#I’ve watched this interview an embarrassing amount of times

[mvlderfox]

“it gets very moist…” // “…‘I’m sorry, David. It was all my fault.”

[genderqueer-karma]

guys can i talk about that fucking guy. clap if you think i should talk about that fucking guy.

(accidental ramble in the tags. oops. don’t read if you don’t want to read a crisis.)

[5sospenguinqueen]

American Boy | Logan Sargeant x Celeb! Reader

Summary: When Logan finds out this his celebrity crush’s celebrity crush is HIM!! He freaks out. Thankfully, the internet (and Oscar) manage to do most of the work for him. 

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff

Requested: No. I just love Logan Sargeant

I put an embarrassing amount of effort into this one, especially that letter. 2024 season

F1 Masterlist

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user1 girlies, who is this logan sargeant and how is he managing to make our girl smile like that 

→ user2 he’s an f1 driver. yn grew up watching f1 and is still a huge fan of it

→ user3 a vroom vroom guy! the shame 

user4 i can’t believe these came out in the same week??? 

→ user5 the universe is aligning 

user6 okay but i don’t think any of us would recover from them dating. they’re both so hot  liked by yn_official_ln

→ user7 omg omg omg she liked the tweet

→ user8 @/logansargeant look at this!! 

user9 okay but i really hope that somebody showed yn that episode of team torque because she loves f1 and i feel she would die

→ user10 babe, if logan is her celeb crush, what makes you think she hasn’t watched it herself? liked by yn_official_ln

user11 can we all take a moment to admire how calm yn was in her interview though. she admitted she’s had a crush on a guy since she was like 17 and didn’t even blush

user12 okay but yn’s liked tweets section is going to send logan into cardiac arrest

user13 @/logansargeant shoot your shot, dude! 

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yn_official_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_official_ln vroom vroom what an exciting day. a huge thank you to mclaren for inviting me into their garage. i can’t put into words how amazing it was to be inside an f1 garage, and the whole team were warm and welcoming.  (i’m still convinced these two are dating though???)

1,778 comments

user1 someone check on logan please? is he still alive?

→ user2 no because the way he just stopped dead in the middle of the paddock when he spotted her walking with oscar and lando

landonorris right, i’ve told you like 10x now. we are NOT a couple. he just looks at me that way 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, don’t act like you’ve not been caught giving me the goo goo eyes too

→ landonorris goo goo eyes? who taught you that!

→ yn_official_ln that would’ve been me when i was showing him the photo i took of you looking at him with goo goo eyes

→ landonorris i take it back. i don’t want you to come again next weekend

→ yn_official_ln but i already booked my ticket :( 

→ user3 i fear logan may have passed away

 williamsracing perhaps we could poach you into our garage next time? 

→ user4 logan ghost wrote this

→ yn_official_ln would i get an ls2 cap to go with it?

→ logansargeant you can have mine liked by yn_official_ln

→ user5 they interacted! 

→ alex_albon i’m hoping he won’t see this because it’s hidden within comments but logan won’t stop giggling at his phone 

danielricciardo it was so great to meet you. i didn’t know it was possible for one person to do so many different voices 

→ yn_official_ln give me time to watch some interviews and i bet i can do you by silverstone

→ danielricciardo i don’t think logan would appreciate that

→ yn_official_ln omg! no! not in that way! i think i’ve made it clear that aussie drivers aren’t my type 

→ arthur_leclerc what about monegasque?

→ yn_official_ln not american, not for me liked by logansargeant

→ user6 i love how bold she is! logan, go for it! She has literally announced to the entire world on multiple occasions that she’s into you 

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yn_official_ln just posted a new story

logansargeant just posted a new story

oscarpiastri just posted a new story

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

yn_official_ln exciting things coming soon 

1,650 comments

alex_albon i thought we were friends. you can tell me right? new movie? new album?

→ yn_official_ln as my friend, i can tell you that you already know

→ user7 new boyfriend

georgerussell63 what’s all this then

→ landonorris george admitting he’s not cool enough to be included in the inner circle 

→ yn_official_ln don’t pick on him. there’s pics of him looking like amelia airheart on the internet, he’s suffered enough

→ georgerussell63 @/logansargeant why do you like this one

charles_leclerc the news is that she’s an ambassador for lec ice cream

→ yn_official_ln deal but only if i can meet leo

user8 okay but all the f1 drivers being here makes me think something

→ user9 she’s been in the paddock and went to a few garages. i think she’s made friends with a lot of them

williamsracing just checking that we’re still on for sunday?

→ yn_official_ln like i would miss the british gp

→ lilymhe you’re going to be in silverstone? omg, i’m freaking out. alex, why didn’t you tell me! 

→ alex_albon yeah, she’s racing instead of me liked by logansargeant

user10 miss rabbit has fainted

francisca.cgomes i was not familiar with your game. i need you to kiss ME like that 

→ pierregasly pardon? you better not come anywhere near alpine on sunday 

→ alex_albon like logan would let her leave williams

user11 logan liking but not commenting? do we think he’s actually died upon seeing that yn has a boyfriend?

→ user12 hear me out. what if he’s the boyfriend

→ user13 babe, i think you’re as delusional as he was for thinking he had a chance. nobody has a shot with their celeb crush, even if you’re semi-famous yourself

→ yn_official_ln wait, so i don’t have a shot with my celeb crush either?

→ oscarpiastri i think your celeb crush would let you step on him if you asked 

→ user14 i love that the grid are exposing logan being down bad for our girl 

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logansargeant just posted

liked by jensonbutton, arthur_leclerc and others

logansargeant silverstone complete. amazing support this weekend. and an amazing effort from the team

995 comments

user1 where can i get that jumper

→ yn_official_ln etsy x

→ user2 um, ma’am are you admitting that’s your jumper?

user3 i’m sorry but did anyone else see logan kissing someone who looked an awful lot like yn after he realised he was almost in the points???

→ user4 and we all know she was in the garage that weekend 

→ user5 fans caught video footage of her hugging him, and he just folded into her in shock, his helmet was still on and everything 

alex_albon i don’t think this counts as a soft launch after you were caught on camera in front of millions

→ logansargeant i’m trying my best, okay! 

→ yn_official_ln you’re doing amazing baby 

→ user6 miss yn, are you even trying to hide it

→ user7 she kissed him on live tv, i’m gonna go with no

→ yn_official_ln have you seen his face? you would too

→ logansargeant ☺️

lilymhe thank you for bringing my new best friend to silverstone

→ logansargeant you can’t have her

→ yn_official_ln i only came for you @/lilymhe

→ lilymhe you, me, run away into the sunset together?

→ alex_albon whoa, hold on a second

oscarpiastri mate please tell me you’re not attempting to soft launch

→ logansargeant it was the plan but somebody ignored the plan

→ yn_official_ln oops? it’s not my fault you’re too cute to ignore

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others

yn_official_ln somehow i managed to get a date with THE logan sargeant. i think i have ultimate rizz

1,839 comments

oscarpiastri no, you both just have a really good friend. you’re welcome

→ yn_official_ln whoa, i can get bitches on my own

→ logansargeant i can’t so thank you, oscar

→ mclaren i think you mean, thank you mclaren. we sent the letter 

logansargeant babe, you got more than a date

→ yn_official_ln you’re right. i’ve had six months worth <3

→ logansargeant and i look forward to even more

landonorris and it was all too much for little logan sargeant 

→ landonorris mate, why do your legs look so long

→ logansargeant @/yn_official_ln this is why i told you not to post that one 

→ yn_official_ln but you look so baby girl 

→ landonorris ha! 

alex_albon stop trying to make him look good at sports. i kicked his ass at table tennis

→ yn_official_ln yeah and i kicked yours. and stole your girl

→ lilymhe you tell him, boo! 

→ user8 yn really said don’t insult my princess

→ logansargeant she just called me her beautiful princess so thanks for that 

user9 when they say people died, and it’s a pic of logan sargeant kissing his celeb crush. i am people

→ yn_official_ln i also died because do you see how passionate this man is

→ user10 no need to rub it in (i love you)

danielricciardo i see a gentleman who respects a good hat

→ yn_official_ln he’s letting me live out my cowboy fantasies 

→ danielricciardo you know what they say, save a horse

→ yn_official_ln yeehaw!

→ logansargeant is this why pr are calling me?

Tag list

@rosecentury @peachiicherries

[hydrobunny]

i remember it all too well

tags: angst, post breakup, flashbacks, journalist reader, angst angst angst, it's all too well come on now

a/n: happy belated birthday sae itoshi

your world pauses the day sae itoshi is spotted with a new girlfriend.

the photos are blurry, paparazzi shots taken from at least one building over. it doesn't matter. you would know the curve of his arm around a waist in a thousand different lives.

you have to admit she fits him. even as your hands shake, you can't deny that they look happy- something the two of you weren’t so good at.

it doesn’t stop you from harboring too-many amounts of memories all the same.

you met him before he had joined the world of the superstars, but after he had already been something greater. (you think that if you had met him before everything, you two would’ve fared better.)

by the time you two had locked eyes, he was already changed. something inside of him had shifted, turning away from everyday life and facing immortal legacies instead. you had falsely believed you held a place in it.

you should’ve known better, right from the very first words he spoke to you.

“you’re not supposed to be here.”

you pause, looking up from your phone to face the voice.

cold eyes glare down at you, beautiful in color. the boy - because he can only be around your age, barely leaving the teenage years at most - they belong to is just as annoyingly beautiful. you think you should recognize him.

“excuse me?” you ask, offense rising. “i know where i’m supposed to be.”

his eyes only narrow. “is this another shitty tactic? i said i was done with interviews.”

“good for you, dude.” you roll your eyes, pushing past his shoulder. “why anyone would ever want to interview you, i have no idea.”

as you leave, you can feel his gaze on your back.

you blink, shaking yourself out of whatever that was. it's not good to linger on the past. (your therapist had told you that.)

still, she has also told you that one couldn't grow without recognizing what exactly they had to grow from.

perhaps that's why you find yourself rummaging in your bedside drawer for a deeply buried box, the ends of your fingers numb.

when you open it, you’re met with nothing but a handful of flimsy keepsakes. from fraying bracelets to notes to polaroids. all of them are snapshots of a relationship no longer yours, artifacts of what used to be your heart.

in each flashback, sae itoshi lingers.

the next time you met him, you had learned that he was supposedly a household name. (never in your household, though.)

the great hope of japan’s future -despite what he himself had to say about the country.

you’re a little embarrassed by what happened. still, you refuse to take all the blame.

“sae itoshi,” you blurt out. “you’re here.”

those stunning eyes flicker to you, and he actually pauses. recognition actually stops him.

“you’re the one who was lost,” he says, mildly. “not pretending to not know me this time?

you flush. “in my defense, i didn’t know you. i don't do the sports section.”

he raises an eyebrow. “then why am i still seeing you?”

before you can respond, your boss comes rushing through the hallway, sweat beading on his brow.

“itoshi-san!” he blusters, barely sparing you a glance. “we’re so glad you’re here! is the intern bothering you? your interview is in the next room over, so if you just want to follow me- we're so grateful you decided to give us your exclusive.”

something twitches on sae’s face. “intern?”

offense rears its head in your chest. “what-”

“i’ve changed my mind,” sae interrupts mildly. he turns to you, taking hold of one of the many pens lying on your desk.

ask you and your boss watch in bewilderment, he leans down and scrawls something on your notepad.

“she’ll get the exclusive,” he says, straightening back up. “when she isn't an intern anymore.”

and he turns and walks out of the building, leaving nothing but a string of numbers on a sticky note.

the same sticky note rips between your fingers. once you start, you can't stop yourself, until all you're left with is a pile of bright yellow scraps.

you move onto the next item. a wiry black wristband; one half of a forever missing set.

you had been dating sae itoshi for exactly one month. all of your friends still thought it was as some long-standing elaborate joke. at certain times, you couldn't believe it yourself either.

despite it all, despite every little memory you can pore over for hours at a time, you can’t pinpoint the exact moment when things changed.

it’s a strange truth, one you’ve struggled to come to terms with- but it's a truth. if someone were to ask you when your relationship with sae soured, you wouldn't be able to say.

perhaps it wasn't a singular moment. maybe it was a long time in the making, like how a banana slowly browns- until one day, it’s rotted.

either way, one form of heartbreak or another, the truth was this:

you and sae itoshi had ended.

[bradshawsvinyl]

Game Changer: Chapter Three

warnings: mentions of cheating, brad brad is adorable

Bradley Bradshaw woke up on Sunday morning with an aching headache. Thanks to the bottle of Scotch he had last night, he had also woken up with the urge to puke all over his San Diego condo. This has been Bradley’s morning routine ever since his very public divorce with Hollywood movie star Alyssa Moore.

Alyssa had cheated on Bradley with world famous actor Idris Elba. Their divorce was all over the tabloids and frankly, Bradley felt embarrassed and upset over the news being everywhere.

His conversation with Jake in the locker room last night made him realize something. The best way to get over one person was to get under another one. And who better to get under than the Padres new clubhouse reporter.

Bradley asked Alexandra out because he wanted to get over his ex wife. He decided to take a quick shower before hopping in his Bronco and driving to the address you had texted him last night.

Alexandra anxiously paced around her apartment while her roommate Giliana watched from afar. “What if this is just platonic and I'm making this out to be something it isn’t?” She pondered out loud.

Giliana placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You never know until you try.” She said encouragingly. “You look great and if it’s just platonic, so be it. At least you have an ally in the clubhouse now.”

Giliana was right, Alexandra realized. If things went bad it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And if they went good…well you’d think about that later.

As Bradley arrived at the address Alexandra texted him, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. It had been so long since he’d dated someone new and although he was trying to get over Alyssa he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. After all, Alexandra was going to have to interview him throughout the season. He climbed out of his Bronco and knocked on your door.

Inside the apartment, Alexandra’s heart skipped a beat as she heard Bradley knock. “It’s just drinks with a coworker.” Giliana reminded her “Just breathe.”

As she opened the door, her eyes met Bradley’s. It might have sounded silly but she felt like time had stood still. She could sense Bradley’s anticipation in the air. He offered her a soft smile.

“Hi Bradley,” She greeted him with a warm smile. Her voice tinged with excitement and nervousness.

“Hey Alexandra,” Bradley replied with the same amount of anticipation. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah let’s go.” With that, Bradley led Alexandra to his car. He opened her door and delicately adjusted her seat. As Bradley and Alexandra settled in the car, a comfortable silence enveloped them. Alexandra couldn’t help but to steal quick glances at Bradley, noticing the way the streetlights cast a warm glow on his sharp features.

Once they reached the bar, Bradley quickly went to open her door and lead her inside. Once they sat down and ordered their drinks, Bradley decided to break the silence. “So Alexandra,” he began, “how long have you been covering sports?”

“Professionally I've been covering sports for about five years now.” She answered, voice tinged with excitement. “How’s the season shaping up for the Padres?” She asked in return.

Bradley smiled grateful for her interest in his job. When he was with Alyssa, the last thing she wanted to hear about was baseball. Alyssa would not even bother to go to Bradley’s games or listen to his remarks about a particularly stressful game.

Even though Bradley had just met Alexandra he felt a strange connection to her. She was genuinely kind and caring and he had only known her for two days. Her interactions with his manager and his teammates showed that she actually cared not only about the sport, but about the players.

“Spring training was a rollercoaster.” Bradley laughed. “But I'm hanging in there. I’ve got a great team and great people around me to motivate and encourage me, you know?” He said while taking a bite out of your shared fries.

As Bradley and Alexandra continue their conversation, the dim lights around the bar cast a warm glow on them. The hums of chatter and the clinking of glasses seem to fade into the background. Their eyes meet, locking in. Filled with unspoken words and attraction. Bradley’s heart races with anticipation as he leans in, his breath mingling with Alexandra’s in the small space between them.

Gently, Bradley cupped her upper cheek and his thumb tracing her jawline. He closed the space between them. The moment their lips meet it feels as though time stands still.

reply to be added to tag list 🩷🩷

[thealogie]

I’ve only recently been watching GO bts and honestly I’m glad I didn’t watch it at the time the first season came out. If I’d watched MS spend every minute of those interviews beaming heart eyes at David and going ‘isn’t he amazing 😍’ while David responds with what looks like a completely normal level of ‘I liked working with my costar :)’, I think I’d have felt considerable second-hand embarrassment.

Whereas now I get to watch knowing that is not a man who is to be pitied. Those are the eyes of a man who knows what he wants and what he already had and is envisioning the future with perfect accuracy.

I went through the entire go season 1 press cycle like “aww Michael Sheen has a little work crush on David Tennant, who seems to like him a normal amount and well work crushes fade.” If only 2019 me had known about David Tennant name dropping Michael Sheen as a great actor since at least 2005 and visiting him post Frost-Nixon and calling him for advice on “look back in anger.” If only 2019 me had known David Tennant would be the one to reach out to Michael Sheen to make a little pandemic zoom show. It’s literally like…look at us? Who would have thought? Not me

[aizawasnumberonefan]

Hi! I was wondering if you still need some ideas? I really like your writing and would like to see how you would interpret a young All Might (or him in his prime) receiving a surprise kiss for the first time! Can be on the cheek, lips, nose, knuckles, idc

I feel like he would be all blushy and cute

Thank you!

this is literally so cute i am in love!!! i'll come back and reformat later but i need this out rn rn rn

Sweet Treats

All Might x Reader

It’s been a long day out for the number one hero, All Might. Between interviews, meeting civilians, and defeating villains, the poor man has hardly been able to catch a breath. He practically falls through the door to his apartment, collapsing in a muscular heap on his sofa. His blue eyes shut as he finally allows himself a moment of peace at the end of his day. He doesn’t notice how quickly sleep overtakes his overworked body until he hears a timid knock at his door. Toshinori stretches, yawning as his dreams slowly drain from his mind. Once again, he hears a knock against his front door.

“One moment!” He calls, his husky voice still muddled with sleep. He stands and his apartment fills with the sound of both him and his sofa groaning in response. He half-heartedly messes with his hair in an attempt to fix it before making his way towards the door. He barely suppresses a yawn as he opens it, but finds himself a little surprised to see you, his neighbor. His eyebrows raise slightly in response. “How can I help you?”

In the amount of time that you’d been living in your apartment, you’d hardly taken the time to meet your neighbors. You knew that All Might, the young, buff, blonde that the entire world was in love with lived next door, but you’d never busied yourself with heroes or their work. You appreciated them, but you weren’t as involved in their lives as many people seemed to be.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you so late.”

“It isn’t a problem.” Toshinori replies with a reassuring smile, glancing at his clock on the wall to confirm that he had indeed been asleep for several hours and it was now approaching midnight.

“I’m baking for a get together tomorrow and I just melted my only mixing bowl on the stove. I know it was a stupid mistake, but no stores are open right now and I promised that I would bring cupcakes. Is there any way that I could borrow one of yours?” You ask, subconsciously returning his smile. You’re embarrassed by the admission, but he can tell by the flour in your hair and on your shirt as well as by the frazzled look on your face, that you genuinely tried every alternative before coming to his door.

He chuckles, opening the door wider and stepping back to allow you in. “Of course. I’m glad that you felt comfortable asking me.” He says, closing the door softly behind you after you step inside. You wring your hands in front of you, but don’t gaze around in awe, which he would expect from most of the public. It’s refreshing, he thinks, to be treated like a person instead of an untouchable item.

You watch as he moves, muscles flexing passively as he goes through his kitchenware to find a bowl suitable to your needs. “I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself before.” You say, holding out your hand with a smile.

He turns to look at you, face lighting up with a grin of his own as he feels the pleasure of introducing himself as, well, himself, instead of his hero persona. “Toshinori Yagi. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says, grasping your hand for a firm but warm shake. “Will this bowl work?” He asks, holding up a large bowl adorned with the pattern of his costume.

You nod eagerly, taking it as he holds it out to you. “Thank you so much Toshinori. You’re a lifesaver.” You say, pulling him in by his hand to stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” You say with a sweet smile before disappearing back out his door and into your own apartment.

Paralyzed in shock, All Might feels his face slowly heat up as his cheeks and the tip of his ears turn a burning red. His signature grin replaced by a soft smile that slowly grows until his cheeks hurt. Slowly, his hand moves up to touch his cheek where you kissed him, shaking him out of his temporary paralysis. “You’re welcome.” He says quietly, to the closed door that you left behind you.

The following day was decidedly a good one for All Might, despite it being busy. Throughout his morning and afternoon, his thoughts had been consumed by your smile and your kiss. He knows that it shouldn’t be as big of a deal as he is making it, but it was the first time in a long time that he had been seen as something separate from All Might. He returns home around the same hour as the day before to be greeted with something on his doormat. His bowl, sparkling clean, sits patiently for him, holding 3 beautiful cupcakes. While the cupcakes were divine, he found that his favorite treat that you gave him was a thank you card with your phone number on it.

[flowerfeast444]

most ardently || pedro pascal {pt 3}

pedro x oc

chapter summary: devon and pedro get some news

the pedro universe fanfic brain rot has gotten so bad. i’ve done nothing but daydream about him and write our names in my diary with hearts around it like i’m a child. hope you enjoy

series masterlist

For two months, I did absolutely nothing. I slept in late, laid in bed on my phone for way too long, smoked way too much weed, and watched a godawful amount of TV. I relished every second of it. Today marks the beginning of 'August Sun''s press tour, with an internal meeting with my PR team to kick it off. It's nothing I haven't done before, but with a movie this big; I'm sure something new will pop up, and I really hope it won't catch me off guard. There's nothing that I hate more than being unprepared.

So, my confusion quickly turned to disdain when I saw Pedro enter the front of the office building a few paces in front of me. I hadn't seen him since the night of his party- I hightailed it out as soon as I woke up the next morning, severely embarrassed by my drunk behavior and even more so by his drunk rejection.

I knew I'd have to be around him again, I just wish I had time to prepare for that day being today. He didn't notice me outside of the building, so I took advantage of being early by stopping just shy of the door to fix my hair in the reflection of the glass and draw in a few deep breaths. With my composure slightly more in tact, I entered and headed toward the meeting room.

Though I was early, I was the last to join. I hoped my cheeks weren't as flushed as I felt. They sat circled around a long table in the center of the room, each of their eyes shooting towards me at the sudden intrusion and I actively avoided acknowledging Pedro's presence entirely.

"Hi everyone, good to see you guys," I said as I took my place in the empty seat closest to the door.

Gene, my PR manager straightened up the papers in front of him then cleared his throat. "Hey, Devon, we were just about to get started."

For the first hour, they gave us the basic run down of how the next few months will go. We start the press tour in New York in a few days, where we'll stay for about two weeks before coming back to LA for another two weeks. They listed the people that would interview us, what we would be wearing, and how we should talk about to movie to best promote it.

I honestly spaced out for a while. It's not that I don't like my managers because I do; really, the PR side of being an actress always disheartened me, but there's never a way to avoid it without good reason. I know my managers are doing things with my best interest in mind. At least, I hope they are.

"Alright, so. I'm sure you both understand what to do in terms of advertising the movie and such," one of Pedro's managers said apprehensively, "We decided to also go a common route for this movie." She sent a pointed look to me and Pedro, her hands folded atop the papers in front of her. "To really sell your characters' romance, Pedro, Devon- you'll be in a relationship for the next few months."

Pedro sniggered. Awkward silence filled the room.

I felt like one of them were bound to break their hard facial expressions any second and laugh at us, like this was some sick prank. Do people even fake date in Hollywood anymore? Surely not.

"You're being serious?" Pedro asked.

"Well, none of us will confirm or deny the relationship to media, but you two will definitely need to tease audiences about a romance between you. Come on, you know this shit works. It always gets front page coverage."

Pedro hummed sarcastically, "So, what, we'll just hold hands and flirt every time we're in front of a camera?"

