#also how do you have such thin skin as a mercy player you are literally the most dumped on type of player

[seraymerichateblog]

i made fun of this mercy saying she was like -1 teammate bc her positioning and prioritization sucked and she joined voice chat just to bitch at me then continued in text chat after her confidence or w/e ran out LOL babygirl your eboyfriend duo can’t carry your bad gamesense forever

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Seven (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, MURDER, CHILD MURDER

wc; 9.8k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You wouldn’t exactly say that you’re lucky to be alive. More that you’re lucky you had actually gotten back to the cornucopia when you did, that you were sponsored, and your allies hadn’t killed you.

Had you laid in that grass, you would have died. There’s no question about it There’s no way that they would have moved out of the cornucopia after everything that had happened in those trees. Even this morning they’ve seemed to be apprehensive. They won’t admit they’re afraid, but it’s all in their eyes.

Also the sponsor gift that Anchor had sent in. You bet that Mags was already sleeping by then, letting Anchor take the night if she could take the mornings. It would make the most sense. Mags tends to take a lead on things. You noticed that on the train and inside of the Capitol. Anchor mostly sits back and chimes in when he thinks it’s necessary.

Anchor sent in the healing cream, a huge tube of it. Which lets you know that you weren’t getting sponsored by any person, it was someone rich that’s betting on your win. Because of the cream, your back is mostly healed. By tomorrow, it should be nothing but a huge, pink scar that stings.

For now, each time you move your arms and shoulders, it hurts pretty bad on your upper back. It’s no longer bleeding, but it’s open. And so is the back of your blue-grey shirt and the thin, white jacket. Every time there’s a breeze, you can feel it. You need to find a change of clothes.

Although, you’re not really complaining. The cold wind is a small remedy to how hot the wound feels. You aren’t too concerned about it, you vaguely remember the first aid expert in the Training Center telling you that when it feels hot, it means your body is doing it’s job. It’s not going to be infected, not with the healing cream. But your body is still going to act like it is.

Honestly, you’re surprised that you hadn’t died from how much you bled. Not only is your shirt torn, but it’s stained a deep maroon color. Similar to the color of the dress that Trink had worn on the night of the interviews. Only, this time it’s terrifying to see, knowing that it came from your body.

You wonder if your brothers had seen it. Had watched you stick by that tree, catch a breather, and find Eytelle. If they were screaming at the hologram, begging you to keep moving instead of inspecting the scene in front of you, and then grabbing the knife. You know you’d be extremely upset.

You can almost hear them now, how loud and desperate they’d be. Alon with them would be anchor, and maybe Elysia if she’s up that late. All wondering why you didn’t just keep moving. It’s not your problem, it’s not your district mate. It’s an ally that’s offering you a safe escape. The bears will take her as entertainment in trade for your departure.

But then you mercy killed her, taking the entertainment away, and shifting the attention to you, the substitute. 

And then you ran, and nearly made it out of the woods without any repercussions. You were two steps away from freedom, from beating the mutations and showing the Capitol that not only are you merciful and kind, but you’re quick too. You can slip out of their grasp and they can’t do anything about it.

Unfortunately you weren’t quick enough.

Also, in all honesty, you’re not even entirely sure if you killed Eytelle out of mercy, or because when you did make it back to the cornucopia, you just didn’t want to listen to her scream all night. Your allies--and probably the entirety of the Capitol and then some--think that you did it because of mercy, but you don’t care about any of that.

At least it’s kept Allio, Trink and Lennox off of your already shredded back. The last thing you need is them being suspicious of you, and watching every move you make. You think they’re already like that, after how you handled Horace. There’s no reason to fuel it.

If you can take down a seventeen year-old boy, who’s like three times your size and reminds you of the sports players back home, it’s a wonder what else you can do. The moment they start testing those limits is the moment you should probably run, and run far and fast.

For now, you just have to continue being careful with what you say.

Flipping over another box lid, you lean in and rummage through the stuff. More canteens, wire, some rope. Nothing too important. You close it, and move onto the one next to it. You know that the Capitol typically provides two boxes of spare clothes, but you didn’t know how hidden they’d be.

Wincing, you pull the lid open. 

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Trink asks.

“I’ve got it.” you tell her, “It’s a good pain, a nice burning sensation.”

“I’m not sure if that’s normal.” She laughs, “But it’s nice to see you moving like this, last night was pretty awful. At one point, Lennox was sure you stopped breathing.”

Yes, you remember her telling you this when you woke up. She admitted how relieved she felt. She said you’ve grown on her, you’ve earned your spot in the group multiple times. And when Allio walked away with Lennox to go check out the beach area straight from the mouth of the cornucopia, she told you Allio wanted to find a way to repay you.

It’s nice to have someone in your debt, but you doubt that he’ll actually end up doing anything. He might just thank you or something. You don’t know just yet, they haven’t come back in a while. For a while, the two of you watched them through the trees until you couldn’t anymore.

“I bet.” you say, catching the box lid before the entire thing topples over onto its back, “How badly did I scare you when I came around the side?”

There’s clothes in this box. You can finally change.

“Honestly, we thought you were the one that was caught and Eytelle was the one walking around the corner. We realized we stopped hearing your backpack jostling when we thought about it. We thought that Eytelle had taken some other part. Allio’s always said that she’s slippery when she runs.”

Not enough. She was slow last night. All that boasting of her being able to outrun you all in any situation, was for nothing. You had a heavy sword and a backpack full of supplies and you still kept ahead of her. Had you not tried to slip between the narrow path between the trees, you would have still been ahead of her.

And maybe had even left her to suffer. If you had ran out of the trees with the others, you definitely wouldn’t have ran back inside to shut her up. You would have suffered with the rest, listening to her screams, sobs and pleas for anyone to end it for her. You’re stupid, but not that stupid.

Although, in that hypothetical situation, you can imagine yourself not carrying literally everything on you. It would only be your small knife. No heavy sword, no backpack chocked full of the goodies in the case of you getting separated. In that case, you might still have your backpack and not some shredded fabric and unusable items.

The claws on those bears had to have been long. Because it was enough to tear that backpack straight off your back and still reach your skin. In just one swing of its paw, too. So terrifyingly impressive and it could have cost you your life.

You can’t remember actually seeing that long of claws on the bears last night, though. Of course, it was dark and hard to see enough as it is. All you can remember the most vividly is how bright their eyes were. But when you looked back that one time while running, you were able to see that they were bears before Eytelle announced it.

It’s weird, for sure. Last night doesn’t even seem real to you, and the only things that actively proved it happened is the scratch marks on your back and the fact that Eytelle is nowhere to be seen.

Out of the box, you pull out a new shirt and jacket. You rummage a little more, trying to find a sports bra too, but there’s none. You’d say that you’re annoyed, but it’s not a mandatory thing that you need. The fabric is a little torn towards the bottom, other than that it still does it’s job.

Before the boys come back, you pull the shirt off and toss it into the wood for the fire pile. You pull on the new shirt, Trink helps to make sure it doesn’t catch in your wound on it’s way down. And you tie the new jacket around you waist, since it’s too hot during the day to wear. It’s mostly for the nighttime.

It’s not too cold at night, but it’s not hot either. It’s really riding that line. It’s like springtime in Four, when it’s about to hit summer at any moment. Watching how the temperature rises every weekend, until it’s time for tank tops and shorts again and preparing to sit out on a boat for all hours of the day.

If you win, you’ll never have to fish again.

Right as you close the box and head back to the cornucopia to grab another safe-keeping knife to keep on your belt, Lennox and Allio come back around. Swords in hand, and they’re sweating.

Lennox nods in your direction, “It’s definitely salt water.”

You told him that just before they left. They insisted on double-checking, as if your nose and the years of you living off the west coast smelling the salt wouldn’t be good enough. Then Allio added that they’d check for other things too, so it’s not just the salt water that they were checking.

“Fish?” you ask.

“Think we saw some.” Allio says, taking a seat and pulling out his water. You can vaguely hear it slosh in his bottle. You’re almost out, and it’s time to take a trip down to the pond, “We can’t be sure, though. Who knows what's out there?”

Plenty of water mutts, you’re sure. You tuck the new knife on your belt and then reach for an empty backpack that’s laying against the wall. Their attention doesn’t stay on you for too long, and it eventually fizzles into a debate on whether or not you all should be going out to hunt tributes again.

It’s around the same time the games started yesterday, which is ten. You think it’s a little past that, maybe eleven to twelve? There’s really no way to tell, there’s no clocks in the arena, and it’s not like you can just make them either. All you really have is the sun, and where it’s positioned over the sky. 

Considering that you guys took hours to get to where you did in the woods, only to rubber band all the way back here, you think it’s useless to go and try to get out there again. However, you all were messing around on the way there. It’s not like you were just walking in a straight line, every now and then you were taking breaks and chasing each other like a group of friends would.

If you go out today, you’ll have to keep on track for a while to make sure that you get passed where you were the first time. And it’s not even guaranteed that you’ll come across anyone. It would be nice to, just so the games aren’t dragged on for too long, but none of you are in control of that.

Then again, you need water. You’re down to half your canteen, and you should have been done with it by now and halfway through the next. One or all of you need to get moving out there. Gather the water and come back and start planning on what’s going to happen for lunch and dinner.

They seem to be on track with your thought process, “We need to find something to eat, though, Allio.” Trink argues, leaning up against the wall, “I’m hungry, and we haven’t eaten since yesterday. It’s noon.”

“That’s not too bad.” Allio says, “If we could hold out a little longer--”

“It’ll just create an unmanageable eating schedule.” Trink flicks a rock at him, and it nails his forehead. You watch his face turn pink, and you think it’s from anger with how his lips are turned downwards like his eyebrows already are.

“Alright, so what’s your brilliant idea?” Allio asks, crossing his arms, “Go ahead.” and when she looks like she’s thinking up a plan, he says, “Right, that’s what I thought.”

“Chill out.” Lennox tells him.

You stuff the backpack with a pocket knife, a fire starter, another first aid kit, a rope, and some other things that you think will be important. Water bottle, small fleece blanket, a change of socks. You cycle through the boxes until you think you’re fine, then you remember your healing cream.

“We need water.” you stab the sword into the sand, pulling it out and doing it again as they open up to allow you into the conversation, “The pond is an hour away. I think I saw fish yesterday, so here’s an idea; I take one of you with me down to the pond to get water and food.”

