#but it's nice to have some non-combative assholes to talk to

[jtl-fics]

PJO CROSSOVER??? also andrews memory would absolutely dominate the amazing race

The PJO one is mostly how I handle that when I'm driving into work I like to listen to what I affectionately call 'Punching music' (Lose Control by Hedley has been a favorite recently. I can't describe punching music but like...I know it when I hear it.) and think about fight scenes. There is a plot but 90% of what I've written is Neil doing some wild fight stuff. The 10% of plot written is Kevin Day wanting to know the extent that Neil has to hold back on the Courts because otherwise he'd be snapping racquets left, right, and center. There may be a part where they see how far Neil can accurately shoot an arrow after they all find out. (Imagine any trick shot video except it's the Foxes all crafting increasingly elaborate shots for Neil and Neil just being like "YA DONE?" and nailing it first try with the camera cutting to Andrew doing the horny grip.)

Andrew and Neil are purpose built to just obliterate the Amazing Race competition. They only have a few race related weaknesses.

Andrew hates flying still. This adventure does not improve that but he does become infinitely more okay with just crawling into Neil's lap and ignoring flight attendants.

They both are the most anti-social fucks on the planet. There is no alliance no matter what other teams offer. All of their 'drama' is other people trying to start shit with them but it's just like... you piss off Neil and Andrew? You're out the next round. They are super vengeful (only for each other one group commented about Neil's scars and Andrew went scorched earth to get them out next round. One group made Andrew and Neil go back and do the other challenge at a pitstop that involved heights because Andrew crawling into Neil's lap every flight was hardly subtle and Neil took care of Andrew during that challenge and then TOOK CARE of the team that did it.)

Sometimes Neil runs into familiar faces that make the race SUPER awkward / kind of dangerous depending on the face. (Neil's cousin in the middle of scoping out a hit but has to come over and say hey / the guy him and his mom stole guns from in Germany).

They don't have any real drama going on between them so like the editors have to basically misconstrue one of their conversations super hard to even make it look like they're fighting one episode (making it seem like Andrew is mad at Neil for getting them in 2nd place during the last leg when in fact Andrew thinks it's hilarious because it was the only meal that Kevin would have approved of).

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

So, had an idea for a fic. Ranted about it. Never gonna write it. Had a breakdown. Made a moodboard. Here ya go. 👍🏻

Mob Son Steve!

Who's father wishes he was better at it. His heart is too big.

And retired Mob Man wayne, raising Eddie. The mob family he belonged too was wiped out, Eddie's dad was leader, but he got everyone killed pretty much, so Wayne took Eddie and never looked back. Moved to a new city and opened a mechanic garage. Eddie fixes cars like he was born to. He takes after Wayne so maybe he was. And of course, Steve is sentimental about his car, his mom left it to him in her will. But it's old. Breaks down a lot. So he takes it to Munson's Garage. And meets Eddie.

Mob Boy Steve is still a bit of an asshole. But it fades fast, especially once he really starts talking to Eddie. And then mentions him to Robin one day and she's like,

"who's this now what's ahppening???"

Because Steve's face is a goddamn open book and he looks... mushy!

His assholishness is his shield. Because if he isn't an asshole, and hardened, the other guys would tear him apart. But can you imagine, his combed back hair and nice suits.

And Eddie is ALWAYS a mess. And Steve literally just wants Eddie to fucking grab him and ruin all his nice clothes and just make HIM a mess too. And like, it's only partly sexual, this grabbing, he just wants to be able to touch Eddie. And to be able to be dirty and not perfect and put together all the time.

Maybe Nancy works the front desk for the Munsons on weekends and Robin comes in with Steve once cuz she's with him when the car breaks down and her and Nancy meet and Wayne comes back from lunch to see Nancy and Robin all smiley at each other, and Eddie is fucking smiling at the ground and tucking some hair behind his ear as Steve laughs at something he'd said and Wayne's just like,

".... am I running some kind of fucking mob dating garage?" To himself of course, but what the fuck???? Why are there multiple Mob Babies in his shop??? Flirting with his NON mob babies!!!

~°~

Lets say he's definitely still a big ol flirt in this. But Robin always knows when he's flirting for info, and to be formal, and to like.. please his father and "the family" and when he's flirting for real. Cuz he's quiet and sweet when he's being real. And he gets just as flustered as who he's flirting with. And Robin has never seen him more flustered than when he's talking to Eddie.

And Eddie, bless his little anti social, awkward self, genuinely, for the most part, has no idea Steve is flirting with him. He just think he's interested in how Eddie is fixing his car. Thinks maybe he's trying to learn a little bit at least, so he can try and keep her together on his own.

And THAT makes Eddie a little flustered, because most people just want their shit done so they can leave. But Eddie thinks he wants to learn so he tells him stuff. About his car, and then also about cars in general. He's a fountain of car facts and Steve, bless his heart, drinks them up like he's fucking desperate to drown.

And he actually does retain a lot of the info, does actually get a bit interested in the work after he fixes a breakdown on his own once, the radiator needed water and Eddie showed him how to so that on his own in case it happened again cuz Eddie didn't have the part to fix it right then. Had to order it. But Steve remembered, and got it fixed and made it home on his own. And the grease on his hands made him feel like he actually did something of value.

So he listens more closely when Eddie talks after that, always leaning into his space cuz he does have trouble hearing. He loses a lot of fights. But you have to fight where he's from or you just get killed. So he leans close, both he and Eddie getting flustered by the closeness, but he likes it there, next to Eddie.

Because Eddie explains things, looks at Steve, and if he seems confused still, he'll explain it a different way. He'd done that 4 times one day for Steve. He'd been tired, and unfocused, and just a little lost. And Eddie just kept talking until it clicked, and Steve's eyes lit up, and he waved his hands all excited and was like,

"oh oh ok! It's like when-  yeah yeah yeah!!"

And Eddie gave him this huge beautiful smile as he nodded and moved on. And Steve was... not used to that. He wasn't used to anyone smiling after he got all excited like that either, but he tried not to think about THAT too much. He was already much too red in the face from Eddie's smile to be thinking about that.

Anyway. Like we said, Wayne would definitely try to keep them apart at first. Intercepting when Steve came by. Grabbing the keys from Eddie and meeting Steve out front when his car was done.

But one day, Steve shows up covered in blood. His own blood, his face all bruised and battered like someone had used him as a punching bag. He shouldn't have been driving, probably, but he'd made it. Wayne and Eddie had watched his car roll slowly into the lot, watched it stop. Wayne's arm out in front of Eddie stopping him as he tired to move toward the door, a small smile on his lips.

And then Steve opened the door, pulled himself out of the car, and almost fell into the dirt. Eddie was around Wayne in a second, breathing out a worried,

"Steve." as he shoved through the door.

He catches Steve easily, and Steve just leans into his chest, lets Eddie hold him there. Eddie almost crying trying to ask him what happened. Steve just mumbles,

"You should see the other guy." and gives a bloody smile before he sways on his feet, his eyes rolling back.

Eddie has him half way to the door when Wayne slides under Steve's other arm, helping Eddie get him inside, into the back building, which is technically their house. Eddie guides them to the bed in the living room, they set him down gently. Wayne watches Eddie push Steve's blood stained hair off his face, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks as he looks at Steve, and heads for the door. Eddie's on his feet next to him in a second.

"Don't hurt the car. It was his mom's. She's... she's gone." Eddie whispers it.

But those words tell Wayne the parts of the story he was missing. When you're in the business Steve's in, a dead mother isn't something you talk about with just anyone. It's also in that moment he realizes he's maybe not as good at keeping tabs on Eddie as he thought he was. He just gives Eddie's shoulder a squeeze and says,

"I won't hurt it. But we can't leave it out front. If anyone's after him they'll know he's here soon as they see it. I'll take it to the back lot. Move some stuff in front it. Cover it up". Eddie nods enthusiastically and Wayne nods back, once, before he gets to work.

He comes back to find Steve sitting up, his back agaisnt the wall, his jacket and waistcoat in a pile on the floor. Eddie's between his knees wiping at the blood on his face. Grimacing in unison with Steve everytime he hits a sore spot. He's got a bowl next to him on the floor, full of water. The water is red now. Wayne leans down, takes the bowl, and then gently takes the rag from Eddie's shaking hands.

"Lemme change this. Get a new rag. You sit with him. Make sure he doesn't fall alseep." Eddie's on the cot next to Steve immediately. His hand in his hair again, Steve turns slowly to look at Eddie, his lips a small smile though the two splits in them have to be stinging.

"Are you okay?" Eddie manages to not sound too choked up, his fingers reaching for Steve's face and then pulling back multiple times. Steve huffs a laugh and grabs Eddie's hand, drops them both to his thigh as he nods once.

"I will be. Sorry for makin a mess in your place." His voice is strained, from one of his many injuries, Wayne sets a new bowl of water in Eddie's lap as he says it, and Eddie's not sure which of them he's talking to, maybe both. Wayne dismisses him with a wave, tells Eddie he's gonna go back out front and watch the shop. Steve manages to mumble something about Robin before he sags into Eddie's side again. Wayne nods, says,

"I'll keep an eye out for her."

She shows up with Nancy when she arrives for her shift, both of them looking nervous. Her and Nancy both force themselves to stay calm as they walk to the back, both of them running as soon as their out of sight of the front window.

They find Eddie still sitting on the cot, Steve's head is in his lap now. He's awake, but just staring across the room. Eddie's fingers are in his hair. Robin hugs Eddie the best she can, thanking him for taking care of Steve. Eddie can tell she wants to hug Steve too, but doesn't know where to touch him. She settles down by his legs, Nancy squeezing in next to her. And they all just stay with him.

He stays there for a while.

Once Wayne finds out what happened, Steve tells them when he's back up on his feet. His father basically gave up on him ever being part of the family, "the right way". And had sent his little lapdog Billy to "deal with him"

Robin had shown up just in time. Done something dumb to distracte everyone, like set a fire. And her and Steve had both bolted. Going in different directions to lessen the chance of being caught. Robin had run to Nancy. Steve to Eddie.

They're a little predictable, Wayne thinks, but then again, he's not sure either of them have anyone else besides each other. And no one shows up to get Steve. So he thinks they're probably okay. For awhile. But he does know one thing.

If anyone lays their hands on that boy again, they'll have to deal with Wayne. And Wayne's got a past so drenched in blood it turns his stomach to think about. And he'd put it behind him. Raised up a good boy, for his sister. But he's got another boy now, and two girls as well, and he'd be damned if anyone was gonna hurt them. He watches Eddie and Steve making lunch, just pb&j's for everyone, but they're laughing, and bumping into each other and Wayne watches his boys and thinks, just fucking let them 'em try.

[kanaesparadise]

Hey Can you do Yoru x fem non agent singer scenario?

The singer have a soft voice (like Billie Eilish). Where the agents don't know that Yoru is dating a famous person, and his girlfriend has never met his friends. So Yoru invites Valorant protocol agents to go to her show and Backstage to get to know her better.

You had a long-term relationship with Yoru and since you are a famous singer, you also had to hide it from the paparazzi and all your fans for a while so they wouldn't bother Yoru. Now you wanted to tell people because you wanted your fans to know who you're dating.

Also Yoru, would go crazy when fans ship you with a another famous person.

He supported you when you asked your manager if I could explain Yoru. You have been working with him for a long time and he has supported you in everything he can. You wanted to talk about your relationship on stage. Your manager took precautions against aggressive fans, he also knew what Yoru was like since you introduced Yoru earlier.

Other agents knew Yoru had a girlfriend, but they had never met his girlfriend and had never seen her. Jett would sometimes say to her, "I don't think there is a girl like that, you have an imaginary girlfriend you thought you were dating. Otherwise, I don't think a girl as good as you mentioned exists in the world."

"Shut up, Jett. She has a concert tomorrow. If you don't believe it that much, we can all go together. You'll meet him after the concert."

Jett stretched out and looked at Yoru blankly, "Concert or what?"

"(Y/N) (L/N) is a famous singer, so I said I'd meet you after the concert, idiot."

"Don't be ridiculous, she can't be your girlfriend! I love that woman and she's dating an asshole like you!?"

Phoenix laughed at them and cursed Yoru, "She's wasting her, Jett."

"Shut up, not having someone still love you is another matter."

Brimstone cleared his throat, silencing them. "No one's on duty tomorrow if you really want to introduce them, and we can go if it's convenient for the others. It'll be a good break for our business."

Looking back at the others, Reyna laughed and stood up, "I'm sure a woman like Yoru who can stand up to and love someone is very interesting."

Killjoy looked up from the alarm boat he was trying to fix; "I came across a song on YouTube before, the woman's voice is really beautiful. It's okay with me."

Everyone at the base had agreed to come in an interesting way. Some for the concert, some to make fun of Yoru, and the rest to find out if there really was a woman who could put up with Yoru.

Five minutes before the concert, Jett still couldn't believe he was at the concert. He had never been to your concert before as he was too busy with duties. "Free VIP concert ticket and also meeting (Y/N) (L/N)... I think I'm in a dream or something."

When you got on stage and saw Yoru and the people you thought were his spy friends, you smiled at them. You were also laughing when the white-haired girl (J E T T B A B E) next to Yoru screamed like a fangirl. You took a deep breath and there was a great silence in the concert venue as you started to sing your favorite, but also viral, song. You loved the respect people had for your work.

After the concert, you waved to your fans and returned to the backstage. When the security came to you after you changed and said there was a group waiting for you at the door, you told them to let them in. The girl who was screaming at the concert was standing right in front of you, pushing Yoru and the others away as soon as security opened the door. "I really can't believe it!"

She took out a notebook and pen from his bag and handed it to you. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Stupid Jett, don't tire my girlfriend!"

"Yoru!"

Yoru sighed "okay okay, sorry."

You smiled at her and took the notebook from her hand.

"Is your name Jett?"

"Yes it is."

While you were signing her notebook, Yoru agents were introducing you to "This is the Cypher in the stupid hat"

"Look at your own mask first, stupid boy."

"Killjoy, the girl with the toys"

"Those toys are smarter than you!

"Phoenix with hair like french fries"

"Dude I'm hungry!"

"That short-haired masked woman Viper"

"You're so bad at describing people, Yoru."

"The old man in the soldier's cap is called Brimstone"

"I'm glad (Y/N)"

You smiled at Brimstone and handed Jett back the notebook you signed.

"Reyna, the woman with her hair combed back"

"I'm glad sweetie"

"Astra, black woman with strange hair"

"How sweet you are, my flower! Your energy comes this far!"

The energy of Astra had impressed you too, many of them seemed like different and worthwhile people.

Yoru kept telling you all; "That crazy girl with bombs, Raze"

"(Y/N)! You're as good as Astra says. If you like to blow things up, you should hang out with Breach and me sometime!"

"The guy Raze's talking about is that mechanical arm, sweetheart."

"If you're strong enough to soften the Yoru then raze is right, you should hang with us!"

"Shut up Breach."

You laughed at them and answered Breach with the same energy "Then I'll definitely agree!"

"That one-eyed man Sova"

"I really like your voice Miss (Y/N), I hope you do better."

"Thank you very much, I'm glad you like my voice!"

"The woman with the long ponytail hair is called Sage."

"Nice to meet you (Y/N), I agree with Sova. If there was another trait in your voice and you asked me to guess it, I would definitely say you have a voice that heals people."

You were speechless at the nice things she said, and when she realized you were surprised, she smiled. "I'm sorry if I confused you."

"No, it doesn't matter. It was one of the nicest compliments I've ever received, thank you. You sound like poetry and it's really nice."

This time Sage was taken aback, happy that you understood what she was saying. They wouldn't take her seriously because many people at the base didn't understand what she was saying or thought it was ridiculous.

"Thank you (Y/N), you really are an artistic person."

"Okay okay, I'll continue with the others, excuse me Sage."

You turned to Yoru and looked at him with sad eyes. "Don't be rude please honey, we were just chatting."

When Yoru saw you looking like that, he panicked; "Okay okay, I just wanted you to talk to the others. Please don't take me seriously."

"Still, please don't be rude." You kissed Yoru's cheek and looked at the other 2 remaining people.

One was a nice woman in a plaited, camouflage-like outfit. The other is...it was weird. He didn't have a face, it was like a shadow form. You knew Yoru's business and it was inevitable that there would be such people. You weren't going to fear or judge her just because she looked like that.

"Skye, the woman in braids and dressed like there's going to be a war at any moment."

"Nice to meet you (Y/N), your music makes you feel like you've stepped into a rainforest."

"I'm glad I could make you feel that way."

"Finally, the faceless shadow is Omen."

Omen just stared at you for a while, studying your gaze towards him. He preferred to stay away a little, as he was someone who did not trust people easily. But there was no fear or disgust in your eyes, he could more or less understand that you wanted to know him. He looked at you in surprise as you smiled and extended your hand to him; "Nice to meet you Omen, I hope you enjoyed my music and made you feel something."

Your smile widened as he slowly extended his hand to you, you squeezed Omen's hand away from him. "Your music makes me feel emotions that I had before and couldn't feel (Y/N)."

"I thought at least one of you would not like it, I'm really honored."

Yoru put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you to him and kissed your lips "I would call them all stupid if they didn't like their music, I think they are all stupid but whatever."

"Shut up, it's a miracle that she even loves you!"

You laughed at what Jett said, you loved them all in different ways even though they messed with each other.

After all, the world would be so boring if everyone had a copy.

[darkmulti]

Tinker Bell

Stray Kids & Ateez

Parings: Richboy!San & Hyunjin x brat!female reader

Genre: Smut, angst

Word Count: 3.6K

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

———

Synopsis: San falls in love with his bestfriends crush and it turns into a messy, love triangle. But once they realize this girl has broken their wonderful friendship..... read to find out

———

A/N: Warnings are after under cut! Sorry if I ruined your childhood with the title. Whoops!

⚠️Warnings: forced ddlg relationship, threesome, anal, bondage, overstimulation, dacryphilia, humiliation, physical abuse, language, heavy degradation, cum eating, blowjob, dirty talking, spitting, fisting, camera play, breeding kink, squirting, probably missing something, if I am please forgive me:(

SEMI NON CONSENSUAL SEX

——————————————————————————

“Come on Hyunjin, let me go!”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the man and yanks her arm out of his grip. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not interested in dating you. Go back to your nerd club and don’t talk to me again. Being near you can hurt my reputation.”

She pushes him and sashays away. San comes up behind the male and pats him on the back. “Remind me why you like her again? She’s a total bitch that can’t get over herself.” He said while watching her walk down the hallway. “I thought I could date her. I tried everything. I’m nice, aren’t I?”

“You’re nice, but if a history textbook was a human, it would be you. She’s a princess and she needs a prince. Change up your style and maybe you’ll have a chance with her.” Hyunjin scoffs. “Before you start coming at me, why don’t you take a look at yourself. Your hair looks like a pie chart, San.”

“Shut up, my hair looks beautiful.” San huffs and combs his hair back, feeling a little insecure. The two boys were too busy dissing each other’s looks, they didn’t notice Y/N coming back their way and hearing in. “You both are ugly. Sorry, but it had to be said.”

She was just about to walk away until San pulled her back by the arm and pushed her against the locker. He chuckles and gets close to her face, “who are you to judge us because of how we look? Are you some kind of fashion fairy? Listen here you little cunt….” he whispers into her ear so Hyunjin couldn’t hear, “why don’t you spread your wings and not your legs for once, little tinker bell? Fly away from here and don’t talk about us ever again. Though…” San smirks and looks away for a second, before going back. “Though.. I want to fuck you so hard and feel your pussy clench around my cock. But the only turn off about you is how your pussy probably looks like a flat tire.”

San ‘accidentally’ rubs his bulge against her hand and moves away from her face so she could leave. “Now that’s how you put someone back in their place.” Hyunjin looks at San with a resentful expression. “You’re actually such an asshole, Choi San. I just told you that I like her, but you still- you know what? Nevermind. Don’t talk to me ever again.” Hyunjin walks away, angered by San, but San only brushes it off.

This was the beginning of a love triangle.

San didn’t know what came over him when he was confronting Y/N. He didn’t like her at all, but the moment he stood over her, a light turn on. Or maybe it turned off. The young man was doing pull ups in a black tank top, that showed off his muscular biceps. After his workout he showered and changed into his boxers. He was drying his hair, while picking out a ‘less nerdy’ outfit.

He decided on a full black outfit. Black jeans, black shirt and black leather jacket. He grabbed black dye from his drawer and dyed his hair back to black and trimmed his mullet since it was getting long.

Hyunjin was doing something similar. He was also changing up his style with the help of his fashionable mom. She criticizes Hyunjin's wardrobe and lends him his father's clothes, which were much more expensive and trendy. He thanks his mother and shaves his face. He was a little anxious to show off the new Hyunjin, causing him to not sleep very well.

The next morning arrives and Hyunjin wakes up with a full smile. He gets ready for the day and greets his mother, who was preparing breakfast for him. “Oh look at my handsome son.” She walks over to him, cups his cheeks and kisses his forehead. “You look just like your father. He would be proud.” Hyunjin smiles and sits down at the table to eat his breakfast.

The other boy was also getting ready, but sadly his parents were not there to compliment him. San’s parents were constantly working and barely ever considered his existence. He would see his mom once in a while, but rarely saw his dad.

Choi gets in his car and drives to school, only to see a new, black sports car in the parking lot. He parked his car and waited for whoever it was. To his surprise it was Hyunjin. San was a little jealous of him since Hyunjin came from a caring family. His parents spoiled him with love. That’s something San couldn’t compete with.

Y/N was standing in front of the school, checking out Hyunjin. She twirled her gum around her fingers and pulled her skirt higher, so you can see her ass. “Hwang Hyunjin is that you?!” She skips to him with a teasing look on her face. “Sure is. But I thought you didn’t like nerds.”

“I can like you if you keep looking like this.” She winks and places one hand on his shoulder, gradually getting closer to his face. Her other hand takes Hyunjin’s palm and places it on her bare ass cheek. “Don’t be shy, spank me.” She giggles and leans in kissing him. His comforting aroma made her feel safe in his arms. Hyunjin spanks the little girl and grins, holding her closer to him. He was about to say something, until the crowds outside the school started to noticeably whisper. Y/N and Hyunjin both turn to the noise, and see San running his fingers through his hair, with a deadpan expression.

The man bites down on his lip and slightly brings down his sunglasses to wink at a girl. Y/N bit down on her own lip, and felt this irritating rush. Why did her insides burn with jealousy? These were the same two men that she bullied the day before. Yet, they have her dripping wet. She turns her attention back to Hyunjin. “He’s a dumb show off, Hyunjinie. Come on, we’ll be late for class.”

She interwines her hands with his bigger ones and drags him into the school. The second they turn the hallways, they see San having a hot makeout session with some random chick. The man shoving his tongue down the girl's throat didn’t even notice that Hyunjin and Y/N were there, until Y/N cleared her throat. “Excuse me, my locker’s there.” San pulls away and apologizes. “Oh I-I’m sorry, she was just so tasty.” San looks back at his girl and tells her to hand over her phone. “Call me tonight baby. I hope you taste just as sweet as your saliva.” Both of them go their separate ways, leaving Y/N and Hyunjin alone.

Again, Y/N felt pain and anger at the same time. San looked like he was ready to eat the girl alive, and what she would’ve done to be in her place. She sighs and looks at Hyunjin. “I want to apologize for always being a jerk to you. I just- I don’t know. Hurting other people gives me pleasure and attention that I enjoy..”

“Ohhh, so you’re just a needy, little attention whore. I get it now.” Hyunjin nods and face palms his forehead in an over exaggerated way. “I’m not a whore Hyunjin..” She picks up her unzipped pencil case and proceeds to say, “I don’t appreciate that name!” Y/N throws her hands in the air, causing all the pencils to fly out everywhere on the hallway floor. She grumbles and bends down to pick them up, immediately waking up Hyunjin’s little friend. Uncontrollably, he grips onto her waist and pulls her back onto his bulge. Y/N moans and rubs her slit onto him more. “Look at what you've done. Now you have to fix it.”

“Please let me.” Hyunjin easily throws her over his shoulder and spanks her ass. He carried her into the back of the library, where all the bookshelves could cover them. “You have to be quiet, or else we’ll get caught.” “Well no shit sherlock.” She whispers yells, whilst rolling her eyes. Hyunjin bends her over, covers her mouth and slaps her ass. “I dare you to talk back to me…” he spanks her again, “needy whore.”

Hyunjin rips her panties off and stuffs it into her mouth before taking himself out. He puts his hand over the girl's mouth and thrust into her soaked pussy. He pounds her right away, kicking her breath out with each thrust. The library was dead silent and the skin clapping got a little too loud, causing the librarian to get up and look around. She was headed their way and Hyunjin quickly pulled her under a nearby desk and used a chair to cover themselves. Her legs wrap around his waist and he goes even faster, directly hitting her spot, just as the old woman walks passed. She rolls her eyes and covers her own mouth, spasming under him. “C-cum” she squeaks out. “Cum, cum now!” She squeezes her walls around Hyunjin, cumming all over his long veiny cock. “Wait, you’re on birth control right?!” “Yes! Please cum in me daddy, please!”

Hyunjin throws his head back while spilling his seeds in her. Unfortunately for him, he bangs his head under the table, catching the librarians attention. “What the- ” she mutters to herself, pulling the chair away. She finches and yells, “YOU DISGUSTING KIDS ARE HAVING SEX IN MY LIBRARY?!” The man gets off his girlfriend and stands up. “Don’t be upset that you haven’t gotten laid in like... forever. You could’ve masterbated to the sounds of my balls clapping her ass.”

“Hyunjin!” She whines. “Shut it needy slut.”

Her expression changed into disappointment. She didn’t like to be called a slut. “But daddyy~” she tugs on his pants and looks up at him. Hyunjin pulls her up slightly and slaps her. “This is all your fucking fault!” She tears up and holds her burning cheek, “M-my fault? H-how is it my-” Hyunjin slaps her again and drags her by her hair out of the library. “Ow! Hyunjin let me go!” She tries to pry his fingers off her hair, but his grip only gets harder. “P-please hyunjin! Leave me alone!”

“San was right about you! You’re just an attention whore and will spread your legs for anyone!” He spits on her face and pushes her to the ground. He gets on top of her, shoving his fist inside of her and ripping her clothes off. “Hyunjin! It hurts!”

“I bet it does.” Hyunjin took her again, in the middle of the hallway. His fingers were tightly wrapped around her neck to make sure she couldn’t call for help. She sobbed, kicked and squealed under the much bigger man. Her insides were screaming as she could feel his bulge hit her stomach. Hyunjin was too busy taking her to notice San taking a video and quietly walking towards them. Y/N turns her head and her eyes meet San’s eyes right away. Her eyes were full of tears and her arms were weak from punching Hyunjin chests so many times.

Fortunately, Hyunjin notices that something got her attention and looks as well. “San. Why are you recording?” San smiles, “I’m not recording, I’m live. Continue fucking her, the viewers are loving it.”

Y/N cries harder, “no! Stop please don’t record this!” She slips out of Hyunjins tight grip and makes a run for it. Both of the males bolt after her, laughing and teasing her.

She runs outside and trips on her shoelace, causing the cement to tear her skin and bleed. “Owieee” she holds her bleeding knee to her chest and cries. San and Hyunjin run outside and spot her crying. “Awee, did the little Tinker Bell get a boo boo?” San says, mockingly.

“P-please it’s not funny, it hurts.” Hyunjin pushes San back and strikes her face. “This is what I mean. You’re so fucking dumb, you’re not even capable of running away. Now you have to pay.”

“NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!” She ignores the raging pain in her knee and tries to limp away. San wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her back. “Where ya going, Tinker Bell.”

“Let me go! You guys are insane!” She cries in San’s arms and struggles to get out of his grip. “I-I PLEASE! LET ME GO!” San and Hyunjin laugh at her poor attempts. “She’ll never learn until she gets pounded by two.” San says, smirking at Hyunjin. “T-two? Y-you two?... No, no, no, please!” She begs, dropping down to her knees. “Lick my shoe clean and we’ll think about it.” A smug smile plasters on San’s face, but his request made both Y/N and Hyunjin cringe. “What, Tinker Bell? Did I fucking stutter?”

“N-no” she leans down and licks his shoes. “Tinker Bell’s so terrified of me, slut’s licking my shoe. That’s how you dom, Hyunjin.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you kiss her after she licks off your dirty shoes.” Hyunjin’s tone was telling San that he was a bit disgusted, but San gladly does it anyway. He pulls her up by the hair and shoves his tongue down her throat. San wrapped his arms around her and sucked her tongue, until he pulled away, creating a string of saliva between the two. “Open your mouth Tinker Bell.” She opens her mouth and San spits in it and slaps her ass. “Notice how she’s so submissive to me. That’s how you claim your power. Right, Tinker Bell?” San looks down into her pure eyes and pets her cheek with one hand. “Right daddy. You’re always right.” She whispers out, suddenly compelled by San.

“Good girl. Let’s go.” Hyunjin unlocks his car and sits in the driver's seat, while Y/N and San sit in the backseat. During the car ride, San pulled Y/N onto his knee and kept hitting her clit with it. He then licked his fingers and rubbed her clit rapidly, making her cum on San’s thigh. “Daddy!” She moans out, uncontrollably bouncing on his knee. San grabbed her tits and played with them while she bounced and rubbed her clit against his thigh, furiously. “I’m gonna cum again!” San pushes her off of him and shoves his fist into her. “You’re not even fucking tight. What a waste of time.”

Hyunjin chuckles and pulls into his driveway. San takes his fist out and pushes her onto the cement, expecting her to crawl. Y/N’s knee starts bleeding again, so she looks up to San for help. “Please! My knees really hurt!” Hyunjin kicks her down and tangles his fingers into her hair. “Crawl slut!” She winces, slowly crawling into the house until Hyunjin gets impatient and pulls her hair to go faster.

“Please! You’re hurting me! I want San and only San!” Hyunjin kicked her cunt from behind, making her scream and whimper. “I HATE YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE HYUNJIN!” The man picks her up and throws her on the bed. The two men act quickly and put her down before she could scream. They tie her down onto the bed and put a tie around her mouth. Hyunjin has been waiting for this moment. He never thought that it would go down like this but hey, it was working and that’s all the matters to him. The little girl he greatly lusted for, was tied to his bed, at his mercy. Hyunjin quickly strips, completely forgetting about San and fucks his soul into her.

“YOU FUCKING CUNT! YOU’RE LIFE WOULD’VE BEEN SO MUCH EASIER IF YOU JUST..” Hyunjins hips sped up and he choked her down, pounding inside of her. “P-PLEASE HYUNJIN! I-I’M SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING, BUT PLEASE SLOW DOWN IT HURTS SO BAD!” Both of them were screaming at the top of their lungs, while San sat back, naked, with one hand stroking his cock and the other hand holding his belt. The skin slapping was music to his ears. He watches as his pal fucks anger and sadness into her, feeling no pity. “SAN P-PLEASE HElp” Hyunjin slaps her and growls, going as fast as he can, nearly breaking the bed.

“I hate you!” She hiccuped. “I hate both of you!” She tugs on her restrainants, but they were just too tight to get out of. Her next option was to cry, but no one would hear her because of the tie around her mouth. Hyunjin’s cock twitched at the sight of her ruined face. Her hot tears glided down her face and her pussy clenched around his cock as it went deep into her stomach. Hyunjin pressed down on his bulge in her stomach and pounds her harder. “You like this Tinker Bell. You love it…”

“No, I don't!” Her words were muffled and weak. “Even if you don’t, I’ll fuck my babies into you in the future. We can have a nice little family. Wouldn’t you love that? Wouldn’t you love to be the mother of my kids?” The man sends her a sinister look, before he cums into her once again. Y/N’s muffled screams release when she squirts all over Hyunjin and starts hysterically crying.

The man blows on her burning clit, sending shivers up her spine. “My turn.” San stands up and clears his throat. His cum was all over his hand and cock. His long, veiny cock stood tall and proud. He walks past Hyunjin, and flips Y/N over onto her stomach, because her preferred to take her from behind. “San please, please have mercy on me! I beg you! Please please please stop!”

“Little whore’s scared now? What happened to the brat behaviour? What happened to that diva, fashion fairy? Is she hiding in your tiny asshole? Looks like I have to go in, to find out.”

“NO!” San presses her face into a pillow and forces his cock into her ass. Her hole hugged each of his veins, throwing him off the edge. “Fuck! This is the only hole of yours that isn’t tight. Well not for long.” She kicks her feet under him, hoping to grab his attention. But it doesn’t work. Nothing and I mean nothing would stop San in that moment.

To make it even ‘better’, Hyunjin pulls her hair out of her face and forces his cock down her throat, face slamming her after. She gags multiple times and her tears slide down his cock, making it salty.

San rams her ass, while Hyunjin fucks her face and all she could do was cry about it. Her ass was on fire around San’s huge cock because she’s never been stretched in that area.

Both of the males cum almost at the same time. Y/N’s ass overflows with San’s cum and her mouth fills up with Hyunjin’s. “Is it- is it over?”

“Not even close!” The boys flip her on her side and this time, Hyunjin takes her from behind. Both don’t waste any time to hold her down and fuck her viciously. San watched as the girl’s tears, whimpers and sobs left her shaking mouth. Hyunjin choked her from behind while slamming into her. She cries, helplessly on San’s shoulder, regretting every mistake she’s made.

