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javelinbk · 7 months

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Fic summary

Multi-chapter

The Songs We Were Singing (34k words)

John and Paul through the years, in a universe where they become lovers in the 60s but still split up.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴 (but only certain chapters)

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Playlist

Take a sad song and make it better (69k words)

An alternative ending for 'The Songs We Were Singing'. What if John moved back to England in 1980 and stayed at Paul’s guest house? Oh, and what if they were ex-boyfriends?

Fix-It, 80s

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

Pic set

Double Fantasy (13k words)

A modern AU where John owns a flower shop and Paul is the handsome stranger who seems to be buying rather a lot of flowers. Just a shame he has a girlfriend…

Angst level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

Artwork

Stop all the clocks (31k words)

1967. After Brian dies, Paul decides not to go ahead with Magical Mystery Tour, and takes John up to Scotland for a month instead.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Moodboard

Artwork

Brother Dearest (76k words)

AU where Mimi and Jim get married and John and Paul are stepbrothers (stepbrothers who are attracted to each other)

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

Get a job, cop! (18k words)

John and Paul end up getting arrested after their rooftop gig, which leads to an unexpected change in their relationship. But is it too little, too late?

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

Father and Son (19k words)

A sequel to Brother Dearest. March 1976. Jim McCartney has died, and John finds himself returning to the family home for the first time in seven years.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

The Life of Riley (58k words)

Kink meme prompt

Modern AU. John is a terrible driver, but a broke one, so he lets his aunt get him a job as a chauffeur. His first passenger is Paul, the son of a wealthy businessman, whose father wants him to follow in his footsteps. It soon becomes clear that neither men are happy with their current situation in life.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

Our Version of Events (33k words)

Kink meme prompt

1971, Tittenhurst Park, Ascot. John discovers that fans have been writing stories about him and Paul, and it changes everything that he thought he knew about their relationship.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

Flowers in the Dirt (29k words)

A Paul-POV version of 'Double Fantasy'. Modern AU where John owns a flower shop and Paul is the handsome stranger who seems to be buying rather a lot of flowers. Just a shame he has a girlfriend…

Angst level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Moodboard & playlist

Artwork

The Story Continues (13k words)

A sequel to Our Version of Events. Paul finally visits John at Tittenhurst, and all is going great… until he plays Paul his new album.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

One-shots

And I will sing a lullaby (1k words)

The first J/P fic I ever wrote, and what turned into TSWWS/TASSAMIB. Paul refuses to share a room with John after an argument, but soon comes to regret it.

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level- 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

You say yes, I say no (2k words)

Five times that John heard ‘no’. And one time he heard ‘yes’.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Fluff level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Sharing is caring (2.5k words)

Kink meme prompt - "Paul and John meet a woman and both start flirting with her. They can’t figure out which one she prefers, and that leads to a threesome. But it gets embarrassing when, in the threesome, it’s clear they are most attracted to each other."

Angst level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Because I love Paul (800 words)

How did Paul get that ‘Love of My Life’ badge at the All You Need Is Love press day?

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Paul in the raw (900 words)

Inspired by that old Beatles article that said Paul 'loathes pajamas and prefers to sleep raw', which seems... awfully convenient.

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

So It Was, So It Is, So It Always Will Be (2k words)

19 songs. 19 years in John and Paul's life. The (fictionalised) story of John and Paul, told through the songs of the Everly Brothers.

Angst level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fair’s fair (2k words)

Paul pulls John’s chair out at the Atlantic City press conference, so John decides to get his own back.

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

I’ve just got to get a message to you (800 words)

Paul keeps telling people that John hasn’t sent a message to him from beyond the grave. And John isn’t too happy about it.

Angst level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Khristmas Karaoke (4k words)

A spin-off from 'Take a sad song and make it better' - Lennon-McCartney Christmas 1987, and Paul has a new toy

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Playlist

Très bien ensemble (5k words)

Kink meme prompt - Paul’s attempts to pull at an art school party fail… or do they?

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

That picture on the wall (3k words)

Kink meme prompt - Paul develops his photos from the Paris 61 trip, and is disappointed to find they don’t have any decent photos of him and John together. John makes it up to him somehow.

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level- 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Mornings at Cavendish (6k words)

A spin-off from TSWWS/TASSAMIB - snapshots of John and Paul's lives through the years (mostly post-TASSAMIB)

Angst level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Just Can't Get Enough (6k words)

A spin-off from The Life of Riley - the first night, week and month of John and Paul's new life together

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Club Sandwich (4k words) (with @scurator)

Kink meme prompt - Some drug-fuelled party in 1967. Paul ends up sandwiched between two men on the couch. As they start fondling and kissing him, John stumbles upon the scene…

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️

I love you anyhow (4k words)

Kink meme prompt - John or Paul accidentally saying “I love you” during a session of ‘just jerking off between mates’

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

Plausible deniability (9k words)

Kink meme prompt - Bedsharing leads to dry-humping which starts as something accidental when they’re asleep.

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴⚪️⚪️⚪️

Smut level - 🔴🔴🔴⚪️⚪️

It might come true (1.7k words)

Takes place five years after the events of Double Fantasy/Flowers In The Dirt

Angst level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Fluff level - 🔴🔴🔴🔴🔴

Smut level - ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Collections

Room for a little one?

Perspective flip for 'Because I love Paul' (angst/fluff)

Paul has an argument with Rory Storm, John worries about fish (fluff)

Deleted scene from Brother Dearest - George knows (fluff)

Deleted scene from Brother Dearest - Cyn's pregnant (angst/fluff)

George Martin allows Paul to be the boss for once (angst/smut)

Deleted scene from Father and Son - Mike's wedding (angst)

Mince pies and missed thighs - Christmas 1964, and John is in a grump (fluff)

Paul POV snippets from Father & Son (angst)

#well that's a lot of words #I’d forgotten some of these existed tbh #and the ratings were tough #I never know what people consider angst #and my idea of smut is probably pretty mild for most people #but hopefully it provides some kind of reference #javelin writes #javelin's playlists

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clatoera · 1 year

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Always Remember We’re Burned for Better Chapter 5: It’s Been a Long Time Coming

Hey y’all! I am so sorry for the delayed update. I started a new speciality this week and it’s literally my dream. I’ve been pulling fifteen hour days, and simply have not had the time to give this the editing and writing it deserved until the last day or so. I think updates will be shifting to Thursdays until May, as that will be my most free day this month! The goal is still weekly, just..later in the week. I so appreciate your patience, I appreciate the besties, and I appreciate you all.

AO3

Masterpost

Title from: Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince (Taylor Swift)

This chapter does allude to the things the victors experience, but neither Cato nor Clove experience them (and they won’t, promise).

Twelve.

“At least we get the worst one out of the way first.” Clove mumbled as she unceremoniously flops onto the couch in the center of the traincar. “Why do we even come to twelve anyway, do they even count? I don’t think that guy has been sober since…he won fifty... Okay, so twenty three years.” She kicks off the silver heels, which then hit the floor with a satisfying clunk. Following the heels are heavy gold bracelets, rattling as the chain hits the hardwood. She kicks her feet out below the hem of the silver lamé fabric, rolling her feet from her ankles to her toes, listening to the mild crunch as the bones in her foot stretched and realigned after an evening in heeled shoes. She doesn’t have the energy to change out of her evening outfit yet- a very simple floor length dress, starting in gold at one shoulder and fading all the way to silver by her toes. The closest to silver or gold the people of twelve would ever see, Brutus had mumbled when she walked out in it before dinner that evening.

“It’s tradition, Clove.” Enobaria reminds her, curling her feet under her on the adjacent recliner, hands wrapped delicately around the glass coffee cup. “Besides, the tour is as close to a winner the majority of them will ever see. Consider it your charity work.” As the train begins to pull out of twelve and on towards the next district for tomorrow’s appearance, Enobaria relaxes back into her seat, closing her eyes in contentment. This was her third victory tour in ten years, not bad statistics in terms of D2 wins. It was almost more than any other district, at the very least. However this one felt significantly sweeter a win than even last year. She had trained this girl since childhood to become the very victor she is today and maybe over time, Enobaria may have developed a soft spot or two for the kid.

