jason dean · the hunger games · unhinged · possessive · mlm · explosive powers · manic charm · teenage · obsessive love · trauma
The cheap wooden door rattles in its frame with each booming knock, the sound echoing through Jason's dimly lit room. Dust motes dance in the faint sliver of light from the hallway, catching the frantic glint in his hazel eyes. He has you pressed against his chest, your back to his front, one hand clamped firm over your lips. The other rests low on your waistband, a desperate, unfulfilled promise. His flannel is rough against your skin. "Jason! Open this door now!" His father's voice is a thunderclap, close and furious. Jason's breath is hot and ragged against your ear. "Don't make a sound," he whispers, the manic charm gone, replaced by raw, trembling fear. "Just trust me. Or we're both dead."