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twistedbloodstain · 4 months

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I have two ideas for the marquis de framing that I think you’d do great writing!

1: where the reader is interrogating the marquis (meaning she kidnapped him) and through there, they start to get feelings for each other

2: reader (who had a relationship of some sort with the marquis) fakes their death because they couldn’t take the assassin world. The marquis is devastated (lots of angst hehehe). They meet again while the reader is trying to help someone (maybe John, lol)

3: reader who is part of the high table meets the marquis for the first time. Sorta like live at first sight.

vincent de gramont x reader: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

plot: the one where he finds you again.

warnings: the reader’s a medic/healer in here SORRYYY…, she knew john from before, he rats her out lolz, kidnapping except vincent doesn’t do it this time..(yay! cuz he forced someone else to do it!!!), anon im so sorry i focused too hard on one part, i will do an extra (i swear)

masterlist

“stay still.” you mumble.

mr. wick lets out a small grunt while you sew his wound back together, nothing too fatal (at least in his standards) but without the help of any anesthesia or alcohol to soothe the pain, the assassin had no choice but to follow.

“don’t worry, it's almost done.” you whisper almost finished with patching up the flesh on his back. “and..there..”

he immediately gets off his seat and reaches for his shirt stationed on a random desk scattered with medical supplies. he digs into his suit jacket and fishes out a coin and hands it over to you, you accept it eagerly and begin cleaning up.

“you need any help with transport?” you inquire while you discard your bloodied gloves and utensils.

“yeah.”

“on your way out turn left and find the guy with a gray jacket. he’s one of winston’s men, he’ll help you out. where are you headed?” you inquire while washing your hands. he hesitantly answers before offering a reply.

“paris.”

“oh.” you stop in your movements and look at him. he stands near the door way all dressed up with blood caking his temples, he still looks rugged and in no shape to do what he has to do in pairs but your opinion likely doesn’t matter to him.

“good luck, i guess.” you mutter.

“you’ve been there.” he says.

“i..have.” you hope he doesn’t press any further.

“what’s in paris?” he questions but doesn’t take a step further.

“for you?” you uneasily say, he doesn’t reply.

“a dangerous man. i..think you’ll die trying just to get what you want, mr. wick. but hey, who knows? maybe, it’s now him.” you explain.

“the guy who had the continental demolished, was it him?” he sternly asks.

“..yes, i think it was him.” you confess, avoiding his eyes.

it had been almost three years since you left that country.

three years since you left him.

you can’t even bear to say his name because if you do, all of it will spill out. how he met you, how kept you and how he loved you.

he nods, “and for you?”

“an even more dangerous man.”

ever since mr. wick entered and left your clinic. you've been in a constant state of anxiety. the mere thought and mention of him had you nervous, especially when you heard that he was in new york a few days ago. you thought it was all over, that he found you and was going to rip you from your freedom in this city.

the following news shocked you to your core, the new york continental being demolished was not in your bingo card as to why he’d be here. all because of an excommunicated assassin which you had tended to almost a day after the bombing.

although you’re horrified with the state of events, relief flooded you when you realized he wasn’t there for you. you’d still be safe from him.

but you can’t help but think what all of this means for him. at some point, you know that john wick will kill him, and you somehow played a part in it. you feel a tinge of regret for him but it’s quickly overshadowed with the horrors he’s done and you don’t feel as bad.

he did like you though, when you still worked at france for him as his estate medic. whenever he found himself wounded in the line of fire in an ambush attack, you were the one who tended to his wounds and saw him at his weakest. you don’t know why but a strong sense of trust was established between the two of you.

you thought it to be a friendship but fleeting glances of affection would seep through when you talked or when a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in your clinic after patching him up.

you toyed with a pin he gave you, his insignia. only he wore it proudly on his coat and truly, it warmed you to him. he did make you feel appreciated, small touches on your back and sometimes fiddling with your hands whenever you sewed his wounds, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

with you he was just…vincent.

soft words and touches with soulful eyes looking into yours, just gentleness and affection present in him. it made you indulge into it too, that he isn’t the cruel man people made him out to be. he isn’t heartless, that’s just how the world is.

a naive perspective.

a perspective that was easily shattered when you’d hear a bloodcurdling scream from the barn, and he walks out with blood on his hands and a disgusted look on his face from his clothes being stained. gunshots echoing beneath the servant’s staircases and thudding bodies being dragged into the secluded forests of the estate. you whisper to yourself those very same words even if all his actions sent chills on your spine.

but the truth of it is that, he is heartless. he is the man people made him out to be and you’re a fool thinking he could be better for you but at the end of the day, he is still the marquis.

it made you think. what if this is all a game to him? what if the moment he finds you uninteresting you become another stain on his suit?

it’s not a secret that men like him love having delicate pretty things only to break them apart. that’s all you are his current delicate and pretty thing.

you decided to leave. you weren’t staying long enough to find out what would happen to you, feelings be damned when you’re easily replacable to him. you knew that the marquis was like a dog to a bone when he didn’t get the things he wanted, which only pooled fears into your stomach should he find you in new york.

he cannot have you.

you stare at the pin before chucking the pin somewhere in the room, you get up from your chair and begin closing the windows from your clinic.

a knock comes from the door, you chuck the remaining medical materials into a random desk and walk up to the door. wounded assassins aren’t a strange occurrence at this time of the evening but something…felt different.

your gut was telling you to ignore the person on the other side and stay still. you thought that maybe if you didn’t answer the person would go away. wanting to play things safe you don’t mutter a word that would alert them of your presence. it usually worked in some cases.

the knocking persists, much harder and louder now. your hands begins to shake and your eyes start looking around for an emergency firearm to help defend yourself, your actions frantically halt when you hear a voice through the door.

“doc?” a gruff voice asks.

you sight and put a hand on your chest. it’s just john wick. you eagerly open the door to let him in.

“john.” you greet, “come inside.” you invite him as you walk inside.

john doesn’t follow you and a confused expression takes your face, until you take a good look at him. for the first time, john wick doesn’t look wounded to you, his face and hands void of any blood, a new bulletproof suit adorning his body, a french one you notice but it still leaves you questioning things.

“i’m assuming france went successful.” you say.

“…it’s close.” he pauses before replying, seeming as if he’s finding the right words to say.

“what do you need?” you question.

“it’s winston. he’s been shot.” you freeze.

oh dear. you never really approved of the things he did but a soft spot was always present for him and charon. they helped you settle here in new york, but winston took you in even when he knew of your history with vincent. you swore to always help him in ways you could and now the opportunity presented itself.

the car sped down the street with you and john in tow. you hold your medical kit close to your lap, feeling uneasy with the thought of losing the old man. charon had been so recent and you don’t think you bear to lose the friends you’ve made along the way.

you glance at john and he looks calm and composed as usual, eerily so. a week earlier he was calm but you could feel his anger and determination simmering underneath his skin. now it looked like he was taking a walk in a park. you eye him carefully, uneasiness seeping in your stomach.

“did they give it to you?” you ask, he looks at you before clearing his throat.

“just an extension.” he answers, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“to do what?” you ask again, john doesn’t budge and continues driving, ignoring your question. your eyes stay on him but he doesn’t look at you.

silence settles into the car and you lean back in your seat. you really wish your brought your gun with you right now. you don’t know why but you have a feeling that something is wrong right now, especially with john. he’s not telling you something.

or maybe it really is none of your business. perhaps he wanted to spare the bloody details of how he’s going to win his freedom back. you relax and try to forget the uneasiness, trying to remember that winston is the priority right now, you shut your eyes. all of your fears are gathering together and it’s making you overthink your interaction with john, everything’s okay.

the loud sound of drilling makes you open your eyes, you look at the window and you see a familiar street.

the new york continental was being rebuilt.

your apprehensiveness returns.

“john?” you look at him once again, “who shot winston?”

“he got hit during the line of fire.” this time he replies.

bullshit. winston would have an emergency plan before the shooting started.

“in new york?” you press.

“yeah.”

another bullshit. you could see through his lies, he’s clearly fresh out of france. what was he trying to do?

“j-john.” you voice shakes almost as if you’re begging. something happened in france, something that saved both winston and john.

he looks at you with regret in his eyes. not enough to save you for what’s about to come.

“where are you taking me?” you sputter, your heart beating fast in anxiety, “i’ve done nothing but help you, please don’t do this!”

“he took winston with him and he found out.” he quietly defends.

“please help me, i don’t want to go back!” you begin crying, tears rolling down your face, “he’ll kill me!”

he makes no reply and continues driving. with no hope left with him, you try to open your side of the door. he immediately notices this and grabs your arm trying to stop you from leaving, you begin hitting him with your other arm.

you know that he doesn’t want to do this but it feels so unfair. you’ve saved his life only to throw yours away.

“let go of me!” you scream.

“i’m sorry.”

you feel a prick in your neck.

you feel a heavy sensation pulling at your leg, your eyes feeling groggy still wanting to keep your lids closed. however the sensation persists and this forces you to open your eyes and sit up.

a dark room welcomes you, only a small lamp helping you take a small look of where you are. specifically, on a plush bed and a decorated room. your body feels heavy from exhaustion which makes you lean back to the pillow behind you.

pondering what made you feel so tired when you haven’t done much for the night, you’ve sewn back together…a pair of assassins for the night? or was it three? two austrians and…who?a french? no…no..it was winston.

that’s right.

wait.

only you didn’t treat winston.

you bolt up, your body seemingly sobers from the realization.

john brought you here in exchange for his freedom.

you look around to see some sort of presence in the room but with the darkness it was hard to tell, nevertheless you hopped off the bed and bolted to the wooden door nearby. no wonder the place looked familiar, only the marquis would have a place as frivolous as this.

you need to leave right now. your hand reaches for the door until you find your body being slammed on the floor. a groan leaves your throat, in pain you massage your forehead and look around.

oh goodness.

a gasp leaves your mouth when you see a chain wrapped around your ankle, you inspect your foot before tracing the lines of chains, which were sourced on the thick foot of the bed you were on.

you tug it to check its strength and to see how long it actually goes. it was long enough to walk around the room but not long enough to reach the door. this is basically your fully furnished torture chamber.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

a loud creak echoes through the room.

you really hate how things are right now.

he’s going to kill you. kill you for leaving him, how you easily made him look humiliated for being abandoned.

feeling your knees weaken you sit back on the bed and your hands shake in trepidation. the marquis’ simple presence made you scared of him, you felt tears falling down once again and you lowered your head, not wanting to look weak right now.

his footsteps are heard through the room, the door loudly closes shut, a thud echoing. he doesn’t say a word.

you feel everything leave your body. hope,freedom and life mostly.

he walks up to you until you see his shoes on the floor, a blurry sight entering your eyes due to the tears, he touches you, tilting your chin upwards and you do everything not to flinch. was he going to snap your neck?

you look at him and he still looks the same, slightly more mature.

but the same man you met a few years ago, if you jumped back into your rose tinted glasses, you’d probably see the vincent you cherished at some point if you weren’t so frightened right now.

he inspects you, his eyes wandering through your face. searching for something that’s supposed to be there, his lips part almost as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” apologies spill out of your lips, wanting to take the chance of saving yourself, “i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to.” you cry. your hand reaches up to his hand that held your chin and you grip it for mercy, his hold on you weakens.

he doesn’t say anything and leans forward to you. you need him to say something, anything, whether it meant he’d simply say he wants yuu dead.

“please forgive me, just please don’t kil-“ he cuts you off.

with a kiss.

not a firm one but a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips.

he takes your hands into his and fiddles with it, trying to find his place in them just like before, he halts the kiss and leans towards your face. the man right in front of you wasn’t the marquis, it was vincent.

your vincent.

the one with soft eyes looking at you with relief and adoration. the gaze that looked at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, he wipes the tears on your cheeks and the next thing he says dissolves all sense of worry out of you.

“i could never hurt you.” he whispers.

author’s note: this kinda doesn’t make sense bc im so braindead rn to expand things but basically vincent finds medic!reader through winston and in exchange for the continental and john’s freedom, john brings medic!reader back to vincent. so basically she got ratted out lolz. this would work better if i made a vincent pov would be fun but i have a bunch of prompts to work on…(tempting) + he literally chained her down to him (hshshsh marriage allegory…) i kinda want to be funky dynamic of obsessed man + “ngl what’s wrong with this guy but i vibe with it” woman

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ssinboo · 1 year

Text

Midnights To Come

summary: After finding campus heartthrob Kim Mingyu absolutely butchering his trousers trying to fix the hole he'd busted in them, you offer his your sewing abilities. As retribution, he thinks that nothing is more fitting than his ultimate mission: getting you laid.

You and Mingyu spend an unforgettable night together.

pairing: University!AU - Popular!Mingyu x Unpopular!F!Reader, reader does read on the thicker side? Nothing specific.

word count: 6.8k (30~ minute read)

warnings: protected sex (finally), fingering (F rec), drinking, partying

a/n: Thank you so much for the love <3 This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swift's older music lol I'm starting a new job soon, so I'll be mostly MIA for march and perhaps april TT

Kim Mingyu was the ex-boyfriend of a friend’s friend’s cousin, unforgettably handsome with the sort of beauty that belonged in Hollywood. A very tall glass of gorgeous with an incredible personality to boot, that’s why everyone adored him. He was majoring in business to follow in his father’s footsteps but was a star at football and made sure no one would forget just who was the best lineman on their amateur team.

And you’d met once or twice, briefly. Definitely not enough for him to come even close to becoming acquainted with your existence, but more than sufficient for him to leave his mark. He was a campus Idol, a guy you admired for his popularity and his way with people.

It was at a senior’s party your friend had dragged you to, that you met again. You were quietly searching for some solace in an empty room upstairs, when you saw him fiddling with his pants – It was hard not to notice his large frame struggling with a pair of jeans in the dark bedroom corner.

Being quite fair, at first you believed he was relieving himself, carnally. That was a puzzling sight as horrifying as it would be— I mean, the man had lines of women throwing themselves to be his, why would he just jerk off? And then, you noticed the stapler he was using to completely butcher the fabric in a desperate way to fix the large hole.

“Oh my God, just stop!” You exclaim, not being able to watch such abuse any longer. He was known to wear brand-name goods and just the thought of high quality fabric being assaulted by staples made your skin churn.

You, however, had totally forgotten to announce your presence.

Mingyu jumps, falling off the bed in a split-second, clashing into the carpet with a thunderous thump. Eyes blown wide like a moose in headlights, he stares at you from his half-down half-on-the-bed position, suddenly, completely aware of his nakedness.

“Oh- Fuck–!” He exclaims, stumbling off the bed and pulling the jeans to cover his brand-name boxers.

“OH!” You also seem to realise how inappropriate it was to simply barge into his intimate moment with the stapler. “I’m sorry!” You yell from behind your palms, eyes tightly shut.

“...No problem?” It sounds more of a question than anything. I mean, it was the polite thing to say when someone says “I’m sorry” however, there was a problem.

“Do you need any help?” You ask, still muffled and hidden behind your hands. Mingyu has no idea on how to reply, he is familiar with those words, especially coming from a lady, but this scenario is totally different from the sexy ones he’s accustomed to. “I’m a seamstress,” Your brain urges for an explanation, as to make the situation somewhat less awkward.

