#in my defense he lives over an hour away and we were supposed to go to a fabric store near him

[scatteredcloud]

bweeeeeegghhhhhhh -_-

[milaisreading]

Meet the boyfriend

Pairing: Leonardo Luna x Itoshi sister!Yn

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Yn is here like 24 or 25 years old. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Leonardo Luna!!" The blonde flinched from his spot on the couch. (Y/n) wasn't one to yell at him, or anyone as far as he could remember, but when she did it was the scariest experience in his life.

"Yes?" He smiled nervously as (Y/n) walked into the living room, looking pissed at the Spaniard.

"What time is it?" She asked as Luna looked at his phone.

"Like, 10 in the morning."

"And you didn't bother waking me up? You said you would. We are supposed to meet Sae and Rin in an hour."

"In my defense I tried to wake you up, but you sleep like a rock. I tried waking you up for 20 minutes and then gave up." Luna said, raising his arms defensively as (Y/n) stared at him for a moment and growing flustered by his words. She did believe him that one, her parents and brothers did tell her the same thing in the past.

"I am sorry for yelling at you like that. I am just stressed." (Y/n) sighed in defeat as Luna pulled her down to the couch, hugging her right after.

"What's wrong, mi vida? You are never like this?" Came his worried response right after. (Y/n) kept quiet for a moment, unsure how to formulate her thoughts the best. This meeting was very important to her, after all, her brothers are very protective of her, even if they were younger.

"It's just that this whole you meeting my brothers thing is stressing me out. You guys aren't on the best terms, and I fear how Rin might react. Sae might take it better  but I don't think he will try to calm Rin down-"

Before she could continue her ramble, Luna moved closer and kissed her. This surprised her, but she quickly recovered and kissed him back. The two parted after a minute and Luna gave her a warm smile, pulling her into a hug.

"It will be alright. I love you,and you love me. Whatever the two say won't bother me much."

"It won't?" (Y/n) hummed as Luna chuckled a little.

"I play football for a living. I hear insults on the field and critics all the time. Don't worry. But, I doubt they will say much, at least not in front of you." The older Itoshi moved away from the Spaniard, confused by his statement. But, just before she could answer the question, Luna decided to answer it for her.

"They love you, a lot. So I doubt they will say anything that might upset you, in front of you. I think the lunch will go well." Luna said simply, but it didn't help her at all.

"But they will still insult you when I am not there-"

"As I said, I heard worse on the field."

"How are you so relaxed?" She mumbled, pinching Luna's cheek as the blonde laughed.

By the time the two arrived at the restaurant, they were late by a good 20 minutes. Although Luna reassured her that everything will go well, her nerves were still all over the place. Sensing her uneasiness, Luna gave her hand a gentle squeeze, causing the girl to smile at him before looking for her brothers.

'It will go well.' She took a deep breath as she finally found the 2 sitting in a corner.

"Leo, I found them."

"Let's go then." He said casually as he finally spotted the younger two, pulling (Y/n) towards them. 

"Sae, Rin, sorry for being late." (Y/n) finally spoke up as they approached their table.

"It's ok, big sis. We just came here as well-" Sae stopped talking as his eyes landed on Luna's form, then they fell onto their hands. Rin, who needed a good minute to connect the dots cleared his throat and spoke up.

"So, this is the guy you are seeing?" He asked coldly, causing (Y/n) to flinch and Luna to chuckle a little.

"S-surprise." She stuttered out as Luna kissed her cheek.

"Leo." (Y/n) looked at him in shock as her brothers yelled at him.

"Hands off!"

"Don't kiss her so casually."

'Most awkward lunch...' (Y/n) thought as she looked at their glaring figures.

[milkywaydrabbles]

number 7 and 9 from flufftober list with alucard 🥺 baby boy is the prettiest man who ever lived and we gotta told him everyday

A/N: I swear one day I'll be able to make my fluff drabbles as long as the smut ones I'm still trying ;; I love Adrian Tepes with my whole heart I say it after every flufftober I write about him but I MEAN IT! Hope you like mwuah

“I could just stare at you forever” “Creep” “You’re the most beautiful being on the earth” x Alucard

Unnerving. That’s how Alucard would describe how you’re looking at him right now. He’s caught you staring a few times already. Normally he wouldn’t mind it, finding it rather adorable. But you’d be staring at him for what felt like hours now. Sighing every few minutes. Alucard tried to ignore it the best he could, really, he did. But how the fuck was he supposed to concentrate on anything at all when he felt your eyes boring into his soul. He sighed, giving in and closing the book in front of him. “Darling, you’re staring.”

“Mhm!” 

....

He anticipated more from you, not just a nod of affirmation and a smile. Okay then.

-

Alucard continued his day, and you yours, going about his duties within the village and you doing the daily chores around the castle (he always begged you to relax for a day, leave him something--anything--to do, but you never listened.) He’d swing in and check on you every now and again, and you’d just stare with a dreamy look on your face. Ignoring that. You’d talk to him while you washed clothes, yelling into the other room about some gossip you heard while he studied new defenses to put up around the village. Then the second he stepped into the room you grew silent, dopey smile on your lips. He thought he would burst, until you finally, finally, spoke up about it.

“I could just stare at you forever.”

....

“Creep.” You cackled, he continued. “That’s exactly what you’ve been doing. All day. I was starting to get worried I’ve forgotten something important and you were just waiting for me to notice.” Really, he was worried. Your laughter died down, hanging the rest of the clothes to try before bouncing over to the dhampir, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a chaste kiss. “Can’t help but to look at you, so handsome~” You cooed, peppering kisses all over his face. He smiled, chuffed to bits, and picked you up in his arms bridal style. You squealed, your giggles filling the air around him. Alucard spun you around, wanting to hear more of your happiness. It made his heart grow warm. “What are you going on about, silly girl?” You kicked your feet, leaning your head on his shoulder, and he swears he sees hearts in your eyes. “Feeling very lucky these days, is all. I don’t think I tell you enough that you’re pretty.” 

That made him bark out a laugh, beginning to walk out the wash room with you still in his arms, making way to his study again to have you sit on his lap whilst on the chair. “I think you tell me plenty, sweetheart.” Alucard kissed your forehead, and then your cheeks, and then your nose for good measure. You sighed, melting into his arms and running your fingers through his silky locks. “No, I mean it, you’re so pretty. Beautiful even!” You sat up straight, taking his face in your hands. “You’re beautiful, Adrian. You’re the most beautiful being on this Earth. And I’m so lucky, to be yours.” Alucard let out a shaky breath. You’re always so appreciative of him, really, you are. But each and every time he hears you wax poetry about him it takes his breath away. He never considered that he would make you feel the same way you made him feel. Even though that’s a silly thought, sometimes it was difficult to remember that you loved him. Sometimes it was difficult to imagine anyone loving him.

But you reminded him each and every day.

“Correction, darling--I’m so lucky to be yours.” Alucard tipped your head back, pouring all his love and affection into the kiss. He wanted you to feel his emotions deep in your bones, enough that your marrow would turn to love itself. He kissed you until you pulled back to breathe, and he kissed you some more after that. “Adrian,” you started with a breathy laugh gently holding his jaw.

“We’re lucky then, together.”

[hearts4hughes]

12. “because she’s totally whipped over ___” with jack please?

whipped - jack hughes

jack hughes x fem! reader

100 followers celly !!

warnings: swearing, one mention of nsfw, but no actual nsfw

notes: this took me so long to write for no reason. i apologize for any mess ups in the writing. i did not proofread this. enjoy reading lovies!

gif is not mine

“uno!” trevor yells out, causing everyone to huff in frustration.

“that’s the tenth fucking time you’ve won!” jack exclaims, throwing his cards onto the ground.

“he’s cheating! how many times do i have to tell you guys this?” i say in an annoyed tone.

what once started as a night we were supposed to go out and get drunk, came to a halt when trevor found a deck of uno cards in a random desk around my apartment. however, that was three hours ago. now, quinn, trevor, luke, jack, and i, all stay sprawled out on my living room floor- probably on our twentieth game of uno.

“i’m sick of this bullshit!” luke dramatically rolls back from his sitting position, into a laying one. i giggle, hitting his head playfully, causing him to flip me off.

“oh, you’re sick of ‘this bullshit’? i’ve won almost every game, and every single time i’m accused of cheating!” trevor whines acting like his a victim of some sort.

“maybe that’s because you are cheating, zegras.” i widen my eyes, pointing at him. i’ve known trevor since i was ten, and there is no fucking way he is winning all these games without some sort of cheating.

“hey!” trevor yells in his defense. he looks around the room for someone to help him out, until his eyes land on quinn, “help me out over here, quinny.”

“don’t bring me into this.” quinn laughs, unproblematic as always.

“whatever, i’m going to grab some water.” standing up, i excuse myself, needing a desperate break from everyone for a moment.

walking into my kitchen, i grab a glass of water and check my phone.

from lola: how’s everything going over there?

i smile, looking at the text i received from my best friend.

to lola: pretty good. we didn’t end up going out, trevor found uno and we’ve been playing that ever since

from lola: is jack over?

my eyes widen at the last message. i gulp before beginning to reply.

to lola: yes, but what does that have to do with anything?

jack hughes has been my crush since we met. our families grew up together, so it wasn’t very surprising when i became great friends with the hughes. i mean what is there not to like about jack?! he’s adorable, completely insane at hockey, and he has a great personality. that’s like winning the lottery of men!

from lola: you know exactly what it has to do with

from lola: this is your fucking chance! make a move on him or something. put those flirting skills to work bae

to lola: are you insane or something? make a move on him now? both his brothers and his best friend are here too!!!!!

from lola: so what? at least you’ll have witnesses for when you retell the story to your children!!!!

before i can type my response, a familiar voice brings me back to reality.

“there you are!” jack beams, startling me and almost causing the glass to fall right out of my hand. “oh sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you, cutie.”

did he just call me cutie?

my heart flutters at the nickname and jack begins to move closer to me. “no it’s ok, just didn’t see you.” i couldn’t be more nervous right now as he is now barely a couple inches away from me.

“where’d you go? i missed you in there.” he admits as a devilish smirk tugs at his lips.

what the fuck.

someone pinch me so i can wake up.

nervously, i begin laughing it off. “yeah, uh, i just went to get some, uh… water.” i can barely say the sentence- my throat just getting dryer and dryer.

“you’re adorable. the boys wanted to play truth or shot. you in?”

i excitedly nod, putting my phone in my back pocket as jack grabs my hand, leading me into the living room. right as we enter the room, we see quinn with a bottle of schnapps, pouring the beverage into various shot glasses. jack sits down, tugging at my hand so i sit next to him.

“who volunteers to go first?” quinn asks, setting the bottle on the coffee table. luke raises his hand, pulling a loud cheer out of all of us as quinn passes him the shot glass.

“ok, moosey,” trevor begins, thinking of something to ask him.

“ask him about the magazine!” i yell out and everyone barks out a loud laugh- except for luke. he sits there with a flushed and embarrassed expression, dreading the question.

“moosey, that one summer when y/n bought that magazine with the hot brunette in the bikini,” trevor pauses, hyping us up, “did you or did you not steal the magazine to help you perform certain activities?”

“oh, fuck you!” luke throws his hands up, a big smile is spread across his face in embarrassment.

we all erupt in laughs and yells waiting for luke to answer. i look over to jack, who is laughing hysterically. he catches me staring and winks, putting his arm around me. my face turns basically maroon at the small gesture. i try to relax under his hold, but i can barely considering how close he is to me.

“answer the question!” jack yells, converting everyone’s eyes over to us. as they examine our current position, all their eyebrows furrow, but it’s short lived considering we all want luke to answer us.

“fine,” luke begins, pulling everyone’s focus back over to him, “i did steal it, but-”

he’s cut off by all of us yelling ‘we knew it!’ and ‘that’s disgusting!’. being pressed against jack’s chest, i feels vibrations from his laughter, causing my laughs to come to a small halt- only being able to focus on jack.

“but!” luke yells over our laughs, pulling me back into reality. “she was fine as fuck. don’t blame me!”

“i do blame you because i really wanted the swim suit she was wearing!” i say, in both disgust and laughter.

luke rolls his eyes, passing the shot over to me, indicating it’s my turn.

“y/n’s turn!” quinn yells, still on an adrenaline high as the room dies down. i roll my eyes, accepting the drink from luke’s hands, awaiting my question.

“my turn to ask the questions.” luke smiles deviously. “remember our friend, tommy?”

i nod, wondering where this question is going.

“did you or did you not have a crush on him?”

all the boys, once again, erupt with screams and laughs. however, when i turn back slightly to look at jack. his posture is now tense, instead of relaxed, and his eyes are filled with jealousy. nonetheless, he still lets out a fake laugh, fooling everyone else, but me.

to be completely honest, their friend tommy, was really hot. i wasn’t completely infatuated with him, but i definitely had a little crush on him. however, noticing how tense and jealous jack got from that question alone, makes me not want to answer it at all.

without another thought, i reach for the tiny glass, tossing it back. as the alcohol burns down my throat i make a face in disgust.

“booooooo!” trevor starts and luke and quinn begin to join in.

“sorry, but i am not answering that.” i shrug.

jack doesn’t say anything, he only continues to tense behind me.

uh oh.

“c’mon, admit it,” trevor says, “you definitely had a little something for him.” he moves his shoulders suggestively and i only roll my eyes in return.

“it’s not surprising if she didn’t.” quinn mumbles, turning everyone’s attention to him. i furrow my brows, what is he getting on with? he seems to notice us staring and raises his eye brows, “don’t try to act like you don’t know what i mean.”

“will you stop with this cryptic and mysterious shit?” jack finally speaks up. everyone nods their heads in agreement, waiting for quinn to further explain.

“yeah, why wouldn’t y/n not like tommy?” luke chimes in.

“because she’s totally whipped over jack!” he finally blurts out. my eyes go wide and my mouth drops.

the whole room goes quiet and all eyes are on jack and i. however, his hold around me does not change.

“wha-” i try to get out, looking back at jack who wears a proud smirk. “i’m not- well i don’t-”

“y/n,” trevor interrupts, “just kiss him already, this is tiring.”

i can’t even react before jack turns me around, his lips landing on mine.

wow.

[topguncortez]

A Supposed Miracle || Bradley Bradshaw

Top Gun Celebration | Main masterlist

synopsis: A year ago you survived the unimaginable, but you weren't sure if it was actually the miracle they said it was. Written as part of my 1 Year TG Celebration:)

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Uranium Mission, description of injuries, mentions of PTSD, amnesia, paralyzation, cursing

prompts: "I don’t care if we are fighting, or if you’re mad at me, I’m still gonna be there for you.”

Rooster wasn’t sure what he was doing. What had possessed him now, of all days, to show up at your front door, he wasn’t quite sure. The last time he had seen you, you were barely alive. Blood seeping from your body, your temperature near dangerous levels, breaths so shallow and pulse so weak, Rooster had to press his ear against your chest just to hear your heart beating.