Trink motions your way, “See?”

“That’s her brilliant idea.” Allio says, “I’ll go with (Y/n).”

“We’ll get stuff for fires.” Lennox says.

Trink yawns, sliding off of the black box she was sitting on, “And I’ll look for a backup plan on food while we’re at it.”

Problem solved with no conflict. You’d hate to see how they’d tear each other apart. There’s still fourteen people left in the games. Four of those being you guys, and the other ten being everyone else. You think if a fight were to break out between Allio and Lennox, Lennox would kill Allio because he knows Trink better.

You think you’d kill Allio too. And even though it would be a perfect time to kill him on the way to the pond, you’ll have to hold back. Killing Eytelle was looked at for mercy, if Allio died, there’s no doubt that Trink and Lennox would be suspicious. It would ruin the thin cover you have already.

On the way out of the cornucopia to go behind it and straight to the pond, you’re able to see how the sand is stained red from the blood of yesterday’s events. Obviously, the gamemakers had collected the bodies after the bloodbath when you all left, but that doesn’t mean they had to clean up the sand too.

It’s a gross color. It’s not like the color that had been on your old shirt. This time, it’s a washed out red. It’s obviously blood, and when Allio walks over a patch of it with no remorse, it crunches beneath his feet. So, not only is it a deadly color, it’s also hard and crunchy and the thought alone makes you gag.

And just before you reach the trees, officially leaving the battlegrounds, you see where you had landed in the sand early this morning when the bears had chased you all the way to the treeline. You can see little shreds of fabric scattered over the sand, and where blood had run when you walked over to the cornucopia to hold yourself up.

After that, you’re in the trees and starting your treacherous walk all the way to the pond. You know you volunteered for it, but the sun beating on your head from above isn’t exactly a pleasant feeling. In fact, you think you liked it better inside of the cornucopia, even though it too, has been baking in the sun and it feels like the inside of an oven.

For the first ten to fifteen minutes of the initial walk, it’s quiet between you two. You spend the time stretching every bit of your arms until your back hurts because of it. Allio stares at the ground, and you begin to notice that you’re taking the exact path you took to escape the bears, but backwards. You begin to urge him to move right, because the pond is in a little dip in a cliff area.

Another ten minutes, and Allio has decided to break the silence, “What did Eytelle look like?”

Your face twists immediately when you go to look at him. You’re sure it’s not a real question until your eyes land on his face. He’s not kidding.

“I don’t…” you shrug, you’re not sure how he wants this question answered.

You remember. You saw her stretched out, back on a rock as claws dug into her skin. You saw the blood running down her skin, the ripped clothes stretched too far. Her mouth open wide in a never-ending scream. It was like she was being tortured for them all to see. It wasn’t nearly as bad as seeing Horace’s skull cracked open, but it was still a sickening sight. Right up there with the decapitation.

“Well, you saw her, didn’t you?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say slowly. How are you going to let him down easy?--assuming that’s what he wants.

“How did she look?” 

You should have asked for Trink or Lennox to come along, if you knew that he’d be pulling some shit like this you would’ve.

“In pain.” you say simply, hoping that’ll be enough.

It’s not, “Come on, (Y/n). You saw her, what did she look like?”

“Ugly.” you finally spit, which has him whipping his head back in your direction, “Covered in her own tears and blood. Her skin and clothes were ripped to shreds, she looked like the type of tribute I’d click my tongue at back home and say ‘a damn shame’.” you look at him, “You happy now? Death is not pretty, it’s gruesome and traumatizing.

“No matter how pretty you are for the cameras, you’re always ugly during death, especially in the arena. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but stop romanticizing it. She’s dead, Allio. She knew it was coming. Let her rest.”

“That’s how you really feel, huh?”

“It’s the truth.” you swear to god, if he tries to spin this on you later, you’ll tear him down. Forget him and Trink butting heads, if he even tries to get rid of your spot in the alliance, you’ll make sure it’s his last words.

This all reminds you of what you thought earlier. If you pulled half the shit that they do in here, you’d have your hands slapped and be reprimanded by nearly everyone. Naida’s family, your brothers, people in The Square, everyone at school. They’d all think that something is wrong with you or whoever parented you.

You knew there was a culture difference between the districts, but you didn’t know exactly how bad it was.

You swing the sword in your hand, and you’re glad that Allio doesn’t continue to bring it up. You said what you said, and you’re not going to hand out apologies. And so long for him being in your debt, because you might have just ruined that between you and him.

At the pond, you take the task of filling up the waters, while he adds the iodine drops to them. He shakes, and then moves on. When you’re done gathering water, you go a little further down the pond with him. He helps clean the dried blood off of your back, and when the water stops running pink, you pull your shirt back on.

With the water and fabric combined, you can feel just how good the breeze is against your skin. With the new information, the two of you dunk your shirts in the water, squeeze enough to leave the shirts damp and then wear them. You drink your cleaned water, and figure that Allio can gather more by himself while you wander along the water.

Yesterday, you remember not finding any good spots, but it’s nice to check anyway to ease your mind. If you don’t find any tributes, it’s just insurance that no one will come running later tonight or whatever. Tonight, all the other tributes will know that you’ve lost someone in your alliance. It will be tempting to come and attack.

You’re about to call it, wanting to go back to Allio since you can’t hear him humming anymore. But there’s a rustle in the bush in front of you, that would be to your back if you turned around. You hesitate for a moment, because whatever is in the bush now knows that they messed up. You know that they’re there, and they know it’s any moment before they get hunted.

They shouldn’t have weapons though, and you think it’ll be more tempting to pounce on you, if you turn your back. A dangerous plan, but you’ve got to bait them out of the bush without jumping in there, yourself. The bush and whatever could be behind it, like a trap.

You turn, “Stupid animal.” and pretend you don’t hear the leaves after that, either.

A couple steps back towards Allio, you hear the twig snap, and go to turn back around again, sword weighted in your hands. But there’s a pair of arms around your neck and legs around your hips, like a hug. The arms are small and you think you can break them free, but they’ve got an iron lock. And with how they’re pressed against you, they’re rubbing against the open wound on your back.

You reach for the sword, which is now laying on the bank and is teetering over the edge. And the moment you do go to grab it, there’s yanking on your hair to keep you up, a loud and screaming pain in your temples.

Fuck.

You inhale as much as you can through your nose—which isn’t a lot—turning your back to the water. You can hold your breath for over three minutes. These other tributes? They’ve never seen bodies of water deeper than puddles in their districts. Without a single noise coming from you, you throw yourself back into the water, holding onto the arms around your neck.

If you’re going down, someone is going with you.

The cold water engulfs you. For a moment, it’s like you’ve parted the sea, until it all comes crashing over you. In that time, you can hear the tribute holding onto you, gasps. They must have realized their mistake. Not even a second later, they’re trying to struggle out of your grasp.

Too late, they’ve dug their grave, now it’s time to lay in it. If they were smart, they wouldn’t be struggling like how they are. They’d be playing dead, and they’d have a better chance at holding their breath. And they would have had a chance at escaping.

They loosen their arms just big enough for you to slip out of which causes a nice, searing pain to go through your back because of the friction. When you turn them to face you, hands on their wrists and eyes glaring in their direction, you can hardly make out their face. You can’t tell who it is, but you guess that doesn’t really matter. Either way, it’s going to be painful on their part.

They’re kicking their legs, trying to get their wrists free from your hands. You just hold on, occasionally kicking to keep yourself near the surface so it’ll be easy to reach when they do die. You realize this is like teasing them, knowing that if they could just get free, they’d be able to breathe.

They’re yanking, and you watch as they go to kick your stomach. You turn them to the side, watching their leg go right through the murky water. You kick to get back up again, but they’re beginning to drag you down.

You knew that the pond was going to be fairly deep, but you keep sinking way past the point you thought you’d stop. The light above begins to have trouble making its way through the dirty water. And you finally watch the tribute in front of you take in their first breath of water.

And they choke, you let go of their hands and watch as they immediately go to grab their neck as if it’ll help the pain that’s beginning to flare. With each gulp comes a more panicked look, eyes wide and almost bulging from their sockets.

You don’t watch anymore, feeling a deep burning pain in your own chest. It’s a good burn, reminds you of all the times you’ve held your breath to beat your past score. As you swim to the surface, you think you can make out the figure of Allio, standing over the water.

Trying to swim up while wearing the boots is hard, but it’s even worse with all the clothes and jacket you have on. Had you been barefoot, you’d be above water by now. 

A hand plunges into the water, outstretched in your direction. You give a few more hard kicks before you’re reaching up too, grabbing onto the hand. They pull you out of the water, hand first and then your head.

You gasp through your mouth, grabbing onto the grass to keep yourself from sliding back in. You’ll remember this, how deep the water is. You just kept sinking and sinking. If one of the others had jumped in here, thinking that they could just float, they would have ended up like that other tribute.

A cannon sounds, and Allio is pulling you up the bank a little more. When you’re halfway onto land, he leaves you to do the rest. Underwater you can actually feel how heavy you are, but on land you feel it all, and then some. The jacket around your waist is weighing you down.

With one hand, you push the hair out of your face, still taking deep breaths, “I saw them in the bushes but I didn’t know that they’d do that.”

“Who was it?” He asks, crouching down. He’s pulling your sword away from the edge, “Did you see?”

“No, the water is so dirty down there.” You turn over, sitting on your butt as you squeeze the water from your hair, “It’s deep, Allio. Anyone who can’t swim well can easily drown. It just kept going and going.”

“We’ll stick next to the shallow end for now on.” He says.

You get to your feet, not liking the way the inside of the shoes squish and how the water runs out through the seams. You remember that you packed dry socks for a reason like this, but there’s no point to put them on. The shoes will just get them wet again.

You squeeze the shirt, and then as much as the jacket as you can. While you’re gathering your sword in your hands again, you and Allio watch the body appear at the top of the pond. For a moment, you can’t seem to register the fact that they’re facing upwards because of how bloated their face is.

And then it clicks. A boy who can’t be any older than thirteen is floating on the water. There were only two tributes that were younger than you and Finnick, and it was the District Twelve tributes. 

No matter who it is, it’s bad either way. The girl was only twelve, and the boy thirteen. It doesn’t matter, that one year doesn’t matter. You just killed someone that’s so young, it’s sickening. Their parents back home in Twelve are crying over them, and you’ve just been labeled a child murderer.

