the Eldar sailed those waters back then, so there were very few copies on the isle. The very few preserved there were in a secluded chamber, protected from sunlight, humidity and inexperienced hands. Still, he insisted. 

You led him down a dark corridor to an even darker chamber, for there was no window in order to protect the delicate archives from the changing climate. It was lit only by a few candles, and consisted of very narrow aisles of bookshelves, separated only by small desks between them. There was little room to move freely between them. 

You slipped between two shelves full of ancient books and scrolls and handed Elendil the candle you were holding in order to better examine the documents. The limited space required you to stand close together. Dangerously close, you thought. Nervousness washed over you again, and you struggled to stay focused on your task. 

You both remained silent as you searched through the scrolls, only the sound of the rain outside echoing off the walls of the room. 

“Could you lower the candle? I need to see more closely on this shelf.” There was no reaction from him. “Elendil?” You looked up and found him staring blankly, thoughtfully. But he was startled by your voice. 

“Forgive me. I was distracted.” He had been acting strangely ever since you approached him to take his cloak off. You felt him tense and unfocused. Perhaps he had become aware of your thoughts, that you had been on the verge of kissing him. Maybe he felt uncomfortable... you'd rather not dwell on it at the moment. 

“I’ll be honest, Elendil, I don't think you'll find what you need here. Only the Eldar have ever used these routes and it's unlikely pirates would have access to that information. By the Valar, it seems that not even we have access to it.” 

“I see... I thought it was worth a try, even so.” You perceived a hint of sadness in his voice, which was surprising for you. You could understand if he was disappointed, even frustrated at failing to complete his mission... but saddened? 

“I'm sorry I can't do anything more for you. Especially knowing that you came all this way in this storm just for this.” 

“It’s alright, you have done so much for me, I have no words to express how much I appreciate your help. Besides, I told you I’ve been in worse storms than this,” he said, giving you that sweet smile you'd seen so many times before, but avoiding looking you in the eye. 

“I know, but was it that necessary coming today? You've been working on it for months, why didn’t you wait unt-” 

“Because of you,” he interrupted, muttering his words.  

Because of... what? You were completely frozen, you were unable to think or react. Your heart started pounding. Maybe it was your imagination and you only heard what you wanted to hear. "What...?" You could barely utter a sound. 

“I wanted to see you,” he said it louder this time, punctuating each word clearly. There was no doubt. 

“You... you’ve come here today... to see me?” You felt your heartbeat in your ears now, heat rising to your cheeks. 

“No. Everyday. I’ve come here everyday to see you.” Your head started to spin. You must have fallen asleep earlier while reading and this was just a dream, like the many dreams you'd had before in which he confessed his love for you. But each word he spoke convinced you more and more of how real it was. 

“My first instinct was right. We found the pirates within two weeks from the first time we met. Each day from then, you’re the only reason I’ve been coming here all the way from Armenelos.”

You wanted to speak, to tell him what you had felt for him since the first time you saw him. But you couldn't find the words, you couldn't pronounce them, you could barely remember how to breathe at that moment. All you could hear was his beautiful voice saying those sweet words to you. 

“I wanted to learn more about you from the first time I saw you. That's why I kept coming here from time to time and, before I knew it, I was dreaming about you. And then seeing you was the first thing I would think of when I woke up everyday. You made me feel like a foolish, lovesick young boy again.” 

He moved even closer to you, if that was possible in the restricted space you had, and took your hand in his. It was warm in comparison to the coldness of the chamber that day. You wanted him to never let it go. 

“There were days when you were so busy that you barely had time to talk to me, but it didn't make it any less worthwhile to come here. I was content just to look at your face and be with you for just a brief few minutes. I was captivated by you.”

You couldn’t help it any longer, the warm touch of his hand on yours, his face, even more ravishing than ever by the candlelight he was holding. You could see the agonising wait for your answer in his eyes. Courage finally took over and you slowly brought your hand up to his face, tenderly brushing his beard, and then his lips. 

And you pressed your lips against his. 