When the two of you were rescued, you were whisked off into the belly of the ship while he was being flocked to by sailors commending him for a good job. 

“I didn’t do anything right,” He remembers saying to Maverick, as he sat on the cold metal exam table. 

“Yes you did, you both survived-” 

“I paralyzed her!” 

Rooster knew that it wasn’t all his fault, but he had no choice but to move you. You were sitting ducks in the middle of the snow-covered field, wearing your green flight suits. You had cried and begged for him to leave you there, telling him you would rather “die on the battlefield in glory” than live a life where you could no longer walk, or take care of yourself. But Rooster wasn’t about to do that when an enemy helicopter arrived and opened fire on the two of you. He didn’t think twice as he picked you up in his arms, despite your cries and hits against his body as he carried you into a wooded area. 

“You fucking dick, Bradshaw! You should’ve left me to die!” 

“You can blame me for saving your life later.” 

Three days. Seventy-Two Hours. Four thousand three hundred twenty minutes. two hundred fifty-nine thousand two hundred seconds. 

That’s how long the two of you were out in the snow-covered woods. Both of your beacons had been crushed when you intercepted the SAMs to save one another. Rooster, who had merely a concussion and some bruised ribs did his best to try and keep you alive. He wasn’t sure where all the blood was coming from, too scared to cut away your flight suit to find out. He did his best to stop the bleeding, switching from packing snow against your body, to pressing a hot wire against the exposed skin. The two of you split an MRE that somehow managed to survive the wreckage. He could remember you making a joke about it. 

“Not sure if we should be even eating something that can survive a jet fire.” 

But Rooster made sure to save the last Twizzler bites in the package for you. He had hardly slept, forcing himself to stay awake to make sure you were still alive, and keeping a watchful eye for any wolves or other wildlife. He knew that his defense against a wolf was going to be useless, but he had gone over in his head what he would do to make sure you lived. On the last night, you were out there, Rooster held you tightly in his arms, the both of you coming to the realization that you might not live to see another sunrise out in the woods. 

“You need to be the one to tell him,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your skin was sunburned and your lips chapped from dehydration, “He won’t try and fight you.” 

“He hates me, Reap, he always has,” Rooster said, gently rocking you back and forth. 

“Jake doesn’t hate you,” You shook your head, “He is intimidated by you. He knows that you are the better pilot. But if it’s anyone else that tells him I didn’t make-” Your voice broke, “That I didn’t make it. . . he’ll drink himself to death. He’ll want to know everything.” 

Rooster looked up at the night sky. All the stars seemed to be out, shining brightly above the two of you. 

“I loved you first,” Your voice pulled Rooster away from his analysis of the stars, “You broke me when you left. Didn’t say why or where…you just left.” 

“And I have regretted that day for all my life,” Rooster said. 

He could so vividly remember seeing your acceptance letter to USNA sitting on your desk when he came home from one of his classes at the local community college. He didn’t even know you applied, let alone were interested in the Navy. But he was so mad, so angry that you had gotten something that he had wanted his whole life. Instead of waiting for you to come home from work, he quickly packed a bag and left, not so much as leaving a note to explain. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that the two of you had finally reunited. 

And now, you were going to die in the arms of your first love. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Rooster said, and he felt your body tense for a moment, before it relaxed in his arms, “I have always loved you. I have never stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you.” 

You squeezed Rooster’s hand, “I… Love…” 

Rooster looked down at your face, seeing the light go out in your eyes, “No… No, no, hey,” He shook your body, patting your cheek lightly, “You don’t get to do this,” He laid your body gently down on the ground, placing his hands in the middle of your chest and starting compressions, “C’mon, Reaper! C’mon! Don’t…” Rooster looked up at the sky, “You son of bitch, you give her back to me! You give her back to me right fucking now!” 

— — —

They called it a miracle. But it felt like anything but that to you. 

You spent a whole month, unconscious in the ICU in England, before you were moved back to the US, where you spent another two weeks hooked up to machines. When you woke up, you had no recollection of the last several years of your life. You didn’t know that the blonde man sitting next to you was apparently your fiance, or that you had graduated top of your class at TopGun, or hell, that you had even made it to TopGun, to begin with. You didn’t know what had happened out in the woods, other than that you were paralyzed from the waist down, and you would never fly again. 

The only person that you did recognize was Maverick, and even those memories were a little hazy. He had helped you get settled into your house (which had been totally renovated to be wheelchair accessible). Your fiance, whose name you learned was Jake, helped you get reacclimated to most things. He was nice and was doing everything he could to help gain some memories back. Over time you remembered certain things like Jake’s birthday, or that you had a 1972 mustang mach 1 sitting in Maverick’s hangar, or flashes of the last mission you were on. But the most prominent memory in your mind was of coming home to an empty house and that blue Bronco gone from the driveway. 

You had asked Jake about Rooster several times, and he just danced around the subject. He told you that Rooster was a part of the mission, and he had taken a different position instead of staying in North Island with the rest of the team. You also remembered that when Jake lied, his right eye would twitch. 

You had spent the better part of that year in intense physical therapy. Your doctor believed that you could probably regain some function and learn to walk with assistance. You thought that hell week at USNA was hard, but nothing would prepare you for this journey. Day after day, Jake would pick you up from therapy physically and mentally exhausted. Learning how to walk again at age twenty-seven was a lot harder than toddlers made it look. 

Between your doctor, various therapists, Jake and Maverick, by the time the one-year mark of the mission came around, you were able to stand and walk with the help of your walker. Being able to graduate from physical therapy felt better than any promotion you might’ve received from the Navy. 

But now here you were, a year to the day later, staring at the man who had been constantly on your mind. You had actually started to believe Jake’s story about Rooster taking a job somewhere else because, for the last year, he had been totally MIA. Jake had taken you to the Hard Deck and out several times with the dagger squad in the past year, and every time, Rooster wasn’t there. Nobody mentioned him. Nobody even talked about him if you were around. There had been no texts, no calls, and no letters from him in the past year. 

You were actually starting to wonder if maybe he was dead. 

“So you are alive,” You scoffed, “Congrats.” 

“Reap-” 

“No,” You shook your head, “You don’t get to fucking call me that. Do you even know the hell I have been through in the past year?!” 

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said simply, “I just couldn’t face you knowing that I put you in-” 

“A wheelchair?” 

He sucked in a breath and looked down at his shoes. He looked a lot like the man you remembered. Sandy brown hair, sunkissed tan skin, those sweet baby cow eyes that you had fallen in love with. He was wearing a pair of Levi’s that hugged his thighs just right, and one of those infamous Hawaiian shirts that used to belong to his dad. His Rayban caravans dangled off the chain of his dog tags that were tucked underneath his white tank top. 

Rooster licked his lips and looked up at you, for probably the first time since the standoff had started. You had cut your hair, it was shorter than what he remembered, sitting right above your shoulders. He could see that your face had some new-age lines to it. Your arms now had more black and colored ink than clear skin on them. And your eyes, those once soft and loving eyes, were cold and hard as you glared at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said again. 

You shook your head, “Why are you here?” 

“Because I-” Rooster still wasn’t sure why he was here. He thought he would have more time to figure that answer out before you asked, “Because I wanted to see you. I heard that you are coming tonight and I-” 

You scoffed, “So you decide now, a year later, that you wanna show your face?” 

“Look,” Rooster was trying to keep his cool, but his patience was starting to wear thin with you, “I don’t care if you hate me. I don’t care if we are fighting, or if you’re mad at me, I’m still gonna be there for you.” 

“But you-” 

“You weren’t the only one who lost something out there!” Rooster yelled. You looked taken aback by the sudden increase in his voice, “Okay? You weren’t the only one out there for three days. You weren’t the only one. . . planning a fucking funeral in your head. You weren’t the only one who lost something out there.” You looked down at your lap, hearing Rooster take several deep breaths to calm himself. He knew that he fucked up but not coming to see you sooner, but he wasn’t sure how he could face you. 

“Did you tell Jake to lie to me?” You looked up at the man. 

“No,” Rooster shook his head, “I asked him about you almost every day for about three months. I wanted to know how you were, what you were doing if there was any update on your injury, or if you gained your memory back, but Jake just kept it to a minimum. Eventually, he told me to stop asking.” 

“Fucking Jake,” You rolled your eyes, “I broke up with him about three months after I woke up. It was just too hard to pretend to love a man when I hardly knew him.” Rooster nodded, “But to make you feel better. . . I asked about you too.” 

Rooster clenched his jaw, trying to push back the tears in his eyes. You held your hand out to him, and he walked forward, placing his large hand in your smaller one. You squeezed it, just like you did when you died in his arms a year ago. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

The two of you let out a soft chuckle as you spoke at the same time. 

“You first,” Rooster said. 

“I’m sorry for how I treated you when you found me. I just knew right away I was fucked and I didn’t see any point in living a life where I can’t fly. But I realized how fucked and selfish that was to tell you that. You saved my life, Bradley, a-and. . .” You blinked a couple of times, trying to find the right words, “Thank you for that.” 

Rooster’s jaw dropped slightly, and he gave your hand a squeeze, “I’m sorry for being too scared to come and see you. I let my own fear and self-hatred get in the way. And you saved my life too.” 

You smiled at him, “Do you want to come in for a drink?” 

“I’d love nothing more.” 

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388  @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27   @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines  @bradleybeachbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @bradshawseresinbabe @Munsonswhore86 @happypopcornprincess @Sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @callsignharper @genius2050

taglist form:)

I just wanna say a quick shoutout to @a-reader-and-a-writer for sending in this request and being just an all around awesome person. you guys don't see it on here, but I'm in a discord with Vee and she is one of the most reliable, and knowledgeable, and nicest people I have ever had the opportunity to interact with. I can always count on Vee to pop in with an answer to my questions or a funny one-liner or angst that hurts so deliciously good. She's an amazing writer and friend and fandom-dweller (. . . yeah that's the word). She's always so positive and works hard to create an awesome and safe space on her blog, on the dash, in the server. She's just amazing <3

[nathanbatemanfucker]

ALEX HIIIII!!!!!!!! i saw ‘aaron hotchner x reader’ in your tags and i RAN here 🤭🤭🤭💞

okay so what about #10-“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.” 😩🦋🦋 with aaron <3333

thank you ilysm!!!!!!!!!!

Instead

prompt: #10 “let me call you mine, just for tonight.”

pairing: gn!reader x aaron hotchner

contents: implied sexual content, angst, exes in love, hope for the future

wc: 1.1k (listen it got out of hand)

an: i hope you enjoy this my sweet fay, despite it being angst i had a really fun time writing it. perhaps im slowly returning to this man 🤭 love youuuu bb <33

summer blurbs prompts + masterlist | cm masterlist

You’ve always reminded yourself there was the possibility of seeing him when you come back home. You’ve prepared; there is nothing to say, nothing to change. Going your separate ways once the two of you had graduated from undergrad just made sense. Living states upon states from each other, working insane hours— the two of you were never going to fit together the way you did those few years. And while it hurt, neither of you wanted to hold the other back.

Your relationship was based in choice and fire and tenderness. How the bicker of back and forth turned into something soft, something sweet and erotic. You’d never been able to find the flame that sparked when you were with him with anyone else, so you’d given up.

It takes 10 years. You’d gone almost 10 years without seeing him— you come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas respectively, sometimes even the 4th of July. Aaron Hotchner never comes home. Until he does.

He says words that you never expected— words some part of you buried deep down has always wanted to hear.

“Let me call you mine, just for tonight.”

You shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t even be here. You’ve avoided this for so long and all it took was once for you to end up here. For you to say yes to him. Over and over you’d said yes, because what else could you say?

He’s always been your weakness. You’d agreed to coffee when you saw him in the grocery store. Said yes to dinner at coffee despite the awkward tension between you. Said yes again to coming back to his hotel room despite the tan line from his removed wedding band.

When those words— let me call you mine, just for tonight— spill from his mouth as you two stand in his hotel room, you can acknowledge that this is the perfect time to say no.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to say it. Instead you say, “We’ve done this before, Aaron. Why hurt ourselves?”

The words have hardly left your mouth before he’s answering. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left.”

“I didn’t leave, we came to an agreement,” You grit out, arms crossed against your chest defensively. “We wanted different things, coasts apart.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, “I’m not blaming you.”

“That’s what it feels like. And you never fought for me— I posed the idea and you just went with it.”

His mouth presses into a thin line, brow furrowing in confusion, “Was I supposed to know that I was meant to fight? I always respected you and your autonomy.”

You know that he’s right. Choice and fire and tenderness.

Your shoulders drop as all the stubbornness in you disappears. You can’t look at him. “I don’t want to fight, Aaron, please. I don’t have the heart for it.

He steps forward— that’s all that’s left between the two of you after this little tiff, a single step. His hands, warm and calloused, rise to cup your face, lifting your gaze to his own.

“I know, you never have, have you, honey?” He asks gently, not a single drop of malice or condescension. “We get worked up just to fizzle out. I’m sorry, I am. But, I don’t know if I can let you walk out the door like this.”

You have to close your eyes before you drown in him. In his deep brown eyes, in his strong pine cologne that surrounds you. It’s too late, you’re sure of that when he angles your jaw further and you feel the ghost of his breath on your lips. And while it took so much strength to look away, it takes none to press your lips to his.

For a while that’s all either of you do— kiss and explore the way you’ve changed. His mouth feels the same, his tongue deep and searching but his skin is different, his beard is gone, his shoulders are firmer. He feels how you’ve become softer, how your mouth might taste even sweeter.

You pull away once your lungs burn and not a moment sooner. It could end here, you could keep all those promises you’ve made to yourself and walk away from him. Nothing and everything has changed. Once again you think that you should do the right thing to save you both. But instead, you sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you.

You and Aaron truly talk for the first time since seeing each other in that grocery store. You tell him about your loneliness. He tells you about his, about the horror and gore that accompanies it. You bring him close and kiss him until he’s dizzy, until you’re in a vacuum where none of that exists. Just the two of you.

Eventually, he guides you to the bed with respectful eyes, eyes that say this is your call. You make it, pulling him in for another kiss by the collar of his polo.

In the quiet darkness of the night, he touches you like you never left him. He kisses every inch of your skin, and reintroduces you to a level of pleasure that left with him.

And when you wake in the morning, you’re warm— almost too warm. But, you aren’t quite ready to move and accept the reality that dawn brings. You’re losing him all over again. There’s a familiar stiffness in your bones, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that takes you back to that cool May morning.

Rising out of bed, slowly and carefully, is one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. Not because you haven’t snuck out of bed before, leaving a one night stand or two wondering about what they did wrong. But, because Aaron’s always been it for you. Because you’re leaving the warmest bed you’ve ever known.