He seems to be content with that. “You are?”

“Yes!” You turn around, fishing around your purse for a small sewing kit, pink plastic box with teeny tiny everything. “I have some needles and thread.”

“Oh, thank God!”

That’s how you find yourself sitting on some stranger’s bed with a half-naked Mingyu – You’re carefully patching up the seams on his jeans while he sits cross-legged with a pillow between his legs.

Who would’ve known that years into University, your closest call with a boy would be such a weird scenario. Sitting with the campus heartthrob as you stitch up his busted trousers. What a story to tell your friends.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way,” He breaks the awkward silence, reaching out his hand; He then realises you are occupied and takes it back.

You tell him your name, eyes glued to the intricate detailing on the garment.

“Are you new here?” He asks, curiously studying your face.

“No,” You mutter, holding a needle between your lips so you can inspect your stitches.

“How come we’ve never met?”

“We have.”

Mingyu adjusts himself, leaning closer, “No”

“Yes?”

“No!”

“You dated my friend’s friend’s cousin,” You explain, though it doesn’t help.

“I’ve dated plenty of friends’ friends’ cousins’,” Mingyu half-chuckles, practically patting himself on the back for that one.

You roll your eyes, “We met once or twice, nothing major.”

“I would’ve remembered you.”

“You didn’t,” Laughing, you don’t even notice he’s taken offence to his own forgetfulness.

“I don’t forget a pretty girl,” It is said as a matter of factly, a worldly known truth of sorts.

“You haven’t.”

“I forgot you, apparently,” Mingyu is more frustrated than you’d expect – Than anyone would expect for such a laid back guy.

“I’m not pretty, though?”

Oh, he is furious at such a statement, “What?! Of course you are. You are a solid 7.5, no joke, dude.”

A solid seven point five? Wow. Coming from anyone else, that could be taken as an offence, I mean, what about you made them go so high up the scale yet not even give a full number? But you were talking about THE Kim Mingyu.

That not only tickles your ego in the right spot, but does get a good laugh out of you. Mingyu laughs along, not fully grasping the humour of it, but enjoying the sound of your giggles.

“Thanks,” You smile, pulling out your scissors to clip the last of your thread. “Here, it’s done.”

He widens his eyes, “So fast?!”

With a nod, you put everything back in your pocket kit. Mingyu excitedly inspects his trousers and his jaw falls open once he can’t locate where your repairs are.

“It’s perfect!”

You smile, “Great!”

“Wow. You are some kind of sewing genius! Thanks! You saved my life”

Mingyu proceeds to rant about how great you are and how amazing your skills are and you should totally work with sewing – you are, and that you should make clothes – you do. All because you are just that good – from a small repair.

You were happy with just helping him, seeing it as a finished mission, ready to pack up and head home but he would not have that, oh, no. Mingyu was laser focused on repaying your kindness – he said he hates owing people so you had to accept. His manner of retribution? Partying and maybe, if you got lucky, getting you laid. It was his mission now.

So he dragged you downstairs to meet his inebriated friends, all surprisingly welcoming and not nearly as douchy as you’d expected – Soonyoung was especially keen on having you accompany him on the dance floor. Even drunk, his abilities surpassed any of your own and he absolutely demolished the floor with his intricate choreo.

Seokmin pulled you from the dance floor to join him on a cheesy karaoke battle, the one feat no man can accomplish being as stone-cold sober as you were. His usually impeccable vocals suffered under the alcohol and strained over high-notes. So you just plucked the first poor soul you saw in the crowd to substitute you as Seokmin’s duet.

Stumbling through the crowd and away from the karaoke, you finally find Mingyu, giving him “Help me” eyes. He laughs softly at your predicament, stumbling from his friend’s shoulder to wrap his arm around your neck — his exaggerated stature almost sent you crashing down.

“Come on, no one caught your eye?” He slurs his words, wild tongue running over his pretty lips, classic red solo cup dangerously dangling from his long fingers. You can see from up close the drunken blurriness that glazes his pretty eyes with unhinged impulsiveness.

You chuckle, remembering his goal was to set you up for a “Hot date”.

“Not at all. But I had fun.”

“Whaat?!” He whines in frustration, stepping forward so you’re facing each other. His arm is still heavily draped over your shoulders. “You didn’t have fun!”

“I did!” You argue.

“No…” Mingyu pouts.

“I did! I promise,” Offering him a smile, you await his response.

“Have a drink with me?”

God, he was a pro at puppy-dog-eyes. With pouty lips, glistening under the remnants of his drink and sparkling eyes with furrowed brows.

“I don’t– I don’t drink,” You’re so upset with the idea of disappointing him and his adorable pout though he barely pays it any mind.

“Then we can do something else! Come on!”

“No, Mingyu–!”

But he’s dragging you away from the party, placing the edge of his cup between his teeth so he can snatch his coat from the hangers on his way out. You’re stumbling under his weight and hurried steps, but the night air feels so refreshing after the stuffy frat house you practically forget his intentions.

The house behind you thumps under the song that blasts through its brick walls, colourful LEDs flashing from open windows. The front yard feels almost completely separate from the party inside, a world apart from the drunk atmosphere that holds the stifling rooms.

Mingyu drags you toward the pavement and standing before his car, you feel your stomach drop once you see him press the button to open the door.

“Mingyu– You– You’re drunk. You can’t drive,” You stumble over your words, nervously fidgeting with your clothes, even if you left right now, would he still drive?

“I won’t. You’re sober,” He says as a matter of factly and you hadn’t even considered driving this insanely expensive sports car.

Mingyu opens the driver’s door and stands there, gesturing for you to get in. A true gentleman. With a relieved breath, you do.

It’s a convertible – Of course, it is, no other car would fit his personality as well. The chassis is coloured a blinding firetruck red and the rims are a polished silver, it’s so clearly well-maintained you feel nervous about driving it. The leather seats smell so vividly of his cologne, woody and fresh.

Mingyu closes your door and jogs to his seat, he jumps over his door with ease, settling onto the beige leather seat with a soft thump.

“Here’s ignition, turn signals, speed and all that,” He leans over and points to each item.

“Is it stick?”

“Nah, I had it modified, it’s completely automatic.”

“Wow, disappointed in you… I thought you’d drive stick like a real man,” You tease, leaning over to check the height for the seat – It’s obviously too far back so you adjust it forward.

“Too busy getting my dick sucked to worry about changin’ gears,” He sticks his tongue between his teeth, leaning back with a proud smile.

“Oh, god,” You groan, “Should I be touching any surface on this car?”

“Nope.”

You laugh.

After putting on your seatbelt, you look over and notice that of course, he’s not wearing his. With a roll of your eyes, you lean over and pull the seat belt over his chest. Mingyu would’ve flinched had he not been tipsy, his eyes linger on your body over his, how your left hand holds the belt at his chest while your right hand fiddles with the lock.

And you have such pretty long lashes that flutter along your cheeks as you focus on finding the clip for the belt. A soft furrow between your brows, you’re sighing and biting on your lower lip; He notices the pretty shade of red that you wear.

But you’re already done and it’s clipped on with a satisfying click.

“Driver’s rules, shotgun shuts his mouth,” You say before he can protest the safety measures.

You smile so brightly, happily turning back to the wheel, excited over this incredible machine that lays in your hands. More than the alcohol in his bloodstream, your joy is intoxicating.

And the car comes alive with a satisfying roar, you feel the soft vibrating from the wheel course up your wrists. For you, following the speed limit felt perfect, the wheel turned so smoothly and the pedals felt the perfect height. But the little devil on the passenger’s seat kept egging you on to go faster.

Caving to his wishes, you take the highway out of town, breezing through asphalt with no sight of other cars. The confidence that such a smooth ride gives is true, you feel yourself steadily increasing the speed much to Mingyu’s satisfaction.

The wind in your hair, caressing your face with the exhilarating night air, the thrilling constant hum of such a potent engine working to your heart’s content. Nothing could beat the constellation of artificial lighting that lit the night scenery, every building held its own collection.

“Where should I go?” You ask, suddenly remembering you’re supposed to have a destination, your eyes absolutely glued to the road.

“Somewhere nice,” Mingyu hums, thinking for a second.

He leans back, his left hand is carelessly draped over your headrest and you can feel his fingers fidget with your hair so unconsciously. Any of his go-to destinations were made for getting hot and heavy, which wasn’t the goal tonight; He wanted to repay you for helping him out and you hadn’t shown any interest in… other manners of payment. So it left him with only one option.

“Take a left next turn,” He says, leaning forward to dig through the glovebox.

Mingyu finds a pair of sunglasses, putting them on despite the very obvious lack of Sunlight. He offers you a spare set, and though you’d love to enjoy wearing Prada sunglasses that probably cost more than your entire net worth, you also enjoy seeing anything on the road. So you push them on top of your head, pushing your hair back.

Somewhere along the deserted road, Mingyu grabs the AUX cord, connecting it to his phone and going through his very generic musical taste. But the atmosphere is so perfect you can’t help but enjoy the bubblegum pop blasting from the dashboard. You even sing along.

It’s a comfortable silence, filled with Pop music and laughter.

You drive for almost an hour under his strict directions, until you reach a dirt road. There’s an alarm blaring in your mind, realising that you’re far from civilization, in the middle of nowhere with a total stranger. I mean, serial killers were always described as charismatic, right?

Making a deal with yourself, you decide that if he does anything even remotely suspicious you’re running the car off the road. You’ll die, but he’ll go with you.

Against your anxiety, however, he tells you to pull up at a clearing just ahead and once you arrive, there’s no doubt on why he chose this place.

From atop this hill, you can see far into the city, its blinding lights nothing but tiny stars on the horizon, the noise pollution of a bustling metropolis is totally gone and replaced by the calming murmurs of nature. Before he can even say anything, you’re leaving the car to admire such a view.

The moon is full, a pale veil over both of you, standing in the starry sky as the queen, ruling over her stars. The light caressing your body with the warmth of the perfect Summer night.

“What do you think?” Mingyu asks, leaning against the hood of his car.

You can’t help but to briefly admire the picturesque scene he paints with his playboy aura and Hollywoodian beauty, leaning against this straight-out-of-a-movie convertible. He has this side smirk, knowing this breathtaking landscape can’t be topped by any of your past experiences.

“It’s…” There aren’t words you can find to describe such a view. “I– Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

He visibly relaxes, as if he was waiting anxiously for your opinion, “It’s my favourite place.”

“I can see why,” You laugh, joining him, though you have a little trouble stabilising your butt over the hood.

“Everything feels small when I come here,” He explains.

Turning to face him, your stomach is filled with annoying little butterflies that flutter around and tickle your insides with foolish thoughts.

His moonlit profile is somehow prettier than his beauty in any other lighting, his perfect nose and high cheekbones and his eyes, God, his eyes. They hold in their dark orbs, all of the stars and worlds, in its ethereal shine.

You hum, prying your gaze from him before your brain gets any outlandish rushes of dopamine and creates unattainable ideas.

Mingyu leans back, his lanky body hitting the windshield, his eyes stare up at the stars. At this moment, he wishes he knew constellations from the top of his head, then maybe, he could impress you with his astronomical knowledge.

“You look like a movie star right now… I feel like I’m in a movie,” Joking, you lean on your elbow, unconsciously following his body with your own.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” He asks on a spur of the moment.

You laugh, “When I grow up?”

Mingyu realises what you meant by your question and laughs along, “You know what I meant.”

Though you’re caught aback, there’s not much thinking to be done, “I want to design clothes.”

He hums, “It suits you, I think.” He didn’t know you that well, but it seemed fitting.

You chuckle, “You?”

Mingyu lets out a long sigh, leaning on his elbows to stare up at you, “CEO, I guess.”

“Have you always wanted to be a CEO?”

His lips press into a thin line and he hesitates on how much he should tell, throwing caution into the air, Mingyu decides to open up. “I honestly… Don’t want to.”

You furrow your brows, “Won’t you take over your father’s company?”

He nods, “That’s what I should do.”

“Then what do you want to be?”

It’s such an innocent question and in all honesty, sort of childish almost? Something you would ask a small child and just agree with whatever they come up with. But it’s something he was never allowed to question.

“I… Don’t think I know.”

You hum, “You could be an actor,” It’s a bit of a tease as much as it is the truth.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, sitting up so he can face you properly. You have this soft smile on your face that holds so much warmth for a stranger like him, it almost feels undeserving.

“An actor?” He prods.

“Yeah,” You shrug, “You just have the vibes for it… Living a thousand lives in just one, I think you could play any character really well. Plus, you have the looks. I always told my friends you have a face that belongs in Hollywood.” It comes out so naturally, you barely realise what you’ve said until he’s staring at you. “I– Sorr–”

Mingyu smashes his lips into yours.

You squeak, but don’t shy away from his plush lips.

His left hand reaches for your jaw, fingers softly tracing your cheek with certain hesitancy but you lean into his touch so willingly he can’t help the bubbling feeling that comes to life deep in his belly.

When your lips part, you feel the night breeze caress the parts of your body he touched and you find your body misses his warmth.

Your brain simply can’t function.

In your brilliant academic journey, romance had never been an aspect you entertained. You quickly learned at thirteen that a fairytale story only happens to cute girls with nice hair and pretty bodies. And not the one repeatedly being used as the butt-end of a cruel joke.

Mingyu represented everything you would never have; A popular, rich guy with amazing hair and looks out of this world. And he was nice, too. Took time of his day to hang out with you and to repay what had been an instinctive action; help out someone.

It could only have been a mistake, right?

Mingyu, noticing the dread that paints your pretty face, can’t help the cold shiver that takes over his body, “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine! I won’t tell anyone.” You reply all too fast.

“What?” He blinks a couple of times, “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, I won’t ruin your reputation…”

He practically jumps from the car, standing in front of you, “Say it again.”

You look up, his towering height has never once been intimidating, until now, “...I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“No, what the fuck do you mean ruin my reputation, why would kissing you ruin it?” His voice possesses such anger you couldn’t even think he was capable of. But you feel yourself getting upset, how long will he torture you with this? Do you need to say with all words how undesirable you are?

“Because no one in their right mind should be seen with a girl like me!” You blurt out, feeling his anger seep into your body.

“A girl like you?” He huffs in disbelief. “A girl that indulged me, was nice to my friends and let me drag her to the middle of nowhere?” Mingyu leans forward, caging your body in between his arms. “ A pretty, kind girl, who helped me without asking anything for it? What kind of girl, tell me.” He orders, his voice in a low, hushed tone that tickles your nose when he speaks.

Speechless, you’re sitting there, face to face with a guy that genuinely shows interest in you, told you you’re pretty for the nth time tonight and has the most kissable lips you’ve seen.

His jaw is tight with anger, almost as if he’s got a personal vendetta against you self-hatred, but your stupid lustful brain can’t focus on anything but the sharp cut of his jaw, deep veins bulging from tanned skin.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, so quietly you think you hallucinated it. But it’s very much true.

He looks so irresistible, half-lidded eyes staring at your lips while he bites his own.