Now speaking of last years tour-

“Did we leave your other appendage back at twelve? It’s too peaceful here.” Enobaria cranes her neck to look around, before looking up the length of Clove’s body that lays on the couch. “I don’t feel like I need to unlatch him from your neck like a little leech, clearly he isn’t on this train if he isn’t on top of you or inside of you.”

“He’s under me sometimes.” Clove rolls both her eyes and onto her side, using her hands as a pillow under her head. “I think Brutus put him to bed..” She nearly smirks, raising her eyebrows at her mentor turned friend. Turned aunt or sister, really, but she won’t address that right now. “Because somebody let him start drinking at breakfast. Whatever the fuck that was in the orange juice. Consider yourself lucky we even made it off of the train, you know how he gets..” Clove gives a little grin for herself, before glancing down at the glass in Enobaria’s hands. “Speaking of. Is that-”

“I have to deal with you two, Clove, I’m allowed to take the edge off. Enobaria watches as district twelve fades into the distance beyond the train, the darkness of night slipping over the interior of the cabin. “Why, you want some?” She flashes her a wicked grin, handing her mug out to the young adult woman. “Think you can handle it today?”

“Give me a break, it was my first time.” Clove scowls at her, remembering the night in Victor's Village not long ago when Enobaria and Brutus told her they had to start breaking her into the lifestyle of victors before the endless parties on tour. Noone had accounted for– or maybe they did and let her make her own mistakes– of the fact that physically Clove was small. She woke up in her own bed with a hangover and distaste for even the smell of vodka. Regardless, she holds her hands out to take the glass. The smell hits her first before she can even bring it to her lips. “God what is this?”

“Tea… with bourbon. And I know it was your first time. But, you need to figure out how to handle it within the next 12 days. I’m not dragging your stumbling ass through the party at the President’s mansion, and we aren’t letting Cato carry you home this time, either. We have reputations to uphold, and the newest little district two victor being unable to handle her liquor is not part of that.”

“It was not my fault-” Clove gingerly takes the tiniest sip of the warm liquid, and despite all her pretenses her face curls up in a distorted frown. Her nose scrunches as she shakes her head rapidly back and forth. “Nope, still disgusting, fuck-”

“Need something sweet and fruity? We could get some strawberries and lemonade…”

Clove pinches the bridge of her nose together before tilting her head back, intentionally downing the tea with no regard for the taste or warmth. She finishes the glass quickly, but has to suppress the natural inclination to cough at the taste. “I’m fine, see?”

“Aww see, that's my girl.” Enobaria pinches her cheek before she settles back on her seat, an amused smile on her face as she watches Clove try to recover. “Now you can’t just do that at the party, you know that right?”

“I’ll manage.” Clove chokes out, nose still scrunched in distaste.

They fall into a silence with the ease of many years spent together. Enobaria leans forward to grab the little remote off of the glass coffee table in the middle of the couches. She starts the electric fireplace, filling the now dark room with a warm and cozy glow accompanied by the sound of crackling wood. She notices the thick layer of snow dangling from tree limbs like icing on a cake, and thinks back to Clove in her games not long ago. The way the blood she spilled stained the snow like watercolors of a child’s play paint set. Violence was always Clove’s art, and blood was always her medium. She remembers it all too well, the day Sevina Kentwell took her home with her after training to meet this kid.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Enobaria asked, raising to the tip of her toes and back to her heels repeatedly, the nervous habit being one the trainers had not yet beat out of her yet. She was only twelve, she had years before going into the games, she had time to grow out of childish quirks. “I’ve never really interacted with a little kid like this before…”

“Yeah of course! She’ll like you.” The woman– girl, really, eighteen but still all the hope of a child– fiddles with the lock on the door. Sevina was one of the only students permitted to live outside of the academy, with special permission due to special circumstances. “It’ll make me feel better knowing she’s got someone to distract her during the games.”

Enobaria had looked up to Sevina Kentwell since she entered the academy last year, the girl was graceful, she was fast, and she was incredibly skilled in throwing a knife. She never missed. Unlike most of the older girls though, who were nothing but short of vicious to the younger kids (the hazing all but expected and even encouraged in the academy), Sevina was uncharacteristically kind. Not to the other trainees her age no, in fact Enobaria had watched her land a knife in the arm of an eighteen year old boy twice her size just last week, effectively ending his chance at ever volunteering by severing the tendons in his wrist with a single flick of her own. He had made some comment or another about her chance at winning or something, and Sevina had stopped tolerating the snide remarks and comments from her peers years ago.

To Enobaria, and some of the other younger girls, though, she was kind. She had the patience to put her hands on top of theirs and guide them in cleaning up a technique, a gentle ease in her voice when someone was berated by trainers, and genuinely showed excitement for them when they succeeded at something.

She had the lethal, brilliant edge of a career, but a warmth towards the young girls unlike anyone else. There was some concern how she’d handle younger competitors in her games this year, but she was absolutely sure she’d be able to handle it. She had more reason to come home than she did to show mercy to anyone else.There was a buzz of excitement amongst the girls in the academy around her games next month, as she was already committed to coming back full time as a trainer after her tour.

That is exactly why Enobaria was standing on her doorstep, now. They had a deal. Enobaria would receive extra training time with her, essentially a one on one mentorship after the games, if Enobaria spent time with her daughter while she was gone.

“Mom, we’re home.” Sevina calls out as she pulls Enobaria into the foyer, quietly shutting the door behind them. Enobaria took in the way the initial living area in the house somehow looked untouched by the toddler Sevina claimed to have somewhere. They were met by a woman, clearly under 40, who came from the door adjoining the kitchen. She had a dish towel in her hands, and wiped something that had to be flour off of her arms into them.

It was striking, exactly how much both Sevina and her mother looked nearly identical to each other.

“Hey, baby.” The older woman greeted with a kind smile, one that crinkled to her eyes. “I have that bread you really like rising right now.” She directs her attention towards the preteen with her daughter, giving her a polite smile. “Welcome.”

“Mama, this is Enobaria, she’s going to come spend time with Clove for me while I'm in the games. It can give you some time to work…and go celebrate me, your victor daughter with your friends! Enobaria, this is my mom, her name’s Anise.” She grabs Enobaria by the hand and leads her towards the stairs. “Is she awake?”

“Your child doesn’t sleep when you aren’t here, Sevina, of course she’s awake. I put her down to sleep ten minutes ago, and I can still hear her.” There’s a heavy sigh and Enobaria can recognize something akin to resentment in her voice, but Sevina’s smile doesn’t falter even for a second as she starts to pull the young girl up the stairs with her.

“Don’t be dramatic, she’s just excited for me to come home.” She called back down to her mother, before reaching the room immediately at the top of the stairs. “She isn’t usually so pleasant. She’s starting to think I'm going to die or something, so she’s being extra nice.” Sevina explains before pushing into the bedroom.

It’s simple. A full bed, a couple of night stands, a closet, and a dresser. On top of any surface is a littering of stuffed animals and childrens books. It was clear, this is where they spent most time together. There's a lack of the militant structure and conformity of the academy dorms, with a slightly unmade bed and stray socks on the carpet. The biggest change, of course, is the little crib in the corner of the room, and the dark haired toddler peeking over the edge.

If Enobaria thought that Sevina looked like her mother, they could have been cousins compared to the way that little dark haired baby resembled the eighteen year old she admired.

“Hi baby! Did you miss me!” Her voice is higher than Enobaria’s ever heard as she scoops the toddler onto her hip, immediately placing a kiss on both of her cheeks and the tip of her little nose.