Dressing quietly, you press a parting kiss to his forehead, so light that you feel like a ghost. Maybe that’s what you are, a ghost in Aaron’s life the way he’s one in yours.

When Aaron wakes, he feels the chill left in your absence. He knew what he was getting himself into; he’d only asked for a night, hadn’t he?

That chill stays with him as he gets ready. But, when he reaches for his wallet, a small bit of paper falls out. He bends to pick it up, and smiles— written on the paper are familiar digits. Ones he’d deleted from his phone long ago, ones he’s been trying to forget until now.

He thinks for a moment that he should throw it away, spare you both the back and forth for something that might crumble all over again. Instead, he opens his phone, saving your number once more. His chest thaws a bit at the potential of more.

[tiedyeflannels]

Adventure of a Lifetime

Kim Taehyung x reader

Chapter 14 | Masterlist

A/N: *warning sirens* ANGST UP AHEAD!! This is what writers would call the "climax of the story", but in all seriousness, this chapter was THE main reason why I had started this series. If it wasn't for this, it would probably still be in my drafts, ngl... Anyways! I hope you enjoy!

We laughed as we stepped through the door and into Tae’s apartment. We were immediately greeted by Yeontan as we took off our shoes and made our way to the kitchen.

“I think it’s so cute how they basically switch personalities when they’re drunk,” I laughed as I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

“Who? Jk and Hobi,” Tae asked, right behind me as he reached over and got a bottle himself before I closed it.

I smiled, nodding, just when Jeong-Gyu walked into the kitchen.

I turned to greet him, “Oh, hey!”

“Yo! When did you get back,” Tae asked, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“A few hours ago. Where did you two go? I was surprised that we didn’t see you when we came home,” Jeong-Gyu leaned on the island, looking between both Tae and I.

“Tae took me along to his practice with the members, then we had dinner together. Didn’t he let you know,” I asked.

Jeong-Gyu shook his head, “No, he didn’t.”

“Sorry, I should’ve texted you and Y/s/n just to let you know where I was going so you wouldn’t have had to worry,” I said, looking between them.

There was tension starting to grow in the room, but I couldn’t place a finger on why.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go take a shower and then get ready for bed since it’s getting late,” I said.

“Yeah, I should, too,” Tae said, as he followed me out. I headed over to the room Y/s/n and I were “supposed” to be sharing and saw laying on the bed, scrolling through her phone.

“Yo!”

“Hey,” I said, passing by the bed and walking over to my suitcase to grab some clothes.

“Did something happen between you and Jeong-Gyu,” she asked, looking up from her phone for a second.

My brows furrowed as I shook my head, “Not that I know of… why?” She hummed before she gave an answer, “I’ll let you take a shower first.”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as I walked over to the bathroom and closed the door.

~

“Okay. What do you mean ‘Did something happen between you and Jeong-Gyu’,” I asked as I shook my hair out with a towel.

She sighed, “Well, he’s been acting differently ever since we got home and realized that you weren’t here. I knew you had to be with Taehyung, but his mood seemed to turn sour after I said that.” I tilted my head in confusion at what she told me.

“So I wasn’t sure if something had happened,” she said.

I hummed, guessing that he was causing the tension in the kitchen earlier, but still not understanding why Jeong-Gyu is acting like this.

I shrugged, “I guess I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.” She hummed in acknowledgement, “Are you getting ready for bed?” 

I nodded, “Mhmm, I’m sleeping on the couch in the living room after you kicked me out last night.”

“It’s not my fault! You know I don’t like cuddling,” she said defensively.

“Yep, and that’s my fault…” I said, monotonously.

“Anyway, thanks for letting me know about Jeong-Gyu. You know where I’ll be if you need anything. Night,” I said as I started to walk out of the room.

“Good night, Y/n/n,” she called out after me.

Walking over to the living room and rolling the blanket out, a conversation could be heard in the kitchen, but since if was muffled I thought I would stay out of what they were talking about.

That was until… I heard my name.

Maybe they we’re talking about me in passing, I thought as I shook my head and finished setting up where I was going to sleep when something in their conversation caught my attention.

“Are you really upset that I brought Y/n along with me?”

“It’s not just that,” Jeong-Gyu aggressively sighed, which made me draw closer to the kitchen to hear a bit better.

“You’ve been taking Y/n’s attention away with your charms!”

“What are you talking about,” Tae questioned and I couldn’t help but agree; what was he talking about?

“This trip was supposed to be just us having fun, but you had to take them away,” Jeong-Gyu sarcastically said.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not my fault. You’re the one that started to abandon Y/n to hang out with their sister. If you cared more about your friendship than this little crush of yours then we wouldn’t be having this problem,” Tae said sharply. 

“Oh! So you’re saying that you just took pity on them, acting like some kind of hero so Y/n would fall for you good looks and charm. Is that it,” the younger brother spat out.

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?!”

“You get everything! A good job, good looks, millions of fans that throw themselves at you left and right! Why can’t you just let me have this?”

“I thought you had feelings for Y/s/n,” Tae asked, voice slightly raised.

I quietly peeked into the kitchen debating whether I should stop this or not.

“Yeah well, all this time without Y/n made me realize that I have feelings for them, too!”

I huffed and rolled my eyes before deciding to end this and started walking in.

“Too bad, because I have feelings for Y/n too,” Tae spoke, making me stop in my tracks and my eyes widened.

What does he mean by that…

“Y/n,” he gently muttered, making Jeong-Gyu turn in my direct and pulling me out of my daze. 

“What’s going on here,” I sighed.

“How much did you hear,” Tae asked.

“A little too much for my liking.”

Jeong-Gyu visibly cringed at my statement, definitely not liking that I heard the argument.

“Listen Y/n, I can explain,” he tried to start, but I held up my hand to quickly silence him.

“I don’t want to hear it right now because you’re clearly not in the right state to think rationally,” I said, pointing to his chest that was still heaving from the anger that he had earlier.

“And I don’t want you two to keep fighting, so take the air mattress and sleep in the family room down the hall. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

I gave him a pointed look before he solemnly nodded and walked out.

I closed my eyes and sighed before looking at the eldest brother. He stayed standing where he was, brown eyes on me. I walked over and lead of the island beside him, arms crossed.

“You seem awfully calm for hearing everything that happened,” he tried breaking the tension.

I weakly smiled, feeling a bit too overwhelmed by all of this.

“What happened,” I sighed.

He shrugged, “You’re guess is as good as mine. All I know is that he was going on about me ‘stealing’ you away from him.”

“He’s an idiot,” I huffed.

He nodded and we stood there for a while in silence as the tension started to dissipate.

“How do you feel about him having feelings for you?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I think he just misses me by his side and is now mistaking that for romantic feelings.”

A moment of silence fell upon us before he raised another question.

“And…” he hesitated, “How do you feel about me… having feelings for you?”

I stood there for a moment.

How do I feel about it, I asked myself before saying, “I don’t know.”

I looked at him, trying to decipher my emotions, but the more I tried, the more I became confused. 

He sighed, “I’ll just get my confession out of the way, if that’s okay?”

I slowly nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve really liked hanging out with you, Y/n. I’m not sure when I started having feelings for you, maybe it was that day at the park or when I first set my eyes on you at my parents’ house, but there isn’t a day that goes by that you’re not on my mind. You’re incredibly smart and witty and sweet and I would love to stay by your side for as long as you’ll let me.”

Tears started stinging my eyes as he took a couple steps to stand in front of me.

“I know it’s confusing and you still need to work out your feelings so I won’t ask you to give me an answer right now. I’ll wait how ever long you want, whether it’s tomorrow or when you go back home or a year from now.”

I dryly chuckled as a tear rolled down my cheek.

Tae softly brushed finger across my cheek, clearing the tear before leaning in close and replacing it with a gentle kiss.

He pulled back far enough to look at me and whispered, “Whatever your decision is, I’ll wait for you. I promise.”

He quietly left the kitchen as my tears started to freely fall.

Chapter 15

Taglist:

@maple-leaves-in-the-wind | @eli-xar | @amaroho

[les-pompiers118]

Illumination (a 9-1-1 ficlet)

A little Buck & Hen coda piece for episode 7x04. About 1.2K words, not rated. Contains major spoilers for "Buck, Bothered and Bewildered."

Also posted to AO3 here.

“Hey, what’s going on with you today?”

Hen’s voice startles Buck off the frame of the open roll-up door at the back of the equipment bay, where he was—what? Gathering his thoughts? More like letting them run amok, because there seems to be no getting them under control at the moment. Even the mindless task of polishing the engine had proved too much, and Buck just… needed a minute.

It’s been approximately eighteen hours since Tommy kissed him. Eighteen hours in which his whole damn perception of himself has been turned upside down and inside out. So there’s that. But there’s also been an embarrassing amount of losing himself in the memory of it, and imagining what it might be like to do it again. Maybe with Tommy’s broad chest pinning Buck against a wall… or those rough, competent hands on Buck’s skin somewhere… Or—

“Nothing,” Buck answers, a little too defensively, but of course Hen can tell he’s lying.

“You’ve been distracted all day, Buck.” She gives him an unimpressed look. “Are you and Eddie still not talking about how you tackled him during a friendly basketball game?”

“I didn’t tackle him! It was more like… a mid-air hip check.”

Hen huffs and shakes her head. “You can take the boy off the football team, but you can’t take football instincts out of the boy, I guess.”

“Hip checking is hockey, not football,” Buck corrects her. “And to answer your question, Eddie and I did talk about it and it’s fine. He knows I just, uh, let my emotions get away from me during the game. I apologized for it. We’re good.”

“Then what are you all in your head about? Last time you were like this, it was when you were secretly contemplating donating certain bodily fluids to a certain former roommate and his wife. They didn’t ask you to help with baby number two already, did they?”

“No! I’m just—”

Buck breaks off with a wince. God, he’s not sure if he’s ready to tell anyone yet. He’s definitely not ready to make some big, dramatic announcement when he’s still trying to wrap his head around this. Not that he’s waffling about what it meant—the head-to-toe thrill that went through him when Tommy’s mouth collided with his. Buck recognized that sensation right away, with all the certainty of someone who’d accidentally touched a live wire. He’s not a kid, for Christ’s sake.

Talking about it—out loud—though. That’s a different story.

On the other hand, this is Hen. Who better to unburden himself to than her? And then maybe he’ll be able to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing here, at work, and save his personal mess for after the shift ends.

“Okay,” he begins, pulling Hen gently by the arm out into the parking area. “Okay, but please don’t tell anyone. I mean, anyone. But especially not Chimney.”

“All right,” Hen says slowly. “What did you do?”

Buck takes a deep breath. “I kissed Tommy.”

“You what!?”

“Well, he kissed me, actually. He came over to clear the air, because he was afraid he was the cause of some bad blood between me and Eddie. You know, since they’ve been spending so much time together, and it was driving me… Uh, I’m not proud of that, either.” Buck runs his hand over his mouth and pushes on. “Then we were talking, and he said he’d teach me Muay Thai if I wanted, and then the next thing I knew, he was just… going for it.”

“Wow,” Hen says simply, and even though Buck can’t bring himself to look her in the face right now, he can tell she’s genuinely shocked. “Wow, I guess you really never can tell with some people. Not that Tommy and I were ever especially close, what with the way things were when I first arrived at the 118. Huh.”

Buck stops himself from telling her that this conversation is supposed to be about him, not Tommy. Honestly though, it hadn’t occurred to him until this moment to think about whether Tommy is out or not. That’s not cool, Buck chastises himself.

“Uh, yeah that’s probably another reason this should just stay between us for now. We didn’t really talk about whether it’s okay for me to tell people. About him.”

Hen raises her eyebrows. “But you did talk, didn’t you? He didn’t just run off or something?”

“We sort of talked? He asked me out on a date. Saturday night.”

“And you said…” Hen prompts.

“Yes,” Buck tells her, with a whooshing exhale and a grin. “I said yes.”

“Okay, then. Good. So what’s the problem?”

She’s looking at him with that mix of patience and exasperation that he knows too well. Like he’s being dense.

“The problem is that I’m thirty-two years old, Hen! It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to me that I—” Buck lowers his voice to a loud whisper. “That I’m into guys, too. Like, don’t most people just know? While they’re growing up?”

Hen reaches over to squeeze his arm. “Not necessarily. There are plenty of good reasons why some people don’t figure it out until they’re older. Sometimes much older than thirty-two, by the way. There aren’t any rules here, Buck. Everyone has their own path to get there. But… you are there, you think?”

“Oh, god. Yes.” Buck gives a small laugh, just lets it bubble out of him. It’s like opening a valve, releasing the pressure inside of him. “I’m one-hundred percent there. No doubt in my mind at all.”

“That’s wonderful. Even so, give yourself some time to process it, okay?”

“I will. But, uh, how long does processing take?” Buck asks helplessly. “I feel like I’m back in that hurricane. There are about fifty different emotions hitting me from all directions right now, and it’s kind of hard to function.”

“That’s just the nature of the beast, I’m afraid. It’s a scary thing, having that big revelation about yourself and figuring out what it means for your life.”

“I’m not scared. More like… in a daze. Every time I think about it, it knocks me back again. And then I think about tomorrow night and I start to get all jittery. Nervous. Cause I’ve never done this and I have no idea how to go about making a guy like me.”

“He already likes you, if he asked you out, right?” Hen says. “So focus on that. Anything else?”

Buck considers it, tries to loosen the tangle of feelings that’s filling up the whole of him right now and lay them out in an orderly way. Hen doesn’t rush him.

“It’s just a lot,” he says eventually, giving up on putting it into words, “and I kinda wish I could switch off my brain for a while.”

“I’m sure. Trust me, all those messy, upsetting emotions will settle down, and then you’re gonna feel really good about it.”

“Oh, I already do,” Buck reassures her. “I mean, I did last night even, right after it happened. And now, still. Just kind of… illuminated on the inside. That sounds weird, doesn’t it?”

Hen shakes her head, then puts her arms over his shoulders and jerks him into a tight hug. Buck returns it gratefully, glad to find an anchor in this crazy day, at last. When Hen speaks again, close to his ear, her voice is uncharacteristically wobbly.

“That’s the joy, Buck,” she says. “That’s the joy of it. And that’s what makes the struggle all worthwhile.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

My sis in law lives 5 hours away and finally got some time to come down and clean out her storage units that she shares with her legal husband. They have been separated for quite some time but she is still in contact with him. She recently has been getting her life together- her kids got taken away bc of drugs and she has been on/off drugs and finally has a job for more than 6 months. She also planned this on Father’s Day weekend and asked my husband to help her move her stuff. Her dad also came down to help but not to life heavy things as he is elderly. My husband requested that our older kids go to help her too.

It was supposed to take one hour to get the moving truck, but instead it took three.