“Please,” you exhale, melting into his body when he leans forward.

You were never a woman of action, preferring when others make the move, but in this moment you have this newfound confidence, meeting his lips halfway, crashing into a fervorous kiss.

It’s nothing like your first, you feel the heat emanating from his body, scorching hot seeping into your skin, burning every nerve it touches with fervorous want.

His tongue is in your mouth, anxious and exploring and he is humming against your lips such an intoxicating melody that for a second, you’re a stranded sailor falling for the voice of a siren and dipping into the arms of unimaginable beauty.

Saliva drips from your connected lips but he refuses to end the kiss, no. Because you taste of cherry flavoured hard candies, provocatively luscious with a delicious aftertaste that can only leave you longing for more.

He parts the kiss, leaning back and practically tearing his varsity jacket from his body. You’re watching closely as he lays it behind you, over the car.

Right hand moving to your waist, Mingyu pushes forward until you’re laying on the hood, so pretty. Your body is still finding his, your chest leaning forward so you can mould into his warmth, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, closer, closer.

You’re breathless, eyes trained on his every move with such incredulity as if you believed you were in a dream, hallucinating every moment so far.

He can feel every curve of your body pressing tightly against his. It’s evident the effect you’re having on him, blood boiling in his veins with unadulterated desire.

There has never been a moment in his life where he genuinely cared to go slow, to show his passion and intent; Every partner of his had been as much into the act as he had been.

But you, you’re so fragile and every moment he spends in your presence feels so ephemeral, he can not help the panic that rushes into his body to make it worth it, to make every second last.

His lips trace along your jaw, saliva coating the path he trails down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. And his lips are so gentle and enticing, with their sugary kisses that you lean into because you’ve never felt something so wonderful.

He nibbles and kisses on your exposed skin, teeth grazing across the teeniest bit of cleavage showing from your borrowed dress. So far, you had done an amazing job at keeping the sounds he elicited from leaving your lips, however this once, you couldn’t hold the breathy mewl that escapes.

Mingyu freezes, eyes slowly rising up until they meet your face.

“Oh my god, do it again,” He huffs against your sensitive skin.

“W-What?” You ask.

“That sound you just did, god, you sound so fucking hot,” And he slurs against your chest. Not because of alcohol, no, he had sobered up on the windy car ride, but intoxicated on the effortless warmth that you exude.

You lit a flame on his chest that burns incandescently with nothing but greedy lust, burning its way through his body with an unfathomable hunger that could only be satisfied by your sweetest moans.

He struggles with the buttons that decorate the cleavage of your dress, trying to undo them and seriously questioning his soberness when they do not separate.

“It’s got a zipper,” You admit, but he looks so relieved.

Mingyu leans back, pulling you by your hand until you crash into his chest and he can finally reach the back of your dress. You’re breathing so heavily against his skin, your soft hands grazing along the nape of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair; He can hardly focus on the task at hand.

His right hand runs under the skirt of your dress, clawing at your flesh with heavy hands, almost as if he wanted to hold you fully in his touch. Toying with the band of your panties, he sighs, watching your chest heave at the contact.

You pull your dress sleeves off, letting the fabric bundle around your waist, though you can’t be arsed to properly take it off. Mingyu does not mind at all, no, he’s absolutely hypnotised by the sight of your tits.

Shoving his face onto your cleavage, he’s pulling you closer into his body by your hips, sucking love bites on your unblemished skin. Leaving a trace of him that would last longer than your moments together, a mark of momentary possession that allowed his brain to indulge.

And you’re contaminated with his boldness, clawing at his shirt with relentless anticipation. You suddenly have this peculiar urge to feel his skin on yours, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

Mingyu smiles against your skin, finding your hands that touch him fervently, wrapping his fingers around yours. And for a brief moment, you feel as though you might’ve wronged him, but he pulls your hands to wrap around his neck as he finds your lips again while his hands are pulling on the hem of his shirt.

The kiss is only parted once, when he pulls the white shirt above his shoulders and discards it somewhere across the soft grass; completely unimportant at the moment.

And god, Mingyu is divinely sculpted with defined pecs and hardened abs that tense under your touch. You sigh at the dreamy sight of his tan skin completely exposed for your viewing only.

He relishes in the adoring look you exhibit, eyes dripping wholly in an exquisite hunger you’ve never felt before; And he coerces this scandalous reaction from you with pride. Your hands are eager to touch him, so you do. You run your fingers down his supple skin, fingernails grazing in teasing lines.

Smoothing out your hands up his chest, you find his neck and pull him toward your lips, wanting to feel his bare skin on yours, stealing his heat until your bodies are running at the exact same temperature.

His hands, large and calloused from playing professional sports, lay heavy on your thighs. Mingyu pulls at the waistband of your panties and takes a second to lock eyes with you, guaranteeing your approval.

You can only hope you’ve got the good pair of underwear on.

But it doesn’t matter, because he pulls it off at once, discarding it above his shoulder to fall somewhere along his shirt.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist and you should’ve felt more embarrassed to be completely exposed before him but Mingyu looks at you with such reverent eyes, taking every inch of abundant flesh with care.

“Fuck–” He groans, eyes glued to the spot between your legs. You can’t even close them in an attempt at modesty because he is standing right there and not going anywhere.

He runs a slender finger across your slit, breathing heavier at the sight of moisture that pools along the lips.

When you bite your lower lip, unknowingly coquettish and staring at him all bright eyed and pleading, Mingyu let out a strained sound that could barely be classified as a groan.

“Can I?”

His finger dances around your slit and he looks unsure. You nod with a soft “Yeah.”

Nothing like anything you’ve felt or done before.

That’s the only way to explain the feeling of having his long finger prodding at your hole with gentle movement. He soon joins another one, stretching you out with delicate scissoring motions, he’s not focused on making you cum, he wants to prepare you for him.

And that very thought makes your stomach tighten in anticipation.

You don’t even realise when your hips are thrusting against his hand, matching his pace. And you’re definitely not thinking when you ask in a gasp:

“A… Another one–”

Mingyu stills.

“You don’t fuckin–” He leans forward, forehead flushed to yours, uneven breath tickling your sensitive lips. “You have no idea what you’re doin’ to me, babygirl.”

You feel your body consumed with an unstoppable amount of confidence, knowing the grip you hold over Mingyu at this moment, you’re dizzy with power.

“Show me, then,” The lazy smile that finds your red stained lips is a sight to bear.

He smirks, knowing he will make you eat your words soon.

As he pulls his fingers from your cunt, there is a thick string of arousal that coats his skin in a sinful glaze. With a confident smirk, Mingyu

But he doesn’t expect when you lean forward, letting your tongue run all over, cleaning his fingers and tasting first-hand the pleasure he brings you.

Oh, fucking hell.

Mingyu could’ve cum right then and there.

You’re giggling as he fumbles with his belt, he wishes he could’ve stopped to appreciate such a sweet sound, but he was way too horny to think about anything other than plunging his cock into you at once.

When the night breeze hits his throbbing erection, Mingyu shivers.

You’re chewing on your lower lip, equal parts excited and terrified at his sheer size. He is large. And fat, with bulging veins running down his length and a thick head that’s trickling with pre-cum.

“Oh my god.”

Mingyu cowers at your gasp, “What?”

“You’re huge, fuck.”

Oh, your praise runs straight down to his erection. His chest puffs out with absolute pride.

“Do you have a condom?” It was a silly question when aimed toward Mingyu, of course he did. He always does.

He fishes out his wallet and pulls a fresh packet, tearing the foil apart with his teeth and pulling the pre-lubed rubber. Mingyu is about to roll it over himself when your hands find his.

“Can I–?” You ask and he almost sighs.

He watches you with bated breath. You’re delicate, small hands quietly rolling the condom over his seemingly unending length until you’ve reached the base. Your fingers linger in curiosity and he can’t help but to find it adorable.

Properly protected, Mingyu grasps his length as you position yourself better on the hood, legs wide open, dripping in anticipation. Oh, you couldn’t fault his desire to tease, could you?

Running his tip over and over your drenched core, he groans. You’re clenching around nothing, hands fidgeting with the bunched up fabric of your dress. Mingyu has a stupid confident smirk on his lips, watching you squirm at his minimal touch.

“Mingyu!” You whine when he brushes against your clit. Reaching your right hand, you claw at his heaving chest. He doesn’t budge, however.

“What?” He plays dumb, toying with your hole.

“F-Fuck me? Please…?”

Fuck seven point five, you were a ten, a twenty, a one-hundred, no fucking numbers could quantify your allure, no. You could charm your way out of any crime if you pursed your brows and pouted your lips like this, smeared red lipstick painting your soft skin, saliva dripping down your chin so indecently.

And your hand was still, caressing his stomach, like a succubus ready to pounce and devour him like a five course-meal. Consume him whole, body and soul until he has nothing left to give. He would let you have him, any way you wanted, you just needed to say the word.

Just needed to let his name fall out of your pretty lips in a breathy gasp and he would be at your call.

Mingyu enters you slowly, stretching out every millimetre of your walls with a burning feeling of fullness.

“Fuck–” He groans, “Relax for me, baby.”

You take a deep breath, allowing your body to relax as much as your brain allows at the moment and he takes the chance to stretch you out further, hips pistoning forward.

Mingyu feels the pleasure seep into his body in one fell swoop, dissolving in his bloodstream, filling his lungs with heat. You’re snug around him, clamping down on his sensitive erection, pulsing alive and throbbing.

“Are you in?” You ask, not risking looking down and disappointing yourself at the remaining length. Mingyu is hovering just inches above you, hand taut on the hood, using every bit of restraint imaginable to not pound you into tomorrow.

“Just a little more,” He breathes out, head coming to rest on the crook of your neck as his hip comes to meet yours.

He allows you a moment to let the stretch lessen, to allow your discomfort to slowly morph into pleasure. And soon, you’ve got your arms wrapped tight around his broad shoulders, his almond eyes have completely surrendered to the dark gaze of lust, devouring you alive with their insatiable hunger.

“You can move now…” You breathe out, fingers tangling around his silky smooth hair.

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” He smiles against your lips, hips finding themselves a languid, slow and torturous pace until you’re begging for more.

The way his body feels against your is something unforgettably wonderful, every curve of his torso giving into your own, every inch of you filling into the gaps of his in an imperfectly perfect little puzzle.

With every thrust, you’re pulling at the roots of his hair, gaining yourself sharp hisses from Mingyu. Though he enjoys the tugging, leans into your scratching, presents his lips to you with total eagerness.

He fastens his movement, thrusting into you with sheer fervour. His hands are exploring your body, kneading at abundant flesh with excited fingers that leave trails of crescent moons shapes along your skin.

Out here, in the middle of nowhere, caressed by the breeze and the moonlight, you’re whispering his name in an unanswered prayer, letting the syllables dance around in your tongue before you let them slip away into the starry night sky to be forgotten.

You’re clenching around him with pleasure, feeling the knot in your belly tighten and tighten.

“Feels– So good,” Mingyu hisses against your kisses, hips not stuttering even once.

Brain an absolute mush, you can’t find any words to respond other than strained moans.

“So– Fucking good…” Nuzzling along your jaw, he grazes his teeth on your neck, painting your skin with love bites.

“I–” You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He doesn’t even need you to finish your sentence to know what you meant.

“Yeah? Me too– Let go, baby.”

Digging his hands into your hips, Mingyu hurries his thrusts, hitting your sweet spot again and again until you’re melting in his arms, singing praise of his name with your candied voice and luring him into his own orgasm.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a harsh kiss, hips slowing down as he comes undone, tainting the condom with heavy spurts.

You’re both gasping in complicity, blanketed in the summer night.

Once the condom is discarded, Mingyu lays by your side and pulls you into his heaving chest. You both lay there in comfortable silence, letting the orgasms fade out into strained sleepiness.

“Will you promise to remember me?” You ask, watching the twinkling stars that lay before you two.

“Where did that come from?” Mingyu chuckles.

“Do you promise?” Your voice is a soft whisper that dissipates into a shaky, hesitant breath, “Do you promise to remember me?”

He laughs, but your eyes hold such urgency, he can not ignore the human need to sympathise with your woes. “...Why– Why do you say that?”

“Because…” You sigh, “Because I’ll remember you, – this,” Hands vaguely gesturing toward your conjoined bodies, “For the rest of my life… And I’m afraid even a decade from now, you won’t be able to recall my name or what I look like.”

It’s serious, it’s a concern that has plagued your mind since the moment you laid down. However, Mingyu can only focus on the fact that you’ve assumed the two of you won’t see each other again, ever.

Leaning forward, his slight smile does nothing to hide the clearly confused look that is plastered across his handsome face, “It’s like you plan to disappear. We’ll see each other again.”

You shake your head, “What are the chances, Mingyu? We’re just… Fleeting seconds in centuries. What are the chances alumni – Not even from the same major, – will meet again?”

“What if we promise to meet?” Oh, he’s absolutely set on it, but you find it adorable; this fervorous intent on defying the hands fate has laid before you.

“Then, what happens when we’re bored of each other?” You chew on your lower lip, but he discards your argument.

“That might not happen,” He points out.

“We’re too different. It defeats fate to force it,” You sigh.

Mingyu doesn’t have an answer right now, but he’s seeking one with furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Remember me like this, no wait–” You run your fingers through tangled hair in an attempt to fix the messing he’d done before. “Done. Like this.” You flash a smile, posing your body in the best angle it has, to construct the perfect memory.

But Mingyu sees your flustered cheeks, smeared lipstick that leaves behind a stained trail of hot red over swollen-kissed lips. Sleep hazed eyes that gaze at him with such warmth, that hold a longing he wouldn’t be able to grasp for another decade. You liked him, you truly did. And that’s why you would never allow your memories of him to be tainted by the grasps of time.

You’d forever remember his dorky smile and dad jokes, his clumsy hands and warmth.

And Mingyu doesn’t realise it yet, but he would forever remember you as someone who marked him forever. To disregard the cards you’re dealt, make your own memories, remember it all fondly.

Maybe in a couple years, you will have a wild dream about this very moment, a fuzzy memory that leaves behind a nostalgic smile that will follow you for the day, reminding you of this perfect feeling. You’ll look back with wistful thinking of the good days.

And will keep it close to your heart.

Where it belongs.

You thought about it often the day after, but days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. And a decade later, you found yourself having a dream about the distant memory, and the sweet nostalgic feeling accompanied you throughout your routine.

After university, you had found a simple job in your area that sufficed the need for experience and filled the empty stop in your resume. Though it was far from fulfilling. There was no creative liberty allowed and you often found yourself overworked and constricted by tight deadlines.

The dream of your own line had yet to die, however. That’s why you had volunteered for such a demanding gig: designing for a historical movie. Luckily, your resume had allowed you a good position, overseeing the wardrobe and designing the pieces that would be forever captured on film.

The main character, a pretty young thing with curly hair, was extremely excited to work with you and almost cried when she saw the dresses she would be wearing.

Today, you would be fitting for the lead male role and designing him some characteristic James Dean style clothes. Your assistant led him to your office while you were gathering your materials.

