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philip-ks-dick · 3 years

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Philip K. Dick, For Dummies.

I’ve been researching PK.D for a few years now, as he’s my father’s favourite author and I’ve been watching movie and show adaptations of his work for the longest time. I have personally only read the books listed, here’s the order (I think) you should read them in, based on difficulty level and the knowledge you need of the PKD canon to understand the books that follow. This is purely my opinion based on knowledge of the author. by philip-k’s-dick (lol)

Beginner. (These books and stories allow readers to explore Dick’s pet themes and stylistic quirks without falling too far down the rabbit hole)

The Short Stories: Over the course of his life, PKD wrote somewhere in the range of 150 short stories. Naturally, it would be silly of me to dump all of them on you at once, but undeniably, the shorter format allows the big ideas of Dick’s work to come through more clearly, and even the screwier stories conform to relatively coherent shape, making them an excellent jumping off point, especially for an author who wrote almost nonstop throughout his life.

My Favourites:

In The Days of Perky Pat - In this novel, survivors of a global thermonuclear war live in isolated enclaves in California, surviving off what they can scrounge from the wastes and supplies delivered from Mars. The older generation spend their leisure time playing with the eponymous doll in an escapist role-playing game that recalls life before the apocalypse — a way of life that is being quickly forgotten. At the story's climax, a couple from one isolated outpost of humanity plays a game against the dwellers of another outpost (who play the game with a doll similar to Perky Pat dubbed "Connie Companion") in deadly earnest. The survivors' shared enthusiasm for the Perky Pat doll and the creation of her accessories from vital supplies is a sort of mass delusion that prevents meaningful re-building of the shattered society. In stark contrast, the children of the survivors show absolutely no interest in the delusion and have begun adapting to their new life.

(Elements of the story were later incorporated into Dick's novel The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, written in 1964 and published in 1965, in which a Perky Pat simulation game is induced by drugs and miniature models instead. Palmer Eldritch is not a continuation or sequel however.)

What the Dead Men Say - Death is followed by a period of 'half-life', a short amount of time which can be rationed out over long periods in which the dead can be revived—so that, potentially, they can 'live' on for a long time. When attempts to bring back important businessman Louis Sarapis fail, it's clearly more than mere negligence. Sure enough, Sarapis starts speaking from beyond the grave. From outer space, in fact. Yet no-one seems terribly bothered, other than those directly concerned in the plot mechanics. Eventually entire communications networks (phones, TV, radio) are blocked by Sarapis' broadcasts

(Philip's later novel Ubik is a continuation of What the Dead Men Say)

Autofac - Three men wait outside their settlement for an automated delivery truck. Five years earlier, during the Total Global Conflict, a network of hardened automatic factories ("autofacs") had been set up with cybernetic controls that determine what food and consumer goods to manufacture and deliver. Human input had been lost, and the men planned disruption to try to establish communication and take over control. They destroy the delivery, but the truck radios the autofac and unloads an identical replacement, then prevents them from reloading items. They act out being disgusted with the milk delivery and are given a complaints checklist. In a blank space, they write improvised semantic garble—"the product is thoroughly pizzled". The autofac sends a humanoid data collector that communicates on an oral basis, but is not capable of conceptual thought, and they are unable to persuade the network to shut down before it consumes all resources. Their next strategy sets neighbouring autofacs in competition with each other for rare resources and seemingly succeeds, but there is a hidden level

Beyond Lies The Wub - Peterson, a crew member of a spaceship loading up with food animals on Mars, buys an enormous pig-like creature known as a "wub" from a native just before departure. Franco, his captain, is worried about the extra weight but seems more concerned about its taste, as his ship is short of food. However, after takeoff, the crew realizes that the wub is a very intelligent creature, capable of telepathy and maybe even mind control.

Peterson and the wub spend time discussing mythological figures and the travels of Odysseus. Captain Franco, paranoid after an earlier confrontation with the Wub which left him temporarily paralyzed, bursts in and insists on killing and eating the wub. The crew becomes very much opposed to killing the sensitive creature after it makes a plea for understanding, but Franco still makes a meal out of him. At the dinner table, Captain Franco apologises for the "interruption" and resumes the earlier conversation between Peterson and the Wub - which now has apparently taken over the Captain's body

Human Is - Jill Herrick and her husband Lester are in the middle of an argument. Lester deflects his wife’s claim that he is “hideous” with cold indifference. He tells her that he will not allow their child in the house and will have him removed to government custody because he is interfering with his research. Before the distraught Jill can pass this onto their son Gus, Lester gets news that he will be taking a trip to Rexor IV. Despite Jill’s desire to go there and see the planet, Lester insists that he will go alone.

Later Jill tells her brother Frank and she is going to leave Lester. She explains how happy she has been with Lester gone and how he seems to be getting worse every year of their marriage. More cold and more “ruthless,” not to mention the incessant working.

Lester comes home a very different man. He praises Jill’s cooking and expresses disgust with his work on Rexor IV studying toxins. He says he prefers Terra and being home with his wife.

Jill reports these changes to Frank, while Lester is playing in the room with Gus. Frank has Lester brought to a lab for more studies under the guidance of the Federal Clearance agency. Before long they realize that Lester has had his body taken over by a Rexorian.

The Hanging Stranger - The protagonist, Ed Loyce, is a store owner who is disturbed when he sees a stranger hanging from a lamppost, but finds that other people consider the apparent lynching unremarkable.

He finds evidence that alien insects have taken over, manages to get out of town, talks to the police commissioner, who believes him, and after getting all the information about what Ed knows, explains that the body was hung to see if anyone reacted to it, anyone they didn't have control over. He then takes Ed outside and hangs him from a lamppost.

The Commuter - Ed Jacobson is a railway worker at Woking station. His life takes a turn for the worse when his son, Sam, begins experiencing psychotic episodes. When he is selling rail tickets at work, a young woman named Linda asks for a ticket to a destination called Macon Heights that is not listed on any map.

The Minority Report - In a future society, three mutants foresee all crime before it occurs. Plugged into a great machine, these "precogs" allow a division of the police called Precrime to arrest suspects before they can commit any actual crimes. When the head of Precrime, John Anderton, is himself predicted to murder a man whom he has never met, Anderton is convinced a great conspiracy is afoot

Full Books:

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter for the San Francisco Police Department, is assigned to "retire" (kill) six androids of the new and highly intelligent Nexus-6 model which have recently escaped from Mars and traveled to Earth. These androids are made of organic matter so similar to a human's that only a posthumous "bone marrow analysis" can independently prove the difference, making them almost impossible to distinguish from real people. Deckard hopes this mission will earn him enough bounty money to buy a live animal to replace his lone electric sheep to comfort his depressed wife Iran. Deckard visits the Rosen Association's headquarters in Seattle to confirm the accuracy of the latest empathy test meant to identify incognito androids. Deckard suspects the test may not be capable of distinguishing the latest Nexus-6 models from genuine human beings, and it appears to give a false positive on his host in Seattle, Rachael Rosen, meaning the police have potentially been executing human beings. The Rosen Association attempts to blackmail Deckard to get him to drop the case, but Deckard retests Rachael and determines that Rachael is, indeed, an android, which she ultimately admits.

Clans of the Alphane Moon - War between Earth and insectoid-dominated Alpha III ended over a decade ago. (According to the novel, "Alphane" refers to the nearest star to our own system, Alpha Centauri). Some years after the end of hostilities, Earth intends to secure its now independent colony in the Alphane system, Alpha III M2. As a former satellite-based global psychiatric institution for colonists on other Alphane system worlds unable to cope with the stresses of colonisation, the inhabitants of Alpha III M2 have lived peacefully for years. But, under the pretence of a medical mission, Earth intends to take their colony back.

Against this background, Chuck Rittersdorf and his wife Mary are separating. Although they think they are going their separate ways, they soon find themselves together again on Alpha III M2. Mary travels there through government work, Chuck sees it as a chance to kill Mary using his remote control simulacrum. Along the way he is guided by his Ganymedean slime mould neighbour Lord Running Clam and Mary finds herself manipulated by the Alphane sympathiser, comedian Bunny Hentman.

The Man in the High Castle - In 1962, 15 years after Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany have won World War II, Robert "Bob" Childan owns an Americana antique shop in San Francisco, California (located in the Japanese-occupied Pacific States of America), which is most commonly frequented by the Japanese, who make a fetish of romanticized American cultural artifacts. Childan is contacted by Nobusuke Tagomi, a high-ranking Japanese trade official, who is seeking a gift to impress a visiting Swedish industrialist named Baynes. Childan's store is stocked in part with counterfeit antiques from the Wyndam-Matson Corporation, a metalworking company. Frank Frink (formerly Fink), a secretly Jewish-American veteran of World War II, has just been fired from the Wyndam-Matson factory, when he agrees to join a former co-worker to begin a handcrafted jewellery business. Meanwhile, Frink's ex-wife, Juliana, works as a judo instructor in Canon City, Colorado (in the neutral buffer zone of Mountain States), where she begins a sexual relationship with an Italian truck driver and ex-soldier, Joe Cinnadella. Throughout the book, many of these characters frequently make important decisions using prophetic messages they interpret from the I Ching, a Chinese cultural import. Many characters are also reading a widely banned yet extremely popular new novel, The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, which depicts an alternate history in which the Allies won World War II in 1945, a concept that amazes and intrigues its readers.

Frink reveals that the Wyndam-Matson Corporation has been supplying Childan with counterfeit antiques, which works to blackmail Wyndam-Matson for money to finance Frink's new jewelry venture. Tagomi and Baynes meet, but Baynes repeatedly delays any real business as they await an expected third party from Japan. Suddenly, the public receives news of the death of the Chancellor of Germany, Martin Bormann, after a short illness. Childan tentatively, on consignment, takes some of Frink's "authentic" new metalwork and attempts to curry favour with a Japanese client, who surprisingly considers Frink's jewelry immensely spiritually alive. Juliana and Joe take a road trip to Denver, Colorado and Joe impulsively decides they should go on a side-trip to meet the mysterious Hawthorne Abendsen, author of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, who supposedly lives in a guarded fortress-like estate called the "High Castle" in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Soon, Joseph Goebbels is announced as the new German Chancellor.

Intermediate. (These are the books to pick up once you have the basics of what makes a PKD novel down. They’re obtuse enough to hit a little heavier, but don’t provide the full dose of surrealism Dick was capable of serving up. This is also good spot to jump in if you’ve experienced weird fiction before.)

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said - The novel is set in a dystopian version of 1988, following a Second Civil War which led to the collapse of the United States' democratic institutions. The National Guard ("nats") and US police force ("pols") reestablished social order through instituting a dictatorship, with a "Director" at the apex, and police marshals and generals as operational commanders in the field. Resistance to the regime is largely confined to university campuses, where radicalized former university students eke out a desperate existence in subterranean kibbutzim. Recreational drug use is widespread, and the age of consent has been lowered to twelve. The black population has almost been rendered extinct. Most commuting is undertaken by personal aircraft, allowing great distances to be covered in little time.

The novel begins with the protagonist, Jason Taverner, a singer, hosting his weekly TV show which has an audience of 30 million viewers. His special guest is his girlfriend Heather Hart, also a singer. Both Hart and Taverner are "Sixes", members of an elite class of genetically engineered humans. While leaving the studio, Taverner is telephoned by a former lover, who asks him to pay her a visit. When Taverner arrives at her apartment, the former lover attacks him by throwing a parasitic life-form at him. Although he manages to remove most of the life-form, parts of it are left inside him. After being rescued by Hart, he is taken to a medical facility.

Waking up the following day in a seedy hotel with no identification, Taverner becomes worried, as failure to produce identification at one of the numerous police checkpoints would lead to imprisonment in a forced labor camp. Through a succession of phone calls made from the hotel to colleagues and friends who now claim not to know him, Taverner establishes that he is no longer recognized by the outside world. He soon manages to bribe the hotel's clerk into taking him to Kathy Nelson, a forger of government documents. However, Kathy reveals that both she and the clerk are police informants, and that the lobby clerk has placed a microscopic tracking device on him. She promises not to turn Taverner over to the police on the condition that he spend the night with her. Although he attempts to escape, Kathy confronts him again after he has successfully passed a police checkpoint using the forged identity cards. Feeling in her debt, he accompanies Kathy to her apartment block, where Inspector McNulty, Kathy's police handler, is waiting. McNulty has located Taverner via the tracking device the hotel lobby clerk placed on him, and instructs Taverner to come with him to the 469th Precinct police station so that further biometric identity checks can be performed.

Time out of Joint - Ragle Gumm lives in the year 1959 in a quiet American suburb. His unusual profession consists of repeatedly winning the cash prize in a local newspaper contest called "Where Will The Little Green Man Be Next?". Gumm's 1959 has some differences from ours: the Tucker car is in production, AM/FM radios are scarce to non-existent, and Marilyn Monroe is a complete unknown. As the novel opens, strange things begin to happen to Gumm. A soft-drink stand disappears, replaced by a small slip of paper with the words "SOFT-DRINK STAND" printed on it in block letters. Intriguing little pieces of the real 1959 turn up: a magazine article on Marilyn Monroe, a telephone book with non-operational exchanges listed and radios hidden away in someone else's house. People with no apparent connection to Gumm, including military pilots using aircraft transceivers, refer to him by name. Few other characters notice these or experience similar anomalies; the sole exception is Gumm's supposed brother-in-law, Victor "Vic" Nielson, in whom he confides. A neighborhood woman, Mrs. Keitelbein, invites him to a civil defense class where he sees a model of a futuristic underground military factory. He has the unshakeable feeling he's been inside that building many times before.

Confusion gradually mounts for Gumm. His neighbor Bill Black knows far more about these events than he admits, and, observing this, begins worrying: "Suppose Ragle [Gumm] is becoming sane again?" In fact, Gumm does become sane, and the deception surrounding him (erected to protect and exploit him) begins to unravel

Ubik - By the year 1992, humanity has colonized the Moon and psychic powers are common. The protagonist, Joe Chip, is a debt-ridden technician working for Runciter Associates, a "prudence organization" employing "inertials"—people with the ability to negate the powers of telepaths and "precogs"—to enforce the privacy of clients. The company is run by Glen Runciter, assisted by his deceased wife Ella who is kept in a state of "half-life", a form of cryonic suspension that allows the deceased limited consciousness and ability to communicate. While consulting with Ella, Runciter discovers that her consciousness is being invaded by another half-lifer named Jory Miller

Difficult. (This section comes with a caveat: within these novels you will encounter numerous hallucinations, drug trips, an entire trilogy about gnostic spirituality and mental illness, and more than a little unabashed nightmare fuel. It’s normal to get tangled up in what goes on in these books. It’s also normal to be weirded out. But with proper grounding, you’ll make it though with your faculties intact. Probably.)

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - The story begins in a future world where global temperatures have risen so high that in most of the world it is unsafe to be outside without special cooling gear during daylight hours. In a desperate bid to preserve humanity and ease population burdens on Earth, the UN has initiated a "draft" for colonizing the nearby planets, where conditions are so horrific and primitive that the unwilling colonists have fallen prey to a form of escapism involving the use of an illegal drug (Can-D) in concert with "layouts." Layouts are physical props intended to simulate a sort of alternative reality where life is easier than either the grim existence of the colonists in their marginal off-world colonies, or even Earth, where global warming has progressed to the point that Antarctica is prime vacation resort territory. The illegal drug Can-D allows people to "share" their experience of the "Perky Pat" (the name of the main female character in the simulated world) layouts. This "sharing" has caused a pseudo-religious cult or series of cults to grow up around the layouts and the use of the drug.

Up to the point where the novel begins, New York City-based Perky Pat (or P.P.) Layouts, Inc., has held a monopoly on this product, as well as on the illegal trade in the drug Can-D which makes the shared hallucinations possible.

The novel opens shortly after Barney Mayerson, P.P. Layouts' top precog, has received a "draft notice" from the UN for involuntary resettlement as a colonist on Mars. Mayerson is sleeping with his assistant, Roni Fugate, but remains conflicted about the divorce, which he himself initiated, from his first wife Emily, a ceramic pot artist. Meanwhile, Emily's second husband tries to sell her pot designs to P.P. Layouts as possible accessories for the Perky Pat virtual worlds—but Barney, recognizing them as Emily's, rejects them out of spite.

A Scanner Darkly - When performing his work as an undercover agent, Arctor goes by the name "Fred" and wears a "scramble suit" that conceals his identity from other officers. Then he is able to sit in a police facility and observe his housemates through "holo-scanners", audio-visual surveillance devices that are placed throughout the house. Arctor's use of the drug causes the two hemispheres of his brain to function independently or "compete". When Arctor sees himself in the videos saved by the scanners, he does not realize that it is him. Through a series of drug and psychological tests, Arctor's superiors at work discover that his addiction has made him incapable of performing his job as a narcotics agent. They do not know his identity because he wears the scramble suit, but when his police supervisor suggests to him that he might be Bob Arctor, he is confused and thinks it cannot be possible.

Donna takes Arctor to "New-Path", a rehabilitation clinic, just as Arctor begins to experience the symptoms of Substance D withdrawal. It is revealed that Donna has been a narcotics agent all along, working as part of a police operation to infiltrate New-Path and determine its funding source. Without his knowledge, Arctor has been selected to penetrate the organization. As part of the rehab program, Arctor is renamed "Bruce" and forced to participate in cruel group-dynamic games, intended to break the will of the patients

(If this one seems difficult to wrap your mind around, that's because its a fictionalized account of real events, and you may need to read about Philip's life at the time to understand the autobiographical nature of the book.)

The VALIS Trilogy

(Fictionalized account of religious experiences in PKD’s life.)

VALIS - In March, 1974, Horselover Fat (the alter-personality of Philip K. Dick) experiences visions of a pink beam of light that he calls Zebra and interprets as a theophany exposing hidden facts about the reality of our universe, and a group of others join him in researching these matters. One of their theories is that there is some kind of alien space probe in orbit around Earth, and that it is aiding them in their quest; it also aided the United States in disclosing the Watergate scandal and the resignation of Richard Nixon in August, 1974. Kevin turns his friends onto a film called Valis that contains obvious references to revelations identical to those that Horselover Fat has experienced, including what appears to be time dysfunction. The film is itself a fictional account of an alternative-universe version of Nixon ("Ferris F. Fremount") and his fall, engineered by a satellite called valis. (The plot of the fictitious film Valis was that of Dick's then-unpublished novel Radio Free Albemuth.) In seeking the film's makers, Kevin, Phil, Fat, and David—now calling themselves the Rhipidon Society—head to an estate owned by popular musician Eric Lampton and his wife Linda. They decide the goal that they have been led toward is Sophia Lampton, who is two-years old and the Messiah or incarnation of Holy Wisdom (Pistis Sophia) anticipated by some variants of Gnostic Christianity. In addition to healing Phil's schizophrenic personality split, she tells them that their conclusions about valis (which Fat had previously termed "Zebra") and reality are correct, and more importantly, that we should worship, not gods, but humanity. She dies two days later due to a laser accident caused by Brent Mini. Undeterred, Fat (who has now resurged) goes on a global search for the next incarnation of Sophia.

Dick also offers a rationalist explanation of his apparent theophany, acknowledging that it might have been visual and auditory hallucinations from either schizophrenia or drug addiction sequelae.

Characters:

Phil (Philip K. Dick): Narrator (first person), science fiction writer, author of Man in the High Castle, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, and Three Stigmata.

Horselover Fat: Narrator (third person), a schizophrenic modality of Phil himself. (Philip in Greek means "fond of horses"; dick is German for "fat".)

Gloria Knudson: Suicidal friend of Fat's who Fat is unable to save.

Kevin: Cynical friend of Fat's whose cat died running across the street, based on K. W. Jeter.

Sherri Solvig: Church-going friend of Fat's, eventually dies from lymphatic cancer.

David: Catholic friend of Fat's, based on Tim Powers.

Eric Lampton: Rock star, screenwriter, actor, a. k. a. "Mother Goose"; a fictionalised version of David Bowie.

Linda Lampton: Actress, wife of Eric Lampton.

Brent Mini: Electronic composer, a fictionalised version of Brian Eno.

Sophia Lampton: Two-year-old child (personalised incarnation of Holy Wisdom within some variants of Gnosticism), said to be the daughter of Linda Lampton and valis and the "Fifth Savior".

The Divine Invasion - After a fatal car accident on Earth, Herb Asher is placed into cryonic suspension as he waits for a spleen replacement. Clinically dead, Herb experiences lucid dreams while in suspended animation and relives the last six years of his life.

In the past, Herb lived as a recluse in an isolated dome on a remote planet in the binary star system, CY30-CY30B. Yah, a local divinity of the planet in exile from Earth, appears to Herb in a vision as a burning flame, and forces him to contact his sick female neighbor, Rybys Rommey, who happens to be terminally ill with multiple sclerosis and pregnant with Yah's child.

With the help of the immortal soul of Elijah, who takes the form of a wild beggar named Elias Tate, Herb agrees to become Rybys's legal husband and father of the unborn "savior". Together they plan to smuggle the six-month pregnant Rybys back to Earth, under the pretext of seeking help for Rybys' medical condition at a medical research facility. After being born in human form, Yah plans to confront the fallen angel Belial, who has ruled the Earth for 2000 years since the fall of Masada in the first century CE. Yah's powers, however, are limited by Belial's dominion on Earth, and the four of them must take extra precautions to avoid being detected by the forces of darkness.

Things do not go as planned. "Big Noodle", Earth's A.I. system, warns the ecclesiastical authorities in the Christian-Islamic church and Scientific Legate about the divine "invasion" and countermeasures are prepared. A number of failed attempts are made to destroy the unborn child, all of them thwarted by Elijah and Yah. After successfully making the interstellar journey back to Earth and narrowly avoiding a forced abortion, Rybys and Herb escape in the nick of time, only to be involved in a fatal taxi crash, probably due to the machinations of Belial. Rybys dies from her injuries sustained in the crash, and her unborn son Emmanuel (Yah in human form) suffers brain damage from the trauma but survives. Herb is critically injured and put into cryonic suspension until a spleen replacement can be found. Baby Emmanuel is placed into a synthetic womb, but Elias Tate manages to sneak Emmanuel out of the hospital before the church is able to kill him.

Six years pass. In a school for special children, Emmanuel meets Zina, a girl who also seems to have similar skills and talents, but acts as a surrogate teacher to Emmanuel. For four years, Zina helps Emmanuel regain his memory (the brain damage caused amnesia) and discover his true identity as Yah, creator of the universe.

When he's ready, Zina shows Emmanuel her own parallel universe. In this peaceful world, organized religion has little influence, Rybys Rommey is still alive and married to Herb Asher, and Belial is only a goat kid living in a petting zoo.

In an act of kindness, Zina and Emmanuel liberate the goat-creature from his cage, momentarily forgetting that the animal is Belial. The goat-creature finds Herb Asher and attempts to retain control of the world by possessing him and convincing him that Yahweh's creation is an ugly thing that should be shown for what it really is. Eventually Herb is saved by Linda Fox, a young singer whom he loves and who is his own personal Savior; she and the goat-creature meet and she kills it, defeating Belial. He finally discovers that this meeting happens over again for everyone in the world, and whether they choose Belial or their Savior decides if they find salvation.

Characters:

Herb Asher: audio engineer

Rybys Rommey: mother of Emmanuel, sick with MS

Yah: Yahweh

Elias Tate: Incarnation of Elijah

Emmanuel (Manny): Yah incarnated in human form

Zina Pallas: Shekhinah

Linda Fox: singer, songwriter, Yetzer Hatov

Belial: Yetzer Hara

Fulton Statler Harms: Chief prelate of the Christian-Islamic Church (C.I.C), Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church

Nicholas Bulkowsky: Communist Party Chairman, Procurator maximus of the Scientific Legate

VALIS: agent of Yahweh, disinhibiting stimulus

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer - Set in the late 1960s and 1970s, the story describes the efforts of Episcopal Bishop Timothy Archer, who must cope with the theological and philosophical implications of the newly discovered Gnostic Zadokite scroll fragments. The character of Bishop Archer is loosely based on the controversial, iconoclastic Episcopal Bishop James Pike, who in 1969 died of exposure while exploring the Judean Desert near the Dead Sea in the West Bank.

As the novel opens, it is 1980. On the day that John Lennon is shot and killed, Angel Archer visits the houseboat of Edgar Barefoot, (a guru based on Alan Watts), and reflects on the lives of her deceased relatives. During the sixties, she was married to Jeff Archer, son of the Episcopal Bishop of California Timothy Archer. She introduced Kirsten Lundborg, a friend, to her father-in law, and the two began an affair. Kirsten has a son, Bill, from a previous relationship, who has schizophrenia, although he is knowledgeable as an automobile mechanic. Tim is already being investigated for his allegedly heretical views about the Holy Ghost.