So she has taken up most of the afternoon and then my husband tells me there are two extra people coming over for the Father’s day dinner. She also left at 8:00pm and didn’t come back until 5:30am the next morning. She’s a grown woman, whatever.

After she left I looked over the bins of stuff which is mostly toys and books from the storage unit and discover it is toys from her separated husbands kids. They were taken away by OCS a few years ago and he still has a lot of their things. She was trying to give me their old toys and books. The bins and toys are covered in mouse poop and pee. It was disgusting and nasty. I couldn’t in good conscience even think about giving away the items because they were so filthy.

I was so aggravated. Did she really expect me to disinfect all the items by myself?

I called my husband and told him we had to take ALL the stuff to the dump that day. The kids had seen the toys but I told them they couldn’t touch or play with them because they had poop on them.

I said my piece to my husband that I didn’t appreciate her leaving all this mouse poop covered stuff and he got defensive, saying she was just trying to be nice by giving us all this stuff.

I’m still aggravated though, because how can you not see all the mouse droppings all over everything?

AITA for being aggravated that my sister in law left over 6 bins of stuff at my house that I can’t use, no matter her intent?

What are these acronyms?

[julieverne]

No body, no crime

---

The men Jane dated had a habit of disappearing.

Casey went missing in action, Agent Dean went undercover and no one knew where he was.

Jane didn't date that many men, actually. But then Maura's exes started going missing too. Ian was never really in the map but his last known whereabouts was Antarctica. Maura received an annulment from a marriage she hardly remembered. Jack moved to a different state. The rest were dead at Jane's (or someone else's) hand, or in jail. Jane was starting to get suspicious.

---

Paddy Doyle stood when Jane came in.

"How is she?" he asked, always his first question. Jane showed him her lock screen - Maura holding a plaque with an enormous smile. "Good," he said, sitting when Jane did.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Jane asked.

"Do I ever know why you're here?" Paddy countered and Jane grit her teeth.

"Agent Dean is missing. So is Casey."

"Are those names supposed to mean anything to me?"

"Agent Dean. You shot him. I.. may have been involved with him. Likewise with Casey."

"You're saying I shot two of your boyfriend's?" Paddy asked incredulously. Jane sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"I'm saying they're both missing, and I dated them both. Along with Ian Faulkner, Maura's former flame, and her current one moved multiple miles away suddenly. Don't act coy with me, Paddy. This is your machination. What are you playing at?"

"I didn't kill your precious boyfriends, Detective Rizzoli, if only because I know it would make Maura sad, and you get very angry when she's sad."

"Then where are they, and why are you doing this?"

Paddy leaned back in his chair and looked over at Jane.

"I knew who you were. Before we met, officially. Had Intel that Maura was sleeping over, and that you lived in a one bedroom. Heard you were staying over at hers too, that your mom moved in." Paddy paused, nodded. "I like your mother. She doesn't know who I am, of course, but I like how happy she makes Maura." He fixed his gaze on Jane again. "I like how happy you make her. I like the way you protect her. The men she dates are weak and insignificant, but you - you're a challenge, even to my men. She's in a lot of danger because of her connection to me, and I can't have her shacking up with someone I can't work with."

"I don't work for you, Paddy," Jane informed him, her jaw set.

"Work with. We have a common goal. It's for the health and happiness of one Doctor Maura Isles. You make her happy, and so far you've protected her adequately. Would have preferred you didn't shoot me to do it, but I'll take it." He met Jane's eyes, and she nodded. If Paddy had shot Jane to keep Maura safe, she'd have taken it too; he knew that somehow. Jane would never let her defenses down around Paddy, but he was right. They did have a common goal.

"Get to the point. Visiting hour's almost over." They both knew this was outside visiting hours, that Jane could come and go as she wished, but he nodded anyway.

"You didn't ask for it, but I give you my blessing." Paddy leaned back in his chair, watching Jane's face fill with confusion, then a deep blush at what he was implying.

"We're not like that," Jane said uselessly, her hard front finally dropping a little. "She doesn't - I don't..."

"She does," Paddy said, sliding a packet of photos from his jumpsuit and across the table. They were a series taken over months, years, of Maura smiling up at Jane, of Jane's hand touching Maura, of Jane opening doors and buttoning coats, of Jane at Maura's bedroom window. There was one from the precinct, Jane shielding Maura with her body in a hostage situation. Another from the prison infirmary, Jane's face feral as she lifted a scalpel, the image grainy from the security feed. It should have felt invasive, but in most of those photos Maura looked content and loved. Jane exhaled slowly.

"She's the most valuable thing in my life. The only good thing I ever did. I have my men on her, but I have to be able to trust the ones closest to her. And, for a given value of trust, as it pertains to Maura, I trust you. So, you have my blessing." Jane looked back at a photo of Maura laughing at something Jane had said, her thumb rubbing over Maura's smile. She'd kill for Maura; she had already, multiple times. She'd die for Maura if she had to. Her first instinct in any situation was to get Maura to safety. She sighed. She'd been kidding herself for too long. It was there in the photos, in the way Jane looked at Maura. It was obvious when it was captured like that, laid out in sequence. She looked up at Paddy, tearing her eyes away from the photos.

"Where are the bodies?" Jane asked. "You killed them because they were getting between us. Or had them killed. You just want to tighten your payroll by taking your men off Maura, and if she's with me you'd be satisfied she was protected, wouldn't you? So where are the bodies?"

"You think I did it but you just can't prove it," Paddy chuckled. "Well, no body, no crime."

Jane snorted out a laugh. Paddy rolled his eyes.

"They blast music an hour a day. They don't care what we listen to. You have my word, they're alive and well compensated for their distance."

Jane eyed Paddy. He wasn't always honourable, but when it came to Maura he always tried to do the right thing. Maura would be upset if he'd killed them, and he had enough money and reach to get them out of Jane's way. So that Jane could date Maura.

From a business - Paddy's business - point of view, it made sense. Get the strongest person from the dating pool to protect what he needed protecting.

"She can take care of herself," Jane said cautiously, not wanting to admit that dating Maura would have multiple merits.

"Not from the sort of people who come after her," Paddy reminded Jane, who hesitated before she nodded. "So, we have an accord?"

"She doesn't even..." Jane voice dropped. "I'm not... a candidate."

Paddy just gave Jane an irritating smile and got to his feet, ready to return to his cell. "Give her my regards, won't you?" he said, and Jane dropped her head in her hands at the table. He'd left the photos for her. He probably had more. Jane bundled them up and went home for the day.

---

"I have such bad luck with men," Maura said, fidgeting with a ring. She looked shyly over at Jane. "At least I have you," she added.

Jane thought back to the phone call a frantic she'd answered with "Anything you want, I'll get it," not even trying to bargain for Maura's life. She'd have sold her soul to the mob for Maura's safety; in some ways she already had.

"You'll always have me," Jane promised. "And if you wanted to see if you have better luck with women..." Jane shrugged and sipped her beer, turning back to the baseball as though what she'd said had been of no consequence.

"Did you... all the men in our lives are missing, did you...?"

"Clear the way so I had a shot? Not me."

Maura shot Jane a look, but Jane shrugged.

"You think I did it but you just can't prove it," she echoed Paddy, knowing the reference would go over Maura's head. Instead Maura's eyes lit up with understanding.

"No body, no crime," Maura said nodding. "Paddy?" she asked, and Jane shrugged.

"He says they're alive. He also says I'm the only person he trusts with you."

"I won't have my biological mob boss father dictate who I can and cannot date," Maura said indignantly, then looked over at Jane's deflated face. "But in this case, he might be right," Maura admitted. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jane asked, confused.

"Okay. I can't get luckier than you, if I were to date women."

"Oh, you're going to get lucky alright," Jane said, closing the minute gap between them on the couch in one quick pounce.

---

Paddy didn't exactly walk Maura down the aisle, but one of the songs at the wedding was, for no reason fathomable to anyone but Jane and Maura, No Body No Crime. It played for their first dance.

"We should send Paddy some wedding cake," Jane said.

"As long as it doesn't have a file in it," Maura joked as her wife spun her around on the dance floor.

[nerdzzone]

An Overdue Commitment

Summary: Almost ten years after they first shared their feelings for each other, Chris and Madeline finally make their commitment to each other official.

Part of the Back To You series

-----

August 2020

Pulling into his mother’s driveway, Chris felt a familiar sense of calm washing over him. It had been a long, emotional day and his head was still spinning with racing thoughts and bubbling anxiety, but even just the sight of his childhood home - with the promise of expert advice waiting for him inside - brought comfort to his weary heart. It was supposed to be a happy, carefree evening. The night before their wedding, he’d expected to spend it buzzing with excitement and anticipation of the following day, but instead he found himself feeling lost and helpless as he dragged himself out of the car and towards the house.

“Ma!” He called out as he pushed open the front door. “You home?”

“In the kitchen!”

Her quick response had a wave of relief washing over him as he hurried through the living room to find her. When he made it to the kitchen, he was greeted by not only his mother, but his sister, Carly, as well and the grins on their faces were a stark contrast to the melancholy way he was feeling.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Lisa cheered. “How’s our soon-to-be groom?”

Her enthusiasm had a soft smile sliding onto his tired face and he leaned down to hug her on his way to the empty chair at the head of the table.

“I’m okay.”

He’d tried to sound less miserable than he felt, but he noticed the concern creeping onto his mother’s face despite how his sister seemed too excited to see through his half-hearted acting as she asked, “Are you ready for the big day?”

“We are.” Chris nodded, but the movement was slow and uncertain. “But I’m worried.”

As if she thought he was joking, his admission had a burst of laughter falling from Carly’s lips.

“You’re worried about marrying Madeline?” Her tone gave away her incredulity, but her smile faltered as she saw Chris’ unwavering serious expression. Her laughter had done nothing to soften his frown or the wrinkles of his furrowed brow and there was a shift in the lighthearted atmosphere in the air. “Chris, that’s crazy.”

“I’m not worried about marrying her,” he clarified. “I’m worried about her.”

His added explanation did nothing to soothe their rising concerns and Lisa was quick to question him.

“Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

“The baby’s fine,” Chris assured them. “And Madeline keeps telling me that she is, but I’ve got my doubts.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

It was clear from Lisa’s tone that she was eager for Chris to cut to the chase so with a sigh, he elaborated.

“She’s upset about her parents,” he informed them. “She’s been trying to hide it, but today was rough. She’s been crying all day and the only way I could get her to eat was by reminding her that she has to take care of the baby. I know they’ve been on her mind more lately since we found out she was pregnant, but I think with the wedding tomorrow it’s really getting on top of her again.”

A look of understanding crossed their faces, but at the same time Chris could almost visibly see Lisa’s heart sink.

“I’m not surprised,” she admitted, her voice softer as the corner of her lips dipped down into a frown. “She’s facing two huge moments in life without the people who meant the most to her.”

“That’s true,” Carly nodded in agreement as she shot Chris a sympathetic look. “Maybe it’s all just happening a little too fast? It’s only been a couple of months since you found out she’s pregnant and you’ve only been engaged for a few weeks.”

“I know that it’s happening fast!” Chris’ tone was harsh and defensive, but as Carly raised an eyebrow at his sudden sharpness, he mumbled an apology and let out a sigh before he continued. “I know it all seems kinda fast, but it’s what Madeline wanted. She wanted to get married before the end of the summer.”

It was almost the end of August and he’d only proposed at the beginning of the month, but Madeline had been eager to get things underway as soon as possible and considering they weren’t planning on having a full scale wedding, she’d been insistent that they could pull together a small backyard party in just a few weeks. At first he’d assumed that her urgency was to do with her pregnancy - so there was no bump in any pictures or maybe even so people wouldn’t know she’d been pregnant before they got married - but her concerns were more to do with the lingering problem of the pandemic. The restrictions had been eased slightly over the summer, but she was worried that once the kids were back in school and the season changed things would worsen and everyone would end up in lockdown again. Doing it soon while they knew they’d be allowed - and while they could do it outside - made the most sense.

“Maybe it’s just the whole idea of a wedding,” Lisa gently suggested. “I know you mentioned when you first got back together that it was something that she said she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to do.”

“Yeah, but that was her idea too,” Chris insisted. “I told her that I’d marry her whenever and however, but she said she wanted a party. Nothing big, but she wants to celebrate.”

A silence settled in the room as they contemplated his words, but after a moment of thought Lisa spoke up again.

“I think,” she paused and Chris noticed the tears swimming in the corners of her eyes. “That this is just never going to be an easy thing for Madeline to do. Greg talked about walking her down the aisle from the moment they found out they were having a girl and every little girl dreams of spending hours with their mother hunting for a wedding dress. However hard you try to make their absence less obvious, she’s going to feel it - thoroughly and painfully - all day.”

As much as Chris valued any of his mother’s wisdom, his heart clenched in his chest as he realized that she had no magic advice to take away his current turmoil. He could feel his frustration with the situation starting to rise and as he already felt emotionally drained, he didn’t have the strength to fight it.

“That’s what pisses me off the most,” he huffed, his hand that was resting on the table clenching into a fist as his jaw tightened. “Madeline doesn’t get to have the perfect wedding day that she deserves because some asshole decided to make the fucking shitty decision to get wasted and drive himself home! Every single happy moment in her life is going to be tainted by what he did and I don’t know how to make it better.”

“I don’t think you can,” Carly admitted, her voice soft as she knew it probably wasn’t the answer that he wanted to hear. “You can’t change what happened or ease her pain, all you can do is help her through it.”

“But how am I supposed to do that?” He questioned, his desperation shining through his voice. “How am I supposed to console her when she has every right to be devastated? I can’t reassure her that she’s fine or that it’s all going to be okay because it’s not, it’s not okay. It fucking sucks.”

Chris could feel his eyes welling up and he quickly tried to blink his emotions away before any tears could fall, but the sympathetic look in his mother’s eyes and the comforting way she reached out to hold his hand almost had him breaking under the weight of the pain he was feeling. Watching Madeline suffer and being so lost about how to help her was heartbreaking for him. He’d always prided himself on protecting her and on the rare occasion that he couldn’t, he’d always helped her pick up the pieces as best he could. But this time the pieces were too broken to put back together and that was a hard pill for him to swallow.

“It does suck,” Lisa agreed. “I know as well as anyone how hard it is to keep your head up and carry on with life. Connie and I had been talking about you two getting married since before you were even ten years old, it’s unbelievable to me that she won’t be here to see it finally happen.”

Squeezing her hand, Chris hoped to return some of the comfort she’d given him as he nodded.

“It almost doesn’t feel real. We used to talk about what our wedding would be like and they always were meant to be such a big part of it.”

His words were punctuated with a heavy sigh and as Carly reached out to supportively rub his arm, she broached another idea.

“Have you thought about ways you could try to tie them into it a little bit?” She asked. “Having a few little things to honour them might help Madeline feel like they’re still included.”

“Wouldn’t it just remind her that they’re not there?”

