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littlebumblebeesstuff · 4 months

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Baby Steps

Prompt: First time regressing with Rosalie and Emmet.

Notes: GN!Reader. Mentions of pull-ups. Fluff and Angst

Rosalie and Emmet would be the first to admit that they were desperate for a child. Despite knowing that it wasn’t possible, they still yearned for a baby.

During an attempt to curve this need, they stumbled upon age regression.

Suddenly, it felt like all their problems could be solved.

An adult human, who would regress to being little… if all went well the couple could turn their little and keep them forever!

And that is where you came into their lives.

It had taken years for them to find you, as they were confined to Forks. But when you came over as a transfer student, Edward was able to identify you easily; your worries about slipping and regressing on your first day practically screaming over the others thoughts.

Rosalie worked hard to gain your trust as a friend, and then as a lover to her and Emmet. They were never sexual with you, not that you cared.

They spent time with you, helped you with your studies. Emmet loved to do things for you- in an attempt to get you to slip with them. He would say things like, “ahh-ah, let me get that for you baby. You are much too small” or “You sure you don’t want to snuggle up for a nap? You have been working so hard and your little eyes must be so tired”.

Rosalie was just as bad. Cupping your cheeks to pepper kisses over your face, buying water bottles with the pop up straws for you to drink from - they were so similar to your sippy cups. She would spoil you with cute outfits and loved to dress you up so you could show Emmett.

The rest of the Cullens didn’t seem to care about what Rosalie and Emmet were doing. Alice had whispered assurances to the couple when they felt like things weren’t going to plan. Jasper actually didn’t mind spending time with you, but only really did it when you were working on your maths work. Carlisle and Esme always doted on you, and welcomed you with open arms.

In fact, it was Carlisle who introduced Rosalie and Emmett into the world of being a Caregiver to an age regressor.

It took 4 months into the relationship for you to slip with Rosalie and Emmett, and it was completely accidental.

The others had gone off to visit their friends up North, leaving Rosalie and Emmett with an empty house for the week.

You went over on the Friday, with plans to stay the whole week. On Saturday morning, you woke up between Rosalie and Emmett. You were in your fluffy pyjamas, a must have to keep you warm because they were cold.

There was a little nagging voice at the back of your head as you nuzzled into Emmetts chest, whining softly as you woke up.

Immediately, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close and a nose presses into your hair.

“Morning little bubba, you sleep ok?” Emmetts rumbling voice quickly soothed that nagging voice and you let out a little babble in response.

Usually you woke up quickly, turning to lie on your chest so you could see both of them- so this automatically caught their attention and the two vampires shared an excited look.

“Is our little darling still sleepy?” Rosalie asked softly, pressing herself to your back as she tucks some loose strands of hair behind your ear.

You just hum softly, struggling to wake up. You often regressed between the ages of 3-6, but sometimes you could be as little as 1, where all you wanted was to be held.

Still being so sleepy, you missed the conversation happening over your head.

“Rose, I think we should put our little one in a pull up. I’m not sure how old they are feeling”

Emmett muttered, holding you close as Rosalie nodded in agreement.

“I know our little one is usually no younger than 3 when we watch them at nights- but I think they are feeling very little today”

Rosalie pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Go make a bottle, I will get them changed”

Rosalie and Emmett share a quick kiss before Rosalie takes you in her arms and steps into the normally locked side room that they had turned into a nursery for this exact moment.

You whine a little and babble softly as Rosalie carries you through, setting you down on the changing mat.

She hums softly, keeping you calm and settled as she starts to undress you. The pyjama trousers come off easily but there is a bit of wiggle needed to get the top off.

Before long Rosalie pulls a pull-up over your legs and smoothes the band as it settles in place, making sure it fits properly. After that, she takes out a Winnie the Pooh onesie, with the feet and hands covered so that you don’t accidentally scratch yourself.

“Such a good little baby, hmm? Let’s get some warm milk to fill that little tummy. Then you can cuddle with us all day”

Rosalie gets a blanket and wraps it around you, making sure to swaddle you tightly. Once you are swaddled and cozy, Rosalie takes you into her arms again, rubbing a hand over your back as she carries you downstairs.

Emmett is waiting with a bright smile, bottle in his hand as he waits for Rosalie to come down with you.

