#julia grace has a nice ring to it

[somewhereincairparavel]

headcanon that jason would name his daughter julia bc it rhymes with his sister's name and also because it starts with a J like his <33

[wheneverfeasible]

Based off this post because I’ve lost all control of my life.

cw: sex trafficking, reference to non-con

Modern au. FBI au. Stobin became inseparable when they both started training in the FBI around the same time, though it started as a bit of not-so-friendly rivalry at first. Robin felt like she had to prove herself as a woman in the FBI, while Steve felt like he had to prove himself as a legacy who has always been a disappointment to his father. A fateful rookie hazing that went a little too far bonded them inseparably, however, and now years later they are the go-to team amongst the younger agents.

Also if you try to separate them then all hell will break loose.

Anyways, so one day there’s need for undercover work. They’ve been tracking this sex trafficking ring for a while and they finally believe they’ve discovered the mastermind behind it all, some newly famous rockstar called Eddie “The Freak” Munson.

So someone needs to dress up like a prostitute and infiltrate their ranks to get hard evidence to put this lowlife away once and for all. As she’s really the only girl on the team that fits the age demographic, Robin is picked as the fake prostitute. Except…well, let’s face it, she’s never been the most feminine of girls. Not a true butch or anything, more a soft futch than anything, but dresses and high heels and makeup? Yeah no.

As soon as Robin wobbles herself out (falling face first in the process) it’s not just Steve immediately telling her no and to go change back into her FBI kit because she looks super uncomfortable and there’s no way they can make her do this, whether or not she could even convincingly play the role to begin with.

And so comes in Steve.

Now, Steve isn’t exactly femme either. While he’s certainly not the butchest agent on their team, he was a jock in high school and even now still picks up the occasional game with civilians or other agents when free time allows. What had once been a respectful firmness to his stomach was now a verifiable six pack, his biceps and thighs filling his clothes out nicely as his FBI workout regimen added some muscle mass.

But there was more to Steve than just the stereotypical musclehead jock. Steve had also been a bit of a prep in high school, and even now still brought some of that with him in his civvies and beauty regimens, especially with his hair. He also opposed to a bit of a shiny lipgloss when the mood hit. And secretly? He’s always wanted do undercover work like this. And it’s not like the victims were only girls.

Plus, though Robin would call him sexist for it, he didn’t like the idea of sending Robin or any other woman into the pits of hell alone like that.

Steve struts out of the changing room wearing the skimpiest outfit he’s ever seen in his life (think like, Julia Roberts’s first outfit in Pretty Woman), except he didn’t shave at all so his hair thighs and chest hair still poke out. There’s no hiding his physique, so he’s going for the whole hairy thing, and he knows it works for him. For any gender.

With a grace that might belie that this isn’t his first time in heels, Steve is on his way to the hotel where all this is going down, slipping in easily, Steve starts casing the place and compiling evidence before the big event that night where hopefully they catch Munson in the act of selling victims to the highest bidder.

Except, while sneaking around trying to gather as much evidence as possible, he runs into Munson himself. Not in some big penthouse full of drugs and weapons and whatever else used to keep the product in line, but in a small little unused room Steve had slipped into to avoid one of the muscled “bodyguards” Munson kept on hand.

No, Steve slipped in and found an anxiously pacing dweeb of man in Garfield sleep trousers and what looked like a homemade shirt with the graphic of a devil face on it, black polished nails being gnawed at by the hunched over form. The figure with frazzled hair matched the images of the mastermind he had seen, though he looked startling different from the persona he put on in public.

Munson’s eyes bugged out a little when he walked in, his eyes taking in Steve’s form with an appreciation that made Steve smug at being the correct choice for this sting after all, but then Munson was groaning in a less appreciative way and slapping his hands to his face.

“I told Dad I didn’t want a fucking hooker,” he mumbled to himself, before dropping his hands with a wince as he held up his hands beseechingly. “Sorry, nothing wrong with prostitutes, darling, I just…now is really not a good time.”

And…huh. Okay. This was the Big Bad Boogeyman who had been giving them the slip for almost a year now? He looked like a wet rat despite being completely dry.

So Steve struts some more, plays his part, simpers and encourages Munson’s eyes to focus on his bare skin and not the slight bulge to his thigh high heeled boots where his gun and handcuffs were hidden. And Munson looks, because Steve is hot and he’s only human, but he also looks really really nervous and lets out a choked giggle when Steve pulls out his charm.

And then Munson again apologizes, says he never met a prostitute before he and he seems like a really nice boy but that he wasn’t the one who hired him and he’s not looking for sex right now, just wanting to get through tonight and go home to his cats, Smaug and Shelob.

Which is unexpected. Even more so when Munson claims he didn’t even want to be there in the first place, that his dad was in charge of setting up the event, though he did so in Munson’s—Eddie’s—name, just as he had been doing ever since Eddie first caught a break for his music in high school. Had dragged Eddie away from his garage band and friends and instead threw Eddie headlong into being a solo artist and creating the persona of The Freak, acting as a kind of shadow manager. Working behind the curtains so that barely anyone even knew he existed.

And…oh. Ohhhhh. Suddenly, Steve didn’t think Eddie was the mastermind they were after. He just looked like nervous kid (who was technically older than Steve but whatever) thrown into the a spotlight not of his own making and made the scapegoat for all of his father’s illegal activities.

Not that Eddie knew anything about the current operation, that was more than evident. He thought it was an actual auction for like antiques and shit. Thought the only person being sold that night was a date with him, his father’s idea. It was why he was hiding out in an unused room to have a little freak out away from everyone treating him like a doll to do whatever they wanted.

But his father had suggested bringing in some hookers to help him calm down, which Eddie had rejected, but which he now thought was what Steve was. Just a hooker his father had bought for the night to help his son relax.

And Steve thought his father was a piece of work.

They talk, Eddie’s nervousness and discomfort in his life causing him to spill secrets he otherwise never would have, not just about his father’s past but also his own, talking about how much he missed his high school band, the Dungeons & Club he used to run, his uncle he hasn’t seen in years, and just a life where he could live it how he wanted.

Much to his surprise, Steve also revealed some truths about himself. Not about his real job, of course, but about his own father, about not ever being good enough for him or his mother, about how they had always held his inheritance over his head until he’d told them to stuff it and that he wasn’t going to marry some socialite of their choosing. He smudged some details about his work, which he felt weirdly guilty for, but needs must.

And well, Eddie’s babble reveals that they really have to change the focus of the sting, which means Steve needs to get a message to Robin pronto. Luckily, she should be nearby undercover as one of the hotel staff with a couple other agents.

Steve does get the message out, but in the process the truth is accidentally revealed to Eddie and he is devastated. He had known his father wasn’t a good man, but he hadn’t realized just how evil he was. He was also, surprisingly, hurt by the knowledge that Steve was just doing his job and the connection he had thought they’d formed wasn’t real.

Except, as Eddie worked with the FBI to take down the operation, getting shot by his own father in the process in a misguided attempt to protect Steve, Steve can’t help but wonder if maybe there was a genuine connection after all.

Later, Steve visits Eddie in the hospital, bypassing the armed guards outside because, while they have proof it was Al Munson behind the sex trafficking and forcing the victims into prostitution, Eddie is still a person of interest as a witness and they still need to fully clear his name regarding any knowing involvement.

Robin, of course, was sick of hearing Steve mooning about Eddie and encouraged the meeting, though she later regretted it when it just caused Steve to talk more about the former rockstar—Eddie was quitting, hating the lonely fame, and wanting to reach out to his old friends and apologize for abandoning them. She was fond of the man’s cats, however, going with Steve to make certain they were taken care of while Eddie was convalescing in the hospital.

Later again, once Eddie is cleared and the trial is over and Al is rotting behind bars, Steve meets up with Eddie when it’s no longer a conflict of interest. He also reveals that he kept his undercover outfit and the two of them put it to good use.

Robin, meanwhile, has likewise grown closer to one of the former victims, a young woman by the name of Chrissy. She had helped her and the others deal with everything, especially those who felt uncomfortable around the male agents. Eddie of course apologizes profusely to her when they meet, but Chrissy knows he wasn’t a part of it and actually helped save her and the others in the end, bringing him into a hug that helps heal the both of them a little bit more.

Steve and Robin and the rest of the team are honored for their work, but to them the real honor is in the loving embrace of those they saved, and who in their own way saved Steve and Robin too.

-

Hostage tags: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[butterflyintochains]

Announcements In Australia

In which Juliette and Max journey to the 2023 Australian GP, Julia's first race of the season, and some big news is shared among their grid family.

The first thing Juliette registers when they get off their jet in Melbourne is how warm it is, she's been to Australia twice now, but she'll never quite get used to it. But, she's here with the love of her life, and a stunning ring on her finger. The proposal was just wonderful, by the fire of their ski chalet in Austria. She had no idea it was coming, but was so excited to say yes. Max has gifted her quite a bit of jewellery since they got together in 2020, but this one definitely takes the cake. As yet, only heir families know about their engagement. Max holds her hand as they enter the main airport, and get their visas checked, as well as getting their stuff checked. ''Nice ring, wedding bells on the horizon?'' The security man asks.

Max nods, beaming with excitement and pride. ''Yeah, we can't wait.'' Juliette says, nodding in agreement. ''We're so happy to be finally doing this, we've known each other for so long.''

They grab their bags, and head out to their rental car. Max opens Julia's door for her like the gentleman he has always been, she gets in and buckles up. Max hops in after her, and they drive off to the hotel together.

After unpacking in their suite, they grab lunch, and head down to the paddock. The race is in five days' time, and already everything is set up to perfection. They walk up to the McLaren garage, Lando instantly perks up to see them. ''Well, if it isn't the best couple on the grid. Wanna do a track walk with us and the Alpha Tauri guys?''

Max nods, and says. ''Yeah, of course.''

Juliette asks her fiance, fiddling with the ring, inspired by Princess Grace's ring. ''Shouldn't we wait for Checo though, amour?''

Daniel joins them, clapping Max on the shoulder, and kissing Julia's cheek like always. ''He doesn't get here until tonight.''

Oscar surfaces from talking to someone, he pegs the glimmering diamonds first. ''Oh, wow, what is that?''

Max decides to take this one himself, kissing Juliette on the head. ''Well, Juliette and I are getting married, we've been engaged since winter break.''

Yuki finally turns up. ''Our very own royal wedding, about time really.'' Juliette laughs. ''Yeah, our inner teenagers are probably jumping for joy right now.''

The group go for their track walk, Albert Park is one of the deceptive tracks, it looks so easy when you look at the track layout, no real inclines or chicanes. But, it's tight, and there are a few spots where things can get difficult. Juliette has went on track walks with Max ever since Hungary 2021, to calm her anxious mind after that God awful Silverstone crash. She'll never forget that day, the day when the world stopped spinning, the days she thought she'd lose him. ''So, no crashes this weekend?'' She anxiously asks.

Max puts his hand on her back, he knows her better than anyone on this Earth does. ''No, liefje, no crashes.'' Juliette nods, leaning into his side as they come back into the pit lane. ''Good, because I'm not marrying anyone else.''

As they return to the hospitality area for some dinner, George and Alex come to join them with Carmen and Lily. Lily clocks the ring, it's kind of hard not to really. ''Oh, my God, good eye for rings, Max.'' George adds. ''Charles just told us.'' Juliette rolls her eyes, of course her brother told them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Media day is on the thursday, so it's interviews, little games with Checo, and the press conference with Zhou, Charles, Oscar, and Fernando. After some questions about the upcoming race, a journalist from Nine News asks Charles and Max. ''For Charles and Max, how are you two feeling about becoming brothers soon? Do you think it'll affect how you race in the future?''

Max takes the question first. ''No, not really, I think we'll be family off track, and rivals on track still. But, yeah, I'm very excited to join the family.''

Charles laughs, agreeing with his future brother-in-law. ''Yeah, it's cool to be combining our families, and I am so happy for Max and Julia, no one deserves this like they do. But, we're still rivals.''

Someone from CNN asks Max. ''Max, just a question about you and Juliette. When did you know she was the one for you?'' Max takes a moment to think back in time, over all his memories of them as friends and as lovers. ''Probably sometime in 2016, I can't describe it, but when you know, you know, I guess. She's just... my everything, and has been for a long time.''

Press over for the day, they go to hang out in hospitality for a while before track review.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Free practice is on friday, the couple head down to the paddock for breakfast with the others, then go to Max's motorhome so he can get ready for practice. Juliette watches as her fiance changes into his fireproofs, and takes his racing suit from the hanger. So many people online poke fun at Max for his lack of fashion sense while she co-owns a design house. But, as far as she's concerned, this is the sexiest he ever looks. All geared up for the thing he is so good at. Max gets his boots on, and asks her. ''You okay, schatje?''

Juliette snaps from her little reverie. ''Y-yeah, I just got zoned out, that's all.'' Max raises an eyebrow at her, for them this can mean one of two things, so he asks. ''Good zoning out, or bad zoning out?'' Juliette runs her hands up his biceps, his hands locking together at the small of her back. ''Good zoning out.''

Max looks intrigued by that. ''Care to share, Julia?'' Juliette feels her face warming up. ''Just thinking about how hot you always look in your racing gear, that's all.''

Max's head tilts a slight, not taken aback, but surprised. ''Really? My racing gear of all things?''

Juliette flirts, tracing the Tag-Heuer logo on his chest with her index finger. ''Is there anything weird about that, amour?'' Max leans down to kiss her on the lips. ''Absolutely not.''

They head down to the garage, GP briefs Max on some strategy for saturday and sunday, and goes to the pit wall. Max grabs his balaclava and helmet, and kisses his lovely fiancee before heading out to Rocky. Juliette watches his laps on the TV screen, it never gets old, even since his days in Karting and F3, the sensation of watching her man doing what he does better than anyone else does. She turns her engagement ring on her finger, now fully used to the new weight on her left hand, her inner sixteen year old must feel like she fell asleep that sunday night in Barcelona, and all of this is some entirely too tempting dream. But, it's not, and there's so much more to come still. Juliette pulls her sketchbook and pencil case out, and begins designing her wedding dress, and his tuxedo. It's only right that Vita Luxuria dresses their wedding.

Max gets done with FP1, so they have some time between sessions. ''What are you drawing, liefje?''

Juliette smirks, putting her stuff away. ''Something for the wedding, I'll show you the sketches when they're done.''

FP2 is next, Juliette goes to grab something to eat and gets back on with her sketches in the Red Bull Lounge where it's quieter but she can still see the pit stop. After FP3, they head back to his room, and Max quickly showers and changes. They meet up with Checo, who gives Juliette a friendly kiss on the cheek. ''Good to see you, hermanita. Good to have you back.''

Juliette smiles, she's always gotten on really well with Max's team mates, from Carlos to Checo. ''Good to be back, ministro. How are the family?''

Checo says, smiling brightly. ''Good, they'll be with us for Miami.'' Juliette beams. ''Oh, good! I'll be there too! I'm going to: Miami, Monaco, Spain, Austria, Silverstone, and Spa this side of summer.''

Carlos jumps in, hugging Julia from behind. ''You always come to Montmelo, mariposa.''

Juliette says, smoothing down her dress again. ''Well, it is a very important race for us.''

Max says, an idea written across his handsome face. ''Why not rock up to Zandvoort married, schatje? We have almost a month between Spa and Zandvoort, plenty of time, right?'' Juliette nods, he's read her mind again. ''That's exactly what I was thinking! Have the wedding during summer break.''

Fernando says. ''Well, I suppose we're all clearing the schedules, eh?'' Oh, God, what have they unleashed upon the grid this time?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max is to start on pole for Sunday, which is an afternoon race. Max and Juliette arrive for the drivers parade, then, it's down to real business. The race itself is chaos incarnate, though. Lance forcing Charles off the track during the formation lap, triggering a red flag and safety car. Juliette's heart aches for her big brother, he's been so down on himself lately, and she hates to see him trudging back to the Ferrari garage like that. ''Oh, Charlie.'' She sighs, turning her ring on her finger.

On lap seven, Alex spins out of control and crashes as well, causing another safety car while they clean up and assess Alex. First her brother, now Alex, who next? Max is in the lead by lap 18, when George's car catches fire, triggering a virtual safety car. ''Mon dieu, what is going on here?'' Juliette asks.

Callum, one of Max's pit crew, laughs as he says. ''The race is haunted, Julia.''

Juliette jokes back, she's always loved the atmosphere in the Red Bull paddock, Ferrari has always been just a bit too tense for her. ''That would explain it, Callum.''

Max gives her a brief scare when he goes onto the grass on lap 46. No matter how many years pass, even after a million race wins and 20 years of marriage, Copse will always linger in her head. Kevin's car breaking apart on him triggers yet another restart. Which goes pear shaped really quickly as both Alpines, Nyck, and Logan all crash out on turn one. And, another red flag is called. ''Come on, Max, I wanna finish designing your wedding suit.'' Juliette says, fiddling with her water bottle. The final lap begins under the safety car, which guides Max home to his first race win in Australia. Lewis takes silver, Fernando takes bronze. Juliette watches him take his place at the head of the podium, before trophies, he is briefly interviewed. He's asked. ''Now, Max, this is your first race with your lovely fiancee present, anything to say to her?''

Max beams, the crowd erupts into applause. ''Uhm, yeah. Julia, mijn schatje, thank you for saying 'yes' firstly. Uhm, I love you so much you have no idea, this would not be possible without you, and I cannot wait for summer already.'' He blows her a kiss, she places her left hand on her chest, blinking tears away. ''Ik houd van je, Juliette Leclerc.'' Juliette beams up at him while he receives his medal and trophy, he never fails to make her happy. She can only hope she's doing the same for him, she must be doing something right.

That night, they collapse into bed together, exhausted from the longest race day they've ever had together. Sometimes, the best celebration is relaxation. Max's eyes flutter closed, he looks so soft now, stripped of his racing finery, Juliette says, kissing him on the forehead. ''Je t'aime, mon vainqueur.'' He dozes off to sleep, Juliette curls into his side, the silver and gold plate forgotten on the sofa for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrive back in Monaco on the tuesday, Max ready for some rest at home before Baku. Jimmy and Sassy rub up against their legs when they come through the door. Juliette bends down to pet their cats. ''Bonjour, notre anges.''