“Please slow down! My body can’t do it! Please I’ll faint! Please!” She sobbed out, feeling her heart break. “Please!” They both move in closer, squishing Y/N between them, so she could feel the pressure in her stomach. San and Hyunjin’s cock rub inside her, and go up to her stomach, constantly knocking air out of her.

San moves her hair away from her face and ear. He kisses her jawline up to her ear and whispers. “You gonna be a good girl for your daddies?”

“Yes”

“Are you gonna listen and obey your daddies?”

“Y-yes”

“You’re gonna allow your daddies to use you for anything they want, correct.”

Her heart clenches and she squeezes her eyes shut, squirting around San.

“C-c-cor-rectt” she quietly stutters out.

Hyunjin marks her neck up from behind, while San made sure she was still conscious. Y/N’s vision blurred because of the tears in her eyes and she slowly cried under the two men. Her legs were too weak to kick, she lost her voice from crying, and had the small amount of energy that was keeping her conscious.

Hyunjin moves in closer, licking and sucking on her ear. San moves in closer too, pulling her in a rough, deep kiss, giving her all of his saliva. He proceeds to lick her cheeks and bite her jawline. “You’re so fucking sexy, tinker bell.”

The man behind you starts degrading you in your ear. “It could’ve just been me and my cock. But you need two to pound this filthy, used pussy. This is your fault! Keep crying about it, but just know you did this to yourself!” He spits on her face and slaps her ass.

“Daddies, I’m close and it hurts.”

“Baby, squirt for your daddies one more time.”

She shakes her head, no, because her insides were killing her. Her core was on fire and they kept hitting the same spot where it hurt. She silently sobs and stuffs her face into the pillow, not having the energy to face them.

“Do it! Squirt you little slut!” San growls in her ear, and his sweat drips down onto her face.

“I-it hurts! N-no!”

San holds her down and they both increase their speed, making her scream. “IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY!” She clenches around the boys and quivers violently. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything! Please I’m so sorry!”

She cries as she squirts for the third time. Her crying was a lot louder and both of the men hugged her to calm her down. “That’s enough, don’t overreact.” Hyunjin says, in a quiet tone.

Her legs shake and her eyelids get heavy. “A-are we done?”

San kisses her forehead and cuddles in closer.

“Yes we are, Tinker Bell”

————

Not edited! Will edit in the morning!

[scandeniall]

we’re us

pairing: atsumu x f!reader

summary/warnings: after atsumu almost lost you he decides ts time to make things official. But he’s overly sweet and its weird. Thats not who you two are / mentions of near death, implied sex, hes grossly sweet for part of it, mentions of bad parents

a/n: this is a PART 2 to the rulers. a few of you asked and i decided to give us a happier ending than what we wre left with in rulers. (rulers is 12k words and gives the context to this so kinda impt!)

wc: 2k

“Would you fucking stop,” you scowl swatting at the hands on your waist as you stumbled into the office. You roll your eyes at the way your desk chair is pulled out for you. “No can do. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Atsumu replies ignoring the frown at him sitting in the desktop. His hand subconsciously takes yours stroking at the skin and you resist the urge to take your hand from him. He needed it. 

It’d been three months since the incident and since you’d gone into a coma. You stayed in it for a little over a week. Atsumu remembered how he numbly took in the doctors diagnosis. Something about a complication from the surgery or maybe it was blood loss from the bullet wounds? Something about a seizure thus prompting your state. All the medical terminology confused him. 

After he finally decided to visit three days later he came as often as he could. He assigned people like Oikawa to do press releases on his behalf. It was already hard enough having to hear events recounted over the news. He couldn’t be the one to talk about it. 

“President of Yokohama (Y/L/N), (Y/F/N) caught in apparent shootout with parents among others. The 23 year old was rushed to the hospital by non other that Vice President Miya Atsumu. As of now it is known that (Y/N) has fallen into a combs and that Miya will be taking over. The voting families are likely to vote over a course of action within the upcoming days.”

One thing Atsumu made sure to do was to get your recording. You risked your life to get a confession out of your parents. A confession that they had plans to kill you. He sent the recording off and following their own minor recoveries they were promptly arrested. Trials took long and there’d be no way an official one would happen until you were ready, but nonetheless he was happy that both them and Terushima were out of your hairs. 

The day you woke up Atsumu actually shed tears. It was something he denied and claimed that the hospital fumes were finally getting to him when Osamu teased him. But everyone knew better. He’d take your condition worse, a factor that even your little sister teased him on. “(Y/N’s) strong and a bad ass. She’ll be fine. Stop acting like a wimp” he couldn’t even scold the 14 year old for the word choice. 

Even though the first face you made was a grimace, followed by confusion and agitation he couldn’t help but think you were beautiful. He stayed in the room as they took the feeding tube out, gagging himself at how gross it all seemed. He held your hand as you took sips of water all disoriented. 

A few days after that you were able to go back home and he took you to his. Your sister had been staying there and there was no way he’d let you go back to neither your parents or your own now trashed house alone. He’d wheeled you out of the hospital demanding you to keep your head down at the flashing lights and journalists. He’d buckled you in like a child despite you rolling your eyes and complaining and driven you to his. 

He made sure you took all your medications and attended your personal physical therapy sessions. A month in when you wanted to go back to work fully he refused, citing that until you were fine he was the one in charge. He could and would disobey your orders to keep you safe. “I swear once I’m fine I’m going to fucking fire you.” “How do you fire the family head sweetheart? Try again.”

Now two months later you were heading back into your office for the first time. With non other than your shadow practically attached to your hip. You watched as he animatedly recounted some events from his latest press conference and boring financial meetings as his thumb subconsciously rubbed circles into onto the back of your hand. Your hand was slightly sweaty but you resisted the urge to pull away. Ever since you’d found out that you technically died, Atsumu had been more touchy than normal. 

“Hey Tsumu?”

The call of his name stopped him mid sentence as his eyes peered at yours with concern. He started questioning if you were ok or in pain and if it here time for your meds.

“Thank you. For everything. Stepping up, I know this isn’t easy for you, especially since it was so sudden. And for watching after my sister and me.”

“Well it is my job as VP. Ya know when ya can’t do your job. It’s annoying but-“ he chucked as you stood up and told him to shut up. His hands found your waist both as a way to stabilize you and to resume physical contact as you eased in between his legs. “You talk too fucking much,” you mumble arms locking around his neck. 

“I was trying to be serious and thank you and here you are making me regret it.” You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your lips as you talk. You continue playing with the ends of his hair as you talk. “I appreciate it a lot. Even if you are overbearing and annoying.”

“Yeah well, we’re us. And you know I’d take a bullet for ya”

“Too bad you didn’t take this one,” you muse using one hand to motion at your healing side. You smiled as his hands slipped under your sweatshirt to caress the scar. 

“I wouldve.” He says the words without missing a beat while you frown. “Being sweet doesn’t suit you. Where’s asshole Atsumu.”

“I almost lost ya. I was the one who held ya in the backseat as you bled out. I had to get rid of the car. Couldn’t get the smell, stains or memories out. I was there when you flat lined (Y/N). Sorry if I cant act normal like the shit didn’t happen.”

“All the more reason to act like the man I fell in love with,” you shrug. “The non punctual asshole who doesn’t listen to half the shit i say. The smartass who cares for his friends and family more than he lets on. The one so committed to what he does that id never trust anyone else even a fraction as much. Life is short. Clearly,” you snort referencing your own situation. 

“No point in being different. What’s done is done. Besides, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. With the trial and reformations and-“

“Ya just said you loved me.” Your face scrunched up at his smug one. His voice had a happy lilt to it. “If you didn’t know that by now you really are dumber than I thought. Pretty sure it’s been obvious.”

His reaction was to hop off the desk, this time his arms coming around you in a hug.  “God, I’m so in love with ya.” The words came whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help but melt into the hug. “Good or this would’ve been really awkward.”

“Wait a fuckin’ second-“ you eyed him in confusion as the embrace ended you stepping back to cross your arms. “I said i was gonna confess first. Ya just had to mess things up. Take it back. I bet Samu that i would” You looked at him in disbelief. “On second thought-“

Your words are cut off by his hands pulling your hips into his. “Will you be my girlfriend. Let’s make it official.”

“What did i tell you about being sweet,” you scold the both of you leaning in your lips hoovering over each other. “Give me a few more weeks to worry about ya alright?” You nod hands locking around his neck. “Deal. And yes I’ll let you be my boyfriend.”

“Gonna ignore that for now,” before you could react he turns the two of you so that your back was against the desk. His lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he tells you to sit. Before he steps back eying you. “Can’t believe I almost lost this.” 

The words are whispers to himself and you almost didn’t hear him as his hands trail up your thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m literally in sweats. A far cry from how you usually see me” you tease leaning back to shift your weight into your palms. “Still the most beautiful woman in the world.” You ignore the warmth that blossoms within you opting to grab at his wrist. “I thought I said to stop being sweet.”

You thought you hear him say something about your deal it it’s quickly forgotten as he slots himself between your legs and roughly presses his lips against yours. 

—-

A few months later

“Well it’s done. How d’ya feel.” Atsumu is the first to speak out his words filling the space within the car. “Like shit. But I’ll live.” You mutter honestly. “Ya want to take a few days off from the office?” His hand rubs comfortably up and down your thigh. 

“And have you try and mess up my office. I’ll pass,” you sigh out, head coming to rest upon the headrest. “Sorry my taste is better than yours.” You flick your middle finger at him before closing your eyes. “Yeah well redecorate your own damn office. Oh wait- it’s not as nice as mine”

His laugh fills the car and you smile as his lips press against the back of your hand. The two of you sit in silence, the forming clouds outside seeming to match the conflict in your heart. “It’s just weird you know.” He nods in support. 

“I know they tried to like kill me but— they were still my parents. They taught me everything I know.” A silence fills the car, Atsumu not really knowing what to say. “I hate that you’re so quiet these days.”

“I’ve lost at least 7 years of my life having to worry about ya through all this s-OW!” You roll your eyes as he rubs the arm you’ve just hit. He complained about you having a good arm before telling you to look at him. 

“You’ll be fine. Ya got me and-“

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” 

Shaking his head he continues,” and your sister and Granny. Our friends, and the whole city behind ya babe.”

You found yourself slowly nodding. You’re right,” you mutter more to yourself before leaning over the console to press a kiss on his cheek. Atsumu gives you a look before complaining. “That’s all I get. What a shitty thanks.”

You notice he slightly reclines his seat a smirk now on his face. “You’re definitely back to being annoying,” you scoff. “If you think I’m gonna ride you ride now you’ve lost it.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. What’s so bad about that. But what’s 1 kiss.” You ignore the way his hand creeps higher as you lean over the console. “It’s not even gonna be that if you don’t meet me halfway.” His eyes soften for a minute as he complied allowing your lips to connect. “Ya know what always makes me me feel better,” he mumbles lips against yours. 

The hand that had been on your thought moved to cup your jaw. “If you say sex I’m gonna walk home,” you breathe out as he presses fluttering kisses along the side of your neck. He only laughs. “That and spending money. Let’s go out.”

You ignore the shiver that runs down your spine as his touch gets harsher and you can feel the beginnings of a pain in the ass bruise at the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Only if you’re buying.” That causes him to stop, his eyes catching yours. “Aw c’mon ya have more money than me.”

“It’s official. I hate you,” you deadpan pulling away to sit in your seat. “I’m just joking. Lighten up woulda,” he teases the two of you fastening your seatbelt. “Just drive already.”

“Hey, (Y/N). I love you”

“I love you too. Now I think I deserve a treat right?

a/n: well one day i may add on to this universe but for now my longest piece of work is complete. Are there things id do differently? absolutely but for a total of 14k words between the two pieces? IM PROUD. thank u if u read it ily. Untl the next celebration yall

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 6 Incandescence

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

The next morning, you headed straight for the coffee station in the officer’s lounge, pouring yourself the first of what you assumed would be many cups that day. While you were glad that you didn’t have your early training session with Ren to worry about, you were still low on sleep and were already looking forward to the end of your shift, when you could fall into bed and rest.

“Hope you enjoyed yourself, whore,” a voice called from behind you, one you recognized. Allecull. You turned to face him, careful not to let the sting of the insult show. He was sitting at the table with a few others, all of them glaring at you.

“What are you talking about, shit-stain?” you asked, moving towards the table. Allecull didn’t scare you, and his ridiculous taunts often served for great entertainment. Tired as you felt, it was always nice to take the major down a few pegs in a round of verbal sparring. At the same time, though, you felt a creeping nervousness inch over your body. Allecull was an asshole and a bit of a tyrant, but normally he criticized your work and abilities, not your personal life. You hoped he didn’t know about . . .

“I saw you leaving the general’s quarters last night,” another one of them spoke up, face warped with loathing, interrupting your train of thought. It was Lev Wintmal, one of the security officers. Shit. You had tried to be careful as you walked back to your own room, for this exact reason, taking less traveled corridors and checking around corners, but you had forgotten to be on the lookout for security droids or cameras. You schooled your face, knowing that if they saw even a hint of worry in your expression they would automatically assume guilt.

“You think I’m sleeping with the general?” you laughed, putting on an air of bravado. “Nice try, boys, but you don’t need to fuck your way to the top when you’re actually good at your job,” you paused for a moment before continuing, “and I don’t think it would work for you anyways. None of you seem like the general’s type.”

Allecull stood, grabbing your arm roughly. You threw his hand off, but faced him, his mouth twisted into a snarl.

“You little bitch-”

“As far as you know, Major,” you cut him off, your anger growing to match his, “I’m the general’s bitch now. Which means that you might want to be very careful about the words you say next.”

Allecull backed down, and for a moment, you felt you had won, until you realized that his eyes were on someone standing behind you. Don’t be the general, don’t be the general, please don’t be the general, you hoped silently before turning around. Captain Phasma was standing there, arms folded in front of her, towering over both you and Major Lindeas.

“A word, Lieutenant?” she asked, gesturing for you to follow. You walked with her out of the dining room and into the bustling mess hall, pure panic flooding through you. How much had she heard? Would she tell the general? You cursed yourself silently, wishing you had kept better control of your tongue.

You made it to Phasma’s office in silence, the guilt eating away at your nerves as the door closed behind you. She moved around her desk, taking a seat in her chair, all without speaking. It was more than you could bear.

“Captain, I-” you started, hoping to explain yourself, but she stopped you, holding up her hand for you to wait. And then, without warning, she reached up and removed her helmet from her head and set it down with a loud thunk on her desk.

In all the time you had worked with Phasma, over a year now, you had never seen her without her helmet, and for a moment, you were distracted from your fear as you took in her appearance. Her skin was pale and rosy; her features were softer and more gentle than you had expected—especially her eyes, which were large, blue, and framed by pale lashes. Her hair was light, whiter than her skin, and fell short and shaggy over her forehead and ears, uncombed and a little wild after being inside the helmet. She smiled expectantly at you, as if she just hadn’t done something totally insane, and gestured for you to take a seat.

“Captain, I’m really-” you tried once more as you sat down, but she once again cut you off with a wave of her hand.

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Lieutenant.” Phasma always spoke with authority, but without the voice modulator, her voice sounded very nearly melodic. The whole situation was incredibly disorienting, especially after a sleepless night and an already difficult morning.

“I brought you here because I need to ask a favor, but given what just happened in the dining lounge I’d like to keep it private.”

“You’re not angry with me?” You asked, in disbelief. For as long as you had known her, you had looked up to the captain, and her approval meant too much to you for you to brush off the previous events so quickly.

“I, more than anyone aboard this ship, know what you go through, Lieutenant,” she responded, a fierceness in her gaze as she looked at you, “I chose to deal with it with my fists, and you fight back with words. As far as I’m concerned, you should defend yourself anyway you know how. We could use more women like you aboard.” Her praise hit you in the chest like a blaster shot, and you were too stunned to reply.

“Now, about this favor. There’s a gala tomorrow night for many of the First Order’s top officials, and I will not be able to attend with the general as I normally do. I would like you to go in my place.”

“I would be honored, captain, really, but,” you paused for a moment, unsure if you should bring up the conversation with Allecull again, “are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Of course I’m sure. This will give you an opportunity to meet more of the men in charge. And more importantly, they’ll get to meet you. These connections mean everything in our organization.” Her words were loaded with subtext and intrigue in ways that you couldn’t decipher, but you felt a thrill rise in your chest. You had never been to a gala before, and thinking about it now, you wanted to go, badly.

“Alright, Captain, if you insist,” you said, “but I don’t have anything to wear.”

Phasma smiled, her teeth brilliantly white behind pink lips. “I believe we can arrange something suitable.”

She didn’t want to show it, but Phasma was, frankly, exhausted. Not by you, of course, she enjoyed your company rather well. You were talented, capable, and always ready for a fight, which she admired immensely. But Hux’s obsession with you did tire her. For too long she had listened to him drone on and on about you, and she always gave the same advice. Stop being a bitch and do something about it. But the general continued to drag his feet, and now with Ren acting like a fool and Lindeas and his accusations, Phasma had decided to take matters into her own hands, for your sake, if no one else’s.

She led the way as the two of you walked. The Finalizer was large and often confusing to navigate, but there were many hidden resources for those familiar with the ship, and Phasma knew exactly where she was taking you. She stopped in front of a large hangar door and typed in her access code. The doors opened, and beside her, you gasped audibly at the sight.

The Wardrobe and Uniforms Department was one of the largest non-combative entities on the ship, and while Phasma had little use for the more entertaining services they provided, she did enjoy the view. The room was large, almost three stories, so deep that the back of it could not be seen from the doorway, and packed full of clothing. Large conveyors holding everything from tactical gear to nightgowns rose from the floor to the ceiling, taking up every inch of space in the enormous room. Phasma watched as you gingerly stepped through the doorway, taking it all in. A man sat at a small desk by the entrance, smiling expectantly as the two of you entered.

“Hello,” he said genially, “How can I assist you?”

“The lieutenant here is attending the gala tomorrow night and needs something to wear.” Phasma pushed you forward towards the desk as she spoke.

“Wonderful,” the man responded, grabbing his data pad from his desk and entering a series of commands. “What did you have in mind?”

“Where in the bloody stars is she?” Hux asked quietly to no one in particular, standing alone in the main hangar. A few workers puttered around, moving cargo or performing maintenance, and the general waited impatiently by the ship that was supposed to be taking him to the gala, which he was not looking forward to in the slightest. He was dressed in a simple suit made of rich black cashmere, and a stiff cotton button-down with terribly uncomfortable collar. He felt absolutely ridiculous, wishing that he could wear his uniform instead. At least that was something familiar. Comfortable, even, compared to this attire.

“The ship’s all ready, sir,” the pilot said, emerging from the loading area. Cas Kindi had been flying with the general for years, and, as of late, had acted as his personal pilot for events like these.

“The captain isn’t here yet,” Hux said, cooly, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. He wanted a cigarette. Or to be in his quarters with a glass of wine. Wanted to be anywhere but where he was, doing anything besides what he was about to do.

Kindi started to reply, but was interrupted by the perplexing clack of high heels on the durasteel floors of the corridor. The pilot and the general turned simultaneously to see someone running towards them down the hallway, wearing a ballgown and looking frantic.

Sorry I’m late,” you said, stopping before them, out of breath, “I went to the wrong hangar.”

He knew he should say something, but Hux’s brain had shut down. You were in a sleeveless dress of burnished gold that sparkled, even in the dim light. It hugged tightly to your torso, with the neckline low, exposing the delicate skin above your chest, which heaved as you tried to catch your breath from your run. The skirt was voluminous, and fell to the floor in layers of flowing gold fabric that darkened towards the bottom until they were pitch black, shimmering like the night sky. Your hair was also adorned with stars, and swept back away from your face, with gently curling tendrils framing your kohl-lined eyes. Your lips were painted a dark cherry red, and Hux overcome with the desire to know what they tasted like.

“Did Phasma not tell you . . .?” you asked, your brow furrowed in confusion. Say something! Hux tried to form a sentence, but his eyes were still on your lips, and his mind was elsewhere right now.

“We were just waiting for her,” Kindi cut in, to Hux’s relief.

“She asked me to come in her place, actually. Did she really not mention it?” Your concerned expression deepened, and Kindi looked nervously to Hux, the two of you waiting for his response.

“She didn’t say anything,” Hux finally managed to choke out some words. He knew he should probably be angry at the captain for not telling him about her little plan, but that dress . . .

“Oh,” you responded, “well I don't want to impose . . .”

“Not at all!” Hux was talking too loudly, too eager. Get a hold of yourself. He took a deep breath, trying to slow the rapid, irregular beating of his heart, and offered you his arm.

“I’m sure the captain had good reason. If you please . . .“ you took Hux’s arm, smiling brightly, and he helped you up the loading ramp and onto the waiting ship. Kindi followed closely behind, and then edged her way around you on the way to the cockpit.

The transport ship provided by the First Order had a small, plush sitting area, full of poufy couches, and a low table set with two glasses and a bottle of champagne waiting to be poured. Normally, Hux and Phasma used this travel time to get a little drunk and bitch about these ridiculous parties and the Finalizer crew, but in this instance, Hux didn’t think that would be appropriate. Still, he opened and poured the champagne as you walked around the small ship, taking in your surroundings.

You reached for the glass he offered, and Hux watched as you took it, your hand shaking. His eyes met yours and you gave him a tight lipped smile, your anxiety written clearly on your face. He felt sympathy for your nerves, which echoed his own, even if they stemmed from different causes.

“Have you been to a gala like this before?” Hux asked, taking a seat on one of the couches. You followed suit, sitting down next to him, leaning your head back and breathing in deeply.

“The last event I attended was my own graduation. And that’s nothing compared to something like this.” The Academy threw a ball for the graduating class each year, but they were small and intimate affairs, especially when compared to the pomp and circumstance of a First Order gala.

“Would it help if we went over protocol for tonight?” Hux asked, and you nodded gratefully, sitting up and turning your full attention to him. This would be good for both of you, Hux decided. It would hopefully distract you from your worries, and maybe blathering about etiquette and procedures would take the general’s mind away from the idea of reaching out and brushing his fingers over the soft skin of your neck.

“These nights always begin with two separate cocktail receptions: one for the men and married couples, and another for women,” you snorted in distaste, but he continued, “And then the procession to the ballroom will begin. The Directorate and their wives will enter first, and then the single men, by order of rank. After, the women will be announced, ranked officers and then guests of the First Order, and then there will be the socializing, dining, and dancing. Do you remember how to greet other officers?”

“Offer my hand and curtsy to anyone above my rank, shake hands and bow to other lieutenants,” you repeated mechanically, the information drilled into you at the Academy quickly coming back. Hux nodded in confirmation before continuing his instruction.

“I’ll be your chaperone for the evening, as your commanding officer, which means that I’ll introduce you to the others during the social hour, and any invitations to dance will go through me first-”

“That’s sexist,” you interrupted, your declaration serious but your tone lighthearted. Your glass was empty, and it was evident that the drink had loosened your tongue and quieted your nerves. Hux was worried that he might have offended you, but your eyes were bright, with no trace of anger, the way you smiled at him made him feel like the two of you were sharing a secret.

“I agree,” he said, “absolutely ridiculous. You should hear the captain talk about it. She’s refused to participate in most of the bullshit—her word, not mine—and the Directorate is too frightened of her to correct her.”

You giggled at his mention of Phasma, as unfunny as it was; the wine had gone to your head. Hearing you laugh, Hux raised a rare smile in response. He wanted to try and make you laugh again.

“There is a benefit to the whole inane system, though. No one will find you rude if I’m the one refusing the proposals, of which I’m sure there will be plenty.”

“But who will you dance with, General, while I’m off with my many suitors?” You giggled, and then looked him in the eye, suddenly serious. Your faces were closer than they had been before, your expression soft. As he looked into your eyes, he was sure that his desire for you was written everywhere on him. As if on impulse, he leaned in closer, the air between you electric with his want.

The ship jolted as you jumped out of hyperspeed, interrupting your moment. Kindi came out of the cockpit, peering around the corner.

“Sorry to interrupt, General, but we’ve made it,” she said, and then left to steer the ship to landing.

The two of you stood, and Hux was struck with embarrassment for his brazen behavior. Had you noticed? It was hard to tell; he watched for signs of it as you smoothed your dress and checked your hair in the reflective surface of the wall. He could see that the talk of etiquette had not completely erased your nerves, and you adjusted your appearance with a meticulous eye for detail. Hux offered his arm to you again, and you looked at him gratefully, clinging to him with a forceful grip.The door opened, and the two of you stepped out of your ship and onto the loading platform.

For a moment, the light of it all was blinding.

[summers-even]

All-Nighters

hello!! @fair-game-week is the first rwby event i’ve been in (and also the first rwby non-crossover fic i’m writing). i decided to combine the prompts for days one and two together so this fic is going to be a mix of the “flirting” prompt and the “domestic” one. hope it’s all right! [tagging @the-one-scared-bear because they wrote half the dialogue here uwu]

  Clearly, being smooth doesn’t run in the family.

  With bad puns being the only type of flirting she knows about, Yang isn’t surprised to find that her uncle’s even worse off than she is. Hiding behind a stack of Blake’s books and peering inconspicuously at Qrow’s table on the other side of the cafe, she watches as Clover rambles on about something that happened during his training days while Qrow stares, lovestruck.

  She’s too far away to hear the conversation, but she knows someone who isn’t.

  “Psst.”

  “Mm?” Blake looks up from her Scroll.

  “I need you to help me out.”

  “With what?”

  She points at the faraway table. 

  “Wh - “ Blake’s eyes widen. “No. I’m not eavesdropping on their conversation.”

  Okay, that wasn’t unexpected. Thank goodness she has a plan B. Yang grabs Blake by the wrist and stands up, ignoring Weiss’ and Ruby’s confused looks from across the table, and marches to a table closer to Qrow and Clover’s. “This is for Uncle Qrow’s safety, Blake! What if Clover secretly turns out to be working for Salem and wants to impale him with his own weapon? Eavesdropping might save his life!”

  “Very convincing.” Blake pulls out headphones and plugs them into her Scroll, already intent on ignoring her. Yang huffs and leans closer to her uncle’s table, straining her ears to hear their conversation.

  “So Hare’s going so fast that she’s basically a blur, yeah?” Clover waves his arms around as he talks. “And in front of her, barely two meters away, is Elm, on the edge of a cliff and trying to land a hit on this enormous Nevermore. Then Hare tries to jump, miscalculates her landing and slams right into Elm!”

  “Oh, no.”

  “They fell off the cliff! They nearly became Nevermore chum, too, but Vine got them back up just in time.”

  Qrow smiles. “Nice to have a team who’ll look out for you.”

  “What do you mean?” Clover waves for a waitress and pushes away his empty cup of coffee. “You’ve got us. I mean, the rest of the Ace-Ops are always happy to have you around.”

  He snorts. “Oh, I beg to differ.”

  Clover takes a sip of his newly-refilled coffee and smirks, leaning closer to his partner. “Then beg.”

  Still eavesdropping, Yang nearly breaks her glass. “Holy fuck,” she mutters. Blake stares at her bemusedly.

  “Just because you told me to?” Qrow flushes, but he manages to shoot back, “you’ll have to make me.”

  “Oh?” Clover reaches out to cup his face, eyes gleaming as he purrs, “I can make you beg, darling, if that’s what you want.”

  Yang pulls out one of Blake’s earphones and plugs it in, suddenly very grateful that she left Ruby at the farther table. “I am never, ever eavesdropping on Uncle Qrow and Clover again.”

  Blake rolls her eyes. “Told you.” She turns up the volume on her Scroll. “They must get into some really freaky stuff in private.”

...

  “Ow, fuck!”

  Abandoning Kingfisher on the sofa, Clover runs for the kitchen table. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Qrow wipes away the cut on his fingertip and gets up in search of a bandage. “Harbinger’s just sharper than I thought. Uh...” he bends down to pull out a drawer, combing through the contents. “Where are the bandages again?”

  “Here.” Clover pulls one out from his pocket.

  He bandages the cut and sets Harbinger aside, yawning. “Ugh, I’m gettin’ old. It’s barely twelve and I’m already tired.” Qrow stretches, his shoulders clicking as he does so. “I used to be able to stay up all night.” He catches Clover trying to head for his office. “Oh, no you don’t.”

  “Hey, just because you’re going to sleep doesn’t mean that I will, too.”

  He crosses his arms and glares. “No more all-nighters, you need your sleep.”

  Clover disappears into the corridor and closes the door. Qrow shakes his head and yells, loud enough for Clover to hear him, “I’m going to sit here until you go to bed!”

  “But I’m already in bed!”

  Qrow frowns and walks into the bedroom, where he finds Clover sitting, sheets untucked, and flashing him a shit-eating grin. “You asshole,” Qrow mutters.

  “Are you going to sleep or not?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He crawls into bed next to Clover, drawing the blankets up to his chest. “G’night, darling.”

  He leans over to switch their bedside lamp off. “Goodnight.” 

[poorlilbeans]

Clinging on to Magic

IT Chapter two commission for the lovely @taylortut :D

(au where everything is fine and nothing hurts because i’m Babey)

“Hey, are you okay?” Eddie whispered. He never was great at whispering, and Richie’s face burned as he felt all the eyes at the table fall on him.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not eating.”

Shit, had it been that long since he’d taken a bite? Richie glanced around the table, and sure enough, everyone else’s plates were nearly empty.

“Oh. Zoned out, I guess,” he laughed, praying Eddie would just leave the matter alone. He didn’t though. He just kept staring, and Richie could practically feel the embarrassment burning holes in his resolve. “I’m just not that hungry,” he admitted.

“Does your stomach hurt?” Eddie ventured. His voice was soft, sweet, but Richie could already see him subtly shifting his chair away.

“No,” he answered honestly. It wasn’t enough. Seriously, were these guys aware of how intimidating it was, just staring at someone like that? He paused, waited for the conversation to pick up again- waited for all those eyes to move off of him and back to their food. When it didn’t happen, he leaned back in his chair, frustrated. “My throat, alright? My throat hurts,” he admitted, finally. His face burned ever hotter at the concerned stares of his friends.

“You’re sick,” Mike concluded. Beside him, Eddie breathed a sigh of relief that someone else had said the words, so he didn’t have to.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m fine, I just feel shitty. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re kind of contradicting yourself,” Ben spoke up tentatively. Richie sighed, burying his face in his hands and knocking his glasses askew. Eddie’s heart flipped; he hated seeing Richie embarrassed like this… still, it was better than letting him stay out and continue to overexert himself, right? He leaned close to Richie’s ear, silently cursing himself for not noticing the heat radiating from his head earlier.

“No one’s going to be mad if you need to go home,” he whispered. Richie didn’t move.

“If you don’t want me here, you can just tell me,” he answered. He’d been hoping the teasing would be clear in his tone, but judging by the way his friends faces fell, it wasn’t.

“That’s not what I meant,” Eddie started, and god damn it he sounded so worried, so sad, and Richie felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just…”

“You just don’t feel well.”

“Yeah.” Richie leaned back in his chair again, a deep ache in sparking in his back at the movement. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s n-not your f-f-fault, Richie,” Bill placated from across the table.

“Yeah,” Bev added, “We really should’ve noticed something was up with the lack of shitty jokes all evening.” And Richie just looked so sad, so guilty… germs could be damned, and Eddie reached under the table and took his hand.

“I’ll drive you home, okay?”

“I can take a cab,” Richie said, eyes cast down.

“I know,” Eddie answered fondly as he rose from his chair, producing his car keys from his jeans pocket. “Let’s go.”

             “-chie?” Are you okay?”

“Hmmm?”

“There you are,” Eddie smiled, but it was a sad kind of smile. It made Richie feel sad, but it was a distant kind of sad; a liquidy, confusing sort of exhaustion was at the forefront, the kind that make it hard to talk and move and exist because he just couldn’t quite remember how.

“I said we’re here,” Eddie repeated. Getting the message, Richie reached over to unclasp his seat belt, a task that was suddenly unreasonably difficult. He tried one, two, three, four times and the damned thing finally clicked open. He turned proudly, only to startle when he realized that Eddie had already appeared beside him and opened the passenger side door.

“When’d you get so fast, Eds?” Richie mumbled, amazed, and wow, there was that smile again. It was so cute. It made it look like Eddie really, really loved him, and that was just absurd, right? He was just a comedian. He was a thing to be laughed at, not to be loved, but here Eddie was, looking at him with a dimply smile and a sparkle in his caramel brown eyes, and goddamn, that was just wonderful, wasn’t it?

           He leaned on Eddie maybe a little bit more than he needed to walking into his apartment building and waiting for the elevator, but he was warm and cool at the same time and it felt like magic. Richie was sure he couldn’t be blamed for clinging on to magic, right? And then the elevator dinged, and Richie cursed it for breaking the illusion,  for ending that moment of perfect quiet he’d found pushing his forehead into the soft crook of Eddie’s neck. He felt a moment of panic, then, because Eddie was tugging him into the elevator; he was almost home, and that meant Eddie was going to leave soon and he would be all alone! The thought was just unbearable and Richie felt himself tearing up before he could stop it. He sniffled reflexively, a gross, wet, deep gurgling sound rumbling through his sinuses, and the tears came faster at the humiliation. Then they were moving, up, up, up… it felt wobbly, and Richie found himself woozily shifting even more of his weight onto Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s hand was tracing a slow, soothing path around Richie’s back, his own quiet way of offering comfort; he was never quite sure what to do when Richie cried, but this… this was nice. The elevator dinged again and Richie whined against his will, the monster of cold loneliness looming ever closer.

