#thanks for sending this! happy to give our ice boi some love :)

[fbfh]

okay, pretty odd request and i completely understand if you do not feel comfortable writing it; you can totally scrap it! so i just got my wisdom teeth removed and i am pretty miserable about it. i was kind of wondering how our favourite boy leo might react. i feel like, as repair boy, he would be pretty bummed to not be able to just fix it right away, y’know? thank you so much, whether you feel comfortable writing for this prompt or not, i love your work and you are literally my favourite writer for leo💋

awww babes!!!!!!! I got my wisdom teeth out like maybe a year ago???? ish???? while it did suck it wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be so I TOTALLY understand both how much it sucks and the i feel like shit Leo cravings.

okay okay so first of all Leo would not leave your side for a minute. he is so sweet and attentive and gentle with you while your coming back from anesthesia like a motherfucking walking lime green flag. like this. if he's still in college at MIT or wherever he's collecting diplomas like pokemon he will not HESITATE to ditch all classes that day to take care of you with or without his school's permission. if you cry on anesthesia like I do he will be SO FUCKING TENDER with you. he gets every possible caring for someone hack from his mom and from the internet and every resource possible to make sure you're happy and pain free and comfy. He brings you ice packs for your cheeks with tongs so he doesn't accidentally melt them with his hands (it did happen once. you both laughed so hard.) and he always makes sure you eat enough yogurt so your antibiotics don't mess up your stomach. he stays close to you, helps take care of your hair and skin, watches cartoons and movies with you. if you like having your nails done, he will SO give you mani pedis. even if you normally get acrylics or gel or whatever, seeing the slightly messy, sparkly matching nail polish in your favorite colors Leo tenderly and carefully put on your nails and toes makes you so happy every time you see it. he pets your head and peppers you with kisses and tells you how brave you were in a soft voice. he gets you a "conradulations on letting them steal your teeth" basket full of plushies and juice and intricate little coloring pages and crossword puzzles and stuff to keep you busy. He plays cozy video games with you and builds the most insane shit for you in animal crossing. you post it online and some people speculate that he hacked or modded the game to do that but nope. Leo simply loves you to the point of invention. If your swelling or pain is real bad and you're also a demigod he'll check with Will (aka the entire demisquad's informal PCP) how much ambrosia or nectar to give you to help you heal quickly and take the edge off. He holds your hands while you take little walks around your house or apartment a few times a day, like your recovery instructions say to. he makes you what he affectionatley referres to as "gourmet baby food", aka soups and soft pates and purees that taste better than most solid food. he relays all get well soon messages from your friends, including how percy joked that getting your wisdom teeth out means annabeth has less competition for the title of group brain cell wielder. your kitty Jackjack curls up on your lap as soon as Leo initially brings you back from the dentist and doesn't leave your side for a minute. every selfie you and Leo send the group chat has Jackjack curled up on your chest, purring and drooling contently. You have no idea how Leo makes something like pulling teeth feel like a spa vacation, but he makes everything into such a warm, cozy, happy experience. but you guess that when you love someone as much as you and Leo love each other, it's not too surprising.

[thebookreader12345]

Newborn

Pairing: Evan Hawkins x reader

Summary: Evan didn't think he could be any happier, but that all changes when he gets to hold his newborn son in his arms

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of c-sections/surgery

Word Count: 1,165

"Hey beautiful," Evan greeted and peaked him head into our bedroom. "You up yet?"

"No," I grumble sleepily from where I was snuggled up in blankets. "I don't want to get up."

"But you have to get up," Evan retorted and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Today's the day! We're finally gonna get to meet our little munchkin!"

"Please stop calling the baby that," I beg. "I'm only excited for today because we'll finally give the baby a name, and then you don't have to use that ridiculous nickname."

"You secretly love it," Evan teased and leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. "Now come on and get up. We've gotta be at the hospital in like an hour."

"Ugh," I groan and sit up. "All right. I'll get ready then."

"How are you not as excited as me right now?" Evan asked. "I'm freaking out!"

"I am excited, honey. Seriously," I assure him and send a small smile his way. "I'm just not excited for this surgery."

"I get that," Evan confessed and put his face down by my swollen stomach. "You just had to make things difficult, didn't you?"

"Babies are breech all the time, Ev," I notify him. "It's actually pretty common. But I'm glad the date is finally here because in a few months I can get back to work!"

Evan laughed. "You and your work, Y/n. You're a workaholic!"

"I'm not a workaholic. I just love my job!" I defend.

I was working as a firefighter at Firehouse 51 on Squad 3 when Evan and I had met. He had worked with Violet on Ambulance 61 for a few shifts while Sylvie was off in Oregon visiting Matt. We hit things off right away, and the rest was history. I hadn't been able to work on Squad 3 since I found out I was pregnant, so it's been about 9 months. Luckily, Chief Boden let me work in the office with Kylie so that I could still be around everyone.

"I know you do, Y/n," Evan confirmed and hopped off the bed. "I've got all of the hospital bags downstairs by the door, so as soon as you're ready, we can head to the hospital."

In no time, I was all dressed and got myself situated in the passenger seat of the car. Evan loaded the rest of our things into the backseat, and within half an hour, I was set up in my hospital room in the labor and delivery wing of Chicago Med. I was on my phone when Evan walked in with the ice chips I had asked for, and he set them down on the tray next to my bed.

"Thanks," I murmur and continuing typing away at the keypad on my phone.

"Who are you texting?" Evan inquired.

"I was texting my mother that we got to the hospital. But then Stella texted the group chat with me, Sylvie, and Vi, and now they're blowing it up with messages on how excited they are to meet the baby. The amount of emojis being used right now...." I trailed off and placed my phone on the table next to me. "I need a break."

"I think I can provide a distraction from that. Since the moment's finally here, what do you think? Boy or girl?" Evan posed.

"I know that you and all of the guys at 51 want it to be a boy," I bring up. "And the fact that your side of the family is mostly guys only helps with that."

"But?" Evan prompted.

"But nothing. I'd be happy with either," I admit. "I think a girl would be easier, especially if I'm gonna be doing this whole parenting by myself for the first few months."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Evan interrupted. "What gave you the idea that you'd be doing this all alone?"

"Well I just figured that it'd be hard for you to take all that time off," I reason.

"Y/n, you and I are in this together. I already put in time off for the first week after the baby is born, and after that I'll only be going in 3 days a week instead of 5 with shortened hours," Evan informed me.

"You're the best, Ev. I love you," I say and lean over to peck his lips.

"I love you too," Evan returned. "Not get some rest. You're gonna need it. That means you too, munchkin."

A Few Hours Later........

"You doing okay?" Evan asked from where he was seated next to my head in the operating room.

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm good. Are you okay? You look like you're about to start bouncing off the walls."

"I might just do that," Evan revealed jokingly as his foot tapped anxiously against the floor. Suddenly, it felt like a huge pressure was lifted off of me, and then crying pierced the air.

"Congratulations you guys. You're now the parents of a healthy baby boy," the doctor announced.

"Did you hear that, Y/n? We have a son," Evan gushed.

"You do. And he's beautiful," the nurse told us and placed the baby on my chest.

"He's got your nose, Ev," I note as I held the baby against me.

"That he does," Evan agreed and pressed a kiss to my head.

The next hour or so was a blur. The rest of the surgery went by pretty quickly, and before I knew it, we were back in the recovery room excited to spend time with our newborn. The nurse wheeled our son into the room and placed him into my arms, and the baby cooed softly.

"You guys have a beautiful son," the nurse asserted.

"Thank you. Um, our co-workers and family are waiting for a name and a picture," Evan claimed and held up my phone. "They can't come in until after work. Would you mind taking a picture for us?"

"I would love to," the nurse responded and took my phone. As soon as she took the picture, the nurse handed the phone back to Evan and excused herself from the room.

"All right dad. Here you go," I offer and pass him our baby in exchange for my phone. "I know you've been dying to hold him."

"Hey munchkin," Evan greeted softly and rocked the baby back and for.

"Evan, we agreed that once the baby was born you wouldn't call him that," I lecture.

"Sorry," Evan apologized and stared down at the baby lovingly. "Hey, James. Welcome to the world buddy."

As Evan was busy gushing over the baby, I was typing out a text message to all of Firehouse 51. They were very impatient, so I figured I should do this now rather than later. I sent the picture that the nurse had just taken, and below it I typed out a text before hitting send.

"Welcome the newest addition to the Firehouse 51 family, James Christopher Hawkins."

_________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @ncostin2001 @evangeline91 @just-arather-veryconfused-being @generalfarmmuffinagle @kaitlyn-marie-a @shywritermoon @jbbarnes212 @multifandom-loser @wanniiieeee @sesamepancakes @halstead-severide-fan @livinthevidaloca-ish @callmemana

[fromyanderewithlove]

YANDERE SIMULATOR VOICE OVER SCRIPT: Info-Chan= All Recorded Lines as of 9/27/2023

Transcribed by Yours Truly <3

GAME INTRO- CONTENT WARNING:

Info-Chan-

"Warning: this game contains bullying, kidnapping, torture,

murder, suicide, graphic violence, partial nudity, kittens,

raw sewage, cooked sewage, microwave-ready sewage,

true nightmares, eldritch monstrosities, bald assassins,

DK mode, fake tans, Titans,

murderous ice fairies, impossibly strong punches, genocide,

Crusades, spooky scary skeletons,

(SUNG)"standing on the edge!"(SUNG)

zombies, vampires, succubi,

lewd manga,

busty pink-haired schoolgirls,

game-breaking bugs,

an overworked programmer,

and much worse."

{END WARNING}

[AYANO MEETS INFO-CHAN (CLASSIC SCRIPT)]

Info-Chan-

"Hey.'

Ayano-

"Do I know you?"

Info-Chan-

"I saw you stalking an upperclassman today."

Ayano-

"Do you have a problem with that?"

Info-Chan-

"No, I wanted to give you some information about the girl he was with. Her name is Osana Najimi. She has a crush on him. She believes in the myth about the cherry tree behind the school.

Ayano-

"The myth that if you confess your love to someone underneath that tree on a Friday, they are guaranteed to accept your confession?"

Info-Chan-

"Correct. She's planning to confess to him next Friday."

Ayano-

"Why are you telling me this?"

Info-Chan-

"I would be happy if something bad happened to Osana Najimi. I think you might be the right person to give her what she deserves."

Ayano-

"Who are you?"

Info-Chan-

"I'm the person nicknamed Info-chan at school.

Ayano-

"I've heard rumors about you.

You blackmail girls and sell panty shots to boys.

Nobody knows your real name."

Info-Chan-

"The rumors are true.

If you ever need a favor,

text me a panty shot,

and I'll give you whatever support I can.

If you want to know personal information about anyone at our school,

just send me a photograph of their face,

and I'll tell you everything I know about them."

Ayano-

"You're disgusting.

Info-Chan-

"You're a stalker."

"If you want my help, text me.

If you don't care, ignore me."

You have one week until your precious senpai belongs to Osana Najimi.

I hope you make her suffer."

{END SCENE}

[CAUGHT TRYING TO SPY ON INFO-CHAN]

Info-Chan-

"I know you're there."

"Run along now."

"There's nothing for you to see here."

{END SCENE}

[INFO-CHAN REMOTE ACCESS TAKE OVER]

Info-Chan-

"Trying to Look up my information?

"Don't bother."

"There's nothing you need to know about me."

"You're a client."

"And I'm a provider."

"That's all we need to know about each other while doing business with you."

{END SCENE}

[UI ACTION LINES- INFO-CHAN]

CONCLUSIVE RESPONSE:

Info-Chan-

"Pleasure doing business with you."

PANTY SHOTS:

Info-Chan-

"you don't have enough panty shots to afford this."

2. INTERACTION RESPONSE:

Info-Chan-

What do you need?"

3.REWARD RESPONSE:

Info-Chan-

"This one's free. Don't get used to it."

[END SCRIPT]

Thanks for reading. Please Share. and like! <3

[yakdee]

Ramblings on Only Friends Ep. 1

Part 1/4

Table Keeper Gang WYA?!