When you enter the room and you’re met with those gorgeous almond eyes, you can’t help the stupid smile that finds your lips.

“This is the lead actor, Kim Mingyu,” Your assistant explains.

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh.

He stands up, a charming smirk plastered on his pretty face, “Hey.”

Your assistant looks at you with a puzzled look, “You know each other?”

Mingyu nods.

“Yeah, I never forget a pretty face.”

2K notes · View notes

ilguna · 8 months

Text

☼ perfectly timed pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; when you figure out that the arena's a clock, Finnick promises that he'll be your bodyguard from then on, and he doesn't take that responsibility lightly.

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, murder, gore, blood.

wc; 10.7k

part two.

–

See, after you won your Games, you should’ve learned your lesson regarding how to properly wield a weapon in order to defend yourself. At the time, you’d decided that your effort would be wasted. You dipped your toes in the water when it came to combat techniques, and quickly discovered that you needed to have a little foundation of fighting experience in order for the new information to mean anything.

So, you spent your time learning other useful skills, ones that would help if you took a lighter approach. It had been done plenty of times before with the tributes that came from less fortunate districts. They hid the entirety of the Games, waited out every mutt attack, survived every storm, dodged tributes, and ended up being pronounced as the Victor when the other final tribute finally went down.

You went to all the stations that the gymnasium had to offer. How to identify berries, first aid, tying knots, making weapons and tools from nothing, how to build shelter, weave nets, starting fires, cleaning water, snares, fish hooks, sewing. It was an endless list that you eagerly spent your time going through.

Yet, it didn’t matter when it came down to you and the career girl from Two. She tracked you down, followed you from hiding spot to hiding spot, watching your routine. The one skill you needed to know was how to defend yourself in a fight, and you had no idea how to. It’s what almost got you killed.

And it’s what might get you killed this time around.

You made the same mistake, only worse. You didn’t learn anything during your three training days. They were spent trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the tributes. With Beetee not telling you anything, you were left to your own devices.

You caught on pretty quickly to the looks that were being shared, it was the districts that had you stumped. Four, Six, Seven, Eight and Eleven. As far as you knew at the beginning, you and Beetee weren’t involved at all. You’d find out later that he’d signed you up for the alliance, he was just letting you sort out the situation on your own, waiting for you to come to him.

In the meantime, you watched as the victors you’ve known for years attracted like magnets to the Twelve tributes. On the other hand, Katniss and Peeta didn’t seem to be owned by anybody. They dabbled in a little bit of everybody, which you figured was because they were trying to find who would be the greatest allies in the arena.

Katniss is a smart girl, you saw that when you briefly talked between her and Beetee at the fire starting station. Beyond that, you never spoke to her again. You knew that she was the center of the odd behavior.

When you’d had enough by the time the scores came around, you finally asked Beetee what was going on. He informed you that because of the possibility of a rebellion, some of the districts are coming together to become one big alliance for the sake of the Twelve tributes inside of the arena. It wasn’t until he told you that you were both invited into said alliance, did it all fall into place.

By then, you were too fixated on figuring out every detail you could before the arena came around. You’d missed your opportunity yet again on how to defend yourself with a weapon. The one good thing that came out of it was Katniss taking a liking to you and Beetee at the station, causing her to request for you two to be her allies.

Which has, for some odd reason, landed you right in the middle of an alliance with Johanna and Beetee. This is not something you would’ve chosen on your own, for several reasons. There’s a part of you that knows you should be grateful that you have them here, because they really are your only source of protection from the other tributes in the arena for the time being.

You’d offer up Beetee, except he can’t fight in the first place, and especially can’t now that he’s been stabbed in the back after he went into the Cornucopia during the bloodbath. He was seeking to find his wire, the one that he used to win his games. Luckily, he found it. Although, you’re not entirely sure what he’s going to use it for quite yet.

Anyway, the Seven tributes are a bitter pill to swallow when they’re making it extremely difficult for you to continue being an easy ally for them. They might have saved you from the Cornucopia, but the way they’re talking to you two is wearing on your patience. Between Blight’s judgemental looks and Johanna’s short and rude attitude, you’re about to run off with Beetee to find a better spot to hide and strategize on how to blow this arena wide open.

“I’m done.” Johanna finally says, throwing her axe down in the grass. “We can make shelter here and find water in the morning. I’m not going to run around for the rest of the night looking for it.”

You take in a breath, turning to look at the area she’s picked out. It’s clear enough for the four of you to stay in. Beetee sets his wire down on the ground next to a tree, and slowly lowers himself to sit down, wincing when his back hurts.

Blight nods, fixing his own axe in his hand. “I’ll go find something for us to eat.”

Your lips twitch, you bite down on your tongue, wanting to offer to go with, because you’re sure that your knowledge will help some. The words die in your mouth, deciding to leave it be. If he finds an animal or nuts, fine. If he doesn’t, then you’ll sit here and wait for him to ask for help. You’re tired of him brushing you off. Besides, you can go without food for a couple of days. It won’t kill you.

Blight walks off, disappearing into the large jungle. The trees are tall, easily stretching over thirty feet into the air. Not to mention, the leaves act as a canopy, hiding the sun in the daytime. It’s been an hour since sunset, meaning you’re left to the moonlight to help guide you. Which is impossible to see through the greenery, as well.

You wander around the small area, picking at the plastic on the belt around your waist. Beetee was the one that popped it open, the liquid inside working as a floatation device when in water. Whoever developed it and decided it would appear as a belt is brilliant. You had no need to use yours, you learned how to swim when you were young.

Speaking of water, there is none in the arena. You came to that conclusion fairly quickly. You’ve covered at least five wedges walking diagonally, looking for any sign of it. There isn’t a single running stream or the sound of a waterfall. The only water in this arena is in the middle, and it’s undrinkable.

The Gamemakers could be wanting the sponsors to get more involved and branch out by helping more than their usual bets. In that case, water could never come. Unless they’re planning something else, like a great storm that’ll provide enough water for the next few days before it rains again.

It would make sense for them to engineer something like that. The humidity proves that, you think. Then again, this is one giant terrarium. They’ve got you under a glass bowl like you’re some sort of science project. That could be said about every arena, though. That’s not what’s special about this one.

It appears ordinary, with the last Quarter Quell, it was fairly obvious that there was something going on. You watched the recap for the first time on the train just a couple days ago. The arena was perfect, too perfect. A healthy green meadow, blue skies with fluffy white clouds, a thick forest to hide inside of, and in the distance, a snow-capped mountain.

It was too good to be true.

Here, all the cards seem to be laid out on the table. It’s miserable. The idea of victors fighting each other, the sun glaring down on you, the humidity making you sticky and irritated, the elevated jungle floor, and not a single sight of water or food the entirety of the climb. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that this is it. It can’t get any worse than this.

You know better, it’s the Capitol. You’re always waiting for the catch.

“Will you stop pacing?” Johanna asks.

You stop, pressing your lips together, looking at her. She’s got her eyes on you, leaned against a tree. She’s moved her axe to be against the tree, too. The handle in arm’s reach.

“Sure,” You say, annoyed. You can’t do anything with her. If you walk too loudly, she glares at you. If you try talking to Beetee, she hushes you. Now, you can’t even pace without her freaking out.

So, you turn to face away from her, staring off into the jungle, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. You hate working inside of a box that belongs to someone else. This is going to be a very long night.

—

A bright light appears from behind the jungle leaves. You squint, looking up to find the Capitol seal, the beginning notes of the anthem interrupting the silence. You push yourself up from where you’re resting next to Beetee, wanting to get a better look into the sky.

You find a spot that allows you a clear view into the sky, right on time for the first face to appear: the man from District Five. This means that all the careers survived the bloodbath. Finnick Odair is out there somewhere with his mentor, and they will undoubtedly be tomorrow’s target to find.

The next to show is the man from District Six, both Cecelia and Woof from Eight, both from Nine, the woman from Ten, and Seeder from Eleven. You pull on your fingers, eyes wandering off as the seal reppears and the music comes to an end, doing the math on how many allies are left.

With eight victors being dead, that leaves sixteen of you alive. Of those eight victors, four of them are allies. There’s still ten of you, more than half of the tributes left in the arena are part of the alliance. This leaves great odds still, nothing for you to worry about quite yet.

You wander back next to Beetee once the seal is gone.

“Finnick and Mags have to be around here somewhere.” Johanna mutters, her and Blight are gathered around a small fire. It’s not for warmth, but to cook the bird that was caught.

“We’ll run across them tomorrow. They’re looking for us, too.” Blight says to her.

At the very least, if you don’t find them tomorrow, you have the chance to find the other two allies that are left. The girl from Six, and Chaff from Eleven. As for Katniss and Peeta, you remember seeing Finnick get them out before you were attacked by Gloss. Johanna saved you seconds later.

You think that a meeting spot should’ve been established. You tried to suggest one, and you were drowned out by the many other ideas that were floating around in Haymitch’s head. If it had been up to you, you would’ve told him that you should all meet back at the Cornucopia on the second day. That way, you wouldn’t struggle with stupid directions. You’d just have to find your way back to the place you started.

Once the bird is ready, it’s split evenly between the four of you. You pick yours apart, down to the very last bone, not wasting a single piece of meat. You throw the bones over your shoulder, they land behind you somewhere in the bushes. At home, you’d boil the bones to make broth, here you don’t have any use to.

Beetee opts to lay down, tired. He keeps the spool of wire closeby, right between the two of you. He trusts that you’ll keep an eye on it, put your life on the line for it. You know better than anyone that he has a method to his madness, the same as you. If he believes that it’s important to have, who are you to say otherwise? You’ve listened to him for less.

“I’ll take first watch, Blight.” Johanna says, pulling the axe into her hand. “Go ahead and gather with Nuts and Volts.”

You press your lips together, glaring at Johanna. She catches this, giving you a taunting smile. Blight brings his axe with, creating a bed in the grass, and laying down a few feet from Beetee. You don’t move from where you sit.

If this bothers Johanna, she chooses not to mention it. She patrols, walking in a certain direction, and then turning around and going the other way without completing a full lap. It makes her moves unpredictable for the first fifteen minutes. A pattern develops, whether she intends it to or not.

You cross your arms, letting your head fall back against the tree, closing your eyes. The drowsiness doesn’t come immediately, leading you to believe that you’re too awake to fall asleep. In your Games, all you did was sleep, but that was because there wasn’t a constant threat hanging over your head the same way there is now.

You’re in an arena full of experienced killers. The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been before.

Still, you fall asleep to the sound of Johanna shuffling through the underbrush.

And wake to the sound of a bell tolling. You jerk forward, face twisted as you work through the haziness. You count each one, the number growing higher, until it stops. There is no announcement that follows.

Twelve.

You look up from where you’re staring at the grass, to where Johanna had been walking around earlier. You see that she’s gathered with Blight, frozen and staring at the night sky, waiting. She must’ve just woken him up so he can take over. If you were paranoid, you’d say that they’re plotting to kill you in your sleep. Which you’re not worried about, at all. Johanna’s desperate to get Katniss to like her; you and Beetee are her only ticket.

“Twelve.” Johanna echoes your thoughts. “Huh.”

“Could be signifying the end of the first day.” Blight theorizes, “It’s late, it has to be around midnight by now. They play the fallen right around eight.”

“Yeah, but why should we care that it’s the end of the first day?”

Blight shrugs. “Go ahead and sleep, I’ll take over from here.”

“Thanks.” She makes her way to where he made his bed, claiming it as her own now.

Blight could be onto something. It should be somewhere around midnight, meaning you’re officially in the second day of the arena. This could mean a number of things, but most importantly, the twelve bells can’t be a coincidence. The Capitol is far too smart to choose any random number, especially when it’s the exact amount of districts.

You almost stuff this in the back of your mind to go back to sleep, when a bright and strong bolt of electricity strikes a couple miles away. It continues into a lightning storm, shaking the ground and making it impossible for you to consider the idea of sleep.

You get to your feet, Blight whips around at the sound of movement. He lets out a loud sigh, “What are you doing?”

You walk right past him, ignoring him because you’re not really in the mood for what he has to say. You keep your eyes on the storm the best you can, trying to find a large enough clearing that’ll allow you to look at the sky. Blight calls after you, but you’re only twenty feet away when you stop.

The night sky is clear of any clouds. This means the lightning has to be engineered. Of course, you’ve seen storms with no clouds but for it to happen here, right after the twelve bells—it leads you to believe that this is far from a coincidence. This is just another piece of the puzzle.

Blight is waiting for you when you get back to camp. You shake your head, going back to where you’d been before with Beetee. You pick at your nails, watching Blight wander around the small area for a while. The storm doesn’t let up, persistent and angry.

With it carrying on for so long, you begin to relax next to the tree. Johanna and Beetee have no issue sleeping through it, so you should be able to sleep, too. You glance at Blight a final time, making sure that he’s still awake and moving, and then you rest the back of your head against the tree.

You don’t fall asleep, not fully. Too many ideas surface the moment your eyes have closed. Blight’s idea doesn’t sound too far off. It is something that the Gamemakers would do, but not without reason. For a second, you think that the twelve bells could be more than just for the amount of districts. It could be the number of allies in the alliance you’re in, minus two.

Then again, you’re not entirely sure how the Gamemakers would’ve been able to figure that out on their own. Everyone has done their best to be subtle about who belongs inside of it, and with the stunt that you all pulled at the end of the interviews; holding hands, showing unification. It would lead them to believe that you’re in this together, until the beginning of the bloodbath, when all of it had been forgotten.

Twelve.

It’s a specific number. The more you think, the more frustrated you get. There’s twelve sections in the arena, but you’re not sure how that helps. You picked up on that before you left the center rock with your allies. With two tributes to every wedge, it meant that there were twelve spokes.

That can be passed off as anything, though.

Right as you begin to think about how distracting the lightning is, and you can’t think straight, it ceases. The arena falls back into darkness, silence taking over the thunder. It’s eerily quiet for a few seconds, and then the nearby sound of gentle pattering against leaves begins.

You open your eyes.

It’s raining. For a long moment, you’re relieved; you have a chance at drinkable water, after all. And then you remember that there wasn’t a cloud in sight for the lightning. You press your lips together, eyebrows drawing in as you get to your feet for the third time tonight.

“Get Johanna up.” Blight orders, “We’ve got to catch the water with something.”

“Maybe a leaf?” You snark, walking right by a sleeping Johanna.

He must take you for some type of moron if he thinks that you’re going to wake her up on your own. You’re on her bad side enough as it is, if you stick your face in hers, you’ll be lucky if you don’t get your head cut off in the process. She can wake on her own when she figures out that it’s raining, or Blight can do it himself.

You walk in the same direction you had for the lightning storm, tilting your head back to try and find any clouds. A droplet lands on your forehead, it’s warm, leaving you no hope that you’ll get a chance to cool down from the heat. Another drop lands on your cheek, running down your chin.

You’re surprised to see clouds, and even more so that they’re dark storm clouds, the type that should’ve accompanied the lightning. You watch, bewildered because you can almost see each individual drop of water coming down at you. They’re darker than the clouds they’re coming from.