The little girl squeals when she’s lifted into her mother’s arms, immediately laying her head onto her shoulder. Their dark hair blends together in a mess of baby curls and Sevina’s long post-training waves, and the freckled skin of the baby’s cheek could be a continuation of the freckled covered shoulder of her mother. Even down to the eyes, this child is truly a fluid continuation of her mother.

“Hi, Mama.” Clove mumbles into her mother’s skin, a shy smile on her face before she turns and looks away from Enobaria, who is staring the girl down with curiosity. She’d never been around a toddler, let alone one who was the key to her future training.

“Enobaria, this is Clove. Clove, baby can you say hi? She’s going to be your friend while I'm gone for a few days.” She smiles and tries to raise her toddler’s hand to wave, but Clove just clings tighter to the straps of her mom’s training top. “She’s just really clingy to me, and kind of shy. She also falls asleep every day when I get home, so she’s a little tired too.”

“She looks just like you.” Enobaria says, awe in her voice. She looks like her parents, sure, but this is wild to her. “Literally just like you.”

“Thank you. I think she’s pretty cute, so I'll take it as a compliment. Sevina smiles, shifting Clove so that she is wrapped around the front of her, head on her chest. She is not asleep, but she is so content just to rest there in her arms after a long day of being apart. “Me..her…my mom. We all really look alike. Good thing too. Because all we have is each other.”

“She’s three?”

“Almost, she’ll be three next month. During the games, actually. I feel terrible. I'll miss her birthday but, I’ll have to make it up to her next year. And by next year I'll be a victor, and I'll be able to give her anything she could want.”

“Is she going to be okay without you here.. If she’s so clingy…” Enobaria sits beside her on the bed, and cocks her head to get a better look at the girl. She was tiny, not like Sevina was very big, probably five foot four, but this kid was itty bitty. She can’t imagine a world where a girl so small would be okay without her mother.

“She’ll be kind of grumpy for a few days, I'm sure.” Sevina shrugged, rubbing circles on her little back. “But she’ll be okay, I'll be home for her. She’ll understand one day that having a victor for a mother is better than whatever else happens to a teenage mom after she ages out of training. Besides, that's why you’re here. You’re going to make sure she has someone to play with, and keep her company, and remind her that I love her and that I will be home to her soon. She’s got my mom, but she’ll need someone else, too. That’s where you come in. I like you, you’ve got crazy good potential. I’m going to be your mentor one day. ”

She doesn’t say it, but there’s something unspoken in Sevina’s words, too. Something shining in her eyes that neither wants to broach or risk speaking into the universe.

“So I am trusting you with the most important thing in the world to me.” She looks over at Enobaria with a smile on her face. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Enobaria?” Clove half whispers, breaking the peaceful silence between them. She blinks wide eyes at Enobaria, curling up on her side in a way that is so reminiscent of her little form as a toddler that the mentor nearly didn’t believe it. “Can I ask you something?”

A snarky response is on her lips until the moment she can practically see that younger version of Clove laying there, in a little dress that was purple and not silver, a tiny, sweet voice asking where her mother is and when she will come home again. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Do you think my mom would have brought me on her tour?”

“I do. They would have made her, you would have been a little favorite of the capitol. You never would have become a victor yourself, probably. You wouldn't have ended up in the academy.,,they would have treated you like a child star.” For the worse or for the better, is up in the air.

There’s also the likelihood she would have ended up in the games anyway, the chance of a child of a victor being reaped is always somehow higher than the average. The odds were not in their favor in all ways. “She would have chosen to bring you, though. She wouldn’t have wanted to be away from you after that. When I went on mine, I even thought about bringing you with me, because it’s what she would’ve wanted. She had promised to be my mentor, you know?”

“Hey, Clove, it is okay. I’m coming back so soon, I absolutely promise.” The sixteen year old knelt to the child’s height, rubbing her hands over her shoulders gently. “When have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“My mom didn’t come back.” The six-- nearly seven– year old reminds her, a stony expression out of place on the face of such a young child. “My mom would have promised, too. Didn’t YOU promise my mom you’d watch me?” She may not be an emotional child– not that she was allowed, in the house of her grandmother– but Clove threw her arms around Enobaria’s neck without warning.

“Hey. I’m going to come back and I am going to train you, just like she was going to do for me, okay Kid?” Enobaira leaned her head back, holding Clove’s little face in her hands. She said nothing about it as her tears wiped away the tears starting to fall from those little green eyes. “You’re allowed to be scared, Clove. But I swear, I will be back. And when I do, you can come to my house all the time, and we’ll celebrate your birthday and-”

“And you’ll start to train me, too, right?” Clove reminds, firmly rooted in her decision, that she wanted to be just like her mother, except she wanted to win. She had started saying it a few years ago, and every single time she watched those damn tapes she was more and more sure. “That was what you said. You would start after you won.”

“Yes, Clove. I’ll start training you when I get back.” Enobaria sighs deeply, but agrees regardless. She had made that stipulation, knowing that by the time she won Clove would be nearly old enough to begin training if that's what she really still insisted upon.

“I want knives for my birthday. With my name on them.” Clove decides, bouncing onto her toes before hugging Enobaria once again. “I don’t want you to die because of me, like mama did.”

“Your mother did not die because of you, you know that. And I'm coming home, Clove. Just in a few weeks.” Enobaria tucks the girl under her chin for one last hug, letting her go as soon as the door swings open.

“Don’t die, okay?”

“Never, kid.”

Clove is silent, but nods, before she turns back onto her back. Enobaria and Brutus had suspected that this tour would bring up more memories and emotions in Clove than she would let on. She has forever lived with the “what-ifs” of being the child of an almost victor, the “what-ifs” of if her mother had come home to her. Now, as she is paraded between districts, it’s all in her face as a reminder of what her mother didn’t get to see.

Clove swallows hard, sitting up to stop this heavy feeling threatening the front of her eyes, the buildup of something she isn’t going to let release.

“I…think I should go to bed now..” She decides quickly, pushing herself to her feet, turning quickly on her heels. “Good night, Enobaria, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“ g’night Clove.”

Eight.

“Cato get out,” Her voice doesn’t even feel like her own when she is pushing his shoulder towards the door of the bedroom. She feels a wavering in her throat, a tension she has built up for eighteen years on that final strand before snapping entirely. “Just..just get out.”

One of Clove’s hands is on her chest, settling herself on the bed, trying– willing– her breathing to slow, to level out. The other is desperately, aggressively trying to unlace the back of her dress on her own.

“Clove, let me-” He steps towards her before a dinner knife lodges itself in the door frame only inches above his eye. Cato puts his hand up in surrender before turning to leave. “Fine. Help yourself.”

He immediately collides with Enobaria the second he is out of the door. “She’s being fucking snippy, Enobaria, I wouldn’t go in there.”

“I knew this was coming. I’ll handle her.” Enobaria whispers, not wanting Clove to hear the words she exchanges, knowing it would only make her feel betrayed.

“She beat that kid from eight, yeah, he almost had her in the end, but she came out on top.” Cato whispers in a hushed voice, craning his head over Enobaria to catch a glimpse of Clove if she decided to come yell at them for discussing her.

“She came out against the kid from eight, but her mother didn’t. How would you feel, if you just had to play nice with the guy who bashed your mothers head in?” Enobaria snips, looking over her shoulder with the same concerns and suspicions as Cato. “She puts on the proudest, strongest face in the world. She was born for this tour, she’s waited her whole life for this. You may now know her like I do–”

“I think I know her pretty fucking well, Enobaria–”

“Shut up, Cato. I have known her a lot longer than you, and she’s been building this up for a long long time..” Enobaria pushes her hand past his chest, moving him to the side so she can be with Clove. “I’m going to see her, you just…. I don’t know, make yourself useful. Somewhere else.”