He seemed taken aback, as if he wasn't expecting such a response from you. You felt the tension in his body being released before kissing you back. He placed the candle carefully on the desk next to you, which he had to do blindly, as he didn't want to leave your lips at any time. 

He then brings both hands to your waist and pushes you slowly until your back collides with the shelves behind you. Your head spins as Elendil begins to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth, caressing yours so expertly. He slides one of his hands up from your waist to the back of your head, pulling you even tighter against his mouth. Your hands cannot leave his face and his hair, which you tug gently, eliciting a soft moan from his lips. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this for so long... longer than I should admit. How would I know I’m not dreaming as well this time?” Elendil murmurs between kisses before cupping your face in his hands and staring into your eyes, brushing aside a strand of your hair. “Would it be too bold of me to say that I love you?” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words and you feel tears forming in your eyes. You were so in love with that man. “I love you too, Elendil. You have no idea how long I’ve been loving you, praying to the Valar to see you everyday.” You had never felt more liberated than at this moment, knowing you could finally say aloud the words you had always said in silence. 

Elendil sighed with relief and all he could do was smile. “Yes, this must definitely be a dream...” And he brought his lips back to yours. 

You didn't know how long you stayed like this, nearly out of breath, but you couldn't have enough of him and his taste, a taste you'd spent too long imagining what it would be like. And now you both wanted to make up for all that lost time, kissing each other once for every time you'd wanted to do so since your eyes met for the first time, even if it meant not separating your lips until the next morning. 

Your kisses and soft moans were the only sounds in the lonely chamber, hidden by the pouring rain outside, which seemed louder than before. After a while you found yourself panting and grinding eagerly against the captain while he bit and left wet kisses on your neck and cleavage. You began to inconciously tug on his clothes in desperation. You needed to see him. All of him. 

“Elendil... please, I need you.” You had never felt this aroused by anyone before, you didn't recognise yourself in your behaviour, and yet, everything you did felt more like you than ever before. 

Elendil wasted no time and pulled away from you just enough to remove the upper part of his clothes. Before he could have even finished, you already had your hands in his trousers, hastily trying to unbutton them, and the captain laughed at your eagerness. 

“Glad to know I'm not the most impatient one here,” he said playfully, bringing his hands to your dress and unfastening it to expose your breasts to him. After lustfully staring at them for a moment, he cupped them in his large, rough hands and squeezed them gently, bringing his mouth to them and sucking, circling your so sensitive nipples with his warm tongue and caressing and tugging on them with his fingers. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from moaning too loudly It's unlikely anyone would walk in there, but that would change if someone heard what was going on in that chamber. 

The captain's caresses and mouth on your breasts made you feel your underwear quickly dampen and you brought your hands back to his trousers to finish unbuttoning them and free his member. You felt it hard and throbbing in your hand when you grabbed it. It was... definitely thicker than you expected. It made you feel a tingle between your legs, and you began to move your hips involuntarily towards it as you stroked it slowly. 

“Fuck, love,” Elendil shuddered at the contact and ceased playing with your breasts to completely remove your dress along with your underwear. He took your hands and wrapped your arms around his neck. You whined as he pulled your hand away from his length, you wanted to please him so badly. 

“I know you want it, pretty one, but I have to make you ready for me first.” And you soon realised why he had made you cling to him when he grabbed one of your thighs and lifted it, placing your leg against his hip. He then reached between your legs with his other hand and gently brushed your clit and folds before sliding a finger into your soaking entrance. 

“Oh fu-” you blurted out too loudly and Elendil silenced you with his mouth on yours. “Shhh, it’s alright, love. But remember we have to remain quiet.” You nodded your head in obedience and he resumed his strokes inside you. You were so wet he found you prepared for a second finger, which slid in easily, and he continued kissing you deeply to muffle your moans as he worked his fingers inside you, stretching open your tight walls for what was to come. It felt so good it was hard to keep your balance if it wasn't for your arms around his neck and the shelves the captain had you pinned against. 

Your moans in his mouth were driving him insane, so he instinctively pressed his hard cock against your hips and began to rub it against you. “I’ve wanted this for so long, my dear. Tell me, have you ever imagined me doing this to you?” he inquired in your ear in a low voice and in an even lower register than you'd ever heard him before. It made you shiver. 

