#desolate hunger au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aseaofyoongi · 11 months

Text

caught in waves | ksj

kim seokjin x reader (f)

genre: chef & bmx ksj | strangers to lovers | fluff | smut

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: after graduating culinary school you are fired from your very first job as a sous chef — so you move to a small town for the summer only to meet the very cute nephew of the restaurant and airbnb owner.

warnings: not another smut au; strangers to lovers; thoughts of self doubt; brief mention of death beginning with the line “sleeping forever would mean.” to the end of that paragraph; parental death (jin’s unnamed mother); foul language; public sex (twice - cause wtf is a bed); clitorial stimulation; vaginal fingering; tongue fucking; six nine (m./f. receiving); face riding; penetrative sex; unprotected sex, wrap it up my brothas and sistas; creampie; riding (cowgirl); brief orgasm denial if you squint; did not proof read so sorry for any errors now; that was a mouth full but i think thats it lol

word count: 13.1 thousand words

posted: june 25, 2023 at 9am

notable songs: tangerine - anthony watts and anthony russo | otro atardecer - bad bunny | summer love - crush | seaside - seb 🎧

The bus was nearly empty.

Just you and two strangers with two remaining stops on the lined route. From your place at the back of the vehicle life seemed to have stopped and you were sort of trapped in the legato vibrato of the RnB beats playing in your ears. But you were here alone with rows of vacant seats ahead of you — while your eyes aimed at the everlasting fields of green pasture filled with an abundance of trees. The vermilion leaves swayed to the rhythm of the wind as the cool draft swept by gently.

And while you sat inside the muggy bus you couldn’t help but feel like those leaves who have lost their way from home. The ones who we ripped away from their branches and were on an aimless journey only to end up on the ground. All but forgotten and only to be stepped on and torn to shred in the process.

That was you. In a stump, torn and forgotten.

You didn’t always hold that ideal synonymous with your name but the sparse roots in the. . circumstances of life were less than perfect and while you tried to drive down the highway of your early twenties on a steady road there were just numerous obstacles hurdled in your path. Some of which affected your life greatly and derailed you from what you believed to be intended and bestowed upon you.

Back then, you were twenty-one just fresh off culinary school with zealous ambitions and a hunger for success that gnawed at you eagerly. You had a drive ignited in you like an overbearing fire incapable of being put out. Today, that fire lacked its fuel and there were just clouds of smoke left behind while the ashes of the once burning wood were scattered around.

Everything in your life has gone to shit.

In just the matter of months everything has gone to absolute shit.

You couldn’t hear much, so you weren’t alerted to the mechanical voice triggered by the yellow pull cord. You weren’t quite sure if it was due to the music blanketing your hearing or if your sense had gone completely haywire but you couldn’t hear it. Not at all. Your eyes however could see the rectangular screen displaying the ‘stop now’ bold red letters at the front of the bus and as soon as the doors opened. The doors of the bus door opened and closed and quickly the two other passengers on the bus hopped off leaving you entirely alone. This precise moment; these surroundings, took you right back to the big city and its maze-like roads. It sent you right back to the exact time when you felt like this, entirely desolate and empty in all the worst ways possible.

You hated it. It was suffocating and you could feel the way your airways began to constrict. You didn’t like that feeling — being alone. Yet, it always crept up on you like a lingering shadow.

It was always fucking there.

It wasn’t always that way. Before your sporadic travels to the isolated roads adorned by thousands of skyscrapers — back at home things were different: you had a loving family, and you were wrapped up in the warm embrace of your parents and siblings. A hug so tight sometimes you could still feel their phantom body heat warming up your skin. Their touch was your medicine and with their clutch you were cradled right into a cure for wellness.

While you craved the warm nature of their love. You couldn’t head back home. Not after descending so harshly from the disappointment of your crushed dreams. You had pierced through earth’s stratosphere and crashed your metaphorical ship right in the middle of nowhere.

You were astray. Off-course. Adrift.

You couldn’t head back home.

It’s only been six months since you left home.

Just half a year. And everything went to shit.

Though you knew your parents weren’t usually the type to be painted with looks of disappointment — you knew that right below disappointment sat a worse expression, one you weren’t quite ready to experience just yet: commiseration. The awful and dreadful imbue of pity.

Their youngest had failed. Miserably. You could already see their torn expressions dashed in the horrid tones of black and white, maybe even a bit of gray. It was bad enough in the flashes of your imagination.

God, no. You couldn’t head back home.

Instead you ran as far away from home as you could and headed towards a small town. It was nearly invisible on the map unless under the stern squinting of the eye. But you figured a scenic change would likely bring forth a change of spirits. Perhaps, being enveloped in the vibration of the soft melody coming from the crashing of the oceans waves and the aroma of the tide in this new town could become your new remedy for the soul.

As you neared the houses toned with aquamarine, salmon pink, and citrus yellow wood sidings the bus began braking softly nearing its final stop.

“This is the end of the road young lady,” the bus driver announced as you peeled your headphones off, placing them around your neck.

“Yes. Sorry,” you quickly stood up, clinging your backpack onto your back and hurdling the duffel bag over your right shoulder causing one of the straps to snap. Great. You sighed, “thank you so much.”

“No need to apologize,” he waved off as soon as you stepped off onto the asphalt, “enjoy your stay.”

Using the navigation on your phone turned out to be much more complicated than you’d originally thought it would be. There were countless seafood shops and though the repetition of the color on the houses was initially very appealing to the eyes you quickly realized how much harder it made it to differentiate and determine your precise location.

Okay, currently, you stopped in front of the ice cream shop. To the right there was the souvenir store, the convenience store and the flower shop, along with dozens of other stores scattered all around — all of them sat parallel to the boardwalk right near the beach shore right across the street.

Kim’s Aboard. You hummed looking down at the opened up map. The blue dot was highlighted. . Still. So you were at your destination according to this, except, you were not. This was way harder than navigating your way through the big city for the first time all of those months prior. Who would’ve thought small towns would be the cherry right on top of your greatest failures. Just what you needed. What the fuck.

Sitting on the curb you felt defeated. Feeling as if life had taken control of your life while you were the punching bag just waiting for another jab.

“Fuck this,” you shrugged off the duffel bag, sinking your head into your lap, “fuck life. Fuck it all.”

Minutes passed on but you remained. There. On that lonely sidewalk. Not empty but again lonely. Fuck, you didn’t care okay? You were well past the point of feeling fazed, moving through life but not living, finally succumbing to the presumed complications of your days — officially, having given up mentally and physically through and through.

You simply did not care. Nope.

You didn’t. .

Then, you felt a single droplet land on your skin. From overhead the sky was being consumed by the gloomy darkness, and soon enough you knew the clouds would begin their torrential weeping. Very soon.

Okay. Maybe you did care after all.

“I get it,” you hissed up at the heavens, “I am damned. Doomed. Cursed. I get it.”

You probably looked mad. Well, more on the edge of insane. Whatever, it was. It likely did not look good at all.

“Uh,” he approached you in paced steps but the squeaking of his black finishing boots gave him away. Initially, your eyes were averted to the leaden clouds, but quickly, your eyes met him as he kneeled right beside you. The simplicity of his appearance (composed of dark denim washed overalls and absolutely nothing under — but the radiance of his honeyed complexion) drew you nearer to him. “Are you doing okay, miss?”

His voice was sweeter than the composition of ballads and while the crashing of the ocean waves against the shore constituted its very own euphonious sonnet, in the shortness of six words listening to him was already so much better — so pleasing.

“I-uh,” surely you remember how to talk. . Right? “I was just looking for the apartment I’ll be staying at for the next few days but I’m a bit lost.”

“Here,” he sat beside you and his shoulder brushed yours continuously. It was distracting. Very distracting, “The trick is the town is circular shaped. Sort of like a big round about. There’s one road throughout and if you follow it through, you’ll see everything you need to see.”

You hummed, signaling you understood his breakdown in small towns for dummies, “So, are all of the stores on this main road?”

“Most,” he said, adjusting his blue cap now having it face backwards. His toned bicep flexed slightly when he reached up, “but there are some down the road. What store are you trying to find?”

When you turned towards him you swore there was a glimmer of light shining down on him like a spotlight — except, that was impossible. The day was now gloomy robbing the sun of its usual glimmer. But, you weren’t crazy. You’re living it, clearly experiencing the way his radiant glow nearly blinds you.

You were clearly gawking at him. Too immersed in the perfection outlined in his features. The richness of his dark chocolate eyes seemed as sweet as a candy bar, his full lips and the apples of his cheeks carried the same elements of the carmine mimicking the vibrancy of roses.

You cleared your throat forcing yourself to finally rip your stare away from him, “Kim’s Abroad,” you began, “seafood store and restaurant combo but also Airbnb adjacent.”

He chuckled, again a sound so light and airy it traveled in your inner ear like the whistles of a peaceful tune, “Kim, huh?”

You opened the Airbnb app, moving the phone over for him to get a better look, “Yeah, Kim is what it says,” you confirmed,

“Yeah, it does,” he looked at your phone screen, “but you’re in the wrong place.”

“I’m in the wrong town?”

His lips were still sculpted into a smile. Was your demise an amusement to him? You were almost offended but dimples were just so mesmerizing as they impaled his bread cheeks and you found some ease in them. Momentarily. But the man sitting beside didn’t go back on his word and suddenly there was no denying the rising panic bubbling deep in your stomach. There was no question that your luck has always been absolute shit but you never imagined it could extend this far. It never occurred to you that something like this could happen.

You laughed and you weren’t sure if you actually found the situation amusing or if it was only a coping mechanism. Who knows perhaps you misheard what he said — Yeah, you probably. . Definitely, did, “please tell me you’re fucking with me. .”

“Yeah, I’m fucking with you,” he smirked. The curves of his stretched lips now synonymous with the equivalent of a warm embrace yet the playfulness of a jest, “I’m Seokjin. Kim Seokjin. Kim’s Abroad is my uncle’s shop.”

“Oh,” you finally exhaled, releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in the first place, “you got me good.”

“Did I scare you?” He stood from the sidewalk and dusted off the bits of sand and gravel from his bottom.

“Did you scare me?” you huffed, “you damn near killed me.”

“Well, technically, you are in the wrong place,” he stretched his hand out for you to grab and you did.

“Don’t even start,” you scoffed playfully.

“But—“ he cut in, “you’re just on the wrong part of town. Come on. Before it actually starts raining.”

“You have a car?”

He shrugged, “something like that.”

Seokjin did not have a car. You’d digested the grim realization when you two of you walked to the nearby parking lot and instead of approaching the valet he walked the opposite way in the direction of the bicycle rack.

The bike chained to the rack was blue. . a sapphire which mimicked the color of the ocean waves. It also looked pretty new and like a very competent mode of transportation as everything in this town seemed just a walk or quick ride away.

“Hope you don’t mind but I’m not much of a car person,” he emphasized the word car highlighting the stance of his words. And you couldn’t help but wonder why it was — that he wasn’t much of a car person — but you didn’t ask, shoving the plethora of questions right back down your esophagus determining you didn’t need to know. You didn’t know him. . Besides, he was practically your landlord.

“Of course,” you smiled, tightening the straps on your bag to get it to sit higher on your back, “should I put this here?” you slid your duffel bag off and pointed at the red wagon attached to the bike.

“Let me help,” Seokjin was toned and built as fuck. You had not really noticed when he approached you ten minutes prior, but now? Now, he was kneeling right in front of you using a variation of ropes to secure your bag in the wooden attachment. And while you hadn’t meant to stare you couldn’t resist the urge to drink in every detail of his every move.

It was truly like observing an artwork in some museum. . except you had to keep reminding yourself that he was real — This was real. His muscles flexed whenever he tugged on the rope to verify its tightness and his fingers worked diligently to produce an effective knot. His long long fingers.

Your mind couldn’t help but wonder which other activities he indulged in containing those slender digits of his.

No.

Focus on yourself; focus on your own journey. You shook your head in an attempt to push those beguiling thoughts aside.

“Ready?” he asked, straddling the bike and signaling you to hop on the pegs. You simply nodded hoping on, placing your palms on his broad shoulders for support. The contact felt as if his skin had been ignited with tiny strings of fire — kind of like you hovering your palms over a burner on the stove.

It was distracting; the way the heat particles traveled past the layers of your skin warming you to the touch.

It was so fucking distracting the way your touch felt at ease against him.

“This is a very small town but we have a lot to offer,” Seokjin peddled down the street — already sounding mildly out of breath having to carry both your weights.

Your eyes settled on your surroundings; the road ahead, “I can see that. We have the beach on our left and a cozy vintage town to our right. Believe me, it is all I truly need at this very moment.”

“What are you trying to escape from reality?”

“More like—“ as the bike moved deeper into town and against the late afternoon wind you felt a wave of relief in your sweaty scalp and forehead, “I’m trying to get away from it forever.”

He chuckled, “forever’s a long time.”

“Forever is categorized differently for each person,” you shrugged, “my forever could end tomorrow whereas yours could run its course for an abundance of years.”

“I suppose you’re right. .” he said, “but tomorrow is also forever away.”

“Tomorrow is forever away.” you repeated.

Within the cold avenues of the buzzling city tomorrow would be a blink away — sparing all extra hours, minutes and seconds right into oblivion. Tomorrow would arrive in the blink of an eye and twenty four hours would perish right into nothing. However, this town seemed different. An hour here has felt like a wrinkle in time and you were comfortably tucked under that luxury of time.

Sparing time to stop and take everything in and time to breathe. You were spared all of the time in the world to breathe. Finally.

Back in the city your life had been sort of a blur. The foundation of your days were composed of half assed obligations. Such as getting up to the boisterous roars of the city (which you hated), getting dressed in clothes you hated all to keep up appearances (which you hated), attending classes in an attempt to perfect your culinary skills (which you hated) and then finally going to work at that fucking restaurant until the late hours of the evening (which you guessed it — you fucking hated). There was nothing to look back on and long for and certainly nothing that you missed as everything you ever dedicated a spec of your time and energy to never truly made you happy.

There was always a vast hole in your heart. It was huge and it only ever grew in width and no efforts ever minimized its size. The pain was great and all you could ever do was endure.

The ride so far had been quiet and you found peace in that. It gave you a bit of time to swim in your own thoughts for a bit — something you haven’t done in quite some time. Perhaps, substituting the rustling tracks of the subway and the constant beeping of car horns for the songs of the sea would do you some good. It already kind of was.

“You doing okay up there?” he asked, continuing to peddle his way down the black paved road.

“I’m doing okay,” you reassured him.

“I figured you’d just been taking everything in,” he said, “you’ve been a bit quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely admiring and loving the scarcity of skyscrapers. I like the build of the ranch-style homes. It gives the curb appeal sort of like a homey feel,” your eyes remain glued to your surroundings. While Seokjin was a sight on his own this town — you were beginning to fall in love with.