"Basically," Gene deadpanned, pushing his thick framed glasses up his nose. "We may ask you to do other things as well, but that's the gist of it."

"Speaking of, we will need you two to go to lunch together before the press tour in New York to stir up conversation. We've already gone over your schedules before you arrived, so it'll happen this Friday," Pedro's manager said.

"Cheyanne, can I talk to you outside for a quick second?" Pedro pointed to the door and stands before she even responded.

Once they left the room, the shock wore off, and I finally processed what they were telling us. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms with a dramatic sigh.

"Devon, any input? Or are you just going to whine and stomp your foot like a child?" one of the other PR managers said.

I tried not to snap at him, even though they felt they could speak to me that way when I couldn't even remember his name. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and raised a bushy brow, impatiently waiting for my response. I sat up again to match his posture.

"Will my input make a difference?" I said evenly. 

"Maybe not directly, but we take your feelings into consideration."

"I don't know if you've met both of us, but we don't exactly scream 'in love'."

"So, you're doubting the believability of your characters, then?"

"No. Those are characters. We acted."

"Act again. Just until the movie leaves box offices."

He gathered his things together and organized them in front of him, signaling the end of our conversation. I chewed the skin on my lips to keep quiet. Pedro and Cheyanne returned, disrupting the increasingly tense energy in the room. The nameless PR manager continued explaining the order of scheduled events in Pedro and I'd relationship, but I stared out into the table, spacing out again. I traced the wood grain with my eyes left and right as far as it would go, matching the motion with slow breaths.

As soon as the meeting finished, I promptly dashed out of the room. I only made it to the elevators before I noticed Pedro hot on my heels. When he caught up to me, he didn't say anything at first; we stared at the closed elevator doors in silence. I could see his hand fidgeting out of the corner of my eye- a trait he only displayed when he would mess up his lines or not hit the right marks on time. The elevator finally reached our floor and welcomed the two of us before the doors could fully open.

It was only once they slid shut that he turned to face me, "Look, I know we didn't ask for this, but they're right. It'll promote the movie well and sell a lot of tickets. Isn't that what you want?"

I huffed. He shrugged his shoulders and let his hands slap against his thighs.

"This won't suck as much if you're not a brat about it," he spat.

I darted my eyes up to him and felt the fire inside me flare. The elevator landed on the ground floor, and without looking back, I said, "See you later, jackass."

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Scattered Screams (Epilogue)

May 5, 2023

Notes - Happy Cinco de Mayo! Almost a year ago today, I posted the final part of Glory and Gore, this story's predecessor. That story reached a total of 131 pages whereas this one has a grand total of 310. Needless to say, I think this was an improvement!

I'll be in denial for at least a little while... What about the plans we made?

Ice crackles ominously beneath me as the metal blades under my shoes glide me forward over the thickened surface. I don’t fear the ice, not anymore at least, but if the ice were to break open and I were to fall through, would it really be that bad? Hypothermia could settle in my bones or the water could fill my lungs and I could drown. Either way, it would save me from the Victory Tour and the thousands, if not, millions, of people I could potentially embarrass myself in front of. I’ve never been particularly good at speeches, yet, in a few hours, I’ll be made to give the first of many in my brief interview with Caesar Flickerman. Almost six months ago, I first stood by his side, hinting at a love I had for a boy I barely knew, but today is different. Today begins the downfall of the Hunger Games.

Due to the rules that the Capitol made up long before I was born - maybe even before my grandparents were - Royce and I haven’t been able to see each other face-to-face. Due to district separation laws, we aren’t able to, despite us both being victors. It’s something that I’ve spoken to Juliet about numerous times and she claims her father is looking into abolishing the law for victors, but in the meantime, we won’t be able to see each other until the Victory Tour begins. With new, stricter Peacekeepers watching over both of us, we couldn’t even sneak aboard the trains to deliver materials to the other’s district, but we’ve found ways around it. Hours spent listening to each other over the radio or seeing each other over the shimmering hologram screen that Mick helped us rewire in our new house across the street from her family house in Victor’s Village. Not once have we actually seen each other, face-to-face, in the last six months.

Despite both of us craving nothing more than to be together again, I fear we both know that our train ride won’t last forever. Once the tour is over and the Games are, hopefully, called off forever, we’ll still be separated by an invisible barrier that a group of people who are now dead and buried came up with long before we existed. Our mentors were supposed to be able to let us go between districts for visits, but with the combination of new Peacekeepers being sent to watch over us and the amount of hours we both have spent working on our speeches, we never really had the opportunity to get away for any amount of time. We always could have asked the president to send a pardon of some sort so that the Peacekeepers would back the fuck off, but I’m not entirely willing to ask the president for something like that - not when he’s already spared us our lives. We’ll be seeing him all too soon anyway. The Victory Tour begins in just a few hours and, while I have no ambition to put myself on a stage in front of the other districts and give some half-assed apology for the deaths of their tributes, I’ll be glad to apologize to the families of the girls we worked with. 

Jade and Erica were friends to the three of us, whether any of us would admit it or not. They helped us when we needed them and vice versa. I have no problem thanking their families in their stead and apologizing for not being able to secure their return. With Lexi’s family, however, I feel there may be a bit of a struggle. I don’t know how many family members she has, but I’m pretty sure that me slitting her neck with a machete won’t gain me any of their favor. Regardless of whether she killed Riven or not and regardless of whether or not it was an act of self-defense, I still killed their family member. They have every right to hate me just as I had every right to kill Lexi in that moment. I’ll be civil with them if I’m allowed to speak with them, but I hardly ever cared enough to watch the previous Victory Tours, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to say so much as a simple greeting. 

As the sun breaks over the valley my little lake rests in, I let out a sigh and allow myself to come to a stop. If I plan on making it back to the Village before the prep team swarms the house, I should probably get going. The skates Juliet sent me for my birthday come off once I perch myself on a rock and I run my hands over my hair in an attempt to look half-decent. Though the prep team will have their way with me anyway, I feel the need to look as though I didn’t entirely rid myself of their hard work. I’ll be surprised if Mink doesn’t faint at the sight of my hangnail-ridden nails and the peeling skin around them - a nervous tick I picked up from Riven ages ago - and if poor Ambrosia takes one look at the dark, raccoon-esque circles around my eyes and starts tearing up. Gleam will, no doubt, have something to say about how unmanageable my hair has gotten with my endless split ends and the flakes of dry skin still clinging to my scalp no matter how much I wash it, but if I’m able to rouse my mom or perhaps Abby, maybe I’ll look at least somewhat put-together before their arrival.

The boots I was able to buy back in October have been broken in and allow me to make the trip through the woods to Riven’s old house with relative ease. My old winter shoes had worn out to the point that Bissette threatened to buy me a new pair, but I beat her to it, which I suppose was probably the reason she offered. Once I reach the fence around Riven’s old house, I stand on the bottom board and click my tongue a few times, waiting for the telltale crunch of hooves on snow. As soon as I arrived in my new house after the Games, Juliet asked me if there was anything else I wanted and, as a joking nod to my promise with Riven, I brought up wanting a horse. Needless to say, when the train arrived a few weeks later with one of the mountainous chariot horses being escorted from it, I was astonished. However, our friends got to work building a fence around Riven’s house and a stable for my Watson to sleep in and he’s made himself a home in our community. Normally, I stand by as school children pass him on their way to school - some asking to pet him or give him an apple before classes begin - before making my way to the school myself even though I have no need to attend school or work anymore, but today is different. Today, I leave Watson in Acer’s care for the foreseeable future and trust that he’ll be well taken care of.

Watson appears to know something is different as he nudges his nose under my hand, encouraging me to pet him. I already fed him earlier when I was on my way to the lake, so this time, I slip a mint I took from Bissette’s house out of my pocket and allow him to take it from me before giving him a quick kiss on his muzzle and heading inside the house. Though the funeral sort of squashed any hope I’d had of Riven still being alive, I still hope for his return, keeping his house in good condition until he arrives. None of his belongings have moved from their places, but the few things that I’ve brought in since returning to District 3 make the place look as though it’s still lived in. I suppose that, in a way, it still is. When I don’t fall asleep at my desk at work, I’ll make the late-night trek to Riven’s house and crash on the bed he used to deposit me on before crashing on the couch. Waking up to the messily painted lines on Riven’s ceiling where rain had crept through the cracks was welcoming after spending most of the last six months working myself to death despite not needing the extra money.

The only thing of Riven’s that I habitually take from the house is the bracelet I made for him. He wanted to make sure I have it and, as a loyal sibling and friend, I make sure to always wear it unless there’s a chance it could be ruined or confiscated. Slipping the bracelet on makes me feel complete and, after starting a fire in the hearth, I make something quick to eat with what I’ve left in the cupboards and open the window next to the table so that Watson can spy on me as he always does. After eating, I sit and read over the next part in the book that President Harmon gifted me. The book is long and covers so many stories that I wondered if I would be able to read it all before the Victory Tour, but here we are. Sherlock Holmes’ adventures seem almost too fantastical to be thought of, but the author seems to outdo himself with every story. I had read through the book fairly quickly the first time around, attempting to read through the lines and figure out the reason behind the president gifting it to me, but found nothing. Doctor Watson, the name of the detective’s friend and colleague, is actually where I got the name for the nosy horse who, as he does every morning, steals an apple from the windowsill before disappearing into his stable. Watson, both the fictional character and the horse, are both inquisitive beings and I couldn’t think of a better name for my equine friend.

Although I’ve spent months reading and re-reading the stories within the thick book, I’m still trying to figure out why President Harmon felt the need for Royce and me to have a copy. Maybe it really was just a simple gift from one book lover to another, but I doubt that’s all there is to it. After all, his own daughter said he always leaves a way out of the arena for those smart enough to find it. There has to be something more to the book. He wouldn’t just give it to us without a reason, but I’ve read the book three and a half times and have yet to find some hidden meaning in its pages. Just as I turn from the last page of The Adventure of the Naval Treaty to the first page of The Final Problem, I hear the front door open and bring myself to shove a last bite of toast into my mouth as Acer makes his presence known.

“How are you holding up there, Viv?” he asks as he pulls a chair out and sits across from me.

“I’m fine,” is my near-instant reply. It has been for months now. I tuck a scrap of paper into the book before closing it and focusing my gaze on the boy across from me. His hair is no longer the same hue as a tomato as he dyed it black as a sign of mourning months ago and allowed it to grow out his natural brown from there, but his eyes remain their piercing green all the same. I know he doesn’t take my words at face value, but he doesn’t argue them either. We both know how I’ve been the last six months and he doesn’t bother fighting me about it anymore. “Are you ready to take Watson or are you going to stay with him until I get back?”

Acer shrugs, heaving a sigh as he allows his rigid posture to release into a slouch, “Whichever. I don’t mind staying here if you’d like me to, but Watson might like to visit with Poppy and Nova.”

His lie is obvious. Acer’s two dogs aren’t exactly high on Watson’s playdate list and we both know it. Even if it weren’t for his gaze flickering hesitantly over the old building we used to visit every lunch break, I could tell he doesn’t feel comfortable in Riven’s old abode. Hardly anyone ever visits here anyway, but I can tell how uncomfortable he is with the idea of staying in the house of one of his former mentors and friends. I take in a breath and nod, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Acer nods and, after a while of silence, rises from his seat and tells me that he’ll see me before I leave. I doubt he will. After my little spot on television, I’ll be whisked away to the train station and dragged off to District 12 where I’ll, no doubt, meet with Royce. All the same, I allow Acer’s short-lived embrace before handing him a treat for Watson and watching them go. Watson will be happy in the expansive field that surrounds Acer’s family’s house and, in the long run, I suppose that’s all that should matter, but as Acer climbs onto the saddle and I wave goodbye to them both, I hope this bullshit tour doesn’t last long.

Once they’re out of sight, I make sure to lock up the house and leave the key above the doorframe before making the long walk to the Village. Thankfully, no cars line the street, ready to take me to the train station, but I doubt it will be long before they are, so I make my way inside and up to my room to get ready for their arrival. The room glows purple from the LED lights embedded in the ceiling and under my bed, but I turn them off before getting a set of clothes to change into and heading to the bathroom to clean up. By the time I’m done in the bathroom, I find Mick sitting on my bed, awaiting my arrival. While I’m gone, she’ll be taking my room the way she did when I was in the arena, so I suppose it shouldn’t be much of a surprise to find her in the room we occasionally share.

With a sigh, I ask, “Shouldn’t you be hiding out somewhere until everyone leaves?”

“Maybe I should,” she shrugs, “but I wanted to see you before you go.”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” I state plainly as I toss my towel into the laundry basket. “Now you can go.”

Mick lets out a heavy sigh as she shakes her head, “What could I possibly have done now to piss you off?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me for the last week?”

Meeting her gaze is easier when I’m not wearing glasses. I can’t see the hurt that radiates from her. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what?” she fires in return. “Perfecting your list of lies to spew for the rest of Panem?”

“Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” I scoff, taking a seat at the vanity that came with my room and brushing my hair out. “It’s not even ten and you’re being a bitch already.”

“Says the one who’s been blowing off all of her friends for the last month or so.”

“As I said, I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to take five minutes to stop by Della’s birthday party?”

My brush freezes halfway through its swipe through my damp strands before continuing its glide. I roll my eyes, “Della’s party isn’t until next week, Mick. I’ll be gone by then.”

“It was last night,” Mick corrects, rising from her spot on my mattress and moving to stand behind me. “She moved it up just for you, remember?”

I set my brush down as I try to think over everything that’s happened recently. Most of my days are an indistinguishable haze of repetitiveness. Wake up, get dressed, hit the ice until sunrise, take care of Watson, go to school or work, stay at work until long after everyone has gone home, and collapse into sleep somewhere at Riven’s house. Half of the conversations I’ve had with people feel like muffled nonsense that’s been muddled together into one huge glob. If Della had, in fact, moved her party to before her birthday so that I could attend, I’d feel horrible. That could also explain why Acer was so determined to be in and out of the house earlier. With a shake of my head, I find Mick’s blurry eyes in the reflection of the mirror and say, “No, I don’t. Everything’s been a blur for a while now.”

With a sigh, Mick brings my hair to my back and begins threading it into an intricate, four-strand braid, gently telling me, “I know things have been difficult since the Games ended. It was for me too. I just wish you would let us help you recover some sense of normalcy.”

I hold back on rolling my eyes, instead focusing on a small smudge I’ve yet to clean from the mirror and sighing, “I don’t think I’ll get that normalcy back for a long time, Mick. Things won’t be normal again now that Riven’s gone.”

Mick’s hands stall mid-braid and, when I look back up at her reflection, I find that she has a glossy, faraway look in her eyes. She snaps out of it without me saying a word and takes in a deep breath as she returns to the task at hand, “Is that why you’ve been so distant with me lately? Because of Riven?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I hadn’t taken your place before, you wouldn’t have been reaped last year and Riven wouldn’t have volunteered for Oliver,” she explains. “If I hadn’t stepped in, Riven would still be alive.”

As she ties off my hair with a tiny rubber band and drapes it over my shoulder, I slowly shake my head, “If you hadn’t volunteered for me, I would be dead.” Mick opens her mouth to argue, but I beat her to it, “Don’t say that I would have been fine. I had no prior training and would have been a teary-eyed mess; I would’ve been lucky to make it through the bloodbath. Don’t beat yourself up over something that we can’t change.”

She seems to think it over before pressing, “Is that why you’ve been upset with me, though?”

“No,” I brush off quickly. “I went through all of the ‘should’ve, could’ve, would’ve’s a long time ago. I was mad back then, but I’m not now. I’ve just been trying to focus on what I have to do now that it’s time for the Victory Tour. Visiting the home districts of all the dead tributes and giving some half-assed, Capitol-designed speech feels like I’m the one rubbing salt into their wounds, and the idea of going to ritzy parties in the Capitol to emphasize how in love Royce and I are and how little we care about the deaths of the other twenty-two tributes, is eating at me.” When the room is silent for a while, I close my eyes, take in a breath, and sigh, “I’m not upset anymore. I just have a lot going on that nobody else understands.”

Mick’s hands land on my shoulders, her thumbs rubbing circles into my skin as she claims, “My parents would. They’ve been through it.”

“Maybe, but they’ve been so busy getting everything ready for the tour and I’ve barely seen them anyway.” With a slow sigh, I tack on, “They also didn’t have to worry about showing their love off to the nation in the hopes of keeping up appearances.”

Her eyebrow raises as she questions, “I thought you and Royce genuinely love each other?”

“We do,” I nod. “Well, at least I know that I love him.”

“Why not ask him how he feels?”

With an almost sheepish grin, I admit, “Because I haven’t talked to him since I was over at your house and we talked with them in the basement.”

Mick sighs, an almost disappointed tone in her voice, “Viv, that was three weeks ago.”

“I’m aware.”

She shakes her head and pats my shoulders with a smile, “Well, you’ll see him soon enough and you’ll be able to ask him then.”

I hum in agreement and allow Mick to bring her arms around my shoulders in a hug. When I thank her for stopping by and apologize for being distant, she places a kiss on my temple and brushes it off with ease before placing a familiar, floral case on my vanity and heading somewhere to wait everything out. Checking inside the case, I find the spy-style glasses I had abandoned months ago sitting untouched in their case. Mick’s care for the spectacles is obvious as all of the cracks in the lenses have been taken care of and the paint has been touched up. I understand the meaning of her little gift; she wants me to wear them for the Victory Tour. I suppose it only makes sense for me to wear them as, according to Juliet, the glasses have become somewhat synonymous with my image as Royce’s bow did for him and the Romeo and Juliet novel did for us as a couple. There is an underlying message in Mick’s gift, a warning of sorts that she - and, presumably, my family - will be watching and listening as long as I wear them. A fleeting thought crosses my mind and I wonder whether Mick wishes to simply watch as though the tour were for herself or if the gift was simply given to keep me in check with my image and give me advice when I’m stammering through my speeches.

Once I’m alone again, I feel almost eerily at ease; as though the coiled tension in my shoulders has begun to ease at least a little. I have everything sorted out already. I don’t need to do anything other than wait for the prep team to arrive. I don’t have to worry about working on some talent to show off at the dinner parties we’ll be forced to attend in every district as I’m more than willing to bang around on the drums if they’ll allow me to do so. Royce won’t have to worry about that either as his little brother has made a vast array of artwork to show off in his stead. Bentley is quite a talented artist now that he’s gotten his hands on some of the Capitol’s best supplies and, after receiving more than a handful of his artwork as a gift for my birthday, I’m glad he’s been able to make good use of what they’ve given him. Bentley often makes an appearance in my video calls with Royce despite them being few and far between, and I never find myself wishing for him to leave the two of us alone. He’s befriended Abby and Olly quickly over the last six months and, despite never meeting in person, they seem to have big plans for world domination that, for some reason, also include the girl who won the year before me and Royce - Kona. Sometimes, I wonder if they’ll ever get to see those plans through.

The honking of horns and the roar of engines startle me from my thoughts and my gaze snaps to the window; my entourage must be here. Doors slam shut and I hear squeals of greeting downstairs as I try to straighten my posture and make myself look as though I’m excited to go on the trip. I faintly hear my mom tell someone where my room is and, before I know it, the door slides open, and the same trio who prepped me for the Games, files into my room with noises of excitement. Their first order of business is giving me hugs so tight that I can barely breathe, but then they allow me to sit back on the vanity stool and jump right into their work as they chatter on about whatever drama exists in their life with people I don’t know and places I couldn’t care less about. The last time they saw me was the birthday party that was thrown for me not long after the Games ended and, while I look remarkably unchanged, their appearances have differed substantially. Ambrosia’s lime color scheme has shifted to a pale blue and her eyebrows have been replaced with golden lines that twist around each other like the snakes on the hospital sign. Mink has kept his orange aesthetic, but his hair is now brown with a single section of orange swooping down over his right eye. Gleam has remained mostly the same apart from the white celestial tattoos that decorate her dark skin.

By the time they’ve finished preening me like a baby bird, they parade me downstairs where I find Juliet sitting with my parents, talking with them as though they’re old friends. She looks almost exactly the same as she did the last time I saw her; pin-straight blonde hair with crimson replacing what was once pink at the bottom, simple clothes, and a fluffy white coat to keep her warm in the icy winds that drift from Lake Michigan. Once she spots me, Juliet sets the teacup I don’t doubt my father made for her, on the coffee table and stands, welcoming my slamming hug with open arms. Juliet allows me to lead her back up to my room where she deposits a black bag of clothing for me to change into before sitting at the vanity and filling me in on what will happen next.

“Once the cameras get the shot of you walking outside, we’ll be on our way to the train,” Juliet claims, fiddling with the items I’ve scattered across the vanity table.

“What about my interview with Caesar?” I question, tugging a long-sleeved shirt over my head.

“They’ve rearranged things to account for the fact that there are now two victors and that they’re from different districts,” she explains, picking up the glasses Mick had left for me and trying them on. “You two won’t be having an interview with Caesar until you get to the Capitol.”

It makes sense, I suppose. There are a lot of things they’ll have to move around for us, but after all that the Capitol has done to us, it’s the least they could do. As I slide the zipper of my plaid pants into place, I ask, “Are we getting Royce and his group in Six or are they meeting us in District 12?” Juliet turns toward me with a smirk akin to Riven’s typical one - a sign that she knows something that I don’t. I feel my eyebrow raise past the ends of the bangs Gleam had fluffed over my forehead as I slowly ask, “What are you planning?”

With a shrug of feigned innocence, Juliet rises from her seat and grabs a coat from the bag before helping me into it. “Oh, nothing of importance. You’ll see it all come together sooner or later.”

Her riddled words make no sense, but as she slides my glasses onto my nose and checks my wrists for Riven’s bracelet, I don’t question her. If it’s as she says, I’ll find out eventually, so I take a deep breath and allow her one last embrace before she guides me downstairs. Halo shepherds us all around like lost sheep as the camera crew lists off what they need me to do. I bring them to the basement I converted into a music room and proudly show off all of my favorite instruments, even getting the chance to play a few of them before they take me off camera to record me simply reading off cards about each instrument and my love for it. Before long, I’m ushered back upstairs by Halo so the cameras can get shots of the music room without me around and I holler a warning that they better not touch my drum set or any of the guitar amplifiers as the door closes behind us. My siblings, Abigail and Oliver, are sitting in the kitchen, working on schoolwork, having been allowed out of school early. I have to wonder if Juliet gave them outfits in case the cameras find them as they both are dressed in clothing I’ve never once seen them in.

I know Oliver all too well and I can tell that, once the cameras are gone, those white pants won’t stay white for long. He’s far too clumsy and rambunctious for them to stay any shade of ivory. The prep team has gotten to him already if the fluffy quality of his hair is anything to go by, but he doesn’t seem to mind that nearly as much as he does the shirt. Olly tugs at the collar of his mint-colored button-down with a mumble of complaint, obviously uncomfortable in the stuffy, rigid fabric while Abby sits silently next to him, her legs swinging mindlessly under the island counter as she scribbles something onto the paper before her. Her pristine white dress is decorated with pale green dots and minuscule aventurine crystals have been woven into the crown of braids that surround her head. When they both take note of my presence, they smile, and Oliver kicks the chair across from him so I can take a seat with them.

Abby smirks, sliding her workbook across the table before asking, “You feel like helping me diagram sentences before you go?”

I roll my eyes and pick up the pencil in the book before sighing, “You do realize that I can’t help you cheat while I’m gone, right?”

“I know,” she says with a grin. “That’s why I’m getting what I can now.”

I make quick work of the last few problems before gliding the book across the table once again and helping Oliver correct his work. By the time I’ve finished, the camera crews have finished in the basement and are making their way through the house to the front where they’ll film me leaving the house and walking down the street. I don’t get the chance to say much of anything before being dragged to where Halo deems I should stand and wait for the cameras to be ready. The faint call of one of the camera crew calling me to come outside reaches my ears and, as everyone else dodges away from where the cameras will aim, I pull the door open and step onto the small porch, nearly slipping down the front steps as my boots catch on a patch of ice. 