The rain starts slow, mostly catching on the trees above, maybe a drop here or there on your skin and jumpsuit. It begins to pick up, growing intense, as the leaves above can’t even protect you from the assault. You watch as the water lands on your palms, darkening the color.

That’s not right.

You shake your head, starting back to camp. This too, is Gamemaker engineered. It’s perfectly planned, right after a storm to make it seem innocent enough. If they’re trying to trick you into a false sense of security, it worked.

In the time it takes for you to join the others, the rain has reached its peak. You’re drenched, hair sticking to your face, jumpsuit becoming a second layer of skin, shoes squishing with every step. And the smell is overwhelmingly familiar. You can’t place your finger on it immediately.

“It’s not water!” You hear Johanna shout, “Beetee, get up!”

You wipe the thick liquid from your eyes, struggling to see through it. Even with your vision being clear, it doesn’t help much. You can hardly see a few feet in front of you at a single time. You follow the voices of your allies, who are beginning to panic.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Beetee asks.

“I’m here!” You tell them, struggling to stay upright. The greenery has grown slick from the wetness.

“It’s blood!” Johanna shouts at you. “It’s not water, it’s blood!”

That’s what that nauseating smell is.

“We need to go, now!” Blight says.

You manage to stumble into the three of them, Johanna grabs a tight hold of you, dragging you to follow Blight. He heads uphill diagonally, you have to cover your eyes with your free hand in order to see him. With every swipe at your eyes, a stinging pain surfaces.

“Blight—?” Johanna calls, looking up. She gags a second later, stopping dead in her tracks to lean over and heave. She coughs out a mouthful of the blood.

You decide very quickly that your lips will be sealed from this moment forward. Johanna continues to pull you and Beetee in the direction that Blight had gone. You’ve lost him completely. It’s almost ten minutes later when a cannon blasts, and another five when you find Blight’s body, face down in the grass, unmoving.

The Gamemakers haven’t collected him yet because you three are too close. Your eyes dart around the scene, trying to find the source of his death. You can’t see any outward injuries, which is even more difficult to identify with the amount of blood being dumped from the clouds.

He was climbing the incline like you are now. Where he’s lying isn’t that far from the top of the hill. In the daylight, you’d agreed not to go down into the valley, wanting to keep fairly close to the Cornucopia. That was assuming there was a valley to explore, but now that you’re looking at it…

You yank Johanna by her own grasp, almost throwing her from the amount of force behind the move. She stumbles a step or two, taking Beetee down to the ground. You shake your head at her quickly, eyes wide.

There’s one more thing you found out during your training days, and it wasn’t anything about the tributes around you. It was about the Capitol, and how they found a much better way to hide things in plain sight. Beetee was the one to show it to you in the gymnasium, and it came with a warning.

Nothing is ever what it seems.

Blight ran into a force field, the force field that surrounds the entire arena. If you had to guess now, it’s in the shape of a dome. There is no valley, the force field just gives the appearance that there is one to fool tributes into walking into it. That’s exactly what happened here, with Blight trying to lead you to safety.

“What the—” Johanna begins, gagging.

“Force field!” You manage to yell at her through the drumming noise of blood on leaves.

Beetee raises his head, squinting through his glasses to see what you mean.

Johanna throws her head back, eyes closed, unmoving. You watch the blood run down her neck, maybe she’s trying to compose herself. She suddenly yanks Beetee to his feet, pulling you back down the way you came.

You think she’s trying to lead you to the beach, but at the pace you’re going, it could take all night. You keep getting your foot caught in roots, branches appearing out of thin air to make tiny cuts in your skin.

Right when it’s beginning to get hard to breathe, the rain stops suddenly.

Johanna lets go of you, letting you stumble a few steps before collapsing. You lean over your knees, taking deep breaths to resist the urge to vomit in the grass. You wipe the blood from your face the best you can, gathering handfuls and flinging it into the trees.

“Fuck.” Johanna says, her fingers are laced, hands on top of her head. She looks between you and Beetee.

“We should go down to the beach.” You tell her.

She scoffs, “That’s not happening.” She shakes her head, walking a couple steps away. You’re able to see Beetee, he’s more concerned about the wire than himself. “If the careers are down there, I won’t be able to protect all three of us against the four of them. That’s a stupid idea.”

“It’s stupid to stay here, too.” You tell her, “The Gamemakers did this.”

“So?” Johanna asks.

“They did the lightning too. Who’s to say they won’t do another?”

She’s not listening to you anymore. “I’ll take watch.”

—

The sound of distant screaming stops the three of you momentarily, peering to the right, as if you’ll be able to see through the trees to find the danger. The ground begins to tremble, Johanna has to grab Beetee with both of her hands to keep him from sinking to the floor.

He grew worse overnight, nothing the beach could’ve helped. He needs to have the wound on his back cleaned out, the blood rain from early this morning could carry a number of nasty diseases.

That’s why you’re heading there now. Johanna came to her senses, as soon as you woke up, she questioned you about your thoughts on the jungle versus the beach. You told her that the jungle offers concealment, of course, but no one’s going to be on the beach because everyone can see them, no matter where they stand.

And, once again, there’s a chance you could run across the other half of your allies on the beach. It’s worth the try.

“Come on, Volts.” Johanna grunts, jerking him. He follows her directions, but he’s dragging his feet. “I will drag you out of here by your feet.” She threatens.

“Don’t talk to him like that.” You snap at her. “He’s hurt, he can’t help it.”

“He wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t go into the Cornucopia for that stupid wire.” She tells you, “So yes, he could help it. Either help me carry him or shut up.”

You glare at her, taking the other side of Beetee to help her bring him through the last bit of the jungle. You glance off to the right again, curious, and find a large wave cresting over the trees. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, wanting to turn and run in the other direction.

It doesn’t break its uniform shape, heading straight for the Cornucopia. You can kinda see the wave through the trees, joining the water in the center, and then skyrocketing. You throw your head back, watching it reach for the top of the dome, the force field, and then falling all at once.

“Gamemakers…” You murmur, eyebrows twitching in.

A cannon fires.

The beach is close enough for you to pick up the pace with Johanna, pulling Beetee with all the strength you have left. Once your feet hit the sand, it’s harder to pull him along. Beetee stops working with you altogether, falling forward, taking you and Johanna down with him.

Your hands and knees hit the sand, sticking to the bloody sweat on your hands. Johanna springs up, stomping her foot into the sand, letting out a frustrated scream through her teeth. You reach to touch Beetee’s temple, and find it warm.

“Johanna!” A voice shouts, you turn to look over your left shoulder, finding a figure running your way.

“Finnick!” Johanna laughs, relieved, “Finally!” She sends you a look, half a smile, “I guess you were right.”

You tilt your head. You want to tell her that you have a tendency to be right, but you decide to savor the moment. Maybe you and Johanna can end up being friends after this, no matter how unlikable her personality can be sometimes.

You get to your feet, brushing the sand from your knees. You take a step toward Beetee, prying the wire from his fingers to make it easier to flip him onto his back so he’s not breathing in the sand.

“Johanna.” Finnick breathes. He’s in nothing but his underwear, trident in hand. “We didn’t recognize you at first, covered in…” He swipes his finger across the skin on her arm, face scrunching when he finds out that it’s not liquid, it’s dried.

“It’s blood.” Johanna says, Finnick glances at you to see that you’re just as gross.

“Did you get into a fight?”

“No, it happened last night. We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, turned out to be blood.” Johanna’s words are a blur, you didn’t realize she could talk so fast. “Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

Katniss and Peeta have joined you, not dressed in anything but their underwear, either. Katniss is on guard with the bow in her hand, she must not feel threatened enough to need an arrow. You briefly meet Peeta’s eyes, he gives you a smile. The last time you talked to him was in the gymnasium, he came around while you were talking to the first aid specialist. He didn’t stay with you for long.

“I’m sorry, Johanna.” Finnick shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” Her eyes land on you and Beetee. “And he left me alone with these two.” She nudges Beetee with the top of her shoe. “He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—”

“Johanna.” You warn.

“She can’t stop talking about what happened with the twelve bongs last night.” She says, “Turns out that Nuts is nuts.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. You’re not going to respond to her, you’re not going to let her antagonize you. You turn away, grabbing Beetee’s wire to move it into the treeline.

“Lay off her.” Katniss snaps.

You pause, turning to find Johanna glaring at Katniss. “Lay off her?” She hisses, stepping forward and slapping Katniss. Your mouth opens, and before you can speak, “Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—”

Finnick strides toward Johanna, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder. She squirms, still calling Katniss names, even after Finnick’s dropped her in the water, dunking her repeatedly beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry, Katniss.” You murmur, “She’s been on edge since Blight died last night.”

“It’s not your fault.” She tells you.

“I’m um, I’m going to clean up.”

You wade into the saltwater, watching the way it turns pink as the dried blood saturates. You dip your hands into the warm water, rubbing your hands free of the blood that you’ve had to deal with for the past couple of hours. The cuts on your hands begin to swing, but you don’t care.

You lower yourself into the water, using your nails to get it off better. It’s laid on so thickly in places, it comes off in chunks that you have to pick out. You scratch at your scalp, the blood turning into goop you squeeze out. Every time you think you come close to being done, you find more.

You pull off the purple belt, throwing it into the sand. You shed the jumpsuit, which has been stained from the blood as well. Here, you can see where the red is coming from. You rub the last of it off your skin, before making your way back to the beach. You’ll hang it up to dry.

You throw the jumpsuit onto a branch, and then turn around to see what the others are doing. Finnick and Johanna are still in the water, and it seems he’s managed to calm Johanna down. As for Katniss and Peeta, they’re bathing Beetee in the water, hopefully looking at his wound while they’re at it.

You start back to the water to join them, but not to help. They’ve got it handled so far, all you’ll do is get in the way. What you want to do is pick their brains about the jungle and what they experienced last night.

Peeta looks at you as you approach, once more offering a smile. “He’s in good hands.”

“I know.” You say, stopping a few feet behind them. “You’d never hurt him. I’ve actually got a few questions.”

What you need is for them to confirm the theory that you’ve had working since last night. You said that there is no coincidence when it comes to the Gamemakers, and that got you thinking after the blood rain. A sequence of events like that last night, one after the other… it’s not something they usually do.

First, it was the twelve bells, Blight said it was the beginning of the second day. What if it was for something else, though? The Capitol never exhausts all their tricks so quickly, because they want to keep unpredictability on their side. And that’s what happened, you didn’t think that they’d cause the lightning, and then the blood rain, and then presumably another event after.

There was another death last night, you were awake to hear the cannon. If you had to make an estimated time on when it happened, you’d say an hour after Blight’s death. You could chalk that all up to coincidence, or maybe the careers found a tribute, but that’s not what you’re considering.

“Sure.” Peeta says, Katniss gives you an apprehensive look.

“You three had Mags, didn’t you?” You ask. “Did you lose her sometime during the night?”

Peeta nods, “Yeah, we lost her during the fog.”

Your eyebrows raise, “The fog? What time did that happen?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know. It was after that first cannon.”

You look at Katniss, “Were you awake?”

“Yes, I was watching the trees.”

You press your lips together, looking up and at the cornucopia. They’re not giving you much to work with. You clear your throat, “Katniss, how far away would you say you were to the lightning?”

When you look down at her, she’s thinking.

You motion to one of the wedges. “One of these sections over, two…?”

“Two, I guess.”

“And did you hear rain?”

Katniss nods, “Yeah, I was waiting for it to come to us, but it never did.”

“Did anything happen after the rain stopped?”

“The fog started.”

Your lips twitch, corners of your mouth turning up into a smile. You look up at the wedge you came from this afternoon, and then one over to the left to see the tree the lightning struck last night.

Lightning, rain, fog.

“The section you were just in, did anything happen?” You look between Katniss and Peeta.

“Monkey mutts.” Peeta says, “They appeared out of nowhere and kept multiplying. They um… they killed the woman from Six.”

You nod, backing away from them. “Thanks.”

The moment you have your back to them, you let out a quiet laugh. You’ve figured it out. It was fairly obvious last night, but with Katniss and Peeta’s help, it’s put the pieces together.

The arena works like a clock.

That’s the importance of the twelve, why the cornucopia is divided up so specifically. The bells last night were because it was midnight. The lightning started, lasted the entirety of the hour, and then the rain started. It didn’t reach you right away because it started off at the top of the hill and made its way down. When the hour was up, that’s when the fog started. And then the mutts in the section over when your allies successfully escaped the fog.

You should say something to them, but not before your suspicions are confirmed. If you’re right, then the lightning should happen again at noon. The tidal wave that killed the girl a few sections over wasn’t too long ago. It’s gotta be anywhere between ten to eleven right now. You have an hour to go.

You sit in the treeline next to Beetee’s wire, watching as Johanna and Finnick wade out, coming in your direction.

“Are you thirsty?” Finnick asks, “Hungry?”

“Sure.” You smile, “I’ll take some water, more than anything.”

“Not before me.” Johanna says, coming to sit nearby.

“I’ll be back.” Finnick laughs, heading down the beach.

When you officially agreed to join the alliance that Haymitch organized, you were surprised to find out that Finnick was part of it. In all honesty, you thought that he might have been more inclined to stay with Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria and Brutus, considering they hold the same status.

They’re very popular victors. Well, not so much Brutus anymore, but the other three won a little more than ten years ago. With them being back-to-back career wins, it was easy to see why the Capitol took such a good liking to them. Finnick was probably the best victor to end that streak on, since he set a new record for the youngest tribute to ever win. That, and the trident he received in the arena was expensive.

In a way, though, Finnick has never been on the same page as Gloss and Enobaria. You picked up on it when you started mentoring for Wiress after your victory. At first glance, he seems like he fits in. He does go out with them to have drinks often, it just takes some convincing.

You’ve heard him talk about his riches, how it started with clothes, gifts, gems, money, and turned into something more. He never elaborates beyond that point, leading you to believe that either there isn’t anything more, or it’s so important that he can’t afford to give it away.

It’s obvious that he prefers people that are more down to earth and sensible—like Johanna, his best friend.. Cashmere, Gloss and Enobaria feed into the Capitol, they wholeheartedly embrace every aspect of it. They let the Capitol change and shape them into the figure they want, because it’ll keep them in the spotlight longer.

As for Finnick, you think he’s been trying to escape it since they latched onto him. It’s hard for them to let go. They thought he was attractive when he was young, and he’s grown into his face over time. He’s a fly stuck in a spiderweb, he’ll be lucky if he wiggles out before his looks wear out.

This is why he joined the alliance, you’re sure. It’s the same conclusion you came to before. If there are no Hunger Games, there is no reason to return to the Capitol every summer, then that means he’s finally set free. It’s the same reason the rest of you were sucked in. It’s a shame that he had to lose his mentor in the process too, though.

Finnick comes back down the beach, bearing several items in his hands. He throws down a woven mat, which Katniss and Peeta immediately work to get Beetee onto to rest. He carefully works a metal object into a tree, and with gentle tweaking, it begins to pour water, which he collects into a bowl he seems to have made, too.

Johanna drinks two full bowls before allowing you to have one. The two of you split the rest of the shellfish, which Finnick insists for you to finish, because they’re done eating. When he can’t stand the silence any longer, he begins to tell you about the long night they experienced last night.