“I agree. It’s the primary reason why I’ve yet to leave,” he parked his bike on the bike rack right in front of the two-story building. The sign read, ‘Kim’s Abroad’ in big red letters engraved in a baby blue outline against the white exterior. “We have arrived.”

“Seafood restaurant and market,” you mumbled reading the tiny black font displayed right below the vibrant sign.

“All things seafood restaurant and market,” he repeated, getting a hold of your luggage from his wagon, “we are connoisseurs. Don’t you forget that.”

You giggled, “Kim Seokjin the seafood connoisseur. Noted.”

Kim’s Abroad sat on the other side of town. Just a couple of steps away from the blue waves of the ocean crashing against the golden shores. Approximately, a ten minute bike ride away from the main pier. This side of town seemed like a hidden gem, like a slice of privacy for the locals. Though the sidewalks remained occupied with on-goers, it wasn’t as congested or loud as where you began your journey earlier that afternoon.

Up above the weather seemed to settle down as the nimbostratus clouds were being swept away by lighter; fluffier; whiter clouds highlighting the cerulean hue of the late summer afternoon. The sun also seeped through and already your skin prickled with the rising heat.

“Let me help with that,” you reached out to grab your backpack.

“Help?” his eyes wide with shock, “you’re our first guest to offer assistance with their own luggage. I like you.”

“I’ll wear the stamp of approval proudly.”

Walking into the restaurant was like entering the multiverse of culinary delicacy. The aroma of the various seafood dishes had your stomach grumbling as hunger began its loud roar. The set-up didn’t allow much space for dining in which explained the small tables and chairs lined up outside. Seokjin walked right up to the counter with a sign right above the register which read, order here. To the right of that there was a display with numerous varieties of fish, shrimp, clams, oysters, lobsters with small chalkboards identifying the prices per pound.

The interior design of the small shop was fairly simple yet very charming. There were wall decor items hung on the white walls in the shape of different sea creatures and fishing nets drapped from the ceiling.

Seokjin signaled you over to join him by the register, which you did.

“Our summer neighbor has finally joined us. She’ll be staying for the summer.” he turned towards you. Quickly, you nodded confirming.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin’s uncle, Gong. Nice to meet you,” he stretched his hand out over the counter which you quickly shook. Gong wore a tender eye smile and pearly white teeth that glimmered under the sneaky rays of the sun invading the shop. You introduced yourself hoping to reciprocate the same amiability.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you added, “I’m really looking forward to spending the summer.”

“We’re glad to have you give our little town a chance,” he said softly, “Seokjin, why don’t you show her where she’ll be staying. Then, you can come down and grab some food for the two of you.”

The residential area was deeper into the property. Just a couple of feet behind, Kim’s Abroad. You’d notice there was a continuation of the color white — it was neutral. But also made the small living space seem a bit bland. Colorless walls encaged a small kitchen which led right into the living room. There were two medium sized oval windows facing the ocean. A view you knew you’d spend a lot of time admiring and never getting tired of.

Seokjin signaled over to the wooden door separating the bedroom from the living space. The bedroom was huge compared to your dorm back in University, and it was accompanied by an on suite bathroom.

Thank God.

If there was something you hated while in school it was the fucking communal bathrooms. The working around schedules to avoid the crowded showers, having to do your. . . Well having to take a shit (practically in public) was less than ideal and having to share bathrooms amongst ten other girls was not the most hygienic living situation you’ve had to live through.

After dropping your bags near the bedroom door you plopped down on the full sized bed. You closed your eyes as tiredness weighed heavy on your eyelids.

With the fluffiness of the mattress carrying your body, you sensed the way every bone, every muscle and every inch of you became cumbersome against your better judgment. Though you tried and tried to sit up you couldn’t. It was so fucking impossible. . As if there was a ton sitting on your abdomen preventing you from doing anything.

You were exhausted. Numb to your surroundings and your thoughts. You had honestly forgotten Seokjin was still in the room with you — that was until you felt the mattress dip right beside you. His body heat radiated off of him in waves and the warm sensation comforted you closer to a deep slumber.

“Are you still up to eating or are you too tired?” Seokjin mumbled. His voice, so soft and poise almost as if he was afraid to blow your tympanum.

Your eyes still remained closed. Behind them there was an invasive darkness — much darker than the night sky but there was also peace and all you wanted to do was to succumb to that very feeling.

It kept you high and you felt light as a feather. You had never engaged in drug usage but you imagined this is what it felt like to be intoxicated.

“I’m hungry but I’m also so tired,” you yawned almost instinctively, “I just want to sleep forever and ever.”

“Sleeping forever would mean. . Well, you know. .” You know what he implied and though, that’s not initially what you meant you wouldn’t mind that either. Sleeping forever was peaceful and would spare you the burden of figuring out whatever the fuck your life has turned into. Imagine falling into a deep slumber and roaming over into the afterlife peacefully; serenely. Or maybe not. There were a million thoughts etched onto your brain and while you tried to make sense of it all, you couldn’t. You didn’t mind it but there was also a tug at your heart just urging to allow yourself to see things through.

“I just meant. .” you paused, “I just meant I’m really really tired.”

“I know. .” he stood from where he sat on the bed and your eyes met him by the door. “Are you still down to get food though?”

“Have you heard my stomach?” His smile was contagious as you'd quickly learned as a smile was painted on your lips as soon as his lips carved into a bright beam almost as illuminating as the golden star prancing in the late afternoon sky, “I think hunger trumps sleep at this moment.”

That was a fib. But you didn’t really feel like being left alone with your thoughts at the moment — they were loud, overwhelming and deprecating. To be honest you’d been lonely for way too long and you hated basking in the solitude of your own company. It’s not what you wanted or what you needed.

Perhaps, tomorrow will be kinder.

The sun was less brutal now.

Likely, because the sun was en route to kiss the ocean as it continued to move closer and closer towards the horizon. The blazing star still had quite a journey ahead but it no longer sat in the middle of the sky shining down with its stinging rays.

Late afternoons were always your favorite part of the day. Back in the city the congestion of buildings on every street wouldn’t allow for this kind of life; for a scenery like this — and again you began to feel at ease in your heart. You love it. The loud cackling of the neighborhood kids, the sound of skateboards, skates and bikes against the pavement, the smells of backyard barbecues and the briny waters just ahead, which was technically your front yard for the summertime.

Back in the metropolis you’d learn to suffer through each passing day. Falling into the safety nets of routines and hoping for a better tomorrow.

There was never fulfillment or satisfaction, just emptiness. A profound and very overbearing emptiness that swallowed you from the inside right into a dark pit of nothingness.

“I hope you’re not vegan or anything,” Seokjin took a seat right beside you on the ledge of the building, your legs dangling from the edge, “otherwise we’d have to head back into town for some more dining options.”

“I’m not vegan,” you confirmed.

“Good, cause uncle Gong made us some crab cakes. He swears they’re his specialty but it’s my recipe,” he beamed.

“Bullshit. .” I raised my eyebrow at his claim.

“I’m serious!” he took a bite of the fritter, “well actually it was my mom’s but she taught me how to make it.”

Was. Past tense. Did he realize he’d refer to his mother’s existence in such a way? He must’ve. Then, that would mean she’s no longer here. . No longer in Seokjin’s life. Did she abandon him or did she pass away? There were a million questions roaming around in your head but again you didn’t dare ask.

Though, it was hard to imagine him caged in the torment of sorrow. Sure, everyone experiences it sooner or later but it just didn’t seem like him. You’d met him just a couple hours prior and you could already tell Seokjin was a bright soul. With a tender gaze that wrapped you up like a warm blanket and a smile that could ease any burden or pain even in the absence of words.

Already, you’d felt closer to him than anyone you had crossed paths back in the despondent sidewalks of the city.

Seokjin is a friend. He is your friend.

“Well, her recipe is amazing,” you utter in between bites, “so thank you for passing it on to your uncle to make.”

“It was my pleasure,” he smiled.

A brief silence fell between the two as you finished your meal but you didn’t mind the lack of words. It was just the two of you, the lullaby of the waves, and the orange and pink hues set the sky ablaze as the sun continued its journey sinking deeper into the horizon.

Life here seemed to come right out of a painting — sort of like those you would see hung on the wall of an art exhibit and be completely divulged into, finding shelter behind the intricate lines and vibrant colors.

“Where are those kids headed?” you asked, nodding towards the kids speeding down the street in skates and skateboards.

“There’s a skatepark down the street,” he said, “I ride my bike there all the time whenever I wanna run away from kitchen duty.”

“Kitchen duty?” you tittered.

“You think I’m bullshitin’ again don’t you?”

“You said it, not me.”

He shook his head, laughing quietly at your playful banter, “do I not seem like a chef who also happens to be into bmx?”

“I’d have to see you partake in both of those activities to believe it,” you shrugged.

“I’m on prep duty early morning so I’ll get back to you on the cooking thing but we can begin with the skate park tomorrow,” Seokjin offered.

“Tomorrow it is.”

Seokjin swung back and forth, he seemed to have something on his mind but his lips remained sealed until finally he spoke, “What about you? Do you have any hobbies?”

“Yeah,” you picked at the blue chipped nail polish on your nails, “I went to culinary school actually. I was a sous chef back in the city but I was fired.”

“Oh, shit,” Seokjin’s eyes were the size of pool balls, “Led me right into the lion’s den. Didn’t you? Now, I can’t cook for you. You’d put me on the chopping block.”

“I promise I won’t,” you clasped your hands together, “Contrary to what you might believe, cooking is not my passion.”

“Parents?” he didn’t need to elaborate, you understood perfectly.

“Kind of. .” You moved your head from side to side, “They didn’t really influence my decision but my dad’s a chef and I thought I needed to be just like him.”

“And you learned you didn’t?”

“Exactly,” you nodded.

“So what’s your true passion?”

“Art. I’ve always wanted to illustrate books,” you turned away sensing you’d peel too much back. Perhaps, you have. Perhaps, not but no one had ever asked you that before. No one has ever shown even the slightest interest in learning what fills your heart with joy and consumes your days with a sense of accomplishment, “it was my minor in college.”

“You should go for it.”

“You don’t even know if I’m good..”

“I don’t need to,” he tilted his head in your direction, he was glowing — truly the textbook definition of beauty, “I can see the way your eyes twinkle at the mere mention of it. You should do what makes you happy.”

“What makes you happy?”

“This place.” His words weren’t elaborate yet somehow you kind of understood exactly what he meant.

“What makes you stay?”

“That’s what keeps me here,” he nodded signaling out to something in front of him but you couldn’t really decipher what he was pinpointing.

Finally, your thoughts settled, “the people?”

“The tide,” his chestnut eyes remained on the scenery laid out in front of the two of you. Then he continued, “it’s always serene; peaceful. And even in the havoc of storms the ocean manages to sing a tune that fills me with comfort. It calms me down.”

“The tide.” You mumbled in solidarity with his words. Because it was true. The ocean was a music box kept open and the more you sat and listened the more at ease you felt.

As if you were meant to be here, like you belonged here, right where you were.

Remnants of the night before flashed in your mind and you remember Seokjin’s sweet words as he communicated that the roof was your official hideout as it was closed off to the public and uncle Gong despised climbing anymore stairs than he had to — a place where only the two of you could escape to and just get to know each other for hours and hours. You really liked the sound of that.

You yawned, rubbing sleep off of your lids and walking into the bathroom to carry out your morning routine. Soon, you moved over to the kitchen preparing yourself a quick breakfast composed of eggs and toasts. After your rooftop adventure Seokjin had accompanied you back into the main part of town to grab a few groceries at the mini super market. Thank God for that.

Time was now nearing the late afternoon and after throwing on a pair or shorts and a crop top you were flying out the front door, down the stairs and towards Kim’s Abroad. Seokjin said he had the early shift today. It was too early in the day for customers but he was helping with prep before the restaurant opened in about 15 minutes for the lunch rush.

“You ready?” he asked, exiting the shop through the back door and hanging his apron on a hook you couldn’t particularly see. It was astounding how fine Seokjin looked even in the simplest outfits. Like today, he wore denim shorts which cut off mid-thigh, a white tank, black converse and the same backwards blue baseball cap which he tucked his floppy bangs under to keep them away from his face.

“Ready.” you confirmed following him to the bike rack as he began unlocking his bicycle from the metal bar.

Again, for the third time since you two met you hopped on the pegs placing your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling off the back of his bike. You looked down at his soft golden skin stretching over his massive shoulders. You hadn’t noticed the day before but Seokjin was well-built. The dark veins stretched up the dorsal side of his hand and forearm as he gripped the handlebars steering the bike down the street. His bicep flexed whenever he pressed on the hand brakes.

It was distracting. But whenever you tried to take in your surroundings and drink in the beauty of this town you found your gaze focused on him.

He was the swirls of black and white psychedelic lines inducing you into a state of hypnosis — demanding your attention be set on him and refusing you spare even a second thinking of anything else.

That gravitational pull you felt drawing you closer to him despite how close in proximity he was terrifying. You barely knew him and already you felt as if you’d known him forever.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling up to the green metal bench inside of the skate park. Hoping off, you finally peeled your eyes away from Seokjin and looked ahead to the crowded park adorned with ramps, stairs, rails, dips and countless other obstacles.

“What if. .” you began, ogling the kids successfully landing their tricks, amazed by their effortless talent, “what if they get hurt?”

“They stand up and just try again.” Surely, it couldn’t be that simple. It must hurt. It had to hurt. Your past of disdained misfortune resulted in you landing on the floor, head first, one too many times which hurt like hell. Those were slips and stumbles nothing hard enough to cause any real damage — you really couldn’t imagine busting your ass here on this fucking concrete.

“Standing back up must hurt so fucking bad though.”

“It does,” he pointed out the scars adorning his upper and lower extremities — some healed, some not.

“So you spend a lot of time with these kids huh?” you asked, simply wanting him to open up a bit more; to learn all of the details unique to him. Those details which made Seokjin who he was.

“Sometimes. When I’m not in the shop,” he shrugged, taking a seat right beside you on the bench. His thighs rubbing up against yours, “don’t go judging me for hanging around here on my down time. I’m not the only twenty year old in this skate park.”

“I wasn’t judging.”

“Your eyes tell.”

“Are you saying I’m easy to read?” you asked, his eyes shed their usual tone of dark brown under the sun rays now glowing closer to caramel.

“Right now you are,” you didn’t know if you were daydreaming but his vision continued to circle your features, first back and forth between your eyes and then lower down to your lips.

“Are you going to show me what you got or are you just going to sit here all afternoon,” your voice barely above a whisper. You were afraid your stupid mind would lead you to do something stupid.

“Actually. .” he pulled a pair of white and purple skates from the backpack he previously carried on his back, “we’re here for you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I know we only met approximately twenty-four hours ago but I have a confession to make,” you cleared your throat and he moved closer towards you, (As if that could even be possible. . He was practically sitting on top of you), wanting to preserve your privacy, “I’m a klutz. I’m clumsy. I am a walking liability.”

“Now, you’re just making things up.”

You shook your head, “I’m not making it up.”