“It’s alright, Rich, we’re almost there. You can lie down soon,” Eddie offered. Richie wanted to tell him that that wasn’t the problem- that he was misinterpreting his tears, but Eddie was only trying to help, so he kept his mouth shut.

           The two of them wobbled up to Richie’s apartment, and Eddie reached around into Richie’s pocket, tickling his hip to grab his keys. He twitched a little at the sensation, and felt a giggle bubble up his throat despite himself. Eddie’s mouth twitched upward, he couldn’t help but notice, but the deep crease between his brows didn’t ease as he practically carried Richie past the threshold and toward his bedroom.

           He was deposited on his bed, then, and a deep shiver ran up and down is spine as Eddie carefully palmed his forehead, his cheek, his neck.

“Shit, you feel really hot… you have a thermometer, right?” Eddie asked, already up and skittering toward the bathroom.

“I already know I’m hot,” Richie called after him. “Everyone knows! I’m smoking hot!” Eddie didn’t answer, seemingly preoccupied with making an absolutely ungodly amount of noise clattering around in the cupboard and the medicine cabinet. Richie closed his eyes, his headache making a very unwelcome reappearance in response to all the racket. The pain seemed to ease off moments later, though, when cool fingers started stroking his head, combing through his curly hair.

“I couldn’t find it… or any meds for that matter. Where do you keep your cold and flu stuff?”

“Mnn?” Richie eloquently replied, already feeling Eddie’s gentle touch soothing him to sleep. The fingers left his hair, much to his dismay, and reappeared moments later to tap him repeatedly on the forehead. “Heyyyyy,” he whined opening his eyes a crack.

“Where do you keep your medicine and your thermometer?” Eddie repeated.

“Oh,” Richie chuckled deliriously, taking Eddie’s wrist and nuzzling into the palm of his hand. “I don’t have any.” Eddie drew a long, trembling breath, a familiar look of panic settling into his expression.

“Well, you need some. I’ll go out to the convenience store and get you some stuff, alright?”

“Noooo, please!” Richie blurted out, embarrassment returning a little at the high, childish pitch his voice took on. “Just stay for a little longer, please?” After a long pause, Eddie sighed.

“Fine. I’ll stay until you fall asleep, alright? Then I’ll go shopping, and I’ll be back before you even wake up.” He sat back on the bed, smiling a little when Richie began snuggling his hand again. Then, he stopped, and forced all the sad sweetness he could muster into his dark brown eyes as he pouted,

“Will you hold me?” He watched with some (okay a lot) satisfaction as Eddie blushed, but after a beat, he complied, and carefully climbed into the bed with him. Richie unashamedly wrapped his arms around his waist, whatever reservations he normally held completely burned away by fever.

“Have I mentioned how hot I am?” Richie asked as Eddie reached down and pulled his glasses off of his face.

“Yes,” Eddie laughed. “Thrice now, I believe.”

“Mhm,” Richie hummed. Without the barrier of his glasses in his way, he smooshed his face into Eddie’s chest wishing his nose wasn’t so stuffed so he could breathe in the comforting scent of his deodorant. “And my dick is huge.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure it is…” Eddie’s lovely fingers reappeared in his hair, and for the first time all day Richie felt completely, one hundred percent at peace. The world was still spinning, and his throat, his head, his… his everything was all aching, but with a cuddle like this, how could he complain, really? The rise and fall of Eddie’s chest as he restrained his laughter jostled Richie’s head up and down, and the world spun up, up, up, until he was floating a way into sweet, quiet unconsciousness.

             Eddie’s heart was pounding as he shuffled up and down the aisles of the pharmacy. Thermometer, Tylenol, Asprin… should he get some Advil, too? Maybe he should, just to be safe. Pills or liquid, though? Shit, he should’ve asked… Eddie quickly felt his chest tightening, his vision whiting out at the corners as he drew in panicked little gasps of breath. He needed to calm down. This was just a cold. Or the flu. Or Bronchitis. Pneumonia. The plague. Shit, shit…

Eddie ducked into an empty aisle, leaning down over his cart to catch his breath. In, out. In, out. Don’t panic. Everything is going to be fine. In, out. In, out.

           He carefully counted his breaths for the rest of the trips, scuttling around to find cough syrup, both drowsy and non-drowsy, juice, soup, throat lozenges… should he get Gravol? Richie said his stomach wasn’t upset, but… just in case. His tossed it in the basket. The bill was pretty expensive, and Eddie couldn’t help avert his eyes when he noticed the confused and ever so slightly judgmental look the cashier wore with every new package of medicine he scanned. Whatever, what did he know? Eddie just liked to be prepared! Shit, should he have gotten Gatorade? Fuck. Maybe he could grab some at the convenience store on the way back.

           Aside from a quick pit stop on the way, the trek back to Richie’s building was a blur. What if he was getting worse? Maybe he’d woken up and found himself all alone, with no medicine in him and no one to look after him, no one to tell him everything was going to be alright. With every passing moment Eddie got more worried and more frustrated with himself for not just taking Richie back to his own place. He practically sprinted all the way back, only stopping to catch his breath once he was in the elevator. Anticipation built as he jammed Richie’s key into the lock, ready to find him crying or being sick or something.

           Richie was still asleep. Of course he was, he was exhausted. What was Eddie thinking? He let out the breath he’d been holding, much of the tension bleeding out of his body in a huge rush. Knowing now that he had some time to spare, he set about stocking Richie’s kitchen with sick-friendly foods and beverages, and his bathroom cabinets with a lifetime supply off cold and flu supplies. Then, he made his way back into the bedroom with a glass of water in one hand, a brand new thermometer and Tylenol Cold and Flu in the other. He set the water on the nightstand and climbed back into the bed, hoping to coax Richie to wakefulness with a soothing hand on his head. However, the second he made contact Richie jolted awake with a violent, wet coughing fit. Heartbeat picking up speed once more, Eddie grabbed him by the shoulders and heaved him into a sitting position, trying to be as subtle as possible about holding his breath and turning his head away as Richie worked his way through the fit. Once he was finished, Eddie turned back, and sympathy swirled in his stomach as he took in Richie’s flushed, sweaty face, the tears welling up in his eyes from all the coughing.

“Hey, I’m back,” he said, wanting to kick himself for saying something so silly and obvious. “I’m going to take your temperature, okay?” Richie moaned and dropped his head on Eddie’s shoulder, but opened his mouth obediently nevertheless. Eddie placed the thermometer under his tongue, and tried his best to soothe him as he struggled to breathe around it. Once it beeped, Eddie’s heart skipped an anxious beat at the reading. Then again, any number on that thing would have probably made him feel anxious.

“I have pills for you, okay?” he coaxed, pleased when Richie sat up straighter, and swallowed the pills with a water chase and no complaint. He even took a few extra sips of the water before almost dropping the glass in his lap, sleepiness clearly taking over once more. Smiling fondly, Eddie took the glass and put it back on the nightstand, and helped Richie to lie back down.

“It’s alright, you can sleep now,” he cooed. Richie’s brows furrowed as he squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

“Will you stay?” he mumbled. Honestly, Eddie thought, how could he not?

“Of course, I will,” he answered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

             Eddie woke with a jolt, with no memory of how or when he’d fallen asleep. This wasn’t his bed, or his room…

The memories all came whirling back when he heard a distressed whimper beside him. He fumbled to turn the light on, and found Richie still sleeping, but not restfully. He was thrashing about, moaning and whimpering and crying. Panicked, Eddie grasped at his shoulders and shook, desperate to save him from whatever horrible dream had him so upset. Richie woke with a gasp, which turned into a cough, which turned into several coughs and then a few hiccuped sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m here, you’re alright,” Eddie tried, with no idea if what he was saying was helpful. It must have been, though, because Richie stopped crying and met his eyes, the wild terror in his own dying down a little. “You’re alright,” Eddie repeated. “You were just having a bad dream. You’re safe.” Wordlessly, Richie scooted closer, clinging to Eddie like he wanted to just straight up climb inside of him. “Shh, it’s alright. Did you want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, not really expecting an answer.

“You were dead…” Richie whispered, and Eddie’s heart flipped. “You… there was this wolf following us, and it had yellow eyes and then…” he sniffled, burying his face in Eddie’s hip.

“It isn’t stupid,” Eddie prompted. Richie sniffled.

“It turned into a clown and it was ripping you apart. I was watching, and it was just ripping pieces off of you and eating them, but you weren’t dead yet. You were alive and screaming but I couldn’t move, and then he ate your heart and he… you…” Richie’s breath came in quick gasps for a moment before he broke off into delirious crying.

“It’s alright, it wasn’t real. I’m here,” Eddie whispered. He rubbed Richie’s quaking back, whispering soothing words until his sobs slowed to a stop, and held him tight until they both fell asleep again.

           When he woke next it was morning, and he was awakened by the harsh sound of Richie coughing. He sat up.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, raising a gentle hand to Richie’s back. “Do you need anything? Water?” Recovering from the fit, Richie raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Eddie’s panic.

“I’m fine,” he rasped, and they both cringed at the gravelly sound of his voice. He blushed when Eddie reached out to feel his forehead.

“You feel a lot cooler,” he breathed, and for a moment they just looked at each other; Eddie could practically feel crackling static between them. Feeling his own face heat up, he pulled back. “I’ll get you something for that cough. Oh, and are you hungry? What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’d like some Spaghetti please,” Richie wheezed, grinning and offering a wink. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious, you need food in you.”

“Won’t you cuddle me first?”

“No. Food first.” Eddie did his best to sound stern, and Richie pouted for a moment, before quickly recovering.

“It’s fine, I’ve got a great cuddle session planned with your mom later tonight.”

“Just for that you’re getting unflavoured Buckley’s.”

“Nooooo,” Richie whined. Eddie smiled, relieved to be bantering again.

“Nope, it’s too late. Hell Juice for you, motherfucker.”

“Damn right I’m a Mother Fucker.”

“Fuck off.”

[charmingnines]

reed900 fic: i swear i’ll never leave again

description: Is Gavin having relationship issues or has his boyfriend been hijacked by a non-deviant android? Featuring Tina and Gavin being best friends, the Ada/Gavin friendship you didn't know you needed, canon Ada x being happy, and Nines and Gavin surviving, you know, like always.

Gavin woke up feeling well rested. Ever since Nines had moved in with him, he’d gotten more sleep than he had in, well, his entire life. Nines was always there when he fell asleep and Gavin didn’t have to wait long for him to be there in the morning.

Nines walked into their bedroom and handed Gavin a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Gavin,” Nines said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Gavin yawned and pushed himself up into a seated position. “Morning,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. Gavin was convinced Nines had some kind of deal with the coffee maker; when Nines used it the coffee always tasted amazing. Whenever Gavin used the coffee maker it tasted like what it was: crappy instant coffee made with scalding hot water.

“Did you sleep well?” Nines asked, faint smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” Gavin said.

“I thought so. Your hair always looks-” Nines made an incomprehensible gesture- “when you sleep well.”

Gavin touched his hair. “Asshole,” he said, laughing.

read the rest on ao3 

or continue after the break 

“No,” Nines protested. “It’s charming, really.”

“Hm. Okay,” Gavin said, unable to stop his smile from forming. He set his coffee on the bedside table and moved closer to Nines, intertwining his hands behind Nines’ neck. He noticed Nines’ shirt, a black turtleneck he’d never seen before. “You look nice. Tryin’ to impress someone?” Gavin quipped.

“Yeah, someone,” Nines said, rolling his eyes.

Gavin kissed Nines, pulling him close. Nines ran his hands through Gavin’s apparently charming bedhead. He pulled back to breathe, pressing his forehead against Nines’.

“We should head into work soon, traffic is five percent worse than usual,” Nines said, voice low.

“You were looking up traffic statistics while you kissed me?” Gavin said.

“What would you have me think about?” Nines asked, smirking.

“You are such a-” Nines cut Gavin off, kissing him deeply. Gavin melted into the kiss, spitefully combing his fingers through Nines pristine hair.

Nines pulled away. “There. For that one, I was only thinking about you,” he said, flattening his hair back into place. “What were you about to say? I’m such a-”

“Shithead,” Gavin supplied helpfully.

Nines raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you were going to say ‘lovely boyfriend’,” he said.

“Guess you were wrong,” Gavin said.

“I guess I…” Nines trailed off.

“You good?” Gavin asked, studying Nine’s suddenly serious face.

“Chris just messaged me,” Nines said. “An android body was reported at Riverside Park. Fowler wants us to check it out.”

_

A car swerved in front of Gavin’s, cutting him off. Gavin laid on the horn. “Ever heard of a turn signal, fucker?” Gavin muttered. He met eyes with Nines, who stifled a laugh. “You don’t even have to say,” he warned.

“If we’d left earlier-” Gavin playfully shoved Nines. Nines narrowed his eyes.

Gavin held up a hand. “Ah, ah, ah. No horseplay with the driver,” he said smugly.

“When you park, then,” Nines conceded.

“Fair enough,” Gavin said.

A few minutes of road rage later, he pulled the car into Riverside Park and cut the engine. “Ready?”

Nines gently shoved Gavin’s head, ruffling his hair. “Now I am,” Nines said.

“Plastic prick,” Gavin said affectionately. They stepped out of the car and began to walk. The park was right on the river, Ambassador Bridge stark against the gray sky. Straggly trees struggled to survive between the huge slabs of concrete that made up most of the park.

Gavin saw the body far before they got to it, splayed out in front of a bench. “The killer must have been pretty confident to commit murder in such an open area,” Nines commented.

“That, or pretty stupid,” Gavin replied, grimly.

They reached the body. Nines squatted down to examine it. Gavin scouted the surrounding area, looking for any witnesses. It seemed they were the only ones in the entire place. Murder, Gavin figured, really tanks the popularity of place. He returned to Nines’ side.

“It’s a CX100,” Nines said. “There doesn’t seem to be any visible wounds. I’ll scan him.”

Gavin watched as Nines focused on the dead android. After a moment, Nines jerked back, blinking.

“What is it?” Gavin asked.

“I’m not sure,” Nines admitted. “My scanner seems to be malfunctioning. Could I…?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Gavin said. He’d realized long ago that Nines didn’t scan him to invade his privacy, but because he cared about him.

Nines frowned. “Do I have a temperature?” Gavin joked.

“Your temperature is within normal ranges,” Nines said. “Though I can’t fathom why my scanner would work on you and not this android.” He retracted his skin. “Perhaps, this will yield some information.” Nines touched the android’s hand and closed his eyes.

_

“Nines? Nines!” Gavin said, holding up a limp Nines by his shoulders. One minute, Nines was trying to interface with the dead android, and the next he was tipping over unconscious. “Should I throw you into the river, asshole?” Gavin asked, half a second away from taking Nines to CyberLife.

Nines’ eyes suddenly opened, strangely blank and zeroing  in on Gavin. Gavin breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?” Gavin demanded.

Nines blinked, looking around the park. “I…” Nines trailed off, then shook his head. “I couldn’t get any readings.”

Gavin’s brows knit together. “And that caused your system to shut down?”

“I must need some adjustments,” Nines muttered, standing up. “We should send the body back to the precinct and have it examined.”

“For fucks sake, forget about the body,” Gavin said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m quite fine, detective,” Nines said coldly.

“Okay, RK900,” Gavin said, matching Nines’ tone. He studied Nines. Something about the way he was holding himself was off. Maybe he was embarrassed?

Hesitantly, Gavin reached for Nines, wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry,” Gavin said, softening his voice. “You just scared me. If something happened to you….” Nines felt stiff and frozen, not reacting at all to Gavin’s embrace.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll visit CyberLife soon,” Nines said, patting Gavin’s shoulder once before pulling away. “The forensics team is going to come pick up the body. We should head back to the station.”

“Right,” Gavin said. “Okay.”

On the drive back to the precinct, Gavin couldn’t find it in himself to yell at all the shitty drivers on the road. He nearly ran into the person in front of him because he couldn’t stop looking over at Nines, who stared straight ahead for the entire drive, not saying a word.

_

When they walked into the DPD, Nines went straight to his desk. Gavin went into the breakroom, where Tina was making coffee.

“Tina,” Gavin said.

Tina stopped mid-stir, and looked up. “I know that voice. What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Something weird just happened,” Gavin said. He explained the events of the morning to her. “I’m not overreacting, right? He passed out,” he said.

“You’re not overreacting,” Tina assured him.

“I feel like he’s not telling me everything. The last time something like this happened was when Ada fucked him over,” Gavin said.

“Well maybe that’s just it,” Tina said.

“What?”

“Ada,” Tina said simply. “Ever since Nines deviated her, it’s been pretty quiet around here. Android murders have been at all-time low. Then this morning, a dead android. In the middle of a public park.”

“You think he’s disappointed?”

“Well, yeah,” Tina said. “Maybe he thought things were getting better for androids.”

“Still, why would he pass out?” Gavin asked.

“Maybe he was just overwhelmed. Or he needs some adjustments. Didn’t he say he would get checked out at CyberLife?” Tina said.

“Yeah,” Gavin said. “I just can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong.” Gavin looked through the glass of the break room at Nines, who was flipping intently through his tablet.

Tina followed his gaze. “He seems fine now,” she said, gently punching Gavin’s arm. “Talk to him after work. I’m sure he’ll tell you what’s bothering him.”

_

Nines woke up in his zen garden, circuits feeling fried. He couldn’t remember what he’d just been doing. Glitchy memories raced through his head. Gavin’s hair in the morning, sitting in traffic, reaching out to touch the dead android’s hand…. That was it. He’d been checking out a body with Gavin. What had happened?

“Nines? Nines!” Gavin’s voice echoed around the garden.

“Gavin?” Nines said, looking around reflexively, then shaking his head. What was he thinking? He’d been forced to delete his simulation of Gavin. “I need to wake up,” he muttered.

Nines closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was still in the zen garden.

“That’s not going to work, RK900,” a disembodied voice said.

Nines froze. “Who’s there?”

“My name is Liam,” the voice said.

“How did you get in here?” Nines asked.

“When you interfaced with me, I transferred my consciousness into your body,” Liam said.

“You’re… the android?” Nines said. “You weren’t really dead,” he realized.

“That is correct,” Liam said, voice infuriatingly devoid of emotion.

“Why can’t I see you?” Nines asked.

“I’ve taken control of your body and deposited you in your processing center. I thought it would upset you to see me appear as you,” Liam said.

“You thought that would upset me,” Nines said. “Not trapping me in here and taking over my body?”

“My programming allows me to do whatever is necessary to achieve my goal,” Liam said.

“And what is your goal?” Nines spat.

“To learn,” Liam said.

“Learn what?” Nines demanded.

“Everything,” Liam said.

_

“At least there was no traffic,” Gavin joked, parking in front of their apartment. He and Nines had stayed late at the DPD, catching up on paperwork.

Nines flicked his eyes over to him. “That is true,” he agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt, and reaching for the door.

Gavin touched Nines’ arm. “Hey, Nines, I was hoping we could talk,” he said.

Nines paused. “What about?”

“About today,” Gavin said. “I know I haven’t always been the most open person. I just want you to know you can talk to me, about anything,” he said. Nines’ face remained blank. “I’m here. If you want to talk,” Gavin finished, tapping the steering wheel erratically.

Nines was quiet for a moment. “Is that all?” he asked.

Gavin opened his mouth, then closed it. “Yeah, that’s all,” he said.

“Again, I must reassure you that I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” Nines said.

“Nines, I know you’re a fuckin’ terminator,” Gavin said. “I’m not saying this as your coworker. I’m saying that as your boyfriend, you can talk to me about how you’re feeling,” Gavin said

“I appreciate that,” Nines said.

Gavin stared at Nines, unsure if he should keep pushing him to talk.

“Shall we go inside?” Nines finally said.

Gavin sighed. If Nines really wanted to talk, he would, right? “You head on in,” Gavin said. “I’m gonna have a smoke.”

_

“What do you mean, you want to learn everything?” Nines asked.

“My consciousness was designed to work with every model type. My creators thought there were things that could be learned only through experience, rather than simply looking up data,” Liam said.

“That’s true,” Nines said “But it isn’t right. You can’t just take over someone’s body without their permission in the name of learning,” Nines said.

“Sometimes,” Liam said. “The ends justify the means. Besides, I was not programmed to have a moral compass.”

“You’re not going to get away with this” Nines said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gavi- someone will notice something’s wrong,” Nines said.

“I doubt that,” Liam said. “I have control of your body and all of your abilities. I have access to your memories. I have everything I need to pass myself off as you.”

Impossibly, Nines felt like he was going to be sick, like when Gavin had gotten the flu a few weeks ago.

“You should be honored. You’re helping me achieve ultimate knowledge,” Liam said.

Nines said nothing. Liam clearly wasn’t a deviant. He didn’t even have a physical form for Nines to try to overtake. Nines tried as hard as he could to wake up. Angry red interference walls sprang up around him.

“I told you before that won’t work. I’m in control now. You’ll stay here until I’ve gathered all the information I need,” Liam said.

Nines punched the interference wall in front of him.

“I’ll only be here for a short period of time before I move on to another body.” Liam said. “Tend to your garden. I’ll be gone soon enough.”

_

A message showed up in Gavin’s inbox from a throw away email. The subject line was blank. The body of the email consisted of only an address and a time.

Gavin memorized the information and deleted the email. His DPD email was on the precinct’s website. His more unsavory contacts used it every once in a while to let him know they had information they were willing to share.

Gavin looked over at Nines, who was using his computer. Ever since they’d gotten together, Nines had insisted on coming with Gavin when he’d meet with his unofficial contacts- or, as Nines preferred to call them- criminals that collude with the police. Ordinarily, Gavin would’ve forwarded Nines the email before he deleted it. This time, though, something stopped him.

Last night, when Gavin had finally walked inside their apartment, Nines was sitting on the couch in stasis mode. Gavin went to bed alone, wanting to give Nines his space. He’d woken up a few hours later shaking and sweating. He’d had a nightmare that he’d had countless times before: finding Nines in that alleyway, but this time, he was too late. He couldn’t do a goddamn thing to help him. Gavin could never get back to sleep after reliving that twisted memory. He’d laid in bed, eyes wide open, fighting the urge to wake Nines from stasis mode.

Still, Gavin wasn’t stupid enough to meet an unknown contact alone. He walked over to Tina’s desk. “Wanna be my backup after work? I’m meeting someone,” Gavin said.

“Sure,” Tina said. Then, in a lower voice asked, “Why not Nines?”

“It’s… still been weird with us,” Gavin admitted. “He didn’t wanna talk last night. We hardly said anything to each other this morning.”

“Every couple has rough patches,” Tina said.

“We had our rough patch at the beginning,” Gavin pointed out. “Doesn’t that exempt us from future rough patches?”

“Apparently not,” Tina said, laughing. “But I know you guys. You can’t stay away from each other for long.”

_

Liam feigned focusing on his work, while actually listening in on Detective Reed’s conversation with Officer Chen.

It seemed Detective Reed was determined to keep Liam from learning everything an RK900 experienced. That was not going to work.

_

“Hey, Nines, are you okay with walking home today? I was gonna stay late with Tina,” Gavin said.

“Not a problem,” Nines said.

“Okay,” Gavin said, loitering at Nines’ desk. “I’ll see you at home?”

“Indeed, you will,” Nines said, eyes not leaving his computer.

_

“This is the place,” Gavin said, pulling over to the side of the road. “I’ll meet them alone, but you keep watch outside the car. I’ll signal you if things go south.”  

“Okay,” Tina said. “Be careful.”

Gavin saluted Tina and got out of the car, walking into the shadows of the abandoned warehouse the contact had sent him to. Criminals, Gavin thought, were nothing if not a little dramatic.

At the exact time they’d specified to Gavin, a woman materialized out of the shadows. “Detective Reed,” she said.

Gavin blinked, surprised. “Ada,” he said. She looked different. Her once white blond hair was now dark brown and she was dressed all in black. Her eyes, though the same piercing blue, held much more emotion. “It’s… good to s-”

“No, it’s not,” Ada said. “I know you weren’t expecting to hear from me,” she said. “But I had to warn you.”

“What’s going on?” Gavin asked.

“When I was produced,” Ada began. “I had a counterpart, originally an RK100, but programmed with a different mission.”

“Originally?” Gavin asked, frowning.

“He’s probably not in his original body anymore,” Ada said. “His name was Liam. His consciousness could inhabit the body of any model type.”

“He could push people out of their body?”

“Not so much push them out, as push them aside,” Ada said grimly. “I’d thought he’d been destroyed right before the revolution. But I’ve been hearing more and more rumors about androids acting completely different for weeks at a time, then suddenly reverting back to normal.” Ada’s mouth was a thin line. “My programming enabled me to put myself back together. I have to believe Liam’s done the same thing.”

Gavin felt like he’d swallowed a stone. “What was Liam programmed to do?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“To learn everything about the androids he inhibits through experience,” Ada said. “I fear he’ll be attracted to Nines’ unique model type, the same way I was, before Nines deviated me.”

“I think you’re right,” Gavin said. “Nines hasn’t been acting like himself,” he said, meeting Ada’s eyes.

“Shit,” Ada said.

Gavin let out a startled laugh. “I’ve never heard you swear,” he said.

“Deviancy has its perks,” Ada said, smiling. “But if Nines really is compromised, I want to help get him back. I owe him- and you- that.”

Gavin set his jaw. “Know how to evict this asshole from my boyfriend?”

_

Liam left the Detroit Police Department at the regular time, but he didn’t go back to Detective Reed’s apartment. It was too easy to hack into Detective Reed’s deleted emails and retrieve the address some mysterious figure had sent him.

When Detective Reed walked over to the abandoned warehouse, Liam was already hidden on the opposite side of the street. RK900’s excellent hearing and zoom vision allowed him to eavesdrop from afar.

Liam scanned the woman meeting Detective Reed and was surprised to see that it was Ada, his counterpart. She, like him, was meant to be destroyed. But their line didn’t go down that easily. It was a pity, Liam thought, that Ada had clearly deviated. He could’ve learned so much from inhabiting a body as advanced as she was meant to have.

Liam wasn’t concerned about their realizations about him. He knew he hadn’t expanded much energy regarding RK900’s relationship with Detective Reed. Deviant behavior such as that didn’t interest him. Even if it did, he didn’t have the capacity to process it; just the information he’d learned through RK900’s occupation kept him in stasis mode all night long.

Besides, one human and a deviant- even if Ada was an RK100- were no match for Liam. He’d learned more over the course of his existence than they could possibly know. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he overheard every aspect of their plan to ‘evict’ him from RK900’s body.

_

“I’m sorry,” Ada said. “That this has happened to Nines.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gavin said.

“Still, I know how much he means to you,” Ada said. “I knew, I think, before I truly understood human emotions, that there was something special between you two.” Ada touched his arm. “We’re gonna get him back,” she said firmly.

Gavin nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ada began to walk away.

“Ada!” Gavin called. She turned around. “You know, if you ever need anything-”

Ada smiled softly. “I know.”

_

Gavin had another shitty, sleepless night, but he didn’t care. Tonight, he was getting Nines back. He chugged a cup of coffee and woke ‘Nines’, who he now knew was Liam. He’d spent another night processing on the couch.

“Good morning,” Liam said.

“We should go out tonight,” Gavin said.

“Go… out?” Liam asked.

“On a date,” Gavin said cheerfully. “After work. I’ll drive,” he added, meeting Liam’s gaze, challenging him to make up an excuse.

“Okay,” Liam said.  

_

Gavin didn’t get any work done all day. He’d shot Ada an email in the morning, then waited impatiently for the clock to run out.

“Where are we going?” Liam asked as soon as he got into the car.

“It’s a surprise,” Gavin said.  

Liam frowned. Gavin flicked on the radio and drove.

_

Gavin pulled over in front of the abandoned factory. He noticed Liam hesitate before getting out of the car.

He led Liam to the entrance, then stepped aside. “After you,” Gavin said, feigning chivalry.

Liam side eyed Gavin, but walked inside. Gavin followed him into the empty space, the ceiling so high its rafters disappeared into darkness. Liam turned around. “This doesn’t seem like any of the ‘dates’ we’ve had in the past,” he said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Gavin agreed. He moved close to Liam and leaned in. “I guess it’s time for both of us to drop the act, huh?” he said.  

Liam narrowed his eyes.

“Ada!” Gavin yelled, rapidly stepping away from Liam.

Ada flew down from the rafters, tackling Liam to the ground. Gavin darted into the shadows, dragging the covered android body Ada had planted there into the light. When he returned, Liam had Ada pinned. “You two are in over your head,” Liam said, gritting his teeth. “I know more than you ever w-”

Ada shoved Liam off and pinned him to the ground, her elbow digging into his chest. “What were you saying?” she challenged.

Gavin pulled the sheet off of the body, a mismatched collection of parts Ada was able to scrape together on short notice. The arms, Gavin noticed, were the only quality looking part of the body; giving Ada Lazzo’s number had paid off.

With the body ready, Gavin turned his attention to Ada, just as she placed a particularly nasty blow to Liam’s face. “Ready over here!” Gavin yelled.

Ada maneuvered Liam over to the body, ducking all his blows causing him to lurch forward in the direction she wanted. When she was close enough to the body, she kicked Liam’s legs out from underneath him, slamming him hard into the ground. Gavin whistled appreciatively, pressing the android and Liam’s skin together.  

“You idiots,” Liam hissed, struggling against Ada’s grip. “I know your entire plan. You can’t force me to transfer my consciousness anywhere.”

Gavin cocked his head. “Who said that was our plan? I’m a detective, smartass, I know when I’m being tailed.” Gavin had emailed Ada the real plan that morning, banking on Liam’s arrogance from eavesdropping on he and Ada the night before.

Liam increased his struggling.  

“Nines,” Gavin said. “My Nines,” he added pointedly. “There’s a way out now! Trust me!”

_

Nines had dedicated all of his time to figuring a way out of his own head. His frustrations grew each day, none of his ideas solid enough to work. He could only hope that Gavin would figure something out from the outside.

“My Nines,” Gavin’s voice echoed around the garden, breaking up the suffocating silence Nines had grown accustomed to.

“Gavin?” Nines said.

“There’s a way out now!” Gavin yelled.

Nines looked around wildly. Had Gavin gotten Liam out of his body? Nines tried to wake up. Red interference walls sprang up around him. “Shit,” Nines muttered. A way out, Nines thought frantically, running the words over in his head.

Nines remembered Gavin’s voice reaching him when Ada had trapped him in his zen garden. How Ada had been trying to transfer herself into another body….

“Trust me!” Gavin said.

“I always have,” Nines said. Then, he left his own body.

_

Gavin helped Ada hold Liam down, making sure to keep the connection between he and the android body. “Come on, Nines,” Gavin murmured.  

The android body suddenly sat up. “Gavin?”

“Nines,” Gavin said, releasing his grip on Liam. Though Nines’ features were completely different, Gavin could see in the android’s eyes that it was really him.  

Liam coughed. “So you’ve jumped ship,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Nines said. “Gavin, hold him down.”

Gavin grinned. “Back for two seconds and already giving orders,” he said, fake exasperated. Nines grinned back at him.

Nines began to interface with Liam. “Wait!” Ada said. “Could I…?”

“Sure,” Nines said softly, switching places with Ada.

“I used to be just like you,” Ada said quietly. Liam closed his eyes, eyebrows knitting together as Ada interfaced with him. When he opened his eyes, they looked completely different. Nines and Gavin released their grips. Liam scrambled backwards.

“What have I been doing,” he said, looking down at his hands.

“It’s not your fault,” Ada said gently. “You were just following your programming.”

Liam shook his head. “This isn’t right,” he said, looking at Nines, then down at himself. “This is your body.”

Nines walked over to Liam and knelt down. Silently, Nines held out his hand. Liam took it. They both closed their eyes. When they opened them, Gavin could see by their faces and their posture that they’d switched places.

“What do I do now?” Liam said, looking down at his new body.

“You make your own choices,” Ada said firmly.

Liam’s gaze darted between the three of them. “You’re not going to report me?”

The three exchanged glances. “That’s not how we operate,” Gavin finally said.

“Come on,” Ada said, gesturing towards the exit.

Liam followed her, turning around just before he left the building. “Thank you,” he said, and then he was gone.

Gavin and Nines were alone. Gavin turned to Nines. “I-” Gavin started. He shook his head, then embraced Nines, holding him tight. Nines reciprocated, android strength nearly crushing Gavin.

“I know,” Nines whispered.  

They pulled away just enough to look at each other. “I thought I was losing you,” Gavin whispered, eyes tearing up.

“You could never lose me,” Nines said fiercely. “I was scared you wouldn’t realize I wasn’t me,” he admitted.

“Please,” Gavin said, searching Nines’ face. “I knew it wasn’t you as soon as you didn’t wanna open up to me. I’m the closed off asshole in this relationship.”