“Look at you! A cozy little bubba”. Emmet smiles as he takes a seat and takes you from Rosalie’s arms and wrapped an arm around your blanketed body, leaning you into him as he brought the bottle of warm milk to your lips.

The warm milk filling your belly brought your mind into focus, and your breathing steadied with each sip.

Everything seemed to come crashing down.

Seeing your reflection in the mirror opposite the sofa with the Winnie the Pooh onesie on, the bottle that was in your mouth and the paci that is secured with a clip to your onesie. The feel of the pull-up….

You panicked.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you turn your head away from Emmett as he tried to feed you.

Before you could even take a breath to let out a cry, Emmett had you in his arms, standing up as he rocks you while shushing you.

“It’s ok bubba, daddy is right here. It’s all ok, I got you”

Usually his voice soothed you effortlessly, but now it just wound you up more. Hearing Emmett call himself ‘daddy’ had that nagging voice screaming in your head again.

They were going to hate you! They probably thought that you were weird!

“Baby? Little one, it’s ok. It’s ok. Me and Emmett understand that you are feeling little.”

Rosalie’s sweet voice fills your ears as she brushes away your tears with her thumbs.

“Me and Em are caregivers, darling. No need to be all upset, we aren’t going anywhere.”

With each word you start to calm down a little bit, understanding that they don’t think that you are weird.

“We have been wondering when you would mention it love bug, but waking up with you feeling oh so little was the best.” Emmett says with a smile, kissing your cheek.

“You seemed very little this morning baby, so we just wanted you to feel safe and comfortable. We’re sorry if-“

“Em, our little one isn’t big enough for a complicated discussion like that.” Rosalie chided gently.

“Let’s wash your pretty little face, and then we can make another bottle and put a movie on, how does that sound darling?”

You blink at Rosalie, trying to figure out how to say what you were feeling, but she was right. You were too little to express that. Instead, you nod your head, tucking it back under Emmetts chin as he chuckles and rubs your back soothingly.

Emmett takes you to their bathroom and gently washes your face with a washcloth, making funny faces in an attempt to get you to laugh.

Only after you had spent a minute or so giggling did he take you back down stairs where Rosalie had your new bottle of warm milk.

They sat on the large sofa, Rosalie tucked into Emmetts side as his arm slung around her shoulder, his gaze fixed on you as Rosalie gave you your bottle, smiling again you as you drank it.

Before long your tummy was full of warm milk and your eyes felt heavy. You were now sucking on the nub of the empty bottle and Rosalie pulled it away and replaced it with your paci- soothing you before you could even whine.

You fell asleep like that, in Rosalie’s arms. Curled up and softly sucking on your paci, all the big emotions from earlier leaving you exhausted in the arms of your mama and daddy.

Rosalie and Emmett finally felt complete. They finally had their little one, and God help anyone who tries to hurt you.

#agere little #little!reader #littlereader #rosalie cullen #emmett cullen #cg!emmett #cg!rosalie #sfw smolspace #sfw regression #sfw little post #sfw little community #sfw agere

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jasperscringepit · 8 months

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I'm not normally one for questioning characterisation in fics/characterisation because everyone will interpret a character differently, and the way they write them is their decision.

However one thing that does make me curious in the newsies fandom is where the whole extreme introvert/hates people davey came from. I know at the start of the show he's nervous about selling, and seems unsure about the other boys. However, I feel like it's then well established that davey CRAVES companionship. I feel its shown that he so desperately wants to fit in with the others and join their group but is maybe a bit apprehensive about whether he can or should even try. I don't think it's at all that he hates socialising, but more that he's not exactly sure how he's supposed to.

I absolutely think he jokes about not liking being around people, I know I do sometimes. However I don't think that's ever really been true. Yes, he needs time by himself to decompress, but he also needs company just as much. Not necessarily BIG groups, but he needs his friends and family.

I am by no means a writer so this may not be very articulate, but its just something I've noticed from some of the MANY fics I've read. And I'm not saying it's bad necessarily, I'm just curious at this interpretation.