As if by cue, Julia's cavachon, her beloved Luna, runs into the foyer. Tail wagging like crazy to see her maman and papa home. ''We've missed you too, Luna.'' Max says, it took her ages to convince him to take Luna from her friend and co-worker Daphne after her Bichon and her husband's Cavalier King Charles Spaniel had a litter late last year. But, little Luna has been a much beloved addition to the family. ''We're home, guys.'' They ditch their bags, kick their shoes off, pick their pets up, and crash on the sofa with some Peaky Blinders. Baku won't be calling Max east until the 26th of April, so, they can relax for a few weeks. Juliette returns to work tomorrow, but that's also a labour of love for her, and always has been. Max and Julia steal a glance at each other, his blue eyes to her hazel, he lovingly kisses her on the lips. ''Ready to become Mrs Verstappen? In the summer?'' He asks.

The surname issue has been a no-brainer for her since she could put a name to why Max makes her feel what he does. ''Oh, yeah, I've been ready for a long time, amour.'' His sister has her husband's name, his mother kept hers. And, there will be four Mrs Leclercs running around someday, so, she wants to be Juliette Verstappen. ''Since Barcelona 2020.''

Some part of her will never quite get used to this, this being her real life and not something she dreamed up while with her ex. But, here they are. Australia down, Baku next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, guys!! Something a bit different, first F1 ficlet! So, be nice. Juliette is Charles' younger sister. Born in July 1999, so Arthur is just over a year younger. She is Co-CEO and Co-founder of an ethical, sustainable, body conscious, and affordable fashion line called 'Vita Luxuria', and has loved Max since 2016. She also is a huge Grace Kelly stan.

[mayhemproduces]

HART v KINGSTON - HEIST MATCH

julia’s always been a hungry fighter, always after the next win- and after the last three losses, she’s clearly hungrier than ever. if julia was scared of any sort of size difference between her and eddie, she’s not letting it show like she did against moxley- immediately going for a running baseball slide that takes him out at the knees as soon as the bell rings. the youngest member of the house of black isn’t waiting for a lock-up, instead going on the attack with stomps that slip down to knees to the midsection before eddie just swats her away like a little bug.

as julia rolls to the edge of the ring, she’s clearly more angry rather than hurt, taking a second to regain composure before going right at him again with a heavy elbow! as julia aims for a knockout shot, eddie manages to block her arm with his before slamming her in the head with a forearm of his own. the size difference clearly gives eddie the advantage, and julia really has to fight from underneath to get any sort of attack going again.

if eddie was ever hesitant to hit such a small girl, the annoyance has clearly kicked in, and picks her up with a fistful of hair before sending her back down to the mat with another chop. the whole building is stunned into silence with the scream she unleashes, as if his chop shattered her rib cage in the middle of the ring, but he doesn’t stop there- going for a heavy foot stomp which she barely manages to roll out of the way of. julia keeps rolling, slipping out of the ring to regain her breath as eddie just stands in the ring with his arms outstretched- just waiting for her to get back in and keep fighting. he’s always been down to fight, and since she wanted to play he wasn’t about to let her get away with it.

Julia finally slides back into the ring after a moment, Eddie nice enough not to stomp on her as she gets in, but he quickly regrets that as she jumps on him like a feral cat, legs wrapped around his midsection as she starts to wail punches and forearms down on him. Eddie stumbles back against the ropes, pushing Julia off but with her gymnastics background, the little goth manages to backwards roll into a standing position, taking a moment of pause before slamming Eddie with an effective kick to the side of the head, sending him to the mat.

instead of waiting, Julia’s on him again immediately, another kick to the side to the head as Eddie’s on his knees, but instead of crumbling again- Eddie’s asking for more!

Julia growls at the larger man, but gives him what he wants of her, two more kicks to the side of the head which just gets a yell of determination out of him!

she goes for another, but Eddie raises a forearm- Julia spots it fast enough to be able to spin around with the grace of a ballerina just to whack him in the head with a spinning back kick that hits the opposite side, sending eddie to the mat.

rushing to the corner, julia jumps up onto the top turnbuckle, taking a moment to steady herself before jumping onto eddies back with a devastating double foot stomp!! she rolls him over for a cover-

1… 2-

eddie pushes her off with enough force that she rolls across the ring, scrambling to her feet before he can, grabbing his head and slamming him down with a sitout facebuster!!

instead of going for another pin, julia probably knows she can’t counteract his weight, so instead she goes for a submission, taking a page out of Malakai Black’s book- locking him into the Anti-Cross!! the modified octopus hold, there’s no way he can shake her off after all this offensive!!

he tries, but as she lets out a loud scream, pulling his arms back, forcing him to finally tap!!

Julia Hart finally has a win on the Heist scoreboard, earning her a cool two grand!

[promenadewithme]

First of all, I want to thank all of you so much for the follows, likes, comments, reblogs and support in general! I can't believe I hit 50 followers so soon! I know it’s not much, but I actually didn’t expect any at all so I’m so happy!! Thank you ❤️

Now, this is how the celebration is going to work: first you chose a song and a character. Then send it to my requests with your pronoun of choice, along with any other specifications and I'll write you a fic based on the song! You can either send the song or specific quotes as prompts

To find the fics I will write, use the #Anastasia's 50 followers celebration

This event starts today (May 20th) and ends June 10th

Support Me on Ko-Fi - if you’re feeling generous 💕

Songs:

Fluff (Romantic)

Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

London Boy - Taylor Swift

Love Story - Taylor Swift

Lover - Taylor Swift

King of My Heart - Taylor Swift

Willow - Taylor Swift

Crazier - Taylor Swift

New Year’s Day - Taylor Swift

Daylight - Taylor Swift

Jump Then Fall - Taylor Swift

How You Get The Girl - Taylor Swift

You Are In Love - Taylor Swift

It’s Nice To Have A Friend - Taylor Swift

Today Was A Fairytale - Taylor Swift

State Of Grace - Taylor Swift

Mine - Taylor Swift

Delicate - Taylor Swift

Say You Won't Let Go - James Arthur

Naked - James Arthur

Rewrite The Stars - James Arthur + Anne-Marie

I Won't Give Up - Jason Mraz

I'm Yours - Jason Mraz

Thinking Out Loud - Ed Sheeran

Tenerife Sea - Ed Sheeran

How Would You Feel (Paean) - Ed Sheeran

Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

Afterglow - Ed Sheeran

Lego House - Ed Sheeran

Dive - Ed Sheeran

Galway Girl - Ed Sheeran

Everything Has Changed - Ed Sheeran + Taylor Swift

I Was Made For Loving You - Tori Kelly + Ed Sheeran

Make You Feel My Love -Adele

One Call Away - Charlie Puth

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Just The Way You Are - Bruno Mars

Count On Me - Bruno Mars

Little Things - One Direction

Night Changes - One Direction

Can't Help Falling In Love - Elvis Presley

Andante, Andante - ABBA

Waterloo - ABBA

All Of Me - John Legend

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish

Snowman - Sia

A Thousand Years - Christina Perri

Arms - Christina Perri

Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

Halo - Beyoncé

The Only Exception - Paramore

Dandelions - Ruth B

Someone To You - BANNERS

Would You Be So Kind - Dodie

Someone You Like - The Girl and The Dreamcatcher

If I Could Tell Her - Ben Platt 

Absolutely Smitten - Dodie

How Long Will I Love - Ellie Goulding

Angst (Romantic)

Good 4 u - Olivia Rodrigo

Drivers License - Olivia Rodrigo

Deja Vu - Olivia Rodrigo

Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo

Traitor - Olivia Rodrigo

Enough For You - Olivia Rodrigo

1 step forward, 3 steps back - Olivia Rodrigo

Happier - Olivia Rodrigo

Jealousy, Jealousy- Olivia Rodrigo

Favourite Crime - Olivia Rodrigo

Hope Ur Ok - Olivia Rodrigo

Betty - Taylor Swift

Exile - Taylor Swift

Teardrops On My Guitar - Taylor Swift

Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift

Tolerate It - Taylor Swift

You’re Not Sorry - Taylor Swift

Should’ve Said No - Taylor Swift

White Horse - Taylor Swift

You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

My Tears Ricochet - Taylor Swift

Back to December - Taylor Swift

Breathe - Taylor Swift

The 1 - Taylor Swift

All Too Well - Taylor Swift

Invisible String - Taylor Swift

Evermore - Taylor Swift

Lose You To Love Me - Selena Gomez

The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez

When I Was Your Man -Bruno Mars

Someone Like You - Adele

Hello - Adele

All I Ask - Adele

Let Her Go - Passenger

Say Something - A Great Big World

Stay With Me - Sam Smith

California King Bed - Rihanna

Take a Bow - Rihanna

Broken Hearted Girl - Beyoncé

Tonight I Wanna Cry - Keith Urban

The Winner Takes It All - ABBA

SOS - ABBA

One Of Us - ABBA

Half a Heart - One Direction

Yesterday - The Beatles

If The World Was Ending - Julia Michaels

Colors - Halsey

Happier - Ed Sheeran

One Last Time - Ariana Grande

Why’d You Only Call Me When You High - Artic Monkeys

Play Date - Melanie Martinez

Just a Friend to You - Meghan Trainor

All I Want - Kodaline

Love You From A Distance - Ashley Kutcher

Potential Breakup Song - Aly & AJ

I Don’t Wanna See You With Her - Maria Mena

Let Her Go - Passenger

All My Tears - Ane Brun

Always On My Mind - Elvis Presley

Someone to you - Lewis Capaldi 

Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

Others

Sit Still, Look Pretty - Daya

How To Be A Heartbreaker - MARINA

No Body, No Crime - Taylor Swift

Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

Blank Space - Taylor Swift

You Need To Calm Down - Taylor Swift

Getaway Car -Taylor Swift

Gorgeous - Taylor Swift

Bad Blood - Taylor Swift

The Man - Taylor Swift

22 - Taylor Swift

Dorothea - Taylor Swift

Marjorie - Taylor Swift

The Best Day - Taylor Swift

Mirrorball - Taylor Swift

I Forgot That You Existed - Taylor Swift

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things - Taylor Swift

The Lakes - Taylor Swift

The Last Great American Dynasty - Taylor Swift

Since U Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson

When I Kissed The Teacher - ABBA

I Have A Dream - ABBA

I've Been Waiting For You - ABBA

You'll Be In My Heart - Phil Collins

Titanium - David Guetta (feat. Sia)

F**ckin' Perfect - P!nk

New Rules - Dua Lipa

IDGAF - Dua Lipa

Bad Guy - Billie Eilish

You Should See Me in A Crown - Billie Eilish

COPYCAT - Billie Eilish

Count On Me - Bruno Mars

Stand By You - Rachel Platten

Firework - Katy Perry

Because You Loved Me - Céline Dion

See You Again - Wiz Khalifa + Charlie Puth

NO - Meghan Trainor

Skyfall - Adele

Gasoline - Halsey

Castle On The Hill - Ed Sheeran

Save Myself - Ed Sheeran

Supermarket Flowers - Ed Sheeran

Small Bump - Ed Sheeran

Growing Up - Macklemore, Ryan Lewis, Ed Sheeran

7 Rings - Ariana Grande

Bad Liar - Selena Gomez

Rare - Selena Gomez

Who Says - Selena Gomez

I Turn To You - Christina Aguilera

Till There Was You - The Beatles

Sweetest Devotion - Adele

ps: sorry, I'm a Swiftie and a Sheerio <3

Characters

Character x fem! or GN! reader (ROMANTIC)

ACOTAR: Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Helion, Tarquin, kallias and Tamlin.

BRIDGERTON: Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton and Simon Basset.

GRISHAVERSE: Nikolai, Mal, The Darkling, Kaz, Matthias, Jesper, Wylan and David.

THRONE OF GLASS: Dorian Havilliard and Chaol Westfall.

HARRY POTTER: Harry, Ron, Neville, Draco, George, Fred, Oliver, Cedric, Young Sirius, Young James and Young Remus.

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley.

MARVEL: Steve, Bucky, Sam, Pietro, Loki, Thor, Peter Parker, Ned, Tony, Bruce, Vision, Clint, T'Challa, Scott Lang, James Rhodes, Peter Quill and Stephen Strange.

THE HUNGER GAMES: Peeta, Gale and Finnick.

GREY'S ANATOMY: Derek Shepherd, Andrew DeLuca, Alex Karev, Jackson Avery, Mark Sloan, George O'Malley, Link, Koracick and Ben Warren.

TEEN WOLF: Scott, Stiles, Derek, Isaac, Liam and Jackson.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES: Damon, Stefan, Matt, Klaus, Elijah and Kai.

NARNIA: Peter, Edmund and Caspian.

STAR WARS: Anakin, Obi Wan, Kylo, Han, Luke, Poe, Finn and Din Djarin.

Character x platonic!/sis!/bro!/enemy!/daughter!/son!/mentor!/or anything else platonic Reader

ACOTAR: Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Feure, Nesta, Elain, Mor, Amren, Nyx, Lucien, Tarquin, Helion, Kallias, Tamlin, Ianthe, Suriel and Bone Carver.

GRISHAVERSE: Nikolai, Mal, Darkling, David, Alina, Bahgra, Zoya, Tamar, Tolya, Apparat, Kaz, Matthias, Jesper, Wylan, Nina, Inej, Tantee Heleen and Pekka Rollins.

THRONE OF GLASS: Dorian, Chaol and Aelin.

BRIDGERTON: Anthony, Benedict, Colin; Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, Hyacinth, Lady Violet, Simon, Lady Danbury, Penelope, Lady Portia Featherington, Marina, Sienna, Genevieve, Cressida and Queen Charlotte.

HARRY POTTER: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna, Draco, George, Fred, Oliver, Cedric, Cho, Seamus, Fleur, Pansy, Myrtle, Sirius (old or young), James (old or young), Remus (old or young), Lily (old or young), Molly, Arthur, Bill, Percy, Charlie, Xenophilus Lovegood, Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Moody, Flitwick, Umbridge, Bellatrix, Voldemort, Lucius, Narcissa, Peter Pettigrew, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Dobby and Nearly Headless Nick.

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Mr Darcy, Georgiana Darcy, Mr Bingley, Caroline Bingley, Elizabeth Bennet, Jane Bennet, Mary Bennet, Lydia Bennet, Catherine Bennet, Charlotte Lucas, Wickam, Mr Collins, Mr Bennet, Mrs Bennet.

MARVEL: Steve, Peggy, Sharon, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, Carol, Monica Rambeau, Pietro, Wanda, Agatha Harkness, Loki, Frigga, Odin, Hela, Thor, Heimdall, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, Valkyrie, Peter Parker, Ned, MJ, Tony, Pepper, Morgan, Happy, Howard, Bruce, Vision, Clint, T'Challa, Shuri, Scott, Hope, Hank, Cassie, James Rhodes, Peter Quill, Gamora, Mantis, Nebula, Groot, Rocket, Drax, Stephen Strange, Wong, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, Maria Hill, Thanos, Ancient One, Red Skull, Ultron, John Walker and Zemo.

THE HUNGER GAMES: Katniss, Peeta, Gale, Finnick, Haymitch, Rue, President Snow, Primrose, Effie, Cinna and Johanna.

GREY'S ANATOMY: Meredith, Derek, Andrew, Alex, Jackson, Mark, Lexie, Cristina, April, Izzie, George, Callie, Owen, Addison, Arizona, Miranda, Amelia, Link, Burke, Teddy, Maggie, Richard, Carina, Ben Warren, Megan Hunt, Ellis Grey, Catherine Avery and Tom Koracick.

TEEN WOLF: Scott, Stiles, Malia, Lydia, Allison, Derek, Isaac, Liam, Jackson, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Sheriff Stilinski, Kira, Melissa McCall and Noshiko Yukimura.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES: Damon, Elena, Katherine, Stefan, Caroline, Bonnie, Jenna, Klaus, Elijah, Rebeka, Sheriff Forbes, Kai and Lexi.

NARNIA: Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Caspian and Aslan.

STAR WARS: Anakin, Padme, Yoda, Jarjar, Obi Wan, Kylo, Rey, Han, Leia, Luke, Poe, Finn and Din Djarin and Grogu.

No pressure tags: @venuswritesfanfic @for-bebbanburg @maggiescarborough @multifandomfix @sweetnspicysimp @lazypeachsoul @magravenwrites

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 3

Hello, my friends! It’s been a busy weekend and I’m more than a little sunburned (grrrrr), but here it is! The next chapter is ready and waiting for you all. I hope you enjoy it and had a great weekend!

---

The next two Saturdays come and go with Olive and Gracie no closer to getting their fathers to meet. The one following their first would have been perfect, but Sherlock had a case on that did not finish as timely as he had hoped. Mrs. Hudson was out of town with Mrs. Turner, so he called in his own babysitter. She and John had a pleasant enough conversation on the park bench from what little Gracie and Olive overheard. It didn’t really matter that John had been told Sherlock’s name was William because Annie had always called him that anyway. From what Olive understood, it was an attempt to protect both Sherlock and Annie’s privacy. She could reference him as her employer with ease while avoiding the inevitable ‘Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, he does have a child.’ conversation. It was also better that Sherlock not advertise the fact.

Olive and Gracie’s anticipation of the following Saturday grew with John’s answer to the playdate at Olive’s flat question. He had said it would likely be fine, but he needed to meet Olive’s parents first. When Saturday came, John was called away on an emergency and Candace took Gracie to the park AGAIN. After the two girls pouted a bit, they cooked up a scheme wherein Candace gave her impression of Sherlock to John so they could move things along. The girls thought this would suffice, but John still insisted upon meeting ‘Will’ himself. Gracie tried to argue that he trusts Candace and should just go along with it. She had a good, long strop on Sunday when he refused. 

Gracie’s class sits together in the smaller of the school’s two gymnasiums when they arrive individually before the day begins. Every class has its place so each can rise and file to its room when the bell rings. Olive and Gracie love beginning the day this way because they have a chance to talk before having to sit quietly for lessons. It makes it much easier to pay attention. This particular Monday morning, however, is not going to plan.

Gracie glances up to the clock on the wall impatiently and begins to worry. Olive is not in the gym yet and it is not like her. Sherlock always has her to school at exactly eight minutes before the bell rings and it is now five minutes to the bell. Gracie lowers her eyes again and bites her lip. She knows her concern is ridiculous at this stage. It’s probably just traffic or something, but her protective side won’t let it drop. Could Olive and her father have gotten caught up in a case somehow? Gracie furrows her brow as she considers what that might mean when a pair of red shoes comes into view. She lets her eyes focus on them a moment before lifting them to see a girl from one of the other grade three classes standing before her nervously.

“Hi, Grace,” she says quietly. Her name is Julia and she usually keeps to herself, but Olive has built up a report with her. She says Julia sees and knows everything and is really nice, just a bit shy. Knowing this, Gracie is surprised she has left her own class group to come over to Gracie’s and talk.