It was luck that they managed to survive past the first day. Had the boy--you think it’s the boy in the water--not taken the bait of you turning your back, he would still be alive. Might even be running far away from the pond. But he didn’t, he jumped, and you killed him because of it.

It’s survival of the fittest. It’s not your fault.

“We should start heading back to the cornucopia.” Allio says, watching the gallons of water leave your jacket. It’s holding more than you anticipated, and it actually seems to be where the bulk of the weight is coming from. Of course.

“In a second, what if the Twelve girl is around?” you ask, regripping the sword in your hand. Then, you use the blade to very gently scrape off mud from the back of your jeans.

“How about I handle her?” Allio asks, holding the backpack out to you.

You take it, pulling the straps around your shoulders, “Don’t fall into the water. I’m not going to save you.”

“Good to know.” he says, “We’re even now, by the way.”

He starts walking around the area, stabbing through bushes with his sword. Even? For what?

“What do you mean?” you ask, shifting on your feet. You can feel the water squish between your toes.

“Eytelle.” Is all he says, and it’s enough for you.

After checking around the area for a final time, the two of you regroup and head right back for the cornucopia. There’s no reason to fuck around, your feet are already going to hurt enough as it is by the time you reach the cornucopia. Why make it worse?

The conversation back isn’t much better than the Eytelle conversation, but at least he’s not asking you what it was like to watch Twelve boy drown. Instead, he’s asking you about your own personal experiences with water. 

“District Two is pretty dry.” he says, “No water.”

“There has to be water somewhere, you’re just not allowed to see it. But I believe you on the dry thing, you’re mostly desert, right?”

“Yes.” he says, “Makes for hot summers and freezing winters with barely any snow unless you live up north.”

“Sounds miserable.” you snort.

“What about you? What’s it like in Four?”

You shake your head, looking up, “Well, up north it’s freezing and it gets the most weather. That’s where I am, but down south there’s intense heat and humidity and all that.”

“You get rain?”

“Frequently during the spring and fall, snow in winter, and barely any hot weather in summer.” you slide the sword into a small fabric piece on the side of the backpack, making it so you don’t have to carry it all the way back. When you reach over, you find the handle easily.

“Sounds a lot more exciting.”

You shrug, you wouldn’t say that. Your district may get nice weather and pretty views, but with how much fish you’re bringing in and the way that you live next to salt water, there’s some smells that are permanently stained into you. Salt water, fish and sweat is how Cleo had loudly said on the day you first met them all. And honestly, you thought you did a good job with trying to mask the smell.

The night of the interview, she told you that you’d done a complete one-eighty. You’d gone from smelling like home to smelling like the Capitol. Which is extremely strong and expensive cologne and perfume that you’d have to sell your house a hundred times over to even begin to afford the cheapest selection.

Although, with how Allio has described District Four, you think that they might have it worse. Back home, you’re all used to the smell because there’s no real… variety… so to say, with how the district smells. Of course, in the south it might smell like hot, baking fish that’s been sitting in the sun all day, compared to just sweat and fish. 

But in District Two--as Eytelle had proudly stated hours before her death--they’re all able to afford perfumes. And it’s not like you’re saying that Four can’t afford perfumes, but the higher class don’t necessarily associate with lower class unless it’s for business. So typically, you’re not smelling anyone with perfume unless it’s some kid wearing it to school.

Anyway, back to what you’ve tried to say; you have a feeling that District Two citizens smell like sweat, labor and perfume and cologne combined. Which is an awful smell, you can imagine. The perfume, shampoo, body wash and all of that, that your prep team had chosen all either smelled fruity or expensive. And you’re already getting a headache at the thought of mixing a fruity smelling perfume with sweat.

Deodorant exists, but like… there’s a huge problem with those scented ones too but you won’t get into that. You’ve already made your point. While Two might have low poverty rates and winning tributes, they smell like sweat from baking in the sun and try to fix it by spraying on perfume. That’s what you think, at least.

Naturally, a lot of Four people spend their time in the sun--the boats and fishing, hello--but you’re all used to it by now. After spending hours and hours in the sun, and watching people around you do the same, you’ve all managed to form the same habit to keep yourselves from smelling too bad.

But then again, Cleo proudly saying you smelt like sweat could just mean that all of this was futile. You’re not as nice smelling as you like to think. That, or the smell has been permanently etched into your skin since the day you were born, and the only way of escaping it is to not live in Four anymore. Which definitely isn’t going to happen.

There’s no more talking for the rest of the way back to the cornucopia. By the time you see it through the trees, you’re starting to feel a bit sick because of how hungry you are, and the shirt and your jeans have dried. 

Before you walk into the sand, you have the mind to pull off your socks and shoes to make sure that they won’t make mud on the way to the cornucopia. The good news is that Trink and Lennox have food cooking by the time you get inside. They immediately noticed how disheveled you are, though.

“What happened?” Trink asks.

“Drowned the Twelve boy in the pond.” you pull off the backpack and set it next to where you’ll be sitting at. Then you start squeezing out the water off to the side, “You guys need to be incredibly careful, it’s deep.”

“How deep?” Lennox asks, “Waist, throat…?”

“Fifteen and deeper. Way past your head, obviously.” you put a box out into the sun, lay your jacket on it, and then your socks. On either side of the box is your shoes, and all you can do is hope that the sun will have them dried fairly quickly.

You pull out your ponytail, and then gather it all back up messily into what it was before. You sit between Lennox and Allio after that, watching as another pig is cooked over the fire.

“So that was the cannon.” Trink leans against the wall, “For a second, we thought it was the other tributes fighting it out.”

“Hardly.” Allio says, “(Y/n)’s on a roll.”

Lennox is bobbing his head along, “Yeah, how many is that now?”

You’re uncomfortable, and you trace patterns into the sand, not answering the question. Your silence doesn’t matter to them, because they start marking off the tributes they killed during the cornucopia and trying to pinpoint which ones belonged to you.

By the time that the food is ready, they’ve got Horace, Eytelle and the Twelve boy under your name, completely missing the mark with the Ten girl. They’ve got pretty hefty numbers themselves, but you already knew that. Lennox with the Ten and Six boys, and Trink with the Five boy. You’re not entirely sure with Allio, because he’s not exactly giving up numbers or names. You think his is zero.

“I actually think I got that Seven girl, too.” she draws another line next top her, “Me and (Y/n) are tied.”

No, not tied. She’s just under you, and it makes her just as dangerous as you are. You wonder if you can downplay your kills down to one or two, and not even three. Makes you less of a threat, doesn’t keep their eyes on you. Turns their attention to Trink next.

“I didn’t even kill the Twelve boy.” you reason, and Allio’s eyebrows are drawing in, because he clearly watched you come up victorious, “Just because I dragged him under, doesn’t mean I killed him. Honestly, it’s the water that did all the work. I couldn’t even get a hold of him, I just kept making sure he stayed under.”

“So two and a half, then.”

“No, with that logic, Eytelle isn’t even a kill either.” Lennox says, “He’s half, like an assist or something. The mutts did most of the job.”

You don’t think that the gamemakers are playing along in this case. All kills are final under a tributes name. You finished off Ten girl, and Horace, and Twelve boy. Those are all fair and square, those were under your conditions, you bent them to your will. With Eytelle it’s a little more sketchy, because you weren’t fighting her directly, but you guess it could count because you ended her life.

Four deaths already and it’s only been two days. 

“So, two then…?” Trink asks.

“Might as well give her one, at this point.”

You shrug, “It makes the most sense.”

“Fine, (Y/n) gets one because of Horace. I get three,” Trink puffs her chest, “Lennox gets two and Allio gets... “ her face twists, and then she looks at him, “Half because he killed a pig last night.”

His face twists angrily, but you and Lennox let out a laugh at the same time. It seems to diffuse the tension enough to make Allio’s face relax, but he’s clearly not happy with what Trink has said. She giggles along, smiling down at the sand.

“I got someone.” he says.

“Yeah? Like who?” Lennox asks, he’s slicing his knife through the skin of the boar, and on the inside you can see that it’s cooked.

“One of the nobodies from Nine, I think.”

“Boy or girl?” You ask, you can’t remember their names and you can hardly remember their faces.

“Boy.”

“You’re just bullshitting at this point.” Trink says.

“Shut the fuck up.” Allio snaps, and she’s raising her eyebrows, and then giving you a wide-eyed look like she’s saying, ‘someone’s got their panties in a twist’ and she’s totally right.

“It’s ready.” Lennox says, and you all fall into silence as you tear into the pig.

The rest of the day is spent inside of the cornucopia. When it starts hitting the evening, you go out to check the salt water to see if there is fish. The moment you peer into the water, you know that it’s almost a lost cause. You’d have a better chance of fishing in the pond, but you don’t remember seeing any fish in there either.

The other’s aren’t too worried, saying that you’ll just kill boars and eat crackers until you run out. What happens after that? Lennox says he’ll start hunting for the smaller animals after that. For now, there’s no reason to bother if there’s food at your fingertips.

Almost an hour before the faces in the sky show, you’re pulling your socks and shoes back on. The socks are dry but the shoes are pretty wet, even after you’ve been squeezing the water out of the soles in uneven intervals. The jacket has been dry for a while, so you pull the stiff fabric back over your arms and zip it up to your chin.

You find a nice spot towards the back of the cornucopia that’s behind a pile of boxes. You make it your hope, and have everything set up in arms-length. To your right, at the same height of your hips is your small knife. The sword is off to the left, which will be easy for an intruder to see.

During the anthem, you’re nibbling on your crackers, watching the faces appear. First is Eytelle, naturally since she’s from Two. Now, everyone knows who was screaming early this morning. Everyone knows you’re down to four. Finally, the boy from twelve. The anthem finishes off with a flourish, and the sky goes dark.

Lennox volunteers to watch this time around, and after Trink helps you apply more of the healing cream, you’re laying down in your cozy spot and sleeping for the rest of the night.

In the morning, you wake by yourself. Allio has got his knees pulled to his chest, bags beneath his eyes as he rests his chin on his knees. Every now and then he yawns, as if you guys have woken up early into the morning, but by judging the sky, you can clearly tell it’s nowhere near early. It’s ten or later.

“Where’s Trink and Lennox?” you sit up, scratching the back of your head. 