#I'm having davey thoughts a lot atm #and ive just noticed a pattern im curious about #davey jacobs #newsies #newsies uk #uksies #david jacobs #jasper babbles

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smuttyfandomgalore · 1 year

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How about a dark/Yandere!Jasper Hale where he uses his gift on his vampire mate to always keep her by his side. She could have a gift or not that’s you’re choice! Please can it have only the most filthy of smut!!!

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

DARK JASPER!

NSFW

“Ja—Jasper…” You moaned loudly into the forest as the leaves were slowly falling down from the tree he had you up against only moments ago. Your legs were shaking as you settled your hands onto his muscled chest. Your nails already made marks on his marble skin; only lasting seconds before disappearing.

It had a soft pout coming over your face but the sight of the bite mark you gave him so long ago now still sparkled under the light. It was your focus for a moment before his growl had you gasping. His fat cock was stuffed inside your weeping pussy; stretching you perfectly. Jasper had been your first and only; something he took great pride in.

Your toes were curling as your bouncing resumed. Your soft, bare body is on full display for him. His greedy hands moved up and down your sides as the desire he felt was pushed onto you; not that you realized this as you shook on top of him. “Edward’s stupid human will be here soon - you are not to go to her.” Jasper whispered to you.

His hand moved to the back of your neck and brought you closer. Your soft, ample breasts brushing against his chest as a soft whimper escaped you. Your mind was in a daze with pleasure; his power was hardly needed but the God of War used it fully. “Hmm?” He asked against your lips.

He bit into your bottom lip and moaned as you clamped around his cock. “Yes!..oh gods, anything..” You whimpered out; your locks cascading down your back as your head fell. The sound of skin slapping together echoed around the forest loudly. Jasper had no shame as he had you do all the work.

“Good girl..” He purred; his hand slowly moving to your throat now. A move of control as there was no need to breathe on your part. “Please…” You hardly knew what you were begging for at this point as you shivered. Your only response was Jasper’s dark smirk widening and before you knew it; he had flipped you over.

Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist; pulling him deeper. His clothed body brushing against your bare one had you shivering. “You take me so well.” Jasper began to purr in your ear. “You were made for me.” He continued his whispers as the rocking of his hips only quickened.

His fat head bullied your spongy spot with each thrust; pushing you over the edge as he pushed the desire onto you. It always had your orgasms prolonged and Jasper was able to keep going. He fucked you through it as you fluttered around him; trying to milk his cock whilst you began to lose yourself.

Gods, you were perfection, he thought to himself. Something he did not believe he deserved…well, he knew he didn’t deserve you. But he would never give you up now. You belonged to him; forever. Those thoughts only had him harder as he throbbed inside your weeping pussy.

Your wetness soaked your inner thighs as he still moved inside you. He fucked you into the Earth. His hands move to roughly palm at your breasts, pinching your nipples again and again. “Oh…oh …ah.” You could only babble nonsense as you stared up at him; your eyes completely glazed over.

Jasper had you bent in half; your legs nearly over your head as he pushed impossibly deeper. “Fuck, that’s it…take it…” He moaned; his thrusts became harder as his own stomach was tightening in pleasure. All you could do was take it. Your hands moved to the ground and gripped tight.

Your wetness was echoing around; so loud to your ears and if you could blush; you would. Those blonde locks of his were falling in his face as he moved. You softly reached for them and Jasper took that moment to lean in. His cock slipped deeper and you could only gasp aloud in pleasure.

That allowed his tongue to force its way inside you and began to dance with your own. Your own hands moved to his arse and pulled him close. You never wanted this to end. The kiss soon became sloppy as you moaned and fell apart against him once more. You squirted around his cock and your mate only continued.

“Hello Bella.” You called over to the kitchen with that sweet, soft voice of yours. The mouth watering scent coming your way had you moving into Jasper. His arms wrapped around you from behind as he only silently nodded. “Don’t mind them, Bells - they are shy.” Alice hummed happily.

Jasper’s hand moved up and down your side as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. His power on his fingertips as he had you staying close by. The God of War ignored the look coming from Edward and Jasper pushed the images of them fucking in the forest before it turned on Jasper feasting on Bella.

A warning if Edward would be so clever to figure that out. “Is she coming to baseball with us?” You hummed over to Rosalie; oblivious to the rising tension as you watched her pick up the broken bowl. A near frown came over your face as you tried to step to help her but found that you couldn’t.