Is that the same lounge/bathroom from Between Us? Gotta check that later

Love that the only thing Ray heard was that Sand was gonna pee on his head XD

Mew's first word to Top was "shit" and he's already locked in — he's gonna fall sooo hard lol

Open relationship and maybe poly rep? We love to see it

Idk how I feel about helping Mew lose his virginity being a group project

The intro is niceee and the vibe Mew is giving off is quite interesting

Ray's family got MONEY money — imagine having a spare house lying around to use for a school project lol

A lot talk about services I see *wiggles eyebrows*

Ray, sweetie ... your liver

Oof the tension between the boys at this table is something else and then we have our girl Chueam just vibing lol

Again with this "Mew needs to lose virginity " talk urghh

Love that Boson telling Top that Mew is a virgin backfired on his ass; that is none of Top's business until Mew wants it to be

How good is Top's dick game to have Boston low-key badmouthing Mew like this?

DRAKE???!!!

Ray, sweetie ... your life ... other people's lives

"What a burden to society" my new fave insult

Part 2/4

Oh, this is new — loving the honesty between Top and Mew

Mew may be a virgin, but he is far from a prude — love that they are showing us this side of him

Ray and Sand's relationship is gonna kill me

Again I say, DRAKE???!!!

Nick, baby ... what is you doing?

I was so happy when I found out that Samsung has a Repair Mode feature because this is my ultimate fear if I ever need to take my phone in for repair. Can you imagine???!

The cut to Top and Mew eating ice cream is sending me XDD

Again *clap clap* for the honesty and understanding

Top's game is indeed top tier but as I already said, he's gonna fall for Mew so so hard

Part 3/4

Ray, sweetie ... this is no way to thank your savior smh

Top seems genuinely intrigued by Mew, but we all know that he's just in it for the chase (for now, at least)

Imagine waking up in a strange place after blacking out, finding out the friend you have a crush on is on a date with some guy who's known by many as "Top Tier", and finally having your seatbelt decide not to work whe you're trying to go home ... I would need a drink tbh

I feel like that "1 year warranty" line between Nick and Boston will come back at some point

The chemistry between Neo and Mark is insane

Part 4/4

Boston and Ray side-eyeing Top and Mew during this montage, especially the shot in the photobooth is just lmaooo

I see that Chueam is the captain of the Top x Mew ship

Lighting cigarettes as a form of foreplay

So Top is genuinely interested in Mew

Again I ask, how good is Top's dick game to have Boston on his knees like this??? Stand up!!!

Ahhh public declarations/proposals my be-loathed

From table keeper to main character — we love to see it!

See y'all next week (if I have the time lol)

[foster-the-world]

Can't stop.

Can't stop coughing. Week five probably. Getting worse instead of better. Used to be only at night. Feel fine its just the hacking cough and runny nose. Planning to drop baby boy at OT and then walk around outside because don't want the parents mad at me for hacking on them. He missed Friday because he was hacking so much. He at least seemed better this morning.

Mammogram came back "incomplete." so have to go back for futher imagining. Doesn't really make me nervous/anxious just annoyed I have to make another appointment. My Mom just had breast cancer but because she's 70+ I don't think my genetic disposition is particularly increased.

Sent angry emails to the foster agency because they told me they would not reimburse our OT cost. They sent long, inaccurate email about why they would not pay. Today I get a reimbursement check which was def sent before they said they would not pay. They also claimed they would not pay because he is getting OT in school "that they secured." Which is such bullshit. I did all of the evaluation legwork - which I should as his mother. I pointed out he was only getting one OT per week because they could not get a provider. Without asking the agency sends an email to the CPSE office. Not helpful. I already talked to them and they are working on it. Can they please just give us an adoption date but also thank you for that check. We will take it.

Going to see Back to the Future on Broadway tmrw night. Bee's ice skating program gives us access to $20 Broadway play tickets to some shows. Happy to take advantage. Going to my husband's 20 year reunion on Saturday night. His parents asked not to babysit because they need to prepare for Thanksgiving. I'm irrationally annoyed. What exactly do they need to do on Saturday night to prepare for a meal on Thursday? I recognize I have irrational expectations for grandparents because my Mom is so great/helpful/would rather hang out with my kids then do anything else in the entire world. I think his parents have a catch-22 in that they really love hanging out with the kids in theory but its also overwhelming for them in practice. Which is understandable. Just wish we lived by the grandparents who would do anything.

Practicing IV stuff on the fake arm is so helpful. Totally worth the cost. Already feeling much better about starting work. IVs and catheters are my two biggest fears. I can't believe we didn't get to practice either in nursing school. Or rather I got to do one needle stick on a fake arm. One. I also watched another student do a fake catheter insert. The fake arm is not realistic but it helps to practice the steps, etc. My husband is too squeamish to let me practice on him but i think my Mom will.

Found a better airbnb in London. I think my cousin is also going to join us. Which is great news for the girls and I. She gets mad at her Mom for being so out of shape. Which is not so helpful. I sent my Aunt a couch to walking 10K program. She said thank you and did not seem annoyed. I really didn't want to offend her. I think she would be happier if she was better able to get around. Let's hope the trip will be motivating for her.

[huntinglove]

ask game time >3c

tenderheart bear ❤️ - what's your love language? what is s/i's love language?

love-a-lot bear 💞 - what moment made you realize that s/i was "the one"? be as detailed or vague as you want!

friend bear 🌻 - do you and s/i share a lot of friends, or do you both have separate friend groups you hang out with?

Hi hi!! Thank you so much for the ask!!

Tenderheart Bear ❤️ - What's your love language? What is S/I's love language?

Jacob

"What isn't my love language, honestly? I'm willing to do anything to make Eri happy, and I mean anything. All is fair in love and war, as they say... And for me, love is war."

"Eri's love language is definitely quality time... Even when we're not together, they're always checking my social media and sending me anything she thinks I'll enjoy, it's pretty sweet. Plus, I'm always keeping a close eye on them anyways so I guess it's a good match."

Simon

"Oh man, I've always been really bad at noticing these things, but let's see... I think my love language is acts of service. I think it's nice to have a helping hand after a long day, so whenever Ocean Princess needs help with chores or if she's bored, I'll be ready to take care of it for her!"

"Ocean Princess' love language is probably words of affirmation, she always has something sweet to say about me, I don't really see where she's coming from but I'm glad she thinks so highly of me, even if it's a bit... Flustering sometimes..."

Love-A-Lot Bear 💞 - What moment made you realize that S/I was "the one"? Be as detailed or vague as you want!

Jacob

"Right when they moved in. I offered to help them unpack and bring all their stuff inside once I saw the moving truck. They were so kind and fun to talk to, it felt like my first time falling in love all over again, but way more intense... Their smile, their voice, there wasn't a damn thing about Eri that didn't make my heart race like a dumb teenage boy."

Simon

"Considering the... Circumstances of my love life, I was definitely a bit nervous about getting in a relationship... I don't remember many things from when I was Ice King, just some flashes and what other people tell me about it... And Ocean Princess was something a lot of people brought up to me, especially Marcy. When we got back together I was really apprehensive about the whole thing, but then she... Was the most kind and patient person I've ever met. She never made me feel like a waste of time, and everyday with her felt like a brand new adventure, I hadn't felt so young and alive in... Well, a thousand years. That's when I knew I was ready to give love another chance."

Friend Bear 🌻 - Do you and S/I share a lot of friends, or do you both have separate friend groups you hang out with?

Jacob

"Aw man.. Friends... Well, I haven't heard from most of my friends since I finished highschool, plus the people at work are a bunch of assholes, so I don't talk to them much... I guess Eri is my only friend, even if we're dating and all... It's nice to be in love with your best friend though, nothing ever feels dull or boring when we're together!"

"On the other hand... Eri seems to be a social butterfly, even if her friends are far away, since she moved here... She calls them every night and they seem to have a blast together each time. I don't see the point in all that, if you ask me.. I don't trust any of them either..."

Simon

"Oh yes! We definitely have a lot of friends in common, as far as I'm aware! Marcy, though she's technically our daughter hehe... Finn, Prismo, Princess Bubblegum and a few more!"

"I'm pretty sure Ocean Princess is closer to Flame Princess than I've ever been, which is a bit... Ironic, but I'm glad she has more people that understand her!"

[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.”

[toboldlynerd]

helloooo ela 😊✨!! glad your week has settled down a bit, hopefully you have an enjoyable weekend ahead of you!

i loved reading about your spotify wrapped, i haven’t listened to most of those artists/songs, so i will have to give them a try! i just listened to runaway by AURORA and i loved the way the song kept building and building, it felt almost cinematic 🎥💫. do you have a fav song by AURORA that you’d recommend 👀?

ahhhhh, your tea box sounds so cool!! is it designed to keep the tea fresh/preserved while you’re traveling, or just as a means of storage?? i’m a coffee girl through and through 😌 (and hot chocolate too, aksjsjjj that’s how i survive the winter months, but it can be our secret 🫶)

the 9-1-1 gay firefighters are also my blorbos-in-law 😂, i have yet to succumb and watch it but sounds like it might be inevitable! it looks like there was just a new season? did you enjoy it??

i looked up the summary for graceling, it seems very compelling! i haven’t read any fantasy since i was much younger but i’ve had a few recommendations for it recently, and i remember absolutely loving getting lost in those worlds as a kid 🦄

also, btw, i adored the cute animal gifs 🥺🥰, sending love your way 💙❄️✨

Hi yes hello,

This brightened my day for sure, thank you 🧡

Oh, you've asked the million dollars question lmao AURORA was my favorite artist this year (unsurprisingly) and I do love all her work. So much. It's hard to recommend her songs so I will try my best with 3 good vibes songs, 3 heart-wrenching songs and 3 in between.

Positive

1) Queendom (the YouTube video is so good!?!)

2)

3) Exist For Love (because that music video came out way earlier than planned because “her fans needed something to be happy about” and it is just so damn beautiful)

In between

1)

2)

3)

Heart-wrenching, tears possible

Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) (yes, that specific live video for ultimate tear potential. Also tw murder as a significant plot point of the lyrics lol)

Through The Eyes Of A Child (yeah, that version is stripped back. Yeah I cried the first 3 times listening)

Boy In The Grass (it's live, I can't listen to it often cause the raw emotions rattle me every time because of the event the lyrics are based on tw gun violence and child death if you research)

Hehehhe you activated my trap card called “asking about something im passionate about”! This was so hard my dude, it took half an hour and I nearly made the list longer again.

It's just a habit I took over from my mum I guess? It's one normal teabox that gets the designated job of traveling tea box (a little bit like the jeans of teen girl book fame lmao) and then I've also bought some small one that I can use if I don't have much space to work with. It's a certain comfort to know you've got your favorite tea with you at all times...the bigger one is for loose tea leaves and the smaller one for tea bags btw hihi

Omg omgggg, friend, the gay firefighters have taken over my shipping juices since February and won't give them back for nothing 😅 Not gonna lie, a big part of my enjoyment comes from the way it's more of an ensemble show and how they incorporated canon gay and lesbian couples in the main cast (yes, you heard right! POC lesbian main character firefighter!!!!! I am still crushing on her and her wife omfg) and those two blorbos with the most excellent little boy (Chris 🧡) made me read the trope friends to husbands (as in “24hrs marriage speedrun” lets get married - why not right now - alright then) with glee and acceptance of in-character choices that got them there. They are so idiotic sometimes but also so so intelligent 😂✌️

Do you have a favorite artist? Favorite ice cream? (mine is ben and Jerry's cookie dough lol) is there a favorite holiday sweet you always Es eat this time of year?