Jeff commits suicide due to his romantic obsession with Kirsten. However, after poltergeist activity, he manifests to Tim and Kirsten at a seance, also attended by Angel. Angel is skeptical about the efficacy of astrology, and believes that the unfolding existential situation of Tim and Kirsten is akin to Friedrich Schiller's German Romanticism era masterpiece, the Wallenstein trilogy (insofar as their credulity reflects the loss of rational belief in contemporary consensual reality).

The three are told that Kirsten and Tim will die. As predicted, Kirsten loses her remission from cancer, and also commits suicide after a barbiturate overdose. Tim travels to Israel to investigate whether or not a psychotropic mushroom was associated with the resurrection, but his car stalls, he becomes disoriented, falls from a cliff, and dies in the desert.

On the houseboat, Angel is reunited with Bill, Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia. He claims to have Tim's reincarnated spirit within him, but is soon institutionalized. Angel agrees to care for Bill, in return for a rare record (Koto Music by Kimio Eto) that Edgar offers her.

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer is one of Dick's most overtly philosophical and intellectual works. While Dick's novels usually employ multiple narrators or an omniscient perspective, this story is told in the first person by a single narrator: Angel Archer, Bishop Archer's daughter-in-law.

Characters:

Angel Archer: Narrator, manager of a Berkeley record store, widow of Jeff Archer.

Timothy Archer: Bishop of California; father of the late Jeff Archer and father-in-law of Angel. Dies in Israel, searching for psychotropic mushroom connected with Zadokite sect. Based on James Albert Pike, Dick's personal friend, who was an American Episcopalian bishop.

Kirsten Lundborg: Timothy Archer's secretary and lover. Dies from barbiturate overdose after loss of remission from cancer.

Bill Lundborg: Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia, and who is obsessed with cars.

Edgar Barefoot: Houseboat guru, radio personality, lecturer. Based on Alan Watts.

Jeff Archer: Son of Timothy Archer, and deceased husband of Angel. A professional student who was romantically obsessed with Kirsten.

Thank you, if you read all of this. it took me six hours today to write this all

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elfy-elf-imagines · 3 years

Text

Begin Again | Thranduil

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

Genre: Fluffy new beginnings

Warnings: ---

Words: ~2k

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page 💕 Also, I’m big dummy and lost the original request, so I couldn’t remember what all you wanted in this one-shot. So requester, whoever you are, I’m so sorry! And if you’d like another part to expand on your full request, please let me know!

It’s strange.

You’re whole life, you’ve always heard about how horrible it is for an elf to lose the one they love. It’s been described as feeling as though you’ve been ripped into two pieces, forced to live on without your second half. You’ve heard it feels like tiny needles stabbing into your heart until you can’t feel anything but a stifling anguish that seeps into your bones, poisoning your body from within until you eventually fade away.

Yet you feel none of that. You feel nothing at all, like a soul wandering aimlessly for the rest of eternity, cursed with never finding a purpose or reason to stick around. But being forced to endure, none-the-less. You can sail, as an elf that’s your right, and perhaps you would find peace, wrapped in the warm embrace of Valinor as you forget all your fears and pain.

But you don’t want to be happy, because being happy means you forget, and you're not ready to forget your beloved yet.

The forest floor beneath you is damp from the rain that blessed Eryn Galen a few days ago. The mud sinks in between your toes as you nearly melt into the soft ground. The forest around you is lush and green, wrapping you in its warm embrace that allows for a moment of respite from your thoughts.

The forest is empty, only the gentle sway of the trees and emerald leaves falling to the ground your company. You stare up at the sky that peaks through the canopy of leaves, the stars are out tonight and they burn brighter than you’ve ever seen them. And you wished to climb to the tops of the trees if only to feel the soft glow of moonlight on your skin.

But that would be a foolish thing to do, a whimsy only a child would fulfill. So you simply stand in the clearing, selfishly hoarding the only spot you’ve discovered that the sky is visible.

You thought yourself alone, something you covet more often than not.

And yet.

“Forgive me, I did not realize this spot was currently occupied,” a baritone voice sounds behind you.

Your heart pounds against your chest, the owner of the voice easily recognizable through your deep daydreams. Whirling around quicker than you’ve ever moved, you see King Thranduil standing at the edge of the clearing. He’s lacking the usual extravagant attire he usually dons, instead opting for a slightly more casual outfit. But he still wears clothes that could’ve been woven from silver and gold, the cloth glittering in the dim light.

“My king,” you say, immediately bowing your head down in respect, thoroughly inspecting your dirtied feet. “I will take my leave.”

“There is no need, it was I who interrupted you,” he moves further into the clearing and closer to you. His movements are smooth like a cat, his icy blue eyes lazily focusing on you.

“Yet you are the king,” you reply, voice hardly above a whisper.

King Thranduil is an intimidating figure, anyone within five feet of him would agree. Not in the way that lady Galadriel of Lothlorien is - her power so great you can’t help but feel suffocated, yet it is her kind smile that soothes even the most skittish. Lord Elrond carries himself with a warm presence, like a father he is kind and caring, but stern as well.

No, King Thranduil carries a sense of tragedy with him that can’t be masked by his cold eyes or looming figure. He is the shining example of how horrible things could get for an elf when their other half passes. So far gone is he, they whisper, that not even his son can pull him from his melancholy.

“Then as king, I order you to stay. It would be nice to have some company,” he responds, leaving no room for argument. So you nod your head in agreeance, but keep your head lowered, tracing every speck of mud covering your toes.

“Would you not even look at your monarch?” he asks, but his voice isn’t laced with anger or malice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think there’s a hint of humor in it.

“I apologize, My King,” you say, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes meet his and for a second, you jolt, a sensation filling your body, something you haven’t felt in years.

“I have never seen you before. How have I never seen you?” he questions, thick brows furrowing in frustration and confusion, but his eyes remain locked on you, as do yours.

“Y/N, My King. I just arrived here a few moons ago from the Lorien,” you respond. He says nothing for a few moments, keeping his intense gaze locked on you. And for a brief second, you swear that he could read each and every thought that passes your brain, that’s he seen every memory you have.

“Well then, allow me to formally welcome you to Eryn Galen, Lady Y/N. Tell me how have you found my kingdom, thus far?” he asks, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture as he welcomes you.

“It is very beautiful, My King. The trees are so tall and the leaves so green,” you say, glancing up towards the sky, enraptured by the emerald canopy above you.

“Do they not have trees this tall in the Lorien? I was under the impression their forest was quite beautiful,” he replies, sharp eyes locked on you.

“They do but not quite like here. Do not misunderstand me, the Lorien possesses great beauty, the mallorn tree is magnificent to look upon, but Eryn Galen offers a different beauty. I find myself in great need of change these days, it would seem.”

“Perhaps one day you could humor me and tell me of what would need to warrant such a drastic change?” You turn to look at him, meeting his steely gaze, and he raises a single eyebrow at you. However before you can open your mouth to speak, he turns and leaves. Leaving you behind in the small clearing, and for a moment, your heart starts fluttering in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

And you turn back around, watching the leaves dance through the sky, free from the confining grasp of the branches. A small smile rests on your face, losing yourself in daydreams you never thought you’d see again.

“Lady Y/N, how lovely of you to join me,” King Thranduil's voice is crisp and clear, perfectly projecting across the large room. He sits languidly at a chair, carved from wood with delicate engraving dancing on the tops of them. A glass of wine in one hand and the other slung over the top of his chair, he is the picture of ease.

“It is my pleasure to join you, My King,” you reply, lowering your gaze to the floor once he meets yours. With slow and tentative steps, you move towards the open space to his right, where a glass of wine already poured. Your heart is racing, sweat building up in the palms of your hands as you open and close them. What feels like a lifetime later, you reach the chair, a guard so still he could’ve been a statue, pulling it out for you as you sit in it.

“Thank you,” you quietly say as the guard pushes your chair forward.

“Please, leave us” Thranduil’s voice is commanding and firm, not allowing any room for questions he does not wish to answer. Silently and quickly, every guard in the room filters out. And as their light footsteps disappear, you and Thranduil are left in the room...alone.

A small burst of courage surges through you, your gaze leaving the fine china it was tracing over and over again to meet his gaze. His eyes are just as icy blue as you remember, but somehow they seem softer than they had been in the forest. Or perhaps the light is playing tricks on you.

Everyone knows that elves only truly love once.

Your mouth is dry, nerves suddenly overtaking you. What are you supposed to say; to do? You’ve never spent much time in the presence of royalty, often preferring to stay in the shadows, content with a simple life. Yet fate seems to have other plans for you. Or is this just simply Thranduil, and the gods have nothing to do with his intentions - whatever they may be?

“Do not be so nervous. Please, drink. The food will be ready momentarily,” Thranduil says, motioning towards you with a wine goblet in hand. You nod, still silent as ever.

With a shaky, damp hand, you reach towards your wine goblet, grasping the cold metal in your warm hands. Taking a deep breath, you pick it up, bringing it towards your lips. The wine is smooth as it pours down your throat, cool and soothing to the dessert inside your mouth. It’s slightly sweet, not at all holding the bitter aftertaste the wine of Man possesses.

You set the glass down, turning your attention to Thranduil. He watches you with sharp eyes, an expectant look on his face.

“It is very good, Your Grace,” you mutter, and in exchange for speaking so quietly, you manage to keep your voice steady.

“Excellent.”

You smile, and it’s all nerves and anxiety, closely resembling a grimace rather than a beaming grin. Your heart is fierce against your chest, and you fear in that moment he will hear it. But if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

“If I may be so bold, Your Grace, might I enquire as to why you’ve called me here?” Your voice is louder this time, but there’s a slight waver towards the end, betraying everything you feel.

He’s silent for a moment as if he’s gathering his thoughts, figuring out a way to deliver whatever is running in his mind. You nearly crack, the apology for overstepping your boundaries on the tip of your tongue when he finally speaks.

"Am I not allowed to simply get to know my subjects?" Thranduil asks, a sly smirk resting on his lips. He brings the goblet of wine to his lips, slowly sipping it. He lowers it slightly so that it rests just below his chin.

"Of course, but I suppose I'm just curious as to why you've invited me to a private meal with you. Am I correct to assume you don't do this with every one of your subjects?" you say, your eyes wide like a doe, with hands in your lap. Your fingers intertwine with each other, a way to distract you from the anxiety in you.

Thranduil continues to watch you, an unreadable expression in his ocean eyes. He inhales deeply, leaning farther back into his chair. After a few moments of silence, he opens his mouth.

“I find myself wanting to get to know you better. I find you intriguing.” Your mind turns blank, all sense and reason leaving it. For a moment you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly, not grasping that a king would be so curious about you.

“I do not understand, what about me is so interesting? We’ve only met once, hardly having a full conversation,” you say. Your voice is firmer than before, drowning with disbelief.

“Then it would seem you’ve made an impression.”

You open your mouth, and then promptly close it, not sure how to proceed. Your heart is fluttering, though due to anxiety. Not this is something… different, a type of nervousness, but not due to fear. A light feeling that also leaves you light with giddiness and not weighed down by dread.

But it can’t be.

Elves only love once. Yet the mantra you’ve repeated over and over again seems to be losing its weight, the words no longer feeling as true as before.

“Would it be alright, if I were to get to know you better, My Lady?” he asks, his voice softer than before, his fair face still neutral, yet less austere than it had been the first time you met.

Elves only love once.

And yet.

“I would like that very much, Your Grace.” Your smile widens, less unsure than before, your eyes shining like starlight. The prospect of something new is exciting yet also terrifying at the same time. You should run and hide, fiercely guarding your already fragile heart like a dragon watches over its treasure hoard.

Elves only love once. And yet.

You push aside those fears, in favor of welcoming a chance at a new beginning.

And yet.

o0o0o

Tags:

#thranduil imagine #the hobbit imagine #thranduil #the hobbit #lord of the rings #thranduil x reader #the hobbit one shot #mirkwood elves #mirkwood imagine

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Ladybug: A Young Avenger

Hey Everyone, I got prompt for a civil war ML crossover fic but I was really into Team Iron Man on Ao3 for longest of times and, after endgame, I kind of need some team fluff. So I tweaked the prompt. It’s still team Iron man; just… not the way you’d expect. (Also did anyone know else know that Penny’s last name was Rolling?)

It took Tony Stark all of five minutes to figure out Ladybug’s identity.

“Jarvis, buddy?” Tony called out.

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s up with teenagers and being bug-themed heroes wearing inappropriate costumes?”

The A.I took a moment before answering, “…I, for one, blame Vine.”

Tony sighed. First fifteen-year-old Peter Parker aka Spiderman. He took the kid on an as an intern the second he learned about Spiderman. Now fifteen-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng aka Ladybug.

He groaned.

What could he do? He needed help.

Captain America needed to be stopped. The Winter Solider needed to be taken down. Team Cap had gone too far.

It was war.

Getting Harley Keener, a mechanical mastermind to agree to be his intern was a bit like chewing nails but Tony always knew the kit would agree. Getting Peter Parker, a child genius with a bright future as a scientist, to agree to be his intern was a piece of cake. Honestly Tony could’ve asked for the kid’s soul in repayment and Peter would’ve asked if he wanted on a silver plate or if plastic was okay? Getting Riri Williams, an engineering prodigy to be his intern, was easy. Too easy; her mom practically threw her at him, all while making him swear into a recorder that he wouldn’t sue. No matter what. Introducing the kids to his labs made him feel like Willie Wonka hand-delivering the golden tickets.

They were all future scientists and engineers like Tony. They grew up worshiping at the altar of Stark Industries like ever future MIT graduate did.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, on the other hand, was an entirely different beast who played an entirely different game. She was a fashion prodigy who had designed for stars like Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. She had interned for Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois, had her clothes walk the runway during Paris fashion week, and had a summer job that somehow lasted over a year, working for Miranda Priestly, the editor-in-Chief for Runway Magazine when the scary woman took over Paris: Runaway. Said job ended when Miranda when back to New York. Marinette only prayed to the fashion gods. So when Tony Stark, god of the nerds, showed up at her door, she only blinked once.

Said girl sat between her parents, with cool blue eyes glaring at him suspiciously. Luckily Tony was smart enough to bring Pepper with him.

Pepper Potts smiled at the family in front of her; two bakers and the daughter, who made the most delicious macarons that she ever tasted. “So you see, after Tony came across Marinette’s wonderful re-design sketch of his suit on her website, he was very impressed with her talent.”

“But to take Marinette on as an intern?” Sabine asked. “Excuse me, but Marinette has always leaned towards the arts than science.”

Tony gave the woman his best charming smile, “What is science if not another form of art. We both create, strive to better our talents, work to make names for ourselves; experiment and test out hypothesizes. Granted no one in my field ever created the disaster that was crocs.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes, “Didn’t your father help on the Manhattan Project?”

Silence.

Pepper cleared on her throat. “Tom, Sabine, before anyone agrees to anything I’d like to go over safety procedures in place. Would you mind stepping outside with me, I could use a bit of fresh air.”

Tony and Marinette just stared at each other as the three left the room. When the front door closed behind them, Marinette leaned forward, “What do you want?” Her patience had reached its end.

“Aren’t you being a little rude?” Tony smirked.

“Aren’t you a little old?” Marinette snapped back. “What do you want?”

“I want Ladybug’s help.”

Marinette flinched back in shock. Her heart raced in her chest. “How do you know?”

“I’m Tony Stark,” He shrugged easily, picking up a mint chocolate Macron. “I know everything.”

Marinette fought the fear racing through her, and steeled herself like Miranda and Audrey had taught her, “So Iron Man’s wanted Ladybug as an intern? So what does Iron Man get? What does Ladybug get? What does Tony get? And what does Marinette get?”

“You made clear distinctions,” Tony said approvingly, his business-side gearing up. “But I am Iron Man.” He said. “You come to New York for this spring break and for the summer. I get Ladybug’s help in handling a personal issue that has developed within the Avengers. Ladybug gets training from the Avengers. Marinette gets to add Stark Industries and a personal letter of recommendation from Tony Stark to her resume.”

“On the condition, that identities stay secret from the media,” Marinette crossed her arms. “I don’t suppose I can hide it from the rest Avengers for very long. And I get an additional letter of recommendation from Pepper Potts. Pepper takes my friend Chloe on as an intern; she’s the hero, Queen Bee. And only one who knows my identity, besides you. Also, I actually do get to help design your next suit. My expenses?”

Tony smirk widened. The girl knew how to cover her bases. She even wanted to have an Ally with her should things take a turn. “All paid for by me. First-class all the way. You and Chloe will stay in the Stark Tower on the same floor as the other interns.”

“Other young superheroes, you mean?” Marinette guessed, causing Tony’s eyes to twinkle in joy. “Spiderman, Iron Heart, and WarIron. Based on their sizes, I had guessed they were young; teenagers probably. Why didn’t you ask Chat Noir too? Or why aren’t you? Because you’re not, you would’ve mentioned it by now?”

“You mean the Agreste kid?” Tony said, not noticing Marinette’s eyes widen in surprise. “He’s not serious enough for me. I play games but he goes too far. Surprised you haven’t dumped him yet. Get a better partner.”

Marinette took a bit of a macron to get a moment to think. Adrien was Chat Noir. In retrospect, it made a lot of sense. Both were socially immature, and a bit naïve. Each had an idealistic view of things and didn’t let the real world break them of it. For example Adrien and his dealing with Lila’s lies. Chat Noir and Ladybug turning down his advances.

“Very well,” The bluenette finally agreed. “I agree to be your intern. Shall we discuss my salary now or later? Well, need to before I or my parents sign any contracts.”

It was Tony’s turn to narrow his eyes. Not one; not a single one of his interns: Harley, Peter, or Riri ever asked about how much they’d get paid. They’d all assumed it was an unpaid internship and was surprised when their contracts included a salary. “You’re a shark.”

Marinette hummed, “You should see me when there’s blood in the water.”

That was something Tony was looking forward to seeing.

The official paperwork was signed three days later; Marinette was officially a Stark intern. Due to go to Orientation for spring break in New York in a few weeks.

Those weeks flew by. She let Fu know she’d have to go back and forth for a few weeks. She didn’t bother telling anyone else. Her friendships in the class had dwindled dramatically. While most weren’t her outright enemies, her classmates tended to avoid her. If they couldn’t do that, they were beyond cold to her. It was Lila’s doing. She got her hooks into the class, who all wanted to tie themselves to the golden goose, and when it was clear that Lila and Marinette didn’t like each other, they picked sides. They chose their meal ticket over their lifelong friend.

Honestly, it made Marinette almost wish that Lila had lied about her instead; accused her of being a bully or something. Anything. Because at least then her ex-friends would have somewhat of a reason to be ex-friends. Even if it wasn’t a very good one. Instead, they were just bad friends all on their own.

Still, Marinette didn’t mourn their loss as she sat in the back of the class with Chloe on a Sunny Tuesday morning, and they were living for New York that Friday. She had a steadily rising career in Fashion. She had worked under Miranda Priestly and Audrey. From them, she learned it was best to drop fair-weather friends and how to spot wannabes, fame-seekers, and gold-diggers from three miles away.

She was happy with Chloe as her bestie. The girl had turned a new leaf and proven her loyalty to the point where Fu made her a permanent hero. And the Blond had been ecstatic when Pepper Potts had shown up at their door. She had hugged Marinette a full five minutes for getting her the internship. All while screaming with joy.

Both girls were excited to go. Though Marinette did encounter one downside. The night before, Jagged Stone and Penny Rolling; or as Marinette deemed them #RollingStone, called her. Or rather Penny did the talking. Jagged was trying to wrestle his newest jacket away from Fang’s teeth. Penny offered Marinette a chance to spend her spring break traveling around on tour with Jagged, as his personal stylist. Marinette had no choice but to turn the job down. She loved her honorary Uncle Jagged but she already signed the contract.

That morning Lila had spun another set of lies. The first was about helping Tony Stark fix his Iron man suit when she was traveling in America. The second was about the newest song Jagged Stone wrote about her. It was exhausting to listen to but the class hung on every word.

Bustier had just finished her first lesson of the day when she invited Alya to stand up.

The glasses-wearing girl grinned at the class, “So as everyone’s aware; there’s a class pool party is this Saturday; first day of spring break, baby!” The class cheered. “Everyone who’s invited should’ve gotten their invitation. Don’t want any drama,” She cast a cold look to the two girls at the back of the class. “Invite only. So no party crashers. Marinette, Chloe what are you doing this Saturday?” Alya smirked at her call out that the two girls weren’t invited; that they were the only ones who weren’t.

As if on cue, the classroom’s door burst opened and in walked Tony Stark, followed by a very apologetic looking Pepper, “Marinette; it’s time to go! Grab Pepper’s minion and let’s go.”

There were gasps from the class. Max sat up straight. Iron Man was in front of him, in his class, this was the best day of his life.

Marinette just sighed, “Did you kick the door open, Tony?” Disapproval clear in her voice.

“…No?”

“I can’t go now!” Marinette explained. “I have class. We weren’t supposed to leave until Friday, remember.”

Tony waved her off, “Details. Spring Break starts now. Queenie, Mari; chop-chop! New York is waiting!”

Bustier decided to step in. She may not always be the best teacher but she refused to allow a strange man, even if that man was Tony Stark, to take away any of her students. “Mr. Stark, can I ask what you want Marinette and Chloe for?”

Thankfully, it was Pepper that answered as she closed back the classroom door, “They have been employed as interns for Stark Industries. They’ll be attending orientation during their spring break at Stark Tower.”

Max actually fell out of his seat. Because this couldn’t be happening. Stark industries rarely ever took high schoolers’ as interns. Tony Stark only chose the best of the best. How could Marinette land the job?

“Marinette’s my intern,” Tony grinned. “Blondie’s Pepper’s. Who else is gonna teach her how to rule the world.”

A slow smile spread across Chloe’s face, “With an iron fist.”

Tony pointed at her, “You scare me. Pepper get your intern!”

The other students were amazed. Marinette was Tony Stark’s intern. Chloe somehow got Pepper Pott's attention. What had they missed? Why didn’t Marinette tell them? How?

“That’s what we’ll be doing this Saturday, Alya,” Chloe drawled. “In New York, hanging with the Avengers.” Causing Alya to flush with anger. “We couldn’t come to your pool party even if we wanted to. Which we don’t.”

“He found my sketch of a potential Iron man suit design,” Marinette explained, continuing the story Tony had told her parents. “He loved it and offered me the job a few weeks ago.”

“Weeks?” Nino asked. “And you didn’t tell us? Dudette, not cool.”

Alix nodded, her arms crossed, “Yeah I thought we were friends!”

Marinette and Chloe just looked at them like they were stupid.

Alya put her hands on her hips, “Mr. Stark, why didn’t you ask Lila Rossi to be your intern? She helped you with your suit before. She’d be much better than Marinette!”

The girl in question face turned bright red, “This can’t be happening.” Lila muttered.

Tony looked honestly confused, “Lila? Who’s Lila? No one ever helped me with my suit except the kids I already got as interns.” He looked at Pepper. “Do I know a Lila Rossi?”

Pepper shook her head, and turned fierce eyes towards Lila, “Miss Rossi, please refrain from lying about Tony Stark and or Stark Industries. Or we will sue you on the grounds of defamation.”

Lila squeaked. Sue? She couldn’t be sued. Her mother would kill her if she got a lawsuit from Tony Stark.

It was the rest of the class’s turn to look confused.

However, before anyone could ask any follow-up questions, the classroom door burst opened again. Jagged Stone strutted in, followed by a very apologetic look Penny and happy Fang with, what looked to be, the arm of a leather jacket.

“Marinette!” Jagged yelled. “What’s this about you not coming on tour? I need my favorite stylist, love.

Marinette just sighed, “Did you kick the door open, Jagged?” Disapproval clear in her voice.

“…No?”

The bluenette just shook her head, “I have plans this Spring break. I’m sorry.”

“Plans?” Jagged whined. “What could be better spending your Spring Break with a Rock Star? You can even bring your Blonde. Penny could use an assistant!” He paused, finally noticing it wasn’t just kids. “The bloody hell is Tony Stark doing here?”

The two famous men eyed each other. The women they came with just looked so done with the world.

Tony crossed his arms, “I got custody of Marinette for Spring Break; you snooze, you lose.”

“What?!” Jagged hissed. “She’s my designer.”

“She’s my intern!”

Jagged glared, “I knew her first. By rights, I get custody.”

“I have a contract that says otherwise!” Tony taunted the Rock Star. “Her future is Stark Industries.”

“Her future is Rock and Roll!” Jagged yelled back.

Both men glared at each other.

“Pepper!”