“She’s already painfully aware of that,” Lisa pointed out. “But Carly’s right, celebrating their memory in a positive way might help ease the pain a little bit.”

A realization washed over Chris as he knew that they were probably right. It seemed so obvious that there should be some kind of tribute to her parents at their wedding and the only excuse he had for the oversight was the speed with which they’d thrown together their plans.

“Well, shit,” he murmured. “How am I gonna organize something by tomorrow? Madeline was already asleep when I left and I don’t wanna start brainstorming with her in the morning in case it upsets her all over again.”

“I have an idea,” Carly assured him, her eyes lighting up with a flash of brilliance. “Do you trust me? We’re helping Maddie get ready tomorrow, I can bring it with me then.”

Chris was intrigued and wanted to press her for more information, but the exhaustion of the day was catching up with him and he was happy to leave it in someone else’s hands for the moment.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Thank you, Carly. That means a lot.”

“It’s the least I can do,” she insisted. “Don’t worry about it.”

Despite his impossible search for a simple fix to the problem, Chris felt better after his conversation with his family. It had proved to be a helpful reminder that they were all in it together - they all cared about Madeline and hated to see her suffering and they were all also feeling the loss of her parents as deeply as he was - and he knew that with their support the wedding would go as smoothly as he could hope for.

He stayed for a bit longer - swapping stories about the Daniels and questioning Lisa a little bit more about the discussions of a wedding between him and Madeline long before they got together - and by the time he eventually left, he felt a little more steady. As he crawled into bed next to Madeline and she instinctively rolled over to reach for him despite being half-asleep, he squeezed her tight and whispered a soft ‘I love you’ into her hair as he felt a renewed need to spend the rest of her life doing anything he could to ease even an ounce of the pain she was feeling.

-

The following morning, Chris was relieved to find Madeline in a much more uplifted mood than she’d been the day before. He watched her closely for any signs that she was putting on a brave face for his sake, but was pleased to see that while he was sure her parents were still on her mind, the main thing she was feeling was excitement and eagerness to become his wife.

The morning went by quickly and all too soon he found himself being shooed out of his own bedroom by his mother and his sisters when they came to help her get ready. Their arrival only increased his anxious excitement for the ceremony to get underway, but he managed to channel that energy into something productive as he set up the backyard with a team of his own. They were keeping it small - with Scott officiating, his sisters and two of his closest friends from high school in the bridal party, and only fifteen other guests made up of the rest of Chris’ family and a few of their other close friends - so finding the space for all the chairs wasn’t hard, but Chris’ heart sank a little as he put out two on the bride’s side of the front row that would remain empty in honour of her parents.

The moment reminded him of Carly’s suggestion of finding ways to draw them into the day and her mysterious idea about how to do so, but Scott calling him inside to get dressed and ready quickly distracted him. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but he was grateful he had Scott, his dad and his friends there with him to keep him on track because when it hit him that he was finally getting ready to marry Madeline it was hard to control his excitement enough to complete even simple tasks.

He’d been waiting for that moment for years. He’d known very early on in their relationship the first time around that he wanted to marry her so waiting almost ten years for it to finally happen was long enough. It felt like all his dreams were finally coming true and he was already on the cusp of tears just thinking about it so it was no surprise to anyone that he almost fell apart completely when Madeline walked into the room. Her dress was simple - the last minute aspect of their wedding had prevented her from shopping for an actual wedding dress - but it was perfect nonetheless and Chris felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight of her. Her eyes never left his face as she waited for a response, but after a minute of stunned silence she let out a giggle as she drew him back down to earth with a simple question.

“Do I look okay?”

A laugh slipped from his lips as he thought it was ridiculous that she even had to ask and he moved across the room, momentarily debating vaulting over the couch just to get to her faster.

“You look amazing,” he gushed, sliding his arms around her waist. “More than amazing, you look incredible.”

“Thank you. Your sister worked miracles with the make-up.”

“You don’t need miracles,” he insisted. “You’d look incredible if you weren’t wearing any make-up at all and if you showed up in sweatpants.”

His words had a blush rising in Madeline’s cheeks as she flashed him an ear-to-ear grin.

“I feel the same way about you, but you’ve scrubbed up pretty well yourself.”

“It did take a lot of miracles to make that happen,” Scott chimed in. “For a while we were worried that we’d never be able to pull it off, but we managed to make him look half-decent.”

Madeline giggled at his teasing as Chris shot his brother a glare.

“Shut up, Scott,” he fired back. “I’d uninvite you for that if you didn’t have such an important role.”

“Darn,” Scott smirked. “Then I guess you’ll just have to put up with me.”

Chris opened his mouth - probably to shoot back another smart remark - but Madeline cut him off before he could speak.

“Play nice, boys,” she demanded. “Why don’t we just get this whole thing underway? I don’t want to wait a minute longer than necessary to be your wife.”

The way Chris’ heart stuttered in his chest as those words left her mouth had Scott’s little taunts immediately slipping from his mind. Murmuring his agreement, he dipped his head to steal a quick kiss from her lips, but as he pulled away Carly sheepishly interrupted their moment.

“Do you guys mind waiting a few more minutes actually?” She asked. “We have something for Madeline…”

Chris was reminded again of their conversation from the night before and his curiosity was piqued, but not as much as Madeline’s as her brow furrowed in confusion and she turned to face her soon to be sister-in-laws.

“For me?” She questioned, waiting for Carly to nod as Shanna disappeared into the kitchen. “What is it?”

Carly let the question hang in the air until Shanna reappeared with a big bouquet of the same bright pink roses that Madeline’s mother bought her after every performance that she attended. The realization hit her as soon as she saw them and Chris noticed a shine of tears fill her eyes as she pulled out of his grasp.

“We know you weren’t going to bother with a bouquet, but we thought this would be a good way to have your mom here with us today too,” Carly explained as Madeline carefully took the flowers into her hands. “And if you look at what’s holding it all together, we wrapped it with one of your dad’s old ties so that he can be here too.”

As Madeline lifted the flowers to look at what Carly had just mentioned, Chris felt his heart clench in his chest as a sob fell from her lips.

“I don’t even know what to say,” she choked out. “Where did you even find my dad’s tie?”

“It was in that box of his things that I found in the back of the garage,” Shanna admitted. “I know you told me to donate it, but I thought you might regret it one day so I kept it just in case.”

“When Chris came by last night,” Lisa continued. “And said that you were missing them, we thought this might help.”

“It does,” Madeline nodded, as she wiped away the few tears that were sliding down her cheeks. “It really does. I can’t thank you guys enough for this.”

The women were quick to assure her that no thanks was necessary, but Madeline gently handed the flowers to Chris before pulling each one of them into a hug. His eyes were brimming with tears of his own as he was reminded once again how lucky he was to have such a caring and thoughtful family. He knew without a doubt that they always had his back and even though the gift they’d just given Madeline made it clear that they would always look out for her as well, he couldn’t wait for her to officially join the Evans family.

Once Madeline felt she’d appropriately expressed her gratitude and taken a minute to compose herself, Mark announced that all the guests had arrived and they were ready to get things underway. As Madeline had been very clear to Chris that she would never be able to walk down the aisle without her dad, they’d decided to skip the traditional wedding routine and walk down the aisle together.

That decision also meant that they had a brief - but much needed - moment alone once everyone left to take their seat or their spot in front of the small crowd.

“I hope I didn’t ruin my make-up,” Madeline mused, carefully wiping her bottom eyelid in case she’d smeared her mascara. “It’s all these pregnancy hormones, they’re making me such an emotional wreck.”

“Your make-up is perfect,” Chris assured her. “But it’s understandable that you’re emotional, this is a big moment and I know it’s hard to go through it without your parents.”

“It is,” she softly admitted. “But thank you for all your support. Yesterday and every other day. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You never have to thank me for that.” 

Chris leaned down to press another kiss against her lips and pulled her close as they took a moment to embrace the calm before the storm.

A few minutes later, the sound of music drifting in the open door that led to their backyard reminded them that their guests were waiting for them outside. Reluctantly taking a step away from Madeline, Chris held out his arm for her to hold. He could feel the emotions rising again as they purposefully walked out of their house to become husband and wife. The small number of guests meant that the aisle was short, but seeing the joy on everyone’s face as they strode between the chairs felt just as momentous and meaningful to them as if there’d been a hundred people celebrating with them.

When they reached the front, Chris was surprised to feel Madeline slip her arm away from his, but as he glanced over and realized what she was doing, he found himself battling back tears once again. Traditionally the maid of honour holds the bride’s bouquet through the ceremony, but Madeline had dashed off to the side of the aisle to place her bouquet on the empty chair that should have belonged to her mother. When she hurried back with fresh tears in her own eyes as well, she offered him a reassuring smile as she took his hand and squeezed it tight as they continued to their places, standing together in front of Scott.

Turning to face each other, Chris desperately fought to keep it together as Scott went through all the traditional parts of the ceremony, but as they reached the vows - which they’d written themselves - Chris was sure he was fighting a losing battle and he was glad that he’d volunteered to speak first.

“Madeline,” he started, clearing his throat and looking into her eyes as if she was the only person around. “It’s taken us a long time to get to this point. We both made mistakes along the way - ignoring our feelings or convincing ourselves that we had any chance of happiness apart - but I think we’ve both learned just how much we need each other. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning and my last thought before I fall asleep at night and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Our complicated journey has taught us both a lot, but one thing it has shown me is your admirable independence. You’re so strong, confident, and able to stand on your own two feet, but I’m so unbelievably happy that you not only chose to let me into your life, but you’re choosing to let me stand by your side forever.”

His voice shook as his vows came to an end as the sight of the tears streaming down Madeline’s face had him losing control of his own. He quickly wiped them away before reaching out a hand to cup her cheek and gently wipe hers as well. The urge to pull her in for a kiss was almost overwhelming, but he held strong as he knew that he’d get to do that soon enough. Scott graced them with a moment to compose themselves before prompting Madeline to share her vows as well.

“I should have gone first,” she laughed. “I wrote it all down, but now that you’ve made me cry I won’t be able to see what I wrote through all these tears.”

“Sorry,” Chris chuckled as he lifted his shoulders into a shrug. “Guess you’ll just have to wing it.”

Rolling her eyes, she ignored his suggestion as she turned to take the piece of paper that she’d given to Carly earlier that day.

“Chris,” Madeline started in the same way that he had, taking a moment to steady her breath before she continued. “I have been in love with you since before I could walk. I don’t remember that time in my life, but I also don’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with you so I think it’s a safe assumption to make. We may have had some hiccups - as you pointed out - but my love for you never faded. You’ve always been my biggest protector and the person that I’ve always known I could turn to whenever I needed help. You make me smile even on my lowest days and I look forward to smiling and laughing with you forever. I’m so grateful to you for giving me a second chance and I can’t wait to begin this next chapter in our adventure together.”

If Chris thought he was an emotional mess before, he didn’t stand a chance after hearing what she’d had to say. His heart felt so full that he was worried it was going to burst right out of his chest and tried his best to hurry Scott through the exchange of the rings so he could pull Madeline back into his arms again. The moment the words “you may now kiss the bride” left Scott’s mouth, Chris darted forward to press his lips against hers, forgetting about their audience as he poured as much love and adoration as he could into their embrace. When they finally pulled apart, the cheers of their friends and family filled their ears as they flashed each other a grin before holding hands and heading back down the aisle.

Letting out a sigh of happiness and relief as soon as they got back inside the house, Madeline threw her arms around Chris.

“I can’t believe we’re finally married,” she smiled up at him. “And it only took us about seven years longer than it should have!”

“Well, I’ve been ready for this day since the moment you agreed to go on a date with me,” Chris smirked. “So, whose fault is it that it took us so long?”

“Shut up,” Madeline rolled her eyes. “I’m your wife now, you have to be nice to me.”

“Wait, I didn’t have to be nice to you all those years you were my girlfriend?”

“Yeah, you did,” Madeline nodded, letting her smile stretch across her entire face. “But now, I’m your wife and you’re my husband.”

The way she giggled with pure joy as she emphasized their new titles had Chris feeling so in love with her that it made him dizzy and the only response he could muster was to capture her lips with his once again.

-

After the ceremony, the chairs were quickly dispersed and the party shifted more into the backyard barbecue that they’d planned. Chris and his friends fired up the grill, the few teenagers and kids in attendance passed around a football and Madeline mingled with the crowd, relishing in the opportunity to catch up with everyone after the long months of lockdown that they’d just been through. She did her best to keep her mind from lingering too long on her parents’ absence, but after dinner, Chris brought it back to her attention when he appeared with his arms full of several bottles of her dad’s favourite scotch.

Distracted from her conversation with Anna, she shot him a quizzical look as she made her way over to the table that he was setting the bottles on, but he’d turned to make an announcement just as she got close enough to question him.

“Okay, everyone!” He shouted to get their attention. “I would like to make a toast and if everyone doesn’t mind then I’d appreciate it if you join me in having a glass of this scotch. I’ll explain why in a second.”

She asked him what was going on, but he simply flashed her a smile as he started pouring and handing out drinks so she accepted one of the glasses of pop that Scott was handing out to the kids and waited in suspense with everyone else. Once everyone was ready, Chris slipped his arm around Madeline’s waist as he spoke.

“So, as all of you know, we’re missing a couple of very important people here today. Madeline’s parents, Connie and Greg, were like family to me way before Madeline and I started dating. They were two of the most kindhearted people I’ve ever met and the way they supported me - with Greg always determined to keep my ego in check - is something that I don’t think I ever thanked them for enough. I asked Greg for permission to marry Maddie a long time ago and I really hope that I’d still have his support if they were here today and I hope they know that I will do everything I can to take care of Madeline for them for as long as I possibly can.” The sound of Madeline sniffling had him squeezing her closely against his side as he raised his glass. “So, I thought sharing a drink of Greg’s favourite scotch was the perfect way to remember them today because I know he’d be drinking it if he were here. To Connie and Greg!”

The group echoed the sentiment and lifted their glasses as well before taking a sip. Looking down at Madeline, he could see she was moved by his gesture, but before he had chance to check in and make sure she was okay, she spoke up too.

“If I could just add,” she said, catching everyone’s attention once more with her emotion ringing clear through her voice. “My parents loved Chris and they fought with me constantly when I first thought we should take some time apart because they knew it was a mistake long before I did. With that in mind, I have no doubt at all they would be so happy for us today and that wherever dad is watching us from now, he’s probably screaming ‘I told you so’ so loudly that I’m surprised we can’t hear him.”

A chuckle rippled through the group as anyone who knew her dad knew that what she’d said was very true. Everyone raised their glass again to toast Madeline's words as well and while they had the group’s attention, Chris took a moment to thank everyone for coming before they dispersed back into the party.

Once the attention had drifted away from them, Madeline put her cup down on the table beside them before turning to wrap her arms around Chris’ waist.