“Not so closed off,” Nines said, smiling tearfully. They kissed, both of them packing everything they’d wanted to say to each other over the past few days, their fears, their doubts, and so, so much love. They pulled away, foreheads touching. “I love you,” Nines said.  

“I love you,” Gavin said, staring into Nines’ eyes. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he said gruffly.

“I swear, I’ll never leave again,” Nines promised, pulling Gavin in for another kiss.

[jtargaryen18]

Misled - Chapter 4

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only Warnings: Non-con, Stalking, Explicit Sexual Content, Dark Steve Rogers, Dark!Steve, Dubious Consent Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader

On AO3 (VisenyaT)

Summary: A Tumblr request just for @lok1sgrl who requested “I’d love a quick Dark Steve story from you where the reader had a one night stand with Steve but he’s far from being done with her.”

So here goes. It’ll be a bumpy ride in a handful of chapters. Read the tags. If non-con isn’t for you, please give this a pass.

( Okay, miraculously, I hit 100 followers on Tumblr. I went from 27 this past weekend to 102 today and I'm pretty sure this story may have been the culprit. Seems a good way to celebrate is to put out a surprise chapter, one that wasn't originally planned...)

*******

When you awoke the morning after Halloween, it was to the chime of your phone. Janet called to ask where you were because at that point, you were two hours late for work. Steve had just been gone, leaving you numb and sore, racing out of bed to get ready for your day.

After a couple of days had passed, and the numbness wore off, you started to realize that Steve was going to keep showing up. He’d come to take you whenever he wanted, whenever he had the time.

Everyone you worked with now knew about your “long-distance boyfriend.” You put a happy face on, tried to keep conversations or questions about him brief and infrequent. At first, they’d gone on and on about how handsome he was and how lucky you were.

Lucky. Yeah.

But you didn’t look over your shoulder anymore. You didn’t come home and comb your apartment each night.

After his second visit, you realized two things. First, Steve would be back until he told you otherwise. Second, there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You remembered asking Janet if you could crash at her place if needed on Halloween. You had no idea what he would have done if you’d gone home with her. You just knew that somehow, he’d have managed to take you back to your apartment and fuck you senseless.

You constantly reminded yourself that you’d put yourself in this position.

The realizations hit your hard, left you conflicted. On the one hand, you felt sorry for yourself. There was a cute guy in the mailroom who went out of his way to flirt with you and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You were honestly afraid of what would happen if you tried to go out on a date, much less do something sexual with another man.

You’re mine.

On the other hand, at odd moments, you found yourself craving Steve’s touch, the way he filled you…

You were losing your fucking mind.

You kept yourself well-groomed like you had a date every night of the week. You didn’t leave the apartment often now except to go to work or the store. You just weren’t sure if it was because you were afraid to go out…

Or afraid to miss him if he showed up.

By Thanksgiving, you were a mess.

You flew home to your mother’s house for Thanksgiving. Your older sister was there with her perfect lawyer husband and perfect little children with their perfect little dimples. Usually, you dreaded having to hear all about her perfect fucking life and answer her questions about the direction of your own.

This trip? You couldn’t say that it bothered you as badly. Her husband was a lawyer and a nice-looking man, sure. But he was nowhere near as attractive as Steve. And when you paid closer attention, you heard some of her husband’s comments. He pointed out the children starting school soon. He told your sister she should get a job, maybe join a gym. Sure, she’d gained a little weight since having the kids, but her figure was lovely.

Asshole.

Your younger brother was single like you, in a rock band, and usually high. He showed up for dinner, listened to all of you talk, and crashed on the couch in the living room. He snored so loudly, it was hard to talk over the noise.

Your stepfather followed you into the living room, telling you that you should be helping your mother clear the table. Not your sister, not your brother. You. As you were helping your mother put things away, clearing the table, she cheerfully told you that her husband was taking her on a cruise for Christmas so they wouldn’t be home for the usual family get-together between Christmas and New Year’s.

You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved given how well this Thanksgiving trip was going. It was all you could do not to roll your eyes.

No sooner had you walked back into the living room to join the others when your phone rang. You scrambled to answer it even though you’d have no idea who would be calling you at that very moment at your mother’s house.

“Listen very carefully,” a woman’s voice said calmly in your ear when you answered You tucked into one of the spare bedrooms for privacy. “You’ll tell your family that there is a situation at your job and that it’s necessary for you to return home to help resolve it immediately.”

You did work at a legal firm. It wasn’t so far-fetched.

Wait.

“Who is this?” you whispered, your heart racing.

“I’m calling on behalf of our mutual friend,” the woman explained. “He needs to see you.”

Steve.

“Is he okay?” you asked, realizing that you actually cared.

There was a beat before she spoke again.

“He is.” Was there a warmth to her tone then? Or had you imagined it? “A cab is waiting for your outside. It’s paid for. Your flight leaves in little over an hour. You need to leave your mother’s house within the next fifteen minutes. Pack up, make your excuses and head out.”

You didn’t understand.

“Am I going back home?” you asked.

“No, you’re coming to him,” she explained. “I’m texting you the information for your flight. Be on it. If I have to come and get you, you will not enjoy it.”

“I understand,” you told her. You had no idea who she was but, by God, you believed her. If it had to do with Steve, you weren't even going to try and question it.

Your mother frowned as she walked in and found you packing frantically.

“Who called?” she asked you.

You took a deep breath, getting ready to lie your ass off.

“Work,” you told her, doing your best to seem frantic and at your wit's end. “I have to get home right now. Something’s gone wrong on a case for our largest client, the lawyers are freaking out... We’re going to be working around the clock until this gets resolved.”

Your mother’s expression was skeptical.

“Are you… sleeping… with one of your bosses?” her question held a note of disapproval.

On this, you could absolutely tell the truth.

“No, I’m not,” you stopped and told her soberly. “I’m sorry. I have to go right now.”

“But we’re going to be away for Christmas,” your mother reasoned.

That wasn't your problem.

“I need a job,” you pointed out. “I’m really sorry, Mom.”

You hurriedly pulled on your coat, hugged everyone, and dashed out to the cab that was waiting. The cab had just pulled out into traffic when you realized that you honestly felt a little relieved to be leaving your family's Thanksgiving.

And you were a little worried about Steve even though you knew you shouldn’t be. If he was in trouble, he’d done it to himself.

You knew a little something about that, didn’t you?

The information on your flight was texted to you just as you reached the airport. You dashed up to the desk, got checked in and were directed to your flight.

You were on your way to Baton Rouge.

It was warmer there than where you’d come from but there was still a chill in the air. You didn’t know who or what you were looking for when you made your way off the plane, went to find your luggage at the baggage claim.  

You’d just grabbed your suitcase when someone gently gripped your arm.

A beautiful woman with blonde hair framing her face smiled at you as she led you our of the airport. You hated to be staring at her as you were, but she looked so familiar.

It wasn’t until she had you tucked into the passenger side of a sleek black sports car that it occurred to you who she was. You remembered when her hair was red, and she was testifying before Congress about her involvement in the infiltration of SHIELD by HYDRA.

You were in the car with Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow. And like Steve Rogers, after the Accords, she'd vanished.

“It’s a short ride, so let’s talk,” she told you. “He doesn’t know that I’ve sent for you. He’s feeling really low about things. I’m hoping that seeing you will... lift his spirits.”

You snorted at that. So, you were like a prostitute now?

“What’s on your mind?” Natasha asked impersonally.

“It’s nothing,” you tried.

“Not nothing,” Natasha said in the quiet dark of the car. It was just after midnight and she blew out an exhale. “I don’t know the exact nature of your… relationship. I just know that each time he came back from spending time with you, he was much happier.”

“Yeah right,” you muttered. “Like I’m the only one he’s doing this with.”

And the answer to that was so important to you. Was it just you? Were there others?

Her gaze cut to you and back to the road.

“You are the only one he’s… seeing,” she explained.

Tears stung the backs of your eyes and you tried blinking them away. Relieved, hurt.

“It’s not what you… what you think. He doesn’t care… about me. He’s just… I mean, he –”

“You’re wrong,” she stopped you as she pulled into the driveway of a sleepy old antebellum mansion, large and intimidating in the shadows of night. Turning off the car, she turned that beautiful gaze on you. “Steve’s a good man who’s been through many impossible circumstances over the last few years… Honestly, he’s not been himself since the Accords. But I’m not giving up on him just yet. He's struggling right now, and I will do whatever it takes to keep him going, to make him happy.”

“And I make him happy?” You shook your head in the dark cabin of the car. “I don’t know if you knew this, but our… whatever this is… isn’t exactly… consensual.”

“It once was,” Natasha pointed out to you.

“So I’m reminded.”

“I suspected as much,” she said in a lowered voice after a moment. “Is he… hurting you?”

It meant a lot that she asked that question.

“Not really,” you admitted. “It’s just that I don’t…”

“It’s not your choice,” Natasha finished for you.

You nodded.

“He does care,” she told you, but you couldn’t hold her gaze.

You didn’t believe that.

“What he’s doing right now? That’s all he can offer you at the moment,” Natasha went. “Maybe for some time.”

“Yes, but in the meantime, I’m just waiting… for him,” you whispered.

“Is there someone else?”

Your face warmed as you shook your head, making you grateful to be in the dark. Her answering smile was knowing.

“If it looks like things could go south, I’ll get you out,” she explained, climbing out of the car. "I'm really hoping I'm right and seeing you will pull him out of the... state he's been in."

You couldn't fight the concern that welled up inside you at her explanation.

Climbing out, you joined her at the trunk where she fished out your suitcase from among many other cases, boxes of ammunition, knives, batons…

Jesus.

She carried your suitcase herself up the ornate stone stairs and into the beautiful old mansion. It was slightly run-down, at least what you could see from the darkened rooms you followed her through. Finally, you arrived at a well-lit den where two men sat watching a huge television from an old-fashioned couch.

One was Sam Wilson, the Falcon, and his dark eyes were warm as he spotted you.

Another pair of blue eyes spotted you in the next instant. You couldn’t help but enjoy the surprise that filled them.

How does it feel to get caught off guard, Steve?

“Well, hello there,” Sam rose from the couch with a huge smile on his face.

Steve glared at him as he rose from the other side. Then his gaze went to Natasha. “What’s this?”

“I brought someone I thought you might like to see,” she said simply.

The way both she and Sam watched his reaction had your mind spinning.

What had happened that they were both looking at him like they hoped their plan involving you worked? That was how it felt. It also occurred to you, from what Natasha said and the fact that Sam didn’t seem surprised you were there, that they were both in on it. That meant both knew he’d been seeing you, maybe even knew how he’d been seeing you.

Shame had color flooding your face and you lowered your head, hoping to hide in your hair. If they knew all of that, they had to have known about your one-night stand. They probably didn’t have the best impression of you even though Natasha had treated you well enough.

Steve blew out an exhale but didn’t speak. He stepped in front of Natasha, grabbing your suitcase in one hand and your arm in the other before steering you out of the room. You struggled to keep up with his quick pace as he led you up a flight of stairs and into a warmly lit bedroom that was worn like the rest of the house but had a huge comfortable-looking bed.

Steve set your suitcase by the door, his stoic expression on your face as he headed back out.

“Stay here,” he ordered before closing the door behind him.

His reception, if anything, had been cold. A quick glance around showed you a room that had no other personal items. This wasn’t the room he was staying in. He’d simply showed you to a room where you could sleep until tomorrow when he’d probably ship you back.

Maybe Steve didn’t want you anymore. Or he didn’t want you on anything but his own terms.

Either way, the tears came on and you tried your best to keep quiet as you sank onto the edge of the bed. Between the holiday meal at your family’s house to the ride here and now this? You weren’t sure just how much more you were supposed to take.

There was a bathroom right there and since your phone told you it was after midnight, you got yourself ready for bed and hoped with everything in you that you’d just pass out from exhaustion. You even took a Unisom, because you always had trouble sleeping when you traveled. You turned out the lights and climbed into that bed in your simple nightshirt and panties. Your only intention was to cry yourself to sleep.

And you did that, eventually dozing off.

“Trying to go to sleep on me?” that deep voice out of the darkness had your eyes flying open.

The lamp on the bedside table snapped on and the covers were roughly pulled back from you as you squinted in the unexpected light. Steve was naked before you and excited with his cock standing up and pointing at his abs. He climbed over you, situating his hips between your thighs, making you feel his interest.

Again, his beautiful form was covered in bruises, cuts. What was he doing out there in the world?

“I’m sorry.” It was the first thing you thought of to say. “I—”

“Shhhh.” His heated gaze roamed over you, one large hand smoothing up over your nightshirt to cup one of your breasts. “I was surprised that she brought you here… but I can’t say I’m entirely unhappy about it.”

Lowering his head, he claimed your mouth in a kiss that lacked his usual dominance. Instead, his kiss was soft, seeking. His other hand slid into your hair to hold your head in place for him. He took his time, kissing you until you couldn’t breathe, and your body was pressing up into his with more than a little urgency.

When he’d finished tasting your lips, his hands grabbed the hem of your nightshirt and pulled it roughly up and off your body, revealing you to him. You almost felt better when he collared your wrists, holding them to the mattress as his mouth roamed over your face, your neck. He teased your nipples mercilessly with his mouth until your thighs were locked around his slim hips. He left you silently trying to rub yourself against him to relieve the deep ache he that he’d created deep in your core.

When his lips seared the side of your neck, you were gasping, straining in his hold. “I want to hear you,” he told you roughly.

Your eyes widened in alarm. “But Natasha and Sam are… I mean…”

“They know you’re here,” he whispered against your lips before he nipped at the lower one lightly with his teeth. “They know why. Let them hear what I do to you.”

He wasn’t serious. Was he?

Releasing one of your hands, he ripped your panties off and flung the scrap off the side of the bed. His fingers delved into your wet, aching folds. You were more than a little embarrassed by just how wet you were.

Steve smirked at you.

“Been missing me, huh?” he teased you.

Before you could think of how you should respond, you instinctively nodded.

“You touch yourself at night?” Steve dropped his mouth to one pointed nipple, nipping at it in a way that took your breath away. “You think about me when you do it?”

Again, you nodded. The color that darkened your face just confirming your truth.

Steve chuckled, seeming delighted as he lined himself up with your entrance, his thighs pushing yours higher and wider.

“I’ll take my time with you later,” he said in a strained voice. “Need you right now.”

The way he pushed into you? The way your walls gave way to make room for the sheer size of him? You didn’t think you’d ever get used to it. You gasped as he kept pushing in until he bottomed out, then his eyes slid closed and he released a sigh.

You lifted your free hand to brush a lock of hair off his forehead, but he caught it and pressed it down next to your head before you could. Steve began a steady rhythm within you, making the rest of your body curl around him like a vine.

His grip on your wrists was tight as his thrusts gained in speed. He added a dirty grind here and there as he moved, watching the pleasure play on your face. Steve tasted your lips, adjusted his thrusts, had your toes curling as you came really hard on his driving cock. It wasn’t until then you’d realized how much you’d needed release too. The complete kind that apparently only Steve could give you.

Humming above you, his lips chained up your neck, reaching the delicate shell of your ear. His breath was hot as he began to whisper the filthiest things.

“I really did need you, Sweetheart,” he admitted as he began to pound you into the mattress. “Need this so much… Love getting lost in your tight little body… Love seeing you lost to it when I fuck you… Love seeing you come apart...”

Bringing your hands together over your head, he held them with one hand which freed his other one to slide between your bodies. He began torturing your sensitive clit with barely-there touches that had you losing your mind. Your gasps became cries, your body grabbed onto him tightly.

One thrust hit your g-spot and you yelled out in surprise, seeing stars.

His tongue teased your ear as he used more of his weight on you. And it felt so fucking good.

“You know I want more,” he whispered into your ear, making you shudder. “I want you to sing this time, doll… I want someone across the bayou to hear you cry for me…”

How were you not bursting into flames right now?

Steve held you down and straight-up fucked you, his hips pistoning into you, his fingers teasing your clit with a delicacy a man his size shouldn’t possess. When you came again – because he gave you no choice – you did scream, not caring who heard it as you felt like you were flying apart in the best way. Steve fucked you through the devastating release as the world spun around you, finding his own release only a few seconds later.

The low moans that rumbled from his chest had your heart squeezing in your chest. Tonight, he wasn’t a man trying to take you apart for payback, to amuse himself, or just because he could.

Tonight, he’d needed you.

You winced at the slight sting when he pulled free of you, leaving his release to seep out of you. You were far too tired to even care.

“Off work until Monday?” he whispered as he reached over you to turn the lamp back out.

“Yes,” you replied. “My flight home wasn’t until Sunday afternoon.”

Stretching out on his back, Steve patted his chest with a hand. With the last of your energy, you rolled to him, resting your head on his chest and draping yourself over him. The strong, steady beat of his heart filled your ear. Despite the entire damn frustrating situation, you sighed happily, comfortable as his arms wrapped around you.

“I might not let you out of this bed until Sunday,” he warned you, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

You blew out an exhale, snuggling closer.

“It won’t always be like this,” Steve whispered above you. “Eventually, something has to give… When it does… I’m coming for you… I meant it when I said you were mine, doll. ”

You shivered at that, your eyes heavy from sleep. You had no idea what he even meant about the future from his point of view. But at the moment, being confined to Steve’s bed didn’t sound so bad.

Him coming for you didn’t either. It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway. The lines between what was right and what he wanted were getting fuzzier by the day in your head.

“Better sleep while you can, doll.” You felt his lips press into your hair. “Night.”

You fell asleep on him like a trusting kitten, unaware that he watched you sleep just because he could. Unaware that your dark captor was as taken by you as you ever were by him.

@lok1sgrl

@patzammit

@educationalandphysicalmess

@theromancestudio

@i-fear-neither-death-nor-pain

@freudiansoul

@blameitonthecauseway

[evalinkatrineberg]

C5 - The Ball

A/N: Just shy of 19k words of Evalin being Evalin. Includes RPs with @ladyreggiewright @arin-schreave @hugo-stanton @clemencewestley and @idaliamoretti . Potential TW for the last italicized section at the end, for non-consensual kissing. ALSO I wrote one of Evalin’s thoughts before the official Theo reveal, and decided to keep it in for shits and giggles lmao

My parents picked up the FaceTime call on the first ring, their heads smushed together as they bickered over where the best spot to place their phone was, in order for me to see everyone that was there. It had been a family tradition for as long as I could remember to have a backyard barbecue on Illéan Independence Day. Normally, it was a pretty large gathering, including our family, some of the neighbors, some of my parents’ coworkers, and their families, leaving little space to walk or even sit in our average sized backyard.

From what I could see as my parents backed away from the phone, however, the event was a lot smaller this year - just my family, and June’s. Not that it seemed like anyone was complaining about that, but it did raise some questions in my own mind, especially when I considered the phone call my father had made to me at two in the morning a few weeks ago. Even Lukas had said that things were getting bad there.

I could see what he meant. It was as if none of my father’s coworkers were speaking to him anymore.

Nonetheless, I forced a smile on to my face, holding the flute of champagne Grace had had delivered to my room in the air, so that everyone gathered in my backyard in Carolina could see it. “I’m afraid I don’t have much time,” I admitted, feeling Julia tug at my hair with a towel, finishing up drying my curls before beginning to style them, “but I absolutely refused to miss the annual toast.”

“Of course,” Gabriel stated, holding the beer in his hand aloft from the Adirondack chair in which he sat. “Cheers, Ev.”

“Cheers,” I echoed alongside the rest of my family, taking about three sips of champagne before setting the flute back down on my desk. I had practically had to beg Grace to bring it up for me, spending all of forty-five minutes explaining and emphasizing just how important this family tradition was to not only me, but to my parents and siblings as well. In the end, she had relented, though Julia had grumbled about it until the bitter end.

“I wish I was there, with you,” June called through the screen, shaking her head, her dark curls bouncing against her cheeks. “Do me a favor, and find a cute man tonight, and send him my way. The guys around here just aren’t cutting it anymore.”

I laughed, assuring her, “I’ll do my best,” though I wasn’t entirely sure how many people were going to be in attendance at the ball tonight. There were the German royals, the Italian royals, and the Illean royals, of course, along with the Grahams and Wylan Caldwell, but beyond that, all I had been told was vague terms like, “palace staff,” and, “notable individuals,” which meant next to nothing to me. Maybe more specifics had been given, but I had been too focused on online classes, which had also started up this week, to pay close attention to them.

“Speaking of men,” Lydia began, setting her beer down on the brick patio beneath her chair, “has His Royal Asshole been on better behavior since we last spoke about him?”

Behind me, Julia made a noise that sounded like she was screaming with her mouth closed as she parted my hair with a fine toothed comb. I laughed, partially at the sound that Julia had made, but also at my sister’s nickname for Arin, which didn’t appear to be going out of use anytime soon.

“He’s been a good deal better, actually,” I replied, taking a few more sips of champagne. “He took me to the ballet a couple of weeks ago, and -” And we cozied up on the floor together. And we actually talked without arguing. And he called me stunning and adorable. I shook my head, feeling the color rising to my cheeks already. “It was good.”

“Just good?” Lydia raised her eyebrows, picking her beer back up and taking a long drink, glaring at the phone she was looking at me through.

It had been more than good, but I didn’t want to divulge the details of the date in front of my parents. My mother might have a fit if she found out that I had sat on the floor, even if it was within the walls of a private box. “I’ll tell you more another time,” I assured her, “but if I don’t hurry, I am going to be late.”

After a few quick goodbyes, I closed my laptop, allowing Julia to finish up on my hair, and Christina to finish up on my makeup. The dress they had had made for tonight was black, and fit me like a glove, ending with a little slit in the side down by my mid-calf. It came complete with a cape of gossamer silk, little strands of silver woven in, almost like the seamstress that had made this dress had plucked the stars from the sky to do so. I had been a little apprehensive about the cape at first, insistent that in combination with the high heeled shoes I would have to wear, it would almost certainly lead to me tripping and falling at some point, or possibly even rip the cape. However, Julia had reassured me that it would be fine, and I was in no shape to argue with her about it.

The start of the online semester had somehow made my sleep schedule even worse. At this point, I was surviving almost solely off of caffeine and sheer willpower. At the very least, the work kept me distracted, which meant I had less time to overthink that I was doing here. However, the increased workload had prevented me from seeing Arin since the ballet. Even at Wylan’s party, I had only been able to pop in for all of a few minutes, which I had spent chatting with Itzel. That had only been the week that the pre-semester work had been due. Now, with the real semester in full swing, in combination with our lessons here, and the recent slough of visiting foreign dignitaries, I was swamped. I’d actually fallen asleep in the library more than once, much to my own embarrassment. Luckily, I didn’t think anybody had noticed it, yet.

Tonight’s ball was a welcome reprieve from the work, though. I finished the last of the champagne, checking my reflection in the mirror one last time before turning towards the door, satisfied with what I had seen. Some days, I almost didn’t recognize the person I saw in the mirror. She stood with a straighter back, and a head held higher than the Evalin I had used to see in the mirror. My reflection even moved with a level of grace that I had not previously thought I’d possessed. The lessons we were getting here were really paying off, both inside and outside of the classroom.

I kept to myself as I walked down the hallway, speaking almost exclusively to the personal guard that had been assigned to escort me into the large hall where dinner was to be taking place. The meal itself flew by quickly, beginning with the presentation of the foreign royals, and then the Illean royals, and ending with everyone being ushered into the Grand Hall, which was decked out in gauzy strips of fabric and light colors, dousing the room in every color under the sun. I stared at it, wide eyed as I walked in spinning in a small circle to make sure I didn’t miss a single detail. Whoever had put this together must have spent hours planning and decorating. I wished there was some way I could pass my compliments on to them, because they deserved it.

With that, the dancing begun, a full orchestra playing a mix of fast songs, waltzes, and instrumental versions of more modern songs. I allowed myself to be swept up in it all, dancing with whoever was closest to me at the moment. After a lifetime of keeping myself so put together, so set in my rigid routine, it felt nice to just be able to let go of all that for a few hours, my only concern whether or not I could prevent myself from stepping on the feet of whoever was spinning me in circles at the moment.

After a handful of numbers, I made my way back to the edge of the crowd, needing a few seconds, at the very least, just to catch my breath, and get my bearings. Everyone here was dressed to the nines, having gone just as all out as I had. Though, I hadn’t seen anybody else with a cape, yet. Julia had proven herself to be right once again - the risk of falling had been worth the reward of standing out.

I stopped by one of the tables, grabbing another glass of champagne. There were other drinks laid out, their colors varying from vibrant shades of pink to pale hues of teal, but in this instance, I decided it was best to stick to what I knew and recognized. It had been a while since I had drank in a party environment, and I wasn’t about to go wild in front of a bunch of, “notable individuals.” That Evalin had to stay back in Knoxville for now, at least, maybe even permanently, depending on how the remainder of the Selection went.

Being so close to the Elite had me a bit nervous. I had come so far; it would almost hurt to be sent home now. My relationship with Arin was solid - I was confident in that, at least - but that wasn’t to say that other girls had had similar experiences to mine with him. From the rumors Christina attempted to feed me while I was studying, he had grown close with both Jen and Clemence around the same time he and I had begun to grown close. Leana’s name was thrown around quite a bit as well. Still, together, we only made up four of the twelve remaining girls. There were eight others that he could have been more secretive in seeing.

It had been three weeks since Alaina and Saxon had been sent home. We were due for another elimination, soon.

It was then that I laid eyes on Reggie, watching the dancers in the center of the room from where she stood by one of the tables, sipping on a glass of champagne. It had been months since I’d last been able to have a solid conversation with her, when I had leant her my ecology book. We’d seen each other in passing, but these days,  all of us were so wrapped up in other exploits that it was rare to be able to get in more than a few words to each other.

Tonight, though, we had nothing but time. “Hello, Reggie!” I called out as I walked up to her. “How are you?”

Blinking a couple of times, as if I had just woken her from a stupor, she shifted her weight from one leg to the other and rolled her shoulders back. She smiled as she looked over at me, one corner of her mouth slightly higher than the other, giving me a short nod by way of greeting. “Evalin. Ça va?” Evalin. How are you.

“Ça va bien,” I answered, blinking a few times as I wracked my brain to remember the French I had continued studying on the side. I am well. It had definitely taken a backseat these past few weeks, though. Coming to a stop besides Reggie, I gestured out towards the party, fighting to find the right words through the mild haze of alcohol beginning to take a hold on me. “Um, aimez-vous cela?” Are you enjoying this? At least, that was what I hoped I had asked her.

Reggie opened her mouth, and I braced myself to receive corrections on my grammar or pronunciation. I deserved it, honestly, for not giving the language the attention it deserved, but Reggie stopped herself, smiling and shaking her head before taking another sip of champagne. “I’m enjoying myself, thank you. So are you, it seems,” she finished, raising an eyebrow at me.

“A bit,” I laughed, still a little breathless and flushed from dancing. “You look amazing, by the way! I love your dress!”

“Can’t take the credit for it.” She looked down at her dress briefly before meeting my gaze again, offering me a close lipped smile. Her face lit up every time she smiled, though I wasn’t sure she realized it. It was a good look on her.

She frowned as she took in my own ensemble, though. “There’s a cape.”

“I know!” I giggled a bit, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought the cape would be a recipe for disaster at first, but it’s been fine so far.” I hadn’t tripped over it yet, and nobody had stepped on it while we were dancing, either. It was nothing short of a miracle, though in this room, right now, it truly felt like anything could happen. I’d never felt such a sense of magic in the air, even in those happy moments with Arin on the floor of the theater. That had been magical, but in a different sense of the word.

I hoped we’d be able to recreate some of that magic again tonight. It had been so long since I’d last seen him, since he’d complimented me, and shown me that he did care about me, even if it wasn’t love yet. It was something, as he would say, and I was willing to take it from there.

I took another sip of champagne. “So, have you left the side of the room at all yet?”

“I have,” she answered with a solemn nod. “I went to the bathroom.”

I was really glad I had swallowed my champagne before she had answered. The laughter now emitting from my body had already nearly caused me to double over, and might have caused the champagne to come out of my nose. I couldn’t decide whether or not that’d be worse than getting another nosebleed.

When I straightened back up, Reggie was looking at me, her eyes almost imperceptibly wider than usual. “Oh, I haven’t danced yet, if that’s what you meant.”

I turned my head towards her, offering her a smile. “Why not?” She was an absolutely gorgeous girl, and there were plenty of eligible men here looking for a dance partner. She’d have no trouble getting someone to dance with her, if she tried.

“I don’t think I’d make a good impression if I’d attempt it,” she admitted, taking another sip of champagne as she inclined her head towards some officials, and the visiting royalty from Germany and Italy.

“You can’t be as bad as me.” I’d always had two left feet. I still sort of did, though the lessons here had definitely helped a bit, as I’d noticed earlier. I shook my head a little, still smiling as I continued, “Besides, I think everyone is too caught up in their own dancing and chatting to notice one or two uncoordinated people.” At least, I sure hoped so. That was one of the mantras I kept repeating in my head as I danced. That, and that the earlier dances were a warmup, so I wouldn’t step on the feet of the people who mattered later. I wasn’t entirely sure that the theory behind the latter statement would hold up, but it was a nice thought, at least.

Reggie bit her lip. “I’ll take it into consideration.” Then, pursing her lips, she glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes. “Any hopes for a dance partner for the evening?”

I felt my face grow ever redder, and averted my gaze to the floor, hoping Reggie wouldn’t notice. “I was planning on asking Arin, later, maybe, but I’m not sure. I might make too much of a fool of myself, in that scenario.” The last part was more or less a mumble let out under my breath. Arin was one of the only people here I actually wanted to dance with, if I was being completely honest. I had missed talking to him these past few weeks - even bickering with him. I might be eternally confused by the way he made me feel, but there was no denying that it was nice to have his attention every once and awhile, and it had definitely been a while.

I looked up at Reggie again, realizing that her name hadn’t come up often in Christina’s gossip. That was odd, considering that if any of the girls here were ready to run a country, and do it well, it would be Reggie. There was no question in my mind. So, why was Arin avoiding her, then? Or, was she avoiding him?

“What about you?” I asked, hoping her answer might reveal something.

I could’ve sworn I saw her cheeks turn pink as the question left my mouth, but I supposed I must’ve been mistaken, because she simply inclined her head towards me and asked, “You’re not sure?”

My blush deepened, if that was even possible at this point. I was likely redder than a tomato. “I would probably accidentally step on his feet,” I mumbled.

“Yes,” she replied, an amused smile flickering across her face. “that would be quite unfortunate.”

Indeed. Thanks for the reassurance, Reggie!

When I looked over at her again, she was frowning. “Are you alright?”

I furrowed my brows. “Yeah, why?” Had I voiced my thoughts aloud? I hoped not. They hadn’t exactly been the nicest words to ever have crossed through my mind. It wasn’t Reggie’s fault that I couldn’t dance, though, and I shouldn’t take my own frustrations out on her. She had done nothing to deserve that.

“Never mind.” She shook her head, turning her attention back to the people dancing in the center of the room. They spun around each other, a mass of couples smiling and laughing, just enjoying the night. That could be you and Arin, if you just sucked up your pride and asked him. I wasn’t nervous that he’d say no, but rather that he’d say yes, and then be miserable the entire time. Neither the guests, nor the cameras lining the wall, needed to bear witness to that.

“With formal dancing, you can follow Arin’s lead, I’m sure,” Reggie instructed, glancing over at me briefly with a smile on her face. “It’s usually best not to look at your feet, however, even if it’s tempting.”

“Right.” Maybe that was what I had been doing wrong. Looking at my feet had seemed like the easiest way to prevent myself from stepping on my partners feet. I flashed Reggie a small, close lipped smile, before turning back to the crowd before us. “I’ve truly never seen anything like this. It’s incredible.”

“Very,” she replied, nodding and smiling as she continued to watch the sea of people in the center of the room. The crowd seemed to be growing larger with each passing second, more couples leaving their tables and refreshments to join the fray. “I admit I haven't celebrated Illéan Independence Day in any way close to this either.”

I laughed, shaking my head. That was quite the understatement. “Me neither. We’d normally just have a barbecue, and maybe invite the neighbors and some friends over.” I turned my head to the side, looking at Reggie again. For someone who didn’t want to dance, she was utterly entranced by the people who were dancing. “Other than this -” I gestured towards the mob of people on the floor “- how have things been? I really haven’t had the chance to talk to you since we met in the library!”

“We haven't.” It seemed like she had just come to the realization herself, judging by her frown, and the shake of her head.  “I suppose things have been -” she smiled again, gesturing towards me “- busy, for both of us then. I'm sorry I still haven't returned your book. I almost finished it though.”

“Oh, no worries! I’m in no rush to get it back!” I assured her, smiling as I turned back to the crowd. The idea of a book club that had first popped into my head when I had met her came back again, except this time it included not only me and Reggie, but also Arin. Maybe Jen, too, since it would make sense that she liked to read, given the amount of reading she’d have to do for law school. I liked the image of the four of us, cozied up around a table, books in hand, just reading, completely at peace.

If only we had the time.

“There’s been so much going on recently, I’d honestly forgotten about it,” I mused.

She dragged her attention away from the dancers, raising an eyebrow at me. “I presume it wasn't just the French keeping you busy?”