“Penny!”

Both women groaned. How was this their lives? Why what was this their lives? What bus full of nuns and orphans did they rob in a past life?

Penny smiled, “Marinette means the world to us. I’m her honorary Aunt Penny,” She held out her hand for Pepper. “Jagged’s her honorary Uncle. We’ve known her for years. Contracts were already signed?”

Pepper nodded, “Tony doesn’t play when it comes to his interns. He won’t budge. Trust me; we’ve done this three other times. Marinette’s his kid now, all but legally.” For now, Pepper didn’t bother to add. Every now and then she found discovered a new set of adoption papers with one of the interns’ names on it; one time she found three sets for all three. Plus if Tony kept hinting any harder, May was going to gut him. “She’ll be in New York for Spring break and all of the summer.”

“Summer!” Jagged whined. “He gets custody for summer too! No!” he shook his head. “Not happening. Call our lawyers, Penny. We’re going to family court!”

Tony blew him a raspberry. Tony Stark blew Jagged Stone a raspberry. The class could only blink, trying to process what was happening.

Marinette just wanted the earth to open up and swallow her.

“Marinette already designed your clothes for the tour,” Penny tried to placate. “They’re amazing. We can call and skype if we need any additional tips. We have a concert in New York over spring break so we can go and see.” They didn’t. But Penny would be damned if she could have one booked within the hour. Anything to stop jagged from mention family court again. “Most of our summer is free too, we can visit Marinette whenever we want.”

Jagged huffed but didn’t say anything.

“Well not whenever you want,” Tony teased.

“Family court!” Jagged hissed.

“Tony!” Pepper said warningly. She was not going to let this going to court. No matter how lovely Marinette was. “Be nice.”

Tony pouted.

Marinette raised her hand, “You guys know that legally my parents still have custody of me, right?” There was no answer. “Right?!” Nothing.

The bluenette just sighed.

Alya took that moment to break in, “Jagged, don’t you want to say hi to Lila? She’s right here,” Alya pointed to her bestie. “Oh, can we listen to the songs you wrote for her? Can you tell us how she saved your cat from getting hit by a plane?”

The look Lila gave Alya could’ve killed a thousand men.

Jagged looked affronted, “Lila? Who’s Lila?” He looked at his fiancé. “Penny, do I know a Lila?”

“No!” Penny glared fiercely at Lila. “Jagged Stone has never written a song about an underage girl before. He has never owned a cat. What parents and airline would careless enough to allow a child to rush onto a runway for a pet? Refrain from spreading any further slander. Or we’ll hit you with a lawsuit so fast you’ll get whiplash.”

“I’m allergic to cats by the way,” Jagged told the class. “All fur actually. That’s why I got Fang here.” He pointed the crocodile who had made its way to Marinette for cuddles. “I’ve had him for twenty years. He’s the only pet I’ve had all that time.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and took the crocodile in her lap.

“Twenty years?” Kim’s eyebrows furrowed. “Whoa, that’s long that we’ve been alive.”

Nino glared at Lila, “Yeah it is.” He finally realized the girl was lying. Most of the class had in fact.

“Enough of this,” Tony waved. “Marinette, Chloe, time to go. Leave the dinosaur.”

Bustier took a deep breath, “No one is taking Marinette or Chloe anywhere. Until I get a note from their parents verifying that is. I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”

Penny and Pepper nodded understandingly. Jagged and Tony just looked shocked.

“But I’m Tony Stark!”

“I’m Jagged Stone, love!”

Bustier just rolled her eyes and shooed them out of her class. It took some handling, and eventually, the women had to drag the guys out. The teacher shut the door with a sigh of relief. She brushed off the imaginary dirt on her clothes. “Marinette,” She called. “If you could tell any future visitors to wait until after school to pick you up, with a note from your parents that would be most helpful.”

“Sorry,” Marinette blushed, a deep dark red.

Bustier walked back to her desk before pausing. “Is that Crocodile still in my class, Marinette?”

“…Yes.”

“I think he’s here for the rest of the day,” Chloe shrugged. “Unless you want to invite Jagged back?”

Bustier paused. No. Never again. “No. No. Fang can stay for the day.”

When the lunch bell rang, Marinette found that it was easier to avoid her classmates' questions, as they were too busy yelling at Lila. It wasn’t long after that Ladybug had to take down Lila’s seventh akuma form.

Marinette and Chloe left that night to New York. Somehow he managed to convince their parents that missing three days of school to study in the most advanced building in the world was a good thing.

When they got to Stark Tower, they were given a quick tour. Then Pepper took Chloe to show her where she would be working. And Tony took Marinette the workshop where three other kids were already working.

The oldest one glanced at her and snorted, “God he kidnapped another one.” He was the tallest in the room with dark brown hair and a smirk on his face.

The other two snickered.

Tony looked affronted, “Oh please; your parental units practically threw you at me.

The younger looking boy smirked, “Aunt May threatened to shank you next time you took me out of school early.” He had light brown hair and big brown eyes

The genius pointed, “You tell Aunt Hottie to leave me alone.”

“HI, I’m Marinette!” She waved happily. “He keeps mentioning he has custody. And I’ve become moderately concerned.”

“And you should be,” The other girl in the room laughed. She was a pretty brown-skinned girl with black wild curls. “Name’s Riri.”

“Harley,” Said the first boy who spoke.

“Peter,” The other boy introduced.

Marinette nodded and eyes them, “WarIron,” The pointed at Harley. “Iron Heart,” Then at Riri. “Spiderman, right?” She pointed at Peter.

The three looked at Tony with questions in their eyes. Tony raised in hands in surrender, “Hey, I told her nothing.”

Harley eyed the new girl, “You’re from Paris, right?” She nodded. “Ladybug, I’m guessing.” Marinette blushed. “Welcome to the Young Avengers, I guess. Why’d he bring you in?”

Marinette shrugged, “He said to there was a personal problem happening with the Avengers. He wanted my help.”

The teen froze. Peter just shook his head, “You didn’t, Tony!”

Tony looked sheepish.

“What?” Marinette asked.

Riri rolled her eyes, “That personal problem? It’s called ManHunt.”

“I’m sorry?” Marinette asked. She was going to have to hunt a man?

“It’s a game,” Harley explained. “Team Iron Man versus team Cap. One team hunts the other in a sort of hide and seek type of thing and tries to capture as many members as they can. Last time we played it, Team Cap crushed Team Iron man. It’s why Tony brought us all in. Revenge.”

Said Man didn’t look one bit ashamed, “Rules were since Thor and the Big guy are gone I can bring in whoever I want to replace them.”

Marinette tossed up her hands, “You brought me here to play a game?” Unbelievable.

“No,” Tony said. “I brought you here to take out the Winter Soldier.”

“Say what now?”

“Welcome to orientation,” Was All Tony said to her question.

The kids trained together for a week; Chloe, a girl named MJ who was Pepper’s other interns, and a boy named Ned who was a tech intern, were brought in as well. When it turned out that Kagami was in New York City for a fencing tournament. Tony was happy to bring in the scary girl as well. (And somehow get her mother to agree to let her stay for Spring Break) He made practice stealth and learn hand signals. Tony drilled them on the Team Cap’s strengths and weaknesses. They reviewed videos of previous missions until they had everyone’s fighting style memorized. Tony went over body anatomy aka where the best place to hit them was. They memorized plans and scenarios to take out each specific member of Team Cap.

The teens spent a lot of time in the lab creating gadgets to use against the Avengers. Each one straight out of a spy movie.

As far as Tony was concerned this was War. And there would be no prisoners.

Team Cap consisted of Captain America, The Winter Soldier, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch, The Falcon, Antman, along with several Shield employees which included Fury, Melinda May, and Coulson.

Team Iron man consisted of Ironman, War Machine, Vision, Maria Hill, The Wasp, Quicksilver, Daisy Johnson, and a bunch of names Stark employees: I.E the interns. (Black Panther refused to participate. Though he and sister would watch from Wakanda.)

Each team had a total of thirty players; no more, no less.

The game would take place at the compound. Anything area within the compound legal territory was free to use. The living room would be home base and were all ‘out’ people had to stay. Until they were freed. Or until every member of the hiding team was captured and then it was Game Over. Everyone could communicate with their own team using special mics; normally only taken out for missions. However, those imprisoned in the home base couldn’t communicate with their team.

On Saturday, just before sunset; the main superheroes of the avengers met up. Tony facing Steve. Rhodey glaring at Bucky. Vision versus Wanda. Hawkeye to QuickSilver. The wasp against Ant-Man and the Falcon.

Steve smiled, “Tony.”

“You ready for war, Cap?” Tony asked.

“Training exercise,” Steve corrected his husband. “I trust your team is ready.”

Tony smirked, “Oh you have no idea. Your little spies are already hiding in the shadows.”

“Like your team isn’t?”

The alarm went off.

Tony suited up, “You have 1000 seconds, Steve.” His helmet shut. “I’d get running.”

Steve rolled his eyes. His team split up, running into the growing shadows.

The game had started.

Marinette waited, hiding in the shadows on the roof. Her ladybug costume was all back with little red polka dots; mostly easy to move around body armor. This wasn’t her actually Ladybug suit; Tikki, while willing to create a new suit design, decided it wasn’t a good idea to involve magic. So Marinette designed herself a new suit, and Tony help her trick it out.

Tony had pointed out the all-good hiding spots located in the Compound. She was the overly large landing pad. She forced herself to stay completely still. Even when she saw the Falcon take flight with WarIron right on his tail.

The smallest of moments caught on the corner of her eye, the glint of metal. An arrow, she realized. She smiled. Hawkeye.

She watched the man take stock of the room, looking in every possible place a person could hide. Unfortunately for him, Marinette had a bit of luck on her side.

“All clear on the roof, Cap,” Clint said into his mic. “I’ll keep a lookout from up here.” There was silence as he listened to Cap’s orders. “Okay. Will do. Stay invisible, got it. Over and out.”

The second the conversation had ended, Marinette through a smoke bomb at his feet. Before Clint could even finish saying, “What the he-” Marinette was on the attack. Using the smoke to her advantage, she swung her yo-yo at Hawkeye’s feet. The String wrapped around his legs, tripping him. Five seconds later, Hawkeye was hogtied on the ground.

Marinette touched her mic, “Tweety Bird down. Bringing him to home base now!”

“Copy that, Ladybug,” Tony said. “Be careful.”

Clint looked up at his assailant; expecting to see Tony or the Wasp, any avenger. Instead what he saw, was a teen girl with a scary blue-eyed glare on his face, “Who are you?”

Marinette leaned down, “Your reckoning.” She hissed.

“What the fuck!” He said as he was thrown over the girl’s shoulder and carried to home base.

When Marinette got to home base, she saw Harley putting a rather put out Falcon on the ground, Spiderman with five webbed up shield agents, Chloe had brought in two, Kagami and Riri brought in six. MJ and Ned both brought in one random shield agent. Marinette tossed Hawkeye on the couch.

It had been twenty minutes, Clint knew by the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes since sunset and the game had started. And they had already lost just over half their team to a bunch of teenagers.

Clint couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had Tony unleashed on them.

“Foghorn Leghorn secure,” Harley said into his mic. “Tweety in his cage. The shadows are all accounted for.”

“I’m Tweety,” Clint told Sam.

Sam paused. “…Am I Foghorn Leghorn?”

“Wasp and Vision on their way with The Blue Fairy,” Tony’s voice rang their ears. “They’ll play guard dog. QuickSilver is down; Miss Tuffit got him. Seven minions gone; Captain Hook and his jolly crew got them. Over and out.”

“Queen Bee, MJ, guard the Home base until they get here,” Harley ordered. “Guy in the chair, Mj, back on monitor duty. Fulfill mission Top hat ASAP.” They nodded and left the room.

Top hat was important. The two were trying to hack into Team Cap’s communications, once they did; it was game over.

“The rest of you complete the assignment,” He told them.

Then all split up again. Vision and Wasp arrived with Scarlet witch just as they were leaving. All three avengers gave the kids confused looks as they left.

It would take Marinette another hour before she came across another member of Team Cap. And she didn’t so much as come across, as she did respond to Peter’s cry for help.

“Captain Sparkles!” Peter yelled in their earpiece. “Training yard. I’m trying to hold hi-No I won’t give you back your shield! Hurry! Over!”

“I’m around the corner,” Marinette hissed into the mic as she ran for the yard. When she arrived it was just in time to catch the shield that was flying at her face.

She held the shield tightly in her hand, feeling like Wonder Woman, as she stared down Captain America.

Steve looked at the young girl who had joined the fight, “My shield, miss?” He was aware that Spiderman had landed behind him.

Marinette smiled sweet. Then she launched the shield at him with such brute force, he was lifted off his feet. “The Name’s Ladybug.”

Steve didn’t catch the shield in time and it bounced back to Spiderman.

Captain America glared at the two teenagers.

Then the fight was on.

Spiderman hits Steve with his shield, distracting him. The shield falling to the ground. Ladybug barges Captain America backwards. Steve shoulders her to the floor. Marinette lands on the ground; pain flaring across her shoulder. Spiderman punches Steve who just lifts him and slams him against the ground. Spiderman raises a fist but Steve twists it. A web shoots out of his hand, the sound of a small explosion fills the training yard.

Marinette takes the distraction to trip Captain America and jump up. As Steve falls to the ground, Marinette uses the electro-shooters that Riri made and shocks the dear life out of him. It wasn’t enough to bring him down but then Peter added in his own shocking web-shooters.

Yet Steve still looked ready for another round of their fight. Marinette quickly picked up the shield and slammed it across his head. Steve Rogers fell forward in a slump.

Spiderman webbed up with quick-drying cement.

Both teens breathed heavily; struggling to catch their breath, tense from the fight. Marinette could even find it in herself to unclench the shield.

“Captain Sparkles is down, over,” Marinette said into the Mic.

“We’re bringing him in, over,” Spiderman added.

There was a moment of silence.

“…What the fuck?” They heard War Machine say.

When Marinette walked in with the shield in one hand and helping Spiderman carry Cap with the other, the avengers present quietly lost their shit. Kagami nodded, where she stood over Fury who looked more pissed than ever before in his entire life. Chloe stood over Coulson, who just looked put out. MJ and Ned looked overly pleased. Their mission had been a success but it only lasted long enough to get Fury and Coulson. After that, Team Cap was smart enough to ditch the communications, figuring something was up.

“Who’s left?” Spiderman asked in the Mic. “Over.”

“Stoneheart,” Kagami answered bitterly, referring to Melinda May, into the Mic so the team could hear them. “She took out Daisy and got away. Hill is after her now.”

“Jon Snow and Miss Tuffit,” Chloe said referring to the Winter Soldier and Black Widow. “Iron Man and WarIron are after Small fry. War Machine has eyes on Miss Tuffet.”

“I’m closing in on Miss Tuffit, over.” War Machine said.

Marinette looked at her team, pressing on her mic, “Guy in Chair, Mj, I want you on Stoneheart’s tail. Spiderman go be back up for the War Machine. Iron Heart, meet me on the Location 12. Over.”

“What are you going to do, over?” Harley asked.

Marinette clenched the shield in her hands, “I’m going to go tell Jon Snow that Winter Is Over. Queen and Dragon with me. Over.”

The battle with the Winter Soldier was epic. The showdown happened in the gym. It turned out they weren’t hunting for the Winter Soldier, the Winter soldier was hunting for them. The second they walked into the gym, the doors closed behind them.

Bucky jumped down from the rafters. He stared at the girls. He had seen them fight. None of them fought with any ounce mercy but plenty of skill. But they were clearly just kids. Just Dames in over their heads. He’d go easy on them. “Shall we, Ladies?”

Ladybug, Queen Bee, Iron Heart, and Dragon shared a look before giggling.

The Winter Soldier only just barely stood a chance.

The girls laid Bucky gently on the floor on home base. He grunted and glared at them.

A few minutes later, Tony and Rhodey walked in with the Black Widow. The last of Team Cap.

Tony smirked, “Game over.”

Rhodey shook his head, “Record time; two hours and four-two minutes. Beats the last one by about seven hours and sixteen minutes.”

Then they debriefed. Video of the fights and footage was seemed was shown so everyone could see where they could improve. The image of tiny Ladybug clocking Captain America in their head with his own shield was rewinded and watched seven times.

Tony fell over laughing, “I’m putting on Youtube!”

“I will divorce you!” Steve snapped but couldn’t fight the smile on his face.

Once The random agents of shield and Stark industries left, Steve glared at Tony. His team had gotten demolished. In record time. “You brought in outside heroes, that’s not fair.”

“No,” Tony laughed. “I brought employees of Stark Industries as agreed upon. Everyone meet WarIron,” Harley lowered his helmet. “Iron Heart,” Riri lowered his, “You know Spiderman already,” Peter took of his mask and waved. “MJ, and Ned” Both teens nodded. “Ladybug,” Marinette took off her mask. “Queen Bee,” Chloe glared as she removed hers. “Dragon!” Kagami took off her black mask. “The interns. Otherwise known as the Young Avengers.”

“Oh, fuck you too Stark,” Clint complained. “Did you see what they did to poor Bucky. He’s the deadliest assassin in history, and I felt they went a little rough.”

Bucky nodded with a wince, “Can I have my arm back.”

Steve looked at the bluenette still holding his shield, with a charming smile.

Kagami glared. She held the metal arm like trophy. “Spoils of War.”

Marinette giggled.

Being a intern was going to be fun.

#ml fic #ml salt #adrien salt #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #Avengers #stony #tony stark #team iron man #peter parker

4K notes · View notes

caiminnent · 3 years

Text

and you said, kiss me [kylux, rated M]

PROMPT(S): First Kiss (@kyluxpositivity, Day #: Past Prompts Revisited) & Surprise "Kiss a Ginger Day" Kiss (from YearofKylux on Twitter)

SUMMARY: The Master of the Knights of Ren shifts on his feet like a cadet. “I brought you a gift,” he says lowly, through a strange static. “One best enjoyed in private.”

Hux’s brain stutters.

“It’s food,” Ren elaborates before Hux’s overtaxed mind can conjure up any embarrassing ideas—around a mind-reader, no less. “Messy to eat. You would appreciate the ease of cleaning.”

Or: Ren returns from Gelda with a honeyfruit for Hux. Things get out of hand.

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Kiss a Ginger Day, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Hand Feeding, Insecurity, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Kylo Ren in Love, Love Confessions, If You Squint - Freeform

Photo by Alice Pasqual on Unsplash

3.5K || ALSO ON AO3

One last meeting and Hux can finally retire for the day.

With three dozen floors between him and Conference Room 11-E, he strides past the stairs without a glance, skimming the meeting objectives on his datapad on the way to the turbolifts. They will never cover all of these—not in the time they set. Sniping at each other and bickering make up half of every High Command meeting; they’ll be lucky to touch upon the important matters within the first hour.

How tragic, that the people tasked with deciding how to spend the First Order funds can’t even make effective use of two hours.

The turbolift finally stops on his floor. Hux puts his datapad away as the doors slide open, revealing only Ren inside.

Hux’s foolish heart soars. When the notification of Ren’s arrival wasn’t followed by a summons from Snoke, Hux assumed he would see Ren once—more likely, if—Ren deigned to write and drop off his mission report. After several weeks without even a status update, he will take thirty seconds in a turbolift.

“General Hux,” Ren says as Hux enters, dipping his head.

The button for the officers’ deck is lit. Hitting the one below it for level 47, “Ren,” Hux greets back. A fresh, light smell that reminds him of a forest hits him in the next breath. Odd. He’s more used to smelling ash and ozone on Ren after a mission. “I see you’ve returned.”

“Try not to sound so disappointed, General.”

The corners of Hux’s lips twitch, an errant smile quickly suppressed. “These missions of yours mean more work for me. How many of my troopers did you lose this time?”

“None.”

“Truly?” That must be a first.

“Yes,” Ren says, pride booming in his voice even through the vocoder. “The inhabitants responded favourably to a show of the Force. Your exceptionally trained men scarcely needed to fire a blaster bolt.” Arse. “The rest was ensuring a smooth transition of power.”

A smooth transition of power. Since when does Ren care about keeping things diplomatic and orderly when he could slaughter his way through a mission and call it done? Who is this man and what did he do with Hux’s co-commander?

Not that Hux is complaining. Any cause that means Ren will stop using his troopers as cannon fodder is good in his book.

In the small screen above the buttons, 45 flashes, switching to 46. “Well done, Ren,” Hux says with a nod as the turbolift slows around them. Ren straightens to his full height. “I’ll look forward to your report.”

Level 47 is a maze of offices and meeting rooms lined around endless corridors, which are empty enough this time of the day. The walk to 11-E stretches in Hux’s mind’s eye as he steps out of the ‘lift. Part of him wishes for Ren to accompany him to the meeting, to remain a solid presence by his side while Hux endures yet another bout of pointed looks and snide comments that all say he wouldn’t have been here if he weren’t Brendol’s son.

“I could brief you in your quarters,” Ren calls out after him.

His heart skipping a beat, Hux pauses mid-stride, glancing at Ren over his shoulder. Ren is keeping the doors open with a hand on the frame, one foot in the corridor. What Hux wouldn’t give to read his bare face right now.

“My quarters?” Hux asks carefully. In all their years of sharing the command, they’ve never done something so personal as to visit each other in their chambers. Does Ren even know in which section Hux resides?

The Master of the Knights of Ren shifts on his feet like a cadet. “I brought you a gift,” he says lowly, through a strange static. “One best enjoyed in private.”

Hux’s brain stutters.

“It’s food,” Ren elaborates before Hux’s overtaxed mind can conjure up any embarrassing ideas—around a mind-reader, no less. “Messy to eat. You would appreciate the ease of cleaning.”

Perhaps Ren has been replaced on Gelda after all. The idea doesn’t sound more far-fetched than Kylo kriffing Ren bringing Hux gifts and considering his comfort.

“Very well,” Hux’s mouth says with little input from his brain. “2100 hours. Don’t be late.”

-----------------

The meeting drags on.

Sixty-five minutes in, Hux caves and lets his attention wander. He’d calculated half the figures Lieutenant Mitaka is delivering anyway; he’s sitting at this table more out of duty than necessity—not to mention, to keep the High Command somewhat civil as they, quite inevitably, gripe about Starkiller Base. Simple-minded fools. Two more years—he will show the lot of them what his pet project can do.

As Captain Canady starts his own tirade about how strategically unsound putting such a sizeable portion of their resources into a single project is, Hux pulls up information about Gelda on his datapad. A tiny, nondescript system of no import besides falling on a trade route. Two high-ranking officers accompanied by three squads of Stormtroopers would have accomplished the same goal, freeing Ren up for matters which actually require his… unique skill set.

If only Canady knew how strategically unsound Leader Snoke’s missions can be.

Scrolling down, he reaches the Culture section—only to find it empty. Kriff. For the son of a kitchen woman, he’s woefully uncultured about galactic cuisine, much less that of a castoff planet in the Outer Rim. Although he doesn’t expect Ren to show up with a seven-course meal, the idea of being unprepared for the visit—which certainly isn’t a date, even if it carries the characteristics of one—leaves Hux cold.

It’s going to be all right. He’s survived countless diplomatic dinners at his father’s side, smiling politely as his throat swelled and the contents of his stomach threatened to rise; he can handle whatever Ren might bring.

-----------------

He makes it to his chambers with six minutes to spare. So much for changing into something casual and presentable before Ren comes.

Not that he’s sure he owns such an outfit to begin with. His few sets of civilian clothes were picked more for practicality than appearance. Although that green pullover and the dark pair of trousers that Phasma had wolf-whistled at should still be somewhere in his dresser, Hux doesn’t have time left to check thanks to Admiral Brooks’ desperate need to be the loudest person in every room.

Kriffing nothing goes according to plan today.

Exasperation pulling at his chest, he leans against the door and closes his eyes. There’s still time to salvage the situation. He’s lost his composure about this… private meeting; it’s his failing to face in due time. For now, he needs to make sure Ren won’t find out about the tizzy Hux worked himself into.

Taking a deep breath to ground himself, Hux pushes off the cold durasteel and goes about setting the stage. His greatcoat carefully draped over the coat hanger. His gloves carelessly thrown over the side table. While the water heater works, he unfastens the top handful of the hidden latches on his jacket and artfully dishevels his hair in the mirror. When the access panel chimes with a request for entry, everything around him communicates high-ranking officer unwinding in private after a long day.

As he opens the door, he can only hope it’s good enough to fool a mind-reader.

The ever-present helmet and gloves aside, Ren certainly pulled off casually presentable. Instead of his regular rags, he’s put on a shirt that outlines his form nicely and leggings, holding a bundle that’s tied off with an orange ribbon on one hand.