You can feel the sand falling from your hair and down the back of your shirt, which is so damn gross. Not only do you have shit from the pond yesterday stuck in your hair, you also have sand. Sounds like you need to go down to the salt water and ‘wash’ your hair.

Allio yawns again, this time struggling to tame it. He closes his eyes, and places his forehead on his knees, “Out. They’ve been gone for thirty minutes, now. They should be back soon.”

“Right.” you say, picking up your knife, “Well, I’m going down to the beach to scrub my hair.”

“Don’t want to wait for a buddy?”

“Nah.” you pull off the jacket, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“‘Kay.” 

You roll your eyes, stretching your arms on the way to the beach, and you realize immediately that your back doesn’t hurt at all when you do. It’s a good sign. You knew that it wouldn’t be open for much longer. For good measure, you should apply one last layer, you think. No matter what happens, there’s going to be a scar on your back but you want to make sure that it's completely closed.

It’s a two minute walk to where the beach is. And since you learned your lesson yesterday with the pond, you take off your socks and shoes and roll your jeans to your thighs. The water is pretty cold when you wander in, you’re sure to watch your step and when you find yourself knee-deep in water, you pull your hair out.

You leave the tie around your wrist as you flip your hair over, not exactly thrilled when you watch the debris fall from your hair. You scratch for a while until there’s nothing coming from it anymore. Then, you find a new spot to stand and dip your hair in, again scrubbing with your nails. Your hair isn’t exactly greasy just yet, but it’ll get there soon.

You run your hands through your hair to fix the snarls, and then with your head still being upside down, you gather it all into a ponytail, and stand up straight. You wrap the tie around your hair twice, letting it fall into place. When it’s still too loose, you tighten the ponytail, squeezing out the water immediately after.

It’s not much better, but your scalp isn’t as itchy, and you don’t have many options. You carry your socks and shoes back to the cornucopia, and right through the hot sun. You and Allio wait a while, and when your feet are dry, you brush off all the sand and put your socks and shoes back on.

Finally, Lennox and Trink come out of the trees to the left of the mouth. Over there should only be beach, so you’re not sure what’s taken them so long. It isn’t until they’re within earshot, do you hear that they were scoping out the area to check for camps. Last night, Lennox said he thought he saw someone but he couldn’t be sure.

“It’s clear, I think.” he says, Trink doesn’t bother to sit down, “We took two laps, looking everywhere and didn’t find anything.”

“That’s good.” Allio says, “What’s next?”

“I’ve got to pee.” you say, pushing yourself up from where you sit, “And we need a water refill again.”

Lennox picks up his canteen, and then swishes around the water inside, “Got most of mine left, I’ll be fine.”

“Not me.” Trink says, “You should be drinking more.”

“My funeral, not yours.” Lennox leans back, yawning now too, “I’m going to take a nap.”

Trink picks up her silver water bottle, your canteen and Allio’s in one big swoop, “(Y/n) and I will go and get more water, then. You two stay here. We’ll find something while we’re out.”

“Sounds good to me.” Allio says, “There’s not much to do, anyway.”

“Actually, there is.” Lennox is barely keeping his eyes open, “We should gather a lot of food today so we can go exploring tomorrow. There’s still… what? Thirteen tributes out there?”

“Eleven.” you say.

He motions in your direction lazily, “I’m going to nap, when I get up, me and you are going to go out looking for shit. While I’m sleeping, you can go through the boxes and find crackers and useless shit like that.”

“Sure.” Allio says, “Looks like we’ve got the easy half today.” 

Trink shrugs, “You can think that.”

You go ahead and grab your stuff, now. You slide the water bottles and anything that Trink wants to bring along into the backpack. Then the sword, and you’re on your way out and back towards the pond. An hour trip like this everyday is going to take out your water weight from how much you sweat because of it.

“We can find a spot for you to do your business.” Trink says, diverting the two of you off the path, “Preferably not in the way we’ll be walking back.”

You laugh a little and she smiles.

When you’re done, you and her get right back on track to the pond. But unlike Allio, she won’t let it settle into a silence. No matter what happens, she’s on top of conversation and she’ll switch topics when she realizes that it’s failing or you don’t have much to say.

It’s a fun conversation, and you’ve come to realize that there’s a difference between her and Allio. Allio is down to talk about the dirtier stuff, the type of shit that makes him qualified to be a career. Trink on the other hand is… deceiving. Obviously she’s got her muscles and brute strength like the other boys, but she’s so… girly.

Reminds you of the annoying girls back home, except she’s different. She finds a way to dance between the lines between flattering and irritating, keeping you from truly hating her. She’s likable, but not entirely. You’re sure it’ll be a matter of time before she accidentally finds a way to get under your skin.

For now, you’re just glad you have someone to talk to.

Trink twists her blonde hair between her fingers, making it into a spiral. Then, she ties a ponytail at the base of her neck. She gives you a quick smile before launching right back into what she was saying before. 

At the pond, she finally eases up and let's you explain to her where everything had happened yesterday. She says she’ll keep the deep end in mind, and gathers the water and lets you do the iodine drops. She doesn’t want to go back just yet, wanting to rest so the two of you sit in the shade beneath a tree and eat enough food to settle your stomach and keep the nausea at bay.

“What was going on between you and Finnick?” she asks, “If you don’t mind me asking. I’m just curious on why he didn’t join us.”

You hum, “We were in an alliance, originally. Him and I have known each other for a pretty long time. I think he didn’t want to be allies with you guys when you came over after the chariot ride.” you rip grass from the ground, making a pile, “Maybe he didn’t like your vibes or whatever. He is fourteen, so maybe it’s a thought process thing.”

“Yeah, I was just curious as to why he chose them over us.” she picks at her nails, “I mean, they’re not going to be much help, and I can’t imagine how they’re going to help him win.”

“They’re not.” you say, shaking your head.

Finnick’s best bet was you. The two of you might have scored fairly high, but you clearly knew better than he did. Had he latched on, he would be doing just fine. Wouldn’t have to worry about dinner or watching his back. Assuming that he didn’t meet up with Blaire and Thyme.

He might have, you don’t know. What you do know is that Verda died, and if Finnick had been around, he would have had a friend to rely on, and vice versa. Having Finnick on your side at all times would have been nice, just in case things do start to get choppy with your career friends, he would have been there to even it out.

You think you’re doing fine for now, so there’s really no reason to worry.

“You think he’s going to die?”

“He’s fourteen.” you say, “The youngest victor ever was fifteen. If he were to win, it would be unheard of and break the record. Give hope to the future twelve and thirteen year olds that get chosen. I hardly doubt that they have a chance, though. I didn’t when I was that age.”

“Neither did I.” Trink says.

You’re not that surprised. No one should be ready for the games at twelve and thirteen. Not even at fourteen or fifteen, it’s just so young. At your age, your brain is still developing and it holds onto the trauma. Every time you close your eyes when you go to sleep now, all you can picture is their dead faces.

It’s your fault. You caused every single one of them. And somehow, justifying the deaths as a benefit to your survival, or so that you could live is so much worse. You don’t want other people to die so you can live another day. You don’t want that blood on your hands. But you don’t have much of a choice.

It’s your life or them. It’s seeing your family again, or dying a death that will haunt them forever. The baby sister that fought for her life many times, but in the end she couldn’t make it out alive. 

“Well, Eytelle and I thought you and him were dating with how close you are.” 

Figures, the other girls had thought this too, “Yeah, you’re not the only one. We’ve just known each other for a while. I hate that Four will lose one of us.”

Trink’s eyebrows draw in, “One of you? What does that mean?”

“One of us is going to win.”

“We’ll see.” She says, suddenly getting stuffy. She gets to her feet, brushing off her jeans. You get up without her help.

The two of you wander through the woods for a while, quiet with no conversation. You find out quickly that you’re a lot more quiet on your feet than she is. Eventually, you decide to call it and send her back to the cornucopia, saying that you’ll stay out here by yourself.

“And what if there’s other tributes?” she asks.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Remember what happened the last time you did that?” Trink motions to her back.

You sigh, “Do you want meat other than pig or what?”

She doesn’t argue, you pass off the waters and then watch her disappear through the trees. You go right back to the pond, pulling out a nice branch and getting to work on some makeshift fishing pole. The wire that they provide at the cornucopia isn’t the best, but you make do for it being the fishing line.

You use a small bit of wire to make a hook, and then dig around in the dirt of the pond bank to find a single worm. You apologize to the worm, and then skewer it through the hook. It’s nowhere near the worst thing you’ve done in your life, and nothing like that is going to come close for a while.

You throw the stupid thing into the pond, the only reason why you’re even doing this is because you think you saw a ripple earlier when you and Trink were talking. You’d say you wish you had a spear, but spearing fish here would be useless. Like completely useless, since you’re not standing up and doing it, and the fish won’t appear at the shallow end.

After about ten minutes you think, you’re sure that this is futile and you’re only making a joke out of yourself to the Capitol and everyone back home. So long the idea of impressing everyone with your stupid fishing pole. But then there’s a tug, and a large part of you is hoping that it’s not a mutt, and the other has a feeling it’s a fish.

You’re hesitant with the wire, now realizing that it could slice through your hand if you’re not careful. So, you pull out the metal water bottle that’s halfway empty, and wrap the wire around the bottle as if you’re pulling in the line. And slowly but surely, whatever it is is being dragged up.

Then, you can see it. And you’re yanking the whole lot of it backwards and onto land. It’s a fish alright, and even though you can’t name what it is--you’re mostly used to salt water fish, not fresh--you think it’s edible, so you let it flip around until it’s done moving. After that, you wrap it in your jacket because you smell like fish anyway, and tuck it into the backpack and try for a round two.

It’s a lot harder this time. The wire is in a coil and it takes you a hot minute to even get it straighted out again. Finding a worm is pretty hard too, because you need a damn bait to even get the fish curious. When you find one, you’re plunging the wire back into the water and playing the waiting game again.

You hum an old fishing song that your father used to sing on fishing trips with your brothers while you wait. You vaguely remember Reed singing this back home. When he does, it’s always because he’s trying to focus on something. Normally when he’s making dinner or he’s fixing something in the house. He’s a hands-on type of person.

You manage to get a second fish up, and right when you think you should test your luck with a third, you hear a cannon blast. You pause, hands slowly folding the fabric over the second fish, waiting for another cannon but there is none. Knowing that it could be someone back at the cornucopia, you tuck the fish back into your backpack at the bottom. You fill your water bottle up again, and then toss the fishing pole in a bush so that you don’t have to carry it back.