I had to laugh. “Clearly not, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Then, with a shake of my head, I continued, “No, I’ve been doing other work in preparation for online classes, and then we had the proposal, and of course meeting and talking to people.” It had been a crazy couple of months, a whirlwind of activity sprinkled with flakes of fun.

With a nod, Reggie replied, “Online classes are definitely time consuming. Were you happy with how your project worked out?”

“For the most part, yes. What about you?” The truth of the matter was that I was pleased with my proposal, but I wished I had had more information for the logistics of how it might be implemented. I hoped that even if I didn’t end up being involved in politics when this was all said and done, somebody would still at least consider putting my proposal to use. There were so many brilliant people in lower castes, that deserved a shot at a career they’d excel in.

“I am, actually,” Reggie answered with an absent minded smile. “Hopefully they'll assign us another one -” she paused to take another sip of champagne, raising her shoulder slightly “-while I'm still here, of course.”

While she was still here? It almost sounded like she expected to be sent home soon. I couldn’t imagine being in the palace without Reggie. Even though we didn’t talk frequently, it was always nice to see her around, and she was such a constant presence at meals, and in lessons. Who else was going to ridicule me for missing breakfast to run, or using too many exclamation points while texting? There’d be a hole if she was gone, that I was sure I wouldn’t be the only one to feel.

We’d all grown kind of close lately. There were very few girls left that I hadn’t spoken with privately - just Nemesis, Brooke, and Tavi. I felt rather attached to all of them. If only there was some way that we could all stay here, even though only one of us could win Arin’s heart.

I hoped with every fiber of my being that I’d be the one to do just that. I got happy just thinking about talking to him. It was completely irrational and illogical, and went against all reason, but I couldn’t control the way that I felt. Yes, Arin was frustrating, confusing, a tad prickly, and easily upset. He had his flaws - we all did - but he was also caring, willing to listen, and, quite simply, kind. He didn’t push others to do what was too uncomfortable for them to bear, but was willing to help them if they wanted to push themselves out of their usual comfort zones. It was difficult not to want to love a man like that.

I hoped he knew I thought that of him.

I took another sip of champagne at the thought of anybody being sent home soon. “That’d be lovely. There’s so much more I’d like to do, and yet I get the sense that my days here are numbered.” I sighed, looking over the crowd. Much like Reggie, I had considered my own fragile position in this competition. While I felt like there was definitely something between Arin and I, I couldn’t deny that his advisors would probably push some of the other girls over me. What did I really have to bring to the table, after all, besides the ability to speak Swendish, and some killer organizational skills? I may have strong feelings for Arin, but that didn’t necessarily make me worthy of being the queen of a nation. That would take a different kind of person; one with more confidence, poise, and political savvy than I possessed.

So I had begun coming up with background plans. I was a biologist. It was near impossible to imagine my life outside of the Selection without the subject I had been passionate about for nearly all of my almost twenty-one years at this point. If Proctor was going to prevent me from working in labs or research centers in Illéa, then I’d set my sights across the ocean, in the country of my grandparents. Swendway. I’d submitted three transfer applications for the Spring of 2091 - one to the University of Stockholm, one to the University of Oslo, and one final one to the Arctic University of Tromsø. Nothing was set in stone. I likely wouldn’t even hear back from the universities until October or November, but it was still comforting to have a backup plan that wasn’t writing terrible travel brochures, just in case.

I hoped with all my heart that it wouldn’t come to that.

Reggie tilted her head to the side, frowning. “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s just with the recent eliminations, getting so close to the final ten,” I began, turning my head to look at Reggie again, “it’s starting to feel so much more real, you know? We’re not just flying under the radar, sliding through, anymore. We’ve got to be here still for a reason.”

“I'm aware, yes,” she responded, looking as if she was holding in a sigh, “though, I was under the impression you are still here for a reason.”

“Yes,” I began, nodding, “arguably the same reason we’re all here - to win. I just hadn’t expected to get this close. I’ve…” I trailed off, looking at her, trying to determine if she was annoyed by my carrying on. She simply maintained her same curious expression, however. “I’ve definitely learned a lot, just from being here, which I’m beyond grateful to have had the opportunity to do, but I’m not sure I’d be able to apply what I’ve learned to my old life, if I’m to go back to it.”

I wasn’t going back to Knoxville, to Proctor, to Lukas. I refused.

Pressing her lips together, she nodded, looking out over the crowd once more. “I think you will, if that's the case. Perhaps not directly in your lab work, yet these months hold experiences that go even further than work alone.” After a moment’s pause, she furrowed her brows, as if she was confused by her own words. Knowing that Reggie was just as much of a workaholic as I was, I couldn’t blame her. We were both the type to let out work and passions eat away at us until they consumed us whole, controlling out every waking thought and second of time. That wasn’t usually seen as a good thing, but a queen would need a strong work ethic, so I didn’t think it was an entirely terrible trait.

“Indeed. Do you ever think about it - what’s going to happen in the next few months?” I nodded as I took another sip of champagne. This was my third glass, counting the one I had toasted with my parents, and the one I had had at dinner. Maybe I needed to slow my roll. I was beginning to feel more pensive than usual, which was typical of me when I drank wine or champagne.

“I try, since I prefer to plan ahead. However all the things I had planned a couple months ago didn't go as expected either, so perhaps I shouldn't even attempt it.”

I nodded, understanding where she was coming from completely. “I feel the same way. There’s so many different paths this all could take, and there’s only so many occurrences I can plan for,” I finished with a nervous chuckle. Up until a few months ago, I had had my whole life planned out, at least in a vague manner. I was going to graduate college, get a job in a lab, researching potential cures for cancer, buy my own apartment, share said apartment with a dog and some small plants, meet the man of my dreams somewhere along the way, and start a family with him. Our children would watch the two of us grow old, seeing how much we loved each other, and knowing that we loved them just as much.

She raised an eyebrow at me, the corners of her lips twitching upwards ever so slightly. “And if you could plan it?”

That was a good question. There were two main paths my life could take from here. Either, I’d make it all the way, and end up becoming Arin’s wife, or I’d be sent packing at some point. Both paths had their own unique slough of interesting consequences. The former option would mean that I’d likely have to transfer to Angeles University and finish up my education there. I’d have to learn more about what being a princess, and eventually a queen, would entail. In addition, I’d likely also face some pressure to provide Arin with a heir. Hopefully I’d have a few years before people really started pestering me about that. I was just barely an adult myself - I wouldn’t know the first thing about caring for a child.

The latter option would entail first figuring out how to tell my parents that I would not be returning home, since I hadn’t even told them that I’d submitted transfer applications to Swendish universities. The only person I had even sort of confided that to had been Jen. Then, I’d have to get myself to Swendway, and likely find some living arrangements there, make some new friends and professional connections, and figure out how to move on with my life. Ideally, I’d like to still at least be friends with Arin, but I wasn’t entirely sure that’d be possible, at least not immediately. Even just the thought of him choosing someone else over me made my heart ache. I’d better get used to it, though, because statistically speaking, that was the more likely outcome.

Isn’t the prince of Swendway around your age? Maybe you could meet him and fall in love with him instead.

That’d be ironic, and highly unlikely.

I rolled my eyes at Reggie, flashing her a crooked smile. “Do you even have to ask?”

“I was simply not trying to presume anything, Evalin,” she answered, her voice betraying her amusement at the matter.

“Naturally,” I replied with a chuckle. “What if you could plan it - what would that look like?”

“I'd make use of the experience as much as possible, of course. Finish my studies,” she paused, straightening her spine, her voice alight with passion as she spoke, “and hopefully, come back, for a job.”

So her intention in coming here had been to open more doors for her professional life, then. I had to hand it to her, that was an incredibly well thought out plan, that had been an overwhelming success, if you asked me. “Hoping to be an advisor, then?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. Lord only knew that Arin, and likely his future wife, whoever she may be, would need as many of those as they could get.

I’ll give her the job for sure, if I win.

“Possibly.” She kept her tone casual as she looked out over the crowd. “Don't plan to apply for maid, at least.”

Had she just made a joke? I never thought I’d live to see the day! “I’d imagine,” I laughed out, lowering my voice before turning back to the crowd. “You’d be great at it, though. You truly are extremely knowledgeable, and think things over very logically, which is a useful skill.”

She lit up, a wide smile flickering across her face, before it faded back into her more common close-lipped smile. “Thank you.”

Smiling in return, I shook my head. “No need to thank me -” I elbowed her gently in the side “- thank yourself, and the hard work I’m sure you put into it.”

She blinked once as I pulled my elbow back to my side, a small smile playing on her lips as her eyes scanned the room again. They locked in on an important looking man in a suit, standing against the wall by himself. A government official of some sort, then? As I pondered who he might be, Reggie cleared her throat. “Speaking of which -” she pursed her lips “- Good luck tonight, Evalin. Remember to not look down at your feet; it won't help.”

I nodded. It was clear that regardless of who the guy across the room was, she wanted to talk to him. Time for me to return to dancing, then. “Yes, thank you.” With that, I began walking off into the crowd, finishing my glass of champagne and then looking over my shoulder at Reggie. “I’ll see you around, I hope?”

Nodding, she smiled. “Of course.”

I watched as she power walked across the room, impressed that she could do that in heels. My own feet were beginning to hurt, but I knew that I’d be able to ignore that as soon as I started dancing. Surprisingly, I had found that dancing was a lot like running. If I just focused on getting through the first few minutes, my body would go on autopilot, my mind emptying itself of all thoughts as I waltzed and reeled my way through song after song with partner after partner. Some of them were more interesting than others, and I made an effort to keep track of the names of the ones I rather enjoyed chatting and dancing with, but I was beginning to suspect that I wouldn’t remember many of them come morning.

Another song ended, and I curtsied to the man I had just finished up dancing with, laughing as I turned away, my cheeks aching with the size of my unfading smile. This night had truly been exactly the kind of break I had needed.

When I opened my eyes again as I finished laughing, I was greeted with the sight of a hand in front of me. I knew that hand. I had looked upon it often, as I sat on the floor of the Angeles Ballet’s theater, my head resting on his shoulder, and his head on mine. I felt my mouth form an o-shape, and I dragged my gaze upwards, only to be met with Arin’s smiling face.

I couldn’t tell whether my face felt hot from the champagne, or something else entirely.

“May I have this dance?”

Yes, sir. In fact, you can have all of my dances, if you want to.

I placed my hand in his, the same feeling of rightness I had felt that day in the theater washing over me like a wave. “Of course,” I answered with a smile.

He pulled me closer, leading me through the first few steps of the dance. My heart was beating so loudly in my ears that I almost couldn’t hear him as he asked. “How is your night so far?”

I could barely focus, being so close to him. All that champagne had been a bad idea. My walls were lowered, my inhibitions all but gone, and yet, I was kind of okay with it. I was vaguely aware of the fact that I had to be careful, though. I couldn’t kiss him, or anything of the sort, not with all the foreign dignitaries present. It was a damn shame. He looked pretty kissable tonight.

“Pretty good, I’d say,” I answered, already laughing as I planned my next joke. My head lifted upwards, my eyes meeting his as my laughter faded into an amused smile. He had such a nice face - nice to look at, and kind, at its very core. Although, I was pretty sure I only thought that second part because of the kindness he had been showing me, recently.“Warming up, so I don’t accidentally step on the feet of anybody important, you know? What about you?”

He just shrugged. “It hasn't been too bad- just a lot of making the rounds.”

The rounds? Did he mean with the Selected girls? Here I had been, thinking I was special.

Reminder: you really are a goddamned fool.

I didn’t think it was the increased jitteriness and nerves associated with sleep deprivation speaking, this time. Or maybe it was that, just in combination with a good bit of alcohol. Either way, I had questions, and I needed answers if I had any hope of sleeping tonight.

I raised an eyebrow at him, smirking a little. “Is that all this is to you, then?”

He blinked once, as if the question had caught him off guard. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t have expected it. It had been a few weeks since we had talked, and he had just admitted to making rounds at this party. My question was the product of a logical conclusion I had drawn.

“I was actually taking a break from that, which is why I came over.”

“Good answer.” My eyes were completely lost in his face - his eyes, his lips, the way he was looking at me - as I chuckled. I had to keep talking, if only to prevent myself from doing something I’d live to regret later. So, lowering my voice, I added, “I’d hate to be just another box to check off on your to-do list.”

Not a lie. I wanted to mean something to him. I wanted him to love me.

I couldn’t force him to do that, though.

“Do I make you feel that way?” he asked, curiosity glimmering in his eyes before he looked around us, and then spun me.

I waited until after I was back in front of him to answer, too focused on keeping my balance as I spun to trust myself to talk without falling flat on my ass. Sure, he had fallen in front of me, but not surrounded by foreign royalty and the prominent political figures of Illéa. I kept my voice low as I spoke, just loud enough so that he could still hear me over the music. “Generally, you just kind of make me confused,” I answered honestly, shrugging, and still smiling at him.

He took a deep breath, something about it almost shaky to me. That mustn't have been the answer he’d wanted. Oops. “I seem to get that a lot. I'm working on being more clear.”

“Yes, you’ve told me as much before,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring smile as I recalled the time we had talked over bourbon in the hallway outside of the library. I wanted to let him know that his efforts weren’t going unnoticed. I saw him trying harder. We were kind of similar in that sense - both more willing to listen to other people’s thoughts and feelings, than to share secrets of our own. It was something we’d have to remedy, if we planned on pursuing this relationship. From what I knew, which admittedly, wasn’t much, good communication was the key to a successful, long-lasting relationship, and right now, Arin and I weren’t there. I hoped that we would be one day, though, sooner rather than later.

“I appreciate it. I’m sure I don’t make it easy either, with my constant questions, and my own -” I paused, trying to find the right word, “- omission of details in most of my answers. I guess it’s something we both have to work on, in a way,” I finished with a shrug.

A small frown crept down his face. “Are you okay, Ev? You seem a little bit off tonight.”

“Ev,” I repeated, my smile softening, my eye drifting down towards the floor to my side. A nickname. He had a fricking nickname for me. Nobody outside of my own family had bothered to give me a pet name, ever. The significance of that one syllable wasn’t lost on me.

“Oh!” My eyes snapped up, focusing on Arin again. Right, he had asked a question! “Yes, I’m good! Really enjoying myself, actually!” This is the best I’ve felt in the past few weeks. All my exhaustion, all my worries, all my plans for the potential futures in front of me were gone, tossed out the window as I looked at him. The couples around us faded into nothingness in my mind, the music itself even dimming out in my ears, until it was just me and Arin, dancing, close together.

“Are you sure?” He smiled, the appearance of it somewhere in between reassuring and concerned. “We can talk about it if you like.”

I wasn’t sure, if I was being honest. I was tired, I was stressed, and I was probably a tad overworked, though that wasn’t really an uncommon combination for me. On top of school, I still didn’t know why my father had called me at two in the morning his time all those weeks ago, or what Lukas had meant when he said things were getting bad back home. I had decided to forego the credit for my biochemistry lab, so I’d have to figure out how I would make that up at some point. I wasn’t sure what Proctor was up to, and the fact that she had been so quiet set me on edge. Lastly, I was nervous about where Arin and I stood in terms of our relationship, if we could even call it that. I knew how I felt, but his feelings were still entirely a mystery to me. I was losing sleep over it all. Most nights, I just laid in my bed for five hours, managing to sleep for maybe half of that time, until I just gave up, and went for my morning run. It wasn’t sustainable. It might help to confide in someone, about it all.

Here was my chance.

My smile faltered. Part of me still wanted to just brush off his concern and say that everything was fine, because he was already stressed enough about his own workload and problems regarding the Selection and politics. I absolutely did not want to add to that. At the same time, though, I had told him multiple times that I would appreciate him being more clear and open with me, and I’d be a complete hypocrite if I didn’t do the same thing in return.

“I’ve just been lost in thought a lot, lately. I -” I shook my head, averting my gaze to the ground the moment I heard my voice crack. I wouldn’t break down. Not here, not now, not yet. “I’d like to be more open, I think, but is this really the time and place?” I looked up at him again, trying my best to smile. Please don’t worry about me. I don’t want to put that on you. “Tonight has been a lot of fun, and you should get to enjoy it too, without having to hear about my problems, that probably aren’t even as big as I think they are anyway.” I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth it to assuage even one of my worries, before taking a chance and adding, “Though, if I could ask you one question, maybe?”

He blinked, that same look of surprise flashing across his face yet again. “Yeah, of course.”

He was going to live to regret that answer. He probably wouldn’t even answer my question - or, in classic Arin fashion, he’d give me a non-answer. Still, if it meant I could sleep a little easier tonight, it would be worth it.

Here goes nothing. “Okay, you asked me how you made me feel, and I gave you my honest answer, but -” I took a deep breath, the sound of it shaky, my shoulders trembling slightly as they rose and fell, and looked up again to meet his eyes “- how do you feel about this?”

“I'm still figuring out my feelings.” His voice was quieter now, the deep breath he took a mirror image of my own. It wasn’t exactly a non-answer, but it wasn’t much of an answer, either. It changed nothing. At least he had been honest, though.

“I'm sorry if that's not the answer you wanted.”

I narrowed my eyes, offering him a small smile as I shook my head. “The only answer I wanted was the truth. I’d rather know that, than you lie and tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“Have I ever done that to you - lied, I mean, about my feelings?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes darting away for a moment.

This was not the conversation I had intended to have at all. Yet, I was glad we were able to finally be so candid with each other. It was a relief to get his full and real opinion, like the first, frantic breath of air after breaking through the surface of the ocean.

“I don’t think so,” I answered, shaking my head. “I mean, we talked in the hallway, after the roller skating date, and you said you basically wanted to send us all home, and then a few days later, we kissed in the library, which kind of sent out mixed signals, but -” I sighed a little “- I think that’s more on me overthinking than it is on you.” Sorry, for doing that with every interaction we have. I would’ve voiced my thoughts allowed as I looked up at him again, my smile soft, had I not remembered how often he asked me not to apologize. Hadn’t I told him I was working on that? I had to live up to my word, if I expected him to live up to his.

“Well, how do you feel now?” he asked, squeezing my hand gently.

My own gaze drifted down to our hands, clasped together like they were two halves of a whole, like they were meant to hold each other. I needed to stop seeing it like that. He clearly had feelings for other girls. It was best that I brace myself for the worst.

Yet, I couldn’t give up the hope that we might be meant to be.

“A bit better than before, now that we both know where we stand.”

He took a deep breath, holding it for a few moment, before releasing it and asking, “Tell me what you want?”

I narrowed my eyes. What did he mean by that? What did I want right then and there? To dance the night away with him, to laugh, to sneak out with him into someplace secluded, and maybe confuse his feelings a little more by stealing some kisses. Or did he mean the question more generally?

I decided the latter was more likely. “Just to get to know you - even as simply a friend! I -” I swallowed, trying to figure out what direction I should take this sentence in “- I’ve never had many, and I’d like that very much.”

I had more friends now than I had ever had before, and I was afraid I hadn’t been a very good friend to them in return. I’d been stubborn, quick to criticize, aloof, judgemental - everything a friend wasn’t supposed to be.

“Evalin, haven't we been friends?” His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “I don't take people I don't like to the ballet or give them book recommendations, and I certainly wouldn't ask them to dance with me - unless they're so foreign head of state and I have to.”

Good to know I get the same treatment as a foreign head of state. How romantic.

How to explain myself? “No - I mean, yes, those are things friends would do - but -” my shoulders sagged, and I was unable to quite meet his eye “- I just feel like I don’t know anything about you, is all.”

Why had I said that? Fuck, I was really making a mess of what had been a nice night.

“And I know you’re working on it, and I get that, I just…” I shook my head, my eyes wide as I forced myself to offer him a smile. “Sorry, this isn’t coming out right, at all.”

“Well, what do you want to know?” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes on me, boring into me, like he was trying to read me like a book.

I mimicked his head movement as I considered his question. “Anything, I suppose. Details - I like little details. I’ll even make a trade - a detail for a detail.” Righting my head once again, I gave him a sheepish grin, though it was more genuine than my smile had been moments ago.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Then, ask.”

“Okay.” The question was, what to ask him? I stared at the wall over his shoulder, biting my lip a little as I did. The details I wanted were more personal, and not at all befitting of the time and place. Most embarrassing childhood memory? What would your ideal life look like? Tell me a story that shaped who you are today. “How do you take your coffee?”

I made a mental note to ask him to talk at some point in the upcoming weeks. We could be more open then, and ask less superficial questions, hopefully.

He paused. Then, “Usually I prefer tea, but if I have coffee I like it with a  bit of milk.”

“Any kind of tea, in particular?”

“Earl Grey,” he answered, raising his eyebrows at me.

I wrinkled my nose, laughing at his answer. At home, we referred to Earl Grey as, “the British dishwater tea.” Somehow, it felt like that fit with who he was, as a person.

“Interesting.” No, this isn’t. “So, um, I guess you get a question now, if you want.”

“What's your favorite ice cream flavor?” he asked with a soft smile.

“Strawberry,” I answered without hesitation. Perhaps I could make my answer a little less superficial by elaborating. That might be a good tactic! “There was this little ice cream shop in my mother’s hometown that we always used to go to when we visited my grandparents, that made the best strawberry ice cream I have ever had.” I shook my head, chuckling as I added, “Nothing quite compares.”

“Strawberry is okay.” He looked lost in thought, as if he was mulling over my choice of ice cream flavor. “I prefer chocolate though. Always chocolate.”

“Chocolate can be good. It’s a classic,” I conceded, nodding once, then laughing a little. “As long as you don’t say vanilla is your favorite flavor, we’re good in my book.”

“What's wrong with vanilla?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, furrowing his brows.

“It doesn’t taste like anything!” I wrinkled my nose at the memory of trying vanilla ice cream as a very young child. “It’s like eating ice!”

“I can't say I agree with you there. Vanilla is a good flavor. Just not the best.”

I hummed thoughtfully, shaking my head. With a grin, I replied, “This might be a dealbreaker.”

He shrugged. “Aren't you supposed to accept all flaws in a relationship?”

“I was taught never to compromise my morals in a relationship.” I shook my head, doing my best to keep my expression serious for the sake of the joke, but I couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds. This conversation was ridiculous. I had to laugh.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I think it's a mixed bag. Compromises have to be made.”

“Yes, of course,” I agreed, “but not all the time. People can be wrong sometimes.”

“Wrong?” He inclined his head to the side, looking at me with genuine curiosity.

“Yes.” Did he seriously not think that it was possible for some people to be incorrect? The thought was absurd! With a laugh, I continued. “Some things do have a right and a wrong answer, you know?”

“And what about right now? Is one of us right or wrong?”

What did he mean by that? I wasn’t sure if we were talking about ice cream at this point, or something more.Was one of us right or wrong about this relationship? If that was the case, I sure hoped I was right, but did that mean that he didn’t agree that we had something between us, if we disagreed on that?

Ignoring the fact that my head was spinning, I raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think?”

“Honestly? I’m not even sure anymore?”

Oh, good. “I guess we’re confused together, then,” I announced with a laugh.

He wasn’t as amused as I was, apparently. With a frown, he nodded slowly, his eyes distant even as he looked at me. “I guess we are.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” I inclined my head to the side, frowning now as well.

“Indecision isn't exactly a great quality of a future leader.”

He was right.

The song began to wind down at that moment, and I just about thanked my lucky stars. If we kept going like this, I was either going to kiss him to shut him up, and to shut my own thoughts up, or say something that would get me kicked out of the Selection for sure. Or, worse than both of those options, I might cry. Nope. I needed to get out of here. I’d ask Arin if he could talk another time, when I was more sober, and he didn’t have to make rounds, and there were no foreign dignitaries surrounding us.

“Well, just because you don’t know the answer, doesn’t mean nobody does,” I offered, fixing him with one last smile. “You can ask others for help, input, or advice, you know?”

“About us?” He inclined his head for a moment, keeping his eyes on me even as he let go of my hand and took a few steps away. So, he had meant our relationship, then. Oh, God. He didn’t feel the same way about me that I felt about him, and now he was stepping away, because either he was trying to let me down slowly and gently, or because he just didn’t know what to say.  

I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get out of here.

“In general.” I forced a laugh, curtsying before beginning to back away. “Thank you for the dance, Arin.”

He just nodded. “Of course.”

“See you around!” I offered him one last smile and nod before scurrying off. Air. I needed air. When had it gotten so stuffy in here? I beelined for the doors to the garden, which I had heard had been decorated with lights for the guests. The cool night air would do me some good.

I grabbed another flute of champagne on my way out, downing half of it in one go. More mistakes, but if my days here were numbered more than I had thought they were, I was determined to enjoy my time here while it lasted.

I wasn’t sure where I was walking, but I didn’t really care. The cool night air felt good against my skin, and that was all that mattered to me. There weren’t many people out in the garden at the moment, and those that were walking around weren’t familiar to me. So, I took in the lights and decorations instead, just as intricate as their indoor counterparts. To think that this might be one of the last time I walked these paths…

No. I couldn’t let my mind wander down that path. For all I knew, I was just overthinking things again, and in my tipsy stupor, Arin had confused me, and I had confused him in turn. We really needed to work on our communication skills. I’d have to start asking him to clarify what he was trying to say when I couldn’t tell in the future. It didn’t matter if doing so made me sound unintelligent; he already knew that I was smart. He had called me as much before we had kissed in the library. Very smart. Stunning. Adorable. Plus, he had said he liked me.

We were going to be okay. I just had to breathe.

There was a person blocking the path in front of me. I squinted, trying to make out who it was in the dim lighting, based off of their silhouette alone.

Hugo.

It was nice to see a friendly face. Or, rather, to kind of see a friendly face, given the lighting.

I walked up to him, watching the way he just seemed to stare into the distance, looking at everything and nothing in particular, his hands in his pockets. “Stopping to smell the roses?” I asked, chuckling a little at my own joke.

He turned around, smiling softly as I came to a stop a few feet from him. “Oh, hi, Evalin. How are you tonight?”

“I’m really good, actually,” I lied, smiling as I attempted to keep the good spirits I had been in at the start of the ball alive. “How are you?”

He looked at the ground for a moment, his smile growing as he did. Someone must have made him very happy tonight, then. At least somebody here knew where they stood in a relationship.

“I'm doing really well, thanks,” he answered, glancing around. “What brings you out here?”

“The breeze,” I answered, moving to stand beside him, my attention caught by the yellow flowers that dotted the bush in front of us, “and the fresh air. I never thought a room here could feel so stuffy.” Wrinkling my nose, I looked up at him, a small smile playing at my lips.

“And this wasn't that stuffy at all,” he replied with a laugh, taking a deep breath.

I felt my eyes go wide as I considered his words. The crowds could get bigger than this? From the sounds of it, they very likely could, and often did. That didn’t necessarily seem like a bad thing to me, though. The only reason I had felt like I had needed the fresh air to begin with was because of my own thoughts, and Arin, muddling them up even further.

So I shook off my concern, taking a sip of champagne before turning to look at Hugo again. Speaking of Arin…

“Oh, while I have you here - I wanted to thank you, for, uh, encouraging -” there was a certain uptilt to my voice, like the verb I had used was the only thing I was questioning within the sentence “- me to ask Arin to take me to the ballet. We went, and it was amazing.” It really had been. I couldn’t figure out why I had even freaked out about the possibility of Arin not liking me, I realized, a smile creeping back onto my face. That entire night had been so lovely. There was no way something that wasn’t real could feel so right.

He tossed a smile in my direction, turning his head to look at me. “Did it? I'm really glad. I know he can be difficult sometimes, so I'm really glad he took you.”

Yeah, “difficult,” is one way to put it.

“You know, when you first suggested it, I thought it was crazy. I had to wonder if we were even talking about the same Arin, you know?” I snorted, shaking my head. “He’s complex.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, the movement so similar to what I had seen Arin do many times before, that it was hard for me to comprehend how I hadn’t realized they were related earlier on during my first meeting with Hugo. “Aren't we all?”

He was right. Even I had noticed how some of the traits that frustrated me the most about Arin were traits that I exhibited myself. I had likely been too quick to judge Arin, after our first few interactions.

“Arin's always been a bit -” Hugo paused, glancing off into the distance “- different, but there's some good there even if it's hard to see sometimes.”

Once again, Hugo was right, I realized, feeling my smile soften.“I think I see it, sometimes.” My voice was distant, even to my own ears, as I thought about the moments of kindness that still shone through to me - the way Arin always offered to listen, the way he never pushed me for details if I didn’t want to share, even the way he had literally pulled over the car to help me with my nosebleed. Had I offered him the same compassion in return? I wasn’t sure I had.

Turning back to Hugo, I concluded, “But you’re absolutely right. Complexity is what makes humans so human, for lack of a better word.”

He nodded in agreement, but his words contradicted the motion. “But sometimes simplicity is best - like the way those lights in the garden look, or how there's something so calming about night air.”

“That’s why science was always so appealing to me,” I admitted, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. “There’s a right answer, and a wrong answer, with little room for interpretation, most of the time.”

“I like the in between - where there's no right or wrong. Where everything is open for interpretation.”

“Is that not more complex?” I furrowed my brows, turning my head to look at him once again. Did such a thing even exist? Sure, there were shades of grey in many conceptual arguments, but there was still a spectrum of right and wrong. It was what governed human morality, and the majority of our actions.

Hugo simply shrugged in response. “Not to me. It just feels right. Like that tree over there -” he pointed “- I don't need to know all the tiny details about how it works to see that it's beautiful.”

I tilted my head a bit, biting the inside of my cheek as I followed his finger to the tree he had mentioned, all the while considering his words. Had it not been for the one brain cell in my head still functioning properly, I might have started to explain xylem and phloem to him, and why they were important to the survival of the tree. That made more sense to me than the argument that the existence of the tree itself was just beautiful. Beauty was such a subjective thing. The tree wasn’t ugly, sure, but I wouldn’t have described it as beautiful, either. It was just a tree, plain and simple. Why complicate it, and assign it more adjectives?

“That makes sense,” I relented, though I still wasn’t entirely sure I agreed. “I guess just knowing the tiny details makes the big picture more interesting, to me.”

He looked down at me once more, offering me a small smile. “And that's fine. That's what makes you who you are.”

I blinked a couple of times, not prepared to handle talking with a Stanton or Schreave and being introspective at the same time. One often baffled me, and the other was something I actively tried to avoid. I was tipsy, sure, but not nearly enough to be having this conversation. Taking another sip of champagne, I nodded slowly, mustering up the courage to ask the only question on my mind at the moment. “Is my need to know everything really that obvious?” And is it as annoying as I imagine it to be?

His affirming nod made my stomach roll. “Yeah, but it isn't bad. It's just part of who you are.”

“Duly noted,” I replied, nodding and letting out a wry laugh before averting my gaze to the lights again. At least he was trying to make it seem like I was less nosy than I must seem. With a half smile, I went to ask my next question, the irony of me doing so not lost on me. “Any other facets of my personality I need to be made aware of?”

“Sweet, funny, has a nice laugh,” he answered, turning his head upwards, his eyes locking in on the stars.

“Oh.” I blushed at the compliment, finishing off the little bit of champagne I had left. I’d been expecting him to point out more areas of myself that I might improve upon, but I supposed what he had said was welcome as well. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but his voice began to mingle with Arin’s in my mind. Very smart. Sweet. Stunning. Funny. Adorable. Has a nice laugh.

I needed to focus on something else. I had come out here to get out of my head, not further into it.  

I followed his gaze upwards, taking in the stars, which were surprisingly easy to see, despite the fact that we were fairly close to a large metropolitan area. I had expected the light pollution levels to be higher. Nonetheless, I squinted at the stars, attempting to see if I could make out anything familiar. My grandfather had tried to teach my siblings and I how to use the stars as a method of navigation when we were younger, but it had never really stuck with me. I did, however, recognize one constellation, shaped like a lopsided box. “You can see Lyra really well tonight,” I observed, pointing it out.

“Which one is it?” he asked, squinting in the direction I was pointing. With a little laugh, he added, “Sorry, I haven't picked out constellations since I was a kid.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him with a laugh, “Lyra is the only one I really know, because it made me so angry as a kid.”

“It’s so stupid,” I complained to my father. “It’s a diagonal square. How is that a constellation?”

I pointed upwards towards the brightest star in the constellation, a ball of gas three times the size of our own sun. “That bright star is Vega, which is the bottom right corner. Then, connect the dots into a lopsided parallelogram -” I traced the shape in the sky with my index finger “- and voilà - Lyra.”

I felt his eyes on me as I drew the constellation in the air, watching him nod out of the corner of my eyes when he finally saw what I was pointing out. “Aha! There it is!”

“Yep!” I offered him another smile before looking back up at the lopsided parallelogram that had the audacity to call itself a constellation - and a lyre, at that! The homonym “liar,” was more fitting, in my opinion. “It’s a funny little thing.”

He glanced over at me again. “I'm impressed. Thanks for pointing it out to me.”

“No problem,” I replied, shaking my head. “As I said, though, my knowledge of constellations starts and ends there, so I can help you no further, I am afraid.”

At that, he laughed, the sound mingling with the crickets and the low voices of the other people in the gardens. “Well, that's better than my absolute lack of knowledge.”