Relief courses through Hux at the sight. The fabric most likely holds a small fruit or vegetable. Unless Ren picked the weirdest harvest available to bring back, this should go without an issue.

Hux welcomes him, stepping aside to let him pass. Before closing the door, he checks for unwanted eyes in the hallway. All quiet, thankfully. An underdressed Commander Ren paying an after-hours visit to General Hux’s private rooms—Hux couldn’t hope to snuff out the rumours.

Ren is standing awkwardly in the middle of the living area, his free hand clenching and unclenching at his side. Gesturing at the sofa, “I was about to make caf,” Hux says. The water heater clicks off right then, as if backing him up. “Would you like some? I’ve only got the instant kind, but it works in a pinch.”

“Sure,” Ren says.

Hux doesn’t have a clue how Ren takes his caf, which matters little as he doesn’t keep milk or sugar in his kitchenette anyway. Palming two coasters, he brings the mugs to the living area. Ren, for his part, already made himself comfortable: unmasked, leaning against an armrest with an arm over the back of the sofa and a leg folded under himself. As if he belongsthere.

Hux knows, with the same certainty as the Starkiller’s future success, that he will make an arse of himself in front of Ren before the evening is out.

Talking about a planetary takeover with warm beverage in their hands and Ren’s gift on the table feels wrong somehow. Mirroring Ren’s position at the other end of the small sofa, Hux catches him up on what little happened in his absence instead. Shitting on the High Command and incompetent officers—which overlap—is always an entertaining pastime, and they do so unabashedly until the caf is gone and the conversation comes to a comfortable lull.

He waits for Ren to mention the gift first. Ren came here for a reason; now would be the perfect time to bring it up. Ren, however, is more interested in his own hands on his lap.

Hux suppresses a sigh. He’s got to do everything himself, as usual. “You mentioned a gift,” he says, tilting his head at it. “Am I to receive it before it spoils—or is it merely decorative?”

Face lighting up, Ren nearly knocks over Hux’s mug on the table in his haste to get to the bundle.

“There you go,” Ren says, offering it on two palms. It looks bigger in Hux’s hand; not big, but not as bite-sized, either. The binding unravels at the gentlest tug, the fabric falling away to reveal a round, orange fruit barely held within its tight skin, so bright it looks dangerous.

“I hope this isn’t an attempt to poison me in private,” Hux says, only half-jesting. He likes to think they are past the bitter rivals stage by now, but one never knows with Ren and his infamous mood swings. “That would make a poor end for our pleasant evening.”

Ren chuckles. Will wonders never cease? “Rest assured, General, I wouldn’t have resorted to poison if I wanted you gone.” He extends a hand for the fruit. “Here. I’ll help you with it.”

“I hardly need instructions on eating,” Hux points out, rolling his eyes. His curiosity is piqued enough to hand it over, though. Surely Ren doesn’t plan to play any Force tricks on it?

Appears not. Ren produces a pocket-knife like a regular person, flicking it open as he turns the fruit in his other hand. The skin parts easily under the sharp blade, a clear, glittery liquid oozing out of the thin cut and onto Ren’s gloves.

Ignoring the ruined leather, Ren cuts out a slice, offering it to Hux between the blade and his thumb. Hux reaches for it—Ren pulls it away, looking at him with open disapproval.

Hux pins him with a look of his own. “You can’t expect me to literally eat out of your hand, Ren.”

Ren gives the fruit a pointed squeeze. More liquid leaks out, dripping down the side of his hand. “Would you rather dirty your uniform?” he asks, catching a drop with the back of his other hand before it can fall on the sofa.

Absolutely not. The idea of dripping food all over himself with Ren watching turns his stomach. Still, letting Ren feed him feels shameful—in a thrilling sort of way, which only adds to the embarrassment. Tell-tale warmth has already spread across his neck, crawling up to his ears.

Ren extends the offering again, uncharacteristically patient. That alone should be suspicious where Ren is concerned. Nothing in his bare face hints at deceit, though; if anything, Hux reads nerves in the line of Ren’s shoulders, his sharp gaze walking the line between anticipation and trepidation.

Steeling himself for Ren pulling the fruit away at the last moment or mocking him for his eagerness, Hux leans forward, taking it with his teeth.

The fruit is predictably sweet, leaving a line of juice over his mouth as he sucks it in. Its flesh practically melts into a thick nectar on his tongue. Although he doesn’t normally prefer his food soft—if he can’t bite down on it, it’s not worth eating—he would gladly make an exception for this.

Resisting the urge to lick his lips, “What is this?” Hux asks. It reminds him of the birthday cake his officers tried to surprise him with once, creamy with a surprisingly dark aftertaste.

“Geldan honeyfruit,” Ren says. “It’s a rare harvest—takes nearly four standard years to grow. We were lucky to come across it.”

“And your infamous sweet tooth couldn’t resist it,” Hux throws back, mostly to see Ren pout.

Ren smiles instead, an unfairly appealing curl of lips. Curse him for making Hux feel like a cadet instead. “I don’t hear you complaining, General,” he points out. “Would you like more?”

Unwilling to seem too eager, Hux makes a noncommittal hum. Ren’s smile grows.

“On Gelda, honeyfruit is worth its weight in gold,” Ren says as he feeds Hux piece by piece, his naked voice washing over Hux. Hux keeps expecting the next piece to be one too many, for the light tingle over his skin to become overwhelming, for his pride to finally rear its head. “Their entire culture is based around it. The food. The folk tales and remedies. The calendar. Hell, if I don’t see another wedding in a forest for as long as I live, it will be too early.”

Ren places the last bite in Hux’s mouth with his fingers—that newfound, desperate part of Hux longs to chase after them, to lick Ren’s shining gloves clean.

What the everliving fuckis wrong with him?

Putting the knife aside, Ren strips his dirty gloves from the wrists up, rolling them inside out. Hux does not watch the obscenely slow reveal of skin. “And it might be just a superstition,” Ren adds, throwing the gloves next to Hux’s own pair on the table. “But Geldans strongly believe that not sharing a honeyfruit brings bad luck until the next season.”

The food sits heavy in the pit of Hux’s stomach.

Irritation rises in him, that pleasant stirring deep in his belly giving way to churning agitation in a heartbeat. Of course there was a punchline to this whole evening. “Ren, you kriffing—”

Ren slowly, purposefully, slides closer until his knees bracket Hux’s, a new weight to his dark gaze as he leans in. “Hux,” he mumbles, glancing at Hux’s mouth before meeting his eyes again. Hux feels a new tension coil between them, the air getting harder to breathe in. “May I have a taste?”

Words stuck in his dry throat, Hux nods.

The kiss is little more than a brush of skin, followed by a firmer peck on his lips. His lips stick to Ren’s as they part. Ren huffs out a low laugh before catching Hux’s bottom lip, sucking it between his own.

Hux flounders. There’s no kind way to describe it. He’s got a general idea what he should and shouldn’t be doing with his mouth, but reading up on the technicalities hadn’t prepared him for the kisses Ren peppers on and around his lips like straying too far would hurt him, mixing it up with the occasional nip. It definitely didn’t prepare him for the way Ren angles Hux’s face to his liking, parts his lips with a gentle tug and kisses him like he wants the air in Hux’s lungs.

The honeyfruit still coating Hux’s tongue is too thick to taste Ren through no matter how hard he tries. Inhaling sharply through his nose, Hux buries a hand in Ren’s hair—soft, how is it so soft—and slides the other underneath Ren’s shirt, just high enough to rest a thumb over the burning skin. Ren makes a sound low in his throat, palming Hux’s thigh and moving higher with that same, purposeful drag.

Stars. Stars, what are they doing?

Lightheaded, Hux pulls away, putting a hand on Ren’s chest to keep him from following. Ren stops without protest, sitting back far enough that they aren’t touching anymore and not an inch further.

“Is everything okay?” Ren asks, similarly winded. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his own spread thighs, his back a rigid line.

Hux nods again, focused on keeping his breathing regular and getting his heartrate back to normal. Some deep kisses, barely any contact and his body buzzes with want anyway, long starved for touch. He would have been ashamed of his enthusiasm, had Ren not been in the same state.

Once he can find his words, “That was… rather unexpected,” he says. Ren’s face falls. “I don’t mean unwelcome,” Hux amends, keeping his tone gentle. “I merely wonder, what brought this on?” Why now, after years of not even hinting at this sort of interest?

Ren runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “Are you familiar with Kiss a Ginger Day, General?”

Hux might as well have jumped into ice water for how effectively his leftover desire is doused.

Right. Right, it was today, wasn’t it. He hasn’t dealt with lewd remarks since he became a captain, long enough that he stopped dreading the date. How foolish of him to let his guard down. Of course Ren, the only one high enough in rank to dare, wouldn’t miss the chance to make a practical joke out of it.

The taste in his mouth turning bitter, “Leave,” he hisses.

Ren frowns, his expression caught between hurt and confusion. “General,” he says. “Hux. I didn’t mean to offend you, I was—”

“Let me guess,” Hux bites out. “You were trying to flirt with me.” It’s always one or the other. Does Ren think himself so clever, putting two and two together? Does he believe he’s the first person to make the connection?

A younger, softer Hux may have found the attempt endearing. Present-day Hux has been relocating obnoxious officers for calling him General Ginger behind his back since the effective day of his promotion. The attention stopped feeling flattering long ago.

“No. I mean, yes, I was trying to flirt, but your hair colour was irrelevant. Mostly.” Ren licks his lips. “Let me explain?”

Wasn’t that what Ren was trying to do? “You’ve got two minutes.”

Ren runs his fingers through his hair and grips it at the base, tightly enough that it must hurt. “I found out about this day last year,” he starts, the words practically tumbling out of his mouth. “Four days after the date. That was also the day where I realised, um. That I had feelings for you.” Breath catches in Hux’s lungs, his stupid heart quickening. “So I suppose I took it as, a sign? That I should do something about it. I swore to myself that I would, by that day next year.” He shrugs, stiff and jerky. “A year went by fast.”

A—small but loud—part of Hux can’t shake off the thought that Ren is having him on, that any minute now Ren will laugh at him for being foolish enough to think he might have any interest in Hux. The rest of him is captivated by the blush high on Ren’s cheeks, the way Ren keeps licking and sucking in his kiss-reddened lips.

“I didn’t come here expecting to kiss you, Hux. The fruit was just an excuse to be alone with you. If you regret it—” Ren takes a shuddering breath, gazing at Hux imploringly. No one deserves such earnest eyes. That’s simply unfair. “If that’s what you want, we can pretend it didn’t happen. It’s okay. Just don’t hate me for it.”

Hux’s heart clenches at the thought. “That’s not what I want,” he confesses, the words coming easier than he would’ve expected. He feels emboldened in the face of Ren’s evident uncertainty, of the hesitation colouring his words. “I want it to have happened—as long as this means it can happen again.”

“It can,” Ren says, a smile blossoming on his lips. Hux is quickly growing addicted to the sight of it. “Whenever you want. As many times as you want. And, um.” His smile turns wicked, a new glint in his eyes. “The honeyfruit. I brought back a small crate of it, if you wanted to try the other thing again, too.”

A small case, stars. Hux had never appreciated the man’s greedy nature until now. He will have to make sure they properly preserve it; four standard years is a long time. “You’re a menace, Kylo Ren.”

“That’s how you like me,” Ren says, a question lingering in his tone.

“Yes,” Hux admits. “Yes, I do.”

#kylux positivity week #kylux #Kylo Ren #Armitage Hux #Star Wars #Cai does words #finished fics #long post #Kiss a Ginger Day #and you said kiss me #I can't believe I finally finished this

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Study Buddies ~ H.D.

A/n: Yall really be liking Hamish huh? Lol we stan tbh.

Request: “Hi could I request a hamish duke x male reader where the reader is like the super studious person like always preparing for the next test or something and hamish starts liking him? Ps you are like the only person who does the order fics and I love that you do it because I love the order boys!!” by anonymous

Word Count: 3000+

Masterlist

Psychology was hard.

School was never one of those things that came easy to Y/n. He wasn't one of those kids who could sit there and give the bare minimum effort. He struggled to follow throughout an entire lecture because the sun was bright and the grass was really green and he knew it was a nice day outside today and... wait now he'd missed five minutes of class, dang it!

In college, five minutes was like missing three days of school. The topic was suddenly completely different and Y/n was lost and confused.

That didn't stop him from being a top student in each one of his classes though. He had always been proud of his grades and worked himself near death if necessary, if it meant getting an A. Not literally near death of course, that was dramatic.

Y/n had taught himself time management at a very young age. It had been the key to his success ever since. He slept and ate food - three meals a day - and even kept a job, taking every free moment he had to study his ass off so that he knew what was going on and could deliver the proof with those beautiful red A's on the top of each of his papers.

Y/n really did study so much to get those results though. On his breaks at work, between classes, before and after school, during meals and off periods. He even quizzed himself in the bathroom and the shower, checking to make sure he'd gotten it right when he got out. It was hard and tiring, but it meant that he succeeded every time, and that's what was important.

He was a good student. His psychology teacher's TA, Hamish Duke, was very appreciative of it.

Hamish was around a lot more than the teacher was. He taught lectures and even graded papers. This class had long since been seen as Hamish’s class, and that was perhaps why it was so easy for him to slip every conversation into the direction of Y/n. Hamish was proud of all his students, but most often his star pupil.

Hamish talked about Y/n constantly. Or, more accurately, his grades. Like a proud parent showing off his child, Hamish filled his friends' ears with rant after rant about his favorite student. The only student that seemed genuinely knowledgeable about the material. The only student as well who turned in his stuff early and asked questions rather than just listening, and seemed dedicated and focused on everything, as Hamish said.

One day during one of these rants, Lilith said something that changed everything. "He likes you."

Hamish jerked back, his face twisting in disbelief. "What? No he doesn't."

Randall snorted. "No, I have to go with Lilith on this one, Hamish. I have math class with Y/n and he doesn't pay attention at all. He's just a super nerd and teaches the stuff to himself in his free time."

"Some boy doesn't pay attention in any class but Hamish's?" Jack laughed. "Dude so has a crush on you."

Rolling his eyes, Hamish stood. "You guys obviously have no sense of respect. Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to- I already knew that." The trio laughed as Hamish walked away.

After that though, Hamish became hyper aware of Y/n. The boy had his eyes on Hamish nonstop. Every once in a while, he'd even mutter under his breath as he'd watch and Hamish realized after a while that he was watching so closely, he was subconsciously mouthing along with Hamish. Probably because he read the book on his own time as well. Which made Hamish wonder why Y/n ever came to class. If he read the book, was he just... adding some context? Insight? So he asked Randall about it.

"Y/n only comes to class about half the time. The entire time he asks questions, but it's never about what's happened in previous classes or anything- just clarification about what we're learning now. I think he's got some theories? I don't know, he likes to test the water and push formulas. Our teacher actually gets a kick off of it. Y/n makes math fun, and... well, it's math. We all get happy when he's there."

So he might have stayed consistent with his insatiable need to deeply understand everything he took part in, but there was something different about Randall's experience from Hamish's. First of all, Y/n had never missed even a single one of Hamish's classes. Hamish knew because he had a perfect attendance record, and Hamish and the teacher - Ms. Merrill - talked about Y/n around their discussion on the newest lesson plan, batch of tests or even homework.

While Hamish was trying to ignore the thought of Y/n's possible feelings for him and teach a lesson instead, Y/n threw him off by approaching him after class. "Mr. Duke, I was wondering if you know any good tutors. I've been really struggling with the stuff we've been going over recently.

Hamish quirked an eyebrow. "Your grades are almost perfect."

There was a small smile on Y/n's lips when he spoke next. "Unfortunately, grades don't reflect understanding. I can sense myself starting to struggle I don't want to depend on luck being as good to me as it has been."

"Surely you're being modest."

A light chuckle. "Well, yes. I never depend on luck. I have been making educated guesses though and crossing my fingers on the rest."

That Hamish could relate to. "I see. I have to say, I don't really know anyone doing as well in my class as you are. No one who seems to be getting it as well as you do at least. It's mostly your questions that seem to clear up a lot of things for everyone else." Y/n seemed to lose hope as Hamish spoke. Maybe it was the look of panic that caused Hamish to speak next. "Uh, maybe I could." Y/n's eyes widened. "I just- I mean, obviously I understand it a little better. And in a one-on-one setting, it'll be less a lecture and more teaching since I'll be able to take you through my understanding on a deeper level."

"You'd do that?" Y/n looked so hopeful...

Despite the little voice screaming at Hamish to run, he couldn't bring himself to. "Yeah. When are you free?"

"I work everyday except Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday. Wednesdays I have completely free but if you wanted to work around Tuesday or Saturday that would be fine." Y/n pulled out a pen from behind his ear. Hamish hadn't noticed it before.

Hamish shuffled. He felt awkward for some reason. Why did he feel awkward? "Wednesdays will be perfectly fine for me. Should I get your number so we can decide what time and place?" Y/n nodded before holding out the pen and offering... his arm. "You don't have paper?"

Y/n rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond not mocking. "I really have to get to work actually. Could you just-?" He motioned to his arm and Hamish shrugged before trying to be delicate as he inked his number on the inside of Y/n's arm. "Thanks! I'll call you." He turned and moved quite quickly out of the room before disappearing out the doors. It was only after Y/n was gone that Hamish realized he still had the pen.

It was fine, he could give it back when they met up to study later.

Later on in the day, Hamish was still struggling to understand why he was so excited for the Wednesday study session. I mean Y/n seemed really cool so maybe Hamish just wanted to be friends with him. That made sense. But right as Hamish thought he was finally over it, it popped back in his brain again and he felt weirdly jittery and unfocused. He kept having to reread the problem he was on because he would get distracted before he could answer it then forget what it was when he finally focused again.

Lilith snapped her book open. "Okay, what's your deal?" The other two boys looked over. Hamish was surprised when he went to look at who she'd snapped at and had seen them all looking at him. When he only looked back confused, Lilith rolled her eyes. "Come on Hamish spill the beans. You won't sit still and you keep looking outside like you're waiting for a package to arrive or something."

"The last time he got like that was when you took him online shopping and he bought a grey v-neck. He threw a party when it came." The tease came from Randall.

"The he cried when you threw up on it," Lilith recalled.

"He CRIED?" Jack's eyes widened in amusement.

"It made my eyes look really good and that stain never came out!" Hamish exclaimed, defending himself.

Lilith shut up the others as they began to laugh. "Anyway, what has you all messed up now?”

Hamish scoffed. "Nothing could be as cool as a gray v-neck. You still owe me a replacement by the way," he shot at Randall, who winked and grinned in response.

"Hamish," Lilith snapped.

Pursing his lips, Hamish hesitated. Then he sighed. "There's only one thing I've got planned and it's not a big deal." Everyone leaned forward. When he didn't explain Randall motioned him to continue. Hamish rolled his eyes. "Y/n asked for some help-"

"You have a date with Y/n?" Jack demanded, his grin already face splitting.

"It's not a date!" Hamish slammed his own book shut. "He just needs someone to study with. He seems to be struggling."

Randall snorted, wiggling his eyebrows. "Probably because he's so distracted by Mr. Teacher."

Lilith nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a study date to me."

Waving his hand to dismiss what they were saying, Hamish stood and moved to the bar. Maybe if he drank something he could make sense of the chaos. Both of his friends and the one that was made up of his emotions. He usually handled both plenty well but they seemed to be refusing to make sense today. "You guys are idiots."

Idiots or not, their words followed Hamish all the way to Wednesday. He and Y/n only texted once to establish the time and place and it was just as professional as their conversation in person had been, but that didn't stop Hamish's mind from going wild. For the first time since Cassie he felt... stupid. He didn't know what to do or say. He found himself wanting to text Y/n more, but couldn't find a reason to. Why was this messing him up so much?

Panicked, Hamish pulled Randall aside at the last second. "I am freaking out."

"Your thing with Y/n today?" Randall asked. Hamish just wordlessly nodded. Randall smiled. "You like him, don't you?" Hamish was stubborn, but he wasn't dumb. He closed his eyes, groaning. "You have for a while?" Randall continued. "Like even before we said anything."

Hamish thought about that for a second. He thought about Ms. Merrill teasing him about how much he talked about Y/n. How she would hand him all Y/n's papers and tests to grade. He thought about the smiles on people's faces when he mentioned Y/n at all. He thought of the warmth in his gut he'd passed off as pride this whole time but, on a second look, was obviously something more. "Yeah." He frowned as he focused on Randall again. "Why did it take me so long to realize?"

Randall smiled. "You're stubborn. Once you've set your mind it'll never be changed. Whatever it was - whether you mislabeled the emotion, or the relationship between you guys, or even you or Y/n as people. Once you labeled it, you weren't going to be swayed until someone forced you to."

"Thank you Lilith," Hamish mumbled, feigning bitterness. Randall laughed. After a second, Hamish asked, "What now?"

Clapping Hamish on the shoulder, Randall let out a heavy sigh. "Now you go to this study date and you woo the boy. Duh."

So that's what Hamish did. He met up with Y/n and recognized the swell in his chest when he saw him. The way his stomach twisted. Now that he knew what it was, he was nervous rather than excited. Why was it suddenly so hard to talk to someone once you liked them?

They were already acquainted. Y/n had seen Hamish in all kinds of conditions, if not all but his worst. They knew plenty about each other, if just in passing. They'd talked plenty of times. They'd even been alone a few times, in a setting just like this. Y/n had been there when Hamish had been a disaster while trying to adjust to fully teaching a class instead of just doing grunt work. He'd helped Hamish out even, instead of teasing him or messing with him like the others students tried to do. What did Hamish have to be afraid of? Y/n trusted Hamish with his grades and education, and that seemed to mean a lot to him. Hamish trusted Y/n too. To tell the truth. To guide and help when he was struggling, and to liven things up when it got boring. It shouldn't have been hard to just talk to him.

And yet.

Y/n placed a hand on Hamish's arm. "Hey, are you okay? You seem upset." Hamish looked at him and realized how close together they were. Not too close, like friends, but far closer than they'd ever been before.

He didn't know what possessed him. It would have been better to break the ice. Maybe bring it up casually and talk about it. Flirt or tease. Anything to transition or something. Hamish skipped all of that. In his little moment of panic, he just leaned in right for the kiss.

And Y/n jerked away.

Hamish nearly choked. "I- I'm so sorry-"

Blush swallowed Y/n's face. "You were going to kiss me, right? I didn't misread that?"

"Yes." Hamish white knuckled his pencil. "I should have lead into that. You just- have these really pretty eyes-" He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"You... I'm sorry you just took me by surprise." Y/n rubbed his forehead. "Please don't tell me you thought I asked for your help because I liked you." Hamish's smile fell and he tried to find something to say, but Y/n looked uncomfortable and he was afraid he'd make it worse. "Hamish, I meant what I said when I inquired for help. You suggested doing it yourself. I don't... like you like that. Honestly I'm about to take a short leave for a few days and didn't want to get behind so I thought I'd get some clarification on some things I've been studying on my own."

Hamish felt like an idiot. "Oh."

"Yeah," Y/n returned softly.

"I'm... so sorry," Hamish breathed out. "Honestly I was talking about you to my friends because I admire your hard work and good grades and how you engage in class and make it fun, and they messed up my head." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "How about we ignore all of that and focus on school? I'm sure you still need help."

Y/n paused, a smile growing on his face. "I'd like that. I don't think I could get anyone as good as you to help me with this."

The awkward tension passed in a few moments as they got absorbed in work. The problem was, as Hamish easily lost himself in teaching, Y/n was now the one who found himself distracted. Hamish had a really nice smile and the sun reflected off his eyes and hair and made him look like he was almost glowing. Y/n hadn't noticed it before, but now... thinking about Hamish kissing him. How Hamish might like him. Might have been thinking about him and wondering. Getting up the courage for this little thing, and how he hadn't run away to save his pride because he valued Y/n's need enough to push away his own feelings.

They parted on good terms, shaking hands after a pause. Then they gathered their stuff and went their separate ways.

Hamish refused to talk about the "date" with Y/n, no matter how much his friends begged and prodded. Not even Lilith could pry anything from him. When Y/n didn't show up for class, Hamish figured he was gone for his little break. A break that lasted for a week and a half. Every class without Y/n was super boring and seemed to teach no one anything. Students all stared at him like he was speaking another language, and everyone refused to ask any questions. No jokes or engagement at all. He understood what Randall had meant by everyone getting excited when Y/n came to class now.

It was right after the next class Y/n hadn't been at that the man himself suddenly appeared. He looked determined about something, walking to Hamish quickly. Hamish was at the back of the room, trying to pull himself together and lift his spirits as he worried yet again that he was maybe just a bad teacher and Y/n was the one who made people stay and come at all. It was then that Y/n barged in and walked right up to him, cutting him off int he middle of greeting him and asking what he needed to grab him by the shirt and pull him into a kiss.