“If that is the case then it’s okay,” he pushed the skates closer in your direction, “I’m here to help.”

“I just hope you have a first aid kit near.”

Seokjin reached into his bag showing me a red pouch with a white cross on it. A wide smile plastered on his face. “I’m always ready.”

“Of course, you are,” you grabbed the skates from his hands, “ but I’m expecting you to catch me if I fall.”

“I will, don’t worry. I’ll always be here to catch you.”

In the middle of your chest, where the seat of your soul beat rhythmically on its day to day course, today in that moment, after those two words were uttered from his dulcet lips there was a stutter in your palpitations and for a brief moment you felt a ping at your chest. It hurt so much — but it also reminded you that you were alive.

Beads of sweat strolled down your temples as you tried to maneuver the roller blades strapped to your feet. Your balmy palms remained clasped against Seokjin's holding on for dear life. Your eyes were glued to the floor but you continued leaning into his guidance, determining that you would get it and you would not stop until you did.

Seokjin was extremely patient. Even with your frequent squealing and the death grasp you maintain, he remained calm. Slowly guiding you over the small ramps and the mini cylindrical cone shaped obstacle with the flat tops.

“You got this,” his words of encouragement dozed you with overconfidence and soon you began feeling invisible. As if you could conquer this and anything else thrown your way no matter how big or difficult.

With his guidance and instructions you continued being led around the skatepark with your knees slightly bent, your upper body leaning towards him for balance and the slowed gliding of the eight wheels against the pavement.

“You’re doing great,” he wore a gleeful grin.

You didn’t know if his praise was tainting your lack of better judgment but the words escaped your lips before you even realized what you said, “can I try it by myself?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I forgot your helmet, knee and elbow pads,” he guided you towards the green bench once again, “let’s keep your first lesson simple. Just until we come back with the proper equipment. Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I think that was the adrenaline talking.”

“I hope that means you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

“Of course, as long as I’m invited I’ll definitely be tagging along more often,” you smiled.

“You’re always invited.”

Unlike the betrayal of your tremulous legs and arms while skating Seokjin maneuvered his bike with confidence. He dropped into the bowl without hesitation, then jumped. . levitating in mid air. You were stunned, it was as if he could fly — soaring in the sky like an eagle. He did it again, and again, and again and you cheered him on loudly hoping to reciprocate a fraction of the support he’d expressed as he helped you skate.

“How did you even manage to do that. . without even breaking a sweat?” you were still stunned as the two of you walked down to the shore after leaving his bike back home after leaving the skatepark. Home. Well, temporary home.

He shrugged, still a cocky smirk planted on his lips, “I used to practice a lot.”

“You’ve got to teach me to do all of that.”

“First, I gotta teach you to not fall off your skates.”

“Right,” you smiled.

The two of you walked right beside each other leaving no room for space in between — your hands kept brushing against one another and that friction alone radiated prickles of heat to crawl on your skin.

“You’ll get it soon,” he leaned towards you, bumping his shoulder into yours, “you’re an amazing student. . So far.”

“So far?” you gasped, taking fake offense at his meager ‘compliment’.

“So far,” he nodded, “. . because you also did try to go off riding on your own after one lesson.”

“I didn’t go off running,” you rolled your eyes, “I asked if I could. Drama queen.”

“Because I was holding on.”

You shook your head, “again, drama queen.”

You and Seokjin walked on the sidewalk parallel to the shore line for quite some time now but he kept babbling about this secret spot he swore was worth it. Without a line of questions or an inch of hesitation you followed along knowing that each adventure promised contained a photo album of memories in your mind to go along with it. Still, you didn’t mind the distance and you didn’t care what the destination looked like as long as the plans involved having Seokjin presence right there with you.

“This way,” he said, cutting down a small pathway leading towards the beach, “I don’t think your flip flops will cut it though,”

“We’re not too far from the house. I could go back for some sneakers.”

“There’s no need for that. We’re practically almost there. Come on,” he crouched down in front of you. Was he really insinuating you’d do what you thought he was? “Hop on.”

Whoever said Mt. Everest was the highest peak on planet Earth was fucking lying. Though, you have never found yourself on the mountains’ slope, already, you knew being carried on Seokjin’s back was far more exhilarating than any other journey you could embark up the Himalayas. From his back, the world seemed anew. It was brighter, clearer and scorching too. You weren’t really sure if that was because his height boosted you a bit closer to the sun or if it was because his palm rested on your bare thighs, holding you in place as he ascended down the large rocks.

Perhaps, this is the kind of freedom he felt while riding his bike at the skatepark, quickly you began to understand why he chose that high.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Except you weren’t. His touch was ardent against your skin and while it felt like you played too close to fire, it was also addicting. All you knew is you wanted to feel that blaze on every inch of your body consuming you into lively flames.

“We’re almost there.”

“Hey Seokjin, can I ask you a question?”

“Whatever you wanna know. I’ll answer,” you wrapped your hands around his neck, resting your elbows on his shoulders. His warm breath fanned your arms causing goosebumps to etch on your skin. For a brief second he rested his head against your forearm before continuing, “but first please call me you gotta start calling me Jin.”

“Jin,” you mumbled, “it suits you.”

He chuckled, “you had a question?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “back at the skatepark you said you used practiced a lot. . on your bike.”

“I did.”

“You’re still referring to it in past tense.”

“I am.”

“Why?” you really didn’t want to push too far but you also had a desire to ask and know.

“BMX, the competitions,” he began, “it’s something I did in the past.”

You furrowed your brows, “But you still do it. What I mean is you still go to the skatepark.”

He sighed, where was something weighing on his heart. You could feel it, “Yeah, now it’s just a pastime. Something I hold onto. Just to have some sort of life line between the old me and the present version myself.”

You and Jin were polar opposites. While he chose to dwell in the past, in the blink of an eye you ditched yours back in the city. Without hesitation you abandoned your sluggish life as a caterpillar lurking through the shadows of skyscrapers — awfully slow and urging a better brighter tomorrow. Metamorphosis indicates that after the cocooning stage the insect should blossom into a beautiful butterfly. You weren’t at that last stage yet but you hoped one day you would be.

“What was the old you like?”

He shrugged with sour thoughts tugging the corner of his mouth downward, “I was young. . way too young obviously and naive but I also urged for calmer waters.”

“Did riding help out?” you asked.

“It did. It helped quite a lot for a long time,” he mumbled, “. .until it didn’t anymore and now I guess I’m trying to make peace with it.”

“Is there a particular reason why it ever stopped helping?” You felt his muscles tensed as his slender fingers sunk a bit deeper into your skin. It didn’t hurt but you’d hit something you were trying to avoid, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” his feet finally came in contact with the golden grains of sand but he didn’t make any effort to put you down. No, he only held on tighter, “it just drags along a string of. .” he paused, “memories.”

“Bad. . memories?”

“Bad memories,” he confirmed.

The ocean sang its soulful tune just a couple of feet away as the waves continued their rhythmic crashing on the shore. It was soothing. . peaceful and it eased your nerves against his warm palms.

“During that time. .” he began, sighing heavy as the soles of his feet continued sinking into the sand as you trotted further down the beach, “I was wandering around aimlessly—in my head for too long. I lost someone close. Someone who I loved more than I even tolerate myself.”

“Jin, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” there was a slight tremble in his voice, as if he was trying to get a massive knot down his esophagus, “it happened years ago.”

“Still, time measures no grief. It must’ve been hard then and it probably still is,” unconsciously, you found yourself laying your head against the back of his neck, “but it is okay to feel, and cry and allow ourselves time to process and make our own peace. We’re only human after all.”

“I’m still trying to make peace with it everyday but I choose to remember our positive days,” his eyes focused on the footprints he left behind on the sand, “her love, her embrace and tenderness, her charisma. . it was very easy to love her.”

Her? Her.

The only woman he’s ever referred to in the past tense was his mother shortly after the two of you met. You wanted to ask and express proper condolences. Not to be nosey but to be there for him and provide a shoulder for him to lean on. Make sure he’s actually okay, although he seems to be dealing with things well you still don’t want to trigger any melancholy memories.

“The good memories will keep her alive and grounded in your heart,” your hand hovered over the center of his chest. “I’m glad you’re on the road to making peace.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You should continue riding though,” you murmured, “Despite what happened I’ve seen you soar on your bike. It makes you happy and you should do what makes you happy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he giggled, “I see what you’re doing.”

You gasped, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” he laughed.

“I mean it though.”

“I know,” his hands roamed higher down the avenue of your thighs a bit closer to your bum but not quite. The feeling was sensational—vertiginous and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t read through all of the scenarios blooming in your head. . The ones where his touch doesn’t just stop mid way up your thighs. No, instead he continues inching higher and higher until. . “Thank you,”

His words pulled you out of your daydream yet you still felt the despotic heat coursing through your body. Too potent to ignore.

Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking. A monument right out of a National Geographic magazine cover. The two of you lay in the small cave with an oculus skylight at the top allowing the sun to peek through when it sat high on the cerulean sky along with two archways opened right up to the roaring sea.

The grains of the golden sand felt therapeutic and warm under your indolent frame. There was a brisk breeze cooling you down, not too cold but just cool enough to dry your previously balmy skin.

It was a slice of heaven. . right here, right now.

And Jin, he laid right beside you his body heat radiating in eminent waves. Finally his dark strands on full display no longer hidden under the cap the way it’s been since you met him days prior. His shirt was off displaying his sculpted physique which captivated your attention entirely.

Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking but so was he. And fuck was it blinding the way he was shining brighter than the amber star overhead. He was ravishing; stunning through and through.

“Was the trip worth it?” he asked, his dark eyes burning a hole at your side.

“I barely made as much as a trip, you carried me the entire way here,” you scoffed, “is your back really doing okay?”

He rolled his eyes, “for the hundredth time my back is doing just fine.”

“So, let me ask you, was the trip worth it with me on your back the entire time?” your expression was deadpanned.

“Wrong question. .” he smirked. “Did my hands and back find comfort in carrying you the entire way? Yes.”

His hands on you. Your mind flashed in spurs to that very moment where his warm touch birthed goosebumps on your skin. Quickly, that feeling became looped in your mind and even now, when his hands were no longer on you, you felt it—God, you felt it.

“And the truth comes to light,” you tutted, kissing your teeth and shaking your head in disapproval, “is that all you wanted? To feel me up, Jin?”

The apples of his cheeks were dusted in a deep roseate shade, “I mean. . it’s not all I wanted.”

“Are you blushing, Seokjin?” you mumbled, “I thought this was a confessional. I mean you enjoyed having your hands on me the entire way here, right?”

“Right,” The crimson shade traveled to the tips of his ears. He’s bashful; how cute.

“Jinnie?”

He hummed.

“I also enjoyed it,” you said, “it’s too bad though.”

“What is?” His eyes were doe-like, holding a luminous glimmer which projected the intricate ocean waves on them as they continued rocking right before you.

“Your hands never really made it where I needed them.”

He gulped, “and where was that?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” your fingertips toyed with the button of your shorts. Typically, you weren’t this forward and simply let your misfortune map the adverse roads of your life but today you didn’t care to fight against yourself. You wanted him. You needed him, “of course, we can pick up where you left off and actually progress higher this time.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Are you okay with that?”

“I’m so okay with that.”

“Is that the only way in?” you pointed in the direction the two of you came in.

“Boats can pull up through the archways as well,” Jin’s bottom lip was tucked under his lips and his gaze devouring you entirely.

Of course, you began the show by slipping your hands under the fabric of your denim shorts. Your middle finger began drawing vertical lines against your clothed slit—dragging it slowly. Up and down, again and again, until the friction became useless to your zealous desire.

“Then, we better be quick,” you breathed out.

“I better be quick,” he emphasized moving closer to you.

The shadows of his face were so close to yours you could draw out every little feature and decipher the hints of eucalyptus and mint from his morning shampoo. Your hands landed on his cheek, leading him closer to you; pressing your bodies to one another.

Seokjin’s lips were warm and soft like velvet moving in a uniformed dance against yours. It was slow yet passionate as if he was trying to savor every inch of your lips—as if he wanted to be consumed by the taste of your tongue.

The pads of his fingers left behind a trail of goosebumps as they moved lower and lower, until they came in contact with your shorts. In a swift moment he unbuttoned them and began drawing small figures onto your skin right where the hem of your panties sat.

Between his lips and his touch you felt inebriated, as if you were mindlessly roaming around somewhere between the clouds and the sky.

He pulled away but his forehead rested on yours. His lips still hovered over yours as his paced pants fanned his cool breath on them.

“Can I. .?”

“Please, Seokjin. Please touch me,” the pleads dripped from your lips semi-automatically and you had to admit there wasn’t a hint of shame to hold you back.

There was nothing on earth more exhilarating, more enlivening than the feeling of Jin’s hands sinking under the fabric of your silk underwear. Not riding a roller coaster, not climbing the highest mountain on earth, not even winning the fucking lottery. His touch was intoxicating. . just like his kisses and there was nothing you’d rather feel. Except, probably a bit, more.

“Faster, please,” you whined, swaying your hips against his touch as he drew circles on your aching clit. If obeying and compliance was a stern trait then it is one Jin conveyed with no push backs or arguments.

“Tell me something doll,” his fingers traveled lower lining up against your entrance. He pressed against your cunt but never pushed past—the squelching of your wetness echoed in your ears. It was all you could hear, “did you ever think we’d be in this predicament this early on?”

You gasped, urgently shaking your head as his fingers became wrapped in your walls moving in and out of you slowly, “I-I didn’t. But I did hope for it.”

He sneered, “you hoped for it, huh?”

“Dreamt of it on my first night here actually.”

“I dreamt of it too, you know,” he whispered softly, his lips traced the shell of your ear, “the way you’d feel, your sweet sounds, the way you’d be clenching around me the exact same way you are right now.”

His name was a mantra laced on your tongue and you uttered it once and once again as if it was muscle memory. The only thing, the only name coherent enough in your head—the only one you knew, which was probably true. You couldn’t even recall your own.

But he had no mercy on you, his digits had no mercy on you—they just moved in and out of your slickness quicker and quicker as time progressed and you were so close, you practically stood at the edge as your orgasm approached in a massive wave.

“Please,” you moaned, “please let me-“

He shook his head, “Just a bit longer, doll.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes were shut tight, the back of your eyelids tainted with desperation. And Jin was no longer stationed beside you, instead he kneeled in front of your bent legs spreading them farther and farther away from each other.

The ocean still sat just a couple feet ahead, still singing that soulful song which eased your nerves the longer you laid on that very sand waiting—urging for Jin’s touch on you.

It was all you could think of. . the way his touch burned trails of passion on your skin leaving behind a desire so potent that you just couldn’t extinguish without his help.

He was the only one who could put it out.

Seokjin removed both your shorts and panties leaving them pooled at your ankles. His austere gaze remained on your cunt and he seemed to be drinking in every detail of your blossomed rose.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly.

“Jin,” your eyes, your voice both dripped with desperation.