For a moment, I’m unable to see much more than the pure white snow that glitters in the noontime sun, but I blink away the snow blindness and look around before my gaze settles on the person standing near the bottom of the stairwell, a small bouquet of purple and pink flowers in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. Realization takes a second to sink in, but once it has, a smile breaks onto my face and I propel myself down the steps until I’m able to launch myself at him. The flowers fall to the blanket of snow on the ground as his arms come around my waist and pull me inescapably close.

“What are you doing here?” I breathe, my words disappearing into steam in the cold, January air.

“Surprising you,” Royce chuckles, turning his head just enough to kiss my cheek. “Although, if you had answered my call this morning, you would have known already.”

“I wasn’t home,” I reply softly.

“I know,” he mutters into the fluffy collar of my coat, “but we’ll have plenty of time to catch up on the train.”

We separate after a moment and I slide my fingers between his before leading him down the street. The cameras turn off before we get too far and, all at once, we’re thrown into a whirlwind of chaos. We’re ushered into a car as everyone else follows behind us to the station in another car and, before we’re allowed to board, we say quick goodbyes to my family and the friends that make an appearance at the station. Once we’re around the table for a meal, Halo begins chirping about the plan for our visits and I try to drone her out by watching things fly past the windows. The last time Royce and I were on a train together, I was still riding the high from the Games - the adrenaline making me more willing to go home and see the people I missed. Now, six months later, I’m numb to any excitement the others may be trying to force down my throat. While I’m happy to see Royce and his team, I wish we could have seen each other under different circumstances. 

No matter how much Halo prattles on about being on our best behavior while the other escort sleeps on the couch or how often Kona brings up the delicious foods we’ll be trying in different districts or how many times I hear someone’s praises, I can’t help the fury that boils within me. Riven should be the one sitting here, being praised, not me. I didn’t do shit. He did everything in his power to keep us alive and all he’ll get in the end is some shitty plaque above his grave and a brief speech that one of us will have to read off of some cue card. I guess the old people back home were right. Life’s a bitch and then you die.

Royce gently nudges my calf under the table, sending me a curious, almost worried look, and although I realize that I’d been glaring blankly at my fork, I can’t bring myself to act as though I care. Instead, I minutely shake my head, tell everyone that I’m going to bed, and disappear down the hall before anyone can tell me to do otherwise. Mick tries to tell me something, but I pull the glasses off and toss them onto my mattress before taking some clothes from the closet and disappearing into the bathroom. Despite the frosted windows and snowy landscape outside the train, I let ice-cold water cascade over me, shocking me into reality at least a little. My breath hitches as my head thumps the tiled wall and I feel the overwhelming stress of the day roll off of me alongside the pelting water. Maybe this is what I needed - a shock to my systems to snap me out of the seemingly endless pit of depression I’d been trudging through for months now. 

By the time my fingers have wrinkled into raisins, regret has settled in and I feel the need to apologize to the others despite not really doing anything other than being antisocial. If anything, I should apologize to Mick for shutting her out and ignoring her. She’s been patient with me. Most of the others have. Butchy and Kona have been kind enough in our sparse phone calls, Royce seems understanding when I explain that I don’t feel up for idle chatter, and Mick’s parents are incredibly supportive when I need them to simply be present. Sometimes their kindness feels like it’s far more than what I deserve. When Mick gets the chance to talk with Butchy over the phone, he never forgets to ask how I’m doing and makes sure to call my house once he’s off the phone with the love of his life. Kona is similar, but her calls are direct and to the point, leaving me no room for small talk as she presses me for information and fills me in on things in her life. Royce always calls at the same time every Wednesday when he knows that we’re both free from our responsibilities, but while he takes his free time to be with his brothers, I fill mine with unnecessary work. I’d be a fool to think he didn’t notice that I’ve conveniently been away from home since our last little talk in Mick’s basement. Then, there’s Mack and Brady. Despite them living just across the street, it occasionally feels as though there’s an invisible chasm between us that keeps me on my side of the road. Then, Mick or my parents drag me over for a visit and it feels as though it’s just another day. Perhaps, to them, it is. Maybe I’m the only one who still feels trapped aboard the arena’s cruise ship.

From what I’ve heard from Juliet in our occasional calls, they’ve opened the arena to the public already. She had to be there for a mock christening and rambled on about it for hours while I allowed the phone to sit idly on my desk. I suppose the room Royce, Riven, and I stayed in was a big hit, but a few eager zillionaires tried to buy out the library and theatre for the entirety of the maiden voyage. Honestly, I was sort of hoping the damn ship would sink. To my dismay, it still sails the ocean; the stink of death and the blood-tinted linoleum still looming in its corridors under layers of bleach and fresh carpeting.

Shutting off the water, I quickly dry myself and change into some plush pajamas before stepping into my room and taking my glasses from the blanket they landed on. At first, I hear nothing, but after a while, a soft buzzing reaches my ears and I know Mick is there. Taking in a slow breath, I mutter, “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Is the stress getting to you?” When I nod, Mick hums and continues, “I figured as much. Are you better now?”

“I think so.” 

“Good,” Mick says. “Your boyfriend has been worried about you.”

Confusion brushes me as I ask, “How do you know he’s worried?”

“Miles,” she says simply. “I guess Royce has been talking with him over the earbuds.”

I hum and allow silence to claim the air before glancing toward the door. Maybe I should go talk with him, quell his worries. I don’t need to imagine how hard this is for him; I know how hard it is for me. We both lost people from our home districts in the Games and here I am, acting like I’m handling everything on my own despite having people around me to support me through the Victory Tour. Maybe Royce has already come to this conclusion, reaching out to his mentors and stylist with the ease of someone who isn’t afraid of the thousands, if not millions, of people we’ll be in front of. Maybe he’s more relaxed because he’s actually taken the time to talk with them and learn what to expect. Alternatively, I’ve done nothing but sulk and lock myself in my room. I’m a mess compared to him.

I break the silence by asking, “Do you know where he-”

“He’s with Butchy,” Mick interrupts. “Miles is letting me listen in. It would probably be best if you leave them alone for now.”

Of course, it would be. Taking a deep breath, I nod silently and make my way to the end of my bed where I previously tossed the little bag of belongings I wanted to keep with me. I take the book the president gave me and slide between the sheets of my bed, keeping one of the lamps beside my bed on so that I can read in peace. It takes me little time to get absorbed into the stories at hand and, when I finally spare a glance at the clock to my left, I find many hours have passed. Deciding to at least try to get some sleep before Halo’s peppy voice will tell me we’re almost in District 12, I close the book and set it aside, pushing myself further under the covers until my head hits the pillow. Time crawls until my eyelids are finally heavy enough to lure me into sleep, but it feels as though only a few minutes have passed when a knock on my door rouses me and I have to hear a chirpy voice exclaim something about another “big, big day” that I just can’t feel excited for.

I don’t bother changing into something new before making my way to the dining car. This time, when Royce sits across from me, he places an open hand on the table and waits until my palm meets his before sending me a gentle smile. The circles he rubs into my hand keep me distracted from most of the idle chatter around the table; Juliet and Carrie’s ramblings about clothing and makeup, Halo’s unnaturally perky drillings about proper posture and memorizing cue cards, and Mick’s parents’ talk of the typical customs in District 12. District 12 is the poorest of all the districts and there isn’t exactly much to see, but, if Kona’s brief statement is true, the people don’t particularly care about what we say, so much as they do about when they’ll be able to go home. It could be quick and simple, if all goes well. 

Breakfast ends all too soon and Royce and I are separated after he presses a quick kiss to the back of my hand. I find out that I’ll be given the full treatment by my prep team who, at first, are all knocking back cups of coffee and swallowing brightly colored pills that they claim will keep them awake. Once every hair is ripped from every follicle of skin that isn’t my head and I’m preened to perfection, Juliet takes the place of my prep team and gets me dressed in what she claims are the least flashy things in the garment car - a black unitard that covers me in black fleece from my neck to my ankles, a gray skirt that ends an inch or two above my knees, boots that come just below my knees, and a forest green, plaid, dress coat that covers from my shoulders to the edge of my skirt. When I ask her why I’m dressed so plainly, she smiles and tells me that it might make the people of District 12 feel more comfortable if I’m dressed as simply as they are.

After she decides that we’re ready, we go back to the viewing car and sit around while Halo and her fairly hungover counterpart go over the day’s program with us. While some of the bigger districts will give us a ride through the city, the smaller districts are less likely to. Where District 12 is small and fairly centralized in one little area, we won’t be riding anywhere. When the train finally pulls into the station, there is a small welcoming committee consisting of the previous victor, the mayor, and the mayor’s family. We have no time to look around at the building or much of the surrounding area, but I suppose there isn’t much to look at in the first place. They lead us into the Justice Building, an old, concrete building that stands out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of small houses and tiny shops that line the area. Royce and I are practically attached at the hip as we’re ushered to the front entrance of the building and kept behind a set of large doors. Someone clips a microphone to Royce’s coat before doing the same to me and I feel a wave of icy panic wash over me as I try to keep my breathing in check. I hate crowds, I hate being on stage, and I hate having to give speeches of any sort, but as Royce sends me a reassuring grin, I remember that I’m not alone in this. I have someone to pick up where I leave off and help me when I need it.

The mayor introduces us as the massive doors before us open with deep, groaning creaks. There is no roof or walls on the makeshift stage to shield us from the whipping winds of the Appalachian mountains, but it doesn’t bother me all that much. If anything, it resembles the waterfront winds back home. The crowd that’s gathered for us gives their typical applause and, understandably, none of the fanfare that the Capitol gives. At the bottom of the stage, a platform has been constructed for the families of the fallen tributes who stand in front of their tribute’s photograph with sullen, sunken-in faces. It’s obvious that Ash’s father and younger sister are malnourished, but with how small the little girl is, I doubt she’ll be able to ask for tessera for another two or three years. Fleetingly, I wonder how long they’ll live. On the other hand, Orchid’s family of four siblings and both parents look as though we won’t have to worry about them collapsing to the floor, dead, anytime soon. 

The applause dies out as the mayor takes to the front of the stage to give a speech in our honor, then a pair of young girls in only faintly stained, white dresses come up to us with bouquets bigger than our heads. As will be customary for all of the even-numbered districts, Royce gives the first part of our scripted speech and, when he gives my hand a quick squeeze, I find myself reciting half of the speech from memory. As we have no ties to either of the tributes, the mayor steps forward once I’m done with the speech and presents us each with a plaque so large I have to hand my flowers back to the little girl for the time being. After a while, we’re ushered back inside the building and brought to a car outside the back that brings us to the mayor’s mansion. The house is around the size of my house in Victor’s Village, but as they typically only have one victor to host, I notice the mayor seems worried about where to room everyone. To ease his mind, I suggest that Royce and I could share, which Royce agrees to fairly quickly. We’re escorted to a room about the size of my room back home and we thank the mayor before closing the door and taking a seat on the end of the mattress.

After a while of sitting in silence, Royce speaks up, “You know, I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in a month.”

“I know,” I breathe. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“There isn’t much to say,” I reply. “I worked myself to oblivion all day, worked on my speeches all night, and repeated the same shitty routine every day. I barely left enough time to say hello to my family or eat, let alone sit down and talk on the phone for hours.”

“Depression’s a bitch,” Royce mutters.

“Yeah,” I scoff. Silence makes the air between us feel like a thick cloud of fog, but I try to breach it with a soft question, “What about you?”

Royce shrugs, “Pretty much the opposite, actually. I don’t have to work or go to school anymore, so I stayed home with Miles and read books all day.”

We’re opposites. He stays home, doing practically nothing all day, and enjoys it while I work myself into an early grave because I have nothing to do at home. I wonder how he can do it so easily. Ever since I was able to work, I have. I like having things to do, even if I’m not using my activities to fight off my spiking and ebbing depression. How can Royce be so easygoing and relaxed doing nothing? Maybe it’s just the way he copes. After a while, Royce goes to take a shower and I wash up once he’s done, but by the time I come back to the room, he’s nowhere to be seen and all that’s left is a small note telling me that he’s going to Carrie’s room to get ready. At the bottom of the paper is a small drawing of a bunch of grapes and a simple question, “What did the green grape say to the purple grape?”

Curiously, I flip over the note, expecting an answer on the other side, but find it to be blank. Confusion slowly floods my veins and my head tilts ever so slightly to the side as I think about the answer to his question. It’s obviously the start of a joke, but I know I’ve never heard it before, so I can’t seem to come up with an answer. Maybe it’s a joke from his home district. I suppose I won’t know until I see him again. A knock on the door stalls my curiosity and, as I fold up the paper, I call out, “Who is it?”

“Juliet,” the voice replies. “Can I come in?”

I look around for somewhere to store the note before deciding I could simply tuck it into my bra for the time being. Letting Juliet into the room feels like I’ve opened the gates and allowed a whirlwind of chaos to invade my space. She allows the prep team to pin most of my hair back from my face and cover my face in delicate lines of makeup before lacing me into an intricately patterned, pale blue dress that is held up by three thin straps on either of my shoulders. As we’re on our way out of the room, Juliet stops me to show me my reflection in the mirror by the door. She adjusts a few things before smiling at our reflections.

Resting her hands on my arms and her chin on my shoulder, Juliet asks, “Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous, as always,” I say.

Juliet’s eyes find mine and she sighs, “Well, how about we see how it looks with a smile?” To her, it must come across as a simple request for me to enjoy myself, but I take it as a subtle reminder that there will be cameras watching my every move and that, if I don’t look happy at all times, it could spell trouble. I think about how, in about two weeks, the president will announce the dissolution of the Hunger Games. Once he does that, the chance of me and Royce being able to live mostly normal lives could very well be possible. The thought alone is enough to bring a smile to my face and, once it’s there, Juliet squeezes me close and chirps, “That’s my girl!” 

She all but shoves me out the door and, before I get the chance to do more than glance Royce’s way, Halo is pulling me to a spot behind our mentors where she’s arranged for us to enter the dinner. Royce is by my side in a matter of seconds and takes my hand in his without needing to be told to do so. As we’re last in the line, we have to wait for everyone else to be shown off to the dinner party before we can go in, so we have the opportunity to either stand in silence or talk. For the first time in months, I decide to speak first, glancing toward Royce before softly asking, “So, what did the green grape say to the purple grape?”

I watch a cheesy grin spread across Royce’s face as he softly chuckles, “Breathe, you idiot!”

My snort of laughter is poorly disguised behind a cough as Halo turns toward us with wide eyes. I wave her off with a hand and feign another cough as a light from above shines down on her and Royce’s escort, Neptune. With the arm Royce has held captive, I jab my elbow into his side and let out a breath of a laugh, “That was so dumb!”

“Maybe,” Royce shrugs with a smile, “but it got you to laugh.”

A childlike giggle fights its way out before the truth of his sentence hits me. The implication is there. Royce knows that I need something to get me through this tour and, if everything else he’s tried isn’t working, maybe stupid, Riven-esque jokes will. With a grin, I concede, “It did, thank you.” Royce nods as, one by one, the prep teams begin their entrance to the dinner party. After a moment, I meet his gaze and confess, “I don’t think I’ve laughed much at all since we got back from the Games.”

“I didn’t either for a while,” Royce admits, “but I wasn’t as attached to Lotus as you were to Riven. She wasn’t family to me. I figured making you laugh would be a good first step to help you get through at least some of it.”

He’s put a lot of thought into this. I must have really worried him. Taking in a breath, I smile and say, “Well, if you keep it up, you might just get there.”

Royce beams, bringing our joined hands up so that he can kiss the back of mine before saying, “That’s the plan.”

A light from above hits us and we share a smile before descending the steps. The night feels as though it flies by with all of the food, conversations, and dancing we do. At one point, Kona helps us sneak out so that Royce and I can have a cup of dessert together in secret, only to be discovered by one of Royce’s prep team workers. In the end, we return to the mayor’s house, and Royce and I barely manage to say a sentence to each other before sleep takes us. In the morning, we’re paraded to the train where we fall into a sort of routine. This time, however, I feel more at ease. In the morning, after breakfast, Royce and I sit together and read on the couch, both of us reading our gifted books at our own speed. After a few hours, Kona enters the room and we greet her as she perches herself on a chair across from us, watching us curiously. When Royce asks her if she’s alright, Kona simply nods and asks us why we aren’t rehearsing our speech for Erica’s family. I reply that I practiced it so much that I could do it in my sleep and Royce gives a similar excuse that Kona accepts before allowing us to continue reading.

I try to make a point to glance her way when I feel her eyes on me, but once it starts to feel awkward, I ask, “Do you want to read with us?”

Kona blinks a few times, her gaze settled more on the book in my hands than on me, and hastily shakes her head as she tears her gaze away from the book and meets my eyes, “Huh? Uh, no, thank you. Sorry, I just keep spacing out.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Royce questions.

With a nod, Kona shrugs and confides, “This whole tour is setting me on edge even though I’m not the one on stage.” After a pause, she sighs, “No wonder Lela had a hard time doing this last year.”

Kona doesn’t stick around much longer, choosing to distract herself by messing with Butchy - a favorite pastime of hers. Royce and I read until we’re told that we’re close to the border of District 11. Royce and I move to the windows to get a better look at the place and watch as huge fields of cattle graze in places I imagine were once covered in huge buildings that touched the clouds. From what I’d read in the old books that line the walls of Bissette’s family home over the last few months, the southeastern part of Panem used to be home to sprawling farms in select areas, but also had collections of large cities. I wonder which former state we’re in; perhaps one of the Carolinas or a fun one to say like Mississippi. The idea of figuring out where we are is fleeting as the train slows slightly and a large metal fence - at least thirty, maybe forty feet high - comes into view. At the top are thick coils of barbed wire that make the thin, ten-foot-high fence back home look like a baby gate. The base of the fence is lined with humongous metal plates that remind me of the platforms in the arena, only more terrifying. It’s as though a single touch will end in people having to scrape your remains off every building in a mile-wide radius. Then, as though those precautions weren’t enough, I see the watchtowers. They’re spaced apart evenly and manned with armed guards, but I have to wonder if any of them have ever shot someone before or if everyone in District 11 has been too scared for so long to even try getting close.

“We wouldn’t get away with shit here,” Royce breathes.

“I would’ve been killed years ago,” I agree. “I wonder how Erica got by.”

“With how quickly she says what she’s thinking, I imagine it wasn’t easy.”

I have to agree, but as we pass the fence and watch as seemingly endless rows of crops appear out of seemingly nowhere, I don’t say more. People of all ages, even the elderly and children too young to be reaped, are out in the blistering heat, wearing straw hats to keep the sun from their eyes, and take a moment to watch as the train passes by. Small communities of houses that look dilapidated and barely standing show signs that someone must live there, but the homes are empty as everyone seems to be busy in the fields. While the population of District 11 isn’t close to either of our home districts, the sheer vastness and intimidation of it is startling. 

Royce and I are pulled from the windows by our stylists and made to change into cooler clothing. This time, I’m handed a pair of strappy sandals, some loose, tan shorts, and a fringed shirt that hangs loosely over me. Beige tones are a staple, it seems. The only pops of color we receive are our matching, orange necklaces and Riven’s bracelet, but I doubt any of the residents will care much for our appearances. The prep team weaves my hair into braids that wrap around my head, keeping all of my hair off of my neck for the duration of our time in the sweltering sun. As the train pulls to a stop in the station, Royce and I step out, greeted by only a fleet of Peacekeepers who bring us to the back of a set of armored trucks. Royce tells me to hold on as the trucks give bumpy rides and, as we pull away, he brings an arm around my shoulders to keep me steady as we jerk around on the rocky, sand-covered roads.

The procedure feels familiar as we arrive at the back entrance of the Justice Building and are paraded inside. While the smell of something being cooked fills the air, it isn’t nearly enough to mask the stench of mildew and decay. We don’t have time to think as the anthem plays and the mayor announces us. I didn’t know we were late. As the doors open, we’re given a light push from Halo and step out onto the stage. It starts off easy; we step out onto the shaded veranda and make our way toward where the sun beats down on the applauding crowd. The white, marble stairs do little to repel the heat and I faintly worry about the bottoms of my sandals melting from the heat. As my eyes adjust to the intense sunlight, I hear the applause and faint cheering from the crowd - an unusual sound in this district.

My eyes adjust after a moment and I can tell from the view we got on the train that the packed town square is just a small fraction of the population. The tributes’ families stand to either side of us like they did in 12, but Erica’s family are genuinely smiling our way while her teammate, Kiran’s family stands stoically to the side. Erica’s family - her mom and grandparents standing with a boy who I presume is around the same age as Erica was - are smiling at us and clapping for our arrival, seemingly happy to see us even though our victory symbolizes the loss of their daughter, granddaughter, and sister. Just like before, the applause dies out, the mayor gives a speech, we get bouquets from two small children, and, this time, I start the speech. Once Royce finishes his part, I begin the personal statement that I wrote during one of my late-night work sessions. Our gratitude for Erica, her kindness, and her determination, must shine through as the smiles on her family’s faces only grow. Royce talks about it being a debt we can never repay and, though he beats around the topic with ease, he mentions how Erica would have won if it hadn’t been for Serena. Then, the time comes for something I’d been worried about for a while now - our promise. Royce and I had talked about it ages ago when we first began typing out our comments to the families, but never passed it through Halo or, well, anyone else, for that matter.

“While we know it won’t replace your loss in any way,” I begin, turning toward Erica’s family, “Royce and I would like to give you a token of our appreciation for Erica and all that she did.”

“We would like to give your family a month of our winnings every year for the rest of our lives,” Royce finishes.

As the crowd fills the silence with murmurs of disbelief, we watch Erica’s family as their smiles turn to slack-jawed, surprised expressions. What we’ve done has never been offered before, even by those who were close to other tributes in previous Games. The magnitude of what we’ve done will shock a lot of people, perhaps even the president. It may not even be legal, but the offer is there and, if the rest of Panem sees it, they’ll have no choice but to allow it. One month of a victor’s winnings can easily provide for a family, with some to spare. They won’t go hungry for as long as we live.

The rest of our time in District 11 goes by faster than I thought it would. The dinner at the Justice Building is practically the same as the one we had in the mayor’s mansion in 12, but this time, the families have been invited and I’m allowed to get to know the tributes from their families’ views. Instead of being housed in any mansion, we’re brought back to the train to keep up the tight schedule. That night, I take a shower to rid myself of the sweat I’d earned in the heat of District 11 and, after consulting with Mick via my glasses, she warns me that District 10 is just as humid and unforgiving.

“You should talk with Kona,” she suggests as I dry my hair the old-fashioned way - with a towel. “Since her tour was last year, she could have some good insight as to what to expect.”

“You think she would be up for it?” I ask. “I don’t want her to relive things if they bother her.”

Mick snorts, “Kona is a strong little shit. She just about talked my ear off about the tour when she got back. She’ll be fine, trust me.”

Giving a short nod, I toss my towel onto the end of my bed and make my way to the door of my room. Just as I press the button to slide it open, I find a hand in my face, poised to knock. The hand freezes and the uniformly trimmed, turquoise nails slowly pull away as Kona takes a step back with an intrigued grin. “Can you, like, see through walls or something with those glasses?”

A chuckle escapes me as I shake my head, “I was actually just on my way to find you.”

Her head tips to the side, revealing the pastel array of colors she’s streaked her hair with. “Me? Why?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I say with a grin, leaning against the door frame.

“I was seeing if you wanted to check out the viewing car at the back of the train,” Kona explains, nodding her head toward the cars I had yet to venture to. “The stars always look way cooler back there. Now, what were you coming to me for?”

“I just wanted to ask you about how your tour went last year.”