Sometimes that would happen, you thought to yourself but before you could dwell on it further; Jasper’s soft lips found your neck. Your eyes nearly rolled as he mouthed on you; his tongue brushing over your soft skin. “Yes, I believe so.” It was Esme who answered but you hardly heard her now.

“We should leave, hmm?” Jasper whispered into your ear as you slowly turned around into his hold. His hands returned to stroking your sides now as you looked up at him. “We have only just got here.” You whispered and began to burrow into his neck. His scent only had you completely relaxing against him.

Jasper only hummed; his hands so close to palming your arse but the cough Carlisle sounded out had his dark eyes flashing over your head. You ducked your head in shyness. Maybe Jasper was right, he usually was, you thought to yourself. “There is a new bookstore in town,” You hummed; a soft smile coming across both your faces.

“I love that idea.” He purred; at least you would believe it was yours.

#jasper hale x reader #twilight fanfic #request

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lalas181 · 1 year

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I definitely don't need to/may not have workable time to do this now, but like... what if I made an ask blog for Jasper??? Is there even an audience for that??? Like besides me. I know I am the audience for that, but like. Is there an audience for that idea???

#i have so many ideas and no workable outlet #thoughts about the steampunk ghost-doll #he is a soul in a log and he is not happy about it #and I want to explore #there's so many ideas #lalas babbles #dolls of new albion #jasper the doll

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xetswan · 3 months

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The Switch of Daylight- Reincarnate Pt. 2

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

[six] [seven] [eight]

That night I laid in my bed, casually going from staring at my ceiling to the books and the papers I have information written on. My eyes then flicker over to the whipped up papers from the letter that Alice and Jasper gave me. My fists begin to clench from the thought of how Sam knew that what was in that letter was about some prophecy that I'm in. ME. It's valuable to knowing what or who I am.

I go back to staring up at the ceiling. This was a the worst time for me. Especially because it's the loneliest. It was better when I had the Cullen's. I'd sneak out of the window when I knew Charlie was sleeping and go hang out with them until it was time for me to go back in the morning before my dad would check that I was sleeping in bed. It became a habit for him after I went missing. I knew he still had a hard time with it, it's something I feel guilty for knowing that eventually I'm going to have to fake my death. Alice and the other's, I knew they were right. That he's going to question me when I'm forty with no wrinkles. That's why I'm going to do it in a few years, when I know he's happier. When he's found someone for himself to lean on.

I just hope he isn't stubborn enough to not find that person.

I should call Billy Black before I forget.

Just then I get some weird energy burst through me, I sit upright quickly. I look around my room confused. "What the hell?" I whisper to myself, probably not even audible to a normal human. Standing up, I go over to the books. Feeling myself getting drawn over to them, which is strange. I read through them numerous times, I shouldn't have missed anything. I grab the second book, opening it up and flipping through it. Then as I sit back down on my bed, my eyes start to feel heavy. Like I was actually getting tired. I haven't felt this feeling for months. It was a feeling I didn't think I was going to miss.

I lay back down on the bed and let it take over my body.

But when I woke up I wasn't home. I was awake, it felt cloudy though, possibly a dream but more real. "[Name], help yer brother set up the fishin' trap!" A man's voice called out. I sat up from the bed I was in, glancing down to see the white cotton dress I wore. I scrunched up my face, confused on what was happening.

"[Name], come on! Didn't ya hear yer father?" A woman storms into the room I was in and I stare at her, not understanding what was happening. "I- what?" I spoke with uncertainty.

"Yer father told ya to help yer brother, [Name] and you ain't even dressed?" The woman tsk's at me, a baby on her hip who babbles adorably. "My father?" I rub my forehead, getting up from the bed. "[Name] Adkins, don't play dumb wit' me and do as yer told." She points a finger in my face before slamming the wooden door behind her. I glance around before going over to a dresser, pulling out some dress. I huff, staring at whatever kind of style this was.

"Where the fuck am I?" I go to pinch myself to wake up but nothing happens. I even feel the pain.

"Adkins? Who the fuck is Adkins?" I mutter to myself, throwing the dress over my head. Smoothing it out before looking around the room I'm in once again. It had a wooden dresser, then a strange mirror that seemed nailed into the wooden wall. I then look at my bed that had quilts laid on it with a two pillows.