“Hi,” Gracie mutters and then adds, thinking it the most likely reason for Julia’s visit, “Olive isn’t here yet.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you,” Julia casts a slow side glance to her right and then back to Gracie, whose curious eyes follow the other girl’s. “Jones is planning something for lunch today. I’m not sure what, but she wants to embarrass you. She’s still mad about that punch on your first day.”

“Oh,” Gracie replies, not knowing why she expected anything less. Jones hadn’t said word one to them since that day and Olive kept saying it was only a matter of time. “Thanks. I’ll watch out for that.”

“We all loved it, you know,” Julia carries on swiftly. “Jones has been a pain in everyone’s side forever. She deserved it.”

Julia glances away again and takes a step back. Her brown eyes are intense when she returns them to Gracie’s and she angles her head closer.

“We’re all with you in this,” she almost whispers. “We’ll help anytime you need it.”

“Thanks,” Gracie doesn’t try to stop the small smile on her face. “I’ll remember that.”

Julia nods once and hurries back to her class’s spot. Gracie watches her go, feeling a bit lighter than she did before. She doesn’t know who is encompassed in the word ‘we’ at this moment, but it must be more than just grade three, right?. She had gotten quite a lot of attention from the other kids after the punch. More had greeted her afterwards or thrown a smile her way. Gracie wouldn’t say they all wanted to be friends or anything, just that they knew of her and liked what they knew. Very different from her old school where she was virtually unknown outside of her own grade.

Gracie thinks back on the friends she left behind in Bath and resolves to zoom with them soon. Turning her head to check the clock again, she nearly jumps out of her skin when Olive plops down right in front of her. The brunette is breathless, obviously having walked as fast as possible through the school halls to get here. Gracie cocks a brow and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Where the heck have you been?” she nearly scolds, secretly eyeing her friend for any signs of injury. “The bell’s about to ring.”

“Pfft,” Olive makes a dismissive sound and waves a hand. “We still have two minutes.”

“Well, where were you?” Gracie fidgets, feeling a little exposed, but wanting to say this nonetheless. “I was kind of worried. Like maybe you ended up on a case or something.”

“Oh, no. Dad never takes me on cases,” Olive tells her in a very serious tone. “Well, only once when he absolutely had to and only because he knew there was no danger.”

Gracie releases the lip she’s been chewing on and lets the tension drain from her body. Seeing her friend relax, Olive smiles and lightens her tone.

“Dad did get a call for a case though and Mrs. Hudson had to bring me in. She’s never as fast as dad is,” Olive’s whole face lights up then and she hops up to sit on her knees for a change of subject. Gracie knows what it is too. It’s the reason she has waited for her friend so anxiously. “So did you ask him? What did he say? Whaddid he say?”

“He still needs to meet your dad first,” Gracie sighs with disappointment.

“What?” Olive blurts indignantly. “But he trusts Candace’s judgement.”

“That’s what I said, but he says he still has to meet your parents before I can go to your flat,” Gracie huffs. “It’s like he thinks he can tell they aren’t axe murderers with just one look.”

“You can, you know,” Olive replies suddenly in a calmer voice.

“What?”

“Tell someone isn’t an axe murderer with one look,” Olive sounds very pleased with herself for knowing this bit of information.

“What are you on about?” Gracie shakes her head. “That’s not even important right now.”

“No. You’re right,” Olive concedes. She touched a finger to her lips to think and then groans loudly, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We have to make sure they meet this weekend. I’ll tell Uncle Greg not to even call Dad if I have to.”

“I’ll do what I can too, but there’s no way I can stop another emergency,” Gracie grumbles and wrinkles her nose.

“Any chance of a baby again?” Olive asks, trying to plan for any contingency. 

“I don’t think so,” Gracie shrugs. “Dad usually tells me to be ready when it’s something he can anticipate.”

“Hm. Then we’ll just have to hope for a slow weekend,” Olive mumbles, touching a finger to her lips again.

“Right,” Gracie agrees, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Something interesting happened right before you got here.”

The bell rings and teachers begin to call out instructions as Olive opens her mouth to respond. The two girls rise with their classmates, Gracie shouldering her backpack. Their line starts moving almost right away. Olive puts a hand on Gracie’s shoulder and leans in, the shorter girl turning her head to hear better.

“You can tell me at lunch,” Olives says, “and we can decide what to do on our first playdate.”

Gracie grins and agrees as they walk into the hall to their classroom.

***

“And then I’ll show you our latest experiment,” Olive had started listing the things she and Gracie would do on their first playdate the moment they walked into the lunch room. Olive puts a spoon full of yogurt into her mouth triumphantly.

“What are you working on now?” Gracie asks, snapping off a piece of her carrot and chewing. Her face is bright and open. Thinking about her first time in Olive’s flat is her most fun pastime these days. She has even dreamt about it: what she pictures it to look like and what they will do. It is the most excited she has been about something in a while. She was excited to move to London and start in a new school. Of course she was, but this has none of the uncertainty or anxiety those did. It is all pure anticipation and Olive feels it too, which makes it all the harder to wait until their fathers meet.

“The effects of cola on raw meat,” Olive answers Gracie’s question while dipping her spoon for more yogurt.

“What?” Gracie frowns and cocks a brow. “Why?”

“You don’t want to know,” Olive eyes the mound of yogurt on her spoon. “We’ve also added other stuff, like poisons and things to see if it makes any difference as far as how quickly the meat deteriorates or absorbs the poison. It’s for a homicide case.”

“What’s homicide?” Gracie asks curiously.

“Murder,” Olive whispers and closes her mouth smoothly around the spoon.

“Wow,” Gracie looks at her with wide eyes, carrot still in hand.

“I can’t guarantee we’ll still be doing it by the time we have our playdate though,” Olive tells her almost regretfully, holding the spoon to her lower lip. “There’s no way it could last two weeks. Dad never takes that long to solve a case.”

“That’s okay. It sounds kind of gross anyway,” Gracie pops the carrot into her mouth and grabs another. “What else could we do?”

“I want to show you my room. That’ll be the best part,” Olive declares, shifting from side to side in her seat eagerly. “It’s the upstairs bedroom. The only room upstairs.”

“Oh my god. Your flat has an upstairs?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide. “Ours have always been all on one floor.”

“Sometimes I pretend it’s a castle on top of a huge mountain and I have to climb it to search for prisoners or treasure or villains,” Olive is waving her spoon around now, gesturing enthusiastically.

“That sounds brilliant!” Gracie bubbles. “We could climb it together.”

“And, and!” Olive gasps, grabbing Gracie’s wrist and holding perfectly still. Gracie freezes too, but nearly vibrates with the anticipation of what she will say. “You can bring Pandy and we’ll save her and Wellies.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s perfect!” Gracie shoves a carrot in her mouth. “I can’t wait.”

“We have to get our dads to meet this Saturday,” Olive says emphatically, nearly in a whine as the bell rings. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Around them, Miss Chapel begins rounding everyone up. Olive and Gracie both shove what’s left of their lunches into their bags and hurry to stand.

“Hey, wait. We forgot. What were you going to tell me?” Olive asks, pushing her chair in.

“What?” Gracie replies, not sure what she means.

“From this morning,” Olive answers as Gracie picks up her bag and milk carton. “I got so excited about our playdate, I forgot to ask.”

“Oh, that,” Gracie starts toward the door, but her foot catches on something and she falls flat on the floor. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, she drops her lunch bag and milk carton and then lands right on them. Both smash flat, the half full carton soaking the front of her uniform.

“Gracie, are you okay?” Olive darts around the table to help, but Gracie is already getting to her knees.

“I’m fine,” Gracie mutters, looking down at herself and grumbling. Olive follows Gracie’s legs to find the sources of her fall and her eyes settle on a black size six. She knows who it is without even looking, but raises her angry gaze nonetheless and rests it on the smug face of Samantha Jones.

“Your friend had best watch where she’s going, Holmes,” Jones sneers, her two lackeys grinning behind her. “She could get hurt.”

“You’re a coward, Jones,” Olive scowls. “She faced you straight on and bested you, and now you hide in the corner waiting to catch her off-guard.”

“Olive,” Gracie cautions, standing next to the taller girl now.

“You watch yourself, Holmes,” Jones steps up close and stares Olive down. “Your pet won’t be with you all the time and that’s when I’ll find you.”

“Girls,” Miss Chapel calls sternly from behind Olive and Gracie, “what are you doing? Did you not hear the bell?”

“Just coming, Miss Chapel,” Jones replies pleasantly, side-stepping the two younger girls while staring at them menacingly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to class.”

After the three grade sixers are gone, Olive takes Gracie’s lunch bag and goes to class while Miss Chapel helps Gracie clean up a bit in the loo. She isn’t too worried about missing anything. Olive will fill her in on the lesson later. What Gracie has on her mind now is how to get back at Samantha Jones and really put her in her place so she doesn’t bully anyone in the school again. If anyone can do it, it’s Gracie Watson and Olive Holmes. 

***

“Just the two of you against the world then, eh?” John chuckles as he drops Gracie’s soiled uniform into the washer with some other laundry and closes the lid.

“The world of bullies, yeah,” Gracie answers as if there is no way it could be questioned. “You should see her, Dad. She pushes everyone around and steals the good stuff from their lunches as a ‘protection fee’.”

John flips the dial on the machine to start the cycle and turns to his daughter with a both bemused and amused expression. She wears a look of determination that only furthers his pleasure. Gracie looks nothing less than adorable. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes deadly serious and her mouth purse into half its usual size. With a hand on one hip and her other arm wrapped around Pandy, she stands strong with her feet planted on the floor. The smiling panda t-shirt, her favorite one, looks up at him with friendly eyes that contrast with his daughter’s.

“Protection fee?” John laughs because he just can’t help himself at this point. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“That’s what Olive calls it,” she informs him in a tone that is all business. “Jones says she won’t bother them if they give her the treats from their lunches and they do it because they’re scared of her. She’s mean and you say I should stand up against bullies.”

“True, but…” John cuts in, seeing where this is going and not sure it’s the best course of action for Gracie to take.

“You don’t want me to stand back and let her bully little kids,” Gracie continues. “Kids in my class, even the ones who are younger than us. Why shouldn’t I stop her if I can?”

“Gracie…” John begins again, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“I thought you’d get it,” Gracie’s voice is insistent, but has a touch of pleading as well, and even some disappointment. “You fought in a war.”

“This is hardly war, Gracie,” John says a bit more sternly than he meant to . She snaps her mouth shut in a thin frown and the furrow of her brow deepens. She tilts her chin down and looks up at him with frustrated eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and pressing Pandy against her body. John sighs and squats down before her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“Gracie, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he tells her in a soft tone of concern. “I love that you want to help the other kids and don’t want to back down from a fight. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Gracie takes a deep breath through her nose, shoulders straightening and her chest puffing out. The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

“You’ve only been at the school for a few weeks,” John carries on carefully. “I don’t want kids that could have been friends to steer clear of you because they think you like trouble, or will get them in trouble.”

“Seriously?” Gracie questions, obviously finding the idea unbelievably stupid. “They seem to like me more because I stood up to Jones in the lunchroom. Like Julia said.”

“Oh, right,” John lifts his chin and raises his eyes briefly as he remembers. “The informant.”

“She knows everything,” Gracie lowers her voice and glances to her left before leaning in conspiratorially. “She lays low and hears all kinds of things. Olive can always go to her if she has questions about stuff that’s going on.”

“Just like Billy,” John mutters to himself with a quiet laugh.

“Who?” Gracie asks, looking a little confused.

“Nothing, sweet pea. Someone from another life,” John deftly pushes away his past. “I’m your dad. It’s my job to help you any way I can to be a good person and get on with other kids, or with schoolwork and whatever, yeah? I’m a lot older and have done a lot of things. It’s called experience.”

“Okay,” Gracie says slowly like she is beginning to see his point. She watches him thoughtfully.

“Sometimes people just think you’ll be the next bully when you stand up to one,” John explains. “You have to be careful kids don’t get the wrong impression and assume they should avoid you too.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Gracie shakes her head. “Not with Olive on my side and Julia talking to everybody.”

“Well, good,” John straightens his legs to stand. “I’m glad you have such good and supportive friends.”

Gracie follows him as he walks to the kitchen to check the lasagna baking in the oven. It smells delicious and is one of their favorite dinners.

“Did you and your best friend help people?” Gracie asks curiously, lagging behind a little to stay away from the heat of the open oven door.

“Oh, yes,” John replies without even thinking as he lifts the aluminum foil from the casserole pan to look at the bubbling cheese. “Every case we solved helped people and even saved lives. It was an amazing time.”

“You solved cases?” Gracie asks after a brief pause. John’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he hurriedly grabs for the oven mitts on the counter.

“Medical cases, sweetie,” John pulls the lasagna from the oven and moves across the counter. “Will you close the door, please?”

Gracie pushes the oven door shut and steps to the counter next to John. She picks up the first plate and hands it to him when he turns to retrieve it.

“Thank you,” he says warmly, taking it and dishing up the lasagna, some vegetables he had kept warm and a bit of salad. He tries not to look at Gracie for too long as he hands her the plate and she passes him an empty one. After all these years it is still too easy to read his expressions and he knows his daughter will know immediately that he’s hoping his lame explanation will suffice. John does, however, have to get it together before he sits down to eat with Gracie or he will spend the rest of the night telling her how the beloved characters in her bedtime stories are real and one of them is her own father. Will she feel betrayed? Like he has kept a huge part of himself from her? Do eight year olds even understand that concept? Gracie is fairly mature and advanced in her thinking, but enough to feel wronged or just to think her dad has this cool, secret past?

Finished filling his own plate, John schools his features as he turns to the table to see Gracie watching him expectantly. She has not only gotten the glass of milk he poured for her from the fridge, but his ice water as well. As he moves to sit opposite her, John wonders just how long it took him to dish up his own food. Gracie doesn’t look the least bit suspicious though, which is definitely a good sign. John really doesn’t want to spend the night dwelling on his former best friend. He has patently tried not to do just that since the day he agreed to take over the practice.

“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice interrupts his thoughts. John looks across the table to see her staring at him with a very deliberate expression as she chews. “You have to come to the park this Saturday and meet Olive’s dad. We’ve already planned what we’re going to do on our first playdate and it’s going to be amazing.”

“I’m sure you have,” John almost sighs in relief, picking up his glass for a drink. “You both love your master plans.”

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” Gracie says plainly. “This is very important.”

“Well, I don’t anticipate any emergencies, so it should be fine,” John answers. He replaces his water glass and scoops some lasagna onto his fork. “You’ll get to have a playdate soon enough.”

***

After dinner and the washing up, John and Gracie play a few card games until bedtime. Gracie beats him twice at Old Maid and once at Go-Fish, but John wins both games of Gin. John picks up and puts away the last deck of cards while Gracie brushes her teeth. He makes himself a cup of tea while she runs to her room to change into pajamas.

When John appears in her doorway, cup in hand, Gracie is lying down with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. He walks in, sets the tea on the bedside table and grabs the chair from her desk. Pulling it up to her bed, he sits and grabs his mug again.

“So,” John sips the tea, “what would you like tonight? Another chapter of the old Nancy Drew you and Olive are reading?”

“Actually…” Gracie’s tone is slightly higher than usual. A clear indication that she is going to ask for something she thinks he will say no to. “I was hoping for a Sam and Dean story. One you haven’t told me before.”

“Just how many of those stories do you think there are?” John asks good-naturedly after a quick bark of laughter.

“Hundreds!” Gracie answers with a sparkle in her eyes that John can never resist. He looks  down at her with a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” John tells her, “but I do still have some you don’t know.”

One leaps to mind. Why, John doesn’t know, but it is suddenly the only one he can think of. It isn’t a pleasant memory, but is certainly a case that pulled him and Sherlock closer together.

“I was going to save this one for when you’re older,” John pauses to wet his lips as Gracie’s eyes go wide.

“Please, Daddy, please,” she throws the covers off her arms, sits up and grabs the arm that doesn’t have a mug of tea at the end. “I’m old enough, please.”

John studies her for a moment and then sets down his tea.

“All right, all right,” he puts his hands on her shoulders, “but lie down. This is bedtime after all.”

“Yes!” Gracie declares in triumph and lays back quickly. John pulls the covers up to her chin and begins to tell her the story about pips, hostages, explosions and Moriarty, who he calls Chuck instead. Gracie listens with rapt attention, only really getting nervous when they were staring at that damn painting and the voice on the phone was a child. John has not told anyone, or even thought of this case, for over ten years and a feeling like exhaustion settles over him as he reaches the pool.

“The door opened and Dean walked in wearing a thick parka,” John says as Gracie gasps in horror. Her eyes are wide with shock, her mouth drops open.

“Oh my god, it was Dean?” she whispers, scarcely able to say the words. John’s heart sinks when she makes the same assumption Sherlock did, but rebounds when she quickly takes it back. “No. No, it can’t be Dean. He would never do that.”

“Right you are,” John commends her. “Dean pulled open the coat to reveal a waistcoat of explosives.”

Gracie lets out a huge gasp, her hands shooting from under the covers and over her mouth.

“No! What did he do? How did Sam save him?” Gracie demands in a hushed voice, unwilling to take her eyes off John for even a moment.

“Dean couldn’t say or do anything but what Chuck told him and Sam… He didn’t know what to do,” John shakes his head, remembering Sherlock’s face. He had been so frightened and vulnerable for that split-second before he schooled his expression, but John had seen it all. Unfortunately, so had Moriarty. John flinches as the words echo through his mind for the first time in years.

I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.

I have been reliably informed I don’t have one.

We both know that’s not quite true.

“All of a sudden, Chuck appeared and started telling Sam how he needed to give up, let him carry on with his plans,” John continues, trying not to see Sherlock’s face and hear the words again.

Gracie’s eyes are glued to John as he tells her how he had grabbed Moriarty and told Sherlock to go, but that he wouldn’t leave. John had known there was no way out when he saw those damn red dots on Sherlock’s forehead and throat. He had released Moriarty and swallowed hard in resignation, but then the little devil had left. Gracie breathes a sigh of relief when the semtex came off and then screeches quietly, full of fear again when Moriarty returned. 

“Sam looked Dean in the eye and it was all Dean needed to know what he was thinking.” John’s voice is hushed, the only sound in the room. “He was going to shoot the bomb and cause an explosion.”

“Oh my god, no!” Gracie mutters, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching Pandy to her chest tightly. “He can’t.”

“It would’ve killed the two of them, but would also put an end to Chuck’s plans,” John says, trying to keep his tone even as the past floods back to him. It wouldn’t have stopped Moriarty. If they had survived somehow, he still would have ruined Sherlock’s reputation, threatened the three people most important to him and forced him to jump. You owe me a fall. Moriarty would have gone to any lengths to see that happen and must have had the pieces in place even then. God, how that man had fucked up their lives.

