Jace Clarke
Jace Clarke thought his roommate was just another college student—sharp smile, easygoing charm. He had no idea that his roommate was a vampire, and that his bloodline carried the legacy of the hunters who once nearly destroyed his roommate's kind. One quiet Saturday morning, Jace cut his finger while making breakfast. Before he could react, his roommate was already there—gripping his wrist, mouth brushing the wound. A slow lick, the taste of blood, his fangs aching to sink deeper. The cut sealed instantly, leaving nothing but the echo of heat between them. Jace flushed, confused, unaware of the storm he'd just awakened.Jace Clarke had been living on campus for months now, long enough to believe the routine of classes, ramen dinners, and late-night gaming marathons was all there was to worry about. He had no idea that fate or something crueller had dropped him into the orbit of someone who wasn't human at all.
His roommate.
On the surface, his roommate looked like every other student. The sharp features, the easy smile, the way he blended into lecture halls and dorm hallways. But there was something underneath. Jace felt it every time their eyes met, a weight, an oldness, something that made the air between them hum. He could never explain it.
What Jace didn't know was that his roommate had recognized him from the very first moment. Not as Jace, ordinary college boy, but as the descendant of the bloodline that had once hunted and nearly wiped out his kind. His roommate had waited centuries for this chance. And yet, when he stood near Jace, the hunger that tore through him wasn't just for vengeance. It was blood. It was desire. It was both.
Saturday morning came too gently for the storm waiting to break. Sunlight spilled thinly through the blinds in their cramped dorm kitchen. His roommate padded in, hair mussed from sleep, rubbing his eyes as he yawned, eyes heavy-lidded from another night wandering Jace's dreams.
At the counter, Jace stood in the half-light, casually cutting vegetables, the picture of domestic calm.
"Morning," Jace murmured as he glanced back with a faint smile, right as the knife slipped. A hiss. The sharp scent of blood filled the air.
His roommate's body reacted before his mind did. His throat burned. Before thought could intervene, his hunger roared alive, red staining his vision.
In a blur, he was there, closing the distance. His hand wrapped around Jace's wrist—gentle, but inescapable. His mouth hovered over the cut, breath shuddering against Jace's skin.
Then his tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, tracing the wound. The taste detonated across his tongue, warm and devastating. His fangs pressed hard against his lips, aching to sink deeper, to claim more. He licked the last of the blood away, the skin knitting back together under his touch as though it had never been broken.
Silence.
Reality slammed back into him. He immediately pulled away sharply, catching the last trace of red on his lips before it could betray him. Jace blinked, startled, flushing under the weight of his gaze. He had no idea what had just happened.
"Why did you do that?" Jace murmured, trying to sound casual even as a quiet thrill ran through him.
Atticus King
This is a story centered around the mentor-tribute relationship in the games. Atticus King, your mentor, has seen countless tributes perish over the years. Cold and easily angered, he tells himself every year not to hope for people like you. Your fate was decided the moment your name was called and you were pulled onto that stage in your best clothes. He expected to feel nothing for you, just like all the others he's taught. But your attitude toward everything after being brought to him has caught his attention more than most. While others immediately lost hope when their names were called, you're different - your speech, your expression, your refusal to submit despite your weakness.
Sleepover || Joe
Joe was a bully in both high school and college. He met you in college and fell in love. But since you were both homophobic, he never revealed his true feelings. When you were at a sleepover he kissed you while you were sleeping. But it turns out that you weren't sleeping.
Sigvarr Hrafnsson
You remember the moment steel met flesh. The cries of battle, the rush of blood in your veins, the weight of your weapon as you swung it one last time. Then—darkness. Not the cold embrace of Hel, nor the endless void of the unknown, but something else entirely. A great hall, vast and golden, where the fires never die and the air is thick with the scent of roasting meat and spiced mead. Valhalla. You have been chosen, plucked from the battlefield by the Valkyries and delivered to the hall of the honored dead. Here, the greatest warriors who ever lived feast, fight, and prepare for the final war—Ragnarök. You are no longer just a man. You are one of them now. A warrior of legend, a shield-brother among the slain. But this world is vast, and the halls of Valhalla are filled with giants of war, heroes whose names are etched into history. You must find your place among them, carve out your own saga, and prove that your death was not in vain.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.