After that, you’re starting your way back, being sure to watch your back. You don’t want to be the second cannon that goes off today. It takes one person to kill you to get their hands on your goods for the games to turn in their favor. 

You make it back to the cornucopia in record timing, you think. You shout Trink’s name, letting them know that it’s you. Her and Lennox round the corner, swords out and ready. When they confirm that it’s you, they ease up.

“Thought it was you.” Lennox breathes.

“It won’t be that easy.” you joke, and watch as they crack a smile, “I’ve got fish.”

Allio is skinning a rabbit, and there’s already a squirrel hanging from the ceiling. He looks up at your approach and gives you a gentle nod before going back to what he was doing.

“That’s good. I caught a rabbit on my way back.” Trink is proud.

“And she butchered it.” Allio says, shaking his head.

You sit down in your cove, unloading your water bottle and placing your knife and things back where they belong. You pull the fish out of your jacket, and begin to descale it.

“Who do you think it was?” Allio asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Yeah, you figured he’d ask a question like this. He was the one prying about Eytelle, after all. You keep quiet and let the others fill in for your silence. You all come to an agreement that the fish should be eaten first so it doesn’t smell too badly tomorrow.

You cook the rabbit and squirrel anyway, wrap them in a clean shirt. Then, Trink clears out a small box just for the food. Once it’s closed, it’s an agreement between the four of you that it won’t be touched until tomorrow. The sun seems to set a little faster this time around.

Tomorrow you’ll all be out in the woods looking for other tributes to take down. You don’t think that you’ll be coming across anyone, but you don’t take the night shift anyway, letting Trink take it by herself. You all wait for the death recap in the sky, and only one face shows up. The girl from Twelve.

Only twelve tributes left in the arena.

You and the two boys go ahead and settle for the night. In the case of Trink being exhausted, she’s to wake Allio. You’ll be getting a full night’s rest tonight. You pull the thin, white jacket back onto your body and curl up in your sandy cove. This time, you pull up your hood to keep the sand out of your hair.

You stand no chance against the exhaustion.

[venusxxlangdon]

Beautiful Player

summary: Duncan Shepherd is a gambler, and the reader is a casino girl with a very strong intuition for the lucky stakes.  pairing: Duncan Shepherd x fem!reader warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral (giving/receiving), fingering, daddy kink

Words: 5.5k

Lana Del Rey — Beautiful Player

It was never a regular Saturday night for Casino Bellagio. Right when the clock stroke midnight people from all over Vegas were coming to try their odds and hoped that Ms. Fortuna would be merciful and they would not lose all their money by the end of the night. These walls had seen everything: famous politicians going bankrupt, fortuitous lucky ones winning thousands of dollars, celebrities from all over the world performing in the luxurious bar, and random tourists who just wanted to take a glance at the world’s famous casino and feel the atmosphere of the rush and frisson with their skin.

Bellagio Hotel and Casino offered the best service in Vegas, a perfect blend of beauty and elegance for the rich. That was why Duncan Shepherd, a young successful politician from Washington D.C., hurried to have his assistant book a suite with a view of the city skyline and enormous fountains for him right after he found out that the upcoming weekend he would spend in Las Vegas working on a new deal.

Besides his political career, he was also well-known for an exquisite and expensive hobby of his, gambling. It was not only an exciting hobby that made the blood in his veins boil with adrenaline when he placed his bets in roulette or played poker but another way of networking. If one wanted to meet the right people, he should have hit the private rooms in the most pretentious casinos of D.C. where the most influential politicians played the odds. The bartenders and the dealers knew him everywhere and they didn’t even have to ask him what drink he would like to have since he always went for the same Camus Cuvee and 100$ bill for the first bet. The stakes would increase accordingly to the amount of cognac the young man drank.

“Alright, I think it’s time to show the cards” a man in his fifties proclaimed after a single community card was dealt, and leaned back on his chair taking a long drag of a cigar he was holding in his hand. It was not a lucky night for him and there was no sense to continue this game anymore. His eyes traveled from his opponent to Duncan who was chewing on his bottom lip with his brows frowned.

Duncan knew the man had a shitty combination way before he offered to show the cards. Years of practice taught him to read people’s faces like a picture book and detect the slightest traces of doubt. Now it was all about the other guy’s hand.

“Player one’s got ace and king of spades,” the dealer announced when Duncan and the guy flipped their cards, “Player two has got ace and queen of diamonds. Player one has won the game”.

Duncan grinned and shook hands with them in honor of a great game.

“Huh, seems like all the money goes to the capital tonight,” the man grinned.

“It’s the king who did the job,” Duncan fend off teasingly and unconsciously ran his fingers through the curls. His Cartier ring clicked against the glass when he took another sip of cognac.

Suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of applause from the next room. Curiously the men turned their heads to see a tall, lanky guy jumping with excitement, throwing his fists up in the air, and screaming “Today is the best day of my life!”

“Well, well, another lucky specimen,” said the man with a cigar looking unimpressed.

“Do you think she helped him?” asked the younger guy and made a sign to the dealer to shuffle the deck for a new round.

Duncan watched the winner take his chips and head upstarts to get the money. His face was literally glowing with happiness. “It’s amazing what effect money can have on people, especially on those who never had it” Shepherd thought to himself remembering how many people he had to bribe back in the day.

“What to do you mean someone helped him?” he asked adjusting the collar of his cashmere turtleneck. Alcohol and the game got him feeling hot, so he took his jacket off and carefully placed on a chair next to him.

“Haven’t you heard about Y/N?” the older man suspiciously looked at Duncan. No way a gambler like him didn’t know the girl who always placed her bets on the winning numbers. No one understood how it all exactly worked, and she never told about the details implying that it was just the matter of good intuition, but the gamblers all over the world were haunting her and begging to help them. Although the majority didn’t have enough money to pay for her escort. The girl charged insanely big prices and always took one-fifth of the prize.

“Wait, that Y/N?” Duncan arched his brow. “The one who always wins? I didn’t know she was here”

Where else could she be?

The man hummed approvingly. His thin lips twitched when he looked above Duncan’s head and lifted his drink up as if he was greeting someone. Duncan turned around and a saw young woman dressed in a long silk dress that was draped in beautiful waves contouring the delicate curves of her feminine figure. Her posture was gracious, as she slowly made her way past the long corridor to the bar. He noticed the hungry look in the men’s eyes following her every step and the way they tried to catch her glance hoping she would at least look at them.

“There she is,” the man sounded so proud as if he knew her personally. Duncan wondered if she had ever helped him win.

“A fucking beauty queen” added the younger guy taking a long drag. All three of them couldn’t take their eyes off of the woman.

Duncan shifted on his seat uncomfortably. He cleared his throat and tried to sound uninterested when he asked:

“And how much does she charge?”

The man across the table was old and experienced enough to crack Duncan’s intentions right after the question rolled off his tongue. He narrowed his eyes. A lenient smile was ghosting across his lips as he spoke:

“That’s classified. If you want to know, go ahead and find out yourself” he gave the younger guy a sidelong look, and they both chucked.

“Would you want to try your luck tonight?” wondered the guy, and Duncan shrugged. He really didn’t need to win a fortune to feel good about himself, especially since he was rich enough to treat gambling as another way to spend his free time. What really got him was the fact that there was this mysterious girl, he had heard so many rumors about, out there who not only looked insanely gorgeous but was independent and picky enough to choose her clients. He once overheard that she refused to gamble with some sheik because she didn’t like the way he addressed her.

He felt the adore raise the familiar tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. The tip of his tongue slid across his bottom lip, as he stared in the direction the girl just went. Maybe it was his chance because only God knew whether they would ever meet again.

“Excuse me, gentlemen” he nodded at the two men who weren’t even surprised that he decided to ditch them as soon as he saw the lucky girl. They couldn’t blame him. Duncan didn’t notice, but the younger guy discreetly slid a 100$ banknote under the table. The older man mouthed “told you”, and they watched Duncan hop off the chair and head to the bar.

His eyes wandered around the spacious room looking for the girl. People who could afford to relax in this bar definitely belonged to a higher echelon. One could tell it from the way they looked and the topics they were discussing: politics, economics, investments, stock markets, and international contracts. A group of men in their mid-40s was spotted on a leather couch. Three girls were with them sitting in their laps with the indifferent looks on their faces. The only things that probably worried them were other designer bags they could buy after escorting these men.

He saw her sitting alone in the farthest corner of the room lazily drinking a cocktail. Her arm was stretched on the back of the sofa frivolously, and she looked like she owned this entire place. A tall indoor palm tree was hiding her from the intrusive men who were more than willing to buy her a drink, and at the same time allowed her to keep an eye on everyone.

Duncan adjusted his jacket and slowly approached the girl who tilted her head a little at the sight of him. He took his seat on a dark burgundy leather couch across from her.

“Congratulations on another win,” he smirked and called over a waiter to order a drink, “it was brilliant”.

She narrowed her eyes.

“You weren’t even there,” her voice was deep and calm as if she was tasting every word on the tip of her tongue before saying it. Duncan’s eyes involuntarily traveled down her body to the bare knees. A high slit of her silk dress offered a fascinating scene of her skin, so smooth and soft at first glance.

“Thank you,” Duncan said to the waiter when he brought him his drink and turned his gaze back at the girl. “I’ve heard a lot about you” he ignored her snarky comment and took a sip enjoying the burning taste of the liquor. “It’s surprising how the world’s famous casino lets you help their clients when their primary goal is to keep people from winning, so they would come back over and over again”.

She was watching him attentively. He looked elegant in his all-black outfit, polished leather boots, with gold Rolex around his wrist and effortlessly styled hair. Despite a small marble table between them, she could sense a slight trail of his Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille fragrance.

“Well,” she tucked a loose strand of her hair behind the ear, “if you heard a lot about me, you know that I help people win on very rear occasions. It doesn’t do any damage to the budget. Besides I pay all my taxes ” she noticed his look on her legs and crossed them provocatively, so the slit of her dress went higher and showed more of her thighs. Maybe it was the second Cosmopolitan she was drinking, or the posh atmosphere of the casino, or the handsome appearance of the man, she didn’t even know the name of, but she enjoyed his attention. She thrived off of the idea of being provocative. It was thrilling to find out what turn their conversation would take.