“What happened?” Gracie’s voice, thick with anticipation and dread, breaks John free from his thoughts. His gaze comes into focus again and he looks at his daughter for a moment before finding his voice.

“His phone rang,” he says simply.

“What?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide, her whole face rife with disbelief. John allows himself a small smile. 

“Someone gave him another way to end the detective and make him useful in the process,” John says grimly. “So he just left. So did his henchmen, but Sam and Dean knew he would be back.”

“Wow,” Gracie breathes in utter amazement. “What an ending. I can’t believe he got away. Did he come after Sam and Dean again?”

“Unfortunately,” John gives her a shallow nod, knowing he cannot tell her that story anytime soon. Maybe never.

“Oh my gosh,” Gracie mutters. “When? How? Did they get away? Do they beat him?”

“Oh, no,” John shakes his head. “You get one story and that one was much longer than it should have been.”

“What? Dad!” Gracie cries, disappointment coloring her face and tone.

“You know the rules, Gracie,” John tells her firmly. “It’s late enough already. You need to sleep.”

“Fine,” Gracie grumbles after studying him long enough to see there is no hope of John changing his mind. She snuggles Pandy close to her cheek as John bends down to kiss her head.

“Good night, sweet pea,” John says into her hair and then sits up again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gracie replies, already looking sleepy. John stands and replaces the chair by the desk. He turns off the lamp on the bedside table as he picks up his mug, leaving only the dim night light to illuminate the room.

“Good night,” John whispers. Gracie’s eyes are closed and she does not open them. John slips from the room and heads for the kitchen. It’s still fairly early, but John will only think of Sherlock if he stays awake. Even crap telly or a book will not distract him at this point.

John sighs and sets the mug in the sink. He goes to his bedroom and into the ensuite, cleans his teeth and readies for bed. Once his pajamas are on and he is staring at the ceiling in the dark, John allows his mind to unveil that portrait of Sherlock he keeps so tightly covered and looks at it for a long time. Being in London again and not even that far from Baker Street, John has resolutely kept the man from his thoughts and will not entertain the idea of going anywhere near his former flat, even just to see if Sherlock is still there. When John left with Mary, there were too many things left unsaid. It is too late to say them now.

John turns on his side with a sad sigh, closes his eyes and pulls the curtain over Sherlock’s ever-changing eyes once again.

---

There you are! Complete with a vision of creepy Moriarty and the pool. Incidentally, I have a great idea for a one shot involving the pool and what follows that strays wildly from canon (infamous eyebrow waggle). Hopefully I can start on it soon. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think about chapter 3 or teasers or any ideas that might be running through your heads. Have a great week, my friends, and thank you so much for your support and love. Makes my heart glow.  Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[moirasimagines]

standing by | david budd x reader

summary: it’s the night of october 1st, and the reader is expecting a visit from david after an outing with his kids to see their grandmother. feeling nervous, they phone vicky and receive some less than reassuring news.

warnings: canon-typical mentions of su*cide bombing/terrorism and ptsd, lil angsty? but tender i promise, vicky and the reader each have one (1) drink, general concern is to be had about david’s mental state

word count: 2787

a/n: i kinda wanna make this a series? where david and the reader just? are dating so instead of sleeping w/ julia he just... becomes her friend and everything else just... happens the same way ig??? lemme know if anyone’s actually interested in this bc i might write it anyway but it’d be good to know if there’s any actual like... market for it bgjkrtbgkr

David is late. You aren’t angry–– it just seems odd. He’s a very punctual person, normally, and you couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t just text you if something had come up with the kids. He hasn’t answered any of the texts you’ve sent him, and both times you called, his phone went to voicemail. You think about phoning Vicky, then decide against it. You like to think that the two of you are friends. She’s kind to you whenever you see her, anyway, and David has mentioned once or twice that she’s asked about you, remembered that your aunt had been sick and sent well wishes or mentioned a book you’d told her about. You like her. She’s a good mother to her kids, and she treats David with the love and respect he deserves. You’ve never met a pair of exes with such a healthy relationship, and though you know it’s a two way street between herself and David, you’re still impressed with her grace. It’s these feelings that drive you to give her a ring when an hour’s gone by since Dave said he’d be over and you haven’t heard anything.

“Hello?” 

“Hi Vicky, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if Dave––”

“Oh love,” she says, and you notice that her voice wavers as she speaks. Your heart drops. “Everyone’s alright, the kids and him, but…” She sighs. “There was a suicide bomber on their train home.”

“Oh christ,” you murmur, your heart rate picking up.  “But they're okay? The kids? And Dave? Nothing happened, no one got hurt?”

“They’re all fine, yeah. They’re taking a cab home now. Dave said to expect them in at about  half past 10. He…” she takes a deep breath on the other end of the line. “He talked the woman out of it. Nearly got himself killed, but…” For a moment, neither of you says anything. You glance at the clock. It’s 9:45. You have to make a conscious effort to even out your breathing, but you manage it.

“He saved their lives,” you say.

“Yeah,” Vicky manages, but you can tell she’s crying.

“Is there anything I can do for you, hun?” you ask, “Do you want some company?” She sniffles.

“That actually… That would be nice, if you’re offering. And that way you won’t have to wait to see him, or the kids.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, of course. I’ll start over right now. Should be able to get there in twenty. Thank you, Vicky.”

“Yeah, all right. No, it’s…” She pauses. “I mean, thank you, hun.” 

“See you soon.”

You smile as you hang up, but your stomach is still churning. He’s fine, the kids are fine. Everything is fine. Vicky obviously spoke to him, and they’re all on their way home now. But the thought of something happening is too much to bear, and you notice after a moment that your heart is practically pounding. You don’t want to keep Vicky waiting, though, so you toss your phone and keys into your bag and drive over.

She meets you at the door, and to your surprise, throws her arms around you. Relieved, you return the embrace, giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Thank you for coming all this way,” she murmurs against your shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me come by.” Vicky takes a deep breath and pats your back. You both pull away and she nods for you to follow her inside.

“Drink?” she asks, padding into the kitchen. She sounds tired. You trail behind her, realizing slowly that you’ve never really been alone together. Normally you feel a bit like you’re visiting your in-laws or something when David brings you round to Vicky’s. But the house feels smaller now, somehow, more intimate.

“I won’t say no to that.” She offers you a weary but genuine smile and takes a wine glass from the cupboard.

“I’ve got my own in the sitting room, so don’t worry. I’m not trying to liquor you up. White okay?” You let out a laugh at the joke and she shoots you a wry smile.

“Yeah, perfect, thank you.” You both go to sit and wait for David and the kids, finding yourselves on opposite ends of the couch. She sits so that she’s facing you a little, shoulder resting against the cushions.

“So, how’s things with you and Dave?” Vicky asks after a moment. You feel a guilty pang, but it’s clear that she’s really just curious. There’s no malice in her words–– of course, there never is. If anything, you imagine she just wants to fill the time.

“They’re good,” you say, hesitantly. “Thanks. It’s, ah… You know, obviously I love the kids, and––”

“Oh, they adore you,” she replies, smiling despite the anxiety on her brow. Your expression softens.

“Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course. They’re always asking about you.”

“Oh. That’s really sweet,” you say, genuinely a bit surprised. You love Charlie and Ella fiercely, but you’d always assumed they must have felt a bit strange about you. After all, you and David have been together for the better part of a year now. They know you’re dating their dad. You’d always thought it would be a little bit difficult for them–– and who could blame them if it was?

“We all love you, you know,” she says earnestly after a moment. “I’m pleased it’s going well with you two, really, I am.” Spindly fingers reach across the space as she covers your hand with her own, giving you an affectionate jostle. Tears glisten in her eyes, and you feel your chest tighten. “I know it’s probably weird, me saying all this, but…” She shakes her head. “I love Dave, he’s the father of my kids. And all I want is for him to be happy. I think you make each other happy.” You nod slowly, taking her words in, feelings tears slip down your own cheeks as you place your free hand on top of hers and squeeze.

“I think the world of you,” you say once she sits back. “I really want you to know that. You’ve been nothing but kind to me since day one, and––” She waves you off.

“Oh god, don’t give me so much credit,” she says, recovering a bit, “You were the one in the really scary position. Meeting the ex-wife? Please, I would have shat myself.” She lets out a shaky laugh, sniffs, wipes her eyes. “And you were so sweet!”

“Are you kidding?” you reply, halfway between tears and laughter, “If I had to meet my ex’s new partner, I probably would have had a cow.” Vicky laughs at that, and the two of you share an admittedly tearful but warm look.

As you’re wiping your eyes again, a car pulls up outside of the house, and both of your heads snap up at the sound.

“Oh thank god,” Vicky says, and you both hurry out the door. Charlie and Ella come bounding up to her, and just like that, you’re welling up again, seeing the kids reunited with their mother. David follows a few paces behind, and the kids step back from their little group hug as she goes to embrace him.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Ella asks, turning to you. Charlie follows suit, and soon you’re knelt on the ground to give them a hug as well. 

“I was worried about all of you,” you say, “so your Mum asked if I’d like to come see you.”

“That was nice of her,” Charlie says.

“Yeah,” you agree, pulling away to scrub at your eyes, “it was, huh?” They both smile at you, and you glance at David, who’s reassuring an understandably distraught Vicky. It had been easier to curb your emotions when the two of you were talking, but now you can’t help yourself. No sooner have you dried your cheeks than fresh tears roll down them and you look at the kids again, admiring their sweet faces. “I’m very glad to see you both,” you say quietly.

“We’re glad to see you too,” Ella replies. Charlie moves to hug you again, seeing that you’re still crying, and Ella joins him. You squeeze them both as David and Vicky walk over.

“Come on you two,” she says, voice a little calmer, but still tinged with emotion, “it’s past your bedtime.” You let them both go and Vicky offers you a smile, which you return gratefully. They scamper off after her into the house, and you can’t possibly stand up quickly enough. David’s arms are around you in an instant and when you exhale, it feels like you’re deflating into him.

“What are you doing here, love?” he asks gently, a hand coming up to cradle your head.

“I thought you were going to come over tonight,” you murmur, “and when I didn’t hear from you, I got worried, and I called Vicky and she told me about the train, and...” You feel David tense up for a moment, and then sigh.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, love. I completely forgot.”

“No, it’s all right, Dave, really––”

“No, but you must have felt awful talking to Vic–– and I didn’t even call you.”

“Well, you had quite a lot going on from what I understand,” you say, pulling away to look at him. He looks exhausted, rattled, and upset at himself, no doubt. “I’m not angry,” you insist, “Really, I’m just so relieved you’re all okay.” You lift a hand to his cheek and though he leans into the touch, he looks down, brow creased in frustration. “David,” you say, trying to get him to look at you. “Your kids come first. I know that, I’ve known it since the day we met. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” Finally, he lifts his eyes to yours. They’re bright, you notice, more intense than usual. 

“I would’ve called you first thing in the morning.”

“I know you would have,” you say reassuringly. For a moment, you just look at each other, your thumb brushing across his cheek. “Love, are you all right?” David sniffs, nods. You drop your hand.

“Fine, yeah. I’m…” he takes a deep breath. “I’ll be alright,” he says, but he sounds defeated. You frown slightly, and nod. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you softly, quickly, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I’m gonna go help Vic put the kids to bed,” he says, nodding towards the house.

“I’ll drive you home,” you offer. “Yours or mine. Whatever you need.” He nods gratefully and tucks an arm around you. With your arm wound tightly around his waist, his kisses you on the temple and you both head back inside.

You sit back down on the couch and lean your head on your hand as he sheds his jacket and trots upstairs. You don’t even realize that you’re beginning to doze off until the sound of your name rouses you from half-consciousness. David’s face materializes before your own as you blink yourself awake. He smiles softly.

“Hi, you,” he says. You chuckle, and he reaches for your hand to help you up.

Vicky leans against the stairwell and hugs David and you each in turn.

“Don’t be strangers,” she says through a yawn, and the three of you shuffle to the front door. 

“Night, Vic,” David says, stepping outside.

“Night, Dave.” You pause before following him out and take Vicky’s hand.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say. “Really. Get some rest, all right?”

“You too,” she replies softly. “You’re always welcome here, you know.” You nod.

“Thank you. Night, babes.” Vicky smiles.

“G’night.” You turn and step out into the yard, David nodding to Vicky as she shuts the door. He puts his arm around you again and you start down the street towards your car.

“You two seem very cozy,” David says after a moment, almost sounding amused. You chuckle.

“Yeah, I like her. She was really sweet to me tonight.” You slow to a stop as you reach your car and dig in your bag for your keys. “It was nice talking, just me and her, I guess.” David’s smiling when you look up at him.

“Vicky’s good people,” he agrees. “And anyone would have to be out of their mind not to like you.” You can’t help but smile as you shake your head at him and unlock the doors. He climbs into the passenger seat and you go around to the driver’s side.

“Do you want me to take you home, love?” you ask once you’re situated. David looks at you almost sheepishly.

“I’d rather stay at yours, if you’ll have me.” You let out a breath and give him a tired smile.

“Of course I will,” you say, leaning over the console to kiss him. He chases your lips when you pull away, a hand resting on the back of your neck. You kiss him once more and start the car. 

The drive home is comfortably silent, and when you look over, you see that David has closed his eyes, is taking measured breaths. It’s something you’d recommended he do that you’d learned from your own time in therapy, though you’ve yet to convince him to go. It’s better than nothing, though, and while he doesn’t look completely untroubled when you park the car, he seems a bit calmer.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally trudge into your apartment, and David heads straight for your bedroom. You don’t bother to do anything more than take off your makeup in the bathroom before following after him. He’s already in his pyjamas–– he has a decent sized drawer at your place–– and you change unceremoniously into your own. He draws the covers back and climbs into bed and you do the same. You have to lean over him to turn the light out and for a moment, you hover over him in the darkness. You feel protective, like you want to stay poised above him, ready to frighten off any would-be attackers in the night. He shifts beneath you and you drop a kiss to his temple, then another. He exhales slowly.

“What do you need, darling?” you murmur against his skin, “What can I do?” He’s silent for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he admits softly, shaking his head against the pillow. “I dunno.” You nod.

“It’s okay.” You lay down beside him, one arm slung over his waist, face pressed to the back of his neck and your other arm tucked up against yourself. “It’s okay.” For a little while the only sounds in the room are his and your breathing. He reaches for your hand, interlocks his fingers with yours. Minutes go by. You close your eyes but don’t sleep. Then it feels like he’s trembling, and you hear his breath hitch. His grip on your hand tightens. He’s crying. You squeeze his fingers where they curl under your palm, your arm bracing more tightly around his body. The sound is so quiet, only a few gasping breaths every now and again, but you can still hear it rattling out of him. He could have died today. His children could have died today.

You don’t say anything–– there’s nothing to say. All you can do is hold him, and you do. When the shaking subsides a little, you move to cradle his head with your other arm and you stay like that until you’ve both fallen asleep.

In the morning, it’s almost as if nothing happened. David is a little bit quiet while you both eat breakfast, but that’s not terribly unusual. While you sit, he places a hand on your thigh, as if to silently reassure you that he’s fine. With a kiss to your forehead, he gets up to dress for work (there are a few of his suits in your closet), and when you’ve finished your tea you do the same. He has to leave a bit before you do, and you walk with him to the door.

“I’ll call you when I’m done today, all right?” he asks. You nod. “Okay.” His expression changes, becomes softer. “I love you,” he says earnestly, his voice soft. You can’t help but smile, even through your worry.

“I love you too, Dave.” He kisses you gently, a hand on either side of your face, and lingers there longer than he might ordinarily. Your hands find his waist and give a comforting squeeze. He smiles. Part of you wonders if he really is just okay. His expression seems peaceful as he kisses the side of your head again and turns to leave. You can only hope that you’re right.

[romantic-barnes]

unintended | part two

| part two - how can we win when fools can be kings |

Parings: king!bucky x princess!reader 

Summary: The moment you have come of age, you are being ripped out of the place you call home and into the kingdom of Cydonia ruled by King James, your betrothed. Neither of you pleased with the situation, neither of you being honest. Between fights, snarky remarks and glaring, do you find time to breathe? Is it possible to reconcile or even love one another?

Warnings: arranged marriage, insulting, being mean on purpose, a bit of a slow burn, the reader has a twin!

A/N: this is the second part of my entry in @sillyqt​ 1k writing challenge. I hope you like this, love! I’m still a little delusional from me staying up all night, but I hope you won’t be able to notice it! 

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers​

The next few days were very tense. You both tried to stay civil, only talking to each other when necessary. You tried tiptoeing around James as much as you could, retracting your steps when you saw him walking down a corridor. It felt strange, feeling so unwelcome. At home you could be found running around the castle grounds with the children, playing hide and seek for hours until supper, but here in Cydonia you felt like a stranger. 

This is not what you thought life would be like in Cydonia.

You decided to read a little outside, sitting by the pond. A few lady’s of the court were walking in the garden, chatting amongst themselves. You were itching to go to the maze in the far back of the garden with Clint. The warm feeling of the sun on your skin and a smile crept int’s way on your face.

The book you chose was one of the many Julia gifted you, but you couldn’t see the appeal of it. It wasn’t the reading that made you gag, it was the sitting still, concentrating on tiny words. Nevertheless it brought you a little closer to your sister. You missed her dearly, sitting like you now, preferably under the cherry blossom tree, reading for hours. You stared at the page, trying to refocus on the words but you simply couldn’t. 

You decided to walk around a little, but as you were about to stand up, James’s voice stopped you.

“What are you doing, princess?” James stood next to you, blocking the sun from your face.

“Reading, your highness.” You said sweetly as if nothing happened a few days ago.

“How nice.” The King smiled before taking the book from your hands, examining it for a second and then throwing it into the lake, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

You stood up at once, looking at the book floating in the green water. The pages soaked in the green water and you were able to watch the letters bleeding into the white paper. You weren’t necessarily attached to the book, but an idea struck you and you ran with it. “How could you!” you shrieked, holding a hand over your heart. Walking towards the pond, down the slippery steps and into the water.

James watched whilst you were immersed in the water up to your shoulders, retrieving the book.  You grabbed your book, turning back to climb out of the water to sit on the stone steps. You sobbed, looking at the book and James approached you, feeling guilty.

He just wanted to be a little mean.

He kneeled before you, sadness in his eyes. “This was my mother’s book. She gave it to me before she was brutally murdered.” You spoke softly between sobs.