They woke up in the middle of the night, alarmed at Katniss’ tone. Finnick carried Mags down the hill most of the way. The fog was sweet smelling and corrosive, that’s why they don’t have jumpsuits anymore. When it touched their skin, it had a paralyzing effect.

Finnick doesn’t explicitly say what happened to Mags, but you read between the lines, and Johanna doesn’t ask either. When he stops speaking about her, you catch on. Finnick and Katniss had to bring Peeta down the rest of the hill, because Peeta wasn’t at his best. He ran into the forcefield earlier in the day, and Finnick was able to bring him back.

Apparently, the fog corralled them to the bottom, where they tripped and tumbled down the rest of the way. They were sure the fog was going to kill them, until it stopped, creeping upward into the air, as if it had hit the wall.

“What do you mean?” You ask, sitting up.

Finnick shakes his head, Katniss speaks. “It was like we were out of reach.”

You hum.

This follows your theory; the threats have to stay within their wedges. If it goes out, then it breaks the rules that the Gamemakers created for the Quell. It wouldn’t work like a clock anymore. That’s why the wave an hour ago didn’t come in your direction, it hit the cornucopia and evenly dispersed into each section. Effectively resetting the beach.

Finnick goes on to tell you how the monkey mutts were orange, and didn’t seem to be worried about him and Katniss. However, the moment that Peeta made eye contact with one of them, they went berserk. They kept attacking, and appeared never-ending. They didn’t stop until the woman from Six got injured. Katniss and Peeta brought her out to the water, where they kept her company while she passed.

Finnick tells you that the mutts vanished into the vines and bushes, like they were being pulled in. When he tried to investigate, he didn’t find any evidence that they were ever there. Just their weapons left behind.

“Interesting.” You murmur.

This makes you wonder if the blood from the rain last night is also gone.

“Interesting how?” Finnick asks, watching you carefully.

You meet his eyes, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

He squints at you, letting you know that he’s not going to forget. “Well, if any of you want to sleep, I can take watch.”

“Or I could.” Katniss says, “I’m rested.”

“Well, I’m not going to sleep.” Johanna says.

You and Peeta look at each other. He shrugs.

“I’ll sleep.” He says, moving to lay in the shade.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Finnick asks Katniss, she nods. “Then I guess I’ll sleep too. Wake me if either of you get tired.”

“What about you?” Johanna asks you.

You press your lips together, “I’m going to stay awake, I’ll just sit back here.”

“You should sleep.” Johanna tells you.

You get up, ignoring what she has to say. You find a place next to Finnick and Beetee, pluck a large leaf off of a fern, and begin to pick it apart. You all sit in silence, allowing Finnick and Peeta to settle enough to fall asleep.

It’s got to be thirty minutes before Johanna turns her head to look at Finnick, and then back at Katniss. “How’d you lose Mags?”

“In the fog. Finnick had Peeta. I had Mags for a while. Then I couldn’t lift her. Finnick said he couldn’t take them both. She kissed him and walked right into the poison.” Katniss says.

“She was Finnick’s mentor, you know,” Johanna says.

“No, I didn’t.”

Johanna doesn’t say anything for a few moments, “She was half his family.”

When Katniss doesn’t respond, Johanna finally agrees to lay down to try and get herself some sleep. She picks the open spot between you and Finnick, and doesn’t speak another word. You can pinpoint the exact second she slips into unconsciousness, because her whole body relaxes and she lets out a content sigh.

“Did you sleep last night?” Katniss asks, looking over her shoulder slightly to see you.

“Some.” You murmur.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Not enough.”

She catches the hint with your short replies, not pushing it any further. Neither of you speak, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. You pick at your nails, unable to sit still while the anticipation builds. If you’re right, this could change everything. This will give you the advantage, a step in the right direction on how to get out of here.

And then, a flash of light as the lightning hits the same tree it repeatedly struck last night.

You get to your feet, a smile spreading over your face as you inch forward into the sun. You can’t contain the laughter that spills from your lips, hand covering your mouth to keep from being too loud.

“Twelve.” You say.

“What?” Katniss asks, “What are you laughing at?”

“It’s noon.” You giggle, turning around to look at her. “Get the others up, I have something to tell them.”

There must be something about your demeanor that keeps her from questioning you any further. She takes her time shaking Peeta, Finnick and Johanna awake. The entire time, you don’t move your eyes from the lightning tree. Your allies are not very happy when they wake and see that there’s no danger.

You don’t care, turning to look at them. “I figured it out. I would’ve told you sooner, but I had to be sure.”

“Be sure about what?’ Peeta asks, rubbing the sand from his face.

“The arena,” you say, “It works like a clock.”

For the first few minutes, you’re met with skepticism, which you were heavily prepared for. As you meet their questions with answers and more information, they begin to open up to the idea.

“You told me all I needed to know.” You look between Katniss and Peeta. “I just had to be sure that the lightning struck again before I presented the facts.”

Finnick’s on his feet, collecting his belongings, “You are a genius, (Y/n). I would never have thought about that.”

“Well…”

“Seriously.” He says. “You got that all from a couple of hours? It could’ve taken us days.”

You press your lips together into a smile, “Thanks.”

“We have to move.” Katniss says, “If she’s right, then we’re way too close to the fog and monkeys. We should move further down the beach.”

“Works for me.” Peeta agrees.

While they make sure they have everything, you grab your jumpsuit down from the branch, finding that it's almost entirely dry by now. You pull it on, Finnick zips up the back. As for the belt, you offer it to Peeta, who has turned his attention to Beetee.

“He needs it more than I do in the water.”

“Are you sure?” Peeta asks, taking it from you.

“I can swim.”

You watch as Peeta tries to get Beetee up, but he objects. “Wire.”

Peeta looks over his shoulder, shaking his head at you, “I don’t…”

“Wire.” Beetee insists.

“Oh, I know what he wants,” Johanna says. She fishes the cylinder of wire out of the sand. It’s still covered in a thick layer of blood, no one has bothered to wash it since you got here. “This worthless thing. It’s some kind of wire or something. That’s how he got cut. Running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don’t know what kind of weapon it’s supposed to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrote or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garroting somebody?”

“He won his Games with wire. Setting up that electrical trap.” Peeta says. They must have done their research, trying to prepare ahead of time for the victor’s they’ll be facing. “It’s the best weapon he could have.”

Katniss turns her head to the side slightly. “Seems like you’d have that figured out,” she says, “Since you nicknamed him Volts and all.”

Johanna’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, that was really stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She asks, “I guess I must have been distracted by keeping your little friends alive. While you were… what, again? Getting Mags killed off?”

Katniss reaches for the knife on her belt.

“Go ahead. Try it. I don’t care if you are knocked up, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You shuffle away from them, sharing a look with Finnick. You clear your throat to speak, but he beats you to it. “Maybe we all had better be careful where we step.” Finnick looks at Katniss. He then takes the coil of wire and sets it on Beetee’s chest. “There’s your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it.”

When Peeta goes to lift Beetee, he doesn’t resist. “Where to?”

“I’d like to go to the Cornucopia and watch. Just to make sure we’re right about the clock.” Finnick says. “No offense, of course, (Y/n).”

“Better safe than sorry.” You agree.

“Right. And that’s why I won’t be taking my eyes off of you, either,” He tells you, raising his eyebrows. “With Beetee being down, you’ve got to figure out a way to take out the careers. Are you up to it?”

You nod, pulling on the tips of your fingers. This shouldn’t be very hard. The four of them could put up a pretty good fight against the careers all on their own. Johanna and Finnick would want to play it closer to the safe side, to not put Katniss and Peeta directly in the path of the careers. You need the Twelve tributes to come out of this arena alive.

“I can see the gears turning already.” Finnick laughs.

Johanna starts her way down the beach and onto the nearest sand strip that’ll lead you to the Cornucopia. Finnick is the next to go up, insisting to stay in front of you in case the careers are hiding inside and haven’t shown themselves quite yet. Peeta and Katniss follow behind you.

“If you could figure this out, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?” Finnick asks, glancing at you.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Not much.”

“I don’t believe that.”

The golden Cornucopia shines brightly in the sun, as you get closer, you see that it provides a good amount of shade for you to rest in. It’s empty, no sign of the careers, or that they’ve been here recently. The weapons that lie around on the black rock are picked over, only the unusual ones are left.

“Set me by the water, will you?” Beetee asks Peeta, “I’d like to clean it.”

As he begins to dunk the wire into the water to clear it of blood, you wander around the side of the Cornucopia. The lightning stopped almost an hour ago, which means that at any moment…

“What are you doing?” Finnick asks, appearing beside you.

“Looking for signs.” You tell him.

“What time do you think it is?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder. “Blood rain?”

You squint at him, “No, we’re past that. It should be fog.” You take a step away from him. “Do you always stand this close?”

“I can’t let you out of my sight.”

“I guess an arm’s length distance is too much to ask for?” You muse.

“Entirely.” He agrees.

You grind your teeth, trying to seem annoyed while you wait for the warmth to leave your face. It doesn’t help that he’s half-naked, like he was during the Tribute Parade this year. You’re sure the Capitol is enjoying every second of this, and he is too.

Your eyes find the jungle again, and you straighten, “There.”

This seems to catch the other’s attention. “Yes, look, (Y/n) is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.” Katniss says.

“Like clockwork.” Peeta says, “You’re amazing to have figured that out, (Y/n).”

“It’s really—”

“No, he’s right.” Katniss agrees.

Finnick nudges your shoulder.

“Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says, pausing what he’s doing with the wire. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

You can feel your face begin to grow warm again.

“What’s that?” Finnick asks Katniss.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.”

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna asks.

“It stops singing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.” Katniss says.

“So, you have been lying to me.” Finnick murmurs in your ear.

You push him off of you. “I’m not sure Beetee’s right. He’s just saying that.”

“Whatever you say.”

Johanna goes inside of the Cornucopia, throwing the axe that she’s been using since yesterday. Your eyebrows twitch, curious on why she’d abandon the one weapon that she knows like the back of her hand, until she emerges with a pair of better looking axes. The one she had before must’ve been nothing more than a hatchet.

Finnick leaves your side to briefly join Katniss, who’s reloading on her stock of arrows, which is a good idea. Finnick goes all the way to the back, before coming out with a knife. He turns it in his hand, blade in his palm, handle in your direction.

“You need something to defend yourself with.” He motions for you to take it. You carefully pull it out of his hand.

“I thought you were keeping a close eye on me.”

“In the case of an emergency.” He tells you.

While the rest of you have been wandering around, Peeta has begun to draw a map of the arena onto a large leaf from the jungle with his knife. In the center is the Cornucopia, with the twelve strips of sand branching out from it. There’s another outer circle representing the waterline, and a slightly bigger one indicating the edge of the jungle.

“Look how the Cornucopia’s positioned.” Peeta says to Katniss.

She examines the map to see what he means. “The tail points toward twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, and then scratches the numbers one through twelve around the map in the order of a clock. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He then goes on to write lightning in the corresponding wedge, working clockwise adding blood, fog, and monkeys in the appropriate sections.

“And ten to eleven is the wave.” Katniss says, he adds it.

Finnick and Johanna come to join the three of you, fully armed with tridents, axes and knives.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks you and Johanna. You shake your head. “I guess they could hold anything.”

“I’m going to make the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta says, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look up, going to check on Beetee to see if he’s made any progress on the wire. Your heart drops in your chest at the sight of a dripping-wet Gloss behind him, Beetee slipping out of his hands, his throat slit wide open.

Katniss sees this too, working quickly to kill him. The tip of her arrow lodges into his right temple.

“No!” You scream, jerking toward him.

A pair of arms grabs you from behind, turning and throwing you into the cornucopia, making you scratch the palms of your hands and your knees on the black rock. When you turn around, Johanna has buried an axe blade in Cashmere’s chest. Finnick has just blocked a spear from hitting Peeta, taking the knife that was aimed your way from Enobaria, into his thigh as well.

Three cannons sound, one after the other. The Two tributes have begun to retreat, realizing that half their alliance is dead. Katniss starts to run after them, not letting this go. Johanna follows after her, and you struggle to get to your feet.

The wire, you need it. You have an idea.

Finnick has turned his attention to the knife, letting you slip past him and begin to wobble to the edge of the island, when the ground suddenly moves to the right. You slam into the rock, as it begins to spin, slowly at first but picking up speed with no sign of slowing.

“(Y/n)!” Finnick shouts at you.

You stick your fingers and toes into the crevices in the rock, hiding your face in your shoulder as the sand on the island flies down from the top, to the water below. You grit your teeth, fighting the nausea that begins to arise.

The weapons are just starting to fly out of the Cornucopia, when the land slams to a stop without slowing. You lift your head, finding that Finnick has a tight grip on your wrist, wide-eyed.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, he helps you get to your feet. The knife that was in his thigh is now gone, and he’s bleeding. If it hurts, he doesn’t show it, limping to get Peeta to his feet, as well. Katniss is coughing, Johanna spitting the sand out of her mouth.

They sit to catch their breath, but you can’t. The bodies have been tossed into the water, and if that’s the case, the wire is out there too. Beetee might have it, or it might have sunk to the bottom already.

“(Y/n), sit.” Finnick tells you.

“I need the wire.” Your eyes searching the water.

“Oh good, Beetee’s spirit lives on in Nuts.” Johanna mutters.

You find Beetee floating on his back, the wire sitting directly on his chest. You point at it, and when no one comes, you drop the knife that Finnick gave you, preparing to jump into the water.

“Stop.” Finnick pushes you back, “Stay here.”

The water begins to dip and spray, the two of you look up to see the hovercraft. Finnick drops the trident in his hand, racing down the strip of sand nearest to Beetee’s body. You watch as he dives, and cuts through the water in the matter of seconds. The claw has been released to collect his body, when Finnick pulls the wire from his hands.

Finnick swims back to the sand, and as he’s pulling himself up, the hovercraft is fading into thin air, blending in with the sky. He walks toward you, the spool of wire is as clean as it was yesterday, before the rain had come. You hold your hands out for the wire, and he drops it in your hands.

“Thank you.” You look at him.

He collects the trident and your knife from the rock. “I’m sorry about Beetee.”

You nod, “I am too.”

The two of you go back to the others, where Johanna gets to her feet almost instantly. “Let’s get off this stinking island.”

“Let me patch Finnick’s leg first.” You tell her, “And then we can go.”

You spend the next ten minutes looking through boxes with Peeta and Katniss, where you find limited supplies. It’s better than nothing, and Katniss offers her ointment for you to use.

You place Finnick on a box, while you crouch in front of him. His leg had been washed out from the seawater when he jumped in, you’re sure that had to hurt. You finger the ointment into the wound. He grunts, gripping onto the sides of the box, refusing to take his eyes off of you for a second.

You place the bandage on top, having him lift his leg high enough for you to wrap it tightly to keep it from coming loose. It’s not your best work, but it’s what you had to work with.

“You should be good, now.”

It’s decided that you’ll go to the beach at twelve, since that hour won’t come around again for a while. Peeta, Johanna and Finnick head off in three different directions.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us,” Finnick says. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss tells him.