Kona rolls her eyes with a sigh, “It was a bunch of bullshit, if you ask me, but it would probably be for the best if we went somewhere more private before I go into too much detail.”

Without allowing me to offer her a chance to come in, Kona turns on her heel and stalks off toward the back of the train, forcing me to follow close behind. We walk in silence past a room of computers where Capitol workers are keeping a close eye on a series of cameras. They quickly close the door as we pass, keeping the camera locations a secret as Kona presses a small gold button and the door to the viewing car slides open. I look around at the high glass walls that make up the last car as Kona takes a seat, watching me almost expectantly from the plush cushions against the back wall. I take a seat and ask, “So, you’ve been back here before?”

She nods, “On my tour. It’s the one place on the train that has no cameras.”

Her meaning becomes crystal clear. Kona wanted me to come back here without fear of being heard by anyone else. She must have had something on her mind that she felt needed to be asked without anyone else interfering or knowing. I take the seat next to her and sit sideways so that we’re eye-to-eye before asking, “What did you really bring me back here for?”

Kona’s forest green eyes turn piercing as she asks, point-blank, “Is your friend really dead, or is he ‘dead’ like Mick and Miles are.”

The bluntness with which she asks feels like a slap to the face. She certainly holds nothing back and, ultimately, I appreciate that. “I don’t know,” I sigh. “There are loads of things that just don’t add up, but at the same time, I think I would have known something by now if Riven was truly alive.”

“But you don’t think he’s dead?”

“I don’t want to think he is.”

“What’s keeping the hope alive for you?” Kona presses. “If you still hold onto the idea that Riven is alive, there must be a reason.”

After thinking for a moment, I come to an easy conclusion, “After I killed Lexi and the cannons went off that day, I heard him call out for me.”

Kona’s eyebrow lifts as she asks, “Couldn’t that have been Royce?”

I shake my head firmly, “I know Riven’s voice. It’s very different from Royce’s.”

A grin takes over Kona’s face as she says, “In that case, he must be alive.”

“How can we be sure?” I ask. “It’s been six months already. Shouldn’t he have been home by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Kona claims with a small shake of her head, moving to sit cross-legged on the couch. “If the Capitol took Riven out of the arena while he was still alive, he would probably have to go through a lot of testing and questioning before the thought of releasing him even crossed their minds.”

Kona continues rambling, but her voice fades into the noise of the train whizzing down the tracks as I think over her words. In a way, it makes sense. If Riven was, in fact, alive when he was taken out, there would be a lot of confusion on everyone’s part. Once he was fully healed of his injuries, Riven would be questioned mercilessly by the Capitol’s highest-ranking assholes until they would be able to claim he had nothing to do with it. If Riven is alive, that means President Harmon must know. Maybe, in turn, Juliet would know. She never said anything to me, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know. I’ll just have to ask her. Maybe she’ll be my next target.

Kona snaps me back to reality by stating, “Besides, the president likes really elaborate puzzles. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knows about Riven being alive and is waiting for you to figure it out before releasing him.”

“What do you mean?” I ask quickly.

She stalls for a moment at my question before shrugging and admitting, “I saw the book you and Royce were reading earlier and I thought it looked like this really thick book the president gifted me after my Games ended. I read it over and over until I found that he was talking about people coming back from the dead. When I saw him at the end of the tour, he asked if I’d solved it yet and, when I told him I did, he said it was his way of telling me that he knew they were alive and that he knew I would figure it out sooner or later.”

“Is it the same book?”

“I don’t have it with me, but I think it might be,” Kona explains as I push myself to the edge of the couch. “Mine was about this detective guy who fakes his death and then visits his friend who writes about him.”

Thinking back to the book sitting dormant in the bag I’d discarded on the floor before the train departed from home, I hesitantly ask, “Was it Sherlock Holmes, by any chance?”

Kona’s eyes light up as a smile breaks out on her face. Excitedly, she nods, “Yeah, that’s it!”

Thumping my head back against the glass, I run a hand through my hair as I breathe, “I can’t believe he was testing us.”

Kona smirks, letting out a chuckle, “I can’t believe you never figured it out. I thought the people in District Three are supposed to be super geniuses or something.”

“Believe me, not all of us are,” I say with a small smirk. “Besides, all he said was that it was his favorite story.”

“He never hinted that you should look more into it?”

To be honest, I’ve tried everything in my power to not think back on that day, but as I recall the meeting with the president, the two of us standing awkwardly before him as he handed us the boxes the books came in, I distinctly remember him saying, “Once the celebrations are over and you’ve made yourselves comfortable in the villages, take some time to read through those, and don’t hesitate to give me some feedback on what you think needs to be changed.”

“He wanted us to read things over before the tour and give him our opinion on what needed changing,” I mutter to Kona.

Her nails faintly scrape my arm as she slaps it with the back of her hand, shooting me a disbelieving stare. “That must have been the riddle for you to solve! He never asked me for my opinion, just gave me a note with what stories to focus on and said that he wanted me to solve the puzzle ‘as it related to the people around me’. He must want you or Royce to tell him that you guys want Riven back!”

“Do you really think that’s what he wants?” I ask.

Once again, Kona’s eyebrow lifts into her bangs as she skeptically questions, “Do you not?”

“I want to think that’s what he meant, but-”

“No buts,” Kona interrupts. “He wouldn’t have given you and Royce the same book as me if he didn’t want us to get the same answer.”

Before I can doubt myself any further, Kona rises from her seat and tugs me to my feet, shoving me toward the door. “Where are we going?” I ask. 

“To talk to Butchy about it,” she replies. “He helps me and Miles when we need it, so I figured we could ask him what his thoughts are on the idea and go from there.”

The thought of bursting into Butchy’s room unexpectedly, potentially interrupting a conversation he could be having with Mick or some of the people back in District 6, makes me uneasy. I barely know the man and, despite Kona having no issue with simply bursting through his door to pester him about things, I don’t feel like getting myself on his shit list. I dig my heels into the rug that lines the hallway and nervously ask, “What about asking Mick’s parents instead?”

“We can ask them after,” Kona replies, a strain in her voice as she tries to urge me forward. When I brace my hands on a nearby window ledge and refuse to move, Kona’s shoulder slams into my back, forcing me to stumble down the hall. Turning back to Kona with a glare, I find her smirking mischievously at me. She doesn’t say anything, merely lifts a hand and points off to my right. I turn and find that, just behind me, is the door to Butchy’s quarters. I turn back to Kona, jumping when she appears right before me, but before I can duck around her, a familiar voice calls out to me, stopping me in my tracks.

“Viv?” I stop, letting out a sigh of defeat before plastering a smile on my face and turning back to Royce who stands beside Butchy, looking confused. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Almost too quickly, I nod, but before I can say anything, Kona’s hand lands on my arm as she says, “We think we just figured something out, but we wanted Butchy’s opinion on it.”

Butchy steps into the hall and gestures toward his room, which Kona quickly pulls me into. I turn back just in time to see Butchy grab Royce by the wrist and pull him into the room before pressing the button to close the door. Kona urges me to sit on the end of the bed as Butchy pushes Royce to sit on my free side and asks, “What did you come up with?”

“The president gave Royce and me each a book when we were at the Victory Banquet,” I explain. Turning my gaze to Royce, I wonder, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve read over that thing almost four times, trying to read between the lines and see what he gave them to us for.”

“I’ve tried,” Royce sighs, “but I figured that it was just a gift, so I gave up and just started reading it for fun.”

“But it wasn’t just a gift?” Butchy questions.

Kona shakes her head, “He gave me the same book last year and told me to solve the puzzle in it.”

“Did you?” Royce asks, leaning forward so that he can see past me.

She nods, “The main character, Sherlock, dies in a fight against his enemy where they both fall off a cliff, into a waterfall, but they never find the bodies. After a year or so, the still living Sherlock goes to his friend’s house and explains that he faked his death.”

“So you think President Harmon gave that to you to show that he knew Mick and Miles were alive?” Butchy asks.

“He asked me about it at the party for my Victory Tour,” Kona explains. “When I talked to him, he said I got it right.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “Kona and I think he gave me and Royce the book for the same reason.”

“You think Riven is still alive?” Royce asks softly.

“I can’t be sure,” I reply, “but the way the president worded things makes me think that he’s got Riven in the Capitol and is just waiting for us to ask for him back.”

Butchy presses a hand to his forehead, takes a deep breath, and sighs, settling a firm gaze on us, “If what you’re saying is true and President Harmon potentially has Riven somewhere in the Capitol, you all need to be on your best fucking behaviors.”

Kona scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “I’m always on my best behavior.”

“That’s exactly what I mean, Kona,” Butchy scolds. “You need to act as though his life is on the line with every move you make. One wrong word, one toe out of line could result in his death if he isn’t already dead because of the stunt these two pulled earlier.”

As Kona argues back, Butchy’s words sink in and her voice fades into the nonsensical, high-pitched buzzing that fills my ears. The money we gave Erica’s family must have been a big deal. Was it a bad move? Could that have killed Riven? What if that was enough to force the president’s hand? We have no idea if that was legal or not or if we’ll get in some sort of trouble for what we’ve done. If what we did is against the rules, maybe they won’t just punish us, but they’ll also have it out for Erica’s family as they have no choice but to accept. Did I just sentence us all to a life of constant fear? My gaze falls to the floor and I feel the heat of Royce’s hand on mine, but nothing registers until I see a hand in front of my face that causes me to jerk back. Butchy quickly bats Kona’s hand away with one hand and takes my shoulder in another, gaining my attention as he says something, but it doesn’t register in my head.

“What?” I ask.

“Relax,” he instructs. “If you start worrying about things now, it will only eat at you while you’re on stage.”

Royce’s hand tightens on mine as I suck in a sharp breath, “We could kill Riven just by saying something wrong. How am I supposed to act with that knowledge in my head?”

Butchy shakes his head, “Right now, you need to act the way the Capitol wants you to.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Royce questions.

“All they want is a show,” Butchy claims. “From now on, you two are distractions from reality. All of their stress, the people starving in the districts, and how, in just a few months, twenty-three more children will die.”

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“Give money to the families you’ve chosen, read the cards we give you, and remember that your ‘happily ever after’ is what everyone in the Capitol wants to see,” Butchy sighs. “The people in the districts don’t give a fuck about your love story - all they care about are their dead children - but the people in the Capitol think you’re the best thing in the world. Just like before the Games, your job now is to make them love you. Lay it on thick when we’re at those stupid parties, show off your love for everyone to see, but make sure to show the people in the districts that you are sincere about their losses.”

“You two have good odds in most of the districts,” Kona says thoughtfully. “You have almost half of the districts covered with your two and the friends you made in One, Eleven, and Seven, if you want to count the girl’s temporary alliance. The people in Five might have good opinions of you since you let their people go and, if you take out the Career districts since they’re freaks of nature who actually like the Games, all you really have to worry about are the next three districts - Ten, Nine, and Eight.”

For once, I see the serious side of the playful teenager I’d gotten to know fairly well over the last few months. As odd as it is to see, I see a gleam of pride in Butchy’s eyes as he smiles and teases, “Someone’s beginning to think like a mentor.”

Kona meets his gaze with a look of disgust and a fake shiver, “Ugh, I know! I hate it!”

Buthcy chuckles and I have to laugh along as Royce joins him. With a shake of his head, Butchy turns back to us and says, “She’s actually right. Most of the other districts have something to like about you. As long as you can get through the next few districts, you’ll be fine. Just keep up appearances and you’ll be at the Capitol before you know it.”

I give a nod and we go our separate ways. Before long, I’m staring up at the ceiling, wondering how far we are from District 10. After a while of contemplating everything aloud so that Mick can hear me, she tells me to take my glasses off and go to sleep. I take the glasses off and set them aside before rolling onto my side and waiting for sleep to claim me. The next three days are an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides that all feel the same. District 10 has more cows than people and we have to act as though the overpowering stench of manure doesn’t bother us in the slightest as we give our speech and are given a short tour of the area before being taken to the mayor’s house for dinner, dancing, and long-winded conversations with the district’s previous victors. District 9 is much the same as District 11 was although they have far fewer Peacekeepers watching over them and the fields are filled with wheat and other grains in place of the crops grown in 11. They give us a ride through their district, allowing us to explore one of their mills before bringing us back to the mayor’s house for a repeat of the day before. District 8 is where things start to feel different. The district is covered in factories where they make fabrics and clothing for the entirety of Panem, but even the citizens are clothed in bright patterns. There isn’t much in terms of greenery and the place reeks of industrial fumes, but the people treat us well and we’re greeted by a cheering crowd who seem genuinely happy to see us. It’s a jolting comparison from the welcomes we had been getting.

When we board the train that night, I find myself in the viewing car, watching the mountainous buildings disappear into the distance as the others talk in the living area a few cars away. Once I can no longer see them, I let out a sigh and rest my head against the window. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. The idea of seeing Lexi’s picture and potential family members has been eating at me. I’m still pissed that she tried to kill Riven, but because she was our ally, do I still give her money? I doubt Jade’s family needs financial aid from us, but Lexi’s just might. The back-and-forth of it all has been bothering me and I’m sure almost anyone who looks at me on the train can tell. Juliet’s time with me has been spent in near-silence these last few days, but I’ve seen the way she watches me, almost hesitant to say anything. Royce is one of the few who continually cracks at the walls I’ve thrown up, giving me shitty jokes every day just to make sure I keep smiling. While I love his jokes, I think we both know they’d land better if they came from Riven.

A faint throb spreads across my forehead like a band and I don’t even bother looking when the door to the room opens. With a sigh, I grumble, “I’ll go to bed soon, I promise.”

“I was just going to ask if you’d mind some company, but I guess that works too.”  

I tilt my head just enough to see Juliet as she perches herself next to me. “I thought you were Mick’s parents telling me off for staying up late again.”

Juliet shakes her head with a small giggle, “I think that would be a bit hypocritical of me to say since I’m also awake at this hour.”

We sit and watch as stars captivate the sky above us. In a few hours, the sun will rise and we’ll be shown off to District 7. From the corner of my eye, I spare a glance at Juliet and wonder if she might have some insight to the issue at hand. I wanted to talk with her, ask her about Riven, but we haven’t talked much at all for a few days. Now could be a good time. Clearing my throat, I mutter, “I’m sort of glad you came.”

Juliet’s smile broadens as she turns sideways in her seat, “Oh, yeah? How come?”

I take in a breath, meet her gaze, and firmly say, “I think we need to talk.”

Her smile falters and panic glosses her eyes before she recovers and regains her perky composure. “We do, do we?”

“We do,” I say with a nod. “I have questions that I need answered before we get to District 7 and you’re the only person who might be able to help.” 

Juliet’s gaze flickers away from mine, almost as though she’s scanning the room for something before her eyes return to me. Her voice is soft and her gaze is hardened as she says, “I might have some answers, but there are some things that I’ve been sworn to secrecy on.”

“You’ll answer what you can?” I reiterate.

“I will.”

“Alright.” I know I have to word my questions differently to not worry Juliet, but I can’t help the first question that comes, “Do you know if Riven is still alive?”

Juliet’s wide, hazel eyes flit down to her lap and I see her swallow thickly before she turns her gaze to the trees that fly past us and mutters, “Next question, please.”

It would be obvious to anyone who knows Juliet that she knows something. The confident president’s daughter is quite a bit like me in the manner that we both hold nothing back and can’t lie to save our lives. Whatever it is that she knows, she must not be able to say. That’s fine. It’s still an answer for me. “Okay. Moving on,” I start, “do you think we should give Lexi’s family money?”

Thankful for the change in topic, Juliet turns back to me with a raised eyebrow. “Huh?”

A sigh falls from my lips as I shrug, “I mean, she was one of our allies before she tried to kill us and-”

“She wasn’t trying to kill you three,” Juliet interrupts.

Three. I have to wonder if her wording was a blunder or an indirect answer. Until I find out otherwise, there are only two of us alive, not three. However, I allow the conversation to gloss over her wording as I ask, “What do you mean?”

Juliet looks hesitant for a moment before restating, “She wasn’t trying to kill any of you.”

“How do you know?”

Juliet taps her ear and whispers, “The watch Riven wore in the arena was from your district. It was a communication device we shared. I was the person you heard talking with him when he went off on his own and ran into the pair from Five.”

As I recall the conversation Royce and I listened in on, my eyes widen. “That was you?!”

Sheepishly, Juliet nods. “We had tried to find a way to get you out of the arena, but there wasn’t a path out that we could find, so we had to go to plan B.”

“Which was?”

“Relying on someone who wasn’t afraid of getting their hands dirty,” Juliet claims. 

It takes me a moment to process the idea, but then it clicks. Lexi wasn’t bothered by the Hunger Games at all. If anything, she seemed calm. I think she was one of the very few people in the arena who didn’t give a shit if anything happened to them. “Lexi?” I wonder aloud.

She nods. “Lexi had mentioned to Jade on the first day of training that she wasn’t going to live long, even if she made it out of the arena. Riven overheard the conversation and befriended her, asking her if she would be willing to help if he needed her to. She agreed, of course, and the plan was set.”

“What was the plan?” I ask.

This time, Juliet says nothing. Instead, she takes right arm in her hand and draws a line horizontally across the middle of my forearm before pretending to pinch the skin she just marked and pulling something from it. My arm is still sensitive from where the tracker was extracted and a shiver spreads goosebumps across my skin as the truth dawns on me. Our trackers. Riven must have convinced Lexi to take our trackers out so that we would be brought out of the arena and back to the Capitol. She was trying to help us and I killed her. I killed an innocent tribute.

Juliet seems to understand where my thoughts are heading as she takes my hands in hers and says, “It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

“I still killed her, Juliet!” I squawk. “I still killed someone who was trying to help us.”

“As the other girls told you, Lexi was ready to die,” Juliet offers. “If you hadn’t done what you did, chances are, she would’ve been killed off by either of the girls she was close to. You are not at fault for a misunderstanding. You were defending Riven, Royce, and yourself from what you thought was an attack. I doubt she would’ve been upset with you for something like that.”

“I doubt her family will see it that way,” I breathe.

Juliet sighs, “Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change anything.”

In a way, she’s right. I can’t go back in time and rescue Lexi from the machete I threw. I can’t apologize to her family and explain that I had no clue it was part of a ploy to get us out of the arena. Things won’t change, but I know the truth. It won’t make up for their loss, but I can at least give them some money to help with things. I suppose, in a roundabout sort of way, Juliet answered my question of whether or not I should give Lexi’s family money. With a nod, I add that to my plans for District 7 and allow Juliet to bring me into a tight squeeze. As I lean out of her embrace, Juliet opens her mouth to speak, but the door slides open and cuts her off.

We find Royce standing in the open doorway, and confusion fills me as he lets out a long breath, a sigh of relief. Once his gaze settles on me, he softly asks, “Are you alright, Viv?”

I slowly nod before asking, “Are you?”

Royce’s eyes fill with recognition as he finally spots Juliet next to me and I watch as his face burns a faint shade of crimson. Juliet grins and rises from her seat before saying, “Well, I’ll let you two talk.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Royce offers awkwardly.

“I know,” Juliet claims, “but I should probably get to work organizing your outfits for tomorrow unless you feel like taking to the stage in nothing but your underwear.”

I let out a snort and say, “Goodnight, Juliet.”

She beams at us as she curtsies and declares, “Pleasant dreams, my dear victors!”

As soon as the door closes behind Juliet, Royce turns to me with a nervous chuckle, “Is she always like that?”

“Pretty much,” I shrug, rising from my seat. “So, what did you need me for?”

“What?” Royce wonders.

“You came in here, asking If I was alright,” I reiterate. “Were you looking for me or something?”

With a chuckle, he slowly nods, “It’s nothing, really.”

“It didn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me.”

Royce’s eyes find mine and all of the confidence in them dissolves as he sighs, “Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

The topic of nightmares is nothing new to us. We’ve discussed them before and we both have no shortage of nights spent staring up at the ceiling or crying into pillowcases. While Royce’s nightmares are vivid and full of terrifying versions of what could have happened in the arena - me dying in his arms, him having to kill either me or Riven, or the fire in the wheelhouse burning us all to a crisp - my dreams are flooded with memories. Some nights, I experience the Games all over again as though I’m in the arena once more. The only thing that changes is that the dead bodies speak to me. Riven, Lexi, Jade, Erica, the pair from District 5… I hear them all chiding me for not helping them, saving them, letting them win. Royce’s claim of a nightmare plaguing him may be simple, but I understand the meaning behind it. He probably tried to find me in my room and, when I wasn’t there, went looking for me.

Instead of pressing him for details, I offer Royce my hand and smile as I ask, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

“You don’t mind?” he mumbles.

“Would I have asked you if I minded?” I ask with a chuckle.

Royce’s hand slides into mine and I lead him back through the train cars to my suite. We curl under the covers and my arms never once leave Royce until the morning comes. Breakfast goes by quickly as I talk with the others about my plan to give Lexi’s family some money like we did with Erica’s. Once we’re dressed and prepared to perfection, Royce and I are brought to the town square where District 7 hosts all of their reapings. The once-Canadian area still has some signage in French that tells people where things are and the people are all dressed for the cold, northern weather, but it’s what I don’t see that takes me aback. On the makeshift stage is a set of parents standing beside the image of their now deceased son, Rigg Lockthorn, yet on the other side of the stage where Lexi’s family should be, is a Peacekeeper who holds the leash of a graying dog that, at one point, was probably a ferocious protector and is now nothing more than a lap dog without an owner. I don’t spend much time wondering what happened to the rest of Lexi’s family as the mayor explains in his speech that her parents had passed away in a logging accident a few years prior, leaving her with the family boxer as her only relative.

My hopes to make amends with Lexi’s family are dashed as the old dog slowly lowers itself to the cold metal riser and peers over at us with tired eyes. I wonder how long it will be before the loyal pet will return to its owner, but as Royce and I are handed flowers from a set of twins in matching outfits, I push my thoughts aside and begin our customary speech. Royce wraps it up with a flourish and I begin the short message I had prepared for Lexi. The speech feels hollow as I’m giving it to nobody other than an elderly dog and whatever people she knew in the crowd. Once our message is done, we’re met with applause from the crowd and the mayor gives us each a plaque before ushering us toward a car that gives us a tour of the area. Once we’re at the mayor’s house, things calm and I feel myself relax ever so slightly. By the time we’re back on the train, the pressure I had built up has practically evaporated. The rest of the tour should be over quickly.

As we have to skip over Royce’s district, our next stop is District 5 which, to my surprise, goes by far quicker than I thought it would. It's there that I find out, from the mayor's speech, that Volt and Elektra were cousins. No wonder they were so close. After our speeches are finished, we’re given a short tour of the hydroelectric dam that feeds power to the entire nation. Then, when we return to the main center of District 5, we change into some glittering formal wear and dance the night away in a room covered by a glittering, golden dome that had once been called a casino before being driven back to the train station. District 4 goes by quite the same, although it is quite surreal to see the image of Serena Sullivan, the girl who was out to get my head on a silver platter. It’s there that we’re brought across the red bridge I spotted on our flight back to the Capitol months ago. The mayor’s son, an eight-year-old named Skipper, prattles off about the history of the rusting bridge that was once called the Golden Gate. The kid talks to Royce and I more than anyone else does during our visit and we both agree later on that it almost feels like we’re back home, listening to our younger siblings blather on and on about their school days and the drama they’re going through. Our tour of District 4 is far longer winded than any of the other districts we had been to yet and it’s there that we receive the loudest cheers on our tour thus far.