He nodded understanding your unspoken command almost instantly inching closer and closer between your thighs until his face sat just a couple inches away. His tongue was frigid against your slit it weaved a bolt of electricity intertwined along the ridges of your spine. A gasp escaped your lips as he perfected the combination of sucking and licking your sensitive bud before dragging his flattened tongue along your folds.

A delectable repetition. One, more saccharine than any dessert you’d had the burden of making back during your days in the kitchen.

This was better. It was so much fucking better.

Seokjin’s slurp noises against you, your sweet incoherent sounds and the cries of the ocean were one in the same. All of them were the end product of an orchestrated ballad.

“Jinnie,” your nails massaged his scalp before gripping his face, pushing him closer to you. God, you needed him closer. So much fucking closer.

“Yes, doll?” His words almost muffled an evident refusal to stop what he was doing.

“Can I h-help you out?”

“With?” he continued.

“Even from up here I can see how tight your shorts have become,” you hissed, “I want you in my mouth while you eat me out.”

Seokjin pulled away. Your juices coated his chin and mouth, “That’s fine baby, but I want you sitting on my face.”

Jin took your spot sprawled out on the sand. You climbed on top of him, placing your knees on either side of his face claiming your seat on his features. His hands snaked around your thighs, pulling you down, positioning your soaked cunt to be aligned with his mouth. Meanwhile, you leaned forwards helping him pull down and finally kick off his briefs.

Seokjin was big. Bigger than you’d imagined.

Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you took his tip past your lips, finally getting a taste of his pre-cum. At the same time you felt him take a swipe on your fold before his eloquent tongue dug inside you diligently licking your walls, ridding them off your juices.

The iteration of a sinful melody. Building up tension in the pit of your stomach while your back arched and your toes curled.

Though, you tried to focus on the way his cock moved in and out of your mouth—his deathly grasp on your thighs and his tongue. . It was all too distracting.

“Fuck, Jin,” you keen too dazed in pleasure to fully grasp the way you tugged on his hair keeping his head in place as you began to grind on his face, finally succumbing to the urgency of reaching your approaching peak.

He hummed under you, leading your unoccupied hand down to his cock and guiding it up and down his shaft. This went on for some time. Felt like forever and then finally he came in warm spurts coating your hand. And that very image drove you to your climax as he licked you dry.

Carefully, you climbed off his face and laid right beside him, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath.

Your name sounded like peaches in his strained voice, “you. . that was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” you giggled, “but once again you did all the work.”

“I don’t mind doing all the work,” he leaned over leaving peppered kisses on your cheek.

“You say that to all the girls who occupy the Airbnb?”

“Nope,” he emphasized the p, “just you.”

“I find that hard to believe. Just look at you.”

“You think my charms and good looks are hard to resist?” he beamed.

“That and the third leg in between your thighs.”

He laughed. “Well, believe it. You’re the only girl I’ve done. . anything with for years.”

Your heart beat rhythmically in your chest at the utterance of his confession. His words didn’t mean much at all but you couldn’t help the fluffers in your head and the way your stomach felt so giddy you thought you’d vomit.

It felt foreign but you welcomed it nevertheless. You liked that feeling.

“You wanna go swimming?” you asked.

“Skinny dipping?” he quirked a brow.

“You’re not worried about someone coming?”

“If someone’s come in for the past like fifteen minutes they saw me neck deep in your pussy,” he stood up taking off his shirt and leaving his shorts behind before running towards the aquamarine waves, “I don’t really think it matters anymore.”

“If?” you asked following behind him.

The day before yesterday was a dream.

A dream, no a wet dream. Composed of your fervent fantasies. And you? You lived in that cave and you probably would for the rest of your time here. Dwelling on his warm touch on your skin—goosebumps rose on every inch of your body causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand straight.

Your fingers followed the trails he’d mapped on your body, paved so intricately, they were so easy to follow and all roads led to the same exact place.

You were so wet, but you probably had been ever since that day. Was that normal? You didn’t care, you just wanted him to touch you again.

There was a knock on the door waking you right out of your daydreams. Grabbing your robe you wrapped it around your figure before heading towards the door.

“Hey,” you opened the door standing aside allowing him to come in.

“I’m sorry I’ve been MIA since yesterday,” he kissed your cheek—you guys weren’t nearly official but it kind of felt like you were. . or you hoped so anyway, “Uncle Gong has been on edge lately. There’s another seafood restaurant opening up on the pier. It's got him going crazy.”

“Crazy prep hours?”

He sighed before slouching down on the couch, “crazy prep hours,” he confirmed.

“You must be so tired,” you cooed, “do you want anything to eat? I can make you something.”

“I’m okay, besides food is not exactly what I’m craving.”

“Hm,” you straddled his lap. “Then, what is?”

“I should’ve kissed you after I ate you out yesterday,” his hands slid under your robe kneading your upper thighs, “you would’ve gotten a chance to see how addicting you taste.”

His phone began buzzing, it was Uncle Gong. Jin sighed before pressing the accept button and in a matter of seconds you heard the older man’s voice in a frantic banter.

You were one hundred percent sure it wasn’t Uncle Gong’s intention to cockblock but you just wanted Seokjin to stay and fuck you into the mattress.

You were still dripping just thinking about it. However, by the look on his face you were certain he had other news—ones which hindered your fantasies of early morning sex.

“I gotta go.”

“Do you have to?” you whined.

“I don’t want to,” he leaned over, leaving a kiss on your lips. It was brief and your body screamed for more but you didn’t vocalize it. Instead you sat in silence as he continued to carry out a mental battle attempting to find a victo. He had to go, you knew that much. You also knew he wanted to stay. You wanted him to as well but he couldn’t.

He stood from the couch but before he could make his way towards the front door Jin turned back around, kneeling right before you. His hand reached up cupping your face as he leaned closer until his silken lips landed back on yours. However, this wasn’t just another peck.

This kiss.

It swept you under the currents of the bestial sea and you sank deeper towards the ocean floor but you weren’t scared. In the void, under the darkness of the tide Jin was a beacon of light—guiding you towards an eternity where his lips kept moving on yours the way they were right now.

This fucking kiss.

Is your beginning but also your end.

It took your last breath but also made you feel alive.

You didn’t want it to end. . but it did, “meet me at the restaurant tomorrow tonight. Uncle Gong is letting me prepare something for you. Took a lot of convincing but I had him come around.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Seven o’clock.”

“Just twenty four hours.”

He smiled before closing the door behind him.

Back in the city dating was rather difficult.

Not only were you a workaholic, you also avoided any kind of social events and situations outside of the restaurant.

Here, things were a bit different. You came here for a chance at self reflection, to work on yourself and find the real you but instead your path became intertwined with Seokjin and while you didn’t mind you also couldn’t help but reprimand your heart whenever it skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Sort of like it was doing right now, Jin was in the kitchen of Kim’s Abroad and you sat at the small table set-up for a candlelit dinner for two.

The gears in the rules of the universe shifted Noone ever went through this kind of trouble—to plan something this nice after they’d already had their fun with you. Especially if things would have taken their course as easily as they did with him.

Well, except, maybe Seokjin.

Cute.

“Tonight’s special,” he set both of your plates on the table revealing a cut of grilled salmon garnished with lemon wedges, and accompanied by coconut rice and roasted potatoes, “I hope you like it. . but please do lie if you hate it. I’m sensitive.”

You laughed, mounting your spoon with the perfect bite of all the foods he’d prepared combined before taking it in your mouth, your taste buds danced in delight, “Seokjin, this is heavenly. It is truly amazing.”

“Is that the honest truth or are you just looking to spare my feelings?”

“I would never lie,” you swallowed before continuing, “This is all absolutely delicious.”

“Better than Uncle Gong’s crab cakes?”

“I thought that was your recipe?”

“It is,” he shrugged, “but he thinks he makes them better than me.”

“I don’t know, I think he wins this war,” you joked, “those crab cakes were killer.”

“Traiter,” he scoffed.

Dinner was exquisite but small talk was left to a minimum when you both realized Uncle Gong’s restaurant curfew was quickly approaching. After cleaning up and closing up you and Seokjin headed towards the roof, unwilling to give up the night and let it cease.

The street lights lit up the street corners and while there were people roaming around here and there—it was nothing compared to the congested afternoons.

But you liked this.

The feeling of you and Seokjin being the only people left behind in the world, the songs of the waves still playing in the background and the stars gleaming overhead.

“Has this always been your secret spot?” you asked, laying beside him on the navy blue duvet.

“Yes,” his eyes glowed under the light of the moon, again they looked lighter than you’d remembered, “I practically lived up here like three summers ago.”

“An escape?” you asked, not really needing to emphasize.

He nodded, “after mom passed the house choked me with her lingering presence, her scent, her love. I wanted her back. To spend just one more day with her and make sure she knew how much I loved her and how much I would miss her but that’s just not how life worked and she was no longer there.”

“I’m so sorry,” you snuggled closer into him, laying your head on your chest—his heartbeat thumped against your ear, “I can’t even imagine how hard that time must have been.”

“It was,” he laid his head on yours, “It was harder than hard if that even makes sense. I shut a lot of things out and no longer found comfort in the things I loved. .” he paused.

“Like riding?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, there was a slight tremble in his voice, “it’s just mom wasn’t there to cheer me on anymore. Looking out at the stands was depressing because her usual seat was empty. Sadness overshadowed everything on the track, she was all I could think of.”

You didn’t say anything, just allowed him to carry on without interruptions. He continued, “Uncle Gong tagged along whenever he didn’t have to manage the restaurant but it just wasn’t the same, you know?”

You hummed letting him know you still listened attentively.

“Wounds heal over time though and while this one tears a bit every time I think of her, I know she’s up there watching over me,” he said.

“She is, she’s always been watching over you and she always will be.”

“I know,” he simpered, leaving a soft peck on your forehead. “What about you? Are you missing your life back in the city yet?”

“Not a chance.”

“What is this vendetta you hold against the city?”

“The city is such a hypocrite. I never understood how so many souls could live in the same place and yet one person could still manage to feel so lonely,” you exhaled rather loudly, “life. . things were supposed to be different, you know?”

“Different isn’t always bad.”

“I suppose not.”

“It’s not,” a slight smile sat on his lips. A brief silence fell between you two and then he asked the question you’d avoided giving any thought to since setting foot in town, “do your parents know you’re here?”

“Not. . really?”

“That sounded like a question.”

“It kind of is.”

A slight smile was displayed on his lips, “Are you here hiding from them?”

“Kind of. .” you cackled, “it’s not really hiding if they don’t know I’m here to begin with right?”

“So they don’t know you left the city?”

“They know—I’m not in the city and taking a small break but they don’t know exactly where,” you say mushing all the words into one long word, not really wanting to decipher what you were saying, “they also don’t know I was fired. I think that’ll break their heart too much.”

“Are you planning to tell them anytime soon?”

“I was going to tell them. . once I make it back to the city and find a new job.”

“Oh..okay.”

His embrace grew tighter, he held you closer and you could feel his warmth wracking your nerves. It was like he didn’t want to let go.. not now. Not ever. And you didn’t want him to either, “but I’m not sure if that truly is the reality of what I want,” you sighed, “I was miserable in the city, the life I lived there was rigid. Besides, cooking is not what I intend to do for the rest of my life. I just. . I don’t know what to do.”

“All of the roads leading to our destiny are paved the way they are for a reason,” Jin offered, “they mold us and guide us to the exact spot where we are supposed to be.”

“You’re right.”

“Also call your parents. You deserve to pursue what you want but they should also know,” he said. “Plus, I bet they’re worried sick.”

“Again. . you’re right.” a low sough escaped your lips mimicking the swift draft blowing by in the late night.

”I know I am,” he said smugly, “what would you even do without me?”

“You’re a cocky motherfucker you know.”

“If by cocky motherfucker you mean multi-talented handsome Jin. Then, yes I do agree with that.”

“Not what I meant,” you mumbled.

“You know, you weren’t talking all this shit when we were in that cave a couple days ago.”

“Yeah, I think that’s because my mouth was kind of a little busy.”

“Right,” Jin drew in a deep breath, his fingers toyed with the straps of your dress, “you know I think we left something unfinished back in your apartment a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah, it’s too bad that you had to go,” you turned around now lying on your side facing away from him, “because I wanted—I needed you to stay so bad.”

“Needed, huh?” he asked, pressing closer against your back side. Lingers of sandalwood and citrus invaded your nostrils. An aromatic scent so rich and so addicting all you craved was to bury your nose to the base of his neck and grow faded off his fragrance.

You closed your eyes, ensnared in the trance of his soft pants as he began grinding his crotch against your ass at an agonizing pace.

His clothed dick marked you before you even had the chance to feel him inside you.

It was torture.

“Jin,” you moaned.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he replied in a derisive tone while clicking his tongue. His hands reached lower and lower until they landed on your inner thighs, “am I close to where you want me?”

You nodded frantically, “Higher.”

His fingers delineated the goosebumps forming on your skin as he dawdled his journey to your soaked cunt.

“Higher, Seokjin. Please,” your voice tainted with desire and desperation.

“Tell me, is this where you want me?” His digits traced your folds spreading your wetness en route. Your dress now hiked up to your waist as Jin began rubbing small circles on your clit. Then, slowly he repeated, “Is this where you wanted me?”

“Hm.”

“You were anticipating this weren’t you?” Jin whispered, causing downpours of chills to trickle down your back, “is that why you wore no underwear?”

His fingers continued working in-between your folds, “Uh, fuck yes!” You screamed out.

There were approximately billions of stars in the Milky Way galaxy, a lot of which you were looking up to at that very moment. And yet as you laid there under the incantation of Seokjin’s finger you witnessed the birth of many stars flickering into life.

Your chest heaved as you settled down from yet another astounding high.

“Doll,” Seokjin swiped his fingers coated with your juices onto your lips, as if he was applying lip gloss on you. You opened your mouth taking his digits in licking them clean. “Holy fuck, you will be the death of me.”

“Jin?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

He laid flat on his back patting his lap, “come on, baby girl.”

You straddled him, your wet pulsating cunt rubbing against his clothed erection. There was a painful hunger rooting in between your legs—craving nothing but to have him buried deep in you.

“Take it out,” he instructed. You unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free.

Slowly, you began sinking down on his cock. Your mouth agape at the overwhelming feeling of him filling you up while your hands landed on his chest for balance. Once accustomed to his size you began to move up and down on his length as he disappeared deeper and deeper inside of you.

Seokjin was full of pleasant surprises; his fingers, his mouth, his tongue so it was really no surprise his dick was equally as blessed.

“Seokjin,” you whimpered.

“Oh doll,” his hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin likely to leave marks behind—guiding you to move at a quicker pace. “Fuck!”

“God, you feel so good.”

The composition of your bodies moving against each other molded into the perfect whole. You were two, but while he fucked into you the way he was you felt as if he belonged inside your walls and you never ever wanted to feel empty again.

“Doll, I’m so close,” his rough and raspy voice was a bass tune in your ears, “so fucking close.”