Without hesitation, Hamish kissed back. He held Y/n's face as the other boy pulled them as close together as they could get. When they parted, they'd moved a little so that Y/n was sitting on Hamish's desk, Hamish between his legs. "Whoa," Hamish whispered, both stunned by the kiss and their current position.

Y/n exhaled a sharp breath. "You asshole. I've been thinking about you nonstop for MONTHS and you finally try and kiss me right when I'm getting over you. Then I'm gone and all I can think about is you again and I miss you and your stupid class and your hair and eyes and your voice and how much I wanted you to kiss me so guess who's back early because I need you to kiss me? GUESS."

Hamish chuckled, soft but for quite a while. Y/n shoves him, but before he can go off again Hamish is already kissing him for the second time. Both boys relaxed and melted into each other. "Hey," Hamish whispered.

"Hi," Y/n whispered back.

The older boy's thumb brushed over Y/n's cheek. "Let me take you on a real date."

Biting his lip to try and contain his smile, Y/n considered. "Only if you agree to be my boyfriend."

Hamish grinned. "Does this mean we can be study buddies all the time?"

"Will you distract me with kisses like you tried to last time?" Y/n asked.

Tilting his head, Hamish avoided answering. "Not... EVERY time..."

Y/n laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. Deal."

"Deal," Hamish agreed. And they kissed again to seal it. Finally.

#hamish duke #the order #the knights of saint chrisptoher #the knights of the order of the hermedic blue rose #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke imagine #male reader #the order x reader #the order imagine #the knights of saint christopher x reader #the knights of saint Christopher imagine

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whereyoursoulresides · 3 years

Text

Without Words II - Our Orbiting Paths, Chapter 1

Summary: In their third life, Kunzite has finally won the heart of Zoisite’s civilian reincarnation, Kozakura Izou. However, as their lives become progressively more intertwined, certain challenges begin to crop up… Between the stresses of work, adjusting to modern expectations, and old familiar faces flashing from the shadows, can Kunzite maintain a meaningful relationship with his partner successfully?

Rating: T+

Characters Featured in Fic: Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite, Jadeite, Naru, Umino

Chapter Summary: It's been a few months of dating now, and Kunzite thinks they're ready to take it to the next step.

AO3 Link Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826732/chapters/68145631#workskin

“Oh, you should’ve seen it, Kunihiro-sama,” the voice was saying over the phone. “Absolutely atrocious, I had never seen anything like it!”

“Hmn,” was all Kunzite said, albeit with a bit of a smile. He didn’t usually have much opinion on the matters of Izou’s latest gossip, but he was happy to hear Izou talk about anything at all. He took another bite of his dinner - plain white rice and grilled salmon. “And then?”

“Oh, I took myself right out of that business,” Izou continued, and Kunzite could just imagine his curls frazzedly waving in exasperation.

“It sounds like you might be out-growing that coffee shop,” was Kunzite’s observation.

Izou huffed over the phone. “Entirely possible. The staff is completely different now. Honestly, Kunihiro-sama, these new girls, sometimes their attitude is just appal- ow! ”

Kunzite quickly pushed some loose grains of rice past his lips. “Mn. Izou? Are you alright?”

There was a little hiss, and then a whine.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Izou answered. “Just a prick, that’s all.” The words came out mumbly as Kunzite could hear him suck on his finger. “Shoot, that smarts!”

Kunzite shook his head fondly. “Be careful,” he chided as he began to clean up the remnants of his dinner. He had about another five minutes of his break left. “Perhaps we shouldn’t chat if you need to concentrate...”

“Mn, oh no!” Izou insisted. The sound of the phone being adjusted to his ear cackled over the receiver. “At any rate, what time are you finishing tonight, Kunihiro-sama?”

“Late,” Kunzite answered. He glanced at the clock. “About midnight, I think.”

“Oh.” Izou sounded disappointed. “It’s been so long…”

It had perhaps only been a week since they'd last seen each other in person, but to both it had felt like an eternity. Between Kunzite’s long and odd working hours at the precinct and Izou’s equally erratic shifts at the coffee shop, it was difficult to set a real date time consistently, and every window of opportunity was never wasted. Although they chatted every night (and occasionally stumbled to work from either other’s homes), it seemed that their craving for the other’s physical presence was only growing exponentially by the day.

“I know,” Kunzite said kindly. He missed Izou too.

Izou seemed to gather up some strength. “Were you able to eat? You’ve mentioned before it’s tricky to get a meal in sometimes…”

Kunzite threw the plastic container out into the garbage under the sink.

“I managed to grab something. Although I must be hanging up soon, Izou…”

“Oh, okay,” Izou said in a rush. “Well, um, maybe I could drop by tomorrow, before my shift? I start late in the afternoon…”

Kunzite smiled. “That’d be lovely. Whatever works for you.”

“Okay.” Izou paused as though to say something pressing, but Kunzite chalked it up to their usual anxieties of never wanting to hang up. “Take care,” he finally said.

Kunzite tilted his head warmly.

“You as well. Chat soon.”

After hanging up the phone, Kunzite finished tidying up the break room and returned to his desk. In one corner stood the small rosebush that Izou had managed to resurrect. It was Kunzite’s pride and joy in the office, a perfect reminder in lieu of their photo from the Dark Kingdom. As he settled himself amongst his papers and computers, he thought briefly of how lucky he was. It was so surreal to think that this was where they - he and Izou - were now.

In the past few months, Izou’s memories of his third life had rapidly solidified, and it had been fascinating to Kunzite to learn everything about Kozakura Izou. His parents - a concept that Kunzite was still struggling to come to terms with - lived in the countryside, on a small, modest farm. His mother was an artist, and his father was a photographer. Izou himself had moved to Tokyo at age fourteen to better his schooling and career opportunities. In between part time work and school, Izou loved to read, thrift, garden, and shop. His creativity energy would burst into little endeavours - sketches, doodles, collages - and was increasingly weaving into his sense of style and fashion. It wasn’t uncommon for Kunzite to hear a little yelp or hiss over the phone as he had earlier- followed by the endearing dismayed whine - from sewing accidents wherein Izou had stabbed himself at his fingertips. As Kunzite flipped through his briefing updates in his hands, he wondered which project Izou had been working on today, and if he would be seeing it soon.

“Saitou-san.”

Kunzite glanced up to see a younger officer leaning over the corner of his cubicle. He was holding two folders in one hand, while the other was scratching his head under his cap. Behind him, Kunzite caught a glimpse of the civilian as she left the precinct, her dark auburn hair swinging behind her.

“Yes, Kobayashi-san?”

“I just got another statement about the nondescript white van. That makes five so far.”

“No attacks?”

“None, just trailing.” Kobayashi scrunched up his nose. “It’s hard to get an idea though on where to begin. No identifiable markings, and none of the license plates line up. Still seems worth investigating.”

Kunzite’s eyes drifted to the other folder. “And the other case?”

“Mn? Oh. Just another sighting of the cargo truck with the black star. No attacks yet this week, but it’s definitely suspicious.” He looked at Kunzite sheepishly. “I guess you’ll probably want the more exciting one, huh?”

If it was one thing Kunzite knew very well, it was patterns. And he knew what would follow the cargo truck with the black star all too well.

“I’ll take the van,” he said curtly, taking the folder.

The younger officer grinned in excitement, holding the remaining case to his chest.

“Maybe this means I’ll get to meet a Sailor Senshi…!”

“I think you have much more pressing concerns than that,” Kunzite said crossly. He gestured to some of the boxes stacked up at the farthest wall of the precinct. “Why don’t you start setting those up instead.”

Flushing embarrassedly, Kobayashi straightened immediately.

“Yes sir!”

As the younger officer hurried off to set up the precinct’s newest surveillance testing program, Kunzite shook his head. Although he was the senior officer, occasionally Kunzite felt more like an unofficial mother hen than a leader. Quickly, he brushed the thought aside and returned to his paperwork with a sigh.

And when else had he felt like that before…?

---

It had been a long night. While his precinct also technically dealt with thefts, burglaries, and other emergencies, Kunzite found the public-facing aspect of his job far more draining. Although he usually could leave it to the younger officers, the fact remained that most of them still needed guidance and training, which Kunzite had to deliver. By the time he climbed his way up to the top floor of his low-rise apartment, Kunzite’s stomach was rumbling, and he was ready to hit the hay.

However, upon arriving at his door, Kunzite was greeted by a little surprise that woke him right up.

“Izou?”

The young man had been sitting by the door, shrouded in a thick winter jacket with a backpack to his side. Seeing Kunzite, he jumped to his feet. “Kunihiro-sama, welcome home!” It was the biggest grin Kunzite had seen all day.

Despite himself, Kunzite couldn’t help but reflect a slightly confused smile back. He gently laid a hand on the small of Izou’s back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Izou assured, lifting what looked like a large stack of lunch boxes wrapped in a spring green cloth. “I thought you could use something heartier so late after dinner time,” he said cheerfully. “It’s just some takeout, but…” His cheeks glowed faintly. “But...I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

As Kunzite inserted his key, he had to do his best to keep from growing into a ridiculous grin. Izou was just so sweet and thoughtful.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Kunzite finally said, as the bolt unlocked. Izou glanced up uncertainty.

“Was it too forward of me?” he asked.

Kunzite finally let the fondness of his smile show, and gently nudged Izou into the door.

“Not at all.” I’ve missed you too. “Please. Come in.”

Splitting into a grin, Izou slipped off his shoes and leapt inside. As he got settled and began to unpack the food, Kunzite’s smile faded when he realized how late it truly was. One in the morning, and while his area was safer than Izou’s neighbourhood, the city could still be a very dangerous beast at this hour.

“How long were you waiting for?” he asked as he slid out of his own shoes, watching Izou for any indication of polite refrain.

“Oh, not long,” Izou answered merrily, now plating the food into bowls. He gathered up the paper and plastic and swirled around to throw them into the garbage, not noticing Kunzite’s knitting brows.

“Izou.”

The boy paused for a moment to look up at Kunzite hesitantly. “About an hour,” he answered quickly. “But I knew you might be late so I brought a book, so it’s okay, really.” He then returned to cleaning up and setting the kettle for some tea.

Kunzite glanced down at the key that was still in his hand, and made up his mind. As Izou began undoing the tea tin, Kunzite gently but protectively began to wrap his arms around the younger man’s waist, bringing him close to his chest. Izou was clearly delighted by the closeness and looked over his shoulder to shyly smile at Kunzite.

“The city can be dangerous this late at night,” Kunzite murmured quietly into Izou’s soft hair. “You should be more careful…”

Izou was obviously touched by Kunzite’s concern, and brushed it off. “I’m fine, I can take care of myself,” he insisted. He placed one of his own hands on Kunzite’s forearm. “Don’t worry.”

Of course Kunzite couldn’t help but worry, he’d been worrying about Izou even before he had met him in this life.

“Maybe you should consider a different place to live,” Kunzite suggested. “Somewhere safer.”

Izou shrugged and began to swirl the tea leaves budding in the hot water. “Maybe once I have a little more money,” he agreed.

It took Kunzite a few moments to consider what his next words were going to be. Eventually, he pulled one arm away from Izou and placed the key, with purpose, onto the counter in Izou’s line of sight.

“I was thinking…” Kunzite mumbled softly, “that maybe you’d like to live with me.”

At first, Izou blinked at the piece of metal on the counter, not entirely sure if he was understanding, or had correctly caught what Kunzite had said. Unawares, Kunzite tightened his hug marginally, hoping that his suggestion wasn’t a step too far.

Slowly Izou turned his head around to look up at him. When Kunzite saw those big, bright and breathless eyes, he knew his fears were unfounded.

“Really?” Izou whispered, almost shyly. “You...think we’re ready for that?”

It was clear by Izou’s exhilarated whisper that he clearly was delighted to think they were, and Kunzite was definitely certain they were. Well, he was also certain because of how well he and Zoisite had lived together in the past… So, surely they were more than ready to move in together by now.

“Absolutely.”

It was clear Izou could hardly believe this turn of events, trying his best to hide the big grin Kunzite could tell was growing on his face. Finally, after rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, Izou beamed and nodded.

“Sure.”

It took nearly all of Kunzite’s willpower to not pick up Izou and swirl him around in his new home. Instead Kunzite simply broke into a smile again, followed by a short, relieved chuckle...Very quickly, the two of them were grinning and flushing together with excitement. Was this it? Were they really ready for this? It was as if both men were suppressing an armory of feeling that they were not yet ready to give words to, and giggling and laughing was the closest way they had to release the tension of mounting exhiliation that they were both trying to restrain.

“I’ll help you move in, the next time you’re free,” Kunzite said earnestly, seeing that he wasn’t alone in wanting to live together as soon as possible.

“I don’t have much stuff,” Izou replied, who couldn’t stop grinning behind his hands. “Although...I don’t have much money for my share of rent...”

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” Kunzite reassured immediately. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Izou’s eyebrows stitched up together. “But...what about food?” He glanced around. “Utilities…”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Kunzite repeated again, firmly but gently. “I want to share my home with you. I want it to be our home. I’ll get everything ready.”

It was clear Izou couldn’t believe his luck. He was practically dancing into Kunzite’s arms when suddenly realization flickered across his face. Kunzite caught it instantly and his smile disappeared. “What is it?”

Izou didn’t say anything, but green eyes darted over to the bathroom. There was a moment of silence as both of them realized what Izou had just remembered... and Kunzite suddenly felt a bit awkward and unprepared.

“It’s okay,” he insisted, although he knew the memory of it wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Everything’s been removed, I promise.”

Hesitantly Izou glanced up at Kunzite, and it was clear how conflicted he felt about the situation.

“It’s empty,” Kunzite insisted again. “You can fill it with your things when you move in. Izou’s things.”

This seemed to make Izou feel a bit better, and the smile slowly resurfaced back up a bit. “Well it’s...not like I didn’t like the stuff ,” he mumbled a bit. “I mean, I did like that stuff and I still do like it but...it was just a bit weird seeing it all there ready for you, you know?”

“I understand.” Kunzite gently gave Izou a bit of squeeze.

“Did you really throw it all out though?” Izou asked. “It would’ve been a waste...I suppose I wouldn’t mind using it if you still have it.”

At that, Kunzite paused. He had gotten rid of it from the bathroom, but hadn’t actually thrown the items out…

Izou looked up curiously. “Kunihiro-sama?”

“Truthfully?” Kunzite asked.

“Truthfully,” Izou answered, but the smile on his face gave away that he was going to be okay with whatever Kunzite answered.

“Don’t look in the closet.”

Despite himself, Izou couldn’t help but giggle, and Kunzite’s shoulders released with relief. As Izou tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, Kunzite glanced up at the clock and saw how even later it was getting.

“Let’s eat.” He slowly undid his arms around Izou and lightly grazed Izou’s cheek as he pulled away. “I’ll undress and we’ll have supper.”

“Wait.” Izou took a step forward and placed his hand on Kunztie’s chest to stop him. There was a moment, and Izou’s eyes slowly trailed up from the bottom of Kunzite’s uniform, from its hem to his belt, to finally his eyes. “...Keep them on?”

Kunzite could tell that look anywhere and, hiding a smirk, he obliged. Gathering the food from the counter, the two of them made their way over to the couch to settle in for some cozy dinner. As Izou made himself comfortable nestling in Kunzite’s arms as they flicked the television on, Kunzite couldn't help but relish this humble but incredible moment between them.

Zoisite was finally home.

#anyo writes #without words 2 #our orbiting paths #chapter 2 #kunzoi #kunzite x zoisite #fanfiction #Civilian Life #Third Life

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lifeisapitch15 · 3 years

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Captive

Kylo Ren captures you from a resistance raid. Love pops up in strange places

A/n: this is my first fanfic so please be nice! I love the Star Wars universe and had to get this idea outta my mind. Love you 💕

Word count: 1,906

You were captured. This is it. At this very moment all you could think about is your parents, hoping that they were okay. You thought about your friends. How many fatalities there were. Hoping you had a home to go back to. You also thought about all the resistance fighters that fought alongside you in battle. Tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you knew someone could walk in the door any minute to see you broken. You were kept in a cell with only a bench that stuck out from the wall. Your hand was bound so you couldn’t fight off your captures.Someone came to give you food or something like food so you knew you would be here for a while. To cut you off from your thoughts a stormtrooper with a rifle came through the door.

“ Get up. He's ready to see you.” they said with an authoritative tone. You look up, questioning the man they were talking about.

“Now!” The stormtrooper raised their voice, grabbing your arm roughly.

“Hey! What the fuck!” you whined,rubbing your arm as you walked through the door. They walked down many hallways as you twist and turn quickly. You try to keep up the fast pace, studying the hallways to escape. Some part of didn’t want to escape knowing that the First Order are ruthless.you and a select few were force sensitive so The First Order would kill without question or capture so Kylo Ren would get some info on the whereabouts of Luke Skywalker. You hoped that someone you knew was on the ship but you could not sense their lifeforms. You were stopped abruptly, thoughts cease to flood your mind and the door slides open to reveal a contraption for prisoners. The stormtrooper pushed in the room, only one light pointed towards the contraption. You walk toward it, knowing you were going to be interrogated. You look back at the stormtrooper standing at the door. you point to the contraption,unamused knowing that you have to step into it. The storm trooper nods his head and moves the rifle signaling for you to go into. You sigh knowing this same song and dance since you had been captured as a teen and walking Into the machine like thing. The storm trooper clamps you down double check to make sure that you can’t get out. “Okay.start the process. Ask me what I know.” You roll your eyes and move your head signaling him to hurry it up since your hands can’t do the job.

“You may leave” a low, loud voice carried through the room as you jumped, thinking you and the stormtrooper were alone. You try to look back over your shoulder to see the figure. The stormtrooper makes a hasty leave as whip your head around to startle by the door shutting and hissing loudly.

“ You’re so afraid,” he said, almost smugly, his modulated voice carries in the quiet room.

“ It's because I can’t see you.” you replied voice shaking with nervousness. This was a bit new. Stormtroopers or generals interrogate you and you don’t recognize this man. His voice made you feel aroused but Whoever he is, he must be important because the stormtrooper almost ran out of the room trying to get away. The figure stands to get up and walks in front of you. Its Kylo fucking Ren. your eyes go wide and you have to look up at him. He’s large compared to you. You stood at five feet six inches, he at least had foot on you. You push and shake to free yourself from the restraints. He shushes you, leaning in and putting his gloved hand to light caressing it. Your focus was on his mask and how it got its marks. Like someone tried to cut through it almost.

“ I sensed something in you on the battlefield.” his modulated voice slices through the thick air. He never stopped caressing your face and breath evened out, trying to anticipate his next move “A great evil.”

“ Stop trying to play mind tricks!” you barked moving your face away from his hand. He grabs your jaw to look at him as he takes off his helmet.you shut your eyes as his hand came up to take it off. He throws it on the ground and inches away from your face. You open your eyes, feeling him breathing lightly but quick. You both study each other's faces before he speaks again.

“ I watched you fight,'' he said lightly, studying the rest of your body features, trying to size you up, you guessed. “You fought to kill not to subdue. I saw an anger like mine” you choked on your breath as you realised he was right but you did not show it. He moved his hand off your face and used the force to look inside your mind's eye. You strained and felt as if your life force was being stucked out but you tried desperately to block him out.

“ Resistance is futile, I have been trained in the force longer than you understood your power” he calmly spoke, a smirk slowly appearing on his face, as his large powerful hands shook.

“ You...won’t…. Get…. into.. My..mind ..if i don’t have a say about it” you strain but look determined nonetheless. He stops forcing his way into your mind seeing that you are too strong willed to show him up and try to escape. Although he saw a small of your thoughts, you wanted to stay and that’s all he needed. He was going to torure you or another method to get to join him. He picks his helmet.

“ Join the first order. I can show the true power of the force” he stood in front of you ,fixing his gloves, and looking up at you with a bit of lust. What can he say he found you very attractive. You catch your breath, look away from the way his looking doesn't stir you up in all the right places.

“ Never in a million galaxies” you breathe out.

He looked up from his gloves and put on his helmet.

“Then I will break you into submission” his modulated voice returns, making his way to the door , hissing open, `` If I can’t have you, no one in the million galaxies can” before you speak, he walked away.

Days felt like weeks even though your sense of time was warped. He had tried to break you, feeling your spirit chip away more and more. He wanted to keep a close eye on you everyday and eventually you were moved to his quarters. Your torn clothes had been replaced with a skintight all black long sleeve dress with two slits on the sides so your leg can be seen. Black boots come to your mid thigh and some that resemble an underbust tied tightly around your waist. Unfortunately, you still had restants around your wrist and tonight that didn’t stop you. You tried to takeKylo Ren down once and for all. Hoping to kill him but it didn’t sit right with you. You climb carefully ,not to make any noise or it would alarm the guards, on top of a tall piece of furniture and a knife from the meal you had gotten. Weirdly enough he keeps you well fed and personally delivers himself so you can’t over power some poor stormtrooper and escape. When you make it to the top, the door opens. You panic a bit but compose yourself. You watch as the man is panicked and worried that you were gone, calling out your name. He took off his helmet and gloves. He sounded a bit like he needed you. It softens your heart. It was an “awe” moment you called it. If you saw it through his eyes and heart you would be screaming and not trying to calm down to see the light of your world taken from you. He spoke to Supreme Leader Snoke before this. Snoke said to him that his feelings for you had distracted him and she would not return he feeling, trying to make him kill her or send her off somewhere. He tried to convince them that they are alike and are very powerful. She would be a lovely addition to the First Order and with all the information she's got, she’ll lead us right the resistance. Snoke reluctantly agreed and moved with more urgency. In Kylo’s heart he felt like he was using her. Some of it was true he wanted to become his empress and rule the galaxy together as one . He knew that you also had no one to go back to. Even on the late night talks, you grew quite fond of him. They shared pieces of information, even when he smiled, she never asked about her family. He started to feel guilty but pushed those feelings deep down never knowing what Snoke would do to him if express emotion. He thought Snoke went behind his back and took the one thing he loved the most but you call out, stuffing the knife in your sleeve, all small and sad. He whips his head around and walks towards you helping you down. You forget you're wearing a dress and he accidentally sees under it. He panics and slips and falls to the hard floor with you tight in your arms. His eyes squeeze tightly on reflex as he meets the floor and you are on top of him, trying your best to hold on to him.

“ Are you alright?!” he sat up quickly, ignoring the sharp pain in his back to see if she had gotten hurt.

“ I’m fine. Are you?” you breath out then grab his face, making sure she didn’t hurt him. He held you tightly in his lap and his cheeks turned red. He picks you up in his arms and places you in his bed, looking at you with love. He realizes what he is doing, he tense up, and he heads towards the door. Before he could walk away, you caught his hand.

“ I want to be your empress, Kylo.” He turns around slowly as you catch him off guard with what you said.

“ As you wish, my empress” he bowed to you, a handsome smile appeared on his face, trying to contain his happiness. “ but name is Ben Solo. Do not call me that unless we are alone.” he uses the force to take off your cuffs. You rub your wrist and look up at disbelief.” “I will protect you at all costs and we will wipe away the resistance scam and bring order to the galaxy.” He trusted so quickly, knowing you meant every word. You knew the First Order was bad but for Ben you’d do anything to stay with him and to take off the cuffs. You both loved each other in the end. You going to the dark side was the first step to getting him to the light side. His emotions for you made him see that what him and the first order where doing was wrong. Through that you and him defeated Snoke and the First order came to an end with help of the resistance. After all the fighting ended, he took you to an empty planet to live out the rest of your lives alive and in love.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #star wars #first fanfic

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tblpress · 4 years

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The day before James Spader won an Emmy for his portrayal of Alan Shore, the morally dubious lawyer on “The Practice,” the actor was at the Franklin D. Murphy Sculpture Garden at UCLA, admiring the statues -- especially the female forms. “Look at the beautiful curve of her back, right at the base of her spine,” he said, noticing a dancer at the top of Robert Graham’s “Dance Columns.” “It’s the most perfect curve in nature.” Then Spader felt a breeze and started ambling in the other direction. “I just want to walk into it,” he explained. “Oh, my God, that is nice.”

The sculpture garden, a favorite hideaway of Spader’s, brought out in him a charming mix of formality and earthiness. When Gaston Lachaise’s bronze powerhouse “Standing Woman” caught his eye, the memories rushed out. “My sons, when they were growing up, always enjoyed her rather ample” -- here he used a word not proper for this newspaper but that means “derriere” -- “and her rather ample breasts,” he said. The boys, Sebastian, now 15, and Ellijah, 12, would come here with their scooters. “So you come around,” Spader explained, “and lo and behold, you have that beautiful” -- that word again -- “over there. You can hardly resist scootering by and giving her a poke. She has nice calves too. She’s ample everywhere. She’s spectacular.”