We skip District 3 like we’re supposed to and head for District 2 where we’re shown the “masonry” of their district. Everyone in Panem knows that the weapons for the Capitol and the Peacekeepers are made in District 2, but we’re only shown the incredible stonework they use as a farce. Many of the district’s people are excited to see us, welcoming us with surprisingly open arms and bright smiles. We’re even brought to the Victor’s Village and shown all of the houses that had been built for their best tributes. However, it is District 1 that goes all out for us. We give our pre-made speeches and dedicate a section of time for our speech on our alliance with Jade, which her family smiles at in appreciation, and, after all is said and done, we’re given gifts by not only the mayor, but also the families. On top of our typical bouquets and plaques, Jade’s family gifts us each a necklace with our initials dangling from a tiny loop and her teammate, Onyx’s family gives us each a pair of glittering jewels that match the ones Royce and I had claimed were our birthstones while in the arena. At the dinner party, I receive an extra box in memory of Riven from the mayor herself who claims that she called Mayor Cabel and asked for Riven’s birth month so that she would have the gift ready by the time I arrived.

When I find my composure and finally thank her before we leave the dinner party, she rests a hand on my arm and softly says, “I know how difficult it is to lose a sibling, even if you aren’t related by blood. This is the least I could do to keep his memory alive.”

I don’t get the chance to question her as our group is escorted back to the vehicle we arrived in and driven back to the train. That night, Royce and I sit in the viewing car long after the moon rises in the sky, looking over the gifts we were given and lounging together on the couch where we can watch the stars above us. Eventually, we fall asleep together, my fingers still threaded in Royce’s perfectly coiled, chocolatey curls and his arms still wrapped securely around my waist. When morning comes, we rise with the sun and make our way to the living room where we sit together, reading over the books we had been given back at the end of July, invading each other’s spaces and slotting perfectly together like puzzle pieces at the bottom of a box. With my head on Royce’s shoulder, he reads to me and, when I close my eyes, I can almost envision us back in the arena, curled together in the library with Riven sitting nearby, listening to whatever story we’re interested in. When my eyes finally reopen, however, the truth hits me like a punch to the gut and I tuck my head even further into Royce’s shirt.

Our ride to the Capitol is over just before breakfast and we’re told that we’ll be able to eat once we get through the sea of adoring crowds that have filled every street, waiting for us. Our little bags of belongings are placed inside the trunk of a long, stretched car that Royce claims he’s never seen before and we’re encouraged to stand in the small opening in the ceiling, waving to the people who have gathered for us. Once we finally arrive in the Training Center, we’re shown to the top floor where they’ve decided Royce and I - and our respective crews - could stay. We sit in the living room and talk for what feels like forever about the plan for the interview we would have to endure that night. There is an idea they all seem to share that Royce and I have no choice but to agree to: having our first official kiss in front of all of Panem. The only time they had seen us kiss thus far was when we kissed in the arena after it was declared that we won. While we both aren’t too sure of the idea, our mentors tell us that it might be a good way to make the Capitol happy which will, in turn, make the districts happy. After a while of back and forth, Royce and I choose to retire to the room we’ve chosen to share and talk for a while before we have to begin getting ready for our interview. It’s in our room that Royce brings up something I never thought he would ask.

“Do you want to get married?”

I freeze mid page turn and slowly lift my gaze to Royce. He stands at the end of the bed I’m resting on, his skin is still red from the shower he just took, and, despite the available technology, he runs a towel through his curls to dry them himself. His gaze isn’t entirely serious, more curious than anything, but I see the genuine wonder in them. “Like, right now?” I ask in return.

He chuckles and shakes his head, leaving the towel around his shoulders, “No, of course not. I mean, do you ever want to get married or do you think it’s pointless to put all that effort in just to get a piece of paper signed?”

“I think I’d like to get married someday,” I reply with a shrug, slipping a piece of paper between the pages of my book and setting it aside. “We have a tradition in District Three where the bride and groom are taken by their families and brought into a garden maze where they have to find each other in the center. If they find each other quickly, it means they’re meant to be together.”

Royce smiles as he perches himself at the end of the bed, “I like that idea.”

“Do they have any traditions in Six?”

“We have a few, actually,” Royce nods. “My favorite is when the couple has to wear a chain that loops around their shoulders and, once the vows are said, the family and close friends of the couple have to stand in a circle around them and say an old poem about how their love is as unbreakable as the chain around them.”

The idea of me and Royce standing together in the garden as our friends and families recite a poem about our love is too sweet for me to even think of fighting the smile on my face. “That sounds beautiful,” I have to say.

Royce hums and rises from the bed, discarding his towel in the hamper and sliding into place beside me before resting his head on my shoulder. Peering up at me, he mutters, “You will be a beautiful bride someday.”

With a smirk, I wonder, “Is this your way of proposing?”

“No,” he chuckles. Royce lifts his head from my arm and meets my gaze with a hint of seriousness in his eyes; almost as though he’s thought of this before. “When I propose, we’ll be in a better place, surrounded by all of the people we love most, living happily in a world where we aren’t constantly looking over our shoulders.”

“Really?” I breathe.

Nodding, Royce smiles and takes my hand in his before declaring, “When the time comes, you won’t have to wonder if I’m proposing or not. You’ll know.”

“I will, will I?”

His smile melts into a smirk and, as he’s done since we first confessed our feelings for one another on the rooftop of this very building, Royce presses a kiss to the back of my hand. Then, to my surprise, he moves up and takes my cheek in his hand, leaning closer until our lips touch, sealing his promise with a kiss. A moment later, Royce leans back just a hair, his breath brushing my now burning cheeks as he whispers, “You will.”

Through the hazy, lovestruck fog that fills my head, I remember that we were supposed to have our first kiss in front of the cameras. Instead of the gentle admonishment that I wish would come from my mouth, all that I manage is a meek, “You kissed me.”

Royce nods, a smile stretching across his face as he admits, “I wanted to make sure our first real kiss was special and for just the two of us, not something manufactured for the applause of the Capitol’s finest assholes.”

The sentiment sends a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my stomach as my chest tightens giddily. My smile now matches Royce’s and I wonder if he’s just as in love as I am. He must be if he’s so willing to go against the plans that had been set for us. Our perfect little moment is stalled as a drum-like knock on the door forces Royce to pull away, shifting so that he’s resting beside me once again. I clear my throat and take in a sharp breath before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and Kona enters with a hand over her eyes and a smirk on her face as she asks, “Is it safe to come in? ‘Cause I don’t want to see any exchanging of bodily fluids.”

Without missing a beat, Royce quips, “We’re drinking each other’s blood.”

Kona spreads her fingers to take a glimpse at us before scoffing, “Yeah, okay. Look, you two have about two minutes before the prep teams storm this room like they’re preparing for war and I figured you should know.”

“Why?” Royce asks. “In case we needed to get dressed?”

“Pretty much,” Kona snickers.

It’s impossible to not smile at their interaction and, as Kona leaves the room, Royce shakes his head with a laugh and I have to ask, “Is she like that back in District Six?”

He nods as he pushes himself to the edge of the bed, “You should’ve seen when Carrie came to visit Miles a few months ago. Kona came over and we sat on the couch, waiting for them to get back from their date night like a bunch of disapproving parents ready to scold their child for sneaking out.”

“Sounds like she keeps you all on your toes,” I comment as I rise from the bed.

“That’s an understatement,” Royce chuckles, moving to stand by the mirror so that he can adjust his hair one last time.

I approach him from behind and wrap my arms around his middle, resting my chin on his shoulder with a grin. He meets my gaze in the mirror and his hand drops to cover my interlocked fingers. I press a kiss to his cheek and softly ask, “You know I love you, right?”

This time, it’s Royce’s face that turns a shade of rouge, the color only emphasizing the wonderfully spattered freckles that decorate his face. Slowly, he turns to face me, my arms still enclosed around him as he tucks a section of hair behind my ear and leans forward, pressing our foreheads together. Just as I feel a breath ghost across my face, the door opens and we’re forced apart by the high-pitched squeals the prep teams let out. They try to keep us apart for the rest of the time they have us and, when the time comes for us to get dressed, Royce and I are entirely separated as Carrie comes and whisks him off to the room he should have been using for the day. Juliet comes with my outfit for the evening and I’m dressed in a glittering, golden dress that she matches with green accessories - a combination of District 6’s signature yellow and my district’s blue.

Juliet meets my gaze with a far more confident smile than what I had seen last time we talked. “My father says he has some gifts to give you and Royce after the party at our mansion.”

“Any idea what they are?” I have to ask.

To my dismay, she shakes her head, her neatly braided hair whipping behind her like a tail. “All I know is that he wanted me to set a book aside for you.”

“Do you know what book?”

“No, but the author was something Livingston.”

“Livingston?” I repeat. Juliet nods. Livingston… Why does that sound familiar? Maybe the person wrote one of the books in the ship’s library. I suppose that, until I see the book for myself, I won’t know. I make a face and shrug, “Guess I’ll find out later.”

“Guess so,” Juliet says with a small grin. She takes a step back and readjusts my dress one last time before  turning me toward the mirror and beaming, “You look elegant, Vivien. Like a princess.”

I can’t imagine myself as a princess in some fairytale parents tell their children, but maybe, in some distant universe, that’s possible. Maybe, in some other world, I’m a lady of some royal status, sitting on a throne that doesn’t quite belong to me, waiting around for a prince to come and save me from the dreadful monotony of royal life. However, in this world, I am a victor of a game of survival, waiting for someone to tell me that I can take a breath and relax for the first time in months. No amount of glitter and gold and glory can make me anything more than a girl from District 3 who somehow made it out of the arena with her beloved by her side. 

Regardless of my inner monologue, I smile back at Juliet and thank her before saying, “You look incredible as well, Juliet.”

It’s true. Juliet’s intricately designed, crimson gown pools at the floor and is slit nearly to her left hip, but the bodice is nearly entirely sheer with delicate lace covering everything that needs to be. She pulls off the sexy, eye-catching gown with a grace I could never hope to possess in my wildest dreams. It suits her. Juliet giggles airily and squeezes me in a hug from behind before thanking me. “I worked on it long before the tour started. My outfit will complement Carrie’s.”

My head tips slightly as I wonder, “Is she wearing red too?”

“Heavens, no!” Juliet practically snorts. “We agreed a long time ago that red was my color. She always looks exquisite in aqua and, as those colors look great together, it works out perfectly for us.”

Our conversation is cut short as my mentors enter the room, telling us that it’s nearly time for us to be leaving. Juliet gives me a last kiss to either cheek before leaving us alone to talk for the first time in a long time. Brady is the first to approach me, taking my hands in his with a smile as he says, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” I make sure to say. “I can’t believe we’re so close to going back home already.”

Mack smiles as she approaches, taking the time to look over my given outfit before softly saying, “I only hope that, this time, you won’t be so quick to shut everyone out.”

I try not to wince at the thought. It’s true that, after our last trip to the Capitol, I closed nearly everyone out of my life, but I feel as though I’m in a better place now. The potential for Riven to come home has grown exponentially, the president promised months ago that he would be putting an end to the Hunger Games tonight, and Royce and I are happy. I have no intention of closing people off anymore. Then again, I didn’t think that way last time either, so I suppose I can see why they’re worried.

“I’ll try not to,” I offer.

“Good,” Brady says. “You really worried us, Vivien.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. With all of the pressure to keep up appearances and dealing with the loss of Riven and, well everything, I just… I guess it just sort of happened. It was easier to lock myself away than it was to ask for help.”

“I can’t say anything,” Mack sighs. “I was quite the same after my Games.”

Brady lets out a laugh, eyes full of mirth as he tells me, “She was. I remember, when we were on the train to the Capitol for my Games, she was in the midst of her depression. I tried to ask her if she wanted help and she threw a pot at my head.”

Mack lightly whacks him on the arm with a scoff, “I did not!” He sends her a look that urges her to tell the truth and, after a moment, she relents, “It was a vase.”

“Anyway,” Brady snickers, “the moral of the story is that, no matter what happens in here,” he lightly taps my head, “we will always be there for you. We’re right across the street if you want us.”

“Or need us,” Mack tacks on.

A smile, a true, beaming smile, finally appears and I take the small, half-step forward it takes for them to bring me into a hug, squeezing me between them so securely that I wonder how I stayed away for so long. My parents give excellent hugs and, with how often I get hugs from them, I’m sure they know I like them, but Mack and Brady’s hugs are superior in every way. It’s like coming home from a long day at work and collapsing into your mattress or falling asleep in freshly washed sheets and cozy, still-warm pajamas. I’ve missed their hugs. And, as they’ve said, they were only across the street this entire time.

The moment is ruined by a solid knock on the door and Juliet telling us that it’s time to go. I reluctantly peel myself from between Mack and Brady before allowing them to lead the way out of the room. Royce stands by the elevator with Carrie who adjusts his gold and green bowtie with practiced ease. He smiles when he sees me and, in the elevator, we cling to each other like our lives depend on it. On the stage in front of the Training Center, we handle Caesar’s questions with grace, going through them far quicker than we did in our interviews half a year ago. Caesar Flickerman glimmers in a silvery glow, his hair shimmering brightly due to the overhead lights as he gives us endless questions about our love life, the people back home, and our tour. When he presses us about the future and what we hope it holds, Royce and I share a smile and pour our hearts out in front of everyone. It isn’t anything we haven’t already said to one another, but the crowd clings to our every word as though we’ll disappear if they don’t. When he finishes spewing his feelings to all of Panem, Royce takes my cheek in his hand and I lean into it, meeting his eyes with a smile.

“You have no idea how in love with you I am, Royce Murphy,” I mutter to him and, if the crowd’s reaction is anything to go by, they heard me loud and clear.

Royce lets out a breath of a laugh and minutely shakes his head, “Actually, I think I know just how much, as I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, Vivien O’Brian.”

I don’t have to wonder if his words are true or not; the love in his eyes is as clear as the sky above us. The raucous crowd that has gathered now sounds like nothing more than background noise as I reach up and run a hand through Royce’s curls, smiling at him before using my leverage to pull him to me, locking him in a kiss. Royce’s hands fall to my waist as I bring my hands further into his hair and it takes us a moment to separate. When I finally meet Royce’s eyes again, I see the genuine happiness that makes his freckled cheeks rise and his eyes squint as his smile fills me with warmth. I must look just as ridiculously lovestruck, but as a hand lands on my arm and I finally hear Caesar’s voice breaking through the endless white noise that filled my ears, I don’t seem to care. The audience has become hysterical, dissolving into squeals of happiness and chants of our names as the cameras show groups people around Panem watching us - a perfect display of a country besotted with our love story

Before long, President Harmon arrives for a surprise visit and I briefly wonder if he came just for us. My question is quickly answered, however as, once he has shaken hands with Royce and wraps me in an embrace that smells faintly of bleach and citrus, he asks too quietly for the microphones to pick up, “Have you found anything that needs to be changed, my dear?”

“We have,” I breathe as he pulls away.

He taps his finger under my chin and smiles as he says, “Atta girl.”

A breath of relief leaves me as Royce’s hand finds mine and we’re guided by Caesar to stand just to the left of the president. With a simple raise of a hand, President Harmon silences the crowd with a smile and speaks with easy eloquence, “Thank you. Today we are here to celebrate the victory of the first ever pair of victors. Vivien, Royce, we appreciate your efforts and you congratulate your survival from the Hunger Games.”

Royce and I nod his way and I breathe a soft, “Thank you, sir.”

He nods in return and turns back to address the audience that has gathered, “Not only are we here for a magnificent celebration, but today, with all of Panem as our witness, the victors and I have an announcement to make.”

As the president takes a pause to let the information sink in, Caesar steps forward, taking the opportunity to add more drama to the situation. “An announcement?” he wonders.

President Harmon addresses Caesar individually as he nods, “Yes, indeed.” Turning back to the crowd, a grin takes over the president’s face as he announces, “This past year, watching these two, young people grow from simple civilians in their respective districts, to tributes, to fighters, and, now, to victors in their own right, has inspired me as I’m sure they have inspired all of you.”

The throngs of adoring spectators roar in confirmation and, in the distance, I hear a faint call of, “Damn straight!”

I turn to Royce and we share a small giggle at the crowd’s antics before turning our attention back to the president. With a chuckle, he continues, “They have inspired me to take a good look at all that has happened since the Hunger Games were first created sixty-three years ago. In that time, we have seen many tributes come and go, many families torn apart by the Hunger Games and all that they’ve stood for. This year, I have decided that all of this death and destruction has no place in Panem.”

As President Harmon once again pauses, the onlookers in the crowd begin murmuring amongst themselves. I don’t doubt that most of them are wondering where this is going, but it seems as though a few have already figured this out. Maybe not all of the Capitol’s citizens are total imbeciles. Again, Caesar Flickerman takes the opportunity to ask, “Does this mean what I think it means, President Harmon?”

The president turns to Caesar and I’d like to imagine he gives the silver-haired man a look of pure exasperation before he turns back to the audience before us and proclaims, “As of today, the eleventh day of January, the Hunger Games are now, officially, abolished.”

Royce’s grasp on my hand tightens a fraction and I turn toward him, finding him looking surprised despite the fact that both of us knew this was going to happen, almost word for word. It takes me a moment, but once I realize that he’s encouraging me to act, I allow my eyes to widen and my mouth to gape like a goldfish - a brainless creature much like some of the people now watching us from the crowd. Although the announcement has caught everyone in the vicinity by surprise, I hear the cheers and applause over everything else. After a while, President Harmon gestures for us to join him at the center of the stage and stands between us before taking our hands in his and raising them for all of Panem to see. The camera flashes and almost overwhelming reactions from the onlookers send me into a sort of daze that I only come out of once we’re off of the stage and in the safety of our apartment.

Royce and I don’t have much time to think, let alone talk with anyone before we’re ushered to different rooms to change for the evening. While we will still have to look presentable, Juliet claims that the dinner party allows us to wear something more comfortable than the ball gown and suit Royce and I had been shoved into. The party, like before, is held in the banquet room of the president’s mansion, though it’s obvious to me that they’ve pulled out all the stops for us this time around. The forty-foot high ceiling resembles the night sky that I wonder if they can ever see with all of the city’s lights. An orchestra plays high above the room, the wondrous sound of violins and occasional drums sending a smile across my face the moment I hear them. The rest of the room has been transformed into an area of relaxation; the dinner tables have been exchanged for plush couches and sofas, a large fountain that feeds into a pool of orange, black, and white fish Juliet claims are called koi, and the center of the room has been transformed into a dance floor where people file in for songs they’re familiar with, dance for a while, and leave to mingle once more. As though she doesn’t see the number of people flocking toward us like a swarm of birds, Juliet tips up her chin with a smile and guides us to a special area just for our group to relax before taking Carrie by the hand and pulling her toward the dance floor so easily that I wonder if they do this sort of thing often. I couldn’t imagine living in a world where parties and dancing and crowds are commonplace, but I suppose this sort of thing is just how my life will continue to be from now on.

Even with Royce’s grip on my hand to keep me steady, I feel ready to keel over as flamboyantly dressed Capitol residents approach us and either congratulate us, press us for answers about the president’s decision or, in the odd case, offer to take us both back to their residence for a ‘good time’, whatever that means. I doubt their idea of a good time is the same as mine right about now. Any time they see us looking particularly uneasy with a conversation, one of our friends swoops in to rescue us, pulling us toward the food tables or the dance floor where they then press us for any information we have. By the end of the night, my legs are sore from dancing and walking around the expansive room, my stomach feels as though I’ve eaten enough to feed a family of six, and my head is spinning with the overwhelming, well, everything. The music I loved at the beginning of the night now sets my teeth on edge with how loud it is, the repetitive cycle of people coming and going from our table makes me wish I could turn invisible, and the myriad of perfumes I’m surrounded by everytime some random stranger comes up to me and wraps me in a tight hug, has given me a migraine that makes everything so much more aggravating. To top it all off, exhaustion is beginning to set in and I can tell from the yawns he tries so desperately to hide that Royce isn’t far from crawling under the table and passing out.

The time comes for us to circle the banquet hall, thanking people for attending before we leave, but before Halo and her counterpart, Neptune, can even think of tugging Royce and I around the room, Juliet and Carrie take us as their hostages and sneak us away from the party. When we try to question them on where we’re going, the girls simply tell us to be patient. We pass fewer guards in the hallways than I anticipated, but I suppose most of them will be tasked with helping drunken party-goers out to the street. A pair of heavy, ornate doors meet us at the end of a long hallway and I realize where Carrie and Juliet have brought us. The president’s meeting room hasn’t changed in the last six months - not that I expected it to in the first place - and, to my surprise, President Harmon is sitting at the table in a pair of black pants and a simple blue button down, chuckling to himself as he reads something inside of a folder. He looks so casual that I almost don’t recognize him, but as Juliet steps forward and introduces us to him, calling him her dad, I have no choice but to accept that he is, in fact, President Harmon. 

He sets his folder down on the table and I briefly spot a book between its folds before the manilla flaps close on the table and the president rises from his seat. With a smile, he approaches us and, after instructing us to relax the way he did after the Victory Banquet last year, he looks to Royce and asks, “Vivien tells me you two have found some things in the paperwork I gave you that you would like to change, is that right?”

“I believe so, sir,” is Royce’s response.

President Harmon gives us a wave of his hand and chuckles, “No need to address me so formally, you two. My name is Mark.”

“With all due respect,” I begin, “I can’t even call my mentors by their first name. I doubt I’ll be able to do that with you either.”

Instead of appearing upset with my statement, he smiles and nods, “I can understand that. It took me forever to be able to call my teachers by their first names after I graduated from the Academy. With time, it will come to you.”

Before the conversation goes much further, Juliet asks, “Dad, could Carrie and I go fetch our gifts for them while you talk?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Just remember what I told you earlier, darling.”

Juliet nods and repeats what I assume he had said earlier in the day, “No fireworks until you give me the all-clear.”

As Juliet takes Carrie by the hand and guides her out of the room with a slam of the door, I turn to Royce and wonder, “Fireworks?”

He shrugs, but it’s the president who answers us, “A colorful display of sorts that Juliet put together for tonight after much convincing. They are quite loud, so I prefer not to use them, but I can never say no to my Juliet.” With a sigh, he takes a seat on the edge of the table and asks, “Now, I believe you two had some things you would like to discuss with me?”

I feel my posture become rigid once again, my back crying at the stiff movement once again as I clear my throat and say, “We do.”

“Fire away,” he orders with a simple hand gesture.

I turn to Royce and see him watching me with an encouraging smile, so I take a deep breath and begin the statement we had been preparing for the last few days, “When you gave us the boxes of paperwork and a book last year, I didn’t know what to do with it. At first, I read over everything, searching and scanning for answers in every line of every page, but I found nothing.”

“We both read over the book until we had practically memorized it,” Royce adds. “We talked about it over the phone more than anything, hoping one of us had found some hidden meaning between the pages.”

He isn’t wrong. Once we both had returned home, the first thing we did was get on our new phones and read to each other, hoping one of us would hear something in the mystery book that would guide us on the right path, but we never found anything. Nodding at Royce, the president lets out a soft laugh, “I figured it might take you a while to figure out my puzzles if I gave you no hints. Where did you find your answers?”

“The Final Problem,” Royce states.

“And in The Adventure of the Empty House,” I add. 

Royce nods and begins summarizing the story, “In The Final Problem, Sherlock and Watson travel to Switzerland and visit a town near a waterfall. On their walk through town, Doctor Watson receives a letter about a sick woman wanting an English doctor and returns to the hotel, only to find there is no sick woman needing his help. He goes back to the waterfall only to find that Sherlock is missing. He follows two sets of footprints up a muddy pathway where he finds evidence of a fight, but no returning tracks in the mud. After all of his time investigating with Sherlock, Watson quickly realizes that Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty, his enemy, must have fallen from the top of the Reichenbach Falls, a height that would have easily killed them.”

“However,” I begin, “in The Adventure of the Empty House, we see that Sherlock Holmes actually survived the incident by flinging Moriarty off the side of the path and climbing up the cliffside. He shows up to Watson’s house in disguise and Watson, probably thinking he was seeing a ghost, faints after Sherlock reveals himself.”