“Thank you, Chris,” she murmured against his chest. “That was really sweet.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he assured her, holding her close. “I think it’s important to include them. They should be here and I’m sorry they’re not.”

Madeline was quiet for a moment, but just as Chris was about to nudge her for a response, she leaned back to look up at him.

“I don’t want you to think that you just married a crazy person,” Madeline prefaced her statement. “But I feel like they’ve been here all day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Madeline nodded. “I keep getting this feeling of calm washing over me and it just feels like they’re close by. It happened while I was getting ready and during the ceremony. I don’t even know if I believe in any of that stuff, but I just have this gut feeling that they’re here today.”

“I don’t think that makes you crazy at all,” Chris smiled. “It makes perfect sense. Your parents loved you so much, I don’t think they’d let anything keep them away from your wedding.”

“That’s true,” Madeline giggled. “I got my strong will from somewhere.”

Chris chuckled as he nodded in agreement.

“You certainly did, but it’s one Daniels trait that I hope you pass on to our little baby too.”

“You say that now,” Madeline smirked. “But we’ll see if you feel the same when you’re locked in a battle of will with a three year old when she doesn’t want to go to bed or when she’s a teenager and wants a later curfew.”

“She?”

Chris caught her little slip up and raised a questioning eyebrow causing a blush to rise in her cheeks.

“Just a feeling,” she admitted. “I don’t care either way, but I do have a feeling that we’re having a girl.”

“I’ll take it,” Chris grinned. “If she’s anything like you then we’ll be lucky to have a daughter no matter how stubborn she is.”

His words had Madeline fighting back a smile as she rolled her eyes.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, you’re getting all mushy.”

Chris chuckled at her accusation, but shook his head.

“If I’m mushy then it’s just because I’m so madly in love with you,” he informed her. “And today has reminded me how lucky I am to have you and how excited I am for the future we’re building together.”

“I’m excited too,” Madeline admitted. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The glassy sheen that covered Chris’ eyes told Madeline that he agreed, but her lips twitched into a smile as he once again had no response to offer other than to lean down and capture her lips in a kiss.

In some ways, it felt surreal. It was hard to believe that she was standing in the backyard of the house she shared with Chris while pregnant with his child as they’d just vowed to spend the rest of their lives together. If someone had told her three years ago that her future would be anything like the life she was currently living, she would have laughed in their face and completely ignored them. Knowing that it was true and that she had the privilege of living the life that she currently was had her feeling so giddy that her cheeks hurt from her seemingly endless smile.

The absence of her parents was an unignorable loss and one that she’d worried would overshadow the entire day, but standing in Chris’ arms, she was happy to know that it hadn’t. She missed them unbearably, but the support and love she’d felt all day from Chris, his family, and their friends did a pretty decent job at filling the hole in her heart. She knew that she’d never completely shake the pain that she felt as she navigated the big milestones in her life without her parents by her side, but as she entered the next chapter of her life with Chris, she clung to the hope that his love would be enough to get her through anything that life threw at her.

-

Next

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @flowery-mess @flowerjewels​ @hockeychick10​ @partypoison00​ @theladybiers​ @sidepieces​ @patzammit​ @sparkledfirecracker​ @mytbel0st​ @denisemarieangelina​ @elrw24​ @findthebeautyinbreakdowns​ @trottae17 @annvail​ @rach2602​ @sarahdonald87​ @firephotogrl74​ @ourfinest-hour​ @k-evans-writes​

[theladybarnes]

“ Do you like scary movies?”

▸ summary: every story has a beginning, this one happened just one year before ▸ pairings: steve x reader ▸ word count: 4,968 ▸ warnings: stabbing, cursing, mentions of gore (MINORS DNI) ▸ series masterlist

It had been just another regular night down on the quiet street of Fier Road. Where each neighbor in the Northern California town had the distance of a living ten minutes away from each other. 

 For Chrissy Cunningham, she hated growing up in this home. Having spent most of her time with disdain towards the view of the tree farm that resided just outside her window. The feeling of always being watched through the large piece of glass never went away and since it was one of the few houses outside the city, she always felt the most disconnected from the world. 

 Thankfully, once she got into high school, things changed. Instead of having to worry about going into town to see people, eventually, people came to see her. With having such a large house with no noise pollution to her far off neighbors, her house instantly became a party spot. Especially towards Junior year when her parent’s jobs in the town began to have longer hours. 

 Like tonight. 

 “I’m telling you, Nancy! Once you get a little drink in you and that new kid Argyle plays some of his new CDs. The natural flow of the party will bring you and Jonathan back together!”

 “I don’t know, Chrissy. It was a pretty big fight this time..”

 The blonde had just finished setting up the kitchen counter of snacks when her friend Nancy had called. Trying to back out of the party tonight due a recent break up with her long term boyfriend. 

 “With you two it’s only big fights. Which means you guys don’t fight often enough to let this one fight tear you apart.” 

 “I wish I could see things as positively as you do.”

 Chrissy giggled into the phone, leaning against the counter as she played with the set of knives dismissively before she remembered she was cutting up limes for the tequila shots. “It’s called optimism and with it I’m very hopeful to finish the rest of my Junior year with all my friends happy and together.” 

 “..Well almost all your friends.” 

 The girl stood up straight at that. Knowing exactly who she’s talking about but afraid to approach that topic. Shaking her head she decides to move past it. “When you see the place, it’s gonna bring back all the little memories you and Jonathan had together and I’m sure you’ll be sneaking away to my parent’s room before the night is over.” 

 “Is Jason coming tonight?

 “Uh yeah,” the girl replied lamely. “The entire team is coming actually.” 

 “So you and your new beau will be out officially as a new couple.” 

 Chuckling a bit at that, Chrissy walked over towards the patio doors. Looking out into the pool as she mulled over Nancy’s words. “I guess..we’ve barely been official with each other for three weeks.”

 “But you and Eddie were together two weeks ago.” 

 A frown etched across Chrissy’s face. “Look, it’s complicated. We were off and on and finally off. I don’t wanna talk about that right now.” 

 “I know, I’m sorry! We’ve all known him since eighth grade and he’s loved you since day one. It’s just weird now to think that era is over.” 

 A flicker of light from the pool house caught Chrissy’s attention. Walking towards the patio doors, she reached for the light switch, flicking on the flood lights to help illuminate the backyard. Nothing seemed to be outside but she found herself shuddering anyway. “Things just ended..I can’t turn back time to it now.”

 “I know, I know, sorry. Suppose your good ol’ optimism rubbed off on me and I thought to ask in Eddie’s defense.”

 The relationship between the cheerleader and rocker had been bittersweet. No matter how much Chrissy had tried to keep things happy between them, the differences in their lifestyles pulled them apart. “I don’t have anything against Eddie..and if I knew that he could handle seeing me at a party with another guy then I’d invite him. But..”

 “..But it might just destroy him. I get it. Maybe when summer starts and we all go out, he’ll be open to the idea of you guys being just friends.” 

 “That’s what I’ve been thinking.” Sighed Chrissy as she finished setting up. “Anyway, are you guys going to be coming up soon? It’s already dark out.”

 “Yeah, us girls are hitching a ride with our little chauffeur.”

 The thought of their friend Steve going all across town to pick each girl up was enough to bring up Chrissy’s mood, causing a small giggle to bubble out. “You guys should tip this time.” 

 “I think one of us already gives him enough.” Nancy replied, referring to the friend they called Baby (poor girl revealed her interest in Dirty Dancing once and the group would not let it go). The two of them had been the group’s biggest will they won’t they for years and it was kind of sweet to have seen them together this whole year. 

 “Gosh those two are sweeter than caramel.” Chrissy laughed, moving away towards the phone stand. “I love it!” 

 “You should! They’d have never admitted to liking each other if it wasn’t for your birthday party.” The sound of a muffled honk perked into Chrissy’s ears through the phone. “Speaking of those two, I think they’re here now. We’ll see you soon!” 

 “See you soon!”

 After Nancy got off the line, the silence of the big empty house returned. It was always too quiet for her taste and unfortunately, Chrissy unplugged the tv and music area for the apparent DJ speakers that Argyle had promised to bring. 

 Right as she had plopped down on the couch to wait, the phone began to scream. 

 RRIIIING

 The blonde lazily laid across the cushion to reach over for the hand held before bringing the device up to her ear. “Hello?”

 “Hello?” the voice of a smooth deep voice echoed. “Who is this?”

 Chrissy chuckled a bit. “Yeah, who are you trying to reach?” There was an awkward pause. The man on the other line taking his time. 

 “What number is this?”

 “…What number are you trying to reach?”

 Again it’s another beat of awkward silence. “..I don’t know.” 

 Trying to remain kind, Chrissy calmly ended the call. “You must have the wrong number. But it happens, take it easy.” With that, she hung up and tried to ignore the feeling in her gut. She was getting tense for no reason. 

RRIIING RRIIING

 The phone went off again and she stared at the piece in her hand, debating just letting the call drop when she remembered her parents might check in. Pressing accept she pressed the phone again to her. “Hello?”

 “I’m sorry, I guess I did dial the wrong number.” 

 Scoffing at the caller simply confirming what she told him, Chrissy shook her head, laughing for a second. “So why did you dial it again?”

 “To apologize, of course.” 

 “You’re forgiven, okay? Now have a good-“

 “Wait, wait! I want to talk to you for a second..”

 Not believing the nerve of this mystery caller, Chrissy became mildly amused at the fact that he wanted to stay on the line. “Look, this is fun and all but I’m a bit too busy for casual chat at the moment.”

 “Too busy? What plans do you have tonight?”

 The girl huffed out some air before checking the watch on her wrist. “I have a party tonight. Guests I’ll have to tend to soon so-“

 “A party and you didn’t invite me?”

 The question threw her off for a second. Normally she’d hang up on someone pestering her like this but there was something casual and interesting about this person. 

 “Well..not everyone can come. You know what it’s like.” 

 “Do I? How would one know if they’re acceptable to join parties or not?”

 Chrissy frowned at that, not too sure how to answer kindly. “Well, there’s no way to define who can come and go..if you’re from school then you’d know who comes to these kinds of things.” 

 The caller let out an amused laugh. “I see, you mean, the cool kids get to go.” 

 “That’s not exactly true! But they are the ones who usually show up.” The girl moved to sit back at the couch again, tugging at the end of her sweater. 

 “So you’re saying you wouldn’t turn anyone else that might want to come?”

 “No, never! That’s so cruel!” The sound of the man’s laugh was a sort of relief to Chrissy as she wiped a hand over her brows.

 “With that knowledge, would you be interested in having me come over tonight?”

 “Yeah.” Chrissy drawed out, “You’re more than welcome to come!”  There was a pleasing hum on the other end making the young girl finally feel a little bit better about her poor word choices. Sometimes her nerves got the best of her and gave her a bad sense of word vomit.

 “I’m glad to hear that. I’ll be able to meet the girl I’m looking at.”

 As if suddenly hit with ice, Chrissy felt the smile drop from her face. Maybe she heard what he said wrong. “..what did you say?”

 “I said I’ll be able to meet the girl I’m talking to.”

 Taking a glance behind her, Chrissy glanced around the kitchen until her eyes landed back in the living room. The large patio doors that led to the pool gave a clear view of the inside of the house. “That’s not what you said..”

 Again the caller gave off a calm chuckle. “What did you think I said?”

 Moving to the patio doors, she flicked on the light switches again, trying to see if she could catch someone in the backyard if she turned the light on fast enough. Again she was met with nothing but the scenic sight of her pool and outdoor patio. Checking over the locks, she sighed to herself before she remembered she was still on the phone.

 “Did I lose you there?”

 “Look, I’m sorry. I have to go.” Chrissy mumbled into the receiver,  pulling her body away from the window. “People are coming and I should probably be ready.”

 “Come on, don’t go just yet. Don’t hang-”

 Not bothering to hear the rest, she hung up the phone and quickly checked the locks on both the back and front before the phone rang again. This time, she couldn’t find it in herself to pick it up. Her friends would come soon enough and she’d be able to deal with a creep on the phone.

 Five minutes passed and still no sign of her friends left Chrissy alone with the incessant ringing that built up of her anxiety. She thought about calling Jason but he already told her practice would run late and he’d show up later. 

 The small sting of tears pinched at her eyes and she felt like the beginning of a scary movie with how nervous she was getting. Getting fed up, she reached for the phone again, pressing the accept button before speaking finally. “Yes?” she asked timidly. 

 “You hung up on me…”

 The voice sounded colder, shocked with her actions. “I had to! P-please stop calling. I’m busy and I need to go!” Hanging up quickly, she looked down at the phone and prayed that the caller would give up on harassing her. But just like before, the phone rang again, sounding oddly angry in its blaring pitch. 

 “I’m going to call the pol-”

 “You hang up the phone on me again and I’ll cut your fucking head off, bitch!”

 The blood in her veins ran cold. Making the only sound out of her was a soft whimper. But that seemed to make the man on the other line happier. His chuckle itching inside the canal of her ear. “..please tell me this is a joke.”

 “Oh sweetheart, it’s more of a game now really. Do you think you can handle that, blondie?”

 For some reason, the question caused Chrissy to shrivel down to the ground. Crawling towards the island in the kitchen, she used the large space in the middle to conceal her body as she tried to calm herself down.

 “Oh Chrissy, I need you to answer me in order to start the game.”

 “Please..I don’t want to play anything.”

 “Well, hate to break it to you miss Queen of Hawkins High. But it’s either you play or Jason does.”

 The mention of her boyfriend caused the hair in the back of her neck to stand up. She gripped the phone tighter as she spoke again. “W-what do you mean?”

 “I’m surprised you didn’t notice, I just placed him out by the pool for you.”

 She’s surprised she’s able to get up from the floor, but she does. And when she reached the patio doors, she slowly inched her hand up to the lights. Praying to every God in existence that when she flicked the lights on, her friends would be on the other side and laugh at the vicious prank they just put her through. “Go ahead, sweetness..turn it on.” urged the voice.

 With a flick, she met with the horror of what was laid outside for her. Instead of the sight of an empty poolside, Chrissy’s green eyes met with the body of Jason. Knocked out and tied up to a chair. His usual green jersey stained with dark red spots as his head was leaning forward, casting his face downward to his lap.

 A bubbled up surge of fear poured out from within Chrissy as she suddenly began to yell at the sight, nearly dropping the phone on the floor. “What is this!?” she cried, reaching to unlock the doors, but at the turn of lock, Jason’s head snapped up. Giving Chrissy a view at the beat up appearance of his face. Whoever had taken him hostage had roughed up his face, enough so that blood trickled from the top of his head and nose. A tight strip of duct tape had been placed over his mouth to silence him. It took only a quick second for his eyes to land on hers, worry flickered over his blue eyes.

 “I wouldn’t step out if I were you.” 