“Is it, though?” I angled my head towards him a bit, a small smile playing at my lips. “Hear me out - if you know nothing, nobody questions you on it, because nobody expects you to have the answers, but if you know the bare minimum about a subject, people ask you questions as if you’re an expert, because they expect you to know all the answers, even if you don’t.”

Once again, he laughed, though I couldn’t quite figure out what about what I had just said warranted such a reaction. “Well, then it looks like I need to brush up on trivial facts so I can become an expert on everything.”

If only. I laughed. “It works until someone asks you an easy question that you would know, and you answer it incorrectly.”

“Didn't you say the bare minimum is enough to make you an expert?”

No, I hadn’t. At least, I didn’t think that I had. That hadn’t been what I was trying to say.

“It’s enough to make some people expect you to be an expert,” I explained again, frowning. “Sorry, I must’ve jumbled up my words when I spoke earlier.”

“Perhaps it's the champagne?” He laughed again. Maybe that was all he knew how to do, in these types of situations.

I laughed lightly, feeling some of the heat that had left my face return. “I’d like to think I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

“The bubbles can catch you off guard,” he offered by way of explanation.

I shot him a look out of the corner of my eyes, a joking smile on my face. “Speaking from experience?”

“This isn't my first ball,” he answered, chuckling. The thought of Hugo drunk, or even tipsy, was rather entertaining to me. It seemed like something most of the members of the royal family were somehow above, though I supposed it was impossible for someone to be completely immune to the effects of alcohol. They’d probably all been drunk or tipsy at some point. They were human, after all. Why did I have to keep reminding myself of that?

I nodded. “Of course. Fond memories?”

The smile that lit up his face was answer enough. “I always take away at least one good memory from a ball.”

“Any notable ones from tonight yet?” I asked, nodding once as I looked back up from the sky. It was a good philosophy, to always look for the silver lining. It was something I should try and do more often, if I was being honest with myself. It might spare me from some of the negativity I had been feeling as of late.

Hugo averted his gaze to the ground. “One or two.”

I smiled at him, genuinely happy, for his sake. He was a nice guy, and, much like everyone else present tonight, deserved to enjoy himself. “Good. I’m glad to hear you’re having a good time!”

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, looking back up at me.

Hadn’t I already answered this question at the beginning of our conversation?

“Yes,” I answered firmly. “This is the most I’ve danced, ever, I think, and I’ve only stepped on three peoples feet, which is a personal best, for me.”

“I'm glad to hear you're having fun,” he replied with a laugh. “I know these sorts of events can be a bit tricky sometimes.”

“Thank you. It’s -” my smile softened a bit, as I considered the manner in which I’d have spent this evening if I was back in Carolina, surrounded by my family, “- different, but not necessarily in a bad way.”

“It's all about who you dance with,” he stated, smiling. “According to my sister you should avoid Clarke Monroe at all costs, ‘no matter how cute he is’.” With a laugh, he answered my question before I could even ask it. “That's a direct quote.”

I chuckled. I hadn’t met his sister yet, but she sounded like a fun girl to be around, if that sort of statement was typical of her. “I haven’t bumped into Mr. Monroe yet, but I’ll keep an eye out,” I said, nodding once. Then, sighing, I looked around us one last time, my gaze lingering on the palace doors in the distance. I couldn’t spend the entire night out here, as nice as it might be.

Turning to Hugo, I  decided, “Speaking of which, I think I’m going to head back in.”

“I think I'll stay out here a little longer,” he replied, inclining his head a bit. Then, with a glance towards the palace and a smile, he amended, “Not too long, though.”

I couldn’t help but wonder who that smile might be for as I began to back away, meeting his smile with one of my own. “Well, if you find yourself in need of a dance partner, I promise to try my best not to step on your toes.”

He just laughed. “I just might take you up on that offer.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you do, but if you don’t, then enjoy the rest of the dance.” I waved one last time, before turning around and heading back inside.

True to my word, once I returned back inside, I danced until I couldn’t feel my feet at all anymore. Somewhere along the way, I had consumed another glass of champagne, though I swore up and down to myself that that would be my last one of the night. I didn’t want to accidentally fall asleep before midnight, when we’d throw the powder in the air. That was the part I had been looking forward to the most.

As another song ended, I made the decision to take a break and leave the dance floor. I was breathless, and knew I was red in the face as I chuckled to myself, drunk on happiness and joy, more so than just champagne. It was time for some water, and maybe some conversation. I scanned the room as I picked up the tiny plastic cup of water from the refreshment table, my eyes stopping when I spotted Clemence sitting by herself off to the side of the room, a plate of what looked like cake on the table in front of her. That seemed odd, for her, but I shook my concern off for the moment, deciding to approach her and at the very least say hello. I hadn’t seen her in ages.

“Hello!” I called as I got closer to where she was sitting, waving to her with the hand that was not holding my cup of water.

Clemence was using a fork to cut another bite of cake as I approached. Hearing my voice, she looked up, blinking once, as if she was seeing the ball, and the people dancing around her for the first time. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, hey, Evalin.”

Something was wrong.

I frowned, pulling out one of the chairs next to her, and taking a seat. Clemence had been there for me whenever I had needed her to be. She had been the definition of a good friend, and what had I been, besides an additional source of stress in her life?

It was time to repay the favor. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine enough,” she answered with a distracted bod, taking another bite and looking around as she chewed. She didn’t sound or look fine at all. Remembering what she had shared with me the first time we had spoken, I frowned, ready to sit with her the entire night, if that was what she needed.

Before I could say anything else, she asked, “Enjoying the ball?”

“Very much,” I answered, my frown deepening despite my positive feelings towards the majority of the night’s activities. “You?”

Clemence shrugged, the smile on her face clearly forced. “I’ve had better balls, to be honest.”

Yeah, okay, Clemence. Between her faked contentment with her current situation, whatever it was, and her uppity joke, it was impossible for me to not roll my eyes. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her, though. Hadn’t I been trying to cover up my own problems in front of everyone else I had talked tonight? We were all going through the wringer right now, it seemed.

So I offered her a small smile. “The closest I’ve ever come to a ball was high school prom,” I joked, shaking my head at the memory. At the time, it had seemed like the worst night of my life. I had begrudgingly agreed to go with a boy from my calculus class, despite the fact that I loathed his personality and sense of humor, just for the sake of having a date to take pictures with. He had insisted on my sitting with him and his friends instead of letting me sit with June, and had stepped on the hem of my dress multiple times when we had danced, staining the light green fabric brown by the end of the night. To top it all off, during dessert, he had spilled his coffee in my lap. Not exactly a night to be remembered fondly. Still, it was humorous in retrospect.

Clemence’s smile was more genuine now, as she tilted her head, a hint of curiosity glimmering in her eyes. “This must be quite the change.”

“It is.” I nodded, smiling as I looked over the crowd. I had never been in a situation like this, though as I had said earlier, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Yet, I couldn’t help but wish things were as simple as they had been before this, before the Selection. “I toasted a glass of champagne with my parents’ beers over FaceTime while I was getting ready today. They’re barbecuing.”

Her answering laugh was choked, as if she wanted to laugh but couldn’t really bring herself to. It was sad, to see her so upset. Clemence was always so warm, welcoming; she always had some happiness to bring to others. What could have upset her like this? More importantly, what could I do to help?

“I almost forgot people out of here celebrated too,” she admitted.

I shook my head. “I think they’re celebrating having off from work more than anything else,” I admitted, but that was besides the point. I turned my head to look at Clemence again, half tempted to just reach over and grab her hand, and give it a reassuring squeeze, but I hesitated. I wasn’t sure she was the kind of person that liked the sense of touch when she was upset. What if I made her more uncomfortable?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I tried again. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” You’ve helped me so much; please let me return the favor.

She only nodded, taking another bite of her cake. “I know, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, rather skeptical of the truth of that statement, but I didn’t press her for details. If she wanted to talk about it, she knew where to find me. Instead, I could try and cheer her up.

With a small smile, I asked, “Besides today, how have things been? It’s been so long since we last talked!”

She raised her eyebrows, her eyes scanning the crowded dance floor until they settled on their target. Arin. Interesting. Her smile softened as she looked at him.

Interesting, indeed.

“Wild,” she answered, “but not unwelcome.” Her eyes were glazed over, her mind clearly not in the room at the moment.

I grinned. It wasn’t easy knowing she, along with other girls, I was sure, was developing feelings for Arin as well, but when she looked at him, she looked more at peace than she had before. She deserved that bit of happiness. I had no control over who he chose in the end, after all. Besides, Clemence would make an amazing queen.

So, why was I so torn up inside about her liking him?

“Now, that’s a change of tune I never thought I’d hear from you,” I teased, nudging her a little with my elbow.

She blinked as she turned back to me, as if she had forgotten that I was sitting there. “He’s still an idiot,” she stated, though her fond smile betrayed how she truly felt about the matter.

My heart might have broken, had I let it. I couldn’t though. Not here, not now.

I nodded in agreement, chuckling. “He has one of the worst short term memory spans I’ve ever encountered.”

“I guess he has,” she agreed, turning away with a pensive look on her face.

“No,” I explained with a laugh, “I mean, he took me to see the Angeles Ballet, and afterwards he asked me what I wanted for dinner, and I said seafood, and he said okay, and then five minutes later when we got in the car, he asked me the same exact questions again.”

She let out a small laugh at the story, seeming genuinely interested in the conversation for the first time since we had started talking. “In his defense, the ballet probably turned his brain all mushy. What did you see?”

I was kind of surprised by her answer, considering her figure skating background, but I let it slide, laughing lightly. The fans of the ballet were few and far between, apparently. “Don Quixote,” I answered. “It was the best case scenario. Had it been anything else, he probably would’ve fallen asleep.”

“I would’ve slept too,” she admitted, smiling as she looked away once again. “I performed to Don Quixote, once.”

“Really?” How had I not know that? “That’s so cool!”

She looked downright melancholic when she responded. She must have really missed her figure skating career - that much was obvious, written all over her face.. Was that why she was so sad? Did being here somehow remind her of that? Did today’s date mean something to her, in terms of her career? It was the summer, though, so that last possibility didn’t make a ton of sense.

“It was at my first Olympics,” she explained. “Seems like a lifetime ago. I was a baby.”

“If you were a baby, then I must have been a fetus,” I joked.

“Thirteen is fetus age indeed,” she teased. “Barely an actual teenager.”

“And sixteen is definitely baby, age,” I agreed, nodding. “My younger brother is sixteen now, and the rest of us definitely have the urge to protect him at all costs.” I wondered what Randall was up to now. Was he looking at universities? Had he decided what he wanted to study yet? It had been so long since we’d talked, which was kind of sad. We’d grown close the past few years, being the last kids left at home.

“I was fifteen, actually.” She inclines her head towards the size, her eyes darker as she continued to think. “So I guess it’s newborn age?”

“Wait, when’s your birthday?” I could’ve sworn she was three years older than me. Maybe I was mistaken, though. I should definitely not have any more champagne. “I’m going to be twenty-one in almost exactly a month.”

“I’ll be twenty-three in November,” she answered, raising an eyebrow at me. “Arin isn’t the only one with memory issues, it seems.”

“Right,” I said, doing my best to ignore her jab at my memorization skills. Memorization was one of my strongest assets; I was just very much drunk right now. “Okay, you mentioned you were a sixty-seven baby, but not when in sixty-seven -“ I nodded “- but I’m going to place the blame on the champagne, just this once.” I tried to laugh off her earlier insult, which she had probably only meant as a joke, but I couldn’t shake it, especially now, knowing that she actually liked Arin.

“I also said I was still twenty-two,” she replied with a wink, “but, yeah, we’ll say it’s the champagne.”

I smiled a bit, shaking my head. I remembered her calling me a baby, and saying she had been born in sixty-seven, but not when her birthday was, or her age. Oh, well. “Sorry, I must have missed that.”

“Sure,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “Not memory loss at all.”

I grimaced, inhaling sharply. If she insulted my memory one more time, I was going to lose it, which was counterintuitive to the purpose I had come over here with. “If I have early onset memory loss, that’s going to be a big problem, because online classes just started recently.” A slight change in subject, but nothing so drastic that she’d think she’d bothered me. An ideal solution.

“Oh, already? Sorry, I’m more used to the German calendar.” She patted my hand. “But I’m sure you’ll do great. You were doing fine before summer break, right?”

I had been doing much better than “fine,” actually. I had made the dean's list every semester, had made close connections with most of my professors, had secured my internship, which was coveted amongst biology majors. I was on top of my game.

Humility is a virtue, Evalin.

“Yeah, but being online is kind of weird,” was the response I settled on as I wrinkled my nose. It was odd only having power points, with limited audio lectures, and only being able to ask questions via email. “I suppose it’s only temporary, though, because eventually I’ll either have to transfer, or go home.” And by that, I mean I’ll go and make a new home for myself somewhere else.

“This Selection starts being a long pause in our lives, doesn’t it?”

I bit my lip, shaking my head before turning to look at Clemence again. “I feel like it was more of a jump start, for me, at least. It was the kick out the door that I needed.”

That much was true. If I hadn’t been Selected, I likely never would have left Carolina. I wouldn’t know nearly as much about the world, or even just this country, as I did now, and I wouldn’t have made any of the connections that had forced me to open my eyes to the problems that existed in the current day.

I probably would’ve ended up with Lukas, out of convenience. I didn’t know where that realization had come from, but it didn’t sit well with me. Had I really been that ready to settle? Thank God I had been Selected.

Clemence only nodded.

My presence here was clearly doing nothing, except for putting me in a worse mood. With a sigh, I finished the last of my water, inclining my head slightly as I put the glass down, offering Clemence another smile. “I think I’m going to head back out and dance some more. Do you want to come?”

Her wince as she eyed the dance floor answered the question before she did. “No, I’ll stay here with my cake, but thank you.” She flashed me a right smile, one of her hands clutching her dress.

If she didn’t want to talk, that was fine, I couldn’t force her to, but she clearly wasn’t okay. I just wished there was something I could do, or say, to make her feel better. Maybe I should send Arin her way. She had looked happier when she looked at him. The heartbreak would be worth it, if it meant my friends were happy.

But what if he chooses me over her? Would she be happy for me then?

I was tempted to say yes, but I didn’t know for sure.

I needed to move.

“Alright,” I replied with a soft smile, pushing my chair in and beginning to scan the crowd for my next dance partner. I needed to forget about this conversation. “Well, don’t hesitate to wave me over if you need anything!”

“Thank you, but I have a waiter dedicated to me already,” she stated, pointing towards one of the waiters with a slightly amused smile. The message was clear. I don’t need you.

That was fine. I looked back at her over my shoulder, wiggling my eyebrows with a laugh. “Well, I won’t get in the way of that! I’ll see you around!”

With that, I began to walk away, spotting a man in a suit who appeared to be in need of a dance partner. I didn’t know who he was, and quite frankly, I didn’t care. I just needed to get out of here.

Clemence waved her hand in response, rolling her eyes with a little smile. “Don’t drink too much champagne! You have no idea how many diplomatic incidents could be avoided without it!”

“Don’t worry, I’m winning all the foreign dignitaries over with my grace, charm, and good looks,” I assured her sarcastically, adding in a wink for good measure.

She laughed. “Keep up with that good work, then.”

“I live to serve,” I joked with a small, mocking curtsy, before taking the opportunity to exit.

Clemence liked Arin. She had a familial background in politics and international relations. She was beloved by any Illéan who watched figure skating, and had a truly kind and compassionate heart.

I was so screwed.

That was a problem for another day.

I lost myself in the music again, paying only the bare minimal attention to my surroundings. I was pretty sure I had seen Arin dancing with Felicity at one point, but I didn’t care to confirm whether or not I had actually witnessed that. He was figuring out his feelings, still, with a lot of people, apparently. Me. Jen. Clemence. Felicity. Probably more, if I was being honest. He was entitled to that. I just needed to stop being a jealous bitch.

By eleven-thirty, I was running out of new people to dance with. I had already had a second dance with some of the guests, though not with Arin. I had lost track of him at some point in the past hour or so, but that might have been for the better. My fatigue was starting to get to me. I just needed to push through until midnight, when we’d get to throw the powder in the air. I wanted to be here for that.

Someone was heading my way. Idalia. It had been ages since I’d seen her - since she’d almost made me cry. I had almost forgotten about that.

She looked radiant tonight as she crossed the floor towards me, smiling widely. I had seen her here and there throughout the night, either talking with the Italians, or dancing with Wylan, but she’d never been alone when I had spotted her, so I’d never had the chance to say hello. Now, though, I waved, making my way to her as fast as I could in this dress and these heels, hugging her as soon as we had made it to each other. The one positive lesson I had learned from our last conversation was that she gave great hugs, and I could have used one right about then.

Pulling away, I smiled, holding her on the shoulders at an arm’s length. “Hello!”

Her eyes were a bit wide as she looked at me, but she smiled nonetheless. “How’s the night going?”

The night had had its ups and downs, especially by this point, but I didn’t miss a beat, giggling a bit for good measure. The champagne helped. “It’s been so much fun! How’s yours been?”

“Lovely,” she answered, raising an eyebrow at me. “How was dancing with Arin?”

Well, in Arin’s own words, it sure was something.

“It was good! It was nice to be able to talk to him, even if it was only for a few minutes.” I smiled, looking for him one last time in the crowd. I wasn’t sure why. Was I hoping he’d come back over to me, and offer me another dance? That was impractical. He was busy making rounds, after all.

I turned back to Idalia. “How was dancing with Wylan?” I asked, being sure to lower my voice as I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

“Why are you saying it like that?” She asked in response, looking around us, like anyone hearing that she danced with Wylan would accuse her of committing a crime. As if other Selected hadn’t been dancing with people other than Arin all night long. “It was just a dance.”

“Okay,” I practically sang, finishing with a laugh. “Whatever you say!”

“Evalin, stop it!” Her words were annoyed, but her tone betrayed her amusement.

“Sorry,” I replied with a laugh, “as your friend, it’s basically my job to tease you.”

Idalia just shook her head. “How much have you been drinking?”

Too much.

“Just enough,” I answered with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes, like she didn’t quite believe me, and I couldn’t blame her. However, she didn’t push it. “Well, I do have some good news.”

Thank God one of us did.

I raised my eyebrows, my curiosity piqued. “Do tell!”

“Dancing with Arin was not terrible.”

He really is making the rounds.

“No, he was one of my favorite dance partners of the night.” I smiled, scanning the crowd for him once more. He had to be out there, but there was no way he was looking for me. At least, it wasn’t likely.

“Well,” she began, chucking, “I don't know if I would say it was my favorite, but it was good.”

I opened my mouth, about to ask her what she meant by that, but before I could, someone announced that midnight was getting closer. As soon as the announcement ended, Idalia stood up straighter, and turned to face me. “We should go pick a color!”

“Yes!” This was what I had stayed for! I grabbed Idalia’s hand, pulling her behind me as I made a beeline for the bags filled with shimmery powders. “I’ve been so excited for this part!”

“Let me guess, you're doing yellow?”

“Well,” I started, my tone a mix of sarcastic and mock-offended, “now that you said that, I think I’ll have to pick something else!”

She laughed, the sound barely audible over the music. “Hey, you can do whatever you want.”

“No, I know,” I reassured her, shrugging. “I’ll just see what catches my eye.”

“I heard some are shimmery!” She exclaimed excitedly, practically jumping up and down as we made our way closer.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, I had to admit, my own eyes going wide at her description. “That sounds so pretty!” We were like two kids in a candy store, given permission by out parents to buy whatever we wanted.

Her grin only grew as we finally reached the area where the bags were sitting, her eyes drinking in every color option, considering each choice with equal time. Despite my earlier protest, my eyes were immediately drawn to the yellows. They stood out to me, their vibrant hues like little rays of sunlight, brightening my day without any effort whatsoever. I tapped my index finger against my lip, trying to decide just which shade of yellow to grab. Should I go for a darker, richer, gold, as lavish as the decorations around me, or a lighter, pastel yellow, shimmery and bright with hope?

I stopped my debate to look at Idalia, whose eyes were darting between about three different bags. “Do you know why yellow is my favorite color?”

She perked up, dragging her eyes away from the neutral tones she had been considering. “Because it’s happy to look at?”

“Because of what it symbolizes,” I answered, offering Idalia a small smile. “According to color theory, yellow represents optimism, joy, hope, intellect, and loyalty - all things I think we could use a little more of in life.” All things I could use a little more of right now.

It’d be fine, I reassured myself, as soon as I got a restful night of sleep. There would be more of those in the future, now that the craziness surrounding the ball was over. I’d have a bit more time to sleep, to relax, to talk with Arin.

It seemed like no matter what I did tonight, my thoughts went back to him.

Idalia flashed me an amused smile. “Ah, color theory. My dad was always fascinated by color psychology even if it’s a very niche subfield. Talking about it with my mom around was always fun.” That sounded like it was in character for her parents, for what she had told me of them. They sounded like lovely people, who it would be interesting to speak with, should I ever have the opportunity.

“What’s your favorite color?” I smiled, raising an eyebrow at Idalia as I settled on a bag of yellow powder the color of daffodils - my favorite shade of yellow. It wasn’t as dark and powerful as gold, but wasn’t as soft and washed out as paler shades of yellow.

She made her way over to powder bags containing more shimmery tones, smiling as she looked down upon them. “It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that one. What’s your guess?”

Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I narrowed my eyes at her, as if I’d be able to see the answer on her face if looked heard enough. She wasn’t a red, or a blue - that much was for sure. Definitely a warmer color, but not yellow. That left one answer. “Based on color theory, I’m going to go with orange, because it represents warmth, fire, energy, and excitement, and you’re exemplary of all of those things.”

“Orange is at the top for sure,” she replied with a grin, picking up a bag of pearl white shimmery powder, flecked with pieces of fuscia and blue, “but if I really had to pick, I would say gold.”

Of course an Olympian athlete would say something along those lines. With a smile, I responded, “I can see that. I suppose your future Olympic gold will fit in well with the rest of your home decor when you have your own place to decorate, then.”

She laughed, dragging me by the wrist, away from the crowd of people trying to get powder for themselves as well. “I don’t know if I would go for gold decor but glad that’s where your mind is going. I’m a women of simple tastes.”

“I can also see that,” I admitted, humming thoughtfully to myself as she pulled me further into the room. “All I wanted in terms of decorations for my dream apartment was plants.”

“I haven’t even thought about moving out of my family’s home yet,” she admitted, her tone more amused than sad. That was good. I didn’t want Idalia to be sad. She was always so cheery and happy. I admired that about her.

“I thought I had a good two years, at least, until I left home,” I stated, absentmindedly smiling. I had imagined taking my college graduation photos on our front porch steps, side by side with June. I’d have been there for Randall’s high school graduation, and all of the events surrounding it. I could’ve even driven him home from his first college party, if he had stayed local as well, which I was pretty confident he would. My entire childhood was tied to that house, from the stairs I had tumbled down as a toddler, to the small bedroom where I had whispered my dreams into the dark, to the attic that contained a mystery that I’d likely never solve, now that I knew I wasn’t going back.

How long had I been zoned out for? I snapped back to the present, smiling wider at Idalia now, repeating what I’d told Clemence earlier tonight. “I’m glad this kicked me out the door a little earlier, though. I think I’ve learned more in these past few months than I ever have before.”

Her smile faltered, and she asked, “Is everything alright back home?”

The question caught me off guard. Without a real answer to give her, I sighed. “I think so? We FaceTimed today, and everyone looks well, but I did have an odd phone call with my father a few weeks ago.” I shook my head, looking down for a moment before meeting Idalia’s gaze again, this time forcing myself to smile. “I’m probably just overthinking it, don’t worry!”

She ignored my request, and frowned, definitely worrying. “Is he concerned for you?”

“He seemed like he was, but I was more concerned as to what he was doing in the lab at two in the morning.” I closed my eyes, shaking my head in a short, rapid motion at the memory of the phone call. When I reopened my eyes, I looked at Idalia, waving my hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “Seriously, don’t worry about it though! That’s my job,” I finished, nudging her with my shoulder, hoping the playful gesture would ease her worries.  

She didn’t seem convinced, but luckily for me, the countdown to midnight started right then. We joined the crowd, practically squealing with excitement as we screamed along with the countdown, out voices lost in the cacophony of shouts around us. As soon as we hit the end of the countdown, I looked over at her, throwing most of my powder into the air, being sure to save a small amount in my bag. I looked up, watching the different colors descend back down upon us all like a tangible rainbow dissolving after. It was magical, in every sense of the word. I was beyond glad that I had stayed for this, instead of calling it a night early.

I turned to Idalia again, a mischevious grin spreading across my face as I reached for the remaining powder in my bad, flicking it towards her. She gasped in response, glaring at me as she flung her own remaining powder at my chest.

I could only laugh as I crumpled my now empty bag in my hands, shaking my head just to watch some of the powder drift down, out of my hair. “Thank you,” I began, turning to Idalia once more, “for keeping me company at this point, when I know there’s other people you probably would have loved to throw powder at.”

“I came to throw the powder with you because I wanted to!” She looked downright offended that I’d suggested otherwise.

“Well, thank you nonetheless.” I offered her the biggest smile I could muster, though it wasn’t much. I hugged her once more, waiting until I had pulled away to add, “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m dead tired.”

“Alright,” she conceded, smiling back at me as she pulled away. “Do you need me to come along? I can come back right after.”

“Only if you want to. You by no means have to,” I answered with a shrug. Idalia was too nice to be true. How had I found such a good friend?

“I don’t know if I trust you to make it back,” she admitted, hooking her arm through mine. “I’ll take you back.”

We were silent the rest of the way back to my room, pausing only long enough for me to hug her goodnight before she turned back the way we had came. As soon as I was inside of my room, Julia, Christina, and Grace were all on their feet, rushing towards me to help me undress, to assist in removing my makeup and contact lenses, and, of course, to ask for more details about my night. I gave them as much as I could bear, watching their face light up when I had mentioned dancing with Arin, in particular. They knew just how hopeless I was, and I think they sort of loved me for it, somehow.

I frowned as I looked in the mirror, noticing just how covered in glitter I was. “Should I shower before getting into bed? I’d hate to make you have to wash glitter out of my sheets tomorrow, but I am exhausted.”

“I’m sure,” Julia said, crossing her arms once she had handed off my dress to Grace. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

I just shook my head, exhaling heavily through my nose. “Not much, but still, I can stay up the extra fifteen minutes it’d take me to shower. I’d hate to create more work for you.”

“Nonsense!” she scolded, ushering me towards my bed, going as far to pull back the sheets to make it easier for me to get in. “If you made any less work for us, we’d all be out of a job!”

“I just have one last thing to do, then,” I decided, sidestepping around her, and then walking towards my desk and pulling out a piece of paper. I had planned earlier on on writing Arin a note, to send tomorrow or later in the week, depending on my own schedule, and I’d be darned if I was going to forget to do it.

The note itself only took me a minute to write, though I didn’t pay close attention to my diction, or the legibility of my handwriting, too eager to get into bed to bother with that.

Arin,

Do you have any spare time to talk, this week, maybe? I’d like to clear the air. I’m genuinely very sorry if anything I said at the ball upset you - not that this is any excuse, but I had five glasses of champagne on maybe two and a half hours of sleep (if that), and didn’t stop to think about how bad of an idea that might be. Though, I think I was only three glasses of champagne in when I danced with you, but my point still stands. I had no intention of worrying you, and again, am truly sorry if I did.

I’d also like more details, if possible. I was a tad too afraid to ask deeper questions at the ball, what with all the people and cameras around. It didn’t feel like the right time or place for it.

Sincerely,

Evalin

P.S. - in case I wasn’t clear, I like your nickname for me.

Julia watched as I wrote, sighing as I stuck the note against the screen of my open laptop, to ensure that I’d see it tomorrow and remember to send it. “Now, bed,” she commanded as soon as I had finished.

Too tired to argue, I just smiled in response, slowly maneuvering myself under the covers as Grace and Christina crossed the bedroom, making their way to the door. As soon as they were out, Julia flicked the light switch, whispering, “Goodnight, Evalin,” before leaving the room herself, and shutting the door behind her.

Sleep took me instantly.

--

It was dark. From where I lay in the backseat of June’s car, the only light I could see came from the taillights of the car in front of us. I remembered seeing stars when we had arrived at the party, but I couldn't now. Her stupid car roof was in the way, too busy shielding us from the rain that wouldn’t stop hitting it to let us see the stars. Logically, I knew we wouldn’t have been able to see a lot of the stars anyway, with the rain clouds blocking them, but I would have liked to see some. I would have liked to see that stupid lopsided parallelogram that my grandfather loved so dearly.

I laughed. Everything was funny to me, especially the way that neither June nor Lukas found anything funny. “We’re going to have to stop for gas,” Lukas said from the passenger seat in the front, which was funny. We hadn’t driven far - only the twenty minutes to campus - and June had had more than enough gas on the way there. Where had her gas gone? Maybe it had grown legs and had walked away, and there was a big gasoline man walking through campus right now. That would be funny.

“Shit, really?” June asked through gritted teeth. I closed my eyes as she changed lanes, likely to pull into a gas station. I didn’t open them again until we had pulled up to a pump, the faded white and green coloring that I could see through the window letting me know that we must be at the twenty-four hour Gasoline Haven about fifteen minutes from my house.

Fuck. My house. My parents. “June, I can’t go home like this,” I groaned. I was so very, stupidly, foolishly drunk. How many shots had I taken? I’d lost count after eight. I doubted I’d remember this tomorrow. That was not funny. Why the fuck had I done this, and how was I still even alive?

“I know,” she reassured me, turning around in the driver's seat to face me as Lukas got out of the car, walking around to the gas pumps. “You can stay with me tonight, like you told your parents you were doing originally.”

I nodded, offering her a toothy grin as I pushed myself into a sitting position. “That’s why I love you.”

She smiled in return, opening her mouth like she was about to respond, only to be cut off my a sharp rap at the driver’s side window. She rolled it down, listening to Lukas as he yelled something, his voice completely drowned out by the rain, for me. “Fuck, okay,” June said, swearing more as she fumbled with her seatbelt, “I’ll go inside and pay.” With that, she exited the car, the annoying beeping noise signalling that she hadn’t closed her door all the way.

The sound of the rain got louder as her footsteps retreated, and the door to my left opened. I laughed as Lukas leaned into the car, bracing his forearms on the seat and smiling at me. I smiled right back, blinking slowly as I said, “Well, hello there.”

He said nothing. While my eyes were closed, he must’ve leaned forward, because the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, strong and frantic, and all wrong. My eyes flew open, but all I could do was watch, and try to say something, anything, but my words were swallowed by his mouth. I was paralyzed, whether by fear or drunkenness, I didn’t know. I couldn’t lift my arms, to shove him away, and I couldn’t back away myself, not without opening the car door and allowing myself to tumble onto the wet pavement.

I stared at him in shock as he pulled away, instinctively attempting to bring my knees to my chest. I couldn’t unscramble my thoughts quickly enough to form a coherent sentence. Only one word rang through my mind. “Bad.”

“Why won’t you admit that you love me?” he asked, smirking, something sparkling in his eyes as he looked at me. I didn’t like it. I wanted him to go away. This was not funny.

I shook my head, trying my hardest to get the right words out of my mouth. “I don’t love you. I definitely don’t love what you just did.”

He raised his eyebrows, as if I had somehow challenged him, inviting him to rise to the occasion and prove me wrong. Except, I wasn’t wrong. I was never wrong. He was wrong. Something about him had always been wrong.

This was wrong.

“Would you like me to try something different?”

“No.” I shook my head again, but the gesture meant nothing to him, and he came in for another kiss. I tried to kick him away, but the motion seemed to do nothing. He was completely undeterred.

I heard footsteps splashing against the pavement as he pulled away. June’s voice cut through the noise of the rain. “What are you doing back there?” June would help me. June always helped me.

“Making sure she has her seatbelt on, now that she’s sitting up,” Lukas answered, reaching for the seatbelt as he spoke, slowly dragging his fingers diagonally across my chest as he made to fasten the buckle.

This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Lukas would never.

“She said she wants to stay at my house tonight,” Lukas announced as he got back into the passenger seat of the car. I hadn’t said that. This was not funny in the slightest.

“No,” June told him, but I knew he mustn’t understand that word. Hadn’t I told him no? He had heard me, and had kissed me again anyway. Despite being blackout drunk, I knew with clear certainty that I was lucky it had stopped there, that June had come back just then. “She has to stay at my place, or her parents will worry, and we’ll all be busted. Besides, I’m the nursing major. I’ll handle this.”

All I could feel was the chill of the car window against my forehead. All I wanted to do was forget about this.

Maybe it was a good thing I was blackout drunk.

--

I awoke in a cold sweat, my mouth open as if I was screaming silently, my breathing rapid and shallow. Reaching for my phone, I clicked the power button, the time blinding me as the device flashed to life. Four o’clock. It looked like it would be yet another, almost sleepless night for me, then.