All the best and warm greetings from a little blanket burrito called Ela ✨🧡

[missmultipleaffairs]

This is a more accurate depiction of my actual stats after actually paying attention and doing it correctly. Long Live might be knocked down later on, I don't know (it's senioritis, I started my senior year of high school a couple weeks ago and I've picked Long Live as my send-off song)

With all this (I don't think Swifties need to see the full ranks), these are my top and bottom five from each album. Warning: Potentially Controversial

Debut:

Top 5

Should've Said No

Picture to Burn

The Outside

Our Song

I'm Only Me When I'm With You

Bottom 5 (5 being the bottom song. This applies to all)

Cold As You

Tied Together With A Smile

Tim McGraw

A Perfectly Good Heart

A Place in This World

Fearless:

Top 5

You Belong With Me

Forever and Always

That's When

Fearless

Hey Stephen

Bottom 5

Superstar

We Were Happy

Don't You

Fifteen

Forever and Always (Piano Version)

Speak Now:

Top 5

Long Live

The Story of Us

Timeless

I Can See You

Sparks Fly

Bottom 5

Last Kiss

Electric Touch

Foolish One

Castles Crumbling

Superman (no surprise, although I don't necessarily hate that song, I just think it's annoying to listen to)

Red:

Top 5

Red

Treacherous

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

The Last Time

I Knew You Were Trouble

Bottom 5

Nothing New

Forever Winter

Safe & Sound (I don't wanna hear about anything about Safe & Sound being a single, it was released as part of Red TV. It also just makes making these lists either)

Run

Everything Has Changed

1989:

Style

Out of the Woods

Shake it Off

Wildest Dreams

Wonderland

Bottom 5

This Love

You Are in Love

Slut!

How You Get The Girl

Sweeter Than Fiction (besides this one, which I think is pretty mid, I actually adore all of these songs. Seeing them in my bottom five makes me a little sad)

Reputation:

Top 5

...Ready For It?

So It Goes...

I Did Something Bad

Look What You Made Me Do

Don't Blame Me

Bottom 5 (these aren't shocking at all)

Call It What You Want

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things (both of these are in the top 100, to give some perspective)

Delicate

New Years Day

End Game (a Tay song I hate with a BURNING passion, and it still wasn't even my bottom song on the entire list)

Lover:

Top 5

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince

Cruel Summer

Afterglow

The Man

Death By A Thousand Cuts

Bottom 5

Me!

Cornelia Street

It's Nice To Have A Friend

Soon You'll Get Better (I'M SORRY, I WISH I COULD BE NICER BUT I CAN'T.)(truthfully I wish I didn't have to rank this at all)

The Archer (who'll always be spared by the Ed Sheeran collabs, those are the only songs she gets to thank for not being dead last)

Folklore

Mirrorball

Cardigan

My Tears Ricochet

August

The Last Great American Dynasty

Bottom 5 (PAINFULLY CONTROVERSIAL)

Seven

The Lakes

This is Me Trying

Exile

Hoax

Evermore:

Top 5

No Body, No Crime

Right Where You Left Me

Long Story Short

Champagne Problems

Willow

Bottom 5

Happiness

Dorothea

It's Time To Go

Evermore

Coney Island

Midnights:

Top 5

Midnight Rain

Vigilante Shit

The Great War

Would've, Could've, Should've (which, I strangely don't even listen to, but they kept putting it against songs I don't like, so it got bumped up farther because of that. On any other ranking, it would be lower)

You're On Your Own Kid

Bottom 5

Paris

Dear Reader

Labyrinth

Glitch

Karma (ft. Ice Spice) (I will shit on this song until I'm dead, this was dead last on my ranking)

TTPD:

Top 5

Guilty As Sin?

imgonnagetyouback

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Florida!!!

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Bottom 5 (also probably controversial depending on who you are)

Peter

loml

I Can Fix Him (No Really, I Can)

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Robin

So yeah, the stats changed because I paid attention and actually thought before clicking random shit. You're welcome for an accurate shuffle of my faves.

[stripesysheaven]

For the stargirl character ask thingy

Cameron

Why I like them: he’s the son of a villain and he obviously is going to end up a villain, and yet he has a very kind heart. cameron is a character that has all the reasons in the world to be angry and mad, and yet he puts his pain into art, and uses that art to make others happy. him covering up the writing on yolanda’s locker with flowers was the moment i really started to like that kid. sure maybe he did it for courtney, but at the same time he barely knew her back then. and knowing how kind hearted his father is (ignoring his evil side) it’s easy to see that cameron is just a genuinely good kid. also cindy making fun of him offhandedly (something similar to “art freak”? i need to rewatch the shiv episodes sometime) really showed that while he’s nice, like with joey, it doesn’t make him one of the cool kids. maybe knowing that he’s a normal kid that isn’t super popular but is still a nice person makes him more lovable to me

Why I don’t: ngl im one of those ppl that gets nervous as soon as i see a straight relationship on tv bc they can be written badly sometimes and fall into plots that make the women look bad, so when we were introduced to him by him obviously being courtney’s love interest i was kinda unsure at first, but honestly i’ve enjoyed him on the show. i’m glad she isn’t obsessed with him and i’m glad he has a future outside of being her love interest, so that’s exciting! and honestly im excited for a lovers to enemies (to lovers?) plot and seeing how they navigate that

Favorite episode: episode 3!! icicle!! loved seeing him as a little kid, and the background story make you understand his softness and his love for art. makes him an enjoyable character

Favorite line: he has more of a “man of actions” vibe instead of a man of words. i don’t really have a favorite line of his, but him covering up the words on yolanda’s locker was a very memerable moment of his that i think spoke louder than words. shows he has a good judge of character

Favorite outfit: i find it interesting how cameron wears a green jacket in most of his scenes, green being the color that symbolizes most of the villains on the show foreshadows a lot how he is going to end up, but the specific outfit that cameron wears when he watches joey do his magic act with courtney switches it up by wearing a green undershirt and a blue shirt over it. blue could symbolize his good side, but more likely is referring to him one day becoming icicle (the picture below is of said look, ignore the bad quality i got it off google)

OTP: i wouldn’t call myself a camney stan, though i must say i like it way more than i expected to. i am interested in seeing the future of the two’s relationship. will they ever actually go on a date or skip to the enemies stage in the relationship? will they be only enemies one day or be somewhere between enemies and lovers?? i am curious what they will be like next season

Brotp: the only kid he has interacted with is courtney. like. there’s no one else?? he knew joey. they were friends apparently??? maybe???? joey for canon and henry for fanon thank u

Head Canon: anime nerd. i’m not even into anime, he just has the vibe

Unpopular opinion: hmmm. well there’s a small portion of the fandom that likes cameron but doesn’t see him as straight. that likes the idea of him and henry jr being together, and i gotta admit its cute. though if i want to go into extreme unpopular opinions, considering i’m an icewave fan, i also like the idea of them as stepbrothers? (obviously two very different thoughts that don’t relate or overlap, im not like that thank you very much) anyway at the very least it would have been cool to see cameron and henry jr interact since i can’t think of any scenes of them together, it would be cool to see a friendship between them

A wish: let him be good-evil like his father but still be in love with courtney. if it’s not obvious i do love an enemies to lovers plot and i hope we get those vibes for them

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: i hope they don’t change his writing in season 2 too dramatically. if jordan really is dead (or more likely, cameron thinks he’s dead) i’m afraid of how much they’ll change him. i know he needs to have a story arc of him turning into the next icicle, but i’m just afraid of how it will get there. if he ends up being overly angsty or angry, in a way that doesn’t fit his current characterization it could get weird. i also understand that his mom’s death was longer ago so his response to her death vs his father’s “death” will be very different

5 words to best describe them: artistic. light. kindness. floral. family.

My nickname for them: ice boi

[offictionandfandoms]

✎﹏﹏ Rumors Pt. 3

Previous

✑ Pairings: Eddie Munson x f!reader

✑ Word Count: 1074

✑ Requested: Yes/No

✑ Warnings: just pure fluff. Also probably not canon Eddie but…it’s too cute for me to care.

✑ Authors Note: This is the end :( I hope you guys like this bit of fluff and the entire mini-series as a whole. Thank you, again, so much for supporting it and loving it as much as you did. I’m still flabbergasted at how many people enjoyed it. Please know my requests are always open for other series/fics! I’ll be working on some other requests I already have in the meantime.

✑ Gif isn’t mine!

“So what are we going to do?”

Eddie speaking had pulled Y/N back to reality, one where they were sitting next to each other in the cafeteria, hands intertwined on the tabletop, and everyone in the world- well, the school at least- being able to see how happy they both were. /Together/, as they were meant to be.

“Hmmm. What do you mean?” Her cheeks flushed pink as she was caught not paying attention, most of her attention being on playing with the rings on her boyfriend's fingers, which now held an additional one she just purchased for him. It had been a month since everything happened, with them breaking up, and it was all going amazing. As amazing as could be expected when you lived in Hawkins, Indiana and there wasn’t shit to do around town. Which was why she were wanting to go on a trip-

“Well someone spent all their savings on ice cream,” Eddie teased, the cute smile she had fallen in love with forming on his face. It stretched from ear to ear and directly to Y/N’s heart.

“Shove it, I was sad,” she laughed, pulling her hands away from his grip. He wasted no time in grabbing them back, pulling them to his lips to place a few little kisses to her skin. Her heart fluttered at the contact and she leaned closer, almost sitting on his lap. But the principal was still watching them closely and getting expelled wasn’t on her to-do list.

“I know, I know. But now we have to plan something else.”

Her head bobbed in agreement as she fell silent, thinking over all their options. Eddie, her sweet and dedicated boy, hadn’t spent a dime of his savings, much to his credit. Not even when the new Metallica album dropped.

“Why don’t you guys just stay here?”

“Henderson, we can’t just stay-” Eddie started to chastise his young best friend, even throwing a peanut in his direction. But Y/N cut him off, squeezing the one hand she still held in between hers.

“Why not?” The look Eddie gave her was incredulous, but she pressed on, a wide grin passing over her features, “Think about it, babe. We have money to spend on our favorite foods, favorite movies, favorite albums. I say we could even host a DND night. We don’t have to go anywhere to have fun, we can do it right here.”

At the mention of DND night, Dustin poked his head back into the conversation, his grin melting Y/N’s heart. He had quickly become like a little brother to her, much to Eddie’s pleasure. “I vote for a DND night, personally.”

“Henderson!” Eddie snapped, though the crinkle by his eyes was enough to tell Y/N that it was out of love. As he turned back to his girlfriend with a warning glare towards his little buddy, Eddie leaned in closer, lowering his voice an octave, probably to avoid another eavesdropper.

She matched him as she leaned in, squinting her eyes playfully at his antics. If she tilted her head just right, their noses would brush up against each other. It was tempting, especially since it would give a great opening to kiss him. But when her eyes flickered over to the teachers table and she saw their good ole principal eyeing them, she withheld.

“We don’t have to do that. We can figure something out. I know you were looking forward to getting out of town.” As he spoke, his thumb gently caressed the inside of her wrist, sending her pulse into a frenzy. His touch never ceased to make her feel like she was on top of the world.

“I’m certain, babe. I was just looking forward to spending time with you— I don’t care where we are. A campaign night sounds perfect if you're okay with that.” As she spoke, his eyes had dropped towards her lips, his tongue sneaking out to run over the skin of his. But the second she stopped, he stared directly into her eyes, a serious composure taking over his expression.

“You know what sounds perfect?” While he was asking her this, she could feel his hands dip away from her arms, moving to slide around her waist instead. She hummed in response, waiting for him to answer his own question while she leaned closer, not wanting to miss whatever he said. She would do anything to make him happy, even if it meant skinny dipping in Lover’s Lake again.

She soon felt her body leaving the hard plastic seat of the cafeteria table and being replaced with the warmth of his lap, “You.” The kiss he gave her was quick, nothing satisfactory for either of them, and she was quickly trying to lean in for another, onlookers be damned.

But the sound of “Ms. Y/L/N! Mr. Munson!” booming across the room had them both falling apart in a fit of loud laughter, loud enough to put Jason’s goons to shame.

Typically, Y/N would never do anything to get in trouble. And if she ever was in trouble, she would take her punishment with a nod and an apology.

But nothing about her relationship with Eddie Munson had been typical thus far and it wasn’t about to start. So she made quick work of grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him behind her as she zig-zagged through students and out into the hallway, the call of their names lost as the cafeteria door swung shut.

They didn’t stop running until they made it to the drama room, both doubling over in laughter until Y/N’s side hurt and she had to sit in Eddie’s DND throne for relief.

Eddie was still laughing as he pointed at her, hand swaying up and down as he motioned over her entire body, “You look good there.”

“Oh, so I’m no longer banished?” She taunted, leaning forward to rest her elbows against the table without a worry in her mind. She knew they would definitely be expelled once they were found, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not right now, not with Eddie leaning on his own elbows to get closer to her, their lips just centimeters apart.