James reached out to rest his hands on your bare shoulders. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I was- I was rude and vicious-” You stammered through your tears, looking up to meet his eyes and a small but sad smile graced his lips. You leaned forward,feeling his breath on your face. The pupils of his blue eyes widened and you gently touched his nose with yours. Slowly, James tilted his head, pulling you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His other hand caressed your cheek and you melted against his lips.

You forgot all about your grand plan, feeling the electricity run through your veins. His lips soft against yours, moving ever so gently, the short stubble grazing your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, a low groan from James and you giggled into the kiss.

James was the first to pull back, smiling and drawing circles on your soft cheek with his thumb. He had never kissed someone so delicately, so passionately and so lovingly. All seemed to be forgotten, everything he thought was so wrong with you fleeting away. Maybe there was a chance to look past each other differences, to live a life happy and full of love. 

Maybe he could teach her how to ride a horse like a man, shoot an arrow, all the things he loved.And maybe, just maybe, he could learn something from her. Although he didn’t see the appeal in sewing, if that’s what brings her joy, he could try, for her.

You removed one arm from his shoulders, picking up the soaked book next to you, laughing a little. “I guess it’s ruined.” James joined you, apologising again. But you were having none of it.

You stood suddenly. “Good thing my mother isn’t dead.” You said, pushing James into the water, smiling wickedly and throwing the book into the pond after him. You twistend your hair out, leaving a trail of water as you walked back into the castle. But the wicked smile didn’t stay for long. Sitting at the foot of your bed as soon as you entered your chambers.

It took James a minute to process what you had just said. How could he be so stupid? He knows your mother’s not dead. How could he fall for that? He didn’t want his heart to break, but it did.

You should’ve been more occupied with guilt, but the thing you thought most about was the kiss. You touched your lips with your pointer finger occasionally, still feeling the tingle of his soft lips against yours. You had never kissed anyone and never in a million universes did you think it was going to be like this.

Truth be told that you felt a little beside yourself, knocking things over, spilling wine on your dress, running head-first into a door. There was something when you kissed James, but you couldn’t exactly place it. 

You needed clearance and you knew just how to get it.

Getting Clint to take the horses out for a ride wasn’t difficult, leaving for the stables as soon as you asked him early in the afternoon. The horse you chose was called Medossa, a beautiful black horse with a ring of white above her hooves.

You decided to ride through the woods, thick trees covering most of the ground, a hazard to ride through, but the beauty of nature around you was mesmerising. You rode in silence relishing the clean air, the sound of leaves crackling under the hooves, birds chirping above you. You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes.

“I don’t think the King and I will ever get along.”

Clint observed you with raised eyebrows, cracking a smile. “No shit, princess. You went pretty hard with the insults.” You cocked a questioning brow at him. “Sam told me.” Clint’s mouth stretched to a wide grin.

You rolled your eyes. “He insulted my intelligence! I should just go back home and become a nun.” You steered your horse past the trees, and you heard Clint laugh ahead of you.

“You ain’t a saint, Princess!”

You faked a gasp, holding your hand over your chest. “How dare you, I have never done anything wrong in my life!” Both of you erupted in laughter, but your voices died down at the sight in front of you.

A field, miles and miles of colourful flowers. Both of you got off your horses, walking through the knee-high flowers growing wildly all over the place. The skirt of your dress pushing the plants aside. There was a small patch of grass and you sat down, your white and yellow striped dress spreading around you.

You didn’t know how to tell Clint about the kiss. He would never judge you, but you feared you went too far. You mustered up the courage, taking a deep breath in. “The King and I kissed.” You blurted out, Clint whipping his head around to you staring at you wide eyed.

“You- what- when?” He stammered.

“Yesterday. He threw my book in the pond, I pretended it was a gift from my dead mother and then I- uh- kissed him.” You chewed your bottom lip waiting for him to say anything.

“Wow uh.” Clint looked away off to the distance. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know?” You picked a few flowers in front of you making a little bouquet. The though haunted you since yesterday. Exactly why did you kiss him? “I guess I just wanted to make him believe that I was sorry, I guess. Show him that I liked him.” 

“And do you? Like him?” Clint stared at you in anticipation.

“No?”

Clint nodded, very confused by the whole thing. One day you can’t stand the King, insulting his appearance and the next you’re kissing him. Clint dropped the topic, knowing full well that you were just as confused about this situation as him.

You rested your head on Clint’s shoulder, relishing the sun shining on your face. As the sun lowered on the horizon, both of you got back on your horses and decided to take a different route back. A cobbled walk led you along the woods, to your right a field of corn. Cydonia has way more nature than you were used to.

A house came to few, stables to the side along the path. The horse’s hooves clicking along the stone and you saw three children playing in the front yard. A woman sat on a chair sewing a piece of fabric.

A you got closer, you grabbed the attention of one of the children, a little girl staring up at you. Smiling down at the girl, you decided to get off your horse, Clint looking back at you with knitted eyebrows.

The little girls’ mouth wide open as you kneeled in front of her. “Are you a princess?” She asked, eyes wide with admiration.

“That I am. I-“

You were interrupted by the woman shuffling to her feet, frantically running to the two of you. “Oh god your highness, I am so sorry.” The woman apologised for her daughter too many times. You shook your head, smiling up at her.

“Don’t apologise. She wasn’t being rude.” You bumped the girls nose with your finger, giggles erupting from her. You held out the bouquet of flowers handing it to her. “You take care of these flowers for me, will you?”

The girl nodded and you stood up. The girl ran inside, and a sudden flash of jealousy hit you. If only you could be as free as her.

The mother thanked you for the flowers and you could not reason with her that it was in fact not a big deal. She gave you some berries wrapped in linen for you to take back to the castle and you bid your goodbye.

A week later and you were informed that the Queen mother would return from her travel, and you went into another panic. She was the one who chose you in the first place, the start to the fire. If she doesn’t approve of you, the way she thought you would be, then surely hell would break loose. You woke up with a terrible headache, Natasha getting you ready for breakfast. The only dress you had left to wear was the blue one with the pearls. Hopefully the King wouldn’t snitch on you and tell his mother that you had already worn that dress.

You wondered if James would say anything at all about your relationship with him. Hopefully, he’ll behave and not tell his mother of all people about your bickering.

Natasha tied the strings on the back of your dress into a little bow, fluffing out the skirt of the dress a little. “Why didn’t you take more dresses with you, Princess?” Natasha asked, examining you from a distance, making little adjustments around the sleeves.

“I don’t have more fancy dresses. My favourite ones are in the other chest.” You pointed towards the end of the bed. “But they aren’t really royally accepted.” You chuckled at the thought of it.

It was silly, really, having the same striped dress in five different colours, but no other dress is more suitable for your day to day life. Not too fluffy at the skirt interfering with your legs while you rode a horse or ran.

“Alright, I’ll ask the tailor to make you another one. Can’t walk around with the same three dresses all the time. Princesses like you usually have at least a hundred of dresses.” Natasha chuckled looking over to the two dresses hanging in the closet. “Ready?”

“Yup.”

Immediately upon walking into the dining hall, you felt the change in atmosphere. The servants standing even straighter, looking like they were going to break their spine, the guards all having their mean face on, a sight that wanted to make you laugh.

You walked closer to the table, James standing at his regular place at the head of the table and a woman standing on the other end. She had her back turned to you and your nerves were surely about to explode. You had met so many important people, but this was different.

You stood next to her, lowering yourself in a deep courtesy like you did with James. The moment you stood tall again, you were met with a warm smile.

“I’m honoured to finally welcome you to Cydonia, Princess Y/n.” She held her hand out and you kissed the back of her very soft hand. She gestured for you to sit down and you took your seat on the right side of the table, right in the middle of the King and the Queen mother. This is where you needed to shine. Your only first impression and the only chance for the Queen mother not to immediately hate you. The three of you ate breakfast in silence, a tense one on top of that. You glanced at James’ mother from time to time, checking if she saw how delicate and proper you ate.

“I heard you like to ride horses, is that true, Y/n?”

“Yes, a little.” You answered once you knew your mouth was empty. James coughed, excusing himself, taking a sip from his orange juice.

James couldn’t believe the show you were putting on. You were far from proper, at least your tongue wasn’t. The desperation of impressing his mother was so obvious and he knew she saw right through you.

“Maybe James and you could go for a ride through our beautiful nature after breakfast?” James’s mother looked between the two of you.

James cleared his throat, smiling at his mother sweetly. “Sure, mother, that would be a wonderful idea. Don’t you think, Princess?” James’s eyes fell on you and your mouth opened, but you just nodded.

The thought of spending more time with him was the last thing you wanted to do. Clint thought it would be fun to take a trip to town, exploring the town and what they have to offer, but now you were stuck with the King.

After you got changed into the blue version of your favourite dress, some complaining to Natasha and you were off to your one-on-one date with James.

You reached the stables and James was already sitting on top of a horse… the one you wanted to take. “You stole my horse!” You exclaimed, hands on your hips as you looked up to him.

“Your horse? Last time I checked these are my horses.” James laughed, galloping ahead of you as you mounted a different horse. Medossa was definitely calmer than the one you were sitting on.

Riding a little further along the path you focused on anything else other than James. The surroundings would be so much more enjoyable with Clint or even by yourself, it’s a shame you’re being dragged along with the King. You were annoyed, with both legs on one side, the most uncomfortable way to ride a horse in your opinion. 

You caught up with him a little, riding beside him and you knew just how to rile him up.

Pulling on the reigns a little too harshly, directing your horse to the right startling James’ horse a little. He glared at you, but you just smiled sweetly apologising profusely. “I’m still a little insecure on horses.” You giggled and James rolled his eyes at you.

You did it once more, earning a groan from James and you held back a laugh seeing him fighting inside.

Pulling on the reigns one more time, James’s horse steered far too the right, galloping to the dense trees. You followed him quickly but there was nothing you could do. James’ shoulder hit a tree, sending him to the ground. You dismounted your horse, kneeling beside him. He looked up to the sky, face scrunching in pain. You reached out but were unsure of what to do, maybe you had taken it too far, seriously injuring the King. Medossa ran away into the deep trees and you prayed she would find her way back to the stables.

James grunted with discomfort. “I can’t move my arm.” He panted, a pleading look your way and you were on the brink of crying. It was his left arm, the one that was already severely scarred and now you ruined his shoulder. Tears prickled in your eyes, seeing him laying there in pain, unable to do anything.

You looked around you, thinking about what to do, but before you could get up, James sat. “Well, that was fun!”

Your jaw dropped watching as he stood up with that stupid smirk plastered on his face. You were too distraught to come up with a snarky comeback. James walked to your horse, mounting it. “What are you waiting for? Don’t tell me you were actually worried!” You glared at him.

You stood, walking to the horse. As you sat in front of James you held on to the front of the saddle, hearing him chuckle. His body pressed to your back, feeling his warmth against your exposed back.

“I did worry.” You mumbled.

 [ part three ]

[sunny-flower-girl-01]

Ohana- A Hawaii Five-0 Fanfic Chapter Six

First, I just have to say I'm SO SO SO SO SORRY for how long it took to get this chapter up. I had work, Halloween, 3 birthdays (including my own) and I had to move classrooms, which I am just now settling into. I've always had time to write at work and at home, but this past month just hasn't been cooperating with me. I know this one is short, but I've been dying to make an update, so you guys don't think I've completely abandoned you, because I didn't!

I know this chapter is short a maybe a little boring, but the next chapter is underway, and I hope to have it up by next weekend before I go on my trip.

Thank you guys so much again!

Following Day

Steve McGarrett's House

Steve’s POV:

I dropped my keys on the table as I walked through the front door. Shutting and locking the door behind me, I went into the kitchen to see Danny drinking coffee and making pancakes. I saw his car in the driveway when I pulled in, so I knew he was here.

“Whatcha doin’ here, Danno? I thought you and Kari would be having breakfast this morning. Not that I’m complaining, pancakes look good.” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee and pulled the butter out of the fridge.

“Yeah well you aren’t going to get any if you keep putting butter in your damn coffee.” He said. I could tell he was pissed off. I stayed silent for a moment to see if he’d continue.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

He sighed and flipped a pancake. “I broke up with Kari.”

“Oh... I’m sorry man.” I leaned back against the counter and watched him work. “Again, not that I’m complaining, but why are you here and not at your place?”

“Better question, why weren’t you here when I got here?” He shot me a look. I rolled my eyes. Truth was, after Thea got off the phone with Nora, she and I fell asleep on her couch. We stayed up for a while and talked about nothing in particular. She told me some stories from her childhood, and I told her about my time in the Navy, whatever I was able to tell her. We agreed last night that we need to take this thing between us at a slow pace. We’re about to become parents so we need to be careful with how we do this. I shrugged my shoulders.

“I was with Thea last night.” I said simply and took a drink of my coffee. I moved to grab some pancakes when Danny lifted the plate and moved it out of arm's reach for me.

“You were where?”

“I was with Thea, okay? She got some bad news and needed someone to talk to so I went over and we fell asleep on the couch. Now give me a damn pancake.”

“All you did was sleep?” He asked.

“Yes, dammit. Give me the plate.” I said, leaning over the kitchen island to grab the plate from him.

He shook his head and set the plate down. He turned back to the stove to put more batter in the pan. “Don’t eat all of them. Rachel is dropping Grace off here in a bit when they get done looking at apartments with Thea.”

I nodded and made myself a plate. “Rachel’s been pretty generous with your time with Grace recently. Anything up with that?”

He shrugged and flipped the pancakes. “I don’t know. She hasn’t been fighting with me at all recently. I’m starting to think her and Stan are planning on moving again. They acted just like this before she told me she was moving my daughter across a whole country.”

“She can’t move her again. This is Grace’s home and your home, no matter how much you hate it here.” I said. Despite Danny’s feelings about the state of Hawaii, I knew he could never leave the family that he has found here with Five-0. It would never be the same without Danny or Grace.

Danny turned around and opened his mouth to say something. I knew exactly what he was about to say, so I beat him to it.

“I know, Danno. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

About an hour later, after I had gone on my swim and my run, Grace was dropped off and was trying to convince me and Danny we needed to go to Kamekona’s.

“Monkey, you just had breakfast an hour ago, let’s wait a little bit.” Danny explained. He and I were sitting on the couch watching a football game. Mostly it was me trying to pay attention to the game while Danny made comments and yelled at the tv the whole time. Grace was up at the table coloring. This was a normal Saturday routine for us. Sometimes Grace was here, sometimes she wasn’t. Other times the rest of the team joined us. After the crazy week we’ve had a work with the murder case we’re been on for a while, it’s nice to be able to sit down and relax.

“Thea asked me about Ty’s case. I feel bad not being able to tell her anything.” I said, taking a swig of my beer.

“Well you’ve got to know something to be able to tell her.” Danny said, glancing up at Grace who was in her own little world coloring. “This is the 3rd drowning victim found at that dock. All showing the same signs of a struggle, once we’re able to pinpoint where the bodies came before they washed up, it’ll narrow down the search. We’ll find them Steve.”

I nodded, turning back to the TV. “Yeah, yeah I know. I just don’t want there to be another body before we're able to get a lead.”

Danny’s phone started to ring from the kitchen. Grace got up and dashed to the other room. “I got it, I got it!”

Danny rolled his eyes. We both knew it wasn’t going to be work, they would have called me first. “I swear if it’s Rachel telling me she’s gonna pick her up soon, I might actually throw myself into the ocean.”

“You realize most people would actually enjoy that right?”

“Shut up.”

“Danno, it’s Auntie Thea.” Grace said, coming into the living room and holding the phone out to Danny. Danny and I gave each other a weird look. Why would she be calling Danny?

“Any arguments I need to know about?” Danny asked as he took the phone from Grace. I rolled my eyes and swatted his arm, trying to leave a mark.

“Answer the damn phone.” I said.

Thea’s POV:

“Why do we have to move?” Nora asked me for the 10th time this morning. I’ve had this conversation with her about 5 times in the last week. She doesn’t want to move from our little apartment, the only home she’s ever had. I’ve lived there since I left my mother’s house when I was 18. When Nora was born, she lived with my mother for about 3 weeks, then I moved her in with me. Since I was the only one taking care of her, it made more sense to have her with me instead of me traveling back and forth every day. Julia, my mother, never objected to it. She had Nora’s things packed up and waiting for me when I told her I was coming to get her. The next time I saw her was at her funeral a few months later.

“Because sweetie, our place is too small for two more babies, so we need to find a bigger place to fit everyone.” I said, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror. She was leaning back in her booster seat, staring out the window. She turned her head and looked at me in the mirror.

“Is Steve going to live with us?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when I didn’t have anything to say. Steve and I had never really talked about what was going to happen after I had the twins. He would want to be close to them, right? Where would they stay? You couldn’t move newborn's back and forth like that could you? Why did it take my 7-year-old to make me realize these things?

“Uhm, I don’t know babe. I’ll have to talk to Steve about it.” I left it at that. I really did need to have a conversation with Steve about it. After last night, I feel better about sitting down and having this conversation with him. It was obvious that we both wanted to spend more time together, so finding a schedule that worked for all of us wouldn’t be too difficult.

“Since he’s going to be the new baby's daddy, does that mean he’s going to be-” She was cut off by my cell phone ringing. I quickly answered it, knowing full well what Nora’s question was about to be, but I didn’t have it in me to answer it right now.

I glanced down quickly to see it was Rachel before I held it up to my ear.

“Hey Rach, what’s up?” There was no response on the other end of the line, just some shuffling around and a loud banging sound. “Hello, Rachel? Can you hear me?” I asked again. This time, I heard what sounded like Stan off in the distance on the other end of the line.

“Open the fucking door Rachel, before I break it down?”

My eyes widened and I quickly tried to get Rachel’s attention. “Rachel! Hello! Can you hear me? Rachel, answer the phone!”

I heard Rachel call out and scream before the line went dead. Thankfully, I was at a red light and quickly calledDanny.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Nora asked. Me yelling at the phone probably scared her.

I looked back at her. “It’s fine baby, I just got to call Danny okay?” I turned down another street when I finally heard him answer.

“Hey Thea, what’s up? You know I think you hurt Steve’s feelings calling me instead of him.” He joked.

“Danny, something’s wrong over at Rachel’s house. I think Stan hurt her.”

Danny was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?” The joking tone in his voice was gone.

“She called me, I don’t know if it was on accident or on purpose. I could hear a lot of noise and Stan telling her he was going to break a door down. She was screaming but the phone hung up before I could get her to hear me.” I remembered suddenly that Rachel hadn’t told him about the divorce or the reason she was divorcing him. I knew Stan was angry, but I never thought that he would act like this towards her.

“Thea, where are you?” He asked. I could hear Steve asking him in the background what was going on. “Nora and I were on our way to Kamekona’s.” I was trying to pay attention to the road and talk on the phone.