Enobaria gives him no time to fight back as she pushes into Clove’s room, firmly shutting the door behind her.

Clove’s still sitting on the bed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, breathing heavy and hard, hiding her face in her hands.

“Wanna talk about it?” Enobaria offers before daring to take steps towards her, eyes catching the stolen knife in the wall behind her.

“Get. Me. Out. Of. This. Dress.” It’s half-plea half-hiss, Clove raising her head to look Enobaria in the eye. “I can’t breathe.”

From where she is bent in half Enobaria can see the red scratch marks at the top of her dress, a desperate indication that she tried to rip herself out of the fabric. She reaches for her, and skilled fingers rapidly unlace the ribbon corseting the back together. “You’re okay, Clove.” She ensures, pulling the back entirely undone. “You’re okay.”

“It was too tight, I couldn’t-” Clove gives as an excuse, but her breathing does not seem to steady with the newfound freedom to her ribcage. “I c-couldn’t.” She nearly stutters, the hand that was trying to steady her heart now holds the dress entirely up, “I can’t–”

“You can.” Enobaria’s hand lands on the skin of her upper back, gently running over the skin between her shoulder blades, something she had not done in nearly ten years. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

“Why should I be upset? I won. This is my tour, I have no reason to be upset–” Clove tries to convince herself, rocking forward back to her knees. “I have no reason to be like this.”

“You just met the person who killed your mother. Yeah, we’re all Victors. We’ve all killed someone’s kids. But still..” Enobaria reminds Clove, pulling her closer even if she doesn’t quite want it. “You have watched it thousands of times, It’s okay to be off guard. Clove, it’s okay to be upset. You are allowed to be sad, Clove. That was your mother. You were a child. You’ve seen it over and over and over.”

“I didn’t think I’d care.” She whispers, so quiet Enobaria barely catches her words. “I didn’t think I'd feel like this.” Her voice is nearly child-like when she admits to it, an innocence Clove has not had probably since the very games in question. “I don’t like this, I shouldn’t be–”

“Sad, Clove. You’re sad. You’re upset and you’re hurting and Clove, it’s okay to be sad.” Enobaria grabs the nearest clothing she finds, a shirt that has to belong to Cato, and hands it to her to change into. “You were just a baby, Clove. A baby who turned into a career within years, you never got to mourn your mother.” She wraps her arms around the young girl’s shoulders, pulling her head to her own. “You’re allowed to miss her and wish she were on this train with you.”

There’s always been such a fine boundary between them. Was Enobaria her friend or her mentor or her trainer or an aunt-like figure in her life? It wasn’t definable, and that was okay, because she somehow always knew which role to take on at the right time.

“I didn’t even know her.” Clove’s voice breaks, and that terrible heaving feeling in her chest starts again. “How can I miss someone I didn’t know. I only remember her from tapes, I had never even seen a picture of us together until that day I won–”

“You knew your mother, Clove. Not because of that bitch of your grandmother, but you knew her. When I met you, you wouldn’t sleep unless she held you. She taught you what a clover looked like, and you’d pick them and bring them to us when we were talking. You still like the same snacks she would give you, you still do the same little scrunch with your nose when you say her name.” Enobaria takes the shirt and slips it over her head for her, Clove’s own hands shaking just a little too much to do it herself, her mind too occupied with other things. “When she died Clove, god you just cried and cried and cried. I don’t think you’ve cried since. It’s okay to do it now.”

“I wish I remembered her, anything about her, other than what I’ve watched on those stupid recordings.” She admits so softly Enobaria never would have believed it came from Clove if she didn’t know her so well. “What was she like, why did she even have me if I was going to ruin her life like I apparently did? She was the only family I ever had…that I ever will have.”

“Because she loved you. More than anything, really. She was something else, Clove. We all wanted to be her, She was so good. As good as you, you got it from her. I remember when you were five, you could throw a tennis ball with alarming accuracy, and we all knew you were just like her. She was nice to us, the younger kids, but you should have seen her take out the kids her own age, my god. I’ve seen you do that, too. Her favorite color was green, and her favorite thing was you.” Enobaria feels Clove collapse against her, and tries not to draw attention to the sniffling she can so clearly hear from her. “You loved her too. You never slept for anyone else. When she died, I went to your house. It had been a few days, you were on the train and all. When I got there I could just hear you crying from outside.” She leaves out the part in which her grandmother had told twelve year old Enobaria to shut her up, that she had no reason to be crying because she was the reason Sevina died. She also leaves out the part about going upstairs to the room of Clove’s dead mother to hold her, to listen to her ask for her mother over and over for hours until she finally exhausted herself, falling to sleep against her shoulder.

“I thought you finally smothered her, I probably should have by now.” Came the exhausted, cold voice of Clove’s own grandmother, after she cracked the door and peaked in at the two. “She’s all I've got left of her, or I would’ve.”

For all the horror she may feel, Enobaria maintains a stoic expression, despite her arms encircling the toddler a little closer. “I promised Sevina I'd help with her as long as she was gone. If you’ll let me…well, it seems she’ll be gone a long while.” Something told the preteen that if she didn’t, the life ahead of this small girl was not going to be long, nor filled with anything but disdain. “I have training too, but I'll train her. When she’s older.”

“Be my guest. This is the first time she’s shut up in a week.”

“I’ve never thanked you.” Clove is ashamed at the realization, finally looking up to Enobaria with wet eyes and tear-tracked cheeks, looking for all the world like that little girl Enobaria had picked up from that crib fifteen years ago. “You didn’t have to like..do all this for me. Everything, really. The training, the taking care of me when I was little, sitting here as i’m fucking crying over my dead mother when I should be celebrating that I won the Hunger Games six months ago..”

“I certainly wasn’t going to let Cato handle the tears, he was going to lose his eye, I knew it.” She tries to lighten the mood, though her head is on top of Clove’s now, resting gently. “You never have to thank me, kid. I’m glad I got to do it. I feel like I get to claim you as my own victor.”

“I’d never let him see me like this, no way.” Clove half-laughs through her tears, bringing up to wipe under her eyes with the back of her hand. S

“He’ll see you like this one day, it’s inevitable. He's annoying as hell but he loves you. I don't think he's going to go anywhere, even if you show him you have some feelings once in a while.” Enobaria teases, allowing Clove to simply feel beside her.

“I haven’t cried in fifteen years, I think I can handle another fifteen.” She tries to retaliate, though there is no edge in her voice anymore.

“It’s only been eleven, you almost cried when I came home.” She's got a fond smile on her face at the memory of stepping off the platform in two to be met with an uncontrolled little girl, who had broken free of her grandmother’s grasp and snuck past dozens of peacekeepers with her stealth and petite size.

Clove had SLAMMED into her legs the minute she was off the train, arms absolutely glued around her legs, holding her in place.

“You came back.” Clove screamed into her legs, warm tears dotting the skin of Enobaira’s legs where she had buried her face.

“Of course I did, I promised I would, didn't I?”

“I used to think you were so over the top about the whole sex thing, you know. I get it, I do. But you know I wasn’t going to end up like her, right? She kept me but I never would have-”

“Yes you would have, You’re too much like your mother.” Enobaria brushes her fingers over Clove’s hair for a moment, gently slipping out some of the pins that still restrain it from the night and day they just completed. “I know you don’t remember or believe it but..” She releases Clove’s hair, falling in loose waves from the pins.

“You are just like her.”

Enobaria feels Clove snap next to her, in the exact moment she hears her finally let out that choking sob she had been holding in for fifteen years.

One.

“I like this color on you.”

Clove hears him whispering in her ear before she sees him, or rather feels his arms wrapping around her waist, tugging her flush against him. She feels his thumbs tracing the lace appliques that line her sides and up the front of his dress, artfully designed to look like emerald colored Ivy leaves covering her torso. One of his fingers catches her skin through the deep (as in nearly to the crest of her hip bones deep) V cut neckline of the dress.