“I want you to cum in me. Please, Jin,” you continued riding him, your skin slapping on his continuing your journey on his cock sliding up and down over and over until your walls began to clench around him.

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached your peak and you collapsed on top of him, out of breath and too tired to do anything that required moving in any way.

“Now tell me, is there any chance you’d stay even after the summer’s over.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” his skin was scolding even over the layer of his t-shirt, his chest and forehead glistening by a thin layer of sweat, “a lot actually.”

“And what was the conclusion?”

“I like it here,” you kissed his cheek, “I think I’ll be staying. . For now. Take some time to myself and explore things.”

“I like it when you’re here.”

“That reminds me,” you reached for your purse, “ I have a surprise for you.”

You pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to him. His eyes scanned the sketch, “Is this us?”

“It’s us. . in the cave,” you giggled, “I tried to capture every moment.”

“I especially like the one with my head between your legs,” a rosey shade painted his cheeks.

“Had to portray my favorite moment from that day.”

“We can always recreate it. To liven the memory, you know.”

“Right now?”

“Right now,” he disappeared lower in between your thighs, his head hiding under the fabric of your dress.

Kind days were definitely in forecast especially if you had Seokjin right there by your side.

an: holy fuck this was a blast to write. as always if the smut is intolerable pls look away (although, that may be hard cause there are multiple smut scenes so. . uh, yeah).

for the seokjinnies who miss seokjin very dearly .

#bts #bts smut #bts reactions #bts imagines #kim seokjin #bts jin #seokjin smut #seokjin imagine #jin smut #jin x reader #jin x y/n #jin x you #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin drabble #bts jin smut #ksj

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rottenpumpkin13 · 6 months

Note

You know what…let’s fucking go there!

Genesis gets everything he wants AU

Sephiroth, by some unseen twist of fate, has some kind of physical collapse due to overexposure to mako and ends up incapacitated on the field during a key battle in Wutai. He fails, becoming useless, and Genesis is the one to win the great victory. He gets all the glory for the first time ever.

When they get home, Sephiroth is gone. Restricted to R&D, physically unable to perform as he once did, and Genesis becomes the new hero of Shinra. His face is everywhere, people are saying he was the one that surpassed Sephiroth. PR is going wild with interviews and propaganda. The President awards Genesis in front of screaming crowds. All the young boys now want to be like the daring and fiery Phoenix of Wutai.

Genesis Rhapsodos becomes the new face of SOLDIER and the legendary victor of the Wutai War.

He got everything he dreamed of. He is the hero at last.

But did it satisfy him?

Glory had a distinct taste for everyone, and all the most discerning SOLDIERs knew it. Angeal would’ve said it tasted like metal, the type that pricks your tongue when your mouth is full of blood; the type you have to spit out before you swallow it and it settles in your stomach as an addiction.

Sephiroth could go on and on about how insipid it was, oftentimes repeating himself as he told his friends just how flavorless his conquests were. Sephiroth couldn’t tell if it was a case of overconsumption that led to the lackluster feeling in his mouth, or if he simply never liked the taste of it at all.

It didn’t matter to Genesis, who always took everything Sephiroth told him with a spoonful of salt. He had an idea of glory that would’ve prodded one's hunger and left you salivating just at the thought of it. In his mind, glory was sweet, delectable, and downright sinful.

His insatiable hunger for glory didn’t help his case. Genesis Rhapsodos was born hungry and lived life intent on satisfying his stomach at all costs, no matter who he had to step over to fill it.

Then, there came a day when glory finally forced itself down his throat.

And it tasted like the ashes of the dead.

The battlefield was enveloped in chaos, a symphony of clashing swords permeating the air. It buzzed with the hum of thundering spells. Genesis fought with unparalleled ferocity, his rapier burning brightly with the glow of the flames.

Up ahead, Sephiroth cut through the enemy ranks with his usual immaculate precision.

But Genesis was not blind, and he had known Sephiroth long enough to notice it—Sephiroth's movements, once fluid, grew sluggish as sweat clung to his brow.

Then, it happened.

Sephiroth staggered, Masamune slipping from his grasp. The weight of the blade seemed too much for his weakened form. His strength gave way. He collapsed to his knees, crumbling like a doll to the muddy ground.

Genesis never did understand the force that propelled him forward that day. He was like an animal, slicing through enemies with pure rage and fear biting his skin, aiming to protect Sephiroth from his attackers.

The following month, the streets of Midgar were wrought with the roaring cheers of a crowd, a sea of faces adorning banners and posters of a russet-haired hero. Genesis stood atop a grand podium with a gold medal around his neck, placed there by the president himself.

He was the face of SOLDIER now, the Phoenix of Wutai.

The exploding fireworks never penetrated the barrier between the vainglorious display outside and the desolation in Genesis' mind. It was quiet there. He only ever brought himself out when he needed to force a smile or answer a question.

Though bathed in brilliance and splendor, Genesis felt naked before the abyss that threatened to swallow him whole.

Sephiroth was confined to a bed somewhere in the R & D's medical wing. And Genesis would once again trade places with him in a heartbeat.

Director Lazard's voice droned on, detailing Genesis's packed schedule for the upcoming week. Interviews with various media outlets, appearances at high-profile events, and promotional activities—all designed to solidify Genesis's status as the new face of SOLDIER.

"...And then there's the gala on Thursday night. The President himself will be there, and it's crucial that you make a lasting impression," Lazard finished, expecting some form of acknowledgment from the younger man.

Genesis was indifferent, his attention fixated on the PHS in his hands. He absentmindedly drummed his fingers against the polished conference table, his mind anywhere but there.

Lazard cleared his throat and tried again.

"Genesis, this is a crucial time for your public image. You're the pride of Shinra now, and we need you to embrace that role fully," Lazard spoke.

“Yes.” Genesis glanced up, his gaze distant. “I understand.”

He kept his attention fixated on the subtle vibrations of his device. The screen illuminated with a message from Angeal.

Go. Now.

Without a word, Genesis rose abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. The papers Lazard had carefully arranged slid haphazardly across the table.

He rushed down the hallway, not caring about decorum for even a second, en route to the medical wing.

With a swipe of his key card, Genesis entered the suffocating environment, quickly finding the hallways where Sephiroth's room was located.

Angeal stood guard outside the door. “Be quick. They could come back any moment,” he told his friend, opening the door with a stolen key card.

The green light on the door panel blinked, indicating permission to enter. With each step into the brightly lit room, Genesis felt the pit in his stomach open wider.

He had expected the scent of antiseptic to reach him first, the metallic scent of blood, even. So his surprise was marked by the strong smell of mako permeating the air like a suffocating cloud.

Sephiroth lay on a medical bed, a shell of the man he once was. The soft beeping of monitors and machinery surrounded him.

Genesis' fist shook. He dug them into the side of his leg in hopes of stopping them entirely. But it was no use, the sound of his immediate, choked cries was enough to convince him to break down.

He wanted Sephiroth to open his eyes, to tease him for crying, to get up and tower over him as he once did, to laugh at his jokes, to talk to him, to be there because he was his friend.

Genesis stood beside Sephiroth's unconscious form. The memories of that day on the battlefield flashed vividly in his mind. He reached out, guiding his trembling fingers to Sephiroth's pale face.

Gently, he brushed a stray strand of silver hair from his friend’s eyes. He was cold to the touch, but Genesis still traced his finger down Sephiroth's arm, slowly taking his hand in his.

“I miss you,” he whispered. “Please come back soon.”

The constant whir of the medical equipment was abruptly disrupted by urgent beeping. Genesis's eyes widened as he turned towards the monitor, the once steady lines now spiking violently.

A knot tightened in his chest, a blend of anxiety and guilt settling in.

The door flew open, slamming against the wall. Genesis flinched and jumped back as Hojo's voice cut through the tense air.

“Get out! I told you not to come back here! Now look at what you've done!”

A flurry of medical staff rushed in behind him. The room was active with urgency as they flew into action.

Genesis stumbled out of the room, the words seemingly ripped out from his chest. He could only watch with his mouth hanging open as the constant beep of the heart monitor became accompanied by a shrill alarm echoing through the corridor.

The last he could remember was Angeal wrapping one arm around him, guiding him away from the scene.

Three months flew by, each week a slap to the face for those who found disquiet in the quick passage of time. Genesis’ name echoed through the halls of Shinra, adorned posters throughout the city, and was celebrated in news broadcasts. Yet, with every accolade, the emptiness within him turned into a pit of solitude.

Angeal was far too consumed by his protegé. Zack became the center of Angeal's attention, an energetic student-turned-loyal companion.

Genesis watched from the sidelines as the bond between mentor and protegé flourished. He no longer had the energy for jealousy and accusatory fingers.

Some said he had the heat of his glory to keep him warm. Genesis often compared it to the flames of hell slowly roasting him into a prized turkey ready to be carved and served at the grand feast of judgment day.

The labs became his daily battle. Genesis's persistent requests to see Sephiroth were met with firm rejection. Hojo had erected barriers that had become more and more impossible to breach.

Yet, he went back. Each day, driven by a stubborn hope that defied reason and logic. At least he could say he tried, that he had never given up on Sephiroth.

Curiously, that all shifted one evening when Angeal and Genesis were informed of a peculiar happening within the Shinra building.

“He's DEAD?” One SOLDIER spat, rising higher in his seat.

All eyes were on Lazard at the front of the room. He looked exasperated, the glow of his tablet reflecting off the glasses which were quickly slipping down his nose.

“How?” Echoed another voice—Zack.

Genesis sat adjacent to Lazard, across from Angeal where the two proceeded to share the same, dumbfounded expression.

Lazard cleared his throat—for the sixth time, Genesis noticed—before continuing. “He was found unresponsive this morning in the hallway outside his office. His skull appeared to have been cracked, and all signs right now are pointing to an accident.”

“Some accident,” Angeal mumbled, his eyes wide.

“Tell me about it,” a Second-Class SOLDIER sneered. “Ah, anyway. It's not like the bastard will be missed.”

Lazard shot him a warning look. “Please show some compassion.”

Genesis scoffed, crossing his arms. “Compassion for Professor Hojo. It'd be more reasonable to ask us to pull our teeth out one by one to pay the ferryman.”

Lazard ignored him. “Dr. Hollander will be taking over the R&D department temporarily—”

“Goddess save our souls,” Genesis cut in.

Lazard ignored both Genesis and the subsequent laughter from the others.

“And he has asked me to assure you all that Sephiroth will be in good hands—”

“Hollander is of the amputate-your-arm-if-you-break-it variety,” Genesis said smoothly, sliding out of his seat. “So if Sephiroth’s cure lies in the hands of medieval medicine, I'm sure he'll be up and about it in no time.”

With that, he stepped out of the room, taking all the spite and sarcasm in the room with him.

Hojo was dead, a glorifying piece of information Genesis wished he could share with Sephiroth, if only the man was awake.

He signed, turning down the hallway that led to his office. Somehow, he had a feeling that Sephiroth already knew—somehow.

A few weeks went by. The early morning sunlight filtered through the office windows as Genesis headed to the conference room. He yawned, swirling the half-filled coffee cup in his hand as he swiped his key card to open the door.

He expected another monotonous day. However, what met his eyes left him frozen in disbelief.

There, sitting at the conference table, was Sephiroth.

The coffee cup slid through his fingers, splattering all over the floor.

The shock radiated through Genesis, rendering him momentarily speechless.

Sephiroth was paler than before, his skin almost translucent. He had thinned out a bit, and the dark circles under his eyes were telling of the poor sleep the man had suffered from.

But despite the physical toll, Sephiroth's eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity. His predatory grin sent a shiver down Genesis' spine. It was a smile that spoke of something beyond the realm of mortal comprehension.

That was the thing that overrode Genesis' joy and killed his relief upon impact.

Because Genesis knew Sephiroth.

And this was not him.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #crisis core #sephiroth #zack fair #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #writing

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still-with-koo · 9 months

Text

The Campaign | JJK

Series: Chapter One

summary: fortune has never been on the side of people like you. but when The City threatens your family, you set out to participate in The Campaign, a notoriously treacherous tournament with almost zero chance of survival.

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 4,898

genre/warnings/rating: 17+; dystopian au; supernatural au; angst; some fluff; enemies to still enemies, maybe frenemies; enemies to lovers; swearing; descriptions/ mentions of violence; reader is in life or death situation; mentions of physical deformities; references to physical and emotional abuse; imbalances in power; some (poor) attempts at humour; the characters in this story are my own and do not reflect on the members of bts or anyone else. this is all made up and just for fun, please don’t take it too seriously!

a/n: it’s here! it’s here! a little late for our bestie’s birthday, but better late than never, right? :)

taglist: @jeonqkooks @chaotichuman0090 @smwhrinthehaze

masterlist | ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3

The bell tower tolls midnight in the distance. Not that any of the townsfolk hear it, the sound faint in the wake of the ravages of poverty and famine.

Hunger makes the senses grow dull.

You blink your eyes open. The night is dark as coal and you can hardly make out where you end and the rest of the room begins.

Shifting in your place on the cool wooden floor, you tilt towards the soft snores coming from the cot beside you. Your mother is still asleep.

You let your hands wander across your quilt, feeling the stitching one last time, memories of your mother’s laughter as she sat by the windowsill threading together the patterned squares. Echoes of a simpler time.

You notice your palms are sweaty despite the coolness of the night and quickly wipe them off on your ragged clothes, pushing off the ground with the utmost stealth. You can’t risk waking anyone.

Your mother looks so calm under the flicker of moonlight seeping through the threadbare curtains. The lines of her face fade and you see the beauty she has always been and forever will be. You hope she can forgive you.

You glance a few steps behind her and see your younger brother, still as night itself, and you wonder if he is truly asleep. You don’t have time to check. He will keep this secret as he has kept all others. You whisper goodbye and hope his heart hears you.

Pressing a gentle kiss into your mother’s disheveled hair, you slip a note into her outstretched hand. She should know why the floor is empty when she awakens. You just hope she reads it before she wanders into the forest looking for you.

You’ll be long gone by then.

The forest looms ahead of you like a crouching dragon, dark and eery in the dead of night.

A chill snakes its way up your spine as you stare down at the vastness. The endless trees hiding terrors you have faced before, the pangs of hunger pushing you to find solace in its desolate depths. What lies beyond the outlines of the forest is beyond your imagination, however, having never set foot outside the grounds of Sector 17.

And if the folktales passed from one campfire to the next are true at all, those terrors are nothing compared to the terrors you will face at The Campaign.

You pull your cape tighter around your shoulders as you remember your mother’s muffled screams that night, her face buried into the topsoil after The City’s men discovered shortages in your harvest yield.

Let her go, you remember yelling with such intensity fire erupted in your lungs. Let her go, let her go, a chant you screamed until it was only noise. It was a frenzy in your mind. Nothing could stop you from tearing them apart, you thought. But you could only claw at their stone face armour before they pinned you down, too.