“How close are you to Steve’s place? I have Grace over here and I don’t want to bring her.” I pulled up to the next light and made a U-turn.

“I’m just a few blocks away.” I said. He hung up and I put my phone down on the passenger seat.

“Nora, we’re going to go hang out with Grace at Steve’s for a while. Maybe I can call Kamekona and have him bring us some food. How about that?” I asked her. The nervous look on her face broke my heart.

“But is Auntie Rachel going to be okay?”

I tried my best to give her a small smile in the rear-view mirror.

“I hope so sweet pea, I hope so.”

[rockislandadultreads]

Women’s History: titles to read

Dynamic Dames: 50 Leading Ladies Who Made History by Sloan De Forest, Julie Newmar (Foreword)

Celebrate 50 of the most empowering and unforgettable female characters ever to grace the screen, as well as the artists who brought them to vibrant life! From Scarlett O'Hara to Thelma and Louise to Wonder Woman, strong women have not only lit up the screen, they've inspired and fired our imaginations. Some dynamic women are naughty and some are nice, but all of them buck the narrow confines of their expected gender role -- whether by taking small steps or revolutionary strides. Through engaging profiles and more than 100 photographs, Dynamic Dames looks at fifty of the most inspiring female roles in film from the 1920s to today. The characters are discussed along with the exciting off-screen personalities and achievements of the actresses and, on occasion, female writers and directors, who brought them to life. Among the stars profiled in their most revolutionary roles are Bette Davis, Mae West, Barbara Stanwyck, Josephine Baker, Greta Garbo, Audrey Hepburn, Natalie Wood, Barbra Streisand, Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep, Joan Crawford, Vivien Leigh, Elizabeth Taylor, Dorothy Dandridge, Katharine Hepburn, Pam Grier, Jane Fonda, Gal Gadot, Emma Watson, Zhang Ziyi, Uma Thurman, Jennifer Lawrence, and many more.

Founding Mothers by Cokie Roberts

While much has been written about the men who signed the Declaration of Independence, battled the British, and framed the Constitution, the wives, mothers, sisters and daughters they left behind have been little noticed by history. #1 New York Times bestselling author Cokie Roberts brings us women who fought the Revolution as valiantly as the men, often defending their very doorsteps. Drawing upon personal correspondence, private journals, and even favoured recipes, Roberts reveals the often surprising stories of these fascinating women, bringing to life the everyday trials and extraordinary triumphs of individuals like Abigail Adams, Mercy Otis Warren, Deborah Read Franklin, Eliza Pinckney, Catherine Littlefield Green, Esther DeBerdt Reed and Martha Washington–proving that without our exemplary women, the new country might have never survived.

The Woman's Hour: The Great Fight to Win the Vote by Elaine F. Weiss

The nail-biting climax of one of the greatest political victories in American history: the down and dirty campaign to get the last state to ratify the 19th amendment, granting women the right to vote. Nashville, August 1920. Thirty-five states have ratified the Nineteenth Amendment, twelve have rejected or refused to vote, and one last state is needed. It all comes down to Tennessee, the moment of truth for the suffragists, after a seven-decade crusade. The opposing forces include politicians with careers at stake, liquor companies, railroad magnates, and a lot of racists who don't want black women voting. And then there are the 'Antis'--women who oppose their own enfranchisement, fearing suffrage will bring about the moral collapse of the nation. They all converge in a boiling hot summer for a vicious face-off replete with dirty tricks, betrayals and bribes, bigotry, Jack Daniel's, and the Bible. Following a handful of remarkable women who led their respective forces into battle, along with appearances by Woodrow Wilson, Warren Harding, Frederick Douglass, and Eleanor Roosevelt, The Woman's Hour is an inspiring story of activists winning their own freedom in one of the last campaigns forged in the shadow of the Civil War, and the beginning of the great twentieth-century battles for civil rights.

A History of Women's Boxing by Malissa Smith

Records of modern female boxing date back to the early eighteenth century in London, and in the 1904 Olympics an exhibition bout between women was held. Yet it was not until the 2012 Olympics-more than 100 years later-that women's boxing was officially added to the Games. Throughout boxing's history, women have fought in and out of the ring to gain respect in a sport traditionally considered for men alone. The stories of these women are told for the first time in this comprehensive work dedicated to women's boxing. A History of Women's Boxing traces the sport back to the 1700s, through the 2012 Olympic Games, and up to the present. Inside-the-ring action is brought to life through photographs, newspaper clippings, and anecdotes, as are the stories of the women who played important roles outside the ring, from spectators and judges to managers and trainers. This book includes extensive profiles of the sport's pioneers, including Barbara Buttrick whose plucky carnival shows launched her professional boxing career in the 1950s; sixteen-year-old Dallas Malloy who single-handedly overturned the strictures against female amateur boxing in1993; the famous "boxing daughters" Laila Ali and Jacqui Frazier-Lyde; and teenager Claressa Shields, the first American woman to win a boxing gold medal at the Olympics. Rich in detail and exhaustively researched, this book illuminates the struggles, obstacles, and successes of the women who fought-and continue to fight-for respect in their sport. A History of Women's Boxing is a must-read for boxing fans, sports historians, and for those interested in the history of women in sports.

[dylshoney]

when you’re ready

 requests:  maybe a shawn fic based on “when you’re ready” but you’re not the girl he sung about? and the girl shows up 10 years later and tries to get him back and you guys have been together for like 3 years and it just causes insecurities ?? does this make sense?? (love your work btw❤️)

Hellurrr! I have a request, if you will? TW Anxiety Attack Like if the female!reader has an anxiety attack because she thinks she's not good enough so Shawn helps her and holds her?

a/n: this was my first time trying to write angst (cause im usually an optimistic ass bitch) so if its bad just lie and scroll post ahahaha but i wanted to try and @superiorsoph sent this request in and i couldnt resist. im sorry i didnt follow it exactly, but i hope you like it love.

warnings: language, angst

“Stay still!”

 You hear him say for the umpteenth time, but you pretend not to hear him, twirling around in the dress, laughing and shaking your hips.

 He makes noises of disgruntlement and soon you hear the shutter of his camera go off, the flash blinding you for a few seconds, but you don’t care. You glide over to the full-length mirror on one side of the store and smile at your reflection. He was right, the dress is gorgeous.

 You push down the fabric, loving the smoothness under your fingers and twirl once more. You can see Shawn roll his eyes in the reflection, but you can see the hint of a smile threatening to peak through. He places his camera back in the casing and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning down to press his head on your shoulder.

 You’re both silent for a moment, just staring at the pair of you in the mirror. You hum, your head falling back into him, “I think we found the one.”

 “I told you I’d be useful,” he tuts, pinching your hip. You flinch, turning around to smack his chest, “You only just started being useful. The past hour has been torture.”

 He’s laughing, the beautiful crinkles on his face making your heart melt but you love teasing him, so you can’t give in just yet, “Trying on twenty dresses definitely wasn’t necessary.”

 “No.” He agrees, smiling down at you with a shit- eating grin. “But we had to test all out options, didn’t we?”

 You shake your head, turning back around to see yourself in the reflection, triple-checking that this was the right choice.

 “You have to delete those photos, you know?”

 “No!” He sounds almost offended. “Those are memories, there’s no way I’m getting rid of that.”

 “But I look horrid,” you pout, blinking innocently.

 “Don’t give me that face,” he shakes his head, “They’re all blurry anyway.”

 You grin victoriously, winking at him, “The music in here is just too good – I couldn’t resist.”

 He pauses for a moment, raising his finger to the ceiling, eyebrows raised. You focus on the sound of #Selfie by the Chainsmokers, your ears getting hot as you begin to nod slowly, “It has a nice rhythm?”

 He shakes his head, but you’re already dancing again – thankful that there was no one else in the store on an early Wednesday morning.

 “If you dance like that tonight, I’m going to pretend I don’t know you.”

 You ignore him, taking his large hand into yours and spinning into him, his laughter getting louder as the two of you stumble around together.

 The music changes to Troye Sivan’s Dance to This and you squeal a bit, getting overly excited as the two of your start shouting the lyrics at the top of your lungs. You can see the nice sales associate trying to contain her giggles as she pretends not to watch you, but you don’t care.

 You’re watching Shawn. Your eyes never leaving him as he throws his head back, laughing as you mess up the lyrics. His hands pull you into him, your chest hitting his as you begin doing some sort of heightened version of a slow dance. His hands are warm against you, sending a current of energy through your body.

 You’ve never smiled wider in your life, your heart clenching as he places a kiss on your forehead and you can’t believe that you’re still so in love with him after two years of being together. It’s never stopped being butterflies and sweaty palms with him – you’re body reacting to his touch like it was the first time.

 Everyone around you recognized that as well, even the sales associate as she checked out the dress a few minutes later. You two are adorable, how long have you been engaged?

 Shawn had squeezed your hand extra hard as the two of you tried to contain your giggles, explaining to her that the ring on your finger was a promise one. But Shawn made sure to add that he was hoping to fulfill that promise soon.

 You felt like you were on cloud nine, leaving the store with a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You knew that Shawn was it for you, never once doubting that he was the person you were going to marry.

 You just didn’t expect that maybe; you weren’t it for him too.

 *

 Later that night you found yourself at yet another event with Shawn, wearing the pretty red dress and smiling widely as people approached you.

 You were happy to find that you could easily recognize and talk to many people, a stark comparison to how you were when you had just started going out with Shawn. You were more confident now, excepting that you belonged next to Shawn, that if you stood up straight and acted like you were meant to be there – people would believe it too.

 You were sipping a Shirley temple, bopping your head lightly to the beat of the song radiating through the room, talking to Lina – the daughter of a famous record producer. She was probably your closest friend related to the industry, but she was usually too busy to attend these kind of parties – so you were taking in every second you could get with her.

 “Ok look at Marsha,” Lina lifted her chin, motioning to a woman a few meters away from you, “She’s about to go talk to Roger. For the sixth time tonight.”

 “No way.” You shook your head, cringing as Marsha started making her way over to the older man again. “He’s said no to her single like a million times already.”

 “Have you heard it?”

 “No.” You paused, “Wait? Have you?!”

 She snorted, “I wish I didn’t.”

 “Come one!” You threw your head back, “I would have paid to see your reaction.”

 “I can perform some for you, if you’d like?”

 You were quick to shake your head, but she was already going.

 “If I could fly … I would never leave you dry ….”

 “Stop! Please!” You were bent over, holding your stomach as you tried to contain your laughter. She was so off pitch that you were tempted to cover your ears.

 “Maybe we could last forever ….”

 “I don’t know what sadder,” you heaved, “The song – or the fact that you know it by heart.”

 “She made me listen to it six times!”

 “That sounds like – ”

 “Excuse me.” You turned around at the sound of the voice, feeling a light touch on your shoulder. You were greeted with the sight of a beautiful blonde staring at you with a small smile.

 “Hi.” You were quick to return the grin, trying to figure out if you remembered her from somewhere. She looked oddly familiar.

 “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Shawn?”

 You smiled, “I can go get him for you. Give me just a second.”

 “Thank you so much!”

 You found Shawn in the back, talking to someone you recognized to be very important, but his eyes lit up and he was on his feet the second he saw you.

 “Hey angel, everything okay?”

“Hey,” you nodded as he wrapped a hand around your waist pulling you to the side, “There’s someone looking for you.”

 You took his hand in yours, leading him through the mass of bodies in the space, over to where Lina and the stranger were waiting.

 “Hey!” Your tone was light as you called out to her, “Found him!”

 She turned around, an expectant look on her face before her eyes finally settled on your boyfriend.

 “Kate.” Shawn’s voice was laced with shock, a smile gracing his features as he let go of your hand and shot forward to hug her.

 You made eye contact with Julia from behind them, her light ones wide and looking at you with something you could only describe as sheer worry. You tilted your head, trying to understand what she was mouthing to you.

 “It’s been so long.” You could hear Shawn say as they pulled apart, his tone laced with something you didn’t recognize.

 “It has. You look amazing, Shawn.” Now that was something you did recognize.

 You placed a hand on Shawn’s back, his eyes wide as he turned back to look at you, almost as if he’d forgotten you were even there.

“Kate,” his eyes were back on her immediately, “This is y/n, my … girlfriend.”

 You hated the hesitation in his voice, but you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, smiling gently at her, “It’s nice to meet you.”

 “So, how do you two know each other?” Julia stepped forward, sipping on her drink as her narrowed eyes trained on Kate.

 There was a moment of reluctance, which definitely didn’t help with your unease.

 “We go way back.” Shawn finally said, Kate, giggling in response. Your smile faded. So they went way back. That was definitely code for used to date.

 You hated the jealously that flooded through you. Your stomach clenching as your boyfriend continued to stare at the girl with an unrecognizable look.

 Everyone was silent for a moment, Shawn’s eyes not leaving Kate, something you weren’t too happy about. You were used to being the center of his attention. And you felt selfish the second those thoughts filled your mind.

 “What are you doing here?” He asked, the wide grin never leaving his face.

 She smiled for a moment until her eyes traveled over to you and the expression faded, “I uh – was hoping we could talk?”

 You didn’t like the look she was giving you, and you definitely didn’t like the sound of that. But Shawn was nodding and not even a second later he was turning to you, “I’ll be right back.”

 You didn’t respond, he didn’t give you the chance to. He was already walking away, hot on her heels.

 “What the actual fuck.”

 You didn’t know how to answer. So instead you turned over the bar, immediately ordering four shots, making Lina talk them with you.

 You had hoped that the alcohol would ease your nerves, but instead, you found yourself pacing in the bathroom, your head spinning as you tried to explain to Lina what was going on in your mind.

 She did her best to try and calm you, easing your mind that it was nothing. Shawn loved you. It didn’t matter that he was slightly tipsy. Alone. And talking to his ex.

 You trusted him with everything in you, but you didn’t trust the look in Kate’s eyes. And the look in his.

 Shawn came back a half hour later, his eyes bloodshot and begging you to leave with him. You didn’t hesitate to agree, taking his outstretched hand and following him to the car.

 You were both silent for a few moments but there was unspoken tension hanging in the air, your hands folded in your lap – trying to figure out how to phrase your words.

 “Are you going to tell me what happened?” You finally blurted, hating the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

 Shawn was silent for a few seconds, before he cleared his voice, “Everything’s fine. Kate just wanted to catch up.”

 You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. “How long were you together for?”

 You could see him tense again, his shoulders tightening, “We weren’t. Almost though.”

 “What happened?”

 “I don’t know. She wasn’t ready, I guess.” His tone was clipped; sounding like he had uttered those words millions of times before. You could feel your breath catch in your throat.

 She wasn’t ready.

 You replayed those words in your head a million times before you could finally utter something else. “When was the last time you saw her?”

 Shawn could sense the uneasiness in your voice, the unfamiliar tremble as you tried to calm your breathing.

 His hand was quick to take yours, twisting it out of the clasp in your lap and holding it in his tightly, “Baby –”

 “I’m just curious – I know there’s nothing to worry about I just –” your voice was higher than normal, Shawn’s hand tightening around yours.

 But he was silent. Staring straight ahead at the stoplights. The bright red glow illuminating his impassive features.

 “There is nothing to worry about, right?” You found yourself saying.

 “Of course not.”

 Your heart was in your stomach, and you suddenly felt like there was no room in the car – no air.

 “Shawn,” you whispered, “Did something happen?”

 He swallowed again, “No.”

 You were both silent for the rest of the ride home, Shawn’s hand holding yours – the only thing stopping you from falling apart.

 The second the car parked in your driveway, you let go of him and jumped out, not waiting for him to follow – speed walking to the front door. Your hands were shaking as you tried to stick the key into the lock, your blurry eyes making it hard for you to focus.

 “Y/n – ”

 You could hear Shawn coming up behind you, but the door burst open just in time – saving you from having to look at him, “I – I have to go to the bathroom.”

 You could hear him shout something back but you were already sprinting up the stairs and into your shared room, shutting the door behind you and bolting into the bathroom.

 You were shaking, pulling your phone out and googling the one thing on your mind since the second you heard it.

 The lyrics to Shawn’s When You’re Ready showed up on screen and you tried to calm your breathing, scrolling for a moment before your tears began collecting again and you were sobbing.

 You gripped the sink, your breaths choked up as you tried to control your heart rate.

 You could feel a tightness expanding through your chest, like a weight that was pulling you down. You were on your knees before you had a chance to blink, your hands wrapped around your dress as you tried to get a grip on yourself.

 Moments passed but your breathing wasn’t picking up, you tried to blink away the tears, but they kept flowing as your shallow breaths increased.

 You stood; your head spinning at the sudden movement, making you fall back and steady yourself against the sink. A jewelry box slid off at the impact, falling and smashing on the floor.

 You flinched back at the noise, your ears registering a muffled yelling from behind your door, but you couldn’t make it out. You didn’t understand any of it, your chest heaved as you fell back onto your knees, sounding like you were chocking on air. Black spots began to cloud your vision, the room starting to spin.

 Arms wrapped around you, pulling you back into a hand chest, but your mind was too cloudy to process any of it.

 “Breathe – ” you could just make out his words, “You’re having a panic attack.”

 “I can’t I –”

 Shawn spun you into him, on his knees before you, his hands cupping your cheeks as he placed his forehead on yours. You tried to make out the golden color of his eyes but you couldn’t focus on anything but the tightness in your chest.

 “I need you to listen to me, okay?” His thumbs were lightly massaging your jaw, “You’re going to inhale for me on the count of three.”

 “1.. 2.. inhale.” You obeyed, your chest filling up with air as you shook in his grasp.

 “Now exhale,” he said, his voice shaky, “Now again.”

 “Inhale…exhale…inhale….exhale.”

 It was working, your mind slowly clearing as you focused on the sound of his voice.

 You sighed easily for the first time in a while, your eyes finally opening and meeting his tear-streaked ones.

 You pulled away from him immediately, falling back onto your butt as you crawled further away, the cold tile the least of your concerns.

 “You – you.” You heaved, trying to catch your breath, “You wrote it about her.”

He tilted his head, looking like a devastated, confused puppy, “Angel I don’t know –”

 “When you’re ready! You wrote it about her, didn’t you?”

 Shawn blinked, a single tear falling from his eye as he crawled over to you. You flinched, scooting away until your back hit the wall.

 “Y/n I –”

 “The song was written four months into our relationship.” You sniffled, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your dress, not caring about how much money you had spent this morning. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

 “You had said that Teddy wrote most of it. That it was a spur of the moment thing. That none of your songs were based on anyone until you met me.”