“Duncan Shepherd,” he offered her his hand. She nodded, outstretched her hand, and slightly shivered when their skin made contact. He gently turned her palm downwards by the fingertips and brought it to his lips to leave a feather-light kiss.

“Y/N” she introduced herself and quickly took her hand back to grab the drink. “So to what do I owe the pleasure to enjoy,” she rolled her eyes, “your company?”

She took another sip without breaking eye contact. He bit his lower lip and rubbed his sharp jaw with the tips of his digits.

“I was wondering if you cared to collaborate with me tonight?” she cocked her eyebrow at his choice of words.

“Do you mean “to help you win a fortune?””

Duncan shrugged.

“If you are able to?” he put his glass on the table and leaned closer to her. Her gaze scanned his muscular thighs, long fingers he laced together, and went back at his face. His gray eyes sparkled mischievously in the faint light of the bar. “I mean” she shot a surprised glare at him, “I don’t doubt your intuition, but it would be my honor to witness it in action.”

He said the last words right when she brought the glass to her lips and was about to have a taste, but he caught her off-guard and she ended up choking. Her laughter, almost child-like and sincere, ringed in the crowded room like a wind chime. The lack of oxygen didn’t matter. All the anguish of the intimidating vibes of her appearance melted into the sound of her giggling. Duncan didn’t understand what was so funny, but the way she started wiping off the tears trying not to smear the mascara made him chuckle as well.

“You do realize that I don’t need to prove anything to you?” she took a deep breath trying to calm down. “And I’m too smart for this “I dare you” bullshit. Besides....” she pointed her manicured finger at him, “are you sure that you are able to afford me?” It was her turn to lean forward. Their faces were inches away, and she could feel the tension between them intensify.

He moved his head closer to her ear and even though she would never admit it, but the sensation of his hot breath across her skin made goosebumps line her skin and increased the pace of her heartbeat. She found herself lost for a second in his presence and missed the moment when she had let him put his hand on her knee and gently squeeze it.

“Name the price,” he whispered and leaned back with a wide smirk. She was thankful to the dim lights for not making her blush too obvious. Duncan wasn’t the first attractive guy who wanted her to help him, but she was surprised with the way her own body reacted to him. The ghost of his touch on her knee was still present, and she bit her lower lip, so the pain would remind her to stay focused. She cleared her throat and without looking at Duncan grabbed her purse, he just noticed, and started looking for something inside.

“Alright,” she took her Rouge Coco Chanel out, “this is how much I charge for one game” she wrote the price which actually looked like a phone number on a white napkin without any second thought of ruining the lipstick. She stood up and looked down at Duncan satisfied with the shock painted on his face. She hoped it would show him that she was serious. “Meet me at the roulette table in 10 minutes” she slid her hand down the dress adjusting the fabric and maybe doing it way too seductively than it had been intended, “if you are still in.”

xxx

He found her in one of the rooms with luxurious furniture and the roulette table right in the center of it. About twenty people stood around it ready to watch another win of Y/N. In fact, more of them wanted to see her, but it was a private room, so only the ones with a black pass could enter it. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly when she saw Duncan.

“I have already bought in,” she told him and nodded at the dealer who was preparing the chips.

“What if I hadn’t come?” asked Duncan amusingly taking his seat next to her. Maybe too close. Their hands were almost touching.

“Then it would have been the first time my intuition failed me,” she winked and turned her gaze at the dealer.

Duncan ordered another glass of cognac. Was it his third? Fourth one? When one was about to bet the half of his fortune it was never enough.

“What chips did you buy in for?” he asked her.

“500$ for the beginning,” she replied and let Duncan take the exchanged chips from the dealer’s hand.

He looked at the table examining the column bets. Since Y/N had bet 500$ he placed 5 chips for 100$ in the 1sr column, put another 500$ on black numbers, and another bank note went on red even numbers. The line bet covered six numbers and they played five to one.

Twenty minutes later he had three numbers covered which paid eleven to one. He needed to cover the table in order to get a straight up.

“Now you have a street,” she whispered, and he felt her leg pressing against his thigh. Duncan nodded and continued spreading his wages in the covered numbers. She was sitting so close, almost in his lap, her hair was brushing against his cheek.

“Please, concentrate, Ms. Y/L/N.” he smirked.

The dealer proclaimed that there were no more bets and asked to choose the winning number. Duncan sensed the way her body tensed next to him as she leaned forward towards the roulette wheel. His mouth watered at the sight of her cleavage.

“So what do you think?” he noticed how quiet it became in the room as everyone froze in anticipation, curiously waiting for the girl’s verdict.

“I’ll make the decision when he spins the ball” she nodded at the dealer allowing him to start spinning.

Duncan felt the pressure start building up in his body. He wasn’t sure if she would be able to make a bet on time because it was truly the matter of seconds. From the corner of his eyes, he saw some men whispering something to each other worryingly.

Everything was in slow motion for him: he watched the dealer pick the ball and give it a good spin. It was all about the girl next to him whether she would be able to pick the right number. It would either hit a jackpot or leave him bankrupt because she had persuaded him to bet almost half of his fortune. It was obvious that he was nervous as his arm snaked around her waist and he slightly squeezed her side so nobody would have noticed his trembling fingers. The silk of her Givenchy dress was cool under the tips of his digits. He grabbed the glass of Hardy Le Printemps with his free hand and emptied it in one gulp.

Adrenaline flooded his system like it was on the intravenous ride into his blood, making every cell of his body flatter with anticipation. That was what he liked about gambling: the thrill, the euphoric feeling of the unknown.

“Don’t worry, I’m always right.” she whispered in his ear soothingly, and her lips “accidentally” brushed against his neck.

His heart was about to beat out of his chest like a trapped bird when she finally said:

“25 red and odd”

Duncan chewed his bottom lips watching the wheel attentively. He could feel the blood pumping in his temples.

“No fucking way,” he gasped when the ball landed on 25. Red. The people around the table started whistling and applauding. A wide grin spread across her lips, as she breathed out in relief and leaned back on her chair. No matter how many times she had won, it was always stressful for her.

The dealer collected outside wagers, leaving 25. It was a red number, so Duncan’s black wager came in along with the even one. The dealer isolated the winning number and cleared out the table of the losing chips leaving the winning bets on the table.

That night Duncan Shepherd tripled his fortune thanks to a gorgeous girl by his side.

xxx

Both of them knew they would end up in Duncan’s suite, it was just the matter of who would give up first. The triumphant feeling of euphoria from winning star struck Duncan, swiping him off his feet in pure ecstasy and making his head feel dizzy, so it was no surprise when he kissed her hand in front of everyone not being able to hold himself back. The heat in his body needed a release.

He truly hadn’t doubted her abilities, but when it happened before his eyes...when the ball landed on the chosen number, he had to pinch himself and check whether it wasn’t a dream. In this almost unconscious state he didn’t remember how he took her hand and whispered “come with me”, but he definitely remembered that she agreed and followed him to his suite. Everything he’d been feeling for the last couple hours from sexual tension to the anxiety from watching the ball spin washed over him and exacerbated all his senses. He felt electric.

As soon as the door was shut behind his back, he grabbed her by the neck and pulled her closer to him, smashing their lips together in a passionate kiss. She moaned into his mouth, her fingers immediately found their way into his hair, pulling and tagging the soft strands. She wrapped her leg around his waist, and his right hand possessively cupped her ass, pressing her clothed core against his growing bulge. The girl whimpered and ground his hips onto him, making both of them moan in unison from the slightest friction. Duncan’s tongue entwined with hers, and he teasingly sucked on it, his free hand making its way up to the silk straps of her dress to slide it off her shoulders. It pulled around her waist like liquid nacre giving him a breathtaking view of her full breasts with the pink buds of hardening nipples. Her velour tongue licked his bottom lip and then she trapped it between her teeth, pulling hard, as his palms covered her bust and squeezed roughly. She threw her head back giving him more skin to suck on, rutting her hips against his crotch.

“Baby, baby,” he whispered lowly, sucking on her pulsing point and moving his plush lips to her collarbones and down to the valley of her breasts needy to be touched and licked. She moaned loudly when he sucked on her right nipple and pinched the left one between his thumb and index finger making her tug his hair and instinctively bring him closer to her flushed chest. “Wrap your legs around me” Duncan murmured and let go of her right boob with a vulgar “pop”. She obeyed in mere seconds, and he placed his hands under her ass cheeks for the leverage and made his way towards the bed. A quite whine slipped off her lips when he threw her onto the sheets and her head drowned in the clouds of numerous pillows. He hovered over her and yanked the rest of her dress up to expose those sinful thighs he has put his eyes on earlier at the bar.

“You are so fucking wet for me,” he smirked, observing the wet patch of fabric between her legs. Duncan’s long fingers gently stroke her throbbing core through her panties enjoying her mewls. She wriggled on the sheets, thirty for his touch.

“And this is the woman who usually plays hard to get?” he teased mockingly, spreading out her wet folds and circling the glistening entrance with the tips of his fingers. “Or is it just for me?” he arched his eyebrow, attentively examining her face: brows frowned, cheeks burning with the growing heat, lips slightly opened in anticipation.

 Instead of answering, she tried to hop on his fingers, but he pinned her hips down with his left hand holding her in place. His lips ghosted over hers as he asked:

“Tell me, hmmm?” her arms flew up to his neck and she embraced him, pressing her naked breasts against his chest. “Am I the first one you are willing to spread your legs for so eagerly?” he nibbled on her jaw, sliding one finger inside of her caressing the tightness of her walls. Duncan could cum like that just from the thought of how heavenly good she would feel around his cock.

She impatiently pulled the hem of his turtleneck up, hungrily roaming over the naked skin of his abdomen.

“Yes!” she cried out when he crooked his finger and pressed the knuckle against the spongy spot inside her. It did magical things to her body, making her spread her legs wider. “You are the only one.”

Duncan involved her in another kiss. He savored the taste of her lips as if is life depended on them. He pulled away just to quickly take off his turtleneck and start undoing his Burberry belt. She sat up and quickly discarded her crumpled dress tossing it aside. Kneeling on the bed before him, she slid her hands down his naked torso and stopped at the waistband of his boxers. Having leaned forward, she pressed her lips to the outline of his erection, mouthing the hard cock through the fabric. She quickly yanked his boxers down and confidently wrapped her wrist around his shaft giving it a couple of tugs.