"Strange." I finally leave the room, the house was smaller. It's like when you go to a museum type place that builds the houses from "the past", this is exactly what it looks like.

Are the Quileute boys playing some prank on me?

I go outside, a body comes up next to me, nudging me and I almost attack it. Then my body freezes once I notice who it was. "Jasper?" I step back. "Yes, darlin'?" He chuckles, pulling me in for a kiss. My body's tense as I let it happen. "Aren't you mad at me?" I ask once he lets me go. Not even realizing I was trying to catch my breath.

Catch my breath?

I then feel my heart beating and the sun down on me, a slight panic sets through me but I hide it. "Mad at you, whatever for, sweetheart?" Jasper questions me, he takes my arm in his and we are walking to a small boy who's setting up some wired trap. "For... for-" I look at his clothes, he's wearing a loose white button up with pants that seemed maybe a little tight. And to top it off a cowboy hat on the top of his head. "I don't know." I laugh nervously. It all catching up with me, his accent, his outfit, the mysterious woman.

This is a past life.

My first life.

"All right, if you say so, darlin'." He kisses my cheek before joining the little boy to help him with the trap he was making.

"Honey, can you hold Jesiah while I start up dinner?" The same woman comes over to me, handing me the baby before I can even respond. "Uh, of course." I mutter out. My memories of this life are a little fuzzy. I'm slowly remembering though. The little boy, making the trap is Jakov my younger brother who's 9, the baby is obviously Jesiah. My father, he's Jakov too, my brother is named after him. And the mysterious woman, she's my mother, Willow.

I carefully walk down the hill with the baby, sitting down near Jasper and Jakov.

This seems like a really simple life. Jasper is my love in my first ever life. Who would've thought? I know I saw him in the dessert field before I was killed but I didn't know we actually knew each other. Why didn't he tell me?

"Darlin'! You alright? You seem dazed." Jasper comes up to me, I smile over at him. "Just remembering something about you." I answer him, it's the truth I am. He just doesn't know it's from his future. "What about me?" He nudges me with his elbow before tickling my baby brother a little bit, just enough to make him smile. "How we first met." I lean my head on his shoulder.

"Oh wow, that's been quite some time." He chuckles, wrapping an arm around me and we both watch my little brother use the fishing trap they just put together. "Now we're finally to be wed..." He whispers, my eyes widen quickly covering it up even though he doesn't see it. How didn't I remember this when I got my memories back? I feel something on my neck and I go to feel it. It's a locket. Almost like the one my father gave when I moved to Forks. I look down at it and it's the exact one...

And just as I go to ask him a question everything starts to get tiring. My eyes getting heavy, and as much as I try to fight it, I fall asleep with my head on Jasper's shoulder.

I thought this time I would wake back up to my real home. My life I'm supposed to be in right now but instead I wake up in a hospital. Confused I rub my head, sitting up.

A nurse comes in, her face was skinny, her eyes sunken in like she hasn't slept in weeks. "Please, no trouble today, [Name]." She has a syringe needle on a tray with other things, placing it down in-front of me. I stay quiet, letting her do what she needs to do. "You're not going to bite today?" She seemed relieved, I mean I would too knowing someone wasn't going to bite me in a what I'm guessing is a mental hospital. "No." I whisper, rubbing my arm after she gets done with what she's doing.

"Why am I here?" I question quietly. "Don't mess with me [Name]." She scoffs in my direction, writing something down in a file. "I'm not." I truthfully tell her. "You tried to jump off of a bridge, you can't tell me you don't remember that, [Name]." She places her hands on her hips after placing the file down.

"Why am I still here?" I ask, trying to act like that was my actual question and not the first one. "You've resisted help and fought the staff until today, which is strange I might add." Her voice was hoarse, raspy even. "Oh, sorry." I glance away from her.

"I'm going to get the doctor to check you and then it's time for breakfast." She rolls her eyes, leaving the room, shutting the door behind her and I'm alone in the room again.