And right before they connected, he whispered words that Y/N would hear ringing in her head for weeks to come: “It’s hard to keep my queen from her rightful throne.”

[messers-moony]

Runaways | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Twin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Regulus refuses to lose yet another sibling after Sirius leaves.

Being a Hufflepuff Prefect with a mischievous older Gryffindor brother is a lot of work. Sirius is frequently getting into trouble, and Remus is no help. But honestly? Y/n isn’t either. If anything, she laughs at her brother and her friend's antics. Y/n is the only Black family member still in good shape with all her family. 

Sirius was overjoyed when Y/n was into Hufflepuff. His little sister following in his footsteps of no longer being a Slytherin. However, Y/n’s twin brother - Regulus - was sorted into Slytherin. She didn’t let that define their relationship. Y/n was close with her twin and the Marauders. Remus often bumped her shoulder in the halls making her smile. The werewolf often had that effect on her. So did James, and so did Peter. 

But no one made a giant smile appear on her face than Sirius and Regulus. 

“Oi! Little sis!” His voice, it was calm and bright, something she hadn’t heard in a long time. 

Y/n turned, “Hey Siri.”

Sirius’ arm went around her shoulders, “How’s your day been?”

“Good, yours?”

“Oh,” Sirius sighed, dreaming, making her chuckle, “It’s been perfect, dear sister.”

“What did you do now?” Y/n fake scolded, “Everything.” Sirius replied. 

A familiar raven-haired boy was making their way towards them, hoping and praying that they wouldn’t notice. His green tie and green robes. The prefect badge on the left side of his chest. The wavy black hair and the beautiful grey eyes. The 5’11 Slytherin walking towards his twin sister and older brother. The people he adored the most in the world but barely talked to within the castle walls. His plan ultimately failed. 

Regulus turned to walk by his two siblings only for Y/n to wrap an around his shoulder, “Reggie!”

“Y/n, Sirius.” Regulus greeted with the corners of his lips barely turning up, “How’s your day been?” Sirius asked, turning to look at his younger brother. 

“Good until two idiots came along.” He joked with a smile adorning his features. 

Y/n put her hand on her heart dramatically, “You wound me!”

Both brothers chuckled, and a Professor came to greet them in the middle of the hallway, seeing their beautiful smiling faces, “All three Black’s in one spot. How brilliant!” Slughorn commented as Sirius faked tipping his hat. 

The three Black siblings. The Black trio. One Gryffindor, one Slytherin, and one Hufflepuff. Oh, how Walburga adored them despite the way she treated them. It was never in her heart to treat them the way she does. Orion had such a soft spot for his twins. But alas, both parents knew that if they didn’t raise them correctly - or without abuse - they would only get hurt worse. Walburga knew that if she treated them the way she truly wanted to, they’d be split. 

But that never compared to the aching in her heart when she had to cast a spell on her children. The kids she was sworn to protect. Walburga never wanted this life, never wanted to marry Orion, hell, she never even wanted kids, but Merlin, her kids were great. Slughorn and McGonagall would send her letters of how wonderfully they’ve been doing in their studies, how Sirius made another cauldron explode, how Regulus caught the snitch and won the Quidditch Cup, how Y/n made prefect and was top of her class. 

It was beautiful, and for once, Walburga was happy. She hid all the letters from Orion. If Orion knew he’d made Walburga send a howler, and she didn’t want that. Godric how she hated the awful red colors the howlers came in. The awful shade of brilliant rose. It brought a grimace to her face just thinking about it. But like everything, the truth comes out, and Sirius eventually got a howler. 

Sirius let go of Y/n to begin Transfiguration while the two twins made their way to Herbology. Not before Sirius kissing the tops of their heads like he did when they were kids, “I love you guys!”

“Black, get in here!” McGonagall yelled, and both twins laughed, “We love you too!” They replied in unison. 

Regulus and Y/n laughed, their arms around each other's shoulders, “I never want him to leave.” Regulus admitted. 

“Me either.”

The day was uneventful. More learning, more foolishness, and more laughter. Professor Sprout couldn’t help but smile at the Black twins in her classroom. Regulus was always ice cold when not around his siblings. They made him shine even if he couldn’t find a reason to. It didn’t matter where they were. The Black trio always brought smiles with them. Whether it was Y/n and Sirius, the twins, or all three, their smiles, their laughs, their happiness was so contagious. Three children from an abusive home, coming together to make each other smile. How is it possible?

Y/n would be the answer. The glue to the Black family. The bond to keep her brothers from drifting apart. But that all changed in the summer of 1976.

It was dark and another day of yelling. Sirius couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to leave. He wanted to go. It was bound to happen. He kept telling himself. But did that excuse leaving his siblings behind? Would he risk their safety for his own pleasure? Sirius didn’t have time to think about it. He packed his trunk and opened the window. One leg out and just about to get the other over until his door opened. 

His little sister, “Sirius?”

“Hey, sis…” Sirius hated how his voice shook and almost broke.

“What- Where are you going?”

He couldn’t help it; she needed to know the truth, “Away. Far away from here.”

Y/n crossed her arms slowly, “Without saying goodbye?”

“Goodbye?” Sirius replied with a nervous smile. 

She shook her head with a smile, walking toward his window. Sirius expected a smack, a lecture. But she didn’t do that. Y/n cupped both his cheeks and kissed his forehead like he did when she was hurt. Tears filled his grey eyes without permission as he stared at his younger sister's glossed eyes. Gently she ran her hand through his hair, moving it back. 

“I suppose you were never good at goodbyes.”

“Not really, no.” Sirius chuckled. 

Y/n smiled, “I know you aren’t happy here. You were never happy here.” Sirius interrupted before she could continue, “You could give Remus a run for his money.”

“Listen, Sirius, please.” She pleaded, and Sirius looked at her eyes; he’d miss them, “All I ask, is that you take care of yourself. Regulus and I, we’ll manage. But you should say goodbye to him too….”

“Go get him.”

It took minutes, but Regulus was eventually standing in front of his older brother, one leg out of the window and the other inside his bedroom. Y/n stood behind them, arms crossed with tears streaming down her cheeks silently. Regulus looked like he wanted to cry, but he didn’t. Sirius didn’t care anymore. Silver trails ran down his cheeks, especially when Regulus hugged his older brother with all his strength. 

“I'm going to miss you.”

Sirius sniffled, “I’ll miss you a hundred times more.”

“Impossible.” Y/n interjected, smiling. 

Regulus and Sirius pulled apart, Regulus now standing beside his twin, “I need you to know,” Sirius began, looking at Regulus, “James isn’t your replacement. He is nothing compared to you. You’re my brother, always.”

“And you,” He turned to Y/n after Regulus nodded, “You’re my baby sister, through and through. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean you can give me detention.” 

They chuckled, and possibly for the last time, “Always.”

“Forever.”

“Together.”

Sirius gave a watery smile and finished the jump out his window. Wordlessly Y/n shut it behind him. Regulus stood in front of the glass pane until Sirius was out of sight and gave a heavy sigh. Y/n was standing right beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I knew it was going to happen. I just wish it wasn’t so soon.” Regulus whispered, “I know.” Y/n agreed. 

Regulus took her hand, “Forever.”

“Together.” Y/n replied, squeezing his hand. 

So many they lost their always, but they still had each other. The next night at dinner was dreadful. Possibly the worst one yet, “Where is he!”

“I- I don’t know.” Y/n answered, cowering away, her hand rubbing her forearm.

Walburga looked at Regulus, and he shook his head, “Where is Sirius?”

“Gone.” Walburga replied to her husband, who gave a mere shrug at the answer, “Our heir is gone, Orion! What are we going to do now.”

“The reasonable thing, Y/n is next in line.”

Walburga scoffed, “Absolutely not.”

Regulus reached for his sister's hand after noticing the tears collecting in her eyes, “She is a disgrace! Just like Sirius!”

Orion put down the daily prophet, looking at his wife across the table, “What would you like me to do about it?”

“Regulus!” The boy stiffened, “You are our next heir.”

“No!” Y/n exclaimed, her rage taking over, “That isn’t how it works! I’m the next in line, disgrace or not. I'm older than Regulus.”

Walburga pulled out her wand, but Y/n didn’t flinch, “With that courage, you should be in Gryffindor.” The older woman seethed.

“You feel no remorse, do you?” Y/n asked, but she did; Godric, Walburga hated herself, “Putting your wand to my neck like I’m some training dummy.”

“How do you think we feel! Our older brother is gone! The one who took care of us because our parents can’t.”

Y/n had tears flowing down her cheeks, “How do you think we feel?”

The girl stood up from the table without being dismissed after letting go of Regulus’ hand, “I saw the tapestry.”

“You burned him from it! What kind of monster are you?! He’s your son regardless of his house. I’ll be your heir, but I will never be your puppet.”

Y/n ran up to her bedroom. Walburga and Orion stared at their son, who sat as stiff as a board. More minutes passed, and Regulus left the table too but not before speaking to his parents, “I’ll- I’ll be your heir. I’ll be your son.”

“Brilliant. Thank you, Regulus.” Walburga smiled.

Regulus lost his brother. He wasn’t losing his sister. But over time, it felt like he was. There was no more laughter in the halls. Only one Black sibling was laughing and smiling - Sirius. There was no more hugging in the halls, no more playing around. Regulus and Y/n were ice. They were cold and in pain. That was the first thing Sirius noticed. His siblings hadn’t stopped by his carriage like usual. It dampened his mood. 

“Hey, I’m sure they’re just busy.” James had reassured, but Sirius wasn’t so sure.

It was the first ride to Hogwarts that Sirius was utterly silent. He played with the ribbon in his hand. It was a green ribbon that he carried with him everywhere. The boys never knew what it was or where it came from. They had just discovered that Sirius would fidget with it when he was upset. Remus noticed it first - of course - but James did too, and shortly Peter followed. It was her ribbon, Y/n’s ribbon. A ribbon she wore in her hair when she was seven. 

After a bad punishment, Sirius had been given Y/n took care of him. Washed his cuts and plastered them. It was then she learned how much Sirius loved when people did his hair. So she braided it for him and tied it off with her green ribbon. He remembered the way it felt on his fingertips. So perfectly combed and webbed together. It was the reason his hair was long enough to braid. Every Quidditch match, he’d weave it. James asked why once, and Sirius ignored him, but Y/n knew. It was okay to keep secrets sometimes. 

Fifth-year for the twins went by smoothly. Sirius’ sixth year was hell. He missed his siblings so much somedays it was hard to get up in the morning. Regardless it was hard to get Sirius out of bed in the morning, but this year was particularly rough. It was like he was in a constant state of Remus after the full moon - tired, fatigued and sad. 

He missed Regulus’ smile and Y/n’s laughter. Godric, he missed everything! Sirius cried - sobbed about it at night. His silencing charms weren’t good. It left James and Remus in a tricky spot. It was apparent he didn’t want to talk about it because if he did, he would’ve by now. Remus stopped seeing the twins during prefect rounds and stopped seeing Y/n altogether. It was like she was avoiding them. 

The twins did their prefect rounds together, studied together, and only talked to each other. It broke Sirius’ heart. He ruined everything just for his own pleasure. But hadn’t Y/n meant what she said? That she wanted him to be happy? Sirius wasn’t happy. He was far from it. 

Regulus had nightmares every night about his parents. About his brother leaving, about everything. So he didn’t sleep most nights, and instead, he threw himself into his studies. Occasionally he’d realized that he had done two essays and then understood that he no longer had to do his brother's homework. Regulus had copies of reports everywhere because it was a habit. A habit he had to lose. 

Y/n stopped baking extra cookies. Every Saturday, she’d go to the kitchens to bake a new delicacy the muggle way. Y/n couldn’t help but accidentally bake extra for her Gryffindor brother, only to realize that she wouldn’t give them to him. Instead, she gave them to the house elves to serve after dinner in the Great Hall. They’d appear on the Gryffindor table, and Sirius knew they were a product of her. 

During the summer holiday of 1977, Regulus began to notice that Y/n gone often. Walburga would send her away, or Orion would make her run an errand. Regardless Y/n wasn’t around as much. Was she going to run like Sirius? Walburga and Orion sent her to Auror training. Y/n was young, too young for this training. It was Auror training, but they weren’t training her to work for the Ministry. They were preparing for her to become a death eater. 