 Tears pooled over her eyes, making his vision begin to turn blurry. Sounds of his panicked screaming were muffled by the tape as he tried to call out to her. “Why are you doing this?” she asked softly, hand still ready to push down on the handle. 

 “Well like I said, either you play or Jason does. And I'd decide quickly, I'm getting impatient here.” 

 Locking the door again, she took a step back, shaking her head to Jason as his muffled cries grew more intense. “Good girl. Now turn off the lights again and we can play.” Through her tears she slowly shut off the light, stepping fully away from the door as she returned to the kitchen island. Using it as coverage once more.

 “Let’s begin, shall we?”

 “How do I play?” Chrissy gritted, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe off the tears that were beginning to block her vision. The sound of Jason calling out to her was nearly driving her crazy before the caller finally replied back.

 “I’ll keep it simple for you, pretty thing. It’s a good ol’ fashion game of truth or lie. Three rounds and then that’s it! You and the lover boy get to leave. Sound easy?”

“It’s not like I have any other choice..” she scoffed, sniffling a bit as she checked over towards the patio doors again. The light from outside still showed a shadow of Jason on the chair. “What’s the question?” 

 “Exactly, let’s start! Truth or lie, the three people closest to you are; Nancy, Robin, and that sweet, Baby.”

 It was clear to anyone who went to school with Chrissy that those three girls were the ones who were by her side from the start. No one could mess with her when she had them behind her. “Yes, Truth! They’re my best friends.” 

 “Correct! See? You’re doing so good, sweetness.”

 “Okay, so please let me go help Ja-”

 “Nuh uh! We’re still not done yet. Just two more.”

 Her stomach dropped. She knew it was too hopeful that the caller would release Jason but she couldn’t just leave him out there. It was killing her inside. 

 “Truth or lie,” the caller continued. “You’ve recently been appointed head cheerleader.”

 Again this was a true fact, something that Chrissy had been working hard on this whole year. When she was given the title after the recent game, she was beyond happy. But again, this was a fact that everyone knew. It was announced to the whole crowd. “Truth!”

 The caller chuckled at her reply, making her worried about where this was going if he was asking such type of questions. “Last one and if you get this right, you’re free to get Jason.”

 Chrissy gripped the phone tighter, determined now to get Jason inside. Maybe in some sick way this was still a prank and her boyfriend’s friends had set this up in some sort of hazing thing. It’s the only thing that would make sense now.

 “Truth or lie, you were cheating on Eddie Munson for two weeks before you broke up with him to date Jason.”

 “That’s a lie!” Chrissy cried quickly. Her shame and fear built up on her all at once. That piece of information was not public knowledge. Not even Eddie knew about that and here this stranger was using it to toy with her. “People spread that rumor to make me look like the bad guy.”

 The caller made a small sigh of disappointment. Tutting into the receiver tauntingly. “Oh Chrissy,” he cooed. “I thought you understood the rules. You have to get the answer right in order to win.”

 “That is the right answer! I didn’t cheat..I didn’t.”

 A familiar sound of a tape rewinding could be heard through the other end before it played back its audio. “I guess..we’ve barely been official with each other for three weeks…..But you and Eddie were together two weeks ago… Seems you’ve been up to an awful lot of no good fun.”

 “NO! Please don’t do this! Just give me one more chance. One more question.”

 “Sorry, sweets. I’ll give you a bonus round. But I'm afraid our dear Jason is out of the game.”

 At that, all the lights in the house turned off. Capturing Chrissy into the darkness. The only thing that echoed within the walls was the sound of the girl’s screaming as she watched a dark shadow cover over Jason’s body. The glint of metal flew in the air as it crisscrossed in front of Jason. 

 The noises had Chrissy frozen in fear as she could hear the sounds of cloth and something else being sliced. A muffled cry of agony following every slash. Without realizing, she had begun to crawl over, needing to see for sure that this was a reality and not some nightmare.

 In some sick twist of fate, the lights flickered back on to reveal the outside to her again. Still in the chair was Jason. Head back as he stared up in the sky, eyes gone and cold. The front of his shirt was torn open to reveal the gushing pieces of his intestines falling out slowly from his stomach. It was too real, the blood would not stop flowing out and Chrissy could barely let out a whimper as she stared at the horror before her.

 Jason was dead. And it was all her fault. 

 The chilling sound of laughter could be heard through the phone. The tears seemed to be endless as she crouched back down, staring blankly as the pool lights were being shut off again. Most likely now being controlled by the man on the phone. “I don’t want to play this anymore..” Chrissy whispered into the phone.

 Again the caller merely chuckled again. “Final question..are you ready?”

 “Please..”

 “TRUTH OR LIE,” he yelled, “You forgot to check one more door in your house.”

 The whole house grew deadly quiet until the only sounds were Chrissy’s panting. Her eyes wide as she went over everything she did before the calls got weird. She locked both doors. The windows weren’t open since no one had been home all day; it was all locked! She was safe!

 “LIE!” She yelled, getting up from her spot. He couldn’t get in, she was sure of it. Standing up, she walked over to the patio door again and confirmed that it was locked. That is until the sound of a door creaking open rolled down the hall.

 “Are you sure about that?”

 Gripping onto the phone tightly, Chrissy made the decision to arm herself with a knife from the island before she ventured out towards the rooms of the house. Any bit of comfort she had was gone out the window as she stepped forward.

 It wasn’t till she looked at the two rooms by the front entrance that she felt herself begin to panic. Her Father’s office door was always locked. She never in her whole time living there ever needed to go in. But that also made her forget the fact that it led out into the patio.

 The killer was in her house and finally making himself known

. 

Not risking the check, she immediately ran up the stairs to the second floor, catching just a glimpse of something reflective coming from the doorway. Once at the top, the mystery caller himself decided to shoot out of the room, causing the door to hit against the way as he raced to the end of the staircase.

 Chrissy gulped as her wide eyes stared down at the man. He was decked out in a black cloak that concealed his whole body, hands covered in matching gloves and covering his face, a haunting ghost mask. He looked up at Chrissy, tilting his head to the side as he took her in. 

 With the phone still clutched in her hand she took a step back and glanced towards the directions of rooms. “I thought you said I could come in for the party.” chuckled the voice from below. The sound of it was almost robotic in person now, making Chrissy realize it was a disguised voice. 

 “Y-you stay the hell away from me asshole! My friends are coming and the fucking cops are gonna give you the god damn chair!” she yelled, returning her gaze to the man. “You better just leave now!”

 He reached down into his cloak and pulled out a hunting knife. The blade glinting in the overhead lighting showed its long body before it was being pointed towards her. “If your friends are coming, I say we give them a good welcome present.” A step up and he waved the knife playfully. “From you and dear ol’ Jason.”

 Turning around, Chrissy dashed over towards her parents bedroom. The only thought being that if she locked herself in, she could find a way to get over the balcony that faced the front of her house and flag down her friends sooner. 

 But the killer was quick, it was barely when she pushed down the lock on the door of the bedroom that she heard the hard piercing sound of the knife being hit against the wood. “Open up, bitch!” the man yelled, causing Chrissy to let out a scream as she scrambled to push her Mother’s dresser against the door. 

 The man on the other side let out an enraged yell, banging possibly his body against the wood to try and get the door open. “STOP IT!” Chrissy yelled, picking back up her fallen weapon as she scrambled over to the balcony. 

 Looking down the road, she let out a happy cry when she noticed a pair of headlights coming down the long drive down. Her friends were here and their presence would scare off the man. Waving her hand out, she began to yell out towards them! “GUYS! PLEASE HURRY! PLEASE!”

 At the sound of her cry, the killer had burst through the door with all his might. Angrily pushing away the dresser that had held him back as he stormed over towards the balcony. Screaming, she reached for the handle of the sliding door, only to gasp at the killer stopping her. The grip of his hand tight as he pulled her inside the room.

Her other hand tried to hit him with the knife, attempting to stab at him when he pulled back enough to throw a punch against her cheek. 

 The hit was hard enough to have her vision go blurry. “W-wait!” she whimpered, attempting to push herself away. That’s when she felt the hard pressure of the knife going into her chest. A hot liquid trickled out of front of her chest, wetting the thin material of her sweater instantly. 

 No pain had ever felt like this. A mixture of throbbing pain and panic coarsed through Chrissy. But before her hand could even reach up to the wound, another stab was being pushed through her stomach. Again and again the killer dragged his knife through her. Making the pain worse with every push against her body.

 The light in the room was so dim, the sound of her heartbeat was up in her ears. Despite the feeling of her body growing weaker, Chrissy reached up the man’s mask. Letting her fingers glaze over the mask before she pulled it off, revealing the face looking down at her. She wanted to ask him why, get an answer, but all she mustered up was a small puff of air. 

 He reached for the mask back, slipping it back on before he dragged her body to the balcony again, the world was fading and Chrissy wished she could stay longer. See the people she cared about one more time. This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t right. 

 The sound of her friend’s car rolling down the driveway was the last she heard before the man tore the knife along the expanse of her stomach. Soon enough the world faded to black and Chrissy felt herself finally pull away into eternal sleep.

 Not wasting a second longer, the man began to pull out parts of her intestines, matching it up to look like Jason’s out back. The sounds of wet squelching noises were happy to the man’s ears. Reaching deep into the cloak’s pocket, he pulled out a long rope and quickly began to tie it around Chrissy’s body. Making sure every knot was tight before he pulled her up from the floor. 

 The stiffness of her body added a bit of a struggle, but he managed to push the blonde over and watch as her body hung against the balcony railing with a harsh drag. Just in time for the audience to arrive.

 “This morning I woke up with this feeling! I didn't know how to deal with it and so I just decided to myself. I'd hide it to myself and never talk about it. And did not go and shout it when you walked into the room! I think I love you-” Three familiar voices sang out. 

 “Will you three shut up!” Huffed the voice of a man below. 

 Peering over the balcony, the man noticed a group of four teens coming down the long driveway. Steve Harrington being the man in front who had his hands on his hips. “I’m really gonna have the song stuck in my head now.” 

 His eyes cast over to you, rushing to push past the girls so that you could catch up to the boy. “Sorry, Steve.” you smiled sweetly, lacing your hand into his. “Robin’s been singing it all day and we can’t help but get into it.”

 Steve’s glare turned slowly into a smile the longer he stared down at you, reaching up to place a loving hand against your cheek. “I like it when you sing, but Statler and Waldorf here are going to annoy me to death.” he chuckled. 

 The man watched as you coyly batted your lashes up at Steve, leaning up in your tippy toes to press a kiss against his lips. The knife in the man’s hands felt heavier than ever and he found himself gripping it tightly. His eyes watched the way Steve’s hands moved to wrap around the expanse of your lower back, pulling your body closer to his. 

 “Oooh!” Cooed the other two girls in the back. Making you turn suddenly shy as you part from Steve. The boy didn't seem upset that the kiss had ended, in fact, he looked over at the other two girls with a bigger grin now before he threw his head back. “I think I love you so what am I so afraid of?! I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for!”

 The girls all laughed and began to join in the song again, finally going back to making their way towards the front entrance of the home. Taking that as his cue, the man rushed off the balcony towards the room now. Tonight wasn’t the plan he had hoped for, but soon enough he’d be able to see things through.

 “Omnes una manet nox (One night awaits everyone).” he chanted, running through the house till he was out the patio doors. The sight of Jason brought hope to him as he noticed the beginning of a black sludge slowly creep into the blood that coated Jason’s organs. 

 The last thing the man heard as he climbed over the back fence of the land was the echoing screams from the group of teens.

A/N: And we’ve officially begun this storyline! If its too graphic or uncomfortable I do apologize since it’s not my usual type of posting but this is specifically for Halloween so please understand that. I hope you guys enjoy the mini series!

[lire-casander]

Hi! For your “this isn't drama, it's love (the kind you can't get away from)” fic, (by the way, I LOVE THIS FIC!!!!) I’d really love it for prompt 22 if Carlos is recovering from an injury and TK decides to switch shifts so he can stay home with injured and recovering Carlos!!

awww thank you so much for coming to my inbox and sending me this wonderful ask! your words mean a lot to me! i hope you like it!

#22 canceling their schedule just to spend time with them

canceling their schedule just to spend time with them original prompt list here

“Honey, I’m home!” TK announces as he closes the door with his heel. He slips off his sneakers and pads through the foyer and into the living room to find Carlos propped up against some cushions on the couch. “How are you?”

“What are you doing here?” Carlos asks suspiciously, looking up from his book, staring right into TK’s green eyes over the rim of his readers. “Weren’t you supposed to be on shift right now?”

“Yeah, but I switched it,” TK replies nonchalantly. He checks his surroundings, noticing an empty glass on the coffee table. He goes straight to the fridge, opens it and takes out a cold water bottle. “Here,” he adds, uncapping it and filling the glass once again. “You’re all set on hydration now.”

“TK,” Carlos says warningly.

“Anyone would think you don’t want me here,” TK pouts.

“I do want you here,” Carlos reassures him. “But not when you’re supposed to be working, Ty.”

“I switched shifts with Pearce,” TK explains. He checks on the cast covering Carlos’ left foot as if he’s searching for something he evidently doesn’t find since he sighs happily. “It looks good.”

“It looks exactly the same as it did three hours ago when you left for the station,” Carlos mutters. “It’s broken, TK. It’ll be healing for at least three more weeks.”

“If you treat it with enough care, it can heal sooner than that,” TK tells him. “I’m just making sure you—”

“Why would you switch shifts with Pearce?” Carlos interrupts him. “You usually ignore the guy as much as you can.”

“You’re injured!” TK says as if it’s evident.

“And I can take care of myself and my broken foot, babe. Hadn’t you already scheduled all your shifts so you could have two days off in a row right before the wedding?”

TK sighs. “Yeah, but you’re injured, Carlos. I almost lost you.”

“I broke a foot running after a suspect,” Carlos points out. “I fell on my foot on a weird ankle. That’s all. You can’t go on canceling all your schedule and switching shifts every single time I get injured on the job, TK. Getting an injury rather comes with the job.”

“Says the man who left his precinct without as much as saying a word about it when I last was in a coma—”

“I told Mitchell where I was going!” Carlos exclaims.

“—and then you stayed there waiting for me to wake up for four days,” TK continues, blatantly ignoring what Carlos is saying.

“You were in a coma!”

“And we weren’t even together, Carlos,” TK says in an even voice. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You leave everything to be by their side. You were there when I woke up because that’s where you needed to be. Here is where I need to be now.”

“But what about chilling before the wedding, not working and just relaxing?”

“I’ll do it on our honeymoon, babe,” TK tells him with a smile. “It’ll be fine, because we’ll be together. Just like right now. Please, let me be here for you, just like you always are for me.”

TK sees the moment Carlos lets his defenses down and allows him to fluff the cushion under his foot, make him a sandwich, sit down beside him and surf through Netflix until he finds a show he likes.