Although I see a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, the president questions, “How does this coincide with the changes you would like to make?”

Before I can spew out the rambling pleas I have for him to let Riven come home if he’s still alive, Royce’s voice comes in with a polite, but firm tone, “If Riven is still alive, here in the Capitol, we would like to bring him home.”

“Please,” I continue. “I just want to bring him home. It’s not the same without him. Without him there, I have nobody back home who will tease me relentlessly or sing dumb songs on the walk home from work or will go out on the lake with me in the winter and goof off or-” I have to stop myself as my breath hitches. My throat tightens as tears sting at my eyes and my heart twists painfully in my chest. Royce is quick to bring an arm around my shoulders and I’m grateful for his steady hands keeping me upright. Taking in a sharp breath, I mutter, “Nobody to make me listen to his absolutely terrible jokes.”

In truth, that’s what I’ve missed most; his shitty jokes that I’m subjected to every day. At work, he would constantly peer around his monitor at me and wait until I met his gaze before spewing out some bullshit joke that he pulls out of seemingly nowhere. When we’d sit together at his house after work, staring up at the horribly painted ceiling, he would give me some awful animal joke that had me kicking him from the other side of the couch, ripping into him about how bad it was despite my laughter. His smile, his laughter, his terrible jokes at the best and worst of times, I miss them all.

The president watches us silently before he rises from his perch on the table and saunters back to where he left the manilla folder, pulling a book from it, “I understand how difficult it is to lose someone, Vivien. My wife died just a few years ago. Memories like you have are hard to let go of, but there will always be more memories to make with the people you love.” 

Making his way back toward us, President Harmon flips through the pages of the book before closing it and holding it out. I examine the cover and let out a soft chuckle, reaching for the copy of the joke book Riven loved so much in the arena, but the president pulls it back from my hand, holding it away from my grasp. “What?” I quickly ask. “But-”

“Sorry, Pip,” a voice starts from behind me as a hand takes the book from the president’s outstretched hand. “I know you love books and all, but I believe that’s actually mine.”

Royce slides away from me and I’m left wide-eyed as Royce turns around and breathes, “No fucking way.”

“I have a joke for you two,” the voice continues as I slowly turn, keeping my gaze locked on the floor. First, I find a pair of shiny black shoes, too fancy. Then, black pants with gold and green lines that remind me of a circuit board and I have to say that it suits him. After that, a simple green shirt with matching, golden lines threaded throughout comes into view… I always told Riven that green was a good color for him. I scan his skin and frown; he’s too pale. He’s supposed to be this sunkissed mountain that stands tall and firm, but he looks as though he hasn’t so much as looked at the sun in a long time. His auburn hair still shines like a halo of fire in the golden lights above us, but it’s nowhere near as messy as he always keeps it. Finally, I find his eyes - a pair of glimmering hazel irises that, while shining with excitement, have a sheen of tears in them as he smiles at the two of us.

“Riven?” I breathe.

Instead of stepping forward and pulling me into a hug as I so desperately wish he would, Riven asks, “Why are ghosts terrible liars?”

Royce ignores the question, launching himself toward Riven with a laugh and, faintly, I hear him lightly reprimanding the much taller man for greeting us with a joke. Riven laughs and a wave of nausea washes over me as I stare at the man I had mourned for the last six months. Once Royce finally steps away from him, I meet Riven’s eyes again and, suddenly, it’s like the room around us is spinning, the floor swaying beneath us. A hand on my arm makes me jump and, when I turn, I see a flash of blonde hair before darkness floods my vision and I feel the floor rising to meet me.

Images flash through my head; visions of cramped rooms, my chest tight as I try not to breathe in a blend of overbearing perfumes and colognes, my head swimming as I’m spun around the ballroom by people I’ve never met before, the overwhelming urge to run and hide as another person approaches me with a smile so white that it burns my retinas, the sight of a familiar, gentler smile and a shimmering golden dome looming high overhead. I wake up with a sharp breath and force myself upright, the darkness of my surroundings sending a surge of panic through my veins. Then, a hand on my wrist stops me from attempting to stand and I turn to find Royce staring blearily at me from his place in the tangled blankets beside me.

His mouth moves, but I don’t hear him and he sits up, using his free hand to brush loose strands of hair from my face before resting his palm on my cheek. “Breathe for me, Viv,” he pleads softly.

“Where-?” I question in a pant of breath.

“Relax,” he gently orders. “We’re on the train. You’re alright.”

I nod against his hand and try to force myself to relax. Once my breathing settles, I ask, “Can we put a light on? It’s too dark.”

“Of course,” Royce agrees and I can almost hear the smile in his voice as he reaches behind me to the table beside the bed. A soft, golden glow fills the room and, despite my blurry, tired eyes, I can make out the familiar wallpaper and cushy furniture in the room. Royce draws my attention back to him as he brings my hand to his lips and asks, “Was it a bad dream?”

Meeting his caramel eyes, I shrug, “I’m not entirely sure.”

He nods and asks, “Do you want to get some more sleep? It’s only three.”

Glancing past his shoulder to the clock on his side of the bed, I nod and slowly ease back to the pillows with a sigh, “When did we even go to bed?”

“We didn’t get on the train until a little after one,” Royce replies with a yawn he tries to fight as he lays beside me, leaving an arm outstretched for me.

“Holy shit,” I mumble, allowing myself to relax into his side, my ear placed firmly above his heartbeat. Silence fills the dimly lit room and it takes a while for me to breathe, “No wonder I’m so exhausted.”

Royce chuckles, “Between the suffocating party and you fainting on us, I’m not surprised.”

His words settle into my skin and I push myself onto an elbow, meeting his eyes curiously, “I passed out?”

“It was only for a few minutes,” he confirms, threading a hand into my hair with a small grin. “You woke up very briefly, and fell asleep on the floor after we asked you if you were alright. The president had a doctor come in and check on you before we left, but you really scared us for a moment.”

Were the things I saw in my dreams real? The party, all the wildly dressed people coming up to me to talk or ask me to dance, the overpowering smells, the heat rising as the night went on, and the desire to run as far as my legs would carry me. “That was real?” I wonder aloud, pushing myself to sit up once again as Royce’s hand falls back to the mattress. “The party and all of those people and…” I have to stop myself as I finally place the rest of the face that was attached to the smile in my dream. Glancing toward the door across from my bed, I ask, “Riven was there?”

Royce’s hand latches onto me and I whirl back toward him with wide eyes, but he quickly takes hold of my arms with a small smile, rubbing tiny circles into my skin with his thumbs. “He was there, yeah.”

“I need to see him,” I spew. “He needs to know that I-”

“Viv,” Royce interrupts, lightly tugging my arms to gain my attention once again. “Everything is alright. Riven is still with us. He’s sleeping in the next car.”

A strong urge to pull myself from Royce’s grasp and make a break for the room I know Riven is snoring obnoxiously loud in, creeps up on me, but Royce continues his gentle reassurances until he convinces me to go back to sleep, my head on his chest once again. My fingers lace with his empty hand as he keeps one hand on my back, tracing imaginary designs on my back as I listen to him breathe, his heartbeat pulsing soothingly beneath my ear. Not wanting to disrupt the peace we’ve created, I whisper into the dark room, “I love you.”

A soft pressure lands on the top of my head as Royce kisses my hair, whispering in return, “Not nearly as much as I love you.”

A soft giggle leaves me as I tighten my hold on his hand, “That’s debatable.”

“Save it for morning, then,” Royce suggests, a smirk evident in his voice. 

Fleetingly, I feel like arguing, but drowsiness tugs at my eyelids and I allow myself to rest comfortably in his arms. A soft knock on the door rouses me from a dreamless sleep, but not enough for me to move from the blankets. The door slides open and I feel the mattress sink behind me before a gentle voice speaks, “Good morning.”

I know the voice and, as welcoming as it is, my blankets are warm in the spot I’ve curled into and I have no intention of moving. “Mornin’,” I mumble.

The voice chuckles - a familiar baritone that I remember hearing anytime I begged someone to tell me stories a long time ago - and says, “And here I thought you were a morning person.”

Rolling over, I finally lay eyes on the hazel-eyed man I had wanted to see for the last six months. Riven’s eyes are no longer watery or glassy, instead filled with mirth, and I see his smile has returned to its familiar glow. “Riven?” I mutter in surprise.

“Hey, Pipsqueak,” he returns.

Almost too quickly, I push myself up and bring my arms around his shoulders, not caring that the room spins slightly as Riven’s arms close around me. We sit for a while, slotted together like a pair of puzzle pieces, unbothered by our surroundings. Eventually, I slide back just enough to get a good look at Riven’s face. Despite looking paler than I would like, he still looks like himself. His smile could still illuminate a room and he looks ready to tell me everything that’s happened to him in the last six months, but he allows me to poke and prod at him until I decide that I’ve proven to myself that he is, in fact, sitting before me - alive and well.

“You’re really here,” I say softly.

“I am,” Riven confirms. “Are you?”

“I think so,” I offer.

Riven reaches up and flicks my forehead with a grin, “I think you are.”

“Good,” I chuckle, attempting to ignore the spot on my skin that now stings. “That means you’re stuck with me.”

He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head, “You say that like I wasn’t already stuck with you.”

“Oh, you were,” I say with a smile, “but it’s been a while, so I’m reminding you.”

We share a smile and Riven takes the chance to examine me as I did him, looking me over almost as though he’s searching for something. Finally, his gaze stops on my wrist where the bracelet I made him years ago still lies. As though I was made of porcelain, Riven lifts my wrist in his grasp and smiles, “Royce gave it to you, that’s good. I didn’t think you’d still be wearing it after all this time.”

“Of course, I would,” I tell him. I have no reason to take it off other than to shower or work so, for the majority of the last six months, I’d been wearing it or keeping it with me. I’m never far from it. Briefly, my mind travels back to the arena; the blood-stained deck, the fear coursing through me at the idea of losing him, hearing him call out to me despite the cannon signaling his death. Taking a deep breath, I find it impossible for me to not ask, “What happened to you?”

Riven’s eyes find mine and find myself wishing I hadn’t asked as his hazel irises harden and he forces himself to look away. I grip his hand a fragment tighter and assure him that he doesn’t have to tell me if he doesn’t want to, but Riven slowly shakes his head, meeting my gaze with a grin so small that I can barely make it out. “I will tell you eventually,” he says, his tone promising, “but I’d rather do it at home, where we can sit and talk for hours.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Riv,” I say once more, hoping he knows just how serious I am.

“I know, Pip,” Riven says with a smile. He seems genuine as he says, “There’s just a lot I have to say and, if I start talking now, you and I both know I won’t shut up until I get everything out. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy exploring your boyfriend’s district.”

That’s right, we have to visit Royce’s district before we can go home. I sort of remember Mick’s parents telling us something like that. Since we’re from two separate districts, we have to stop in District 6 and go through the motions of their celebrations before we bring Royce to District 3 and make him participate in all of our traditions. Now that we’re free to come and go between each other’s districts, we’ll be spending more time together, but first come the formalities we have to go through.

“Right,” I sigh. I’m sure Royce would be understanding if I wanted to stay on the train until it was time to go, but since I had already promised him that I’d be visiting his brothers and letting him be my tour guide, I’m not sure how well that would go over.

Riven gives me a nudge with his elbow and a chuckle, “Don’t look so upset, Viv. I’ll still be with you every step of the way.”

Meeting Riven’s eyes, I feel my eyebrow lift curiously, wondering what on earth he could mean. “But you’re supposed to be-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes off with a wave of his hand, rising from the bed with a grin. “But I just came back from the dead and I want to stay with my Pipsqueak and her precious boy toy. How would they refuse me such a request?”

Brushing off his comment, I ask, “How are you planning to get around the districts with all of the cameras on us?” 

Riven shrugs, taking me by the hand and pulling me to my feet, “When you’re on stage, it will be easy. I can just stand backstage with the others and watch on the screens. Anyway, I already convinced your stylists to help me look like one of them while we’re out exploring the district, so you don’t have to worry about the cameras finding me at all.”

I don’t fight the snicker that rises out of my throat, “You’re going to look like an absolute clown.”

“Maybe,” Riven agrees with his signature, lopsided grin, “but it will be worth it to spend more time with you two.”

With a smile, I slip my arms under Riven’s and wrap them around his middle, letting him bring his arms around my shoulders as he squeezes me close. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Riven breathes. We stay like that for a minute or so before he pulls back, keeping an arm around my shoulders as he guides me toward the door. “Now, how about we get some food into us before the others annihilate everything in sight?”

“Sounds good.” I allow Riven to pull me into the hallway and through the different train cars as my thoughts wander over everything that has happened in the last few days. As I recall the party last night and the events that I just barely recall happening, I stop in the middle of the hallway, urging Riven to stop and turn toward me. The first question on his tongue is if I’m alright and, instead of answering, I simply ask in return, “Why are ghosts terrible liars?”

For a moment, Riven appears confused, probably wondering where that question came from, but then it occurs to him that I’m repeating his question from last night. A smile spreads across his face and I can see the mischief rising in his gaze as he answers, “Because you can see right through them.”

My eyes slide closed as I struggle to fight the laugh that wants to burst forth. Eventually, a snort escapes me and I have to resort to a smirk as I meet Riven’s mirthful eyes, “That was so fucking dumb.”

“It still made you laugh,” Riven points out with a chuckle.

“It did not, you ass!”

“It absolutely did!” he retorts as I breeze past him.

My middle finger rises in retaliation as I press the button to open the door to the next car and scoff, “You suck.”

“You love me,” Riven beams, draping an arm over my shoulders once more.

“Sometimes, I wonder why I do,” I sigh, rolling my eyes at Riven’s confident smirk as I lean my head against him, “but yes, yes I do.”

[adultswim2021]

Space Ghost Week

Wherein we cover an entire season of Space Ghost Coast to Coast over the course of a week

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #47: “Sphinx” | October 17, 1997 | S04E14

This one is pretty standard stuff, but the strength is in the guests. Harland Williams acts like Harland Williams, saying wacky stuff about monkeys and cheese. I’ve probably touched on this, but when I was in high school (which I’d just entered around the time this aired) I began developing annoying and pompous ideas about comedy and my main axe to grind was something I called “stock absurdity”. It was basically a short list of nouns that I felt like you could just sprinkle into your comedy prose and automatically get laughs from the easily-impressed. The list included monkeys, squirrels, and cheese, and I remember at this time pirates, ninjas, and robots were starting to become equally staid.

Anyway, I forgive Harland for this (I’m sure he’s breathing a sigh of relief right now). He clearly likes slipping that stuff into his comic soliloquies, but his toolbox is bigger than that. Him putting the screws to Space Ghost over his embarrassing and greasy varicose veins is pretty irresistible. At least he specified that they were ORGAN GRINDER monkeys and that they were hopped up on cheese STICKS. “Monkeys hopped up on cheese” would’ve come of much more amateurish. 

This is the one I always remembered as “the Mike Judge one”. Even though Harland makes up 50% of the show, I routinely forget that he’s also in this one. In fact I remember the pre-guest banter about Zorak mistaking a wacky fun slippery slide for his missing tail more than I remember Harland Williams being in this. And Harland isn’t even a lackluster guest. That’s just how much I revere Mike Judge (and wacky fun slippery slides).

Judge’s interview is slightly fraught in the same way the Terry Jones or Mark Hamill or Jack Black interviews were; you sorta sense that the staff are fans of the interview subject and that can lead to them getting way too into the spirit of the guest’s body of work and making a show that lacks edge and comes off sycophantic. The opening sketch of this one lets us know that the show is in good hands; Moltar is bugging Mike Judge for an answering machine message and it’s a contentious back-and-forth. Later, Mike turns this dynamic around on Space Ghost by attempting to do an impression of him, quoting lines from the first episode. Not only was there a mutual admiration thing going on here, but Mike knew exactly how to play his side of the interview to make this episode GREAT.

This one ends with Mike inexplicably doing lines as his various Beavis and Butt-head characters saying the phrase “It doesn’t get any better than this”, for reasons that are mysterious. To this day, if I find myself using that phrase in conversation I will, depending on who I’m speaking to, invariably follow it up with an impression of Mike doing all of his characters in this episode. I wish I knew why this was in the show. It seems like a weird inside joke to me. But I love it, even though I don’t get it. 

I’m a fan of a lot of shows, and Space Ghost and Beavis and Butt-head hold a similar space in my heart as shows that I almost can’t get enough of. I don’t really like binge-watching shows, except for those two. I can very easily watch both Beavis and Butt-head and Space Ghost all day long. I don’t know why this is the case, but it is. And it’s very weird to me that one of my most-quoted Beavis and Butt-head lines (behind Beavis saying “it’s for me. It’s for me to read” or “I’ll be damned it’s Dave Navaro”) come from this episode of Space Ghost. But there you go!

MAIL BAG

Your Zorak write-up made me realize that for the amount it's parodied I knew absolutely nothing about This Is Your Life. I wasn't even that sure it was a real show until I looked it up. Seems pretty bad/boring/cringe. Seems like an old-fashioned thing for Space Ghost to even spoof but I found out there was a version as recently as 1993.  There's some good raw footage on youtube where they try to surprise Angie Dickinson for this version and she refuses and cusses at them. Fun stuff!

I’ve done a whole lotta old-ass TV watching for no really good reason, and I’ve never once tried to watch one of those things. They seem too scary to me. Uh, Sid Caesar did a thing once where (gets blasted by Space Ghost’s destructo ray)

[krowjet]

Screw fucking with this one. This kid’s on the edge of a mental breakdown, they need to study for multiple final exams in the next week. They’re only here because the last one quit and I got to run around for a week straight. I can feel the amount of anxiety in my soul. This one is gonna cry if someone tries to interview them. They’re surviving on ramen and dinosaur chicken nuggets. Energy drinks flow through their veins. I’ve never heard so much mental screaming. I can’t even tell their super power underneath all that.

I sigh, seeing them approach me. “You know, even for a college student you’re a wreck. When was the last time you actually had a home cooked meal and a night of proper sleep? Do you need someone to tutor you?”

That caught them by surprise, and I’m honestly impressed they aren’t shaking. “How did you- oh… yeah.” They trail off quietly, flushing a brilliant red color. “Yeah. Anyways, you need sleep. Look, it’s fun causing enough chaos to make a TTRPG seem mild, but it’s not nearly as fun when the hero looks ready to pass out of exhaustion.”

I see them shift uncomfortably, rubbing their arm like a child caught doing something wrong. It’s kind of adorable see them so embarrassed by it.

“Anyways. How about we head someplace to eat. I’ll even pay, help you study, and then you go home to rest. I’ll put off causing chaos until you’re done with those exams.”

They nod like a small child, and I can’t help but smile at them. “Alright. We’ll meet at the local diner in an hour. We’re going to change and look like normal people. Bring your notes.”

I watch them nervously eye me, but I think they can tell I’m serious, so they dart away.

This is the most troubled hero I’ve ever seen, I couldn’t even find the urge to fight them in me. I sigh once again. It’s not like me to pick such a calm response to a hero, but unlike the last few, this one genuinely already was in such a bad headspace there really wasn’t much left for me to do. Besides, I’ve been there myself. College was rough, alright?

I leave the scene myself. It wasn’t like I got very far with my felony, only breaking down a door to a jewelry store and luring out the employees with ease since they really don’t get paid enough to deal with me. The owner would be able to replace the door perfectly fine, I know he had insurance from a previous attempt. It’s a good thing the city is actually good with replacing these thing, but still, I don’t steal from small or local businesses. I might be a villain, but I have morals.

I quickly rush back to my apartment on the edge of the city after I change in a gas station’s back room. It’s not particularly my favored type of clothes, but flip flops and things like a tank top and basketball shorts are easy to switch into and hide. I’m friends with the manager on duty, so she lets me do so without a care. She looks away as I exit to avoid looking at my face if asked, and I slap a fifty on the counter for her on my way out as a thanks.

I enter my apartment, and step into the nicely decorated room. It’s small, but it’s perfectly fine for me. All the furniture is from large chain stores or garage sales I paid extra for. It is a little dirty at the moment, since I have a basket of laundry on the couch and it could use some dusting. I pick through the basket for more nice clothes. A nice trench and some simple black pants with a cream turtleneck. Very academia in terms of aesthetic.

I grab my old notebooks from college. It’s not the first time I’ve tutored, and actually I used to do it for a job. Well, side job, but still. I was in the same course as that hero, from what I could tell from the exams they were panicking about.

I put them in my bag along with my wallet and keys, and head out once more to go tutor them. I head down to the local diner, run by a sweet old couple who used to babysit me.

I walk in, waving to the wife, who was hosting for the night, training a new employee. She waved back, and I look around, finding the hero. I walk to them, and plop across from them.

They wore a relaxed outfit of jeans and a band shirt, their green hair tucked into a beanie. It was all looking a little worn, and I could tell it had been a while since they had gotten any newer clothes.

“So… what do I call you? We’re out in public, so best not to use the show names, but I also don’t want to exactly share our documented names. While I could just look in your brain, that feels kind of rude given the circumstances.” They nodded in response, thinking for a second. I can hear the names flashing in their mind, from “bird” to “cactus” to even “gender.” I don’t get some of them, but they smile as one pops up and sticks.

“You can call me Aspen.” I nod, sticking my hand out to them. “Well, Aspen, you can call me Tudor.” They shook my hand, their hand a little clammy and with stiff movement.

“Alright, next question. You already know my ability. I want to know yours, seems fair all things considered.”

Their mind floods with a panicked noise, a bit of screaming, and wondering what the hell they were suppose to do here. I put my hand up, a sigh on my lips. “Relax, kid. You don’t need to tell me right now, I’m only asking since it might make it easier to help you study if I have something to work with that. It’s easier to build study plans when I know limitations.”

“It’s changing gravity.“

I pause. Gravity manipulation is usually rare, and those kind of individuals typically end up working more in things like science on space stations, but this kid is more interested in money management and accounting. It’s a weird field, but honestly I can’t say anything.

“Well, I’m not sure how that’s gonna work as well since you’re focused mostly on money and economics. But anyways, we should probably start.”

I call over a waiter, and I let Aspen order whatever they want to eat, telling them I’ll pay and it’s my treat. They’re hesitant at first, but I’m firm in my decision.

I help them review all the material for their upcoming exam, and being a telepath makes it significantly easier to help them understand the material since I’m able to see exactly what they’re struggling with.

“So, since you did so well with your study session, how about I take you clothes shopping as a treat?” I feel the surprise off of Aspen, which turn to excitement and nervousness. Some thoughts emerge about whether or not they can trust me, and I can understand.

I am villain, I regularly cause chaos around the city. But just because I commit crime, doesn’t mean I don’t have morals. I have a clear moral compass, and hurting someone who’s already in enough trouble is not something I add to.

“Seriously, kid, I’m not gonna be tricking you into getting along with me. You’ve seen my track record and you know just as well as I do have a very specific style of villainy and tricking people to like me isn’t it. The amount of people I target that do that is pretty notable.”

They still are hesitant, and I sigh. “Look, if you don’t want, that’s fine. But at the very least, meet me here later and I’ll keep tutoring you. Got it? Foods on me.”

I stand up, ignoring their protests as I go to Danny to pay the bill. I leave a large tip for the waiter, and I wave goodbye to her and Aspen before going home.

For the next week, despite their mistrust of me, we continue to meet at the diner. I pay for their food, and they learn the material well. It helps I can tell when they make mistakes, but even then, I can see lots of growth and understanding. Tomorrow is the last day before their exam, so we’re doing a final review. These are some of the last credits they need and I want to make sure they don’t need to retake any courses.

I walk in, finding them in the usual booth towards the front.

“Hey kid. Todays the last study day, so let’s do some light review of the material as a whole, then get some tea and go home, alright? You need sleep before your final.”