Weeks passed, and Regulus felt saddened by her absence. So one day at dinner, he spoke up, “Why haven’t you been present at home?”

Y/n chuckled, “Are you serious? You haven’t told him?”

“What- What do you mean?” Regulus questions suspiciously.

Walburga coughed, “She’s been put into training.”

“Training?”

“Auror training.”

“But not to be an Auror, to be a death eater.” 

Y/n scoffed, “Bullshit, tell him the real reason.” 

She looked at both her parents, “They don’t want me anymore. They send me away because it’s easier than disowning me, like Sirius.”

“N- No.” Regulus denied, “Mum, tell me that she’s lying.”

Silence, “Answer me, please.” Regulus pleaded as a water film glossed his grey eyes.

“She’s not lying.” Orion stated, and Regulus let his tears fall down his cheeks, “No! I won’t let you take her from me!”

Regulus stood up, and his chair flipped behind him, “If you disown her, you disown me!”

“Reggie…”

“No! Please no!” Regulus was clawing at his hair, sobbing, “Don’t take her too….” He whimpered. 

Y/n began to stand up until Walburga sent a spell her way, throwing her back. It just made Regulus cry more. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. They were sixteen! This wasn’t fair. So Regulus stood up and held back his tears. Walburga held her wand to his throat, making Y/n nervous. But Regulus was cold, ice cold. Hastily he grabbed his mother's wand and snapped it. Y/n didn’t have time to gape. Regulus ran to her, and they ran. 

Through the front door to anywhere else in the dark of the night. Orion was too busy with his wife to realize his children were gone. Y/n was sure they were miles away before they stopped. No magic could be done. They weren’t seventeen yet. They’d have to survive without magic. But then she heard it. A howl. It was a risk, a big one, but they had to take it. 

She took her brother's hand and began running towards it, “Y/n, where are we going?”

“To whatever is howling.”

“Are you mental?”

“Maybe.” Y/n shrugged. 

Suddenly he saw it. That look Sirius always had. She looked free, happy, and mischievous. Suddenly she wasn’t Y/n Black. She was just Y/n. His twin sister. The girl that would beg her brothers to adventure with her, to trust her blindly. That’s what he was doing now - trusting her blindly. They must’ve been miles away. Regulus didn’t even know how they got that far, but in the forest, the howling got louder. 

But at the edge of the forest was a black dog, guarding the entrance to the woods, making sure that no one entered. The stag was taking care of the werewolf. They took turns. One full moon, the dog, was to stand guard, next the stag. Y/n cried upon seeing the animal. She dropped to her knees, and Regulus knelt beside her. The dog looked familiar and gave them both great kisses. They fell asleep together. Y/n, Regulus and the dog. 

The following morning, James went back out to the forest after realizing Padfoot was missing. At the entrance of the forest, he saw them. The Black trio. So he left them. Sirius knew the way back; it wasn’t worth ruining their moment. Regulus stirred awake first and woke the dog. The dog left a multitude of kisses on the twins. Y/n woke up shortly after. 

Regulus was appalled to see the dog turn into his older brother but happy nonetheless, “Sirius!”

“Reggie.” Sirius replied, holding him close. 

They parted, and Sirius kissed his forehead, “How?”

“The howling.”

“How did you leave?”

“I snapped mum’s wand.”

Sirius looked flabbergasted, “Really?”

“She- She was going to separate us. I didn’t- I couldn’t lose another sibling.” Regulus admitted, and Sirius took him into his arms again, “Never again. I promise.”

Y/n chuckled, “Looks like we’re all runaways.”

Sirius grabbed her into the hug, “But we’re doing it together.”

[dr4cking]

I could request a smut with draco post war, where he and his wife (reader) have tried to have sex but their young children always interrupt them in some way, so they give it to cissy to take care of so they can have privacy. Thank you and only if you feel comfortable writing this request😊😊

Interruption.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | anon requested.

a/n : hi! thank you for requesting! this one is a really cute idea 😂💞

draco twisted the doorknob entering the house with his sleeping 5 year old son on his hips, the familiar scent tickling his nose as he step into their house, a smile crept up to his face as he sees the mother of his kid busying herself in the kitchen.

“hi dray, he’s asleep?” y/n whispers, walking to her husband, examining their son and she smiles as she sees her son sleeping peacefully resting his head on his father’s shoulder.

“he is, love. i think he got exhausted after playing all day in the park, lemme put this little guy on his bed first okay?” draco said as he kisses her forehead before heading into his son’s bedroom.

draco put scorpius carefully on his bed, pulling the cover up to his small body, he chuckles internally as he watched that scorpius is a spitting image of him. he left a kiss on his forehead as he closed the door quietly then head downstairs going back to his wife.

“hey, how’s your day? i miss you so much, love” draco put his hand around y/n’s waist startling her, he buried his face onto the crook of her neck inhaling his favorite scent making her giggles.

“i miss you too, dray. its been lovely, how about you hmm? did you have fun with our little guy?” y/n said not turning back as she still chopping the carrots.

“we did but he kinda took out all of my energy, you know what that means, right?” draco smirked as he pressed her back closer to his chest, his hands started to groping around her body.

“d-draco scorpius is s-sleeping” y/n said between her moans as her husband pressed her ass against his crotch and rubbing it behind her, she gripped the knife harder.

“then we’ll have to be quiet” he turns her around pushing her back against the table carefully, quickly catching her lips on his, kissing his wife hungrily moaning instantly into the kiss. she broke the kiss to catch some breath.

“f-fuck y/n” draco let out a whispered moan into her ear as he starts grinding his boner on her core, y/n throw her head back in pleasure feeling butterflies errupted in her stomach as he starts to trailing kisses down on her neck and still grinding on her.

“god its been so long since the last time, baby. i cant believe we managed to last that long” y/n chuckles at his words but turns into a hitched moan as draco pulled down the straps of her dress and latching his lips onto her nipple sucking on it, she interlocked her hand with his hair.

“no bra, yeah? as if you know you were gonna get fucked” y/n bites down her bottom lip, her eyes never leaving her husband who started to go down kissing her stomach, she gets more excited as he lifts up the bottom of her dress and kissing her inner thighs.

“d-draco please-” y/n hooked one of her leg onto his shoulder as he pushes her panties aside, he was about to gives all her craving but-

“mommy, daddy!” both of them froze as they heard a small footsteps approaching them, they quickly redressing themselves and act normal as their son run to y/n, hugging her leg.

“whats wrong baby?” y/n asked worriedly as she gets down on his level, patting his head.

“i’m having a nightmare mommy” she places soft kisses to all over his face to calm him down then she looks at draco who still held the frustation on his face, she wanted to laugh but she remember that her baby needs her right now.

“c’mon daddy lets put scorpius back in his room” y/n teasingly said running her fingers on his cheek, draco clenched his jaw gritting his teeth as he realizes what his wife playing at.

“you’re gonna regret that, babygirl” draco whispers into her ear as she walking the three of them to scorpius’s bedroom, he walked behind her and squeezing her ass, he smirks when he heard her gasped.

after an hour of reading scorpius a book, telling him a story, he finally gets back into his sleep but y/n and draco are too tired to continuing what they were about to do in the kitchen.

y/n look up to her husband who already staring at her, her mouth agape as she watches draco mouthed “i’m still horny” to her. holding out her laughter she shook her head.

“not now draco, we almost get caught by our son” y/n said quietly cant help but chuckles lowly when she sees draco whining and rubbing his face in frustration.

>>>>>

the next day comes, draco was sitting on his chair working through something, a quill on his hand and a parchment in front of him. then he heard rustling behind him, he turns around to find his beloved wife, only in a towel.

y/n gives him a wink and motioning him to come over making draco gulped, he made his way to her as fast as possible then pulling her closer by her waist, his lips immediately founding hers, his hand goes to unwrap the towel and it falls down onto the floor.

draco let out a grunts as he sees y/n’s exposed body he was getting hard by the seconds, he grabbed her by her thighs and placed her on his desk. his hands roaming around her body.

y/n moans softly when she feels draco sucking on her nipple, his hand playing with the other and his free hand rubbing her clit collecting the wetness, he brought his fingers into his mouth sucking it hungrily making y/n whimpers at his action. draco was about to pulls down his sweatpants until he heard a soft knocks on the door, he groaned in frustration.

“mommy, daddy? i’m so bored, can we go get an ice cream?” scorpius yelled behind the door making draco frustrated more.

y/n melted at her son’s voice, quickly getting a piece of clothes and putting it on, draco look at her in disbelief.

“are you serious, y/n?” draco loves his son so much but he always had a bad timing.

“draco he wants to get an ice cream, i cant say no to him, later okay? now c’mon” y/n chuckles at his pouted face, she kisses the tip of his nose and leading him with her to approaching their child.

after hours taking a walk and getting an ice cream per their son’s wishes, they go back to the house.

draco took a seat on the couch in their living room reading daily prophet while his wife and his kid starts to playing together in front of him, enjoying their day off but suddenly an owl barging into the house making the three of them turning their heads at it. draco raised his eyebrows in confusion as he takes the letter from the owl.

y/n rose up from the floor wanting to see who was sending them a letter, scorpius still unbothered playing with his toys.

“oh its from mother” draco said as he opened the enveloped.

Dear Draco & Y/n,

How are you? I havent heard anything about the three of you, I sent this letter to tell you both that Lucius & I missed our grandchild so much, I was hoping that he could stay for a little bit in the Manor, we wanted to spend some time with him. I wish you all healthiness as always.

Narcissa.

“perfect.” draco smirked as he finishes reading his mothers’ letter looking up to his wife with a sly grin making her blush.

“scorp?” he called out his son smiling at him as scorpius turning his head to listen to his father.

“do you want to stay with your grandmother and grandfather? they said they missed you and will be happy if you’re staying with them for awhile.”

“really? of course yes dad!! i missed them so much, mommy please pack my stuff” scorpius shouted happily, jumping around with his toy in his hand making his parents laugh at their boy’s cuteness.

in the evening, draco, y/n and scorpius apparated to the Malfoy Manor. lucius and narcissa already waiting at the front door welcoming the little family happily. scorpius runs to his grandmother and she picked him up kissing his cheeks.

“draco, y/n aren’t you staying too?” lucius asked as he watched the couple didnt go inside with them.

“uh father actually we were kinda busy- the work is stuffing up our faces.. but thank you for willing to take care of scorpius” draco nervously said as lucius looked at them in confusion but after connecting the dots together, he nods giving his son a smirk.

“sure sure, have fun you two” y/n widen her eyes but quickly laughed it off, the pair blushing madly because of draco’s father words but draco hurriedly takes her hand in his and apparating back to their house saving them from embarrassment.

as they appeared back in their house draco opened the door and shoving his wife inside kicking the door behind them as he pushed y/n against it.

“woah woah slow down draco” y/n laughs at her husband aggressiveness but interrupted by his lips capturing hers, she returns the kiss with the same passion, moans slipped off of her as draco undressing both of them.

“fuck- i cant take it anymore baby wanna take you right here right now” draco places wet kisses on her neck, marking every inch of her skin. he slowly get down after he finished assaulting her neck, continuing what he was doing yesterday, but now without any interruptions.

“draco.. oh- fuck” y/n couldnt control her moans anymore as draco drowned his head between her thighs eating her out making his wife squirming and scratching on the door.

draco let out a hum at the taste of her, he was hungry he eats her out like a starved men, its not only for her but for his pleasure too. y/n’s moan ringing in his ear filling the house making he gets more hungrier, he inserts his fingers into her thrusting and curling them inside of her making her body shake, his tongue skillfully playing with her clit.

“oh my god draco.. i-im so close!” y/n warned him, she was closer than she thought, after she said that she felt her orgasm snapped through her body, a loud moan of her husband’s name escaped her lips, it feels too good.

“fuck i missed this, babygirl. taste so fucking delicious.” draco hummed as he lapping up her juices closing his eyes at the taste, he was longing for it.

draco stand up after he finished, looking at y/n who was still catching her breath, he chuckles deeply before reconnecting their lips, shoving his tongue down her throat letting her taste herself, he squeezes her ass giving it a few slaps before placing one of her legs on his waist and he starts to lining his cock on her glistening cunt. whimpers and begging came out from her mouth.