They threatened to take your younger brother to The Harvest as payment but your mother was crafty, hiding him away in a cellar you helped dig out two years ago.

But it is only a matter of time. They will be back for him soon.

You swore that night, and every night since then, that you will find a way out of this nightmare, even if it takes your last breath.

And The Campaign will do just that.

Like others in town, you have only heard rumours of what happens at The Campaign.

They say beautiful winged creatures roam the grounds and pick off combatants to devour whole. Giants hold you by your throat while the ground turns to lava beneath your feet. And one look into the eyes of a monster turns you to stone.

But these are obviously children’s tales, made up to deter others from joining The Campaign, a battle that promises the greatest riches to the survivor.

But you are not deterred. You need to be that survivor.

To pull your family out of poverty.

To protect your brother from The Harvest.

And to make sure you never have to bow down to The City ever again.

The air feels warmer within the confines of the forest.

A wistfulness falls over you as you look around. Even in the darkness you sense familiarity. These trees were good to you. Hiding you from the creatures. Teaching you how to defend yourself. And forcing you to grow up.

You spot a wild deer peeking from behind a tree. A low, dull whisper draws the deer closer.

Animals have always sensed your gentleness. If only they could sense your violence too.

The deer approaches you hesitantly.

You reach into your pocket, hand grazing the pocket knife gifted from your late grandfather. The sharpest blade, he said, is the most merciful.

When the deer nuzzles your side, you pull your hand from your pocket, revealing browse, consisting of a few stems and leaves you had picked from the ground.

A sound of a branch breaking sends the deer off and you replace the browse with the knife, glancing around the vicinity for any natural predators.

Or worse.

You are in the centre of a clearing and mentally kick yourself for being so exposed. Slinking to the side you survey the area. If anyone is around, they hide well.

Moments pass and when nothing happens you covertly snake your way through the forest. If you can leave the forest line, your journey to The Campaign grounds will begin.

You finally see the edge of the tree line. The very beginnings of light filter through the trees under the glow of twilight.

The last few hours passed quite quickly in complete silence. But you couldn’t help feeling an unmistakeable, lurking presence. Shaking off the feeling you pass through the tree line and look out into the lands beyond the forest.

Stretches of mountains line the horizon. This will be a longer journey than you thought.

You pass a quiet town on your way to The Campaign, taking extra care to avoid any and all eye contact. Only a few homes dot the mountain line and you were able to sneak by them mostly undetected.

You had pilfered a copy of the sectors map a few weeks ago and judging from its coordinates you only need to pass a couple more towns to get to The Campaign. The towns are arranged in a star shaped pattern and The Campaign falls at the northern vertex.

The folktales say The Campaign grounds start at the edge of the castle where the mountains kiss the Emerald Sea, a sea of demons littered with the souls of those stupid enough to traverse it. The map seems to confirm it.

You heard the stories. The sea with sparkling waters so clear you could see into its beautiful depths. But with one touch of the water your skin mottled on the spot, the poison finding its way into your veins and luring you in. Before long, you’re diving into the sea of your own volition, letting the creatures who live within swallow you whole.

Another shiver runs down your spine, but you shake it off. You need to stay alert. One step at a time.

You reach into your satchel for your flask and let your knees fall to the dirt, dipping the metallic container into the murky still waters at your feet, headwater ripe and free from the bright orange strings that plague the river near your house. These waters are safe, you reassure yourself.

Reaching into your satchel again, you dig around for some nourishment and groan when you feel the empty edges. Judging by the increasing drops of greenery along the mountain line, you are certain the sea is not too far now. But you need something to keep your energy up.

Slinking down into the limits of what you believe to be Sector 14, you notice patches of field far more arable than yours. A man stands in the distance, blue fabric hanging off his torso.

“Dania! Give me a—“

The man is interrupted by the cries of a woman. He runs towards the sound and you approach closer, ducking behind a barrel.

“Where are you taking him,” the man’s shouts come through and in the distance you see two heavily armed men in black combat gear dragging a boy barely older than your brother away in handcuffs. “Please! We are working overtime. You will get your grain!”

The City men pay no heed until the man throws himself on them. With a swift connection with the back of their gun, the man falls back.

Your mouth falls open. Your legs start to move towards the men without thinking and you make it a few metres before something tugs at your sleeve. Dazed, you look down to see a little girl, barely five or six.

Her eyes are round and frightened, and then a look much older than her age crosses her face. “They will hurt you,” she whispers.

You’re too bewildered to answer, your eyes darting from her face to the scene in the distance, your heart breaking when you see The City men shove the boy into a large black truck.

You want to run after them but the tug at your sleeve holds you back.

Then shouts come from a different direction.

“Briseis! Briseis!”

The girl gestures at a nearby house and you slowly back away to hide behind the barrel as she walks towards the sound of the voice.

An older woman leaves the nearby house and spots the little girl, running to her. The woman’s hands immediately cup the girl’s face and then pull her in for a hug. “You’re ok? You’re ok.” She holds her close to her chest but the little girl pulls away to look at you.

Slowly bringing your forefinger to your mouth, you pray she does not alert the woman to your presence.

Funny enough, you have made it this far mostly undetected. Now, your safety rests in the hands of a girl barely old enough to speak.

But you trust her. Why else would she stop you from running after The City’s men?

It takes you a moment to realize how reckless it would have been to intervene. Surreptitious travel is necessary. No one beyond Sector 10 has ever left their town limits without The City’s express orders. Those beyond Sector 10 are meant for The Harvest. And certainly not expected to join The Campaign.

How The City will allow you to join The Campaign is a matter for future you. Present you just needs to focus on getting there.

The girl’s eyes are still on you but the woman is oblivious, patting her head and speaking to her. The girl nods at her and lets the woman kiss her once more before turning to leave.

The girl is now walking towards you.

You freeze, staring as she approaches, her head twisting behind her momentarily to watch the woman enter the house.

She is more hesitant as she comes closer.

“Your name?”

Bending down, you smile at the child, hands falling to your knees as you nervously glance at the house again.

“My name is… Y/N,” you say, deciding that the truth is better than a lie. “Thank you for saving me.”

She smiles at this. She reaches into her pocket and takes something out of it.

Stunned, you grasp the piece of bread she holds out to you.

“Here,” she says, a seriousness settling into her dark eyes once again. “They said you will be hungry.”

Before you can say anything else, she interjects. “Go now.”

You watch her walk away, turning towards you for a split second to gesture you to leave. You swallow, sliding the bread into your satchel and running back up the side of the mountain.

You don’t have time to think about what the girl said or who they is. Time is running out; you need to make it to The Campaign grounds before the midday bell rings.

You’re very close to The Campaign judging from the map. Just one town left.

There are two options. You can either climb higher through the mountain or you can take a shortcut through Sector 10. You gaze into the sky and notice the sun inching nearer to the midway point.

Sector 10 it is.

You run down the side of the mountain and immediately see the very outlines of the town.

This town feels strange.

The path from the mountain twists into a road leading through trees, revealing large windowed buildings on the other side with signs aglow with the buzz of hope and electricity. Bright stone walkways open before them and people dressed in neon fabric traverse the streets with practised ease.

The colours are dizzying. The promises they hold, moreso. Places like this exist?

You hear honking and bells ringing. Small rickshaws weave through the bodies and you stare in amazement, having only heard about such motorized vehicles in folktales.

The stink of sweat mixed with a sickly sweetness wafts to your nose and you nearly gag. You pull up your cape around your shoulders and continue forward.

A cart nearly hits a man and a commotion breaks out. You approach the scene, hoping you can cut through the confusion unnoticed. A couple of uniformed men approach the scene at the same moment and you steal behind a large sign to avoid detection.

“What happened here?”

As the two involved argue over the occurrence, you take the opportunity to dash past.

“You there!”

The sound comes loud and clear and you know the uniformed men have spotted you. You slide under another boardwalk sign and bolt into an alleyway.

Sprinting through the dark, urine-stained concrete enclosure you trip over an empty bottle, a sharp sting in your shin nearly toppling you over. But it’s the dead end that stops you.

You scan the area. A ten foot high fence ahead. A dumpster to the left. And bricks to the right.

“Halt, Unauthorized,” they shout in the distance. You can see them pulling out their weapons. You don’t have much time.

You back up a few steps then sprint forward, hitting the edge of the dumpster with all your force. It springs you to the top edge of the barbed fence. Your hands ache under the sharp edges but with one leap you’re on top of the roof.

You glance down and notice the two armed men look from the dumpster to the fence and then to you. There is no way you should have been able to make that jump.

They point their weapons at you but you’re already running, sliding over a roof gable and rushing towards the far edge. They’ll be calling in reinforcements. You need to beat them.

From what you’ve memorized of the map, you can cut across the town area and reach the town’s edge in only a few minutes. You should be safe then - well, as safe as you can be now that The City is alerted to an Unauthorized venturing through town.

As the sun bears down angrily, you can’t help wonder if your mother has read your note by now.

“Can we eat yet, Mother?”

Your mother stirs as your brother’s voice grows louder. Eyes still closed, her fingers wraps around a paper in her grasp.

“I will see, son. Give me one—“

She gazes at the note at her fingertips, her chest seizing as she realizes what you intend to do.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

But it’s too late now. You’re almost at The Campaign.

Dear Mother,

When you awake, I will be gone. Please do not try to find me. I will come back to you both very soon. I promise. And I will bring with me riches greater than any we ever imagined.

Please stay safe. And please forgive me if I fail.

With all the love in my heart,

Y/N

“Get the Unauthorized! There!”

You can hear shouts over your shoulder as you dart from one rooftop to another.

Your foot slips and you slide roughly down a set of connected shingles, landing with a thud in a patch of greasy water, the vile liquid stinging your eyes.

Jumping up, you bound through another alleyway, shoulder brushing against the rocky wall. Your boots slap across the dirty puddled road, your pace almost as quick as your hammering heartbeat.

You feel for the map, considering whether you could stop for a few seconds to gather your bearings, but you decide to continue running, catching a left at the end of the road.

You come out into the town’s outer limits and come to an abrupt halt.

In the distance you see dots moving in one direction and you no longer need the map.

Looking to the far left, you see the mountains rise majestically to touch the orange sun now nearing its zenith and you become acutely aware of the impending mid-day bell. The stroke of the end.

“Catch the Unauthorized!”

Glimpses of the armed men appear over your shoulder and you break into a run. Unfortunately, with your muddy rags and bruised legs, you are not quite as fast as you should be.

Joints stiff and skin dripping wet, you narrowly avoid colliding into a group of men. The shouts of the armed men behind you grow louder as you skid to a stop before a glimmering blue sea.

The Emerald Sea.

A being hovers above the sea dressed all in black. The steely cold eyes catch you staring and a feeling of dread reverberates through your body.

“There! There!”

As if snapped out of a trance, you twist your head and catch sight of the entry gates.

But these aren’t ordinary gates.

Metal rises out of the ground in a series of spikes like the bars of a jail cell. Beside the gates stands the ruins of a towering castle, glimmers of a beauty that once held all the riches of the world.

But what catches your attention is not the castle nor the gate itself. It’s the line of heavily armed men dressed all in black, their guns at the ready.

You swallow.

Glancing back you choose the rock over the hard place, and this decision propels you forward, your legs pumping as fast as you can go.

But you aren’t fast enough.

A set of rough hands clasp around your shoulders.

Onlookers stop and crowd around as you struggle against their grasp.

“Stop! I’m here for The Campaign!”

Your words are drowned out in the rumble of the crowd as more onlookers gather around.

A voice booms behind the crowd and it falls silent.

“Who dares disrupt the peace?”

You continue to struggle in the men’s grasp as the crowd parts down the middle.

A very large man emerges between them. His beard is long and white, his face full and round. He has a cloak of gold and boots of silver.

The armed men start to speak, one letting go to provide the man a warrant for your arrest. “Mayor Danaus, we will take away this Unauthorized and leave your tournament to begin without delay. Here is the warrant.”

Mayor Danaus.

The leader of the City. The one who is responsible for your family’s woes, the one who seeks to bring children of poor families to The Harvest where they will waste away for the benefit of the City.

Cold seeps deeper into your bones and you stop struggling, instead letting your knees sag as you contemplate what they will now do to you.

“Enough,” Danaus says, raising one hand in the air. The City men stop speaking. “Rise to your feet, Unauthorized. Why are you here?”

As the hands around your arms loosen, you drop to the ground with a thud. Eyes blinking open, you place one unsteady hand on the wet soil before rising to your feet.

Your voice squeaks out a lot quieter than you’d hoped as you struggle to push words out through your parched throat. “I.. I am here to join the Campaign.”

When you look up at the large man, a gleam catches your eyes. There is someone behind him that sparkles brighter than all the chaos around you.

You blink again, wondering if you are simply imagining things, a mere hallucination like that hovering lady must have been.

“Funny child, do you wish to die?”

“I am not a child.” Those words bounce out a lot more easily.

His laugh bellows out unexpectedly and with it, more laughter joins in chorus. It’s raucous.

You wish to put your hands over your ears, but instead you focus on the wet cloth sticking to your skin. It’s much too loud in your head anyways.

“Alright, not a child, I will consider letting you join if you answer one question,” Danaus says, and you look up at him, watching his chubby cheeks peek out from beneath his beard. “What will you do with the prize money if you survive?”

Laughter breaks out once again, as if such an outcome is so unlikely to obviously be some kind of cruel joke. A mere mortal like you could never even hope to survive.

He, however, eyes you very closely.

Inhaling deeply, you look Danaus in the coal of his irises, defiance budding in your chest.

“I will make sure you and your men can never harm my family again.”

It’s suddenly quiet.

Too quiet.

And then the murmurs start.

Like buzzing bees you can hear words upon words exchanging between mouths as they circle you both.

Insubordination. The City can never let a mere Unauthorized speak to the Mayor with such blatant disregard for his position.

You half expect a slap across your face.

You most definitely did not expect his smile.

“Regardless of your years, you are indeed still a child. Only a child would speak with such insolence.” He claps his hands and the guards grab you again.

You start to struggle but then he speaks. “Take the Unauthorized to the entry gate. Such misplaced bravery needs an outlet,” he says, rubbing his beard, “and I like a show.”

He breaks off a gold bracelet from his belt and grabs your hand, which you attempt to draw back. He is stronger.

You watch as he slips on the bracelet carefully, his eyes never leaving your face. “Don’t forget why you came here.”

The guard’s eyebrow flicks up momentarily but when Danaus turns on his heel to head to the gate, the guard follows, dragging you to the grounds wordlessly.

It’s only when you’ve crossed the threshold that you realize the vastness of the Campaign grounds.

And the emptiness.

As if transformed by the gates, the land is suddenly barren, dotted only by a few straggly weeping willows that seemingly erupt from the ground. At the horizon, a forest looms wide and large, partially hidden by an expanse of fog.

The Emerald Sea mercifully only extends along one border with the ruin of a castle sagging at its edge. The rest of the land seems to be caged in by some type of metal.

Are they keeping you in — or something else?