I stand up, seeing a mirror across from me. I look at myself in the mirror. It's definitely a two way mirror. Someone could be on the other side of it watching me. I squint my eyes to check if I can see anything, knowing that I can't I move on to the next thing in the room. A water bottle. Man, I might look crazy right now. I guess it fits being where I am. I can't believe one of my lives I wanted to die. I actually wanted death. What happened to me? My memories of my past lives are being subjective and I'm not enjoying this at all.

The door suddenly opens to show a man in a white coat. I back away from him instinctively. My arms tingle with goosebumps. The hairs standing up on my skin and I suddenly feel like I'm in danger.

"Hey, it's just me" Yeah I think that's the problem. "Take a seat on the bed." He tells me and I shake my head. Why do I feel this way? "[Name] you were being so cooperative I heard, what happened?" There's a smile on his face but it doesn't feel welcoming. "Hey the sooner you do as you're told the sooner you can get out of here." He tries to come near me but I back away once more, accidentally falling onto the bed anyways. "See, wasn't so hard." He grabs the stool from across the room, scooting it over to the bed I'm now sitting on. "Alright, have you been taking your medicine?"

And dejavu kicks in. I remember this. I wasn't taking the medicine, I hid it under my tongue then threw it away. "Yes." I lie. I obviously did it for a reason. This isn't real anyways. I'm reliving past things. I think...

The consultation was long, but luckily now they're letting me out of this room to go eat breakfast. A nurse walked beside me, a file in hand, she was writing as she walked. I observed the hospital around me, the people I mean. They were all different. Obviously, that was stupid to say.

The nurse helped me get my food and then I sat down by myself. I begin to eat the crappy food, thankfully it didn't taste like sand. I miss having tastebuds like I used to. Caught in thought about missing food I didn't even see the smaller body that sat in front of me. When I glanced upwards I see it's Alice.

My Alice.

She seems more frail than I've ever seen her. She smiles at me and I do it back. Now trying to see if I can remember anything.

I'm only seeing bits and pieces of things in my mind, we've kissed in this life. "Did he do anything this time?" She speaks. I look up at her confused. "He?" I question. "Doctor Monse. Did he try to hurt you again?" She asks, my eyes widen slightly. That's why I felt danger around him...

"He didn't." I say, I notice her shoulders relax. "Good, you're being cooperative now." She smiles, she didn't ask this, it was a statement. I wonder how she knew. "Yes." I admit. "My words finally gotten to your head?" I feel her hand reach for mine underneath the table, I take it immediately. "Your words?" I smile back to her, tilting my head. "How you should take your chance to leave, and just visit me instead of keeping yourself cooped up here." She reminds me and my mouth goes in the shape of an 'o'.

"Right." I nervously laugh quietly. "I don't want to, but I could help us become something out there." I tell her, mentally I'm confused by my own words. It's like it wasn't me who actually said it. "Love, you don't need to worry about an us. I'm stuck here." She rubs my hand with her thumb.

"I can get you out." I assure her, she stays quiet this time, only a shake of her head in response before we're all told lunch time is about to be over.

Looking at her I start to become tired. "No." I whisper. Sitting up straight and letting go of Alice's hand. "Are you alright?" She asks me in a mumbled tone. "I want to be here with you a little longer." I urge out, trying to fight the tiredness. "Love bug you have to go home." She tells me, the nickname. That was always my nickname? My chest rises and falls in a quick pace. I don't want to leave. Not yet. Even if this is a dream somehow. Please... I didn't realize my time was going to be so short in my past lives.

And now it's dark.

When I wake up, I'm not gasping for air. I'm not breathing anymore. I'm home again. "Damn it!" I shout, punching my bed, unintentionally breaking one of the boards underneath. "Shit." I whisper, standing up, and on the floor is the second book I was holding before I fell asleep and went into some weird whatever thing that was. I pick it up and open it to a random page.

"Reincarnate's Soulmates."

Soulmate's as in multiple?

I swear I didn't see this page when I read through it before.

I need Jasper and Alice here. I don't understand any of this.

I need to call Billy or Sam. I don't care. I need help understanding what's going on.