“h-holyfuck y/n feels so good” draco groans as he bottomed fully inside her letting her adjust for a second before picking up his pace, he starts to rocked in and out of her, her walls clenching and squeezing hard around him making it impossible for him to last longer.

y/n’s body bouncing up and down uncontrollably against the door, all she cares now was getting her high again and feeling her husband’s cum filling her up. she rolled her hips fucking him back, loud moan left her lips as the head of his brushing her spot, draco took a notice and pounding harder into thek spot making her seeing the stars.

“fuck fuck fuck y/n im gonna fucking come if you keep doing that.” draco wrapped both of her legs on his waist the new angle making his cock going deeper inside her, he screams her name as y/n starts to pulsing around him signaling she was close, he sneaked one of his hand and rubbed a small circle on her clit making her body jolted out at the double pleasure.

“yes- yes.. oh my god im cumming daddy!” y/n doesnt care about her words anymore as she lets her second orgasms washed over her- wait no she’s.. she just squirted all over draco.

“holy shit! that was so fucking hot.. gonna give you all of my cum until you carry my second child.. f-fuck y/n take all of me!” draco screams her name out loud as he stilled, shooting all of his semen into his wife filling her womb non stop until some of it dripped out of her but he quickly pushing it back inside not letting it go to waste.

draco is still inside her, both of their bodies shaking from their intense orgasms. y/n look up to him, sweats running on his forehead, his blonde hair messy, mouth hung open to steadying his breath, he looks like a god.

they continue their activities for a whole days, now without interruptions. rounds after rounds, on the couch, on the desk, against the walls, in their room, in the bathroom, basically everywhere in their house, it was like they were making up for the lost times.

and a month after, lucius and narcissa were given a news, that draco and y/n are expecting their second child.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum

(if you want to be tagged in my fics please click here )

[the-iceni-bitch]

Surprise!

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Jake Jensen (bear and cubby, NLLYL AU)

Words: ~800

Summary: Ari always loves Jake’s surprises.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m/m sex, oral sex, titty fucking, felching), body piercings, these two being adorable, little bit of manhandling, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: it’s been a bit but I finally managed to write something!! And of course it’s our two favorite madly in love boys. Shout out to my baby @cubbyjake for sending me the pic that inspired this little idea and a very happy birthday to my blondie!! (I’ll give you your other present later 😘)

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

“Bear, oh my god, you’re a fucking lifesaver!” Jake grinned when he opened the door to see Ari holding a new air conditioner, flinging the door wide and giving him a peck on the cheek when he came inside. “It’s so hot.”

“I know, cub, can’t have you overheating on me.” Ari chuckled when Jake grabbed some ice from the freezer and ran it over his neck, biting his lip as he watched the blonde lean against his counter while he set up the new unit. “Can’t be too mad about the view it’s affording me, though.”

“What, my outfit?” Jake giggled when Ari let out an appreciative growl, playing with the hem of his ‘Daddy’s Boy’ shirt and hopping up on the counter to swing his legs in his booty shorts teasingly. “I told you, it’s hot.”

“Uh-huh, you’re pretty hot yourself.” Ari purred when Jake took off his glasses and used the hem to wipe off the lenses, giving him an even better view of the well defined muscles of his cubby’s stomach, and also… “What is that?”

“Uh-huh, you’re pretty hot yourself.” Ari purred when Jake took off his glasses and used the hem to wipe off the lenses, giving him an even better view of the well defined muscles of his cubby’s stomach, and also… “What is that?”

“Wha… Ari!!!” Jake squealed when Ari pounced on him, his glasses flying across the counter forgotten while Ari yanked his shirt up over his chest. “What are you doing?”

“What the fuck is… oh my fucking god!” Ari growled when he got a better look at what had caught his eye. “Baby, you’re fucking pierced?”

“Y-yes… shit.” Jake whined when Ari dragged his tongue over the jewel that ran through his navel. “I just wear it sometimes when I feel cute.”

“Well, you should always feel cute, cub.” Ari sucked on the piercing and groaned at the wanton noise Jake let out. “Gonna need you to wear this thing more often.”

“Mmm, yes Daddy.” Jake mewled when Ari started pulling his shorts down his hips, his tongue slowly fucking into his bellybutton while he wrapped a meaty hand around his cock and stroked. “Fu-fuck. God, you have the best reaction to surprises.”

“Yeah, well if all your surprises are this fucking sexy, can you blame me?” Ari stood up and wrenched his own shirt over his head before curling over Jake again. “Just fucking perfect.”

“Thank… Jesus Christ!” Jake’s whole body bowed off the counter when Ari slotted his cock between his pecs and squeezed, his tongue still laving all over the piercing while he titty fucked Jake nice and slow. “Oh my god.”

“I know baby, shh.” Ari nipped at Jake’s stomach when he felt his cock jump against his chest, cooing softly when Jake just whimpered and tossed his head back. “So sensitive, already making such a mess all over us, pretty boy, makes you look even prettier.”

Jake couldn’t even talk anymore, panting and whining and wrapping his legs around Ari’s back as he gazed desperately at him over his chest. He looked so fucking good, his hair falling into his face as he kept licking Jake’s stomach, at least until Jake buried his fingers in it and pushed it back from his face, making Ari purr as he kept sliding his chest over Jake’s cock.

“C’mon, cub, give it to me.” Ari bit at Jake’s hip and grinned when he moaned. “Make it messy baby, you’re such a good boy.”

“Daddy, sh-shit!” Jake’s whole body shook when he came apart against Ari’s chest, whimpering when Ari slowly lapped the cum off him even as it was still spurting out of him. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?”

“What? I’m taking care of you, cubby.” Ari grinned at Jake when he crawled up his body, slotting his lips over the blonde’s and sliding his tongue into his mouth with a deep purr. “You really complaining?”

“A little, I just took a shower.” Jake huffed into Aris mouth and tried not to squeak when he smacked his ass. “And now I’m all sweaty and sticky, again, you didn’t even finish hooking up my new AC.”

“Baby… mmm, I’m so sorry, you’re just so distracting, dunno how I’m supposed to do any work when you're parading this sweet little body around in that sexy outfit.” Ari stood up and brought Jake with him, pecking soft kisses all over his face as he started carrying him towards the bathroom. “We’ll take another shower together and then I’ll make you a nice frozen marg with the machine for you to sip while I hook up the unit, ok?”

“I accept your apology.” Jake giggled when Ari nipped at his bottom lip, running his fingers through his hair playfully and grinning. “Man, I hate to think what you would’ve done if I had my nipple bars in.”

[nohoney]

family man shouto with his lil family on a holiday break.

he has twin boys with you, just having reached the age of five and you thought it would the nice to have a holiday to celebrate their birthday. shouto agrees and he takes a week off, waiting in anticipation until finally it’s that last patrol before his awaited vacation, thinking of his children and you and wonders what you all will do together he left all the details to you

you travel to a little country side town while it’s the snowing season, a getaway from the hustle and bustle from the city that shouto is usually used to. you make a reservation for an onsen ryokan, taking into account your husband’s taste for traditional japanese style which your kids have also taken a liking too as well. the boys are full of excitement, they’ve never been so far from home before and they’ve only gone to an onsen in the city so they’re definitely bouncing on the walls at first until papa shouto calls their names and kneels down for them to gather to, quietly telling them to have fun but to also be respectful.

you tour the town with your boys, you and shouto each holding a hand of the twins, looking at antique shops and playing in the snow. shouto keeps a very low profile, it’s supposed to be his vacation and while he doesn’t mind interaction from fans, he’s there to be just with his family and he’s very grateful that the ryokan you chose is helping maintain their privacy. one of the things you’re grateful for is that you don’t have to worry about any of the cooking, you and your family are catered to delicious food; don’t get it wrong, you love cooking for the boys but it’s nice that you get this break.

“papa are you making the snow?” one of the twins asks.

“no, papa doesn’t make snow. he makes ice on his right side.” shouto answers while his kids sit in his lap and they stare out the window together and watch the snow fall gently.

“how is snow made?” the other twin asks, both of them looking curiously at him and waiting for an answer because papa shouto is so strong and smart.

shouto doesn’t have an answer so you take care of answering the boy’s question for them.

you all sit together at the kotatsu table, hot tea for you and shouto while the boys drink hot chocolate with marshmallows. they keep on asking for more marshmallows cuz they love it so much but you tell them too much isn’t good for them. but when you leave to go to the bathroom, shouto adds more to both their cups cuz he honestly just can’t resist spoiling them. “just a little bit okay, finish it up before mama comes back.”

“thank you papa!”

one of the twins is more acclimated to the cold than the other, so shouto wraps a thick scarf around the more cold sensitive twin while you button up the winter coat for your other twin boy and adjust his little snow cap. shouto thinks it’s funny in a way that part of his purpose for being born was to have two quirks to balance each other out and now here he is with his kids, his quirks split apart in his twin boys. he presses the palm of his left hand onto the more cold sensitive twin’s forehead, warming him up just a bit when he approaches papa shouto shivering a little, the other twin that likes the cold following behind to make sure his brother is feeling well.

and you’re watching your husband and boys from afar, a happy smile on your face as you sip warm tea and thinking when should be the right moment to tell your family the good news...

the twins are just put down for a nap and sleeping side by side, their naps are long enough to warrant you and shouto some alone time.

he likes the warmth of your mouth, loves to hear the soft gags of your throat as he fucks your face but he also hopes that the sound of the shower spray covers up the noises the two of you make together. the two of you have been so busy in the recent days that you’re either too tired for sex or you only manage to squeeze in a quickie. so it’s finally nice to have some alone time where you can focus on one another. “you are so beautiful...”

you released his heavy cock with a wet pop, a little sigh escaping your lips as you gaze up at your husband’s hard cock. it was nice to take time to suck him off instead of the quick blowjobs just to get him wet enough before he thrusted his cock into you for another rushed quickie. you grasped his cock, spitting on his length and stroking him to spread the wetness, appreciating his groans. it’s been a while since you could take your time but even so, you don’t want to take too long and your boys wake up alone without their mama and papa. “need you inside shouto...”

“of course darling.” shouto helps you to your feet, has you brace the wall, pressed flush with your back against his chest, and he can’t help but think that’s it’s been a while that he’s been close to you like this. just holding you, really taking you in and just focusing on his wife. “set the pace.”

“be gentle.”

and so he is, gently pushing himself into your tight entrance and just staying inside you for a moment. he loves the warmth of your pussy around his cock, it feels like home, feels like he’s complete inside you, really reminds him how much you mean to him in this moment. he loves how warm and soft you are around him, loves to look down and see his cock pull out until only the tip remains before he pushes back in. and it’s beautiful, fucking beautiful when you arch your back for him and look back to give him that lovesick look, pushing back against him and telling him to go a little harder.

“sh-shouto...!” you choke out when he presses you flush against the wall, the cool tile making your nipples perk up as he fucks a little harder into you. you gush on his cock when he brings a hand to your throat, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers on the sides and he bites down on your shoulder. he’s trying to keep his noises in too, but now you’re struggling to keep your noises in. so he muffles you by pressing the palm of his hand over your mouth and hisses for you to keep quiet. little mewls and sobbed out moans don’t dare echo outside the washroom, but his hips smacking into yours reverberate and bounce around the tiles. you practically almost drop to the floor when shouto reaches down to play with your clit but he’s strong, he won’t let you lose form and he tells you how close he is.

“gonna cum... wanna cum...”

with sharp, jerky nods of your head, his hand still muffled your mouth but he hears you clearly. “cum in me please!”

you cum together with him, wetting his cock with your fluids as he cums inside. he slaps your clit, enjoys how you clench around him one last time before he releases you and let’s you catch your breath.

and you rest together in the bath after having washed up one last time under the shower, you resting with shouto behind you and legs stretched out comfortably. “how would you feel about our family getting a little bit bigger shouto?”

“would you like to start trying? i think another baby would be wonderful...” shouto says it so dreamily that you wonder if he even knows how happy he sounded saying that.