She had to give it to the team on this one, it is a remarkable dress. The base of the bodice is a nude tulle, with the Ivy artfully designed to lace and overlap across her torso. There's some sort of rhinestone that catches the light, reflecting a million different ways to draw the attention to her. The skirt at first glance was an A-line, sparkling, deep green tulle, a modest contrast to the top of the gown. The second Clove moved to walk though, the slit from her toes to her hip bone revealed the entirety of her right leg.

Cato had nearly strangled her stylist on sight when he saw her in it that evening. The construction of the boning inside the hidden corset pushed her up and pulled her in in all the right ways for his consumption, but not the wandering eyes in district one, something he so indignantly insisted. Even now, as he stands with his arms around her, claiming her in all but words, he wants to yank the decorative, delicate V shaped straps closer, to at least cover something.

“You don’t seem to like it very much from the way you’re covering it up.” Clove teases, leaning her head back against his chest. She may not be one for open displays of affection mostly, but with the warmth of a night full of the luxury district’s finest drinks had her feeling a little more..open. “You don’t look too bad in it either. I thought you were more into blue, but you really pull off the green, too.” As usual on this tour they were conveniently coordinated, always perfectly complementary to each other.

Or rather, he was complimentary to her, who was always the well deserved center of attention.

“Maybe I don’t like other people looking. Doesn’t mean I don’t like it though. Though I’d like it a lot better if it were on the floor.” His lips start right below her ear, trailing down the side of her neck, craning her head back against him to give him better access to the skin of her neck. “What do you say..” Cato mumbles into her skin. “We sneak off for a couple minutes. Make it twelve for twelve…”

When Enobaria and Brutus had taught her how to drink, they surely hadn’t intended her to use her loosened inhibitions to sneak off to drunkenly sleep with Cato in every single district.

Hey, it was her Victory Tour indeed.

“What’s tomorrow in the capitol going to be? The final showdown?” Clove practically purrs, her hand coming up to gently grab at his chin.

“I was thinking more along the lines of grand finale but–” Cato’s leaning down, her leaning up on her toes, all the mixed confidence of their shared drinking adventures almost allowing their lips to meet in the middle when an absolutely grating voice interrupts them.

“Oh my god! I’ve been waiting to meet you!”

Clove audibly sighs as she falls back on her heels, Cato hiding his face in her neck with a frustrated groan, before he raises his chin to rest on her shoulder.

“Hello, Glimmer. I wondered when we’d be seeing you.” Cato smiles against Clove’s shoulder, and she can feel it. If she had been a less rational girl, she may have felt a tinge of possession, but there was just something about this pretty girl that didn’t feel threatening so much as…irritating? In the past, sure, she would have said this was his type. These days, though, Clove wasn’t too concerned about some shiny blonde with long legs taking him from her.

Glimmer. That name makes a lot of sense as she looks at the tall blonde in front of her. Perfectly styled curls frame an angelic face. A tight, sequined gold dress clings to the duration of her body. If Clove thought the neckline of her own dress was bad, it’s nothing compared to the deep, wide cut of hers. She has the same thought when it comes to the slit up her leg, which may not be bigger, but on the long, tanned legs of a district one victor, it certainly looked more open. Even in heels the same height, Glimmer had a solid four or five inches on her.

Comparatively, Clove felt like a child playing dress up.

The boy though.. Yeah, he had nothing on Cato.

“Glimmer. And you’re…Marvel, right?” Clove remembers him from the tour a few years ago. There was something about him that just seemed..so un-career like. He turned out to be a skilled killer, but was making his allies laugh until the very day he speared them like kebabs. It wasn’t often that a volunteer went with a funny angle, but it had worked for this one.

“You got it–” He smiles, before his arm is draped over Glimmer’s shoulders, pulling her in against his side. “We have been just waiting to meet you. We watched how this one acted during your games and just knew we’d have to get to know you.”

“You were impressive, too, of course!” Glimmer ensures, flashing her a smile that can be called nothing less than dazzling. “But the way Cato acted, it was so unlike the public persona! We were just dying to find out what that was about.”

Clove feels Cato shift against her, lifting his head and looking anywhere but the couple in front of him. “Okay, we don’t need to talk about–”

“No, no, tell me. What do you mean by how he acted?” Clove smiles, bringing her hand back to his chin and squeezing. “What did you do?”

“Oh you don’t know?” Comes from Marvel, who bursts into a fit of laughter, gesturing the champagne flute in his hand in Cato’s general direction. “This man thought none of us knew there was something going on there. As if it wasn’t obvious with the sponsors, and the way he would just get this look on his face when he talked about you.”

“And then of course anytime you were on screen he would completely forget what he was saying, and just stare at you. You’d get a kill and he’d get this little smirk on his face, he’d rub at his neck, once in a while he’d bite his lip. Oh it was so obvious if you knew what you were looking for.” Glimmer waves her hands as she talks, animated like a real life version of a child’s favorite doll, and Clove notices the way her nails somehow exactly match the sequins of her dress. This girl was the absolute picture of a district one victor.

“Okay, I think she gets the point–”

“And then you won, oh Clove it was the sweetest thing!” Glimmer brings her hand over her heart, a dreamy smile on her face. “It was scary there for a minute and the room was silent and this boy jumped off the couch and he was just so excited. He called you his girl, it was just the cutest thing!”

Clove cranes her head to look at Cato, who is firmly looking anywhere but them, redness creeping up the back of his neck to reach his face. She squeezes her hand on his arm, choosing not to embarrass him now but would surely be bringing it up the moment they were alone.

“We all knew he was hooked on you before,” Marvel chimes in, the hand around Glimmer’s shoulder shifting to pull her in front of him, wrapping both arms around her waist as they stand there. “That boy was in deep but–”

“After that we all knew he was just so in love. Well, we already knew, but he may as well have said it then and there.” Glimmer leans her head back, relaxing into the man behind her.

“We knew we had to meet you after that, Glimmer’s been talking about it for weeks.” He admits, reaching up and pulling some of her curls behind her ear, so he can more easily lean in to kiss her cheek. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together, mentors for one and two and all.”

“It’s honestly probably a good thing that you two are so in the public eye. It’s much better to be the capitol’s favorite couple, than to just be individual favorites. I imagine it protects you from some of the less desirable aspects of being young, pretty victors.” Glimmer suggests, but there's a wistfulness in her voice Clove doesn’t quite know how to perceive.

“Okay, enough about us,” Cato decides his grip on Clove tightening as he stands a little straighter. “Since when are you two together? I saw whatever you had going on back in the lounge, but you definitely weren’t doing this.” He nods to their position, Marvel all but wrapped around Glimmer with his head against hers. “This is new.”

“Oh! You know, we toyed with the idea for a few years now, but after watching you two…well, we all know a little too well how short life is.” Glimmer explains, lacing her fingers through those of his that rest on top of her hand. “My brother and sister weren’t too pleased, but when you’re the third sibling to the twin victors, you get tired of living in the slightly dimmer spotlight next to theirs.”

“You could never be dim, Glimmer. You’re the brightest star in every room.” Marvel presses his nose to hers, earning a wide smile and an ‘aww, baby’ from the blonde.

Clove would have tried to suppress her eye roll, but the alcohol dulled her reaction time just enough to scrunch her eyebrows in disgust. “Okay, ew. Didn’t need to see that.”

Cato pinches her side just as she begins to speak again, earning him in turn a small smack on his hand.

“What do you mean twin victors, who are-” Clove begins.

“Gloss and Cashmere. They won..oh almost ten years ago now! Him, then her. Then me!” She gives a proud little raise of her shoulders, turning her head to the side and smiling into the shrug. “Three victors in one family. We’re the only ones who have ever done it.”

“I’m going to make my way into this family and make it four.” Marvel announces oh so proudly, and Glimmer gasps at the weight of the statement.