 He was silent, tears streaking down his cheeks as he tried to catch his breath, “Baby –”

 “You were waiting for her. This entire time. Weren’t you?”

 “No!” He tried to get closer, but stopped at the expression on your face, “No! I love you, I –”

 “Cause ain't n –nobody like you. F- familiar disappointment every single time I do.” You began to recite, your hiccupping sobs making it hard to understand.

 “Y/n. Baby, please let me explain – ”

“Every single night my arms are not around you. My mind's still wrapped around you.” You shut your eyes, your entire body shaking as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to figure out how this was happening to you.

 “Baby, tell me when you're ready.” You opened at the sound of a choked sob coming from the other side of the room. Shawn was on the floor, his head between his hands as he sobbed, shoulders shaking.

 You were silent, trying to stop yourself from rushing over to him and holding him in your arms – something you had grown so accustomed to that now you felt like you were having an out of body experience.

 “Do you still love her?” 

That wasn’t what you had planned to say, but you needed to hear it. You needed to know if the last two years were a waste, if the ring on your finger had ever meant something to the boy you thought was going to be yours forever.

 Shawn was silent, his shoulders slumping as he threw his head back.

 “Shawn?” Your voice was sterner than it had been all day.

 “I – ” Another wrecked sob flew through him.

 You covered your mouth as you felt your chest close up again. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath – you were not about to have another panic attack right now.

 You gripped the vanity to your left, using it to pull yourself to your feet. Your mind went hazy from how fast you rose, your head already pounding from how hard you’d been crying.

 “She told you she was ready, didn’t she?”

 All Shawn could do was nod, his eyes not opening as he placed his head back in his hands – his elbows on his knees as he started crying again.

 You threw your head back, urging yourself not to cry – but nothing could stop the whimper from flying out of you, your eyes shutting again.

 Everything was silent again. For a few moments, you hoped that he would say something. That he would get to his feet and explain that everything was a misunderstanding – that he would take you in his arms and hold you, telling you that you were the one he loved. The only one he loved.

 However, things weren’t that simple. They never were with Shawn. But never before had you doubted where you stood with him.

 “I – I can’t do this.” You found yourself saying, his head snapping up – bloodshot eyes meeting yours.

 He was on his feet before you could blink, “No. Y/n – let’s talk about this, please.”

 You hesitated, before shaking your head. It was too late for talking now. You had waited for him to act and he had left you dry.

 “You need to figure yourself out before we can do that Shawn.” You spun the ring on your finger. “I can’t be with you if you’re not a hundred percent sure about me.”

 “I love you.” His voice cracked, a single tear traveling down his sculpted cheek again.

 “I love you too.” You sniffled, taking the ring off your finger – Shawn immediately flinching back, “Please. Please don’t leave me.”

 “You lied to me. You used me as a placeholder for her. You still love –”

 “I don’t. I don’t.” He was shaking, his hands coming up to fold behind his head, “It was a spur of the moment, baby – ”

 “I know you, Shawn.” You were tired, and he was delirious. You couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, and you were afraid that if you kept this up any longer – he could convince you to stay.

 “Call me when you figure everything out. And then we can talk.”

 You placed the ring on the counter, the clang of it hitting the marble making Shawn flinch again, but you didn’t let yourself get phased.

 You took one long look at him, before turning around and walking out of the bathroom – and ultimately the house.

 He didn’t call after you once.

__________________________________________________________________

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[embrassemoibebe]

dating kit walker would include:

warning(s) ― minimal spoilers for asylum & aliens

additional notes ― takes place after asylum, lowercase intended.

after escaping briarcliff, the alma/grace situation, kit decided the best thing for him and his kids would be to move somewhere quiet and safe.

the town he moved to was quite small, on the outskirts of the suburbs and most of the people he’d met were kind. 

the school was nice too - that’s a plus - and he got himself a job working as a mechanic.

on his first day, they ordered lunch from a close diner and kit being his kind self he offered to go get it and as he walked into the nearby dinner he saw you.

he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and after seeing that you didn’t have a ring on your finger he was quick to turn on his charm

“hi, darling, order for...” he’d start with a cute pet name “you know, i just gotta say this, you are gorgeous.”

usually, when guys came in and flirted with you, you’d known them since first grade but this handsome stranger actually made you blush. “what’s your name handsome? i don’t think i’ve seen you before.”

he’d smile “my names kit. i just moved here.” 

after your car breaks down he fixes it for you

non-stop flirting the entire time

he keeps trying to impress you but spills oil on himself

you both laugh it off and when it’s time for his lunch break, he walks you back to the diner and you two have lunch together

he shows you julia and thomas

“this is julia, my daughter, and my son, thomas.”

“they’re adorable!”

“thanks... they’re kind of all i have left now.”

when you ask for an explanation on that [gloomy] question he’d explain his wife passed away

and how he doesn’t have any family (other than his kids) because his mom passed a few years back

he leaves out the alien, asylum, and murder bits

then he’d fix your car and you’d give him your number

he’d wait a few weeks to ask you out

he’ll come in to get lunch or after his shift to flirt with you. sometimes he come in to get some coffee and he’ll grab it and wink on his way out. over the few weeks, you’d learned certain things about him. 

he had two children a boy and a girl (julia and thomas), he’d been married, and he moved for a quiet lifestyle. 

finally, he’d come in after his shift, covered in grease and ask for a coffee. as you bring it to him he’d strike up a conversation “so, i was thinking that if you weren’t busy we could go on a date this friday?”

you smile and nod shyly “okay... what do you wanna do?”

“well,” he start “i thought we could go to the cinema and then maybe have a picnic? is that okay, sugar?”

so, that friday, after he dropped the kids off at school he came and picked you up. driving into the suburbs and taking you to see a movie. 

he’s a gentleman to the core but he’s also a huge flirt.

so you know the entire time he’s opening doors, pulling out your chair, helping you up steps, all the while winking, complimenting, and flirting with you. 

also, he bought you flowers.

the picnic is super sweet. he packed some sandwiches, fruit, some sweet tea, and a nice blanket for you both to sit on.

you two would talk about anything and everything. the clouds, work, the movie, things happening in the world, but he’d especially light up when he talked about his kids and showed you photos.

which you thought was adorable. 

julia and thomas would meet you after a couple more dates.

kit was super nervous to introduce you to the kids, you were too, what if they didn’t like you? 

but his kids love you, julia is super excited to meet new people and she immediately wants to show you all her dolls and other toys. thomas wants to show you his drawings and sport skills.

kit lets them do whatever they want as long as they behave and prepares lunch for you and them, by the time he comes back, you're dressed up as a princess (whether your a boy or a girl) and thomas is showing you how good he is at basketball.

you two only get a moment of peace after he puts them to bed and you two spend the rest of your time together cuddling on the couch and watching a movie.

kit as a boyfriend

lots of picnics, spending time with jules and thomas, late-night calls

after around three months you stay the night for the first time

nothing happen, just some heavy pettings

sunday mornings are his favorite.

playing with his curls while you two cuddle and watch cartoon with the kids

so many dad jokes

he’s like the king of dad jokes

“what time did the guy go to the dentist? Tooth-hurty!”

“do you want the milk in a bag, sir?”

“no, just leave it in the carton.”

speaking of grocery stores

the workers love him. because he comes in all the time and buys you chocolates, flowers, toys for the kids

it’s not uncommon to see him, cover in oil, cashing his check

he has a lot of pet names

the kids making grossed out sounds whenever you two kiss or show affection

but they love seeing their dad happy and they’re used to it

his response is to always run up and shower them with kisses

he just loves affection - public or private

he’s a dork

is very protective of you because of his past

walks/drives you everywhere

randomly starts running around the house:

“y/n!?”

“kit, what’s wrong!?”

“...i just wanted to here your voice.”

kit probably wants you to move in fast (as long as your comfortable)

the kids loves you, he loves you, and you love him

but also, he doesn’t want to rush anything

and he doesn’t want to freak out the kids

so you’d probably have to approach the topic

he’s a modern-age man

kit is all for women having jobs outside of the house

want be a teacher? go for it

actress? he’ll support you through sucess and failures

office job? anything you want, sugar!

even if you make more money than him, he’s cool with it

but, he’s also fine with you staying home with the kids

as long as your happy

when kit knows you make him the happiest he’s ever been

you wake up in the middle of the night to kit squirming and saying quick mumbles in a panic

you wake him up and hold him for a few

then he opens up to you about everything that happens

and you believe him

that morning kit wakes up and finds you, in his shirt, with the kids playing in the kitchen while you make pancakes.

you walk over and hand him some coffee and give him a kiss and it’s just... peace.

and he’s happy.

the end

i hope you enjoyed this! i write for multiple fandoms so please checkout my page. request are closed. taglist is open.

⤷ you may also like: nsfw alphabet & kit walker

[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.

[romanosgirl1978]

Title TBD

I really need to figure out a title for this but I’m so bad at them...anyways this is still introductory ( i promise its relevant and everything will be coming soon). Im not gonna lie yall, this already has 40 parts and I’m at 60K words. The chapters with the whole crew have so far pretty much followed the 2 movies to the letter, a few minor changes to include reader but its still a good read. Any who, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy it!!

Word Count-2619

Warnings-Insults, Cursing, Verbal Abuse, Jim’s in a holding cell

Summary- You get accepted to Starfleet, but some circumstances aren’t making it easy.

You wake up to the sound of your stepfather screaming and groan, pulling the pillow over your head and pressing it against your ears futilely, before getting out of bed.

Heading down the stairs only heightens the shouting and your growing irritation.

“-not leaving! I am not going to pay for that useless, no good daughter of yours to waste four years at a college when she's just going to end up partying and getting kicked out. She's just going to end up in a bunch of dead end jobs and trying to move back in with us,” you hear him say to your mother over the phone.

You watch as he throws a torn envelope into the trash and storm outside, letting the door slam behind him, to scream some more.

Peeking your head into the bag, the first thing you see is the Starfleet insignia.

You snatch it out quickly and rush back up to your room to read it.

As you unfold the letter and put the two halves side by side on your desk you hear Jim slip into your room.

“What was he screaming at this time?” He asks groggily.

“I got a reply from Starfleet,” you whisper disbelievingly.

His eyes widen and he walks up behind you, hands on your shoulders.

“Blah, blah, blah. Accepted,” you mutter happily.

“That’s amazing! What program?”

You run your fingers down the page until you hit the last paragraph.

On behalf of the Academy we are proud to have someone with your aptitude attend whichever program you decide will be the best fit for you.

You take a deep breath and smile back at your brother. “I did it. I’m going to the Academy.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’m proud of you sis…” he says, trailing off.

“But?” You sigh, knowing that was where he was going with that sentence.

“But, from how it sounds Jack’s not gonna let you leave.”

“Ah ha. That is where you are wrong sir,” you tell him, smirking. “You see, I-”

“Have a plan,” he cuts off. “So what is it?”

“I’m so glad you asked.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he grumbles. “And now I have to be a part of it.”

“Don't worry about that brother mine. You always were. So, he said that he’s not paying for me to move all the way there, which I’m not worried about because I have enough set aside and I’ll be getting a job when I get there, but he never said anything about me moving out somewhere else.”

“So your whole plan hinges on him not finding out you're leaving for the Academy?” He questions.

“Exactly,” you tell him smiling.

“Uh huh. And what about when he finds out that the letter is missing?” He challenges, pointing to said letter.

“Easy,” you grab the padd from your drawer and take a picture of the letter. “I put it back and go to town to print out this,” you shake the padd at him, “from the library and use it.”

Jim shakes his head. “Do you have a plan for everything?”

You deliberate for a moment before shrugging, nodding your head. “Pretty much, yeah.”

He pulls you into a hug. “I’m really gonna miss you, (Y/N).”

You bury your head in his chest and squeeze him tightly. “I’m gonna miss you too. That's why you should apply.”

He gives you one last kiss and pulls away from you. “I can't. I’m not like you. I wouldn't like it.”

Sighing you shake your head. “I think you're wrong Jim,” you mutter.

“Let's get you packed. When do you leave?”

You look back and find your departure date. “Friday, tomorrow. They're having a meet and greet on Saturday and giving us the weekend to settle in. How nice of them,” you half joke.

“So you've got a day and a half.”

“Yup. Enough time to enact phase one of my plan.”

“And that is…”

“You're not gonna like it,” you tell him with a strained smile.

He just motions for you to continue.

“I've got to get into an argument with Jack.”

He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Great. About what?”

“Anything but the Academy. He can't even begin to think that’s an option.”

Jim nods. “Fine. But if he even tries to touch you I’m gonna knock his ass out.”

You smile at him and nod. “I think I could live with that.”

“You ready to go pick a fight then?” He asks you, reaching for your door.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You take a deep breath and walk out of your room, letter in your hand. “I guess I’ll start it tonight. Make sure everything is already set up and ready to go. I’ll probably be gone in the morning,” you tell him as you both sneak down the stairs.

“I’ll take you there. There’s no way I’m letting you leave without a real goodbye.”

“I knew you wouldn't,” you tease, smiling at him.

You put the acceptance letter back into the trash where you find it before moving further into the kitchen, making breakfast for you and Jim.

“Oh look who’s finally up,” Jack sneers as he walks back in. “Think you two lazy freeloaders could have slept any later?”

“Probably could have, but we decided we’d get up and grace you with our presence,” you snap back, giving him the most sarcastic smile you can manage. “Feel free to thank us at any time.”

“Why you ungrateful-” he mutters, glaring at you.

“What was that?” You ask, turning to face him fully with a knife in your hand.

He eyes you then the knife before huffing. “Like you actually know how to use that. All you can do with it is what you were made to do. Cook. And you can barely do that.”

Jim bolts up out of his seat and glares at Jack before turning and fuming out of the room, fists clenched at his sides.

You spin the knife in your hand and stab it into the island. “Make your own damn breakfast, asshole,” you say before following Jim out to the backyard.

“Well it sure was easier to pick a fight than I was expecting,” you try to joke.

Jim’s jaw clenches and his breathing is ragged.

You sigh and hand him the keys to your bike that you had snagged off of the table beside the door.

“Go. Take a drive. Calm down for a bit then come back. I promise I’ll keep away from him until then.”

He levels you with an unconvinced look, before you push him towards the garage.

“Go. I need to pack anyways.”

“Fine,” he grits out. “I’ll be back soon.”

You pat his shoulder and wait until he hauls ass down the driveway to make your way back inside.

“Where's he going?” Jack demands as soon as you walk inside.

“Far far away,” you mutter before heading up the stairs, packing everything you need in two duffle bags before shoving them under your bed until you have to go.

After the sun had set you started to worry. Normally Jim would have been back by now, or he would have called you.

You pull on a sweatshirt and climb out of your window. Crouching low, you carefully make your way to the edge of the slight overhang and sit down, letting your legs dangle over as you turn, hands gripping onto the gutter, to lower yourself down.

As you drop you let your knees bend and hold your arms out so you won't fall over.

You head towards the garage quickly and pull out your phone, dialing Jim.

“Dammit Jim. Answer the phone,” you mutter as it rings.

He doesn't. It goes to voicemail.

Sighing you scroll through your contacts to find someone who might know where he was.

“Let’s try Julia,” you mutter and hit call.

It rings a few times but she finally picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Julia, it’s (Y/N).”

“Oh. Hi.”

You roll your eyes. “Look I was just calling to see if you knew where Jim was.”

“Why would I know? I don't talk to him anymore. Not after graduation anyways.”

“Alright,” you massage your forehead. “Do you have any of his friends numbers?”

“Nope,” she says and hangs up.

You pull the phone away from your ear and watch as the screen goes back to your contacts. “Bitch,” you mutter as you scroll back through the names.

Groaning you decide to call Matt.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he says, picking up after the first two rings.

“Hey Matty. I need your help.”

“Yeah sure, what's up?”

“Could you call around and try to see if anyone’s seen or heard from Jim? He left this morning and I’m starting to worry about him.”

“Course. I’ll call you when I’ve got something,” he promises before hanging up.

You turn the ringer on your phone up all the way before climbing into the vintage Chevelle that you had been fixing up.

There was still plastic where the back windows were supposed to be and the dashboard cover was missing but the engine was set and in place and it was the only other car you had the keys to, so she would have to work.

You took off down the driveway and headed into town, keeping an eye out for anywhere your bike could have been parked.

After passing by Jim’s third possible hangout Matty called you back.

You pull over and answer the phone.

“Please tell me you found him? Cause I’m coming up empty out here,” you practically beg.

“Yeah, (Y/N). I found him. And you're not gonna like it.”

You groan before taking a deep breath. “Where?”

“The station. Apparently he got into a fight at one of the bars. My guy said they called your stepdad and he told them that he could stay there and rot for all he cared.”

“Thanks Matt. I owe ya one.”

He laughs. “This one's on the house. Go get your brother. They're waiting for you to get there.”

“Thanks again,” you sigh.

The line goes dead and you hit the steering wheel, screaming profanities at your stepdad.

After calming down a bit you make your way to the police station and walk in. Asking for them to release Jim.

A few officers bring him out to you and make you promise that you'll keep him out of trouble.

You tell them you'll do your best and practically drag your brother down the stairs and to the car.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Jim mutters as you pull him, hand on his shoulder. “Dammit (Y/N) that hurts.”

You let him go. “Where’s my bike?” You seethe.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he says, rolling his eyes.

You throw his wallet at him. “Did they take my bike to the impound lot?!”

“No! I was in the bar when I got into the fight. Your bike’s outside of Poll’s Pool.”

“Get in the car,” you bark as you slide into the driver's seat.

“I don't like riding with you when your angry,” he pouts, stooping down to look at you through the window.

You send him a sideways glare. “Get in the car or you can walk your ass all the way back home.”

“Or I could walk back to the bar and take your bike back home,” he challenges.

“With what keys?” You question, holding up the set that you had given him earlier today.

“Maybe I’ll just hotwire it.”

“Good luck getting through the solid engine cover I welded on there.”

He groans and pulls the door open, sliding in and closing it before crossing his arms over his chest.

You start the car and head back to the bar where he was arrested.

“Do you really have a solid cover over the engine?” He asks on the way there.

You can't help but laugh a little. “No I didn't. But I changed the colors of the wire covers so that no one but me knows what colors are what wires. Best way to keep someone from taking it is to confuse them before they even start.”

He can't help but grin. “My genius sister.”

“And my idiot brother,” he rolls his eyes at this. “No seriously, Jim. What am I going to do with you? After tomorrow there's gonna be no one to bail you out of fights. No one to pick you up from a holding cell. You really need to be more careful,” you tell him in all seriousness.