“Yes! Yes, so many times...” And you told him about the times you had pleasured yourself in sleepless nights, covering your mouth with your hand so you wouldn't wake the other apprentices, thinking about the things you wanted him to do to you. Or those times when you excused yourself and disappeared during his visits; you told him exactly what you were doing. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to speak, for as you related your fantasies to him, his fingers gained speed inside you. You were a panting mess after a few minutes. 

Your words seemed to have an effect on him, as he groaned with arousal and withdrew his fingers from you to lift you off the floor and onto the small desk beside you. “I need to take you know, sweetheart, do you want it?” he asked, teasing you with his throbbing cock. 

“Yes, please! Please!” You were soaking wet, so ready for him. 

“Look at me.” He lifted your face with one hand while he brought the other to the small of your back. You were leering at each other's eyes as Elendil slid his cock slowly through your entrance. You struggled not to whine too loudly, his size made you feel some discomfort, but that just turned you on even more; it felt incredibly good. 

“It’s alright, love. I have you.” He drove himself as deep as he could and allowed you to get used to his size before slowly but steadily thrusting himself deep inside you. You ran your hands all over his tonned chest, leaving kisses and little bites everywhere you could, taking them higher and higher until you reached his neck. Elendil shuddered at the touch of your lips in that sensitive spot and pulled you even tighter against him, cherishing every inch of your body with his warm hands. You wrapped your legs around his hips, encouraging him to fuck you even deeper. It felt like you were never close enough, even though there was hardly any space between the two of you. 

You can't stop caressing, kissing and biting each other to muffle your whimpers and groans. Your whole body was on fire despite the cold temperature of the room. “Say my name, my love. I need to hear you say it,” he whispered in your ear as he increased the pace of his pounding, hitting exactly where you needed him the most. You felt so full of him and you knew you weren't going to last much longer, and you could see he was close as well. But you wanted even more of him... 

“Elendil... captain, harder... please...” you begged desperately. The way you said his name, the title you used on him, your watering pleading eyes looking at his... he couldn’t hold himself any longer. 

“As you wish, my lady,” he groaned and grabbed your ass tightly to hold you in place as he began to brutally ram into you. You had to hold on to his strong arms and shoulders to keep your balance, clinging on so tightly you'd probably leave marks, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he appeared to enjoy the effect he was having on you, forcing you to use all your willpower to keep your loud cries from coming out of your mouth. 

“Next time, pretty one, I’ll make sure to take you somewhere where I can hear your lovely cries. And believe me, I will hear them...” His promise made the pressure in your belly grow stronger, you were so, so close, and your captain knew it by the tears that began to fall from your eyes. It only took a few more thrusts in your so sensitive spot to bring you over the edge. It was amazingly intense; your orgasms you had over the past few months imagining he was the one giving them to you were nothing in comparison. He kept his relentless rhythm even then, wanting to prolong your climax as long as possible, balls slapping hard against you as your body was hit by waves after waves of pleasure. 

Even before your orgasm faded at all, you heard Elendil's grunts of pleasure against your shoulder as he slowed the pace of his thrusts, though not the depth. His hands gripped your ass even tighter than before as he rode his orgasm. 

Your hands remained tangled in his hair until his movements ceased completely. You were both spent and sated, with sweat all over your bodies, shivering a slightly from the intensity of what had happened. Elendil didn't want to remove his length from you just yet, he wanted to stay that close to you for a bit longer. 

You spent the next few minutes like that, showering each other in kisses and whispering sweet nothings and words of love. 

“I’ve been such a fool for not telling you sooner,” you admitted. “We could have done this a long time ago if it hadn't been for my fear of you rejecting me.” 

Elendil took the hand you had against his cheek and pressed his lips against it. “I’m afraid I have been even more foolish, my stars. Asking you day after day for all those charts... with you around I wasn’t even paying attention to them at all.” You both laughed in disbelief at how ridiculous this whole situation had been. 

“Just so you know, my love; I would’ve had to be the most insane man on earth to reject you.”