The Interview From Hell Itself.

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Part 1

“5 minutes till we're live!”. You heard the bellow all the way from your dressing room you were currently stationed in, and they were on the set down at the bottom of a secluded hall. After your early departure from the ball, you collapsed on your bed still in your gear and just fell into a much appreciated slumber. The dance continued for a couple more hours, and as you were being primed by multiple people including Plump, Skin n’ Sunshine, you overhead the gossip that seemed to be the main topic to bitch about.  

“He took her to his room, I saw em’...the filthy little whore”. Delia ranted to another as she was detangling your frizzy curls, though she was raking the comb through to hard and unlike most, you had a low pain tolerance. “Jesus Christ-Delia!...I still want my hair after this”. Your loud remark was a startle to most, as previously you were silent and was low-key eavesdropping on their conversation. Plump didn't reply and just shrugged you off, as Arlen directed the comb out of her friend’s hand and quietly began to sort your hair in a gentle manner. “Delia, do continue with what you were saying”. A designer said, unintentionally breaking the awkward silence as he added the last few sequins to the gown he had made for you. “Yes, the slag followed him into his room, Gem”.

“How do you know she didn't leave someth-”.

“Not now Clara!”. Everyone in the room chorused, except from you and there was about 7-8 people all doing different tasks. You were slumped in a chair, in front of a wall of mirrors, your reflection was so crisp and accurate due to) the amount of polishing this mirror must of undertaken. For the first time in your life, make-up found it's way onto your bare face, not much but enough to alter you from your boyish state to a womanly one. A winged eye, as your lashes were elongated by a black substance known as mascara, whilst your lids were decorated a pale pink in hopes to draw out your femininity. The same shade applied for your lips, you didn't need no base coat to even out your skin tone because from their last work, your face was left permanently fresh. They purposely refused you of contacts, as your argent eyes were enough and Gem, the designer of your one-in-a-kind dress adapted it specially for your  silvers. Your hair didn't need much work, it was already styled from before to not be a hassle, a few spritz here and there, a run through the comb frequently and it was done. The silky, though coarser coils were like many springs, a little tug on the end and it would bounce back to its prior position. Your fringe touched your eyes, though never did it once still the attention from them, as you were finally coaxed into the fine piece manufactured by the only Gem. Once everything was adjusted the rightful owner of the gown, eyes gleamed as the rose coloured material fell to the floor at your feet. It was light and airy, hugged your curves though became looser by the time it reached your thighs, no shoulder straps were added to the dress so they were exposed. The contrast between your caramel complexion, and the fair pink dress was beautiful and what topped it off was the belt, the pearly metal colour that matched your eyes to the T. Of course you felt awkward, you didn't own a dress until today, and you didn't plan to. But even you couldn't deny, you looked stunning and you didn't even spare a thought to your next action, grabbing the shorter male by the shoulders you pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you”.

“Anytime cross-breed…”. He quietly said, before he moved his head to face you and allowed his to envelope hers, as he brought them to his chest sentimentally. This was Gem’s first year as designer of the Sheath, and even though you clashed due to you both being stubborn minds, you knew his best interest for you was in mind. “Now...go outshine the prick, and whatever Cladia dressed him in”.

“I'll do my best”. Claudia is and was Jungkook’s designer, and even though you weren't in the arena first, your sponsors ranked you in three sections. Personality. Skill. Appearance. Now they weren't going to see your skill till you begin your training, which was tomorrow so everything you did tonight in this interview was based on Personality and Appearance. Unlike the ball, this interview was being recorded live to everyone and if you fucked it up...you're basically asking for a death wish. “We need Adara now”. The director called through the speaker, and you were forced out the door and down the hall, as you reached the door you knew that as soon as you opened the door, a camera would be on. Clara informed you of this before, so you were a little hesitant and you could hear the applause and cheers, suggesting Jungkook came out and when it died out you ignored your doubts, and opened the door. You were hit with blinding lights, but you quickly adjusted to them before you walked to the platform, you weren't gifted with applause just muttering. <Great>. The host, Jerlen offered his hand for you to help you up, but you ignored it blatantly and climbed up yourself, almost tripping as you sat down at the table in the centre opposite Jungkook. He was laughing a little, a jeering one which made you act on impulse as you allowed the front of your heel, to plummet into his ankle underneath the table. “Shut up”. Your voice was strained, because you were forced to keep your voice low so Jerlen didn't hear as he began to introduce himself to the crowd. He didn't make a sound of agony, in fact his laughter died down to a chuckle as you took the time to analyze his exterior. A parting he had, more to the side as he had his natural cocoa eyes out, they were a soothing brown, the kind you'd stare at for ages and not get bored. He was dressed formal, though casual as his suit lacked the cuffs, making it look like he was entering the business world. Despite all this, what caught your eye was the purple-ish bite mark directly over his adam’s apple, noticing where your eyes were at he cocked his head to the left, in a smug manner. “Miss Lorrell, who knew you were the territorial type”. He said lazily though it was quiet , as he allowed his hands to come together as one, and for his chin to prop itself on top.    

“I like people to know that I've claimed you as my kill, bastard”. You smartly put, as you flashed the male a bitter smile, who seemed to be in his own world by now, as he peered silently at you...as though he was studying you or killing you in his head. One of the two. “Anyway our elected….Adara Lorrell, and Jeon Jungkook”. The crowed roared excitedly, but not for you, but for the cocky prick across from you as he still was stuck within his own mind, eyes glued on you still... calculating.

“...have joined as this evening to spill any dirt, answer questions from our studio audience and show us who they truly are”. Jerlen continued after the crowd died down to a mellow silence, that's when you felt something push your legs apart startlingly. Head snapping into Jungkook’s direction, you then noticed his hands were missing from the table, and now you felt a warmth over your knees. <What in the world…>. Meaning that he managed to get his hands underneath your dress, impulsively your hands gripped his, though the thin fabric of your gown stopped direct contact. His hands slithered up your thigh, reaching midway while you were doing your best to inflict pain onto them, pinching, attempting to bend his fingers back when you felt a searing pain invade your thighs.

“Do either of you have any strategies?”. Jerlen asked but you didn't give a fuck about that or answering, as you were numerously driving your heels into Jungkook’s legs whilst he pinched a small section of flesh on either thigh, at the same time. An agonized whimper crawled out your mouth, whilst a few grunts left his as you increased the intensity of your kicks, before he eventually released your skin from his brutal holds.  

“Now I've also claimed you as my kill, mutt”. He breathed lowly as his hands left from your dress, and returned to the table, you didn't even have to look as you felt a bruise appearing. ‘Mutt’ was the offensive term for cross-breed, he watched as you face became engulfed with an uncontrollable fury, as he let a light chuckle leave his lips.     

“No. I. Do. Not”. You answered Jerlen, your teeth gritted, as you were conserving your energy for a kick you intended to break the bastard’s ankle.      

“Well...um- do you Jungkook?”..

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