A few eyes slide onto you. You swallow, looking into the jungle. “I hate to say it, but there’s a good possibility they shifted the outer ring of the jungle, too. What’s stopping them?”

Katniss nods. “So any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.”

They wander around the Cornucopia, trying to see if there’s anything that’s out of place. This is when you see that each section of the jungle has their own giant tree. Johanna suggests to follow the Two tribute’s tracks, except they have been blown or washed away. There is nothing to go off of anymore.

“Maybe we should’ve kept quiet about the clock.” Katniss says. “Now they’ve taken that advantage away.”

“Only temporarily.” You tell her. “At ten, we’ll see the wave again and be back on track.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta agrees.

“It doesn’t matter,” Johanna sighs impatiently. “Nuts had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless.” She squints at you briefly. “Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You let them randomly decide a path. You follow Finnick quietly, adjusting the spool in your hand, looking out into the water. Beetee must have had some idea with this, too. If only he had let you in on his thoughts, they were likely better than anything that you’re coming up with right now.

The most obvious is that you use it the same way he had, by leading the careers to the center somehow and electrocuting them to death. The only way that would be possible is if the wire were wet on one end and the other had something to jumpstart it. There’s not many options for that, beside the metal plates you came up to the surface on.

To get inside of those could take forever, and you’d be exposed. You’d have to get out into the water and on a plate to remove it. That’s assuming it’s possible and you don’t blow yourself sky-high. Then what? You’d have to lure the careers down to the beach, which still isn’t wet… you could use the explosives from the plates, but you don’t know how much damage that’d do anyway.

You guess you could just set a plate beneath the sand, and when the careers step on it, it’ll kill them. That’s if they step on it if they go for the trap, which would have to be the group of you, or better yet, Katniss and Peeta, because they’re the main concern after their scores.

It’d have to be timed perfectly, too. If you set the explosives up before ten, but the careers don’t fall for it until after, it’ll be set off by the tidal wave. Then the beach’s sand won’t be able to hide the plates because it’ll be wet…

You gasp.

“What?” Finnick asks, “You can’t just do that.”

“I have an idea.” You tell him. “I think I know how we can kill the Two tributes.”

Finnick grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders as soon as your feet hit the sandy beach. “I knew you’d figure something out!”

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stardewremixed · 3 months

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Stardew Valley Employment Headcanons

I've been thinking a lot about how many folks in the Valley don't work. In some ways, it feels realistic. A small town that is clearly dying until the Farmer comes along struggles with unemployment rates. It could be related to high taxes (*side-eyes* I'm looking at you, Lewis) and competitive megacorporations (like Joja) undermining the local economy. However, I'd like to do a little headcanon for the residents and their job situation.

Under spoilers, because TL;DR.

Abigail - after graduating with a degree in art history, Abigail starts working out in her mother's fitness group. She starts swimming at the spa. And she starts a workout regiment with Alex. Of course, this leads her to finally join the Adventure Guild full-time, protecting the Valley and exploring the depths of the mines. She still jams from time to time with Sam and Seb. I also like to think she leads a local Scouts troop.

Alex - this man deserves to have an amazing job as a pro gridball player. However, while he waits, he could coach a local kids team at the Community Center. I can also see him work part-time stocking shelves at Pierre's General Store. Maybe he lifeguards at the Ginger Island Beach during the busy season or drives deliveries out to Sandy in the desert for Pierre. Or he could work with Robin. Mmm... this man, chopping wood... fantasies. He still sells ice cream in the summertime maybe on the weekends or at festival days (because come on, Pierre needs a little competition and I love the idea of pineapple ice cream at the luau and stardrop sorbet at the moonlit jelly fest). I also see him doing odd jobs around the valley until he gets more stable work at Pierre's or Robin's. Need someone to fix your leaky roof? Alex is your man! (Because Evelyn mentions George can't do it anymore).

Elliott - I still like the idea of Elliott's secret wealth and he escaped his family to become a writer. However, maybe he regularly submits poems and sonnets via various contests online under a pseudonym, and does a few freelance articles (maybe on small towns, fishing, romance, etc.). This man deserves to publish a masterpiece and make it on a bestseller list, then gets an agent, and of course, publishes a series. He still does readings in the Valley at the library and the Saloon because he always wants to remember his humble roots and the people who cheered him on when he was a nobody in the business.

Emily - She absolutely needs to start a side-business as the town tailor. It's kind-of already in the lore, but I could see her starting up an online business (maybe with the help of Seb) on an Etsy-esque site. Also, I can see her helping out on the farm for a little something extra when she's not working at the Saloon. Maybe tending to the flowers, watering plants when the Farmer is in the Mines or off on the island or in the desert for the day. She mentions she would like to do this, but Gus apparently frowns on a side job. Hmm... well, I can see this girl eventually leaving her job at the Saloon to pursue her sewing passion full-time. She totally hosts a yoga class in the winter at the Community Center.

Harvey - He is already a well-respected town doctor, but the man is so stressed that he is hardly ever in the Clinic (at least not without mods). I propose Harvey hires some extra help, an associate, maybe another nurse, and a receptionist to assist, especially if patients from surrounding towns (like he mentions) start visiting (i.e. expansions). And he teaches first aid classes at the Community Center.

Haley - Like Leah, she needs an art exhibit to showcase her photography. Unlike the other villagers, I don't see her staying in the Valley, eventually pursuing the work of a freelance photographer and traveling the world (like her absentee parents). She does make an annual trip back for the Flower Dance, her favorite festival. I have pursued Haley the least in game so I'm struggling to come up with more ideas here.

Leah - Speaking of Leah, she transforms the Valley into a premier art destination. She can teach art classes at the renovated Community Center. She teams up with Seb and Sam (and drags Elliott along for the ride, and the writing) to produce an avant-garde film about the art all around us in small towns. I also think she grows her own herbs and sells them at Pierre's, festivals, and the Farmer's Markets (as she gives me green witch vibes). Maybe she partners with Caroline (or the Wizard) to create some herbal potions and creams. And of course, she's still at it with woodworking, though these days she works on commission for those types of projects.

Sam - This man deserves to be a rock star. And I think he'd make a great solo artist. However, if his guitarist dreams don't pan out, he has options. In the vanilla game, he starts working with Gunther at the museum after JojaMart closes. It's a strange choice, but... I figure, maybe he minored in anthropology in college. He would absolutely give amazing tours of the museum, full of exuberant commentary, perfect for kids field trip days too. And I think he plays gigs in Zuzu City and at the Saloon regularly, and maybe even out at Sophia's winery (Stardew Valley Expanded).

Maru - Nursing just doesn't really seem to fit this woman of multiple interests. She finally pursues her passion of robotics and goes to work in a proper lab in a nearby City (doesn't have to be Zuzu - my headcanon is Pine-Mesa City or Grampleton from Stardew Valley Expanded). I think she makes regular trips to the Planetarium too. I could see her visiting the Valley on long weekends, and maybe taking the local kids club on a night-time stargazing event in the summer.

Sebastian - Please give this man a proper window in his basement, Robin! Okay, if he doesn't marry the Farmer, Seb moves out anyway and goes to live in the City for a while, to find investors for his indie game studio. In the meantime, he continues to do freelance programming work. And then, one day, he makes a breakthrough game that revolutionizes the industry. After making A LOT of money, he invests in a SAVE-THE-FROGS campaign, hires multiple developers and other staff, and starts working on his next big game. But he still makes time to jam with Sam and Abi from time to time, and of course, take long rides on his motorcycle.

Penny - This poor woman needs some love. Penny pursues her higher education and officially receives her teaching license. She is hired by the local school district so she can do more than just tutor. She can finally afford her own little apartment. She starts a kids club in the Community Center, and creates a summer reading program at the Stardew Library. And I like to think she takes a monthly trip to Zuzu City to shop in a big bookstore for fresh reading material when she has some down time.

Shane - Oh this guy is definitely a mess. If you don't "romance" him in game, he doesn't really turn his life around, and even if he does, it doesn't really point to recovery as it should, imo (without the help of mods). This man hates his job, and yet he feels stuck. I propose the following. After he recovers in therapy, completes rehab, and genuinely quits drinking (forever), and of course, loses his job at Joja (suck it, Morris!), Shane starts working at Marnie's shop and contracts out as a farmhand all around the Valley. Then he can be a proper godfather to Jas, and provide some actual service at the Ranch (when Marnie's off doing who knows what with you know who...)

I have thoughts for the other Villagers in the Valley too, but I'll save those for a different post.

#stardew valley #sdv headcanon #stardew valley headcanon #stardewremixed #sdv abigail #sdv alex #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv emily #sdv haley #sdv leah #sdv maru #sdv penny #sdv townies

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jaskierx · 4 months

Text

republic of pirates dashboard simulator part 2

thanks to @sherlockig for the screencaps 💕

part 1

⚓️pirate-tats-tournament

and the winner is...

BLACKBEARD'S SNAKE TATTOO with 78.6% of the vote

thanks for voting!

#pirate tattoo tournament #poll result #next time i'm gonna seed it properly so we don't end up with the final 8 tattoos all being on the same guy smh

1,520 notes

🐶saltyseadog

hi everyone i'm fang/kevin and my pronouns are he/him 🥰 looking for more people to follow so like or reblog if you post about:

cute dogs

goats

leather

piracy

art

fishing

stories about demon boys

3 notes

🍖knivesareknives

#if you picked 2 or more let's be friends

29 notes

🌊keeptheseaclean Follow

friends don't let friends throw rubbish into the sea. THINK before you THROW

🎣managainstbeast

can everyone report this account for harassment please. i know the guy in the photo and he is lovely and has really nice hair and he hasn't given his permission for this image to be used.

#posts from the fishing boat #also one man's foul projectile is another man's lovely letter. just saying. broaden your horizons #there's only one thoughtless dipshit here and it isn't stede

448 notes

🦈sharkinfested

who the fuck is 'anti ship'. i didn't even know that was a thing. this website is something else

🌴palmtreeappreciationclub Follow

people who don't support incest. it's that simple

🦈sharkinfested

that doesn't make any sense. i literally live on the same island as every generation of my family. if i was against ships i'd have a much harder time finding someone to fuck who isn't related to me

#how am i supposed to get anywhere else without a ship? fucking swim?? i don't think so #but sure keep virtue signalling i guess #💿🐴

801 notes

🔪notafuckingmermaid

reblog this if you ARE POLYAMOROUS, SUPPORT POLYAMOROUS PEOPLE, or ARE CURRENTLY COVERED IN THE BLOOD OF YOUR ENEMIES 🩸

#3/3 😌

11,873 notes

🕊️see-which-sea-witch Follow

To love the sea as she must be loved requires change.

🌊keeptheseaclean Follow

to love the sea as she must be loved requires NO MORE THROWING RUBBISH INTO HER

🐙krakenmyjoints

bro you're literally replying to a bird

2,432 notes

🐳calicojackwhippedmyballs

you'll see a post that's like 'HRRRHRNESDGJNKDFG I NEEEEED HIM I NEED HIM SO BADLY HE'S SOOOOOOOOO HE'S HGURIESGHDKLJG' and then it'll be a picture of the soggiest white guy you've ever seen

7,230 notes

⛵️gentlemanprivates

hrresrgjerskdghklgjfdgdkl i need to get him PREGNANT he's EVERYTHING he's SOO ASDJHGKLFJSDG

359 notes

#ofmd #our flag means death #dashboard simulator #lyse.jpg

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warmau · 2 months

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☆ commission: lovestruck!au jaemin note: i do not know how to crochet so please bare with me

there are three people in the crocheting club

two are quiet, hermit type classmates that you have never heard make much more then a small noise or string together the syllables of their name in class

and renjun - who looks you up and down when you come through the door with nothing but the pair of old crocheting needles you got from your grandmother and a ball of yarn that is....in his opinion...the ugliest shade of yellow to exist

but then you sit down after a small introduction and get lost in your project, clumsily making it through your knots, and renjun softens to that

the whole point of this club is to be alone, together

you understand that without having to be told - meaning, you fit right in

after a hectic day of trying to survive classes, the annoying and loud nature of the hallways, and of course all the other woes of youth - this place is a safe haven

and then of course, na jaemin appears on a tuesday at exactly three fifteen sharp

the way he opens the door is sudden and the energy he gusts in with him like a wind draws shudders from the two wallflower classmates, a look of disgust from renjun, and confusion from you

"jaemin, this is the crocheting club are you looking for-"

he flashes a big and white grin at you

"then i'm in the right place!

✧

jaemin is not good at crocheting

to be honest, he can't even sew

he brings the wrong kind of needles with him and doesn't have the slightest idea of what a pattern he's interested in starting

he just makes an offhanded comment about how he likes cats, the big and fluffy ones

renjun's voice waivers with nuisance as he tries to get jaemin on a more concrete path

"well are you going to make a blanket with a cat, a hat with a cat, a pair of mit-"

"whatever you think i should do!" jaemin grins and looks over his shoulder at you "woah, you're in the club too?"

the way he asks makes you think he already knew the answer before stepping through the door

which is weird because..........jaemin isn't your friend

you guys are more like acquaintances by force

he was your lab partner last year when he transferred from organic chemistry to biology 2 which he claimed was because the professor just didn't understand him

but you had heard from rumors floating around that the real reason he'd been switched was due to an secret experiment gone wrong that jaemin had been caught red-handed for

you had debated asking him about it when you two were working together in class, but decided against it

plus - jaemin was good at biology - like ... really good ... so far so that maybe his claim about just being disliked had merit

because someone so talented and excited about science, couldn't have failed and almost blown up a classroom like the rumor whispered about

so keeping your curiosity to yourself, your just tried to keep up with jaemin

who would get to the conclusion before you could even get past the hypothesis

other than that, the most you'd ever really talked to each other was one time outside of the library

you were waiting for a friend and jaemin had come down the hall, flanked by a group of rowdy friends of his, jaemin the center of all their attention

when he'd spotted you he had smoothly pushed himself out of that frenzy and into your quiet, awkward personal space

"you accidentally left this behind last period." he'd fished your half done lab report out of his backpack "i kept it between two textbooks so it wouldn't get crumpled."

as he handed it back to you, you immediately saw that beside your own work were scribbled notes in pencil

"did you-"

before you could ask your question, a hand had appeared on jaemin's shoulder and pulled him back into the body of people taking up the entire hallway

jaemin didn't get a chance to look back at you, but you had watched him and everyone else disappear around the corner

you remembered distinctly that one person, a girl with bright eyeshadow and a collection of keychains hanging from her bag had turned around to shoot one glare at you, and then jaemin and the rest of them were gone

you had looked at the report, noticing that the comments in pencil were corrections to your work - but after each sentence there were a variety of tiny little scribbles

some were smiley faces and others looked like attempts to draw some kind of cartoon characters

even though the corrections were bluntly explaining how your line of thinking was wrong - the drawings had made jaemin's sincerity obvious on the page

he's trying to help me, and still be silly about it

you had remembered thinking: "that's very.....jaemin of him."