“well actually...”

you take his hands that were resting on his knees, carefully twining your fingers in the spaces between his and put them over your lower tummy. it takes a few seconds for shouto to process it, his eyes go wide for just a second and he asks, “really?”

you look back at him with a confirming nod, pressing your lips to his and told him you confirmed your little bun in the oven just a few weeks ago and was waiting to tell him. and he’s happy, so happy to have another little one, you let him be the one to break the news to the twins and they gather around you to ask how a baby is made, to which shouto lets you handle those kinds of questions again.

day five is spent returning back to the city but shouto swears that he has two more days left of his vacation. you send the twins to go stay with aunt fuyumi for the next day, make them promise not to say anything about them becoming big brothers and give them a little bribe to ensure they don’t spill the beans.

you adored your little getaway with your family, but you jump at the chance of an empty house and having shouto all to yourself. he’s still on holiday and you want him to indulge as much as he can before he returns to his hero work.

[wh6res]

three's a crowd | nomin

synopsis. picking favorites is impossible when you like neither of them.

warning. read at your own risk. abuse, bullying, poly relationship, yandere themes, manipulation, nonconsensual touching, noncon, degradation, smut threesome oop

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think jaemin or jeno would act like this in real life.

note. this was meant to be a new year's gift lmao i obviously got a lil carried away 👀 anyway a late happy new year to you all! we survived 2020, let's start living in 2021, yeah? lmao if covid lets us grr mwah!

the relationship you had with the two of them was a weird one, bordering on taboo, but it wasn't as if you willfully chose to be who they wanted you to be and it took jaemin's unwanted pining and jeno's intimidating demeanor for you to fall right into their arms.

it was a joint effort on their part, you couldn't've possibly stood a chance.

"this many?" the cashier asked. "are you sure?"

stepping back and studying the whole situation, you figured you only had your addiction to caffeine and procrastination to blame. it was a chain reaction you didn't even know will lead up to your inevitable doom.

if you hadn't been slacking off during your first semester of junior year college, you wouldn't be forced to overwork yourself trying to catch up to the looming deadlines, but to be able to 'work yourself to the bone' you need your boost of energy… and that was when you met one of them.

"uhm," you scratch the back of your head sheepishly as you eye the six glass bottles of iced coffee. sure, it looks bad and you kinda appreciate the look of concern the cashier throws your way but it was none of his business.

"yes. now could you, like, you know… hurry up? i'm in a little bit of a time crunch right now."

screw it. although you hardly snap like that with other people on a daily basis, it'll be a whole different conversation if you were under a significant amount of stress and today, unfortunately, is one of those days.

now can he just fucking stop asking questions and give you your six bottles of death drink to keep your fucking brain going so you can pass an eight-page essay tomorrow? thank you very much!

the guy snickered, the beeping sound of a barcode being read sounding a thousand times more annoying than it usually sounds as he keeps his hand busy by punching your items out.

you fail to notice how he studies you through the gaps of his lashes, finding you interesting rather than threatening as you stood before him with your messy hair and oversized hoodie.

"haven't seen you around university grounds 'till today," he tries striking another conversation with you. "you new? i'm jaemin."

this was your first mistake, you shouldn't have been so… downright rude when you met him. if you were granted the miracle of meeting him a 2nd time, you would've acted more nice, throwing yourself at his feet even to blend in with the rest of his fangirls you didn't even know about at the time. you would've done anything to make sure he never gives you a second glance, to never pique his interest.

jaemin is the pep squad captain. flying over colored blue mats and doing tumblings in the air with no ounce of fear. he was the best in his team, that much was evident when your friend dragged you into watching a pep rally practice. his landings were clean, balanced, and executed to the best he can at all times.

no wonder he was popular, his talent is outstanding and his looks are a bonus. his killer combo of a smile and wink after pulling off a tough flip is enough to send them squealing in their seats.

he spotted you that day and since then, he snuck the quickest glances at the bench during practices. recognizing you as the coffee girl he met during his convenience store shift. jaemin tries not to let his disappointment show too much when he doesn't see you, but of course, a pair of cold calculating eyes could see right through him.

"i saw that," his boyfriend said, hand darting forward to hold jaemin's gym bag for him. "you kept looking at the crowd. do you want to see her that much?"

"but she reminds me so much of you, jeno!" he retorts, pouting at the slight grumpy tone the other boy used. "i can't help it. she doesn't seem to give a fuck around me so she's quite interesting. maybe she can even be a great addition to our relationship!"

"well," jeno replies after a beat of silence, plastering a small smirk on his face before slinging an arm around jaemin's shoulder.

"convince me?"

you don't like jaemin's attention. not in the slightest. and it seems that was enough reason for the reign of terror his little fanclub has subjected you too.

it wasn't the petty elementary forms of bullying like pulling at your hair or calling you names. they pale in comparison to the other things they do to you—beating you up, messing with your homework, "accidentally" dumping their food trays on you.

and you weren't stupid.

you knew exactly who was behind it, knew how jaemin spectates the whole thing from afar so that he can swoop in at the end to play your knight in shining armor.

"oh, you poor thing. do you need help?"

the first time you accepted his "help" you ended up in a supply closet near the gym during your free period, cornered and weak as your cries for help drowns under the squeaking of shoes and the booming sounds of rubber balls hitting the floor.

if it weren't for jeno appearing out of thin air and prying the boy off of you, you would've been painted blue and red from the death grip he had on your wrist, neck, and waist.

you can still remember feeling the soreness of your scalp from when he pulled your hair too hard. remembered feeling his teeth gnawing at your lips as if he wanted to tear them off.

that time hadn't been the first time you saw jeno. you've shared a few classes with him and it strikes you how polar opposites they are with one another.

while jaemin likes to bask in his professor and classmates' recognition by confidently reciting his answers, jeno would rather keep to himself. liked sitting at the last row, near the window, so he'd be the first to go once the professor ends their lecture. while jaemin loved the attention of his fangirls, jeno preferred solitude. while jaemin is impulsive and wild, jeno liked to think things through.

it was within these reasons that you decided to do what you did. but your judgement of character has never been more wrong.

you approached jeno one day in the library, tried to make yourself appear as stoic and confident as possible. but your constant slouching and averting eyes was a dead giveaway.

you came to talk to him about what jaemin has been doing, hoping there's one person left in this entire school that isn't under the cheer captain's trance. the one reasonable person that has already saved you once and (hopefully) is willing enough to save you again. the only one that probably has a certain level of control over jaemin, if the supply closet incident is anything to go by.

but you've overestimated lee jeno.

"you should've just given jaemin what he wanted."

"but—but aren't you two lovers? isn't it bothering you?"

you try baiting him, only for an uncomfortable shiver to start crawling down your spine when he chuckled humorlessly, pushing his school materials to the side while pinning you with an unreadable stare.

how can a person make someone feel so small just by a gaze alone? it was nothing like you've felt with jaemin. this is way worse.

"the only thing that's bothering me is why you're not ours yet."

you feel cold fingers creeping their way under your shirt, going higher and higher until it brushes against your bra. and when your eyes meet, the look on his face was unmistakable—what are you going to do about it, huh?

you stood up in lightning speed, the chair you've been sitting on scraping loudly against the floor.

you've never ran out as fast as you did.

and jeno swears it'll be the last.

you tried everything in your power to ignore them for the next following weeks but it soon became useless when the two boys took it upon themselves to give you your space.

although judging by the pinpricks you feel on your back, and the constant weight of a stare you feel on your shoulders, you knew they weren't done with you yet. far from it. and for some reason, you just knew they wanted to lull you into a false sense of security first before striking again.

and while they continued to ogle at you from afar like a hawk circling its prey in a desert, you took it upon yourself to return the favor. not because you were the slightest bit interested in those creeps but maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough you'll find a way out, a weakness.

but what you realized made your insides churn in great discomfort—although it may seem that jeno holds the reins in the relationship since his reserved nature fits the role, it's actually the other way around.

jaemin might appear too self-centered, too focused on himself to give a fuck about his surroundings but in actuality, he has quite a knack for reading people. even more so than jeno. and it was scary how he used it to his advantage, and paired up with his devoted fangirls? it was hell on earth.

you found it alarming how the two seem to magically appear wherever you are.

although you weren't in the least bit surprised. for some reason, you can't take your eyes away when jaemin's devotees flock around him (and jeno) in a circle.

it almost reminds you of a shoal of piranhas, waiting for their meal to drop into the water before ripping it to shreds with their teeth. only their "meal" isn't actual flesh but the carefully crafted words jaemin says that drive them into a sick frenzy.

one that has them doing everything in their power to satisfy him like the loyal dogs they are.

so this was how he got them to bully you?

"oh, that? don't worry! yangyang just ran into me during cheer rehearsal. no biggie. my cheek stung a little bit, though…" is what he said but really he's telling them "scruff him up a bit for me, why don't ya?"

"of course, i can't be the best all the time. haechan is just too good, maybe even better than me…" is what he said but really he's telling them "can you remind him where his place should be?"

all the while jeno did nothing to hold him back.

no matter how wrong jaemin is, how much of an asshole he is, jeno will stick by his side through and through. so as much as jaemin is a puppeteer that gets a kick for controlling people, jeno is as much at fault for looking the other way.

because in jeno's perspective, why the fuck would he do shit when he can just get off from the entertainment that comes with jaemin's sweet little mind games?

we lost :(

you had been busy sorting through paperwork for one of your professors in the faculty when your friend texted you the results of the intercollegiate cheer dance competition. a frown paints your face, heart feeling heavy at the bad news.

in all honesty, you still supported the pep squad—you just hated the captain and his boyfriend. they've been practicing non-stop for this and prior to the weeks of the competition, jeno looked a lot more tense and jaemin less smiley than usual. you swore you even saw the latter snap at one of his fangirls.

not to mention, they paid less attention to you, too, and it was the best three weeks of your life.

tension starts rising in your shoulders, fingers absentmindedly running through the edge of the papers you had been sorting until you became immersed with your thoughts.

jaemin must be in the worst mood yet.

and jeno too, probably. if anything, that guy gets triggered the most when something bad happens to jaemin or when he catches snippets of people talking shit about his oh so "perfect" boyfriend.

jeno is a lot scarier when jaemin is in one of his mood swings, you noticed. he steps up in the relationship to offer comfort to the other boy and for outsiders? it isn't a great experience to go through—being on the receiving end of jeno's ice cold stare is a position you don't want to find yourself in after that time in the library.

he is still as much a threat to your peaceful life like his lover.

you snap out of it when the blinding headlights of a vehicle seep through the closed blinds. you hear the gentle hum of an engine switching off as the headlights vanished as quick as they had appeared. that must be the cheer squad's bus.

as you look around the empty faculty room, something in your gut tells you to ditch file sorting duty for professor kim tonight and fucking get the hell out of campus grounds as quick as you can.

after haphazardly throwing the unsorted papers back into the cabinet, you groan aloud when the keys to the office drop out of your skirt’s pocket.

the indoor gym where the cheering squad practices is right across the hallway. you sure as hell don't want to bump into jaemin. or jeno, too, if he had decided to ride along the cheer squad's bus on the way home.

you kept looking for the keys underneath the cubicles, cursing aloud when you heard the telltale squeaks of shoes rubbing against linoleum. you almost hit your head against a table when you quickly got back up your feet, darting forward to shut the lights for the faculty room.

they can't know you're here. alone. and if it meant sitting in the dark for a few hours 'till they leave, meant going back home a little later than usual is what you have to do then so be it.

you try not to react so violently when the door you're leaning on jolts when someone from outside slams their back against it.

"it's not like we didn't do our best, right guys? i don't have regrets. it might sound fucking cheesy and although i'm sad myself, atleast we did what we can."

it's jaemin. his voice clear as day.

you try peaking, craning your neck up from your place on the floor. only to see the back of his head leaning against the glass section of the door. someone else joins in on the conversation, followed by coach park himself, and you slowly tune out whatever they're saying as you stealthily start scanning the faculty room.

you curse under your breath. is there no other exit other than this door? jesus christ! even classrooms in this university had two doors—

"what are you doing here?"

the switch flickers on, basking the once dark room with light. only when you hear an echo of your name being called, did you snap out of it and quickly picked yourself up from the floor.

"i said, what are you doing here?"

their coach asks, drilling the question as he looks at you skeptically with his arms crossed. you try not to look at the people behind him.

particularly, not at his cheer captain standing on his right.

particularly, not at jeno, who stands out like a sore thumb with his blue hair, a protective arm snaked around jaemin’s shoulders.

this isn't your lucky day, too, you guess.