Your mind quickly turns from the grounds themselves to the bodies traversing them.

They look… strong. And healthy.

Of course that’s not unexpected but standing among them, you realize now just how much famine can put you at a disadvantage. And how different a life these competitors must have lived compared to you.

Why do they even compete?

You watch them stride with the confidence you’ve never even dreamed of, clothed in shiny fabric and even shinier smiles.

They do not need the prize money.

“Uh—”

You feel the wind knocked out of you as you fall to the ground, glancing up to catch a cruel sneer.

“Watch where you’re going, filthy creature.”

It’s suddenly dark as a grotesquely large body eclipses the entire mid-day sun. You’re pretty sure giants no longer exist but this man must be a direct descendant.

His sneer breaks into a laugh as he walks away, muttering something under his breath you can’t even repeat to yourself.

You sit up, dusting off your clothes when a brilliant light in the distance catches your eye. That light transforms into a being as he emerges through a parting in the crowd, with skin the colour of honey, all aglow under a tunic that barely covers his torso. A being so beautiful he must have been sculpted with a practised hand. You look away, scared if you stared long enough you might catch fire.

As you stand, others seem to take notice of this sun incarnate and a buzzing ensues, suddenly consuming the grounds. Words float all around you as the man (for what other word could you use to describe him?) approaches.

“… that’s him…”

“Jungkook…”

“…bestowed with super strength by the heavens…”

You take a step back as he cuts the distance between you in half with only a few strides.

“…wait, isn’t he…?”

“That’s the Mayor’s son…?”

“…he is…”

He is Danaus’ son?

You turn away in disgust, arms crossing over your chest as you consider whether the universe really had to unleash the worst of bad luck for you.

The son of Danaus.

The one who has the strength of the world at his fingertips.

The assumed favourite to win any fight.

And he is surely to win this one too. The City will make sure of it.

The mirage you had built in your mind dissipates with this revelation as you expel both hope and breath.

You have no chance of survival.

Perhaps you could better serve your family another way. Surely, you are better alive…

You start walking towards the gates, turning his name over and over in your mind with despair.

Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook.

Danaus’ son.

You wish terrible things strike him down. For why should a man with so much already at his disposal have this opportunity too.

Greed. Men like him live on greed.

You are merely steps from the gate when you hear a boom. Followed by the staccato vibrations of the carillon.

The mid-day bell.

Loud gears screech and you watch as the large metal gates start to close. Bodies emerge in between and suddenly you hear screaming —is it your own?— as you shove them out of the way, a sea of large barriers of flesh to wade through.

A loud speaker crackles, but you don’t turn. Otherwise you would have seen a slender man adjust himself at the helm, his blood red hair glistening as he smiles at your desperation.

You finally make it past the entrants and launch yourself at the small, quickly disappearing partition left between the metal prongs.

“Welcome participants.” A clear and bright voice emits with a sickly sweetness as your face hits the metal gate. “You were free to come. But that is where your freedom ends. If you’re still breathing, that is. Welcome to the Campaign.”

what did you think? any thoughts would make me infinitely happy. and if you want to be tagged, just let me know :)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #dystopian au #supernatural au #bts au #52hertz #the campaign #lilo fics

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peakyswritings · 2 months

Text

The Danger We Come From

CHAPTER I

A Peaky Blinders x Hunger Games crossover

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nina Ferrante

Summary: during the 72nd edition of the Hunger Games, one year after her victory, Nina becomes a mentor. But the events of the previous edition are still imprinted in her mind.

Warnings: mentions of violence and murder, no proofreading, I’m writing this for fun.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of this crossover! If you haven’t read it yet, I recommend you to catch up with Nina’s backstory before reading this. More information is given in the masterlist I’ve linked below. Also, there’s a brief reference to @justrainandcoffee ’ OC, Rose.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul (set in canon times).

AU MASTERLIST

71st edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

After tying the end of her braid with a white ribbon, Nina took one last look in the mirror to make sure her appearance was neat enough. The clothes she had chosen for the occasion were a bit too lose for her scrawny frame, but she had found a safety pin to hold the grey skirt up, and the white shirt was clean and undamaged. It wasn’t that bad, overall.

Fear felt like a vice grip on her stomach as she tried to muster up the courage to head to the kitchen, convincing herself that the sooner she got to the Justice Building, the sooner it would end. But the thing was - it wouldn’t end. Nina could feel it in her bones, she was sure of it as she was sure of her own name. She had asked for too many tesserae for the odds to be in her favour one last time.

When she entered the room, her father was sitting at the table, staring at an indefinite point ahead of him. Her mother and brothers were probably already waiting outside, like every year. Just like her, they seemed eager to get it over with, like one would with the extraction of an aching tooth.

“I’m ready,” she murmured, catching her dad’s attention. Ready. It sounded almost funny, in that situation.

He got up from the chair, giving her the sad, forced smile of a man who knew his daughter was up for a slaughter, but tried to keep it together for everybody’s sake. “It’s the last year,” he murmured, reaching his hand out to tenderly caress her cheek. “You can be lucky once again.”

Those words struck a chord in Nina, awakening the sleeping rage she fought so hard to keep at bay. She could’ve been lucky, if she hadn’t been forced to take the burden of not only one, but two families on her shoulders, without anyone doing a damn thing about it.

“It’s time to go,” she simply said, taking a step back.

Her father’s hand fell by his side, and a flicker of pain shone in his eyes for a second. He opened his mouth to say something, but words failed him right away, causing him to give up before even starting to speak. Not surprised by that silence, Nina nodded to herself and turned around to walk to the door, but she was soon stopped by her dad’s voice.

“Nina,” he called her, making her turn around. His gaze hesitantly found hers, and it took him a moment to begin again. “How many times is your name in the reaping bowl?”

She faltered at his question, and she wondered if it’d be of any use to tell him the truth now. It didn’t take her long for concluding that it wouldn’t. What was done was done, and it wasn’t like he didn’t already knew the truth. He just pretended to be oblivious to it, just like everybody else.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, walking out the door.

The banners of the Capitol solemnly hanged off the walls of the Justice Building, their bright red sharply contrasting with the grey stones. The expensive fabric seemed almost ridiculous in that picture of poverty and desolation. Those banners didn’t belong there.

Nina didn’t bat an eye as the peacekeeper prickled her finger to confirm her identity. After six years, she had kind of gotten used to it. The same couldn’t be said for Agnese, her cousin, who still flinched when the needle pierced her skin. When Agnese’s sisters got identified as well, the small group separated, with Nina and Agnese taking their places in the front rows, and the other two with the younger girls. On the stage in front of them stood the two reaping bowls, filled to the top with names. Behind them, the escort sent by the Capitol - what was her name again? -, the mayor and district 9’s only victor, Alfie Solomons. When the mayor stepped forward, the soft buzz of voices died down, and the square fell silent. Agnese grabbed Nina’s hand and held it tightly, giving her an encouraging look. She really thought that both of them would make it.

As the mayor recited the history of Panem, Nina’s mind started wandering, searching for something else to focus on. She had heard it so many times that she would be able to recite it by heart, if asked to. She needed to get out of there, if just for a moment, even if just with her head, but the only thing she could think about was what would happen if the escort called her name. The escort. The woman’s intricate hairstyle caught her eye, offering her brain some sort of escape. Lime green was an interesting choice of colour. It had to be a wig. There was no way that one person could have that much hair. How did it even manage to stay up like that?

Her mind chased thought after thought, capturing the most trivial details and transforming them into the object of deep reflection, until the escort’s high-pitched voice snapped her out of that sort of trance. She hadn’t even noticed that she had stepped forward, taking the mayor’s place.

“Now it’s time for us to find out who will have the honour to represent district 9 in the 71st edition of the Hunger Games,” she smiled, making her way toward one of the bowls. “As usual, ladies first…”

She’d call her name. She knew it.

Nina held her breath as the escort grabbed one of the white cards, her struggling with opening it with her long nails only prolonging the painful wait.

There was her name on that card. She could feel it. She would be reaped. She would die.

If the square had been silent before, now one could almost hear the fluttering of a fly’s wings. Time seemed to stand still while the woman finally opened the card, taking her time before announcing the female tribute.

“Nina Ferrante.”

Nina’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she hoped it had only been a trick of her imagination. But it wasn’t. The way her cousin turned to look at her, like the other people who knew her, told her that all of that was very much real. Her ears rang as she made her way toward the stage, a strange feeling of numbness pervading her completely. A few peacekeepers boarded her to make sure she wouldn’t run away. But running away was the last thing on her mind while she mechanically walked in the empty corridor that lead to the stage, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what was happening. However, that sort of disconnection didn’t prevent her from yanking her arm free from one of the peacekeepers’ grip when she felt his hand wrap around it, glaring at him. If she had to walk to her death, she’d walk on her own.

“Come, dear,” the escort gently put a hand behind her shoulder once she stepped on the stage, guiding her to the center.

Nina slowly started to register what was happening around her, to her, when she met Alfie Solomons’s unreadable gaze, and when the crowd’s pitiful look started to pierce through her. It angered her, the way they were looking at her. As if she had absolutely no chance.

“And for the boy…” the woman reached the other bowl, catching her attention once again. She opened the card, this time more easily. “Oliver Cropper.”

Oliver Cropper. She knew that boy. They were in the same class, before he dropped out of school to help his family. They even say next to each other, from time to time. As far as she could remember, he was a nice kid, a bit lonely and broody, but kind. The tall, lanky boy stepped on the stage, in his dark eyes the same look she had until a couple of minutes ago.

“Our tributes from district 9,” the escort proclaimed, a big smile plastered on her face. “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

72nd edition of the Hunger Games - Reaping Day

Exactly one year had passed since Nina’s reaping. Against all expectations, she was still there, alive. Even her family couldn’t believe it when she was proclaimed victor.

In her house in the Victor’s Village, the life she had left behind felt as distant as ever. She didn’t have to ask for tesserae to support her family, she didn’t have to put up with Salvatore’s addiction, or Pietro’s anger, or her mother’s apathy, or her father’s silence. They had all chosen to keep on living in the family home, chained to the memory of a time when they were still whole. Nina, on the other hand, had closed the door on it. Or so she told herself.

She was a mentor, now. After the reaping, she would head to Capitol City once again, but with an entirely different role. Although she hated the idea of going back to that place, she felt somehow obliged to. There was only one victor besides her in district 9, after all, and those kids needed all the advice they could get. It didn’t feel right to go on with her life without caring about what happened to them.

72 years. That shit had been going on for 72 years, and no one had ever done anything to stop it. People watched their children be sent to the slaughter without batting an eye, simply accepting the way things were. What was it that made them so afraid to act? The worst was already happening, right in front of their eyes.

There had to be a way to stop it. It was a nagging thought, one that had been tormenting her for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that things had to stay like that forever. There had to be a way to change them.

The square in front of the Justice Building was just starting to fill up when Nina arrived. Hundreds of kids, waiting for two of them to be possibly sent to their deaths, hoping the selected cards wouldn’t bear their name. It felt strange, not to be part of it anymore. Her two younger cousins were, though, and she couldn’t ignore that the possibility of one of them being reaped was not so distant as she thought. It was a terrifying prospect, one she never allowed herself to dwell on, for the consequences would be devastating.

“Hello, kid,” a familiar voice pulled her from her brooding. She was so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed that Alfie had joined her on the stage.

“Alfie.”

They stood there in silence for a while, in an unspoken agreement that there wasn’t much to say, in that situation. However, Nina didn’t fail to notice the scowl on his face, and couldn’t be silent about it. “I see you’re in a good mood, as usual.”

“No reason to be in a good mood.”

“Right,” she nodded. After a moment of pause, feeling the need to lighten the mood in some way, Nina started speaking again. “Well…” she raised her eyebrows, pondering her next words. “You do have one,” she teased him, holding back a mischievous grin. The glare he sent her way told her he knew all to well what she was referring to. Who she was referring to. And he was probably fed up with her teasing already.

“Just kidding,” she raised her hands in defeat.

Their brief exchange was stopped by the mayor, who stepped forward to officially start the reaping. The whole process went by faster than Nina remembered, and she figured time is perceived in a very different way when you’re not the one risking your life. Much to her relief, none of her cousins were reaped. The names of the 72nd Hunger Games’ tributes were Nora and Lucas.

The boy, Lucas, was thirteen, and Nora was eighteen. Her reaping had been bad luck, just like Nina’s. She looked so young that it felt impossible that they were almost the same age, and Nina wondered, did she look that young too the day of her reaping?

From the reaping on, everything happened in a haze, and before Nina could realise it, they were all sitting in the luxurious train taking them to Capitol City. Elle, the escort, took it upon herself to enumerate all the wonderful things they would see at the Capitol, all the comforts they would be provided with during their stay, the food they would get to eat, but the kids were too busy trying not to panic to even hear a word she was saying.

“Elle,” Nina interrupted her with a scolding tone. “I think it’s enough.”

Silence fell in the wagon, and for a few minutes no one said a thing, gathering their thoughts before starting to talk about more serious matter. Nina felt a pair of eyes on her, and it didn’t take her long to notice that Nora was looking at the ugly scar that crossed the left side of her face, from the tip of her eyebrow to the centre of her cheek. Although the girl was trying to be subtle with it, she wasn’t really discreet. Nina wasn’t offended, though, nor did she feel uneasy. She was aware it was almost impossible not to let the eye fall on it, especially for a young girl.

“Alright,” Nina suddenly spoke, deciding they had wasted enough time already. “First rule, use your brains. They’re the biggest weapon you can have in the Arena.”

“My biggest weapon is my strength.” Lucas interrupted her, causing her to turn to look at him. She knew he hadn’t done it out of defiance, but out of eagerness to talk about the things he considered most important.

“I’m strong,” he added. “I work the fields with my dad.”

“You work the fields,” Nina repeated, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“The kids from the Career districts are trained in Academies. Chances are, if one of them crosses your path - you’re dead, no matter how strong you are.”

Alfie cleared his throat, probably signalling her that she was being a bit too harsh, but she ignored him.

“It’s a good thing to be strong,” she continued, softening her tone a bit. “It’s an advantage. But even your strength won’t be enough to save you if you don’t know how to use your head. The Arena is tricky. It’s not just the tributes that you need to worry about. It’s the plants, the berries, the mutts, even the fucking water. You have to know what to look out for.”

Lucas nodded, leaning back in his seat as he listened attentively to Nina’s words.

“Watch, observe, take as much as you can. You know your strengths, so work on your weaknesses,” she concluded, shifting her gaze between Lucas and Nora.

She didn’t want to seem mean, or sour, but she knew that being too soft wouldn’t help those kids. They didn’t need someone to sugarcoat the truth, they needed to know what to expect if they wanted to have a chance to get out of the Arena alive. And Nina would do anything in her power to help them. It was her job, now. She couldn’t fail them.