He knows he’ll be exhausted by the time the wedding comes, after having switched all his days off for the next few shifts so he can stay home with Carlos. But his fiancé is worth that and much more. And he wasn’t lying. He’ll be fine.

Because he’ll be with his husband when everything’s said and done.

[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.”

[novamariestark]

Truth Serum

Summary: Your brother, Tony Stark, in his infinite wisdom, injects you with a prototype of truth serum he and Bruce are working on. Only problem. You have a crush on a fellow Avenger and you don't want him to find out.

Main Character(s): Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Pietro Maximoff

Bruce and Tony were in the lab designing a truth serum, under the orders of Fury, of course. They thought that they had completed it but they had no idea how to test if it works, that is until Tony got an idea.

"We should test it on one of the Avengers." He said rubbing his palms together.

Bruce looked up from his desk and took his glasses off "Oh, no, no, no Tony. That's just a recipe for disaster."

"Exactly." He said with a smirk. Bruce shook his head and reached over the table to grab the needle from Tony but the billionaire pulled his arm back, just out of his reach, "Come on, big man, it'll be fun."

"No, Tony," Bruce replied firmly.

"Is he trying to build another killer robot?" you asked as you walk through the doors of the lab.

Tony rolls his eyes "Nice to see you too, sis. But no, I'm not." He said grinning from ear to ear. It was obvious to you that your brother was up to something, you just didn't know what. You turn your head to look at Bruce to ask him a question when you feel a slight prick on your arm. You turn to look back at your brother and you immediately spot the needle in his hand.

"Tony!!!" you screamed

Your voice echoed through the tower, gaining the attention of the Avengers, who were in the living room. They all stopped what they were doing and looked towards where your voice had come from before sharing a look with each other.

"What the hell did you just inject me with?!" You barked, giving him the deadliest look Bruce had ever seen.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Tony told you, waving his arms at you.

"Tony." You warned, taking a threatening step toward him.

Tony puts his hands up in defense whilst backing away from you, he nods to Bruce. "Ask Bruce, it's not harmful" your gaze didn't move from your brother.

"We don't know that, Tony." Bruce said calmly

Your eyes widen "What!" looking between the two men, starting to get worried.

"Calm down (Y/N). it's a truth serum."

"We don't know that either, Tony."

"Wait a second. You decided to use me as your lab rat?"

"I'm sorry, you were just here." Tony apologised, still grinning although he knew he should stop because all that did was anger you even more.

"I can't believe you, Tony!" you yelled.

"He thought it'd be funny. I'm sorry (Y/N)"

"Don't worry about it Bruce. I know you had nothing to do with this." you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, "How long is this supposed to last. You know, if it works."

Tony raises his hand "Uh excuse me, I had something to do with it. Of course, it's going to work." He bragged.

You rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest "I'm gonna play the Ultron card one more time."

"We're not sure how long it should last but I'd say at least 24 hours." Bruce speculated with a shrug.

Tony pointed his arms towards Bruce, "See, not too bad." He said.

You walk up to Tony "I will murder you in your sleep." you turned to Bruce "I'm gonna stay in my room until it's over." you told him before making your way out.

Unfortunately for you, you had to walk through the Avengers' living room.

Steve was the first to see you walk in. "Hey (Y/N). You okay?" he asked, you just smiled and nodded but he could tell something was up, "What did he do this time?"

"He injected me with truth serum."

Pepper stood up from her seat. "He did what?" you see Pepper as the sister you never had. Even before she and Tony got together you were as close as sisters. In fact, you would even trade Tony for her.

"It was an accident." Tony defended as he walked into the room with Bruce behind him.

"It wasn't Tony, I watched you inject her with that needle." Bruce countered, sitting down on the couch beside Clint and Nat.

Pepper's face got even redder, and Tony looked at Bruce "Whose side are you on anyway?" he looked back to Pepper "Okay Pepper before you kill me just let me ask her one question." Said Tony, he looked to you "Who is your favourite brother?"

Without hesitation you answered "Clint" Everyone bursts out laughing except Tony.

"What, why?" asked Tony hurt written all over his face.

You walked up to stand in front of Tony "You're egotistical, irresponsible, unpredictable, childish and you used me as a fucking lab rat!" you listed, counting each reason on your hand.

"Language!" you turned to scowl at Steve who quickly recoiled back into his seat, "But you do you," he shrugged.

"Clint is childish too," Tony argues pointing at him.

"It looks like it works." Bruce chimed in. A big giant smirk on his face. 'Karma' he thought. The revelation that the truth serum worked sparked an idea in one of their heads.

"(Y/N)?" Steve's voice grabs her attention. She turns her head to look at him. "Can I ask you one question? I promise it's important." He practically begged with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Yes of course you can Steve." you replied with a smile, she looked at Tony, "I trust you."

He smiled back "Thank you. Um... Do you think Bucky was responsible for your parents' deaths?"

Everyone looked at you awaiting her response especially Tony. Bucky just looked at the floor.

"No I don't." Bucky looked up at you, shock evident on his face, as you looked at Tony "And he wasn't. it was HYDRA. He was brainwashed and forced to do it. He's as much to blame as Clint was. You." You point at Tony "Knowingly sold weapons that could kill thousands and if Wanda and Pietro can forgive you, then you should be able to forgive Bucky."

Bucky still shocked spoke up "You're serious? You mean that?" you smiled and nodded

Nat then spoke up. "Hang on, let me test this." Everyone looked at Nat to see what Nat was about to ask you, "Are you in love with someone in this room?"

"Yes." you replied, this made most of the avengers choke on their drinks.

"Holy shit it works." Said Nat

"Uh, of course it does. I created it." Tony said. Bruce clears his throat "We created, although mainly me." Everyone rolls their eyes.

"Wait, no one is going to question the fact that (Y/N) here is in love with someone in this room?" Pietro asks he then smirks "I bet it's me."

You say, "You'd lose that bet." At the same time Nat says, "It's not."

"Is it Steve?" asked Tony with a smirk.

"No, it's not Steve, this is exactly why I said I'm staying in my room all day." You said as she walked out the living room towards her room.

Tony looks at Nat. "Do you know who it is?"

Nat laughed "Of course I do, so does Sharon, Pep and Wanda."

Tony scoffs and rolls his eyes "Of course she knows, she can read minds. Now tell me."

"No!" they said, they walk out leaving the boys to discuss amongst themselves.

"She defended Bucky." Tony stated. He was so nosy. He always had to know your business.

"No, that doesn't mean anything." Said Bucky, shaking his head. "She's my friend,"

"Well, it wouldn't be Steve because one he's with Sharon and two she already said it wasn't him and we know the truth serum is working. Peter's too young, she already said no to Pietro, Bruce and Nat are not so secretly in love with each other and she sees me and Rhodey as brothers. So it's either Bucky or Sam." Clint deducted

Sam perks up at the sound of his name. "What?"

"We got it narrowed down to you and Bucky." Clint replied

"No way, she's like my best friend." Sam said shaking his head.

"I thought you'd be happy about this. What's wrong? If she feels the same way, go for it." Said Steve patting him on the shoulder.

"No, no, no, no, no one's going for anything, that's my baby sister." Tony interrupted.

"That you used to test your experiment." Peter pointed out.

"Isn't it past you bedtime, Spidey?" asked Tony

"Tony, she's 27, she can date who she wants."

A couple of hours later, Tony's voice echoed through your room. "If you want food, come and get it yourself, I'm not your servant."

You groan and walked out of your room, not bothering to change out of your PJs, which consisted of a white vest top and pink shorts.

You trotted downstairs and entered the dining room to get to the kitchen.

"Hey (Y/N)" said Clint

"Hey." you replied not making eye contact with any of the Avengers. When you reached the kitchen you grabbed a plate and put two slices of pizza on it. You then made her way back through the dining room and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Tony

Yuo looked at him with a look that said, 'don't start with me' "I'm staying in my room remember?" you said in a 'duh' tone walking out of the dining room.

"That's called being antisocial," Tony called after you. You just flipped him off and continued to walk out.

"Tony just leave her. Don't even think about asking her that question."

"Okay. who's up for a little truth or dare?" he asked

"Tony, no."

A small breeze is felt in the dining room and the seat that Pietro previously occupied is now empty.

"Pietro! Don't!"

Pietro caught up with you in a second and smirked at you.

"What do you want, Pietro?" You asked, sighing in annoyance.

"I want to know who you're in love with. I won't tell him. I promise." Said Pietro

"No." you said walking past him whilst taking a bite from your pizza

Pietro zips in front of you "(Y/N) who are you in love with?" asked Pietro with a big smirk on his face.

"Sam." you blurted out, she quickly clasps her hands over her mouth. "You asshole." Pietro laughs but quickly stops and backs away when he sees the look on your face.

"I'm sorry (Y/N), Tony was going to make you play truth or dare." Said Pietro "I'm not going to tell him I promise."

A voice comes from behind you "You kind of already did."

Wanda

You turn around to see all the Avengers standing there behind you. You sigh. You turn to look back at Pietro. "I hate you." you walked past Pietro again and into your room, slamming the door shut.

"(Y/N)!" shouted Steve

"What the hell was that, Pietro." Wanda yelled

"I didn't know you were there, I just wanted to know." He replied

Sharon speaks up "Yeah well now to her you've just ruined her relationship with her best friend."

Pietro looks to the ground like a child being scolded by his mom. "I didn't mean to."

Sam walked past everyone and up to your door.

He knocks. "(Y/N), it's me. Please let me in. We need to talk."

Silence

After a few moments a small voice spoke "It's open." Sam walked in slowly to see you sat on floor, back against the foot of your bed. Sam sits beside you.

"Hey." he said

"Hey." you repeated, barely audible.

"Nothing's going to change if you don't want it too. If I'm being honest, your feelings aren't one sided." He admitted, you look up at him.

"What?" you asked him not trusting that she heard him properly.

"I-I'm in love with you too." He said

"Y-y y-you can't be." you stammered "You're just saying that." Sam looked at you, the look on your face suggested you truly didn't believe him.

"Come with me." He said standing up and holding his hand out for you to take. You took his hand and he pulled you up. He led you out of your room and downstairs.

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion "Where are we going?"

"Just wait." He said

He led you through the living room catching the attention of the others who followed. They eventually reached the desired destination. Tony's lab.

"Why are we here?" you asked, Sam just smiled at you he picks up a vial filled with clear liquid then looks behind you at Tony and Bruce "This the right one?" Bruce nods. Sam gets a needle fills it with the liquid and injects himself with it.

"Sam, what the hell?" you asked

"You didn't believe me when I told you. Now I can't lie." He said with a smirk on his face.

"Okay, Sam, are you in love with (Y/N)?" asked Clint

"Yes, I am." He replied

You wasted no time closing the distance between you and Sam, immediately attaching your lips to his. It was soft and sweet... at first. It soon became a heated make out session that prompted Tony to say "Hey, no sex in my lab, okay? there's plenty of rooms, go and find one."

Sam smirked and grabbed your hand "That's not a bad idea." He led you past the others and out of the lab. All the Avengers laugh at the horrified expression that was displayed on Tony's face.

[wordtotherose]

Prompt: Muriel befriends an actual human (one we know or a new one)?

Here you are! I'll be posting to AO3 later with a bit of tidy up for any mistakes I've made. Thank you for the prompt and my ask box is still open for anyone!

---

Introducing Muriel to the Scotts had not been the plan. In fact it had very much been an accident. One that Aziraphale was increasingly tense about watching play out, twiddling his thumbs and smoothing out non-existent creases from his trousers every ten seconds. Crowley, sat on the floor between Muriel and the Scotts' daughter Anthonia, was just as bad, acting as a physical, barely not scowling, barrier between their god daughter and the clueless to it all angel on the carpet being shown how to braid a friendship bracelet. To complete the happy home, Mrs and Mrs Scott were sat on the sofa. Also watching.

Aziraphale and Crowley had been over for afternoon tea, catching up with their favourite neighbours after being back in London for a few months sorting out...well. Sorting it all out, Aziraphale supposed. They'd just moved from the conservatory, where Crowley had done some relatively subdued repotting of the plants he'd sort of gifted mostly stored in the Scotts' home, to the lounge when the doorbell had rung.

"Ring ring," it had said.

Aziraphale had fretted his way to the door, that said in a now familiar voice "Knock knock", and Crowley had made up some absurd technological excuse for the sudden change to the ringtone of their doorbell to the Scotts.

Muriel had made their way in, happy as anything in unnervingly neat and spotless denim dungarees and a jumper too thick for the weather, without picking up on any of Aziraphale's desperate hints to leave. Muriel had complimented the decor, especially the colour coded coat hooks, and then walked right into the living room.

It hadn't gone great.

Anthonia had scrambled from her spot on the floor with Crowley to stand at her mother's knee, a calloused hand dropping to rest protectively in the mop of her hair. Her other mother stepped forward, hand out in greeting to distract from her defensive positioning. Crowley, to Aziraphale's despair, had simply groaned loudly in exasperation and dropped his forehead to the ground, back curling serpentine like over his crossed legs.

Muriel had said "oh! Not your house I see! Hello lovely people. Women. Child. I am Muriel, nice to meet you." And had shaken Mrs Scott's hand.

Introductions were made. Crowley eventually uncurled herself. Aziraphale took up residence in an armchair. And to everyone's surprise yet also, when they thought about it, no one's at all, Muriel and Anthonia struck a chord about ladybirds and were away. Fast friends. Crowley tried not to feel jealous. Then remembered jealousy was a sin and he was a demon. And tried to feel jealous without actually showing it.

The Scotts remained wary for all of hapf an hour before offering Muriel tea and biscuits and promptly accepting them as Aziraphale and Crowley's cousin without much of a thought or judgement on Muriel's eccentrities.

By the time 4pm rolled around and Muriel announced they had to leave, only Crowley was still watching the angel carefully and that was more because he was translating Muriel's somewhat angelic speak into plain english for Anthonia than any belief that they were going to cause harm.

Mrs Scott showed Muriel to the door and, when the door was closed once more, returned to announce her approval of the being.

"Is Muriel staying with you two for long? Is that why you were away? Oh they are a sweetheart."

"I can't believe they haven't visited before!" Said her wife, tying the final knot in Anthonia's bracelet for her.

Crowley, dusting himself off from the floor, shook her head. "Not staying."

"Just a quick visit," Aziraphale clarified with a smile. "Anyway, we had better get going."

"Sure thing," Mrs Scott said, handing them unfinished packs of biscuits to take home, some of which Crowley sneakily passed back to Anthonia behind his back, "being Muriel round again if they're ever about. We'll see you Sunday?"

They did see the Scotts on Sunday. Muriel was in attendance, this time bringing a far too large bouquet of flowers having read up on the manners of how to be a guest. The Scotts were delighted.