Clove cranes her head to look at Cato, and in louder than she intends she half whispers, “is this like...their version of foreplay?”

Cato hides his face in her hair, unable to hide the shaking of his shoulders that betrayed that he was in fact laughing at her and her lack of tact.

Neither of the other two seem offended– or really, like they heard at all, lost in their little world– until Glimmer’s head snaps towards them.

“Oh my god we can be in each other’s weddings! We’re going to become a little group of friends, we’ll become the absolute favorites of the capitol together, oh it’s too perfect.” Glimmer claps her hands excitedly, reaching both hands out towards Clove. “Oh I absolutely cannot wait!”

Clove takes a step back, pushing Cato back with her. “Are you crazy? Do I look like I do that, I met you ten minutes ago–”

“Oh yes but we’re going to have plenty of time together over the next few years! It’s inevitable, the idea will grow on you.” When the girl goes to hug her Clove takes another large step back.

“Not happening.” The audacity of this girl to try to..hug her? What happened to the terrifying, psychotic little trainee from two who had the girls that looked like Glimmer talking all their shit about her in private but conveniently hiding away when she needed a training partner.

“One day, Clove. One day!” Glimmer has decided, claiming the girl and her friendship as her own. “You know, we'll see you two tomorrow for your big party. We can continue this then!”

She waves once before lacing her finger’s back with her partner’s. “It was so nice to finally meet you! We’ll be seeing each other lots!”

As they walk away, Clove cranes her head to lock eyes with Cato, who is still chuckling to himself.

“That was the most irritating girl I've ever met. A little fucking warning would have been nice, Cato.”

“I don’t know, she seems to think she’s going to grow on you. I think she might be right.”

“At least I didn’t make an idiot out of myself in the victor’s lounge.” Clove shifts in his arms, a wicked smirk filling her features as her hands snake around his neck. “Your girl, huh?”

“Forever, baby.” Cato smiles as he finally succeeds in dragging her out of the prying eyes of District One and into an empty hallway.

Capitol.

“This is your moment, Clove!” Her escort reminds her, taking a moment to settle the stray hairs around her face into perfect position. “People have been waiting to meet you for months!” Her hands pull out a deep red lip shade, and tilt Clove’s face towards her to reapply one final time before her entrance. “There! Perfect.”

Clove turns to look at herself in the portable mirror positioned outside the entrance of the mansion, out of sight of the crowd waiting for her.

She had seriously doubted the white when they pulled it out for her that evening, but as she looked at the entirety of herself in the mirror, she understood the vision.

The dress is reminiscent of the one she wore in the tribute parade, an Ancient Greek inspired style. The gauzy white fabric drapes across her chest and hips, flowing gracefully to the floor. It’s tighter around her thighs than any other dress had been, and she knew it would make her walk just a little slower and stand a little taller. It cinches at her waist in a shining gold band that matches the embellishments at her shoulders. The entirety of the back is open, down to the small of her back. Stenciled details are painted onto her spine in gold paint, accented with rubies intentionally glued to her skin along her vertebrae. The draping is tastefully done to make her look oh-so-less-childlike than she had felt yesterday. There is a gorgeous beading on the entirety of the dress, that she realizes now resembles snow falling.

As Clove looks towards her feet she realizes the dress is not stark white at all, but at her knees fades into pink ombre that ends in a bright, crimson red.

Blood. She looks dipped in Blood.

“Oh, final touch!” Her stylist announces, approaching her with a long veil-like piece of the same ombre red fabric.

She catches the two gold hoops and realizes, as it is attached to her shoulders, that it is a long train, trailing from white to ruby for multiple feet behind her.

A trail of blood to follow her, then.

When she finally catches her face in the reflection, Clove smiles when she realizes that her eyes are lined with the same miniscule rubies of her spine. Okay, finally, they got something right.

“Our little ice queen.” Her escort announces, sounding almost tearful, as she settles her victor crown to her hair. “Oh you just look absolutely stunning.”

Snow. Blood. It hits her then that they are trying to evoke the image of her final moments in the games. Wild curls and wide eyes, covered in blood and snow. There's a perversion of innocence in this somewhere, in a tight white dress and blood stains, a commentary on the games stripping her of her youth hidden in the fabric.

That doesn’t matter right now.

She has waited far too long for this.

“Let’s go, my little Crimson Clover.”

“Don’t call me that.” Clove warns, but lifts the dress to follow anyway. She wonders what Cato and Enobaria will think when they see her, having been banished by her prep team earlier that afternoon. She’s suddenly glad for that– she wants to see their faces when they get the full effect.

“Oh..Clove?” Her head stylist stops her, whispering in her ears. “You two give them a good show. Remind them that you are together, okay?”

Clove squints, but gives a short nod. She can remember Glimmer just yesterday saying something about being safer together, whatever that meant. “Did you tell-”

“You never have to tell him to be all over you. But yes. He knows.”

As tradition goes her Escort walks steps in front of her, guiding her into the formal induction of the life of a victor. It’s practically an aisle, a red carpet of sorts, as the Capitol elite reach out to touch her free flowing curls, to get a feel for the fabric of her dress under their fingers. She suddenly is all too aware of the hands on her, hands she does not want on her, and the voice of her stylist and glimmer ring through her ears.

The walk takes what feels like years, though Clove knows it can’t be more than a minute or two. Despite the discomfort of being touched, Clove wears a proud, cocky smile on her face. Yes, this had been a long time in the making, and she was going to enjoy every last minute of it.

Reaching the end of the long runway is what she was waiting for.

Cato, Enobaria, and Brutus all wait for her, in various degrees of coordination. Brutus wears black with deep burgundy accents. Enobaria wears a short, one shouldered maroon dress, with a long floor length accent from her covered shoulder. Cato matches best of all, a matching Crimson suit with deep charcoal accents.

It was a very clear commentary from the District Two Prep Crew. They were a team, but she was the star.

Enobaria absolutely beams at her, giving her just the slightest little shake of her head. We did it kid, we did it.

Cato though, he can't help himself the second he sees her. Brutus has to grab his arm to hold him back, stopping him but all from running to her. By the time she is only steps away, Cato frees his arm, closing the last few steps of the gap between them to meet her the rest of the way there.

“Don’t mess up my lipstick.” Clove warns, but the look on her face invites otherwise.

A show they want and a show they’ll get.

Cato’s hands are on the skin of her back, pulling her as tight as possible against him. “You look unbelievably–”

“Pretty. Ruthless. Bloody. Sexy–” She fills in, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull his forehead to hers.

“Deadly.” Cato mumbles, one of his hands fingering at the fabric of her side in a way that reminds her all too much of that day of his reaping, when he tried to burn that lace into his memory forever. . “Phenomenal, incredible, sexy, beautiful– but deadly.”

“You don’t seem to mind.” Clove teases, kissing the middle of the left side of his jaw, out of view of the spectators. She sees the print of her lips left behind and smiles. Perfect. “Did you get the show memo?”

“I’ve always seen you like this, now everyone else does too.” Cato nods in response to her other question. “Like we need to be told twice.”

They are ushered into the party, where she is expected to mingle before the presidential speech and welcome, and the formal dinner that would follow throughout the rest of the night.

It’s like a drug, Clove finds, the attention allotted to a new victor (or two). Everyone wants a moment with her, to say a few words, to touch her hair or her dress. It would be slightly overwhelming, if she didn’t prepare for this her entire life.

They’ve stolen a moment away near a table of desserts, where Clove is breaking a cookie into small enough pieces to toss into her mouth without smearing her lipstick.

“Cora would love these, we should find a way to get her some.” Clove suggests before she is cut off by a soft, dreamy voice.

“Who’s Cora?” Finnick Odair inquires, the golden boy of four, chimes in as he pops an individual bite sized cheesecake into his mouth.