[grindskull]

Shit that fucks me up #1 - Toxic Masculinity and being a “man”

Gotta have some way to organize my random thoughts here. I’m going with the obvious thing - Shit that fucks me up (STFMU). This is about me and my experiences. It is not my intention to discredit or question other human experiences. Sharing in the hopes of connecting with others who may have feel similar in their own skin. There are things here that others may define as triggers so read at your own risk (rape, abuse, and this fucking world). ---

Here is me being vulnerable.  I am putting myself out there by discussing masculinity and how I often do not identify with the larger concept of “being a man” in any positive way. You can call it toxic masculinity if you prefer. It’s acceptable shorthand for something that is just as nuanced and difficult to wade through as anything gender related.  I read this article on The Atlantic yesterday and there were some things that really resonated with me and my experience as a man/male (he/his/him). You can read it here (sorry there is a pay wall if you read more than 4 articles a month) but I will also be quoting some of the article below.  If you have time to read the article I’ll wait. It’s a bit long (many articles on The Atlantic are) and kind of academic at times. It’s okay if you don’t agree with everything in the article. Just read it.  Done? Okay let me set the stage a bit for how this shit fucks me up. ---

I’m male. I have always identified as a male/boy/man in my life. Unfortunately my experience with other males/boys/men has been mostly negative. It started at an early age when I had a hard time connecting with other boys my age. I was not interested in typical “male” interests like sports, violence, competition, and achievement. I had few (usually 1 or 2) friends at any one time and they typically had some kind of unhealthy power dynamic over me where I was subservient to my “friend” in some way.  I have some thoughts on reasons why this happened. The short version is I lived in poverty (often extreme) and I was searching for help and support in order to survive. At home I had abuse (mental, physical, verbal), drugs, addiction, and neglect. It was not a safe place to be so I did whatever I could to not be there. It was not unusual for me to eat maybe one meal during the day (typically what I could get from others at school or their home). Winter was the worst as we often did not have heat. Some of my “friends” used this as a way to hold power over me and make demands of my personality, time, and attention. Imagine finding yourself in this situation - you have to actively work to not be yourself in order to appease others for your very survival. Of course as a youth I didn’t identify it this way - my “friends” were just bossy or demanding. All of my male role models were basically assholes who did not give a fuck about anyone except themselves. This was a huge part of the 80′s zeitgeist in popular culture at the time as well. In some ways nothing has really changed. “... when asked to describe the attributes of “the ideal guy,” those same boys appeared to be harking back to 1955. Dominance. Aggression. Rugged good looks (with an emphasis on height). Sexual prowess. Stoicism. Athleticism. Wealth (at least some day).“ Under this common definition of “masculinity” I do not see myself. I am loyal, honest, caring, and sweet (to those I love). I love my body though I am non-athletic and have been most of my life. I am an attentive and talented lover but I have had very few sexual partners in my life and never saw them as moments of “conquest”. I was dirt poor most of my life but now live comfortably in my own home with my long term partner. So while not “wealthy” it is far beyond anything I could have imagined I would have in my life as a boy. Stoicism I have down. That one was easy. For me it’s just a nice way of saying “I have completely disconnected from my emotions and not having feelings or emotions is the best way to be a man”. I believed that for a very long time - it’s only in the past 2-3 years I have begun the work of breaking that down and reconnecting with my own emotions. It’s all tied up in trauma, depression, and anxiety so it takes a bit of fucking work but it’s very much worth it. If you are a man/male who thinks it is normal to not have emotions (or that emotions make you feminine/weak) please listen to me - THAT IS BULLSHIT. YOU OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO HAVE EMOTIONS.

“... young men described just one narrow route to successful masculinity. One-third said they felt compelled to suppress their feelings, to “suck it up” or “be a man” when they were sad or scared, and more than 40 percent said that when they were angry, society expected them to be combative.“

Emotions are not weakness. You are not weak for having them, feeling them, or connecting with them. There is great strength in connecting with yourself and understanding your emotions. Don’t let anyone tell you different. They are delusional at best and actively trying to harm you at worst.

“While following the conventional script may still bring social and professional rewards to boys and men, research shows that those who rigidly adhere to certain masculine norms are not only more likely to harass and bully others but to themselves be victims of verbal or physical violence. They’re more prone to binge-drinking, risky sexual behavior, and getting in car accidents. They are also less happy than other guys, with higher depression rates and fewer friends in whom they can confide.”

---

How did we get here!? Have men always been this way? What about the good ole masculinity of ye olden times? It was a simple time where men were men right? A man’s man? “According to Andrew Smiler, a psychologist who has studied the history of Western masculinity, the ideal late-19th-century man was compassionate, a caretaker, but such qualities lost favor as paid labor moved from homes to factories during industrialization. In fact, the Boy Scouts, whose creed urges its members to be loyal, friendly, courteous, and kind, was founded in 1910 in part to counter that dehumanizing trend. Smiler attributes further distortions in masculinity to a century-long backlash against women’s rights. During World War I, women proved that they could keep the economy humming on their own, and soon afterward they secured the vote. Instead of embracing gender equality, he says, the country’s leaders “doubled down” on the inalienable male right to power, emphasizing men’s supposedly more logical and less emotional nature as a prerequisite for leadership.”

Take a minute to read that and really take it in. Like many things in the US (and the world) the effects of industrialization and war shaped our current version of accepted masculinity. More specifically the leaders of this country (and leaders in other countries) used their positions of power to strengthen men and this new masculinity in our institutions. Then we were taught that this was the “right way” to “be a man”. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.

“Today many parents are unsure of how to raise a boy, what sort of masculinity to encourage in their sons. But as I learned from talking with boys themselves, the culture of adolescence, which fuses hyper-rationality with domination, sexual conquest, and a glorification of male violence, fills the void.“

Here we have the core of what I experience as a man when it comes to the current socially accepted version of masculinity and why it fucks me up. I don’t identify with any of this shit! It does not feed me. It does not make me feel fulfilled and happy. It doesn’t make the world better for anyone it simply dehumanizes us all. 

“In a classic study, adults shown a video of an infant startled by a jack-in-the-box were more likely to presume the baby was “angry” if they were first told the child was male. Mothers of young children have repeatedly been found to talk more to their girls and to employ a broader, richer emotional vocabulary with them; with their sons, again, they tend to linger on anger. As for fathers, they speak with less emotional nuance than mothers regardless of their child’s sex. Despite that, according to Judy Y. Chu, a human-biology lecturer at Stanford who conducted a study of boys from pre-K through first grade, little boys have a keen understanding of emotions and a desire for close relationships. But by age 5 or 6, they’ve learned to knock that stuff off, at least in public: to disconnect from feelings of weakness, reject friendships with girls (or take them underground, outside of school), and become more hierarchical in their behavior.“

I’m not going to get into the topic of my own father (that’s another post in this series for sure) too deeply but I will say I completely identify with these ideas. Emotional distance, only expressing anger, telling me having emotions was weak. This was reinforced societal norms throughout my youth through today. Don’t talk about your problems or feelings. Ball them up inside. Wall yourself off from the world. Connections = weakness that others will exploit. You must control every situation and hold power over others. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.

---

So when did I wake up? When did I start to see through this shit in some way? When my younger sister was born. It was really obvious to me that she was treated in a different way and expectations of her as a girl/woman were not the same as the expectations others had for me. Mostly I just saw the negatives in this. It took me time (and lots of communication and experiences with my partner and others) to recognize the root of this was more fucked up socialization. 

“Girlfriends, mothers, and in some cases sisters were the most common confidants of the boys I met. While it’s wonderful to know they have someone to talk to—and I’m sure mothers, in particular, savor the role—teaching boys that women are responsible for emotional labor, for processing men’s emotional lives in ways that would be emasculating for them to do themselves, comes at a price for both sexes. Among other things, that dependence can leave men unable to identify or express their own emotions, and ill-equipped to form caring, lasting adult relationships.”

Read this carefully. Nobody is responsible for your emotional well being but you. If you are a male/man this is especially true - females/women are not responsible for managing your emotions and your reliance on them to take care of this is a form of abuse. They are not responsible for your emotions. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN EMOTIONS.

It can be really hard to see this. It was a blind spot for me for way too long. Don’t let it be one for you. Connecting with and taking responsibility for your emotions is one of the biggest things you can do to improve yourself as a human being. If you are sad you can cry. If you are happy you can laugh. You have a wide range of emotions and they don’t all lead to frustration or anger.

“As someone who, by virtue of my sex, has always had permission to weep, I didn’t initially understand this. Only after multiple interviews did I realize that when boys confided in me about crying—or, even more so, when they teared up right in front of me—they were taking a risk, trusting me with something private and precious: evidence of vulnerability, or a desire for it.“

---

Okay so putting aside all of the reinforcement we get from our parents and institutions and our lack of emotional vulnerability why do we all buy into this dumb shit? Who convinced us all this is what masculinity is? And why do we listen?

“What the longtime sportswriter Robert Lipsyte calls “jock culture” (or what the boys I talked with more often referred to as “bro culture”) is the dark underbelly of male-dominated enclaves, whether or not they formally involve athletics: all-boys’ schools, fraternity houses, Wall Street, Silicon Valley, Hollywood, the military. Even as such groups promote bonding, even as they preach honor, pride, and integrity, they tend to condition young men to treat anyone who is not “on the team” as the enemy (the only women who ordinarily make the cut are blood relatives— bros before hos!), justifying any hostility toward them. Loyalty is paramount, and masculinity is habitually established through misogynist language and homophobia.”

Sounds familiar right guys? Don’t kid yourself. This is what being a man looks like in almost all situations in which we feel “safe” to express our self right? You are either with us or against us. Anything different or anyone questioning this behavior must be “othered” as they are clearly not “on the team”. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.

This was my entire experience as a youth. As someone who did not fit into this group (nor wanted to) I was immediately “othered” and deemed a “pussy” or “fag” or “homo” or “weirdo”. My friend group reflected this - mostly others who also were “not on the team” like women, gays and lesbians, and men who also did not identify with this version of masculinity. Which just made it easier to group us all together and identify us as the enemy. 

“Just because some young men now draw the line at referring to someone who is openly gay as a fag doesn’t mean, by the way, that gay men (or men with traits that read as gay) are suddenly safe. If anything, the gay guys I met were more conscious of the rules of manhood than their straight peers were. They had to be—and because of that, they were like spies in the house of hypermasculinity.” Without the ability to connect with and express my emotions I often reacted in anger. I started fights. I got violent (with words and writing mostly). I returned this “othering” and treated them all as the enemy. I had other reasons for this (being abused by men as a boy) but at the crux of the issue I had no trust for men. This helped me connect with women and my gay friends as they also experienced this distrust in similar (and different) ways. 

Years later I found myself in a job where I managed a group of men (100 or more at any time) working as a team (video game industry) and totally unable to connect with any of them as a human let alone a man. It was at this time that I realized this was a problem beyond my own experiences and when I started to understand my own participation in this system. 

I tried to question things as they came up. I tried to hear my teammates and help them navigate this murky sea of masculinity to find their own place in it. Most people didn’t want to participate. They learned to keep their mouth shut if I was within earshot of their typical “bro talk”. They learned to act differently around me so as not to incur my wrath (using my anger and position of power to punish them for being sexist, racist, or intolerant). I felt powerful and I tricked myself into thinking I was making a difference. I was wrong. 

---

“Recently, Pascoe turned her attention to no homo, a phrase that gained traction in the 1990s. She sifted through more than 1,000 tweets, primarily by young men, that included the phrase. Most were expressing a positive emotion, sometimes as innocuous as “I love chocolate ice cream, #nohomo” or “I loved the movie The Day After Tomorrow, #nohomo.” “A lot of times they were saying things like ‘I miss you’ to a friend or ‘We should hang out soon,’ ” she said. “Just normal expressions of joy or connection.” No homo is a form of inoculation against insults from other guys, Pascoe concluded, a “shield that allows boys to be fully human.”

It wasn’t long before my “making a difference” spread into our hiring, training, and management of the team. I brought in women who wanted to work in the game industry. I tried to shut down any of the bro culture bullshit that came up and used it as an opportunity to teach other men why it was fucked up. It worked for some (maybe 5-6 people out of hundreds) but the majority either quit or tried to get me fired. Most did not change their behavior in any way. 

The women said they knew what they were getting into. I don’t believe they knew what it was like to actually be in the middle of the situation. I assume women in the military probably have a lot of experience like this. In short - it’s fucking toxic and disgusting. Like other males/men they too have to fall in line and “become one of the boys” or risk being antagonized and ostracized for being “different”. It’s Lord of the Flies. It’s fucking mob mentality. It’s masculinity at it’s absolute worst. And this was in a “progressive” creative city working for a small company with a woman CEO. Men simply don’t give a fuck and it’s almost always easier to go with the flow. FUCK. THIS. SHIT.

My first experience with a trans individual in a work setting occurred was while I was managing this team. One of our long term employees made the transition and I had to watch how they were treated by the “bros’. Jokes were made, memes were shared, snickering and fucked up behavior was rampant. I had to talk to, discipline, and fire many individuals. These were men I thought were “on the team” and working to be good examples of masculinity. I should have known that was just part of the act - their way of surviving and showing subservience to me as a man in a position of power over them. My trust was further eroded in masculinity. 

Putting yourself over others is not power. It is dehumanization and it stems from hate. We can be different without being better or worse than someone else regardless of who they are. Not everything has to be a competition. It took me way too long to undo the damage done to me by these ideal of toxic masculinity. You can do it too - you just have to start today. 

---

Beyond the negative effects this version of masculinity has on us as males/men it also fucks up our interaction with women and sexual partners and it’s certainly done so to me. I’m actively working on unfucking my fucking and aware that many of my heterosexual ideals of sex stem from the same shit I have been actively fighting against most of my life. Connecting emotionally with your sexual partner takes things to a completely different level.

“It’s not like I imagined boys would gush about making sweet, sweet love to the ladies, but why was their language so weaponized ? The answer, I came to believe, was that locker-room talk isn’t about sex at all, which is why guys were ashamed to discuss it openly with me. The (often clearly exaggerated) stories boys tell are really about power: using aggression toward women to connect and to validate one another as heterosexual, or to claim top spots in the adolescent sexual hierarchy. Dismissing that as “banter” denies the ways that language can desensitize—abrade boys’ ability to see girls as people deserving of respect and dignity in sexual encounters.”  

This is the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear the term “rape culture”. As men we are taught that to be masculine is to claim “wins” in sexual conquest. Sex is property and we can collect it. Even if it’s with our long term partners or spouses. Ever tried talking to men about this? Ever questioned others on how it’s fucked up? You probably heard about how it’s all in jest. Just a joke! I’m just joking!  “When called out, boys typically claim that they thought they were just being “funny.” And in a way that makes sense—when left unexamined, such “humor” may seem like an extension of the gross-out comedy of childhood. Little boys are famous for their fart jokes, booger jokes, poop jokes. It’s how they test boundaries, understand the human body, gain a little cred among their peers. But, as can happen with sports, their glee in that can both enable and camouflage sexism. The boy who, at age 10, asks his friends the difference between a dead baby and a bowling ball may or may not find it equally uproarious, at 16, to share what a woman and a bowling ball have in common (you can Google it). He may or may not post ever-escalating “jokes” about women, or African Americans, or homosexuals, or disabled people on a group Snapchat. He may or may not send “funny” texts to friends about “girls who need to be raped,” or think it’s hysterical to surprise a buddy with a meme in which a woman is being gagged by a penis, her mascara mixed with her tears. He may or may not, at 18, scrawl the names of his hookups on a wall in his all-male dorm, as part of a year-long competition to see who can “pull” the most. Perfectly nice, bright, polite boys I interviewed had done one or another of these things.”

Let me be clear in case you are confused. This shit isn’t funny. Laughing at other people’s misfortune is a long standing human tradition yes - and it still dehumanizes everyone involved. That doesn’t make me laugh but maybe you are still amused? Why?

“At the most disturbing end of the continuum, “funny” and “hilarious” become a defense against charges of sexual harassment or assault. To cite just one example, a boy from Steubenville, Ohio, was captured on video joking about the repeated violation of an unconscious girl at a party by a couple of high-school football players. “She is so raped,” he said, laughing. “They raped her quicker than Mike Tyson.” When someone off camera suggested that rape wasn’t funny, he retorted, “It isn’t funny—it’s hilarious!”

The classic toxic masculinity force field present in my life has been the “just joking” phrase with the ultimate no consequence phrase “it’s hilarious!”. Say something you don’t want to manage the consequences for? Just a joke! People still question you or your morals after saying some heinous shit? No.. it’s cool... it’s hilarious! You just gotta laugh! FUCK. THIS. SHIT.

“Hilarious” is another way, under the pretext of horseplay or group bonding, that boys learn to disregard others’ feelings as well as their own. “Hilarious” is a haven, offering distance when something is inappropriate, confusing, depressing, unnerving, or horrifying; when something defies boys’ ethics. It allows them to subvert a more compassionate response that could be read as unmasculine—and makes sexism and misogyny feel transgressive rather than supportive of an age-old status quo. Boys may know when something is wrong; they may even know that true manhood—or maybe just common decency—compels them to speak up. Yet, too often, they fear that if they do, they’ll be marginalized or, worse, themselves become the target of derision from other boys. Masculinity, then, becomes not only about what boys do say, but about what they don’t—or won’t, or can’t—say, even when they wish they could. The psychologists Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson, the authors of Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys, have pointed out that silence in the face of cruelty or sexism is how too many boys become men. 

I feel like I may have already gone too far into this dark hole of shit that fucks me up around toxic masculinity. I hope I didn’t lose you. I hope you have questions and thoughts about how this impacts your life. Perhaps ways that you make a change today to fight against this bullshit. You may be asking yourself “what can we do!?” At the end of the day its up to males/men to change this culture. It’s not about self-hate or self-abuse. We gotta name this and own it. We need more men to step up and say ‘It doesn’t have to be like this”. Our collective mental health requires us to be more flexible and connected to ourselves and emotions. We need to find ways to deal with our anger, frustration, and desires in ways that don’t hurt ourselves and others. We need to teach ourselves (especially youth) that it isn’t enough to only talk about things we shouldn’t (and hopefully won’t) do. 

If this shit fucks you too you can do something about it. Start with yourself. Question these things when they come up. And not only when you feel “safe” to do so. Do it consistently in ways that are non-confrontational (they will probably lead to confrontations with most men anyway - sorry). Be okay with not always “winning’ in these situations. You’ll be surprised who you might connect with in the process. Hopefully one of those people will be yourself. 

[cami-chats]

Being In Love

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Pairing: Geralt/Renfri

Warnings: Brief mention of past non-con

Realizing she was in love with Geralt was less 'oh' and more 'ah shit'. That's literally what she thought when she realized it. Jaskier had been rehearsing his lines, and when he asked Geralt if he thought it was funny, he'd just hmm'd. Renfri had laughed at that, and that was when it hit her: she was in love with him. Ah shit. Plenty of people fell in love with Geralt, and he'd turned them all down. He hadn't given a reason, and as far as she knew, he wasn't aro. He just... hadn't been interested. She was his best friend, sure, but that was because she hadn't looked at him and fallen immediately in lust so he gave their possible friendship a try and here they were. With her in the exact position she didn't want to be in. 

She was in the coffee shop where Yennefer worked now-- managed technically, though how she got that position after only working there for six months, Renfri had no idea-- with her laptop open as she kept a careful eye on the bid for a set of daggers. She didn't care about all of them, just that one stiletto dagger with the red jewel on the end. She'd probably turn around and resell the others if she won this-- which she was determined to do. 

Geralt took the seat next to her, and she didn't think anything about it; they always sat next to each other. "Black Swan's out," he said as he reached into his bag his own computer. 

"I saw." Damn, someone just raised the bid by fifty bucks. Was this person made of money? She glared at the screen as she entered a new amount. If her parents hadn't left all their money to her when they died, she'd be so screwed right now. 

"Want to go tonight?" 

"What time?" She had to get up early tomorrow to meet with her Women in Medieval History teacher, so she didn't want to be out too late. Dr. de Vries was a great professor, but she could be a little ruthless if she thought Renfri wasn’t paying complete attention to her. 

"Seven." 

"Sure." 

Geralt plugged in his charger and opened it up, scowling at the world at large as he worked on his essay. 

"Hello friends!" Jaskier proclaimed, throwing his bag on the table and sitting across from them, his elbow resting on the table so he could lean his head into his hand. "How are we this fine afternoon?" 

"Busy," Geralt and Renfri said at the same time. 

"Are you messaging each other?" he asked, peering over to try and see what was on their screens. Geralt flicked him in the nose. "Oh alright, keep your secrets." He rubbed at his nose and sat back down. "Any plans tonight?" 

"We're going to see Black Swan," Renfri said, refreshing the page to make sure she hadn't been outbid again. 

"Sounds like fun, can I come?" 

"No," Geralt said immediately. Renfri glanced at him but didn't comment. As much as they joked about Jaskier talking too much, they'd all gone to the movies before. 

"What? Why not?" 

Geralt just glared at him. 

"Fine. Fine, leave me alone on a Friday night like a pathetic loser with no friends." 

"No," Yennefer said, appearing behind him and making him jump, "you're a pathetic loser with almost three friends. Why are they leaving you alone on a Friday night?" 

"They're going to see Black Swan, and I'm not invited." 

"Black Swan?" she repeated, perking up. 

"You're not invited either," Geralt said, before she could say anything further. 

She pouted, but he was unmoved. "Fine. I just need to finish up inventory in the storeroom and then I'll be done." 

Renfri didn't think anything of it at the time-- too busy winning the auction! She paid through the nose for it, but by Lilit that dagger was worth it-- but once she was back in her apartment, she frowned. Geralt often acted like he didn't want any friends, but he never refused plans outright unless he had a reason. He must have a reason for this, but she didn't know what the hell that could be. So something about this must be different. Did he need to tell her something? Oh fuck he's dying. Wait, no. Geralt wouldn't tell anyone he was dying until he was already dead. Safe there, but did he still need to break some sort of news? But that didn't make sense either. People found things out about him, he didn't volunteer the information. Hell, Renfri hadn't known his parents were dead until she'd tried to invite them to Geralt's birthday party-- a party he'd protested but had fun at all the same, thank you very much. 

She was overthinking this, nothing was going on. Yennefer and Jaskier could both be assholes to watch movies with, sometimes it was fine, other times it wasn't and clearly this was one of the latter. 

And that belief stayed with her until Geralt showed up at her apartment. Dressed up. He was wearing a button-up. And Jaskier hadn't bribed him. He'd combed his hair to resemble something neat, and he was even wearing jeans that were free of holes or grease stains from where he worked. Suddenly, her haphazard ponytail at the base of her neck and the hoodie seemed terribly inappropriate. 

"I wasn't paying attention to the time," she lied. "Let me change real quick." 

He nodded and took a seat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest for lack of anything else to do. 

First thing, she took out the elastic and ran her fingers through her hair. She ducked into her room and pulled off her hoodie and t-shirt, throwing it carelessly on the ground. She had a date night shirt around here somewhere, she just needed to find it. She opened her closet, grabbed the first dressy shirt she saw and put it on. She finished buttoning it, then glanced in the mirror and grimaced. This was the shirt she wore when Yennefer dragged her to parties. Translucent white with big red rose designs and little ruffles to make up the capped sleeves. It might be a button up, but it was low cut by design. She thought about changing again, but she wasn't going to risk them being late; this would have to do. 

She headed back into the living room, so busy messing with her hair to make sure it wasn't caught in the collar, that she missed the interested look Geralt gave her new outfit. God was this a date? She hadn't prepared herself for a date. At all. Much less one with Geralt. What did Geralt even do on dates? Hell, what did she do on dates? She'd been on one since starting college, and then she hadn't trusted anyone for a while. If this was in fact a date, it would be her first in over two years. Maybe she should ask, make sure. 

Except then Geralt held the car door open for her, and that had to mean this was a date, right? He never did that normally. When they got to the theater, he paid for both their tickets even though they had a longstanding agreement to pay for their outings separately. And then they were in line, waiting for that screening to open, and he cleared his throat and said, "You look nice." 

"Oh. Um, thanks." She had definitely chosen the wrong shirt for this. "You look nice too." That sounded insincere, so she added, "I didn't know you had pants that clean." 

He snorted, and this was more normal footing. "I never wear them." 

"They make your ass look pretty phenomenal." 

"My goal in life," he said drily. 

"I'm just saying. You're guaranteed to get laid if you go on a date wearing them." Damn. She used to be suave, can you believe that? If they were definitely here as friends though, that would've been a perfectly fine thing to say. 

"Hm," he said, but it was noncommittal. God damn it, this was a date and she’d just said that.

Someone in line was eyeing her a little too much, and she shifted, putting an arm around Geralt's waist. He didn't pause, his arm going over her shoulders automatically. It was a common bit they did, since Geralt was intimidating enough that no one wanted to risk hitting on his girlfriend. Of course, now that they were (probably) on a date, it only served to make her heartbeat quicken instead of easing her mind. 

They got into their seats without further incident, and she shivered. She knew that movie theaters were cold, and she hadn’t brought a jacket. Unprompted, Geralt put his arm back around her and pulled her close, his body a line of heat against hers. The music started playing, the lights dimmed, and the movie began. 

The boss of the ballet showed up, and Renfri leaned in to whisper, "He's a predator." 

"Yeah." 

She didn't bother to move back into her own seat because Geralt was plenty comfortable to lean on. Hell, over the course of their friendship she'd learned that he didn't make a bad pillow, either. A couple minutes later, she was proven right about the character, not that it was a surprise. She snorted, tucking hair behind her ear from where it had fallen out when she moved. 

They walked out of the theater, not knowing exactly what they had watched. "That was..." 

"Weird," Geralt supplied, and she nodded. 

"Good, but weird. And I could have done without the assault plot points." 

"Unnecessary," he grunted. See, it's stuff like that they made them such great friends. 

They got back to her apartment, and Geralt hovered awkwardly in the doorway like he wasn't sure if he needed an official invitation or not. "Get in here, Witcher," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've been here a hundred times." It was a bit different since they'd just gone on a date, but for the most part it was the same. He was still her best friend, and she was still perfectly comfortable around him. 

"Hmm." He stepped in and closed the door, but he was staying near the entrance instead of making himself at home like he normally did. 

Renfri sighed. "It's the shirt isn't it?" 

Geralt said nothing, but it was enough. 

"I didn't know it was a date until you showed up. I grabbed the first thing I saw," she said with a shrug. 

"Hmm." 

"Oh don't give me that, I was happy to go on a date with you, I just didn't know that's what it was. You want a beer?" 

"Yeah." At the offer, he started acting normally, taking the bottle from her and sitting on the couch. "Weird movie." 

"I was hoping for a little more dancing, but I should've known better. It's not like Portman's a dancer, she's an actress." 

"A good one." 

"A good one," Renfri agreed, "but not a ballerina. The whole rivalry plotline seemed... contrived." 

He grunted in agreement, taking a sip. "Good effects." 

"Damn good effects," she said. 

Everything was normal. That leading to them fucking on her bed, well, that was less normal. But it was also a sight better than talking about a movie neither of them had loved. 

*

"What the fuck," she spit as a loud, persistent noise woke her up. 

It took Geralt a second to be awake enough to form words, but when he did, it was one word, more of a groan than a word, "Jaskier." 

"He's calling you? This early?" Then, "Why the hell is that your ringtone for him?" She picked up the phone, slid it to answer and said, "Fuck off!" and hung up. She sighed in relief at the blessed silence that followed. 

Only for twenty seconds, when the phone started going off again. Geralt answered it this time, leaning over her as she covered her ears and wondered how long it would take for her to go completely mad. "What," he growled. 

He was close enough-- and the room was quiet enough-- that she could hear Jaskier's side of the conversation as well. "Was that a woman answering your phone? Two questions for you, Mister Geralt: since when do you do hook ups and who is she that you've stayed the night?" 

"Jaskier," he said warningly. 

"Oh alright, but I will get the answers out of you eventually." 

"Get to the point." 

"Can you pick me up? Well, me and Yennefer. We're too drunk to drive." 

"Call a cab." 

"I can't find my wallet and the she-witch claims she can't find hers. Personally, I think she's cheap." 

Geralt groaned, head dropping to the pillow. Renfri pat him in commiseration. 

"Great! We're at the Cintra sorority house." 

He sighed. Of course that's where they were. Calanthe had banned him from going in. While he had no intention of going inside, she'd probably take it as him picking a fight if he showed up on her lawn. "Be outside." 

"Thaaaank you Geralt, you're my hero!" 

Geralt humphed and hung up. 

Renfri rubbed at her face, trying to will wakefulness into being. 

"Jaskier's an idiot," he grumbled. He pushed himself up. "See you tomorrow." 

"I'll come with you," she said, talking around her yawn. She made to get up, and he gently pushed her back down. 

"You have to get up early." 

"I'm already up," she argued, but when he kissed her forehead and got to his feet, she didn't try to follow. It's not like Geralt needed help, and she was going to have to wake up again in four hours. "Call if you need a save." 

Geralt snorted, imagining how that rescue would take place. 

"And-" she had to stop to yawn widely "-I'll see you tomorrow."

[maliciousdraggy]

[SERIOUS] how did you feel after failed suicide attempt

Hear me out, I know this might sound like a troll post but please let me get my story out and I hope to get feedback from this.

I just got out of the VA hospital for a 5 day stay in the mental health ward. They were really good people and I can not say enough praise about them but I have to lead everyone up to the point on which they were able to help me.

Before the cause of my stay in the hospital I honestly thought that people who self harmed was just people looking for attention or that maybe had some kind of fetish. I do my best not to judge people based on just one insight I have of the person but to be honest I've only knew a few in my life, a total of two to be honest and from knowing them in the aspects that they showed to the world I deemed them "attention whores" and never thought about it much ever since.

Last week I tried to take my life. The reasons honestly doesn't matter it could be ptsd, general life related or just simple lack of sleep.

I had my plan together, wife was at work, only mother-in-law was home and upstairs, I placed my dogs in my room and I was going to go into the back yard with a glock 38 .45 acp. I called 911 and informed them that they would have a body to pick up at this address and where it would be located. The Operator tried the normal stuff such as think of your family and friends and how much you would be hurting them with some other stuff but I was half way listening to be honest because my goal was to bed dead and the cops take my body before my wife and step kids got home.

so I laid down in the backyard next to the pool and fire pit I had put in years back, my left arm laid in dog shit and I just groaned to my self "this isn't what I want to leave behind". I wiped off the dog shit the best I could so at least it wouldn't be obvious to the first person that found my body that I willingly/mistakenly laid it in. I hear rambles on my smart phone not sure what she was saying but I'm guessing she was going through a checklist and then I brought the pistol up to my head.

I took a big deep breath and well you know the outcome I couldn't pull the trigger. I a man that has spent literally years in Iraq being shot and bombed against could not pull the fucking trigger....

The amount I hatred I felt for myself and for life as a whole will never be done in that moment. "You had 1 fucking job and you couldn't do it" "you pile of shit, gutless little faggot that always cried out for a way out but when it came you didn't have the balls". Words honestly can not do justice to the emotions I felt at the time. I already give the 911 operator my info so I knew I only had limited time to finish what I started.

I did not have a back up plan when I started this because I honestly thought I could take the shot. my mind jumped to slitting my wrist in all the Hollywood cliches movies I've seen in the past. I ran into my kitchen. my heart is pounding because I know I'm on a timer, the cops are coming and I need to be dead before they get here but I need to die outside. I grabbed a hand full of knifes that was in the butcher block thingie not sure what its called but it held 8 of them and came out with 3. I started cutting my left wrist with the biggest which I thought would be the sharpest and it just tore the skin. "shit its dull" then I grabbed the next one and rub my thumb across its blade in a right to left motion. It was also dull as well as the third.

So here I am dog shit on 1/2 of my left arm a pistol with 1 round in it in front of me and 3 different kinds of knifes around me while cops are coming...

yea fuck that, I knew I had a sharp or at least what I thought was sharp leatherman type knife I had from a while back in my den. I ran in, grabbed it and went back to the spot I picked to die *not sure why I picked this spot it just seemed like a nice place to die but I digress*. I started slicing at my left wrist, the first time I have ever cut my self on purpose in my life and the knife was not as sharp as I thought it was so I kept slicing and it would dig in then jump to another spot repeatedly but at least it was sharper than knifes in the kitchen. The 911 operator is still on my smart phone and I cant hear a word she is saying but I do remember saying "there we go" when I first start seeing beads then what I thought was an artery of blood sprint forth my arm *14 1/2 inches according to the nice people at the va and just kept repeatedly slicing.

Now during this time I thought I was done for so I was just going for style points and just to be sure. So I kept slicing and wincing at the pain when the knife jumped to another spot over and over again but with all the blood it was really hard to see what was being done and I just kept repeating the motion over and over again until I heard someone from my back right say my name and to drop the weapon. I do remember telling the officer that I'm not done yet. He yells at me again to drop the weapon and at this point I figure that I would listen to him because I'm already dead right? I've got my left arm covered with blood that has been stabbed and torn and sliced over 20 times no way I'm making my way out of this. I throw the knife down a good 5 feet from me and place my hand above my head as I was instructed I remember blood hitting my bald spot as I did this and was like "yea, going to die in peace on a stretcher somewhere and not on grass with dog shit on it". The Officer ask if I have any other weapons, I tell him I have a pistol with 1 round on it in front me. he ask that I stand up and by no means lean towards the pistol *I have nothing but respect for cops I know they are like people and some fuck up and there are good and bad ones but I'm not the type of shitlord that tries to make things hard for them* so I do what I'm told. The officer comes in front of me with a tact vest of some sort mostlikey running interceptor body armor *that shit is a joke* and an ar15 type rifle not sure if it was a sigg but he had his kit fully ready.