Aspen nodded, pulling out the study guide I made them the second night of studying. “Alright. I made a study set for you online, so you can go over that tonight and in the morning.” They grin, hurriedly pulling out an old and cracked phone. I frown, the urge to get them a new one filling me to the core.

Some might say I’m going soft, but this kid clearly doesn’t get spoiled much. They’re a good kid, clearly deserving of it. Regardless of my role as a villain, I’d do it anyways.

“Alright, here’s the code, if you have any questions I’ll be able to address them.” They nod happily, getting busy on the new set. I can hear them excitedly getting them all right, passing with ease. Some stump them a little, but they work them out on their own. It’s impressive, really, how well they’re able to do.

I order a dessert I saw peeked their interest a few days ago, and they practically squeal with excitement.

“Ight. Do well on your test, little Aspen. Get some sleep, meet me here the day after tomorrow. I’ll take you out for a treat, all right?” They grin, and I can feel little of the nervousness and hesitation they did the first time, it’s mostly been replaced with excitement.

I wave goodbye, and I watch them leave, walking back to the front to talk to Danny and her husband. “The way you take care of them is adorable. You’re like a parent to them.” I blush, not having taken into account the fact I act like that.

“Uh… I think I picked it up from you two. You treated me like that as a kid, and I merely try to mimic it.” They hug me, wishing me a goodnight before they let me leave.

I pick up a few extra ingredients for a nice meal for them. It’ll be a nice change, and I’ll make plenty for them to take to their apartment and roommate.

I turn on the tv, deciding to watch the news for a little bit. There’s some news about my absence for the last two weeks, how the city has been a bit more chaotic. There’s still plenty of criminals and villains, some worse than I am. In my absence, they’ve gone crazy. The amateurs aren’t nearly as efficient as I am, but they are causing a lot more destruction than I have ever done.

The news flash to an ongoing crisis. It’s a bank robbery with some hostages being held. I narrow my eyes. Even I have more morals than that. The innocents shouldn’t be dragged into our crimes. It’s stupid. You can steal all you want, but don’t endanger them directly.

The reporter continues. “A hero as arrived on the scene, but they’re struggling to deal with those group. Currently, they are fighting a villain with an electricity ability. Reports are saying this is a match up between a group of villains who’ve only recently picked up in their crime rate, and a newer hero.”

I take a look at the hero, and my eyes widen. That looks like the uniform that Aspen had on when we first met. They’re getting hit hard.

Anger wells up inside me. I don’t even bother to change into my own uniform, put I grab my mask and goggles, and my bike’s keys.

I jump out the window into the parking lot, rolling and running to my bike. I rush to the bank, zipping through the streets and ignoring all traffic laws as much as I can to get there quickly without hitting anyone.

I get there not longer after. It’s stupid, maybe, but I can’t help it. I kick the stand down and leave it not too far away, dodging beyond the police barrier despite the screaming. I don’t care, my kid’s out there, in trouble.

They’re getting the shit kicked out of them, and I stomp over. I reach into the asshole’s mind, digging far in and pulling their worst fears out. He can feel the hellscape forming, and he crumples to the floor, screaming. He’s yelling about a fire and smoke, burning alive.

I kick him away from Aspen, picking up the kid. “You’re supposed to be resting,” I whisper as I rush them towards the barrier. “Get them medical care, I’m dealing with this.”

I hand them off to an EMT, panic welling inside me. I push it down, I can’t let it get to me right now- people inside need me. I walk to the bank, gripping into the minds of all inside- panicking hostages are clearly distinct, and I push a feeling of calm upon them. The anger, serious, and threatening ones I can feel as well, and I dug deep into their brains.

“You all are assholes,” I say as I walk in. They can’t even try to fight me, too far deep into their fears to even able to hear me. I pick up one of their guns, and I hit them each upon the head, hard. Every time they crumple to the ground.

I look over to the scared hostages. They’re all scooting away from me. I sigh, and I can see them all tied up with rope. An idea dawns on me, and I quickly untie them.

They all rush out, afraid of me. I get it, I am a known criminal, and I did just absolutely wreck about four criminals in front of them and came out unharmed. I took the rope and tied them all up, leaving them all in front of the counter. I gather their weapons and put them in a pile away from them, putting them on safety or sheathing them. It’s best to keep them from potentially getting hurt when they pick them up.

I leave, going back outside, walking past the barrier. “All have been dealt with. Four side, unconscious and tied up, weapons away from them. One in front, also unconscious. All hostages evacuated. Where’s the hero?”

They rush to get me to them, fear in every single one of them. It’s not like I’ll hurt them, that they know, but they’re afraid of my potential and if I did try. Police are rushing in to the bank to get them all, doing another sweep.

I’m not allowed into the ambulance, but they assure me they’ll be alright. I nod my head, and they tell me where they’ll be taken. They know I’ll just find out anyways. Aspen’s name floats in their head, almost as if they’re telling me. I can see them looking at me and I know they really are.

I nod and they finally go to asleep.

I leave for the day, and I go home. I don’t care what the news says about today, Aspen, or should I say Jensen Ogden, is all I’m focused on. I can hardly think about anything else. They were in so much danger today, I can’t stop myself from thinking about what could have happened if I’d been too late.

Regardless, I pack a bag of stuff to give them when I visit tomorrow. I might be soft, but no one messes with my kid.

You are a telepathic supervillain that uses their powers to create the perfect personalised hellscape for every hero. But when you peer into the mind of the newest hero you find that they are a complete mental wreck and honestly you just feel sorry for them.

[nessiopeia]

Tried watching that Kyle Baseball Champions interview for the first time in years and had to tap out cause of the awkwardness. Because I know I used to like love this video I came to the realization that working in retail and customer service has fully traumatized me. All those moments where someone made me the most uncomfortable I’ve ever felt in my life and I couldn’t run or stop the conversation or confront them out of fear of being fired have robbed me of my ability to enjoy silly nonsense media like this or watch shows with any amount second hand embarrassment. It really fucking sucks cause it means I basically only engage with comfort media anymore and now I have to face down another path of healing I’ll have to do if I want to fix that

[hoghtastic]

I’ve come to a realization recently that I am part of a big problem on this blog. And I am feeling an huge amount of guilt and embarrassment at the moment.

There’s beginning to be a bit of over inspection when it comes to Johanne recently. I’ve noticed with my own actions and some of my asks (and others recently) like there always seems to be a motive to anything she does or posts in our minds. Like it always has something to do with leaching off of Alex and his fame or it’s being posted to piss off or agitate his fans in some way. And don’t get me wrong I have read the things that are being brought up and the reasons we think it’s all an intentional attention grab. And while I agree with some of them still, there have been times where she posts something (like the story of her reading by the fire) I wrongly assumed and mentioned it looked like she was in his place and other people immediately jumped in and agreed and started saying and alluding to it being for attention and then it was confirmed it was in fact not his place, but hers. There was still no real backtrack with that. People still mentally marked that as some kind of attention grab associated with Alex (even though it literally had nothing to do with him) and brought up the other story she posted with the ladybug. While that posts timing was off (due to the “you snooze you lose <3 <3 <3” post) I still think we may have been over observing that and the one from her bed as well. Because of me being embarrassed of the fact that I assumed something that was not to be true (as i should have felt). Now that I myself done some backtracking I really think all she was doing at the time was following a theme of posts she had already made of her just reading. I mean a ladybug flew on her book, a lot of people find them to be good luck especially if they land on you so, she most likely just thought it was cute or a sign for her or something and wanted to document it?(just my hypothesis not stating it’s factual) people I know do that kind of stuff all the time. So do I. It’s just little things like that have being blown over the top and it’s kinda sad honestly. For her I mean, I’m not a fan and I really don’t agree with some of the stuff she’s done as I’ve stated. But it feels very wrong to openly acknowledge that we know she’s a person and we know people aren’t really themselves on the internet. and still have people nit pick at every tiny thing she does and make it negative and genuinely attach that negativity to her as a person outside of social media. She’s not well known but still has a pretty hefty following for average people now, since Alex. And it’s he himself who has already stated many times in the past that he has had a lot of encounters with crazy fans whether it be through comments, dms, or interactions on the street or at cons. I’m pretty sure there is still a lot of harassment and stalking being thrown at him to this day. And now that he has a girlfriend (that’s public for the first time) I’m sure she’s getting some of that harassment now as well. So it has to be a lot of stress for them no? And being in that kind of situation (even though it doesn’t excuse it) can make people act out. The things she’s doing/has done may be defense mechanisms? She’s stated in a past interview for the Venus effect that she had major anxiety during covid after a breakup, and right before she got the role in that film. She said it was the first time she had something like that and she was understandably scared. And if you know anything about anxiety it really doesn’t go away after a big episode like that. It usually stays with you after and it’s hard to get rid of. As someone with anxiety and other mental health problems I do feel sympathetic for her and him when it comes to them as people outside of social media. Just walking outside to walk my dog is hard and it feels like someone’s always watching. But (putting myself in their shoes for a second)…to have anxiety amongst other things and to ACTUALLY have thousands of strangers watching you, googling you, messaging you like they “know” who you are but you don’t know them, stalking you, your family and friends. It really sounds terrifying honestly. 1/2

Anon, first of all, let me tell you that I really admire your ability to assume you’ve been wrong, and to put yourself in other people’s shoes, even those you’re not particularly fond of. 😊 Although I don’t think you should feel too guilty about that, especially in this case. We assumed something, it was wrong and we clarified if. Nothing bad came from it. Once people post something on social media (especially public figures) they’re aware a lot of people will see their content and make assumptions about it, giving it their own interpretation. And that’s what we’ve been doing here for the most part. Such interpretations won’t always be right, of course, and it’s important to clarify them whenever possible, but sometimes it isn’t, and that’s why we always have differing opinions and theories. But as long as we don’t use them to actively stalk and harass the involved people, they’re not harming anyone (at least in my opinion, of course), it’s a bit like gossiping with your friends at some coffee shop. 😆

And while I understand why you feel bad about people overanalysing everything she posts, I think I also understand where they’re coming from. She’s put herself in this position from the start, with all the “hinting”, and people got accustomed to there always being some kind of meaning/message behind her posts/stories, so they try to find it. Maybe it’s not always the case, but the doubt remains. Although, I’ve been thinking about the “it you snooze, you lose incident”, and given the content of the pictures being so unflattering to Alex, maybe it wasn’t really meant as a provocation to the fans, but some kind of inside joke between the two of them? Like some kind of bet Alex lost, so she posted those? 🤣 Although I think if it were the case, such pictures belonged in her private account, not the public one, so I think this theory his very unlikely anyway.

About the anxiety and mental health problems, as someone who’s dealt with it for most of my adult life, I don’t think her current behaviour is that of an anxious person, or someone who’s feeling anxious under the limelight. I’m speaking from my own experience, of course, but attention is something a person with anxiety won’t seek. You’d try to be as invisible as possible, not to play some “hinting” game with people and post controversial content that you’d have to be very naive not to think people wouldn’t comment about. I’d find it more believable if Alex was the one dealing with such mental health problems, given the way he has distanced himself from the fandom and very rarely shares his private life, his IG being mostly work-related at the moment, with very neutral content.

[writersblog20]

The YouTuber and the actor

Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary: You did commentaries about movies on Youtube for fun, not knowing that some populaire people were watching those videos. And one DM on Instagram after the other landed you on a date. After an interview with James Corden, and the heated tension between the two of you, it was time to blow off some steam

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, praising, deepthroat etc etc, like just smut, accidental creampie and cockwarming.

Words: 4.2

A/N: I mean no disrespect towards Seb as this is just a work of fiction

You were recording a YouTube commentary on a movie. You did this a lot and you had a good amount of followers. Not a crazy amount but it wasn’t bad either. You didn’t get recognized which was perfect for you and when someone did come up to you, it meant the world. Your ‘fans’ were more like friends to you. You had loyal followers and it was your only source of serotonin at this point.

Every time you made a video, it felt like you just had a sleepover with your good friends. It kept your mind off of things and people left very nice comments that gave you more motivation of making them. Anyways, drifting off here. You had a good amount of videos up on your channel.

You reacted to series as well like: Euphoria, You, Hauntings of and stuff like that. You also did commentary about horror movies, marvel, and the lesser known movies. Your followers also made a lot of requests of your next party watch. This was the only thing that you had so much fun in making as well as editing. It was kind of like your own form of escapism.

Anyhow, you were currently chilling on your couch in your comfy apartment. You put the neon led lights on, your salt lamp, candles, put some incense on and was in the middle of recording another movie reaction when your phone went crazy.

You took a look what all the fuzz was about. Your followers knew that you adored Sebastian Stan. The notifications came mostly from your followers saying: “Girl, are you still alive?”, “Oh my god, miss thing got deceased.”, “How does it feel like living my dream?” you frowned, not understanding what they were talking about. You saw a couple of comments underneath those with: “What’s going on?” you saw that they responded to her: “Sebastian Stan just said in an interview with Graham Norton that he watches all her vids.”

You were gob smacked and couldn’t really comprehend what was going on. They gave the link and you quickly pressed on it. The video was posted like 5 minutes ago and was a snippet from the interview.

Your camera was still rolling, recording your reaction. You looked up and opened the link on your computer so you were completely recording your reaction, which was mostly just stares at this point. You watched the video and Graham asked everyone what there favorite thing to do in their spare time was.  

Henry Cavill talked about Warhammer and his hobby’s and after came Chris Evans with how he loved spending time with Dodger and then Sebastian Stan came. “There is this girl, and she is super funny. She makes YouTube commentaries about movies. I found her actually through Chris. He had sent me a video where she was reacting to one of my movies called: Monday and I have never laughed so much at a YouTube video. Ever since I’ve been watching her videos. It helps me relax and laugh after a tough day.”

“I actually watch her videos too. She’s very funny indeed.” Henry chirped in. Chris chuckled “Yeah me too.”

Graham was now laughing very hard. “Okay, okay, seems that everyone likes her but now I’m curious. Who is she?”

They all shared glances. “Her name is Y/N, Y/L/N. She’s amazing, you should check her out if you’re interested.” Sebastian said with a shy smile, which Graham noticed as well.

“Oeh, looks like someone has a cruhusss.” Graham teased and you could see Sebastian blush and had an embarrassed smile on his face. After that the clip ended.

You looked up at the camera in awe, your mouth agape. “Holy shit…… ehm well… Seabas, if you’re seeing this hit me up, I mean, I’m single.” you playfully winked and laughed, also feeling very flustered. “No but serious…. This is amazing, holy shit. I mean, Sebastian watches my videos, Henry AND Chris?!?! There is no way. I refuse to believe it. But I do though, don’t give me hope, dear lord.” Your energy was so chaotic right now it was unbelievable.

You fangirled so hard on screen and tried to finish the last episode of the series you were currently filming. You edited the video and posted it. You saw that you got a massive following, probably because of the interview they gave.

You squealed in happiness and did a little dance around the room. You had to ground yourself again because you were full of energy and excitement and knew you wouldn’t be able to get some sleep if you kept going like this.

You watched your comfort show and it calmed you down just a little bit until you opened your Instagram and saw that not only Chris Evans, Henry Cavill but also Sebastian Stan had followed you. You squealed again and saw that he sent you a dm. Your eyes went big and opened the text. “I normally don’t do this but I saw your last video, which was funny as always, and thought why not? So, Hi? hahahah”

You chuckled and couldn’t wipe the smile away from your face. You let your body fall on the bed and laid on your side, immediately typing a responds. “Hiiii, I can’t believe this. But I’m so glad that you watch my videos and enjoy it!” you sent the text back and you saw that he had immediately seen it. “Oh absolutely! I loved your commentary about my movie! I’ve never laughed so much and enjoyed it incredibly.”

You smiled and texted back and forth for almost the entire night, talking about movies and series. “Hey, might be a little fast but I really, really enjoy talking to you. Want to go out for coffee tomorrow?” he asked and you smiled brightly, holding your phone to your chest in happiness.

“I would love to! When and where?” you asked him. “Well you can choose, I want you to feel comfortable and safe.” He’s so respectful god. You gave him a location and a time. He gave you his phone number and wished each other a good night before ending the conversation so you could still both get some sleep.

Both couldn’t sleep since you were way too excited to meet each other.

When finally did get some sleep, it wasn’t for long before your alarm went off. You groaned and tossed and turned around, mad that you couldn’t sleep any longer, but then you remembered why. A smile crept up your face and you jumped up from the bed and got into the shower.  

You put on a cute but comfortable outfit and walked to the coffeeshop you had agreed on. You were a little early but liked it that way. You opened the door and already saw Sebastian. He was looked around, seeming a little nervous. Once your eyes met each other, a smile crept on both of your faces.

You walked up to him and gave him a hug. “seems like we’re both like to be early.”  You chuckled and he smiled shyly as he went with a hand through his soft, semi long hair. You sat down and ordered your drink.

It was an amazing date. You were a little scared that it would be awkward when you would meet each other in person but that was far from the truth. At first you were both a little distant and awaiting the other but when the conversation started flowing, it was amazing.

You went from one topic right into the other. Funny stories, more serious topics and casual topics. Never had you ever clicked with someone this fast and you knew that this was a very rare connection.

The date was a couple of months ago and many had followed soon. It felt like you had met your best friend and soulmate. Just perfect for each other. You’ve never asked him to be in one of your videos but your following grew a lot. Sebastian knew why you hadn’t asked him to be in one of your videos since you had told him that. You felt weird about it to be honest. You knew many had came from the interview but when the paparazzi had photographed the two of you, it skyrocket.

You did it because you liked it but it was double because you felt weird about all the attention. You just couldn’t believe that 2 million people were watching your videos. It felt just weird. The nice comments were really what kept you going.

You and Sebastian had never kissed or had sex yet and that was fine, but obviously you were yearning for him. The crush you had grew fast in love. You adored Sebastian and he adored you but you both wanted to take things slow because you were so in to each other, not rushing anything.

You were a lot together though, almost inseparable. When he would come over or the other way around, you did sleep together in one bed but nothing had ever happened except the growing tension between the two of you and cuddles.

Sebastian had an interview for is new movie Fresh that was coming out. He was at the late late show and you knew James Corden always teased Sebastian.

“So Sebastian, last time we saw you, you were flirting with Sharon Stone…..” Sebastian became flustered and you could see him blush. You chuckled as you saw him trying to cover up his face with his hands. “But recently we’ve seen you a lot with Y/N Y/L/N…. Is there something between the two of you?” you could see him shift uncomfortably on the couch and you were quite surprised yourself, sitting more forward towards the tv.

“I eh…. She’s amazing and we’ve been hanging out a lot lately.” James pulled a face for him to continue, with a smirk and one eyebrow up. “Yes….. But are you a couple?” Sebastian couldn’t hide his smile as the thought of you came in his mind, telling the audience enough. He grew red again and you could see that he felt flustered.

“Well, we’ve been dating, yes but we haven’t talked about that yet…. I do like her a lot.” Sebastian tried. James just got a cheeky smile and decided to drop it for now. You couldn’t suppress your own smile creeping upon your face.

You went back to reacting to a tv show that you were previously recording. When you wrapped up you heard a knock on your door. You frowned as you weren’t expecting anyone. You walked towards the door and opened it, seeing Sebastian in black sweatpants, a hoodie and a coat with a brown bag and flowers standing in front of you.

Your heart was making leaps now. It should be illegal for men to wear sweatpants because it just made you weak to your knees. He looked so soft and cuddlable. He smiled shyly at you, which you returned and let him into your apartment.

He gave you the flowers and you hugged him tightly. It caught him a little of guard. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you too. His head rested against yours. “Did you see it?” he asked softly. “Of course” you told him sweetly. You could tell he was nervous. “I ehm would you like to be my girlfriend? Because I’m falling hard for you.” he laughed nervously.

You got the biggest smile and pulled out of the hug “I would love that Seba. I really like you too.” He got the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him. He cupped your cheek with his hands, looking intense into your eyes. His grin disappeared as you both got into a trance. He softly licked his lips and came closer, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to.

You placed your lips on his. His lips felt soft and gentle. You put your arms around his neck and he put his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. You started moving in the kiss and you could feel his tongue against yours, releasing all the butterflies and excitement in your stomach.

After you broke away from the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours with a bright, intoxicating smile. “Want to watch a movie? I brought snacks.” You chuckled at his question and nodded. He peppered your face with kisses, making you chuckle and giggle. God the feeling this man gave you was astronomical.

You were currently chilling on the couch. Sebastian laid on top of you, his head on your chest while you played with his hair. Your nails softly through his hair, combing it back. His arms resting loosely around you. He smelled so good as well and his lazy, comfort clothes weren’t helping with the strings on your heart.

He shifted a little and well, let’s not lie here, you were wet. You wanted him so bad but you felt too shy to take the first step. What you didn’t notice was that you’re body was reacting on its own, shifting underneath him and a soft whimper fell from your lips. You coughed in hopes he wasn’t aware of the fact how horny you were but he was and he was too.

His groin got hard at your movements. You shifted from his hair to his back. Your nails teasing his back. You could feel that Sebastian got a little tense. He clenched his jaw, what you could feel on your chest.

You both started to breath more rapid than before. You shifted once more, knowing you were fully soaked. He looked up at you, his pupils blown. He got a little off of you, holding himself up with his arms as he hovered over you, making your breathing become even more rapid and your heartbeat go up.

He attached his lips on yours in a matter of seconds, indulging you in a heated and passionate kiss as he grabbed your chin. His hand wondering over your body and he felt you tense up, making him back away. “I’m sorry…. I thought…” he felt embarrassed but you quickly grabbed his face, making him look at you “You thought right.” You told him shy. He got a grin/smirk on his face and came closer to your face but not yet placing his lips on yours yet. “Tell me if you want to stop, or don’t like something” You nodded and he chuckled a little as you pulled your body a little of the couch so you had contact with his body again and started to grind on him a little.

He looked down at your body with a grin and then back into your eyes. He placed his lips on your again and his hand started to go downward. His hand disappeared in your sweatpants and underneath your lingerie. You let out a whimper and he smiled as he carefully got your lip between his teeth, before crashing into the kiss again.

He found your clit fast and started to finger you. He moaned in reaction of your wetness. “You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?” you nodded and whimpered in response again.

You brought your hips up to get more fraction. He chuckled as he let you grind against his hand.

You brought your hips up to get more fraction. He chuckled as he let you grind against his hand. He added a finger in and started to pump in and out of you. You grabbed onto his shoulders, already feeling close as he worked his magic with his fingers.

When he found your clit again, you started to pant. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You whimpered. He smiled at you “I’m not going to stop, don’t worry I won’t stop.” He said to you as you moaned when his lips got attached to your neck.

Your legs started to shake and soon your whole body followed with immense pleasure as you released your orgasm. Sebastian smiled as he held your face between his palms and kissed you with lust. He put his finger in his mouth, licking off your juices as he remained eye contact. You felt yourself growing wet again just by his actions.

You got up as Sebastian backed away. His back resting against the couch. You could see his groin through his sweatpants. You grabbed his hands and he was awaiting your actions as he followed you to your bedroom.

You got his hoodie off of him and his shirt. You went with your cold hands over his toned chest. He shivered a little at the touch of your cold hands. He got your hoodie off as well, leaving you in your bra. You quickly shimmered your way out of your pants and pushed him on your bed.

He prepped himself up on his elbows. This time you hovered over him and kissed him deeply before going to his neck, his chest, slowly and teasingly making your way down as you undid his pants, remaining eye contact.

He pushed his hips up so you could take his pants and boxers off, his cock jumping out. Sebastian had a grin on his face. You took his cock between your hands and started to pump him before taking him in his mouth. Sebastian let his head fall on your bed with a groan as you tried to take him in, making you gag slightly.

You worked him and all of a sudden he got you up from his cock. You looked surprised at him, thinking that maybe he didn’t like it. “Baby, if you keep doing that, I’ll cum in no time” he told you, making you smile.