"i was…" you cursed yourself for stuttering. "i was, uhm, i was file sorting for prof—professor kim, sir."

coach park looked like he didn't believe you as he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. your nerves are going haywire and you can feel the sharp pins of their stare with how close they are.

you kept juggling your weight with the balls of your feet, hands fisting and unfisting behind your back. you want to leave. you have to leave.

"file sorting… in the dark?" he asked incredulously.

fuck this.

"uhm, you can ask professor kim himself tomorrow, coach. for now, uh, i'll be going now. i'm sorry you guys lost…"

originally, the exit is on the right side, at the end of the hallway. but no, you are not going to pass by those two while on your way out so you ducked behind a random student standing on the coach's left instead and practically ran away from the scene.

everyone had been too busy. too busy looking at your retreating form to even notice jaemin and jeno exchanging glances, too busy to notice the latter untangling himself from their captain to slip away unnoticed, his hurried steps filled with a burning purpose.

you didn't know why you ran, but you did. your shoes practically booming against the floor as you sped away through darkened hallways. you're sweating profusely, heart hammering in your chest. you can worry about professor kim tomorrow but right now you just had to—

"why are you in such a rush, pet?"

crashing into jeno felt like crashing into a wall. if it hadn't been for his arm quickly wrapping around your waist, then you would've landed on your butt before him.

with the small distance between the two of you, jeno could see as clear as day through your eyes.

jaemin was right.

it was addicting to stare into them.

especially when he can see every single one of your thoughts flying through your pretty little head. but hey, it wasn't their fault you were so easy to read.

jeno barely conceals the wicked smirk on his lips when your hands come up to his chest, trying to push him away but to no avail.

he can see your eyes shifting from shock, to confusion, until it finally settles on fear—to which it's slowly becoming a favorite emotion of his to see on your face.

"you know, jaemin is in a really shitty mood right now. and we were wondering, maybe you can cheer us up?"

no. this can't be happening.

"jeno, please." your dilated eyes and disheveled hair made his blood run south. "let me go. you don't want me. you don't need a third party in your relationship."

you yelp when he lets you go, literally shoving you against a wall—which you found out is actually a door, as it swings open as soon as your body crashes against it.

with jeno looming unforgivingly before you in his full height, the tears stung extra hard but you won't let them fall.

if he wanted to bask in the image of your weakness then it'll be something you'll deprive from him for as long as you can.

"i don't need a stupid bitch like you to tell me what i feel." he scoffs. "don't fucking kid yourself, you little whore—i don't want you. i'm not jaemin."

the echo of the classroom door shutting closed surged through you like a wake up call.

this is really happening.

you've always led a decent life, had done nothing too questionable and you've always thought maybe life will spare you if you lived quietly enough. but the feel of jeno's freezing hands crawling against your skin felt like life itself had spat at you in the eye and left you to rot in a ditch.

"i've always liked how you wore skirts," he comments. playing with the ruffled hem of the soft fabric as he purposely grazed his knuckles against your supple thighs. "gives me easy access, don't you agree?"

you scream when he flips your skirt up to reveal the innocent pink of your cotton panties. it was as if a switch had flipped inside of you and the will to fight started coursing through your veins.

"stop! jeno! i don't want this!"

his brows furrow, grunting as he struggles to push the waistline of your skirt up higher with how much you're thrashing underneath him. you buck your hips, tried curling in on yourself, anything to prolong what he wants to do to you.

with your legs trapped underneath his, you blindly reach forward, relying on your upper body instead to push and scratch whatever your palms and nails reached.

you continue screaming like a banshee until he shoved two fingers into your wet cavern.

"stop fighting me," he sounded strained, as if he's holding himself back. you feel him fisting the fabric of your skirt and you fear he's simply going to rip it apart.

you tried responding to him, only the sound had been muffled, gurgled by the flat of his fingers pushing down against your tongue mercilessly. when you reach forward to push him away, your hands land on the apple of his cheeks, nails digging through skin.

until it slips and—

you lie rigid when red scratch marks in the size of your fingernails slowly appear on jeno's skin, his head turned to the side as he paused. your actions slowly start sinking in to him as he shuts his eyes and bit his lip 'till it looked like it was about to bleed.

oh no.

"jeno—"

the slap he planted on your cheek left your ears ringing. all those hard earned muscles of his put to good use—if the tears hadn't fallen for the last few minutes, then it definitely started falling now.

the hit had been so strong, a few of your hair flew astray, the buzzing feeling of your skin tempting you to reach a hand up to soothe your abused cheek.

until jeno let out a low growl and your hand immediately drops limp against your body, afraid of whatever else he can do to you other than a slap.

"that's more like it," he whispers under his breath. you let out the tiniest of whimpers when his hand darts forward to fist your hair. "do you know what happens to bad girls? they fucking get busted up. do you understand me?"

his patience is nonexistent.

jeno slams your head against the floor when you don't answer because you thought his question had been rhetorical. it felt like your skull had been split in two as you wail in pain.

"are you fucking deaf—i asked you a fucking question!"

the hand that cups your jaw is painful as he squeezed your cheek with his blunt nails. your hand shoots up to wrap around his wrist, silently pleading for him to let up as you sobbed out loud. you started nodding as best as you can despite his firm grip on your face.

your reply was nothing short of pathetic. with lips forcefully pursed and the steady stream of your tears and snot rolling down your face, your response is gargled and hardly incoherent and jeno seemed to thoroughly enjoy your anguish if the condescending curl on his lips is anything to go by.

"look at you," he whispers, his face coming close to yours as he holds you down. there was something in the way jeno stared so intently that it made your skin crawl.

"i think you're prettiest when ruined like this."

with his nose touching yours, he felt too close, bordering on intimate as you felt his hand creep back up your thighs, trailing up with feather-like touches that made goosebumps appear on your skin.

you tried wiggling your legs underneath him but one sharp look from jeno is enough to make you stop.

the hand holding your face moves. coming down from gripping your face to encircling his hand around your neck.

"do you like it when i touch you? freaky bitch."

his hands trail further up, up, up until you felt him slotting a finger underneath your panties.

jeno didn't like how frozen you were underneath him as he pulls at the hem before letting go. the elastic snapping back against your skin.

the action evokes a strong feeling through the young male, promising to have you writhing and screaming and begging because by the end of all this, you'll be so needy and frustrated that you will have no choice but to give in to what your body wanted.

"jeno, didn't i tell you to play nice?"

someone stands by the door, the minimal light from the hallway creating a silhouette with his form but you knew who he was. that deep voice, with the same annoying flippant tone, is a dead giveaway.

you didn't know why you even hoped in the beginning. as if there'll be someone who can save you from these two.

you thought the flash of hurt in your eyes was quick to disappear but jeno noticed it quicker.

in a span of seconds, he pulled you up from your position from the ground and tugged you towards his lap. you haven't even gotten the time to settle on your new position when he already smashed his lips against yours.

it was messy. too much saliva. too much teeth. no tenderness to it at all.

the fabric of his jeans felt rough, not to mention the ice cold belt buckle made you severely uncomfortable as it seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

when you attempt to hover over his lap, jeno grunts as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you back down without your lips breaking away from each other. you didn't know why he let out a whine, but you understood the moment you fully sat down on his lap and you felt a tent on his jeans hitting your clothed entrance perfectly.

in a normal circumstance, you would've found everything hot and might've actually gotten off from it but not when it's him who’s doing this to you and you didn’t consent to any of this.

you start squirming again. palms lying flat against jeno's chest as you attempt to push him away and jaemin sees this as the opportune moment to slot himself behind you, caging you in between them.

“i want my turn,” he hisses and without an ounce of hesitation, jeno stops to do what he's told.

jaemin doesn't waste any second to grab your face, awkwardly craning your neck up to meet his lips in the same feverish kiss.

while jeno had been all teeth and aggression, practically forcing you to open your mouth and kiss him back, jaemin on the other hand is more soft, more romantic, you daresay. he seemed to like taking his sweet time by clutching your face, kissing you like he actually meant it.

he pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours as he murmurs something incoherent under his breath and then he's kissing you again.

you think you heard something along the lines of, "finally."

you've been too distracted by jaemin to notice jeno's nimble fingers quickly fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. it was only when you feel the sensation of his tongue laving against the swell of your breast did you turn away from jaemin, jerking backward in surprise.

"no—!"

your scream is cut off by a hand cupping your mouth. jaemin pulls your back towards his chest, molding your body against his as jeno licked and suckled all he wanted, thankful to have the other boy there to not worry about restraining you and keeping you quiet while he has his fun.

"ah, ah, ah," jaemin teases, going hard over the pleading and teary look you sent his way. it looked pathetic, he wasn't going to lie, but it doesn't mean he didn't love it. "just keep still and appreciate jeno's efforts to take care of you, alright baby?"

you don't like how he talked as if this was all a mutual thing, how he talked slowly like you were some toddler who didn't understand anything.

it's cruel how jaemin giggled and basked in your vulnerable state as he kept his eyes pinned on you while undoing the zipper of your skirt. your muffled cries of his name only serving to egg him on.

the way he stared was similar to jeno, too intently and intrusive, like he wants to burn your image of despair in the back of his head.

you whined involuntarily when jeno got bored of all the licking and thus decided to start biting and nipping at your chest instead. he was hypnotised by how responsive you were, how every little bite and nibble made you shudder.

it was a shame that jaemin had to cover your mouth. he didn't get to hear your pretty mewls but it wasn't as if he'd let the night end without hearing them loud and clear.

jaemin is fast in undressing you, feeling slightly betrayed by how quick your skirt and blouse fell under his hands.

you know what he wants, what he's going to do, and the tears fall harder when you can't dodge away from him. forced to endure and accept whatever they give you.

"you act like you don't like it but look how fucking wet you are," you bit your lip hard when jaemin starts circling the pads of his fingers against your clit, fascinated by how more juices streamed down your thighs.

"jeno, do you see this? fuck."

you can only blink in defeat, staring off to the side as you force down any noise bubbling up your throat, forcing yourself to think of anything else other than what's happening right now.

you try not to think about how they managed to tear all of your clothes off while they're left completely dressed. tried not to think about the fingers lazily drawing up and down your slit to collect your essence.

if they're doing this as a way to further humiliate you, it's working.

"slut," jeno mocked, a wicked curl on his lips when he wraps his fingers around your throat. the moment he dives down to claim your lips again is the same time jaemin pushes two fingers inside you.

"look at how wet you are because of me," jaemin whispers hot against your ear and you feel a sick churn in your stomach when you feel his smile against your skin.

he purposely drives his fingers in and out quicker, settjng a brutal pace, wanting you to hear the lewd squelching sounds. "hear that? do you hear that, darling? that's because of me—"

"don't go talking big now, jaem," jeno retorts, pulling away from your lips to start nibbling on the back of your ear. "i was here first. did you see how she fucking reacted when i sucked on her tits?"

you're quick to catch how jeno particularly loved degrading you. but how he talks about you as if you're literally not in front of him naked made you hit a new all-time low.

you felt… filthy.

his hands find purchase on your butt—only because jaemin has already claimed the front. for now.

you close your eyes tight when he painfully squeezes the flesh of your ass. you swear, his blunt nails will paint your skin black and blue.

"i'm the favorite!"

"i'm the favorite!"

as someone who's part of a varsity team, you already knew a competitive nature runs through jaemin's veins. but never had you thought jeno would share the same sentiment. once again they prove that they're cut from the same cloth.

all of a sudden it wasn't all about claiming you as theirs anymore rather it was all about who can make you moan the loudest, who can make you cum the most, who can make you feel the dirtiest you can be.

you're absolutely terrified for the hours to come.

thankfully, they have yet to ask for your verbal opinion or validation. they let your body do all the talking—every repressed shudder and sharp gasp is enough.

but it's game over once they pop the million dollar question.

"who do you like best?"

you don't want to find out the consequences if you actually answered their question because you didn't know what could be worse.

jaemin's manipulation or jeno's aggression?

but it was all normal. trial and error is inevitable in order to build and mold you into the ideal lover for the both of them.

because adding someone new to the mix has never been easy—after all, three's a crowd.