James Spader, network TV star: To anyone familiar with the 44-year-old actor and his work, it sounds almost absurd. With the outre air of highbrow naughtiness and deep but slightly distracted intelligence he’s been known for since his 1989 big-screen breakthrough in “sex, lies, and videotape,” Spader could hardly have cooked up a more improbable career move. And yet starting tonight on “Boston Legal,” the new David E. Kelley show spun off from “The Practice,” TV viewers will get a weekly taste of the actor who has specialized in finding an endearing human side to wealthy school bullies, creepy cocaine dealers and sensuous sadomasochists.

Spader headed toward a section of the UCLA campus blanketed by California sycamores that he and his sons, he said, often climb and swing from. “See that?” he asked, pushing a branch down. “This is a perfect perching spot. I’d do it more aggressively, but there’s people around and it makes them nervous.”

Making people nervous is, of course, a Spader trademark.

“When we first went to the network about James, they shrieked in horror,” Kelley said. “James Spader is not a network face. They didn’t think he was the kind of persona American audiences would want to welcome into the living room on a weekly basis. But once we began to focus on him, he was the only choice. What James does so well is there’s a nucleus to this character that is humane and decent. He manages to let that nucleus shine through even when he’s committing egregious, contemptible acts. You don’t know if you like him or not, but you can’t wait to see him next.”

Kelley hired Spader to play the brilliant agitator whose dirty ways forced the firm of Young, Frutt and Berluti on “The Practice” to close its doors last year, after ABC slashed the show’s budget, forcing Kelley to fire half his cast. Spader, whose most recent television appearance had been a guest spot on “Seinfeld” in 1997, was supposed to play Alan Shore only long enough to shake things up.

“The goal in the beginning was to bring new life to the show, and the luxury we had as storytellers was that we didn’t have to protect the character for the sake of a long series run,” Kelley said. “You can only do so many things with a character that are overtly unlikable and still keep him redeeming and a character that people want to tune into and cheer for. Since we didn’t have that burden, we could swing away with him.”

The high-end firm of Crane, Poole and Schmidt might prove a better fit for Shore, who will be surrounded by other conniving legal eagles, including William Shatner as his boss, Denny Crane, and colleagues played by a cast including Rhona Mitra, Lake Bell, Monica Potter and Mark Valley. Alan Shore, Kelley promised, will “defy this law firm as he defies the conventions of regular characters on television.”

“When we watch James, there’s a lot of unknown complicated stuff in his mind, but we don’t know what that stuff is,” said Steve Shainberg, who directed Spader in “Secretary” (2002). “There’s something very unusual about him we can’t put our finger on, but that makes it more intriguing and exciting -- God help us.”

Yet for all the unpredictability that comes across on screen, Spader’s “Boston Legal” co-stars described him as meticulous, exact and particular on set.

“He’s always looking for the truth of the moment, and he gets fidgety when it’s not there,” said Shatner, who won a guest actor Emmy for his portrayal of Crane on “The Practice.” “He becomes as recalcitrant as a donkey until he can find the right way to deliver a line. He never says a word that doesn’t seem to come from the organic character. That’s because James himself is a little weird. But we love him for it.”

The Un-Brat Pack career

Two days after Spader nabbed the top acting award for a drama series, beating out television heavy hitters James Gandolfini, Martin Sheen, Kiefer Sutherland and Anthony LaPaglia, he was on the “Boston Legal” set at Raleigh Studios in Manhattan Beach. Three episodes of the show were being shot simultaneously, and he had found no time yet to contemplate his win. The Emmy, he said, was tucked away in a corner full of boxes as Spader, who recently separated from his wife, Victoria, waited to move into a new house.

“I was surprised at how quickly I lost the feeling of stunned confusion and ignorant bliss and how quickly it turned into work and pragmatism,” Spader said. “The award doesn’t mean anything to me -- and I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense. I just haven’t had time to go there yet. Even when my older son called to congratulate me, we moved rather swiftly on to the subject of an upcoming concert” -- the Pixies at the Greek Theatre -- “and the best way to score tickets, which is a much more constructive conversation for us.”

Like other actors who started taking shape in the ‘80s, Spader could easily have cultivated a Brat Pack aura. Instead, he went for a more original brand of alienation, playing seemingly WASPY characters with a devious air and an anti-WASPY erotic charge to them. The roles he took in movies such as “White Palace” (1990), “The Music of Chance” (1993), “Stargate” (1994) and “Crash” (1996) didn’t always hit big but always set him apart -- none more so than “Secretary,” in which Spader played E. Edward Grey, a lawyer who draws his self-mutilating young secretary into a joyful S&M; relationship.

“James is very formal and specific and respectful,” said Maggie Gyllenhaal, his costar. “I remember when we shot a five-page scene in which Mr. Grey asks me not to cut myself anymore, James noticed and responded to everything I did: every breath I took, every shift of my gaze, every movement of my hand. His work is very specific.”

And that, according to Camryn Manheim, who starred on “The Practice” for eight years, can be intimidating. “After you saw ‘Secretary,’ wouldn’t you be scared to go on a date with him?” Manheim said, laughing.

“I was scared of him,” she added. “He’s weird and strange and eccentric, and I mean a lot of that in the very best way. He plays all of these sexually charged characters. He looks at you too hard, like he’s got your number. But behind all of that, he’s a very simple man who is very thoughtful and insightful about the world and humanity.”

Confronted with the praise of his colleagues, Spader took a deep breath and looked skeptical. “Maybe this thing they are describing is just obsessive-compulsive. It just seems to be what the job is, to just try and get the right intention of whatever ... you’re saying. Who is to say if whether what you end up tumbling toward is the right place when you’re standing on your feet in the middle of it? I’ve had a lot of fun acting, and that’s been the only reason to continue doing it.”

Spader, who dropped out of the 11th grade to pursue acting in New York, attributes his interest in acting to the love of storytelling he inherited from his family. The son of teachers Todd and Jean Spader, the actor grew up with two sisters on the campus of Phillips Academy, a fancy Massachusetts prep school. “My father was an English teacher and he taught literature and poetry, and my parents would read aloud and my grandparents read aloud,” Spader said. “My grandfather would write stories and we would make up little plays to read and perform during the holidays. There was always a tremendous amount of humor in all the households I spent time in.”

But there were other reasons for wanting to become an actor. “I started doing theater when I started thinking of nothing but girls,” he said. “I can’t imagine that the two don’t relate. I don’t mean to be glib. In sports and in many other areas, girls and boys are separated. But in theater, you’re all mixed in together. How can it get any better than that?”

Being an actor, for Spader, has never been about celebrity. The press tent for interviews with winners at the Emmys came as a surprise and an “indignity,” he said jokingly. When someone at the Governors Ball on Emmy night remarked how rare it is that Spader has succeeded at being famous and simultaneously living a private life, the actor was incredulous.

“I don’t try to be mysterious,” Spader explained later. “I just protect my private life very carefully. I don’t go out a great deal. To see and be seen I could care less about. I don’t go to see movies at big premieres. If I go out, I go to a quiet place for a meal or I might go to listen to live music with a whole lot of people who are more interested in listening to the music than who is sitting next to them at the show.”

His new TV world

Spader may be on his way to television stardom, but he has never followed a television show from beginning to end -- the way he hopes viewers of “Boston Legal” will.

“That’s something I had no concept of,” Spader said. “Working on the show, I was experiencing the same anticipation for what was going to happen from week to week as the people who were watching it. When you do a film, you know what is going to happen to your character from start to finish. I knew very little about Alan Shore at the end of last season, and I still don’t. I like that constant shift because what I like the most about all of this is the telling of the story.”

What he likes the least is the fuss. He refused to hire a stylist for Emmy night, picking out his tuxedo and shoes himself. He did not prepare a speech. When his name was announced, Spader charmed the crowd by complimenting the women in the room: “You’ve all made wonderful choices in shoes and dresses tonight, and you all look absolutely beautiful.”

“I realized I was going to have to put together some sentences quickly and I wasn’t going to be yet another person to make a music joke,” Spader said. “It worked so well when the gentleman from ‘Arrested Development’ made the singing reference, but I knew that that couldn’t be used again, and certainly not by me. I really don’t have any idea what ... I was saying. Certainly, during the course of the four hours that I was there I had spent enough time admiring women’s shoes and dresses and how well they filled them.”

But as offhand as he may be about that trophy, it’s fitting somehow that Spader will be in the rare position of starting his new gig already having won an Emmy for the role. To his surprise as much as anyone’s, the TV gods have smiled on him. “Does anybody have any illusions about the fact that the Emmys come at the beginning of the television season? The timing seems precise to me,” he said. “And I think it’s grand.”

#james spader #interview #2004 #james spader quote #la times #boston legal #the practice #alan shore #james spader press #link #article

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nyc-uws · 3 years

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12 Shocking Things I Learned by Working as a Butler at the Plaza Hotel

You’ll never look at hotel staff the same way again.

Bloomberg Brandon Presser

Old-school service is alive and well at the Plaza: High tea treats are served in brass birdcages, tuxedo-clad bellman whisk away luggage to gilded suites, and chefs bear toques that tower above their heads. But in the age of Amazon Prime—when we all want everything now—what is it really like blending vestigial aristocratic assistance with light-speed wish fulfillment? In order to properly find out, I accepted an offer from New York’s iconic Plaza Hotel to join its team of butlers, a coterie of 10 servicemen (and one woman!) who trot around the property’s 20 floors day and night, making sure 282 rooms’ worth of guests feel like royalty. For two hot days in July 2017, I raced around with a team that, like the city itself, seemingly never sleeps—hearing tales of the trade from the department’s director, Emma, and serving guests alongside some of her most experienced staffers.

This is an elite crew: It bears a combined 147 years of experience, and many have served as house managers for affluent families all over the world. Me? I got express credentials for my two-day residency—unprecedented for the Plaza. They included a detailed orientation of the property and a uniform fitting for my hotel-issued attire (gold-plated name tag and all).

Over my short tenure, I delivered laundry to Middle Eastern princesses and fetched lobsters out of wishing wells—and listened to colleagues delight in the oddities of their jobs, from fielding requests for Viagra or comforting a weeping woman over spilled blueberries. Serving the world’s rich and famous, it turns out, plumbs the depths of an alternative universe that readily embraces the absurd without even batting an eye. And that was only the beginning of what I learned.

Here, 12 secrets to keep in mind the next time you check into a five-star hotel.

One VIP List You Don’t Want to Be On

Hundreds of butler requests roll in each shift—mostly to fill ice buckets, handle laundry, and shine shoes. Complimentary packing and unpacking requests are also common, though they can turn into day-long affairs. A surprising number of international guests will purchase adjoining suites: one to sleep in and one for their luggage.

By matter of corporate philosophy, every guest should feel like a VIP at the Plaza. But a hierarchy still exists among those who check-in at reception. At the top of the pyramid are kings, queens, and heads of state—or as butlers call them: V1s, and they are ever-present on the property. Then come high-payers, long-stayers, guests booking a large block of rooms, and recognizable celebs. They’re called DVs, or distinguished visitors. On the bottom of the VIP totem pole is the SA group, known complainers or otherwise difficult and demanding guests who require “special assistance.”

Bath Time Can Be Awkward

Another common request for the butler team is to draw baths with a signature blend of salt, oil, and roses—especially during the colder months of the year. But the butler’s duties aren’t necessarily complete once the tub is full. Bal, the Plaza’s resident bath-time specialist, said that 95 percent of the time, he’s asked to remain within arm’s reach as bathers suds-up. Most of them, he said, want more hot water or scented oil, and are happy to keep him on hand while they relax in the nude. He is often left to pull the plug from the drain, elbow-deep in leftover water.

It gets weirder. One of my butler colleagues at a previous job in London was asked to ship in and set up a guest’s order of fresh oysters in the bathtub. He diligently filled the tub with ice and laid the oysters out, only to discover that the guest wanted the oysters placed in the tub around his soaking body. Eventually, the client seemed satisfied: He purchased the room next door for his butler so he’d always be near.

Hotel Guests Are Pretty Predictable …

The Plaza’s guest relations team researches everyone staying at the hotel on an individual basis, using a variety of social media tools. (The favorite is LinkedIn.com.) Butlers, on the other hand, often use past trends to size people up on the spot. They send electric kettles to the rooms of arriving Asian guests, who often bring noodles from home to cook in their suite. They keep an eye on the minibar when tending to Americans in their thirties and forties—they’re considered the partiers of the hotel, likeliest to plow through the booze. Middle Eastern VIPs get what is called an “Arabic Amenity”—a tray of dates, dried fruit, and nuts; they tend to prefer these to chocolates, cakes, or other sweet desserts. And the butler staff knows to immediately ask Western businessmen if they have shirts or suits that needs servicing upon checking in; they’re always the ones who treble the quantity of laundry in the basement.

… Except When They’re Totally Unpredictable

Despite the overwhelming regularity of guest behaviors, travelers can mystify even the most experienced of butlers. During my shifts, lobster shells kept appearing in the fountains of the hotel’s interior courtyard. Every day, the staff would fish them out, only to find a new one a few hours later. It turned out that a Middle Eastern prince was ordering cooked lobster from room service for every meal and then throwing the empty shells out the window to land in a fountain below. (Emma asked him to stop—nicely—but pieced together the mystery only on the day of his departure.)

Another time, a woman called Emma hysterically crying “as though her husband died and she just discovered the body.” When Emma finally calmed her down, she comprehended the real reason for the guest’s tears: There was no more Kleenex in her suite, and her young daughter had been forced to blow her nose on toilet paper.

Sex, Drugs and … Come Again?

As at any hotel, requests for drugs and prostitutes do happen—but not frequently. Bal has been asked for drugs only two or three times in his 10 years at the Plaza, and he is careful to stick within the boundaries of the law. Condom needs are another story: Mouhsine, one of the other butlers, always carries a pack with him, especially in the evenings. On being called to fulfill one such late-night request, no one answered the door after several knocks; he gently entered the room to find the two guests in the “go” position, waiting to be walked-in on.

Far more interesting than sex and drugs are the more outlandish client requests. Recently, Emma fielded a service call from a woman searching for some missing chocolate-covered blueberries, which had fallen off a window ledge. Emma offered to obtain replacements from the same brand and store, but the guest was adamant about retrieving her exact snack. Emma and the security team trawled the hotel’s interior courtyard for hours, blueberry-hunting, to no avail. During my brief tenure, the weirdest request was for two liters of intravenous saline solution—meant for a doctor’s ailing wife, who was presumably on the wrong side of a stunning hangover.

Some requests are even more bizarre. One butler told the story of how he was asked to replace all the furniture in a suite because the guest didn’t like the color blue. Another was sent off to scout the city’s reliquaries for a justice of the peace trophy—a prize for a newly minted lawyer. Another arranged for a live tarantula flown in from Africa to be served as a meal. Of course, butlers always deliver with a straight face.

Mind the Pillowcases

Missing pillowcases can be a real issue at the Plaza. But it’s not the tourists that have sticky fingers. And it’s not hotel pillowcases that are getting stolen. At least once a week, a white pillowcase that was brought from a guest’s home gets mistaken for a hotel-issued version and is sent out for cleaning. Sometimes they’re never seen again, in which case Emma dispatches a bellman to purchase new coverings, drawing on the hotel’s coffers, no matter the price.

Christmastime: Not so Merry

“Party season,” which spans October to December, feels like a constant carousel of functions, banquets, and events at the Plaza. Every evening, there are four or five requests for assistance at looping bow ties and zipping up cocktail dresses. And in the last few years, requests for holiday-themed decorations in the rooms have become so commonplace that the hotel now offers a standard Christmas package that includes a fresh, fully decorated tree, assembled by the butlers pre-check-in for $500.

The Customer Is Not Always Right

Complaints follow regular patterns. Every day, a guest will complain about too-slow laundry service. Though forms clearly offer standard and expedited return times, they’re not fast enough for some.

Minibar charges also lead to regular disputes. A full raid of your room’s bar runs $600 at the Plaza—something that happens at least once a week. The likelihood that guests will not want to pay is almost guaranteed.

This requires butlers to document everything with pocket cameras, whether it’s open booze bottles spread across the room, stains on laundry that existed before washing, or evidence of damaged furniture. Every ticket is verified on a computer and photos are attached, so when TripAdvisor.com lights up with a fiery review, the butlers are able to provide evidence to dispel any falsehoods.

The Easiest Way to Get Banned

It’s a lot easier than you might think. The hotel has a strict anti-discrimination policy, and zero tolerance is given to guests who mistreat the staff because of race, gender, age, or creed. Even now, guests sometimes request that staff of a certain ethnic extraction not be allowed to service their rooms; others will ask service members if they are legal in America. Emma, the director of the butler team, cited several incidents of sexism, too, such as the time guests asked to speak with a manager but grew angrier when she showed up instead of a man.

The refusal of services goes all the way up the ladder to DVs. At least two specific celebrities are permanently banned from the Plaza—one, a pop diva expelled for excessive drug and alcohol use and a belligerent attitude towards the staff, the other a sitcom star who took his anger issues out on a suite’s worth of furnishings.

Afternoon Tea Leftovers Don’t Go to Waste

Hidden within the Plaza’s secret back-of-house corridors and tunnels is a cafeteria reserved for the staff. Open during lunch, dinner, and late-night hours for (surprisingly good!) hot meal service, the canteen offers bagels and drinks for the peckish throughout the entirety of the day. But the savviest snackers know to visit the cafeteria at exactly 5:30 p.m., because that’s when the leftovers from high tea at the Palm Court upstairs are put out for the staff. (They serve only the food that was prepped but not plated.) Emma said she practically lives off mini cucumber sandwiches. I liked the tiny blueberry cheesecakes.

A Good Tip Can Make It Worthwhile

New York City’s hospitality workers are protected under a spectrum of different unions. While bellmen and room service are considered “tipping staff,” the butlers do not expect fiscal rewards for their work, beyond the Plaza’s paycheck. But Bal and his colleagues still see a few ex-presidents from time to time.

His biggest tip during the last 10 years? It came from a French model-actress keen on setting up a romantic weekend for her boyfriend, a well-known fashion magnate. Bal placed flowers on every flat surface throughout their suite, organized lunch in a helicopter over Central Park, and tracked down a very specific, very expensive bottle from a specialist store off-site. By the end of the weekend, she handed him $8,000 in cash.

Seven months later, the founder of the fashion label was back at the hotel with a different girlfriend.

When to Call It a Night

The Plaza maintains a Betsey Johnson-designed suite in honor of Eloise, the capricious six-year-old that fictionally lived on the property. It was here that Nimer, another member of the butler team, had his most bizarre service experience to date. A request was put in for someone to come up and read the beloved children’s book as a bedtime story, but when Nimer arrived there were no children to be found. Four thirtysomethings were neatly tucked into one, large bed. Concealing his shock, Nimer read to them for 90 minutes—then tracked down Eloise on video, in case they hadn’t had enough.

This post originally appeared on Bloomberg and was published August 8, 2017.

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/12-shocking-things-i-learned-by-working-as-a-butler-at-the-plaza-hotel?utm_source=pocket-newtab

#Working as a Butler #Shocking Things

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poc-movie-supremacy · 4 years

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Blackbird: Heaven is in your arms

Yes, this is part of the blackbird universe, but for now, it’s almost a standalone. Blackbird’s original intent was arrowverse characters coming home from war, so that’s why there’s a westallen one. I was planning on doing one for cynco and kanvers + kate and mary, but I’m not sure anymore.

Anyways, summary: The house is lonely without him. Iris at home waiting for Barry to come home from war.

----

Iris hates quiet. It reminds her of loneliness which is what she is and she wants nothing more than to forget that. Every night she places a record in the record machine. Last night it was “Cheek to cheek” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. She cooks a meal for herself, usually something small, she lost her appetite a long time ago. Iris eats in the bay window watching the stars, sometimes the people outside if something interesting is happening. She wants to join them but it’s hard.

Iris wonders if Barry sees the same stars she does. She wonders if he misses her like she misses him.

After her dinner is half eaten, she turns off the record and goes to bed. At first she tried sleeping in their bed, but it was too big, too empty. That bed was meant for two people, not one. Iris sleeps on the couch instead. She wraps up her hair, changes into her pajamas and brushes her teeth. Turning off all lights except the lamp next to the couch, she gets the box and settles on the couch. The box is filled with all the letters Barry has sent her while he’s deployed. She always reads them before she goes to sleep. It always soothes her to, if not hear his voice, read his words. Sometimes they even chase away the nightmares.

Every single morning she wakes up with a crick in her neck. It’s better than waking up to an empty bed. She undoes the wrap, changes into her work clothes, a pair of red heels, black pencil skirt, blouse, and blazer and puts her hair up into a fancy braid that her mom loves. Aretha Franklin fills the apartment as Iris gets ready for work. The coffee pot chimes done just as she finishes putting on her makeup, so Iris pours herself a cup and grabs a chocolate muffin to eat in the bay window. She watches the people head off to work as she tries to think of anything but where Barry is. The minute she starts on that train, she’ll fall into a black hole of unwanted messy thoughts.

After finishing breakfast, she joins the crowds heading to their nine-to-five. Linda give her a smile when she opens the door to the Citizen. Her intern, Allegra, informs her of the interviews Mason wants her to do. Iris wants to choke him.

“Heavy workload?” Linda asks her during lunch.

“Sometimes I wonder if being a cop would be easier.” Iris complains.

“What do you have to do?” Linda wondered. She, Allegra, Kamilla, and Iris were sitting together eating lunch in the park next to the CCPN building. They befriended each other through work and have stuck by each other since then. Iris wondered what she’d do without them.

“I already finished editing my articles, now I just need to complete my politics article, and the one on the string of murders down on sixth street.”

Linda wrinkled her nose in disgust. “How’s the coppers handling it?”

“Baffled. I think they’re starting to get worried. I’m hoping my article will bring this to public attention and help the situation.” Iris said.

“That’s the hope.” Linda agreed.

After work, she goes home and takes a long bath. This time, Tina Turner is playing in the apartment. The same routine plays out again. No mail has been delivered, so she has nothing new to read from Barry. She hopes he’ll come home soon as she drifts off to sleep.

The rest of the weeks are the same. In these two weeks, she got one new letter from him. He says things are lightening up, and there might be good news in the future. He writes of the new people he’s met across the seas, the places he’s seen, and how much he misses. Apparently she’s been somewhat of a character to the soldiers. Iris West, possible goddess, and Barry’s long suffering wife. They want to meet her. Iris wonders what things he told them. She hope it’s all good things. She hopes his wandering mind stays on his shoulders so he doesn’t... nevermind.

On Wednesday, she wakes up and gets ready for work. Her brother reminds her that their parents wanted to see them on Friday, so she better not forget to come. She went to work as usual, but had to go see Wally before going home. She was tempted to stay with him in an effort to avoid going back to her empty house, but he practically pushed her out of his house. Iris could’ve sworn she saw him smiling.

The walk to their apartment was quiet. At least there wasn’t anyone on the street to distract her. She tried to come up with a reason for her brother’s sudden happiness. Barry’s homecoming came to mind, but that wasn’t for weeks so it was brushed aside.

Music was the first thing that struck Iris as odd when she opened the door to the apartment. It was the little ditty Barry wrote her for their engagement. He dabbled in music a little before he was drafted. It’s why they own so many instruments. A guitar, a piano, a violin, they’ve all suffered from disuse now. Arts, when concerning music, was never Iris’s forte.

As she stepped further into the apartment, cooked food could be smelled. She placed a hand on the taser in her purse just in case it was an intruder and walked softly further into the place.

A skinny man was hunched over the piano, fingers flying over the keys. He was in a formal army outfit sans the hat.

“Barry.”

Fingers stilled on the keys.

Slowly he turned around a tired, yet happy smile dancing across his face, lighting up his features. She dropped her purse, almost setting off the taser and started bawling. He quickly raced to her side before she fell to the ground. Easily, he lifted her up and twirled around crying himself. Her legs wrapped around his waist. His hug almost crushed her. She never wanted him to let go.

“Shh baby, Iris, baby. I’m okay. I’m alright I’m home.” Iris sobbed into his shoulder. He held her tightly, not caring one bit that his suit was getting dirty with her tears. For once, she felt safe. There was nothing better than being held by Barry Allen.

“I missed you, so damn much. The house-”

“I’m not leaving, not again.” He didn’t. Apparently this was his last deployment. Hearing that made Iris cry harder, but this time they were happy tears. He cradled her face in his hand gently wiping away her tears. His eyes swept over face. It had been so long since he last saw her, he wanted to re-memorize every last feature. Her golden brown eyes, her curly black hair, her tear drop face. He kissed her all over, eyes, cheeks, lips.