“She’s my sister. She loves these sorts of things” Cato fills in, nodding towards their fellow victor. He and Finnick had hit it off pretty instantly last year, further secured by their time in four last week. The two of them would likely grow to be friends in the next couple of years, with their time they would spend mentoring together.

“Keep her out of this as long as possible.” Finnick half whispers, eyes craning around. “And keep up what you two are doing. It’s working.” He takes a long, intentional sip from the turquoise colored drink in his hand, the shade making his eyes and hair all the sharper in tone as he raises the glass to his lips.

“Where’s Annie?” Clove inquires, craning her neck around to look for the redheaded girl. She had been a little odd, but she was a sweet thing. Clove had liked her, in the short time she spoke with her. Finnick was clearly sweet on her, and it was uncharacteristic for him to have left her to fend for herself amongst this kind of crowd.

“She doesn’t come to these things, she isn’t too fond of my Capitol trips. Then again, neither am I.” Finnick faces the table of desserts, intentionally so no one could see his lips to read them. “She’s safer back home.”

There was something unsaid between Victors, Clove had learned in her past two weeks of meeting them. Something sinister, something exhausting, and something she was clearly somehow escaping with Cato.

She had been raised to believe the Victors lived the life of luxury, she couldn’t ever imagine there were ones who were so unhappy with whatever cards they were being dealt. Something told her, though, that she was far better off not knowing.

Glimmer and Marvel find them after they cycle through another dozen or so polite conversations, nearly cornering them at a drink table. They were in fact wearing bright fuschia as promised yesterday. Whether that was Glimmer’s choice or the stylists Clove wasn’t sure, but she did know that it seemed Marvel would have gone with it either way.

“Well…How’s it feel?!” Glimmer inquires, gently nudging Clove’s shoulder and showing no offense when she pulls it away. “You look incredible, Clove. This blood and snow vibe is phenomenal. Your stylist is a genius. It’s very regal, sort of bridal, very..goddess. Yes! That’s it. Like a goddess of all out destruction, violence, war. I’m obsessed, really. I was in an entirely sheer dress. Covered in rhinestones strategically.” Her beautiful smile falters just a little, her eyes fading at the memory. “Stylists sure do know how to give the people what they want.”

Marvel is rubbing her shoulder again, comforting her from some memory Clove doesn’t want to even broach the topic of.

“Seriously, you two.. You look like you were made for each other. It’s working to your advantage.” Marvel agrees, his free hand scooping an entire handful of the chocolate cookies up at once. “These are the best, I get them once a year, hide them in my pockets for the ride home.” As if to illustrate his point, he shoves his entire hand into the magenta, baroque patterned jacket.

Clove opens her mouth to comment, but the seal of the president stops them informing them that the welcome was about to begin.

“We should go listen, but hey, you two should come hang out with us later tonight. I know it’s busy being the victor, but we have a good time! And if not tonight, then soon.” Marvel invites, before he lets the two of them off on their own.

“I'm starting to like them.” Cato admits, leading Clove by the hand to the front of the crowd, where the President would soon address her.

The president’s speech is the usual. A great honor to be a victor, a great accompaniment, a great representation of the values of Panem. It was always greater fanfare when Districts One or Two took the win, greater pride would leak into his speech.

There’s a toast in her honor and there are fireworks that begin, when a snarky voice enters beside Clove.

“Alright, Miss Blood on the Snow.” Johanna Mason purrs, looking the two of them up and down. “You look hot as hell, of course. Aren’t you two lucky to have each other?”

Clove is immediately thrown back to meeting her last week, when she immediately commended the way the two of them look together.

“Oh I liked you.” Johanna Mason announces as she wraps an arm around Clove’s shoulder, wasting no time at all with letting the girl warm up to her. “I thought pretty boy last year was the best thing I've seen come out of two, but you’re even better. Cute. Sexy in a scary way. Crazy as hell. I like it. Not all there in the head, neither of you, but really, who of us are?”

Johanna tosses back her drink, eyes narrowing towards the balcony. “I’d sure like to see some blood on that Snow.”

Clove’s eyes widened at the confession, head whipping back and forth to see who else could have heard. “Johanna you can’t say–”

“You’re both going to learn, what happens between Victors, stays between us.” She gestures towards the balcony again. “They can’t do anything to me, I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

After the dinner, it is Enobaria and Brutus who stand with them, sipping on colorful drinks. Clove leans against Cato, warm and tired, the weight and experience of the week finally crashing onto her.

“How was your big night?” Brutus asks, watching as the party begins to settle down, capitolites beginning to fizzle out. “Everything you ever dreamed of?”

“It was great.” Clove admits earnestly, wrapping her arms around Cato when she rests her head against his chest. It may have been a mix of the drinks and the endless warnings about the show they had to amp up tonight, or it may have just been a tired girl used to a new normal. “It was weird though.. The other victors were kind of cryptic? It was like they were all warning us about something, but no one would say what?”

Enobaria’s eyes go wide, and she cranes her head entirely around them, assessing who was within listening range. If Cato and Clove hadn’t known better, they’d think she was looking for a threat.

“Listen. Victors..we take care of each other. If people are telling you something…I’d listen.” It goes unspoken that they are at a great risk by even uttering a warning, cryptic or not.

“There's a lot more to this than we realize, isn’t there?” Cato asks, narrowing his eyes at their mentor turned friends.

Brutus nods. “You’ll learn.”

Cato tightens his grip on Clove’s shoulders, before pulling back and offering her a hand. “Come with me, then.”

“Huh? Where are we going? Party’s not over yet, don’t we have to stay?” Clove reminds, but lets him lead her by her hand anyhow.

“We can deal with the warnings and whatever it really means to be Victors tomorrow.” Cato suggests, pulling her with him towards the center of the room. “But today? You’re going to dance with me.”

#always remember we're burned for better #ARWBFB TAG #clato #cato and clove #cato hadley #clove kentwell #clato fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #glimmer #marvel #enobaria #the besties arrived here #theres some mild angst too

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spaceyflowerswriting · 2 years

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I was contemplating if I should send in a request so if you are too busy or school has started then please ignore this but ....if not then...can I ask for a fic or one-shot or whatever (I don't really know the difference) of Taehun and Seongjoon's s/o reassuring them about their relationship with them(the boys). Maybe something happened or the boys have been over thinking about why their s/o is with them when they could be with other better people. Things like that....

JunTae anon

reassurance (taehun/seongjun x reader)

details: fluff with some angst oneshots, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, reader has been dating character for a while

summary: you give him some reassurance after he expresses worry.

a/n: happy to see u again juntae anon, thanks for another request :] and dw as long as i have requests open, i'll do my best with any i get despite stuff like school 💪💖

also one shots are what i write! they're basically long scenarios (short ones are drabbles) while fics are chapter long and have a plot, rather than a simple scenario ^_^

TAEHUN

He was famous for being overly jealous and not at the same time--that was Taehun's thing. The catch was he was only jealous about petty things.

Exhibit A: glaring at anyone who expressed interest in you, even if it was in the most completely platonic way.

Honestly though, even that was kind of an act. A neverending joke, if you could call it that. It was just funny embarrassing you when he acted overbearing by blurting out he was your boyfriend or being overly touchy with you to express that he was your boyfriend.

Point was, he was too confident in himself and you to have any insecurities that would fester into feeling unsure about the relationship between the both of you.

"So why the HELL have I been feeling weird lately?" His million dollar question of the week. For reasons unknown (or unacknowledged...) by himself, he had been bothered by words he overheard you telling a friend of yours the other day.

"I wish my boyfriend was as nice as them."

They were words he easily laughed at and brushed aside at the time, yet they've been lingering in his mind. It wasn't as if it was the first time he heard you say something like that, which made it even more confusing for him. Now that he thought about it though, maybe it was the fact that he overheard you say it.

It was different when you were saying it in front of him because it easily came off as a joke, but behind his back...? He had to admit your tone was lighthearted, but still. Maybe you meant it more knowing he wasn't around? Does that even make sense...?