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lorata · 2 months

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Dexter & Callista, 57

for @transrevolutions on your natal day, here is uhhh some ... dark ....... conversations about death and mentoring, anger and violence and tributes who don't usually get a lot of attention? (skye & jasper)

SORRY I TRIED TO WRITE CREED but this happened instead

warnings for: canon-typical violence (arena and otherwise), mentions of offscreen victor prostitution

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Skye crumples to the ground, his chest a bloody ruin, and Two’s newest mentor brings home her first victor without even trying. Dexter had played nice with her because why not, kid had been terrified and heartsick like all of them their first time in the ring and soon she’d know the ugly stench of loss like everyone else, that sick little bonding ritual that brought them all together. Joke’s on him, though, looks like she didn’t need his condescension.

“Good game,” Dexter grinds out dully as he pushes himself to his feet, mostly because Phillips made such a fucking scene about it when his died and it feels like there’s a point to prove somewhere. Not that anybody notices, it’s endgame now so there are morgues to visit and families to call and consolation speeches to choke out for the losers. Starting tonight, sponsors will be looking to cash in their failed investments, but he can’t — not right now, not yet.

For the winners — well, Dexter wouldn’t know. He’s never brought one back alive.

The corridors bustle with activity, Avoxes and runners hustling and upstart nepotism-gifted junior Gamemakers barking out orders to make themselves feel important with their bosses busy upstairs. Someone slams hard into Dexter, knocking him fully sideways, but he keeps walking, ignoring the babbled apology.

Cannot go to the One floor, with its perfumed showers and apologetic escort and list of assignments likely already waiting. Not the mentor common floor, either, with the pity-party raging and where they will not welcome the almost-rans who murdered all the early losers. The roof, then — not the penthouse garden above the tribute apartments, home of District 12’s fresh meat, but like much of the Capitol there’s the glitzy, glittery parts for show and then there’s everything else. A few slipped pills to an Avox and Dexter’s in an access elevator to a square of rooftop nestled halfway up the complex between two spires.

He expects the gritty concrete and traffic grime, the blare of distant celebrations and occasional blaze of a travelling strobe light; he does not expect a goddess in athleisure with her feet propped up against the wall, smoking a noxious-smelling cigarette. “New girl won,” Dexter says, to give himself some time.

Callista exhales a long plume of smoke. After waiting a while for her reply, Dexter decides that must be it and lowers himself down across from her. “You know those things will kill you,” he says, out of some stupid compulsion. He can’t look at carbohydrates without feeling an itch to stuff his fingers down his throat and the only euphoria he’s ever experienced came in tablet form passed via Callista’s tongue, but his minders would have whipped him for that.

“I,” Callista says with grave reverence, “am microdosing on mortality.”

“What, all this isn’t enough for you?” He waves an arm behind them, where a condominium complex has projected the faces of all the tributes. As he watches, Skye and Camphor switch from full colour to black and white.

But at the same time, he knows what she means. They don’t make a drug mean enough for what he wants, they don’t make drugs that fill your lungs with tar and ash, that scrape your throat and make you rasp and cough. He failed, again. A beautiful, hopeful, stupid, cocky child has died, again. Sparkly club drugs and golden thrumming in his veins won’t help him now.

Callista hands it over. Dexter inhales deep — oh, big mistake, his lungs immediately protest — he chokes, spluttering, passes the cigarette back as his head spins and his stomach turns over. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall. “We were so close. So close.”

She hums. “You had a sweet one this year. How would he have fared, your boy? When they got their claws in him.”

Skye — was sweet, for One. He and Camphor had made themselves a killer pair. They’d known how to work it, too, rinsing each other off by the lake, curling up at night, teasing the audience without ever taking real advantage of each other. If it had been the two of them in the end, Dexter has no doubts they would have fought it out without hard feelings, true professionals, no hidden barbs and buried hatred coming out to play.

And when he won, it would be Dexter’s job to remind him of the cost. To sit him down, give him the list of names, and tell him exactly how they liked it, exactly as his mentor had done with him.

Anger flares, better than any drug. Dexter clings to it even as it slips through his fingers, like blood-slick intestine. “Is this you trying to make me feel better? Better he’s dead than have to suffer my life?”