His hand was softly wrapped around your neck as he pulled you closer so he could kiss you. He looked into your eyes deeply before his lips met yours in a passionate, lustful kiss. “Come sit on my face baby girl.” You felt flustered and you could feel your cheeks heat up. You’ve never sat on someone’s face before.

Sebastian gave you a reassuring smile “It’s okay baby. Trust me.” you nodded and climbed your way up. You made eye contact with Sebastian but you weren’t sitting yet. He wrapped his arms around your legs and waist and pulled you down on his face. He was eating you out like a hungry man, making you moan loudly. No man had ever made you feel this good. You knew you were going to cum in no time.  “You taste so good baby girl”

“Seb, I’m close.” You said between breaths. He groaned against your pussy and you could feel his warm breath as you got closer to your second orgasm. “Cum for me princess.” He said between licks. “You’re so beautiful, you’re doing so good for me.” the praising was what god you over the edge and you started to grind on his face.

You let your head fall back and you supported your body with your hands on his chest, behind you. Sebastian grabbed your breast in his hand, teasing your hard nipple as your whole body shook in ecstasy as he stroked himself with his other hand. He licked up all your juices, making you shake more.

He helped you get off and kissed you passionately, while you tasted yourself on his lips. “You make me so hard when you’re above me.” You moaned in his mouth as a response.

You laid on your back and Sebastian hovered over you again. He took your nipple in his mouth and you pushed your hips back up. “Seb, I need you.” he smirked. “Tell me exactly what you need baby girl.” You whined “I need to feel you, I want you inside of me.” you whimpered.

He smirked as he placed his cock by your slit, rubbing on it, once again making you buckle your hips. Sebastian scanned your face again before entering you, filling you up and making you both moan. Your pussy had almost a death grip on his cock and he moaned in your ear as his cock stretched you out. “You feel so good baby.”

He slowly started to move and you held his face between your soft palms so you could pull him closer for a passionate kiss. “faster, please” you whined and he did as you asked. He started to pound into you, kissing you in the process. His hand was around your neck, not hard enough to hurt you. You moaned as he slowly tightened his hand around your throat.

He got out of you and you whimpered at the lost and empty feeling inside of you. “Lay on your stomach, beautiful.” You got on your stomach in no time. “What do you want baby?” Sebastian asked as he was teasing you at your entrance with his cock. “I want you to fuck me daddy.” It came out automatically and your eyes grew wide. You couldn’t see him so you couldn’t see his reaction either. It was quiet behind you and nothing happened, making you grow anxious.

“I’m sor….” He cut you off “You want daddy to fuck you yeah?” You mewed in response. “daddy’s got you, don’t worry princess. Gonna make sure your brains are fucked out by the end okay princess?” you whimpered and he entered you, dicking you down on the bed as he pushed your body in the mattress and gave your ass a couple of smacks.

He pounded you, hitting your spot every time and you felt yourself grow closer. “I’m gonna cum daddy.” You could practically hear him smirk. “Cum for me baby girl, cum for daddy.” You shook as you held your blankets in your hand.

You heard Sebastian moan, as you were tightening around him. He got out of you and sat on the bed. “Come ride me baby.” you quickly climbed into his lap, his back resting against your headboard. You took his cock in your hands and got him in as you lowered yourself, both moaning in reaction. Sebastian leaned forward and placed his arms around you, hiding his head in your neck, placing wet kisses there as you started to move.

He leaned back a little, his hands on your waist as he helped you with the pace while he looked intensely at you. “You’re so beautiful.”  You placed your lips against his, instead of lustful it turned passionate and loving.

He placed you on your back again and entered you while his hand went over every inch of your body. He slowly started to move as it got more passionate and sensual. You moaned in reaction and he quickly put his lips on yours, muffling the sounds.

“I’m going to cum soon baby.” he told you out of breath. You could only nod in reaction as you were chasing your own orgasm once again, which came quicker than expected. As you clenched around him, he was unable to pull out and came into you. he looked shocked at you and once you got your breath and vision back you smiled. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” He let out a breath from relief and tried to catch his breath as well, placing his lips on yours. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you.

Sebastian collapsed on your chest, both tired as you lazily made out, Sebastian pulling your face a little to the side where he laid, legs entangled. You accidentally clenched and you could hear him groin in response. He carefully got out of you, making you whimper at the lost. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.” He told you softly as he nuzzled your nose. You smiled in response “I really like you Seba.” He kissed you more passionate “I really like you too sweetheart.” Once you both came down you decided to take a shower together.

After the shower you both climbed back into bed naked. “Seb? Can you maybe… stay inside of me?” you asked him shyly as you wanted him closer than before. He looked surprised at first but got a smile on his face “Of course baby.” he pumped his cock a little more and his finger found your slit again, already wet at his touch. He smirked but decided to say nothing. Once he was hard he got into you, making you both moan in unison again.

Your leg was over his and you got closer against his chest. “Better?” he asked softly and you nodded, starting to feel tired. “Close your eyes sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. Get some rest.” he encouraged you, which helped as you closed your eyes, feeling utterly exhausted.

Sebastian softly played with your hair and made sure you were fast asleep, before closing his own eyes in a peaceful sleep. Feeling happier than ever.

[ncllywrites]

Day One

just a soft blurb about being jack's gf and your relationship when he's on tour ♡

wc: 1242

warnings: none

a/n: this is my first time writing for jack so i apologize if this is inaccurate! i've always thought he was fine af but i just recently started getting into him so i decided to write a lil something for him. hope you guys enjoy :)

not proofread so please excuse any errors! open to any feedback

It was an off day for Jack; a rare occasion for the Y/L/N-Harlow household. You and Jack were sitting in your king sized bed, cuddled up underneath a mountain of blankets that had accumulated overtime, watching the rain droplets race down the window. You both enjoyed days like this - Jack because, even though he loved his supporters, the back to back shows and interviews were extremely draining, and you because you got to have Jack all to yourself without having to worry about sharing him with anyone else, as selfish as that may seem.

After a few moments of silence, you look down, wondering if Jack had fallen asleep since he hadn’t said anything or moved for a while, only to find that he was already looking up at you, admiring your features.

“Baby,” he calls out, getting a simple hum in reply. “Do you remember how we met?”. You look away and softly chuckle, remembering how you were one of the first people to support Jack after he got signed. “Yeah,” you respond in a hushed tone, slightly embarrassed, “I remember. I was so obsessed with you!” Jack quickly leans up on his elbow, one hand on his chest feigning offense. “Was?”. You just roll your eyes at his behavior. “Fine, I’m still obsessed with you, bubs”. Jack shoots you a glare while slowly settling back into his previous position, mumbling a soft ‘That’s what I thought’ into your stomach.

“Y’know, you came into my life at the perfect time.” Jack whispers. “And even though you were a fan, I could tell that you genuinely cared for me. Everyone else was in love with ‘Jack Harlow’ but never bothered to get to know me as a person. You, on the other hand… I feel like I’ve known you my whole life”.

✩✩✩✩

It was time for Jack to go back on tour and although it would only be for a couple weeks, his leaving was hard on the both of you. Jack had only been home for a few days before he was made to travel halfway across the globe. You both promised to call and facetime as soons as either one of you had freetime. You knew that this might cause you to lose some sleep due to the drastic time difference from your hometown to wherever Jack would be, but it would be worth it to hear and see your baby boy.

Jack had some downtime after soundcheck, so he decided to call you. “Y/N, baby, I wanna come home.” he groaned, leaning his head into his elbow. You look at him with a sympathetic smile, “I know, honey. I want you home too, but think of all the people that would be disappointed if you just up and canceled the last two shows.” Jack slowly raised his head to look at you through the screen. “Damn, I hate when you put things into perspective.” In a teasing tone, you reply “Sorry? I just know that I’d hate to have waited so long to meet The Jack Harlow, only to have him cancel the show.”

Looking around the greenroom to make sure that no one heard him, which was unlikely due to the amount of scrambling and backing and forthing going on behind him, Jack leaned into the camera and spoke in a hushed tone. “Sometimes I just wanna take a break, you know? I don’t like that I spend all this time away from you.” It was hard not being able to do simple, normal couple things like just kiss Jack whenever you felt like it, so you understood how frustrating this was for him. “I know, baby. Just try and get through these last two days, then you’ll be off until the album releases” you respond, trying your best to ease the situation.

✩✩✩✩

It was the day before Jack was scheduled to come home when you were scrolling through Instagram, liking and commenting on posts that Jack’s fans had tagged you in, when you came across some photos from a recent meet and greet. The fan posed bent over in front of Jack, while he had his hands planted on her waist, his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Scrolling through other pictures, the fake grin plastered on Jack’s face stood out to you. To anyone else, it looked like a genuine smile, but you knew Jack better than he knew himself sometimes, and you saw right through it. He was masking the fatigue from constantly being on the road.

You knew how Jack felt when it came to showing love to his fans. You knew that he would push through the exhaustion just to be able to see them smile and enjoy themselves, and that’s exactly what you saw when you looked into his eyes through those pictures. At this point, all you wanted was for your baby to come home and get the rest he truly deserved.

✩✩✩✩

Once Jack was back home, his body basically shut down from exhaustion. All he did was sleep, and when he was awake, he’d rather be cuddled up beside you, and have you do everything for him. It was safe to say that after being apart from you constantly like this, Jack had become even clingier than he was before he left, following behind you wherever you went.

Like right now, you were on the couch watching big mouth with Jack laying right on top of you, your chest acting as a pillow. You were so enthralled by the hormone monster’s vulgarity that you didn’t notice Jack’s breathing had shalowed and turned into soft snores. You figured that now would be the perfect time to get up to go to the bathroom, knowing that a fully conscious Jack would highly disagree. As soon as you had moved to shift his body to the side slightly, his arms trapped you in a viselike grip, incoherently mumbling into your cleavage. “Jack, baby, I have to pee” you tried to plead with the groggy rapper, which only made him snuggle into your side further. “But you’re warm and I’m comfortable."

You sat back in your original spot, trying to come up with a plan on how you would make it to the bathroom in time. “Look,” you begin. “If you let me go to the bathroom really quick, I’ll come back and we can watch whatever you want for the rest of the day”. After a few seconds of silent complentation, Jack finally agreed to let you up, claiming that he’d be timing you.

Even though you knew he was joking, you hated leaving his side, especially when he was in such a cuddly mood, so you quickly made your way to the washroom and rushed back out to the living room. Once back on the couch, you gently rolled Jack’s head back on top of your chest and ran your fingers through his curls, gently pressing your lips on his forehead every so often. Sighing in content, Jack’s biceps flexed as his arms pulled you impossibly closer to his body.

“You were gone for 2 minutes and 36 seconds by the way.” He whispered to you before pressing a kiss to your sternum then turning his head back towards the tv. Giggling in disbelief, you just shook your head before turning to look at the tv as well. “What am I gonna do with you?”

[rockthingsbymeg]

Unexpectadly

Pairing: Slash | Saul Hudson x fem!reader

Requested: for smutty saturday: could you write something where slash and y/n are in a long term relationship and they really want kids and slash has the biggest breeding kink ever and one day his girl tells him she's pregnant and it ends up with passionate sex and dirty talking? btw your writing skills are amazing, i have read some of your fics for so many times that i ended up already knowing everything line from them 

Info/TW: Fluff and smut [handjob, breeding kink but not in too much detail,dirty talking]; pregnancy and unnefective contraceptive methods; 2908 words

AN: Is it smutty saturday? No. Do I care? Also no. First thing I’ve published in a long time, hope my writings are still worth posting <3

It still surprised Y/N the amount of years Slash and she had been together.

From the earlier days of their relationship, commitment was something both of them actively avoided. Not out of fear, but mostly because they didn't feel ready to settle down. They were young, reckless, Slash growing famous and richer by the day, and with the number of people coming in and out of their lives, commitment seemed too much of a risk, even if, deep down, their hearts only found comfort in each other.

It took them a while to realize they had ended up committed to each other, however, even with the lack of a name for their relationship or a clear view of their feelings. Y/N had found a career that allowed her to work wherever she was, giving her the chance to fly out with the band often, most of the time, after a suggestion from Slash.

Slowly but surely they realized no one else but the other had the same amount of importance. They realized no one occupied the free spots on their beds or lives and that nearly every night they ended up in each other's arms, cuddling after was just supposed to be casual sex.

It took a little nudge from Duff and Axl, hopeless romantics as they were, to help Y/N and Slash see there was no one else they'd rather have in their lives and finally sit down to figure their relationship through.

That conversation happened somewhere around late 1989. Now, almost six years later, Y/N held something in their hand that would change their entire dynamic once more. 

Slash had just come back from a radio interview to promote his latest side project, Slash's Snakepit, and was chilling in their living room, watching some cooking show as he waited for Y/N to come out of the bathroom. She had left right as they finished a movie, nausea striking her out of nowhere and making her rush out of the couch, although she did her best to assure Slash she was fine and just needed to pee. She didn't want to get him worried about anything and considering it was nearly the tenth time she felt sick that week alone, Y/N had a clear suspicion of what was the cause of it.

In the back of her mind, she knew she should have expected this sooner or later. For years, their only contraceptive method was the pull-out (and while Slash was admittedly good at controlling his own body, they had accidents on the way...), but lately, as their relationship gained a new sense of realness, with Slash spending more time at home, and doing more domestic things with her than ever, he had felt comfortable enough to share with her a kink he had kept hidden for a long time.

She remembered the night they talked about it like it happened yesterday. He decided to bring it up as the tension began building around them in bed, and Y/N had had to do a lot of focusing in order to actually listen to him and ignore the impossibly wet sensation between her legs. 

She could still hear the faint embarrassment in his voice and see the way he avoided eye contact most of the time as he talked about how he loved the thought of filling her up, not just with his body, but with his cum, of hearing her whimper for more and more, begging to be stuffed full. And if she was being honest, one of the reasons she remembered it so clearly was because she felt a sense of relief in finally being able to admit she had fantasized about scenarios like that more often than she'd like to tell.

After that night, their contraceptive method became the morning after pill along with her regular pills. Over and over again. She knew it was neither healthy nor the most effective one, but between that or changing to condoms, she'd rather have what they had.

But like before, that contraceptive failed. Just one day. Just one day where she had run out of pills and told herself she'd buy them later during the day. Except she had never bought them, or taken them, and now she was holding a positive pregnancy test between her hands, not knowing how Slash would react. A breeding kink is one thing, but actual pregnancy and kids were something they had never talked about in great detail.

As much as she would like, however, she wasn't given much time to dwell on the outcomes, as a soft knock on the bathroom door pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Babe, are you okay? You've been in there for quite a while." Slash's worried voice asked from the outside, and Y/N's heart thumped harder on her throat.

"Yeah... I'm fine, but... come in." She answered in a voice not as firm as she would like it to be.

She watched the doorknob turn and Slash step inside, covered in a simple pair of red shorts and with his hair pulled back, sweat running down his exposed skin with the California heat. Any other time she would have let her mind wander around the topic of licking up the trail of hair peeking out from his clothes, but right now, she couldn't.

"What's-" Slash was quick to cut himself off when he saw the box of tests resting on the counter, as well as the open, used one on her trembling hands. Silently, he kneeled in front of her and gently took it between his own hands, scanning the two pink lines.

Internally, Y/N was cursing her boyfriend's poker face, scanning every millimeter of him in order to understand what he was feeling, what he was thinking.

She decided it was best if she was the one to break the silence. She knew he had trouble getting what he felt out through words, and would probably appreciate more time to think while she explained herself. "I... I forgot to take the pills a couple of weeks ago. It was just one day, and I told myself I wouldn't forget... But I had run out of them and ended up not going to the store until the next day. And apparently, that was a bit late..."

Slash's eyes had shifted to her while she spoke, and when her gaze had met his, she told herself she was seeing things when she noticed the glimmer in his eyes. She watched him look down at the test once more before looking back up and throwing himself at her, wrapping her in a bear bug and hauling her up from her seat on the closed toilet lid.

She felt his lips meet the exposed skin of her shoulders, the only skin he could reach while still hugging her, and multiple kisses followed suit, although they hardly counted as kisses, with his lips stretched into such a big smile.

"Wait, you're not mad?" Y/N asked in genuine bewilderment, wrapping her arms around his neck for security and smiling into the side of his head.

"Babe, this is fucking awesome!" He finally managed to say as he set her back down on her feet, moving his hands to her hips as he kissed her lips. "Why the fuck would I be mad?"

Y/N could barely speak through the kisses, and she had to wait for a second or two to finally be able to speak. "We just... we never talked about this, and you have the new album and both bands. And I know shit's been weird in Guns, and I thought you wanted to chill a bit from all that."

She saw his face close off momentarily at the mention of the slowly falling apart band, but he was quick to overlook it and become happy again. "Sweetheart, fuck that. I couldn't be happier. And yeah, we never talked about it, but it's not like I didn't want a family with you."

Those words brought a soft smile to Y/N's face. It was rare to hear Slash talk about more serious matters like that, and the happiness in his voice was contagious. "You really want a family with me?"

Slash pressed one long kiss to her lips, moving his hands to her cheeks and cupping them in his hands. "Course I do." He smiled as he pulled away, looking at her face for a bit as if she had hung the moon and stars for him.

Y/N was the one to initiate the next kiss, shorter than his previous one, but hungrier. She couldn't help but get out the immense happiness she was feeling in the way they communicated best, and she soon felt Slash reciprocate in kind, his body guiding her own against the bathroom counter as his hips locked hers in place.

His hands left her cheeks again and traveled to the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it up and over her head easily, pressing their chests together as he deepened the kiss, his hands resting on the small of her back.

They broke apart for air a bit after but kept their faces close together, noses and foreheads touching as their hands began more daring. Slash pressed a quick peck against her as he muttered. "I love you"

"I love you too, baby." She answered, holding on to the hem of his shorts and dragging him out of the bathroom, towards their room, and onto their unmade bed, quick to straddle him and lean down for another kiss.

Slash allowed her to be on top, for the time being, moving his hands to her breasts and squeezing them lightly, rolling his thumbs over the perky nipples and delighting himself in the soft whimper he received as an answer.

Y/N planted her hands by his head and began dragging her hips back and forth, pushing her chest into his hands. Her entire body was on fire everywhere he had touched, and she felt like a starving woman as she reached down to prompt his shorts to come off with needy tugs.

Slash peeled them off as best as he could in his position, with aid from Y/N, and soon his dick, not hard to its maximum, was being enveloped by the warmth of Y/N's soft hand, stroking him up and down with just the right amount of tightness around him, sending him bucking into her like a horny teen.

Y/N leaned down again, this time to get her lips on his neck, sinking her teeth on the skin, tugging gently before letting go, soothing the spot with a swipe of her tongue. Slash groaned open-mouthedly into the air, bucking harder against her hand before he was flipping her over, taking her hand off of him and pinning it by her head.

With her t-shirt and his shorts gone, all that separated them was the cotton fabric of Y/N's panties, the piece glued to her body like a second skin. The color matched her too, and Slash could easily see, even from his unfavorable spot, the wet stain on her core, highlighting, even more, the shape of her labia.

He couldn't stop the grunt that tumbled off his mouth even if he tried, and he was quick to glue their hips back together and finish what Y/N had started, driving himself to his full hardness before he even thought about thoroughly fucking her.

"Fucking love you so much, sweetheart." His voice came out low against her lips, and it was the only thing keeping Y/N grounded as she rubbed her soaked core against his pulsing dick. "Fucking love everything you do for me. How you make me feel..." His lips peppered kisses on her face, slowly and steadily making a trail to her earlobe, where he sucked hard on the flesh before continuing with the kisses. "How good you fell around my cock when I fill you up." He smirked against her as his right hand slid between their bodies, thumb easily finding her clit and rubbing teasing circles on it.

"I love it when you fill me up..." Y/N moaned into the open air, body arching underneath Slash as it chased his touch, her hands holding on to his back, shorts nails leaving searing marks down his skin as she scratched down.

"I know you do, baby, you always cum so fucking hard around me." He moaned as the pain from the scratches began settling in, burning just like her body underneath his. His hand smoothly pushed the soft pair of panties aside, drenched to a nearly unbelievable point, and he pushed himself inside her, moaning in tandem with her as he fully settled in, her walls stretching to accommodate him like she was made for him and just him.

"Fuck, yeah..." Y/N moaned with a pleased smile on her face, taking her hands away from his back to cup his cheeks and pull him to a kiss. Slash quickly kissed back as he picked up his pace, smoothly rolling his hips into hers, his thumb leaving her clit in favor of holding her hips in place.

Slash allowed her to deepen the kiss with smooth strokes of her tongue against his, and as she broke out for air and to moan more freely, he bit down on her bottom lip, puffed out from all the kisses. He moved both hands to her waist and pulled her against him, holding her in his embrace as he climbed further up the bed, having her lay with her head on the pillows.

He moved his hands down her legs and hooked them over his shoulders, practically bending her in half as he continued thrusting. Y/N's hands slid to his hair as he moved her around, keeping their faces closed as she stared into his eyes, glancing down occasionally to watch her stomach bulge with his dick from the new position. 

"You're gonna be such a good mom." Slash groaned between moans, pecking her lips. "Gonna look so beautiful... so fucking big..." He felt his cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment at the thoughts clouding his mind and words tumbling from his lips, but he knew he wouldn't be judged. 

"Yeah... all for you." Y/N moaned against his lips, looking deep into his eyes, feeling her high creep into her stomach, wrapping around her body like the sea. "All for you, Slash. I'm all yours..."

"Say that again." Slash moaned as his hand slid away from her hip and squeezed her ass, his hips speeding up their already quick, deep pace. "Fuck, say that again, baby."

"I'm yours, I'm all yours, baby!" Y/N whimpered as she fought to keep her eyes open, one hand moving up and flattening her palm against the headboard so Slash's thrusts would stop pushing her up and away from him.

"Fuck- yeah, you are. My girl... all mine." Slash moaned, moving his mouth to her breasts and sucking one of the already abused nipples, knowing how close she was and wanting her to finish before him.

Y/N cried out his name as she felt his mouth close around the sensitive bud, pleasure far past the point of allowing her to form coherent sentences. All the focus on was the feeling of his body on hers, inside her, consuming her, pleasing her and himself until she could no longer take it.

Her orgasm crashed suddenly, with a rough thrust right against a spot deeper than her g-spot, and more pleasurable too, combined with the right amount of stimulation on her clit from his lower abs rubbing against it and a harsh suck to her breast.

Her legs shook on his shoulders, toes curling as she cried out loudly, moaning his name like a prayer as she trembled beneath him, her core squeezing around Slash as he kept his flawless pace, moaning against her skin as he heard her broken voice wail into the open air.

Her high carried on for a few long seconds before her body went relaxed and limp under him, legs sliding off his shoulders and resting beside his own. Her eyes remained close, and her face in an expression of pure bliss while tired, sensitive moans fell from her lips with each thrust.

Slash raised himself on his knees and clamped his hands around her hips, raising them and thrusting into her like a starved man, feeling his orgasm teeter right around the edge. With a look down to her belly, and more sinful thoughts clouding his already hazy brain, Slash came with a powerful groan, calling her name under his breath as copious amounts of cum spilled inside her, the knowledge that no pills would be necessary this time lingering in both their heads.

Slash pulled out after a few more shallow, tired thrusts, letting her hips come back down to the bed as he joined her, pulling her into a hug and kissing her softly, his right hand sliding down to rub her belly.

Y/N smiled widely against his lips as she placed a hand on top of his own, cuddling into his side and kissing his shoulder lovingly. "Thank you for this... I love you so much."

Slash pressed a kiss wherever he could reach, which ended up being her forehead, and laced his fingers with hers, breathing in her scent and letting his entire body relax against her welcoming body heat. "I love you too, sweetheart."

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Thank you so much for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and any kind of way you show me you liked this are endlessly appreciated💛

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