That was what finally calmed her tears. Giggling she asked, “You missed this?”

“I miss a lot of things.” He kissed the shell of her ear and along her jaw. “I missed your smile, and your voice. I missed your thoughts, and you kisses. I missed falling asleep next to you, dancing with you... Kara’s a good dancer, but she’s not you.”

“Well then,” Iris shimmied out of his arms, and grabbed his hand. She placed a record on the record player, The Temptations, “My Girl” and extended her other hand. “Can I have this dance?”

“Always.” He kissed her knuckles before pulling them into waltzing formation. Left hand in her right, right hand on her butt, so close together the holy spirit got squished. They’re married anyways.

He quietly sang along to the song as they danced. Iris pressed her cheek to his chest in an attempt to get as close as possible to him. Maybe she was being insane, but after months without him close, she never wanted to let go. After a few dances, they meandered to the kitchen to eat.

Barry sat down at the head of the table with Iris in his lap. She made up one big plate for the two of them. As they ate, they swapped stories about their time away from each other. He told her stories of the Diggles, Jesse Wells, Cynthia Reynolds, Kara Zor-el. Friends he made like Alex Danvers, Mary Hamilton, Beth Chapel and Yolanda Montez. In return she updated him on how his parents, her parents and Wally were doing. She told tales of her and her journalism adventures with Linda, Allegra, and Kamilla.

“Look like you’ve been having fun here.” Barry grossed.

“Not as much fun as I’ll have with you here with me. I missed you baby.” Iris says. Barry kissed the top of Iris’s forehead.

“I’m going to see if Bridge will let me take the day off. We could go on a date!” Iris left his lap much to his sadness. “Hunn, let me get some wine and ice cream. The good wine.”

Barry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Fancy.”

“Well it’s a special day,” Iris returned to his lap with a small tub of ice cream, two spoons, and two glasses of wine. “Happy homecoming.”

“Happy homecoming.”

After dinner, Barry did the dishes while Iris cleaned up the living room. When he was done, Barry rushed up to her picking her up and twirling her around. He carried her up to their bedroom and dumped her on the bed. Iris thanked her lucky stars that he didn’t comment on its near sterile-ness.

“I love you.” Barry stares at her below him. Her hair is splayed out on the pillow, her face is stretched out in a smile. Iris reaches up to pull him towards her. She peppers kisses on his face before leaving.

“I’m just going to get changed.” He watches her put on one of his old shirts and a pair of underwear. Slowly, he gets up from the bed to get ready for sleep himself. Their movements are a little robust, getting used to sharing this room again, but it’ll be ok.

In bed, she wraps herself around him, finding comfort in his hold. Softly, she traced some of his scars and tattoos with her finger. He turned off the lights, and for once, she knew she wouldn’t need his letters to chase away the nightmares.

#the flash #westallen #iris west allen #iris west #barry allen #linda park #allegra garcia #kamilla hwang #ella's flash fics #we're all fic writers here #blackbird

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itsyourchoicedevotionals · 3 years

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Fullness Of Time

“…When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman…” Galatians 4:4ESV

Time had reached God’s ‘now time.’ Five thousand years of prophecies detailing Jesus’ earthly arrival. Everything culminated in the “fullness of time” moment. Every minute detail couldn’t have occurred earlier, nor later. We would’ve sped up or slowed His arrival, had we been in control.

Christmas season is upon us once again. Remembering Caesar demand for a census by bloodline; Mary’s travel on a donkey for miles before delivering Jesus on the precise night; the star coming into the sky at the right season; wise men followed the star, (same we viewed the other night), bearing gifts angels appearing to herald Jesus’ arrival; shepherds spreading the good news. Prophecies fulfilled bringing us joy and celebration.

Try as I might, I cannot pull together a ‘fullness of time’ meal for Christmas celebration with my children, grands and great-grands. Details won’t align for my plans. Everyone has their wills and lives.

Plan’s and details are important. There’s a video, circulating on the net, regarding the current affairs of our nation. Bishop Gaithers gives details dating back to the fifth century AD. All the timelines, details, etc. coming together now is mind boggling. Numbers, miles, locations, and names all seemingly irrelevant tied together to bring a demonic ‘fullness of time’ for satan’s plan to destroy this nation, in order to accomplish his ultimate goal. What goal? Satan hopes to destroy Israel. Won’t happen. There’s the God-factor.

Why destroy this nation? Because the USA is in covenant with God’s bride— Israel. (Over forty years I’ve searched the scriptures for the relevancy of America, even it’s mention, in end-time prophecies. Never did I, nor any scholars I’ve read find the USA. We are set apart. God has us listed as Israel WITH Israel. When Harry S Truman gave Israel its name on the UN floor, we became a covenanted with Israel. We became instruments of God’s purpose. “I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse…” Genesis 12:3NIV. Covenant blessings, watchful care, prosperity, God all issued to end-time Israel— ours also.

Mary and Joseph were instruments for Yahweh’s purpose. They accomplished His will. With everything in place, God brought forth His Son. Every detail in place.

The details for our current world events are nearing the fullness of satan’s time. Lord God of heavens armies assures His prophets He’s got a ‘fullness of time’ for our current world events too. Just like Herod tried to kill baby Jesus after He was already gone to Egypt, God’s got the details of satan’s agenda, man’s agenda, and His own prophecies all honed to the last second. Lord God will unveil at the precise ‘fullness of time,’ whatever is needed to upend every demonic plan, and fulfill His own plans and purposes.

Rest easy, God’s ‘fullness of time’ is here. I can’t even remember where I put my pumpkin pie recipe. Meanwhile God notes the details; follows plans on how to straighten out; save; and rearrange the entire world. Now— what was it you’ve not been trusting God with? Is it almost your fullness of desperately need time for this to be taken care of? How about allowing God to bring your world into order? It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Lord God thank You for being the covenant keeping God and for having everything in place to take care of this worldwide situation. Praise You. Bless You for being prepared for the fullness of time, in Jesus Christ’s name I pray.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #fullness of time #purpose #details #everything in place #world #love #hope #faith

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

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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.

#selectionoc

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kaunis-sielu · 5 years

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Kitchen Witch

You loved your job. The way that you could make the different ingredients meld together and sing seems like just a talent but you knew the truth, it was magic.

You used your magic to boost some flavors and to know exactly what a dish needed to make it perfect. Which was why your restaurant was doing so well and quickly became a five star restaurant at two star prices. No one should be denied a magical meal due to cost and you often cooked for a homeless shelter too, it was a way to give back and you enjoyed it.

“Oh my god! Chef! You’ll never believe who’s here!”

“Who Nita?” You ask as your manager comes bustling into the kitchen. You run the kitchen, Zack runs the floor and Nita runs everything.

“Tony. Freaking. Stark.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes! He has all of the men of the team with him.” You peer out of the door and are shocked to see the Avengers, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton and Stephen Strange. They’re seated in the back of the room, just in sight of where you’re able to see.

“You’re going to go out there and meet them.” Nita says and you gape over at her. One look at you and at least Stephen Strange is going to know that you’re a witch. Something that no one else in your life knows, and you don’t want them to know.

“No. No no no. I am not going over there! I never go over! Why do I have to now?”

“Because they’re the Avengers and that is Tony Stark and he is used to a certain way of living and one of those things is meeting the chef. Now go!” On the last word she shoves you out of the swinging doors and into the dining room. You straighten your shoulders, fix your hair and smooth down your chef’s coat as you make your way to the Avengers table where they’re all having the common decency to pretend like they didn’t see you get shoved out of the kitchen. Judging by the little smirk on Tony Stark’s face you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“Uh, he-hello.” You say awkwardly and the entire table turns and looks at you.

“You must be the incredible chef we’ve heard so much about.” Tony Stark says with a broad smile.

“Uh, yea. Sorry, I don’t usually come out and talk with guests so I’m a bit awkward.” You laugh softly and he grins back. “Can I bring you guys some of my favorite dishes?”

“That would be amazing.” Tony Stark says as drinks come to the table.

“Wonderful. I’ll get started on some appetizers for you all. Please, if you need anything Emilio is your man.” You tell them with a smile then you head back into the kitchen.

You make them duck cream cheese wontons, spicy mozzarella sticks, stuffed meatballs and a giant pretzel with three different dips. They get three plates of each and then when they’re about halfway through Emilio comes hurrying into the kitchen.

“Chef! Mr. Stark wants to see you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. They just wanted to see you.” You wipe your hands on a towel and make your way back out to the dining room.

“Mr. Stark? Is everything okay?”

“Yea, this food is incredible. We were hoping that you’d just, pick us entrees too.”

“Oh. Yea I can do that. Are there any allergies?” You ask and they all shake your heads so you head back to the kitchen and get to work.

You have their food delivered then wait anxiously as they eat. You keep running the kitchen while waiting to hear if they like everything and when you turn to grab a piece of chicken you’re startled to see Tony Stark standing in your kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Mr. Stark.”

“Chef.”

“Can I help you?”

“Just wanted to stop in and thank you for the meal. It was truly magical.” He smirks then taps the side of his glasses. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, yea.” You tell him shoving him into the walk in freezer.

“Cozy.” He deadpans and you stare at him. “So, you’re a witch huh? Like hocus pocus type not like a nasty word for women.”

“How?”

“Couple ways, first Dr. Strange keeps an eye on everyone with magic on earth. Second I’m a genius and third I have FRIDAY, the best AI system in the known world and she knows all.”

“Who are you going to tell?”

“No one. Just wanted to see if you wanted to be a part of the Avengers.”

“I can’t. All my magic is really good for is cooking and tonics. I can keep you all healthy, give you healing tonics and food that lasts longer than normal food.”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“If you don’t mind providing us with some of those things I can pay you handsomely and will be more than happy to.”

“Are you serious right now?” You ask him, eyes wide.

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, um. You don’t need to pay me much. I don’t really have use for money I just need supplies.”

“Okay, then pick a charity and I’ll give them money.”

“Deal.”

“Can we get out of the freezer now?”

“You won’t tell anyone what I am?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” He says shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I don’t.” You say and he nods. He reaches a hand out for yours and you shake it. He gives you a wink then swaggers out of the freezer. You blink a few times, shake your head then leave the freezer with a broad smile on your face.

Technically, you’re now an Avenger.

Tag list:

@abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thinkwritexpress-official @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @killcomet @dumblani @silverkitten547 @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @scuzmunkie @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @eloblokistoner @yourfellowangel @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @reinyrei

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deejadabbles · 4 years

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Spells of Defiance (Atem x Reader x Yugi) Chapter 5

Five: Friends

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// [Eight coming soon]

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split?

Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

A.N. Here's one of the songs I play on repeat while writing this series, in case any of you are interested!

“Why didn’t you tell us you’ve never been to a movie theater before?!”

You actually couldn’t help but snicker at the look of pure exasperated incredulity plastered on Yugi’s face as you and the boys walked down the city street together. He looked downright horrified that they hadn’t treated the occasion with more care.

“It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, I could list the “fun” things I’ve done outside of the Circle way faster than I could list the things I haven’t done.”

Yugi sighed, looking beyond disappointed, “I just wish your first movie experience was something better than “Mimi the Neko’s Summer Vacation”!”

Again you chuckled and did not miss the amused grin on Atem’s face as he shook his head at Yugi. “It was a cute movie! Don’t feel bad, I liked it.” You gave Yugi a playful nudge with your elbow and were happy to see him grin back at you, finally putting the first movie debacle to rest.

The streets of Domino were alight with the neon signs and other pedestrians enjoying a night out. People with shopping bags, takeout containers, and various other holdings walked down the street, passing the vampire, the incubus, and yourself without any care. Not that any of them knew what the three of you were, but still. From what you remember of the walk over you were still five or so blocks from home, but the night air was cool and the company was more than pleasant. The way Yugi and Atem held hands as they walked made you smile for some reason, and despite the people bustling around you, it felt as if you three were walking in your own little bubble.

Then, you saw Yugi’s eyes go wide with delight as they landed on a cart parked on the very edge of the sidewalk. “Have you ever had ice cream before?” he asked, turning back to you with an expectant grin.

You opened your mouth to answer- but found yourself hesitating when your mind seemed to stall. You had been on the verge of saying yes, but, even as the answer came to your mind, the memory of eating the frozen treat did not. Surely you had tried it while out on missions. The Circle had given you a small allowance after all, and you often used it to try new foods. Perhaps the memory was simply wrapped up in the back of your mind somewhere.

“Yeah, I think I have,” you answered after recovering from the momentary falter.

Though he must have noticed the odd moment, Yugi elected to ignore it and instead grabbed your hand with his free one and pulled both you and Atem towards the icecream cart. He asked- no, more like told you to get whatever flavor you wanted as he looked over the few options available. Again Atem was smiling at his boyfriend’s cute behavior and gave you an understanding wink as he asked for an orange pop. Eventually, Yugi got a double scoop of strawberry on a waffle cone and you got the flavor that sounded most appealing. Again you couldn’t recall the flavor you had tried in the past but were certain you had done so before.

As you and the boys resumed your walk, treats in hand, Atem quickly took notice to you giving him an interested look. “You know I’ve never seen a vampire eat regular food before,” you commented.

Atem hummed, “Yes, I don’t suppose you would have. After turning, our taste buds are dulled to...regular foods. Most aren’t appetizing to me in the slightest, but there are a few foods, ones with potent tastes, that I’ll eat upon occasion,” he waved the popsicle to accentuate his words.

“What he’s not telling you, is that all of those foods are sweets,” Yugi interjected with a giggle, “He must have had a major sweet tooth back in the day.”

The information made you laugh, especially when the vampire in question looked almost pouty at being outed. “Careful, Yugi, or I’ll tell her about how childish your eating habits were when we first met.”

“Hey, my diet wasn’t that bad!” Yugi countered.

“Hamburgers, cheetos, and ramen cups are not a diet, my love.”

The monotone in which Atem delivered the burn was it for you, especially when Yugi’s mouth dropped open with a profound blush! You burst into laughter and almost pitched the last of your ice cream to the ground as you covered your mouth to stifle the giggles. You expected to hear Yugi say something sassy back, but after a few moments where you recovered from your humorous outburst, you looked back over at your companions and saw both of them smiling at you. A warm flush of your very own slithered onto your cheeks, but before you could be too embarrassed, Yugi sighed with a shrug.

“Hey, at least I make decent meals now.” He winked at Atem, “After his constant nagging to eat better I didn’t have much choice.”

“I did not nag-”

“Besides,” Yugi’s bright smile refocused on you, “now it’s not just me I’m cooking for, so it was worth it in the end!”

You had to swallow something that had formed in your throat before answering, and even then you only managed a weak, “Right,” as the three of you continued on your leisurely walk home.

Later that night, Yugi hummed happily to himself as he buttoned up his star-patterned PJ top to get ready for bed. He was quite amused that you had insisted that everyone get enough sleep that night when you three got home, stating that tomorrow might be a harrowing day. Just as he did with Atem, Yugi found it cute when you worried.

Atem was straightening up their sheets, his own mind working out the knots of the day’s events. A lot had happened that day and he wasn’t sure if he had properly processed the...potent emotions rolling about in his head. Now in the relative silence of their room, Yugi distracted with his own thoughts, Atem’s mind was wandering.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of the argument he’d had with you earlier. Yugi had once accused Atem of being too “self-destructive” (ironically, during a heated argument of their own) and at the time Atem couldn’t quite understand how to see things from Yugi’s perspective. To understand why such behavior would hurt him so much. Now, seeing you so willing putting yourself in unnecessary danger, Atem understood. He respected that you could more than hold your own in a battle, in fact, he was quite thankful that he had never been your target in a physical fight, but that did not mean he could stop himself from worrying over your safety.

Then there was everything regarding Marik. How the memories of that blood-soaked night still flashed in his mind’s eye. The bodies littering his family home, friends and loved ones alike. The screams ringing in his ears as he tried to get his mother and handmaid out of the house unnoticed. The way Marik whispered sick taunts in his ears as the vampire’s followers held his father down, making him watch as Atem took his last, painful, bloodsoaked breaths as a living, mortal man.

It hurt. Even after all these centuries, the memories hurt. But still, it had felt right to tell you, to open up to you. It had felt good, much like it had when he told Yugi about his past as the young incubus wrapped him up in a warm embrace. And despite the emotional turmoil he’d faced that day, Atem felt...hopeful. He was closer than he ever had been to bringing Marik’s mad schemes to an end, he could feel it. And for the first time in centuries, Atem wasn’t alone while trying to do so.

“It’s nice to see her opening up.”

Yugi’s light, cheery comment brought Atem out of his musings. He looked over as the incubus plopped down on the bed and elaborated in his comment.

“She always seems to have that moment of surprise when she does something, like call this place home, or open up about her past, but she’s still letting herself get closer to us.” Yugi took in a slow breath, his eyes staring unfocused but wistfully at nothing as he thought. “It’s nice, seeing her laugh too. When we were breaking you out of the Sanctuary some jerk of a magician started making these awful comments at her, so I decided to pay him back by putting an hour-long loop of gay porn in his head. When I told her what I did she laughed so much, I just,” Yugi shrugged, chuckling himself at the memory. “You could see that she isn’t used to letting her emotions out like that and she just looked so cute when she was laughing. Just like she did earlier tonight. I like making her laugh...” Yugi’s voice trailed off the longer he spoke, and Atem felt his chest flutter a bit at how sweet Yugi looked as he reminisced.

The vampire smiled as he sat down on the bed next to his lover, “Yes, it is nice seeing her open up to us. It can’t be easy, growing up in the Circle as she did. I’m sure there is so much more about her past that we don’t know about, but still, she’s kept her heart true and noble. She’s...quite amazing in that respect.”

“...You really like her, don’t you?” Yugi asked, tone quiet and eyes staring unfocused on the carpet beneath their feet.

Atem felt himself stiffen, his mind stalling as he realized that he should try to think of some response that would put any...worries Yugi might have at ease.

As if reading Atem’s mind, Yugi quickly said, still in that quiet tone, “You don’t have to deny it, Atem, even if I couldn't sense emotions, I can see the way you look at her. But,” his voice became a bit louder and more firm, as if trying to make sure Atem didn’t misunderstand him. “But it’s okay because...well…” The incubus shifted his position and faced Atem more fully, grabbed his hands and made Atem meet his eyes. In them, the vampire saw something sure and true, something simmering with passion and conviction, urging Atem to understand his next words. “It’s okay because I understand. I really like her too.”

Atem’s eyes went wide at that. “Yugi…”

“I know it’s a bit odd, but, I’m not even jealous when I see you looking at her like that, because I know that I feel the same way. Having her here with us, I don’t know it just feels...right. Like this is the way it was always meant to be. We haven’t even known her that long and it already feels like this is the way it was supposed to be.”

After a moment where Atem’s mind fully processed what Yugi was saying, the vampire tightened his grip on Yugi’s hands with affection. “I won’t deny it. From the first moment I met her I felt...captivated by her. Her strength, her wit, her noble heart, her beauty- all of it drew me in in a way that I could never explain.” He wanted Yugi to understand exactly what was in his heart, he needed Yugi to know every layer of these feelings, and know that feeling this way would never- could never diminish the love he felt for Yugi. Atem reached up and cupped Yugi’s face between his hands, relishing the sweet smile and almost teary eyes the incubus gave him. “In all my years on this earth, the only other person I’ve felt such a deep, immediate connection with, is you, Yugi.”

In response, he chuckled, smiled even wider, and placed his hands over Atem’s. “I feel the same way.”

Overcome, the vampire pulled his lover in for a kiss, spilling all his passion and affection into the intimate contact. Yugi met him with the same and wrapped his arms around Atem to pull him as close and physically possible. It was a sweet parallel to the first time they had confessed their deeper feelings for each other, and though the one they were admitting passion for was missing in that moment, they still relished the loving air. It had to be a positive sign that these admissions ended with sweet kisses instead of hurt feelings, didn’t it? But, all this simply raised even more questions, which Atem addressed after they finally broke their kiss and Yugi slid down to rest his head on Atem’s chest as they still held each other.

“So, what steps do we take now that we know our feelings for her?”

Yugi thought for a moment, allowing his mind to think of all the paths that may lay before them. “Well...if you’re open to it...I don’t mind the idea of- you know, opening up to her about all this and seeing where things go from there.”

“You mean...ask her if she wants to be with both of us? Together?”

The incubus nodded, still held against Atem’s chest, “Yeah, I mean, there are some relationships that are between more than two people. Are you okay with that idea?”

Though the answer wanted to fall from his lips the moment Yugi asked, Atem made himself hold back just a moment, so he could think it over without haste. Such a thing should never be decided in the heat of the moment without thought, or feelings could get hurt later on.

Even after allowing himself that practical moment's though, the answer was still the same. “Yes.”

Yugi gave a content sigh, “Glad it wasn’t just me, I was worried you’d think I was being a stereotypical unfaithful incubus.”

“I would never think that, Yugi,” Atem assured with a tender kiss on the top of Yugi’s head.

A bit of silence passed, Atem allowing himself to picture a future with both you and Yugi at his side, while Yugi let his mind work on another worry and concern over this whole situation.

“I don’t think we should tell her about our feelings yet.”

Atem blinked at Yugi’s sudden change of heart, “Why?”

“Well, think about it,” Yugi finally leaned back from his boyfriend’s chest and looked him in the eyes again, “I don’t want us to overwhelm her too soon, you know? The fight you two had today says that she’s barely getting used to the idea that people care whether she lives or dies! If we tell her all of this now, while she’s still getting used to being around people who care about her at all...I don’t know, I just don’t want to spook her.” Almost immediately Yugi made a frustrated noise and rubbed the back of his head in shame. “That sounded weird, she’s not a deer we’re trying to feed in the forest, but I just think that…”

“You’re right, Aibou,” Atem said, trying to put his incubus’ worry at ease. “We need to give her time. Time to get used to her new life, to us, time to sort out her own feelings before we overwhelm her with our own.”

Yugi sighed in relief that Atem understood and nodded his head with a smile. “Exactly.”

“And in the meantime,” the vampire started as he held Yugi tight again and laid both their bodies back against their soft mattress and pillows, “we simply need to be there for her.”

The incubus gave a sound of agreement as he closed his eyes and lazily wrapped his tail around his and Atem’s intertwined legs. They drifted off to sleep like that, happy and content and...hopeful about the future.

It wasn’t until you shot a glare over at the hair salon next door that you realized you were on high alert for Yugi’s overzealous fangirls as you helped him open up the shop. You had told him you would set the sign and display table outside while he did the rest inside and you supposed it was your subconscious need to protect Yugi from the unwanted staring that prompted you to do it. Your effort proved to be for the best when you saw the short blond wander outside for a smoke break- and frowned with a displeased sigh when she saw you instead Yugi. You put on a smile you knew must have looked fake as you waved at her, and her scowl only deepened. Satisfied with how she actually turned her back on you, you went back into the shop after setting up the sandwich sign.

“Thanks for doing that!” Yugi’s cheerful voice chimed from the counter, “I’m all ready here, so you can go ahead and flip the open sign if you want.”

You obliged, then wandered over to the front counter, hopping on to it and turning to Yugi. “So, is your werewolf friend still going to meet us today?”

“Yup! He’s a good guy and always willing to help me and Atem, I thought having his nose would be a good advantage while we’re staking out the possible hideouts, not to mention it can’t hurt to have a werewolf when fighting a vampire, right?”

You nodded, “Right. I usually cast a detection spell to get an idea of how many beings are in a building, but it’s best if I can save my energy for any actual fighting. Plus, his sense of smell will help us know if there’s just vampires inside, or if there’s any human bystanders we have to worry about.”

Yugi agreed with your words, then after a moment, seemed to hesitate. “Um..there’s something else I think I should mention about our friend. We told him about you, and how we trust you, but he’s had some bad run-ins with the Circle before, so he might be a bit suspicious of you at first.” Obviously he had meant for the words to come out differently, because he looked a tad panicked as he amended, “I mean, he won’t be super hostile towards you or anything! He’s not a bad person, it’s just that he might be wary of you at first.”

“It’s okay, Yugi, trust me I understand. Most fey aren’t going to like me, ex Circle or not.” Wanting to move on from his concern you changed the subject by saying, “So what are you going to do about the shop today since we’ll be leaving before you close?”

“You remember how I mention having a witch friend the other day? She sometimes helps me with the shop, so she’ll be watching it for us today. I can’t wait for you to meet her, I have a feeling she’ll like you a lot!”

Why did that comment almost make you want to do a double-take? Yugi seemed so sure of his statement, accentuated with that bright grin of his. “What makes you say that?”