NEXT CHAPTER

@call-sign-shark @justrainandcoffee @evita-shelby @emotionalcadaver

#peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc #hunger games au #hunger games fic

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laugtherhyena · 4 months

Note

In a dra/sdra2 zombie apocalypse au, who dies/gets infected first, who was the one who spread it all, and who are the modt lilely to survive? (All on your opibion)

Well someone has been watching those infection Aus going around huh? I've been having a blast watching those but pulling the strings on who does what is a litte harder.

First off, here's how I'm going with the virus:

-Infection spreads only through bites, afterwards there are 4 stages the person goes through in the zombification.

-Stage 1: Starting stage after the person is bitten, they're still acting fine since the infection is just starting to settle in and hasn't started spreading much further from where the bite is. it's the only stage in which amputation can stop the virus from spreading, tho this needs to be done as quickly as possible after the bite.

-Stage 2: Virus is already running through the person's blood system and become very tired as their muscles begin to ache, they develop eyebags under their eyes and their skin starts becoming pale with a slightly greenish hue. This is the first stage in with the infected can spread the virus to another person, it's also where they start feeling hungrier than usual.

-Stage 3: The hunger is starting to become unbearable as the person's body begins rejecting most types of food, they can't sleep and now their skin has gotten greener with an itchy sensation all over. This is where the person's sanity really goes downhill and the decay of the body begins, all the scratching leaves open wounds that only get worse as the infection progresses.

-Stage 4: Final stage, by now the persons mind is completely gone and they're just mindlessly wandering around and trying to eat people to quench their hunger. They're the most aggressive in this stage, however it doesn't take much longer until the decay makes their bodies fall appart completely and the zombie dies of "natural causes" per say.

Anyways, this got really long so I'm putting it under the cut. Taking their chronological ages for this btw (Aka: Dra cast being younger than most of the Sdra2 people)

-Utsuro and Akane:

Utsuro was the patient zero of the infection, spreading the zombie virus as a way to throw the world in despair while remaining fine as his devine luck made him asymptomatic. Roaming around the desolately city watching the chaos unfold, always accompanied by his loyal servant; Akane Taira, who is by now a stage 3 zombie whose devine luck slows down the spread of her infection significantly and leads to her retaining most of her sanity.

She strives to be the perfect servant for her master, carrying out his orders and acting as a "bodyguard" of sorts. Sometimes she wonders if her former classmates manages to escape safely, other times she wishes to see them as decaying zombies.

-Since I'm talking about the luck people here's Nikei, Hajime, Emma and Iroha:

Their devine luck is steadily running out, looking for Utsuro is no longer an option with all these zombies around. The voids stick together in hopes that the remainder of their luck acts in unison and gives them a better shot at surviving this mess.

As their leader, Nikkei is always trying to think of safer ways to traverse the city and places for them to get supplies or steal steal from other survivor. He's stressed pretty much all of the time but tries to control his emotions to not end up lashing out at his friends, he doesn't always succeed. Hajime is the closest they have to a doctor due to his knowledge in health while Emma tries to get keep the group's morale so that they don't all go insane, not an easy task when her own sanity is starting to go down the drain.

They lost Iroha pretty early on, she was very scared, jumpy and paranoid, which led to her lashing out at Nikkei and the others out of frustration (sorta like she does in the void theater segment) then storming off where she was attacked and killed by a hoard of zombies. The remaining 3 voids swear to stick together and survive no matter what.

-Mikado and Kokoro:

Mikado was getting in contact with Kokoro for his future plans and when the zombie outbreak happened, he stayed by her side since they were pretty much stuck inside her laboratory for a while because of all the zombies outside.

Kokoro is scary smart, however, curiosity surely gets the best out of her. So she wants to study the zombies to see how they function, how the infection spreads and affects the body, maybe even try to find a cure in the way. She has chemical components, protective suits and a lot of things to keep herself safe, and since Mikado is stuck with her she makes him work for her so she shares these supplies with him.

So for a while all he had to do was lure zombies into this designated containment area and collect samples from them for Kokoro to study, while also bringing some dead ones in too from time to time so she can dissect and study them as well. But nothing good lasts forever, Mikado was bitten by a zombie he thought had died while collecting a blood sample, Kokoro takes this as an opportunity to start testing possible cures on him.

She was able to develop a solution that keeps his infection from spreading beyond stage 2 (the one Mikado had reached by the time she first tested this solution on him), but there's been no progress on one capable of reversing the effects of the virus so far. Probably because Kokoro's lab is starting to lack a few things by now, not that this will stop her from continuing her research tho, if someone's gonna find a cure it's probably her.

Anyways, back to the Dra cast. This whole apocalypse starts in a similar way to how the cast gets captured in canon, Kisaragi brings them to the foundation's place without knowing Utsuro and Akane (who is at early stage 2 now) are the causes of this mess. The two of them let a bunch of zombies in and reveal themselves as despairs, at this point the class ends up getting divided as they lose track of where the others are.

-Group 1; Yamato, Mikako, Teruya, Satsuki, Haruhiko: It was a hard decision but seing as zombies were everywhere around the facility, they couldn't risk staying for very long to try finding the others. Yamato directed the people with him alongside several other foundation members that hadn't gotten bit towards some helicopters where they left the island and headed towards a secret underground facility/bunker.

So they're safe, but obviously worried about the others. Yamato manages to contact Tsurugi via some kind of communication device early on and hearing that he's got a lot of their clasmates still with him makes them all a little relieved, Yamato sends the coordinates of the bunker to him so that Tsurugi can bring him and the others there safely, he also tent to talk him whenever he has the time to make sure everything is going well and even send supplies to their location when needed.

Because i imagine Yamato would absolutely be overworked on this, trying to keep the people at the bunker safe and sane while getting news from their friends still outside while ALSO trying to find a cure himself. Which is a lot harder to when he is very unwilling to bring infected into the bunker to make tests as in depth as Kokoro is doing. His are done by shooting zombies around the area on the surface with a dart that has one of his solutions and a microchip onto it, he keeps track on these zombies to see if it does anything. Not very precise, but the safety of the people in the facility is more important to him than that.

Mikako also helps with it from time to time but most of what she does is keep check of the people in the bunker and make sure they're ok, while also being in charge of checking and disinfecting anyone that's gonna enter the facility and coordinating ocasional missions to go outside and gather more suplies. Where are these supplies coming from? Otori mart of course! Hence why Teruya also helps with these missions by telling them which stores will have certain itens and where to find them.

As for Satsuki and Haru, I don't think they're doing much, sorta just trying to settle in the facility and reassuring the other people there that they're safe down there. I like to think Satsuki maybe pulls up some performances to boost morale of the people at the facility and make them smile even if just a little.

After getting separated from Yamato and the others, Tsurugi took the lead in guiding his classmates to safety after deciding that they should head down and try to leave the island via boat, but things don't go so smoothly as the group is followed by a hoard of zombies. Kakeru, Mitch and Kinji stay behind to hold back the zombies while the others reach the boat, Maki wanted to stay behind with them as well but Higa insisted that she should go with the others to protect them.

-Group 2; Tsurugi, Kiyoka, Ayame, Kanata, Kizuna:

The remaining members of class 79 stick together as they traverse through the city, making contact with Yamato via Kinjo's two way radio and getting the coordinates for their location. Tsurugi effectively becomes the leader of the group, though his weird morals tend to make him pretty cold and rather unsympathetic during the apocalypse, prioritizing their survival above all else while being somewhat paranoid about the infection and possible traitors like Utsuro and Akane.

Back in the foundation's island Ayame had gotten bit by Taira while in denial that she could have helped cause this, she tried to get Akane to "snap out of it" and return to her senses, but it didn't work out. Seeing as Ayame had gotten infected Tsurugi wanted to put her down to avoid more casualties, which was not taken well by pretty much everyone else in their group, except for Rei who begrudgingly took his side she figured keeping Ayame with them would be risky.

Thankfully, Kanata stepped in and begged to be allowed to try doing something to help Ayame and if there was nothing she could do to save her she would let him go ahead and kill her. They headed towards an abandoned hospital where Kanata performed mant tests on Ayame and ultimately decided to amputate her armnin an attempt to stop tye infection from spreading. She monitored her closely for tge next few days and was overjoyed when she didn't show any signs of infection afterwards.

Because Kizuna is not doing well either, a few weeks into the apocalypse she became absolutely terrified of zombies and the virus which led to her becoming extremely paranoid and scared that she could get it and turn into one. She was never bit, but her anxiety and paranoia makes her afraid that maybe she has gotten it somehow, she constantly asks Kanata to do check-ups on her and asks if what she's feeling is normal or if she's turning into a zombie.

Ayame is.. not doing very well. Her mental health has gotten pretty bad after learning the truth about Akane, she blames herself for not having been able to "see her true colors" despite being so close to her and is generally really hurt over her betrayal of them since she had feelings for her.

Currently she doesn't talk much, doesn't eat much and doesn't do much, which bothers Kinjo since she could have been very helpful due to her talent if she had the strength to be a more active member of their group. Kanata tries to help her mental health improve even if that's beyond her field of knowledge, she's essential always near her and Kizuna to keep an eye on them and reasure them that they're gonna make it to the bunker.

She pretty much doesn't sleep anymore, something Kinjo uses to the group's advantage and tends to leave her in charge of looking over them while they sleep for the night, if she sees or hear anything strange she can wake him up and he'll know what to do from here on out.

With Kanata being their only medical professional and Ayame and Kizuna not being in the best state of mind, Kinjo and Kiyoka are the ones who do most of the work for the group. They scout areas they're about to head towards next (since their goal is to reach the foundation's underground facility, they're always on the move) to see if their safe and look for suplies and food. Maki is essentially his right hand woman and voice of reason a lot of the time, she also taught the other girls how to fire a gun, just in case whatever base they are currently staying in gets attacked while the her and Kinjo are out.

-Kakeru, Higa and Kinji:

While Kakeru and Mitch were killed by zombies back in the Kisaragi foundation's island, Kinji managed to free himself and reach the roadway, unfortunately he was infected in the process. Knowing that he would eventually lose his mind to tye virus, he decided to not go after the others from his class and instead dedicates the time he has left to giving a proper burial to the dead people and zombies he finds on the streets, praying that their souls are able to rest in peace.

Kinji's infection has reached mid stage 3, his memories are starting to become foggy, keeping his sanity while resisting the hunger is becoming harder and harder.

-Rei:

She stayed with Tsurugi's group for quite some time but eventually left after a huge argument with him and generally being fed up with having to deal with them. Having the coordinates to the foundation's bunker written down in a notepad, she decided to find it on her own, believing she could get there way faster without having to wait for a bunch of other people.

She was certain that her intelligence and problem solving abilities would be enough to get by, however, in these situations safety is in numbers. Rei had a close call in the city when she stumbled upon zombified versions if her parents, unable to bring herself to shoot them, she was attacked but luckily a group of survivors came to help her before the worst happened.

She stayed with them for the night, having her minor injuries treated by the father of one of her classmates. While she was offered a place in the group by their leader, Rei refused, adamantly sticking to her goal of making it to the bunker on her own.

She made it out of the city, but is starting to run out of supplies and ammo.

-Setsuka and her crew: Working as a detective for a good while before the apocalypse and having the devil's eye to help her, Setsuka is a master of stealth and doesn't have a hard time at all avoiding zombies by traversing through some safer routes. She set up a base in an abandoned warehouse and overtime managed to rescue a handful of people, these being Ryutaro, Midori, Keisuke, Minako and Yoruko.

Things were going as smoothly as they could be for a while until zombies broke into the warehouse and the crew had to leave in a hurry, Minako was killed in the process and Yoruko was bitten in the ankle, something she only took notice of late at night. When the others woke up the next day, she was nowhere to be found. Ironically, it was while the group looked for her that they met Hikaru, who could possibly have saved her from the infection the same way Kanata did to Ayame.

On a good note, now that they have a medical professional, Hikaru can take care of Midori and tell them what kind of medicine they should look for in this situation, the two of them tend to stay at their new base most of the time (set on the roof of a tall building, stairs barricade to prevent zombies from getting up. The group climbs down usinga rope whenever they need to leave) while Setsuka and the boys go around to gather food and suplies.

It was in one of these small missions that they met Rei and agreed to give her some of their food and a place to stay for the night in exchange for medical supplies. While she was asleep, Setsuka rummaged through her backpack and found the notepad with the coordinates for the underground facility. She used the devil's eye to record it and now there is a new group heading towards the bunker.

-Kanade and Hibiki:

Hibiki panicked and ententered her puppet stage early on into the apocalypse, Kanade found that delightful, now she has her sister all for herself and no facades to keep on at all since the world has gone to shit. Her focus is not on surviving or making to a safe shelter, she's just having a blast brutally murdering zombies all over the place and people too whenever she sees that they have something she wants or simply managed to get on her nerves.

Zombie or human, Kanade likes to sign her work, other survivor have learned to recognize corpses killed by her not only for the guresome ways in which they were left for display, but also for a music note symbol carved in their foreheads. Every once in a while she will be sent to eliminate people or specific trade groups that Syobai considers a threath to his business, in exchange, he allows her to take any weapons he wants from his stock and stay in his shelter if she desires.

The person Kanade talks with the most is Hibiki, which is more like talking to herself by now since she remains unemotional and unresponsive to anything but direct orders from her.. Or is she..?

Either ways, if one hears singing around the bloody city streets, it's better to run away immediately.

-Shinji and Yuki:

Shinji was on a business trip outside the city when the apocalypse started, he was attacked and his car was destroyed by zombies when he tried to come back there when the outbreak was in its peak. In the outskirts, he stumbled upon the place Akane and Utsuro had locked the real Yuki in. Took a while but he eventually managed to free him, the boy was scared and confused, it took a few days Shinji to explain things to him and for the reality of the situation to settle in his mind.

Although scared Yuki is determined to reunite with his mother, just how Shinji wants to find his wife and daughters. Together the two of them are making their way back to the city, with Shinji promising himself he'll do anything to protect the young boy, who is like a son to him by now.

-Syobai:

Being a broker during the apocalypse sure has its advantages! Since money is pretty much worthless now, Syobai makes a living by trading goods (weapons, clothes, medicine, shelter, drugs, whatever you want, he probably has it) by things of his interest, be it food, other suplies, information or even services from people. Though a handfuls survivors tend to avoid doing business with him, aware of the dangers that come with the deal.

Most of his goods were taken from other traffickers/criminal organizations after they were attacked and killed by zombies, so Syobai has a lot in hands to trade and lots of contacts he made during this mess to keep him up to date on the situation, always gotta be one step ahead of the curve you know.

-Yuri: Stage 2 infected, he achived his dream of sacrificing himself to save a woman!.. Now what? His health is deteriorating fast.

#i didn't add Sora because unfortunately I don't think she would exist in this :(#anyways #thank you for this ask! i had a lot of fun brainstorming stuff #please ask more if you feel like it :) I'd love to think of some more stuff if people would like to hear it #dra #danganronpa another #sdra2 #super danganronpa another 2 #infection au #sorta?#zombie au #hyena ramblings #tw needle #tw needles #needles

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