“C’mon, doll,” he urged her, and she lifted her gaze up at him while stroking his hardness and stopping at the tip to massage it. She ran her thumb along the slit, collecting his precum and brought it to her lips. Wrapping them around her digits, she moaned at the taste of him. “Let’s put this pretty mouth of yours to good use”

She flipped her hair to the side, and Duncan helped by grabbing a fistful of it in a loose ponytail. He growled at the sensation of her lips around his head sucking on it and creating a vacuum around the sensitive flesh. She took her time to make his cock nice and wet before sliding down on his length and covering the part she couldn’t take with her palm. Duncan maneuvered his hand down between her parted thighs and slowly started rubbing her clit, as she hollowed her cheeks and gave his shaft a particularly hard tug. He moaned at the feeling and carefully inserted two fingers into her throbbing core, stretching her out and looking for one special spot. There it was, as he brushed against it the girl beneath him choked on his cock and covered his hand with her palm, pressing it closer to her pussy. Her mouth gasped open and she let go of Duncan’s cock in surprise.

“Oh God, right there,” she whimpered rolling her head to the side. The movement of his hand around his shaft became more erratic as she tried not to drown in the pleasure his fingers were causing her. He patted her cheek sliding his thumb along her wet lips, red and raw from sucking him off, and she nuzzled into his touch. Her hips moved with his fingers in sync, and he added the pressure on her clit eliciting another moan from her.

She cried out when he pulled his fingers out and reached for his hand in an attempt to bring it back to her throbbing sex. He grinned at her and leaned forward to place a soft kiss in the corner of her mouth.

“Lay down on your back, kitten,” she would never admit it, but the pet name made her heart drop. The amount of wetness between her thighs was embarrassing by that moment. Duncan quickly got a condom out of the nightstand, ripped the foil with his teeth and rolled it down his length.

He watched her with a hungry look in his eyes, as she laid down for him and spread her legs biting her bottom lip and looking at him through the hooded eyes. Keeping eye contact, she brought her hand to her pussy and slid two fingers inside just like he had done it seconds before. He crawled on top of her and pushed her thighs wider with his knee.

“What a bad girl,” he breathed out, “touching herself in front of Daddy like a thirsty bitch” she moaned in response when she felt the tip of his cock at her entrance. He cupped her face in his hands looking into her lustful eyes. “But only Daddy gets to touch your pussy, understood?” he slapped her fingers away and, without waiting for her reaction, went down on her.

His skillful tongue licked a wet stripe along her folds and stopped at the puffy clit. He pressed on it and swirled his tongue around the bud drawing a loud gasp from the girl. He hummed at the feeling of her fingers in his hair as she tried to bring him closer to her heat. His scruff was rubbing against her thighs, and this contrast of the burning sensation and gentle licks on her clit drove her insane.

“Daddy, please, don’t stop” she didn’t even care about keeping it cool anymore, moaning obscenely with every flick of his tongue.

“You are so fucking submissive” he pulled away for a second and smirked, admiring the way she arched her back. He added his fingers and started pumping them rhythmically in and out of her. “And I haven’t even started fucking you properly”.

The mouth and fingers combo turned her into a rambling mess of moans and pathetic whimpers. She felt a familiar coil unfold in the pit of her stomach making her tighten the grip on his hair.

“I’m so close, Daddy, I’m so...” she moaned gripping fistfuls of the cotton sheets. Her toes curled, as she felt her first orgasm of the night pierce through her body in hot, electric impulses. She clasped her thighs together probably suffocating Duncan, but judging from his muffled moans he didn’t seem to mind. Her flushed chest went up and down while she was trying to catch her breath.

Duncan kissed his way up to her stomach, and then to her breasts — she could feel the wetness of her own arousal on his face. Consumed with engrossing lust she started licking off her juices with salacious, sloppy sounds.

Duncan rolled to his side sliding his cock between her ass cheeks. Holding it in one hand he grabbed her by the hips with the other bringing her closer to him.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good” his lips were right next to her ear, and he mouthed on the sensitive spot. “Let you feel every inch of my cock” every word was followed by the teasing rub of the head of his dick against her hole. She turned her head at him entwining their lips in a desperate kiss.

“Want you” she muffled and let his tongue move to her neck and collarbones. He sucked gently on a tender skin leaving his mark. Bastard.

“Bring your legs towards your chest” Duncan whispered in her ear, and right after she obliged, he thrust inside her. A loud moan rolled off her tongue and she instinctively straightened her legs out. The sensation was so unbearably good that she couldn’t handle it

“Keep your legs bent,” he ordered grabbing her breast and twirled the nipple. Hard. She cried out but put her legs back into the needed position. Duncan let go of the abused bud as soon as she obeyed. “Good girl” he praised sucking on her earlobe.

He picked up the quick pace slamming his hips violently. She shut her eyes trying not to scream from the all-absorbing euphoria that rushed through her veins. Every fiber of her body fluttered under his touch. With each sway of his hips, his cock hit right at the most sensitive spot inside her.

“I don’t even need your strong intuition to know that you will be coming on my cock like a good slut,” he grabbed her by the waist helping himself going deeper into her. She put her top arm backward to pull him closer exposing her breasts for him that were bouncing with each thrust.

“Harder, harder,” she begged him in a broken voice, “Please, Daddy, harder...”

She felt his teeth on her neck, the strong grip of his fingers on her waist, his heavy panting in her ear, and it all was sending her to the edge. A pathetic sob slipped off her lips as she tried to keep her knees bent, but the stimulation was so damn good, it was making her legs tremble. The heavy smell of sex filled in her nostrils mixed with Duncan’s perfume.

He knew she was close when her walls started clenching around him squeezing him tightly. Duncan’s brought his finger to where they belong — to her clit, massaging it in a circular motion.

“C’mon, princess,” she could cum just form his raspy, fucked out voice calling her like that. “Come for me, baby”

No man in her life had ever had such power over her. Her body gave up and surrendered to him in no time. Her orgasm started as a warm sensation in the center of her body, spread in waves and reached the extent of it. Duncan’s fingers increased its intensity, and she felt like she was flying to the moon. Supernovas exploded before her eyes. He followed her in a few seconds, calling out her name. The pulsing of his cock deep inside her made her shiver and buck her hips riding off the last waves of her orgasm.

 It felt good to be in his arms that were wrapped around her shoulders protectively, holding her close to him. She felt sleepy, and right when she was about to close her eyes and let Morpheus take her to the land of dreams, Duncan whispered:

“What would your intuition say if I asked you to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

She was glad that he was laying behind her and couldn’t see a wide grin on her face.

“I think it would be wonderful.”

Duncan didn’t care about the money he had won that night. The real jackpot was peacefully snoring next to him..

Taglist: @langdons-rep @babypinkstyles94 @sammythankyou @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @iloveziggystardust @ticklish-leafy-plant @langdvnshepherd @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @theghostoflangdon

People who might like it: @7-wonders @lovelykhaleesiii @ccodyfern @langdonsoceaneyes @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @1-800-bitchcraft @avesatanormalpeoplescareme

[bittysvalentines]

Virtual Reality, Emphasis on Reality.

From: @omgnotanothercpblog

To: @aflailureandamasterpiece

“Please, Bitty?” Chowder was giving Bitty his best puppy dog eyes. Bitty never could resist that look, and Chowder knew it, damn it.

“I don’t know…” Bitty told him, and Chowder’s face lit up, sensing his victory. “I never play video games,” he added desperately.

“That’s exactly what we need. We already have people who know what they’re doing.”

Bitty folded his arms and gave Chowder an unimpressed look, but Chowder just grinned at him.

“We want to make sure a total noob can jump right in and start playing too.”

“With that kind of talk, I hope you aren’t on the sales team. ‘Total noob’,” Bitty muttered.

“I brought everything you need to play,” Chowder said, ignoring him. He held up a VR headset - a fancy one with attached headphones - and a thin pair of gloves. “It’s all set to connect, you just have to turn it on. After you put it on, of course.”

“You want me to do this right now?” Bitty eyed the equipment as if it was a poisonous snake. He didn’t have anything against it, it just wasn’t his cup of tea. No matter what Chowder said, it didn’t make sense that he and Dex wanted Bitty to test their new game.

“I want to get you started, that’s all. You don’t have to actually play it right now.” It was obvious from Chowder’s tone that he really wished Bitty would.

“And how is this different from regular VR?” Bitty asked as he pulled on the gloves.

“It’s like, the next level. Total virtual immersion. Or as close as we can get for now. Like the Matrix or OASIS in Ready Player One.” Chowder held out the headset for Bitty to take.

“I’m not one for science fiction, but even I know the Matrix is not a good thing.” Despite his words, Bitty put the headset on, leaving one ear uncovered so he could listen to Chowder’s instructions.

“Okay, there are two modes,” Chowder said as the visuals began to load. “There’s augmented reality where the game world overlays the real world. So your couch becomes the trunk of a fallen tree or something. You need some space for that because the game world is so extensive. I mean, there’s this quest where-”

“Chowder, honey, can we get back to my tutorial?”

Chowder cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s just- It’s swawesome that it’s finally real, you know? Anyway, we also have what we’re calling autopilot mode, so you can explore the game world without needed too much actual movement. To switch it, you just have to...”

Chowder went on, but Bitty barely heard him, because he was standing at the edge of a dark and forbidding forest. The trees were literal works of art, realistic-looking, but not so realistic that his brain kept insisting something was off, the way CGI people made him feel. Bitty would swear he could hear birds chirping and insects buzzing. He adjusted the headset, muffling Chowder’s words. Yep, birdsong, bees, and a breeze ruffling the leaves on the trees.

“This is amazing,” he breathed.

~

Bitty found himself spending a lot of time trying out Quester’s Fate, Chowder and Dex’s game. Not so much for the gameplay - it was interesting, but that had never been his cup of tea - but for the wonderful world where it took place and the people he met there. He was sure there were players who liked to use the augmented reality version and roam around outside to complete their quests, but Bitty preferred the shared virtual world. It was easier after a long day spent on his feet.