His grin did not falter, “Well, she’s an easy person to get along with period but I think she’ll love how spunky you are, I think you two will be like peas in a pod!”

Your cheeks felt a bit warm suddenly and you found yourself rubbing the back of your neck, unsure how to answer. Yugi may have taken pity on your speechlessness and told you a bit more about both friends you’d be meeting, but his first customer of the day came in then and the conversation came to a halt.

For the next couple of hours, you simply helped Yugi around the shop, though there wasn’t much to do beside straighten up a few shelves. You of course eventually checked on the daylight ring you were making for Atem, after giving it plenty of time to absorb the rays of the sun. When the sigils on the metal glowed faintly as you touched it you sighed in relief; the enchantment was complete. It may not be the high-quality magic that would keep Atem safe from the sun for hours on end, but it would work for today’s mission.

Ring in hand, you contemplated whether you should warn Atem to still wear long sleeves and a hat as you walked back out into the main part of the shop. The sun might still irritate his skin, so the extra layer of cover might do him good. According to Yugi, his friends should be there soon so it was best to prepare now.

You were about to turn to the door leading upstairs so you could talk to Atem, but you were stopped when Yugi called out to you from the front of the store. Turning, you saw the incubus standing in the center of the store next to a young woman with short brown hair. She wore jeans with a stylish blue top that matched her eyes and she gave you a friendly smile the moment they met your own.

Yugi said your name before waving at the girl, “This is Anzu, the one who’ll be watching the store today! Anzu, this is the new friend I told you about over the phone.”

“Nice to meet you!” The woman- Anzu greeted as she closed the distance between you and held out her hand.

You took it and offered her your own smile, though you were sure it wasn’t as warm as hers. “Nice to meet you too, Anzu.”

“Were you about to take that up to Atem?” Yugi asked, pointing at the ring you were fidgeting with in your other hand.

“Yeah, I was going to warn him that…” you trailed off, casting a cautious glance at Anzu, who’s smile never faltered.

“Oh don’t worry, I know about the boys and their cute fangs and wings,” Anzu assured with a wink, “Judging by the crests on it, I’m guessing that’s a daylight ring?”

You didn’t bother hiding your surprise at her knowledge, “Yes, it is. I was just going to warn Atem that he may still want to cover up a bit before going outside. The sun might irritate his skin.”

“I can tell him for you,” Yugi offered, holding out his hand for the ring.

You faltered for a second, something told you that Yugi was trying to give you and Anzu time to talk. Still, not wanting to seem rude you handed the ring over with a “thanks”, and just like that Yugi was dashing through the door and up the stairs.

Not much silence passed in his absence before the obviously sociable Anzu continued your conversation. “You must really know your stuff to be able to make one of those. Enchanting’s never easy.”

“Eh, it’s not as good as it could be, but it’ll do.”

Anzu’s smile faltered a bit and she tilted her head at you. “You don’t have to downplay your skills, you know. I think that’s the Circle’s influence coming through.”

You couldn’t help but tense at her words. Yugi had called her a witch, but the term usually applied to humans who dabbled in the tiny bit of magic they were able to tap into. Given her knowledge of enchantments, the boy’s true races, and the Circle, this was obviously no ordinary white witch.

She must have sensed your tension because she held up her hand in pleading defense. “Oh, sorry, I guess Yugi didn’t mention that he told me a bit about you. He told me how you helped Atem escape execution,” her eyes drifted down to your scarred palm, “how you left the Circle in order to help them.” Her eyes snapped back up to yours and you were surprised by the profound sense of understanding that played in her gaze. “Yugi really wanted us to meet because he thought it might be nice for you to know another spell slinger who’s free of the Circle.”

“Wait...you-?”

“No, not me specifically, but I know a lot about the Circle and how cruel they are. My grandmother was like you, she was brave enough to leave them and start a new life.”

You knew you must have looked silly at how surprised you were at the statement. Magicians had been known to leave the Circle before, but it wasn’t common and the few times someone did, it was kept as quiet as possible. Even after a moment, all you could manage to say was, “Oh.”

Anzu was still understanding and patient with you as she went on, “Yeah. From what she said, it wasn’t easy starting over from nothing, but she managed it. Eventually, she even got married and had a kid, my dad. She made sure to tell me and my dad everything we needed to know about the Circle, just in case we crossed paths with them. She also taught us how to use our magic. I’m sure I’m nowhere near your level, but I know a thing or two.”

A smile found its way onto your face, “Now who’s downplaying their skills?”

Anzu giggled at that and you found the laughter infectious as you let out a small chuckle as well. “Well, I know you’re still probably getting used to your new life, but, if you ever want to talk to another non-circle magic-user, feel free to come to me, kay?”

“Thanks, Anzu, I appreciate the offer.”

You did, truely, she seemed like a genuine and kind person. So far Yugi and Atem had been a surprising source of solace the few times you had talked about your life in the circle. Talking with Anzu may not come as naturally, but getting to know her when you had the chance couldn’t hurt. Several questions about the girl's life outside of the Circle came to your mind, but for now, you started with a simple one.

“I’m curious, Yugi called you a witch when he told me about you, is there a reason you’re using that title instead of magician?”

Anzu gave a shrug, “Well, it’s partly because it helps me stay under the Circle’s radar. Go around calling yourself a magician and they’ll get pretty interested in you. But besides that,” Anzu lifted her chin proudly, “I like the name because it sets me apart from them.”

You smirked at the bold and proud statement, yes, you could see yourself getting along with Anzu just fine. When she turned towards the counter and went to set her bag down behind it, you followed her, noting that Yugi was taking his time fetching Atem. Anzu had apparently decided not to ask anything too personal of you yet, because her next question was simple enough.

“So did Yugi tell you anything else about me?”

“Not really, besides that he helped you find a missing girl in your coven once. And that you help with the shop sometimes.” Not wanting the conversation to taper off awkwardly, you continued with, “So how did you and Yugi meet?”

“Oh, we’ve known each other since we were kids. My family knew Yugi’s so we were always going over to each other’s houses and stuff,” she let out an almost exasperated laugh, “If you ask me I think Yugi’s grandpa was always interested in my grandmother. He was always flirting with her even with us kids in the room.”

You smiled at the thought. Yugi may not be the hopeless flirt that people usually thought of when the word ‘Incubus’ came to mind, but he certainly had his own charm and you had no doubt that he could turn it up when he wanted to; obviously he learned a thing or two from his grandpa. “Yugi’s mentioned his grandpa before, I guess the two were really close?”

“Yeah, they were,” Anzu’s smile didn’t leave but her eyes had a more serious look to them now. “His family wasn’t the stereotypical stuff you think of when you think about incubi and succubi. That’s why my family was so close with them. They really cared about and loved each other, and you can tell it made Yugi into a great man.”

You felt warm at the thought, the way Yugi welcomed you into his home like an old friend, how devoted and loving he was towards Atem, his bright eyes and smile, everything about him confirmed what Anzu was saying. Not for the first time, you found yourself wondering what had happened to Yugi’s parents, but more so you found yourself glad that Yugi had been given such a loving family. “Yeah, he really is.”

After a heartbeat, your eyes met Anzu’s again, and you were a bit taken aback by the knowing look twinkling in her eyes. Before you could question it however, the sound of Yugi and Atem finally coming down interrupted you. Anzu was an interesting woman, you’d have to take some time out to get to know her more when you had the chance.

You looked over your shoulder and found Atem trailing behind Yugi, who had slipped on a blue jacket. Atem had heeded your warning about wearing extra protection to some extent. He wore a long-sleeved shirt and thick jeans tucked into his boots, but he apparently wasn’t fond of hats and had swapped that accessory out for a pair of sunglasses that would keep his eyes from hurting.

“Wow Atem, aren’t you looking stylish,” Anzu chuckled.

The vampire gave the witch a smirk, “Hello, Anzu, I see you’ve met our new friend.”

“I have,” Anzu gave you a little wink, “I can see why you’re teaming up with her, she looks like she knows her stuff. Tough too.”

“That she is.” You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Atem fiddled with his daylight ring a bit as he said that, but the moment was quickly over when he turned to Yugi, “When is Joseph going to arrive?”

“Any minute now, you know how he is,” Yugi assured with a smile.

At their words, you noticed that Anzu's cheerful demeanor seemed to waver and her voice was less chipper as she said, “Are you guys sure you don’t want me to come with you? I don’t mind holding down the fort here, but I hate sending you guys into danger like this.”

Yugi, who had gone behind the counter while you three waited, put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Anzu, we’ll be okay. We have a vampire, a Circle trained magician and a werewolf on our side!”

“Don’t forget about yourself, Yugi,” you added, “I’m sure those claws of yours aren’t just for show.”

You weren’t entirely sure, but you thought you saw pink creeping up from under Yugi’s collar- unfortunately you were all distracted by the scene when the shop’s bell clanged as the door was swung open.

“Alrighty, who’s ready to hunt some vampires!”

Startled, before your mind could register the words you spun on your heel, raising your hand and repairing a spell. Your mind yelled at you to stop when your eyes landed on a tall blond standing in the doorway with his arms wide.

“Really, Joey?” Anzu hissed at the newcomer, “There could have been customers in here, why are you going around yelling about vampires?!”

After closing the door with a kick of his heel, the man stepped inside. “Oh, hey Anzu! What’re you getting worked up about? Not like any humans would have assumed I meant real vampires anyway.”

Both Anzu and Atem sighed while Yugi only grinned at, who you would assume was their werewolf friend. The incubus opened his mouth to introduce you, but apparently this Joey was a step ahead. His eyes landed on you and with a raised brow, he started circling you.

“So, you’re the mage Yugi told me about?”

It took much- no, all of your self control not to turn and glare at him as he circled, his demeanor not exactly predatory, but not friendly either. “I am. You must be the werewolf.”

“That’s right. You got a problem with that?”

Atem gave a firm and warning call of Joey’s name, but you held up your hand as the man stopped in front of you again. Your eyes were firm on Joey’s, not challenging, but not meek or submissive by any means. “So long as you don’t sharpen your fangs and claws on humans, I don’t have any problem with you.”

Joey made a noise, something more human-like than a snarl, “I don’t hunt humans! I ain’t some animal!”

“Then we don’t have a problem.”

He stared back into your eyes for a long moment, and even under their intensity, you never faltered. The air was growing tense, you wondered if Yugi was about to jump in, the ever calm peacemaker, but then the wolf closed his eyes and let out a hoot of laughter.

“I like her! She’s got guts without bein all high and mighty like the other spell slingers.” He reached out and clapped you on the back, “If Yugi and Atem say you’re alright, then you’re fine by me.” Anzu and Yugi both seemed to let out a breath at that, and Joey turned to them and Atem to elaborate on his first question. “So, where’re we going hunting? I’m itching to take out some human killers.”

You hoped that Yugi had warned Joey that all these possible hideouts were only maybes and that there may not be any actual vampire killing that day, because the wolf seemed all too eager with this ‘hunt’ as you arrived at the first house. Atem actually had to pull Joey back from storming the front door, which left you wondering if bringing him along was actually a good call or not. Thankfully, when Yugi asked their friend to sniff the place out before doing anything rash, he seemed quite fine with the more cautious approach.

He walked the perimeter with the rest of you, his nose wrinkled and body hunched. You were glad it was the afternoon on a weekday, or the neighbors in this suburban block may have a question or two for your little group. Eventually, Joey leaned back, looking a bit disappointed as he said that there wasn’t even a trace of a vampiric scent around the property. Well, one down, four to go.

The next house wasn’t any better. The only thing different there was that Joey didn’t try to go in the front door and that there was a very protective cocker spaniel barking at you four from the windows the whole time you circled the house.

You were starting to really worry that your investigation was a complete bust as you arrived in the neighborhood for the third house and apparently you weren’t doing a good job at hiding your unease.

“You okay?” Yugi asked from beside you on the well-kempt sidewalk.

“Yeah, just worried all this trouble will be for nothing. I hate the idea of wasting everyone’s time.”

Yugi’s brows furrowed, “You don’t have to worry about that. Even if Marik isn’t hiding in any of these places, things like this take time, we know that.”

“I would have thought you would be used to investigations leading to dead ends at times, what with the nature of your job,” Atem chimed in from behind you.

You let out a short sigh, “True, but that’s when I’m by myself, not when I’m working with others.” Others who are relying on me to actually be of use, you added internally.

“Eh, don’t worry about it!” Joey assured, “If anything it’s just nice for Atem to get out in the sun!” He turned to the vampire in question, “It’s still weird though, seeing him out in the daytime, I don’t think I’ve even seen him awake when the suns up!”

“He’s awake, Joey,” Yugi cut in, ��he just stays up in the apartment until sunset.”

You looked over your shoulder at Atem, wanting to see his ring, though his bare hands were tucked into his pockets. “How are you doing, by the way? Ring holding up?”

He nodded, “It’s holding up just fine. Trust me, I’ll let you know if I think I’m about to catch fire.”

“Please don’t joke about that,” Yugi groaned as your group finally came upon the third house.

It was a two-story brick building, not too large but not too small, and it was tucked away at the end of a dead-end street with a large yard separating it from the nearest neighbor. You took notice of the way Joey’s demeanor changed in a flash as you came up to the side of the house.

“Oh, there’s definitely a vampire in there alright.”

The rest of you seemed to tense under Joey’s words, though you were all relatively safe outside in the sunlight. On a closer look you confirmed that all of the curtains in the house were drawn tight, allowing no rays of light to come in, or for anyone to peak out.

“Can you tell if anyone else is in the house?”

Joey sniffed the air, drawing in deep, “I’ll have to get closer to tell.”

With that, the wolf stepped over the stone hedge lining the front yard. You were about to hiss after him, telling him to stay low and out of sight, but he was apparently more cautious than you first thought, and was careful to stay between the view of the windows as he went. You and the boys made to follow after him and you took a tentative look around at the two closets houses.

Your heart nearly jumped in your throat when you saw a face peeking out at you from across the street! It was an old man, looking at your suspicious group with a furrowed brow. You gave him a wave; oh yes, nothing to see here, just four strangers wandering into your neighbor’s yard, everything’s fine! He must have thought so in the end, because he simply shook his head and let the blinds fall back into place.

You were thankful that I line of trees kept you mostly shielded as you and the others walked around the house, Joey’s nose never resting. When he came to the back of the house he paused by a bush and motioned the rest of you to lean in.

“This is weird, I definitely smelling one vampire inside, but there’re older, staler scents, some human, some vampire.”

“Perhaps some of Marik’s servants have come and gone,” Atem suggested under his breath. The hard set of his jaw and the way his shaded eyes stayed on the back door to the house almost concerned you.

“Maybe, but either way we’re still going inside. I suggest you boys let me go in first,” you more said than asked.

“No,” Atem’s fangs were showing as he practically growled his next words, “Marik may have traps waiting inside. If he does, then I should take the damage from them. I can heal from practically anything, you can’t.”

Oh not this again. “Or how about we avoid any traps altogether. I’m a big girl, Atem, this isn’t my first time storming a vampire’s lair.”

You didn’t give him time to answer or argue, because you immediately rushed up to the back door, crouching low under the windows. You heard the three of them follow as you grabbed the door’s handle. There were several ways to get in, and though most magicians would have likely picked the lock or busted up with their bare hands, you relied on your talent with fire. Within seconds the thin metal of the knob was melting and sliding onto the stoop.

As quietly as you could you pushed the door open and took your first scan of the house. A kitchen lay before you, small for the nicer suburban houses, but this wasn’t the best one on the block by any means. Dishes were piled up in the sink and the stale smell of a neglected home filled the air.

Satisfied that nothing was going to blow up at the doorway, you stepped inside and the boys followed. Just off of the kitchen was a short hallway with two doors off of it and a staircase on one side.

“The smell's coming from upstairs,” Joey whispered to you.

Yugi opened his mouth to say something but you held your finger to your lips. It was almost impossible to sneak up on a vampire, even when they were sleeping, but you still wanted to keep as quiet as possible to postpone your detection. As you stepped towards the stairs at a slow pace, you looked over at Atem. He had taken his sunglasses off and he looked primed and ready to bolt up the stairs at a moment’s notice. There was something else though, something like suspicion in his eyes. Maybe he thought this was all too easy and, honestly, you might have to agree with him.

Your foot had just landed on the fifth step of the stairs when a loud BANG sounded overhead. Someone behind you jumped and your knuckles turned white on the railing as your ears strained to listen.

Growling.

More than that, it was a snarling desperate noise that was soon followed with another bang.

“Something’s trapped up there,” you whispered and another thud succeeded your claim.

“Someone trapped Marik in his own hideout?” Joey asked.

“I don’t think so,” Yugi answered, his eyes staring into the dark landing above. “I think it’s something else.”

Atem stepped up beside you, “Let’s find out.”

Since there was extremely little ambient light ahead, you lit a small flame in the palm of your hand before stepping up to the landing. The growling and banging were louder now, and it seemed to grow more and more erratic as you stepped down the hallway. It wasn’t hard to find the source of the ruckus, even among all the closed doors. The shaking wood and padlock over the door were dead giveaways. The metal screws holding it together were ripping away from the wood more and more with every thud and snarling growl until-

“Get down!”

You saw Joey grab Yugi as he threw himself out of the way of the flying door and something came charging out! In a flash of red and snarls the thing lunged at Atem before he could move. The vampire grunted in pain as he toppled to the ground with the thing and you saw that it had clamped down on Atem’s arm. Though the humanoid thing had him pinned, Atem still had the upper hand as it spilled his blood. With one swift hard punch, he broke its nose, sending it skittering back, hissing and spitting with pain. Joey grabbed it before it could recover and tried to put it in a headlock, but the thing struggled and writhed so much that it escaped his grip- though the cost was a sickening snap; a broken limb.

It tried to claw at Joey with it’s one good hand but with a harsh wave of your own, you sent the thing flying back into the dark closet it had been trapped in. A howl of pain and angry hiss in the dark later and it was lunging back at you from the shadows. It was too easy to grab the beast that time. The horrid creature was weak, broken, starving; acting on pure instinct and need to feed. And though you hated the fact, the merciful thing to do was to put it out of its misery. Before it could break free of your hold you gave it that mercy with one quick snap and it fell to the ground with its neck bent unnaturally.

As you and the boys watched it- no, the man’s face, which had been twisted and contorted like an animal’s, slowly returned to something that looked human. The man’s clothes were tattered and bloody and some obvious marks of abuse lay across the skin you could see. Maybe if you had gotten there days ago, you could have helped him, but not now, not after what Marik had done to him.

“A revenant,” you said with a defeated sigh.

“A- a what?” Yugi asked, not being able to take his eyes off of the body.

You made him look up at you, he didn’t need to see it, didn’t need to think about what the man had been put through before death. “How much do you know about vampires and how they’re turned?” you asked. Yugi shook his head, and his second-long glance at Atem told you that his resident vampire didn’t like to talk about it. “Well, there’s a reason the whole world isn’t overrun with vampires. Even if one tries to turn a human, there’s no guarantee they’ll survive. Most die during the process, like a virus tearing their bodies apart. Others who don’t turn into full-fledged vampires, but are a little too strong to die, turn into revenants. Their minds are gone, and they don’t even have the strength, speed, or healing powers that full vampires get. All they can do is act on their need to feed on blood. They’re husks, unable to think or feel, and usually too weak to survive more than a couple of days after being turned.” You let out a heavy sigh and ran your hand over your face. “Bonz said that Marik’s been taking humans from all over town. He probably tries to turn them all so he can grow his horde of minions.”

Joey’s eyes met yours, “So, when this guy didn’t look like he was going to turn full vamp, Marik locked him up in there and waited-”

“Waited for us to find him.”

Atem’s cut in made the rest of you look round, and you saw Atem, with his jaw clenched, staring into the dark depths of the closet. He stepped forward and turned on the light so the rest of you could see. There, scrawled in the sickly brown of dried blood on the wall, was a message. “You’ll have to try harder than that, your highness!”

Atem’s chest was heaving as he stared intently at the wall, his gaze looking as if it might start burning holes in the offwhite painted wood.

Beside you, you heard Joey question, “Your highness?”

“It’s...it’s what Marik calls Atem,” Yugi answered lowly.

The words were barely out before Atem let out a roar and drove his fist into the wall. The plaster gave way easily, looking like a busted eggshell as blood dripped down his forearm. A moment later Atem wrenched his arm back and you could see the bones and abrasions already healing. If only whatever was raging inside him was soothed so quickly.

Without a word, Atem turned on his heels and stormed down the dark hallway. Yugi, looking so forlorn that it almost broke your heart, watched him go for a second before turning to you and Joey.

“Give us a minute, kay?”

You and the wolf nodded as Yugi went after his lover. Once he was gone you turned your sights back to the body at your feet. He was young. Pale skin, head shaved, and marks on his lips, nose, and ears that said he likely had had numerous piercings. Marik, or rather, his followers likely picked him up at some rave club with the promise of a good time. Still, no matter the age, or lifestyle, no one deserved this.

“Can you do me a favor?” You asked, looking up at Joey, who nodded. “Can you go get a bowl of bleach water and a rag? We’ll need to clean that up,” you jerked your head at the bloody message.

When Joey started back down the stairs to do just that, you turned your sights down the row of doors in the hallway. After trying three of them, you found the linen closet, and took a nice silken white sheet from one of the shelves.

With as much respect and care as you could manage, you started wrapping the young man’s body up, arranging his limbs in a dignified pose. It wasn’t much, but it was better than rotting away in a messy heap until the owner came home. With some effort, you cast a teleportation spell and moved his body to the nearest hospital, where he might at least be returned to his family if he had one.

Seconds later Joey returned with the requested items and it didn’t take much to scrub the blood away. Bleach didn’t hide blood residue completely, but at least now when the owner returned from his work trip, he’d simply think his home was robbed and not the sight of a murder or two. You explained as much to Joey as you two walked back downstairs together.

Wanting to give the boys some more time alone, you took a moment to examine the kitchen. It was messy. Dishes stacked high, half-cut veggies lying rotting on the counter, containers of food open and forgotten on the breakfast bar. Very odd, considering vampires didn’t have to eat food and these certainly weren’t the potent types that would appeal to a vampire. And you highly doubted any homeowner with a professional job would be this sloppy before leaving on a work trip.

“Joey, you said that you smelled several human scents in this house?” You asked.

The werewolf gave the air a short sniff, “Yep. And it’s not just the owner's scent either. They’re just as fresh as the other two vampire scents I’m smelling, and I’m assuming one of them is Marik’s.”

“Interesting. Well, at least this whole trip wasn’t for nothing.”

“Huh?”

For now, you only answered him with a smile before turning and wandered back into the other rooms of the house. It didn’t take much to find where Yugi and Atem had gotten to, however, when you turned the corner of said room your heart gave a bit of a flutter. They were standing close, Yugi’s hands cradling Atem’s face as he whispered soft reassurances to the vampire. Atem had his eyes closed against the affection and held his hands over Yugi’s, letting himself calm his breathing, calm his anger, under the incubus’ care.

The scene was so tender, so intimate, and found yourself having to snap out of your staring state. You turned to leave them be but the moment you whisked behind the door frame, Atem called out to you.

Feeling more sheepish than you ever remember feeling, you leaned back into their sight, “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t,” Atem assured gently. He turned, still holding one of Yugi’s hands in his own as he asked, “So, where does this leave us? I doubt Marik has left anything behind that might help us find him.”

“Actually, he did. He really needs to learn to clean up after himself, or rather, clean up after his traveling companions. There’s evidence that humans and one other vampire were staying here with him.”

Atem raised an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t those humans be the ones he’s been killing and trying to turn?”

“I doubt he’s feeding the ones he’s killing.”

“So how does that help us?” Yugi asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“One thing that’s always hurt my investigation before, was the fact that even Marik’s followers don’t seem to know anything about him. Even though they’re doing his bidding, they don’t seem to have much interaction with him. But Joey’s nose and the mess in the kitchen proves that he has at least a few close followers who’re staying with him. Chances are one or all of them are the ones who go out and do his dirty work.”

Yugi smirked, “So if we find them, we’ll find Marik.”

“But how exactly do we find a lead on these close followers?” Atem asked a bit briskly.

That was the part that made your stomach clench like a vice. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid it for long, not with your limited resources now that you were severed from the Circle. The mere thought of this resort made your skin crawl a bit, but, you just couldn’t stand seeing Atem so upset at the loss of a lead. If any of your contacts had any info about these special lackeys, it would be the long-haired city lord himself.

You let yourself heave a heavy sigh, “I think it’s time we pay a visit to Pegasus.”

#atem x reader #yugi x reader #yami x reader #Atem x reader x Yugi #yugi x reader x yami #poly relationship #poly reader insert #series: spells of defiance

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