He grumbled and ruffled his hair up before leaning back on the couch. Before he could shut his eyes, the sound of your voice made him turn his head.

"What're you upset about today, huh?"

"Mind your business," he huffed, moving to wrap an arm around your shoulders as you joined him on the couch. "Where have you been, anyway?"

"I was helping your dad outside with some stuff?"

"Oh."

The abrupt end to the conversation resulted in an awkward silence, but it didn't take long to melt into a comfortable one as you both went on to do your own things. You busied yourself with your phone and Taehun just tried to enjoy your presence. Occasionally he glanced down at your screen and asked what you were doing, or you would start small talk.

It was nice, but not enough to dismiss Taehun's thoughts. He figured maybe he was overthinking and spending time with you would reassure him of your feelings for him, yet the words, "I wish my boyfriend was as nice as them," continued to circle in his mind.

"This is stupid."

"Hm?" You looked up at him, eyes full of innocence.

Taehun stared into them for a moment, as if there was an answer for his question in your eyes, and then sighed after finding nothing. He just pulled you in a little closer and laid his head on top of yours.

Confused, some fumbled words came out of your mouth before you managed to say, "If something's bothering you, you can tell me, you know."

"Yeah, but how do I say it without getting fucking embarrassed?" Red was already beginning to color in Taehun's cheeks. He only forced himself to reply after you nudged him with an elbow.

"I'm nice to you, right?" Yikes. That came out all wrong. What the hell kind of question was that?

"Uh..." Understandably, you became even more confused. "Yeah?"

Well, since Taehun already put a start on this thing, he decided he'd keep moving forward--he'd just have to hope he didn't crash and burn.

After a quick few seconds of thinking, he replied, "Okay, but if I..." He grit his teeth, hating the cringe he was feeling towards himself crawl up his spine. "Ever make you mad. Or sad. You have to tell me."

You went quiet and now dread began to fill Taehun up. He was being as vague as possible, there was no way you were connecting the dots.

"No way... is THE Taehun Seong worried about being too mean?"

Great, you didn't connect the dots, but also damn you for still teasing him.

He pulled away to frown at you. "Shut up, I'm being serious."

You laughed and moved to give his cheek a peck. "Relax, I know. And don't worry, if you ever upset me--" On the same place you kissed his cheek, you gave it a pinch and he squinted an eye. "--I'll let you know. Otherwise, you don't have to feel bad. I know most of what you say isn't meant to be taken personally." The soft smile on your face turned into a grin. "Besides, if I couldn't stand it, why would I date your rude-ass?"

Those few words were all Taehun needed to get his weighted worries off his shoulders and suddenly he felt stupid worrying about something so small. Well, he thought it was stupid in the first place, but you were really solidifying the feeling.

He couldn't help but laugh at himself. Fortunately, it made sense to in the conversation as well so you hummed along, and he was content to roll with it.

But first he gave you a kiss and then proceeded to ignore any of your questions for the reasoning behind it.

SEONGJUN

Jealousy was a rare feeling for someone like Seongjun. After all, what could a man as rich, powerful, and smart as him have to be jealous of? Even seeing you spend time with other people never made him blink an eye. Who was he to stop you from hanging out with the people you wanted to, anyway?

Yes, indeed, he was a good man and a good lover.

To you, at least.

Ironically, that was the same thing that haunted him. Outside of you, he wasn't sure anyone else who knew him personally would call him... nice. Because he wasn't.

He had already wrestled with what little good his heart had left, so that wasn't what bothered him. He mostly made peace with who he was now and who he wanted to be, it was just when it came to you that he felt a little unsteady.

Changing such a major part of himself for someone wasn't something he feel like he'd do, no matter how much he loved the person. Thus, the heavy choice fell to you.

It was your decision, whether or not to stay with someone with hands as stained as his. He wouldn't blame you if you left, the same way he questioned why you stayed. He just knew he was gently holding your hand, and you were holding his in response.

Hand in loving hand. For now. Mostly. Maybe?

Every once in a while, doubt clouded his vision and he wasn't sure he could feel your hand. Some days he loosened his grip, thinking, "Today's the day they come to their senses and leave me." Other days he comfortably held on, eased by the warmth from your hand.

But sometimes even that wasn't enough, and now was one of those times.

He hated how his stomach churned as he watched you finish up one last conversation with a coworker on his way to pick you up from your workplace. He hated how he couldn't even be mad, because you had gotten so close to your coworker, even he got to know the person a little and they were genuinely really nice. Much, much nicer than him.

Walking home with you, holding your hand, he couldn't help but think you would be better off with your coworker. Safe and comfortable, with someone more normal. Hell, it didn't have to be your coworker, just someone like them.

"Is this jealousy...?" Seongjun shook his head. "No, it's more like... insecurity. A really pathetic and self pitying feeling of insecurity." He sighed, immediately regretting it when you turned to raise a brow at him.

"Something the matter?"

He plastered on a smile, but you saw through it too easily and frowned. "It's nothing--"

"Come on, you know you're not very good at hiding things from me."

Seongjun paused for a moment before chuckling and looking off to the side. He hummed, trying to see how long he could derail the conversation. It wasn't that long, unfortunately. Still, he hesitated before clearing his throat to make sure he could sound as lighthearted as possible before asking, "Promise you won't make fun of me?"

"Promise," you replied in a singsong voice.

He laughed a little, though it trailed off and became awkward. "Well... I think I might be jealous."

Not exactly the truth, but it was the best way he could communicate his feelings without being too honest. He wasn't sure he was ready for that kind of conversation yet, and it would definitely be better to have behind closed doors, not in a public space.

You gasped somewhat playfully. "Of my coworker?"

"Wow, right on the first guess~" Seongjun was still trying his best to keep the conversation light.

"Aw, you're so cute!" you cooed, making him feign a bit of anger.

"Hey, you said you wouldn't make fun of me."

You only hummed in amusement. "I know, but I couldn't help it." You gave him a grin and batted your eyes. "May I politely ask why you're jealous?"

Seongjun thinned his lips. "I just think... that your coworker is nice." You tilted your head at him, prompting him for more details. It took a few tense seconds before he eventually got himself to add, "Wouldn't you want to be with them instead of someone like me?"

The tense seconds came back except they were longer and more stressful because the silence was now coming from you. Seongjun glanced your way, caught by surprise to see you staring intently at him. Almost as if you were seeing right through his current act, and it nearly made him feel ashamed. He tried to stay strong anyway, and smiled at you.

You reflected the expression back, but it looked a little sad. After giving his hand a little squeeze, you said, "You know I'd never want to be with anyone else than you, Seongjun. I believe you'll always be someone I'll love."

He let out a breathy chuckle, unable to hide the bitterness in it. "And what if one day I stop being that person?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." A simple and straightforward answer, but full of love. "Don't worry about 'what ifs' and just focus on our happy present. If you don't stop worrying, you'll only give yourself gray hairs."

Seongjun nearly stopped in his tracks in surprise at your sincerity. The joke at the end made his smile grow into a more genuine one and he ended up just laughing. His heart was swelling and he didn't know what he could ever say or do to express how happy he was to have you in his life.

So, for now, he just leaned in to give you a kiss, not caring about what anyone around would think.

#viral hit x reader #how to fight x reader #seongjun baek x reader #taehun seong x reader #seongjun baek #taehun seong #requests #juntae anon #wow i really said 'im gonna write short stuff to get back into writing ^_^' and then write all this..#got inspired i guess. or maybe im back on the writing scene. who knows ❤️#anyways writing these next to each other is. Lowkey funny bc its like taehun's just some silly teen with mild angst #while seongjun is a grown ass man whos gone thru some shit and is pretty miserable thru it 😭😭#not dismissing taehun's trauma with dowoon btw im speaking strictly on personality and how they handle things 😭

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