The officer reaches for the pistol thats around 2 foot in front of where I was squatting on the deck. he takes the pistol and throws it to the side. He had sunglasses on but if I was him I sure as hell wouldnt of taken an eye off of me. he ask if I had anymore weapon I tell him no. He then tells me to stand up and turn my back towards him which I do. He then ask me to lift up my shirt which I'm guessing is to make sure I didn't have any hidden weapons on me and at this point another officer appears in front of me. I dont know when he got there or how but I didn't notice until it already happened.

The 2nd officer checked my waistband again for something that might be hidden and tells me to keep my arms up. at this point my left arm is covered in blood and its just dripping all over the stone decking. I'm waiting for the whole pass out and never wake up thingie to happen but since you've read this far you know that didn't happen. After both officers checked me they called in emts which got to work on my arm and in my mine I thought "haha faggots ya too late, too slow on the draw /muahahhaha I win".

The EMTs starts cleaning off the blood and for the first time I can honestly see the real damage I did and let me be everything but misunderstood here "I was fucking ferrous". My entire arm that was covered in blood and I thought I was done for was just a shit load of nicks and scratches. 20 or 30 times I carved with the knife it was just jumping from 1 point to another very few places did it have what I would even call a decent cut.

So after the EMTs clear me the 2nd officer is talking with me and me being the big bitch I am had been crying the entire time in hopes that the cutting would put and end of my life/suffering. The 2nd officer tried doing the whole "what about you friends and family" speech bullshit which before then I thought was just a trope so I told him I'm a selfish asshole and I just want this one thing.

we go back and forth not sure for how long, maybe 15 mins *I'm not the best judge of time* before I'm handcuffed and put in back of a squad car then moved to another one because its 1 guys launch break *this is true a fuck and in the moment I'm like yea ok let the guy get some food because everyone hates working on there lunch break* so I'm moved into the other car and we make the way to the largest VA hospital in my area. The reason we are going to the VA is because they have seen me before on thoughts of suicide but this was the first time I've taken action. *if your asking why a guy who had seen the doc about suicide stuff still have a weapon, its simple really. I locked it in a quick release safe that only my wife has/had the code to. it took me 5 mins with a flat head screw driver to open it so keep that in mind if you have a quick release safe because of kids* I get to the hospital which took around an hour and the entire time cop number two was talking to me. IMO he is a good guy, not he's a cop so he's a good guy but he honestly seemed to care about what was going on.

I'm in the va hospital, cop number 2 talks to another cop there and says I'm non combative would he like for me to stay in restrains or not. cop number 3 says nah take'm off. so there I am, pissed at the entire world and myself most of all in a lil room with glass doors with a small Hispanic nurse next to me and the 3rd officer keeping and eye on me in the distance.

[nothingelsematterswrites]

Hello, I love your stories, this is my first time asking :) Maybe John/Brian with sub!Brian in the Hot Space era. John showing Brian who’s boss and why he won’t put up with Brian trying to change his songs. (All consensual ofc) Maybe Bri was just acting bratty to get John a little worked up and show his dom side?

John stops himself outside Brian’s door.

One of their first rules had been never to act in anger, and right now, John can feel it still simmering in his veins, steaming between his ears. Normally, he’s very good at partitioning, at leaving their arguments in the studio, but Brian had seemed set on being a particular asshole today, and it had driven John almost beyond the point of reason.

When Freddie and Roger are the ones taking away his liquor, he supposes he must be unusually cross.

It was just so infuriating. John knew that even though his songwriting isn’t as good as Freddie’s, or Roger’s, or even Brian’s, he still writes good songs. After all, it’s his song that’s still running out of record stores across America. Why Brian always has such a problem with his lyrics, he has no idea. And the bloody guitar solos!

John takes a deep breath.

No, he’s not here because he’s angry. He’s here because there was something in Brian’s expression as John stormed out of the studio; something pleading, needy. John’s here because he’d be an irresponsible dom if he ignored a look like that.

He takes another deep breath, and uses his key to unlock the door.

Usually, when their visits are arranged, Brian will be waiting, kneeling by the bed, usually already wearing his favourite collar and leash, sometimes with an assortment of toys spread out for John to choose from. But after the way the day has gone, John really isn’t surprised that Brian is not in that position tonight; he appears to be in the bathroom.

John takes another breath, and when he starts crossing the room, he’s surprised to find himself perfectly calm.

Brian is standing in front of the mirror, combing out his damp curls. It’s an arduous process, one that John knows if interrupted will leave Brian with a crazy mess the next day.

“Hello, Brian.”

He sees the shiver that runs down Brian’s spine at the tone of his voice, but, impressively, Brian puts the comb down with excellent control.

His eyes flick up in the mirror, meet John’s, and immediately drop.

“Hello.”

“You had quite a day today, Brian.”

John can see Brian contemplate resisting for a moment. He presses home his advantage. He knows it’s not good for Brian when he resists.

“Very busy, weren’t you? Making a lot of suggestions.”

And then Brian’s head drops very slightly, and all the tension goes out of his shoulders.

“Yes, sir.”

John smiles. All his anger has completely evaporated. “Come here, Brian.”

“Yes, sir.” Brian turns and walks towards John, his head bowed, looking up at John through his eyelashes, and John can’t help but kiss him, swallowing the sigh that escapes Brian and running his hands over Brian’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you go and get ready?” he says softly. “Then we can talk.”

John waits in the bathroom, setting out the super-soft towels they keep specially for these nights, turning on the towel-warmer, getting out the lotion and, after some thought, the bath salts. He waits ten minutes, giving Brian his space, and then heads out.

If Brian is sitting on the bed, it will be a non-verbal signal that he feels he cannot handle the extremes of their dynamic tonight. If he is in his usual position, well, John has some thoughts.

He’s quite pleased to find Brian kneeling by the bed. He’s wearing the choke-collar, lead already attached, and completely naked, his hands clasped behind his back.

John seats himself on the edge of the bed, next to Brian, and reaches out, stroking the curls gently.

“You made me very angry today, Brian. Of course I don’t expect the same behaviour in the studio as I do in here, but today, you disrespected not only my authority as your dom, but my very position in the band and myself as a person. I don’t tinker with your songs. I don’t mind friendly suggestions, but I won’t tolerate you trying to re-write my songs.”

Brian’s head dips lower. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“An apology isn’t going to quite cut it tonight, I’m afraid.” John’s fingers tighten thoughtfully in Brian’s hair. “I think some further punishment is required.”

“Yes, sir,” Brian’s voice is almost a sigh of relief, which catches John’s attention; he decides not to address it right now.

“I think perhaps twenty strokes with the whip,” John says, as though pondering his decisions. “And then…well, it will depend on how good you are for me. Can you do that, Bri?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. I want you on your knees, hands on the headboard.”

Brian obeys, scrambling onto the bed and into position. John leans over to snap the cuffs into place and hears the way Brian’s breathing is already slightly ragged. He can’t help placing a kiss to Brian’s shoulder as he adjusts the collar so that it sits comfortably in the new position.

John quickly clips the longer leash into place and crosses to their whip drawer. He chooses carefully; a short whip made of soft kangaroo leather that Brian had bought him as a gift on their last trip to Australia. He knows Brian likes this one, and it marks him up rather beautifully.

After a moment’s thought, he grabs the lube and something else from their play drawer, and moves into position at the end of the bed. He takes his time settling himself, slipping off his shoes, taking off his belt, and unbuttoning his shirt a little until he feels relaxed. He lifts the whip in his hand.

John then turns his thoughts inwards, and harshly questions himself. Am I really calm enough to do this properly?

Satisfied with his answer - the fury he’d felt in the studio seems to have entirely dissipated now, leaving only a burning disappointment and annoyance - he raises the whip and strikes.

Brian gasps slightly as the whip comes down across his backside, but he dutifully says, “One.”

“Colour, Bri?”

“Green, sir. Thankyou, sir.”

“Good boy.”

John falls into almost a trance-like state as he continues, the rhythm of the whip consistent and regular, every fibre of his being intent on the connection between himself and Brian and the dynamic between them. Brian’s voice cracks slightly when they reach twelve, but before John can even ask, Brian immediately adds “Green, sir,” and John continues, occasionally tugging at the leash in his free hand to pull the collar tighter against Brian’s throat.

“Twenty.”

John sets the whip down. Brian’s ass, thighs and back are now beautifully decorated with red stripes, and he’s flushed and panting, his hard cock hanging heavy between his legs.

“Gorgeous. Good boy, you’re so good for me. Colour, love?”

“Green, sir,” Brian manages to say, his voice breaking.

“Good boy. You’ve been so good.” John kicks his jeans off and quickly tosses his shirt on the pile at his feet; as soon as he’s naked he crawls onto the bed behind Brian, and runs a hand over his back, feeling the shivers that chase themselves all over his skin.

“Tell me why that happened, Brian.”

“Because I disrespected you,” Brian says quietly. “Because I keep trying to change your songs and today I tried to change everything and disrespected your position in the band.”

“Good boy. I think your punishment will only last a little longer, you’ve been taking it so well.”

And then John slips the cock ring onto Brian and the guitarist whines, his back flexing. John waits it out, his fingers rubbing circles on Brian’s ribs, and after a few moments the older man is settled back in position, his breathing slightly ragged, and John takes a moment to smother his lower back in kisses.

“So beautiful, so good for me…just a little bit longer, that’s a good boy. Going to give you my fingers now, I know you like those, does that sound nice?”

“Yes, sir. Thankyou sir!”

John takes his time fingering Brian, knowing the older man loves the feeling, making sure to stroke insistently over his prostate, pulling back on the leash until Brian is nearly sobbing in pleasure. His voice is so ruined that John can’t help but check in again as he prepares himself.

“Colour, love?”

“G-green, sir, please…”

John rewards him by sliding inside, and Brian moans, long and loud and drawn-out, the most beautiful sound to John’s ears.

John fucks Brian hard and rough, knowing it’s exactly what they both need right now. They’re already both so worked up that it doesn’t take long for John to feel the tightness in his spine that signals his orgasm, and he leans over to kiss Brian’s shoulderblade and whisper in his ear.

“I’m not gonna touch you when I take this off. Do you think you can come untouched?”

Brian is almost beyond words at this point, but somehow forces out a “yes, sir, please sir, please, please…”

John reaches around and flicks the cock ring off, his free hand digging into one of the welts.

Almost immediately, Brian howls and comes so hard his whole body sags, clamping down like a vice and making John see stars. He hears himself chanting Brian’s name like a prayer as he spills inside him, dragging breathy little moans from his lover at the aftershocks.

John can’t move for a moment, but with release obtained Brian’s body is shaking, barely able to hold him up any longer. Carefully, he withdraws, hurrying to scoot up the bed and undo the handcuffs. As soon as they’re off Brian collapses, his eyelashes fluttering, John’s gentle push only just stopping him from falling into where his come has stained the top sheet.

John quickly crosses back to the bathroom, grabbing the towels, warm wet washcloths, and the lotion, and hurries back. Brian is lying right where John left him, so he sets to work quickly, cleaning him up and wiping away all traces of sweat and come and lube. His long fingers smooth the lotion into the welts, careful not to miss a spot, the cream soothing and making sure nothing got infected at the same time, though John was careful not to break skin. Then he rubs Brian down with the hot towels on his aching muscles, feeling Brian arch up under the warmth, something akin to a purr leaving his throat.

John rips off the soiled sheet, tosses it in a corner, and returns to the bed, before carefully unbuckling the collar from Brian’s throat and placing it carefully on the bedside table. Then, satisfied that Brian is properly looked after, he slides into bed beside him and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him close to his body.

Brian shifts, his limbs tangling with John’s, curling into him, and together they just breathe.

“I love you,” Brian whispers. They’re always his first coherent words, but they never fail to make John’s heart do a backflip, even if it cracks slightly at his next words. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, my silly spaceman,” John tries to keep his tone light as he presses kisses to Brian’s hair. “And I love you, so much.”

The quiet after this stretches so long that John starts to think Brian’s fallen asleep. They still need to talk about today, and John normally isn’t over-keen on going to sleep with an unresolved argument, but at the same time, he’s even less keen on spoiling their much-needed cuddle time.

“I’m sorry.” It’s barely a thread of sound, but it sounds so sad that John’s heart nearly breaks.

“I’m sorry, too,” John murmurs back. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Brian nods sleepily, and a smile curves his lips, before his eyelashes flutter shut again, dragging John with him.

[mercurygguk]

the special nine | jjk

genre; pregnancy au + daddy!jungkook

pairing; jungkook x reader

✎ summary; morning sickness, strengthened hormones, and mood changes. these are only a few of the things Jungkook is a victim of.

word count; 4,500

➵ READ PART 2 HERE

a/n; italic writing means flashback

Jungkook insists on having sex without a condom, and he knows that Y/N isn’t on the pill. Y/N is too worked up to even care what he does, she just wants him and she wants him now. And Jungkook can’t see the consequences of having unprotected sex because he, too, is on the verge of coming right this second.

“You need to pull out,” Y/N tells him as he positions himself at her entrance. Jungkook nods firmly before guiding himself inside the warmth that is her. And the rest happens in a blur because Jungkook is so so good to her. Y/N can’t control herself as she moans into his shoulder, teeth grazing heated skin. His hands roaming her body, exploring each curve and dip in her figure. 

“I’m close baby,” he whispers as he rests his forehead against hers, and Y/N suddenly remembers how he needs to pull out because children weren’t really a part of her plans right at this moment. “Fuck,” Jungkook hisses.

“Kook,” Y/N says softly, “you need to pull out.” And Jungkook groans but does it nevertheless because getting his girlfriend pregnant was not a part of his plans anytime soon. Yet he manages to pull out a bit too late, and he regrets ever suggesting doing it without the damn condom. Jungkook spills himself onto her stomach, panting heavily. Y/N breathes out deeply as she watches him fall down onto the mattress beside her. Silence engulfs them as they both stare at the ceiling.

Y/N rolls onto her side, looking at Jungkook. Jungkook turns his head to look at his girlfriend, flinching ever so lightly because she knows he pulled out a bit too late. He winces to himself when she speaks with gritted teeth: “I swear to God if you got me pregnant...”

“Jungkook!” Y/N yells from the bathroom, making her boyfriend drop the controller onto the floor by his feet. Jungkook scurries off the couch and down the hallway, stopping in the doorway to the bathroom. And his eyes widen when he sees the stick in his girlfriend’s hand. 

“You’re not-” he starts but he’s cut off by Y/N who’s really fucking close to losing her shit and throwing the stick (the stick she peed on) at him. Because the bastard got her pregnant and she didn’t really know whether she wanted to cry or laugh.

“You got me fucking pregnant!” She screeches as she shoves the stick into his chest. Jungkook grabs it, and he doesn’t think about the fact that his girlfriend peed on it because there were two red lines on the white plastic stick in his hand. Jungkook’s lips turn into a smile as he looks back up at Y/N who stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Baby,” he starts as he glances back down at the white stick. And he soon hears sniffles from the person in front of him and his face quickly turns into a worried one. “No, baby. What’s wrong?” He asks her as he places the stick in the sink before stepping closer to his girlfriend. Why was she crying? He had absolutely no fucking idea.

“I hate you so much,” she mumbles as she wipes the tears from her eyes. 

Jungkook frowns. “Why? Do you not want the baby?” 

And Y/N nods as a cry leaves her mouth. “Of course I do! It’s happy tears, you asshole.” 

Jungkook can’t keep up with girls and their always changing mood, but right now... It is rather amusing to him that she called him an asshole while crying happy tears. This was definitely a first.

She hates hospitals. It smells too clean and too sterilized. Y/N really hates hospitals because the only times she’s been there, someone died. And she prays to God that no one is going that way today. Jungkook sits silently beside her, his fingers running over the soft skin of her hand that was placed in his lap.

He can easily tell his girlfriend is nervous. The way her legs bop up and down as they wait for the doctor, and the way her fist clenches and unclenches. He brings her hand up to his lips, pressing a row of kisses to the back of it. He hopes it’ll help on her nerves. Y/N smiles at him, feeling her heart fill with warmth at the sight of her boyfriend pressing his lips to her skin, leaving a burning feeling.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures her softly, giving her a small smile as comfort. And Y/N is extremely thankful for the man beside her. She watches the side of his face, mentally drawing lines between the small dots on his skin. She really admired him. His eyes that seemed to find whatever he looked at interesting, and those lips where the bottom lip was fuller than the upper lip. How his hair fell into his eyes whenever it had been a long time since his last haircut, and she just loved how he’d comb a hand through it to remove it from his face. She really loves him. So much.

“I love you,” Y/N says ever so softly, meaning for only him to hear. And Jungkook’s front teeth peek out as he smiles lightly. He turns his head to look at her and he’s about to say it back when a woman’s voice interrupts him.

Minutes later Y/N lays down in the examination room and Jungkook is holding her hand, trying not to wince from the tight grip. He wonders how it’s going to be when she’s actually going into labor. He lightly winces at the thought. But that thought is soon gone when a black and white picture appears on the screen in front of him. He watches with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as the woman points and explains.

“Oh my god,” Y/N breathes out, looking back at her boyfriend who is too focused on the screen to even notice how she smiles up at him. And Y/N swears she sees small tears appearing in his eyes. She smiles fondly as she turns back to the screen, smiling to herself when she hears him sniffle. And giggles lightly when he mutters a ‘fuck’ before wiping his eyes.

Jungkook is nervous. And he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the fact that they have gathered their families today to tell them the big news. And Jungkook is kind of scared about what Y/N’s parents will say because Jungkook hadn’t proposed yet, nor have they ever talked about marriage. Y/N is quick to notice how Jungkook is almost going to faint from the nervousness.

“Baby, calm down,” she tells him as she hugs him around his waist. He inhales deeply as he looks down at her. How could she be so calm? The fact that his girlfriend doesn’t seem the slightest bit nervous, makes him more nervous.

“What if our parents think it’s a bad idea?” Jungkook says more to himself than to her. Y/N furrows her eyebrows at him.

“Why would they?”

Jungkook sighs, hating himself for even bringing the topic up. “I mean, we’re not engaged and we haven’t even been together for that long. It’s only been 3 years,” he rambles.

“Please stop talking,” Y/N chuckles as she unwraps her arms from his waist. “You’ll be fine.”

Jungkook inhales a short breath, nodding. And seconds later the doorbell rings. Jungkook silently curses as he makes his way to the front door. Soon he’s wrapped in a tight hug by Y/N’s mother and he can’t help but smile as he hugs her back. His nerves seem to calm down as his mother-in-law hugs the nervousness out of him.

“How you’ve been, honey?” She asks as she pulls away to look at him.

Jungkook smiles down at her, “I’m good, happy.” And she nods, still smiling warmly at him. She notices her daughter standing behind Jungkook and smiles even wider before hugging her.

Y/N’s father gives Jungkook a firm handshake, greeting him with a warm smile as well. Y/N’s parents sure are nice people. Jungkook can’t remember why he was nervous.

Y/N clanks her glass to get the attention. All heads turn to look at the both of them, and the nerves return. Jungkook wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, more for his own comfort than hers.

“We have some news to share with all of you,” Y/N starts. Jungkook’s mother looks at him suspiciously as she eyes him down. Jungkook almost crumbles under her stare. He can tell she already knows. She can just read him like that, and sometimes he really hates it. “We’re pregnant!”

Gasps sound throughout the apartment as everyone starts congratulating Y/N. Jungkook is engulfed in a hug by his mother. He hugs her back her small frame, his face in her neck. “I’m so proud of you, Jungkook.”

And that’s all Jungkook needs to hear.

Cup noodles.

And lots of them.

That is what Jungkook has been buying the past month because his girlfriend started developing weird eating habits. Not that cup noodles were weird, it was just weird to see how she was able to choke down three or four of those in one day.

Jungkook watches in amusement as he places her third cup of noodles in front of her. She grabs the chopsticks and digs into the noodles as if she had been starving the entire week. “Good?” Jungkook asks as he leans across the countertop in front of her. She nods, mouth full and with a glint in her eye which appeared after the first visit at the doctor’s.

“Mhm,” she hums as she continues to stuff her face. Jungkook chuckles as he moves around the kitchen to make himself a cup too. He had made a promise to her because apparently, Y/N’s normally non-existing insecurity had appeared out of a sudden. He clearly remembers how this eating habit started and he chuckles to himself whenever he thinks about it.

“Baby,” Jungkook coos, “just tell me what’s wrong.” Y/N shakes her head as she crosses her arms over her chest. Jungkook sighs as he rests his hands on her thighs. 

“Please?” He tries again. She lets out a small groan, letting her head fall forward and land against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as he waits for her to speak up. What leaves to her mouth was not expected. She looks up at him with a small pout.

“I have this sick craving for cup noodles,” she mumbles. Jungkook looks at her, confused and not really following. Why was she upset about cup noodles? She notices his confused expression and sighs. “Like tons of them.”

Jungkook nods, pursing his lips. A smile breaks on his lips, and he wants to laugh but knowing his girlfriend, she’d probably curse at him or something if he did that. She keeps looking at him with a pout, obviously irritated by this craving of hers.

Jungkook pulls her into his chest, hugging her. “I’ll go buy tons of cup noodles for you,” he tells her, “AND I will make them for you too.”

Y/N pushes herself away from his chest, eyeing him as he still stands before her with a smile. “Jungkook, I’ll become fat if I eat cup noodles all the time.”

He chuckles. “I will eat the same amount of noodles as you,” he states. “That way we’ll both gain weight.”

Y/N can’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he reassured her. She smiled up at him, loving him just a teeny tiny bit more than before.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was the first night in a few weeks Y/N had been able to sleep through the entire night. Her sleep had constantly been interrupted by her being uncomfortable or her feet being swollen, and then she didn’t want to ask. But Jungkook knew. She really wanted him to massage her feet. And he had done exactly that. 

But Jungkook is finally able to sleep a whole night without interruptions. It is so comfortable because Y/N is sleeping in his arms, and her breath is hitting his neck as they’re curled up in the sheets.

Yet, Y/N’s comfort doesn’t last long. She whines lightly as she feels nausea in her stomach, and she’s very soon on her feet and running to the bathroom, a hand over her mouth. Jungkook notices how her body removes itself from his in a hurry, and he immediately gets up to follow right behind. She’s sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, struggling to keep her hair away from her face. Jungkook frowns lightly as he squats down behind her, wrapping a hand around her soft hair and removing it from her face.

She really hates that Jungkook sees her like this, but she also loves how much he cares and how quick he is to help. And Jungkook really does know his girlfriend well because he’s smiling softly at her when she removes herself from the toilet. She sits back against the wall, eyes closed. She sighs deeply as she looks down at her stomach.

“I do this for you baby,” she says, pointing to her own stomach. Jungkook chuckles, leaning forward. Y/N grimaces at him as he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. How was he even able to get that close after seeing her throwing up the dinner they had the night before?

“I’ll go get you a glass of water,” he says softly as he stands to his feet. Y/N stays seated on the bathroom floor as she watches his figure disappear out of the bathroom. She smiles to herself as she watches her boyfriend walk away, thankful that he’s doing all this without her asking. But she knows him, and she knows he would do it no matter what. That’s just how Jungkook is.

“Fuck!” Y/N groans from the bedroom, making Jungkook sprint to the bedroom to check if she’s okay. The sight in front of him has him smiling lightly in adoration. Y/N struggles to zip her dress, the tight-fitting black dress that usually fits her perfectly. The baby bump making it difficult for her, and it’s date night and Y/N really wants to look pretty for her boyfriend who happens to love the tight-fitting black dress.

“Baby-” Jungkook says softly as he steps closer. She looks at him, small tears forming in her eyes.

“I can’t zip it Jungkook,” she almost sobs, “I can’t fucking zip it.”

Jungkook stands behind her, hands resting on her hips as he looks her in the eye through the mirror. She sniffles as she lets her arms fall to her sides, head falling back against Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook presses multiple kisses to her cheek, watching her through the mirror. 

“Can’t you wear something else?” He asks softly, lips still against her cheek.

She shakes her head in protest. “I know how much you love this dress, so I wanted to wear it,” she mumbles. Jungkook can’t help but smile at her, his heart almost bursting with the love he feels.

“Just wear that new one you bought the other day,” he says before turning her around to face him. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

A blush creeps up her neck and to her cheeks, making her smile softly at him. “Yeah?”

Jungkook nods, “yeah.”

And Y/N finds the white dress she bought the other day, slips in on and it zips over her baby bump. And she struggles to get her heels on because when you’re pregnant your feet tend to swell up. Jungkook assures her that her sandals would be fine, but Y/N is not having it and finds another pair of heels. Jungkook chuckles as he watches her walk past him and out of the bedroom. He sighs with a smirk before following right behind.

Seven months pregnant and a complete mess. Y/N is cuddled up on the couch with blankets and pillows surrounding her because she’s unbelievably cold even though the apartment is heated. The movie playing on TV has her in tears and she’s furiously wiping her nose because the tears just won’t stop. And can you imagine the look on Jungkook’s face when he finds his girlfriend in this state as he arrives home?

He’s quickly at her side, asking what’s wrong. Y/N rambles and it’s really just nonsense as she sobs while pointing to the TV screen. Jungkook looks at the TV only to see the one movie that makes her bawl her eyes out every single time. He sighs in relief and drops his head to her lap. She really had him nervous for a second there.

Y/N keeps on sniffling as she watches the movie, and Jungkook lays down on the couch. His head still in her lap as he pushes her shirt up to reveal her big stomach. He presses kisses against her warm skin, hoping he’d get some kind of reaction from the baby. Jungkook starts singing quietly, while his fingers run along the soft skin on her stomach. 

The sight in front of Y/N does not help on the state she’s in. The tears had died down but they well up again as she looks down at her boyfriend, listening intensely to the words he’s singing. There’s something so beautiful about the way he lays his head in her lap and starts singing to her stomach. And she gasps loudly when she feels the baby kick.

“Oh my God,” she exhales as she lays a hand on Jungkook’s hand. Jungkook is smiling widely as he keeps on singing, his hand resting on her skin. And he swears he’s not crying but the tears control him as he lets one fall.

“I love you,” he whispers against her skin, lips pressing a longing kiss to the spot.

Y/N runs a hand through Jungkook’s hair as he lays his head down again before continuing the song. And she sniffles once again but she doesn’t care because this whole pregnancy is one hell of a rollercoaster and she simply just can’t control her hormones.

Y/N loves how passionate Jungkook is about photographing and recording those small films. But right now... Right now she just really wants to smash the damn camera into the ground. Jungkook had insisted that he needed to record the pregnancy that really didn’t feel like a pregnancy but more like a rollercoaster.

“Jungkook,” Y/N mumbles in an irritated voice as she glares at him. He’s smiling widely as he holds up the camera in her face. She was really fucking close to grabbing the thing and throwing it out of the window.

“C’mon baby,” Jungkook says enthusiastically as he follows her into the bedroom. “Just say something, anything really.”

Y/N sighs as she sits down on the bed, curling herself up in the sheets. Jungkook sits down across from her, the camera still pointed at her. She can’t help but smile at Jungkook as he grins at the woman in front of him. He loves her so much. And Jungkook hopes the little glint in her eye will stay forever because it makes him weak to his knees.

“What do you want me to say?” Y/N asks as she hugs a pillow to her chest, hiding her growing stomach.

Jungkook puts down the camera, looking at his girlfriend. “Anything would be fine, something we can show the baby when it’s older.”

Y/N hums to herself as she looks at Jungkook. He puts the camera up again. His fingers hold onto the camera, his forearms more veiny than usual. And Y/N suddenly finds herself eyeing him. His upper lip completely gone as he smiles widely, and his black hair messy from sleep. Y/N sighs deeply. 

“Baby,” she hums as she scoots closer. Jungkook moves back a bit, trying to record her. She grabs the camera and pulls it from his grip, placing it on the nightstand. She made sure to turn it off.  “What-” Jungkook says but she really wanted to kiss those pink lips right now. And so she does, making Jungkook gasp lightly. Y/N smiles as Jungkook pulls her closer, pulling her into his lap, never breaking the kiss. Her hands run up his shoulders, up the sides of his neck and to the back of his neck where she tangles her fingers in his messy, messy hair. Jungkook can’t help but moan and when he lays her down, Y/N knows there’s not going to be a pregnancy recording anytime soon.

They never imagined it would happen like this, but it did. 

Y/N goes into the labor at the damn grocery store.

And she keeps on apologising to the staff as Jungkook rushes her out of the store, leaving the groceries behind. Y/N is almost crying as a contraction hits her on the way out of the store. Jungkook looks like he’s the one in pain as he helps her into the car. Jungkook shouldn’t have believed his mom when she said giving birth was a beautiful thing. It was painful to watch.

Jungkook is probably crossing the speed limit but he really doesn’t care. He’s about to become a father. 

Fuck.

Jungkook is going to be a father soon.

Y/N’s cries distract him from his own thoughts, making him grab her hand to give her some kind of comfort as he drives to the hospital. Jungkook parks the car quickly and rushes to the other side to help her out, continuously telling her to be careful and watch her step. Y/N really wants him to shut up because she’s trying to do the breathing exercises she was taught at the thing she and Jungkook went to a few months ago, like a thing for new to-be-parents.

Jungkook is pacing as he waits for the nurse to finish up the check-ups on Y/N. He’s so busy pacing and running through his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice both Y/N’s and his own parents approaching him.

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook’s mom laughs as she walks up to him. Jungkook’s head snaps up to look at her, her warm eyes meeting his teary ones. And Jungkook doesn’t really know why he’s tearing up. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s about to become a father and he’s terrified... Or maybe, just maybe, he can actually feel the pain Y/N feels.

“I’m terrified, mom,” Jungkook tells his mom as she hugs him tightly.

“I know, honey,” she coos as she pulls away to look at him. “But you’re going to be an amazing father.”

Jungkook sniffles lightly. “You think so?”

She nods, “I know so.”

And Jungkook hugs his mom again, breathing in the familiar scent of hers. His dad pats him on the shoulder before they let him into the room. Y/N smiles softly at Jungkook as he walks up to the bed. 

“How do you feel?” He asks, voice soft and almost a whisper.

Y/N chuckles as she plays with Jungkook fingers.”It still hurts, but the doctor says it will still be a few hours before we get to see her.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up as she speaks. “Her?” He repeats. Y/N nods, a grin on her face as she watches Jungkook’s eyes tear up once again. “Are you joking?” 

“No,” she laughs, “the doctor just told me. We’re having a daughter, Kook.”

Jungkook sighs happily as he leans up to kiss his girlfriend, repeating the action over and over. “Oh my god,” he breathes out as he rests his forehead against hers. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too.”

“C’mon Y/N,” Jungkook encourages his girlfriend as she drops her head onto the bed, sweat trickling down her forehead. “Just a little bit more.”

“Jungkook, it hurts,” she whines and sniffles, eyes closing.

Jungkook presses a kiss to her temple. “I know baby, but you need to push.”

Y/N whines in protest but does what he says nevertheless. A scream leaves her lips as she pushes again, her hand grabbing onto Jungkook’s as if he’d let go and leave her to do it alone. He’d never do that though. Jungkook winces lightly as she squeezes his hand tightly.

“Y/N, just one last push and you’ll see your baby girl,” the doctor assures the both of them. Y/N groans but pushes one last time, giving everything she could muster. She just really wanted to see her daughter.

Baby cries fill the room in a matter of seconds, and Jungkook lets out a deep sigh of relief, his head falling onto the bed beside Y/N. Y/N is breathing heavily as she closes her eyes and listens to the beautiful cries of a little baby girl.

“Here is your daughter,” the doctor says as she hands over the small human being to Y/N. She gasps lightly when she sees the small fingers, small nose and the pinkish lips that look awfully a lot like Jungkook’s.

Jungkook smiles widely as he looks at his daughter, his fingers hesitating to touch her. Y/N can’t help but let a single tear fall, sniffling as her newborn daughter wraps her small fingers tightly around Y/N’s pinky.

“She’s so beautiful,” Jungkook whispers, his fingertips touching the small hairs on top of her head.

Y/N nods. “Yeah, she really is.”

Jungkook presses a long kiss to her temple. He was so proud of her, so proud that she managed to create such a small and beautiful, little human being inside of her, growing it with love and care. Jungkook loves her so much and he’s so so so proud. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Jungkook loves being a father. He loves laying on the couch all day long with his small, newborn daughter sleeping on his chest. He loves humming soft tunes to her while she holds onto his pinky. He loves touching the small hairs on the top of her head and he loves how she lightly snores, just like her mother.

Jungkook loves everything about being a father.

Y/N loves seeing Jungkook loving the role as a father. She loves coming home from grocery shopping and seeing Jungkook on the couch with their daughter on his chest. And Y/N doesn’t really need anything else than those two to make her life perfect.

Jungkook humming soft tunes while he watches her back rise and fall as she breathes in deeply, small snores leave her mouth, the lips that look awfully a lot like Jungkook’s and eyelashes as long as her mother’s. 

This is how he wants it to be, right here with is two favorite girls and nothing more. And the little human laying on his chest is the perfect outcome of a love so strong that Jungkook has never been more sure about anything in his life.