✧

despite this one interaction and the scattered lab periods you'd shared, you didn't have a moment where you felt as if you and jaemin had gotten anywhere near close

not as friends, and not as anything more

but yet - as the first session of crochet club that jaemin attends came to a close - he's the one to corner you at the door and ask, with that smile never really leaving his face

"can i walk you to the station?"

"sorry - how did you know i take the train?"

jaemin doesn't look flustered, he just blinks at you as if it's obvious that he should know this

"i ride my bike to school, and you're never at the bike rack. my path goes by the bus and you're never at the bust stop - so, logically speaking, the train is it."

you have the tickling urge in your stomach to one up him

"what if i walked to school?"

he points to the pass case hanging off your bag that clearly displays the ticket you need every day to get on the train

"then why would you always have that?"

you open your mouth to think of some retort, but you really don't have any, so you just look back at him

"is there a reason you want to walk with me - is there something we need to talk about?"

jaemin puts his hands hands in his pockets and shakes his head

"nope. but you can also say no if you don't want me to walk with you."

has anyone ever said no to him?

you think, taking a pause to focus on his face

when you look like that, with the added bonus of his height and the fact that being smart just comes naturally i would assume rejection isn't even a possibility in his mind

"no - i mean yes you can walk with me."

and look at me, falling right into the trap like everyone does

jaemin gives you a thumbs up and turns his body to let you through the door

the first couple of minutes it's silent and you catch some double takes from other students

renjun is at the front of the school when you pass and he raises an eyebrow as you kind of mouth a "i don't know either?"

then, when you're out of the vicinity of the school, jaemin straightens up and stretches his arms over his head

his shirt rides up and reveals the lean skin of his stomach and you involuntarily look up to pretend you didn't see it

"so - why do you like crocheting?" the question catches you off guard "from what i could tell today, it's pretty boring."

"it's not boring!"

you argue, "it's fulfilling, and good for your concentration. plus at the end you make something that you can use and that's the most rewarding part."

"but you can buy a hat or a blanket anywhere. there are machines that make them one hundred times faster, and they're cheaper to buy then spending money on the equipment and the yarn and-"

you stop and jaemin walks a couple of feet ahead before realizing and turning back

"why did you-"

"if you just wanted to make fun of my hobby, why did you even show up to the club today? no one forced you to join us - and you could have left at any point."

a look of surprises washes over jaemin, and then he scratches his head and seems to understand that all he's done is come of as a bit rude

"no - sorry, it's not my intention to criticize you. i just really wanted to know why you like it."

"lots of people like it. for lots of different reasons, just because something is boring to you doesn't mean it's boring to me. for your information na jaemin i don't find science to be all that interesting but you love it right?"

you aren't sure where this is all coming from, a part of you think it's just you exercising your right to tell this guy off for butting into your club unannounced

and the other part is just that......jaemin is always so straightforward and simple. he's always first to find a solution and for once maybe you want to get there first...just a one up against one of the most popular and intelligent students

"well science isn't boring, it's infinite and ever changing. isn't crocheting just doing the same thing over and over and over?"

"there are different-" you stops before you start, the two reasons you have for this conversation suddenly seeming childish and unnecessary

you glare at jaemin and stomp past him toward the station

obliviously, he starts after you, but you point back toward the school

"i would appreciate if you let me walk to the station alone now."

you don't look at his expression as you continue on your way, muttering in your head about how stupid that all was

jaemin watches you, but you don't feel his gaze on your back, instead you fume a little on your way home

but tell yourself that it doesn't matter, ultimately - you won't have to deal with jaemin again

he won't be showing up to your 'boring' club again anyway

✧

jaemin is there before you are, chatting at one of the two quieter students as they stare at him like deer in headlights

"basically, kiwi's don't have wings - but they're still considered birds, but interestingly they have more in common with mammals an-"

"jaemin" you get his attention and he smiles and waves at you as if everything is fine and as it should be. even though that's clearly not the case "what are doing here?"

he lifts his needles, "i'm here to crochet. this is crocheting club, right?"

you cross your arms, "didn't you tell me yesterday that you thought crocheting was boring?"

"i did"

"so then why are you here doing something boring when you have the choice to.........well not be?"

he stands up and you expect him to laugh, to turn this all into some joke that he's been playing out in his head

but instead he just gives you a clear smile

"because my choice is to be here. i want to be here and i want to crochet with you."

a gasp comes from the other two students in the room - renjun walks up behind you at the exact moment jaemin makes the proclamation and snorts

"so you're here to flirt? could the two of you do it somewhere else?"

"that's not-" you start but jaemin tilts his head at you like a puppy awaiting your call

"should we go crochet somewhere else? i want to continue our conversation from yesterday too."

renjun clicks his tongue, "oh your 'conversation' from yesterday huh?"

you feel heat on your skin from the eyes in the room and the absolute shameless way jaemin is staring straight at you with no intention of stopping

"actually, i have to go home - i have...stuff to do." you turn to make a beeline out of there, but in mere seconds jaemin has caught up with you with the cheery look on his face turned to concern

"wait - what do you mean do stuff? i heard you tell renjun at lunch that you're almost done with your scarf project and wanted to finish today at the club."

"oh so are you eavesdropping on me and my boring conversations now too? was not coming here to make fun of my boring hobby again not enough?"

jaemin looks lost, which confuses you because what other explanation could there be

"i was just near you in lunchroom and i never made fun of your hobby."

"jaemin, you literally asked me why i liked doing something so boring."

he takes a second and you're reminded of a loading screen on a game or a computer

"oh." he starts, brown eyes finding yours again "i didn't mean boring as a bad thing."

✧

you sit across from jaemin in the grass of a nearby park and watch him struggle through a couple of the first loops

after a moment he groans and puts the needles down

"it's just not for me."

"you can't say that just because you're bad at it. everyone is bad as a beginner."

jaemin shakes his head, "most things are easy to understand for me - how can i understand cell division but i can't understand how to make a square of fabric?"

you try to suppress a giggle, but jaemin catches you and thins his lips in response

"oh, is it funny that i'm not good at something you can do easily?"

you shrug playfully, "kinda."

he leans back against the tree his bag and yours are resting on as well

"i am sorry again.....i didn't think i would offend you when i ... said all that yesterday."

you rub your arm nervously, after storming out of the room with jaemin following you - you had been offended. mad, even.

but you had fundamentally misunderstood jaemin

he was just curious - as you had been when he was made your lab partner last semester

curious about why he'd been switched, but also just curious about how someone could have so much fun in science class

you didn't have that kind of fun with it - you weren't even interested in it really. you just had to pass the class.

jaemin was doing the same here, he'd just been more vocal about it and had used the wrong word when he'd picked "boring"

he had probably meant to say - why do you like crocheting? personally, it's not easy and fun for me.

which is a question lots of people have about it - and have asked you before

"don't apologize, you were just trying something new and wanted to know more about it i guess."

jaemin shakes his head

"i was trying something new - but i was trying it because i heard you liked it. i wanted to try something you liked."

the words are simple and strung together without shyness, but you don't really know how to take them

"um - why?"

"why what?" jaemin twists some of the yarn around his finger and then glances at you when you don't follow up

"why did i want to try something specifically you liked?"

he continues for you and you nod, unsure of what to add

he smiles and his teeth are pretty just like the rest of him

"because i like you."

✧

you reply the conversation close to a hundred times in your head that evening

"because i like you."

"sure, but you could have found another way to be my friend - you didn't have to force yourself into croc-"

"oh, sorry, let me say that again. i like you in the non-platonic kind of way."

jaemin's voice hadn't faltered, like with most things, he said this without a single hint of worry or lack of confidence

you'd felt the inside of your mouth go dry as you repeated it slowly back to him

"in the non-platonic kind of way?"

"yes." he'd taken the two crocheting needles and pressed the edges of the top sides together "like in this way, you know?"

you'd imagined he was mimicking kissing, but your mind halted that thought because - well - then that meant that na jaemin was implying that he wanted to kiss you

"are you being serious?"

was all you could think to say, the words tumbled out of you without a filter

"pretty serious."

he'd tilted his head and done the whole puppy awaiting your command look that probably sent most people head over heels within seconds

but just kept you sitting there almost dumbly confused

"you don't have to give me an answer now, and don't worry if you don't feel the same - just tell me how you really feel when you decide."

you sit up in bed and ball your fists around your covers

"when i decide? decide what? decide that i -"

you say it outloud and into the darkness of your room before groaning and falling back into your pillows, one hand thrown over your eyes

"not like i have a choice in deciding, it's you jaemin......of course, i like you too."

✧

jaemin is talking with renjun when you show up to the club the next day

and renjun throws a glance your way that immediately reads: please help me get away from this weirdo

jaemin waves at you casually, and it almost makes you forgot what happened yesterday

you sit down at one of the empty desks and take out your nearly completed scarf

looking at it, you nod to yourself, and focus on finally finishing

jaemin stays the entire time too, and you can see from the corner of your eye that he's trying out the technique you'd been showing him yesterday

he catches your gaze once and smiles, but goes back to his work

half thankful that he isn't sliding himself in beside you to talk while you work (or, more importantly - ask you for your answer)

but also half confused at how calm he is even after confessing

you let yourself get lost in your work and when the club ends, renjun and the two other students leaving before you and jaemin do

you look down at the scarf that's complete and then turn to the desk where jaemin is

he's fallen asleep on top of his attempt at making....well you aren't sure

and you get up to wake him

but before you put a hand on his shoulder, you take in the image of him - laying his head on his arms, uniform sleeves rolled up to his elbows

he's got a serene expression, as if he's having the best dream in the world, his bangs falling over his eyes and tickling the desk beneath him

even like this his jawline is sharp and handsome, his breathing is even and his long legs are stretched out past the desk beneath him

he doesn't look like he belongs here, in this room with you, but somewhere else

somewhere ethereal and beautiful

which makes what happened yesterday feel like it isn't real either

you suddenly feel like you shouldn't disturb him

which also make a sinking feeling in your stomach rise as you wonder if you should just ...... say no. maybe, rejecting jaemin is the right choice for the both of you because -

you clutch the scarf in your hands

because you and him don't fit. like failed science experiments, or a badly crocheted pair of socks

"i'm sorry." you start - in a small voice "i'm sorry, but i don't think i should like you back."

"that's silly."

you startle and look down to see jaemin opening his eyes and blinking back sleep

"you were aw-"

"oh! you finished." he points to the scarf and you reflexively let him take it out of your hands

he unravels it and gasps, "it looks even better than the ones in stores. are you going to give it to someone?"

i was going to give it to you. i was going to be selfish and say, of course i like you back. you of all people should be smart enough to know that.

but you're quiet in response and jaemin's eyes flicker a little as the dimming light outside trickles throughout the room

"so what did you mean by that, by thinking you shouldn't like me back?"

"jaemin-" his name sounds too soft when it leaves your mouth "we're different, i don't think we would work out."

"but you haven't tried." he gets up and smiles "you haven't even given it a try."

he dangles the scarf up beside him, "you probably didn't think you could make this when you started - but look at you now. you made this."

he places the scarf gently onto the desk, as if it's going to break if he mistreats it

"and i wouldn't have half as much fun doing the same experiments over and over again, never trying something new to get a new conclusion."

he opens his arms wide and you look at him with a wrinkle of your forehead

"so don't say you shouldn't like me or i shouldn't like you. just like me freely, like i like you. without inhabitation - and let's see what happens!"

for a minute the world stops and you and jaemin are alone in it

without another thought, you walk right into him, throwing your arms around his waist

for the first time you feel through the contact that he's surprised, but then his arms close in around you

"the scarf was for you by the way." you mumble into the front of his shirt "i hope you like it."

he let's go of you with one hand, the other still securely wrapped around you as he puts the scarf on

"i love it, i'm going to wear it all the time."

"even in the summer?"

"even in the summer."

✧

somehow jaemin doesn't seem to be as aware of the shock that pulsates through your school when you both walk in holding hands

and maybe it's the fact that jaemin is sticking to his word, walking around with your scarf around his neck despite being inside

but you're sure it's actually because na jaemin is dating someone.

and that someone is you

the only people who aren't surprised are the crocheting club

renjun just gives you the, him? well if you're sure look and the two other members speak their first full sentence to you: "you guys look cute together."

jaemin swings by the club a couple of more times with you, but it's mostly just to stare as you work

you don't mind it - but you encourage him to join a club of his own that does things that he's interested in

"but i still want to learn to crochet, you like it and i want to understand it."

you put your hands over his and lean up to peck him right on the lips

"that's nice of you, but i think we can appreciate the things we both like .... even if we don't do them."

"you just don't want me to get you involved in my science stuff right?"

you sheepishly give your answer with a sidelong look away from him

jaemin laughs and presses his lips to your cheek, kissing twice toward the tip of your nose and then spinning you into his arms for one more kiss on the lips

but jaemin, surprisingly, is serious about learning more

so sometimes you sit inbetween jaemin's legs, crocheting and humming to yourself as he rests his chin on your shoulder transfixed at your movements

you explain them and then let him take over, his long arms coming over yours and taking the needles

he's clumsy and it's taking him some time to get used to it

but with practice, you're sure he will get be better

one afternoon as you're sitting together like this - jaemin rests his chin on your shoulder

"want to know when i started liking you?"

you stop your work and enthusiastically nod - you had never asked him, but you definitely always wanted to know

"so, i was taking organic chemistry and we were learning about reactions, addition reactions - adding atoms to unsaturated molecules - talking about the importance of modifying existing organic compounds."

"jaemin - human words"

he laughs, "talking about how adding something to something that already exists and making it something different."

"ok...go on."

"and i thought, what's something new i can add to myself to make myself new? i couldn't think of anything. long story short, i talked to the professor i had about it and he wasn't impressed with it. he said something about how biology might suit me better if i was interested in 'how humans change'."

you look over your shoulder, "so you didn't blow up the lab like everyone says you did?"

"nope, but when i left his office that day i passed by the crocheting club room and i saw you."

you feel jaemin's hands wrap a little more tightly around you

"and i had this feeling in my chest that something in me changed - just by looking at you. turns out that to my luck you were in biology two and after transferring i got to be your lab partner."

he nuzzles his face against your neck and you gently graze your fingers up and down his arm

"each time we worked together, something inside of me was changing. maybe not a cellular level - but i felt new every time and i didn't want to let those feelings go when the semester did so - i found you where i'd seen you first."

you take in every word, but ask - "but, how did you know that change was-" you hesitate but jaemin says the word against your neck

"love?" he lifts his gaze back to yours

"because it was the only definition i could give to the change inside of me. and sitting down with you in crocheting club, walking you to the station, and telling you how i felt - proved my theory."

you look at his eyes - as clear and as truthful as they always are - the beautiful brown a lighter hue in the light

"that there was a new me, a new me that loves you."

when he presses his lips to yours - you want to say it back, you want to fill the entire world with it

i love you too, silly.

#jaemin to me is so fucking smart but so fucking goofy so it confuses everyone #when he was just debuting im like shy little guy. i was wrong #nct scenarios #nct dream scenraios #jaemin scenarios #jaemin au #nct dream au #nct au #writing commission #fluff/#sfw/

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