He shrugs and leans over, ruffling your hair. “Don't worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine my ass. You're gonna get your sorry ass locked up if you keep doing stupid shit like this.”

“Like you don't do stupid shit all the time. Like disabling the principles car? Or setting the scoreboard at the football field to scream insults at the players instead of announcing the score? Oh, or how about when you cut the fuel line to Jack’s truck and left him stranded 30 miles outside of town?”

“The difference is that I didn't get caught James! You go around and get into fights. You draw a crowd and get yourself in trouble! I don't!”

You pull into the parking lot and cut the car off.

“I know that you don't always get into fights for the hell of it,” you say softly. “I just want you to try and be more careful when it comes to getting into them. And try not getting yourself hurt as often,” you point to the cut above his eye. “I won't be able to patch you up from the academy,” you try to joke.

He nods. “I’ll try not to. But I make zero promises,” he says, smiling at you.

“I’ll honestly take what I can get from you at this point,” you laugh.

You step out of the car. “I’ll let you drive her. Try not to break her. I’ve got enough left to do as it is.”

“I’ll take it real slow with her,” he teases, sliding over into the driver's seat and patting the top of the steering wheel.

“Yeah I bet you will,” you mutter as you walk over to your bike, pulling it alongside Jim. “I’ll follow you out. Make sure you don't try to drive off somewhere.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he winks before backing out of the parking lot.

The ride home is fairly quiet until you get into the garage.

Jack comes storming out of the house as you walk towards the back door.

“Where the hell have you two been? Who gave you permission to leave? Cause I sure as hell didn’t and your mother’s not here.”

You roll your eyes and push past him. “Well from what I heard you told the cops to keep Jim. But I’m eighteen. I can do whatever I want.”

He grabs your arm and pulls you back to him.

“The hell you can. You still live in my house, which means you follow my rules,” he sneers, squaring up to you.

You hold your hand out to stop Jim from doing anything.

“Yeah? Well maybe I’ll leave. What then asshole? Then you can’t control me.”

He laughs in your face. “You wouldn’t be able to make it. You’ve got no money and no place to go. You’d be back here begging on your knees to come back and live here in two weeks, maybe less.”

“Wanna bet?” You say, glaring at him.

He glares back and you pull away from him.

“I’ll be gone in the morning.”

He smirks at you. “We’ll see.”

[nancywheelxr]

Nia accidentally gets stuck in astral form she goes to Kara for help but Kara moves too fast to notice her. She is about to give up when Brainy arrives and he and Kara go to leave flowers on the graves of Julia Freeman, Grace Parker and Leslie Willis and talk about carrying the weight of those they could not save. Nia realizes it is her own battle with perfectionism and guilt keeping her from reentering her body.

Nia thought she had been getting the hang of this, she really did.

But now, now it’s been hours and she is still here, astral-projecting and stuck out of her own body. It’s awful and it’s lonely, and it makes feel like a ghost. A very incompetent one, anyway, because no one seems to see her, not even Kara.

“You know, those shoes would work better in a yellow shirt,” she drones, sitting, well, hovering, on the couch. Kara, of course, doesn’t hear her. No, she’s going too fast, flitting from one room to the other while looking at the clock.

She’s late for something, Nia realizes.

And it’s the strangest thing, really, her clothes. Ever since they met, Nia remembers Kara in colors, happy and bright, but this– these are rather dark tones, not at all what Nia would expect Kara to wear.

Which great. She’s so bored she’s investigating her friend’s wardrobe now. Really helping to solve her troubles here.

Then, the doorbell rings and Kara hurries to open it, picking up a bouquet on her way out. She doesn’t let whoever it is inside, herding them out and locking up behind. So, Nia was right about something at least.

And the shoes, Nia is very right on the shoes too.

Whatever. Anyway, it’s not like there’s much else for her to do here besides following her. Not that Nia is like, super curious now or anything, no, that would be probably iffy on the whole privacy thing.

She’s doing this in hopes someone will finally be able to see her, that’s all.

*

She catches up to them on the elevator and huffs, because come on, not even Brainy is seeing her here? Come on! Sulking in the corner, Nia tries not to feel like every ghost in every elevator story ever and tunes in on their conversation.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Brainy is asking Kara, his face scrunching up in concern, and his hands are white-knuckled where he’s holding flowers as well. “Because we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Kara shakes her head, sighs. “No, I– it’s fine. I’m just, I owe them this much, at least.”

“That’s not true,” he says, holding the door open as they exit the elevator, and Nia hurries after them, “you saved the world, you didn’t kill them.”

“I didn’t save them either,” Kara points out, and Nia can hear the guilty weighting down on those words, “Julia and Grace– they were a bit like me, they were Kryptonians and I– maybe if they weren’t alone, maybe if I had found them earlier. I don’t know. I could’ve done more, I should’ve done more.”

“Julia chose to help us, in the end,” Brainy pauses briefly at the entrance of the building, squinting at the sun, then falls into step with Kara, “and Grace never wanted to fight off Reign. You did the best you could, you can’t make people’s choices for them– this, you owe them, free will.”

Nia follows them, feeling a bit guilty for eavesdropping, but it just can’t be helped. And besides, she vaguely remembers Brainy asking her if she wanted to come with him this afternoon, so, really, it’s almost like she took him up on his invitation.

“I know, I know,” she exhales tiredly, running a hand through her hair, bites her lip, “and I know Leslie chose to help, too. She died a hero, you know? But still– I can’t help feeling guilty. They died because of me, because I didn’t save them.”

For a minute, Brainy stays silent, fiddling with his flowers, a faraway look on his eyes. “I know there’s nothing I can say that will ease your mind,” he finally says, “but I can tell you there are names I carry too. People I failed to save, things I should’ve done differently. It’s a heavy burden to carry.”

Kara smiles sadly, “it is, isn’t it?”

And it’s crazy, because they’re both heroes. All these people– sure, Nia wasn’t there when it happened, but it sounds like a bunch of things none of them could control. They saved the whole freaking world!

Beating yourself up like this, it helps no one–

Oh. It really doesn’t, and she’s one to talk.

Nia’s been rather hard on herself later, she has to admit, and maybe, astral-projecting while raging up a storm on her chest wasn’t her smartest idea. No, nope, no more negative thoughts. 

Come on, think happy thoughts, Nia.

It wasn’t her fault, the mess at the end, and she did the best she could in a pretty crappy situation. She rose up to the occasion, she’s a goddamn hero.

She breathes in, breathes out, the sounds of traffic slowly dissolve around her and when she opens her eyes again, Nia’s home.

“Oh, thank god,” she says to her empty apartment, “that was one bad trip.”

Looking at the clock, she bites her lips, making a snap-quick decision. There’s a flower shop two stores away– it’s a nice day outside and she thinks it might be time to make a visit to the graveyard.

[titriwrites]

Polaroid Picture -- Chapter Six

It's been a while again. Sorry for the longish wait. But here we are with chapter 6, which you can read under the cut or here on AO3.

Having Tom back in Oxford brings back memories.

Chapter Six

„Libby?“ Tom whispered in her ear, his breath leaving goose bumps on her naked skin as they were lying in bed, blissfully naked, the duvets covering just their lower bodies.

Beth was on her stomach, one arm draped over Tom's abs, her head resting against his shoulder.

“Hmm?” she murmured, way too tired after their lovemaking. Repeatedly.

“Do you want children?”

Her head snapped up, almost knocking Tom in the jaw. “Huh?”

“Children, do you want them?” His eyes were sparkling, and a grin spread over his face.

“Well,” she started. “At the moment we're too broke and too young and too busy.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “As far as I know, you’re not pregnant right now, Ms Smartypants.”

“Mrs Smartypants-Hiddleston, please.”

“I love that sound.”

“You love me.”

“That I do.”

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon two months after their small wedding. They were lying in bed – in the living-room, because that’s where you put the bed in a flat that only has one room, a small kitchen area and a tiny bathroom – enjoying the feels of their bodies after the sex. And probably before the sex as well, because what else were you supposed to do on a rainy Sunday afternoon when you were young and in love? And broke. But they were living in London, like they wanted to.

Beth closed her eyes. She could feel the smile on her face. Tom smelled nice. And goodness, she was so in love with him.

“Libby?” She also loved her name on his lips.

“Hm?”

“Kids? Ever?”

“What is it with you and kids now?”

“Well, we're married,” he shrugged. “Guess it’s time to talk about it.”

“Two months.”

“Best months of my life.”

She rolled her eyes. “Smooth, Hiddleston.”

“You love it, Hiddleston. So. Kids?”

Beth shifted. Her chin rested on Tom’s chest as he grinned down at her. Her fingers trailed patterns on his sides, making him chuckle.

“Yes, Tom. Children. Of course. Not now, not without having a steady income or enough time. But yes. I wouldn’t have married you, if I didn’t want a family.”

His smile grew. “Okay.”

“Okay. Just promise me you’ve got enough time for me and our five children when you’re a big Hollywood heartthrob. And that you’ll leave your three girlfriends waiting in your penthouse.”

Beth screeched when Tom suddenly turned to pin her to the bed. He planted a wet kiss straight on her mouth. “Always.”

***

“—right?”

Beth jerks, shakes her head and blinks once, twice. She stares at her patient in front of her, both hands holding her big, round baby belly.

She shakes her head again, trying to get rid of the last remnants the daydream left in her mind. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Are you alright?” her patient, Sarah, asks.

This time, Beth nods. “Yes. Yes, sorry. And I should ask you that. You’re the one 38 weeks pregnant.”

A smile, almost giddy, graces her face. “I am. I can’t wait. And I wanted to know, if there is a chance that I can come in before the baby’s due. There is, right?”

“You come in at week 40 again, that’s correct.”

Beth tries – and fails – to tear her eyes away from Sarah's stomach. It’s not easy. Not at all. She suppresses a sigh. Damn Tom Hiddleston and him coming back into her life, bringing all the memories with him. She managed just fine before. Has been managing for six years now.

She shakes her head. No. No, Tom’s definitely not back in her life. They haven’t talked all weekend after the night in the pub. He’s not tried to contact her again. But why would he? He was drunk, they were drunk, nothing happened, nothing happens, nothing is going to happen.

Well, maybe she should sign those papers.

It’s just that all these thoughts have been in her head all weekend. And it doesn’t help that she's meeting all of these pregnant women in her job.

Still, Beth is 32. There's enough time. Eventually, she’ll meet the man of her dreams. Again, her mind chimes in, something she shuts down immediately. Tom obviously isn’t the man of her dreams. That never worked out.

There's enough time to have children on her own. Rationally, she knows that. But one doesn’t get married – even at the age of 21 – if one doesn’t want a future with someone. At least, not normally. And Beth wanted a future with Tom. And at the time she thought he wanted that too. He’s told her he wanted that. So, he either lied to himself, her, or in the end she wasn’t important enough.

All of these options hurt. Still hurt.

Beth clears her throat as Sarah does too. Apparently, she's been lost in her thoughts again.

She checks the clock on the wall. 8.45. She sighs. This is going to be the longest Monday she's had in a while.

***

“Okay, Hiddleston. Man up,” Tom whispers to himself as he makes his way to the old Johnson place. To Libby’s flat.

It’s Monday evening, he’s given them both the weekend to recover from Friday night. Or well, has given himself the Saturday off to wallow in self pity induced by a hangover from hell. On Sunday he was too ashamed to meet, and now it’s time to talk business. And by business he means papers.

Time’s running out, it’s not like he wants to spend his time here instead of London with his friends. He needs to get this done before Julia arrives in England to meet his family.

Tom’s here without his car – fresh air does him some good after all – but with food from the Indian place between his flat and Libby's. She's always loved Indian food. Maybe it makes both of them talk to each other like normal human beings.

He sighs and rings the bell. After about half a minute he rings the bell again for good measure. She has to be home, right? Matt is back to work and their friends are home doing coupl-y things. Surely.

Just as Tom puts his finger on the bell to ring yet again, he sees a shadow on the other side of the door.

“Dammit, yes, I'm here!” Libby grumbles as the door flies open. Then she stops, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds, before she shuts it and blinks at him instead. Then she opens her mouth again to utter a, “Tom?”.

He doesn’t answer right away. No. Just a few seconds have passed and now he’s the one staring and being gobsmacked. He hasn’t seen her like this in forever. Well. He hasn’t seen her in forever. Period. Neither like this nor in any other form.

Libby’s apparently had a shower quite recently as her wet hair is combed back, little droplets still falling on her shoulders. Her shoulders that are clad in his old dark blue Cambridge t-shirt he’s never seen again after he left for Los Angeles. Damn it, damn her, she still looks good in it. Especially paired with his old dark grey jogging bottoms she obviously didn’t get rid of either. It was her favourite sleeping outfit back in the days when they would sleep dressed at all.

Brought back to the present by the clearing of a throat, Tom looks back at Libby's face and into her brown eyes. He can’t help but grin as he sees her cheeks darken with a red tint. So, she knows that he’s recognised her outfit. Does she still sleep in this? Is it some sort of melancholy? Hell, he knows he himself feels rushes of memories during his stay here. But then again, he is sleeping in his old room at his father’s house.

“What?” she hisses now, not moving an inch from the door or looking like she would let him into the house anytime soon. Keen on making him leave, obviously.

Tom knows he shouldn't do it, but he can’t stop himself from teasing her. At least a little. A tiny bit of old times. “Nice outfit.”

“It's comfy,” Libby snaps, her cheeks reddening a bit more.

“It's also not an outfit I thought I’d ever see again.” Stop it, Tom.

“Well, here you go. I’m wearing it. Look your fill and then you can go back to--,” A noise from one of the rooms downstairs makes her pause and close the door a bit more. “What do you want?”

Tom holds up the bag containing their food. “I brought dinner.”

Now, Libby stands up little straighter, her lips forming that adorable pout of hers and her eyes squinting at him. “Why?”

“I thought we could talk.”

“Again, why?”

Well, damn it all. Now, he’s the one sighing. “Please, Libby? I think you know why. And can we not do it here? Also, it’s Indian.”

“Is it spicy?” It’s almost a whisper, and Tom has to suppress his grin at that.

“Of course, it is.”

***

Libby’s flat is larger than Tom imagined. He probably thought of a smaller space, because the last time they've been in Oxford together was when she was living in her parent's house.

Not that she's shown him more than the hallway – which admittedly he had to somehow cross – and her living-room with the very comfortable looking sofa, her tv and a massive book shelf along with a dining area. From his place on the chair at the table, Tom also has a good view into the kitchen, which looks bright, woody and inviting.

Munching on her rice and curry, Libby studies him from across the table. She swallows as Tom rises a brow, takes a sip from her beer bottle and then fixes him with a look she's already perfected about ten years ago.

“You wanted to talk, Hiddleston.”

Tom swallows his own food, which is a bit spicier than he thought. He can also see Libby grinning at the light sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “I did, yes. I wanted to apologise for Friday, actually.”

At that, she looks down. “For what?”

Ugh, she makes him say it, huh? “I probably was a bit drunker than I thought. That and all those memories... I just hope you don’t think I wanted to take advantage of you.”

She smiles a little at that. “It is full of memories here, huh?”

“Yeah.” He can only nod. “I can’t imagine what it must be like still living in all these memories.”

He knows he said the wrong thing the moment the words have left his mouth. He doesn’t even need to look at Libby and see the scowl on her face. He looks at her anyway.

“It's been okay with the right company actually,” is all that she answers, before chewing on another spoonful of rice.

Fair enough. “Okay.” He swallows. “I wondered,” he then continues, before he glances at his plate and puts his fork down. Then, he looks up again. “I wondered if these memories maybe help us talk about the papers like grown up human beings.”

Libby chuckles and rolls her eyes. But it’s not the chuckle he knows from years ago. It’s more grown up and it’s definitely not friendly. Tom used to make her chuckle quite lovingly.

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to make her smile, laugh, or chuckle like that again. Julia – his fiancée Julia – has a lovely chuckle as well.

“Is that how you get your fangirls and co-stars to swoon, Hiddleston?”

“Hm?”

“The puppy dog eyes that you just pulled. Along with that tiny pout on your lips. And the furrowed brows. The look you’re sporting right now. You haven’t learned that at RADA. That’s all Hollywood. Surely works wonders on your fans on the internet.”

“I wasn’t--,” Wasn’t he, though? Isn’t he? He’s trying to convince her, and he also knows what works on her. At least he used to.

She interrupts him with a sigh. That he knows from previous arguments. She's always been good at that. “Just, shut up for a moment, Tom. I’ll read your damn papers, and then we both can move on without all these memories, huh?”

Well, isn’t that exactly what he wants? “I’ll bring them over tomorrow then.”

***

Ten minutes later – honestly, what’s the point in staying after dinner? – Tom leaves, walking in front of Libby through the hallway. The walls are full of pictures. Some look like they’re drawn and painted by children, some are photographs of babies and toddlers. They can’t all be related to Libby.

And indeed, as Tom stops to inspect them closer, he can see thank-you-notes written on most of them.

She's helped these children into the world.

“Don't you want children on your own?” he asks and immediately feels the tension in the room shift. He looks back over his shoulder at Libby. She's glaring at him. “What?” he mumbles.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Uh.”

“Yes, Tom,” she hisses, and he cringes. “Yes, I fucking want children on my own. I wanted them ten years ago, and I wanted them six years ago. You wanted them too. You wanted them with me. We got married, Tom. We got fucking married and we talked about children. How dare you ask me that?”

Just as he wants to answer, though he’s got no idea what he should even say, Libby continues. “I wanted children with you Tom, and you left me. I see children every day at work and they’re not mine. And you know what? That’s fine. Sometimes it doesn’t work out. We didn’t work out because of exactly that. Work. You chose work over a life with me, and you chose work over having children with me. I just wonder what changed.”

Tom looks at her, stunned. It was a simple question. She always loved children. And yes. They talked about them. Apparently. But now tears are streaming down Libby's face as she stands before him, shaking and holding herself, wearing clothes from his Cambridge days.

“I wonder, if it was just me that wasn’t enough for you. Because I couldn’t compete with your job. And Julia – that’s her name, right? – Julia can compete with your job. So. It was me.”

“Libby.”

She shakes her head. “You should leave. Put the papers in the mailbox tomorrow, I’ll read and sign them.”

“Libby, I...”

“Leave.”

And so, he does. Glancing at Libby, he turns and hears the door close behind him. He doesn’t know what to think. Has no idea what to do.

Tom sighs. That’s a lie. He does know. Leave the papers, have her send them to his solicitor and leave for London.

Tagging @devikafernando @itsliterallythis @justthelosersblog @avenger-nerd-mom @archy3001 @nuggsmum @majk78 @hakimo2015 @noplacelikehome77