Calista stares at him, incomprehending, and he could do it now, could throw himself at her and wrap his arms around her throat, bash his fists into her skull and leave her face a bloody pulp, shove her over the edge and let the sidewalk take her, every single awful, ugly urge that bubbles up when he’s on his knees but he isn’t in some plush bedroom now, is he, and she has no power over him —

“I apologize,” Callista says, and Dexter nearly screams no, don’t, I need to feel this, don’t you say you’re sorry to me but it’s too late, it all deflates. “I am furious. I want to kill. I want to feel the blood again, I want to hurt — I want to hurt.” She says it one more time, reverent, like a litany. “I wanted to hurt.”

“How can you say it like that.” Dexter almost laughs, except it’s not funny, he just — can’t make the pieces fit together. “You say these things and you’re just … sitting there, smoking. You sound like you’re ordering caviar at dinner.”

“This is how I always sound.” Callista bares her teeth in a smile that sets his skin crawling. “Ladies do not raise their voice. Ladies are elegant. Ladies —“

“Kill the guy they’re having sex with on live television and scar impressionable young boys? Come on.”

Callista huffs a sound somewhere between a snort and a snicker. “Not all of them, clearly.”

Everything is fucked, Dexter thinks, Skye should be alive and he should not be in a complicated mutilation-and-orgasms situationship with a rival mentor, but here they are. “That was still a shitty thing to say.”

Out in the streets the victory fanfare plays on tinny loop from a dessert truck. Callista closes her eyes. “I thought the Arena would make it stop,” she says. “I want to hurt — everything, everyone, all the time. I practice control with things that matter but give me an excuse and I will tear your throat out. You were wounded and I knew I could hurt you. You may take a free shot, if you’d like.”

Well, that gave him something to chew on when his brain isn’t stuffed with Skye’s death stare — Callista’s mouth on his, hand sliding between his legs, crammed into a back alley with an unconscious man’s blood pooling at their feet; the time he asked her to make him hurt and she took him close, but not quite, to using the safe word she’d taught him, and he’d cried in her arms in the comedown and they’d never talked about it, I practice control with things that matter what the fuck —

“Is that why you pick the villains?” Dexter blurted out instead, like he’s nineteen and suicidal all over again.

She exhaled through her nose. The cigarette had long burned out, and she glanced down at it, clicked her tongue, and flicked the butt away. “Never let me accuse you of being soft. Villains, really.”

“You have to know.” This year especially, Dexter has a steel stomach and even he didn’t relish those hours of watching Callista’s boy fillet the little one from Twelve. They’d all been grateful when Four took care of it. “Outliers are the underdog or the dark horse, but we’re either a hero or, well.”

Dexter, more fool him, usually went for heroes, despite the hell that waited for them. District 1 had enough angry mentors who went for the nasty ones, he could afford to try. In the end they all bled out the same.

“I hate that word.” Callista clips the words with icy precision. “They are children. Children who give the audience exactly what they want, a bloodbath. Children with no artifice, children who cannot pretty up their kills with talk of loyalty or pride or wanting to see their precious little homesteads again. The people drink up the spectacle each year and demand more, bigger, flashier. These Games teach us it is our nature to do whatever it takes to survive. My children are villains because they don’t come with equal amounts of remorse to make it palatable.”

“Sure, but this one tortured a kid,” Dexter says. Sometimes Twos really are a whole other level. “Don’t you think you’d have it easier if you picked kids who … didn’t do that? As soon as he started skinning you know they would have offed him, whether the Pack did him in or not.”

Now Callista’s eyes blaze, and for a second he thinks she’ll actually hurt him, not just throw bladed words, but the only thing that escapes her is a low hiss. “So he died regardless, knowing that he made me proud. He deserves that much. His time of glory and a mentor who loves him, even only for a month. They all deserve that. I am not in this for the safe sells, obedient little quarry sons and daughters with patriotic sponsors lined up out the door. Anyone can love those. I am here for the ones nobody else will.”

In spite of himself, Dexter’s throat feels thick. Did his mentor talk to anyone like that about him? Or does that kind of unfettered, passionate protectiveness burn out the first time you hand your victor off to the pawing crowd? He feels ancient and naked at the same time. “Well,” he says, uselessly, “here’s to dead kids who deserve better.”

Callista presses the toe of her shoe against his calf and lets her eyes fall shut. They stay outside, awake but silent, until nightfall.

#we must be killers: tales from district 2 #oc: callista #oc: dexter #my writing

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