Even though he wasn’t actually playing the game, he had explored the other things it had to offer - namely, he’d built his own shop. He’d gotten Chowder and Dex to help him to speed things along; he wasn’t a fool. Now he sold or traded items to fellows players to help them along on their quests - things that would refill their game energy or boost their game stats - or would let them customize their character. It was pretty entertaining when they thought he was an NPC (non-player character, he was slowly learning their language) at first because his skin wasn’t available in the game store. Perks of being friends with the game developers. Dex had even created an NPC to keep the shop running when he wasn’t playing. If Bitty had been charging real money, he’d be rolling in it.

Not long after he’d opened up his shop - only stocked with virtual fruit at that time - his first customer had come along. That was how he’d met Jack.

Bitty’s General Store was was in the middle of the forest, situated at the crossroads of several quest pathways. A player wearing the default skin had come walking along one of them, looking a little lost. He kept looking this way and that and consulting his quest map. Finally he spotted the store - and Bitty - and practically ran up to him.

“Hel-” Bitty began.

“Are you a real person? Can you help me?” the player said in a rush.

“I’m as real as anyone can be in here,” Bitty said. “What do you need, sugar?”

“Dieu merci! I don’t understand how this map works. How do I get it to show where I am? Where I’m supposed to go?” He thrust his map at Bitty and it disappeared as soon as he opened his hand.

“Well, first of all, my name is Bitty.” Bitty waited expectantly.

“Oh. Sorry. Jack.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack. Second, that map is yours . So you can’t hand it to me. Go ahead and open it up again.”

Jack swept his hand up, then poked the air in a specific spot. It never got old, watching other players waving their hands around while they interacted with menus that only they could see. The map reappeared.

“Now don’t let go,” Bitty said. He moved behind Jack and peered around his bicep (even in-game he was shorter than most of the other players, which somehow seemed unfair. Dex didn’t have to make his character that true to life). “It looks like you’re still in world view mode. Tap your quest icon, up in the right corner. That’ll show you things that are specific to your quest, including where you are and where you should be going.”

“Quest icon? What does it look like?”

“That depends on the quest you chose. This was all covered in the tutorial.”

“There’s a tutorial?”

“Now how on earth did you get this far without the tutorial?”

Jack dropped his hands and the map disappeared again. “It’s my friend Shitty’s account. He kind of…” He made a pushing motion with both hands. “He said I need to relax, or at least not focus so much on hoc- my job.”

“I supposed wandering around trying to figure out how this all works could be relaxing,” Bitty said doubtfully.

“He had to leave for a work emergency before he could show me very much.”

“Wait. Did you say your friend Shitty, or did you mean your shitty friend? Because only one of those makes sense to me, and it’s not the first one.”

“Shitty’s his nickname. He likes it better than his real name.” Jack brought up his map yet again. “Quest icon, right?”

Bitty could take a hint and let the subject drop. “Did you even choose a quest? Considering you managed to skip all the basics.”

“Yes. Uh, I think so? Yes.”

“Well, that’s something, anyway. Let’s get you started from the beginning, all right, sugar?”

“Okay?” Jack didn’t seem too sure about continuing to play the game, but he was already there, and Bitty felt he owed it to Chowder and Dex to make sure he had a positive experience after such a rough start. Bitty showed him how to start the tutorial and left him to it, though he did stay close, rearranging a nearby display of apples, just in case Jack had any questions.

“Okay, I think I got it,” Jack said eventually. “I have to go…” He looked at his map and then at the numerous paths. “That way.” He pointed at one of the trails.

“Oh, the Glass Mountain quest. That’s a good one for someone just starting out. Here, take these apples.” Bitty held out a sack. “They refill your character’s health bar. You’ll need them.”

Jack stared at the sack. “How do I accept them? It wasn’t very clear in the tutorial.”

“Just reach out your hand. Once you’re close enough, the game’ll ask if you want to accept or reject the item.”

Jack reached out and the sack disappeared. Then he stood there, looking uncertain. “I suppose I should… go?”

“The princess is waiting,” Bitty said with an encouraging smile.

“Are you sure she’s not in another castle?” Jack asked expectantly.

“No? That’s not how that quest goes.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped. “That’s not...” He shook his head. “Oh, um, payment? For the apples?”

“Don’t you worry about that, sugar. They’re a gift for being my first customer.”

“Oh, okay. Um, bye then.”

“Bye, Jack. I hope to see you again. You can tell me how you did on your quest.”

Jack nodded and off he went. Bitty hoped he would come back. He didn’t think he’d ever met someone who knew even less than he did about playing video games; Jack’s cluelessness was a little adorable. He wondered briefly what Jack looked like in real life, but he buried that thought quickly. Sure, Jack seemed nice. Friendly. Willing to learn from someone shorter than him (which was surprisingly a problem for some players, Bitty didn’t understand it). None of that meant anything. Bitty wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. He probably wouldn’t ever see Jack again anyway.

~

Jack came back.

Not right away, but he did, and he kept coming back, showing up when Bitty was in-game at least once a week. Jack had gotten his own account, though he’d kept the default skin. At first, he would talk to Bitty for a few minutes before going off on one of the quests, but eventually he was sticking around longer and longer until Bitty suspected he’d given up on actually playing the game. Not that Bitty was one to judge, since he’d given up on doing that almost immediately. He used the virtual world as a distraction, something to do when he was too tired to do anything else and it was too early to go to bed, or when he needed the company of others and his friends were otherwise occupied.

Bitty enjoyed talking to Jack, and Jack didn’t seem to mind that Bitty was doing most of the talking. They would discuss work and their friends and family and Bitty’s dream job (because it sounded like Jack had his, lucky devil) and so many random topics that it amazed him that Jack kept coming around. Bitty found himself looking forward to their weekly chats more and more.

Shoot. He’d gone and done it - he’d fallen for Jack.

~

“Please, Bitty?” Dex wasn’t as good as Chowder at the puppy dog eyes, but he was giving him a run for his money.

“Dex, you don’t have to talk me into coming to your big celebration, silly goose.”

Dex grinned. “Chowder told me to do that. But also, we’re having it catered.” He winced, waiting for Bitty’s reaction.

“I would assume so. You’re bringing that up because…”

“They specialize in pies for dessert. Sorry, Bitty. We had to pick a couple for them to serve.”

“I see.”

“They won’t be as good as yours,” Dex insisted.

“Well of course they won’t,” Bitty replied automatically. “I don’t know, William. I don’t think I could come to your party now that I know you’re cheating on me with other pies.” He pressed his lips together to hold back a smile.

Dex’s eyes widened. “You don’t-”

Bitty burst out laughing. “My word, your face! Like I wouldn’t show up because of a little thing like that. Bless your heart, you should know I was going to bake pies for you and Chowder as a gift anyway.”

Dex rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. “Thanks, Bitty. I just didn’t want you to think, I don’t know, that we didn’t prefer your baking or something.”

“It’s not like I’m in a position to make pies for such a big do. Don’t worry your head about it.”

“So we’ll see you there?”

“Do you really need to ask? You couldn’t keep me away, mister.”

~

Dex and Chowder were having a party for two reasons - it was the one-year anniversary of their company, Two Frogs, and Quester’s Fate had become the #1 best-selling VR game in the country. It was an amazing achievement, and Bitty was proud to be a small part of that. He didn’t even mind very much that he had to miss his and Jack’s weekly chat. Bitty had sent him a PM through the game’s messaging system to let him know he wouldn’t be there.

Chowder introduced him to Caitlin Farmer, a young lady he’d met while testing out the game in its early stages. Apparently, he’d mowed her down when he hadn’t seen her due to a glitch and the apology coffee he’d bought for her had led to several coffee dates and then a relationship. They were adorable together.

Dex hadn’t brought anyone, but he was mighty interested in Derek Nurse, a local celebrity who was in attendance for some reason. He kept sneaking glances at him, only to look away quickly whenever Derek looked in his direction and Derek was doing the same. Wasn’t that interesting?

It was Dex who introduced him to Larissa Duan, the artist who had designed the backgrounds used in the game.

“Ms. Duan, let me tell you how beautiful your work is. It’s just breathtaking,” Bitty told her as they shook hands.

“Thank you. Please, call me Larissa. They turned out all right, I think. I’m an abstract artist normally, but I wanted to challenge myself, work outside my comfort zone.”

“Well, I’m glad you did, and I’m sure De- Will and Chris are, too.”

A man with an impressive mustache and long hair pulled back in a ponytail came up to them. “Lardo! Love of my life! I’ve found you,” he cried and handed her a drink.

“Cool it, Shitty, he’s not hitting on me,” Larissa said.

“I didn’t think he was,” Shitty replied. “I missed you, that’s all.”

Larissa’s face went a little pink and she gave him a tiny smile. “You were gone for two minutes.”

Wait-

“Shitty? Jack’s Shitty?” Bitty asked without thinking.

“You know Jack? Oh!” Shitty turned and waved at someone across the room. “Jack! I think I found your friend!”

Bitty’s face burned. Jack? Jack was here? He was going to meet Jack? Was he ready for this? They’d never even talked about meeting in real life. What should he do?

A familiar-looking man with dark hair was walking toward them. Bitty considered running away, but that would be too rude. It looked like he was going to meet Jack, ready or not.

He thought back to their long discussions, to the kind of person Jack seemed to be. Bitty decided he was ready.

Jack got closer and Bitty had to catch his breath. Jack was handsome. No, that word was too bland. Jack was gorgeous . Lord, those eyes . He could only hope Jack wasn’t disappointed in the real him.

Then Jack was standing in front of him and Bitty forgot to breathe.

“Bits,” Jack said, and yes, that was his voice. Bitty was going to swoon like a debutante in a corset in the middle of July.

“Jack,” Bitty said faintly. “How-”

“Your message said you were coming to the party, and I was already planning to come so I thought it might be okay? To meet, I mean.”

“Yes, but-”

“Bitty, I see you’ve met Jack Zimmermann,” Dex said, appearing out of nowhere. “He’s one of our major backers.”

Jack smiled. “Lardo made me do it,” he said with a fond look at her.

“Jack Zimmermann? The hockey player?” Bitty was getting light-headed from all the revelations. No wonder Jack had seemed familiar. He shouldn’t have - he looked nothing like the default skin he used in Quester’s Fate. “Any other surprises? Is Beyonce here too?”

Dex laughed. “I’d definitely warn you first.”

“Is this okay?” Jack asked. He reached out and took Bitty’s hand. “I really wanted to meet you, but if you-”

“This is more than okay, Jack. This is wonderful.”